entered till I had exchanged my miry boots, for a clean pair of shoes, and my rough surtout 3 for a respectable coat, and made myself generally presentable before decent society; for my mother, with all her kindness, was vastly particular on certain points.
In ascending to my room, I was met upon the stairs by a smart, pretty girl of nineteen, with a tidy, dumpy figure, a round face, bright, blooming cheeks, glossy, clustering curls, and little merry brown eyes. I need not tell you this was my sister Rose. She is, I know, a comely matron still, and, doubtless, no less lovely – in
your
eyes – than on the happy day you first beheld her. Nothing told me then, that she, a few years hence, would be the wife of one – entirely unknown to me as yet, but destined, hereafter, to become a closer friend than even herself, more intimate than that unmannerly lad of seventeen, by whom I was collared in the passage, on coming down, and wellnigh jerked off my equilibrium, and who, in correction for his impudence, received a resounding whack over the sconce, which, however, sustained no serious injury from the infliction; as, besides being more than commonly thick, it was protected by a redundant shock of short, reddish curls, that my mother called auburn.
On entering the parlour, we found that honoured lady seated in her arm chair at the fireside, working away at her knitting, according to her usual custom, when she had nothing else to do. She had swept the hearth, and made a bright blazing fire for our reception; the servant had just brought in the tea-tray; and Rose was producing the sugar-basin and tea-caddy, from the cupboard in the black, oak sideboard, that shone like polished ebony, in the cheerful parlour twilight.
‘Well! here they both are,’ cried my mother, looking round upon us without retarding the motion of her nimble fingers, and glitteringneedles. ‘Now shut the door, and come to the fire, while Rose gets the tea ready; I’m sure you must be starved; – and tell me what you’ve been about all day; – I like to know what my children have been about.’
‘I’ve been breaking in the grey colt – no easy business that – directing the ploughing of the last wheat stubble – for the ploughboy has not the sense to direct himself – and carrying out a plan for the extensive and efficient draining of the low meadow-lands.’
‘That’s my brave boy! – and Fergus – what have you been doing?’
‘Badger-baiting.’
And here he proceeded to give a particular account of his sport, and the respective traits of prowess evinced by the badger and the dogs; my mother pretending to listen with deep attention, and watching his animated countenance with a degree of maternal admiration I thought highly disproportioned to its object.
‘It’s time you should be doing something else, Fergus,’ said I, as soon as a momentary pause in his narration allowed me to get in a word.
‘What
can
I do?’ replied he, ‘my mother won’t let me go to sea or enter the army; and I’m determined to do nothing else – except make myself such a nuisance to you all, that you will be thankful to get rid of me, on any terms.’
Our parent soothingly stroked his stiff, short curls. He growled, and tried to look sulky, and then, we all took our seats at the table, in obedience to the thrice repeated summons of Rose.
‘Now take your tea,’ said she; ‘and I’ll tell you what
I’ve
been doing. I’ve been to call on the Wilsons; and it’s a
thousand
pities you didn’t go with me, Gilbert, for Eliza Millward was there!’
‘Well! what of her?’
‘Oh nothing! – I’m not going to tell you about her, – only that she’s a nice, amusing little thing, when she is in a merry humour, and I shouldn’t mind calling her –’
‘Hush, hush, my dear! your brother has no such idea!’ whispered my mother earnestly, holding up her finger.
‘Well,’ resumed Rose; ‘I was going to tell you an important piece of news I heard
In ascending to my room, I was met upon the stairs by a smart, pretty girl of nineteen, with a tidy, dumpy figure, a round face, bright, blooming cheeks, glossy, clustering curls, and little merry brown eyes. I need not tell you this was my sister Rose. She is, I know, a comely matron still, and, doubtless, no less lovely – in
your
eyes – than on the happy day you first beheld her. Nothing told me then, that she, a few years hence, would be the wife of one – entirely unknown to me as yet, but destined, hereafter, to become a closer friend than even herself, more intimate than that unmannerly lad of seventeen, by whom I was collared in the passage, on coming down, and wellnigh jerked off my equilibrium, and who, in correction for his impudence, received a resounding whack over the sconce, which, however, sustained no serious injury from the infliction; as, besides being more than commonly thick, it was protected by a redundant shock of short, reddish curls, that my mother called auburn.
On entering the parlour, we found that honoured lady seated in her arm chair at the fireside, working away at her knitting, according to her usual custom, when she had nothing else to do. She had swept the hearth, and made a bright blazing fire for our reception; the servant had just brought in the tea-tray; and Rose was producing the sugar-basin and tea-caddy, from the cupboard in the black, oak sideboard, that shone like polished ebony, in the cheerful parlour twilight.
‘Well! here they both are,’ cried my mother, looking round upon us without retarding the motion of her nimble fingers, and glitteringneedles. ‘Now shut the door, and come to the fire, while Rose gets the tea ready; I’m sure you must be starved; – and tell me what you’ve been about all day; – I like to know what my children have been about.’
‘I’ve been breaking in the grey colt – no easy business that – directing the ploughing of the last wheat stubble – for the ploughboy has not the sense to direct himself – and carrying out a plan for the extensive and efficient draining of the low meadow-lands.’
‘That’s my brave boy! – and Fergus – what have you been doing?’
‘Badger-baiting.’
And here he proceeded to give a particular account of his sport, and the respective traits of prowess evinced by the badger and the dogs; my mother pretending to listen with deep attention, and watching his animated countenance with a degree of maternal admiration I thought highly disproportioned to its object.
‘It’s time you should be doing something else, Fergus,’ said I, as soon as a momentary pause in his narration allowed me to get in a word.
‘What
can
I do?’ replied he, ‘my mother won’t let me go to sea or enter the army; and I’m determined to do nothing else – except make myself such a nuisance to you all, that you will be thankful to get rid of me, on any terms.’
Our parent soothingly stroked his stiff, short curls. He growled, and tried to look sulky, and then, we all took our seats at the table, in obedience to the thrice repeated summons of Rose.
‘Now take your tea,’ said she; ‘and I’ll tell you what
I’ve
been doing. I’ve been to call on the Wilsons; and it’s a
thousand
pities you didn’t go with me, Gilbert, for Eliza Millward was there!’
‘Well! what of her?’
‘Oh nothing! – I’m not going to tell you about her, – only that she’s a nice, amusing little thing, when she is in a merry humour, and I shouldn’t mind calling her –’
‘Hush, hush, my dear! your brother has no such idea!’ whispered my mother earnestly, holding up her finger.
‘Well,’ resumed Rose; ‘I was going to tell you an important piece of news I heard
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