CHAPTER V.

_Puerile Anecdotes of our Hero John De Lancaster._

Although Mr. De Lancaster in one of his prophetic moments had pronounced, that the mother of our hero would conceive a more than ordinary love and affection for her infant, the event did not exactly verify the prediction: sorrow had benumbed her heart: she had so long fed upon it in secrecy and silence, that all the little energy, which nature had originally endowed her with, was lost. From her husband she derived no comfort, and for the maternal duties she was totally unfit. The accommodating contract she had entered into with Philip for all nuptial emancipation in future, was so religiously observed on both sides, that it did not seem in the order of things natural, that the heir of the family would ever be saddled with a provision for younger children.

Young John, who had occasioned much trouble and annoyance to his mother by inadvertently coming into the world, before he was expected, seemed likely to go out of it without experiencing the care of any other parent than the benevolent Cecilia; for Mr. Philip De Lancaster, as I have before hinted, had married without any other moving cause than what operated upon him through the strainers of his father’s recommendation and advice, and was not remarkably uxorious. On the contrary, as the embers of affection were not vivid in his bosom, and as there is reason to believe he did not take much pains to kindle them in the bosom of his lady, it may be presumed, that he was as little studious to find consolation for her sorrows, as she was to interrupt his indolence, or to resent his indifference.--Amusements she had none, and occupations extremely few: she discharged herself from all attention to family hours and family meals; eat and slept by herself, received no company and paid no visits, alive to little else but the reports, which at stated times she expected and received from Mrs. Jennings at Denbigh of little Amelia’s health and improvement, whom at the same time she had not energy enough to visit, whilst her father was a prisoner at Glen-Morgan under the coercion of two inexorable keepers, old age and gout. She had a servant Betty Wood, an ancient maiden and as melancholy as herself, who now and then read homilies to her, and now and then worked carpeting and quilted counterpanes, over which she regaled herself with hymns, sung in a most sleep-inviting key to adagio movements, that scarce moved at all. This work of hers, like that of the chaste Penelope, was without end or object; for it rarely failed to happen that, before the task was finished, Mrs. De Lancaster had changed her fancy as to the pattern, and destroyed perhaps in a few minutes what patient Betty had been employed upon for months: her carpets never covered the floor, nor did her counterpanes ever ornament the beds.

As Mr. Philip De Lancaster had no further punctilios to observe towards his lady, he seemed to think that nothing more could be required of him towards his son except to measure his growth from year to year by notches in the wainscot of the steward’s parlour, which are there remaining to this hour as records of the extraordinary vegetative powers, with which dame Nature had endowed the object of these memoirs. Cecilia would fain have had her little nephew brought into the room after dinner, but it was not often she was indulged in that wish, as the old gentleman did not approve of the custom; and once, when the good aunt was rather more importunate than was usual with her, he told her, that the practice of introducing noisy children and prattling nurses into the guest-room was so justly reprobated by all civilized societies, that the citizens of Abydos became notorious to a proverb for their ill manners in that particular, and were the laughing-stock of the more refined Athenians--And should not you and I, said he, like the aforesaid citizens, deserve to be the ridicule of our neighbours, if, instead of entertaining them with the conversation of the table, we should treat them with the din and gabble of a nursery?--From these, or any other authorities, when abetted by her father, it was not Cecilia’s practice to appeal, though perhaps she longed to observe to him, that his neighbours were not in all respects exactly like the _refined Athenians_.

De Lancaster nevertheless was extremely fond of his grandson, and once in every forenoon had him brought into his library, where he would hear him say the little lessons, that his aunt had taught him, and sometimes with great good humour tell him stories, and repeat fables, which had always some point of instruction couched under the moral of them, upon which however the narrator was in the habit of descanting rather longer than would have answered his purpose, had that been only to amuse the hearer; but as this history does not undertake to record every incident, that occurred during the boyish years of our hero, we shall content ourselves with observing, that, as he advanced in strength and stature, he gave proofs of a very early aptitude towards all athletic exercises within the compass of his powers. He scrambled up the crags, forded the gullies and braved the inclemencies of climate, with any boy of his age, however bold or hardy.

That the only son and heir of a family so ancient, rich and respectable should be indulged in these adventures, would not seem very natural, but that his aunt could not, and his father would not, follow him in these excursions, whilst every body else about the castle conspired to encourage him in them, and applauded him for his resolution.

His great ambition was to rival young David Williams, son of the blind minstrel, in the manly art of horsemanship. This hardy lad performed his errands to the post office and market of the neighbouring town on a poney, who yielded to none of Welch extraction in obstinacy and determined disobedience to controul. He had more ingenious devices to dislodge young David from his back, than young David had resources at all times ready to disappoint and thwart him in his contrivances; and hence it rarely came to pass, that the horse and his rider did not part company before the expedition was complete and at an end. If David was by chance encharged with frangible commodities, nobody could ensure upon a worse bottom. Poney had not a single friend in house or stable; every soul gave him an ill name; but some enjoyed to witness his malicious tricks, whilst to others David always set out with an assurance, that he would master him, and generally came home with tokens, that gave ocular demonstration to the contrary.

One evening as David was returning home through the park with a cargo of sundries in a basket, and just then in high good humour with his poney, he was met by his friend John exactly at the pass, where the two roads branched off, the one towards the castle, and the other to the stables. David’s business carried him to the house, but the poney was disposed to carry him and his business to the stable. This begat a difference of opinions on the spot, and the dispute soon begat blows, which were manfully laid on by the rider, and passionately resented by the receiver. After a sufficient number of indecisive plunges, which brought the basket of miscellaneous articles to the ground, but left the rider only a little forwarder on his saddle than was quite convenient, poney seemed in the humour to compromise the question between the two roads by taking neither; but bolted forwards at full speed towards the hah-hah, that bounded the pleasure ground, upon the very brink of which he made a sudden stop, and throwing up his heels at the same instant with his head between his knees, he completely effected his purpose by pitching his jockey into the aforesaid hah-hah, which, luckily for its visitor, was just then full of water.

When John, who had been spectator of the contest, had assisted his friend in getting out of the water, and found all bones whole, he repaired to the stable, where the contumacious poney was still standing at the door, and, arming himself, with David’s whip, proceeded to mount. This was a new demand, which the poney could by no means reconcile to his feelings; the battle instantly commenced; and victory hung between them for a while without any seeming partiality to either side: many a time they came to the ground together, but never parted; till at length, after plenty of restive manœuvres, and a pretty many Welch remonstrances, poney gave in, and, to the immortal honour of our young Antæus, ever after became as tractable as a turn-spit.