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Cousin Phillis
PART I
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
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       _ It is a great thing for a lad when he is first turned into the
       independence of lodgings. I do not think I ever was so satisfied
       and proud in my life as when, at seventeen, I sate down in a
       little three-cornered room above a pastry-cook's shop in the
       county town of Eltham. My father had left me that afternoon,
       after delivering himself of a few plain precepts, strongly
       expressed, for my guidance in the new course of life on which I
       was entering. I was to be a clerk under the engineer who had
       undertaken to make the little branch line from Eltham to Hornby.
       My father had got me this situation, which was in a position
       rather above his own in life; or perhaps I should say, above the
       station in which he was born and bred; for he was raising himself
       every year in men's consideration and respect. He was a mechanic
       by trade, but he had some inventive genius, and a great deal of
       perseverance, and had devised several valuable improvements in
       railway machinery. He did not do this for profit, though, as was
       reasonable, what came in the natural course of things was
       acceptable; he worked out his ideas, because, as he said, 'until
       he could put them into shape, they plagued him by night and by
       day.' But this is enough about my dear father; it is a good thing
       for a country where there are many like him. He was a sturdy
       Independent by descent and conviction; and this it was, I
       believe, which made him place me in the lodgings at the
       pastry-cook's. The shop was kept by the two sisters of our
       minister at home; and this was considered as a sort of safeguard
       to my morals, when I was turned loose upon the temptations of the
       county town, with a salary of thirty pounds a year.
       My father had given up two precious days, and put on his Sunday
       clothes, in order to bring me to Eltham, and accompany me first
       to the office, to introduce me to my new master (who was under
       some obligations to my father for a suggestion), and next to take
       me to call on the Independent minister of the little congregation
       at Eltham. And then he left me; and though sorry to part with
       him, I now began to taste with relish the pleasure of being my
       own master. I unpacked the hamper that my mother had provided me
       with, and smelt the pots of preserve with all the delight of a
       possessor who might break into their contents at any time he
       pleased. I handled and weighed in my fancy the home-cured ham,
       which seemed to promise me interminable feasts; and, above all,
       there was the fine savour of knowing that I might eat of these
       dainties when I liked, at my sole will, not dependent on the
       pleasure of any one else, however indulgent. I stowed my eatables
       away in the little corner cupboard--that room was all corners,
       and everything was placed in a corner, the fire-place, the
       window, the cupboard; I myself seemed to be the only thing in the
       middle, and there was hardly room for me. The table was made of a
       folding leaf under the window, and the window looked out upon the
       market-place; so the studies for the prosecution of which my
       father had brought himself to pay extra for a sitting-room for
       me, ran a considerable chance of being diverted from books to men
       and women. I was to have my meals with the two elderly Miss
       Dawsons in the little parlour behind the three-cornered shop
       downstairs; my breakfasts and dinners at least, for, as my hours
       in an evening were likely to be uncertain, my tea or supper was
       to be an independent meal.
       Then, after this pride and satisfaction, came a sense of
       desolation. I had never been from home before, and I was an only
       child; and though my father's spoken maxim had been, 'Spare the
       rod, and spoil the child', yet, unconsciously, his heart had
       yearned after me, and his ways towards me were more tender than
       he knew, or would have approved of in himself could he have
       known. My mother, who never professed sternness, was far more
       severe than my father: perhaps my boyish faults annoyed her more;
       for I remember, now that I have written the above words, how she
       pleaded for me once in my riper years, when I had really offended
       against my father's sense of right.
       But I have nothing to do with that now. It is about cousin
       Phillis that I am going to write, and as yet I am far enough from
       even saying who cousin Phillis was.
       For some months after I was settled in Eltham, the new employment
       in which I was engaged--the new independence of my life--occupied
       all my thoughts. I was at my desk by eight o'clock, home to
       dinner at one, back at the office by two. The afternoon work was
       more uncertain than the morning's; it might be the same, or it
       might be that I had to accompany Mr Holdsworth, the managing
       engineer, to some point on the line between Eltham and Hornby.
       This I always enjoyed, because of the variety, and because of the
       country we traversed (which was very wild and pretty), and
       because I was thrown into companionship with Mr Holdsworth, who
       held the position of hero in my boyish mind. He was a young man
       of five-and-twenty or so, and was in a station above mine, both
       by birth and education; and he had travelled on the Continent,
       and wore mustachios and whiskers of a somewhat foreign fashion. I
       was proud of being seen with him. He was really a fine fellow in
       a good number of ways, and I might have fallen into much worse
       hands.
       Every Saturday I wrote home, telling of my weekly doings--my
       father had insisted upon this; but there was so little variety in
       my life that I often found it hard work to fill a letter. On
       Sundays I went twice to chapel, up a dark narrow entry, to hear
       droning hymns, and long prayers, and a still longer sermon,
       preached to a small congregation, of which I was, by nearly a
       score of years, the youngest member. Occasionally, Mr Peters, the
       minister, would ask me home to tea after the second service. I
       dreaded the honour, for I usually sate on the edge of my chair
       all the evening, and answered solemn questions, put in a deep
       bass voice, until household prayer-time came, at eight o'clock,
       when Mrs Peters came in, smoothing down her apron, and the
       maid-of-all-work followed, and first a sermon, and then a chapter
       was read, and a long impromptu prayer followed, till some
       instinct told Mr Peters that supper-time had come, and we rose
       from our knees with hunger for our predominant feeling. Over
       supper the minister did unbend a little into one or two ponderous
       jokes, as if to show me that ministers were men, after all. And
       then at ten o'clock I went home, and enjoyed my long-repressed
       yawns in the three-cornered room before going to bed. Dinah and
       Hannah Dawson, so their names were put on the board above the
       shop-door--I always called them Miss Dawson and Miss
       Hannah--considered these visits of mine to Mr Peters as the
       greatest honour a young man could have; and evidently thought
       that if after such privileges, I did not work out my salvation, I
       was a sort of modern Judas Iscariot. On the contrary, they shook
       their heads over my intercourse with Mr Holdsworth. He had been
       so kind to me in many ways, that when I cut into my ham, I
       hovered over the thought of asking him to tea in my room, more
       especially as the annual fair was being held in Eltham
       market-place, and the sight of the booths, the merry-go-rounds,
       the wild-beast shows, and such country pomps, was (as I thought
       at seventeen) very attractive. But when I ventured to allude to
       my wish in even distant terms, Miss Hannah caught me up, and
       spoke of the sinfulness of such sights, and something about
       wallowing in the mire, and then vaulted into France, and spoke
       evil of the nation, and all who had ever set foot therein, till,
       seeing that her anger was concentrating itself into a point, and
       that that point was Mr Holdsworth, I thought it would be better
       to finish my breakfast, and make what haste I could out of the
       sound of her voice. I rather wondered afterwards to hear her and
       Miss Dawson counting up their weekly profits with glee, and
       saying that a pastry-cook's shop in the corner of the
       market-place, in Eltham fair week, was no such bad thing.
       However, I never ventured to ask Mr Holdsworth to my lodgings.
       There is not much to tell about this first year of mine at
       Eltham. But when I was nearly nineteen, and beginning to think of
       whiskers on my own account, I came to know cousin Phillis, whose
       very existence had been unknown to me till then. Mr Holdsworth
       and I had been out to Heathbridge for a day, working hard.
       Heathbridge was near Hornby, for our line of railway was above
       half finished. Of course, a day's outing was a great thing to
       tell about in my weekly letters; and I fell to describing the
       country--a fault I was not often guilty of. I told my father of
       the bogs, all over wild myrtle and soft moss, and shaking ground
       over which we had to carry our line; and how Mr Holdsworth and I
       had gone for our mid-day meals--for we had to stay here for two
       days and a night--to a pretty village hard by, Heathbridge
       proper; and how I hoped we should often have to go there, for the
       shaking, uncertain ground was puzzling our engineers--one end of
       the line going up as soon as the other was weighted down. (I had
       no thought for the shareholders' interests, as may be seen; we
       had to make a new line on firmer ground before the junction
       railway was completed.) I told all this at great length, thankful
       to fill up my paper. By return letter, I heard that a
       second-cousin of my mother's was married to the Independent
       minister of Hornby, Ebenezer Holman by name, and lived at
       Heathbridge proper; the very Heathbridge I had described, or so
       my mother believed, for she had never seen her cousin Phillis
       Green, who was something of an heiress (my father believed),
       being her father's only child, and old Thomas Green had owned an
       estate of near upon fifty acres, which must have come to his
       daughter. My mother's feeling of kinship seemed to have been
       strongly stirred by the mention of Heathbridge; for my father
       said she desired me, if ever I went thither again, to make
       inquiry for the Reverend Ebenezer Holman; and if indeed he lived
       there, I was further to ask if he had not married one Phillis
       Green; and if both these questions were answered in the
       affirmative, I was to go and introduce myself as the only child
       of Margaret Manning, born Moneypenny. I was enraged at myself for
       having named Heathbridge at all, when I found what it was drawing
       down upon me. One Independent minister, as I said to myself, was
       enough for any man; and here I knew (that is to say, I had been
       catechized on Sabbath mornings by) Mr Dawson, our minister at
       home; and I had had to be civil to old Peters at Eltham, and
       behave myself for five hours running whenever he asked me to tea
       at his house; and now, just as I felt the free air blowing about
       me up at Heathbridge, I was to ferret out another minister, and I
       should perhaps have to be catechized by him, or else asked to tea
       at his house. Besides, I did not like pushing myself upon
       strangers, who perhaps had never heard of my mother's name, and
       such an odd name as it was--Moneypenny; and if they had, had
       never cared more for her than she had for them, apparently, until
       this unlucky mention of Heathbridge. Still, I would not disobey
       my parents in such a trifle, however irksome it might be. So the
       next time our business took me to Heathbridge, and we were dining
       in the little sanded inn-parlour, I took the opportunity of Mr
       Holdsworth's being out of the room, and asked the questions which
       I was bidden to ask of the rosy-cheeked maid. I was either
       unintelligible or she was stupid; for she said she did not know,
       but would ask master; and of course the landlord came in to
       understand what it was I wanted to know; and I had to bring out
       all my stammering inquiries before Mr Holdsworth, who would never
       have attended to them, I dare say, if I had not blushed, and
       blundered, and made such a fool of myself.
       'Yes,' the landlord said, 'the Hope Farm was in Heathbridge
       proper, and the owner's name was Holman, and he was an
       Independent minister, and, as far as the landlord could tell, his
       wife's Christian name was Phillis, anyhow her maiden name was
       Green.'
       'Relations of yours?' asked Mr Holdsworth.
       'No, sir--only my mother's second-cousins. Yes, I suppose they
       are relations. But I never saw them in my life.'
       'The Hope Farm is not a stone's throw from here,' said the
       officious landlord, going to the window. 'If you carry your eye
       over yon bed of hollyhocks, over the damson-trees in the orchard
       yonder, you may see a stack of queer-like stone chimneys. Them is
       the Hope Farm chimneys; it's an old place, though Holman keeps it
       in good order.'
       Mr Holdsworth had risen from the table with more promptitude than
       I had, and was standing by the window, looking. At the landlord's
       last words, he turned round, smiling,--'It is not often that
       parsons know how to keep land in order, is it?'
       'Beg pardon, sir, but I must speak as I find; and Minister
       Holman--we call the Church clergyman here "parson," sir; he would
       be a bit jealous if he heard a Dissenter called parson--Minister
       Holman knows what he's about as well as e'er a farmer in the
       neighbourhood. He gives up five days a week to his own work, and
       two to the Lord's; and it is difficult to say which he works
       hardest at. He spends Saturday and Sunday a-writing sermons and
       a-visiting his flock at Hornby; and at five o'clock on Monday
       morning he'll be guiding his plough in the Hope Farm yonder just
       as well as if he could neither read nor write. But your dinner
       will be getting cold, gentlemen.'
       So we went back to table. After a while, Mr Holdsworth broke the
       silence:--'If I were you, Manning, I'd look up these relations of
       yours. You can go and see what they're like while we re waiting
       for Dobson's estimates, and I'll smoke a cigar in the garden
       meanwhile.'
       'Thank you, sir. But I don't know them, and I don't think I want
       to know them.'
       'What did you ask all those questions for, then?' said he,
       looking quickly up at me. He had no notion of doing or saying
       things without a purpose. I did not answer, so he
       continued,--'Make up your mind, and go off and see what this
       farmer-minister is like, and come back and tell me--I should like
       to hear.'
       I was so in the habit of yielding to his authority, or influence,
       that I never thought of resisting, but went on my errand, though
       I remember feeling as if I would rather have had my head cut off.
       The landlord, who had evidently taken an interest in the event of
       our discussion in a way that country landlords have, accompanied
       me to the house-door, and gave me repeated directions, as if I
       was likely to miss my way in two hundred yards. But I listened to
       him, for I was glad of the delay, to screw up my courage for the
       effort of facing unknown people and introducing myself. I went
       along the lane, I recollect, switching at all the taller roadside
       weeds, till, after a turn or two, I found myself close in front
       of the Hope Farm. There was a garden between the house and the
       shady, grassy lane; I afterwards found that this garden was
       called the court; perhaps because there was a low wall round it,
       with an iron railing on the top of the wall, and two great gates
       between pillars crowned with stone balls for a state entrance to
       the flagged path leading up to the front door. It was not the
       habit of the place to go in either by these great gates or by the
       front door; the gates, indeed, were locked, as I found, though
       the door stood wide open. I had to go round by a side-path
       lightly worn on a broad grassy way, which led past the
       court-wall, past a horse-mount, half covered with stone-crop and
       the little wild yellow fumitory, to another door--'the curate',
       as I found it was termed by the master of the house, while the
       front door, 'handsome and all for show', was termed the 'rector'.
       I knocked with my hand upon the 'curate' door; a tall girl, about
       my own age, as I thought, came and opened it, and stood there
       silent, waiting to know my errand. I see her now--cousin Phillis.
       The westering sun shone full upon her, and made a slanting stream
       of light into the room within. She was dressed in dark blue
       cotton of some kind; up to her throat, down to her wrists, with a
       little frill of the same wherever it touched her white skin. And
       such a white skin as it was! I have never seen the like. She had
       light hair, nearer yellow than any other colour. She looked me
       steadily in the face with large, quiet eyes, wondering, but
       untroubled by the sight of a stranger. I thought it odd that so
       old, so full-grown as she was, she should wear a pinafore over
       her gown.
       Before I had quite made up my mind what to say in reply to her
       mute inquiry of what I wanted there, a woman's voice called out,
       'Who is it, Phillis? If it is any one for butter-milk send them
       round to the back door.'
       I thought I could rather speak to the owner of that voice than to
       the girl before me; so I passed her, and stood at the entrance of
       a room hat in hand, for this side-door opened straight into the
       hall or house-place where the family sate when work was done.
       There was a brisk little woman of forty or so ironing some huge
       muslin cravats under the light of a long vine-shaded casement
       window. She looked at me distrustfully till I began to speak. 'My
       name is Paul Manning,' said I; but I saw she did not know the
       name. 'My mother's name was Moneypenny,' said I,--'Margaret
       Moneypenny.'
       'And she married one John Manning, of Birmingham,' said Mrs
       Holman, eagerly.
       'And you'll be her son. Sit down! I am right glad to see you. To
       think of your being Margaret's son! Why, she was almost a child
       not so long ago. Well, to be sure, it is five-and-twenty years
       ago. And what brings you into these parts?'
       She sate down herself, as if oppressed by her curiosity as to all
       the five-and-twenty years that had passed by since she had seen
       my mother. Her daughter Phillis took up her knitting--a long grey
       worsted man's stocking, I remember--and knitted away without
       looking at her work. I felt that the steady gaze of those deep
       grey eyes was upon me, though once, when I stealthily raised mine
       to hers, she was examining something on the wall above my head.
       When I had answered all my cousin Holman's questions, she heaved
       a long breath, and said, 'To think of Margaret Moneypenny's boy
       being in our house! I wish the minister was here. Phillis, in
       what field is thy father to-day?'
       'In the five-acre; they are beginning to cut the corn.'
       'He'll not like being sent for, then, else I should have liked
       you to have seen the minister. But the five-acre is a good step
       off. You shall have a glass of wine and a bit of cake before you
       stir from this house, though. You're bound to go, you say, or
       else the minister comes in mostly when the men have their four
       o'clock.'
       'I must go--I ought to have been off before now.'
       'Here, then, Phillis, take the keys.' She gave her daughter some
       whispered directions, and Phillis left the room.
       'She is my cousin, is she not?' I asked. I knew she was, but
       somehow I wanted to talk of her, and did not know how to begin.
       'Yes--Phillis Holman. She is our only child--now.'
       Either from that 'now', or from a strange momentary wistfulness
       in her eyes, I knew that there had been more children, who were
       now dead.
       'How old is cousin Phillis?' said I, scarcely venturing on the
       new name, it seemed too prettily familiar for me to call her by
       it; but cousin Holman took no notice of it, answering straight to
       the purpose.
       'Seventeen last May-day; but the minister does not like to hear
       me calling it May-day,' said she, checking herself with a little
       awe. 'Phillis was seventeen on the first day of May last,' she
       repeated in an emended edition.
       'And I am nineteen in another month,' thought I, to myself; I
       don't know why. Then Phillis came in, carrying a tray with wine
       and cake upon it.
       'We keep a house-servant,' said cousin Holman, 'but it is
       churning day, and she is busy.' It was meant as a little proud
       apology for her daughter's being the handmaiden.
       'I like doing it, mother,' said Phillis, in her grave, full
       voice.
       I felt as if I were somebody in the Old Testament--who, I could
       not recollect--being served and waited upon by the daughter of
       the host. Was I like Abraham's servant, when Rebekah gave him to
       drink at the well? I thought Isaac had not gone the pleasantest
       way to work in winning him a wife. But Phillis never thought
       about such things. She was a stately, gracious young woman, in
       the dress and with the simplicity of a child.
       As I had been taught, I drank to the health of my newfound cousin
       and her husband; and then I ventured to name my cousin Phillis
       with a little bow of my head towards her; but I was too awkward
       to look and see how she took my compliment. 'I must go now,' said
       I, rising.
       Neither of the women had thought of sharing in the wine; cousin
       Holman had broken a bit of cake for form's sake.
       'I wish the minister had been within,' said his wife, rising too.
       Secretly I was very glad he was not. I did not take kindly to
       ministers in those days, and I thought he must be a particular
       kind of man, by his objecting to the term May-day. But before I
       went, cousin Holman made me promise that I would come back on the
       Saturday following and spend Sunday with them; when I should see
       something of 'the minister'.
       'Come on Friday, if you can,' were her last words as she stood at
       the curate-door, shading her eyes from the sinking sun with her
       hand. Inside the house sate cousin Phillis, her golden hair, her
       dazzling complexion, lighting up the corner of the vine-shadowed
       room. She had not risen when I bade her good-by; she had looked
       at me straight as she said her tranquil words of farewell.
       I found Mr Holdsworth down at the line, hard at work
       superintending. As Soon as he had a pause, he said, 'Well,
       Manning, what are the new cousins like? How do preaching and
       farming seem to get on together? If the minister turns out to be
       practical as well as reverend, I shall begin to respect him.'
       But he hardly attended to my answer, he was so much more occupied
       with directing his work-people. Indeed, my answer did not come
       very readily; and the most distinct part of it was the mention of
       the invitation that had been given me.
       'Oh, of course you can go--and on Friday, too, if you like; there
       is no reason why not this week; and you've done a long spell of
       work this time, old fellow.' I thought that I did not want to go
       on Friday; but when the day came, I found that I should prefer
       going to staying away, so I availed myself of Mr Holdsworth's
       permission, and went over to Hope Farm some time in the
       afternoon, a little later than my last visit. I found the
       'curate' open to admit the soft September air, so tempered by the
       warmth of the sun, that it was warmer out of doors than in,
       although the wooden log lay smouldering in front of a heap of hot
       ashes on the hearth. The vine-leaves over the window had a tinge
       more yellow, their edges were here and there scorched and
       browned; there was no ironing about, and cousin Holman sate just
       outside the house, mending a shirt. Phillis was at her knitting
       indoors: it seemed as if she had been at it all the week. The
       manyspeckled fowls were pecking about in the farmyard beyond, and
       the milk-cans glittered with brightness, hung out to sweeten. The
       court was so full of flowers that they crept out upon the
       low-covered wall and horse-mount, and were even to be found
       self-sown upon the turf that bordered the path to the back of the
       house. I fancied that my Sunday coat was scented for days
       afterwards by the bushes of sweetbriar and the fraxinella that
       perfumed the air. From time to time cousin Holman put her hand
       into a covered basket at her feet, and threw handsful of corn
       down for the pigeons that cooed and fluttered in the air around,
       in expectation of this treat.
       I had a thorough welcome as soon as she saw me. 'Now this is
       kind--this is right down friendly,' shaking my hand warmly.
       'Phillis, your cousin Manning is come!'
       'Call me Paul, will you?' said I; 'they call me so at home, and
       Manning in the office.'
       'Well, Paul, then. Your room is all ready for you, Paul, for, as
       I said to the minister, "I'll have it ready whether he comes on
       Friday or not." And the minister said he must go up to the
       Ashfield whether you were to come or not; but he would come home
       betimes to see if you were here. I'll show you to your room, and
       you can wash the dust off a bit.'
       After I came down, I think she did not quite know what to do with
       me; or she might think that I was dull; or she might have work to
       do in which I hindered her; for she called Phillis, and bade her
       put on her bonnet, and go with me to the Ashfield, and find
       father. So we set off, I in a little flutter of a desire to make
       myself agreeable, but wishing that my companion were not quite so
       tall; for she was above me in height. While I was wondering how
       to begin our conversation, she took up the words.
       'I suppose, cousin Paul, you have to be very busy at your work
       all day long in general.'
       'Yes, we have to be in the office at half-past eight; and we have
       an hour for dinner, and then we go at it again till eight or
       nine.'
       'Then you have not much time for reading.'
       'No,' said I, with a sudden consciousness that I did not make the
       most of what leisure I had.
       'No more have I. Father always gets an hour before going a-field
       in the mornings, but mother does not like me to get up so early.'
       'My mother is always wanting me to get up earlier when I am at
       home.'
       'What time do you get up?'
       'Oh!--ah!--sometimes half-past six: not often though;' for I
       remembered only twice that I had done so during the past summer.
       She turned her head and looked at me.
       'Father is up at three; and so was mother till she was ill. I
       should like to be up at four.'
       'Your father up at three! Why, what has he to do at that hour?'
       'What has he not to do? He has his private exercise in his own
       room; he always rings the great bell which calls the men to
       milking; he rouses up Betty, our maid; as often as not he gives
       the horses their feed before the man is up--for Jem, who takes
       care of the horses, is an old man; and father is always loth to
       disturb him; he looks at the calves, and the shoulders, heels,
       traces, chaff, and corn before the horses go a-field; he has
       often to whip-cord the plough-whips; he sees the hogs fed; he
       looks into the swill-tubs, and writes his orders for what is
       wanted for food for man and beast; yes, and for fuel, too. And
       then, if he has a bit of time to spare, he comes in and reads
       with me--but only English; we keep Latin for the evenings, that
       we may have time to enjoy it; and then he calls in the men to
       breakfast, and cuts the boys' bread and cheese; and sees their
       wooden bottles filled, and sends them off to their work;--and by
       this time it is half-past six, and we have our breakfast. There
       is father,' she exclaimed, pointing out to me a man in his
       shirt-sleeves, taller by the head than the other two with whom he
       was working. We only saw him through the leaves of the ash-trees
       growing in the hedge, and I thought I must be confusing the
       figures, or mistaken: that man still looked like a very powerful
       labourer, and had none of the precise demureness of appearance
       which I had always imagined was the characteristic of a minister.
       It was the Reverend Ebenezer Holman, however. He gave us a nod as
       we entered the stubble-field; and I think he would have come to
       meet us but that he was in the middle of giving some directions
       to his men. I could see that Phillis was built more after his
       type than her mother's. He, like his daughter, was largely made,
       and of a fair, ruddy complexion, whereas hers was brilliant and
       delicate. His hair had been yellow or sandy, but now was
       grizzled. Yet his grey hairs betokened no failure in strength. I
       never saw a more powerful man--deep chest, lean flanks,
       well-planted head. By this time we were nearly up to him; and he
       interrupted himself and stepped forwards; holding out his hand to
       me, but addressing Phillis.
       'Well, my lass, this is cousin Manning, I suppose. Wait a minute,
       young man, and I'll put on my coat, and give you a decorous and
       formal welcome. But--Ned Hall, there ought to be a water-furrow
       across this land: it's a nasty, stiff, clayey, dauby bit of
       ground, and thou and I must fall to, come next Monday--I beg your
       pardon, cousin Manning--and there's old Jem's cottage wants a bit
       of thatch; you can do that job tomorrow while I am busy.' Then,
       suddenly changing the tone of his deep bass voice to an odd
       suggestion of chapels and preachers, he added. 'Now, I will give
       out the psalm, "Come all harmonious tongues", to be sung to
       "Mount Ephraim" tune.'
       He lifted his spade in his hand, and began to beat time with it;
       the two labourers seemed to know both words and music, though I
       did not; and so did Phillis: her rich voice followed her father's
       as he set the tune; and the men came in with more uncertainty,
       but still harmoniously. Phillis looked at me once or twice with a
       little surprise at my silence; but I did not know the words.
       There we five stood, bareheaded, excepting Phillis, in the tawny
       stubble-field, from which all the shocks of corn had not yet been
       carried--a dark wood on one side, where the woodpigeons were
       cooing; blue distance seen through the ash-trees on the other.
       Somehow, I think that if I had known the words, and could have
       sung, my throat would have been choked up by the feeling of the
       unaccustomed scene.
       The hymn was ended, and the men had drawn off before I could
       stir. I saw the minister beginning to put on his coat, and
       looking at me with friendly inspection in his gaze, before I
       could rouse myself.
       'I dare say you railway gentlemen don't wind up the day with
       singing a psalm together,' said he; 'but it is not a bad
       practice--not a bad practice. We have had it a bit earlier to-day
       for hospitality's sake--that's all.'
       I had nothing particular to say to this, though I was thinking a
       great deal. From time to time I stole a look at my companion. His
       coat was black, and so was his waistcoat; neckcloth he had none,
       his strong full throat being bare above the snow-white shirt. He
       wore drab-coloured knee-breeches, grey worsted stockings (I
       thought I knew the maker), and strong-nailed shoes. He carried
       his hat in his hand, as if he liked to feel the coming breeze
       lifting his hair. After a while, I saw that the father took hold
       of the daughter's hand, and so, they holding each other, went
       along towards home. We had to cross a lane. In it were two little
       children, one lying prone on the grass in a passion of crying,
       the other standing stock still, with its finger in its mouth, the
       large tears slowly rolling down its cheeks for sympathy. The
       cause of their distress was evident; there was a broken brown
       pitcher, and a little pool of spilt milk on the road.
       'Hollo! Hollo! What's all this?' said the minister. 'why, what
       have you been about, Tommy,' lifting the little petticoated lad,
       who was lying sobbing, with one vigorous arm. Tommy looked at him
       with surprise in his round eyes, but no affright--they were
       evidently old acquaintances.
       'Mammy's jug!' said he, at last, beginning to cry afresh.
       'Well! and will crying piece mammy's jug, or pick up spilt milk?
       How did you manage it, Tommy?'
       'He' (jerking his head at the other) 'and me was running races.'
       'Tommy said he could beat me,' put in the other.
       'Now, I wonder what will make you two silly lads mind, and not
       run races again with a pitcher of milk between you,' said the
       minister, as if musing. 'I might flog you, and so save mammy the
       trouble; for I dare say she'll do it if I don't.' The fresh burst
       of whimpering from both showed the probability of this.
       'Or I might take you to the Hope Farm, and give you some more
       milk; but then you'd be running races again, and my milk would
       follow that to the ground, and make another white pool. I think
       the flogging would be best--don't you?'
       'We would never run races no more,' said the elder of the two.
       'Then you'd not be boys; you'd be angels.'
       'No, we shouldn't.'
       'Why not?'
       They looked into each other's eyes for an answer to this puzzling
       question. At length, one said, 'Angels is dead folk.'
       'Come; we'll not get too deep into theology. What do you think of
       my lending you a tin can with a lid to carry the milk home in?
       That would not break, at any rate; though I would not answer for
       the milk not spilling if you ran races. That's it!'
       He had dropped his daughter's hand, and now held out each of his
       to the little fellows. Phillis and I followed, and listened to
       the prattle which the minister's companions now poured out to
       him, and which he was evidently enjoying. At a certain point,
       there was a sudden burst of the tawny, ruddy-evening landscape.
       The minister turned round and quoted a line or two of Latin.
       'It's wonderful,' said he, 'how exactly Virgil has hit the
       enduring epithets, nearly two thousand years ago, and in Italy;
       and yet how it describes to a T what is now lying before us in
       the parish of Heathbridge, county----, England.'
       'I dare say it does,' said I, all aglow with shame, for I had
       forgotten the little Latin I ever knew.
       The minister shifted his eyes to Phillis's face; it mutely gave
       him back the sympathetic appreciation that I, in my ignorance,
       could not bestow.
       'Oh! this is worse than the catechism,' thought I; 'that was only
       remembering words.'
       'Phillis, lass, thou must go home with these lads, and tell their
       mother all about the race and the milk. Mammy must always know
       the truth,' now speaking to the children. 'And tell her, too,
       from me that I have got the best birch rod in the parish; and
       that if she ever thinks her children want a flogging she must
       bring them to me, and, if I think they deserve it, I'll give it
       them better than she can.' So Phillis led the children towards
       the dairy, somewhere in the back yard, and I followed the
       minister in through the 'curate' into the house-place. 'Their
       mother,' said he, 'is a bit of a vixen, and apt to punish her
       children without rhyme or reason. I try to keep the parish rod as
       well as the parish bull.'
       He sate down in the three-cornered chair by the fire-side, and
       looked around the empty room.
       'Where's the missus?' said he to himself. But she was there
       home--by a look, by a touch, nothing more--as soon as she in a
       minute; it was her regular plan to give him his welcome could
       after his return, and he had missed her now. Regardless of my
       presence, he went over the day's doings to her; and then, getting
       up, he said he must go and make himself 'reverend', and that then
       we would have a cup of tea in the parlour. The parlour was a
       large room with two casemented windows on the other side of the
       broad flagged passage leading from the rector-door to the wide
       staircase, with its shallow, polished oaken steps, on which no
       carpet was ever laid. The parlour-floor was covered in the middle
       by a home-made carpeting of needlework and list. One or two
       quaint family pictures of the Holman family hung round the walls;
       the fire-grate and irons were much ornamented with brass; and on
       a table against the wall between the windows, a great beau-pot of
       flowers was placed upon the folio volumes of Matthew Henry's
       Bible. It was a compliment to me to use this room, and I tried to
       be grateful for it; but we never had our meals there after that
       first day, and I was glad of it; for the large house-place,
       living room, dining-room, whichever you might like to call it,
       was twice as comfortable and cheerful. There was a rug in front
       of the great large fire-place, and an oven by the grate, and a
       crook, with the kettle hanging from it, over the bright
       wood-fire; everything that ought to be black and Polished in that
       room was black and Polished; and the flags, and window-curtains,
       and such things as were to be white and clean, were just spotless
       in their purity. Opposite to the fire-place, extending the whole
       length of the room, was an oaken shovel-board, with the right
       incline for a skilful player to send the weights into the
       prescribed space. There were baskets of white work about, and a
       small shelf of books hung against the wall, books used for
       reading, and not for propping up a beau-pot of flowers. I took
       down one or two of those books once when I was left alone in the
       house-place on the first evening--Virgil, Caesar, a Greek
       grammar--oh, dear! ah, me! and Phillis Holman's name in each of
       them! I shut them up, and put them back in their places, and
       walked as far away from the bookshelf as I could. Yes, and I gave
       my cousin Phillis a wide berth, as though she was sitting at her
       work quietly enough, and her hair was looking more golden, her
       dark eyelashes longer, her round pillar of a throat whiter than
       ever. We had done tea, and we had returned into the house-place
       that the minister might smoke his pipe without fear of
       contaminating the drab damask window-curtains of the parlour. He
       had made himself 'reverend' by putting on one of the voluminous
       white muslin neckcloths that I had seen cousin Holman ironing
       that first visit I had paid to the Hope Farm, and by making one
       or two other unimportant changes in his dress. He sate looking
       steadily at me, but whether he saw me or not I cannot tell. At
       the time I fancied that he did, and was gauging me in some
       unknown fashion in his secret mind. Every now and then he took
       his pipe out of his mouth, knocked out the ashes, and asked me
       some fresh question. As long as these related to my acquirements
       or my reading, I shuffled uneasily and did not know what to
       answer. By-and-by he got round to the more practical subject of
       railroads, and on this I was more at home. I really had taken an
       interest in my work; nor would Mr Holdsworth, indeed, have kept
       me in his employment if I had not given my mind as well as my
       time to it; and I was, besides, full of the difficulties which
       beset us just then, owing to our not being able to find a steady
       bottom on the Heathbridge moss, over which we wished to carry our
       line. In the midst of all my eagerness in speaking about this, I
       could not help being struck with the extreme pertinence of his
       questions. I do not mean that he did not show ignorance of many
       of the details of engineering: that was to have been expected;
       but on the premises he had got hold of; he thought clearly and
       reasoned logically. Phillis--so like him as she was both in body
       and mind--kept stopping at her work and looking at me, trying to
       fully understand all that I said. I felt she did; and perhaps it
       made me take more pains in using clear expressions, and arranging
       my words, than I otherwise should.
       'She shall see I know something worth knowing, though it mayn't
       be her dead-and-gone languages,' thought I.
       'I see,' said the minister, at length. 'I understand it all.
       You've a clear, good head of your own, my lad,--choose how you
       came by it.'
       'From my father,' said I, proudly. 'Have you not heard of his
       discovery of a new method of shunting? It was in the Gazette. It
       was patented. I thought every one had heard of Manning's patent
       winch.'
       'We don't know who invented the alphabet,' said he, half smiling,
       and taking up his pipe.
       'No, I dare say not, sir,' replied I, half offended; 'that's so
       long ago.' Puff--puff--puff.
       'But your father must be a notable man. I heard of him once
       before; and it is not many a one fifty miles away whose fame
       reaches Heathbridge.'
       'My father is a notable man, sir. It is not me that says so; it
       is Mr Holdsworth, and--and everybody.'
       'He is right to stand up for his father,' said cousin Holman, as
       if she were pleading for me.
       I chafed inwardly, thinking that my father needed no one to stand
       up for him. He was man sufficient for himself.
       'Yes--he is right,' said the minister, placidly. 'Right, because
       it comes from his heart--right, too, as I believe, in point of
       fact. Else there is many a young cockerel that will stand upon a
       dunghill and crow about his father, by way of making his own
       plumage to shine. I should like to know thy father,' he went on,
       turning straight to me, with a kindly, frank look in his eyes.
       But I was vexed, and would take no notice. Presently, having
       finished his pipe, he got up and left the room. Phillis put her
       work hastily down, and went after him. In a minute or two she
       returned, and sate down again. Not long after, and before I had
       quite recovered my good temper, he opened the door out of which
       he had passed, and called to me to come to him. I went across a
       narrow stone passage into a strange, many-cornered room, not ten
       feet in area, part study, part counting house, looking into the
       farm-yard; with a desk to sit at, a desk to stand at, a Spittoon,
       a set of shelves with old divinity books upon them; another,
       smaller, filled with books on farriery, farming, manures, and
       such subjects, with pieces of paper containing memoranda stuck
       against the whitewashed walls with wafers, nails, pins, anything
       that came readiest to hand; a box of carpenter's tools on the
       floor, and some manuscripts in short-hand on the desk.
       He turned round, half laughing. 'That foolish girl of mine thinks
       I have vexed you'--putting his large, powerful hand on my
       shoulder. '"Nay," says I, "kindly meant is kidney taken"--is it
       not so?'
       'It was not quite, sir,' replied I, vanquished by his manner;
       'but it shall be in future.'
       'Come, that's right. You and I shall be friends. Indeed, it's not
       many a one I would bring in here. But I was reading a book this
       morning, and I could not make it out; it is a book that was left
       here by mistake one day; I had subscribed to Brother Robinson's
       sermons; and I was glad to see this instead of them, for sermons
       though they be, they're . . . well, never mind! I took 'em both,
       and made my old coat do a bit longer; but all's fish that comes
       to my net. I have fewer books than leisure to read them, and I
       have a prodigious big appetite. Here it is.'
       It was a volume of stiff mechanics, involving many technical
       terms, and some rather deep mathematics. These last, which would
       have puzzled me, seemed easy enough to him; all that he wanted
       was the explanations of the technical words, which I could easily
       give.
       While he was looking through the book to find the places where he
       had been puzzled, my wandering eye caught on some of the papers
       on the wall, and I could not help reading one, which has stuck by
       me ever since. At first, it seemed a kind of weekly diary; but
       then I saw that the seven days were portioned out for special
       prayers and intercessions: Monday for his family, Tuesday for
       enemies, Wednesday for the Independent churches, Thursday for all
       other churches, Friday for persons afflicted, Saturday for his
       own soul, Sunday for all wanderers and sinners, that they might
       be brought home to the fold.
       We were called back into the house-place to have supper. A door
       opening into the kitchen was opened; and all stood up in both
       rooms, while the minister, tall, large, one hand resting on the
       spread table, the other lifted up, said, in the deep voice that
       would have been loud had it not been so full and rich, but
       without the peculiar accent or twang that I believe is considered
       devout by some people, 'Whether we eat or drink, or whatsoever we
       do, let us do all to the glory of God.'
       The supper was an immense meat-pie. We of the house-place were
       helped first; then the minister hit the handle of his buck-horn
       carving-knife on the table once, and said,--
       'Now or never,' which meant, did any of us want any more; and
       when we had all declined, either by silence or by words, he
       knocked twice with his knife on the table, and Betty came in
       through the open door, and carried off the great dish to the
       kitchen, where an old man and a young one, and a help-girl, were
       awaiting their meal.
       'Shut the door, if you will,' said the minister to Betty.
       'That's in honour of you,' said cousin Holman, in a tone of
       satisfaction, as the door was shut. 'when we've no stranger with
       us, the minister is so fond of keeping the door Open, and talking
       to the men and maids, just as much as to Phillis and me.
       'It brings us all together like a household just before we meet
       as a household in prayer,' said he, in explanation. 'But to go
       back to what we were talking about--can you tell me of any simple
       book on dynamics that I could put in my pocket, and study a
       little at leisure times in the day?'
       'Leisure times, father?' said Phillis, with a nearer approach to
       a smile than I had yet seen on her face.
       'Yes; leisure times, daughter. There is many an odd minute lost
       in waiting for other folk; and now that railroads are coming so
       near us, it behoves us to know something about them.'
       I thought of his own description of his 'prodigious big appetite'
       for learning. And he had a good appetite of his own for the more
       material victual before him. But I saw, or fancied I saw, that he
       had some rule for himself in the matter both of food and drink.
       As soon as supper was done the household assembled for prayer. It
       was a long impromptu evening prayer; and it would have seemed
       desultory enough had I not had a glimpse of the kind of day that
       preceded it, and so been able to find a clue to the thoughts that
       preceded the disjointed utterances; for he kept there kneeling
       down in the centre of a circle, his eyes shut, his outstretched
       hands pressed palm to palm--sometimes with a long pause of
       silence was anything else he wished to 'lay before the Lord! (to
       use his own expression)--before he concluded with the blessing.
       He prayed for the cattle and live creatures, rather to my
       surprise; for my attention had begun to wander, till it was
       recalled by the familiar words.
       And here I must not forget to name an odd incident at the
       conclusion of the prayer, and before we had risen from our knees
       (indeed before Betty was well awake, for she made a practice of
       having a sound nap, her weary head lying on her stalwart arms);
       the minister, still kneeling in our midst, but with his eyes wide
       open, and his arms dropped by his side, spoke to the elder man,
       who turned round on his knees to attend. 'John, didst see that
       Daisy had her warm mash to-night; for we must not neglect the
       means, John--two quarts of gruel, a spoonful of ginger, and a
       gill of beer--the poor beast needs it, and I fear it slipped Out
       of my mind to tell thee; and here was I asking a blessing and
       neglecting the means, which is a mockery,' said he, dropping his
       voice. Before we went to bed he told me he should see little or
       nothing more of me during my visit, which was to end on Sunday
       evening, as he always gave up both Saturday and Sabbath to his
       work in the ministry. I remembered that the landlord at the inn
       had told me this on the day when I first inquired about these new
       relations of mine; and I did not dislike the opportunity which I
       saw would be afforded me of becoming more acquainted with cousin
       Holman and Phillis, though I earnestly hoped that the latter
       would not attack me on the subject of the dead languages.
       I went to bed, and dreamed that I was as tall as cousin Phillis,
       and had a sudden and miraculous growth of whisker, and a still
       more miraculous acquaintance with Latin and Greek. Alas! I
       wakened up still a short, beardless lad, with 'tempus fugit' for
       my sole remembrance of the little Latin I had once learnt. While
       I was dressing, a bright thought came over me: I could question
       cousin Phillis, instead of her questioning me, and so manage to
       keep the choice of the subjects of conversation in my own power.
       Early as it was, every one had breakfasted, and my basin of bread
       and milk was put on the oven-top to await my coming down. Every
       one was gone about their work. The first to come into the
       house-place was Phillis with a basket of eggs. Faithful to my
       resolution, I asked,--
       'What are those?'
       She looked at me for a moment, and then said gravely,--
       'Potatoes!'
       'No! they are not,' said I. 'They are eggs. What do you mean by
       saying they are potatoes?'
       'What do you mean by asking me what they were, when they were
       plain to be seen?' retorted she.
       We were both getting a little angry with each other.
       'I don't know. I wanted to begin to talk to you; and I was afraid
       you would talk to me about books as you did yesterday. I have not
       read much; and you and the minister have read so much.'
       'I have not,' said she. 'But you are our guest; and mother says I
       must make it pleasant to you. We won't talk of books. What must
       we talk about?'
       'I don't know. How old are you?'
       'Seventeen last May. How old are you?'
       'I am nineteen. Older than you by nearly two years,' said I,
       drawing myself up to my full height.
       'I should not have thought you were above sixteen,' she replied,
       as quietly as if she were not saying the most provoking thing she
       possibly could. Then came a pause.
       'What are you going to do now?' asked I.
       'I should be dusting the bed-chambers; but mother said I had
       better stay and make it pleasant to you,' said she, a little
       plaintively, as if dusting rooms was far the easiest task.
       'Will you take me to see the live-stock? I like animals, though I
       don't know much about them.'
       'Oh, do you? I am so glad! I was afraid you would not like
       animals, as you did not like books.'
       I wondered why she said this. I think it was because she had
       begun to fancy all our tastes must be dissimilar. We went
       together all through the farm-yard; we fed the poultry, she
       kneeling down with her pinafore full of corn and meal, and
       tempting the little timid, downy chickens upon it, much to the
       anxiety of the fussy ruffled hen, their mother. She called to the
       pigeons, who fluttered down at the sound of her voice. She and I
       examined the great sleek cart-horses; sympathized in our dislike
       of pigs; fed the calves; coaxed the sick cow, Daisy; and admired
       the others out at pasture; and came back tired and hungry and
       dirty at dinner-time, having quite forgotten that there were such
       things as dead languages, and consequently capital friends. _
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