Punch (35.1858)

IM

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

I October 10. 1858.

THE HAWTHORN CORRESPONDENCE.

LETTER THE LAST.

dear Mr. Punch,

" For the benefit of
anxious absentees who, like
myself, are or have been
enjoying an autumn holiday,
I will just record my expe-
rience with respect to the
necessity of returning to
Town during the month of
September, under any cir-
cumstances. When I saw
by a recent number of your
periodical that, you, Sir, had
succumbed to the weakness
of human nature, and were
splashing about in the sea,
whilst the faithful Toby was
guarding the boat, L plucked
up courage, and instead of
fretting over a stolen vaca-
tion, boldly wrote to head-
quarters to know if I was
really wanted. The answer
was, ' Stay where you are—
the Clubs are being painted
—all the houses are shut up,
and so are most of the tho-
roughfares—there is not a
soul in London, except a few country people, and there are not even
pickpockets enough left to attend to tuem. So, Mr. Punch, with a quiet
conscience, I stayed where I was till the 1st of October, and had an
opportunity of beins present at, the Hawthorn Harvest Home.

" The Harvest Home is a lucus a non, inasmuch as it takes place
three weeks or a month after the corn is housed; but by a kind of
mutual consent, various events are amalgamated into a Michaelmas
Feast. The Squire's Audit—the Benefit, Society's annual meeting—the
Village School-feast—and Miss Hawthorn's party to the old people
in the Parish, all come off on Michaelmas Day, and as English people
always frame some excuse for doing what they feel inclined to, the
Harvest Home is made the plea for a Village festival.

" The Squire's Audit was the first event, and by nine o'clock iu the
morning numerous substantial farmers began to arrive and dropped iu
one by one, or in couples, and took their places at the breakfast-table,
which was laid out in the great hall. It was a pleasant sight to see
Laura Hawthorn at the head of the table, welcoming each new
comer, gossiping over a recent syllabub feast with Mr. Broadbeans,
and chatting to Mr. Worzell about the excellence of his wife's
cream and butter, and doing what no one but a thorough-bred English
Lady can do, viz., putting everybody at his ease. She knew every
one's taste and studied it; she encouraged the Butler to keep the
old tankards well filled with the home-brewed, and absolutely refused
tea and coffee to those who had had a long ride. ' Now, Mr. Broad-
beans,' she said, 'I know you were up at five, and breakfasted at six,
so don't tell me that you would prefer tea, it's all nonsense.' Of
course she was right, Mr. Punch, and the effect of this gentle rallying
of Mr. Broadbeans, was that the guests paid their attention to the
old tankards lustily, and when they put their great red faces into them
it reminded one of a partial eclipse of the sun.

" Mr. Redtape, the lawyer, arrived before breakfast was over, but
he wasn't in a hurry for business, and wishing to eat his meal in peace,
with a sagacity worthy of his cloth, started a conversation on crops
and cattle, on which subject Charley Bluffins was quite at home,
and a most animated discussion ensued on the advantages and disad-
vantages of some new American drill, of which I do not even know the
name.

" Mr. Redtape's retirement iuto the Squire's sanctum was a notice
that busintss was about to commence, and as I passed under the
window I could hear the chink of gold, a sound not disagreeable even
amongst green trees; and it was pleasant to think how those sturdy
Bucolics were emptying their leathern bags into the Hawthorn strong
oox, and would be ready to do the same next quarter-day to the mutual
satisfaction of landlord and tenant.

" About half-past twelve a most discordant sound burst upon the
ear, and we beheld the village band in all its glory followed by Mr.
Daisy in full canonicals, who headed the procession of the Benefit
Society.

" ' I forgot to tell you,' said Charles Bluffins, ' we must go to
Church now, everybody goes on Club day.'

" Charley and I walked with Mk. Daisy, who told me that the
-eason for having the service at half-past twelve was a plan of his, as
an excuse for reading the Evening instead of the Morning Service.

' You must know,' he added, 'that this going to Church is only a plea
for the Village Choir to perform an Anthem, and as it is an old custom
it won't do to interfere with it.5

You know, Mr. Punch, that a sensitive ear is offended even by the
popular melody of ' Old Bog Tray' being whistled out of tune; but if
you could only have heard ' How Beautiful upon the Mountains' per-
formed by the Hawthorn Choir, I really think you would without
inconvenience have passed the remainder of the day with a mm whose
occupation is saw-sharpening. The Bassoon was evidently none the
better for beer, and the only comfort to the habitues of Hawthorn
Church must have been that this display only occurs once a year, the
regular musical and singing department having been long ago trans-
ferred to the School children, led by Laura's Harmonium. Little
Daisy, like a sensible man, gave us a very short homely sermon, just
towards the close of which Charley Bluffins put his handkerchief
to his nose, and walked out, and no doubt the congregation imngined t hat
it was bleeding. I will tell you in confidence, Mr. Punch, that Charley's
nose was not bleeding, and I will refer the question to you presently,
whether the nose was justified by the object which he had in view in
making a sudden exit.

" After service the Band reassembled in front of the Church, and
you may be sure that all the villagers were there too, and a procession
was formed to a neighbouring farm-yard, where a waggon, supposed to
be piled with the last load of coin (though I happen to know it was a
dummy and was only straw) was drawn out by the best team, and a
ladder having been placed against the side of it, all the boys and girls
who could find room scrambled up, with boughs of trees in their hands,
and preceded again by the inevitable band, a general move was made
by the crowd towards the Park, where the festivities of the day were
about to commence.

" I must shorten my letter a little, as if 1 was to describe all that
went on in the Park, there would not be space left for Mr. Hawthorn's
speech,—of which hereafter. 1 believe most of your readers must be
familiar with some of our national pictures of Village festivals, and if
they will scrutinise them, and vary the dresses slightly in their own
imagination, tbey will be able to form some idea of our evening's
amusements. When I tell you that all the tenants, down to the
humblest Holder of a garden at forty shillings, have entertainment at
the Hall, and that the old people and children were feasted by Miss
Hawthorn, and that the Squire contributed a sheep, a round of beef,
and a barrel of ale to the Benefit Club, you can easily imagine that
there was no dearth of eating and drinking in the Hall and outside.
You can also imagine, Sir, that the cricket, foot-ball, and kiss-in-the-ring
were not forgotten, and believe me when I tell you, that human nature
is not much differtnt, in our primitive village than elsewhere, as I firmly
believe there was not a pretty girl there who had not a host of honest
young fellows around her; and though their courtship was not quite
so refined as it might have been in May Fair, still I much doubt if that
mischievous little gentleman who is usually drawn with wings and bows
and arrows, without any peg-tops, (pruh! pudor!) does not like a
day's sport in a country village as well as in Bclgravia.

" The crowning fun outside the house was to see the old Squire cut
the throat of an enormous sackfull of toys, for the very little children
who were sprawling all over the lawn, and to hear the shrieks of
delight at the display of treasures which it contained. But, after all,
Charley Bluffins carried the day with rich and poor, old and young,
as, just as it was getting too dark for the out-of-door sports, a general
summons was issued for all hands to meet in an old barn, and there in
all its glory, illuminated by a row of tallow-candles on a hoop, stood
the popular Melodramatic Theatre of which you, Sir, are the hero. It
would be hard to say whether the infamous treatment of Judy, or the
murder of the Baby, or the assaults on the Beadle, amused the audience
most.

" This was the cause of Charley Bltjfeins going out of Church-
he heard a faint squeak and two or three notes on the pan-pipes during
the Sermon, and instantly rushed out, and not only made that Punch
his own for the day, but artfully contrived to keep the proprietors out
of sight till wanted. Was he right, or was he wrong, Sir?

" I must, keep my promise, and give you the old Squire's speech, as
it contained an announcement of a coming event. After the Tenants'
Dinner, when the old gentleman's health was proposed, I could see
that something was on his mind; and I was not far wrong, as Bluffins
looked foolish, and Laura went away. Mr. Hawthorn spoke as
follows :—'My good friends and neighbours, [ thank you for your good
wishes, and for your punctuality as my Tenants, and I bid you welcome.
As I may never meet you again, there are two or three things about
other people which I wish to say to you'—(Here an interruption took
place owing to Tom Robinson taking violent exceptions to the Squire's
allusions to his age, who, as he said, ' were vive ear younger nor I')—
' Before we meet again, this young man on my right, who is just
entering life (pointing to Charley Bluffins) and who has proved
himself as brave a soldier as I believe he is a good man, will be
married to my grand-daughter, Miss Hawthorn, and when my sand
is run out, 1 hope the only change in our affairs at Hawthorn will
be, that you will have a young landlord instead of an old one.'

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