Part 11 (2/2)
_Mr Barlow._--The people who inhabit that country are of a different opinion, and prefer it to all the countries in the world. They are great travellers, and many of them follow different professions in all the different countries of Europe; but it is the only wish of almost all to return, before their death, to the mountains where they were born and have pa.s.sed their youth.
_Tommy._--I do not easily understand that. I have seen a great many ladies and little misses at our house, and whenever they were talking of the places where they should like to live, I have always heard them say that they hated the country of all things, though they were born and bred there. I have heard one say the country is odious, filthy, shocking, and abominable; another, that it is impossible to live anywhere but in London; and I remember once seeing a strange lady, who wrote down her observations in a book, and she said the country was all full of barbarians, and that no person of elegance (yes, that was her word) could bear it for a week.
_Mr Barlow._--And yet there are thousands who bear to live in it all their lives, and have no desire to change. Should you, Harry, like to leave the country, and go to live in some town?
_Harry._--Indeed, sir, I should not, for then I must leave everything I love in the world. I must leave my father and mother, who have been so kind to me; and you, too, sir, who have taken such pains to improve me, and make me good. I am convinced that I never shall find such friends again as long as I live; and what should anybody wish to live for who has no friends? Besides, there is not a field upon my father's farm that I do not prefer to every town I ever saw in my life.
_Tommy._--And have you ever been in any large town?
_Harry._--Once I was in Exeter, but I did not much like it; the houses seemed to me to stand so thick and close, that I think our hog-sties would be almost as agreeable places to live in; and then there are little narrow alleys where the poor live; and the houses are so high, that neither light nor air can ever get to them, and the most of them appeared so dirty and unhealthy, that it made my heart ache to look at them. And then I walked along the streets, and peeped into the shops--and what do you think I saw?
_Tommy._--What?
_Harry._--Why, I saw great hulking fellows, as big as our ploughmen and carters, with their heads all frizzled and curled like one of our sheep's tails, that did nothing but finger ribbons and caps for the women! This diverted me so, that I could not help laughing ready to split my sides. And then the gentlewoman, at whose house I was, took me to a place where there was a large room full of candles, and a greater number of fine gentlemen and ladies, all dressed out and showy, who were dancing about as if they were mad. But at the door of this house there were twenty or thirty ragged, half-starved women and children, who stood s.h.i.+vering in the rain, and begged for a bit of bread; but n.o.body gave it to them, or took any notice of them. So then I could not help thinking that it would be a great deal better if all the fine people would give some of their money to the poor, that they might have some clothes and victuals in their turn.
_Tommy._--That is indeed true. Had I been there I should have relieved the poor people; for you know I am very good-natured and generous; but it is necessary for gentlemen to be fine and to dress well.
_Harry._--It may be so; but I never saw any great good come of it, for my part. As I was walking along the streets one day, and staring about, I met two very fine and dressy young gentlemen, who looked something as you did, Master Tommy, when you first came here; so I turned off from the foot-way to let them pa.s.s, for my father always taught me to show civility to people in a higher station; but that was not enough, it seems, for just as they pa.s.sed by me they gave me such a violent push, that down I came into the kennel, and dirtied myself all over from head to foot.
_Tommy._--And did they not beg your pardon for the accident?
_Harry._--Accident! it was no accident at all; for they burst out into a fit of laughter, and called me a little clodpole. Upon which I told them, if I was a clodpole they had no business to insult me; and then they came back, and one of them gave me a kick, and the other a slap on the face; but I told them that was too much for me to bear, so I struck them again, and we all three began fighting.
_Tommy._--What! both at once? That was a cowardly trick.
_Harry._--I did not much mind that; but there came up a fine smart fellow, in white stockings and powdered hair, who it seems, was their servant, and he was going to fall upon me too; but a man took my part, and said, I should have fair play, so I fought them both till they did not choose to have any more; for, though they were so quarrelsome, they could not fight worth a farthing; so I let them go, and advised them not to meddle any more with poor boys who did nothing to offend them.
_Tommy._--And did you hear no more of these young gentlemen?
_Harry._--No; for I went home the next day, and never was I better pleased in my life. When I came to the top of the great hill, from which you have a prospect of our house, I really thought I should have cried with joy. The fields looked all so pleasant, and the cattle that were feeding in them so happy; then every step I took I met with somebody or other I knew, or some little boy that I used to play with. ”Here is little Harry come back,” said one. ”How do you do; how do you do?” cried a second. Then a third shook hands with me; and the very cattle, when I went to see them, seemed all glad that I was come home again.
_Mr Barlow._--You see by this that it is very possible for people to like the country, and be happy in it. But as to the fine young ladies you talk of, the truth is, that they neither love, nor would be long contented in any place; their whole happiness consists in idleness and finery; they have neither learned to employ themselves in anything useful, nor to improve their minds. As to every kind of natural exercise, they are brought up with too much delicacy to be able to bear it, and from the improper indulgences they meet with, they learn to tremble at every trifling change of the seasons. With such dispositions, it is no wonder they dislike the _country_, where they find neither employment nor amus.e.m.e.nt. They wish to go to _London_, because there they meet with infinite numbers as idle and frivolous as themselves; and these people mutually a.s.sist each other to talk about trifles, and waste their time.
_Tommy._--That is true, sir, really; for, when we have a great deal of company, I have often observed that they never talked about anything but eating or dressing, or men and women that are paid to make faces at the playhouse, or a great room called _Ranelagh_, where everybody goes to meet his friends.
_Mr Barlow._--I believe Harry will never go there to meet his friends.
_Harry._--Indeed, sir, I do not know what Ranelagh is; but all the friends I have are at home; and when I sit by the fireside on a winter's night, and read to my father and mother, and sister, as I sometimes do, or when I talk with you and Master Tommy upon improving subjects, I never desire any other friends or conversation. But, pray sir, what is Ranelagh?
_Mr Barlow._--Ranelagh is a very large round room, to which, at particular times of the year, great numbers of persons go in their carriages to walk about for several hours.
_Harry._--And does n.o.body go there that has not several friends? Because Master Tommy said that people went to Ranelagh to meet their friends.
Mr Barlow smiled at this question, and answered, ”The room is generally so crowded, that people have little opportunity for any kind of conversation. They walk round the room in a circle, one after the other, just like horses in a mill. When persons meet that know each other, they perhaps smile and bow, but are shoved forward, without having any opportunity to stop. As to _friends_, few people go to look for them there; and if they were to meet them, few would take the trouble of speaking to them, unless they were dressed in a fas.h.i.+onable manner, and seemed to be of _consequence_.”
_Harry._--That is very extraordinary, indeed. Why, sir, what can a man's dress have to do with friends.h.i.+p? Should I love you a bit better if you were to wear the finest clothes in the world; or should I like my father the better if he were to put on a laced coat like Squire Chase? On the contrary, whenever I see people dressed very fine, I cannot help thinking of the story you once read me of Agesilaus, king of Sparta.
_Tommy._--What is that story? Do let me hear it.
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