THE PARISH TRILOGY - Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood, The Seaboard Parish & The Vicar's Daughter. George MacDonald

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      And Mr Boulderstone had taken out old Mrs Rogers; and young Brownrigg had taken Mary Weir. Thomas Weir did not dance at all, but looked on kindly.

      "Why don't you dance, Old Rogers?" I said, as I placed his daughter in a seat beside him.

      "Did your honour ever see an elephant go up the futtock-shrouds?"

      "No. I never did."

      "I thought you must, sir, to ask me why I don't dance. You won't take my fun ill, sir? I'm an old man-o'-war's man, you know, sir."

      "I should have thought, Rogers, that you would have known better by this time, than make such an apology to ME."

      "God bless you, sir. An old man's safe with you—or a young lass, either, sir," he added, turning with a smile to his daughter.

      I turned, and addressed Mr Boulderstone.

      "I am greatly obliged to you, Mr Boulderstone, for the help you have given me this evening. I've seen you talking to everybody, just as if you had to entertain them all."

      "I hope I haven't taken too much upon me. But the fact is, somehow or other, I don't know how, I got into the spirit of it."

      "You got into the spirit of it because you wanted to help me, and I thank you heartily."

      "Well, I thought it wasn't a time to mind one's peas and cues exactly. And really it's wonderful how one gets on without them. I hate formality myself."

      The dear fellow was the most formal man I had ever met.

      "Why don't you dance, Mr Brownrigg?"

      "Who'd care to dance with me, sir? I don't care to dance with an old woman; and a young woman won't care to dance with me."

      "I'll find you a partner, if you will put yourself in my hands."

      "I don't mind trusting myself to you, sir."

      So I led him to Jane Rogers. She stood up in respectful awe before the master of her destiny. There were signs of calcitration in the churchwarden, when he perceived whither I was leading him. But when he saw the girl stand trembling before him, whether it was that he was flattered by the signs of his own power, accepting them as homage, or that his hard heart actually softened a little, I cannot tell, but, after just a perceptible hesitation, he said:

      "Come along, my lass, and let's have a hop together."

      She obeyed very sweetly.

      "Don't be too shy," I whispered to her as she passed me.

      And the churchwarden danced very heartily with the lady's-maid.

      I then asked him to take her into the house, and give her something to eat in return for her song. He yielded somewhat awkwardly, and what passed between them I do not know. But when they returned, she seemed less frightened at him than when she heard me make the proposal. And when the company was parting, I heard him take leave of her with the words—

      "Give us a kiss, my girl, and let bygones be bygones."

      Which kiss I heard with delight. For had I not been a peacemaker in this matter? And had I not then a right to feel blessed?—But the understanding was brought about simply by making the people meet—compelling them, as it were, to know something of each other really. Hitherto this girl had been a mere name, or phantom at best, to her lover's father; and it was easy for him to treat her as such, that is, as a mere fancy of his son's. The idea of her had passed through his mind; but with what vividness any idea, notion, or conception could be present to him, my readers must judge from my description of him. So that obstinacy was a ridiculously easy accomplishment to him. For he never had any notion of the matter to which he was opposed—only of that which he favoured. It is very easy indeed for such people to stick to their point.

      But I took care that we should have dancing in moderation. It would not do for people either to get weary with recreation, or excited with what was not worthy of producing such an effect. Indeed we had only six country dances during the evening. That was all. And between the dances I read two or three of Wordsworth's ballads to them, and they listened even with more interest than I had been able to hope for. The fact was, that the happy and free hearted mood they were in "enabled the judgment." I wish one knew always by what musical spell to produce the right mood for receiving and reflecting a matter as it really is. Every true poem carries this spell with it in its own music, which it sends out before it as a harbinger, or properly a HERBERGER, to prepare a harbour or lodging for it. But then it needs a quiet mood first of all, to let this music be listened to.

      For I thought with myself, if I could get them to like poetry and beautiful things in words, it would not only do them good, but help them to see what is in the Bible, and therefore to love it more. For I never could believe that a man who did not find God in other places as well as in the Bible ever found Him there at all. And I always thought, that to find God in other books enabled us to see clearly that he was MORE in the Bible than in any other book, or all other books put together.

      After supper we had a little more singing. And to my satisfaction nothing came to my eyes or ears, during the whole evening, that was undignified or ill-bred. Of course, I knew that many of them must have two behaviours, and that now they were on their good behaviour. But I thought the oftener such were put on their good behaviour, giving them the opportunity of finding out how nice it was, the better. It might make them ashamed of the other at last.

      There were many little bits of conversation I overheard, which I should like to give my readers; but I cannot dwell longer upon this part of my Annals. Especially I should have enjoyed recording one piece of talk, in which Old Rogers was evidently trying to move a more directly religious feeling in the mind of Dr Duncan. I thought I could see that THE difficulty with the noble old gentleman was one of expression. But after all the old foremast-man was a seer of the Kingdom; and the other, with all his refinement, and education, and goodness too, was but a child in it.

      Before we parted, I gave to each of my guests a sheet of Christmas Carols, gathered from the older portions of our literature. For most of the modern hymns are to my mind neither milk nor meat—mere wretched imitations. There were a few curious words and idioms in these, but I thought it better to leave them as they were; for they might set them inquiring, and give me an opportunity of interesting them further, some time or other, in the history of a word; for, in their ups and downs of fortune, words fare very much like human beings.

      And here is my sheet of Carols:—

      AN HYMNE OF HEAVENLY LOVE.

       O blessed Well of Love! O Floure of Grace!

       O glorious Morning-Starre! O Lampe of Light!

       Most lively image of thy Father's face,

       Eternal King of Glorie, Lord of Might,

       Meeke Lambe of God, before all worlds behight,

       How can we Thee requite for all this good?

       Or what can prize that Thy most precious blood?

       Yet nought Thou ask'st in lieu of all this love,

       But love of us, for guerdon of Thy paine:

       Ay me! what can us lesse than that behove?

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