"But, it sells more readily," said Mr Mawley; "not only do fresh debutantes appear, but new editions of the old poets come out daily."
"That may be," said I. "But they are not nearly so highly appreciated.
I suppose it is because poetry is not so much a rarity now. We have so many mediocre poets, that our taste is more exigent. I dare say, if a very bright, particular star should arise, we would honour him; but we have no bright particular star; and, thus, we learn to read poetry without reflection. Forty years ago, people used to talk over the last production of the muse, and canvas its merits in coffee-rooms all over the town; now, we only dash through it, as we would take up the last new novel, or the evening paper, thinking no more about it!"
"When I was younger," said Miss Spight--she didn"t say when she was "young," mark you--"no young gentlewoman"s education would have been thought complete without a course of the best poets, such as Milton"s _Paradise Lost_."
"Which nine out of ten of the people who speak about it now, never read," said I--and, Miss Spight did not reply.
"What queer people poets are, generally speaking," said Mr Mawley.
"Do you think so?" said I.
"Yes, I do," he replied. "I would divide poets into three great cla.s.ses, which I would call respectively the enthusiastic school, the water-cart school, and the horse-going-round-in-the-mill school."
"O-oh, Mr Mawley!" exclaimed Bessie Dasher, in the unmeaning manner common to young ladies, in lieu of saying anything, when they have got nothing to say: the exclamation expressing either astonishment, horror, alarm, or rebuke, as the case may require.
"Instance, instance! Name, name!" said I, keeping the curate up to the mark.
"Well, I will give you Horner, and Dante, Goethe, Byron, and, perhaps, Tennyson, from which to take your choice amongst those whom I call the enthusiastic school; Mrs Hemans, and others of her tearful race, in the second; and, in the third order, the majority of those who have spoilt good ink and paper, from Dryden down to Martin F Tupper."
"What, no exceptions; not even my favourite Longfellow?" asked Min.
"No," said Mr Mawley, "not one--although Longfellow belongs more by rights to the water-cart line. The fact is," continued he, fairly started on his hobby, "that Pegasus, the charger of Mount Parna.s.sus, is a most eccentric animal, who can be made to metamorphose himself so completely according to the skill and ability or weakness of his rider, that even Apollo would not recognise him sometimes! When backed by an intrepid spirit, like the grand heroic poets, Pegasus is the stately war-horse eager for the fray, and sniffing the battle from afar; or else, controlled by the nervous reins of genius like that of Sh.e.l.ley and Coleridge, he appears as the high-mettled racer, pure-blooded and finely-trained, who may win some great race, but is unfit for any ordinary work; or, again, when ridden by a Wordsworth, he plods along wearily, with lack-l.u.s.tre eyes, dragging a heavy load, such as _The Excursion_, behind him!"
What the curate might have said further was lost to his hearers. Just at this moment, on turning a bend of the river, the pretty little low- arched bridge that spans it in front of Richmond came in sight; seeing which, the children raised such a shout of joy in the bows of the gondola, that our conversation shunted into a fresh channel, while our teamster, urging his horse by a mult.i.tude of "gee wo"s," into a brisk trot, tightened our tow-rope and led us up in fine style to our goal.
A short distance from the landing-place under the bridge, we found the detachments that had gone by road, awaiting us. Joining company, we proceeded together to the park, and set about our picnic in the usual harum-scarum fashion, chasing truant children, losing one another, finding one another, making merry over the most dire mishaps, and enjoying the whole thing hugely--elders, juveniles, and all--from beginning to end.
The vicar made a perfect boy of himself. With a charming gleefulness, he did the most outrageous things--at which Master Adolphus, aetat twelve, would have turned up his nose, as being much beneath his years and dignity. He said he did it only to amuse the children; but, he took such an active part in the games he inst.i.tuted, that we declared that he joined in them for his own personal gratification.
Monsieur Parole d"Honneur, too, who was the gayest of the gay, specially distinguished himself for his vaulting powers in a sport which he ent.i.tled in his broken English manner "ze leap of ze frog;" and, as for grave Doctor Batson, whom we all thought so formal and dignified in his professional tether, why, the way in which he "stuck in his twopenny,"
as the boys said, and "gave a "back,"" was a caution to the lookers-on!
Then we had a substantial "soldier"s tea" in and around a little cottage conveniently-situated close to the park:--there, we boiled our kettles, and brewed great jorums of straw-coloured water, at the sight of which a Chinaman would have been filled with horror, impregnated as it was with the taste of new tin and the flavour of moist brown sugar and milk. The children enjoyed it, however, in conjunction with clothes baskets full of sliced bread-and-b.u.t.ter, and buns and cake galore:-- so, our main consideration was satisfied.
The whole thing pa.s.sed off well, the only mishap, throughout the day, arising from Horner having filled Miss Spight"s galoshes with hot tea; but, as she did not happen to be wearing them at the time, the accident was not of much consequence, although she soundly rated the young gentleman for his awkwardness.
Everybody, too, was satisfied--the vicar and Miss Pimpernell, at the success of the treat and the pleasure of the school-children; the churchwardens, that the expenses did not come out of their pockets; Lady Dasher, at Mr Mawley"s attentions to her daughter, which she really thought "quite marked;" and the rest of us, more youthful members of the parish gathering, at the general delightfulness of the day"s outing--the excursion by water, the picnic in the park, the gipsying, the fresh breeze, the bright sun, the everything!
I was happy, too, although I had not yet had a chance of speaking to Min privately--in the boat there were more listeners near than I cared for, and on sh.o.r.e she was too busy entertaining a small crowd of toddlekins, for whose delectation she told deeply-involved fairy stories, and wove unlimited daisy-chains of intricate patterns and simple workmanship.
Still, I knew that before night closed, I should have the wished-for opportunity of telling my tale; and, in the meantime, I was quite contented to sit near her, and hear her sweet voice, and be certain that she did not care for Mr Mawley after all!
The day could not pa.s.s, however, without the curate and I having our customary spar; and it happened in this wise.
On our way down to the gondola, after packing up the omnibus contingent of juveniles safely, in company with their mothers and a hecatomb of emptied baskets, and seeing the party off with a parting cheer from both sides, Miss Spight amiably suggested that she thought it was going to rain; at which, of course, there arose a general outcry.
"Dear me," said Miss Pimpernell, "I believe you are right, for, there are the midges dancing, too! I hope none of you girls will get your new bonnets spoilt! But, you needn"t be alarmed, my dears," she added to rea.s.sure us, "it is certain not to come down before morning, if you will take an old woman"s word for it."
"You may believe Sally, and set your minds at ease," said the vicar.
"She"s a rare judge of the weather, and as good as a farmer or sailor in that respect."
"Are the midges a sign of rain?" asked Min; "I never heard that before."
"Yes, my dear," said Miss Pimpernell, seating herself in the gondola, which we had now reached. "They always dance about twelve hours or so before it rains."
"Are there not some other signs given by animals, also, when there is going to be a change in the weather?" asked Bessie Dasher.
"Yes," said Mr Mawley, anxious, as usual, to show off his erudition, "cows low, swallows fly near the ground, sheep bleat, and--"
"a.s.ses bray," said I, with emphasis.
"So I hear," said he quickly. The curate was getting sharper than ever.
"Ah," said I, "_that_ is only a "tu quoque!""
"What is that?" asked Bessie Dasher, thinking I was making use of some term of virulent abuse, I verily believe.
"Oh!" said Mr Mawley, who was in high feather at having retorted my cut so brilliantly, "it is only a polite way of saying "you"re another," an expression which I dare say you have often heard vulgar little boys in the street make use of. I say, Lorton," he added, addressing me, "I think that"s one to me, eh?"
"All right," said I, "score it up, if you like."
And, we started down the stream homeward bound.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
"GOOD-NIGHT!"
Era gia l"ora che volge "l disio, A" naviganti e "ntenerisce il cuore, Lo di ch" ban detto a" dolci amici addio, E che lo nuova peregrin d"amore Punge, se ode Squilla di lontano, Che paja "l giorno pianger che si muore!
"Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I could say good-night till it be morrow!"
We were sitting side by side, Min and I, leaning over the gunwale of the "gondola" which was rapidly gliding down the river; the stream being in our favour, and our teamster on the towing path keeping his horse up to a brisk trot, that caused us to proceed at a faster rate than we could have pulled even a lighter boat.
It was a lovely summer night, calm and still, with hardly a breath of wind in the air; although, it was not at all unpleasantly close or oppressive.
A bright crescent moon was shining, touching up the trees that skirted the bank with a flood of silvery-azure light, that brought out each twig and particle of foliage in strong relief, and cast their trunks in shade; while, the surface of the water, unstirred by the slightest ripple, gleamed like a mirror of burnished steel, winding in and out, in its serpentine course, between ma.s.ses of dense shadow--until it was lost to sight in the distance, behind a sudden bend, and a dark projecting clump of willows and undergrowth.
Our boat seemed to be the only floating thing for miles!
Had it not been for an occasional twinkle from the far-off window of some riparian villa, and the "whish" of a startled swan as it swerved aside to allow the boat to sweep by, we might easily have imagined ourselves traversing the bosom of one of those vast, solitary rivers of the wilderness across the sea.
The children were nearly all asleep, tired out with happiness in excess; and, most of us were silent, being awed by the beauty of the evening into voiceless admiration.
A little girl near us, wakeful still, was breaking one of the daisy- chains that Min had woven her at Richmond, and casting the pieces one by one into the current as it hurried along:--the daisy cups sometimes keeping pace with us, as our tow-rope slackened, and then falling astern, on our horse trotting ahead once more.
"Don"t you remember," said I to Min, "those lines of Schiller"s _Der Jungling am Bache_? They seem appropriate to that little incident,"--I continued, pointing to the small toddlekin, who was destroying the daisy-chain:--