VILLAGE CHARACTERS.

PART I.

"Upon my return home, I fell into a profound contemplation on the evils that attend these superstitious follies of mankind; how they subject us to imaginary afflictions, and additional sorrows, that do not properly come within our lot. As if the natural calamities of life were not sufficient for it, we turn the most indifferent circumstances into misfortunes, and suffer as much from trifling accidents, as from real evils. I have known the shooting of a star spoil a night's rest; and have seen a man in love grow pale, and lose his appetite, upon the plucking of a merry thought. A screech-owl at midnight has alarmed a family more than a band of robbers; nay, the voice of a cricket hath struck more terror than the roaring of a lion. There is nothing so inconsiderable, which may not appear dreadful to an fmagination that is filled with omens and prognostics."

To Miss Roscoe.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,

66

Addison.

I feel that I ought to apologize for my long silence, but my time has been so fully occupied in this lonely retreat from the great world, that I have not been able to reply to your last very kind epistle. You will smile, I have no doubt, by my reference to the full occupancy of my time, and sarcastically ask me, what I can find in the obscurity of my present abode to engross the whole of my attention? I have no objection to the question, and I will proceed to reply to it in due form. But you will permit me to inform you, in the first place, that we have just been favoured with a short visit from our mutual friend Mr. Llewellin. Yes, you must allow me to call him my friend, though I readily admit that you can present prior and stronger claims. He remained with us two days; and as the weather was very fine, we took

'Our walks abroad,'

not merely to gaze on the beautiful scenery of this romantic part of the country, but to visit some of the living temples, which the God of all grace has raised in our highly favoured village, and which he hath consecrated to his service. He left us about three weeks since for London, and informed us that he expects to spend the Christmas with you.

"I certainly think with you, that while an active life is productive of most good to our fellow creatures, that a retired life is most favourable for personal devotion; but is it not our duty to go where Providence leads the way? for

'Who so wise to choose our lot?'

Indeed, if he were to give me my choice, I would refer the decision to his unerring will; contented to pitch my tent where he commands the auspicious cloud to stop, and strike it when he bids it move. Yes,

"Tis sweet to lie passive in his hands,

And know no will but his.'

"I can trace the footsteps of his kindness in leading me to this sequestered spot, where he has given me an opportunity of doing some good, and gaining more. Here I enjoy the honour of an active, and the pleasures of a contemplative life: not too much labour to oppress my spirits, nor too much leisure to deaden them, but a wise proportion; so that I can pass from the one to the other, without having to regret that I have not time enough for either. But, alas! my friend, how imperfect is my most active service! how defective my most spiritual! what cause for the lowest self-abasement do I discover in the deep recesses of my heart! The sentiments of our favourite poet are so congenial with my own, and the language in which he expresses them so very beautiful, that you will not condemn me for transcribing them, though they are already familiar to you.

'Since the dear hour that brought me to thy foot,
And cut up all my follies by the root,

I never trusted in an arm but thine,

Nor hoped, but in thy righteousness divine:
My prayers and alms, imperfect and defil'd,
Were but the feeble efforts of a child:
Howe'er perform'd, it was their brightest part,
That they proceeded from a grateful heart:
Cleans'd in thine own all-purifying blood,
Forgive their evil, and accept their good.
I cast them at thy feet-my only plea
Is what it was-dependance upon thee;
While struggling in the vale of tears below,
That never fail'd, nor shall it fail me now.'

"You wish to know how we are going on; and I am happy to inform, you, that since the prosecution, we have

not been interrupted. Indeed, the Gentlemen who instigated that disgraceful business are so much ashamed of their conduct, that they endeavour to throw all the odium of it on the agents who were employed; and this has so incensed them, that to be revenged, several of them regularly attend the Chapel, and assist in leading the psalmody of the congregation. Thus we see, that the Lord maketh the wrath of man to praise him. Our minister grows in the esteem of the people; and though he does not rank with the most popular preachers of the day, yet in my opinion he is one of the most useful. He goes from house to house like the apostles of our Lord, not to gain proselytes to swell the numbers of a sectarian party, but to win souls to Christ; and if you could witness the fervour of his spirit in the cause to which he is devoted, you would love him for his work's sake. In some subsequent epistle, I will give a more detailed account of the success of his labours; but now you must be satisfied with the sketch I have sent you of some of the leading characters of our village. You will probably smile at the term which I have employed ;but why may not an obscure village have its leading men and its leading women, as well as the more splendid city? We cannot boast of mayors or aldermen, of counsellors or of orators; nor have we any groups of fashionable dames or sprightly lasses, who alternately excite popular favour and popular odium, prolonging the angry debate, or facetious story: but we have our gossips and our praters, our idlers and our tatlers, our wiseacres and our oracles, who keep the dull monotony of a village life from sinking into a quiescent state of mental sloth and inaction."

"Our village is delightfully situated on the top of a hill, which commands a very extensive prospect of the surrounding country, and like most others, its houses are built of wood and stone, with little gardens in front, and larger ones behind, or on the side of them. It contains one street, if I may be allowed to give it such an honourable designation, through which the slow-paced waggon, and the rumbling cart, and the rattling coach, severally pass at different times, and through all the seasons of the year; and in which some of the more wealthy of the inhabitants reside. There is Farmer

H—, who lives in the house in which his grandfather was born, and which is shaded by a large oak tree, that has outlived many generations, and is likely to outlive many more. He rises in the summer about five, breakfasts at half-past six, takes his dinner exactly as the clock strikes twelve, smokes his pipe in the portico (to speak in modern language), between seven and eight, then takes his supper, and retires at nine, to sleep away the long and tedious hours of night. He is upon the whole a very worthy man; though rather pedantic in his way. He received, what he calls an edecation, when young, his father having sent him for six months to a boarding school about twelve miles off, beside giving the old parish clerk two guineas to teach him the rule of addition and multiplication. He farms a small estate of his own, on which his mansion stands, and. another about double the size, which he rents under Lord; and is regarded by most of his fraternity rather clever in his profession. He is a good judge of dive stock; is celebrated for the excellence of his butter and cheese; decidedly attached to his Church and his King; a strong advocate for the corn laws; generally consulted on all parish questions; and universally admitted to be one of the best weather tellers in the hamlet: though the shepherd says, he has known him out in his reckonings. He has served the office of overseer eleven times, which forms one of his chief tales in all companies; has been churchwarden six times; was regularly enrolled amongst the yeomanry of the country at the time of the threatened invasion, and often expresses his regret that no opportunity ever occurred to enable him to distinguish himself in the annals of war. He goes to church with his comely dame every Sunday; repeats the responses in an audible voice; reclines his head on the top of his staff, while appearing to listen to the sermon; reads one chapter in the Old Testament and one in the New every Sunday afternoon; and then indulges himself with an extra glass and pipe with a few friends, either at his own house, or at the inn on the Green. But he is, to quote his own language, a mortal enemy to the Methodists; and will not suffer any of his servants, if he knows it, to attend the Chapel. He says, that the old religion is the best; and he thinks that no

one ought to be suffered to change it. As we are rather intimate, in consequence of a little act of kindness which I performed for a favourite niece who lives in the village, I called to see him, in company with Mr. Llewellin, when the following conversation took place between them, which may afford you some amusement, if not instruction.

"Mr. Llewellin. 'We have been, Sir, taking a view of the fine scenery which surrounds your village, and I must confess that I was never more pleased. There is a good proportion of hill and dale; and the parish church, which raises its unobtrusive spire above the top of the plantation around it, is a most interesting object.'

"Farmer "Yes, Sir, it looks very well. It stood by itself 'till I was appointed church-warden, fourteen years ago last Easter-Monday; when I had the trees planted, which thrive very well. I have heard many gentlemen say, it is a very good improvement.'

"Mr. Lewellin. But the inside of the church is not so neat and clean as the outside is imposing.'

"Farmer. No, Sir, it's sadly neglected now; but when I was warden it was one of the cleanest churches in our hamlet.'

"Mr. Llewellin. How often have you duty performed in it?'

"Farmer. Every Sunday; when I and my dame go as regularly as the doors are opened; except when it's very wet, and then I go alone."

"Mr. Llewellin. As it is so small, I suppose it is usually crowded on the Sunday.'

"Farmer. Why no, Sir, we are not much crowded; for the people go to the chapel that's built yonder on the green. People now-a-days a'n't satisfied with the good old religion of the Church; they must have this new religion that's springing up all over the country.' "Mr. Llewellin. 6 Do you know what this new religion is?'

"Farmer. No, Sir. I'm satisfied with the religion my fathers had before me, and so I don't trouble my head about it: but I understand it makes people very wretched; for when they get it they are always talking about it, and wanting to proselyte other people. Now my religion never made me wretched, and I don't think it ever will.'

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