I told
the story to Sir William, my son-in-law, who went out and reprove them
with great severity; but finding them quite disheartened by his harsh
reproof, he gave them half a guinea a piece to drink his health and
raise their dejected spirits.
the story to Sir William, my son-in-law, who went out and reprove them
with great severity; but finding them quite disheartened by his harsh
reproof, he gave them half a guinea a piece to drink his health and
raise their dejected spirits.
Oliver Goldsmith
’--‘So then,’ cried Sir William, ‘I find you have brought a
very fine witness to prove your innocence: thou stain to humanity! to
associate with such wretches! ’ (But continuing his examination) ‘You
tell me, Mr Butler, that this was the person who brought him this old
gentleman’s daughter. ’--‘No, please your honour,’ replied the butler,
‘he did not bring her, for the ‘Squire himself undertook that business;
but he brought the priest that pretended to marry them. ’--‘It is but
too true,’ cried Jenkinson, ‘I cannot deny it, that was the employment
assigned me, and I confess it to my confusion. ’
‘Good heavens! ’ exclaimed the Baronet, ‘how every new discovery of
his villainy alarms me. All his guilt is now too plain, and I find his
present prosecution was dictated by tyranny, cowardice and revenge; at
my request, Mr Gaoler, set this young officer, now your prisoner, free,
and trust to me for the consequences. I’ll make it my business to
set the affair in a proper light to my friend the magistrate who has
committed him. But where is the unfortunate young lady herself: let
her appear to confront this wretch, I long to know by what arts he has
seduced her. Entreat her to come in. Where is she? ’
‘Ah, Sir,’ said I, ‘that question stings me to the heart: I was once
indeed happy in a daughter, but her miseries--’ Another interruption
here prevented me; for who should make her appearance but Miss Arabella
Wilmot, who was next day to have been married to Mr Thornhill. Nothing
could equal her surprize at seeing Sir William and his nephew here
before her; for her arrival was quite accidental. It happened that she
and the old gentleman her father were passing through the town, on their
way to her aunt’s, who had insisted that her nuptials with Mr Thornhill
should be consummated at her house; but stopping for refreshment, they
put up at an inn at the other end of the town. It was there from the
window that the young lady happened to observe one of my little boys
playing in the street, and instantly sending a footman to bring the
child to her, she learnt from him some account of our misfortunes; but
was still kept ignorant of young Mr Thornhill’s being the cause. Though
her father made several remonstrances on the impropriety of going to a
prison to visit us, yet they were ineffectual; she desired the child
to conduct her, which he did, and it was thus she surprised us at a
juncture so unexpected.
Nor can I go on, without a reflection on those accidental meetings,
which, though they happen every day, seldom excite our surprize but upon
some extraordinary occasion. To what a fortuitous concurrence do we
not owe every pleasure and convenience of our lives. How many seeming
accidents must unite before we can be cloathed or fed. The peasant
must be disposed to labour, the shower must fall, the wind fill the
merchant’s sail, or numbers must want the usual supply.
We all continued silent for some moments, while my charming pupil,
which was the name I generally gave this young lady, united in her looks
compassion and astonishment, which gave new finishings to her beauty.
‘Indeed, my dear Mr Thornhill,’ cried she to the ‘Squire, who she
supposed was come here to succour and not to oppress us, ‘I take it a
little unkindly that you should come here without me, or never inform me
of the situation of a family so dear to us both: you know I should take
as much pleasure in contributing to the relief of my reverend old master
here, whom I shall ever esteem, as you can. But I find that, like your
uncle, you take a pleasure in doing good in secret. ’
‘He find pleasure in doing good! ’ cried Sir William, interrupting her.
‘No, my dear, his pleasures are as base as he is. You see in him, madam,
as complete a villain as ever disgraced humanity. A wretch, who after
having deluded this poor man’s daughter, after plotting against the
innocence of her sister, has thrown the father into prison, and the
eldest son into fetters, because he had courage to face his betrayer.
And give me leave, madam, now to congratulate you upon an escape from
the embraces of such a monster. ’
‘O goodness,’ cried the lovely girl, ‘how have I been deceived! Mr
Thornhill informed me for certain that this gentleman’s eldest son,
Captain Primrose, was gone off to America with his new married lady. ’
‘My sweetest miss,’ cried my wife, ‘he has told you nothing but
falsehoods. My son George never left the kingdom, nor was married. Tho’
you have forsaken him, he has always loved you too well to think of any
body else; and I have heard him say he would die a batchellor for your
sake. ’ She then proceeded to expatiate upon the sincerity of her son’s
passion, she set his duel with Mr Thornhill in a proper light, from
thence she made a rapid digression to the ‘Squire’s debaucheries, his
pretended marriages, and ended with a most insulting picture of his
cowardice.
‘Good heavens! ’ cried Miss Wilmot, ‘how very near have I been to the
brink of ruin! But how great is my pleasure to have escaped it! Ten
thousand falsehoods has this gentleman told me! He had at last art
enough to persuade me that my promise to the only man I esteemed was no
longer binding, since he had been unfaithful. By his falsehoods I was
taught to detest one equally brave and generous! ’
But by this time my son was freed from the encumbrances of justice as
the person supposed to be wounded was detected to be an impostor. Mr
Jenkinson also, who had acted as his valet de chambre, had dressed
up his hair, and furnished him with whatever was necessary to make a
genteel appearance. He now therefore entered, handsomely drest in his
regimentals, and, without vanity, (for I am above it) he appeared as
handsome a fellow as ever wore a military dress. As he entered, he made
Miss Wilmot a modest and distant bow, for he was not as yet acquainted
with the change which the eloquence of his mother had wrought in his
favour. But no decorums could restrain the impatience of his blushing
mistress to be forgiven. Her tears, her looks, all contributed to
discover the real sensations of her heart for having forgotten her
former promise and having suffered herself to be deluded by an impostor.
My son appeared amazed at her condescension, and could scarce believe it
real. --‘Sure, madam,’ cried he, ‘this is but delusion! I can never have
merited this! To be, blest thus is to be too happy. ’--‘No, Sir,’ replied
she, ‘I have been deceived, basely deceived, else nothing could have
ever made me unjust to my promise. You know my friendship, you have long
known it; but forget what I have done, and as you once had my warmest
vows of constancy, you shall now have them repeated; and be assured that
if your Arabella cannot be yours, she shall never be another’s. ’--‘And
no other’s you shall be,’ cried Sir William, ‘if I have any influence
with your father. ’
This hint was sufficient for my son Moses, who immediately flew to the
inn where the old gentleman was, to inform him of every circumstance
that had happened. But in the mean time the ‘Squire perceiving that
he was on every side undone, now finding that no hopes were left from
flattery or dissimulation, concluded that his wisest way would be to
turn and face his pursuers. Thus laying aside all shame, he appeared
the open hardy villain. ‘I find then,’ cried he, ‘that I am to expect
no justice here; but I am resolved it shall be done me. You shall know,
Sir,’ turning to Sir William, ‘I am no longer a poor dependent upon your
favours. I scorn them. Nothing can keep Miss Wilmot’s fortune from me,
which, I thank her father’s assiduity, is pretty large. The articles,
and a bond for her fortune, are signed, and safe in my possession. It
was her fortune, not her person, that induced me to wish for this match,
and possessed of the one, let who will take the other. ’
This was an alarming blow, Sir William was sensible of the justice of
his claims, for he had been instrumental in drawing up the marriage
articles himself. Miss Wilmot therefore perceiving that her fortune was
irretrievably lost, turning to my son, she asked if the loss of fortune
could lessen her value to him. ‘Though fortune,’ said she, ‘is out of my
power, at least I have my hand to give. ’
‘And that, madam,’ cried her real lover, ‘was indeed all that you ever
had to give; at least all that I ever thought worth the acceptance. And
now I protest, my Arabella, by all that’s happy, your want of fortune
this moment encreases my pleasure, as it serves to convince my sweet
girl of my sincerity. ’
Mr Wilmot now entering, he seemed not a little pleased at the danger his
daughter had just escaped, and readily consented to a dissolution of the
match. But finding that her fortune, which was secured to Mr Thornhill
by bond, would not be given up, nothing could exceed his disappointment.
He now saw that his money must all go to enrich one who had no fortune
of his own. He could bear his being a rascal; but to want an equivalent
to his daughter’s fortune was wormwood. He sate therefore for some
minutes employed in the most mortifying speculations, till Sir William
attempted to lessen his anxiety. --‘I must confess, Sir’ cried he,
‘that your present disappointment does not entirely displease me. Your
immoderate passion for wealth is now justly punished. But tho’ the
young lady cannot be rich, she has still a competence sufficient to give
content. Here you see an honest young soldier, who is willing to take
her without fortune; they have long loved each other, and for the
friendship I bear his father, my interest shall not be wanting in his
promotion. Leave then that ambition which disappoints you, and for once
admit that happiness which courts your acceptance. ’
‘Sir William,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘be assured I never yet forced
her inclinations, nor will I now. If she still continues to love this
young gentleman, let her have him with all my heart. There is still,
thank heaven, some fortune left, and your promise will make it something
more. Only let my old friend here (meaning me) give me a promise of
settling six thousand pounds upon my girl, if ever he should come to
his fortune, and I am ready this night to be the first to join them
together. ’
As it now remained with me to make the young couple happy, I readily
gave a promise of making the settlement he required, which, to one
who had such little expectations as I, was no great favour. We had now
therefore the satisfaction of seeing them fly into each other’s arms
in a transport. ‘After all my misfortunes,’ cried my son George, ‘to be
thus rewarded! Sure this is more than I could ever have presumed to hope
for. To be possessed of all that’s good, and after such an interval of
pain! My warmest wishes could never rise so high! ’--‘Yes, my George,’
returned his lovely bride, ‘now let the wretch take my fortune; since
you are happy without it so am I. O what an exchange have I made from
the basest of men to the dearest best! --Let him enjoy our fortune, I
now can be happy even in indigence. ’--‘And I promise you,’ cried the
‘Squire, with a malicious grin, ‘that I shall be very happy with what
you despise. ’--‘Hold, hold, Sir,’ cried Jenkinson, ‘there are two words
to that bargain. As for that lady’s fortune, Sir, you shall never touch
a single stiver of it. Pray your honour,’ continued he to Sir
William, ‘can the ‘Squire have this lady’s fortune if he be married to
another? ’--‘How can you make such a simple demand,’ replied the Baronet,
‘undoubtedly he cannot. ’--‘I am sorry for that,’ cried Jenkinson;
‘for as this gentleman and I have been old fellow spotters, I have a
friendship for him. But I must declare, well as I love him, that
his contract is not worth a tobacco stopper, for he is married
already. ’--‘You lie, like a rascal,’ returned the ‘Squire, who
seemed rouzed by this insult, ‘I never was legally married to any
woman. ’--‘Indeed, begging your honour’s pardon,’ replied the other, ‘you
were; and I hope you will shew a proper return of friendship to your own
honest Jenkinson, who brings you a wife, and if the company restrains
their curiosity a few minutes, they shall see her. ’--So saying he went
off with his usual celerity, and left us all unable to form any probable
conjecture as to his design. --‘Ay let him go,’ cried the ‘Squire,
‘whatever else I may have done I defy him there. I am too old now to be
frightened with squibs. ’
‘I am surprised,’ said the Baronet, ‘what the fellow can intend by this.
Some low piece of humour I suppose! ’--‘Perhaps, Sir,’ replied I, ‘he may
have a more serious meaning. For when we reflect on the various schemes
this gentleman has laid to seduce innocence, perhaps some one more
artful than the rest has been found able to deceive him. When we
consider what numbers he has ruined, how many parents now feel with
anguish the infamy and the contamination which he has brought into their
families, it would not surprise me if some one of them--Amazement! Do I
see my lost daughter! Do I hold her! It is, it is my life, my happiness.
I thought thee lost, my Olivia, yet still I hold thee--and still thou
shalt live to bless me. ’--The warmest transports of the fondest lover
were not greater than mine when I saw him introduce my child, and held
my daughter in my arms, whose silence only spoke her raptures. ‘And
art thou returned to me, my darling,’ cried I, ‘to be my comfort in
age! ’--‘That she is,’ cried Jenkinson, ‘and make much of her, for she
is your own honourable child, and as honest a woman as any in the whole
room, let the other be who she will. And as for you ‘Squire, as sure
as you stand there this young lady is your lawful wedded wife. And to
convince you that I speak nothing but truth, here is the licence by
which you were married together. ’--So saying, he put the licence into
the Baronet’s hands, who read it, and found it perfect in every respect.
‘And now, gentlemen,’ continued he, I find you are surprised at all
this; but a few words will explain the difficulty. That there ‘Squire
of renown, for whom I have a great friendship, but that’s between
ourselves, as often employed me in doing odd little things for him.
Among the rest, he commissioned me to procure him a false licence and
a false priest, in order to deceive this young lady. But as I was very
much his friend, what did I do but went and got a true licence and a
true priest, and married them both as fast as the cloth could make them.
Perhaps you’ll think it was generosity that made me do all this. But no.
To my shame I confess it, my only design was to keep the licence and
let the ‘Squire know that I could prove it upon him whenever I thought
proper, and so make him come down whenever I wanted money. ’ A burst of
pleasure now seemed to fill the whole apartment; our joy reached even to
the common room, where the prisoners themselves sympathized,
--And shook their chains
In transport and rude harmony.
Happiness was expanded upon every face, and even Olivia’s cheek seemed
flushed with pleasure. To be thus restored to reputation, to friends and
fortune at once, was a rapture sufficient to stop the progress of decay
and restore former health and vivacity. But perhaps among all there was
not one who felt sincerer pleasure than I. Still holding the dear-loved
child in my arms, I asked my heart if these transports were not
delusion. ‘How could you,’ cried I, turning to Mr Jenkinson, ‘how could
you add to my miseries by the story of her death! But it matters not, my
pleasure at finding her again, is more than a recompence for the pain. ’
‘As to your question,’ replied Jenkinson, ‘that is easily answered.
I thought the only probable means of freeing you from prison, was by
submitting to the ‘Squire, and consenting to his marriage with the other
young lady. But these you had vowed never to grant while your daughter
was living, there was therefore no other method to bring things to bear
but by persuading you that she was dead. I prevailed on your wife to
join in the deceit, and we have not had a fit opportunity of undeceiving
you till now. ’
In the whole assembly now there only appeared two faces that did not
glow with transport. Mr Thornhill’s assurance had entirely forsaken him:
he now saw the gulph of infamy and want before him, and trembled to take
the plunge. He therefore fell on his knees before his uncle, and in a
voice of piercing misery implored compassion. Sir William was going to
spurn him away, but at my request he raised him, and after pausing a
few moments, ‘Thy vices, crimes, and ingratitude,’ cried he, ‘deserve no
tenderness; yet thou shalt not be entirely forsaken, a bare competence
shall be supplied, to support the wants of life, but not its follies.
This young lady, thy wife, shall be put in possession of a third part
of that fortune which once was thine, and from her tenderness alone thou
art to expect any extraordinary supplies for the future. ’ He was going
to express his gratitude for such kindness in a set speech; but the
Baronet prevented him by bidding him not aggravate his meanness, which
was already but too apparent. He ordered him at the same time to be
gone, and from all his former domestics to chuse one such as he should
think proper, which was all that should be granted to attend him.
As soon as he left us, Sir William very politely stept up to his new
niece with a smile, and wished her joy. His example was followed by
Miss Wilmot and her father; my wife too kissed her daughter with much
affection, as, to use her own expression, she was now made an honest
woman of. Sophia and Moses followed in turn, and even our benefactor
Jenkinson desired to be admitted to that honour. Our satisfaction seemed
scarce capable of increase. Sir William, whose greatest pleasure was in
doing good, now looked round with a countenance open as the sun, and saw
nothing but joy in the looks of all except that of my daughter Sophia,
who, for some reasons we could not comprehend, did not seem perfectly
satisfied. ‘I think now,’ cried he, with a smile, ‘that all the company,
except one or two, seem perfectly happy. There only remains an act of
justice for me to do. You are sensible, Sir,’ continued he, turning to
me, ‘of the obligations we both owe Mr Jenkinson. And it is but just
we should both reward him for it. Miss Sophia will, I am sure, make
him very happy, and he shall have from me five hundred pounds as
her fortune, and upon this I am sure they can live very comfortably
together. Come, Miss Sophia, what say you to this match of my making?
Will you have him? ’--My poor girl seemed almost sinking into her
mother’s arms at the hideous proposal. --‘Have him, Sir! ’ cried she
faintly. ‘No, Sir, never. ’--‘What,’ cried he again, ‘not have Mr
Jenkinson, your benefactor, a handsome young fellow, with five hundred
pounds and good expectations! ’--‘I beg, Sir,’ returned she, scarce able
to speak, ‘that you’ll desist, and not make me so very wretched. ’--‘Was
ever such obstinacy known,’ cried he again, ‘to refuse a man whom the
family has such infinite obligations to, who has preserved your sister,
and who has five hundred pounds! What not have him! ’--‘No, Sir, never,’
replied she, angrily, ‘I’d sooner die first. ’--‘If that be the case
then,’ cried he, ‘if you will not have him--I think I must have you
myself. ’ And so saying, he caught her to his breast with ardour. ‘My
loveliest, my most sensible of girls,’ cried he, ‘how could you ever
think your own Burchell could deceive you, or that Sir William Thornhill
could ever cease to admire a mistress that loved him for himself alone?
I have for some years sought for a woman, who a stranger to my fortune
could think that I had merit as a man. After having tried in vain, even
amongst the pert and the ugly, how great at last must be my rapture to
have made a conquest over such sense and such heavenly beauty. ’ Then
turning to Jenkinson, ‘As I cannot, Sir, part with this young lady
myself, for she has taken a fancy to the cut of my face, all the
recompence I can make is to give you her fortune, and you may call
upon my steward to-morrow for five hundred pounds. ’ Thus we had all our
compliments to repeat, and Lady Thornhill underwent the same round of
ceremony that her sister had done before. In the mean time Sir William’s
gentleman appeared to tell us that the equipages were ready to carry us
to the inn, where every thing was prepared for our reception. My
wife and I led the van, and left those gloomy mansions of sorrow.
The generous Baronet ordered forty pounds to be distributed among the
prisoners, and Mr Wilmot, induced by his example, gave half that sum. We
were received below by the shouts of the villagers, and I saw and shook
by the hand two or three of my honest parishioners, who were among the
number. They attended us to our inn, where a sumptuous entertainment was
provided, and coarser provisions distributed in great quantities among
the populace.
After supper, as my spirits were exhausted by the alternation of
pleasure and pain which they had sustained during the day, I asked
permission to withdraw, and leaving the company in the midst of their
mirth, as soon as I found myself alone, I poured out my heart in
gratitude to the giver of joy as well as of sorrow, and then slept
undisturbed till morning.
CHAPTER 32.
The Conclusion
The next morning as soon as I awaked I found my eldest son sitting by my
bedside, who came to encrease my joy with another turn of fortune in my
favour. First having released me from the settlement that I had made the
day before in his favour, he let me know that my merchant who had failed
in town was arrested at Antwerp, and there had given up effects to
a much greater amount than what was due to his creditors. My boy’s
generosity pleased me almost as much as this unlooked for good fortune.
But I had some doubts whether I ought in justice to accept his offer.
While I was pondering upon this, Sir William entered the room, to whom
I communicated my doubts. His opinion was, that as my son was already
possessed of a very affluent fortune by his marriage, I might accept his
offer without any hesitation. His business, however, was to inform me
that as he had the night before sent for the licences, and expected them
every hour, he hoped that I would not refuse my assistance in making
all the company happy that morning. A footman entered while we were
speaking, to tell us that the messenger was returned, and as I was by
this time ready, I went down, where I found the whole company as merry
as affluence and innocence could make them. However, as they were now
preparing for a very solemn ceremony, their laughter entirely displeased
me. I told them of the grave, becoming and sublime deportment they
should assume upon this Mystical occasion, and read them two homilies
and a thesis of my own composing, in order to prepare them. Yet they
still seemed perfectly refractory and ungovernable. Even as we were
going along to church, to which I led the way, all gravity had quite
forsaken them, and I was often tempted to turn back in indignation. In
church a new dilemma arose, which promised no easy solution. This was,
which couple should be married first; my son’s bride warmly insisted,
that Lady Thornhill, (that was to be) should take the lead; but this the
other refused with equal ardour, protesting she would not be guilty of
such rudeness for the world. The argument was supported for some time
between both with equal obstinacy and good breeding. But as I stood all
this time with my book ready, I was at last quite tired of the contest,
and shutting it, ‘I perceive,’ cried I, ‘that none of you have a mind
to be married, and I think we had as good go back again; for I suppose
there will be no business done here to-day. ’--This at once reduced them
to reason. The Baronet and his Lady were first married, and then my son
and his lovely partner.
I had previously that morning given orders that a coach should be sent
for my honest neighbour Flamborough and his family, by which means,
upon our return to the inn, we had the pleasure of finding the two
Miss Flamboroughs alighted before us. Mr Jenkinson gave his hand to the
eldest, and my son Moses led up the other; (and I have since found that
he has taken a real liking to the girl, and my consent and bounty he
shall have whenever he thinks proper to demand them. ) We were no sooner
returned to the inn, but numbers of my parishioners, hearing of my
success, came to congratulate me, but among the rest were those who rose
to rescue me, and whom I formerly rebuked with such sharpness.
I told
the story to Sir William, my son-in-law, who went out and reprove them
with great severity; but finding them quite disheartened by his harsh
reproof, he gave them half a guinea a piece to drink his health and
raise their dejected spirits.
Soon after this we were called to a very genteel entertainment, which
was drest by Mr Thornhill’s cook. And it may not be improper to observe
with respect to that gentleman, that he now resides in quality of
companion at a relation’s house, being very well liked and seldom
sitting at the side-table, except when there is no room at the other;
for they make no stranger of him. His time is pretty much taken up in
keeping his relation, who is a little melancholy, in spirits, and in
learning to blow the French-horn. My eldest daughter, however, still
remembers him with regret; and she has even told me, though I make a
great secret of it, that when he reforms she may be brought to relent.
But to return, for I am not apt to digress thus, when we were to sit
down to dinner our ceremonies were going to be renewed. The question was
whether my eldest daughter, as being a matron, should not sit above the
two young brides, but the debate was cut short by my son George, who
proposed, that the company should sit indiscriminately, every gentleman
by his lady. This was received with great approbation by all, excepting
my wife, who I could perceive was not perfectly satisfied, as she
expected to have had the pleasure of sitting at the head of the table
and carving all the meat for all the company. But notwithstanding this,
it is impossible to describe our good humour. I can’t say whether we
had more wit amongst us now than usual; but I am certain we had more
laughing, which answered the end as well. One jest I particularly
remember, old Mr Wilmot drinking to Moses, whose head was turned another
way, my son replied, ‘Madam, I thank you. ’ Upon which the old gentleman,
winking upon the rest of the company, observed that he was thinking of
his mistress. At which jest I thought the two miss Flamboroughs would
have died with laughing. As soon as dinner was over, according to my
old custom, I requested that the table might be taken away, to have
the pleasure of seeing all my family assembled once more by a chearful
fireside. My two little ones sat upon each knee, the rest of the company
by their partners. I had nothing now on this side of the grave to wish
for, all my cares were over, my pleasure was unspeakable. It now only
remained that my gratitude in good fortune should exceed my former
submission in adversity.
The MAD DOG
ONE OF R. CALDECOTT'S PICTURE BOOKS
Frederick Warne and Co. Ltd.
[Illustration]
An ELEGY
on the DEATH of
a MAD DOG.
WRITTEN
By
Dr GOLDSMITH
PICTURED
By
R. CALDECOTT
SUNG
By
Master BILL PRIMROSE
[Illustration]
Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
In Islington there lived a man,
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went to pray.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
And in that town a dog was found:
As many dogs there be--
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
This dog and man at first were friends;
But, when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wondering neighbours ran;
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The wound it seem'd both sore and sad
To every christian eye;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
But soon a wonder came to light,
That show'd the rogues they lied--
The man recover'd of the bite;
The dog it was that died.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Randolph Caldecott's
Picture Books
"The humour of Randolph Caldecott's drawings is simply irresistible, no
healthy-minded man, woman, or child could look at them without laughing. "
_In square crown 4to, picture covers, with numerous coloured plates. _
1 John Gilpin
2 The House that Jack Built
3 The Babes in the Wood
4 The Mad Dog
5 Three Jovial Huntsmen
6 Sing a Song for Sixpence
7 The Queen of Hearts
8 The Farmer's Boy
9 The Milkmaid
10 Hey-Diddle-Diddle and Baby Bunting
11 A Frog He Would a-Wooing Go
12 The Fox Jumps over the Parson's Gate
13 Come Lasses and Lads
14 Ride a Cock Horse to Banbury
Cross, &c.
15 Mrs. Mary Blaize
16 The Great Panjandrum Himself
_The above selections are also issued in Four Volumes, square crown 4to,
attractive binding. Each containing four different books, with their
Coloured Pictures and innumerable Outline Sketches. _
1 R. Caldecott's Picture Book No. 1
2 R. Caldecott's Picture Book No. 2
3 Hey-Diddle-Diddle-Picture Book
4 The Panjandrum Picture Book
RANDOLPH CALDECOTT'S
Collection of Pictures and Songs No. 1 containing the first 8 books
listed above with their Colour Pictures and numerous Outline
Sketches
RANDOLPH CALDECOTT'S
Collection of Pictures and Songs No. 2 containing the second 8
books listed above with their Colour Pictures and numerous Outline
Sketches
Frederick Warne & Co. Ltd.
LONDON & NEW YORK.
_The Published Prices of the above Picture Books can be obtained of all
Booksellers or from the illustrated Catalogue of the Publishers. _
ENGRAVED AND PRINTED BY EDMUND EVANS, LTD. , 154 CLERKENWELL ROAD, LONDON,
E. C. 1.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN.
THE DESERTED VILLAGE
By Oliver Goldsmith
Illustrated by the Etching Club
New York: D. Appleton And Co. Broadway
MDCCCLVII
[Illustration: 0001]
[Illustration: 0008]
The Illustrations in this Volume are copied, with permission,
from a series of Etchings published some years since by the
"Etching Club. " Only a few impressions of that work were
printed, the copper-plates were destroyed, and the book, except
in a very expensive form, has long been unattainable. Great
care has been taken to render the present Wood-blocks as like
the original Etchings as the different methods of engraving will
allow.
ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
Sweet Auburn! loveliest milage of the plain. . . T. Creswick, R. A. . . . 007
The never-failing brook, the busy mill. . . . . . . . T. Creswick, R. A. . . . 008
The hawthorn bush, with seals in shade. . . . . . . . C. W. Cope, R. A. . . . . 009
The matron's glance that would reprove. . . . . . . . H. J. Townsend. . . . . . 010
The hollow sounding bittern guards its nest. . . F. Tayler. . . . . . . . . . . 012
These, far departing, seek a kinder shore. . . . . C. Stonhouse. . . . . . . . 014
Amidst the swains show my book-learn'd skill. . J. C. Horsley. . . . . . . 015
And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue. . F. Tayler. . . . . . . . . . . 016
To spurn imploring famine from the gale. . . . . . . C. W. Cope, R. A. . . . . 017
While resignation gently slopes the way. . . . . . . T. Creswick, R. A. . . . 018
The playful children let loose from school. . . . T. Webster, R. A. . .
very fine witness to prove your innocence: thou stain to humanity! to
associate with such wretches! ’ (But continuing his examination) ‘You
tell me, Mr Butler, that this was the person who brought him this old
gentleman’s daughter. ’--‘No, please your honour,’ replied the butler,
‘he did not bring her, for the ‘Squire himself undertook that business;
but he brought the priest that pretended to marry them. ’--‘It is but
too true,’ cried Jenkinson, ‘I cannot deny it, that was the employment
assigned me, and I confess it to my confusion. ’
‘Good heavens! ’ exclaimed the Baronet, ‘how every new discovery of
his villainy alarms me. All his guilt is now too plain, and I find his
present prosecution was dictated by tyranny, cowardice and revenge; at
my request, Mr Gaoler, set this young officer, now your prisoner, free,
and trust to me for the consequences. I’ll make it my business to
set the affair in a proper light to my friend the magistrate who has
committed him. But where is the unfortunate young lady herself: let
her appear to confront this wretch, I long to know by what arts he has
seduced her. Entreat her to come in. Where is she? ’
‘Ah, Sir,’ said I, ‘that question stings me to the heart: I was once
indeed happy in a daughter, but her miseries--’ Another interruption
here prevented me; for who should make her appearance but Miss Arabella
Wilmot, who was next day to have been married to Mr Thornhill. Nothing
could equal her surprize at seeing Sir William and his nephew here
before her; for her arrival was quite accidental. It happened that she
and the old gentleman her father were passing through the town, on their
way to her aunt’s, who had insisted that her nuptials with Mr Thornhill
should be consummated at her house; but stopping for refreshment, they
put up at an inn at the other end of the town. It was there from the
window that the young lady happened to observe one of my little boys
playing in the street, and instantly sending a footman to bring the
child to her, she learnt from him some account of our misfortunes; but
was still kept ignorant of young Mr Thornhill’s being the cause. Though
her father made several remonstrances on the impropriety of going to a
prison to visit us, yet they were ineffectual; she desired the child
to conduct her, which he did, and it was thus she surprised us at a
juncture so unexpected.
Nor can I go on, without a reflection on those accidental meetings,
which, though they happen every day, seldom excite our surprize but upon
some extraordinary occasion. To what a fortuitous concurrence do we
not owe every pleasure and convenience of our lives. How many seeming
accidents must unite before we can be cloathed or fed. The peasant
must be disposed to labour, the shower must fall, the wind fill the
merchant’s sail, or numbers must want the usual supply.
We all continued silent for some moments, while my charming pupil,
which was the name I generally gave this young lady, united in her looks
compassion and astonishment, which gave new finishings to her beauty.
‘Indeed, my dear Mr Thornhill,’ cried she to the ‘Squire, who she
supposed was come here to succour and not to oppress us, ‘I take it a
little unkindly that you should come here without me, or never inform me
of the situation of a family so dear to us both: you know I should take
as much pleasure in contributing to the relief of my reverend old master
here, whom I shall ever esteem, as you can. But I find that, like your
uncle, you take a pleasure in doing good in secret. ’
‘He find pleasure in doing good! ’ cried Sir William, interrupting her.
‘No, my dear, his pleasures are as base as he is. You see in him, madam,
as complete a villain as ever disgraced humanity. A wretch, who after
having deluded this poor man’s daughter, after plotting against the
innocence of her sister, has thrown the father into prison, and the
eldest son into fetters, because he had courage to face his betrayer.
And give me leave, madam, now to congratulate you upon an escape from
the embraces of such a monster. ’
‘O goodness,’ cried the lovely girl, ‘how have I been deceived! Mr
Thornhill informed me for certain that this gentleman’s eldest son,
Captain Primrose, was gone off to America with his new married lady. ’
‘My sweetest miss,’ cried my wife, ‘he has told you nothing but
falsehoods. My son George never left the kingdom, nor was married. Tho’
you have forsaken him, he has always loved you too well to think of any
body else; and I have heard him say he would die a batchellor for your
sake. ’ She then proceeded to expatiate upon the sincerity of her son’s
passion, she set his duel with Mr Thornhill in a proper light, from
thence she made a rapid digression to the ‘Squire’s debaucheries, his
pretended marriages, and ended with a most insulting picture of his
cowardice.
‘Good heavens! ’ cried Miss Wilmot, ‘how very near have I been to the
brink of ruin! But how great is my pleasure to have escaped it! Ten
thousand falsehoods has this gentleman told me! He had at last art
enough to persuade me that my promise to the only man I esteemed was no
longer binding, since he had been unfaithful. By his falsehoods I was
taught to detest one equally brave and generous! ’
But by this time my son was freed from the encumbrances of justice as
the person supposed to be wounded was detected to be an impostor. Mr
Jenkinson also, who had acted as his valet de chambre, had dressed
up his hair, and furnished him with whatever was necessary to make a
genteel appearance. He now therefore entered, handsomely drest in his
regimentals, and, without vanity, (for I am above it) he appeared as
handsome a fellow as ever wore a military dress. As he entered, he made
Miss Wilmot a modest and distant bow, for he was not as yet acquainted
with the change which the eloquence of his mother had wrought in his
favour. But no decorums could restrain the impatience of his blushing
mistress to be forgiven. Her tears, her looks, all contributed to
discover the real sensations of her heart for having forgotten her
former promise and having suffered herself to be deluded by an impostor.
My son appeared amazed at her condescension, and could scarce believe it
real. --‘Sure, madam,’ cried he, ‘this is but delusion! I can never have
merited this! To be, blest thus is to be too happy. ’--‘No, Sir,’ replied
she, ‘I have been deceived, basely deceived, else nothing could have
ever made me unjust to my promise. You know my friendship, you have long
known it; but forget what I have done, and as you once had my warmest
vows of constancy, you shall now have them repeated; and be assured that
if your Arabella cannot be yours, she shall never be another’s. ’--‘And
no other’s you shall be,’ cried Sir William, ‘if I have any influence
with your father. ’
This hint was sufficient for my son Moses, who immediately flew to the
inn where the old gentleman was, to inform him of every circumstance
that had happened. But in the mean time the ‘Squire perceiving that
he was on every side undone, now finding that no hopes were left from
flattery or dissimulation, concluded that his wisest way would be to
turn and face his pursuers. Thus laying aside all shame, he appeared
the open hardy villain. ‘I find then,’ cried he, ‘that I am to expect
no justice here; but I am resolved it shall be done me. You shall know,
Sir,’ turning to Sir William, ‘I am no longer a poor dependent upon your
favours. I scorn them. Nothing can keep Miss Wilmot’s fortune from me,
which, I thank her father’s assiduity, is pretty large. The articles,
and a bond for her fortune, are signed, and safe in my possession. It
was her fortune, not her person, that induced me to wish for this match,
and possessed of the one, let who will take the other. ’
This was an alarming blow, Sir William was sensible of the justice of
his claims, for he had been instrumental in drawing up the marriage
articles himself. Miss Wilmot therefore perceiving that her fortune was
irretrievably lost, turning to my son, she asked if the loss of fortune
could lessen her value to him. ‘Though fortune,’ said she, ‘is out of my
power, at least I have my hand to give. ’
‘And that, madam,’ cried her real lover, ‘was indeed all that you ever
had to give; at least all that I ever thought worth the acceptance. And
now I protest, my Arabella, by all that’s happy, your want of fortune
this moment encreases my pleasure, as it serves to convince my sweet
girl of my sincerity. ’
Mr Wilmot now entering, he seemed not a little pleased at the danger his
daughter had just escaped, and readily consented to a dissolution of the
match. But finding that her fortune, which was secured to Mr Thornhill
by bond, would not be given up, nothing could exceed his disappointment.
He now saw that his money must all go to enrich one who had no fortune
of his own. He could bear his being a rascal; but to want an equivalent
to his daughter’s fortune was wormwood. He sate therefore for some
minutes employed in the most mortifying speculations, till Sir William
attempted to lessen his anxiety. --‘I must confess, Sir’ cried he,
‘that your present disappointment does not entirely displease me. Your
immoderate passion for wealth is now justly punished. But tho’ the
young lady cannot be rich, she has still a competence sufficient to give
content. Here you see an honest young soldier, who is willing to take
her without fortune; they have long loved each other, and for the
friendship I bear his father, my interest shall not be wanting in his
promotion. Leave then that ambition which disappoints you, and for once
admit that happiness which courts your acceptance. ’
‘Sir William,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘be assured I never yet forced
her inclinations, nor will I now. If she still continues to love this
young gentleman, let her have him with all my heart. There is still,
thank heaven, some fortune left, and your promise will make it something
more. Only let my old friend here (meaning me) give me a promise of
settling six thousand pounds upon my girl, if ever he should come to
his fortune, and I am ready this night to be the first to join them
together. ’
As it now remained with me to make the young couple happy, I readily
gave a promise of making the settlement he required, which, to one
who had such little expectations as I, was no great favour. We had now
therefore the satisfaction of seeing them fly into each other’s arms
in a transport. ‘After all my misfortunes,’ cried my son George, ‘to be
thus rewarded! Sure this is more than I could ever have presumed to hope
for. To be possessed of all that’s good, and after such an interval of
pain! My warmest wishes could never rise so high! ’--‘Yes, my George,’
returned his lovely bride, ‘now let the wretch take my fortune; since
you are happy without it so am I. O what an exchange have I made from
the basest of men to the dearest best! --Let him enjoy our fortune, I
now can be happy even in indigence. ’--‘And I promise you,’ cried the
‘Squire, with a malicious grin, ‘that I shall be very happy with what
you despise. ’--‘Hold, hold, Sir,’ cried Jenkinson, ‘there are two words
to that bargain. As for that lady’s fortune, Sir, you shall never touch
a single stiver of it. Pray your honour,’ continued he to Sir
William, ‘can the ‘Squire have this lady’s fortune if he be married to
another? ’--‘How can you make such a simple demand,’ replied the Baronet,
‘undoubtedly he cannot. ’--‘I am sorry for that,’ cried Jenkinson;
‘for as this gentleman and I have been old fellow spotters, I have a
friendship for him. But I must declare, well as I love him, that
his contract is not worth a tobacco stopper, for he is married
already. ’--‘You lie, like a rascal,’ returned the ‘Squire, who
seemed rouzed by this insult, ‘I never was legally married to any
woman. ’--‘Indeed, begging your honour’s pardon,’ replied the other, ‘you
were; and I hope you will shew a proper return of friendship to your own
honest Jenkinson, who brings you a wife, and if the company restrains
their curiosity a few minutes, they shall see her. ’--So saying he went
off with his usual celerity, and left us all unable to form any probable
conjecture as to his design. --‘Ay let him go,’ cried the ‘Squire,
‘whatever else I may have done I defy him there. I am too old now to be
frightened with squibs. ’
‘I am surprised,’ said the Baronet, ‘what the fellow can intend by this.
Some low piece of humour I suppose! ’--‘Perhaps, Sir,’ replied I, ‘he may
have a more serious meaning. For when we reflect on the various schemes
this gentleman has laid to seduce innocence, perhaps some one more
artful than the rest has been found able to deceive him. When we
consider what numbers he has ruined, how many parents now feel with
anguish the infamy and the contamination which he has brought into their
families, it would not surprise me if some one of them--Amazement! Do I
see my lost daughter! Do I hold her! It is, it is my life, my happiness.
I thought thee lost, my Olivia, yet still I hold thee--and still thou
shalt live to bless me. ’--The warmest transports of the fondest lover
were not greater than mine when I saw him introduce my child, and held
my daughter in my arms, whose silence only spoke her raptures. ‘And
art thou returned to me, my darling,’ cried I, ‘to be my comfort in
age! ’--‘That she is,’ cried Jenkinson, ‘and make much of her, for she
is your own honourable child, and as honest a woman as any in the whole
room, let the other be who she will. And as for you ‘Squire, as sure
as you stand there this young lady is your lawful wedded wife. And to
convince you that I speak nothing but truth, here is the licence by
which you were married together. ’--So saying, he put the licence into
the Baronet’s hands, who read it, and found it perfect in every respect.
‘And now, gentlemen,’ continued he, I find you are surprised at all
this; but a few words will explain the difficulty. That there ‘Squire
of renown, for whom I have a great friendship, but that’s between
ourselves, as often employed me in doing odd little things for him.
Among the rest, he commissioned me to procure him a false licence and
a false priest, in order to deceive this young lady. But as I was very
much his friend, what did I do but went and got a true licence and a
true priest, and married them both as fast as the cloth could make them.
Perhaps you’ll think it was generosity that made me do all this. But no.
To my shame I confess it, my only design was to keep the licence and
let the ‘Squire know that I could prove it upon him whenever I thought
proper, and so make him come down whenever I wanted money. ’ A burst of
pleasure now seemed to fill the whole apartment; our joy reached even to
the common room, where the prisoners themselves sympathized,
--And shook their chains
In transport and rude harmony.
Happiness was expanded upon every face, and even Olivia’s cheek seemed
flushed with pleasure. To be thus restored to reputation, to friends and
fortune at once, was a rapture sufficient to stop the progress of decay
and restore former health and vivacity. But perhaps among all there was
not one who felt sincerer pleasure than I. Still holding the dear-loved
child in my arms, I asked my heart if these transports were not
delusion. ‘How could you,’ cried I, turning to Mr Jenkinson, ‘how could
you add to my miseries by the story of her death! But it matters not, my
pleasure at finding her again, is more than a recompence for the pain. ’
‘As to your question,’ replied Jenkinson, ‘that is easily answered.
I thought the only probable means of freeing you from prison, was by
submitting to the ‘Squire, and consenting to his marriage with the other
young lady. But these you had vowed never to grant while your daughter
was living, there was therefore no other method to bring things to bear
but by persuading you that she was dead. I prevailed on your wife to
join in the deceit, and we have not had a fit opportunity of undeceiving
you till now. ’
In the whole assembly now there only appeared two faces that did not
glow with transport. Mr Thornhill’s assurance had entirely forsaken him:
he now saw the gulph of infamy and want before him, and trembled to take
the plunge. He therefore fell on his knees before his uncle, and in a
voice of piercing misery implored compassion. Sir William was going to
spurn him away, but at my request he raised him, and after pausing a
few moments, ‘Thy vices, crimes, and ingratitude,’ cried he, ‘deserve no
tenderness; yet thou shalt not be entirely forsaken, a bare competence
shall be supplied, to support the wants of life, but not its follies.
This young lady, thy wife, shall be put in possession of a third part
of that fortune which once was thine, and from her tenderness alone thou
art to expect any extraordinary supplies for the future. ’ He was going
to express his gratitude for such kindness in a set speech; but the
Baronet prevented him by bidding him not aggravate his meanness, which
was already but too apparent. He ordered him at the same time to be
gone, and from all his former domestics to chuse one such as he should
think proper, which was all that should be granted to attend him.
As soon as he left us, Sir William very politely stept up to his new
niece with a smile, and wished her joy. His example was followed by
Miss Wilmot and her father; my wife too kissed her daughter with much
affection, as, to use her own expression, she was now made an honest
woman of. Sophia and Moses followed in turn, and even our benefactor
Jenkinson desired to be admitted to that honour. Our satisfaction seemed
scarce capable of increase. Sir William, whose greatest pleasure was in
doing good, now looked round with a countenance open as the sun, and saw
nothing but joy in the looks of all except that of my daughter Sophia,
who, for some reasons we could not comprehend, did not seem perfectly
satisfied. ‘I think now,’ cried he, with a smile, ‘that all the company,
except one or two, seem perfectly happy. There only remains an act of
justice for me to do. You are sensible, Sir,’ continued he, turning to
me, ‘of the obligations we both owe Mr Jenkinson. And it is but just
we should both reward him for it. Miss Sophia will, I am sure, make
him very happy, and he shall have from me five hundred pounds as
her fortune, and upon this I am sure they can live very comfortably
together. Come, Miss Sophia, what say you to this match of my making?
Will you have him? ’--My poor girl seemed almost sinking into her
mother’s arms at the hideous proposal. --‘Have him, Sir! ’ cried she
faintly. ‘No, Sir, never. ’--‘What,’ cried he again, ‘not have Mr
Jenkinson, your benefactor, a handsome young fellow, with five hundred
pounds and good expectations! ’--‘I beg, Sir,’ returned she, scarce able
to speak, ‘that you’ll desist, and not make me so very wretched. ’--‘Was
ever such obstinacy known,’ cried he again, ‘to refuse a man whom the
family has such infinite obligations to, who has preserved your sister,
and who has five hundred pounds! What not have him! ’--‘No, Sir, never,’
replied she, angrily, ‘I’d sooner die first. ’--‘If that be the case
then,’ cried he, ‘if you will not have him--I think I must have you
myself. ’ And so saying, he caught her to his breast with ardour. ‘My
loveliest, my most sensible of girls,’ cried he, ‘how could you ever
think your own Burchell could deceive you, or that Sir William Thornhill
could ever cease to admire a mistress that loved him for himself alone?
I have for some years sought for a woman, who a stranger to my fortune
could think that I had merit as a man. After having tried in vain, even
amongst the pert and the ugly, how great at last must be my rapture to
have made a conquest over such sense and such heavenly beauty. ’ Then
turning to Jenkinson, ‘As I cannot, Sir, part with this young lady
myself, for she has taken a fancy to the cut of my face, all the
recompence I can make is to give you her fortune, and you may call
upon my steward to-morrow for five hundred pounds. ’ Thus we had all our
compliments to repeat, and Lady Thornhill underwent the same round of
ceremony that her sister had done before. In the mean time Sir William’s
gentleman appeared to tell us that the equipages were ready to carry us
to the inn, where every thing was prepared for our reception. My
wife and I led the van, and left those gloomy mansions of sorrow.
The generous Baronet ordered forty pounds to be distributed among the
prisoners, and Mr Wilmot, induced by his example, gave half that sum. We
were received below by the shouts of the villagers, and I saw and shook
by the hand two or three of my honest parishioners, who were among the
number. They attended us to our inn, where a sumptuous entertainment was
provided, and coarser provisions distributed in great quantities among
the populace.
After supper, as my spirits were exhausted by the alternation of
pleasure and pain which they had sustained during the day, I asked
permission to withdraw, and leaving the company in the midst of their
mirth, as soon as I found myself alone, I poured out my heart in
gratitude to the giver of joy as well as of sorrow, and then slept
undisturbed till morning.
CHAPTER 32.
The Conclusion
The next morning as soon as I awaked I found my eldest son sitting by my
bedside, who came to encrease my joy with another turn of fortune in my
favour. First having released me from the settlement that I had made the
day before in his favour, he let me know that my merchant who had failed
in town was arrested at Antwerp, and there had given up effects to
a much greater amount than what was due to his creditors. My boy’s
generosity pleased me almost as much as this unlooked for good fortune.
But I had some doubts whether I ought in justice to accept his offer.
While I was pondering upon this, Sir William entered the room, to whom
I communicated my doubts. His opinion was, that as my son was already
possessed of a very affluent fortune by his marriage, I might accept his
offer without any hesitation. His business, however, was to inform me
that as he had the night before sent for the licences, and expected them
every hour, he hoped that I would not refuse my assistance in making
all the company happy that morning. A footman entered while we were
speaking, to tell us that the messenger was returned, and as I was by
this time ready, I went down, where I found the whole company as merry
as affluence and innocence could make them. However, as they were now
preparing for a very solemn ceremony, their laughter entirely displeased
me. I told them of the grave, becoming and sublime deportment they
should assume upon this Mystical occasion, and read them two homilies
and a thesis of my own composing, in order to prepare them. Yet they
still seemed perfectly refractory and ungovernable. Even as we were
going along to church, to which I led the way, all gravity had quite
forsaken them, and I was often tempted to turn back in indignation. In
church a new dilemma arose, which promised no easy solution. This was,
which couple should be married first; my son’s bride warmly insisted,
that Lady Thornhill, (that was to be) should take the lead; but this the
other refused with equal ardour, protesting she would not be guilty of
such rudeness for the world. The argument was supported for some time
between both with equal obstinacy and good breeding. But as I stood all
this time with my book ready, I was at last quite tired of the contest,
and shutting it, ‘I perceive,’ cried I, ‘that none of you have a mind
to be married, and I think we had as good go back again; for I suppose
there will be no business done here to-day. ’--This at once reduced them
to reason. The Baronet and his Lady were first married, and then my son
and his lovely partner.
I had previously that morning given orders that a coach should be sent
for my honest neighbour Flamborough and his family, by which means,
upon our return to the inn, we had the pleasure of finding the two
Miss Flamboroughs alighted before us. Mr Jenkinson gave his hand to the
eldest, and my son Moses led up the other; (and I have since found that
he has taken a real liking to the girl, and my consent and bounty he
shall have whenever he thinks proper to demand them. ) We were no sooner
returned to the inn, but numbers of my parishioners, hearing of my
success, came to congratulate me, but among the rest were those who rose
to rescue me, and whom I formerly rebuked with such sharpness.
I told
the story to Sir William, my son-in-law, who went out and reprove them
with great severity; but finding them quite disheartened by his harsh
reproof, he gave them half a guinea a piece to drink his health and
raise their dejected spirits.
Soon after this we were called to a very genteel entertainment, which
was drest by Mr Thornhill’s cook. And it may not be improper to observe
with respect to that gentleman, that he now resides in quality of
companion at a relation’s house, being very well liked and seldom
sitting at the side-table, except when there is no room at the other;
for they make no stranger of him. His time is pretty much taken up in
keeping his relation, who is a little melancholy, in spirits, and in
learning to blow the French-horn. My eldest daughter, however, still
remembers him with regret; and she has even told me, though I make a
great secret of it, that when he reforms she may be brought to relent.
But to return, for I am not apt to digress thus, when we were to sit
down to dinner our ceremonies were going to be renewed. The question was
whether my eldest daughter, as being a matron, should not sit above the
two young brides, but the debate was cut short by my son George, who
proposed, that the company should sit indiscriminately, every gentleman
by his lady. This was received with great approbation by all, excepting
my wife, who I could perceive was not perfectly satisfied, as she
expected to have had the pleasure of sitting at the head of the table
and carving all the meat for all the company. But notwithstanding this,
it is impossible to describe our good humour. I can’t say whether we
had more wit amongst us now than usual; but I am certain we had more
laughing, which answered the end as well. One jest I particularly
remember, old Mr Wilmot drinking to Moses, whose head was turned another
way, my son replied, ‘Madam, I thank you. ’ Upon which the old gentleman,
winking upon the rest of the company, observed that he was thinking of
his mistress. At which jest I thought the two miss Flamboroughs would
have died with laughing. As soon as dinner was over, according to my
old custom, I requested that the table might be taken away, to have
the pleasure of seeing all my family assembled once more by a chearful
fireside. My two little ones sat upon each knee, the rest of the company
by their partners. I had nothing now on this side of the grave to wish
for, all my cares were over, my pleasure was unspeakable. It now only
remained that my gratitude in good fortune should exceed my former
submission in adversity.
The MAD DOG
ONE OF R. CALDECOTT'S PICTURE BOOKS
Frederick Warne and Co. Ltd.
[Illustration]
An ELEGY
on the DEATH of
a MAD DOG.
WRITTEN
By
Dr GOLDSMITH
PICTURED
By
R. CALDECOTT
SUNG
By
Master BILL PRIMROSE
[Illustration]
Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
In Islington there lived a man,
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went to pray.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
And in that town a dog was found:
As many dogs there be--
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
This dog and man at first were friends;
But, when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wondering neighbours ran;
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The wound it seem'd both sore and sad
To every christian eye;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
But soon a wonder came to light,
That show'd the rogues they lied--
The man recover'd of the bite;
The dog it was that died.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Randolph Caldecott's
Picture Books
"The humour of Randolph Caldecott's drawings is simply irresistible, no
healthy-minded man, woman, or child could look at them without laughing. "
_In square crown 4to, picture covers, with numerous coloured plates. _
1 John Gilpin
2 The House that Jack Built
3 The Babes in the Wood
4 The Mad Dog
5 Three Jovial Huntsmen
6 Sing a Song for Sixpence
7 The Queen of Hearts
8 The Farmer's Boy
9 The Milkmaid
10 Hey-Diddle-Diddle and Baby Bunting
11 A Frog He Would a-Wooing Go
12 The Fox Jumps over the Parson's Gate
13 Come Lasses and Lads
14 Ride a Cock Horse to Banbury
Cross, &c.
15 Mrs. Mary Blaize
16 The Great Panjandrum Himself
_The above selections are also issued in Four Volumes, square crown 4to,
attractive binding. Each containing four different books, with their
Coloured Pictures and innumerable Outline Sketches. _
1 R. Caldecott's Picture Book No. 1
2 R. Caldecott's Picture Book No. 2
3 Hey-Diddle-Diddle-Picture Book
4 The Panjandrum Picture Book
RANDOLPH CALDECOTT'S
Collection of Pictures and Songs No. 1 containing the first 8 books
listed above with their Colour Pictures and numerous Outline
Sketches
RANDOLPH CALDECOTT'S
Collection of Pictures and Songs No. 2 containing the second 8
books listed above with their Colour Pictures and numerous Outline
Sketches
Frederick Warne & Co. Ltd.
LONDON & NEW YORK.
_The Published Prices of the above Picture Books can be obtained of all
Booksellers or from the illustrated Catalogue of the Publishers. _
ENGRAVED AND PRINTED BY EDMUND EVANS, LTD. , 154 CLERKENWELL ROAD, LONDON,
E. C. 1.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN.
THE DESERTED VILLAGE
By Oliver Goldsmith
Illustrated by the Etching Club
New York: D. Appleton And Co. Broadway
MDCCCLVII
[Illustration: 0001]
[Illustration: 0008]
The Illustrations in this Volume are copied, with permission,
from a series of Etchings published some years since by the
"Etching Club. " Only a few impressions of that work were
printed, the copper-plates were destroyed, and the book, except
in a very expensive form, has long been unattainable. Great
care has been taken to render the present Wood-blocks as like
the original Etchings as the different methods of engraving will
allow.
ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
Sweet Auburn! loveliest milage of the plain. . . T. Creswick, R. A. . . . 007
The never-failing brook, the busy mill. . . . . . . . T. Creswick, R. A. . . . 008
The hawthorn bush, with seals in shade. . . . . . . . C. W. Cope, R. A. . . . . 009
The matron's glance that would reprove. . . . . . . . H. J. Townsend. . . . . . 010
The hollow sounding bittern guards its nest. . . F. Tayler. . . . . . . . . . . 012
These, far departing, seek a kinder shore. . . . . C. Stonhouse. . . . . . . . 014
Amidst the swains show my book-learn'd skill. . J. C. Horsley. . . . . . . 015
And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue. . F. Tayler. . . . . . . . . . . 016
To spurn imploring famine from the gale. . . . . . . C. W. Cope, R. A. . . . . 017
While resignation gently slopes the way. . . . . . . T. Creswick, R. A. . . . 018
The playful children let loose from school. . . . T. Webster, R. A. . .
