man walked beside the car from the Fish Inn, talking to the tidy, clean old housekeeper of Woodhouse; while the Squire himself rode in the rear, proud and happy as he marshalled the merry little band along;—for, truth to say, it would have been difficult to find in any other part of England so much manliness and so much rustic beauty centred in so small a spot.
As they moved gently along the road, John Cowman, the host of the Victoria, struck up the following well-known song, which was welcomed with a shout from the whole "lating"—
"I's Borrowdale Jwohnny, just cumt up to Lunnon,
Nay, gurn nit at me, for fear I laugh at you;
I've seen kneaves donn'd i' silks, and gud men gang in tatters;
The truth we sud tell, and gi'e auld Nick his due."
Then the gust rushed down the valley, and the voices of the happy holiday throng were swept, for a moment, away; as it lulled again, the ear, familiar to the song, could catch the laugh and cheers that accompanied the next verse:—
"'Keep frae't lasses, and ne'er look ahint thee.'
'We're deep as the best o' them, fadder,' says I.
They packed up ae sark, Sunday weascwoat, twee neckcloths,
Wot bannock, cauld dumplin', and top stannin' pye;"
Again the voices were lost in the turning of the road, and presently, as they shot out once more, they might be heard singing in full chorus—
"Ca' and see cousin Jacep, he's got a' the money;
He'll get thee some guver'ment pleace to be seer."
At last, all was still—but scarcely more still than when the whole of the cottages were filled with their little families, for the village, though now utterly deserted, would have seemed to the stranger to have been as thickly populated and busy as ever.
CHAPTER III.
"Heaste, Jenny! put the bairns to bed,
And mind they say their prayers.
Sweet innocents! their heads yence down,
They sleep away their cares!
But gi' them first a butter-shag;
When young, they munnet want,—
Nor ever sal a bairn o' mine
While I've a bit to grant."
The Happy Family.
The younger Sandboys took the departure of the villagers more to
heart than did their mother; though, true to her woman's nature, had
the trip been anywhere but to London, she would have felt hurt at
not making one of the pleasure party. On reaching home, she and
