Having arrived at Osterley Park, the horsemen formed a double line, through which the several carriages passed. The gates were then closed; and the vicar, stepping forward, thus addressed the assembled multitude:--
“Well-beloved friends and parishioners, I am desired by Major Snapwell to inform you that refreshments have been prepared in the village, of which you may all partake on your return. Your admission into the park this evening would interfere with those arrangements which are in progress for to-morrow’s jubilee: let me, therefore, request that you will all retire peaceably.”
In compliance with this intimation, the whole assembly,
“With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth,”
after having given three hearty cheers, retired to the village, where several barrels of beer had been disposed in readiness for the libation.
The vicar, having completed his harangue, rejoined the party at the park, where its hospitable owner had prepared a sumptuous dinner. It was, however, proposed that the vicar, with the major, and such of his guests as wished to inspect the preparations, should previously walk round the grounds. Tom and his sisters begged that they might be included in the party; a request which their father readily granted, as he said that some opportunity might occur for explaining the nature of those exhibitions which they were to witness on the following day. The same feeling induced Mr. and Mrs. Beacham and several other visitors to join the party, hoping that they also might profit from the discourse which Mr. Seymour intended to hold for the instruction of his children. The reader will probably be induced, for similar reasons, to accompany them. If he has attentively read the preceding pages of this work, we hope he has become convinced that the lessons of youth may occasionally convey instruction as well as amusement to those of riper years.
Ned Hopkins having been summoned to attend the party, and receive the final orders of the vicar, they proceeded to the elm-meadow, where the grand fair was to be held, and in which were disposed a long line of booths for the motley exhibitions to which they were dedicated.
“What have we here?” exclaimed the major, as he entered the meadow; “a row of poles!”
“Ned Hopkins,” cried the vicar, “how has it happened that the ropes have not been affixed to these poles? Have I not said that every arrangement must be completed this evening? Those poles,” continued the vicar, addressing himself to Major Snapwell, “are intended for swings, from which the younger peasants will, doubtless, derive much amusement, while their sires are engaged, in the adjoining field, by the more manly exercises of quoits, foot-racing, wrestling, hurling, &c. You are, of course, aware, gentlemen, that in admitting the swing amongst the pastimes of the day, I have the support of classical authority: its origin may be traced to the Icarian games, the celebration of which consisted in persons balancing themselves on cords attached to two trees; or in other words, in swinging. They were instituted in commemoration of the death of Erigone, who no sooner discovered the murder of her father Icarus, than she piously hung herself at his tomb.”
“It is certainly very curious,” said the major, “to observe how frequently a popular ceremony or custom has survived the tradition of its origin; it is thus, for instance, that the fond mother still suspends the coral toy around the neck of her infant, without being in the least aware of the superstitious belief from which the custom sprang [(53)]; and I have little doubt but that we shall to-morrow hear the chorus of ‘Derry-down’ re-echoed by those who probably never heard of the Druids, and much less of the choral hymns with which their groves resounded, at the time of gathering the misletoe.”