CHAPTER II. 66 Oh, may I die, before I'm doomed to seek JOHN CLARE. It is hardly possible to conceive a position more painful to a person of high and independent feelings, than the necessity of appealing to the authorities of a parish for the scanty means of subsistence. How many noble hearts have sunk under the selfish ignorance or contemptuous pride of those who measure out the bill of fare to the helplessness of age, or to the indigent children of toil. How selfish pride militates against the human character, and proclaims its fall. Even the followers of the meek and lowly Jesus often fall mournfully short of that cardinal virtue, called charity; nay, the philanthropy of savage races or tribes, might often put them to shame. Partaking of the same cup, and eating of the same bread at the table of the Lord, professing one common brotherhood, yet looking coldly, or spurning with disdain the approaches of a poor sheep, whose fleece is torn, and left naked to the pitiless storms of the desert wild. Judith had seen much of human life and character, and had been led to the feet of the Redeemer by severe discipline, yet she shrunk from the thought of appealing to a parish. The pastor had taken the letters to squire Clayton, (who was the greatest authority in matters of this kind,) and had secured his interest in her favour. The notice of a vestry was to be given, and until then, the poor woman was to remain at the inn. The gentlemen who superintended the affairs of our parish, were the squire and a few of his own tenant farmers, mere echoes of himself, and a Mr. Harrison, a person of independent means, who was not generally on good terms with the other important personages; he was wont to differ from principle, and talked of reform. The village schoolmaster, from his superior knowledge of common law, was an indispensable appendage. The pastor, the Rev. John Meadows, would attend on particular occasions, and always endeavoured to soften down the hard and selfish feelings which too often prevail in assemblies of this kind. Squire Clayton was an extensive landed proprietor, of high Norman descent, and his manners and bearing partook of the same spirit, which distinguished the proud barons of the Conqueror. He was of strong prejudices, both in religion and politics; although a stout Churchman, he thought it no sin to swear roundly, and enjoy the boisterous pleasures of the world; his family had fought bravely for Charles, and were cavaliers of some note in that day; he was no lover of liberty or of Puritans, and he hated the memory of Cromwell, whom he called a parricide; he wore crape on the anniversary of the Martyrdom of King Charles, and venerated our ancient laws and institutions. The old baronial mansion in which he lived, was maintained (scrupulously) after the manner of his fathers, and a species of hospitable tyranny pervaded the whole. Mr. Harrison was of more plebeian origin; although wealthy, he had none of the feudal pretensions of the squire, yet his prejudices were equally strong: he talked of Cromwell with the zeal of a patriot; and venerated the memory of Milton, not so much for being the author of "Paradise Lost," but for his vindication of the Parliament in the death of the King: satisfied with his own religious attainments, he spoke of the Church in the sarcastic language of the immortal Bunyan, as the "steeple-house." His home was maintained in accordance with his own particular views; there was an absence of ornamental taste or refinement, the only incumbrance of that kind was a leathern jacket and round hat, said to have been worn by a distinguished parliamentary officer, an ancestor of the present owner. These relics were as carefully preserved as the bones of a saint, and graced the entrance hall. The schoolmaster was a combination of pedant and peasant, without the refinement of the former, or the modesty of the latter. He had all the assurance and self-esteem of a true-born Saxon, and his pride never forbade him to fawn upon riches, however contemptible the character might be, (a defect which is said to exist in the mind of the race.) The wealthier farmers who entertained him at their tables were sure to hear their sons lauded as noble Greeks, born for high destinies, (how flattering to the ear of affectionate parents, who might fondly see in the dim future the plume of a commander, or the bâton of a military chief, adorning the stupid object of their affections!) The poor boy was a barbarian, and with deep and painful sorrow he felt the merciless and barbarous cane. Mr. Meadows, the meek and pious pastor, beloved by his flock for his gentle Christian sympathies, was a fine example of a country clergyman, whose consistent life bore evidence of the truth which his Divine Master had permitted him to teach; wide and unostentatious were his charities; he did not upbraid the erring heart, but pointed to the narrow way which leads to peace and happiness; he was one of those happy beings who do not love to dwell too much on the deformities of the human heart, but see the germs of virtue even in the wandering prodigal, and delight to lead the wanderer home; liberal to those who differed in opinion. "And children pluck'd his gown, To share the good man's smile.”” The parish meetings were held at the inn, and at length Judith was summoned to appear, little Violet leading her into the room with a countenance radiant with innocence and love. The scene was mournfully touching. The child understood the sigh of the mother, and kissed her hand fondly; the pastor was in tears; and Mark Foster, a good tempered farmer whose sympathies had been awakened in no ordinary degree, was caressing the child, when the schoolmaster chilled the fervour of his feelings by remarking, in an under-tone, that it was out of order, and improper for gentlemen of the vestry to show themselves familiar to those in such circumstances as the petitioner. Judith heard this, and the cold remark sunk like an arrow to her heart, and with a tremulous voice asked permission that her child might retire. Appealing to the feelings of the speaker, she did not mind the rude speech as regarded herself, but thought it ungracious to wound the feelings of a child, whose father was perhaps spilling his life's blood in his country's battles. These dignified remarks were warmly applauded, and the schoolmaster, for once in his life, seemed crestfallen, and said but little for the rest of the evening. The squire, who occupied the chair, said, "My poor woman, we are aware of your condition, and I hope there will be no difficulty in providing for you as far as circumstances will permit. It appears from the letters I have received that you are of excellent character, and that your husband is a brave soldier, and he also assures me that his arm will receive renewed vigour, when he remembers that his wife and child are safe from the enemy, and living in the quietude of his own native village; and if he is spared to return he will repay, if not, he begs us to remember his honourable death in the cause of his country. How long have you been blind ?" "It is perhaps a year since I entirely lost my sight, although it is several years since the symptoms first appeared; I believe the exposure to tropical rains was the cause of the calamity." "You were in India several years, I believe?" "Yes, Sir, for several years, and when the regiment was ordered for Europe, I, of course, accompanied my |