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THE SCOURING OF THE WHITE HORSE;
OR, THE
LONG VACATION RAMBLE OF A LONDON CLERK.
THE AUTHOR OF "TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DATS."
OLD AXD KEN*.
See how the Autumn leaves float by, decaying,
Down the red whirls of you rain-swollen stream;
So fleet the works of men, back to their earth again;
Ancient and holy things fade like a dream.
Xay '. see the Spring blossoms steal forth a-maying,
Clothing with tender buds orchard and glen :
So, though old forms go by, ne'er can their spirit die.
Look ! England's bare boughs show green leaf again.
KlXGSLEY.
PREFACE.
THE great success of the festival (or t( pas-
time," as it is called in the neighbourhood)
which was held on White Horse Hill on the lyth
and 1 8th of September, 1857, to celebrate the
u Scouring of the Horse," according to immemo-
rial custom, led the Committee of Management to
think that our fellow-county-men at least, if not
our country-men generally, would be glad to have
some little printed memorial, which should com-
prise not only an account of the doings on the Hill
on the late occasion, but should also endeavour to
gather up the scattered legends and traditions of the
country side, and any authentic historical notices re-
lating to the old monument, of which we west-
countrymen are all so fond and proud.
I had the good or ill luck (as the case may be)
to be the only member of the Committee whose
way of life had led him into the perilous paths of
literature ; so the task of compiling and editing our
little book was laid on my shoulders.
Installed as chronicler to the White Horse, I
entered with no ill will on my office, having been
all my life possessed, as is the case with so many
Englishmen, by intense local attachment, love for
every stone and turf of the country where I was
viii PREFACE.
born and bred. But it is one thing to have zeal,
and another to have discretion ; and when I came
to consider my materials, I found that the latter
quality would be greatly needed. For, what were
they ? One short bright gleam of history from the
writings of old monks a thousand years ago ; tradi-
tions and dim legends, which I and most Berkshire
men have always faithfully believed from our youth
up, and shall go on believing to our dying day, but
which we could hardly put before general readers in
serious narrative ; a dry notice here and there by
some old antiquary of the seventeenth or eighteenth
century ; stories floating in the memories of old men
still living j small broad-sheets from country town
presses, with lists of the competitors for prizes at
rustic games, newspaper articles, remarks by Com-
mittee-men and umpires, scraps of antiquarian lorej
abuse of the Great Western Railway for not allow-
ing the trains to stop, bits of vernacular dialogue,
and odd rhymes. What could be done with them
all ? How out of the mass could a shapely book be
called out, fit to be laid before a fastidious British
public, not born in Berkshire ?
Not exactly seeing how this was to be done, the
only honest course which remained, was to follow
the example of a good housewife in the composition
of that excellent food called "stir-about" throw
them altogether into the pot, stir them round and
round with a great spoon, and trust that the look
of the few great raisins, and the flavour of the all-
PREFACE. ix
spice, may leaven the mass, and make it pleasing
to the eye and palate ; and so, though the stir-about
will never stand up in a china dish by itself, it
may, we hope, make a savoury and pleasant side
dish, in a common soup tureen.
The raisins, and those of the best quality, have
been furnished by the great artist * who has kindly
undertaken to give us pictures ; the allspice has
been contributed by the Committee and other kind
friends, and I have done the milk and meal, and
the stirring. The responsibility therefore rests with
me, though the credit, whatever it may be, rests
with others. But let me insist here, at once, that
if there be any failure in the dish, it is the fault of
the dresser and not of the subject-matter.
For, suppose an intelligent Englishman to be
travelling in France, and to find the whole popula-
tion in the neighbourhood of Tours turning out in
their best clothes for a two days' holiday on a high
hill, upon which the rude figure of a huge hammer
is roughly sculptured. On inquiry, he finds that the
figure has been there long before the memory of the
oldest man living, but that it has always been carefully
preserved and kept fresh ; and although there is no
printed history of how it came there, yet that all
neighbouring men, of whatever degree, associate it
with the name of Charles Martel and his great vic-
tory over the Saracens, and are ready one and all to
rejoice over it, and to work and pay that it may go
down to their children looking as it does now. Or,
* Doyle.
x PREFACE.
to come to much later times, let our traveller find
an eagle cut out on a hill in Hungary, similarly hon-
oured, and associated with the name of Eugene,
and the memory of the day
" When, the old black eagle flying,
All the Paynim powers defying,
On we marched, and stormed Belgrade."
Should we not all thank him for giving us the best
account he could of the figure, the festival, and all
traditions connected with them ; and think he had
fallen on a very noteworthy matter, and well worth
the telling when he got back to England ?
Well, here we have the same thing at our own
doors ; a rude colossal figure cut out in the turf, and
giving the name to a whole district ; legends con-
necting it with the name of our greatest king, and
with his great victory over the Pagans, and a festival
which has been held at very short intervals ever
since the ninth century. Rich as our land is in
historical monuments, there is none more remark-
able than the White Horse ; and in this belief we
put forth this little book in his honour, hoping that
it may perhaps fix upon him, and the other antiqui-
ties which surround him, the attention of some one
who can bring science and knowledge to bear upon
the task to which we can only bring good will.
For, alas ! let me confess at once, that in these
qualities our book is like to be sadly deficient. The
compiler has no knowledge whatever of the Anglo-
Saxon tongue, or of Saxon or other antiquities.
PREFACE. xi
There is indeed of necessity a semblance of learn-
ing and research about the chapter which tells the
history of the battle of Ashdown, because the ma-
terials for it had to be collected from a number of
old chroniclers, whose names will be found in the
foot-notes. But any fifth-form boy, with industry
enough to read about 20O small pages of monkish
Latin, may master the whole for himself in the
originals in a week ; and for those who cannot do
this, there is the jubilee edition of the chroniclers,
put forth by the Alfred Committee in 1852, where
a translation of the old fellows will be found in
parallel columns, together with much learning con-
cerning them and their times, in foot-note, preface,
and appendix. This translation I have followed
in all but a few passages, in which the text used by
the translators has probably differed from the one
which I have seen. For the Saxon Chronicle, I
have used Ingram's translation.
But while we do not pretend to be antiquaries,
or historians, or learned men, we do claim to be
honest average Englishmen, and will yield to no
man in our love for our own quiet corner of the
land of our birth. We do think, that whatever
deeply interests us cannot fail in a degree to interest
our countrymen. We are sure that reverence for
all great Englishmen, and a loving remembrance
of the great deeds done by them in old times, will
help to bring to life in us the feeling that we are a
family, bound together to work out God's purposes
in this little island, and in the uttermost parts of the
xil PREFACE.
earth ; to make clear to us the noble inheritance
which we have in common ; and to sink into their
proper place the miserable trifles, and odds and
ends, over which we are so apt to wrangle. We
do hope that our example will lead Englishmen of
other counties, to cherish every legend and story
which hangs round any nook of their neighbour-
hood, connecting it with the times and the men
who have gone before ; to let no old custom, which
has a meaning, however rude, die out, if it can be
kept alive ; and not to keep either legend or cus-
tom to themselves, but (like us) to put them in the
best shape they can, and publish them for the ben-
fit of their countrymen ; we of the White Horse
Committee, at any rate, hereby pledging ourselves
to read all such publications.
I must here take the opportunity of specially
thanking three of my fellow Committee-men, and
two other friends, for the trouble they have taken
in various ways to lighten my work. If this book
at all fulfils the objects for which it has been writ-
ten, the thanks of my readers, as well as my own,
will be due to
E. M. ATKINS, Esq., of Kingstone Lisle.
Mr. WILLIAM WHITFIELD of Uffington.
Mr. HEBER HUMFREY of Kingstone Farm; and to
JOHN Y. AKERMAN, Esq., Secretary of the Society of Ami-
quaries ; and
Mr. LUKE LONSLEY, of Hampsted Morris, Berks.
And now, without further preface, we commend
our " stir-about " to Englishmen in general, and
west-countrymen in particular.
THE SCOURING
THE WHITE HORSE.
CHAPTER I.
RICHARD, said our governor, as I entered his
room at five o'clock on the afternoon of the
31st of August, 1857, running his pen down
the columns of the salary-book, " your quarter-
day to-day, I think? Let me see; you were
raised to X a-year in February last, so much
for quarter's salary, and so much for extra work.
I am glad to see that you have been working so
steadily ; you'll deserve your holiday, and enjoy
it all the more. You'll find that all right, I
think ; " and he pushed a small paper across
the table towards me, on which my account was
stated in our cashier's hand, and looked at me
over his spectacles,
i
2 THE SCOUEING OF
My heart jumped at the mention of my holi-
day ; I just ran my eye down the figures, and
was glad to find the total a pound or two higher
than I had expected. For I had lately learnt
short-hand, and had been taking notes for our
firm, for which I found they allowed me extra
pay.
" Quite right, Sir," I said ; " and I'm. sure I'm
much obliged to you, Sir, for letting me do the
extra work, because "
" Well, never mind that," said he, with a little
laugh ; " I shouldn't give you the extra work,
Richard, if it didn't suit me, or if I could get it
better done anywhere else ; so the account's all
square on that point. There's your money."
And he pushed over to me a very nice sum
of money. I dare say you would like to know
what it was, reader. Now T , I'm not going to tell
you. Why should you know just what my in-
come is ? I don't owe you or any one else five
shillings, and have a very tidy account at the
savings' bank, besides having paid for all the
furniture and books in my room, not very far
from Lambsconduit Street, which I reckon to
be worth fifty pounds of any man's money ; so
you see my income is enough to keep me before
THE WHITE HORSE. 3
the world, and I wish more of you could say as
much.
" I'm very much obliged, Sir," said I again,
as I wrote a receipt over a stamp which I took
out of my pocket-book, and stuck on to the
bottom of the account.
" No, you're not," said our governor, quite
short ; " it's your own money, fairly earned.
You're not obliged to any man for giving you
what's your own." He is such an odd fellow
about these things. But mind you, I think he's
quite right, too ; for, after all, no doubt each of
us earns a good penny for him over and above
what he pays us, else why should he keep us
on? but, somehow, one can't help thanking any
one who pays one money ; at least, I can't.
" Now, as to your holiday," went on our gov-
ernor. " There's Jobson went for his fortnight
on the 30th ; he'll be back on the 14th of Sep-
tember, at latest. You can take any time you
like, after that."
" Then, Sir," said I directly, " I should like
it as soon as possible."
" Very well," said he ; " Tuesday the 16th to
Tuesday the 29th of September, both inclu-
sive ; " and he made a note in another book
4 THE SCOURING OF
which lay on his desk. " Good evening,
Richard."
" Good evening, Sir," said I ; and away I
went down to our room in as good spirits as
any young fellow in our quarter of London.
Of course all the other clerks began shouting
out at once to know how much money I'd got,
and when I was going to have my holiday.
Well, I didn't tell them what money I had, any
more than I've told you, because 1 like to keep
my own counsel about such matters. Besides,
there are several of our clerks whose ways I
don't at all like ; so I don't do any thing I can
help which might look as if I liked them. No !
hands off, is my motto with these sort of chaps.
I'm sure there's no pride about me, though.
My name's Easy, and always was ; and I like
every fellow, whatever his coat is, who isn't
always thinking about the cut of it, or what he
has in the pocket of it. But, goodness knows,
I can't stand a fellow who gives himself airs,
and thinks himself a chalk above everybody
who can't dress and do just as he can. Those
chaps, I always see, are just the ones to do lick-
spittle to those that they think have more in
their pockets than themselves.
THE WHITE HORSE. 5
But I must get on with my story, for you
don't ail want to know my opinions about the
clerks in our office, I dare say.
Well, when I got down, as I said before, we
were all just on the move, (business hours being
from nine till six in our office,) taking down
coats and hats, and clearing desks for the night,
so I just sidled up to Jem Fisher, and little
Neddy Baily, who are the two I like best, and
told them to come up to my room to supper at
eight o'clock, which they of course were very
glad to promise to do, and then I went off to
get ready for them.
Jem Fisher and I are very fond of a dish
w T hich I believe very few of you ever heard of.
One Sunday in May, a year or two back, he
and I had been down beyond Netting Hill,
listening to the nightingales ; and coming back,
we walked through Kensington Gardens, and
came out at the gate into the Netting Hill
Road, close to Hyde Park. We were late, for
us, so we hailed a 'bus, and got on the box.
The driver was full of talk about all the fine
people he had been seeing walking in the gar-
dens that afternoon, and seemed to think it hard
he couldn't enjoy himself just as they did.
6 THE SCOURING OF
" However, gentlemen," said he at last, " there's
some things as the haristocracy ain't alive to.
Did you ever eat cow-heel ? " Perhaps Jem,
who had all his best clothes on, didn't mind
being taken for one of the aristocracy ; at least
just for a minute, for he's too good a fellow to
like being taken for anybody but himself when
he comes to think of it ; at any rate, he and I
took to eating cow-heel from that time. So the
first thing I did, after going home and locking
up most of my money, and speaking to my
landlady, who is the best old soul alive if you
take her in her own way, was, to set off to
Clare Market, and buy some cow-heel and sau-
sages ; and <_ ' my way back through the Turn-
stile, I thought, as it was so hot, I would have
some fruit too ; so I bought a pottle of plums
and a piece of a pine-apple, and got home.
They came in sharp to time, and I and my
landlady had every thing ready, and two foam-
ing pewter pots full of bitter beer and porter.
So we had a capital supper, and then cleared
it all away, and sat down to eat the fruit and
have a quiet pipe by the time it began to get
dark.
"And so," said little Neddy, (he is onlv iust
THE WHITE HORSE. 7
eighteen, and hasn't been in our office a year
yet ; but he's such a clever, industrious little
chap, that he has gone over the heads of half
a dozen of our youngsters, and hasn't stopped
yet by a long way,) " you're off on the 15th !
wish I was. Well, here's luck any how," said
he, nodding to me, and taking a bite out of a
slice of pine-apple.
" Gentle Shepherd, tell me where ? " said Jem
Fisher. (Jem is very fond of quoting poetry ;
not that I think half that he quotes is real
poetry, only how is one to find him out ? Jem
is a tall, good-looking fellow, as old as I am,
and that's twenty-one last birthday ; we came
into the office together years ago, and have
been very thick ever since, which I sometimes
wonder at, for Jem is a bit of a swell Gentle-
man Jem they call him in the office.) " Now,
Dick, where are you bound for ? "
" Well, that's more than I know myself,"
said I.
" Then," said he, taking his pipe out of his
pocket and filling it, " I vote we settle for him,
eh, Neddy?"
"Aye, aye, Sir," said Neddy, stretching over
for the pottle ; " but, I say, Jem, you haven't
8 THE SCOURING OF
finished all those plums ? " and he poked
about in the leaves with his fingers.
" Every mother's son of them," said Jem,
lighting a lucifer ; " if you come to that, Mas-
ter Ned, hand me over some of that pine-
apple. But now, about the tour ; how much
money are you going to spend on it, Dick ? "
"Well, I haven't quite settled," said I; but
I shouldn't mind, now, going as high as four
or five pounds, if I can suit myself."
" You may go pretty near to Jericho for that
now-a-days," said Neddy. "As I came along
Holborn to-night, I saw a great placard out-
side the George and Blue Boar, with ' to Llan-
gollen and back 15s.' on it. What do you
think of that? You'll be turned out at the
station there with 4 5s. in your pocket."
" Where's Llangollen ? " said I.
" Not half-way to Jericho," shouted Jem, with
a laugh. " Where's Llangollen ? Why didn't
you ever hear the song of Kitty Morgan, the
maid of Llangollen ? You're a pretty fellow
to go touring."
" Yes, fifty times," said I ; " only the song
don't tell you where the place is where is it
now ? "
THE WHITE HORSE. 9
" In Wales, of course," said he, thinking he
had me.
" Yes, I know that ; but whereabouts in
Wales," said I, " for Wales is a biggish place.
Is it near any thing one reads about in books,
and ought to go and see ? "
" Hanged if I know exactly," said Jem, puf-
fing away ; " only of course Wales is worth
seeing."
" So is France," struck in Neddy ; " why, you
may go to Paris and stay a fortnight for I don't
know how little."
"Aye, or to Edinburgh or the Lakes," said
Jem.
" I want to have the particulars though,"
said I ; " I'm not going to start off to some
foreign place, and find myself with no money
to spend and enjoy myself with, when I get
there."
" I'll tell you what," said Neddy, jumping
up, " I'll just run round to the Working Men's
College, and borrow a Bradshaw from the secre-
tary. We shall find all the cheap excursions
there ; " and away he went before we could say
a word.
" I say," said Jem to me, " how fond he is
10 THE SCOUEING OF
of bringing up that place ; he's always at me
to go and enter there."
" So he is at me," said I, "and I think I shall,
for he seems to pick up a lot of things there.
How sharp he is at figures ! and he knows
more history and geography ten to one than I
do. I'll bet he knew what county Llangollen
is in, and something about it too. Let's ask
him when he comes back."
" Catch me ! " said Jem ; " he'll look it out
on the map on his way back, or ask one of
the lecturers."
" Here you are ! look here ! " said Neddy,
tumbling in with two Bradshaws and a great
atlas under his arm ; " ' unprecedented attrac-
tion, pleasure excursions,' let me see Return
tickets for Ireland, available for a fortnight.
Waterford, II 16s. ; Cork, 2l
" Nonsense ! " cried Jem, who had got the
other Bradshaw ; " listen here : ' Channel Is-
lands, (remarkable as being the only remaining
Norman possessions of the British crown.) sec-
ond class and fore cabin, 21s."
" ' London to Dieppe, return tickets available
for fourteen days, second class, 21s.,' " sung out
Ned, from the other Bradshaw.
THE WHITE HORSE. 11
And away they went, with Brussels, and
Bangor, and the Manchester Exhibition, and
Plymouth and Glasgow, and the Isle of Man,
and Margate and Ramsgate, and the Isle of
Wight; and then to Gibraltar and Malta and
New York, and all over the world. I sat and
smoked my pipe, for 'twas no use trying to set-
tle any thing ; but presently, when they got
tired, we set to work and began to put down
the figures. However, that wasn't much better,
for there were such a lot of tours to go; and one
was a bit too short, and the other too long, and
this cost too much, and that too little ; so all the
beer was gone, and we were no nearer settling
any thing when eleven o'clock struck.
" Well," said Jem, getting up and knocking
the ashes out of his third pipe, " I declare it's
almost as good as going a tour one's self, set-
tling it for Dick here."
" I just wish you had settled it," said I ; " I'm
more puzzled than when we began."
" Heigh-ho, fellows never know when they're
well off," said Neddy; "now I never get a
chance. In my holiday I just go down to the
old folk at Romford, and there I stick."
" They don't indeed," said I ; " I wonder to
12 THE SCOURING OF
hear you talk like that, Ned. Some folks would
give all they're worth to have old folk to go to."
" Well, I didn't mean it," said he, looking
hurt. And I don't believe he did, for a kinder
hearted fellow don't live ; and I was half sorry I
had said what I did say.
" Further deliberation will be necessary," said
Jem, lighting his fourth pipe; "we'll come again
to-morrow night ; your bacchy's nearly out,
Dick ; lay in some bird's eye for to-morrow ;
real Bristol, do you hear ? "
" Time to go, I suppose," said Ned, getting
up and gathering the Bradshaws and atlas
together ; " are we to come again to-morrow,
Dick ? "
" To-morrow, didst thou say ? methought I
heard Horatio say to-morrow. Go to ; it is a
thing of naught," and Jem clapped on his hat
and began ranting in his way; so I broke
in
" I wish you'd hold that noise, and talk
sense," said I.
" Shakspeare ! " said Jem, stopping short and
pulling up his collar.
" Gammon ! " said Neddy, bursting out
THE WHITE HOESE. 13
That's right, Neddy," said I ; " he's always
going off with some of his nonsense, and call-
ing it poetry."
" I didn't say it was poetry, did I ? " said
Jem.
What is it then ? " said I.
" Blank verse," said he.
" What's the difference ? " said I.
" Go up the mill-dam, fall down slam, dat
poetry; go up the mill-dam, fall down whop-
po', dat plank verse," said he. " Go along
nigger had him dere, nigger," and he turned
in his knees and grinned, like one of those
poor beggars who black their faces and go
about the streets with red striped trowsers,
white ties, and banjos.
" You ought to be a nigger yourself, Jem,"
said I, " and I should just like to have the
driving of you. There, tumble out with you;
it's time for steady folks to turn in."
So I turned them out and held the candle,
while they floundered down stairs, that wretch,
Jem, singing, " There's some 'un in de house
wid Dinah," loud enough to be heard at the
Foundling. I was glad to hear my landlady
catch him at the bottom of the stairs, and
14 THE SCOURING OF
give it him well about " a respectable house,"
and " what she was used to with her gents,"
while she opened the door ; only I don't see
what right she had to give it me all over
again next morning at breakfast, and call Jem
Fisher a wild young man, and bad company,
because that's just what he isn't, only a little
noisy sometimes. And as if I'm not to have
who I please up to my room without her in-
terfering! I pay my rent regular every month,
I know. However, I didn't mind much what
she said at breakfast time, because I had got
a letter from the country. I don't get a let-
ter once a month, and it's very odd this one
should have come on this very morning, when I
was puzzling where to go for my holiday ; and
I dare say you'll think so too, when I tell you
what it was about. Let's see here it is in
my pocket, so you shall have it whole:
" Elm Close Farm, Berks, August 31, 1857.
" DEAR DICK, You know you owe me a
visit, for you've never been down here, often
as I've asked you, since we was at school to-
gether and I have been up to you four or
five times. Now, why I particularly want you
THE WHITE HORSE. 15
to come this month is, because we've got some
sport to show you down in these quiet parts,
which don't happen every day. You see there's
an old White Horse cut out in the side of the
highest hill hereabouts, (a regular break-neck
place it is, and there aint three men in the
country as '11 ride along the hill-side under the
Horse,) and many folks sets a good deal of
store by it, and seems to think the world 'd
come to an end if the horse wasn't kept all
straight. May be I'm a bit of that mind my-
self anyhow you'll see by the paper inside
what's going on ; and being a scholar, may
be you'll know about the White Horse, and
like to come down to a scouring. And I can
tell you it will be good fun ; for I remember
the last, when I was quite a little chap, before
I went to school, and I've never seen such
games since. You've only got to write and
say what train you'll come by, and I'll meet
you at the Farringdon-road station in my trap.
So, as I aint much of a penman, excuse mis-
takes, and remember me to Fisher and the
others I met at your place ; and no more at
present from yours truly.
"JOSEPH HURST.
16 THE SCOURING OF
" P. S. You must stay as long as you can,
and I'll mount you on my young bay colt to
see a cub killed."
I shouldn't print Joe's letter whole, (and as
it is I've put a good deal of the spelling right,)
only I'm quite sure he'U never read this book,
and I hope it may serve as a warning to young
fellows to keep up their learning when they
go and settle down in the country. For when
Joe left the Commercial Academy at Brentford,
he could write just as good English as I, and
if he had put " many folks seems to think," or
"you've only got to write," in a theme, old
Hopkins would have given him a good caning.
But nothing wears out learning so quick as
living in the country and farming, and Joe
came into his farm when he was nineteen, and
has been at it ever since. And after all, per-
haps, it doesn't much signify, because nobody
makes himself better understood than Joe, in
one way or another; and if he wasn't a little
behindhand in his grammar, he wouldn't think
much of me perhaps and one don't mind be-
ing taken for a scholar, even by those who are
not the best judges in the world.
THE WHITE HORSE. 17
Well, thinks I to myself, as I finished my
breakfast, this seems like business. If I go
down to Joe's, and stay there all my holiday,
the fares will be only seventeen shillings ; and,
say a pound for expenses down there ; one
pound seventeen shillings, say two pounds in
all. I shall put three pounds into my pocket,
and please an old friend, which will be much
better than any thing Jem Fisher and little
Neddy Baily will hit out for me in a week
from the end of Bradshaw. Besides, it will
look well to be able to talk of going to a
friend in Berkshire. I'll write to Joe, and say
I'll be with him in good time on the 15th.
So I went down to the office and told Jem
Fisher and little Neddy, that I had made up
my mind to go and see my old friend Joe,
in Berkshire, before they had had time to get
their office coats on.
" What ? that jolly fellow with the brown
face and red whiskers," said Jem, " who came
up and slept in your room last Christmas cattle-
show, and wanted to fight the cabman for a
gallon of beer, who charged him half-a-crown
from Baker Street to Gray's Inn Lane ? "
" Yes," said I, that's the man."
18 THE SCOURING OF
" I remember him well," said Neddy ; " and
I'm sure you'll have a good time of it if you
go to see him. But, I say, how about supper
to-night ? You won't want us and the Brad-
shaws any more, eh ? "
lt Oh, he isn't going to get out of it like
that," said Jem, as he settled to his desk, and
got his work out. " I say, Dick, you're not
going to be off now, are you ? I know bet-
ter."
" I never was on that I know of," said I ;
" however, I don't mind standing supper at the
Cheshire Cheese ; but I won't have you fel-
lows up in my room again to-night, kicking
up a row on the stairs. No! just catch me
at it ! "
So I gave them a supper that night, and
another the night after I came back from my
holiday.
They seemed just the same, but how differ-
ent I felt. Only two short weeks had passed,
but I was as much changed as if it had been
ten years. I had found something which I
never could get rid of, day or night, and which
kept me always in a fret and a struggle. What
a life I led with it! Sometimes it cast me
THE WHITE HORSE. 19
down and made me ready to hang myself ; and
then, again, it would lift me up, and seem to
fill me with warmth and sunshine. But, some-
how, even when I was at the worst, if an en-
chanter had come and offered to wipe it all out,
and to put me back just where I was the night
before my holiday, I should have said " No ; "
and at all other times I felt that it was the most
precious part of my life. What was it ? Ah,
what was it ? Some of you will smile, and
some of you will sneer, when you find out, as
you will (if you don't skip) before you get to
the end of my story. And I can't see the least
reason why I should help you to it a minute
sodner.
20 THE SCOUKING OF
CHAPTER n.
Now I do pity all the lords and great gentle-
folk with nothing in the world to do except to
find out how to make things pleasant, and new
places to go to, and new ways of spending their
money ; at least, I always pity them at the be-
ginning of my holiday, though perhaps when
one first comes back to eleven months' hard
grind in town the feeling isn't quite so strong.
At any rate, I wouldn't have changed places
with the greatest lord in the land on Tuesday
morning, September 15th. I was up as soon as
it was light, and saw the sun rise over the
Gray's Inn Lane chimney-pots ; and I declare
they looked quite beautiful. I didn't know at
all before what a fine outline they make when
the rays come flat along the roofs ; and mean
often to get up in time to see them by sunrise
next summer; but just now it's very cold" of
mornings, and I dare say they don't look so
THE WHITE HORSE. 21
well. When I put my head out of window it
was quite clear and fresh, and I thought I could
smell the country.
I hadn't much to do, for I had packed my
bag over night; but I went over all my things
again, and changed the places of some of them
in my old bureau, (which belonged to my
father, who was clerk for forty years in one of
the oldest houses in Clement's Inn,) and locked
up all the drawers; and then I set to work to
lay breakfast for three, for I had asked my two
friends to come and see me off, and they had
made it all up with my landlady. So about six
o'clock they came in, and we had a capital
breakfast ; and then we started off to walk up
to the Paddington station, carrying my bag
between us. I had settled to go by the 7.30
train, because if I hadn't they couldn't have
come with me; besides, it is the first train
which stops at Farringdon-road ; and I was
very glad when we got into the bustle of the
station, for they were rather low, and I felt al-
most ashamed of being so jolly, though cer-
tainly they had had their holiday earlier in the
year. But when I saw their faces out of the
window of the second-class carriage, just as the
22 THE SCOURING OF
starting-bell rang, I should like to have paid
their fares out of my own pocket, if they could
have gone with me.
However, by the time we got past Worm-
wood Scrubbs, (which looked so fresh and breezy
with the gossamer lying all over it,) I could
think of nothing else but the country and my
holiday. How I did enjoy the pretty hill with
the church at top and the stream at the bottom
by Hanwell, and the great old trees about half
a mile off on the right before you get to Slough,
and the view of Windsor Castle, and crossing
the Thames at Maidenhead, with its splendid
weeping willows, and the old Bath-road bridge,
and the reach beyond with the woods coming
down to the bank, and the great lords' houses
up above. And then all the corn-fields, though
by this time most of them were only stubble,
and Reading town, and the great lasher at
Pangbourn, where the water was rushing and
dancing through in the sunlight to welcome me
into Berkshire ; and the great stretches of open
land about Wallingford-road and Didcot. And
after that came great green pasture-fields, and
orchards, and gray-stone farm-houses, and before
I could turn round we were at Farringdon-road
THE WHITE HORSE. 23
station, and it was a quarter past eleven. As I
got out and gave up my ticket, I couldn't help
thinking of the two lines Jem Fisher would go
on saying when we went out walking in Combe
Wood and Richmond Park one Sunday this
last May
How beautiful the country do appear
At this time of the year.
I know he was laughing, and made them out
of his own head, though he declared they were
in Chaucer ; but they are just as true for all
that, whether Jem Fisher or Chaucer made
them, though the English isn't as good as the
sense.
There I found Joe waiting for me, with his
trap, as he called it, at the door, and the inn
ostler standing by the head of the horse, which
was a bright chestnut, and looked very fine. I
own I very much enjoyed going off in that
dark-green high-wheeled carriage.
" In with you, Dick," cried out Joe, as he
took hold of the reins, and patted the horse on
the neck. " There, shoot your bag in behind ;
look alive, she don't stand well. That'll do,"
he shouted to the ostler, who jumped back and
24 THE SCOURING OF
touched his hat just as if Joe owned half the
parish. If the horse couldn't stand well, at any
rate she could step out, and away we whirled
down the white road ; Joe red in the face with
holding on, his feet well out to the splash-board,
his chest thrown forward, and his elbows down
at his side, hauling the chestnut's head right
back, till her nose nearly touched the collar.
But for all that, away went her legs right
straight out in front, shooting along so fast
that I began to feel queer, not being used to
horses, and took tight hold of the seat with my
left hand, so that Joe shouldn't see ; for the cart
jumped sometimes enough to pitch you out.
" Gently there, gently, my beauty," said Joe,
as the chestnut dropped into a little quieter pace.
" There, now, ain't she a pictur' ? " said he to
me ; " ever see a mare lay down to her work
like that ? Gently, my beauty ! if it wasn't for
the blaze in her face, and the white feet, the
Squir'd give me one hundred pounds for her
to-morrow. And I won't sell her under. It's a
mortal shame to drive her. Her mouth's like
a kitten's." How Joe could talk so, when he
was pulling fit to burst himself at the reins, I
don't know ; I thought once or twice where we
THE WHITE HORSE. 25
should go to if one broke, but I didn't say any
thing. I found out afterwards that Joe meant
a great white mark, when he talked of the blaze
in her face. I suppose men can't see any faults
in their own horses, any more than they can in
their children.
After a bit, the pace got quite steady, and
then I began to enjoy myself, and could look at
the famous rich fields, and the high hedges full
of great heavy masses of clematis, and sniff
up all the country smells, as we whirled along,
and listen to Joe, who was going grinding on
about, ' how badly the parish roads were kept
up ; and that he had set his mind to have them
well mended with flints instead of chalk, and
to have all the thistles at the side kept down,
which were sowing the whole country round,
because their vestry was so stingy they wouldn't
put any men on the road to set it right,' and I
could see that Joe was in the middle of a good
quarrel with all the other farmers about it.
When he had done his story, I asked him
about the White Horse, and he pointed me out
the highest of the hills which ran along on our
left hand a mile or two away. There, sure
enough, I saw the figure quite plain ; but he
2
26 THE SCOURING OF
didn't know much about it. Only, he said, he
had always heard tell that it was cut out by
King Alfred the Great, who lived in those parts ;
and 'there was a main sight of strange old
things up there on the hill, besides the White
Horse ; and though he didn't know much about
how they got there, he was sort of proud of
them, and was glad to pay his pound or two,
or double that if it was wanted, to keep them
as they should be ; ' " for, you see," said Joe,
" we've lived about here, father and son, pretty
nigh ever since King Alfred's time, which I
reckon is a smartish time ago, though I forget
how long." And though I think Joe, and par-
ties in the counties generally, set too much
store by such things, and hold their noses much
higher than they've any need to do, because
their families have never cared to move about,
and push on in the world, and so they know
where their great-grandfathers were born, 1
couldn't help feeling there was something in
it after all.
And the more I thought of this strange old
White Horse, the more it took hold of me, and
I resolved, if I could, while I was down in the
country to learn all about it. I knew, you see,
THE WHITE HORSE. 27
that if I could only get people to tell me about
it, I should be able to carry it all away ; be-
cause, besides having a very good memory, I
can take down every thing that is said as fast
as most people can speak it, and that's what
gives me such an advantage over Jem Fisher
and Neddy, who spent all the time it took me
to learn shorthand in reading poetry and other
rubbish, which will never help to get them on
in the world, or do them a bit of good that I
can see.
Presently we came in sight of a house with
farm buildings behind, which stood some way
back from the road ; and Joe pulled up oppo-
site a gate which led into the field before the
house.
" Here we are, then," said he ; "just jump out,
and open the gate, Dick ; I'd do it, only I can't
trust you with the ribbons."
It was a beautiful great green pasture-field
which we drove into, with a score of fat sleek
cows feeding in it, or lying about chewing the
cud; and Joe was very proud of them, and
walked the chestnut along slowly while he
pointed out his favourites to me, especially one
short-horn, whose back he said was like a
28 THE SCOURING OF
kitchen-table, though why she should be any
the handsomer for that I can't say. The house
was an old brick building, with tall chimneys
and latticed windows ; in front of it was a nice
little flower-garden, with a tall, clipped holly
hedge running round it, so thick that you
couldn't see through ; and beyond that, a kitch-
en garden and an orchard. Outside the enclo-
sure stood four such elms as I never saw before,
and a walnut-tree nearly as big as they, with
queer great branches drooping close to the
ground, on which some turkeys were sitting.
There was only a little wicket-gate in the holly
hedge, and a gravel footpath up to the front
door, so we drove into the farm-yard at the
back ; and while Joe and his man took care of
the chestnut, I had time to look about, and
think what a snug berth Joe seemed to have
fallen upon.
The yard must be sixty yards across, and
was full of straw where the pigs were lying
with nothing but their snouts oat; lots of poul-
try were scratching and pecking about before
the barn-doors, and pigeons were fluttering
down amongst them, and then up again to
the tops of the barns and stables, which ran
THE WHITE HORSE. 29
all round the yard. The rick-yard, full of long
stacks of hay, and round stacks of corn, was
beyond. A terrier and spaniel were sleeping in
sunny corners, and a grayhound was stalking
about and looking at the pigs ; and every thing
looked sleepy and happy, and as if life went
easily along at Elm Close Farm.
Presently Joe came out of the stable, carrying
his whip, and took me into the house, calling
into the kitchen as we passed to send in dinner
directly. There was nobody in the parlour at
first, but I saw that the table was laid for three ;
and, before I could look round at the prints and
samples on the wall, Joe's mother and the din-
ner came in. She was a good-looking old lady,
dressed in black, with a very white lawn cap
and collar, and was very kind and civil, but a
little deaf. Joe bustled about, and got out T
don't know how many bottles of home-made
wine, clary, and raisin, and ginger ; all of which
he made me drink, besides beer, for he said that
no one in the vale had such receipts for wine as
his mother. And what with the dairy-fed pork,
and black puddings, and a chicken almost as
big as a turkey, and the cheese-cakes and tarts
afterwards, and the hearty welcome and good
30 THE SCOURING OF
example which Joe gave me, I don't remember
when I have made so good a dinner.
The old lady went off directly after dinner,
and I could see that Joe wanted to go and see
after his men ; so I told him not to mind me,
for I should enjoy loitering about the place bet-
ter than any thing. And so I did ; first I went
into the flower-garden, and watched and lis-
tened to the bees working away so busy in the
mignonette, and the swallows darting up into
their nests under the eaves, and then diving out
again, and skimming away over the great pas-
ture; and then round the kitchen-garden, and
into the orchard, where the trees were all loaded
with apples and pears, and so out into a stub-
ble-field at the back, where there were a lot of
young pigs feeding and playing queer tricks,
and back through the farm-yard into the great
pasture, where I lay down on the grass, under
one of the elms, and lighted my pipe ; and
thought of our hot clerks' room, and how Jem
Fisher and little Neddy were working away
there ; and watched a flock of little shinv star-
*
lings hopping up on to the backs of some old
south-down wethers who were feeding near me,
and flying backwards and forwards into the old
THE WHITE HORSE. 31
elms and walnut-trees, talking to one another
all the while.
And so the time wore on, till a stout lass in a
blue cotton print came out, and called the cows
in to milking ; and they all went trooping slowly
by into the farm-yard, some of them just stop-
ping to stare at me with their mild eyes, and
smelling so sweet, that I hadn't the heart to go
on smoking, and let my pipe out. And after a
bit, I followed into the line of sheds where they
were being milked by the lass and a man, who
balanced himself on two legs of the milking-
stool, and drove his head into the cow's side ;
and I thought I had never heard a sweeter
sound than the tinkling sound which the milk
made in the bright, tin pails.
I soon got into a talk with the lass, who was
very pleasant and free spoken ; and presently,
when her pail was full, I lifted it out for her, all
frothing up, and looking not a bit like our Lon-
don sky-blue ; and I told her I didn't think I
had ever tasted real new milk ; so she got
me a long straw, and while she went on
milking, I went down on my knees, and be-
gan to suck away through the straw. But I
had hardly begun, when I heard a noise behind,
32 THE SCOURING OF
and looking round, there stood Joe, laughing all
over ; and by his side a young woman in a
broad, straw hat and a gray jacket; and though,
for good manners, she didn't laugh out like Joe,
I could see it was all she could do to keep from
going off too.
Why was I ashamed of being caught ? I
don't know, but I was ashamed ; and as I stuck
there on my knees in the deep straw with the
pail before me looking at them, the blood rushed
up to my head and made my ears sing, so that
I couldn't hear a word that Joe said. But I
could see he did say something, and then went
off into another great roar of laughter ; and the
lass and the man left off milking and began
laughing too, till I thought they would have
dropped off the stools. Then the young woman
who was with Joe said something to him, and I
thought I heard the words " What a shame ! "
and " your oldest friend ; " and then she caught
up a straw, and came and knelt on the opposite
side of the milk-pail, and began to suck away
herself without looking at me. In another mo-
ment Joe plumped down too, clapping me on
the back.
" I say," said he, " start fair ! Here, make
THE WHITE HORSE. 33
room for me ; you and Lucy ain't going to have
it all to yourselves," and he began sucking
away too ; and then I recovered myself, and we
all went on for a minute, when Joe took his
straw out of his mouth, and said, " This is my
sister Lucy, Dick ; there, shake hands over the
pail, and then let's go in to tea."
So she looked up, and blushed, and gave me
her hand, her merry blue eyes twinkling with
mirth, though she tried to keep grave. But I
was all right now, and went off myself, and Joe
followed, and then she, with the clearest, bright-
est laugh you ever heard ; and then the man
and the lass, and by the time we had done, I
felt as if I had known them all for years. But as
for Miss Lucy, as we walked away to the house
to tea, I felt as if I could have given her my
skin, if she would only have had a pair of shoes
made out of it for her dear little feet.
The old lady was sitting at the tea-table in
great force, with plates of buttered toast and
cake, and pots of blackberry and red-currant
jam, and the great loaf all set out ready ; and
after tea, we three walked out again till the sun
set, and then came in to supper, at which I was
surprised to find myself eating away just as if
2*
34 THE SCOURING OF
I had had. nothing all day ; country air does give
one such an appetite. After supper, the old
lady sat in her chair knitting and telling stories,
till she nodded off and the spectacles fell on to
the end of her nose, and her hands into her lap,
but still holding the needles ; and every now
and then giving a catch with her head, and
making belief to go on for a stitch or two. And
Miss Lucy sat stitching at a patch-work cover-
let, fitting in all sorts of scraps of silk in the
prettiest patterns in the world, and we on the
other side of the table watching her, and talking
quite low not to disturb the old lady. But what
made it so pleasant was, that I had pretty near
all the talking, for they seemed never tired of
hearing about London, and how people lived
there, and what they thought; especially Miss
Lucy, who had never been out of Berkshire in
her life. I thought Joe a great fidget, when soon
after nine he began to walk about and waked
his mother, and got the servants in to prayers,
and bustled them off to bed ; but I believe it
was all because he wanted to have his pipe,
which he wouldn't smoke in the parlour. So
we went into the kitchen and finished the day
there, under half a score of great brown sides of
THE WHITE HORSE. 35
bacon, and tufts of sweet herbs which hung
drying from the corners of the rack, and oppo-
site to the dresser with its rows of pewter plates
as bright as silver, till I went to bed in sheets
smelling of lavender, and dreamt of Miss Lucy.
I dare say that, though I should never be
tired of telling about every thing that happened
to me at Elm Close, some people may get tired
of reading about it. So I shall only begin my
story of the next day after breakfast, when Joe
had the trap out again, and carried me off to
see what was doing up on White Horse Hill.
We had a very pleasant drive through the
Vale to Uffington, which lies at the foot of the
hill, and here Joe put up the trap, at the Swan,
and we set off on foot to walk up. It was very
hot, and the white road glared as we tramped
along it, but very soon we came to broad strips
of turf on each side, and then it was pleasant
enough ; so we plodded up a gentle rise called
Sour Hill, and crossed the Iceldon or Iggleton
way, which I've found out since was an old
Roman road ; and then the ascent became quite
steep, and every thing was clear hill and down
before us, not a fence to be seen, and a fresh
breeze came sweeping over the hill.
36 THE SCOURING OF
The road now became very bad, with 'ruts in
the chalk like water-courses. On our left hand
there was a deep, narrow valley like a little bay
running up into the hill, on the opposite side of
which valley a large wood hung along the steep-
est part of the hill-side, which Joe informed me
was Uffington wood, a well-known meet for the
hounds ; it made me giddy to look at the places
which he declared the huntsman, and any one
who wanted to be sure of a good place when
the hounds broke cover, had to ride along.
And now the great, green hill seemed to be
hanging right over us, as we came to a curious
round mound on our right hand, up which Joe
scrambled, and I after him, till we both pulled
up out of breath on the flat top, some fifty yards
across.
" This is Dragon's Hill," said Joe, pulling off
his hat and mopping his face with his handker-
chief, " where St. George killed the Dragon in
the old times. Leastways so they says about
here, only they calls him King George instead
of Saint George. And this bare place is where
his blood ran out, and nothing'll grow on it
since, not so much as a thistle."
Of course I knew better than to believe that,
THE WHITE HORSE. 37
but it is a beautiful place ; for just below it an-
other little deep valley, like the one on the left,
only narrower and steeper at the sides, runs
right up into the hill-side. The road we had
left winds round the head of this gorge, for any
one to drive along who isn't particular about
breaking his neck, for the hill is like a wall up
above, and down below, with nothing but a
little bank between you and the descent.
" Those are the giants' seats opposite," said
Joe, pointing across the valley to a set of beau-
tiful great green slopes, like huge ridges and
furrows, which went sweeping down into the
valley one after another as far as I could see ;
" and this is the Manger, this great hole in the
hill-side, because it lies right under the old
Horse's nose. Come along, let's get up to
him ; there he is, you see, right above us."
So we scrambled down the side of Dragon's
Hill, crossed the road, and then started up a
row of steps cut in the turf. I'm sure it must
be twice as steep as the hill in Greenwich Park,
and I don't mind confessing that I shouldn't
have liked to look round just at first, and
wouldn't have minded giving myself a help
with my hands if I hadn't been afraid of Joe's
38 THE SCOURING OF
seeing me and laughing. I should think we
must have gone up two hundred steps, when all
of a sudden Joe stopped just above me, and
called out, " Here we are ; '' and in about four
steps I came to a trench cut into the chalk
about two feet deep, which ran up the hill-side
right ahead of us. The chalk in the trench
was all hard and flat, and seemed to have been
scraped and brushed up quite lately.
" This is his tail," said Joe. " Come on ;
look, they're scouring him up above; we're in
luck I thought they'd have done before this;
and there's the Squire too with 'em."
So I looked up ; and there, some way above,
I saw a lot of men with shovels, and besoms,
and barrows, cleaning away at the trench,
which, now that I began to look at it, certainly
came out more and more like a horse galloping ;
and there amongst them, working away as hard
as any one, was a person in yellow leather
gaiters, who I saw at once must be the Squire,
though I had never seen a squire before. I own
I had a great prejudice against a country squire
when I went down into Berkshire ; which was
natural enough, you see, because I had never
been farther from town than Twickenham (ex-
THE WHITE HORSE. 39
cept by boat to Margate), and had belonged to
a debating society near Farringdon-market ever
since I left school, where we take in three liberal
papers, and once a week have as good speaking
as they get in the House of Commons. I
haven't been to the debates much lately, my-
self; but when I was an active member, we
used to have a regular go in about once a quar-
ter at the unpaid magistracy. How we did
give it them ! They were bloated aristocrats,
who by the time they were thirty had drunk
out all the little brains they ever had, and spent
their time in preserving and killing game and
foxes at the expense of the farmers, and send-
ing every good man in their villages either to
the Bastlle (as we called the workhouse), as a
pauper, or to the county jail as a poacher.
Joe and I very nearly quarrelled over one of
those debates to which I took him, like a great
gaby as I was, when he came up to see me at
the time of a cattle-show. He would get up to
speak, all I could do to stop him; and began,
all red in the face, pitching into one of our best
speakers who had just finished, calling him a
cockney, and asking him what right he had to
jaw about squires when he talked about a fox's
40 THE SCOURING OF
ears and tail, and didn't know mangold-wurzel
from swedes. And then all our fellows began
to shout and hiss, and Joe began to swear, and
wanted to take his coat off, and fight all who
had spoken ; " one down, and t'other come on,"
as he said. I got him out and took him home ;
but his blood was up, and he would go on at
our Society, and call us a set of quill-driving
jackanapes. And I couldn't stand that, so I
began at the landed interest, and said all the
bad of them I could think of, about the Poor-
Laws, game preserving, and the Corn-laws.
Joe was very near going off in a huff, but we
shook hands over it at last, and agreed that we
neither of us knew much about the sort of life
the other led, and so had better not talk about
it as if we did.
Well, this was the first squire I had ever seen,
so I looked at him with all my eyes ; and if all
squires were like him, I don't wonder at Joe's
getting in a passion at our talk in Farringdon-
market. I should think he must be about forty-
five years old, and stands not far short of six
feet high ; for when he came to stand by Joe, I
could see he was the taller of the two ; but
he didn't look so tall quite when he stood by
THE WHITE HORSE. 41
himself I suppose because his figure was so
good. For you never saw such a clean made
man ; he was for all the world like a well-
rounded wedge from his shoulders down, and
his neck and head put on like a statue. He
looked just as if he could have jumped the
highest five-barred gate in the Vale, and then
have carried it off on his shoulders, and run
up the hill with it. And his face, which was
well browned, was so manly and frank, and his
voice so cheery, and he looked you so straight
in the face, that you felt he wasn't ashamed of
any thing, or afraid of anybody ; and so you
looked him back and spoke out, and were twice
as good a man at once yourself while you were
talking to him.
Well, when the Squire saw Joe, he stopped
working away with his shovel, and called out
to him ; and so Joe went up and shook hands
with him, and began talking to him, and in
another minute the Squire called for his coat
a gray tweed shooting-jacket it was and
put it on, and took up his riding-whip, and
told the men to look alive and get their job
done, and then to send up to the Castle for
some beer and bread and cheese which he
would order for them.
42 THE SCOURING OF
Then Joe and the Squire walked away along
the hill-side talking, and I went and sat down
on a little mound, just above the Horse's ears,
and watched the men working, and looked at
the view. How I did enjoy myself! The turf
was as soft as a feather bed, and as springy
as horsehair ; and it was all covered with this-
tle down, which came drifting along like snow
with the south wind ; and all down below the
country looked so rich and peaceful, stretching
out for miles and miles at my feet in the hazy
sunshine, and the larks right up overhead sang
so sweetly, that I didn't know whether to laugh
or cry. I should have liked to have had a turn
at the besoms and shovels with the men, who
seemed very good-tempered, only I was too shy,
and I couldn't make out half they said. So
I took out my pipe and lighted it, and sat
looking on at the work, and thinking of
nothing.
Presently a gentleman whom I hadn't noticed,
but who was poking about the place, came and
sat down near me. He was dressed in dark
clothes, very quiet ; I suppose he was a parson
from some < f the villages near. And we began
talking about the weather, and what chance
THE WHITE HORSE. 43
there was of having fine days for the pastime.
He was a very grave, elderly man, but easy
and pleasant, and had a keen look in his gray
eyes, and a sort of twinkle about his mouth,
which made me put my best leg foremost, and
take care what I said.
"Well, when we had done about the weather,
thinks I, " This is just the sort of gentleman
to tell me what I want to know about the
White Horse and all the rest of it," and you'll
see as you go on that I never made a better
guess in my life. So I got my note-book out
quietly, so that he shouldn't take much notice
of what I was about, and began, " I suppose,
Sir," said I, " that it's all right about Alfred,
and that he really did cut out this figure after
winning a great battle up here ? "
" Yes," said he, " I think so myself, because
there has always been a tradition in the country
side that this was so. And where antiquaries
differ, a tradition of this sort may always be
pretty safely believed. Country folk hold on
to such stories, and hand them down in a
very curious manner ; but you know, I dare
say, that it is claimed by some as a Druidi-
cal, or at any rate a British monument, which
44 THE SCOURING OF
would make it several hundred years older at
least."
I didn't know any thing about it, but why
should I tell him so. " I shouldn't like to think
so, Sir," said I, " because one wouldn't care so
much about it if it wasn't made by the Saxons
and their great king. The Druids don't seem
akin to us somehow ; and then one would lose
all about the great battle, which was certainly
fought up here, wasn't it, Sir ? "
" I have no doubt about it," said he ; " there
are many signs of it above all, graves enough
to hold the harvest of many battles. You are
lying on one."
" No ! am I really, though ? " said I, sitting
up and looking at the ground ; " how do you
know ? "
" Well, it isn't very hard when the eye gets
used to them," said he ; " there's another ; " and
he pointed to a small mound a few yards off,
and just like the one I was sitting on. " That
larger mound, too, down below, across the road,
you were on it just now "
" Yes, Sir," said I, interrupting him, and
pointing at it, "Dragon's Hill."
" Exactly so," said he; "that's another burial-
THE WHITE HORSE. 45
place ; a larger and grander affair, you see, than
these. Probably a king or other very noble
person is buried there."
" The people say, Sir, don't they," said I,
that St. George killed the Dragon there ? "
" They do," said he, " and that his blood
made a pool on the top, and ran down the
steps on the other side, where the grass has
never grown since. This is another curious
instance of the tenacity of tradition ; but here
I think our good folk in the Vale have held
on to the name, or a part of it, and forgotten
the meaning, just as they have in the case of
another village over there in Oxfordshire, the
name of which is Stanton Harcourt."
" How was that, Sir ? " said I, when he
paused.
" "Well," said he, laughing, " an old man in
that village told me that a battle was fought
there, which the English were very near losing,
when the general rode up to one of his cap-
tains, named Harcourt, who was in the thick of
it, and called out, ' Stan' to un, Harcourt,
stan' to un, Harcourt;' and that Harcourt won
the battle, and the village has been called
Stanton Harcourt ever since. Now, as to that
46 THE SCOURING OF
mound, I believe it's right name to be Pen-
dragon's Hill. Pendragon, you know, is only
a name common to those of the kings of the
ancient Britons, who were chosen leaders in
X
the time of national distress, and means no-
thing more than ' caput regum,' ' the chief of
kings.' According to some, 'Arthur' is the
same or alike word, being 'Ardh-reg' or 'Ard-
heer,' and meaning ' summus Rex ' (whence
the 'Arviragus' of Juvenal; but I lay no stress
on this). Now we know of at least three Pen-
dragons. There was Cassibelan, who was
chosen Pendragon at the time of Julius Ceesar's
invasion, TJter Pendragon, and Arthur Pen-
dragon ; which Uter and Arthur were, without
doubt, chosen to resist the Saxons, who had
won already the eastern part of the island. And
if Arthur and Pendragon are the same words,
doubtless (as has been well supposed), there
were many Arthurs at this time, one of whom
was probably slain in battle and buried here.*
* E. Martin Atkins, Esq., of Kingston Lisle, has lately been open-
ing the barrows which are nearest to the Horse ; and the compiler,
hearing that he was about to examine Dragon's Hill also, wrote to
him on the subject, and suggested how desirable it would be (if
any ways possible) to find the remains of King Basgseek there
who was slain at Ashdown. To which communication the com-
THE WHITE HORSE. 47
For in the Saxon annals we find that Cedric,
founder of the West Saxon kingdom, slew
Natan-leod and five thousand men in these
parts, which Natan-leod (as is shown by Mr.
Baxter) is ' Naud-an-ludh,' or ' populi tutela,'
the people's refuge ; in fact, a kindred word to
' Pendragon,' or 'Arthur.' You see how prob-
able this would be primd facie ? " said he, turn-
ing round to me.
" My goodness ! I couldn't make out head or
tail of his long words, and was staring at, him
with my mouth open ; but when he turned
round I shut it pretty quick, and looked as wise
piler received the following reply. After mentioning the contents
of the other barrows, some clearly Saxon, others Romano- British,
his letter proceeds as to Dragon's Hill:
"As for old Bsegseek, I should chuck him overboard at once,
and assume that our friend Uter Peudragon's remains had been
originally deposited here, but that he had been disturbed in his
repose by the decapitation of the barrow, which at some unknown
time has undoubtedly taken place. It is unfortunate, however.)
that a Roman coin of the time of Constans turned up from among
the de'bris, and the fragments of pottery also were chiefly of Roman
manufacture, mixed with some of earlier date. It will therefore
perhaps be difficult to reconcile these matters one with the other;
but on turning them over in your mind, you will, I dare say,
theorize with a very agreeable correctness ! " What is a wretched
compiler to do, who gets such letters from those who should be
his aiders and abettors?
48 THE SCOURING OF
as I could. Well, Sir," said I, " I hardly
know ; but it doesn't look unlikely, does it ? "
" Of course not," said he, quite pleased ;
" and as the Britons were not driven from
these parts till the middle of the sixth cen-
tury, I should put the throwing up of Dragon's
Hill in the beginning, say the first half, of that
century. Now, in the year A.D. 520, according
to Gildas and Bede, Arthur gained his twelfth
victory at ' Mons Badonicus,' which might very
well be Baydon Hill, which you see over there."
And he pointed to a hill three or four miles off.
" But then, Sir," said I, " if he gained the
victory, he wasn't killed there, I suppose, and so
he couldn't be buried here."
" But he was killed in battle at last," said he ;
" and, as I told you, there must have been
many Arthurs or Pendragons just at that time,
and many battles fought between this and
Bath why, the Britons gained a battle at
Wanborough, over there, as late as A.D. 581."
" But, Sir," said I, " if Pendragon was buried
down there, wouldn't they have been very likely
to cut out the horse up here just above, as an-
other monument, at the same time ; and then
what becomes of King Alfred and the Danes ? "
THE WHITE HORSE. 49
" There is no instance of two such monu-
ments over one chief," answered he, quite posi-
tive ; but I thought I saw him give a twinkle
with his mouth, as if he felt I had been pretty
near him. " Besides, as I said before, the tra-
dition as to the White Horse is too strong to be
upset by conjecture."
" 1 didn't mean to conjecture, I'm sure, Sir,"
said I ; and I thought, though I didn't say so,
it was he who had been conjecturing pretty
freely, if it came to that. " The battle of Ash-
down, Sir, was a very great battle then," I went
on, for I liked to hear him talk about those old
times, though I didn't quite understand all he
said.
" The greatest battle probably in which Alfred
ever was," said he.
" Please. Sir," said I, " I hope you won't
think me troublesome, but if you would only
tell me about the battle I should be so much
obliged to you."
" Sir," said he, looking at me rather surprised,
"it is seldom that I can get any of the youth
of this day to take an interest in these matters,
the study of which would greatly benefit their
50 THE SCOURING OF
manners and morals. I shall be pleased to do
what you wish. Are you a good listener ? "
" Yes, Sir," said I, " you will get tired of talk-
ing long before I shall of listening. And you
wouldn't mind, I hope, my taking notes of the
story ? "
" By no means," said he ; "I see "you are
ready with your pen. Perhaps I shouldn't have
told you so much about Pendragon and Natan-
leod if I had seen that you were taking me
down ; but now I will be careful to give you
nothing which is not to be found in the most
trustworthy chroniclers. Are you ready ? "
" Yes, Sir," said I ; and then he settled him-
self in the turf, and pulled a couple of old
brown books out of his long coat-tail pockets,
to which he sometimes referred, and looking out
over the Vale, as if he were travelling in his
mind far away from me and every thing about
us on the hill-side, began as follows.
THE WHITE HORSE. 51
CHAPTER HI.
NEARLY a thousand years ago, in the year of
our Lord 871, the great battle of Ashdown was
fought ; but, in order to give you a true idea of
its importance, I must begin my story some
years earlier ; that is to say, in the year of our
Lord 866. In this year ^Ethelbert, king of the
West Saxons, died, having ruled his kingdom
for five years in peace, with the love of his
subjects ; and ^Ethelred, his next brother, who
succeeded him, buried his body in Sherborne
Minster. In this year Alfred, the younger
brother, who afterwards succeeded ^Ethelred,
and was called Alfred the Great, reached his
seventeenth year. In the autumn a great army
of pagan Danes came over to Britain, and
landed in that part of the island which was
then called East Anglia, but now Norfolk.
These were not the first Danes who had come
over to vex England, but none of them ever
52 THE SCOURING OF
stayed so long, fought so many battles, or did
so much harm (as we should say, speaking ac-
cording to man's judgment) as these.
A very curious story is told of why they came
over here ; and as it goes at first sight against a
good many of our notions of how the world is
governed, and so ought to make us think a little
more about the matter, I shall give it you pretty
much as it is told by the old chronicler, John
Brompton.
" There was a man of royal birth in the
kingdom of Denmark, named Lodbroc, who had
two sons, Hinguar and Hubba. This man em-
barked one day with his hawk in a small boat
to catch ducks, and other wild-fowl on the ad-
joining sea-coasts and islands. A terrible storm
arose, by which Lodbroc was carried away and
tossed for several days on every part of the
ocean. After numberless perils, he was cast
ashore on the coast of Norfolk, near the village
of Redham," (at least that must be the name, as
I read it in Brompton, though I have not been
able to hear of a village of that name on the
coast of Norfolk,) " where he was found having
his hawk alone for his companion, and pre-
sented to King Edmund. That king, struck
THE WHITE HORSE. 53
with the manliness of his form, kept him at his
court, and heard from his own mouth the his-
tory of his adventures. He was then associated
with Berne, the king's huntsman, and indulged
in all the pleasures of the chase, for in the exer-
cise of both hunting and hawking he was re-
markably skilful, and succeeded in capturing
both birds and beasts according as he had a
mind." In fact, Lodbroc was the sort of man
to please King Edmund, for the art of captur-
ing birds and beasts was, next to the art of
fighting for one's home and country, the art
most esteemed amongst the Anglo-Saxons ;
who acknowledged " that skill and good fortune
in this art, as in all others, are among the gifts
of God, as we also have often witnessed." But
to go on with our story. " The skill of Lodbroc
bred jealousy in the heart of Berne the hunts-
man, who one day, as they went out together
hunting, unawares set upon Lodbroc, and hav-
ing foully slain him, buried his body in the
thickets of the forest. But Lodbroc had a small
harrier dog, which he had bred up from its birth,
and which loved him much. While Berne the
huntsman went home with the other hounds,
this little dog remained alone with his master's
54 THE SCOURING OF
body. In the morning, the king asked what had
become of Lodbroc, to which Berne answered
that he had parted from him yesterday in the
woods, and had not seen him since. At that
moment the harrier came into the hall and went
round wagging its tail, and fawning on the
whole company, but especially on the king ;
when he had eaten his fill, he again left the hall.
This happened often ; until some one at last
followed the dog to see where he went, and
having found the body of the murdered Lod-
broc, came and told the story to the king. The
affair was now carefully inquired into, and
when the truth was at last found out, the hunts-
man was exposed on the sea, without oars, in
the boat which had belonged to Lodbroc. In
some days, he was cast ashore in Denmark, and
brought before the sons of Lodbroc ; who, put-
ting him to the torture, inquired of him what
had become of their father, to whom they knew
the boat belonged. To this Berne answered,"
as one might have guessed he would answer, he
being a liar and cowardly murderer, " that their
father Lodbroc had fallen into the hands of
Edmund, King of East Anglia, by whose orders
he had been put to death." Now, King Ed-
THE WHITE HORSE. 55
mund was a wise and righteous man, who
" devoutly undertook the government of the
East Angles, and held it with the right hand of
power, always adoring and glorifying God for
all the good things which he enjoyed ; " * and it
is a pity he did not on this occasion remember,
that having safely caught a great scoundrel, the
best thing to do with him was to see him hung
out of the way himself; for, by letting him go,
you see, he gave a chance to the devil, who
can't afford to lose such gentlemen as Berne the
huntsman out of the world, and has consider-
able grudges against kings like Edmund.
Well, when Hinguar and Hubba heard the
tale of Berne the huntsman, they, like good and
true sons, according to the notions of piety then
current amongst the Danes, hastened to fit out
a fleet to invade England, and avenge their
father. And their three sisters wove for them
the standard, called the Raven, in one day
which flag waved over many a bloody field,
from Northumbria to Devonshire, until it was
taken by King Alfred's men, under Odda, the
Alderman of Devon, before a certain castle in
that county, which is called Cynuit by Asser,
* See Simeon, A.I> 870.
56 THE SCOURING OF
and Kenuith elsewhere, (the situation of which
castle I cannot identify, or the name,) where
were slain King Halfdene, a brother of Hinguar
and Hubba, and 840 Danish warriors. It was
said, that when the Danes were about to gain a
battle, a live crow would fly before the middle
of the standard ; but if they were to be beaten,
it would hang motionless.*
So Hinguar and Hubba, as has been said,
landed in the country of the East Angles, in
the late autumn, bent on vengeance. King
Edmund knew nothing of the blood-feud be-
tween him and these Danish leaders, by reason
of Berne's lying story, so took no more than the
usual measures for preparing to attack them ;
but whether it was that they found King Ed-
mund too strong for them at the time, or for
some other reason, they seem to have wintered
there quietly, and to have bought horses, and
made some sort of truce with the East Angles. f
But in the spring of the year 867, they crossed
the Humber, marched hastily upon York, and
took it.
The kingdom of Northumbria was just the
* See Chronicle of St. Neot, A.D. 878.
t See Saxon Chron. and Asser, A.D. 866.
THE WHITE HORSE. 57
place for the army of Pagans and the standard
Raven at this time ; for it was divided against
itself. Osbert, the rightful king, had been play-
ing Tarquin in the house of Bruern Brocard,
one of his chief earls ; so his people had cast
him out, and had taken to themselves a king
^Ella, of unkingly blood, and the two were
warring against one another when the Danes
took York. Late in the autumn, however, a
peace was made between Osbert and .^Ella, and
they marched to York ; where within the very
walls of the city into which the Northumbrians
penetrated, was fought a most bloody battle.
In that fight fell almost all the Northumbrian
warriors, and both the kings, and a multitude
of noble men ; and the remainder who escaped
made peace with the Pagans.* By this time, no
doubt, there was small spoil left for Hinguar
and Hubba north of the Humber.
Accordingly, in the year 868, the pagan army,
leaving Northumbria, marched into Mercia, and
surprised and took Nottingham. Then Burhred,
King of Mercia, and his witan sent to ^Ethel-
red, king of the West Sarjiis, to come and help
them. And ^Etheked and Alfred marched to
* See Asser, A.D. 8ti7.
8*
58 THE SCOURING OF
Nottingham with the West Saxon power, and
with Burhred besieged the Pagans, there; but
they could not force the wall, and there was no
great battle, and ^Ethelred and Alfred went
home with their troops. But the Pagans, after
wintering at Nottingham, made peace with
Burhred and the Mercians ; that is to say, such
a peace as they loved to make I mean a peace
till it was worth their while to come again ; for
in 874 they came back, drove King Burhred
over the sea, and subdued the whole country
and Burhred went to Rome and died there, and
his body lies in St. Mary's Church at the Eng-
lish School.*
In the year 869, " the aforesaid army of
Pagans, galloping back to Northumbria, went
to York, and there passed the winter;" or,
in the words of Huntingdon, "remained there
cruelly for one year." And what sort of a win-
ter was it for the poor Yorkshiremen ? " There
was again a great famine, a mortality among
men, and a pest among cattle." Such is the
fate of a divided people which can only make
truces with its oppressors.
In this winter, Hinguar and Hubba seem to
* See Saxon Chron. and Huntingdon, A.D. 874.
THE WHITE HORSE. 59
have got large reinforcements from over the sea,
headed by two other kings, Basgseeg and Half-
dane their brother, for in the year 870 we find
them no longer surprising a city, and from
thence defying their enemies and oppressing the
neighbourhood. Now they march openly and
fearlessly across Mercia ; and, the day of ven-
geance having come, burst upon East Anglia,
and take up their head-quarters at Thetford.
And then comes the saddest part of a sad story.
King Edmund, being a king like Josiah, who
believed in God and ruled in righteousness, was
not the man to see the desolation of any part
of his people, or to shut himself up in fenced
cities while the pagan cavalry rode through
East Anglia so the aforesaid King Edmund
gathered his men, and " fought fiercely and
manfully against the army. But because the
merciful God foreknew that he was to arrive at
the crown of martyrdom, he there fell gloriously.
Of his passion I would fain insert some par-
ticular? into our history, that the sons of men
may know and perceive how terrible is Christ
the Son of God in the counsels of men, and
with what glorious triumph he adorns those
whom he tries here under the name of suffer-
60 THE SCOURING OF
ing, that the saying may be fulfilled, ' He is not
crowned except he strive lawfully.' (2 Tim. '
ii. 5.)"* Such is the lesson which the old
monk Simeon, praecentor of the Church of Dur-
ham, gets out of the death and martyrdom of
King Edmund, and I know not where we are
to look for a better. Perhaps it may help us
when we think of India f to remember with
Simeon, how terrible is Christ the Son of God
in the counsels of men, and with what glori-
ous triumph he adorns those whom he tries
here under the name of suffering. For Hin-
guar and Hubba took the wounded king on
the field of battle, and tied him to a tree, be-
cause he chose to die sooner than give over his
people to them, and there shot him through the
body with their arrows.^ But his people got
* See Simeon, A.D. 870.
t N. B. This was written in October, 1857.
} Here is Robert of Gloster's account of the martyrdom:
u So that atte laste to Estangle agen hym come :
Ther hii barned and robbede and that fole to grounde slo j;
And as wolves among ssep reulych hem to drowe,
Seynt Edmond was tho her kyng, and tho he sey that delvol cas
That me morthred so that fo!e, and non amendement n'as,
He ches levere to deye hym-sulf, that such soreve to ysey
He dude hym vorth among ys ton, n'olde he nothyng fle.
THE WHITE HORSE. 61
the body and buried it at Bradoriesunyrthe,
now called St. Edmund's Bury, or Bury St.
Edmunds ; * and many miracles were wrought
at his tomb, and he was canonized at which
honour let all Englishmen rejoice, the earth
having as much need as ever of many such
kings and saints.
And they were rare then as now, and then
as now men went their own way, and not God's
way, and cut out their own work instead of
taking his. For "when King Edmund was
slain, his brother Edwold, dreading the pleas-
ures of the world, and seeing thai a hard lot
had fallen on himself and his brother, retired
to the monastery of Carnelia in Dorsetshire,
near a clear well which St. Augustine had for-
merly brought out of the earth by prayer, to
baptize the people in, and there he led a her-
mit's life on only bread and water." f Yes !
Hii nome hym and scourged hym, and suthe naked hym bounde
To a tre, and to hym ssote, and made hym mony a wounde,
That the arewe were on hym tho thycke, that no stede n'as by-
leved.
Atte laste hii martred hym, and smyte of ys heved."
Robert of Glower's Chronicle, p. 263, apud Thomas Hearne. Ed.
1724.
* See Saxon Chronicle, and Huntingdon, A.D. 870.
t See Brompton, A.D. 870.
62 THE SCOURING OF
and no doubt thought himself righteous and
despised others and left the kingdom which
God had given him to the Pagans, who " sub-
dued all the land and destroyed all the ministers
they came to," which Edmund his brother had
built " and that same time they came to Mede-
shamstede, and burned and beat it down, slew
abbot and monks, and all that place which be-
fore was full rich, they reduced to nothing," *
while Ed wold, who should have been there with
the remnant of the East Angles, to make his
last stand, like a true shepherd of his people,
was eating his bread and drinking his water in
peace, by a clear well near the monastery of
Carnelia in Dorsetshire.
And now the Pagan kings, " with a new
army, very great, like a flowing river which
carries all along with it," f having doubtless
been reinforced again from over the sea, where
the story of their victories had spread far and
wide, were looking about for some new field
for plunder and murder. The whole north and
east of England was a desolate wilderness
behind them ; London was in ruins, and Kent'
had been harried over and over again by their
* See Sax Chron. A.D. 870. f See Huntingdon, A.D. 871.
THE WHITE HORSE. 63
brethren the sea-kings." But some thirty miles
up the Thames was a fair kingdom, stretching
far away west, down to the distant sea. This
was Wessex, the kingdom of the West Angles,
over which ^Ethelred, the brother of Alfred,
was now ruling, and entering on the sixth year
of his reign. The kingdom had had peace for
ten years, and was full of royal burgs, and rich
pastures, with cattle and horses, and sheep.
Perhaps Hinguar and Hubba remembered the
leaguer of Nottingham three years before, and
how the West Angles, with their king and his
brother, had hemmed them in and watched
them there through a long summer.
In the early years of their inroad, the Pagans
would not have dared to brave a united people
with ^Ethelred for king; but they had now
grown bold from success, and were in numbers
so great that " by reason thereof they could not
advance together, but went by different roads."
So in an early month of the year 871, with
their usual swiftness, they marched up the
Thames valley and seized on Reading a royal
burg, and the then easternmost city of note in
Wessex. Reading is situate on the south bank
of the Thames and on the north bank of the
64 THE SCOURING OF
Kennet, at the confluence of the two rivers ;
and, while part of the Pagan host made a
rampart between the rivers, to protect their camp
and the town which they had taken, a large
force, on the third day after their arrival, be-
gan scouring the country for plunder, under
two of their earls.
But the men of Wessex had increased and
multiplied as well as their cattle, and jEthel-
wulf, Alderman of Berkshire, was a man " who
raged as a lion in battle." So ^Ethelwulf, with
what men he could get together, fought with
the two earls at Englefield, though he had but
a small band of Christians with him. But he
cheered his men, saying to them, " though they
attack us with the advantage of more men we
may despise them, for our commander Christ,
is braver than they." * Whereupon the men of
Wessex buckled to their work under the oaks
of Englefield Chase (afterwards beloved by the
great Queen Bess), and there discomfited the
pagans very sore, and slew one of the two
earls. In one of the old chroniclers, there are
a few lines which may partly account for
/Ethelwulf 's victory ; " their two consuls," says
* See Simeon, A.D. 871.
THE WHITE HORSE. 65
^Ethelwerd, "forgetting that they were not on
board their fleet, rode proudly through fields and
meadows on horseback, which nature had denied
them ; " possibly therefore these were the new
comers, who had just joined the Pagan army
and were not used to horses or landfighting.
Within the next three days King ^Ethelred
and his brother Alfred came up from the west,
each leading a strong band of West Saxon
warrior s,-,nd joined ^Ethelwulf; and on the
fourth day they attacked the Pagans at Read-
ing. Those who were outside the rampart they
cut to pieces, and at first had the vantage ; but
the Pagans came out with all their forces, and
after great slaughter had been made on either
hand, and the brave JEthelwulf had been slain,
" the Pagans had possession of the place of
death." ' Thus the chronicle states it ; prob-
ably the men of Wessex were grievously beaten,
and went back with their king, in confusion,
along the chalk hills to the other end of Berk-
shire, pursued by Basgseeg and Halfdene, the
two lately arrived Danish kings, with the
strength of the Pagan host. I suppose that
Hinguar and Hubba stayed at Reading, to hold
* See Saxon Chronicle, A.D. 871.
66 THE SCOURING OF
the place of safety ; for neither of them were
at Ashdown.
But every mile as they fell back added
strength to ./Ethelred and Alfred, as bands of
men came up from the rear; from the broad
Wiltshire plains over the Kennet at Hunger-
ford, and along the chalk hills from Swindon
and Ashbury ; from the vales of the Kennet
and the Thames on either flank ; and a few
perhaps already from Glostershire and Oxford--
shire, where the news was doubtless spreading
like the wind. So ^Ethelred and his host turned
to bay at Ashdown, and set the battle in array
against the pagan kings.
There is some question between antiquaries
as to where the exact site of this battle is.
It must however, it seems to me, be some-
where in the western part of Berkshire ; for it
is quite impossible that ^Ethelred and Al-
fred could have fought at Reading, at Ash-
down, and at Basing, as they unquestionably
did, within three weeks, if we are to look for
Ashdown battle-field either at Ashdown forest,
in Essex, or at Ashendon, in the hundred of
Bernwood in Buckinghamshire, which are the
only sites out of Berkshire claiming this honour,
THE WHITE HORSE. 67
and supported by a tittle of authority. Besides,
even supposing these three battles could have
been fought in the time, yet the battle of Read-
ing, having gone against the Saxons, (as to
which every chronicler agrees,) is it likely that
they should have retired past the town and
stronghold of the Danes, either northeast into
Buckinghamshire, or southeast into Sussex,
leaving the whole of Wessex open to the enemy,
instead of falling back westward into Wessex,
and so covering their own homes? It is per-
fectly absurd to suppose this, Alfred being one
of their generals ; and how such ancient and
venerable persons as Bishops Kennet and Le-
land can have talked such nonsense, is hard to
say ; unless, indeed, they were born, the one in
Sussex, the other in Buckinghamshire, in which
case it is of course excusable, nay, justifiable
in them ; but of this I know nothing.
As to the Berkshire sites, I don't see any
reason for troubling you with their several ti-
tles. I am myself satisfied that the battle was
fought here ; but all the sites are somewhere on
this range of chalk hills, of which the old White
Horse is king. So now we will turn to the ac-
count of the great battle in the old chroniclers.
68 THE SCOURING OF
"About four days after the battle at Reading,
King JEthelred and Alfred, his brother, fought
against the whole army of the Pagans at Ash-
down. And they were in two bodies ; in the
one were Bssgseeg and Halfdene the Pagan
kings, and in the other were the earls." " Now
the Christians had determined that King ^Ethel-
red with his men should attack the two Pagan
kings, but that Alfred his brother with his men,
should take the chance of war against the earls.
Things being so settled, the king remained a
long time in prayer, hearing the mass, and said
he would not leave it till the priest had done,
nor abandon the protection of God for that of
men. And so he did, which afterwards availed
him much with the Almighty, as we shall de-
clare more fully in the sequel. But the Pagans
came up quickly to the fight. Then Alfred,
though holding a lower authority, as I have been
told by those who were there and would not lie,
could no longer support the troops of the enemy
unless he retreated or charged upon them with-
out waiting for his brother ; so he marched out
promptly with his men in a close column and
gave battle." " He too," as Simeon says, " know-
ing without a doubt that victory would not He
THE WHITE HORSE. 69
with a multitude of men, but in the pity and
mercy of God," and seeing also that, mass or
no mass, the Pagans must not be allowed to
get between him and his brother. " But here
I must inform those who are ignorant of the
fact, that the field of battle was not equal for
both armies. The Pagans occupied the higher
ground, and the Christians came up from below.
There was also in that place a single stunted
thorn-tree, which I myself have seen with my
own eyes. Around this tree the opposing hosts
came together with loud shouts from all sides,
the one to pursue their wicked course, the other
to fight for their lives, their dearest ties, and
their country." " In the midst of the fight, and
when Alfred was hard pressed," according to
Brompton, for the older chroniclers do not men-
tion this, " the king came up with his fresh
forces." "And when both hosts had fought
long and bravely, at last the Pagans, by God's
judgment, could no longer bear the attack of
the Christians, and having lost great part of
their men, took to a disgraceful flight, and all
the Pagan host pursued its flight not only until
night, but the next day, even until they reached
the stronghold from which they had come out.
70 THE SCOURING OF
The Christians followed, slaying all they could
reach until it became dark."* "And the flower of
the Pagan youth were there slain, so that neither
before nor since was ever such destruction
known since the Saxons first gained Britain by
their arms." " There fell in that battle King
Baegseeg and these earls with him ; that old
Earl Sidroc, to whom may be applied that say-
ing ' the ancient of evil days,' and Earl Sidroc
the younger, and Earl Osbern, and Earl Froena,
and Earl Harold ; who, with their men, choos-
ing the broad and spacious way, went down
into the depths of the lake ; " or, let us perhaps
hope not, old monk Simeon, seeing that they
died gallantly in harness, and that, as you your-
self add in the next sentence, " they knew not
the way of teaching nor understood its paths ;
it was kept far away from their faces." It is
fair to add that Brompton states that .^Ethel-
red slew Bsegseeg with his spear, and another
Pagan of note with his sword, after, he got up
to the fight; but the older chroniclers do not
mention this.f
* See Asser, A.D. 871.
t This is Robert of Gloster's account of the Battle:
" The Kyng and Alfred ys brother nome men ynovre,
Mette hem, and a batayle smyte up Assesdowne
THE WHITE HORSE. 71
To finish briefly the history of the rest of the
year 871, fourteen days after the battle of Ash-
down, ^Ethelred and Alfred fought another bat-
tle with the Pagans (probably with that part
which had remained in garrison at Reading,
with Hinguar and Hubba, and the relics of
Halfdene's array), at Basing, which seems to
have been undecided; and two months after-
wards another at Merton. After which, in the
summer, reinforcements came from beyond sea,
and joined the Pagans ; King ./Ethelred died,
and Alfred fought before the winter four more
pitched battles. So, as the Saxon Chronicle
sums up, " in this year nine general battles were
fought against the army in the kingdom south
of the Thames ; besides which, Alfred, the king's
brother, and single aldermen and king's thanes,
oftentimes made attacks on them which were
not numbered, and slew of them within the
year one king and nine earls." This was not
what the Pagans reckoned on ; they liked fight-
i'her was mony moder chyld, that sone lay ther doune
The batayle ylaste vorte-nygt, and ther were aslawe
Vyf dukes of Dene-march, ar hii wolde wyth drawe,
And mony thousende of other men, and tho' gonne hii to fle ;
Ac hii adde aUe ybe assend, gyf the nyght n'adde y bee.
Robert of Glwler, p. 263, apud Thomas Hearne. Ed, 1724."
72 THE SCOURING OF
ing very much in reason, as an accompaniment
of spoiling a country, and did it well ; but
to be fighting nine pitched battles in a year,
hemmed in in one corner of a rich kingdom
(for they never got farther than a few miles into
Wiltshire), and getting no spoil even there, was
not to their taste ; so in the winter they made
truce with Alfred, and took themselves off to
their old haunts in Mercia and Northumbria,
and did not return for five years.
This year, A.D. 871, is a year for Berkshire
men to be proud of, for on them fell the brunt
of that fiery trial ; and their gallant stand prob-
ably saved England a hundred years of Pagan-
ism. For had they given way. at Ashdown,
and the reinforcements from over the sea come
to a conquering, instead of to a beaten army in
the summer, there was nothing to stop the
Pagans between Reading and Exeter. The
other eight battles were skirmishes in compari-
son with this one ; they scarcely occupy five
lines each in the chroniclers, and out of the
king and nine Pagan earls who were slain
within the year, six fell at Ashdown. It was
Alfred's crowning mercy ; and so he felt it to
be, and in memory of it he caused his army
THE WHITE HOESE. 73
(tradition says, on the day after the battle) to
carve the White Horse, the standard of Hengist,
on the hill-side just under the Castle, where it
stands as you see until this day.
" Thank you, Sir," said I, when he paused,
"what a grand story it makes! And are those
the real words of the old chroniclers, as you
call them, Sir, which you used?"
" Yes," said he, " almost every word is simply
a translation from one or other of them, but
the greater part is taken from the Chronicle of
Asser, who was a contemporary and intimate
friend of Alfred, and a very learned and pious
ecclesiastic."
" I suppose they were, mostly priests and
monks who wrote the Chronicles then, Sir, for
they don't read at all like our modern histo-
ries. They seem a much more religious sort
of books."
"Don't call them religious books." said he,
" it puts one in mind of religious newspapers,
the greatest curse of our times. Yes, people
sneer at the old English chroniclers now-a-days,
and prefer the Edda, and all sorts of heathen
to them ; but they are great books, Sir,
74 THE SCOURING OF
for those who have eyes for them ; godly books
is the name for them, written by God-fearing
men, who were not ashamed of the faith which
was in them ; men who believed, Sir, that a
living God was ruling in England, and that in
his name one of them might defy a thousand.
Your historians, now-a-days, Sir, believe that
Providence (for they dare not talk of God) is
on the side of the strongest battalion. There's
some difference, when you come to think of it,
between the two creeds, Sir."
The old gentleman looked at me quite fierce,
so I made all the haste I could to change the
subject.
" Don't you think it very curious, Sir, that
the figure should have lasted all this time ? "
said I ; " because you see, Sir, if you or I were
to cut a trench, two feet or so deep, up here,
on the side of the hill, and stamp down the
chalk ever so hard, it would be all filled up
and grown over in a few years."
" You are not the first person who has made
that remark," said he. " In the year 1738, an
antiquary, of the name of Francis Wise, who
lived at Oxford, visited the hill, and wrote a
letter on the subject to Dr. Mead, the most
THE WHITE HORSE. 75
learned antiquary of that day. First he speaks
of the figure of the horse as ' being described
in so masterly a manner that it may defy the
painter's skill to give a more exact description
of the animal.' "
"How could he talk like that, Sir?" said I;
" why the figure isn't a bit like "
" You are as bad as Carnden," said he, " who
talks of ' I know not what shape of a horse
fancied on the side of a whitish hill ; but the
truth is, it is a copy of the Saxon standard,
which, of course, was a rude affair. How-
ever, "Wise, whom I was telling you of, goes
on :
" When I saw it, the head had suffered a
little and wanted reparation ; and the extremi-
ties of his hinder legs, from their unavoidable
situation, have by the fall of rains been filled
up in some measure' with the washings from
the upper parts ; so that, in the nearest view of
him, the tail, which does not suffer the same
inconvenience, and has continued entire from
the beginning, seems longer than his legs. The
supplies, which nature is continually affording,
occasion the turf to crumble and fall off into
the white trench, which in many years' time
76 THE SCOURING OF
produces small specks of turf, and not a little
obscures the brightness of the Horse ; though
there is no danger from hence of the whole
figure being obliterated, for the inhabitants have
a custom of 'scouring the Horse,' as they call
it ; at which time a solemn festival is celebrated,
and manlike games with prizes exhibited, which
no doubt had their original in Saxon times
in memory of the victory." *
" Scouring the Horse ! yes, of course," said
I, " that is what they are doing now, and the
games are to come off to-morrow."
" Exactly so," said he, " but you will like to
hear how Wise goes on :
" If ever the genius of King Alfred exerted
itself (and it never failed him in his greatest
exigencies), it did remarkably so upon account
of this trophy. The situation of his affairs
would not permit him to expend much time,
nor his circumstances much cost, in effecting
one," (truly, for he had six more pitched battles
to fight between April and November.) " His
troops, though victorious, were harassed and
diminished by continual duty ; nor did the coun-
* Wise's Letter to Dr. Mead, " concerning some Antiquities in
Berkshire," ed. 1, pp. 25, 26.
THE WHITE HORSE. 77
try afford, to any man's thinking, materials
proper for a work of this kind. Though he
had not therefore the opportunity of raising,
like other conquerors, a stupendous monument
of brass or marble, yet he has shown an ad-
mirable contrivance, in erecting one magnificent
enough, though simple in its design executed,
too, with little labour and no expense that
may hereafter vie with the Pyramids in dura-
tion, and perhaps exist when these shall be no
more."
" But, dear me, Sir," said I, " how can the
White Horse vie with the Pyramids in dura-
tion ? Why, the Pyramids were built "
" Never mind when they were built," said he ;
" don't you see the old antiquary is an enthu-
siast ? I had hoped you were one also."
" Indeed, Sir, I arn very anxious to hear all
you can tell me," said I, " and I won't interrupt
again."
" Well, as to the scouring, Wise says :
" The ceremony of scouring the Horse, from
time immemorial, has been solemnized by a
numerous concourse of people from all the vil-
lages round about, I am informed, though the
Horse stands in the parish of Uffington, yet
78 THE SCOURING OF
other towns claim, by ancient custom, a share
of the duty upon this occasion. Since, there-
fore, this noble antiquity is now explained,
and consequently the reason of the festival, it
were to be wished that, in order to prevent for
the future its falling into oblivion, some care
was taken of the regulation of the games, and
that they were restored to their ancient splen-
dour, of which, without question, they are fallen
much short. I know that these rites are cavilled
at and maligned by the more supercilious part
of mankind ; but the dislike to them seems to
be founded merely upon the abuse of them to
riot and debauchery, which I intend by no
means to justify or excuse. The practice of
the best and wisest states, whose maxims we
approve and profess to follow, is sufficient au-
thority for their use. The liberty we so justly
boast, and which ought to be a common bless-
ing to all, pleads loudly for them. The com-
mon people, from their daily labour, stands at
least in as much need of proper intervals of
recreation as their superiors, who are exempt
from it, and therefore in all free states have
been indulged in sports most suited to their
genius and capacity. And if manlike games
THE WHITE HOKSE. 79
contribute any thing towards the support of the
natural bravery of these, who are to be our
bulwark and defence in times of danger, they
cannot be more seasonably revived than at this
juncture, when, through the general luxury and
dissoluteness of the age, there was never more
likelihood of its being extinguished. Besides
all this, from hence a superior influence dif-
fuseth itself through the better sort, who are
supposed to enter further into the intention of
these solemnities ; for which reason it is, that
to perpetuate to posterity the remembrance of
great men, and of great actions, has been al-
ways recommended, as a proper incentive to
virtue. Customs of very trifling import, some
ridiculous in themselves, others owing to causes
equally ridiculous, are oftentimes kept up by
Englishmen with much zeal and tenacity ; and
shall the greatest prince that this isle was ever
blessed with, and the greatest action of that
prince's life, be in danger of being forgot,
through the neglect of a solemnity, the only
one, perhaps, that was ever instituted, at least,
that is now preserved, to his honour? "
* Wise's Letter, p. 31.
80 THE SCOURING OF
I didn't say a word now, though he seemed
to have finished.
" Well," said he, after a minute, " have you
nothing to say? You're very glad that it's
over, I suppose ? "
" No, Sir, indeed I am not," said I ; " but I
am very much obliged to you for your kindness
in telling me all that you have."
" You are a very intelligent young man, Sir,"
said he ; " most young fellows of your age
would have been bored to death half-an-hour
ago, even if they hadn't managed to run off
altogether, and so they would have lost a good
lesson in English history not that they would
have cared much for that though. But now, I
dare say you are getting hungry. Let us go
up and see what they are doing in the Castle,
and I shall be very glad if you will do me the
honour of lunching with me."
" Well," thought I, as we got up from the
turf, " there are not many better things for get-
ting a man on than being a good listener. Here
is a very learned old gentleman who doesn't
know my name, and I have got the length of
his foot, and he has asked me to luncheon, just
because I have been listening to his old stories.
THE WHITE HORSE. 81
I wonder where the lunch is to be though ? he
spoke of a Castle, perhaps he lives in it who
knows ? "
So we strolled away together up over the
brow of the hill.
82 THE SCOURING OF
CHAPTER IV.
" WELL, here's the Castle, you see," said he,
when we had walked a few hundred yards, and
were come quite to the top of the hill.
" Where, Sir ? " said I, staring about. I had
half expected to see an old stone building with
a moat, and round towers and battlements, and
a great flag flying ; and that the old gentleman
would have walked across the drawbridge, and
cried out, " What ho ! warder ! " and that we
should have been waited upon at lunch by an
old white-headed man in black velvet, with a
silver chain, and keys round his waist. Some-
how, the story of the battle, and all the talk
about Pendragon and Arthur, coming upon the
back of the farm-house, and the out of the way
country life, which was so strange to me, had
carried me into a sort of new world ; and I
shouldn't have been much surprised to see a
THE WHITE HORSE. 83
dragon running about the hill, though I should
have been horribly frightened.
" I can't make up my mind about this Cas-
tle," he went on, without noticing me ; " on two
sides it looks like a regular Roman castrum,
and Roman remains are found scattered about ;
but then the other sides are clearly not Roman.
The best antiquaries who have noticed it call it
Danish. On the whole, I think it must have
been seized and occupied in succession by the
lords of the country for the time being; and
each successive occupier has left his mark more
or less plainly. But, at any rate, you see it is a
magnificent work."
" Yes, Sir," said I, " no doubt ; " though I
own I was a good deal disappointed. For what
do you think the Castle is ? Up at the very top
of the hill, above the White Horse, there is a
great flat space, about as big as Lincoln's Inn
Fields, only not the same shape, because it is
only square on two sides. All round this space,
there is a bank of earth, eight or ten feet high
in some places, but lower at others. Then, out-
side, there is a great, broad, deep ditch ; it must
be twenty-five feet from the top of the inner
bank to the bottom of the ditch ; and outside
84 THE SCOURING OF
that again, is another large bank of earth, from
the foot of which the downs slope away on
every side. But the banks and ditch are all
grown over with turf, just like the rest of the
downs, and there isn't even a single stone, much
less a tower, to be seen. There are three en-
trances cut through the double banks, one on
the west, one on the southeast, and the third at
the northeast side, which was the one through
which we entered.
But if there were no warders and seneschals
and drawbridges, there was plenty of life in the
Castle. The whole place seemed full of men
and women, and booths and beasts, and carts
and long poles ; and amongst them all were the
Squire and Joe, and two or three farmers, who I
afterwards found out were Committee-men, try-
ing to get things into some sort of order. And
a troublesome job they were having of it. All
the ground was parcelled out for different pur-
poses by the Committee, and such parts as were
not wanted for the sports, were let at small rents
to any one who wanted them. But nobody
seemed to be satisfied with his lot. Here a big
gypsy, who wouldn't pay any rent at all, was
settling his cart and family, and swinging his
THE WHITE HORSE. 85
kettle, on a bit of ground, which the man who
owned the pink-eyed lady had paid for. There
a cheap-Jack was hustling a toyman from
Wantage, and getting all his frontage towards
the streets, (as they called the broad spaces
which were to be kept clear for the people to
walk along.) In another place, a licensed pub-
lican was taking the lot of a travelling show-
man into his skittle-alley. Then there were old
women who had lost their donkeys and carts,
and their tins of nuts and sacks of apples ; and
donkeys who had lost their old women, standing
obstinately in the middle of the streets, and
getting in everybody's way ; and all round,
saws and axes and hammers were going, and
booths and stalls were rising up.
I shouldn't have liked to have had much to
do with setting them all straight, and so I told
Joe, when he came up to us, after we had been
looking on at all the confusion for a minute or
two. For most of the men were very rough-
looking customers, like the costermongers about
Covent Garden and Clare Market, and I know
that those huckstering, loafing blades are mostly
terrible fellows to fight ; and there wasn't a
single policeman to look like keeping order.
86 THE SCOURING OF
But Joe made light enough of it he was
always such a resolute boy, and that's what
made me admire him so and said, " For the
matter of that, if they were ten times as rough
a lot, and twice as many, the Squire and the
farmers and their men would tackle them pretty
quick, without any blue-coated chaps to help !
Aye, and nobody knows it better than they, and
you'll see they'll be all in nice order before sun-
down, without a blow struck ; except amongst
themselves, perhaps, and that's no matter, and
what they're used to. But now, you come in,"
said Joe, turning towards one of the large pub-
licans' booths, which was already finished, " the
Committee have got a table here, and we must
dine, for we shan't be home these four hours
yet, I can see."
" Sir," said my new friend to Joe, drawing
himself up a bit, but very politely ; " this gen-
tleman is my guest. He has done me the hon-
our of accepting my invitation to luncheon.
" Oh ! beg pardon, Sir, I'm sure," said Joe,
staring ; " I didn't know that Dick had any
acquaintance down in these parts. Then," said
he to me, " I shall take my snack with the
rest presently ; you'll see me about somewhere,
THE WHITE HOUSE. 87
when it's time to get back." Joe went back
into the crowd, and I followed the old gentle-
man.
We went into the booth, which was a very big
one, made of strong, double sail-cloth, stretched
over three rows of fir poles, the middle row
being, I should say, sixteen or eighteen feet
high. Just on our right, as we entered from
the street, was the bar, which was made with
a double row of eighteen-gallon casks, full of
ale, along the top of which boards were laid, so
as to make a counter. Behind the bar the land-
lord and landlady, and a barmaid, w T ere working
away, and getting every thing into order. There
were more rows of large casks, marked XX and
XXX, ranged upon one another against the side
of the booth, and small casks of spirits hooped
with bright copper, and cigar boxes, and a table
covered with great joints of beef and pork, and
crockery and knives and forks, and baskets full
of loaves of bread, and lettuces and potatoes.
It must have cost a deal of money to get it all
up the hill, and set the booth up. Beyond the
bar was a sort of inner room, partly screened
from the rest of the booth by a piece of sail-
cloth, where a long table was laid out for lun-
88 THE SCOUEING OF
cheon, or " nunching," as the boots, who was
doing waiter for the occasion, called it. The
rest of the booth, except a space before the bar
which was kept clear for casual customers to
stand about in, was set about with rough tables
and forms. We got a capital dinner; for the
landlord knew my entertainer, and was very
civil, and brought us our ale himself and poured
it out, making an apology because it hadn't had
quite time to fine down, but it would be as clear
as a diamond, he said, if we would please to
call in to-morrow.
After we had done, we went round behind
the booth, where some rough planking had been
put up to serve for stalls, and the boots, in his
waiter's jacket, brought out the old gentleman's
cob.
" Peter," said he, when he had mounted,
" here is sixpence for you ; and now mind what
you are at, and don't get drunk and disgrace
yourself up on the hill."
Peter, who seemed to be very much afraid of
the old gentleman, kept pulling away at his
forelock, and hunching up his shoulders, till we
turned the corner of the booth.
" Now I must be riding home," said my
THE WHITE HORSE. 89
friend, " but if you like just to walk round with
me, I will show you the site of the battle."
So I thanked him, and walked along by the
side of his cob, and he rode out of the entrance
we had come in by, and then round the outer
earthwork of the castle. As we passed along,
the inner bank rose high up on our right hand,
and we could just see the tops of the highest
booths above it.
" You see what a strong place it must have
been before gunpowder was invented, 1 ' said the
old gentleman ; " and here, you see, is the sec-
ond entrance ; and this road which we are upon
is the Ridgeway, one of the oldest roads in Eng-
land. How far it once extended, or who made
it, no man knows ; but you may trace it away
there along the ridge of the downs as far as
you can see, and, in fact, there are still some
sixty miles of it left. But they won't be left
long, I fear, Sir, in this age which venerates
nothing."
" I don't see much fear of that, Sir," said I,
" after it has lasted so long already."
" No fear, Sir ! " said he, " why miles of it
have been ploughed up within my memory.
God meant these downs, Sir, for sheepwalks,
90 THE SCOURING OF
and so our fathers left them ; but within the
last twenty years would-be wise men have
found that they will grow decent turnips and
not very bad oats. Well, they plough them up,
find two inches of soil only, get one crop out
of them, and spoil them for sheep. Next year,
no crops. Then comes manure, manure, man-
ure, nothing but expense ; not a turnip will
trouble himself to grow bigger than a reddish
under a pennyworth of guano or bones. The
wise men grumble and swear, but the downs
are spoiled."
" But that will all cure itself then, Sir," said
I ; " they won't plough up any more, if it
doesn't pay ; and then the Ridgeway won't be
touched ! "
" They are all mad for ploughing, Sir, these
blockhead farmers ; why, half of them keep
their sheep standing on boards all the year
round. They would plough and grow man-
gold-wurzel on their fathers' graves. The Tenth
Legion, Sir, has probably marched along this
road ; Severus and Agricola have ridden along
it, Sir ; Augustine's monks have carried the
Cross along it. There is that in that old
mound and ditch which the best turnips and
THE WHITE HORSE. 91
oats in the world (if you could get them) can't
replace. There are higher things in this world,
Sir, than indifferent oats and d d bad turnips."
The old gentleman was all in a blaze again ;
he brought down his cane sharply on to the
cob's neck, which made him caper up and jump
off along the Eidgeway, and it was a hundred
yards before they drew up. I followed, think-
ing that he couldn't be a clergyman after all,
to be swearing like that about nothing. When
I got up to him, however, he was quite cool
again. He had stopped just below the western
entrance to the Castle, and the ground fell rap-
idly in front of us.
" Now, you can't have a better point than
this," said he ; " you remember what I told
you about the armies. The Danes held the
higher ground, that is, Uffington Castle, up here,
behind us. Alfred, with his division of the
Saxon army, lay over there, in that valley to
the left, where you see the great wood in the
middle of the down. That is Ashdown Park,
Lord Craven's seat, and just on the edge of it
there is a circular earthwork, which is called
Alfred's camp. Aubrey says that in his time
it was ' almost quite defaced, by digging for
92 THE SCOURING OF
the Sarsden stones to build my Lord Craven's
house in the park ; ' but you may still find it
if you look. Then, over there, on that point,
a mile or more away to the right, is a camp
called Hardwell Camp, where ^Etheh-ed lay.
The crown of the slope you see along which
the Ridgeway runs, is midway between the
Saxon camps.
" In the early spring morning, the low call
to arms passes round the height ; the Danish
host, marshalled behind the high earthworks,
breaks over them, like an overflowing lake, and
rushes down the slope. Alfred's division of the
Saxon army is already on foot, and there he sits,
the sickly stripling on the white horse, untried
save in one luckless fight. How will he guide
such a battle ? See, his host is in motion ;
scouts fly out, riding for life across to ^Ethel-
red's camp. ' Come up, my brother ! the Pagan
is upon us while I live they shall not divide
us I will hold the crest of the Ridgeway,
come life, come death.' The vans are together
with a wild shout, squadron by squadron the
hosts close up, the fight sways slowly back-
wards and forwards, the life's blood of a brave
man pays for every inch won or lost. The Sax-
THE WHITE HOESK. 93
ons are but one to three, the Pagans slowly
overlap them are on their flanks. The white
horse and his rider dash from side to side, faster
and faster, as the over-matched Christians faint,
reel, give back now here, now there, along the
line. When will the mass be over ? Cut it
short, as thou art Saxon man, oh priest ! and
get thee to sword and buckler.
"At last they come, ^Ethelred and his host
they are upon the right flank of the Pagan,
and the fight is restored ; and with many an
ebb and pause, but steadily, through the long
morning hours, rolls up the hill towards the
camp and the fatal thorn."
" Is that the old thorn-tree, then, do you
think, Sir?" said I, pointing to one which was
growing by itself some way off.
" I fear not, Sir, I fear not ; the ' unica spi-
nosa arbor ' is gone. It must have stood some-
where up here, on the slope just below the
Castle, the stronghold of the Danish robbers.
Here the grim Pagan turns to bay for the last
time. King Bsegseeg lies dead, a hundred
yards below; by his side his standard-bearer
and Earl Frcena ; Halfdene is still unhurt, but
near him Osbert totters under his shield ; Har-
94 THE SCOURING OF
old can scarce back his charger, and the life-
blood trickles slowly down his leg, and falls,
drop by drop, on the trampled turf, as they
still make front against .ZEthelred yonder
there on the right. But here, here the field
must be won ! This way, you Saxon men,
kings-thane, and alderman ! Whoever hath stout
heart and whole body left.
" It is the old sea-king, Sidroc, 'the ancient
one of evil days;' mark him, as he bestrides
his black war-horse, there by the old twisted
thorn. His heavy sword drips with blood, his
sword-arm is steeped in blood to the elbow
the dint of long and fierce battle is on horse
and man ; but the straight thin lips are set
like flint in the midst of that gray beard, and
the eyes glow and gleam under that fearful
brow eyes that have never quailed before con-
quering foe, or softened to the fallen lips that
have never opened to say the word ' Spare.' By
his side the young Sidroc, grim son of grim
sire. Ashdown crows must feast on those eyes,
and Ashdown wolves pick those bones, if the
Pagans are to be beaten this day. Round them
rally the Danes as they are driven up the slope.
Again and again the advancing Saxons reel
THE WHITE HORSE. 95
back from the stunted thorn, before the shock
of the two Boersirkir. He comes! it is the
sickly prince, the stripling on the white horse,
trampling fetlock-deep in blood. Round him a
chosen band of yellow-bearded men of Wes-
sex. One moment's pause, and they meet in
a last death-grapple. Bite, Saxon blade ; pierce,
Saxon spear ! Think of your homes, my coun-
trymen ; think of the walls of Reading, of Ethel-
wulf and his last war-cry, ' Our commander,
Christ, is braver than they ! ' The black horse
is down ; young Sidroc springs over the brute,
lashing out in death agony, and covers his
father. His head is cleft to the chin a half-
armed gaunt cowherd drives his spear through
the chest of the old sea-king. Away over their
bodies up the hill go white horse, and strip-
ling prince, and yellow-bearded men ; rushing
through the camp gate, scrambling over the
banks pell-mell with the flying Pagan. The
camp is ours ; now slay while light is left for
there is no shelter for a Pagan between this and
Reading. ' Then were the horse-hoofs broken
by the means of the prancings, of the pranc-
ings of their mighty ones. Oh my soul, thou
hast trodden down strength ! ' "
96 THE SCOURING OF
The old gentleman stopped at last, and took
off his hat and wiped his face, and then looked
down at me as if he were half-ashamed
" I see you think I'm mad " he began.
" Indeed, sir " said I, stammering a little.
" Well, well ! never mind," he said ; " the
fact is, I live a good deal in those old times.
I've been up here, and sat and gone over the
fight so often, that when I get on the hill-side, I
think I sa\v it all. In the autumn evenings at
twilight, when the southwest wind blows wild,
and the mist comes drifting over the broad
downs, many a time, as I have stolen down the
silent hill-side, I have seen the weird old Pagan
king and the five earls, sitting one on each of
the giants' seats, and looking mournfully out
over the Vale, waiting waiting waiting for a
thousand years, all but fourteen. It's a long
time, sir, a long time ; but you and I may have
to wait for a longer over the scene of some of
our doings. Who can say ? "
I really now did begin to think the old gen-
tleman a little crazy, so I said nothing. Pres-
ently he went on in his old quiet voice :
" There, now I have dismounted my hobby,
and am sane again. I live in a wild, lonely
THE WHITE HORSE. 97
part of the world down west, and for the last
thirty years have read little else but the Bible,
and books 200 years old and upwards. Every
man has his madness that's mine I don't get
a chance of letting it out once a-year. I have
spent a very pleasant day with you, Sir ; and if
you ever come down to these parts again, and
like to come on and see me, I shall be very
glad. There is my name and address ; " and
he gave me his card, but he didn't say that I
might publish it.
" Thank you. Sir," said I, putting it into my
pocket-book ; " bat I hope you will be up on
the hill to-morrow ? "
" Yes, I shall just ride up," he said, " to see
how they have used my old friend ; he wanted
scouring sadly. The games I don't much care
about, though I'm glad they go on. But not
one man in a thousand who will be on the hill
to-morrow will know what the meaning of it
all is ; and that makes it a melancholy sight to
me, Sir, on the whole."
" But what a pity," said I, " that they are not
told. It would interest everybody else, I'm
sure, just as it has me. Why don't you tell
it then, Sir, in a book or a newspaper ? "
98 THE SCOURING OF
" Nobody would read my old-world stuff,"
said he. " No : a man must understand and be
in sympathy with his own generation to coax
it into caring about an older one. But now I
must be going. If you have time to walk
down to that little clump of trees over there,
towards ^JEthelred's camp, you will find an old
Druidical cromlech well worth examining. It
is called Wayland Smith's cave. Walter Scott,
who should have known better, says that the
Danish king killed at Ashdown was buried
there. He was no more buried there than in
Westminster Abbey. Good-bye." And so he
put his cob into a canter, and went off along
the Bidgeway.
When he was gone I walked down to the
clump of trees and went- into the cave ; and
then sat down on the great flat stone which
covers it over, and finished putting down all I
had heard from the old gentleman ; and thought
what odd people a man finds about the world,
and how many things there are which one never
heard of that other folk are spending their lives
over. Then I went up to the camp again to
find Joe, for the afternoon was getting on.
True enough, as he had said, when I got back
THE WHITE HORSE. 99
there I found it all getting into order. All
along the north side were the theatres and peep-
shows, and acrobats, and the pink-eyed lady,
and the other shows. On the west side were
the publicans' booths, some of them all ready,
and others half up, but all with their places set-
tled ; and the great street of huckters' stalls and
cheap-Jacks was all set out along the south
side, and as more and more of them came up
they went off to the end of the line and pitched
regularly. The gypsies and people with no
regular business were all got away into a cor-
ner, behind the stalls. On the west side the
county police were pitching their large tent
close away by the bank, out of the way of
everybody ; and, some w r ay in front of them,
Lord Craven's people had put up two military-
looking tents which I heard had belonged to
the 42d Regiment, with a great flagstaff close
by them. About the middle of the camp stood
a large stage about six feet high, roped round
for the backswording and wrestling. There
was plenty of room now, and all the people,
who were not working at the booths and stalls,
were sitting about boiling kettles and getting
100 THE SCOURING OF
their food. It was a very cheerful, pretty sight,
up there out of the way of every thing.
I soon found Joe amongst a group of farmers
and one or two young gentlemen, some on
horseback and some on foot, standing round the
Squire. They were talking over the arrange-
ments before going home ; and I stood a little
way off, so as not to interrupt them or to seem
to be pushing myself into their company.
" Now I think we have done all we can
to-day," said the Squire, gathering up his reins ;
" but some of us must be up early to-morrow to
get the lists made, and settle every thing about
the games."
About ten o'clock, Sir ? "
" Yes, that will do capitally. Now I shall
just go and see how they have done the
Horse."
So he rode out of the camp, and we all fol-
lowed over the brow of the hill till we came to
a good point for seeing the figure, which looked
as bright and clean as a new sixpence.
" I think he'll do very well," said the Squire.
" Listen to the scourers," said one of the
young gentlemen.
They had finished their work, and were sit-
THE WHITE HORSE. 101
ting in a group round a large can of beer which
the Squire had sent down to them ; and one of
them was singing a rumbling sort of ditty, with
a tol-de-rol chorus, in which the rest joined
lazily.
One of these young gentlemen gave me what
he said were the words they were singing, after-
wards, when I came to know him (as you will
hear in the next chapter) ; and it seems he
had found out that I was collecting all I could
about the Horse. But I don't quite know
whether he wasn't cutting his jokes upon me,
for he is " amazin' found of fun," as Joe said ;
and for my part, I could never quite tell, when
I was with him, whether he was in jest or
earnest. However, here are the words he gave
me :
BALLAD OF THE SCOURING OF THE WHITE HORSE.
The owld White Harse wants zettin to rights
And the Squire hev promised good cheer,
Zo we'll gee un a scrape to kip un in zhape,
And a'll last for many a year.
A was made a lang lang time ago
Wi a good dale o' labour and pains,
102 THE SCOURING OF
By King Alferd the Great when he spwiled their consate
And caddled,* thay wosbirdsf the Danes.
The Bleawin Stwun in days gone by
Wur King Alfred's bugle harn,
And the tharnin tree you med plainly zee
As is called King Alferd's tharn.
There'll be backs-word play, and climmin the powl,
And a race for a peg, and a cheese,
And us thenks as hisn's a dummelli zowl
As dwont care for zich spwoorts as theze.
When we had done looking at the Horse,
some went one way and some another, and
Joe and I down the hill to the Swan Inn,
where we got the trap and started away for
Elm Close.
" Why, Dick, how did you manage to pick
up the old gentleman who was treating you
at dinner ? " said Joe ; " I suppose he's one of
your London folk."
" 'Twas he who picked me up," said I, " for
I never set eyes on him before. But I can tell
# "Caddie" to worry: from cad, strife. The Berkshire scholi-
ast suggests that the modern " cad," having regard to the peculiari-
ties of the class, must be the same word.
t " Wosbird," bird of woe, of evil omen.
} " Dummell," dull, stupid.
THE WHITE HORSE. 103
you he is a very learned party, and very kind
too. He told me all about the battle of Ash-
down, and ever so many more old stories. I
should think he must have been two hours
and more telling them."
" Sooner you than I," said Joe. " Well, I
thought I knew his face. He must be the old
gent as was poking about our parish last fall,
and sort of walking the bounds. Though there
isn't any call for that, I'm sure, for we walk
the bounds ourselves every year. The men as
he hired told me he was looking after some old
stone, the play stone I think he called it, and
would have it he knew more about the names
of the fields, and why they were called so, than
they as had lived there all then* lives. How-
ever, he stood 'em something handsome for
their trouble. I expect he isn't quite right up
here," said he, touching his forehead and look-
ing at me.
" Just as right as you," said I, " and I've no
doubt he does know more about your parish
than all of you put together. I think he must
be some great antiquary."
" Ah ! that's w r hat the Squire said when I
told him. A great angular Saxon scholar he
called him."
104 THE SCOURING OF
" Anglo-Saxon, Joe," said I, " not angular."
" Well, Anglo or angular, it's no odds," said
Joe ; " I calls it angular that's good English
at any rate."
" But, Joe," said I, " I've taken down all he
said, and should like to read it to you. I'm
sure it would interest you."
" Well, after supper to-night, over a pipe, per-
haps," said Joe ; " I ain't much of a hand at
your old-world talk, you see. Or, I'll tell you
what, you shaU read it to Lu ; she takes to
book-learning and all that better than I."
" I shall be very glad indeed to read it to
your sister," said I ; " and I daresay she can
tell me something more."
" May be," said Joe, drawing his whip gently
over the mare's loins ; and then he began telling
me about the talk he had had with the Squire.
He seemed to have been telling him all about
his quarrel at the vestry with the other farmers,
about keeping up the parish roads ; and the
Squire had smoothed him down, and given him
some good advice as to how to get the roads
made and the fences kept up without losing
his temper. Joe owned to me that he was
often falling out with some of his neighbours,
THE WHITE HOKSE. 105
or his hired men, when he couldn't get things
quite his own way (for that's what it came to,
and Joe is a warm -tempered fellow), and that
lie would sooner come six miles to get the
Squire to " tackle it," than go to any other jus-
tice who lived nearer ; " for he knows our ways,
and manages one way or another to get it out
all straight without making a Sessions job of
it," said Joe, as we drove up to his gate ; and
though I was looking out to catch a sight of
Miss Lucy, and hoping she might be out in
the garden, I couldn't help allowing to myself
that perhaps the country mightn't get on so
much better after all if the unpaid magistracy
were done away with.
Joe went off to the stable to see after his
precious chestnut, and seemed to pity me be-
cause I didn't go with him. But I was off
round the house and into the garden, to try
and find Miss Lucy. When I did find her
though, I wasn't quite pleased at first, as you
may fancy when you hear what she was doing.
There is a trellis-work about eight feet high,
between the little flower-garden and the kitchen-
garden, and in it a wicket-gate, through which
runs a nice green walk by which you get from
106 THE SCOURING OF
one to the other. The trellis-work is so cov-
ered with roses, and jessamine, and other creep-
ers, that you can't see through, at least not
in summer time ; and I heard merry voices
on the other side, but they couldn't hear me
on the turf. So I hurried up to the wicket-
gate ; and the moment I got through, there I
saw Miss Lucy, and close by her side a young
man in a black coat, dark gray trousers, and
a white tie. He had a great ribstone-pippin
apple in one hand, off the best tree in the
orchard, out of which he had taken a great
bite or two, which I thought rather vulgar ;
and there he was, holding up his bitten apple
and some of the creepers against the trellis-
work, with both hands above Miss Lucy's head.
And she stood there in her pretty white-straw
hat, with the ribbons dangling loose over her
shoulders, tying up the creepers to the trellis-
work close to his face. I could see, too, that
she was very well dressed, for she had on a
pretty embroidered collar, as white as snow,
with a nice bow of fresh pink ribbon in front;
and the sleeves of her gown were loose, and
fell back a little as she reached up with the
string to tie the creepers, and showed her nice,
THE WHITE HORSE. 107
white, round arms, which looked very pretty,
only I wished she had waited for me to hold
up the creepers instead of him. At her feet
lay a basket full of apples and pears, and lav-
ender and mignonette ; so they must have been
going about together for some time, picking
fruit and flowers.
I stopped at the gate, and felt half inclined to
go back ; but he said something to her, and
then she turned round and called me, so I
walked up feeling rather sheepish. By the
time I got up to them they had finished tying
up the creeper, and she introduced me to Mr.
Warton, of London. He held out his hand,
and said he had often heard Joseph speak of
me, and was very glad to meet an old friend of
his friend Hurst. So we shook hands, and he
began eating his apple again, and she picked up
her basket, and we walked together towards the
house ; but they were so free and pleasant
together, and laughed and joked so, that it
made me feel rather low, and I couldn't talk
easily, though I did manage to say something
about the White Horse, and how well it looked,
and what a wonderful place it was up on the
hill, when they asked me about it.
108 A HE SCOURING OF
I wasn't sorry when she went in to look after
the tea, and he sat down to write a letter. So
I went round to the farm-yard to look for Joe,
that I might find out from him about this Mr.
Warton. I found Joe with his fogger,* as he
called him, looking at some calves, and thinking
of nothing but them and the pigs. However, I
stuck to him and praised all the beasts just as
if I knew all about them, and so at last got
him out of the yard ; and then I told him
there was a Mr. Warton come.
" No ! is he ? " said he ; " I'm so glad. I was.
afraid he couldn't come down as he didn't an-
swer my last letter."
Who is he, Joe ? " said I.
" Haven't I told you ? " said he ; " why, he's a
parson up somewhere in London, and a real
right sort. He was curate here for five years
before he went up to town."
" He seems to know you and Miss Lucy very
well," said I.
" Bless you, yes ! " said Joe ; " Lu was in his
school, and he prepared her for confirmation.
He's the best company in the world, and not
* " Fogger " quasi fodderer he who giveth fodder to the cattle
generally used for the farmer's haad man.
THE WHITE HORSE. 109
a bit proud, like some parsons. When he was
down here, he used to drop in of an evening
two or three times a week, and take his tea,
or a bit of supper, just like you might."
" He's a good bit older than we, though,"
said I.
" "Well, four or five years, maybe," said Joe,
looking rather surprised at me ; " I should say
he was about thirty last grass, but I never asked
him ; what does it matter ? " and so we got to
the front door, and I went up-stairs to my room
to wash my hands before tea. I made myself
as smart as I could, but I own I didn't half like
the way this Mr. Warton went on. However,
I thought Miss Lucy must see he was too old
for her.
As I was dressing, I turned the matter over
with myself, how I was to behave down stairs.
First, I thought I would try to ride the high
horse, and be silent and vexed, and make them
all uncomfortable; but then, thought I, will
Miss Lucy see why I do it ? It may be all out
of love for her, and jealousy of this Mr. War-
ton ; and they say no young woman dislikes to
see men jealous about her. But suppose she
shouldn't see it in that light? Mightn't she
110 THE SCOURING OF
only think, perhaps, that I was a very change-
able and disagreeable sort of fellow ? That
would never do. Besides, after all, thought I,
I'm down here at Joe's house, and I owe it to
him to be as pleasant as I can. How's he to
know that I am in love with his sister already ?
And this Mr. Warton, too ; he's a clergyman,
and seems a very good sort, as Joe said ; and
then he has known them all so well, for so long ;
why am I to give myself airs because he likes
talking to Miss Lucy ? So I settled it in my
own mind to go down with a smiling face, and
to do all I could to make all the rest happy ;
and I felt much better myself when I had made
up my mind.
There never was such a tea and supper (for
we had them both together that night, as it was
late) in the world ; and I don't think I could
have stood out five minutes if I had gone down
in the sulks, as I thought of doing at first. The
old lady, and Joe, and Miss Lucy, were all in
great spirits at getting Mr. Warton down ; and
he was just like a boy home for his holidays.
He joked and rattled away about every thing;
except when they talked about any of his old
parishioners or scholars, and then he was as
THE WHITE HORSE. Ill
kind and tender as a woman, and remembered
all their names, and how many children there
were in every family, and the sort of mistakes
the boys and girls used to make in school.
And he drew Miss Lucy out about the school,
and Joe about the markets and the labourers,
and the old lady about the best way of pick-
ling cabbages, and me about London and my
work, and shorthand, which he managed to find
out that I could write in no time. So we were
all in the best humour in the world, and pleased
with one another and with him ; and spent half
an hour in praising him after he had gone
up stairs to finish some writing which he had
to do.
Then I asked them about the pastime, and
what we should see next day on the hill. Miss
Lucy began directly about the stalls and the
sights, and the racing and the music ; and cold
dinner on the hill-side, and seeing all her friends
in their best dresses. Joe listened to her for a
bit, and then struck in
" That's all very well for you women," said
he ; " but look here, Dick. If what I hear
comes true, we shall have a fine treat on the
stage ; for they tells me there's a lot of the best
112 THE SCOURING OF
old gamesters in Somersetshire coming up, to
put in for the backsword prizes."
" Then I'm sure I hope they won't be allowed
to play," said Miss Lucy.
" Not let to play ! " said Joe ; " who put that
into your head ? Why, there's the printed list
of the sports, and X12 prize for backswording,
and ,10 for wrestling."
" Well, it's a great shame, then," said Miss
Lucy ; " for all the respectable people for miles
round will be on the hill, and I think the gentle-
men ought to stop them."
" If they do, they'll spoil the pastime ; for
there won't be one man in twenty up there
who'll care to see any thing else. Eh, old fel-
low ? " said Joe, turning to me.
" I agree with Miss Lucy," said I ; " for I'm
sure if the women are against these games,
they can't be good for the men, and ought to
be put down."
" Dick, you're a cockney, and know no better,"
said Joe, giving me a great spank on the back,
which hurt a good deal and was very disagree-
able, only I didn't say any thing because I knew
he meant it kindly ; " but as for you, Lucy, you,
a west-country yeoman's daughter, to talk like
THE WHITE HORSE. 113
that ! If you don't take care, you shan't go up
the hill to the pastime to-morrow at all ; I'll
leave you at home with mother," and he shook
his great fist at her.
" Won't I go up though ? " said she, laugh-
ing ; " we'll see, Master Jee ; why, I can walk
up by myself, if it comes to that ; besides, any
of the neighbours will give me a lift or here's
]\lr. Richard, or Mr. Warton. I'm sure "
"What's that you're saying, Miss Lucy?
What am I to do, eh ? " and the parson walked
in just as I was going to speak. I was vexed
at his just coming in, and taking the word out
of my mouth.
" Why I was telling Joe that you'll stop and
take me up the hill, if he leaves me behind ;
won't you now, Mr. Warton ? "
" Leave you behind, indeed ! here's a pretty
to do ! " said he, laughing. " What in the
world are you all talking about ? "
" About the wrestling and backsword play,"
struck in Joe ; " now she says "
" Well, now, I'll leave it to Mr. Warton,"
said Miss Lucy, interrupting him ; " I know he
won't say it's right for men to be fighting upon
a high stage before all the country side."
114 THE SCOURING OF
" Stuff and nonsense with your fighting ! "
said Joe ; " you know, Sir, very well that they
are old English games, and we sets great store
by them down here, though some of our folk
as ought to know better does set their faces
against them now-a-days."
" Yes, you know, Joe, that three or four
clergymen have been preaching against them
only last Sunday," said Miss Lucy.
" Then they ain't the right sort, or they'd
know better what to preach against. I don't
take all for Gospel that the parsons say, mind
you," said Joe.
Miss Lucy looked shocked, but Mr. Warton
only laughed.
" Hullo, Joseph," said he, " speaking evil
of your spiritual pastors ! However, I won't
say you're altogether wrong. Parsons are but
men."
" But, Sir," said I, quite confidently, " I'm
sure no clergyman can stand up for fighting
and quarrelling."
" Of course not," said he ; " but what then ? "
" Well, Sir, these sports, as they call them,
are just fighting, and nothing else, and lead to
all sorts of quarrels and bad blood, and so"
THE WHITE HORSE. 115
They don't lead to nothing of the kind,"
shouted Joe ; " and you know nothing about
it, Dick."
" Now, Joe, at our last feast," said Miss
Lucy, " didn't Reuben Yates get his head
broken, and his arms all black and blue at
backsword play ? "
" Yes, and didn't you and mother patch him
up with yards of diachylum, and give him his
supper every night for a week, to come and be
doctored and lectured ? Rube liked his suppers
well enough, and didn't mind the plastering and
lecturing much ; but if he don't go in to-mor-
row for the young gamesters' prize, my name
ain't Joe Hurst."
" Then he'll be a very ungrateful, wicked
fellow," said Miss Lucy.
" And you and mother won't give him any
more suppers or diachylum," said Joe ; " but I
dare say he won't break his heart if you don't
give him the preaching by itself. It does seem
to me plaguy hard that the women won't let a
man get his own head broke quietly, when he
has a mind to it."
" And there was Simon Withers, too," went
on Miss Lucy, " he sprained his ankle at the
116 THE SCOUEING OF
wrestling, and was in the house for three weeks,
and his poor old mother nearly starving."
" 'Twasn't at wrestling, though," said Joe,
" 'twas at hurdle-racing. He'd much better
have been at backsword ; for a chap can go to
work with a broken head next morning, and
feel all the better for it, but he can't with a
sprained ankle."
" What does Mr. Warton think ? " said I ;
for somehow he was keeping back, and seemed
a little on Joe's side, and if he showed that, I
thought he would lose ground with Miss Lucy.
" Oh ! I'm sure Mr. Warton is on our side,
ain't you, Sir ? Do teh 1 Joe how wrong it is of
him to go on talking as he does."
" No, no, Miss Lucy, I'm not going to be
drawn into the quarrel as your knight ; you're
quite able to take your own part," said Mr.
Warton.
" I'm sure Mr. Warton is against us in his
heart," said I to Miss Lucy ; " only he's a
clergyman, and doesn't like to say so."
" Come, now, I can't stand that," said he
to. me ; " and you and I must have it out ;
only mind, Miss Lucy, you mustn't come in ;
one at a time is enough for me."
THE WHITE HORSE. 117
" I won't say a word, Sir, if Joe won't."
" Very well," said he, " and now let's get our
ground clear. Do you approve of the other
sports, running matches, jumping matches, and
all the rest ? "
" Yes, Sir, of course I do," said I.
" And you see no harm in one man beating
another in a race for a prize ? "
" No, Sir, no harm at all."
" Well, but I suppose one must have activity
and endurance to win in any of them ? "
" Yes," said I, " and good pluck, too, Sir.
It takes as much heart, I'm sure, any day, to
win a hard race as a bout at backsword."
" Very good," said he. " Then putting every
thing else aside, tell me which you think the
best man, he who doesn't mind having his head
broken, or he who does ? "
" Well, Sir," said I, beginning to fence a bit,
for I thought I saw what he was driving at,
"that depends on circumstances."
" No, no," said he, " I want a short answer.
We've nothing to do with circumstances. Sup-
pose there were no circumstances in the world,
and only two men with heads to be broken ? "
" Well, then, Sir," said I, " I suppose the one
118 THE SCOURING OF
who doesn't mind having his head broken, must
be the best man."
" Hah, hah ! " laughed Joe, " that puts me in
mind of old Ben Thomson last feast. When
he threw up his hat on the stage, he said he
could get his pint of beer any day for tuppence,
but it wasn't every day as he could get his pint
of beer and a broken head too for the same
money."
" Oh, but Mr. Warton " broke in Miss
Lucy.
" Now, you were not to say a word, you
know," said he.
" But Joe began, Sir."
" Joseph, hold your tongue."
" Very well, Sir," said Joe, grinning.
" Then we come to this," said he to me,
" a man must have just the same qualities to
win at backsword as to win a race ; and some-
thing else besides, which is good in itself ? "
" But, Sir," said I, " that doesn't meet the
point. What I say is, that backsword is a
game in which men are sure to lose their tem-
pers and become brutal."
" But don't they sometimes lose their tempers
in races ? " said he.
THE WHITE HOESE. 119
" Yes, sometimes, perhaps," said I, " but not
often."
" And sometimes they don't lose them at
backsword ? " said he.
" Well, perhaps not, Sir."
" Then it seems that all that can be said
against backsword is, that it is a harder trial
of the temper than other games. Surely that's
no reason for stopping it, but only for putting
it under strict rules. The harder the trial the
better. I'm sure that's good English sense."
I didn't quite know what to say, but Miss
Lucy broke in again.
" Oh, but Mr. Warton, did you ever see any
backsword play ? "
" Now, Miss Lucy, that is against law," said
he ; " but I don't mind answering. I never did,
and I dare say your champion never has."
"No, Sir," said I; "but though you may
have got the best of me, I don't believe you
really mean that you think us wrong."
" Would you, really, Sir, preach a sermon
now in favour of backsword play and wrest-
"ing?" asked Miss Lucy, with a long face.
" What's that got to do with it, Lucy ? "
broke in Joe. " We're not taDdng about preach-
120 THE SCOURING OF
ing sermons, but about what's right for coun-
try chaps to do at pastimes."
" Now, Joseph, I'm not going to ride off on
any hobby of yours besides, your sister's test
is right. Several of your clergy about here
have preached against these games, as was
their duty if they had considered the subject
well, and thought them wrong. I have never
thought much about the matter till to-night.
At present I think your clergy wrong. If I
hold to that belief I would preach it; for I
hope I never seriously say any thing in the
parlour which I wouldn't say in the pulpit."
Just then, the tall clock in the passage out-
side gave a sort of cluck, which meant half-
past nine o'clock, and Joe jumped up and
opened the door for the servants, and gave Mr.
Warton the prayer-book. And then as soon as
ever prayers were over, he bustled his mother
and sister off to bed, though I could see that
Miss Lucy wasn't half satisfied in her mind
about the backsword play and wrestling, and
wanted to stay and hear something more from
Mr. Warton. But Joe is always in a hurry for
his pipe when half-past nine strikes, so we all
had to humour him, and Mr. Warton and I went
with him into the kitchen to smoke our pipes.
THE WHITE HORSE. 121
CHAPTER V.
Now when we had fairly lighted up, and
Joe had mixed us a glass of gin and water
a piece, I felt that it was a very good time for
me to have a talk about the White Horse and
the scourings. I wasn't quite satisfied in my
mind with all that the old gentleman had told
me on the hill ; and, as I felt sure that Mr.
Warton was a scholar, and would find out di-
rectly if there was any thing wrong in what I
had taken down, I took out my note-book, and
reminded Joe that he had promised to listen to
it over his pipe. Joe didn't half like it, and
wanted to put the reading off, but Mr. Warton
was very good-natured about it, and said he
should like to hear it so it was agreed that I
should go on, and so I began. Joe soon was
dozing, and every now and then woke up with
a jerk, and pretended he had been listening,
and made some remark in broad Berkshire. He
122 THE SCOURING OF
always talks much broader when he is excited,
or half asleep, than when he is cool and has all
his wits about him. But I kept on steadily till
I had got through it all, and then Mr. Warton
said he had been very much interested, and
believed that all I had taken down was quite
correct.
" What put it into your head," said he, " to
take so much interest in the Horse ? "
" I don't know, Sir," said I, " but somehow
I can't think of any thing else now I have
been up there and heard about the battle."
This wasn't quite true, for I thought more of
Miss Lucy, but I couldn't tell him that.
" When I was curate down here, said he, " I
was bitten with the same maggot. Nothing
would serve me but to find out all I could
about the Horse. Now, Joe here, who's fast
asleep "
" No, he bean't," said Joe starting, and giv-
ing a pull at his pipe, which had gone out.
" Well, then, Joe here, who is wide awake,
and the rest, who were born within sight of
him, and whose fathers fought at Ashdown, and
have helped to scour him ever since, don't care
half so much for him as we strangers do."
THE WHITE HOESE. 123
" Oh ! I dwon't allow that, mind you," said
Joe ; " I dwon't know as I cares about your
long-tailed words and that ; but for keeping the
Horse in trim, and as should be, why, I be
ready to pay "
" Never mind how much, Joseph."
Joe grinned, and put his pipe in his mouth
again. I think he liked being interrupted by
the Parson.
"As I was saying, I found out ah 1 I could
about the Horse, though it was little enough,
and I shall be very glad to tell you all I know."
" Then, Sir," said I, may I ask you any ques-
tions I have a mind to ask you about it ?."
" Certainly," said he ; " but you mustn't ex-
pect to get much out of me."
" Thank you, Sir," said I. "A thousand years
seems a long time, Sir, doesn't it ? Now, how
do we know that the Horse has been there all
that time ? "
"At any rate," said he, "we know that the
Hill has been called, ' White Horse Hill,' and
the Vale, the 'Vale of White Horse,' ever since
the time of Henry the First ; for there are car-
tularies of the Abbey of Abingdon in the Brit-
ish Museum which prove it. So, I think, we may
124 THE SCOURING OF
assume that they were called after the figure,
and that the figure was there before that time."
" I'm very glad to hear that. Sir," said I. "And
then about the scourings and the pastime ?
They must have been going on ever since the
Horse was cut out ? "
" Yes, I think so," said he. " You have got
quotations. there from Wise's letter, written in
1736. He says that the scouring was an old
custom in his time. Well, take his authority
for the fact up to that time, and I think I can
put you in the way of finding out something,
though not much, about most of the Scourings
which have been held since."
And he was as good as his word ; for he took
me about after the pastime to some old men in
the neighbouring parishes, from whom I found
out a good deal that I have put down in this
chapter. And the Squire, too, when Joe told
him what I was about, helped me.
Now I can't say that I have found out all the
Scourings which have been held since 1736, but
I did my best to make a correct list, and this
seems to be the proper place to set it all down.
Well, the first Scouring, which I could find
out any thing about, was held in 1755, and all
THE WHITE HORSE. 125
the sports then seem to have been pretty much
the same as those of the present day. But
there was one thing which happened which
could not very well have happened now. A
fine dashing fellow, dressed like a gentleman,
got on to the stage, held his own against all the
old gamesters, and in the end won the chief
prize for backsword-play, or cudgel-play, as
they used to call it.
While the play was going on there was plenty
of talk as to who this man could be, and some
people thought they knew his face. As soon as
he had got the prize he jumped on his horse,
and rode off. Presently, first one, and then an-
other, said it was Tim Gibbons, of Lambourn,
who had not been seen for some years, though
strange stories had been afloat about him.
It was the Squire who told me the story
about Tim Gibbons ; but he took me to see an
old man who was a descendant of Tim's, and
so I think I had better give his own account of
his ancestor and his doings. We found the old
gentleman, a hale, sturdy old fellow, working
away in a field at Woolstone, and, as near as I
could get it, this was what he had to say about
the Scouring of 1755 :
126 THE SCOURING OF
Squire. " Good morning, Thomas. How
about the weather? Did the White Horse
smoke his pipe this morning?"
Thos. " Mornin', Sir. I didn't zee as 'a did.
I allus notices he doos it when the wind blaws
moor to th' east'ard. I d'wont bode no rain to
day, Sir."
Squire. " How old are you, Thomas ? "
Thos. " Seventy year old this Christmas, Sir.
I wur barn at Woolstone, in the hard winter,
when I've heard tell as volks had to bwile their
kettles wi' the snaw."
Squire. " I want to know something about
your family, Thomas."
Thos. " Well, Sir, I bean't no ways ashamed
of my family, I can assure 'ee. I've a got two
zons, and vour daaters. One on 'em, that's my
oldest bwoy, Sir, wur all droo' the Crimee wars,
and never got a scratch. In the Granadier
Guards, Sir, he be. A uncommon sprack *
chap, Sir, though I says it, and as bowld as a
lion ; only while he wur about our village wi'
t'other young chaps, he must allus be a fighting.
But not a bad-tempered chap, Sir, I assure 'ee.
Then, Sir"
* " Sprack," sprightly.
THE WHITE HORSE. 127
Squire. " But, Thomas, I want to know
about those that came before you. What re-
lation was Timothy Gibbons, whom I've heard
folks talk about, to you ? "
" Thos. " I suppose as you means my great-
grandvather, Sir."
Squire. " Perhaps so, Thomas. Where did
he live, and what trade did he follow ? "
Thos. " I'll tell 'ee, Sir, all as I knows ; but
somehow, vather and mother didn't seem to like
to talk to we bwoys about 'un."
Squire. " Thank 'ee, Thomas. Mind, if he
went wrong it's all the more credit to you, who
have gone straight ; for there isn't a more hon-
est man in the next five parishes."
Thos. " I knows your meanings good, and
thank 'ee kindly, Sir, tho' I be no schollard.
Well, Timothy Gibbons, my great grandvather,
you see, Sir, foller'd blacksmithing at Lam-
bourn, till he took to highway robbin', but I
can't give 'ee no account o' when or wher.'
Arter he'd been out, may be dree or vour year,
he and two companions cum to Baydon ; and
whilst hiding theirselves and baiting their hosses
in a barn, the constables got ropes round the barn-
yard and lined 'em in. Then all dree drawed
128 THE SCOURING OF
cuts * who was to go out fust and face the
constables. It fell to Tim's two companions
to go fust, but their hearts failed 'em, and
they wouldn't go. So Tim cried out as ' he'd
she-Cv 'em what a Englishman could do,' and
mounted his hos and drawed his cutlash, and
cut their lines a-two, and galloped off clean
away ; but I understood as t'other two was
took. Arter that, may be a year or two, he
cum down to a pastime on White Hos Hill,
and won the prize at backswording ; and when
he took his money, fearing lest he should be
knowed, he jumped on his hos under the stage,
and galloped right off, and I don't know as he
ever cum again to these parts. Then I've un-
derstood as things throve wi' 'un, as 'urn will at
times, Sir, wi' thay sort o' chaps, and he and
his companions built the Inii called 'the Mag-
pies,' on Hounslow Heath ; but I dwon't know
as ever he kep' the house hisself, except it med
ha' been for a short while. Howsomever, at
last he was took drinking at a public-house,
someweres up Hounslow way, wi' a companion
who played a cross wi' 'un, and I b'live 'a was
hanged at Newgate. But I never understood
* " Draw cuts," to draw lots.
THE WHITE HOKSE. 129
as he killed any body, Sir, and a'd used to gie
some o' the money as he took to the poor, if he
knowed they was in want."
Squire. " Thank'ee, Thomas. What a pity
he didn't go soldiering ; he might have made a
fine fellow then ! "
Thos. "Well, Sir, so t'wur, I thinks. Our
fam'ly be given to that sort o' thing. I wur a
good hand at elbow and collar wrastling myself,
afore I got married ; but then I gied up all that,
and ha' stuck to work ever sence."
Squire. " Well, Thomas, you've given me
the story I wanted to hear, so it's fair I should
give you a Sunday dinner."
Thos. " Lord love 'ee, Sir, I never meant
nothin' o' that sort; our fam'ly"
We were half-way across the field, when I
looked round, and saw old Thomas still looking
after us and holding the Squire's silver in his
hand, evidently not comfortable in his mind at
having failed in telling us all he had to say
about his fam'ly, of which he seemed as proud
as any duke can be of his, and I dare say has
more reason for his pride than many of them.
At last, however, as we got over the stile, he
pocketed the affront and went on with his work.
6*
130 THE SCOURING OF
I could find out nothing whatever about the
next Scouring ; but I was lucky enough to get
the printed hand-bill which was published before
the one in 1776, which I made out to be the
next but one after that at which Tim Gibbons
played.
When I showed this old hand-bill to the Par-
son he was very much tickled. He took up the
one which the Committee put out this last time,
and looked at them together for a minute, and
then tossed them across to me.
" What a queer contrast," said he, " between
those two bills."
" How do you mean, Sir ? " said I ; " why
the games seem to be nearly the same."
" So they are," said he ; " but look at the
prizes. Our great grandfathers, you'll see, gave
no money prizes ; we scarcely any others. The
gold-laced hat and buckskin breeches have gone,
and current coin of the realm reigns supreme.
Then look at the happy-go-lucky way in which
the old bill is put out. No date given, no name
signed ! who was responsible for the breeches,
or the shoe-buckles? A.nd then, what gram-
mar ! The modern bill, you see, is in the shape
of resolutions, passed at a meeting, the chair-
THE WHITE HORSE. * 131
man's name being appended as security for the
prizes."
" That seems much better and more business-
like," said I.
" Then you see the horserace for a silver cup
has disappeared," he went on. " Epsom and
Ascot have swallowed up the little country
races, just as big manufacturers swallow up
little ones, and big shops whole streets of little
shops, and nothing but monsters flourish in this
age of unlimited competition and general en-
lightenment. Not that I regret the small coun-
try town-races, though."
" And I see, Sir, that { smocks to be run for
by ladies,' is left out in the modern bill."
" A move in the right direction there, at any
rate," said he ; " the bills ought to be published
side by side." So I took his advice, and here
they are :
"WHITE HOESE HILL, PASTIME.
BERKS, 1776.*
To be held on the occasion of tlie
Scouring of the White Horse,
" The scowering and cleansing September ITth and 18th, 1857.
of the White Horse is fixed for
Monday the 27th day of May ; oa At a meeting held at the Craven
which day a Silver Cup will be Arms, Uffington, on the 20th day
# This hand-bill was kindly given me by H. Godwin, Esq., of
Newburv.
132
THE SCOURING OF
ran for near White Horse Hill, by
any horse, &c. that never run for
any thing, carrying 11 stone, the
best of 3 two-mile heats, to start
at ten o'clock.
" Between the heats will be run
for by Poneys, a Saddle, Bridle,
and Whip; the best of three two-
mile heats, the winner of 2 heats
will be entitled to the Saddle, the.
second best the Bridle, and the
third the Whip.
" The same time a Thill har-
ness will be run for by Cart-
horses, &c. in their harness and
bells, the carters to ride in smock
frocks without saddles, crossing
and jostling, but no whipping
allowed.
" A flitch of Bacon to be run
for by asses.
" A good Hat to be run for by
men in sacks, every man to bring
his own sack.
" A Waistcoat, 10s. 6d value,
to be given to the person who
shall take a bullet out of a tub
of flour with his mouth in the
shortest time.
" A Cheese to be run for down
the White Horse Manger.
" Smocks to be run for by la-
dies, the second best of each prize
to be entitled to a Silk Hat.
" Cudgel-playing for a gold-laced
Hat and a pair of buckskin
Breeches, and Wrestling for a.
pair of silver Buckles and a pair
of pumps.
" The horses to be on the White
Horse Hill by nine o'clock.
of August, 1857, the following re-
solutions (amongst others) were
passed iinanimously :
First. That a pastime be held
on the White Horse
Hill, on Thursday and
Friday, the 17th and
18th of September, in
accordance with the
old custom at the time
of " The Scouring of
the Horse."
2dly. That E. Martin Atkins,
Esq. of Kingston Lisle,
be appointed Treas-
urer.
3dly. That prizes be awarded
for the following games
and sports, That is to
say
Backsword (Old gamesters, 8.
Play. | Young gamesters, 4.
Wrestling. Old S amesters ^'
| Young gamesters, 4.
A jingling match.
Foot races.
Hurdle races.
Race of cart-horses in Thill har-
ness (for a new set of harness).
Donkey race(for a flitch of bacon).
Climbing pole (for a leg of mut-
ton).
Races down " the Manger," (for
cheeses.)
A pig will be turned out on the
clown, to be the prize of the man
who catches him (under certain
regulations); and further prizes
will be awarded for other games
and sports as the funds will allow.
THE WHITE HORSE. 133
" No less than four horses, &c. 4thly. That no person be
or asses, to start for any of the allowed to put up or
above prizes." use a stall or booth on
the ground, without
the previous sanction
of Mr. Sptickman,
of Bridgecombe Farm,
[the occupier,] who is
hereby authorized to
make terms with any
person wishing to put
up a stall or booth.
Signed, E. MARTIN ATKINS,
Chairman.
Then came a Scouring on Whit- Monday,
May 15, 1780, and of the doings on that
occasion, there is the following notice in the
"Reading Mercury" of May 22, 1780:
" The ceremony of scowering and cleansing
that noble monument of Saxon antiquity, the
White Horse, was celebrated on Whit-Monday,
with great joyous festivity. Besides the cus-
tomary diversions of horseracing, foot-races,
&c. many uncommon rural diversions and feats
of activity were exhibited to a greater number
of spectators than ever assembled on any for-
mer occasion. Upwards of thirty thousand per-
sons were present, and amongst them most of
the nobility and gentry of this and the neigh-
bouring counties ; and the whole was con-
cluded without any material accident. The
134 THE SCOURING OF
origin of this remarkable piece of antiquity is
variously related ; but most authors describe it
as a monument to perpetuate some signal vic-
tory, gained near the spot, by some of our most
ancient Saxon princes. The space occupied by
this figure is more than an acre of ground."
I also managed to get a list of the games,
which is just the same as the one of 1776,
except that in addition there was " a jingling-
match by eleven blindfolded men, and one un-
masked and hung with bells, for a pair of buck-
skin breeches."
The Parson found an old man, William
Townsend by name, a carpenter at Woolstone,
whose father, one Warman Townsend, had run
down the manger after the fore-wheel of a
wagon, and won the cheese at this Scouring.
He told us the story as his father had told it
to him, how that " eleven on 'em started, and
amongst 'em a sweep chimley and a millurd ;
and the millurd tripped up the sweep chimley
and made the zoot flee a good 'un;" and how
'.' the wheel ran pretty nigh down to the springs
that time," which last statement the Parson
seemed to think couldn't be true. But old
Townsend knew nothing about the other sports.
THE WHITE HORSE. 135
Then the next Scouring was held in 1785, and
the Parson found several old men who could
remember it when they were very little. The
one who was most communicative was old
William Ayres of Uffington, a very dry old
gentleman, about eighty-four years old :
" When I wur a bwoy about ten years old,"
said he, " I remembers I went up White Hoss
Hill wi' my vather to a pastime. Vather'd
brewed a barrel o' beer to sell on the Hill a
deal better times then than now, Sir ! "
" Why, William ? " said the Parson.
" Augh ! bless'ee, Sir, a man medn't brew and
sell his own beer now ; and oftentimes he can't
get nothin' fit to drink at thaay little beer-houses
as is licensed, nor at some o' the public-houses
too for that matter. But 'twur not only for
that as the times wur better then, you see,
Sir "
" But about the sports, William ? "
" Ees Sir, I wur gandering sure enough,"
said the old man ; " well now, there wur Varrner
Mifflin's mare run for and won a new cart sad-
dle and thill-tugs the mare's name wur Duke.
As many as a dozen or moor horses run, and
they started from Idle's Bush, which wur a vine
136 THE SCOURING OF
owld tharnin'-tree in thay days a very nice
bush. They started from Idle's Bush, as I tell
'ee, Sir, and raced up to the Rudge-waay; and
Varmer Mifflin's mare had it all one way, and
beat all the t'other on 'um holler. The pas-
time then wur a good 'un a wunderful sight
o' volk of all sorts, rich and poor. John Morse
of Uffington, a queerish sort of a man, grinned
agin another chap droo' hos collars, but John
got beaat a fine bit of spwoort to be shure,
Sir, and made the folks laaf. Another geaam
wur to bowl a cheese down the Mainger, and
the first as could catch 'un had 'un. The cheese
was a tough 'un and held together."
" Nonsense, William, that's impossible," broke
in the Parson.
" Augh Sir, but a did though, I assure 'ee,"
persisted William Ayres, " but thaay as tasted
'un said a warn't very capital arter all."
" I daresay," said the Parson, " for he couldn't
have been made of any thing less tough than
ash pole."
" Hah, hah, hah," chuckled the old man, and
went on.
" There wur running for a peg too, and they
as could ketch 'un and hang 'un up by the tayl,
THE WHITE HORSE. 137
had 'un. The girls, too, run races for smocks
a deal of pastime, to be sure, Sir. There wur
climmin' a grasy pole for a leg of mutton, too ;
and backsoordin', and wrastlin', and all that,
ye knows, Sir. A man by the name of Black-
ford, from the low countries, Zummersetshire,
or that waay some weres, he won the prize,
and wur counted the best hand for years arter,
and no man couldn't break his yead ; but at
last, nigh about twenty years arter, I'll warn*
'twur at Shrin'um Revel, Harry Stanley, the
landlord of the Blawin' Stwun, broke his yead,
and the low-country men seemed afeard o'
Harry round about here for long arter that.
Varmer Small-bwones of Sparsholt, a mazin'
stout man, and one as scarce no wun go where
'a would could drow down, beaat all the low-
country chaps at wrastlin', and none could stan'
agean 'un. And so he got the neam o' Varmer
Greaat Bwones. 'Twur only when he got a
drap o' beer a leetle too zoon, as he wur ever
drowed at wrastlin', but they never drowed 'un
twice, and he had the best men come agean 'un
for miles. This wur the first pastime as I well
remembers, but there med ha' been some afore,
* " Warn," contraction of the word " warrant."
138 THE SCOURING OF
for all as I knows. I ha' got a good memo-
randum, Sir, and minds things well when I
wur a bwoy, that I does. I ha' helped to dress
the White Hoss myself, and a deal o' work
'tis to do't as should be, I can asshure 'ee, Sir.
About Claay Hill, 'twixt Fairford and Ziziter,
I've many a time looked back at 'un, and 'a
looks as nat'ral as a pictur, Sir."
Between 1785 and 1803 there must have
been at least two Scourings, but somehow
none of the old men could remember the
exact years, and they seemed to confuse them
with those that came later on, and though I
looked for them in old county papers, I could
not find any notice of them.
At the Scouring of 1803, "Beckingham of
Baydon won the prize at wrestling; Flowers
and Ellis from Somersetshire won the prize at
backsword play ; the waiter at the Bell Inn,
Farringdon, won the cheese race, and at jump-
ing in sacks ; and Thomas Street, of Niton,
won the prize for grinning through horse col-
lars, " but," as my informant told me, " a man
from Woodlands would ha' beaat, only he'd
got no teeth. This geaam made the congrega-
tion laaf 'mazinly."
THE WHITE HORSE. 139
Then came a Scouring in 1808, at which
the Hanney men came down in a strong body
and made sure of winning the prize for wrest-
ling. But all the other gamesters leagued
against them, and at last their champion,
Belcher, was thrown by Fowler of Baydon ;
both these men are still living. Two men,
" with very shiny top-boots, quite gentlemen,
from London," won the prize for backsword
play, one of which gentlemen was Shaw, the
life-guardsman, a Wiltshire man himself as I
was told, who afterwards died at Waterloo
after killing so many cuirassiers. A new prize
was given at this pastime and a very black-
guard one, viz : a gallon of gin or half a guinea
for the woman who would smoke most tobacco
in an hour. Only two gypsy women entered,
and it seems to have been a very abominable
business, but it is the only instance of the sort
that I could hear of at any Scouring.
The old men disagree as to the date of the
next Scouring, which was either in 1812 or
1813 ; but I think in the latter year, because
the clerk of Kingstone Lisle, an old Peninsula
man, says that he was at home on leave in
this year, and that there was to be a Scour-
140 THE SCOURING OF
ing. And all the people were talking about
it when he had to go back to the wars. At
this Scouring there was a prize of a loaf made
out of a bushel of flour, for running up the
manger, which was won by Philip New, of
Kingstone-in-the-Hole ; who cut the great loaf
into pieces at the top, and sold the pieces for
a penny a piece. I am sure he must have de-
served a great many pennies for running up
that place, if he really ever did it ; for I would
just as soon undertake to run up the front of
the houses in Holborn. The low country men
won the first backsword prize, and one Ford)
of Ashbury, the second ; and the Baydon men,
headed by Beckingham, Fowler, and Break-
spear, won the prize for wrestling. One Henry
Giles (of Hanney, I think they said) had
wrestled for the prize, and I suppose took too
much beer afterwards ; at any rate, he fell into
the canal on his way home and was drowned.
So the jury found, " Killed at wrastlin' ; "
" though," as my informant said, " 'twur a
strange thing for a old geamster as knew all
about the stage, to be gettin' into the water
for a bout. Hows'mever, Sir, I hears as they
found it as I tells 'ee, and you med see it any
THE WHITE HORSE. 141
day as you've a mind to look in the parish
register."
Then I couldn't find that there had been
another Scouring till 1825, but the one which
took place in that year seems by all accounts
to have been the largest gathering that there
has ever been. The games were held at the
Seven Barrows, which are distant two miles
in a southeasterly direction from the White
Horse, instead of in Uffington Castle ; but I
could not make out why. These seven bar-
rows, I heard the Squire say, are probably the'
burial-places of the principal men who were
killed at Ashdown, and near them are other
long irregular mounds, all full of bones huddled
together anyhow, which are very likely the
graves of the rank and file.
After this there was no Scouring till 1838,
when, on the 19th and 20th of September, the
old custom was revived, under the patronage
of Lord Craven. The Reading Mercury con-
gratulates its readers on the fact, and adds
that no more auspicious year could have been
chosen for the revival, " than that in which
our youthful and beloved Queen first wore the
British crown, and in which an heir was born
142 THE SCOURING OF
to the ancient and noble house of Craven,
whom God preserve." I asked the Parson if
he knew why it was that such a long time
had been let to pass between the 1825 Scour-
ing and the next one.
" You see it was a transition time," said he ;
" old things were passing away. What with
Catholic Emancipation, and Reform, and the
new Poor Law, even the quiet folk in the
Vale had no time or heart to think about pas-
times ; and machine-breaking and rick-burn-
ing took the place of wrestling and backsword
play."
" But then, Sir," said I, " this last fourteen
years we haven't had any Reform Bill (worse
luck) and yet there was no Scouring between
1843 and 1857."
" Why can't you be satisfied with my rea-
son ? " said he ; " now you must find one out
for yourself."
The last Scouring, in September, 1843, Joe
had been at himself, and told me a long story
about, which I should be very glad to repeat,
only I think it would rather interfere with my
own story of what I saw myself. The Berk-
shire and Wiltshire men, under Joe Giles of
THE WHITE HORSE. 143
Shrivenham, got the better of the Somerset-
shire men, led by Simon Stone, at backsword
play ; and there were two men who came down
from London, who won the wrestling prize away
from the countrymen. " What I remember best,
however," said Joe, " was all the to-do to get
the elephant's caravan up the hill, for Womb-
well's menagerie came down on purpose for the
Scouring. I should think they put-to & matter
of four-and-twerity horses, and then stuck fast
four or five times. I was a little chap then but
I sat and laughed at 'em a good one ; and
I don't know that I've seen so foolish a job
since."
" I don't see why, Joe," said I.
" You don't ? " said he, " well, that's good,
too. Why didn't they turn the elephant out and
make him pull his own caravan up ? He would
have been glad to do it, poor old chap, to get a
breath of fresh air, and a look across the vale."
But now that I have finished all that I have
to tell about the old Scourings, (at least all that
I expect any body will read,) I must go back
again to the kitchen on the night of the 16th of
September, 1857. Joe, who, as I said, was half
144 THE SCOURING OF
asleep while I was reading, soon waked up after-
wards, though it was past eleven o'clock, and
began to settle how we were to go up the hill
the next morning.
" Now I shall ride the chestnut up early," said
he, " 'cause I may be wanted to help the Squire
and the rest, but it don't matter for the rest of
you. I'll have a saddle put on my old brown
horse, and he'll be quiet enough, for he has been
at harvest work, and the four-wheel must come
up with Lu somehow. Will you ride or drive,
Sir ? " said he, turning to the Parson.
" Oh, I don't mind ; whichever is most con-
venient," said Mr. Warton.
" Did'st ever drive in thy life, Dick ? " said
Joe to me.
I was very near saying " yes," for I felt
ashamed of not being able to do what they
could ; however, I told the truth, and said " no ; "
and next minute I was very glad I had, for,
besides the shame of telling a lie, how much
worse it would have been to be found out by
Miss Lucy in the morning, or to have had an
upset or some accident.
So it was settled that Mr. Warton should
drive the four-wheel, and that I should ride the
THE WHITE HORSE. 145
old horse. I didn't think it necessary to say
that I had never ridden any thing but the don-
keys on Hampstead Heath, and the elephant in
the Zoological Gardens. And so, when all was
settled, we went to bed.
146 THE SCOURING OF
CHAPTER VI.
NEXT morning I got up early, for I wasn't
quite easy in my mind about riding Joe's old
horse, and so I thought I would just go round
and look at him, and ask the fogger something
about his ways. It was a splendid morning,
not a cloud to be seen. I found the fogger
strapping away at the horses. Everybody had
been up and about since daylight, to get their
day's work done, so that they might get away
early to the pastime. All the cows had been
milked and turned out again, and Joe was away
in the fields, looking after his men.
I stood beating about the bush for some time,
for I didn't want to let the man see what I was
thinking of if I could help it. However, when
he brought out the old brown horse to clean
him down, I went up and patted him, and
asked whether he was a good saddle horse.
" Ees, there warn't much fault to find \vi'
v THE WHITE HORSE. 147
un," said the fogger, stopping his hissing and
rubbing for a moment, " leastways for them as
didn't mind a high goer."
I didn't quite know what he meant by a high
goer, so I asked him if the brown was up to
my weight.
" Lor' bless 'ee, ees. He'd make no account
o' vivteen stun. Be you to ride un up the hill,
Sir, make so bold ? " said he.
" Yes, at least I think so," said I.
" Hev 'ee got arra loose tooth, Sir ? " said he,
grinning.
No," said I, " why ? "
"'Cause he'll be as likely as not to shake n
out for 'ee, Sir, if you lets un hev his head up
on the downs."
I didn't like this account of the brown horse,
for as I hadn't ridden much, he might take his
head perhaps whether I let him have it or not.
So I made up my mind not to ride. I thought
I would go behind in the four-wheel, for I didn't
like to leave Miss Lucy all alone with the Parson
for so long ; but then I found out that one of
the carter-boys was to go behind to look after
the horses, and I didn't choose to be put up side
by side with him, to look ridiculous. There
148 THE SCOUE1NG OF
was a big wagon going up, too, full of the farm
servants, but that didn't seem to suit me any
better, so I settled with myself that I would
just start and walk up.
Joe, lucidly for me, thought he had settled
every thing, and so at breakfast said nothing
more about the old horse ; though I was afraid
he would every minute, and then I should have
had to pretend I was going to ride, or they
might have found out that I didn't quite like the
notion. I was very glad when I saw him fairly
off after breakfast, cantering away on the chest-
nut; and, very soon afterwards, I took a good
stout stick of Joe's in my hand, put my note-
book in my pocket, and started off quietly by
myself.
At first as I walked along I didn't enjoy my-
self much for thinking of the four-wheel, and I
was almost getting jealous of the Parson again.
But I soon got over it, when I remembered how
kind he had been the night before. And I felt,
too, that if he really was making up to her
there was very little chance for me, so I had
better make up my mind anyhow to see and
enjoy every thing I could. I don't think I was
very much in love at the time ; if it had been
THE WmTE HORSE. 149
a week later I should have found it much
harder perhaps.
I kept along the shady side of the road, for it
was getting hot already, and crossed the canal,
and kept making up towards the hills. I wasn't
sure of the way, but I knew that if once I got
up the hill I should find the Ridgeway, and
could follow it all the way up to the Castle.
After a bit I fell in with groups of people, all
going the same way ; and so, following on with
them, after about an hour's walk, I came to the
foot of the hills ; and found a pretty little inn,
standing back from the road, nestled into a
plantation, where everybody else seemed to be
stopping; and so I stopped too, and sat down
on the bench before the door to have a glass of
beer before facing the pull up to the top.
In front of the door was an oak tree, and
under the tree a big stone with some curious
holes in it, into which pieces of wood were
fitted, secured by a padlock and chain. I was
wondering what it could be, when the landlord
came out with some of his guests, and pulling
out a key unlocked the padlock, and took the
pieces of wood out of the holes. Then there
was some talk between the young men and
150 THE SCOURING OF
their sweethearts, and first one and then an-
other stooped down and blew into the hole at
the top, and the stone made a dull moaning
sound, unlike any thing I had ever heard. The
landlord told me that when it was well blown
on a still day, it could be heard for four or five
miles, and I should think it could ; for I left
them blowing away when I started again, and
heard the sound every now and then until I was
close up to the Castle, though the wind blew
from the south, and down the hill.
I should think a dozen parties, in all sorts of
odd go-carts and other vehicles, or on foot, must
have passed the Blowing-Stone in the ten min-
utes which I spent on the bench. So I got
quite eager to be up at the Castle, and paid for
my beer and started again. It is a very long
stiff pull up Blowing-Stone Hill, and the road is
not a very good one ; so I soon began to pass
the gigs and carts, most of which had to stop
every hundred yards or so, to let the horses and
donkeys get their wind. Half-way up, in the
worst part of the hill, I found an old huckster-
ing woman and a boy in great trouble. They
had a little cart laden with poles and boards for
a stall, and two great sacks of nuts and sweet-
THE WHITE HORSE. 151
stuff; and only one donkey in the shafts, who
had got one wheel of the cart into a deep chalk
rut, and stood there like a post. The woman
and boy were quite beat with dragging at his
head, and trying to lift the wheel out of the rut,
and as I came up she was " fairly giving out."
Lawk-a-massy ! * how ever be I to scawt *
up? Do'ee lend a help, there's a good soul,"
said she to me.
" Well, I couldn't go by and leave her there,
though I didn't half like having to stop ; so I
helped to lift the wheel out, and then we pushed
the cart up a few yards, and the old donkey
tried to sidle it into another rut, and we had
another fight with him. My blood got up at
his obstinacy; I don't believe there ever was
another such a donkey in the world; so the
more he backed and sidled, the more I and the
old woman and the boy fought. And then the
people that passed us began to laugh and joke
at us, and I got very angry at them, and the old
woman, and everybody ; but I set my teeth, and
made up my mind to get him up to the top if I
stayed there all day.
I should think we must have been nearly
* " Scawt " to get up.
152 THE SCOURING OF
half an hour at work, and had got on about
three hundred yards or so, when a fine dog-cart
on high wheels came up. I heard the gentle-
men in it talking and laughing as they came
near us ; but I didn't look up, and kept work-
ing away at the donkey, for I was afraid they
would only joke at us.
" Oh deary me, deary me, Master Gaarge,
be that you?" I heard the old woman call
out ; " now do'ee stop some o' the chaps, and
tell 'em to help. I be nigh caddled to death wi'
this drattled old jackass^oh dear, oh dear!"
" Why, Betty ! what in the world are you
after?-" said a merry voice, \vhich I thought I
had heard before; and, looking up, I saw the
young gentleman who had promised me the
song.
" Oh, you see, Master Gaarge, I thought as
I might turn a honest penny if I could only
win up to the pastime wi' some nuts and
brandy-balls. So I loaned neighbour Tharne's
cart as he fetches coals from the canal wi',
and his ass and if 'twas Balaam's ass hisself
he couldn't be no wus and here I be ; and
if it hadn't a been for this kind gentleman"
" Well, stop your talk, Betty, and take hold
THE WHITE HORSE. 153
of his head," said he, jumping out of his dog-
cart and giving the reins to the one who was
beside him. " Ah, good morning." nodding to
me, as he came to the back of the cart, " now
then, with a will! shove away!"
So we shoved the cart hard against the don-
key's legs. " Don't pull, Betty, let him have
his head ; just keep hold of the reins. Look
out, boy; stop him making for the ditch;"
and away went Master Neddy scrambling up
hill, for he found that the cart was coming
over his back if he didn't move on. Master
George was as strong as a ballast heaver, and
the donkey seemed to find it out quick enough,
for we were up the hill in no time.
" Bless your kind heart, Master Gaarge ! "
almost sobbed the old woman ; "I be all
straight now. Do'ee hev summat to suck now,
or some nuts, and this kind gentleman too ;
you allus wur fond o' suck ; " and she began
untying the neck of one of her sacks.
" Oh, Betty, you wicked old lone woman ! "
said he, " haven't you made me ill often enough
with your nastinesses fifteen years ago ? "
" Dwont'ee, now, call 'em names, Master
Gaarge."
7*
154 THE SCOURING OF
" Good-bye, Betty, and make haste up to the
Castle before all the small boys are poisoned.
I can give you a lift, Sir," said he to me, " if
you'll jump up behind."
I thanked him, and got up behind, by the
side of one of the other young gentlemen, who
I thought didn't seern much to like having me
there ; and I felt very pleased, as we bowled
along the Ridgeway, passing all the people who
had been laughing at me and the donkey, that
they should see that I was in such good com-
pany, and should be up at the Castle before
any of them.
The whole Ridgeway was alive with holiday
folk, some walking with their coats and bonnets
off, some in great wagons, some in all sorts
of strange vehicles, such as I had never seen
before (many of which Master George declared
had been impressed by Alfred's commissariat
and hospital staff, in his wars against the Danes,
when they were strong young traps) ; but from
one and ah 1 there rose up a hum of broad Berk-
shire, and merry laughter, as we shot by them.
Sometimes a yeoman in his gig, or on his stout
hackney, would try to keep up with us, or to
stop us from passing him, but Master George
THE WHITE HORSE. 155
was a reckless driver, and somehow or another,
galloping or trotting, on the right side or the
wrong, he -would pass ; so in about ten minutes
we had got over the two miles of downs, and
were close up to the Castle.
Here the first thing I saw was Joe, with two
other farmers, carrying a lot of little white and
pink flags, and measuring ground.
" Please put me down, Sir," said I, " there's
my friend."
" Ah, yes," said Master George, pulling up,
" I see you're staying with Farmer Hurst.
Well, I'm much obliged to you for helping
poor old Betty she's a good struggling old
widow body in our village ; I've known her
ever since I could walk and suck. Good morn-
ing, Mr. Hurst; likely to be a good muster
to-day."
" Mornin', Sir," said Joe, touching his hat,
" I think so there's a smart lot of folk in the
Castle already."
" Well, I hope we may meet again," said
Master George to me, " I won't forget the song
for you,'' and away he drove towards the
Castle.
" Why, Dick man, where's the old horse ? "
156 THE SCOURING OF
said Joe, looking as if I had come from the
moon.
" Oh, I walked," said I, " I prefer it, when I
have time."
" Come own it, Dick," said he, " thou wast
ashamed of the old horse's long rough coat
I didn't think thou hadst been such a dandy."
" Upon my honour it was nothing of the
sort," said I, glad enough that he wasn't on
the right scent.
" And how did you get along with one of
our young squires?" said he.
" Oh, he offered me a lift," said I ; and then
I told him my story.
" "Well, you always seem to fall on your legs,"
said he ; " who are they with him ? "
" Oxford scholars, I think," said I, " from
their talk ; but I didn't get on much with them,
they're not so free spoken as he is." But what
are you about here, Joe ? "
" Oh, helping the umpires to measure out
the course for the cart-horse race ; " " look, there
are the flags right along for half a mile, and
the finish is to be up there by the side of the
Castle, for all the folk to see. But come along,
for I must be after the umpires ; I see they
want me."
THE WHITE HORSE. 157
" I think," said I, " I should like to go and
see what's going on in the Castle."
" Very good," said he, " then I'll look after
you when we've done this job;" and away he
went.
I wouldn't take time to go round by either
of the entrances, but made straight across to
the nearest point of the great earthworks, and
scrambled over the outer bank, and down into
the deep ditch, and up the inner bank, and
stood there on the top, looking down on all the
fun of the fair ; for fair it was already, though
it was very little past eleven o'clock in the
morning.
There was the double line of booths and
stalls which I had seen putting up the day
before, making a long and broad street, and
all decked out with nuts and apples, and ginger-
bread, and all sorts of sucks and food, and
children's toys, and cheap ribbons, knives,
braces, straps, and all manner of gaudy-look-
ing articles. Opposite, on the north side, all
the shows had got their great pictures up of
the wonders which were to be seen inside, and
the performers were strutting about on the
stages outside, and before one of them an aero-
158 THE SCOURING OF
bat was swinging backwards and forwards on
the slack rope, and turning head over heels at
the end of each swing. And every show had
its own music, if it were only a drum and pan
pipes, and all the musicians were playing, as
loud as they could play, different tunes. Then,
on the east side, were the great booths of the
publicans, ah 1 decked out now with flowers and
cheap flags, with their skittle-grounds behind;
and lots of gypsies, and other tramps, with their
"three sticks a penny," and other games. The
west side was only occupied, as I said before,
by the great white tent of the County Police,
where the Committee were sitting, and Lord
Craven's tents some way in front ; but these
looked pretty and gay now, for they had hoisted
some good flags ; and there in the middle stood
the great ugly stage, and the greasy pole. The
whole space was filled with all sorts of people,
from ladies looking as if they had just come
from Kensington Gardens, down to the ragged
little gypsy children, with brown faces and brick-
coloured hair, all moving about, and looking
very much as if they were enjoying themselves.
So after looking a minute, I got down into
the crowd, and set to work to see every thing
I could.
THE WHITE HORSE. 159
I hadn't been pushing about amongst the rest
above five minutes, when two men stopped
close by me, one (who was the Wantage crier,
I found out afterwards) with his hand full of
papers, and the other carrying a gong, which
he began to beat loud enough to deafen one.
When the crowd had come round him, the
crier began, and I should think he might have
been heard at Elm Close :
" Oh yes ! oh yes ! by order of the Committee,
all persons who mean to play for prizes, must
enter their names on the umpires' lists. Oh
yes ! oh yes ! the umpires' lists are open in the
tent, and names may be entered from now till
half-past twelve. Oh yes ! a list of the um-
pires for the different games and sports may be
seen on the board outside the tent-door. God
save the Queen ! "
As soon as he had done, he and the man
with the gong went off to another part of the
Castle, but I could see some of the men and
boys, who had been standing round, sidling off
towards the great tent to enter for some of the
games, as I guessed. 3o I followed across the
Castle to the space in front of the tent.
I could see, through the entrance, two or
160 THE SCOURING OF
three of the Committee sitting at a table, with
paper and pens and ink before them ; and every
now and then, from the little groups which were
standing about, some man would make a plunge
in, and go up to the table ; and, after a word or
two with them, would enter his name on one or
more of the lists, and then come out, sometimes
grinning, but generally looking as if he were
half ashamed of himself. I remarked more and
more through the day what a shy, shamefaced
fellow the real countryman was, while the gyp-
sies and racing boys and tramps, who entered
for the races, but not for the backsword or
wrestling prizes, were ah 1 as bold as brass,
and stood chattering away to the Committee-
men, till they were almost ordered out of the
tent.
I sat down on the turf outside the tent to
watch ; for I felt very much interested in the
games, and liked to see the sort of men who
came to enter. There were not many very stout
or tall men amongst them ; I should say they
averaged about eleven stone in weight, and five
feet eight inches in height ; but they looked a
very tough race ; and I could quite believe,
while looking at them, what Joe told me one
THE WHITE HORSE. 161
day " Though there's plenty of quicker men,
and here and there stronger ones, scarce any
man that ever comes down our way either at
navigator's work or loafing about, like the gyp-
sies and tramps can ever come up to our chaps
in last, whether at fighting or working."
There was one man amongst them who struck
me particularly, I suppose because he wore a
Crimean medal with four clasps, and went quite
lame on a crutch. I found out his history. Old
Mattingly, the blacksmith of Uffington, had
three sons when the Russian war broke out.
They all went for soldiers. The first was shot
through the hand, as that gray, deadly dawn
broke over Inkermann, on the 5th of November,
1854. Had he gone to the rear he would prob-
ably have lived. He fought till the last Russian
vanished along the distant road, and over the
bridge heaped with slain, like a gallant Berk-
shire lad and then went to hospital and died
of his wounds within a week. The second
lies before Sebastopol in the advanced trenches
of the right attack. The third, the young artil-
leryman, went through the whole war, and after
escaping bayonet and shot and shell, was kicked
by the horse of a wounded officer, and probably
1G2 THE SCOURING OF
lamed for life. According to the rules of the
service, my informant seemed to think, he was
not entitled to a pension for life, " but they had
given him one for eighteen months after his dis-
charge, so that he had almost a year of it to
run ; and perhaps he might learn blacksmith-
work in that time, if he could stand at all, for
that was mostly arm-work."
I didn't know what the regulations as to
pensions were, or how long young Mattingly
would take to learn blacksmith-work, but I did
feel rather ashamed that England couldn't afford
to do a little more for such as he ; and should
be glad for my part to pay something to-
wards it, if the Chancellor of the Exchequer,
or somebody, would find out a way to set this
right. Or perhaps if this should ever meet the
eye of the Commander-in- Chief, or of any of the
gentlemen who were made K.C.B's in the war-
time, or of any other person who has interest in
the army, they may see whether any thing more
can be done for young Mattingly.
Many of the younger ones I could see hadn't
made up their minds whether or no they should
enter, and were larking and pushing one an-
other about; and I saw several good trials of
THE WHITE HORSE. 163
strength, and got an idea of what the wrestling
was like before the lists were closed.
" Bi'st in for young geamsters prize at wrast-
lin', shepherd?" asked a young carter with
his hat full of ribbons, of a tight-made, neatly-
dressed fellow, who had already won a second
prize, I heard, at his village revel.
The shepherd nodded.
" Mose, mun," went on the carter, " thee
shouldst go in. Thee bi'st big enough."
Moses was an overgrown, raw-boned fellow,
of about eighteen, in a short smock-frock and
a parr of very dilapidated militia-trousers. He
had been turning the matter over in his own
mind for some time, and now, after looking the
shepherd over for a minute, pulled his great
hands out of his pockets, hunched up his shoul-
ders, and grunted out
" 'Zay ! Try a rile* wi' thee, shepherd."
The bystanders ah 1 cheered. Moses, the mili-
tiaman, was rather a joke to them. The shep-
herd looked scornful, but was ready to try a file ;
but he stipulated that Mose must borrow some
shoes instead of his great, iron-clouted high-
lows, (no man is allowed to wrestle, I found,
with any iron on his shoes.)
*" File "a Ml.
164 THE SCOURING OF
This seemed likely to stop the fun. Moses
pulled off his high -lows, and appeared in sinkers,*
at which everybody roared ; but no shoes were
to be had. Then he offered to wrestle without
shoes ; but at last a pair were found, and Moses
advanced with his great hands stretched out
towards the shepherd, who, not deigning to take
one hand out of his pocket, caught Mose's elbow
with the other. After one or two awkward at-
tempts, and narrowly escaping some well-meant
trips, Mose bored in ; and before the shepherd
could seize the militiaman's collar with his
second hand, over he went, and Mose was pro-
claimed winner of a file, amid shouts of laugh-
ter. Then they buckled to again, the shepherd
doing his best ; but somehow Mose managed to
keep his legs ; and when they went down, both
fell on their sides, and it was only a dog-fall.
In another minute I saw the militiaman in the
tent before the table.
" Plaze, Sur, put down Moses Tilling young
geamster wrastlin'."
After watching the tent till the lists were just
closing, I started off to see if I could find Miss
Lucy, who ought to have been up by this time,
* " Sinkers " stockings without feet.
THE WHITE HORSE. 165
and to get something to eat before the sports
began. The luncheon I managed easily enough,
for I went over to the great booth in which I
had dined the day before, and sat down at the
long table, where Peter welcomed me, and soon
gave me as much as I could eat and drink.
But when I had finished, and went out to look
for my friends, I found it a very difficult busi-
ness, and no wonder, for there were more than
20,000 people up on the Hill.
First I went to the outside of the Castle,
where all the carriages were drawn up in long
rows, to see if I could find the four-wheel
amongst them. As I was poking about, I came
close to a fine open carriage, and hearing a
shout of merry laughter, looked up. There
were a party at lunch; two ladies and some
quite young girls inside, some boys on the box,
and several gentlemen standing round, holding
bottles and sandwiches ; and they were all eat-
ing and drinking, and laughing at an old gypsy
woman, who was telling the fortune of one of
the ladies.
" Love '11 never break your heart, my pretty
lady," said the old woman ; " let the Norwood
gypsy see your hand, my pretty lady."
166 THE SCOURING OF
The lady held out her right hand, and the
little girls glanced at the lady, and one an-
other, brimming with fun.
" It's the other hand the gypsy ought to see.
Ah, well, then, never mind," she went on, as the
lady looked quietly in her face, without moving
a muscle, " the old Norwood gypsy can read it
all in your eyes. There's a dark gentleman,
and a light gentleman, who'll both be coming
before long ; there'll be sore hearts over it, but
the richest will win before a year's out "
Here the girls clapped their hands, and burst
into shouts, and the lady showed her other hand
with a wedding-ring on, and went on quietly
with her lunch.
" Ah ! " I never said she wasn't married ! " said
the gipsy to the girls, who only laughed the
more. I had got quite close up to the carriage,
and at this moment caught the eye of the lady,
who was laughing too ; then I felt awkward all
at once, and as if I was where I had no right to
be. But she didn't look the least annoyed, and
I was passing on, when I saw that Mr. Warton
was amongst the gentlemen on the other side of
the carriage. " Ah," thought I, " I wonder if
he '11 know me now he's with his fine friends? "
THE WHITE HORSE. 167
But the next minute I was ashamed of myself
for doubting, for I heard him wish them good-
bye, and before I was ten yards from the car-
riage, he put his arm in mine.
" Well, you never rode after all," he began
" No, Sir," said I. But where are they ? I
haven't seen Joe this two hours.
" Oh, not far off," said he ; " feeding, like the
rest of us."
And further down the line we found Joe, and
Miss Lucy, and several friends of theirs, lunch-
ing on the turf by the four-wheel. So we sat
down with them, but I didn't half like the way
in which Miss Lucy was running on with two
young farmers, one on each side of her. She
told me afterwards that she had known them
ever since they were children together, but some-
how that didn't seem to me to mend the matter
much. And then again, when Joe got up, and
said it was time to move, for the sports would
be just beginning, nothing would serve her but
to walk off to Wayland Smith's cave. I won-
der whether she did it a little bit to provoke
me ; for she knew that I had been to see it the
day before, and that I wanted particularly to see
all the sports. But I don't think it could have
168 THE SCOURING OF
been that after all, for when I said I should stay
with Joe, she was just as pleasant as ever, and
didn't seem to mind a bit whether I or any one
else went with her or not.
I am afraid I shall make a very poor hand at
telling about the sports, because I couldn't be in
five or six places at once ; and so I was kept
running about, from the stage in the middle of
the Castle out on to the downs to see the cart-
horse race, and then back again into the Castle
for the jingling match, and then out on the
other side to the manger for the cheese races,
and so on backwards and forwards ; seeing the
beginning of one sport, and the end of another,
and the middle of a third. I wish the Com-
mittee would let the sports begin earlier, and
then one might be able to see them all. How-
ever I must do the best I can, and just put down
what I saw myself.
The first move for the sports was made a
little before one, just as I got back into the
Castle, after seeing Miss Lucy start for Way-
land Smith's cave. The Committee came oui
of their tent in a body, each man carrying the
lists of the entries for the sports over which he
was to preside. But instead of going different
THE WHITE HORSE. 169
ways, each to his own business, they walked
across in a body to the stage, and stopped just
underneath it, in the middle of a great crowd
of men and boys ; and then they shouted for
silence, and the chairman spoke :
" We wish to say a few words, my men, to
those who are going to play with the sticks or
wrestle to-day. There has been a good deal of
talk about these sports, as you all know ; and
many persons think they shouldn't be allowed at
all now-a-days that the time for them has
gone by. They say, that men always lose their
tempers and get brutal at these sports. We
have settled, however, to give the old-fashioned
games a fair trial ; and it will rest with your-
selves whether we shall ever be able to offer
prizes for them again. For, depend upon it, if
there is any savage work to-day, if you lose
your tempers, and strike or kick one another
unfairly, you will never see any more wrestling
or backsword on White Horse Hill. But we
are sure we can trust you, and that there won't
be any thing to find fault with. Only remembei
again, you are on your trial, and the stage will
be cleared at once, and no prizes given, if any
170 THE SCOUKING OF
thing objectionable happens. And now, you
can put to as soon as you like."
The Committee then marched off, leaving a
very large crowd round the stage, all eager for
the play to begin.
The two umpires got up on to the stage, and
walked round, calling out, " Two old gamesters
at backsword, and two old gamesters at wrast-
lin', wanted to put to." But I suppose the
chairman's speech had rather taken the men by
surprise, for no one came forward, though there
was a crowd twenty deep round the stage.
" Who are the old gamesters ? " I asked of
the man next me.
" Them as has won or shared a first prize at
any revel," answered he, without looking round.
After a minute the chairman's brother, who
didn't seem to have much scruple about these
sports, jumped up on the stage, and blew an
old French hunting-horn, till the young ones
began to laugh ; and then told the men not to
be afraid to come up, for if they didn't begin at
once there wouldn't be light to play out the
ties.
At last there was a stir amongst the knot of
Somersetshire men, who stood together at one
THE WHITE HORSE. 171
corner of the stage ; and one of them, stepping
up, pitched on to it his stumpy black hat, and
then climbed up after it himself, spoke a word
to the umpires, and began handling the sticks,
to choose one which balanced to his mind,
while the umpires proclaimed, " An old game-
ster wanted, to play with John Bunn of Wed-
more."
" There he stands, you see," said Master
George, who was close by me, though I hadn't
seen him before, " the only remaining represen-
tative of the old challenger at tourneys ready
to meet all comers. He ought to have a herald
to spout out his challenge in verse. Why
not ? "
" I don't know what he could say more than
the umpire has, Sir," said I.
" He might blow his own trumpet at any
rate," said he ; " somehow thus ; " and he re-
peated, after a false start or two,
THE ZONG OF THE ZUMMERZETSHIRE OWLD
GEAMSTER.'
i.
" Cham* a Zummerzetshire mun
Coom her to hev a bit o'vun.
* " Cham " " I am," a form still used in parts of Somersetshire.
172 THE SCOURING OF
Oo'lt * try a bout ? I be'ant aveard
Ov any man or mother's zun.
" Cham a geamster owld and tough,
Well knowed droo all the country zide,
And many a lusty Barkshire man
To break my yead hev often tried.
" Who's vor a bout o vriendly plaay,
As never should to anger move ?
Zich spwoorts wur only meaned vor thaay
As likes their inazzards broke for love."
John Bunn looked by no means a safe man
to play with. He stood about five feet eleven,
with -spare long muscular limbs, a sallow com-
plexion, and thick shock head of black hair,
a good defence in itself against any common
blow of a stick. But now that the ice was
broken, his challenge was soon answered ; and
George Gregory, of Stratton, one of the best
mowers in the Vale, appeared to uphold the
honour of Berks and Wilts. He stood half a
head shorter than his opponent, but was, proba-
bly, the stronger man of the two, and had a
sturdy and confident look, which promised well,
* " Oo'lt "wilt thou.
THE WHITE HORSE. 173
and was fair-haired, and, like David, ruddy to
look upon.
While they were taking off coats and waist-
coats, and choosing sticks, two wrestlers got up
on the stage, and showed the shoes in which
they were going to wrestle to the umpires, for
approval ; and stood at the ropes, ready to begin
as soon as the first bout at backsword was over.
The crowd drew a long breath, while Bunn and
Gregory came forward, shook hands ; and then
throwing up their guards, met in the middle of
the stage.
At the first rattle of the sticks, the crowd be-
gan cheering again, and pressed in closer to the
stage ; and I with them, for it was very excit-
ing, that I felt at once. The coolness and reso-
lution in the faces of the two men, as they
struck and parried with those heavy sticks, try-
ing all the points of each other's play in a dozen
rapid exchanges ; the skill and power which
every turn of the wrist showed ; and the abso-
lute indifference with which they treated any
chance blow which fell on arm or shoulder,
made it really a grand sight ; and with all my
prejudices I couldn't help greatly admiring the
players. " Bout," cried Bunn, after a minute or
174 THE SCOURING OF
so, and down came their guards, and they
walked to the side of the stage to collect cop-
pers from the crowd below in the baskets of
their sticks, while the two first wrestlers put to
in the middle.
I suppose there are more unsettled points in
wrestling, or it is harder to see whether the men
are playing fair, for the crowd was much more
excited now than at the backsword play, a hun-
dred voices shouting to the umpires every mo-
ment to stop this or that practice. Besides,
the kicking, which is allowed at elbow and col-
lar wrestling, makes it look brutal very often ;
and so I didn't like it so much as the backsword
play, though the men were fine, good-tempered
fellows, and, when most excited, only seemed to
want what they called " fair doos."
I stopped by the stage until Gregory had lost
his head. How it happened I couldn't see, but
suddenly the umpires cried out " Blood ! " The
men stopped ; Gregory put up his hand to his
hair, found that the blood was really coming,
and then dropped his stick and got down, quite
as much surprised as I was. And two more old
gamesters were called up, the first head being
to Somersetshire.
THE WHITE HORSE. 175
But now I heard that the cart-horse race was
just coming off, and so following the crowd,
made my way across to the east of the Castle.
I scrambled up to the highest part of the
bank, and so got a capital view of the scene
below. The course was marked out all the
way down to the starting-post by rows of little
pink and white flags, and the Committee-men
were riding slowly up and down, trying to get the
people to keep back behind the flags. The line
was, on the whole, pretty well kept ; but as the
crowd got thicker every minute, every now and
then a woman with two or three children would
wander out to escape the pressure from behind ;
or a young couple keeping company would run
across, hoping to better their position ; or a lot
of uproarious boys would start out for a lark, to
try the tempers, and very possibly the whips, of
the Committee.
Joe presently rode by the place where I was
standing, and called out to me to come down
and see the mounting. So I slipped out of the
crowd, and ran down the back of the line to the
starting-place. There I found the Squire and
the umpires, passing the men and horses. Five
or six were all ready ; the great horses in their
176 THE SCOURING OF
thill harness, which jingled and rattled with
every movement ; and the carters perched up in
the middle of the wood and leather and brass,
in their white smock-frocks, with the brims of
their break-of-days turned up in front, and a
bunch of ribbons fluttering from the side, and
armed with the regular long cart-whip. Just as
I came up, Mr. Avery Whitfield's bay horse,
" King of the Isle," was passed, and took his
place with the others. He was one of the three
favourites, I heard people say.
" Call the next horse."
" Mr. Davenport's gray mare, Dairymaid,"
shouts the umpire. Here she comes with old
Joe Humphries, the jockey and horse breaker,
on her back. He is in full jockey costume
cap, jacket, and tops, with a racing whip and
spurs. The umpires look doubtfully at him,
and consult the Squire. At first they seem
inclined not to let Joe ride at all, but as the
owners of the other horses don't object, they
only insist on his taking off his spurs and chang-
ing his whip for a common long carter's whip.
Then Dairymaid is passed, and then one other
horse ; eight in all. Two of the Committee
gallop down in front to clear the course for the
THE WHITE HORSE. 177
last time ; the word " Off" is given ; and away
go the great steeds in furious plunging gallop,
making the whole hill shake beneath them, and
looking (as I heard one of the Oxford scholars
remark) like a charge of German knights in
some old etching. Close after them came the
umpires, the Committee-men, and all the mount-
ed farmers, cheering and shouting pieces of ad-
vice to the riders ; and the crowd,, as they pass,
shout and wave their hats, and then rush after
the horses. How everybody isn't killed, and
how those men can sit those great beasts in the
middle of that rattling mass of harness, were
my puzzles, as I scrambled along after the rest.
Meantime, in the race, Dairymaid shoots at
once some yards ahead, and improves her lead
at every stride ; for she is a famous mare, and
old Joe Humphries understands the tricks of the
course, and can push her and lift her in ways
unknown to the honest carters and foggers, who
come lumbering behind him Joe even has time
for a contemptuous glance over his shoulder at
his pursuers. But the race is not always to the
swift, at least not to those who are swiftest at
starting. Half-way up the course, Dairymaid
ceases to gain ; then she shows signs of dis-
8*
178 THE SCOURING OF
tress, and scarcely answers to Joe's persuasions.
" King of the Isle " is creeping up to her the
carter shakes his bridle, and begins to ply his
long cart-whip they are crossing the Ridge-
way, where stand the carter's fellow-servants,
Mr. Whitfield's fogger, shepherd, ploughboys,
&c. who set up a shout as he passes, which
sends the bay right up abreast of the rnare. No
wonder they are excited, for the master has
promised that the three guineas, the price of
the new thill harness, shall be divided between
them, if the bay wins.
In another fifty yards he is drawing ahead.
All old Joe's efforts are in vain ; his jockeyship
has only done him harm, whereas the carter's
knowledge of what his steed's real powers are,
has been the making of him, and he rides in,
brandishing his long cart-whip, an easy winner.
Dairymaid is second, but only just before the
ruck; and old Joe creeps away, let us hope, a
humbler and a wiser man.
Of course I couldn't see all this myself, be-
cause I was behind, but Joe told me all about
the race directly afterwards. When I got up
there was a great crowd round " King of the
Isle," from whose back the carter was explain-
THE WHITE HORSE. 179
ing something about the race. But I couldn't
stay to listen, for I heard that the races for the
" prime coated Berkshire fives " (as they called
the cheeses), were just coming off; so I hurried
away to the brow of the hill, just above the
Horse, where it is steepest ; for I wanted of all
things to see how men could run down this
place, which I couldn't get up without using
both hands.
There stood Mr. William Whitfield, of Uffing-
ton, the umpire who had to start the race, in his
broad-brimmed beaver, his brown coat and waist-
coat with brass buttons, and drab breeches and
gaiters. I thought him a model yeoman to
look at, but I didn't envy him his task. Two
wild-looking gypsy women, with their elf-locks
streaming from under their red handkerchiefs,
and their black eyes flashing, were rushing
about amongst the runners, trying to catch
some of their relations who were going to run ;
and screaming out that their men should never
break their limbs down that break-neck place.
The gypsies dodged about, and kept out of
their reach, and the farmer remonstrated, but
the wild women still persevered. Then, losing
all patience, he would turn and poise the wheel,
180 THE SCOURING OF
ready to push it over the brow, when a shout
from the bystanders warns him to pause, and,
a little way down the hill, just in the line of
the race, appear two or three giggling lasses,
hauled along by their sweethearts, and bent on
getting a very good view. Luckily at this
moment the Chairman appeared, and rode his
white horse down to the front of the line of
men, where there seemed to me to be footing
for nothing but a goat. Then the course was
cleared for a moment, he moved out of the
line, making a signal to the farmer, who pushed
the wheel at once over the brow, and cried,
" Off." The wheel gained the road in three
bounds, cleared it in a fourth monster bound
which measured forty yards, and hurried down
far away to the bottom of the manger, where
the other two umpires were waiting to decide
who is the winner of the race.
Away go the fourteen men in hot pursuit,
gypsies, shepherds, and light-heeled fellows of
aU sorts, helter-skelter ; some losing their foot-
hold at once, and rolling or slipping down ;
some still keeping their footing, but tottering
at every step ; one or two, with their bodies
well thrown back, striking their heels firmly
THE WHITE HORSE. 181
into the turf, and keeping a good balance.
They are all in the road together, but here
several fall on their faces, and others give in ;
the rest cross it in a moment, and are away
down the manger. Here the sheep-walks, which
run temptingly along the sides of the manger,
but if they would look forward will take the
runners very little nearer the bottom where the
wheel lies, mislead many ; and amongst the
rest, the fleetest of the gypsies, who makes off
at full speed along one of them. Two or three
men go still boldly down the steep descent,
falling and picking themselves up again ; and
Jonathan Legg, of Childrey, is the first of these.
He has now gained the flat ground at the bot-
tom, where after a short stagger he brings him-
self up. and makes straight for the umpires and
the wheel. The gypsy now sees his error ; and
turning short down the hill, comes into the flat,
running some twenty yards behind Jonathan.
In another hundred yards he would pass him,
for he gains at every stride ; but it is too late ;
and we, at the top of the hill, cheer loudly
when we see Jonathan, the man who had gone
straight all the way, touch the wheel a clear ten
yards before his more active rival.
182 THE SCOURING OF
I should have liked to have seen the boys'
races down the manger, but was afraid of miss-
ing some other sport, so I left farmer Whitfield
at his troublesome post, shouting out the names
of the boys and trying to get them into line,
and went back into the Castle, where I found
a crowd round the greased pole ; and when I
got up to it, saw a heavy-looking fellow, stand-
ing some five feet up the pole, with one foot
in a noose of cord depending from a large
gimlet, and the other leg hooked round the
pole. He held in his right hand another large
gimlet, which he was preparing to screw into
the pole to support a second noose, and gazed
stolidly down at a Committee-man, who was
objecting " that this wasn't fair climbing that
if gimlets and nooses were to be allowed, he
could get up himself." I thought he was right ;
but public feeling seemed to side with the
climber; so the Committee-man gave in, de-
claring that there would be no more legs of
mutton to climb for, if any thing but arms and
legs were to be used.
" Rather a slow bit of sport this," I said to
an. old gray-headed man, who was leaning on
his stick at my side, and staring up at the
performer.
THE WHITE HORSE. 183
" Ees, Zur," answered he, " I dwon't knaow
but what it be."
" Do you call it fair climbing, now ? "
" Auh, bless'ee, not I. I minds seein' the
young chaps when I wur a buoy, climin' may-
powls a deal higher nor that, dree at a time.
But now-a-days 'um be lazy, and afraid o'
spwiling their breeches wi' the grase."
" Are there any maypoles about here now ? "
" Never a one as I knows on, Zur, for twenty
mile round. The last as I remembers wur the
Longcott one, and Parson Watts of Uffington
had he sawed up nigh forty year ago, for fear
lest there should ha' been some murder done
about 'un.
" Murder about a maypole ! Why, how was
that?"
" Auh ! you see, Zur, this here Longcott may-
powl wur the last in all these parts, and a wur
the envy of a zight o' villages round about.
Zo, one cluttery * night in November, thirty of
our Ashbury chaps thay started down to Long-
cott, and dug 'un up, and brought 'un cler away
on handspikes, all the waay to the Crown'd Inn
at Ashbury, and 'tis quite vour mil'd."
* " Chrttery " pelting with rain.
184 THE SCOURING OF
" On handspikes ! Why, how big was he,
then?"
"Augh ! a fyeightish sized 'tin. How big?
whoy a sight bigger, bless'ee, nor that 'un, and
all the bottom half on 'un solid oak. When
thay cum to put 'un up afore the bar winder
of the Crown'd, a reached right up auver the
tops o' the housen. But zoon arter a wur put
up, the Uffington chaps cum up, and tuk and
carried 'un down ther'. Ther' was a smartish
row or two about 'un at Uffington arter that,
but they watched 'un night and day ; and when
the Lambourn chaps cum arter 'un one night,
they chucked scaldin' water right auver 'm. Zo
then Parson Watts, he tuk and sawed 'un up,
and guv 'un to the owld women at Christmas
for virewood."
I walked away from the pole, turning over
in my mind whether Parson Watts was right
or wrong in his summary method of restoring
peace to his parish, and, somehow or other,
found myself again close under the stage.
Now, and throughout the day, I found no
flagging there ; whenever I passed there was
the crowd of men standing round, and the old
and young gamesters hard at work. So I
THE WHITE HORSE. 185
began to believe what Joe had said, that the
countrymen thought more about these games
than any thing else, and wouldn't care to go
to the pastime if they were stopped.
I found that the Ashbury men were carrying
it all their own way in the wrestling, and that
their champion, old Richens (the rat-catcher, an
old gamester in his fiftieth year), would prob-
ably not even have to wrestle at all ; for his
own men were throwing all the gamesters of
the other parishes, and of course would give
up to him when it came to the last ties. The
men all wrestle in sides, at least the old game-
sters do ; so that a man generally plays for his
parish, and not for his own head, which is a
better thing, I think.
As to the backsword play, the stage was
strewed with splinters of sticks and pieces of
broken baskets, and many a young gamester
has had his first broken head in public. But,
for the chief prize, matters are going hard with
Berks and Wilts. The Somersetshire old game-
sters have w r on two heads to one ; and, as they
have six men in, and Berks and Wilts only
four, the odds are all in favour of the cider
county, and against the beer drinkers.
186 THE SCOURING OF
In good time up gets an old gamester, who
looks like the man to do credit to the royal
county. It is Harry Seeley, of Shrivenham,
the only Berkshire man in ; for there has been
some difference between Berks and Wilts, and
Harry's two mates haven't entered at all. So
he, being one of the true bull-dog breed, is in
for his own head, against all odds, and is up
to play the next Somersetshire man.
Harry is a fine specimen of an Englishman.
Five feet eight high, with a bullet head, and
light blue eye ; high-couraged, cool, and with
an absolutely imperturbable temper. He plays
in a blue shirt, thin from age and wear, through
which you may see the play of his splendid
arms and chest. His opponent is a much
younger man, about the same size ; but a great
contrast to Harry, for he has a savage and sly
look about him.
They shake hands, throw themselves into po-
sition, and the bout begins. Harry is clearly
the finer player, and his adversary feels this at
once ; and the shouts of anticipated victory,
in the Berkshire tongue, rouse his temper.
Now comes a turn of the savage play, which
ought never to be seen on a stage. The Som-
THE WHITE HORSE. 187
erset man bends far back, and strikes tipper
cuts at the face and arms, and then savagely
at the body. He is trying to maim and cow,
and not to win by fair brave play. The crowd
soon begin to get savage too ; upper-cutting is
not thought fair in Berks and Wilts ; a storm
begins to brew, hard words are bandied, and a
cry of " Foul," and " Pull him down," is heard
more than once, and the Committee man, who
watches from below, is on the point of stopping
the bout.
But nothing puts out old Harry Seeley; no
upper cut can reach his face, for his head is
thrown well back, and his guard is like a rock ;
and though the old blue shirt is cut through and
through, he makes no more of the welts of the
heavy stick than if it were a cat's tail. Be-
tween the bouts his face is cheery and confi-
dent, and he tells his friends to " hold their
noise, and let him alone to tackle the chap,"
as he hands round his basket for the abound-
ing coppers.
Now I could see well enough why the par-
sons don't like these games. It gave me a
turn, to watch the faces round the stage get-
ting savage, and I could see what it might soon
188 THE SCOURING OF
get to if there was much of this wild work.
And there were Master George, and the two
Oxford scholars, at the opposite corner of the
stage, shouting till they were hoarse for old
Seeley, and as savage and wicked-looking as
any of the men round them ; setting such a
bad example, too, as I thought, whereas it
didn't matter for a fellow like me, who was
nobody, so I shouted, and threw my coppers
to old Seeley, and felt as wild as any of them,
I do believe. Three bouts, four bouts pass ;
Harry's stick gets in oftener and oftener. Has
the fellow no blood in him ? There it comes
at last! In the fifth bout, Harry's stick goes
flashing in again, a fair down blow from the
wrist, which puts the matter beyond all ques-
tion, as the Somersetshire man staggers back
across the stage, the blood streaming from
under his, hair. Loud are the shouts which
greet the fine-tempered old gamester, as he
pulls on his velveteen coat, and gets down
from the stage.
" Why, Harry, thou'dst broke his yead second
bout, mun, surely ! " shout his admirers.
" No," says Harry, dogmatically, " you see,
mates, there's no 'cumulation of blood belongs
THE WHITE HORSE. 189
to thay cider-drinking chaps, as there does to
we as drinks beer. Besides, thay drinks vine-
gar allus for a week afore play in', which dries
up most o' the blood as they has got ; so it
takes a 'mazin' sight of cloutin' to break their
yeads as should be."
After this bout all the other play seemed to
Tse tasteless ; so, promising myself to come back
and see the ties played off, (unless Miss Lucy
turned up in the mean time, in which case I
shouldn't have dared to go near the stage, and in
fact I felt rather nervous already, lest she should
have seen or heard of me there,) I marched
off, and joined the crowd which was collecting
round the jingling ring. That crowd was one
of the pleasantest sights of the whole day. The
jingling match seemed a very popular sport,
especially with the women. There they were,
of all ranks for I'm certain I saw some young
ladies in riding habits, and others in beautiful
muslins, whom I, and Jem Fisher, and little
Neddy have often seen riding with very great
people in the Park, when we have managed to
get down to Rotten Row on summer evenings
seated on the grass or standing round the
ring, in all sorts of dresses, from fine silks down
190 THE SCOURING OF
to cottons at 2d. a yard, and all looking plea-
sant and good-tempered, and as if they were
quite used to being mixed up like this every day
which I'm sure I wish they were, for my part,
especially if the men were allowed to join in the
crowd too, as we were round the jingling ring.
For there were gentlemen, both parsons and
others, and farmers, and ploughboys, and all
manner of other men and boys.
I don't know what sort of fun a jingling
match is in general, but I thought this one
much the slowest game I saw. The ring must
have been forty yards across, or thereabouts,
and there were only eight blindfolded men run-
ning after the bellman. To make it good fun,
there should have been twenty-five or thirty at
least. Then the bellman, who has his hands
tied behind him, ought to have the bell tied
round his neck, or somewhere where he can't
get at it to stop the ringing ; but our bellman
had the bell tied to his waistband behind, so
that he could catch hold of it with his hands,
and stop it when he was in danger. Then half
the men could see, I'm sure, by the way they
carried their heads up in the air, especially one
gypsy, who, I think, won the prize at last The
THE WHITE HORSE. 191
men who couldn't see were worth watching, for
they kept catching and tumbling over one an-
other. One time they made a rush to the rope,
just where some of the young ladies were sit-
ting, and, as nearly as could be, tumbled over
among them. I thought there would have been
a great scrambling and screaming ; not a bit of
it they never flinched an inch, or made the
least cry, and I was very proud to think they
were my countrywomen. After the bellman had
been caught about a minute, there was a great
laugh at one of the blinded men," who made a
rush, and caught a Committee-man, who was
standing in the ring, in his arms. But on the
whole, I thought the game a poor one, and was
glad when it was over.
I hurried away directly after the jingling
match, and went across the Castle, and out on
to the down where the cart-horse race had been
run to see the foot-races, which were run over
the last half of the same course, on which ten
good stiff sets of hurdles, at short distances
apart, had been set up. I found a debate going
on between the umpires and some of the men
as to whether they were all to start together.
The regular agricultural labourers were remon-
strating as to some of the candidates.
192 THE SCOURING OF
" It bean't narra mossel o' use for we chaps
to start along wi' thay light-heeled gentry," said
one, " Whoy, look ' ee here, zur's one, and
yander's another, wi' a kind o' dancin' pumps
on, and that 'un at tother end wi' a cricketin'
waistcut."
" And there's two o' them little jockey chaps
amongst 'em, sumweres, Zur," said another,
looking about for these young gentlemen, who
dodged behind some of the bigger candidates.
" How can we help that ? " said the umpire.
" Auh, Zur, thay be all too nimble by half for
we to be of any account to 'em," persisted the
first speaker. " If twur for the sticks now, or
wrastling "
" Well, but what shall we do then ? " inter-
rupted the umpire.
" Let I pick out ten or a dozen on 'em to run
by theirselves." The umpires proposed this to
the rest, and, no one objecting, told Giles, the
protester, to pick out the ten he was most afraid
of. This Giles proceeded to do with a broad
grin on his face, and generally seemed to make
a good selection. But presently he arrived at,
and after a short inspection passed over, a
young fellow in his blue shirt-sleeves and a
THE WHITE HORSE. 193
cloth cap, who to the umpire's eye seemed a
dangerous man.
" Why, Giles," said he, " you're never going
to pass him over ? "
" Auh, ees, Zur," said Giles, " let he 'bide
along wi' we chaps. Dwont'ee zee, he's a
tipped and naayled 'un ? "
When Giles had finished his selection, the
first lot were started, and made a grand race ;
which was won by a Hampshire man from
Kingsclere, the second man, not two feet be-
hind, being a young Wiltshire farmer, who,
having never been beaten in his own neighbour-
hood, had come to lose his laurels honourably at
the Scouring.
The running in the second race was, of
course, not so good, but much more amusing.
The " tipped and naayled 'uns " were a rushing
lot, but very bad at rising. Hurdle after hurdle
went down before them with a crash, and the
most wonderful summersaults were executed.
The second hurdle finished poor Giles, who
charged it manfully, and found himself the next
moment on his broad back, gazing placidly up
into the evening sky. The cloth cap, notwith-
standing his shoes, went easily ahead, and won
9
194 THE SCOURING OF
in a canter. I heard one of the umpires rally-
ing Giles afterwards at his want of eyes.
" Ees, Zur," said Giles, hunching up his great
shoulders, " I wur tuk in, zure enough. He wur
a town chap, arter all, as wouldn't ha' knowed
a piece o' dumpers afore he cum across to
White Hos Hill."
I left the umpires now to start the other
races, and got back once again into the Castle.
I was now beginning to get very tired in my
legs, though not in my spirits, so I went and
sat down outside the crowd, which was thicker
than ever round the stage, for the ties were
being played out. I could hear the umpires
call every now and then for some gamester who
was not forthcoming to play out his tie " John
Giles, if you beant on the stage in five minutes,
to put to with James Higgins, you shall lose
your head" through all the cheers and shouts,
which rose louder and louder now that every
blow or trip might decide the prizes. And while
I was sitting, the donkey races were run out-
side, and I heard were very good fun ; especially
the last one, in which no man rode his own
donkey, and the last donkey had the prize. I
hope my friend, the old suck-woman, entered
THE WHITE HORSE. 195
neighbour Thome's beast, for if she did, I'll be
bound he carried off the prize for her. They
were the only sports that I didn't- manage to see
something of.
It was now just five o'clock, the hour for the
pig-race, which seemed to be a most popular
sport, for most of the lookers-on at the stage
went off to see it, leaving only a select crowd
of old and young gamesters, most of whom had
been playing themselves, and whom nothing
could drag five yards from the posts until the
ties were all played out. I was just considering
whether I should move or stay where I was,
when Master George came striding by and
caught sight of me.
" Hullo," said he, " how is it you're not on
the move ? You must see the pig-race ; come
along." So I got up and shambled along with
him.
The pig was to be started on the slope below
the west entrance, where the old gentleman had
stood and lectured me the day before about
Earl Sidroc. There was the spring cart, cov-
ered with a net, with a fine young Berkshire
pig in it, just at the place where the Bersirkir
(as he called them) made their last stand.
196 THE SCOURING OF
When we came up, the runners, thirty in num-
ber, with their coats and waistcoats off, were
just being drawn up in line inside the Castle,
from which place they were to be started, and
run down through the west entrance out on to
the open down, at the word " off." It was
thought that this rush down between the double
banks, covered thickly with the crowd, would be
the finest sight of the race. But the rush never
came. Piggy was to have five minutes law,
and the Committee-man who went down to
turn him out put his snout towards Ashdown
Park, and gave him a push in hopes that he
would take straight away over the downs, and
so get a good start. Of course, he turned right
round and came trotting and grunting up
towards the Castle, to see what all the bustle
could be about. Then the crowd began to
shout at him, and to press further and further
down the outer earthworks, though all the Com-
mitte were there to keep the course clear for
the regular runners ; and at last, before half of
the five minutes were over, the whole line broke
up with a great shout, and the down was cov-
ered in a moment with countless men and boys
in full chase of Piggy. Then the lawful candi
THE WHITE HORSE. 197
dates could stand it no longer, and away they
went too, cleaving their way through the press,
the Committee riding after them as fast as was
safe in such a crowd, to see fair play if possible
at the finish.
Ill a minute or two, Piggy was mobbed, sur-
rounded, seized first by one of the crowd, and
then by a lawful runner. These tumbled over
in their struggle without loosing their hold and
more of their friends over them, and from the
middle of the mass poor Piggy sent up the
most vigorous and dismal squeals, till the Com-
mittee-men rode in, laying about with their
whips ; and Farmer Whitfield, springing off,
seized Piggy, and in another minute was can-
tering away with him towards Wayland Smith's
cave. Here he was turned out again for a fair
race, and was won by Charles Ebury, of Fern-
ham ; who, fearing the results of his racing per-
formances, sold him at once for lOs. to the
Woolston carrier. But I am happy to say that
he wasn't really hurt, for I went to see him
some days afterwards, and found him as hearty
as pig could be.
Master George and I agreed, as we walked
back to the Castle, that it is a shame to have a
pig-race.
198 THE SCOURING OF
" No," said he, " let men run any risk they
like of broken heads or limbs for themselves ;
they may play or not as they like. But Piggy
has no choice, and to let him run the risk of
having the legs pulled out of his body before he
is wanted for pork, isn't fair."
" He didn't seem to think it was, certainly,
Sir," I said.
" No," said he, laughing ; " did you ever hear
such a song as he made ? No animal can talk
like a pig. He can scold or remonstrate just as
well as a Christian. Any one who knows the
language can tell you just what he is saying.
Well," he went on, " I see you don't believe
me ; now I will go and hear what he has to say
about this proceeding, and give you it word for
word."
This was what he gave me afterwards, with
the other songs he had promised me :
THE LAY OF THE HUNTED PIG.
" VATHERS, mothers, mothers' zons !
You as loves yer little wuns !
Happy pegs among the stubble,
Listen to a tale of trouble ;
Listen, pegs in yeard and .stye,
How the Barkshire chaps zard I.
THE WHITE HORSE. 199
" I mtr barn at Kingstone-Lisle,
Wher I vrolicked var a while,
As vine a peg as e'er wur zeen
(One of a litter o' thirteen)
Till zome chaps wi' cussed spite
Aimed ov I to make a zite,
And to have a ' bit o' vun,'
Took I up to Uffington.
u Up, vorights * the Castle mound
They did zet I on the ground ;
Then a thousand chaps, or nigh,
Eunned and hollered arter I
Ther, then, I till I war blowed,
Kunned and hollered all I knowed,
When, zo zure as pegs is pegs,
Eight chaps ketched I by the legs,
Two to each 't is truth I tell 'ee
Dree more clasped I round the belly 1
Under all they fellers lyin'
Pegs ! I thought as I wur dyin'.
" But the Squire (I thenks I zee un),
Varmer Whitfield ridin' wi' un,
Fot I out o' all thuck caddie,
Stretched athurt the varmer's zaddle
Bless 'em, pegs in yeard and stye,
Them two vrends as stuck to I.
" Barkshire men, vrom Hill and Vale,
All as ever hears this tale,
If to spwoort you be inclined,
Plaze to bear this here in mind
Pegs beant made no race to win,
* " Vorights " opposite.
200
Be zhart o' wind, and tight o' skin,
Dwont'ee hunt 'em, but instead
At backswyrd break each other's yead
Cheezes down the manger rowl
Or try and clim the greasy powl.
" Pegs ! in stubble yeard and stye,
May you be never zard like I,
Nor druv wi greasy ears and tail,
By men and bwoys drough White Horse Vale.
THE WHITE HORSE. 201
CHAPTER VH.
MASTER GEORGE slipped away from me
somehow, after the pig-race, so I strolled up
into the Castle again. The sports were all
over, so the theatres and shows were making a
greater noise than ever, but I didn't feel inclined
to go to any of them, and kept walking slowly
round the bank on the opposite side, and look-
ing down at the fair. In a minute or two I
heard cheering, and saw an open carriage, with
postilions, driving out of the Castle, and three
or four young ladies and a gentleman or two
cantering along with it. I watched them for
some way across the downs, and thought how
nice it must be to be able to ride well, and to
have nice horses to go galloping over the springy
downs, into the golden sunset, putting up the
larks and beautiful little wheatears ; and, besides
all that, to have all the people cheering one
too ! So down I went into the crowd, to find
9*
202 THE SCOURING OF
out who they were. It was Lord Craven and
his party, the first man I came across told me ;
and then I quite understood why this carriage
should be the only one to come inside the Cas-
tle, and why the people should cheer ; because,
you see, the White Horse, and Dragon's Hill,
and the Manger, all belong to him, and he is
very good-natured in letting everybody go there
and do pretty much what they please. There
were other carriages going off now from the
row outside, and coachmen bringing up their
horses to harness, and a few of the foot people
who came from the longest distances,' starting
along the Ridgeway, or down the Uffington
Road. I was standing watching 'all this, and
thinking how I was to find my party, and
whether I should go behind in the four-wheel
(which I began to feel very much inclined to
do, for I was getting tired, and it would be
dark), when I saw Joe bustling about amongst
the crowd, and looking out for some one ; so I
made across to him.
" Ah, there you are," said he, as soon as he
caught sight of me, " I've been hunting for you ;
it's all over for to-day. Lu sent me after you
to come and have some tea. If you like, you
THE WHITE HORSE. 203
can go home directly afterwards with her and
Mr. Warton."
I was much pleased to hear that Miss
Lucy had sent after me, but I didn't want to
show it.
" What are you going to do ? " said I.
" Oh," said Joe, " I shan't leave till all the
Committee go ; I must be at the giving away
of the prizes in the tent ; and then, if any thing
should happen afterwards any row, you know,
or that sort o' thing I shouldn't like to be
gone."
I didn't say any thing more, as I thought I
might just as well leave it open ; so I followed
him to the west side of the Castle, where the
police tent stood, and it was quite quiet.
" Here they are," said Joe, " over in the
ditch ; " and he scrambled up the bank, and I
after him, and in the ditch below sure enough
was a most cozy tea-party. Miss Lucy, with
her bonnet off, was sitting cutting up a cake,
and generally directing. Two other young
women, nice fresh-looking girls, but not to be
named with her, were setting out a few cups
and saucers and plates, which they had bor-
rowed from some of the stalls. Mr. Warton
204 THE SCOURING OF
was on his knees with his hat off, blowing away
till he was red in the face at a little fire made
of chips and pieces of old hampers, over which
the kettle, also borrowed, hung from three sticks
driven into the ground so that their tops met
above the fire. Two or three young farmers sat
about looking on, or handing things as they were
wanted, except one impudent young fellow of
about eighteen, with scarcely a hair on his chin,
who was almost in Miss Lucy's pocket, and
was meddling with every thing she was doing.
" Well, here you are, at last," said she, look-
ing up at us ; " why, where have you been ah 1
day ? "
" I am sure I have been hunting after you
very often," said I, which, perhaps, was rather,
more than I ought to have said ; " but it isn't
easy for one who is a stranger to find people in
such a crowd."
" I don't know that," said she, with a pretty
little toss of her head ; " where there's a- will
there's a way. If I hadn't found friends, I
might have been alone all day and there are
three or four of the shows I have never seen,
now."
I began to look as sorry as I could, while I
THE WHITE HOESE. 205
thought what to answer, when the young man
who was close to her tried to steal some of the
cake ; she turned round quickly, and rapped his
fingers with the back of her knife, and he pre-
tended to be hurt. She only laughed, and went
on cutting up the cake, but she called him Jack,
and seemed so intimate with him that it put
me out, and I sat down on the other side of the
circle, some way off.
" It's all right," said the Parson, looking up
from the fire ; " boils splendidly give me the
tea."
Miss Lucy handed him a little parcel of tea
from her bag, and he put it into the kettle.
" I declare we have forgotten the milk," said
she ; " do run and fetch it, Jack it's in a bottle
under the back seat of the four-wheel."
I jumped up before Jack, who hardly moved,
and ran off to fetch the milk; for which she
gave me a pleasant smile when I came back,
and I felt better pleased, and enjoyed the tea
and cake and bread and butter, and all. the talk
over it, very much ; except that I couldn't stand
this Jack, who was forcing her to notice him
every minute, by stealing .her teaspoon or her
cake, or making some of his foolish remarks.
206 THE SCOURING OF
The sun set splendidly before we had fin-
ished, and it began to get a little chilly.
" Well," said Joe, jumping up, " I'm off to get
the horse put to. You'd better be starting, Lu ;
you won't be down hill much before dark, now,
and there's no moon worse luck."
" Very well," said she, taking up her bonnet,
and putting it on ; "we shall be ready in five
minutes."
" You'll go behind with them, I suppose,"
said Joe to me.
" I'm to have a seat, mind," struck in that
odious Jack ; " Lucy promised me that an hour
ago." I could have given him a good kick;
however, I don't think I showed that I was put
out.
" How can you tell such fibs, Jack ? " said
she ; but I didn't take any notice of that.
" Thank you, I wish to stay on the hill," said
I. " Besides, the four-wheel will be full without
me."
She didn't seem to hear ; and began talking
to one of the other girls.
" But how are you to get down ? " said Joe.
" Oh, I can walk," said I, " or ride behind
you."
THE WHITE HORSE. 207
" Very good, if you like," said he ; " the
chestnut would carry six, if her back was long
enough ; " and away he went to get the four-
wheel ready.
. We followed ; Miss Lucy sticking close to
her friend, and never saying a word to any of
us. I walked with Mr. Warton, who was in
the highest spirits, looking over his shoulder,
and raving about the green tints in the sunset.
When we got to the carriages, there was kiss-
ing and shaking of hands, and the rest went off,
while the parson and Miss Lucy packed into
the front seat, and Jack and Jem the carter-boy
into the hind seat of the four-wheel ; and away
they drove, wishing us " good night." I watched
them for some time, and could see Jack leaning
forward close to her ear ; and turned back with
Joe into the Castle, more out of sorts than I
had been since I left London.
Joe hurried off to the police tent, where the
Committee were giving away the prizes, saying
I should find him there when I wanted him;
and I loitered away to see whatever was to be
seen. At first nothing seemed to please me. I
watched the men and boys playing at three
sticks a penny, and thought I might as well
208 THE SCOURING OF
-
have been on Primrose Hill. Then I went and
looked at the shows ; and there was the fellow
in flesh-coloured tights, turning over and over
on the slack rope, and the clarionet and French
horn and drum, played by the three men in cor-
duroys, all out of tune and louder than ever, as
if they had only just begun, instead of having
been screaming and rumbling away all day;
and the man outside the pink-eyed lady's cara-
van was shouting away for the hundredth time
all about her, and then playing the pan-pipes, as
if no other woman in the world had pink eyes.
I was determined they shouldn't have any of
my money at any rate, so I strolled further
down the line, and looked into a low booth
where a fiddle was going. Here several couples
were dancing, with their arms a-kimbo, on some
planks which had been put down on the grass,
and all the rest of the booth was crowded with
others looking on. This pleased me better, for
the dancers seemed to enjoy themselves wonder-
fully, and made a sort of clattering accompani-
ment to the music with their hob-nailed shoes,
which was merry and pleasant.
When I was tired of watching them, I
thought I would go and find Joe; so I went
THE WHITE HORSE. 209
over to the tent, and there I got all right, and
began to enjoy myself again.
In the further corner of the tent, the Squire
and another justice were sitting, and hearing a
charge of pocket-picking, of which there were
only two during the whole day, the police told
me. Opposite the door, the rest of the Com-
mittee were sitting at a table and giving away
the prizes.
Joe beckoned me in, and I went round to the
back of the table and looked on- As the men
came up from the group round the door, when
their names were called out, the umpires said a
few words to each of them, and then gave them
their prizes, and most of them made some sort
of speech in answer ; for they were much less
shy than in the morning, I suppose from the
sense of having earned their right to hold up
their heads by winning. The owner of the
successful donkey was just carrying out the
flitch of bacon when I arrived ; after him the
Somersetshire backsword players were called in
to take the first three prizes for that sport, they
having beaten all the Wiltshire men ; while old
Seeley, the only Berkshire man entered, to
everybody's surprise had not played out his
210 THE SCOURING OF
tie, but had given his head (as they said) to
his second opponent. Therefore, although en-
titled to the last prize for having won his first
bout, he had not done all his duty in the eyes
of the umpires, who gently complained, while
handing him over his four half-crowns, and
wondered that so gallant an old gamester, and
a Vale man, should not have played out his
ties for the honour of the county.
" Well, gen'l'men," said old Seeley, giving a
hitch with his shoulders, " I'll just tell you how
it was. You see, ther wur six Somersetshire
old gamesters come up to play, and ther wur
six of our side to play 'em ; dree Wiltshire and
dree Barkshire, if so be as we could have made
a party. But the dree from Wiltshire they
wouldn't go in along wi' we, and turned their
backs on me and my two mates ; so my two
mates wouldn't go in at all, and wanted me to
give out too. But you see, gen'l'men, I'd a
spent a matter of a pound over getting myself
a little better food, and making myself lissom ;
so thinks I, I must go up and have a bout, let
it be how t'wool. And you saw, gen'l'men, as
I played a good stick. When it cum' to play-
ing off the ties, there wur dree Somersetshire
THE WHITE HORSE. 211
tiers, and two of our side, that's Slade and me.
But when a man turns his back on me, gen'F-
men, why I turns my back on him ; so I guv
my head to young Mapstone, and left Slade to
win if he could. Though I thinks, if thay
Wiltshire chaps had behaved theirselves as thay
should, we might ha' had the prize, for I knows
as I never played freer in my life. And I hopes,
gen'l'men, as you don't think I wur afeard of
any man as ever got on that stage. " Bless
you ! " said old Seeley, warming up, " I be
that fond o' thay sticks, I assure you, gen'l'men,
I'd as lief meet a man as is a man for a bout
wi''thay sticks, as I would a joint of roast
beef."
Old Seeley's speech carried conviction, for
there could be no mistake about the tone in
which he drew his last comparison, after a
moment's pause to think of the thing he liked
best, and he retired from the tent in high favour,
as I think he deserved to be.
After watching these doings for some time, I
began to feel very hungry, for I had eaten
hardly any thing at tea, so I told Joe that he
would find me over in the -great booth getting
some supper, and went out. It was getting
212 THE SCOURING OF
quite dark, and the stage and poles looked black
and melancholy as I passed by them. But the
publicans' booths were all lighted up inside, and
looked very cheerful, and were full of holiday
folk, fortifying themselves with all sorts of meat
and drink before starting for the descent of the
hill, and the walk home in the dark.
I pushed my way through the crowd round
the door, and reached the bar, where the land-
lord recognized me directly, and handed me
over to Peter, who soon landed me at the table
in the recess, which was still well supplied with
cold joints and bread and cheese. While he
went off to get my plate and ale, I had time to
look round. The booth was much gayer than
the day before ; every post was decked more or
less with flowers and evergreens, and the flags
had been brought inside. The whole place was
lighted with dips and flickering oil lamps, which
gave light enough to let one see all parts of the
tent pretty clearly.
There were a good many tables ranged about ;
the one nearest to ours wasn't yet occupied, but
at ah 1 the others were groups of men drinking
beer, and some smoking, and talking eagerly
over the events of the day. Those nearest the
THE WHITE HORSE. 213
high table seemed under some little restraint,
and spoke low ; but from the farther tables rose
a loud hum of the broadest Berkshire, and an
occasional scrap of a song. A few women
were scattered here and there mostly middle-
aged, hard-working housewives watching their
good men, and anxious to carry them off in
good time, and before too much of the harvest-
savings had found its way to the landlord's till.
About the entrance was a continually-changing
crowd, and the atmosphere of the whole was
somewhat close, and redolent of not very fra-
grant tobacco.
At the supper-table where I was, were seven
or eight men. The one just opposite me was a
strong-built, middle-aged man, in a pepper-and-
salt riding-coat and waistcoat, with an open,
weather-beaten face, and keen, deep-set, gray
eyes, who seemed bent on making a good sup-
per. Next above him were the two Oxford
scholars, but they didn't take the least notice
of me, which I thought they might have done,
after our morning's ride together. They had
. finished supper, and were smoking cigars, and
chatting with one another, and with the pepper-
and-salt man, whom they called Doctor. But
214 THE SCOURING OF
my observations were soon cut short by Peter,
who came back with my plate and knife and
fork, and a foaming pewter of ale, and I set to
work as heartily as the Doctor himself.
" You'll find some of this lettuce and water-
cress eat well with your beef, Sir," said he, push-
ing across a dish.
" Thank you, Sir," said I ; I find that watch-
ing the games makes one very hungry."
" The air, Sir, all the downs air," said the
Doctor ; " I call them Doctor Downs. Do more
for the appetite in six hours than I can in a
week. Here, Peter, get this gentleman some of
your mistress's walnut pickles."
And then the good-natured Doctor fell to
upon his beef again, and chatted away with the
scholars and me, and soon made me feel myself
quite at home. I own that I had done my
neighbours a little injustice ; for they were
pleasant enough w-hen the ice was once broken,
and I daresay didn't mean to be rude after all.
As soon as I had finished my supper, the
shorter of the scholars handed me a large cigar,
the first whiff of which gave me a high idea of
the taste of my contemporaries of the upper
classes in the matter of tobacco.
THE WHITE HORSE. 215
Just then the verse of a song, in which two
or three men were joining, rose from the other
end of the tent, from amidst the hum of voices.
"I wish those fellows would sing out," said
the short scholar ; " I can't make out more than
a word or two."
" You wouldn't be any the wiser if you
could,"- said the other; "we have ceased to be
a singing nation. The people have lost the
good old ballads, and have got nothing in their
place."
" How do you know ? " said the short scholar;
" I should like to hear for myself, at any rate."
"What sort of ballads do you mean, Sir?"
said I to the long scholar.
" Why, those in the Robin Hood Garland,
for instance," said he. " Songs written for the
people, about their heroes, and, I believe, by the
people. There's nothing of the sort now."
" What do you say to l There's a Good Time
Coming ' ? " asked the short scholar.
" Well, it's the best of them, I believe," said
the other ; " but you know it was written by
Mackay, an LL.D. Besides, it's essentially a
town song."
" It's a tip-top one, at any rate," said the
216 THE SCOURING OF
short scholar ; " I wish I could write such an-
other."
" What I say, is, that the popular songs now
are written by litterateurs in London. Is there
any life or go in ' Woodman spare that Tree,' or
The Old Arm- Chair ' ? and they are better
than the slip-slop sentimental stuff most in
vogue."
" What a discontented old bird you are ! "
said the short scholar ; " you're never pleased
with any product of this enlightened century."
" Let the century get a character, then ; when
it does, we shall get some good staves. I'm not
particular ; a brave story, or a quaint story, or
a funny story, in good rough verse, that's all I
ask for. But, where to find one ? Here's the
Doctor for umpire. I say, Doctor, don't you
agree with me, now ? "
" Not quite," said the Doctor, looking up from
his cold beef. " I dare say you wouldn't think
them worth much ; but there are plenty of bal-
lads sung about which you never hear."
" What ! real modern ballads, written by
some of the masses, in this century, for in-
stance? Where did you ever hear one, Doc-
tor ? What are they like, now ? "
THE WHITE HORSE. 217
"Well, my work takes me a good deal about
in queer places, and at queer times, amongst
the country folk, and I hear plenty of them.
Will one about Lord Nelson suit you ? There's
an old patient of mine at the next table who
owns a little coal wharf on the canal; he fell
into the lock one night, broke his arm, and was
nearly drowned, and I attended him. He takes
a trip in the barges now and then, which makes
him fancy himself half a sailor. I dare say I
can set him off, if he hasn't had too much
beer."
So the Doctor walked over to a lower table,
and spoke to a grisly-headed old man in a velve-
teen coat and waistcoat, and a blue birdseye-
neckerchief, who seemed pleased, and drew his
sleeve across his mouth, and cleared his throat.
Then there was a rapping on the table, and the
old bargee began in a rumbling bass voice :
THE DEATH OF LORD NELSON.
Come all you gallant seamen as unites a meeting,
Attend to these lines I be going to relate,
And when you have heard them 'twill move you with pity
To think how Lord Nelson he met with his fate.
For he was a bold and undaunted commander
As ever did sail on the ocean so wide ;
10
218 THE SCOURING OF
He made both the French and the Spaniard surrender
By always a-pouring into them a broadside.
One hundred engagements 'twas he had been into,
And ne'er in his life was he known to be beat,
Though he'd lost an arm, likewise a right eye, boys,
No power upon earth ever could him defeat.
His age at his death it was forty and seven ;
And as long as I breathe, his great praises I'll sing;
The whole navigation was given up to him,
Because he was loyal and true to his king.
Then up steps the doctor in a very great hurry,
And unto Lord Nelson these words did he say :
" Indeed, then, my Lord, it is I'm very sorry,
To see you here lying and bleeding this way."
" No matter, no matter whatever about me,
My time it is come, I'm almost at the worst;
But here's my gallant seamen a-fighting so boldly,
Discharge off your duty to all of them first."
Then with a loud voice he calls out to his captain,
" Pray let me, sir, hear how the battle does go,
For I think our great guns do continue to rattle,
Though death is approaching I firmly do know."
" The antagonist's ship has gone down to the bottom,
Eighteen we have captive and brought them on board,
Four more we have blown quite out of the ocean,
And that is the news I have brought you, my Lord."
Come all you gallant seamen as unites a meeting,
Always let Lord Nelson's memory go round,
For it is your duty, when you unites a meeting,
Because he was loyal and true to the crownd.
THE WHITE HORSE. 219
And now to conclude and finish these verses,
" My time it is come; kiss me, Hardy," he cried.
Now thousands go with you, and ten thousand blessings
For gallant Lord Nelson in battle who died.
Mourn, England, mourn, mourn and complain,
For the loss of Lord Nelson, who died on the main.
The short scholar was in raptures ; he shouted
in the chorus ; he banged the table till he upset
and broke his tumbler, which the vigilant land-
lady from behind the casks duly noted, and
scored up to him.
I worked away at my note-book, and man-
aged to get all the song, except one verse
between the second and third, which I couldn't
catch.
" Bravo, Doctor ! Here, waiter, get me another
tumbler, and some more gin-punch. What a
stunning call. Couldn't the old bird give us
another bit of history ? It's as good as read-
ing ' Southey's Life,' and much funnier," rattled
away the short scholar.
" What a quaint old grisly party it is ! " said
the long scholar ; " I shall stand him a pot of
beer."
" Well, he won't object to that," said the
Doctor, working away at the beef and pickles.
220 THE SCOURING OF
" Here, waiter, take a pot of beer, with my
compliments, over to that gentleman," said the
long scholar, pointing to the old bargeman,
" and say how much obliged we are to him for
his song."
So Peter trotted across with the liquor, and
the old man telegraphed his acknowledgments.
" By the way, Doctor," said the short scholar,
" as you seem to know a good deal about these
things, can you tell me what ' Vicar of Bray '
means ? I saw two men quarrelling just after
the games, and it was all their wives could do
to keep them from fighting, and I heard it was
because one had called the other ' Vicar of
Bray.' "
" It means 'turn-coat' in Berkshire," answered
the Doctor. " I didn't think they used the name
now ; but I remember the time when it was the
common term of reproach. I dare say you
know Bray, gentlemen ? "
" I should think so," said the short scholar ;
" pretty village just below Maidenhead. I pul-
led by it on my way to town last June."
" Yes, and it's hard on such a pretty village
to have had such a bad parson," said the
Doctor.
THE WHITE HORSE. 221
" I say, Doctor, give us the ' Vicar of Bray,'
now, it will set off some of the singing birds at
the other end of the booth ; I can see they're
getting into prime piping order."
" Very good, if you like it," said the Doctor,
pushing away his plate, and taking a finishing
pull at his pewter, " only the song is in print,
I know, somewhere ; so you mustn't think
you've found much of a prize, Sir," added he
to me, for my use of pencil and note-book
hadn't escaped him.
" No, Sir," said I; " but I should like to hear
it, of all things."
So the Doctor, without further preface, be-
gan in his jolly clear voice
THE VICAR OF BRAY.
In good King Charles's golden days,
When loyalty had no harm in't,
A zealous High-Church man I was,
And so I gained preferment.
To teach my flock I never missed :
Kings were by God appointed;
And they are damned who dare resist,
Or touch the Lord's anointed.
Chorus. And this is law, I will maintain
Until my dying day, sir,
That whatsoever king shall reign,
I'll be the Vicar of Bray, sir.
222 THE SCOURING OF
When Royal James obtained the throne.
And Popery grew in fashion,
The Penal Laws I hooted down,
And read the Declaration ;
The Church of Rome I found would fit
Full well my constitution:
And I had been a Jesuit ;
But for the Revolution.
And this is law, &c.
When William, our deliverer, came
To heal the nation's grievance,
Then I turned cat-in-pan again,
And swore to him allegiance ;
Old principles I did revoke,
Set conscience at a distance,
Passive obedience was a joke,
A jest was non-resistance.
And this is law, &c.
When glorious Anne became our queen.
The Church of England's glory,
Another face of things was seen,
And I became a Tory.
Occasional Conformist case !
I damned such moderation ;
And thought the Church in danger was
By such prevarication.
And this is law, &c.
When George in pudding-time came o'er,
And moderate men looked big, sir,
My principles I changed once more,
And so became a Whig, sir.
THE WHITE HORSE. 223
And thus preferment I procured
From our Faith's great Defender;
And almost every day abjured
The Pope and the Pretender.
For this is law, &c.
The illustrious House of Hanover,
And Protestant Succession,
By these I lustily will swear
While they can keep possession ;
For in my faith and loyalty
I never once will falter,
But George my king shall ever be,
Except the times do alter.
For this is law, &c.
The short scholar was right as to the effect
of the Doctor's song. It was hailed with rap-
turous applause by the lower tables, though
you would have said, to look at them, that
scarcely a man of the audience, except those
close round the singer, could have appreciated
it. People don't always like best what they
fully understand ; and I don't know which is
the greatest mistake, to fancy yourself above
your audience, or to try to come down to
them. The little stiffness which the presence of
strangers belonging to the broad-cloth classes
had at first created amongst the pastime folk
was wearing off, and several songs were started
224 THE SCOURING OF
at once from the distant parts of the booth, all
of which, save one, came to untimely ends in
the course of the first verse or so, leaving the
field clear to a ruddy-faced, smock-frocked man,
who, with his eyes cast up to the tent-top,
droned through his nose the following mourn-
ful ditty :
THE BARKSHIRE TRAGEDY.
A varmer he lived in the West Countree,
Hey- down, bow-down,
A varmer he lived in the West Countree,
And he had daughters one, two, and dree.
And I'll be true to my love,
If my love'll be true to me.
As thay wax walking by the river's brim,
Hey-down, bow-down,
As thay wur walking by the river's brim,
The eldest pushed the youngest in.
And I'll be true, &c.
" Oh sister, oh sister, pray gee me thy hand,
Hey-down, &c.
And I'll gee thee both house and land."
And I'll, &c.
" I'll neither gee thee hand nor glove,
Hey-down, &c.
Unless thou'lt gee me thine own true love."
And I'll, &c.
THE WHITE HORSE. 225
So down she sank and away she swam,
Hey-down, &c.
Until she came to the miller's dam.
And I'll, &c.
The miller's daughter stood by the door,
Hey-down, &c.
As fair as any gilly-flow-er.
And I'll, &c.
" Oh vather, oh vather, here swims a swan,
Hey-down, &c.
Very much like a drownded gentlewoman."
And I'll, &c.
The miller he fot his pole and hook,
Hey-down, &c.
And he fished the fair maid out of the brook.
And I'll, &c.
" Oh miller, I'll gee thee guineas ten,
Hey-down, &c.
If thou'lt fetch me back to my vather again."
And I'll, &c.
The miller he took her guineas ten,
Hey-down, &c.
And he pushed the fair maid in again.
And I'll, &c.
But the Crowner he cum, and the Justice too,
Hey-down, &c.
With a hue and a cry and a hulla-balloo.
And I'll, &c.
10*
226 THE SCOURING OF
They hanged the miller beside his own gate,
Hey-down, &c.
For drowning the varmer's daughter, Kate.
And I'll, &c.
The sister she fled beyond the seas,
Hey-down, &c.
And died an old maid among black savagees.
And I'll, &c.
So I've ended my tale of the West Countree,
And they calls it the Barkshire Trage-dee.
And I'll, &c.
"The Barkshire Tragedy, indeed! Now,
Doctor, what have you to tell us about this ?
When did it happen ? Who was the lady ?
Was she drowned in the Thames, the Ken-
nett, or where?"
" Oh, I don't know. All I can say is, she
was drowned before my time ; for I remember
hearing the song when I was a little chap in
petticoats. But the story seems a common one.
There's a north-country ballad founded on it,
I know, but I don't remember the name just
now."
" ' The Bonny Mill-dams of Binnorie,' is not
it?" said the long scholar.
"Aye, that's the name, I think."
THE WHITE HORSE. 227
" Well, it's very odd, for we've got the same
story, all but the miller, and his daughter as fair
as any gilly-ftpwer (why are millers' daughters
always pretty, by the way?), on the Welsh
marshes," said the long scholar.
" Then, Sir, I must call on you to sing it.
The call is with me at our end of the booth,"
said the Doctor. "And, Peter, bring me a little
cold gin-and-water, and a pipe. If I must
breathe smoke-poison, I may as well make it
myself, at any rate."
" Well, singing's rather more than I bar-
gained for. However, I suppose I mustn't spoil
sport ; so here goes."
THE DROWNED LADY.
Qy. another version of the Barkshire Tragedy 1
Oh, it was not a pheasant cock,
Nor yet a pheasant hen,
. But oh it was a lady fair
Came swimming down the stream.
An ancient harper passing by
Found this poor lady's body,
To which his pains he did apply
To make a sweet melody.
To cat-gut dried he her inside,
He drew out her back-bone,
228 THE SCOURING OF
And made thereof a fiddle sweet
All for to play upon.
And all her hair so long and fair,
That down her back did flow,
Oh he did lay it up with care,
' To string his fiddle bow.
And what did he with her fingers
Which were so straight and small ?
Oh, he did cut them into pegs
To screw up his fid-doll.
Then forth went he, as it might be,
Upon a summer's day,
And met a goodly company,
Who asked him in to play.
Then from her bones he drew such tones
As made their bones to ache,
They sounded so like human groans,
Their hearts began to quake.
They ordered him in ale to swim,
For sorrow's mighty dry,
And he to share their wassail fare
Essayd right willingly.
He laid his fiddle on a shelf
In that old manor-hall,
It played and sung all by itself,
And thus sung this fid-doll:
M There sits the squire, my worthy sire,
A-drinking his-self drunk,
THE WHITE HORSE. 229
And so did he, ah woe is me !
The day my body sunk.
" There sits my mother, half asleep,
A-taking of her ease,
Her mind is deep, if one might peep,
In her preserves and keys.
" There sits my sister, cruel Joan,
Who last week drownded me ;
And there's my love, with heart of stone,
Sits making love to she.
" There sits the Crowner, Uncle Joe,
Which comforteth poor me ;
He'll hold his Crowner's quest, I know,
To get his Crowner's fee."
Now when this fiddle thus had spoke
It fell upon the floor,
And into little pieces broke,
No word spoke never more.
" Thank you. Sir," said the Doctor ; " that's
a queer tune though. I don't know that I ever
heard one at all like it. But I shouldn't say
all that song was old now."
" Well, I believe you're right. But I can
say, as you said of the Barkshire Tragedy, it's
all older than my time, for I remember my
father singing it just as I've sung it to you as
long as I can remember any thing."
230 THE SCOURING OF
" And what did he say of it ? "
" Well, he said that five out of the first six
verses were very old indeed. He had heard
them often when he was a child, and always
the same words. The rest was all patchwork,
he said, by different hands, and he hardly knew
which were the old lines, and which new."
" I say," remarked the short scholar, " the
Doctor don't seem to be a bad hand at making
the smoke-poison."
The Doctor blew out a long white cloud,
and was about to reply, when a brawny young
carter, at a distant table, took his pipe from his
lips, and, in answer to the urgings of his neigh-
bours, trolled out the following little piece of
sentiment :
CUPID'S GARDEN.
As I wur in Cu-bit's gardin
Not mwoar nor haf an hour,
'T wur ther I zeed two may-dens
Zittin under Cu-bit's bower,
A-gatherin of sweet jassa-mine,
The lilly and the rose.
These be the fairest flowers
As in the gardin grows.
I vondly stepped to one o' them,
These words to her I zays,
THE WHITE HORSE. 231
" Be you engaged to arra young man,
Come tell to me, I prays."
" I beant engaged to narra young man,
I solemnly declare;
I aims to live a may-den,
And still the lau-rel wear."
Zays I, " My stars and gar-ters !
This here's a pretty go,
Vor a vine young mayd as never wos
To sar' all man-kind zo."
But the t'other young may-den looked sly at me,
And vrom her zeat she risn,
Zays she, " Let thee and I go our own waay,
And we'll let she go shis'n."
" Oh, I say, that beats all ! " said the short
scholar, with a shout of laughter. " I must
have the words somehow. Let's see, how did
he begin ? something about Cubit. What a
rum notion to call Cupid, Cubit. What was it,
Doctor ? "
" You shouldn't laugh, really, Sir, at our
west-country sentiment," said the Doctor, with
astounding gravity. " I don't think I can con-
scientiously help you to the words, when I
know you'll only be making fun of them at
some wine-party. They are meant for malt
drinkers, not for wine drinkers."
" Fudge, Doctor. Come, now, give us the
232 THE SCOURING OF
words, or I shall have to go over and ask the
performer for them."
" I think I can give you them," said I, look-
ing up from my note- book.
" What a thing it is to write shorthand ! "
said the Doctor, glancing at my hieroglyphics ;
" we don't learn that sort of thing down in
these parts."
" I wonder we haven't had more sentimental
songs," said the long scholar ; " I suppose there
are plenty of love-stories going about ? "
" Oh yes, plenty," said the Doctor ; " mostly
ballads telling how rich young heiresses dis-
dained all good matches, for the sake of a sailor
boy with tarry trousers, or a seductive fogger,
thereby provoking their cruel match-making par-
ents. For instance :
Says the daughter to the mother, <: Your art is all in vain,
For Dukes and Lords and Earls alike their riches I disdain;
I'd rather live a humble life, and my time I would employ
Increasing nature's prospects, with my bonny labouring boy."
" What on earth can ' increasing nature's
prospects' mean?" asked the long scholar.
" How can I tell ? " said the Doctor, laugh-
ing ; " I don't pretend to construe ; I only give
you the words. But you must allow the moral
to be good. It runs :
THE WHITE HORSE. 233
" Success to every labouring boy that ploughs and hoes the ground,
For when his work is over, his home he will e:ijoy;
So happy is the girl that gets a bonny labouring boy."
" Let's see," said the short scholar, " we've
had specimens of patriotic, legendary, and senti-
mental ditties ; but how about drinking songs ?
All tuneful nations, since the world began, have
sung the praises of good liquor."
" I don't know that we have many drinking
songs," said the Doctor ; " I suppose it takes
wine, or spirits at any rate, to make a man
write such stuff as. ' the glasses sparkle,' or ' a
bumper of Burgundy.' The bucolic muse only
gets smallish beer. But we must see what we
can do for you." So the Doctor beckoned to
Peter, and sent him off to the lower tables with
a pot of beer, the speedy result of which mis-
sion was the following song :
TOVEY'S TAP. AIR, " Derry down."
Owld Tovey once brewed a barrel o' beer,
For he wur a man as loved good cheer,
And za3 T s he, " I'll jest ax a vcaw o' my vriends
To come and try how the likker spends." *
Deny down, &c.
* ' Spend" to consume.
234 THE SCOURING OF
There's long Tom Ockle, he shall be one,
And little Jack Smith, who's as round as a ton,
And owld Gaarge Mabbutt, who's allus a-dry,
I'll warn'd thay'll make good company.
Derry down. &c.
The barrell wur tapped, and the beer runned well,
How much they vour drenked I hever heard tell ;
But zome how or other they one and all
Did zwear as how the drenk wur small.
Derry down, &c.
Owld Tovey at this did look main scrow; *
Zays he, " My vriends, I'd hev'ee to kneow
That my beer has made 'ee as drunk as pegs,
And not one o' you dree can kip on his legs."
Derry down, &c.
They left the house, and the path they tuk,
Athert the meadow as leads to the bruk ;
And you plainly med zee as every man
Had a pair o' crooked stockings an.
Derry down, &c.
Zays Mabbott to Ockle, " Owld Tovey wur zurly; "
Zays Ockle to Mabbott, " I'm uncommon purly; t
Be mindful, I zay, vor yer missuses' zakes,
Which o' them two narrer bridges you takes."
Derry down, &c.
* The bruk is main deep," Gaarge Mabbott then zaid,
As he looked at the water, and scratted his yead ;
* " Scrow " angry. t " I'urly " purblind.
THE WHITE HORSE. 235
And I owns I should 'mazinly like for to know
Auver which o' thay bridges you aims vor to go."
Derry down, &c.
" 'Tis a akkerdish place to crass in the night,
And to stand here till marnin' wouldn't be right;
'T'aint a mossell o' use to bide stabbleing * here,
Zo let's go back and vinish the barrel o' beer."
Derry down, &c.
" A good cast, Doctor ; " said the long scholar ;
" but you've raised the wrong fish. That isn't
what my friend here meant by a drinking song.
He expects a bucolic rendering of one of
Moore's songs, and you serve him out a queer
pot-house tale. Is there no enthusiasm for
good drink amongst you ? "
" I wish there were less," said the Doctor,
with a sigh ; "at any rate, less consumption of
bad drink. Tippling is our great curse, as it is
that of all England ; but there's less of it than
there used to be. But for a drinking song such
as you mean, I'm at fault. The nearest ap-
proach to it that I know of is a song of which
I only remember two lines. They run
" Sartinly the sixpenny's the very best I've see'd yet,
I do not like the fourpenny, nor yet the intermediate.
* " Stabble " to tread dirt about.
236 THE SCOURING OF
But even here you see, though the poet was
meditating on drink, it was in a practical rather
than an enthusiastic spirit."
Just then, a stout old yeoman entered the
booth, dressed in a broad straight-cut brown
coat with metal buttons, drab breeches, and
mahogany tops ; and, marching up to the bar,
ordered a glass of brandy and water; while his
drink was being prepared, he stood with his
back to our table, talking to the landlord.
" We're in luck," said the Doctor in a low
voice, pointing to the new-comer with the end
of his pipe ; " if he stays, we shall have the
best old song in all the west country, sung as
it should be."
" Who is he ? " asked the short scholar.
" An old Gloucestershire farmer from Suthe-
rup way, famous for his breed of sheep. He
must be near seventy, and has twelve miles to
ride home to-night, and won't think so much of
it as you or I would."
" He looks a tough old blade."
" You may say that. But he isn't the man
he was, for he has lived pretty hard. He used
to be a famous wrestler ; and one day, many
years ago, an Ilsley dealer came down to buy
THE WHITE HORSE. 237
his flock of two-year olds. They drank six
bottles of port over the deal, and got it all
straight out except the odd sheep, but they
couldn't make out, cipher it how they would,
who the odd sheep belonged to ; so they agreed
to wrestle for the odd sheep in the farmer's
kitchen, and somehow both of them got hurt,
and the old boy has never gone quite right
since."
" What an old sponge ! six bottles of port
between two of them ! no wonder they couldn't
do their sum."
" Ah, we mustn't judge of the men of his
time by our rules," said the Doctor ; " it was
part of a yeoman's creed in those days to send
his friends off drunk, and to be carried to bed
himself by his fogger and carter, or else to
sleep under his kitchen-table. They lived hard
enough, and misused a deal of good liquor
meant to strengthen man's heart, following the
example of their betters ; but they had their
good points. That old man, now, is the best
master in all his neighbourhood; and he and
the parson keep up the wages in the winter, and
never let a man go to the house who will
work."
238 THE SCOURING OF
The old farmer turned round, glass in hand,
and came and sat down at the table. " Your
sarvant, gen'l'men," said he, taking off his broad-
brimmed beaver. " Why, Doctor," he went on,
recognizing our friend, and holding out his
great bony hand, " be main glad to zee 'ee."
" Thank you, farmer," said the Doctor, re-
turning the grip ; " we haven't met this long
while ; I'm glad to see you wearing so well."
" Yes, I be pretty-feteish, thank God," said
the farmer. " Your health, sir, and gen'l'men."
After a little judicious talk on the day's
sport, the Doctor suddenly began, " Now, far-
mer, you must do us a favour, and give us
your famous old Gloucestershire song. I've
been telling all our friends here about it, and
they're keen to hear it."
" 'Spose you means Gaarge Ridler ? " said the
farmer.
" Of course," said the Doctor.
" Well, I don't know as I've zung these score
o' months," said the farmer, " but hows'mever,
if you wants it, here goes." So the farmer fin-
ished his brandy and water, cleared his throat,
balanced himself on the hind legs of his chair,
cast up his eyes and began
THE WHITE HORSE. 239
Thaay stwuns, thaay stwuns, thaay stwnns, thaay stwuns,
Thaay stwuns, thaay stwuns, thaay stwuns, thaay stwuns.
" "What's he saying what language ? " whis-
pered the tall scholar.
" Mad old party," murmured the short scholar.
" Hush," whispered the Doctor ; " that's the
orthodox way to begin ; don't put him out."
I couldn't tell what in the world to write, but
the farmer went on with growing emphasis
Thaay stwuns, thaay stwuns, thaay stwuns, thaay stwuns,
Thaay stwuns, thaay stwuns, thaay stimms, THAAY s, T, w, u, N, 8.
There was a moment's pause, during which
the Doctor had much difficulty in keeping order ;
then the farmer got fairly under weigh, and
went on
Thaay stwuns that built Gaarge Ridler's oven
Oh, thaay cum vrom the Blakeney Quaar,
And Gaarge he wur a jolly owld man,
And his yead did graw above his yare.
One thing in Gaarge Ridler I must commend,
And I hold it vor a notable thing:
He made his braags avoore he died,
As wi' any dree brothers his zons zhou'd zing.
Ther' wur Dick the treble, and Jack the mean,
Let every nion zing in his auwn pleace,
240 THE SCOURING OF
And Gaarge he wur the elder brother,
And there-voore he would zing the base.
Droo 1 aal the world, owld Gaarge would bwoast,
Commend me to merry owld England mwoast,
While vools gwoes scamblin' vur and nigh,
We bides at whoam, my dog and I.
Ov their furrin tongues let travellers brag,
Wi' their vifteen neames vor a puddin' bag,
Two tongues I knows ne'er towld a lie,
And their wearers be my dog and I.
My dog has got his maaster's nose,
To smell a knave droo silken hose ;
But when good company I spy,
" Welcome,"' quoth my dog and I.
When I hev dree sixpences under my thumb,
Oh then I be welcome wherever I cua;
But when I hev none, then I pass by ;
'Tis poverty pearts good company.
When I gwoes dead, as it may hap,
My grave shall be under the good yeal-tap,
Wi' vaulded earmes ther' wool I lie,
Cheek by jowl my dog and I.
Just as the farmer was finishing the song,
Master George, with Joe and one or two more
behind him, came in. He took up the last
verse, and rolled it out as he came up towards
our table, and a lot of the rest joined in with
THE WHITE HORSE. 241
him; even the over- worked Peter, I could see
stopping for a moment to shout that he
would be buried under the tap ; I dare say he
meant it, only I think he would like it to be
always running.
Master George knew most of the people, and
made us all merrier even than we were before ;
and in the next half-hour or so, for which time
we stayed in the booth, I should think there
must have been a dozen more songs sung.
However, I shall only give the one which
seemed to be the greatest favourite, for I find
that this chapter is running very long. This
song was sung by a queer little man, with a
twisted face, and a lurcher dog between his
knees, who I believe was an earth stopper.
He called it
BUTTERMILK JACK.
Ther vnir an owld 'oman as had but one son,
And thay lived together as you med zee ;
And they'd nought but an owld hen as wanted to sett,
Yet somehow a landlord he fain would be.
" Oh, I've been and begged me some buttermilk, mother,
OS of an owld 'oman as has girt store ;
And I shall well rewarded be,
Vor she's g'in me haf a gallon or mwore.
11
242 THE SCOURING OF
" Oh mother, my buttermilk I will sell,
And all for a penny as you med zee;
And with my penny then I will buy eggs,
Vor I shall have seven for my penney.
" Oh mother, I'll set them all under our hen,
And seven cock chickens might chance for to be;
But seven cock chickens or seven cap hens,
There'll be seven half-crownds for me.
" Oh, I'll go carry them to market, mother,
And nothing but vine volk shall I zee ;
And with my money then I will buy land,
Zo as a landlord I med be."
" Oh my dear zon, wilt thee know me,
When thee hast gotten great store of wealth ? "
" Oh, my dear mother, how shall I know thee,
When I shall hardly know my own self? "
With that the owld 'oman she flew in a passion,
And dashed her son Jack up agin the wall,
And his head caught the shelf where the buttermilk stood,
So down came the buttermilk, pitcher and all.
Zo aal you as has got an old hen for to sett,
Both by night and by day mind you has her well watched,
Lest you should be like unto Buttermilk Jack,
To reckon your chickens before thay are hatched.
" Well, I must be moving," said the Doctor
at last, looking at his watch ; " how do you get
home, Mr. Hurst ? "
THE WHITE HORSE. 243
" Bless us ! near nine o'clock," said Joe, fol-
lowing the Doctor's example ; " oh, I ride my-
self, and my friend here talks of going behind."
" Better not ride double, the night's dark,"
said the Doctor, hoisting on his overcoat with
Peter's help. " If he likes to take his luck in
my gig, I can put him down at your gate.
What do you say, Sir ? "
I thankfully accepted ; for I didn't at all like
the notion of riding behind Joe on the chestnut,
and I can't think how I could ever have been
such a fool as to say I would do it. The Doc-
tor had two bright lamps to his gig, which gave
us glimpses of the closed booths and camping
places of the people who were going to stay on
the hill all night, as we drove out of the Castle.
I suggested that it must be very bad for the
people sleeping out up there.
" For their health ? " said he, not a bit of it,
on a fine night like this do 'em good ; I wish
they always slept so healthily."
" I didn't quite mean that, Sir ! "
" Oh, for their morals ? Well, I don't know
that there's much harm done. I'm sorry to say
they're used to crowding and, after all, very
few but the owners of the booths, and the regu-
244 THE SCOURING OF
lar tramps, stay up here. Didn't you see hem
quiet every thing was ? "
I said I had noticed this ; and then he began
asking me about the sports, for he had only got
on to the hill late in the afternoon ; and when
we came to the wrestling and backsword play,
I asked him whether he thought they did any
harm.
" No," said he, " there are very few serious
accidents in fact none now that drink is not
allowed on the stage. There used to be some
very brutal play in out-of-the-way places, where
the revels were got up by publicans. But that
is all over, at least about this part of the
country."
" Then you wouldn't stop them. Sir ? "
" Stop them! not I I would encourage them,
and make the parish clerk and constable perpet-
ual umpires." And then he went on to say
how he should like to see the young fellows in
every parish drilled in a company, and taught
all sorts of manly exercises, and shooting espe-
cially ; so that they would make good light
troops at a day's notice, in case of invasion.
But he was afraid the great game preservers
would never allow this. And in the middle of
THE WHITE HORSE. 245
his talk, which seemed very sensible, we came
to Joe's gate, and I got down, and wished him
good night.
I found the family gone to bed, and only Joe
and the Parson in the kitchen, and there, over a
last pipe, we chatted about the sports.
At last the Parson turned to me, and said,
" You saw a good deal of the play on the stage ;
now, would you stop it if you could ? "
I thought a minute over what I had seen, and
what the Doctor had said.
" No, Sir," said I, I can't say that I would."
" That's candid," said he. " And now I'll
make an admission. There's a good deal of the
play that wants very close watching. The um-
pires should be resolute, quick men, and stand
no nonsense. I saw one or two bouts to-day
that should have been stopped."
. " You see," said Joe, taking his pipe out of
his mouth, " there allus must be."
" We don't admit your evidence, Joseph,"
interrupted the Parson, " you are a prejudiced
witness."
" But you haven't changed your mind, Sir,"
said L
" No," said he, " I should be sorry to hear
246 THE SCOURING OF
that these sports had died out, but I should like
to hear that people took an interest in them
who could manage the men thoroughly."
" The Doctor," said I, " as we drove home,
said he would have the parish clerk and con-
stable for perpetual umpires."
" They wouldn't be so good as the parson or
the squire," said he ; " if I were rector of one
of the parishes where they are still kept up, I
would give prizes for them, but I would always
be umpire myself."
" I wish to goodness you was then," said Joe,
as we lighted our candles.
" You remember, Sir," said I, " that you
promised to write a sermon about the pas-
time."
" What ! " after the fair ? " said he.
" 'Twill do just as well," said Joe, " I should
mortally like to hear it."
" Well, it might keep you awake perhaps.
He has an hereditary weakness for slumber in
church, you must know," said the Parson, turn-
ing to me ; " when we wanted to alter the sit-
tings in the church six or seven years ago, his
father stood out for his old high box so sturdily,
that I took some pains to argue with him, and
THE WHITE HORSE. 247
to find out what it was which made it so dear
to him. I found out at last that it was a snug
corner, which just fitted his shoulders, where
nobody could see him, and where, as soon as
the text was given out, in his own words, " I
just watches my missus wipe her spectacles,
and fix herself to listen, and then I vaulds my
arms and thenks o' nothin'."
I looked at Joe to see how he would take it,
but he only chuckled, and said, " Well, 'tis the
parson's business to keep us awake. But a
sermon on our sports, just showing folk about
the rights on it, is just what I should amazingly
like to have by me."
The Parson looked at Joe for a moment very
curiously, and then said, " Very well, I will
write you one. Good night."
And so we went off to bed.
248 THE SCOURING OF
CHAPTER VIII.
Miss LUCY couldn't be spared to go up to
the hill on the second day of the pastime, for
there was some great operation going on in
the cheese room, which she had to overlook.
So Mr. Warton drove me up in the four-wheel.
I was very anxious to find out, if I could,
whether there was any thing more between him
and Miss Lucy than friendship, but it wasn't at
all an easy matter. First I began speaking of
the young gentleman who had taken my place
in the four-wheel ; for I thought that would be
a touchstone, and that if he were like me he
would be glad to get a chance of abusing this
Jack. But he only called him a forward boy,
and said -he was a cousin of the Hursts, who
lived in the next parish. Then I spoke of Miss
Lucy herself, and he was quite ready to talk
about her as much as I liked, and seemed never
THE WHITE HORSE. 249
tired of praising her. She was a thoroughly
good specimen of an English yeoman's daugh-
ter ; perfectly natural, and therefore perfectly
well bred ; not above making good puddings
and preserves, and proud of the name her broth-
er's cheeses had won in the market, yet not neg-
ligent of other matters, such as the schools, and
her garden ; never going into follies of dress in
imitation of weak women who ought to set
better examples, yet having a proper apprecia-
tion of her own good looks, and a thorough
knowledge of the colours and shapes which
suited her best; not particularly clever or well
read, but with an open mind and a sound judg-
ment and so he went on; and the longer he
went on the more I was puzzled, and my belief
is, that on this subject the Parson got much
more out of me than I out of him, on that
morning's drive.
"We had a very pleasant day on the hill, but
as the sports were all the same as those of the
day before (with the exception of jumping in
sacks, which was substituted for climbing the
pole, and was very good fun), I shall not give
any further account of them ; especially as the
gentlemen who are going to publish my story
11*
250 THE SCOURING OF
seem to think already that I am rather too long-
winded.
We got down home in capital time for tea,
and Joe followed very soon afterwards, in the
highest spirits ; for, as he said, every thing had
gone off so well, and everybody was pleased
and satisfied; so we were all very merry, and
had another charming evening. I couldn't tell
what had come to me when I got up stairs
alone by myself, for I seemed as if a new life
were growing up in me, and I were getting all
of a sudden into a much bigger world, full of all
sorts of work and pleasure, which I had never
dreamt of, and of people whom I could get to
love and honour, though I might never see or
speak to them.
I had been bred up from a child never to look
beyond my own narrow sphere. To get on in it
was the purpose of my life, and I had drilled
myself into despising every thing which did not,
as I thought, help towards this end. Near rela-
tions I had none. I was really fond of my two
friends, but I don't think I should ever have got
to be friends with them if we hadn't been in the
same office ; and I used often to be half pro-
voked with them, and to think myself a very
THE WHITE HORSE. 251
wise fellow, because out of office-hours they
would read poetry and novels instead of fagging
at short-hand or accounts, as I did, and spent all
their salaries instead of saving. Except those
two, I knew nobody ; and though I belonged to
a debating society, it wasn't that I cared for the
members, or what they talked about, but that I
thought it might be useful to me to talk fluently
if I got on in business. Sometimes, and espe-
cially in my yearly holidays, I had felt as if I
wanted something else, and that my way of life
was after all rather a one-eyed sort of business ;
but I set all such misgivings down as delusions,
and had never allowed them long to trouble me.
In short I begin to suspect that I must have
been getting to be a very narrow, bigoted, dis-
agreeable sort of fellow, and it was high time
that I should find my way to Elm Close, or
some such place, to have my eyes opened a
little, and discover that a man may work just as
steadily and honestly aye, much more stead-
ily and honestly at his own business, without
shutting up his brains and his heart against
every thing else that is going on in the world
around him. However, I can't be too thankful
that my teaching came to me in the way it did,
252 THE SCOURING OF
for I might have had to learn my lesson in a
very different school from Elm Close Farm.
There certainly never was such a pleasant
school. For the next two or three days after
'the Scouring,' Mr. Warton was my chief com-
panion. Joe and Miss Lucy both had their
work to attend to after breakfast, and so the
Parson and I were left a good deal together;
and we used to start off to see some of the old
men whom he had promised to show me, who
could tell me about the old pastimes. I never
liked any thing so much as these walks not
even the walks I afterwards used to have alone
with Miss Lucy, for they were too exciting,
and half the time I was in such a fret that I
couldn't thoroughly enjoy them. But there was
no drawback in these walks with the Parson.
He was full of fun, and of all sorts of knowl-
edge ; and he liked talking, and I think rather
took a fancy to me, and was pleased to see how
I worked at collecting all the information I
could about the White Horse, for he took a
great deal of pains to help me.
One morning though I remember he got me
into a regular puzzle about King Alfred, for I
had been reading over my notes of the old gen-
THE WHITE HORSE. 253
tleman's story, and couldn't make it agree with
the tales which I had read about Alfred's hiding
away in the cowherd's hut, and burning the
cakes. So I asked Mr. Warton about it.
" I think," said he, " you will find that Alfred
was in the cowherd's cottage in the year 878,
after the battle at Chippenham."
" But, Sir," said I, " according to the old gen-
tleman's story, Ashdown was Alfred's greatest
victory; and Ashdown was fought in 871.
Now it seems very odd that he should have
to run away and skulk about in such places
after that."
" "Well," said he, " I'm not well enough up in
the history to explain it to you, but I'm pretty
sure you'll find I'm right about the dates why
shouldn't you write and ask the old gentleman?"
So I did, and I kept a copy of my letter ; but
I don't think I need print that, because his
answer will be quite enough without it. Here
it is :
" 22d September, 1857.
" My Dear Sir, I am favoured with yours of
the 20th ult., which came safely to hand this
morning. Our post is somewhat behind the
times, and I know of hardly any town or vil-
254 THE SCOURING OF
lage from which a letter can arrive at thia
place under two days. I do not myself com-
plain of this state of things.
" With regard to the subject of your letter, I
have to tell you that your friend the clergyman
is right in his dates. It was in the year 878
that Alfred was deserted by his nobles and
people after the battle of Chippenham, which
was a drawn battle. Then he fled to the Island
of Athelney, in Somersetshire, and the incident
to which you allude took place, but you have
not got the verses correctly ; they run,
' Casn't mind the ke-aks mun, and doosn't zee 'em burn?
I'ze warn thee'lt yeat 'em vast enough, zo zoon az 'tiz thy turn.'
But you are not to believe from this, that the
Danish army ever got a hold on the kingdom of
Wessex. I think that the following passage
from Asser's 'Life of Alfred' will explain a
good deal to you. Referring to his sojourn in
Athelney, Asser says :
" ' We may believe that this misfortune was
brought upon the aforesaid king, because in the
beginning of his reign, when he was a youth,
and influenced by youthful feelings, he would
not listen to the petitions which his subjects
THE WHITE HORSE. 255
made to him for help in their necessities ; but
he drove them from him and paid no heed to
their requests. This particular gave much pain
to the holy man, St. Neot, who was his kins-
man ; and often foretold to him in the spirit of
prophecy that he would suffer great adversity
on this account; but Alfred neither attended
to the reproof of the man of God, nor listened
to his true prophecy wherefore seeing that a
man's sins must be corrected either in this
world or the next, the true and righteous Judge
willed that his sin should not go unpunished
in this world, to the end that he might spare
him in the world to come. From this cause,
therefore, Alfred often fell into such great mis-
ery, that sometimes none of his subjects knew
where he was, or what had become of him.'
" And Alfred learned his lesson well in the
next few years, for you will find that in the year
886 A.D., ' which was the thirty-eighth year since
his birth, King Alfred, after the burning of
cities and slaying of the people, honourably
rebuilt the city of London and made it again
habitable, and gave it into the custody of his
son-in-law, ^Ithelred, Earl of Mercia; to which
King Alfred, all the Angles and Saxons, who
256 THE SCOURING OF
before had been dispersed every where, or were
in captivity with the pagans, voluntarily turned
and submitted themselves to his rule ! '
" You see they had turned from his rule many
of them because it was an unjust one in those
early years of his reign. But they were never
subdued by the Danes, so that my statement
which you quote, ' that the battle of Ashdown
saved England from one hundred years of
Paganism,' is not shaken.
" I have directed my London bookseller to
leave a copy of Asser's ' Life of Alfred the
Great,' for you, at Somerset House, directed to
the care of my friend, the secretary of the An-
tiquaries' Society ; you will find it to be well
worth a careful perusal. I shall be always glad
to hear from you upon the subjects on which
we have conversed, and heartily desiring that
the veneration for all that is old may grow upon
you, and that God may have you in his good
keeping, I am faithfully yours,
But to return to my subject, from which I
have been wandering for the pleasure of putting
in the old gentleman's letter. The Parson in
our walks set me thinking about fifty subjects
THE WHITE HORSE. 257
which I never cared about before, because I
could see that he was himself deeply interested
in them, and really believed whatever he said to
me. We used to get home by about twelve
o'clock, and then I would go away by myself,
and think over what we had been talking about
till dinner. And, after dinner, Miss Lucy, and
sometimes Joe, would corne out and walk with
us till tea. Sometimes we went to the village
school, and I sat at the door and heard them
teaching ; and as long as Mr. Warton was with
us it was all right, but afterwards, when he had
gone, I could see that the schoolmistress, a
young woman of about thirty, sallow-faced
and rather prudish, used to look at me as if I
had no business there.
When he left, Mr. Warton gave me a kind
invitation to go and see him in town, and added
he had no doubt I should come, for he could see
I should soon want some such work as he could
give me to do.
After he was gone I tumbled fairly head over
heels into the net in which I suppose every man
" as is a man " (as old Seeley would say) gets
enmeshed once in his life. I found it was no
use to struggle any longer, and gave myself up
258 THE SCOURING OF
to the stream, with all sails set. Now there is
no easier thing than going down stream some-
how, when wind and tide are with you ; but to
steer so as to make the most of wind and tide,
isn't so easy at least I didn't find it so.
For as often as not, I think, I did the wrong
thing, and provoked, instead of pleasing her. I
used to get up every morning before six, to be
ready to wish her good morning as she went
out to the dairy; but I don't think she half
liked it, for she was generally in a very old
gown tucked through her pocket holes, and pat-
tens. Then after breakfast I used to hanker
round the kitchen, or still-room, or wherever she
might happen to be, like a Harry-long-legs
round a candle. And again in the afternoon
I never could keep away, but was at her side in
the garden, or on her walks ; in fact, to get rid
of me, she had fairly to go up to her room.
But I couldn't help myself ; I felt that, come
what might, I must be near her while I could ;
and on the whole, I think she was pleased, and
didn't at all dislike seeing me reduced to this
pitiful state.
When I was involuntarily out of her sight,
I used to have a sort of craving for poetry
THE WHITE HORSE. 259
and often wished that I had spent a little more
time over such matters. I got Joe to lend me
the key of the cupboard where he kept his li-
brary, hoping to find something to suit me
there. But, besides a few old folios of divinity
and travel, and some cookery books, and the
Farmer's Magazine, there was nothing but
Watts's Hymns and PoUock's Course of Time,
which I didn't find of any use to me.
Joe used to wonder at me at first, when I
refused his offers of a day's coursing, or a ride
with him to Farringdon or Didcott markets ;
but he soon got used to it, and put it down
to my cockney bringing up, and congratulated
himself that, at any rate, I was pretty good
company over a pipe in the kitchen.
The autumn days sped away all too quickly,
but I made the most of them as they passed, and
over and over again I wondered whether there
were any but kind and hospitable and amusing
people in the Vale, for the longer I stayed there,
the more I was astonished at the kind courtesy
of everybody I came across, from the highest to
the lowest, and I suppose everybody else would
find it the same as I did.
It seemed as if I were destined to leave Elm
260 THE SCOURING OF
Close without a single unkind thought of any
body I had seen while there, for even Jack
made his peace with me. Only two days be-
fore my departure, Miss Lucy gave out at
breakfast that she was going to walk over to
see her uncle, and wanted to know if her
mother or Joe had any message. No, they
hadn't. 'But of course I managed to accom-
pany her.
When we came to her uncle's farm, he was
out, and in five minutes Miss Lucy was away
with her dear friend and cousin, one of the
girls I had seen at the pastime, and I was left
to the tender mercies of Jack. However, Jack
at his own house, with no women by to en-
courage him to make a fool of himself, was a
very decent fellow. He walked me about the
homestead, and chatted away about the pas-
time, and the accomplishments of his terrier
dog, whom he had got from the kennel of the
Berkshire hounds, and whose father used to
run with them regularly. Then he began to
inquire about me in a patronizing way ; how
I came to know Joe, what I was, and where
I lived. And when he had satisfied his curi-
osity about me, he took to talking about his
THE WHITE HORSE. 261
cousins. Joe, I soon found out, was his hero ;
and he looked forward to the time when he
should be able to breed a good horse, like Joe's
chestnut, and to go about to all the markets
and carry his head as high as any one, as Joe
could, as the height of human happiness. As
to cousin Lu, if he were looking out for any
thing of the sort, there was no girl within
twenty miles that he knew of to whom she
couldn't give a stone over any country. But
she wasn't likely to marry any of the young
men about; she was too full of fun, and laughed
at them too much. " I shouldn't be a bit sur-
prised now, if she was to take to some town
chap like you, after all's said and done," said
Jack, in conclusion, as we returned to the house.
My last day at Elm Close came swiftly and
surely, and the sun rose, and went pitilessly up
into the heavens, and sank down behind White
Horse Hill, and the clocks went on striking one
after another, just as if it had been any other
day. What a number of things I had in my
head that morning to say to all of them, and
above all to her ; but one thing or another in-
terfered, and I had. said not one quarter of
them, and these not in the way I had intended;
262 THE SCOURING OF
>
before it was dark, and tea on the table. But
I did go all round the farm and the village,
and took a last look at every field and nook
and corner where I had been so happy.
The old lady was unusually talkative at tea,
and for some time afterwards. The fact that
I was not going to leave the house till after
midnight, and was to be at business, in Lon-
don, at nine o'clock the next morning, now that
she had realized it, excited her very much, and
waked up all sorts of recollections of her own
travels; particularly how, when she was a child,
she had been a whole day getting to Reading
by the stage, and how, even after her marriage,
she and father had had to sleep at Windsor,
on the occasion of their one visit to London.
I was watching Miss Lucy at her work all the
time, and thought she seemed a little absent
and sorrowful, and when our eyes met every
now and then, she looked away directly. We
hardly said a word, and left Joe to keep up the
talk with the old lady.
Before long she got tired and went off to bed,
and then, I thought, if something would only
call Joe out but nothing happened, and so we
sat on talking commonplaces, till prayer time ;
THE WHITE HORSE. 263
which, however, Joe did consent to put off this
evening, because it was my last, till past ten
o'clock. The three servants came in, and knelt
down as usual ; and I, in a place where I could
see her, and watch every turn of her figure, and
hear every breath she drew. I own I didn't
listen to a word that Joe read I couldn't
and I don't believe any poor fellow in my state
will ever be hardly judged, whatever square-
toed people may say, for not forcing himself
to attend when he hasn't the power to do it. I
only know that, though I couldn't listen to the
prayers, I could and did thank God for having
brought me down there, and allowed me to
see her and know her ; and prayed, as heartily
as was in me to pray, that I might never do
any thing which might make me unworthy of
one so bright, and pure, and good as she.
And too soon Joe shut the book, and got up,
and the servants went out, and Joe dived off
into the recess ; and she lighted her candle and
came up to me, holding out her hand, but
without saying any thing, or looking up in my
face.
I took the hand which she held out to me
in both mine, but somehow, when I thought it
264 THE SCOUKING OF
might be for the last time, I couldn't let it-
go. So I stood holding it, my heart beat-
ing so that I couldn't speak, and feeling very
uncomfortable about the throat. She didn't
take it away, and presently I got my voice
again.
" Good bye, Miss Lucy," said I, " and God
bless you. I can't tell you what my holiday at
Elm Close has been to me and I can't find
words to thank you. I'm a poor lonely fellow,
with nobody belonging to me, and leading a
slave of a life in the midst of the great crowd,
with all sorts of temptations to go wrong. You'll
let me think of you, and Elm Close, and it will
be like a little bright window with the sun
shining through into our musty clerks' room. I
feel it will help to keep me straight for many
a long day. You'll let me think of you now,
won't you ? " said I, pressing the little hand
which I held in mine.
" Why, you see I can't help it if I would,"
said she, looking up with a merry light in her
eyes ; but she went on directly, " but, indeed,
I'm sure we shall think of you quite as often
as you will of us. Joe used to talk so often
about you that I felt quite like an old friend
THE WHITE HORSE. 265
before we met, and now you've been here we
shall feel so dull without you."
" Now, you two ! don't stand talking there
all night," said Joe, coming out of the recess,
where he had been rummaging out the pipes
and a black bottle ; " come, come, kiss and part."
I felt the blood rush up to my face, when Joe
said that, but I opened my hands with a jerk,
and let hers go, I hardly knew why. If I
hadn't been so fond that I was afraid of her,
I should have taken Joe at his word. But I'm
glad I didn't; I'm sure I was right, for I stole
a look at her, and saw that she looked vexed,
and flushed up to her bright brown hair. Next
moment she held out her hand again, and shook
mine heartily, and said, without looking up,
" Good-bye, you must come again soon," and
then hurried out of the room, and took away
all the light with her. Heigh-ho ! when shall I
see the light again.
Well, as I followed Joe into the kitchen, what
between the sinking I felt at having to leave,
and the doubt whether I hadn't made a fool of
myself at the last with Miss Lucy, I felt half
mad, and the first thing I made up rny mind to
was to have a good quarrel with Joe.
12
266 THE SCOURING OF
So when he sat down on one side of the fire,
and began lighting his pipe, I kept standing
looking at him, and thinking how I should begin.
" There's your pipe, Dick," said he, pulling
away, " on the settle why don't you sit down
and light up ? "
" I shan't smoke with you to-night, Joe," said
I, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself ! "
"Ashamed o' myself," shouted Joe, staring up
at me till I could hardly keep from laughing,
angry as I was; "what, in the name o' good-
ness, have I done to be ashamed of ? "
"'Tisn't what you've done, but what you've
said."
" Said ! what in the world have I said ? Pre-
cious little I know, for you always get all the
talk to yourself."
" Why, what you said just now to me and
Miss Lucy," said I.
" To you and Lu? " said he, looking puzzled ;
and then off he went into one of his great
laughs. " Oh, I take well, that's too much !
To be blown up by you for it! Why, if any
one is to scold, I should say it's Lu."
" Do you think I like to be made the means
of giving your sister pain ? " said I.
THE WHITE HORSE. 2G7
" There now, don't be a fool, Dick sit down
like a good fellow, and light your pipe. What
I said don't mean any thing down in these
parts. Well, I'm very sorry. She'll never think
twice about it, bless you. And besides, you
know, there can't be any harm done, for you
didn't take my advice."
Well, I began to get cool, and to think I
might do something better than quarrel with
Joe the last night ; so I took my pipe, and filled
it, and sat down opposite him, and he began to
mix two glasses of grog, twisting his face about
all the time to keep himself from laughing.
" Here's your health, old fellow," said he,
when he had done, " and, mind you, we shall
always be glad to see you here when you can
come ; though I'm afraid the place must be ter-
rible dull for a Londoner."
" It's the best place I've ever been in," said I,
with a sigh.
This pleased Joe; and he went off about
what he would find me to do if I could come
down in the winter or the spring ; but I didn't
listen much, for I was making up my mind to
speak to him about his sister, and I was afraid
how he might take it
268 THE 'SCOURING OF
Presently he stopped for a moment, and I
thought, ' now or never,' and began.
" I want to ask you, Joe, is your sister en-
gaged to any one ? "
" Not she," said Joe, looking up rather sur-
prised ; " why, she's only eighteen come Lady-
day!"
"What do you think of Mr. Warton?"
said I.
" Our Parson ! " laughed Joe ; " that is a good
'un. Why he has got a sweetheart of his own.
Let alone that he'd know better than to court
a farmer's daughter."
"Are you sure ? " said I ; " your sister isn't
like most girls, I can tell you."
" Yes, I tell you," said Joe, " he's no more in
love with .our Lu than you are."
" Then I'm over head and ears in love with
her, and that's all about it," said I, and I looked
straight across at him, though it wasn't an easy
thing to do. But I felt I was in for it, and I
should be much better for having it over.
Joe gave a start, and a long whistle; and
then a puff or two at his pipe, staring at me
right in the eyes till I felt my head swimming.
But I wasn't going to look down just then ; if
THE WHITE HORSE. 269
he had looked me right through he couldn't have
found any thing I was ashamed of, so far as
his sister was concerned, and I felt he had a
right to look as hard as he pleased, and that I
was bound not to shirk it.
Presently he got up, and took a turn or two
up and down the kitchen. Then he stopped
" Spoke to her, yet ? " said he.
" No," said I, " I haven't."
" Come, give us your hand, Dick," said he,
holding out his, and looking quite bright again ;
" I knew you would be all on the square, let be
what might."
".Well, I won't deceive you, Joe," said I, " I
don't deserve any credit for that."
"How not?" said he.
" Why, I meant to have spoken to her half-a-
dozen times, only one little thing or another
stopped it. But I'm very glad of it, for I think
you ought to know it first."
" Well, well," said he, coming and sitting
down again, and staring into the fire, " it's a
precious bad job. Let's think a bit how we be
to tackle it."
" I know," said I, drawing up a bit for I
didn't feel flattered at this speech "that I'm
270 THE SCOURING OF
not in the same position you are in, and that
you've a right to look for a much richer man
than I am for your sister, but "
" Oh, bother that," said Joe, beginning to
smoke again, and still staring into the fire ; " I
wasn't thinking of that. 'Twill be just as bad
for we, let who will take her. Here's mother
getting a'most blind, and 'mazing forgetful-
like about every thing. Who's to read her her
chapter, or to find her spectacles ? and what in
the world's to become of the keys ? I be no
use to mother by myself, you see," said Joe,
" and I couldn't abide to see the old lady put
about at her time of life ; let alone how the
pickling and preserving is to go on."
I was very pleased and surprised to see him
taking it so coolly, and particularly that he
seemed not to be objecting to me, but only to
losing his sister at all.
" Then there's my dairy," said he ; " that
cow Daisy, as gives the richest milk in all the
Vale, nobody could ever get her to stand quiet
till Lu took to her ; she'll kick down a matter
o' six pail o' milk a week, I'll warrant. And the
poultry, too; there's that drattl'd old galleeny
'11 be learning the Spanish hens to lay astray up
THE WHITE HORSE. 271
in the brake, as soon as ever Lu goes, and then
the fox '11 have 'em all. To think of the trouble
I took to get that breed, and not a mossel 'o use
at last ! "
" Well, but Joe," said I, " one would think we
were going to be married to-morrow, to hear
you talk."
" Well, you want to be married, don't you ? "
said he, looking up.
" Yes, but not directly," said 1^ " you see, I
should like to have a tidy place got all ready
before I should think "
" Why, she mayn't be agreeable after all,"
interrupted Joe, as if a new light had suddenly
struck him ; and then he had a good laugh at
the thought, in which I didn't join.
" Then, Joe," said I, " I think you don't seem
to mind my being a cockney, and not a rich
man ? "
" I'd sooner have had a chap that knows a
horse from a handspike, and something about
four-course," said he, " so I won't tell a lie
about it, Dick. Put that out of the way, and
I'd as lief call you brother-in-law -as any man.
But you ain't in any hurry you said just
now ? "
272 THE SCOURING OF
" Well, no," said I ; " but of course I should
like to write to your sister directly and tell her,
and I hope you won't object to that, and won't
hinder me if you can't help me."
" Don't have any of that writing," said Joe,
" 'pend upon it, a good-bred girl like Lu
wouldn't stand it."
" That's all very well," said I, but I'm
going away to-night, you know, and if I don't
write how's she ever to know any thing about
it?"
" Look here," said Joe ; " will you promise,
Dick, to give me and mother a year to turn
round in from next Christmas that is, suppos-
ing Lu don't say no ? "
" Yes, certainly," said I, ;t Christmas year is
the earliest time I could hope to be ready by."
" Then I'll tell you what," said he ; Don't
you go writing to her at all, and I'll bring her
up with me for Christmas cattle-show, and you
can get us lodgings, and show us some of the
sights. You can have it all out with her before
we come home, and I shall be by to see all
fair."
" No, no, Joe, I couldn't say a word with you
by,"
THE WHITE HORSE. 273
" I didn't mean that I was to be in the room,
you know, only if any thing goes wrong you
understand," said Joe, looking round, and nod-
ding at me with a solemn face.
" Yes, I see," said I ; " but somebody else
one of the young farmers now, that I saw on
the hill, may be stepping in before Christmas."
" Not they. It's busy times with us these
next tw T o months. Besides, I'll look after that.
Is it a bargain, then ? "
" Yes," said I, " only mind, Joe, that you
look sharp meantime."
" All right," said he ; and then fell to looking
into the fire again ; and I sat thinking too, and
wondering at my luck, which I could hardly
believe in yet.
" And now about the pot," said Joe ; " sup-
pose Lu says yes, what have you got to keep
the pot boiling?"
Then I told him what my salary was, and
what I had saved, and where I had put it out,
and he nodded away, and seemed very well
satisfied.
Well, Lu has got .500," said he, under
father's will. Parson and I are the executors.
You must go and see the Parson when you get
12*
274 THE SCOURING OF
back to London ; he's an out-and-outer, and
worth more than all the chaps at that jawing
shop of yours put together. The money is out
at interest, all but ,200, which we've never
raised yet, but for that matter I can pay it up
whenever it's wanted."
" Of course," said I, " I should wish all her
fortune to be settled on her."
" Yes, I forgot," said he ; "I suppose there
ought to be some sort of tying-up done for the
children. So I'll go and see Lawyer Smith
about it next market-day."
" Perhaps you had better wait till after Christ-
mas," said I.
" Aye, aye," said he, " I forgot. We may be
running a tail scent after all. But, I say, Dick,
if you get married, Lu can never live in those
dirty, dark streets, and you away all day ; she'd
mope to death without a place for poultry, and
a little bit of turf to cool her feet on."
" Well," said I, " you see I've got a bit of
ground under a freehold land society, down the
Great Northern line. It's a very pretty place,
and only five minutes' walk from a station. I
could build a house there in the spring, you
know, and have the garden made."
THE WHITE HORSE. 275
" That'll do," said he ; " and if you want
100 or so, to finish it off as should be, why
you know where to come for it."
" Thank you," said I, " but I think I can
manage it."
" I shall send her up those Spanish hens,"
said he, looking up again presently from his
pipe ; " they won't be no use here."
" I wish, Joe," said I, " you wouldn't talk as
if it was all quite certain ; it makes me feel un-
comfortable. Your sister mayn't like me, after
all."
" Makes no odds at all," said he ; " if she
don't have you, there'll be some other chap on
in no time. Once a young gal gets a follower
it's all over, so fur as I see; though 'tisn't
always the first as they takes up with as they
sticks to for better for worse."
" Thank you for nothing, Master Joe," said I
to myself; and I smoked away opposite him for
some time without saying a word, thinking
what a queer fellow he was, and how I had
better let things rest as they were, for I couldn't
see how to handle him the least bit in the
world ; and I can't tell whether I was most
glad or sorry, when we heard the fogger come
276 THE SCOURING OF
to the kitchen door to say the trap was all
ready.
Joe knocked the ashes out of his last pipe,
took off the last drop out of his tumbler, and
then put out his hand and gave me one of his
grips.
" It's got to be done," said he, " there's no
mistake about that."
What ? " said I, " what's to be done ?
Don't look so solemn, Joe,' for goodness' sake."
" It's no laughing matter, mind you," said
he ; and he took the candle and went off" into
the passage, and came back with his whip and
two top-coats. " Here, you get into that," he
went on, handing me one of them ; " you'll find
the night rawish."
I buttoned myself into the coat, which was a
white drab one, about as thick as a deal board,
with double seams and mother-of-pearl buttons
as big as cheese-plates, and followed Joe into
the yard with a heavy heart.
" Carpet-bag and hamper in ? " said he, taking
the reins.
" Ees, Sir, all right."
" Jump up, Dick."
I shook hands with the honest fogger, and
THE WHITE HORSE. 277
gave him half-a-crown, which he didn't seem to
know how to take ; and then I got up by Joe's
side, and we walked out of the yard at a foot's
pace, on to the grass ; he kept off the road to be
more quiet. It was bright moonlight, and a
streak of white mist lay along the Close. I
could hear nothing but the soft crush of the
wheels on the rich sward, and the breathing of
the great cows as we passed them in the mist.
But my heart was beating like a hammer, as I
looked back over my shoulder at one window
of the old house, until it was hidden behind the
elm-trees ; and when I jumped down to open
the gate into the road, I tore open the great
coat, or I think I should have been suffocated.
" It's no laughing matter, mind you," said
Joe, looking round, after we had gone about
half-a-mile along the road at a steady trot.
" No, indeed," said I. I felt much more like
crying, and I thought he was trying to comfort
me, in his way.
" Come, you button up that coat again, Dick ;
I won't have you getting into the train at one
in the morning with a chill on you. I won't
turn my back," he went on, " on any man in the
county at sampling wheat, or buying a horse, or
278 THE SCOURING OF
a lot of heifers, or a flock of sheep. Besides,
if a chap does get the blind side of me, it's
may-be a ten-pound note lost, and there's an
end of it. But when you come to choosing a
missus, why, it seems like jumping in the dark,
for all as I can see. There's nothing to sample
'em by, and you can't look in their mouths or
feel 'em over. I don't take it as a man's judg-
ment of any account when he comes to that
deal and then, if he does get the wrong sort ! "
" Thank you, Joe," said I, " but I'm not a bit
afraid about getting the wrong sort, if all goes
well."
" No, but I be," said he ; " why, one would
think, Dick, that nobody had to get a missus
but you."
Well, that made me laugh out, I was so tickled
to find he was thinking of himself all the time ;
and for the rest of the drive we were merry
enough, for he went on talking about his own
prospects so funnily that it was impossible to
keep sad or sentimental.
We drew up at the silent station five or six
minutes nearly before the train was due, and
were received by the one solitary porter.
" What luggage, Sir ? " said he to me, as I
got down.
THE WHITE HORSE. 279
" One carpet-bag," I answered, " for Padding-
ton."
" And a hamper," said Joe ; " you'll find a
hamper in behind there. And take care to
keep it right side up, porter, for there are some
pots of jam in it."
" Who is it for ? " said I ; " can I look after
it, and take it any where for you ? "
" Why, for you, of course," said Joe ; " you
don't suppose the women would have let you
go back without some of their kickshaws ; and
I've had a hare and a couple of chickens put
in, and some bacon. You must eat the hare
this week, mind."
I was quite taken by surprise at this fresh
instance of the thoughtful kindness of my Vale
friends, and wrung Joe's hand, mumbling out
something which I meant for thanks.
" Well, good-bye, old fellow," he said, " I'm
very glad to think you've found your way down
at last, and now, don't forget it ; " and he gave
me a grip which nearly crushed all my knuckles
into a jelly, and was gathering up his reins to
drive off.
" But Joe, here's your coat," I called out, and
was beginning to take it off " you've forgotten
your coat."
280 THE SCOURING OF
" No, no," said he, " keep it on 't will be
very cold to-night, and you'll want it in the
train. We'll fetch it at Christmas, and the
hamper and the jam pots too, at the same time.
Lu will be sure to look after them, so mind you
don't lose 'em Hullo ! What in the world are
you cutting off the direction for ? "
" Oh, it's nothing," said I, " but I often fancy
parcels go safer with only the railway label on
them. Besides, I shall have it in the carriage
with me."
The fact was I had caught sight of the direc-
tion, which was in her handwriting, and had
quite forgotten Joe, as I was cutting it off to
put it in my pocket-book.
" Well, that's a rum start," said Joe, " but
every one has their own notions about travel-
ling;" and so, with a cheery good-bye to me,
off he drove along the dark road ; and in an-
other minute the train came up, and I and my
luggage were on our way to London.
We went away up through the cold night,
eastward, towards the great city which had been
my home from childhood. I felt that another
man was journeying back from the one who
had come down a fortnight before ; that he who
THE WHITE HORSE. 281
was travelling eastward had learnt to look be-
yond his own narrow cellar in the great world-
city, to believe in other things than cash pay-
ments and shorthand for making his cellar
liveable in, to have glimpses of and to sympa-
thize with the life of other men, in his own
time, and in the old times before him. These
thoughts crowded on me, but all under the
shadow of and subordinated to the one great
rising hope, in which I had first found and felt
my new life. Together they lifted up my heart
during the first stages of that night journey,
and I opened the window and leant out into
the rushing night air, for the carriage was too
small for me, and my grand visions and resolves.
But soon it began to feel cold, and I shut up
the window and squeezed myself into a corner
with my feet up on the opposite seat, and felt
very thankful that I had on Joe's great coat.
Then the lamp went out, and it got colder as
the dawn came on, and my visions and resolves
began to get less bright and firm. The other
side of the picture rose up in ugly colours, and
I thought of the dirty dark clerks' room, and
the hours of oil-lamps and bad air, and the
heartless whirl and din of the great city. And
282 THE SCOUKING OF
to crown all came the more than doubt whether
my hope would not fade out and die in the
recesses of my own heart. What was I ? and
what my prospects, that any one should ever
give me a thought again of those whom I was
so fast leaving behind, much more that she, the
flower of them all, should single me out before
all others ? It was absurd, I should most likely
never see Elm Close, or the Vale,.pr the great
mysterious Hill again I had better make up
my mind to live the next twenty years as I had
the last. With some such meaning spoke the
doleful voices, but I was never much of a hand at
looking at the doleful side of things, and I made
good strong fight on that night ride ; and took
out my pipe, and lit it, and pressed my back
firmer into my corner.
Well, and if they don't remember me, thought
I, I can remember them at any rate they can't
help that ; and I will remember them too, and
all their kind pleasant ways, and their manlike
games, and their queer songs and stories and
the queen of them all, I can carry her in my
heart, thank God for that, and every word I
ever heard her speak, and every smile I ever
saw light up her merry eyes or dimple round
THE WHITE HOKSE. 283
her mouth and the country, too, the fair rich
Vale, and the glorious old Hill, they are mine
for ever, and all the memories of the slaying
of dragonsj and of great battles with the Pagan.
I wonder whether I shall ever see the old gen-
tleman again who conjured it up for me, and
put life into it, and made me -feel as if King
Alfred and his Saxons were as near and dear
to me as Sir Colin Campbell and the brave
lads in India !
Just then the train stopped at Reading, and
the guard put his head in to say we stopped
for three minutes, and I could get a glass of
ale.
So I jumped out and had a glass of ale, and
then another; and stamped about the platform
till the train started. And when I got into my
corner again, I was quite warm and jolly.
I have been always used to a good night's
rest, and I daresay the ale made me more
sleepy, and so I fell into a l^ind of doze almost
directly. But in my doze the same train of
thought went on, and all the people I had been
living with and hearing of flitted about in the
oddest jumbles, with Elm Close -and White
Horse Hill for a background. I went through
284 THE SCOURING OF
the strangest scenes. One minute I was first
cousin to King Alfred, and trying to carry his
messages over the Hill to j33thelred, only Joe's
old brown horse would run away with me
along the Ridgeway ; then I was the leader of
the Berkshire old gamesters, playing out the
last tie with a highwayman, for a gold-laced
hat and pah- of buckskin breeches ; then I was
married I needn't say to whom and we were
keeping house under the Hill, and waiting tea
for St. George, when he should come down
from killing the Dragon. And so it went on,
till at last a mist, came over the Hill, and all
the figures got fainter and fainter, and seemed
to be fading away. But as they faded, I could
see one great figure coming out clearer through
the mist, which I had never noticed before.
It was like a grand old man, with white hair
and mighty limbs; who looked as old as the
hill itself, but yet as if he were as young now
as he ever had been, and at his feet were a
pickaxe and spade, and at his side a scythe.
But great and solemn as it looked, I felt that
the figure was not a man, and I was angry
with it, why should it come in with its great
pitiful eyes and smile? why were my brothers
THE WHITE HORSE. 285
and sisters, the men and women, to fade away
before it ?
" The labour that a man doeth under the
sun, it is all vanity. Prince and peasant, the
wise man and the fool, they all come to me
at last, and I garner them away, and their
place knows them no more ! " so the figure
seemed to say to itself, and I felt melancholy
as I watched it sitting there at rest, playing
with the fading figures.
At last it placed one of the little figures on
its knee, half in mockery, as it seemed to me,
and half in sorrow. But then all changed ;
and the great figure began to fade, and the
small man came out clearer and clearer. And
he took no heed of his great neighbour, but
rested there where he was placed ; and his face
was quiet, and full of life, as he gazed steadily
and earnestly through the mist. And the other
figures came flitting by again, and chanted as
they passed, " The work of one true man is
greater than all thy work. Thou hast nought
but a seeming power, over it, or over him.
Every true man is greater than thee. Every
true man shall conquer more than thee ; for he
shall triumph over death, and hell, and thee,
oh, Time !
286
THE SCOURING OF
And then I woke up, for the train stopped
at the place where the tickets are collected ;
and, in another five minutes, I was in a cab,
with my bag and the great basket of country
treasures, creeping along in the early Novem-
ber morning towards Gray's Inn Lane. And
so ended my fortnight's holiday.
THE WHITE HORSE. 287
WHICH THE PARSON SENT TO MR. JOSEPH HURST,
OF ELM CLOSE FARM, IN FULFILMENT OF HIS
PROMISE.
LEVITICUS xxiii. v. 1, 2. And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying,
Speak unto the children of Israel, and say unto them, Concerning
the feasts of the Lord which ye shall proclaim to be holy convo-
cations, even these are my feasts.
" THESE are my feasts," said God to the
nation He was educating ; " keep these feasts,
for they are mine." Now, what xvas the nature
of these feasts, my brethren, which God called
his? The Bible leaves us in no doubt about
them. They were certain seasons set apart in
every year, and at longer intervals, during which
the nation was " to rejoice before the Lord their
God." Each feast commemorated some event
in the nation's life ; either a solemn act of
national worship, such as the dedication of the
288 THE SCOURING OF
Temple ; or some great national deliverance,
such as the Exodus commemorated by the feast
of Passover, or the defeat of Haman's plot in
the reign of Ahasuerus, commemorated by the
feast Purim ; or the daily care of God for his
people, in giving them rain and fruitful seasons,
the harvest and vintage, the increase of corn,
and wine, and oil, commemorated by the feast
of Pentecost.
They were to rejoice before the Lord their
God at all these feasts. With what outward
actions they were to rejoice we are not expressly
told ; probably it was left to each generation to
express their joy in their own way. In the case
of the Passover we know that they were to eat
a lamb and unleavened bread ; and we gather,
I think, from many places, that both songs and
dancing were freely used at the feasts ; but
further than this we do not know the outward
form of their rejoicing.
But we do know the spirit in which they were
to keep their feasts, the temper of mind in which
God would have them rejoice before Him. This
is most fully proclaimed. They were to keep
alive in themselves and one another the mem-
ory of the great deliverances and blessings,
THE WHITE HORSE. 289
which had been, and were being wrought for
them. They were to remember that these de-
liverances had been wrought for ignorant de-
spised bondmen, that these blessings were being
poured down on a stiffnecked sinful people.
Remembering these things, they were to come
to their feasts, and rejoice "before Him, with
humble open hearts, thanking Him for all they
possessed, with love towards their brethren,
ready to forgive debts, to help the poor to his
right, and to acknowledge and glory in the bond
which bound them all together in one nation.
Moreover, these feasts were to be feasts for
the whole nation for the rich and the poor,
the free man and the slave, " for thee, and thy
man-servant, and thy maid-servant ; " for those
who are in trouble and sorrow, as well as for
the prosperous and happy ; " for the stranger,
and fatherless, and widow who are within thy
gates."
One thing more I wish you to notice about
the Jewish feasts ; they had all the same char-
acter, all were God's feasts not one or two
religious feasts, as we should say, and the rest
national, but all God's feasts, and all national
also. There is no hint in the Bible of any dis-
13
290 THE SCOURING OF
tinction ; all feasts ordained for the nation are
God's feasts, and their feasts also.
Now such feasts such rejoicings before the
Lord as these, you can see at once must have
had no slight influence on the nation which
kept them. Accordingly we find them inter-
woven with every fibre of the national life :
sometimes kept as God's feasts as He had
said they were to be kept in humbleness and
thankfulness, in breaking bonds and forgiving
debts ; often, as though they had been not his
but the devil's feasts, in persecuting prophets
and slaying righteous men ; and no doubt also,
as the natural consequence, in debauchery, glut-
tony, and hard and usurious dealings with one
another; in oppression of man-servant and
maid-servant, the widow, the fatherless, and
the stranger. But in whatever way the feasts
were kept they were always exercising a great
power over generation after generation.
I have begun by talking to you about the
Jewish feasts, my brethren, because I want to
speak to you about our English feasts ; and I
think if we understand their feasts we shall very
likely learn some lessons about our own which
may do us good. Now we English, my breth-
THE WHITE HORSE. 291
ren, as a nation, have neglected this matter of
feasts too much. We have very few days on
which we rejoice as a nation in fact the
Queen's birthday is almost our only national
holiday, and this day we keep as Englishmen,
and not as Christians; while the feasts which
we keep as Christians, and not as Englishmen
(such as Christmas, and Easter, and Whitsun-
tide), have for this very reason lost much of
their worth for us ; which we shall recover, when
we begin to keep them again, not the less as
Christians, but more as Englishmen.
It is my earnest hope and prayer that we
may mend in this matter, and that the great
Christian festivals and the Queen's birthday
may so become all, and more than all, to us
and our children, which the Passover and Pente-
cost were to the Jews. But that it may be so,
we must, in this as in all other matters, begin
mending at home, in our own families, and our
own parishes. And so, my brethren, let us to-
day think about the feasts which we keep who
live in this parish, in the Vale of White Horse,
who worship in this church.
We all know well enough what these feasts
are. First, there is our village feast, a day set
292 THE SCOURING OF
apart in every year which is specially the feast
day of this parish, and of all who belong to it.
Then there are our harvest homes, which are
not parish but family festivals ; when the farmer
and those who have worked with him, rejoice
together over the garnering in of the fruits which
God has given. Lastly, there is the feast which
does not come every year, but at longer inter-
vals, the feast of Scouring the White Horse,
which is not the feast of one parish, but of the
whole country side.
A few words as to the meaning of these feasts
of ours. The first is the commemoration of the
opening of this parish church, and its dedication
to the worship of God. Your harvest homes
you know the meaning of as well as I. The
third is the commemoration of a great victory,
won a thousand years ago by the king of this
country against an army of heathen invaders.
I remind you of these things because they have
been too much forgotten, and we never can
rightly use our feasts till we remember them
better.
Well, now, remember what I have told you
about the Jewish feasts, or rather take your
Bibles and look for yourselves, whether I tell
THE WHITE HORSE. 293
you the truth, when I say, that our feasts are
just such feasts as those which you read of
there. The feasts of the Jews were all either
feasts in remembrance of the dedication of the
Temple, or of thanksgiving for the good gifts
of God, or of commemoration for some great
national deliverance.
And ours are the very same. Do not think
I am dealing unfairly with you in comparing
our country feasts to the great national feasts
of the Jews. It is not unfair to compare small
things with great : families, parishes, nations,
must stand or fall by the same laws. A society
cannot do evil or good without reaping the
fruits thereof, whether it be very small or very
great. Do not think that I ought to speak of
the great Christian festivals, Christmas and
Easter; they are better understood and kept,
though very badly as yet. I believe -I am tak-
ing the right way to make you understand and
keep these world-wide Christian feasts properly
by bringing you down to these common insig-
nificant feasts of ours, which we, the members
of this parish and congregation, have power
over ; which we can make good or evil ; for the
use or abuse of which we shall be called to
account by God.
294 THE SCOURING OF .
For " thus saith the Lord," to us as He said
to the Jews, " these are my feasts." They are
his, my brethren, whether we like it or not;
they are his, though we may try to make them
ours, and so make them the devil's. There is
no neutral ground, no escape from the hard
fact. Let us see now if we cannot accept them,
and use them as his. Let us see whether they
will be less or more to us if we do so. We
shall find the trial worth making, I think, in
the end.
They are his feasts : how, then, can we come
to them as his guests guests who will be
pleasing to him, who will use his feasts as he
would have us? For if we go to a man's
feast, the first thing we have to do is to go in
such a temper and such a dress as will make
us acceptable guests; and shall we do less as
the guests of God ?
The first thing, then, we have to consider is
the temper, the state of mind in which we
should go to our feasts ; and here, as I said
before, the Bible tells us all we want to know.
The temper which he required of the Jews, he
will require of us. At his feasts we have spe-
cially two things to do, to remember and to re-
THE WHITE HORSE. 295
joice. To remember the loving-kindness which
he has shown to our fathers and to us, in
delivering us many a time from the hand of
enemies who were stronger than we ; in giving
us a Church, where for many hundred years the
prayers of generation after generation had gone
up to him, the God of all truth ; in giving us
the rich increase of his earth, year after year.
Remembering these things, then, we are to keep
the feast in humility, for our own unworthiness ;
in thankfulness, for his tender care and un-
bounded love.
And we are also to rejoice before him, as
members of a family, of a parish, of a country ;
thinking, therefore, of others, and not of our-
selves ; making up quarrels, exercising hospi-
tality to all according to our means, seeking to
do kindnesses to all who need them, to our
debtors, to the oppressed and unfortunate
amongst us, to the widows, the fatherless, and
the stranger ; and in all ways strengthening
and deepening the bond which binds us to one
another, and to him.
This, my brethren, is the temper and state of
mind which he required of the Jews of old,
and which he requires of us at these times
290 THE SCOURING OF
especially. Think what our feasts would be,
what our whole lives would be, if we tried to
remember and to rejoice before the Lord thus.
If we come to his feasts in this temper, my
brethren, it matters comparatively little what
our outward acts of rejoicing may be. If our
hearts are right towards the Lord of the feast
and to one another, our dress and actions are
surely right also, or will soon become so. Never-
theless, this is a matter of plain, practical im-
portance, and I am not going to shrink from
it. I wish to consider with you, how we keep
his feasts and our feasts now ; whether our
method of keeping them i a true expression
of that temper and spirit in which they ought
to be kept, whether any thing better can be
suggested.
On these points, as I said above, we have
not the same help which we had before. We
know very little of how the Jews rejoiced ; we
may be sure that we are not meant to copy
the little we do know, such as the eating of a
lamb roasted whole with unleavened bread. It
is left for us to find out, and to do, such acts
as may be done by those who are humble, and
thankful, and loving in heart, towards God and
towards each other.
THE WHITE HORSE. 297
Now there is one -thing which one sees at
once is wanting in our celebration of these
feasts. In the times when they were estab-
lished, it was the chief act of them, that which
gave meaning to them, and kept alive that
meaning. We have neglected and disused it,
and so they have become all but meaningless
to us, mere seasons in which we are to enjoy
more pleasures than in ordinary times. This
thing which we have forgotten is public fellow-
worship, and it ought to be restored as soon as
possible. At the yearly meetings of many of
your benefit and other clubs, the members go
all together to the church, and there worship
before attending to their business and their
pleasure. Why should not a parish do the
same ? I know nothing which would so easily
and so effectually raise the tone of our village
feast as the regular celebration of worship on
that day, in the Church, the dedication and con-
secration of which, to the worship of God, was
the cause of the holiday.
In one respect I believe that we are. to some
extent, still keeping the feast as we ought. I
believe that on that day young people who
were born in the parish and have left it, make
18 *
298 THE SCOURING OF
a point, if possible, of getting back to see their
fathers and mothers, and friends, and to revive
old associations, often bringing with them part
of their wages or some present ; that many of
the silly quarrels and feuds which have arisen
during the year are then set to rest; that the
residents in the parish make some exertion to
welcome their visitors hospitably, and that a
general kindly feeling is common throughout
the parish. I believe that this is still so, to
some extent ; but I fear that it is becoming less
and less so. My brethren, all this is right, and
true, and honest ; this is the way to keep God's
feasts ; you can't go too far in this direction
(except by spending more money than you can
afford, which is always wrong). But the more
you can deepen old family and local ties on
these occasions, the more you can heal up quar-
rels, and forgive debts (both other debts, and
money debts remember that there is no duty
more insisted on in God's Word than this of
forgiving money debts at these times), and ex-
ercise hospitality one to another without grudg-
ing, the more will you be keeping God's feasts
as he would have you keep them.
Then there are the sports for which prizes are
THE WHITE HORSE. 299
given. There is no need to specify them all,
and I shall therefore only speak of the one
which is considered the most objectionable
which many people think should be stopped
altogether I mean wrestling. Whatever I may
say on this will apply to all the rest. Now, my
brethren, are wrestling matches a proper way of
keeping God's feasts ? That is the question we
have to answer.
The object of wrestling and of all other ath-
letic sports is to strengthen men's bodies, and
to teach them to use their strength readily, to
keep their tempers, to endure fatigue and pain.
These are ah 1 noble ends, my brethren. God
gives us few more valuable gifts than strength
of body, and courage, and endurance to you
labouring men they are beyond all price. We
ought to cultivate them in all right ways, for
they are given us to protect the weak, to subdue
the earth, to fight for our homes and country if
necessary.
Therefore I say that wrestling, inasmuch as it
is a severe trial of strength, temper, and endur-
ance, may be, and ought to be, one of many
right and proper ways of rejoicing before God
at these feasts. And I say to any man who has
300 THE SCOURING OF
strength for it, and can keep his temper, and
carries away no vain or proud thoughts if he
wins, and no angry or revengeful thoughts if
he loses, play by all means. No doubt there
are men who ought not to play, who ought to
abstain wholly from these games, as some men
ought to abstain wholly from drink, who can-
not use such things temperately, which is the
more worthy and manly way men so con-
stituted that these sort of games rouse all that
is brutal in their natures, others who become
braggarts and bullies from success in them. To
such men (and each of you can easily find
out whether he is such a man) I say abstain
wholly.
Having said this, brethren, I must add that
great changes should be made in the conduct
or management of these games. They should
never, on any pretence or plea whatever, be left
in the hands of publicans. You should always
endeavour to play in sides (as is, I believe,
the most common custom) for your county or
your parish, and not for yourselves, as you are
much more likely in that way to play bravely
and fairly. Money prizes should be if possible
avoided, for money is the lowest motive for
THE WHITE HORSE. 301
which men can undertake any work or any
game. And lastly, every one of you should
exercise his whole strength and influence in
putting down at once all brutality and bluster
and foul play.
As to the rest of the amusements, the visit-
ing shows, the eating and drinking, the dancing
and music, I believe them all in themselves to
be lawful and right in the sight of God, and fit
things to do when we are rejoicing before Him.
But, my brethren, I do not think them lawful
and right, or fit things to be done before any-
body but the devil, when they end in such
scenes as, I fear as I know they often do
end in at our feasts. No wonder that the
feasts are falling off year by year ; that they
cease to interest decent and respectable peo-
ple who used to care about them, when they
are deliberately turned by some into scenes of
drunkenness and profligacy, which can scarcely
be surpassed amongst savages and heathens.
I need not dwell on this, for you all know
well enough what I mean. You all know,
too the voice within you teUs each of you
plainly enough the moment you are going
beyond the proper limits in these matters. It
302 THE SCOURING OF
is no use to lay down rules on such subjects.
Every man and every woman must be a law
to themselves. One can do safely what would
ruin another. And 'here again I say, as I said
before, the use of these things is right and
good, and what God approves of, who in his
infinite love has given us the power of enjoy-
ing all these things, and the things themselves
to enjoy music, and dancing, and pleasant
company, and food and drink. The abuse of
them is of the devil, and destroys body and
soul.
I beseech you all to think of what I have
said, and endeavour, each in your own way,
to retain, or to bring back, if necessary, God's
feasts into your own parishes. You, old and
grown-up men and women, by living soberly
and righteously; never making mischief, or
quarrelling ; treating your children with for-
bearance and love, doing your own work, and
helping others to do theirs. To you young
men, I say, as Solomon said, rejoice in your
youth ; rejoice in your strength of body, and
elasticity of spirits, and the courage which fol-
lows from these; but remember that for these
gifts you will be judged not condemned, mind,
THE WHITE HOESE. 303
but judged. You will have to show before
a Judge who knoweth your inmost hearts,
that you have used these his great gifts well;
that you have been pure, and manly, and
true.
And to you, young women, I can but say
the same. Beauty, and purity, and youth, and
merry light hearts, and all the numberless at-
tractions which have been poured upon you,
are tremendous influences for good or evil,
gifts for which you will have to give an ac-
count. Rejoice in them ; use them freely ; but
avoid, as you would death itself, all rivalry
with one another, all attempts to exercise power
over men you do not care for, every light
thought, and word, and look. For the light
word or look is but a step from the impure,
and the experience of the whole world is
telling you
" How mirth can into folly glide,
And folly into sin."
But now to conclude. You may ask, how
are we all to keep these things in mind ? how,
when we are all met together to enjoy our-
selves, can we be ever on the watch for this
304 THE SCOURING OF
evil, which you say is so near us ? You can-
not, my brethren ; but One is with you, is in
you, who can and will, if you will let him.
Men found this out in the old time, and have
felt it and known it ever since. Three thou-
sand years ago this truth dawned upon the
old Psalmist, and struck him with awe. He
struggled with it; he tried to escape from it,
but in vain. " Whither shall I go then," he
says, " from thy spirit ? or whither shall I flee
then from thy presence ? If I go up to heaven,
Thou art there : if I go down to hell, Thou art
there also. If I take the wings of the morning,
and reside in the uttermost parts of the sea;
even there also shall thy hand lead me, and
thy right hand shall hold me."
Is any of us stronger or wiser than the
Psalmist? Is there any place for us to flee
to, which \vas not open to him ? My brethren,
had we not better make up our minds to accept
and acknowledge the truth, to which our own
consciences bear witness ; that, not only in
heaven, and in hell, and in the uttermost parts
of sea and earth, He is present, but that in
the inmost recesses of our own hearts there is
no escape from his Spirit that He is there
THE WHITE HORSE. 305
also, sustaining us, pleading with us, punish-
ing us.
We know it by the regret we feel for time
wasted and opportunities neglected ; by the
loathing coming back to us, time after time,
for our every untrue or mean thought, word,
or deed ; by every longing after truth, and right-
eousness, and purity, which stirs our sluggish
souls. By all these things, and in a thousand
other ways, we feel it, we know it.
Let us, then, come to our feasts owning this,
and giving ourselves up to his guidance. At
first it will be hard work ; our will and spirits
will be like a lump of ice in a man's hand,
which yields but slowly to the warm pressure.
But do not despair ; throw yourselves on his
guidance, and he will guide you, he will hide
you under his wings, you shall be safe under
his feathers, his faithfulness and truth shall be
your shield and buckler.
The ice will melt into water, and the water
will lie there in the hollow of the hand, moving
at the slightest motion, obeying every impulse
which is given to it.
My brethren, the Spirit of God which is in
every one of us the Spirit of truth and love
306
THE SCOURING OF THE WHITE HORSE.
unchangeable will take possession of our spir-
its, if we will but let him, and turn not only
our feasts into feasts of the Lord, but our
whole lives into the lives of children of God,
and joint-heirs of heaven with his Son.
APPENDIX.
NOTE I.
THE earliest authentic historical notices of the "White
Horse are. so far as I am aware,
1st. A Cartulary of the Abbey of Abingdon, now in
the British Museum, of the time of Henry II., the
exact date of it being, it is believed, A.D. 1171. It
runs as follows : " Consuetudinis apud Anglos tune
erat, ut monachi qui vellent pecuniarum patrimoniorum
308 APPENDIX.
qui forent susceptibiles, ipsisque fruentes quomodo pla-
ceret diapensarent. Unde et in Abbendonia duo, Leo-
fricus et Godricus Gild appellati, quorum unus Godricus,
Spersholt juxta locum qui vulgo mons Albi Equi
nuncupatur, alter Leofricus Hwitceorce super flumen
Tamisie maneria sita patriraoniali jure obtinebant," &c.
2dly. Another Cartulary of the same Abbey, of the
reign of Richard I., which runs as follows : " Prope
montem ubi ad Album Equum scanditur, ab antiquo
tempore Ecclesia ista manerium Offentum appellatum
in dominio possidet, juxta quod villa X hidarum adjacet
ex jure Ecclesiaa quam Speresholt nominavit," &c.
3dly. An entry on the Close Rolls, 42 Ed. III., or
A.D. 1368-9 : " Gerard de 1'Isle tient en la vale de
White Horse one fee," &c. See Archasologia, vol. xxxi.
p. 290. Letter from William Thorns, Esq. to J. Y.
Ackerman, Esq., Secretary.
Coming down to comparatively modern times, it is
curious that so little notice should have been taken of
the White Horse by our antiquaries. Wise, in his
Letter to Dr. Mead (1738), which has been already
quoted from in the text, regrets this, and then adds :
" Leland's journey does not seem to have carried him
this way, nor does .Camden here go out of the other's
track ; though he mentions, upon another occasion, and
by the bye, The White Horse ; but in such a manner,
that I could wish, for his own sake, he had passed it
over in silence with the rest For his own account
APPENDIX. 309
is altogether so unbecoming so faithful and accurate
an author, insinuating to his readers that it has no
existence but in the imagination of country people.
' The Thames] says he, 'falls into a valley, which they
call The Vale of White Horse, from I know not what
shape of a Horse fancied on the side of a whitish Hill"
Much nearer to the truth is Mr. Aubrey, however wide
of the mark, who, in the additions to the Britannia,
says : ' I leave others to determine, whether the White
Horse on the Hill was made by Hengist, since the
Horse was the arms or figure in Hengist's standard.'
The author of a ' Tour through England,' is a little
more particular, though he leaves us as much in the
dark about the antiquity and design of it. ' Between
this town of Marlborow and Abingdon, is the Vale of
White Horse. The inhabitants tell a great many fabu-
lous stories of the original of its name ; but there is
nothing of foundation in them, that I could find. The
whole of the story is this : Looking south from the
Vale, we see a trench cut on the side of a high, green
hill, in the shape of a horse, and not ill-shaped neither ;
the trench is about a yard deep, and filled almost up
with chalk, so that at a distance you see the exact
shape of a White Horse, but so large, as to take up
near an acre of ground, some say almost two acres.
From this figure, the Hill is called in our maps, White
Horse Hill, and the low or flat country under it the
Vale of White Horse.'" (See pp. 30, 31.)
310 APPENDIX.
NOTE II.
Medeshatnstede, however, was restored with great
splendour in the year 963. The account in the Saxon
Chronicle is so illustrative of what was going on in
England at the time, that I think I may be allowed to
give it, especially as the restoration was the work of a
Vale of White Horse man, Ethel wold, Abbot of Abing-
don, who was in this year made Bishop of Winchester.
Edgar was king, and Dunstan Archbishop of Can-
terbury Ethelwold, after strong measures at Winches-
ter, (where " he drove the clerks out of the bishopric
because they would not observe any rule, and he set
the monks there,") " went to the king and begged of
him that he would give him all the minsters which
heathen men had of old time broken down, because he
would restore them ; and the king joyfully granted it."
Then he restored Ely, and " after that came Bishop
Ethelwold to the minster which was called Medesham-
stede, which of old time had been destroyed by heathen
men. He found nothing there but old walls and wild
woods. There found he hidden in the old walls writ-
ings that Abbot Hudda had erewhile written, how king
Wulfhere and Ethelred his brother had built it, and
how they had freed it against king and against bishop,
and against all secular service, and how the pope Aga-
tho had confirmed the same by his rescript, a-nd the
APPENDIX. 311
archbishop ' deo dedit.' Then caused he the minster
to be built, and set there an abbot who was called Adulf,
and caused monks to be there where before was noth-
ing. Then came he to the king and caused him to
look at the writings which before were found, and the
king answered then and said, I, Edgar, grant and give
to-day before God and before the Archbishop Dunstan,
freedom to St. Peter's minster, from king and from
bishop, and all the villages that lie thereto, that is to
say, Eastfield, and Dodthorp, and Eye, and Paxton.
And thus I free it, that no bishop have there any com-
mand without the abbot of the minster. And I give
the town which is called Oundle, with all which thereto
lieth, that is to say, that which is called ( the eight hun-
dreds,' and market and toll so freely that neither king,
nor bishop, nor earl, nor sheriff have there any com-
mand, nor any man except the Abbot alone and him
whom he thereto appointeth " and after giving other
lands to Christ and St. Peter through the prayer of
Bishop Ethelwold, " with sack and sock, toll and team,
and infangthief," and willing " that a market be in the
same town, and no other be between Stamford and
Huntingdon," the king ends : " And I will that all
liberties and all the remissions that my predecessors
have given, that they stand, and I sign and confirm it
with Christ's rood token.>5" " Then Dunstan the
Archbishop of Canterbury answered and said, I grant
that all the things which are here given and spoken of,
312 APPENDIX.
and all the things which thy predecessors and mine
have conceded, those will I that they stand ; and who-
soever this breaketh, then give I him the curse of God,
and of all saints, and of all ordained heads, and of
myself, unless he come to repentance. And I give in
acknowledgment to St. Peter my mass-hackel, and my
stole, and my reef, for the service of Christ." " I, Os-
wald, Archbishop of York, assent to all these words, by
the holy rood which Christ suffered on.>Jl" " I, Ethel-
wold, bless all who shall observe this, and I excommu-
nicate all who shall break this, unless he come to re-
pentance." So the minster at Medeshamstede was set
up again under Adulf, who bought lands and greatly
enriched it, till Oswald died, and he was chosen Arch-
bishop of York, and was succeeded as abbot by Ke-
nulph, who " first made the wall about the minster ;
then gave he that to name Peterborough which was
before called Medeshamstede." Saxon Chronicle A.D.
963.
NOTE III.
SITE OF THE BATTLE OF ASHDOWN.
THERE are four spots in Berkshire which claim the
honour of being the CEscendun of the chroniclers, where
JEthelred and Alfred gained their great victory ; they
"are Ilsley, Ashamstead, Aston in the parish of Blu-
berry, and Ashdown, close to White Horse Hill. Now
APPENDIX. 313
it seems clear that Ashdown was, in Saxon times, the
name of a district stretching over a considerable por-
tion of the Berkshire chalk range, and it is quite pos-
sible that all of the above sites may have been included
in that district ; therefore, I do not insist much upon
the name, though whatever weight is to be attached to
it, must tell in favour of the latter site, that of Ash-
down. Let us, however, consider the other qualifica-
tions of the rival sites.
That of Ilsley is supported, so far as I know, only
by Hewitt in his antiquities of the Hundred of Comp-
ton (1844) ; and his argument rests chiefly on the
fitness of the ground for the scene of a great battle.
He tells us that the detachments of three Waterloo
regiments, marching through Ilsley in 1816, when they
came to the spot, stopped and called out, " Waterloo !
Waterloo!" to one another. He also states that the
name Ilsley is, in fact, " Hilde laeg," the field of battle ;
but as he has no tradition in his favour, and cannot, so
far as I know, point to any remains in the neighbour-
hood in support of his theory, I think his case must
fail, and only mention it to show that I have not over-
looked the claim.
Ashamstead, situate five miles to the southeast of
Ilsley, is named by the Lysons in their topographical
account of Berkshire as the probable site of the battle,
but they give no reasons, and are unsupported by tradi-
tion or remains.
H
314 APPENDIX.
Aston has a stronger case. It is situate between
"Wallingford and Ilsley. The range of chalk hills rises
just above it, and one detached hill is here thrown out
into the vale, on which are still visible considerable
earthworks. There is a chapel called Thorn Chapel
on the eastern slope of this hill, and I am told there is
a tradition that this chapel was built on the spot where
some Saxon king heard mass on the morning of a
battle. It is suggested by Mr. Lousley and others, that
the Saxons occupied this outlying hill, the Danes the
opposite range ; and that the battle was fought in the
valley between, where, when the road was recently
altered, a number of bones were found, apparently
thrown in together without care, as would be the case
after a battle. There are, however, no regular barrows
or other remains. Bishop Gibson is in favour of this
spot, on account, as it would seem, of a passage in the
Saxon Chronicle for the year 1006, which runs as fol-
lows : " They " (the Danes) " destroyed Wallingford,
and passed a night at Cholsey." Then they " turned
along Ashdown to Cwichelmes Low."
The bishop says, that Cwichelmes Low (the low or
hill of King Cwichelm, who reigned in these parts, and
died in the year 636 A.D.) is Cuckhamsley Hill, or
Scuchamore Knob, as it is generally called ; a high
hill in the same chalk range, about ten miles east of
White Horse Hill ; and he argues that, as the Danes
went from Wallingford, by Ashdown, to Cwichelmes
APPENDIX. 315
Low, we must look for Ashdown between Wallingford
and Cuckhamsley Hill. Now Aston lies directly be-
tween the two, therefore Aston is Ashdown, and the
site of the battle. But the place now called Ashdown
is on the further side of Cuckhamsley Hill from Wal-
lingford therefore the Danes could not have passed
it in getting from Wallingford to Cuckhamsley Hill
therefore the modern Ashdown cannot be the site of
the battle.
To this I answer, First, the Bishop assumes that
Cwichelmes Low is Cuckhamsley Hill, without giving
any reason.
Secondly, assuming Cwichelmes Low and Cuckhams-
ley Hill to be identical ; yet, as Ashdown was clearly
a large tract of country, the Danes might go from Wal-
lingford, along a part of it, to Cwichelmes Low without
passing the battle-field.
Thirdly, the name Aston is written " Estone " in
Domesday Book ; meaning " East town," or enclosure,
and not " Mons fraxini," the " Hill of the Ash-tree."
Fourthly, -ZEthelred and Alfred would have kept to
the hills in their retreat, and never have allowed the
Danes to push them out into the Thames-valley, where
the Pagan cavalry would have been invaluable ; but
this must have been the case, if we suppose Aston to
be the site of the battle. Lastly, all the above sites
are too near to Reading, the farthest being only sixteen
miles from that town. But JEthelred and Alfred had
316 APPENDIX.
been retreating three days, and would therefore much
more probably be found at Ashdown by White Horse
Hill, which is ten miles farther along the range of
hills.
Ashdown, the remaining site, and the one which I
believe to be the true one, is the down which surrounds
White Horse Hill, in the parish of Uffington. On the
highest point of the hill, which is 893 feet above the
level of the sea, stands Uffington Castle, a plain of more
than eight acres in extent, surrounded by earthworks,
and a single deep ditch, which Camden, and other high
authorities, say are Danish.
There is another camp, with earthworks, called Hard-
well Camp, about a mile W.N.W. of Uffington Castle,
and a third smaller circular camp, enJled King Alfred's
camp, about a mile to the S.W., which may still be
made out, close to the wall of Ashdown Park, Lord
Craven's seat, although Aubrey says, that in his time
the works were " almost quite defaced, by digging for
the Sarsden stones to build my Lord Craven's house in
the Park." Wise suggests that the Danes held Uffing-
ton Castle ; that JEthelred was in Hardwell-camp, and
Alfred in Alfred's camp. A mile and a half to the
eastward, in which direction the battle must have rolled,
as the Saxons slowly gained the day, is a place called
the Seven Barrows, where are seven circular burial-
mounds, and several other large irregularly-shaped
mounds, full of bones ; the light soil which covers the
APPENDIX. 317
chalk is actually black around them. The site agrees
in all points with the description in the chroniclers ; it
is the proper distance from Reading ; the name is the
one used by the chroniclers, "Ash-down," "Mons
Fraxini," "JEscendun ; " it is likely that ^Ethelred
would have fought somewhere hereabouts to protect
Wantage, a royal burg, and his birthplace, which would
have been otherwise at the mercy of the enemy ; and
lastly, there and not at Cuckhamsley Hill, or else-
where is carved the "White Horse, which has been
from time immemorial held to be a monument of the
great victory of Ashdown. For the above reasons, I
think we are justified in claiming this as the sit of
the battle.
NOTE IV.
WAYLAND SMITH'S CAVE.
Wise (see p. 35) says he thinks he has discovered
the place of burial of King Basreg, Bagseeg (or what-
ever his name might be, for it is given in seven or
eight different ways in the chroniclers), in Way land
Smith's cave, which place he describes as follows :
" The place is distinguished by a parcel of stones
set on edge, and enclosing a piece of ground raised a
few feet above the common level, which every one
knows was the custom of the Danes, as well as of some
14*
818 APPENDIX.
other northern nations. And Wormius observes, that
if any Danish chief was slain in a foreign country, they
took care to bury him as pompously as if he had died
in his own. Mr. Aubrey's account of it is this : 'About
a mile [or less] from the Hill [White Horse Hill]
there are a great many large stones, which, though
very confused, must yet be laid there on purpose.
Some of them are placed edgewise, but the rest are so
disorderly that one would imagine they were tumbled
out of a cart.' The disorder which Mr. Aubrey speaks
of is occasioned by the people having thrown down
some of the stones (for they all seem originally to have
been set on edge), and broken them to pieces to mend
their highways. Those that are left enclose a piece of
ground of an irregular figure at present, but which
formerly might have been an oblong square, extending
only north and south.
" On the east side of the southern extremity stand
three squarish flat stones of about four or five feet
over each way, set on edge, and supporting a fourth of
much larger dimensions, lying flat upon them. These
altogether form a cavern or sheltering-place, resembling
pretty exactly those described by Wormius, Bartholine,
and others, except in the dimensions of the stones ; for
whereas this may shelter only ten or a dozen sheep
from a storm, Wormius mentions one in Denmark that
would shelter a hundred.
" I know of no other monument f this sort in Eng-
APPENDIX. 319
land ; but in Wales and the Isle of Anglesey there are
several not unlike it, called by the natives Cromlechs.
The Isle of Anglesey having been the chief seat of the
Druids, induced its learned antiquary to ascribe them to
the ancient Britons ; an assertion that I will not take
upon me to contradict, but shall only at this time ob-
serve, that I find sufficient authorities to convince me
that ours must be Danish.
"Whether this remarkable piece of antiquity ever
bore the name of the person here buried is not now to
be learned, the true meaning of it being long since lost
in ignorance and fable. All the account which the
country people are able to give of it is, 'At this place
lived formerly an invisible smith ; and if a traveller's
horse had lost a shoe upon the road, he had no more to
do than to bring the horse to this place, with a piece of
money, and leaving both there for some little time, he
might come again and find the money gone, but the
horse new shod.' The stones standing upon the Rudge-
way, as it is called (which was the situation that they
chose for burial monuments), I suppose gave occasion
to the whole being called Wayland Smith, which is the
name it was always known by to the country people.
"An English antiquary might find business enough
who should attempt to unriddle all the fabulous tradi-
tions of the vulgar, which ascribe these works of un-
known antiquity to demons and invisible powers.
" Leaving, therefore, the story of the invisible smith
320 APPENDIX.
to be discussed by those who have more leisure, I only
remark, that these stones are, according to the best
Danish antiquaries, a burial altar ; that their being
raised in the midst of a plain field, near the great road,
seems to indicate some person there slain and buried,
and that this person was probably a chief or king ;
there being no monument of this sort near that place,
perhaps not in England, beside." (See pp. 35, 36, 37.)
I have given Wise's statement of his own case, but
the better opinion amongst antiquaries seems to be that
he is wrong, and that the cromlech, called Wayland
Smith' Cave, is of much earlier date than 871 A.D.
I insert here the note from Kenilworth (note B, p.
218) in which Sir Walter Scott mentions Wayland
Smith's Cave :
" The great defeat given by Alfred to the Danish
invaders, is said by Mr. Gough to have taken place
near Ashdown in Berkshire. The burial-place of Boereg,
the Danish chief who was slain in this fight, is distin-
guished by a parcel of stones, less than a mile from the
hill, set on edge, enclosing a piece of ground somewhat
raised. On the east side of the southern extremity,
stand three squarish flat stones, of about four or five
feet over either way, supporting a fourth, and now
called by the vulgar Wayland Smith, from an idle tradi-
tion about an invisible smith replacing lost horseshoes
there." (Gough's edition of Camden's Britannica.
Vol. I. p. 221.)
APPENDIX. 321
" The popular belief still retains memory of tins
wild legend, which, connected as it is with the site of a
Danish sepulchre, may have arisen from some legend
concerning the northern Duergar, who resided in the
rocks, and were cunning workers in steel and iron. It
was believed that Wayland Smith's fee was sixpence,
and that, unlike other workmen, he was offended if
more was offered. Of late his offices have been again
called to memory ; but fiction has in this, as in other
cases, taken the liberty to pillage the stores of oral tra-
dition. This monument must be very ancient, for it
has been kindly pointed out to me that it is referred to
in an ancient Saxon charter as a landmark. The mon-
ument has been of late cleared out, and made consider-
ably more conspicuous."
It will be seen from this that Sir Walter assumes
the view of Wise to be correct, but he never saw the
place.
NOTE V.
As an illustration of one of the methods by which tra-
ditions are kept up in the country, I insert some verses
written by Job Cork, an Uffington man of two genera-
tions back, who was a shepherd on White Horse Hill
for fifty years.
"It was early one summer's morn,
The weather fine and very warm,
A stranger to White Horse Hill did go
To view the plains and fields below.
822 APPENDIX.
" As he along the hill did ride,
Taking a view on every side,
The which he did so much enjoy
Till a shepherd's dog did him annoy.
" At length an aged man appeared,
A watching of his fleecy herd,
With threadbare coat and downcast eye,
To which the stranger did draw nigh.
" ' noble shepherd, can you tell
How long you kept sheep on this hill?
' Zeven yeur in Zundays I have been
A shepherd on this hill so green.'
" 'That is a long time, I must own,
You have kept sheep upon this down ;
I think that you must have been told
Of things that have been done of old.'
" ' Ah, Zur, I can remember well
The stories the old voke do tell
Upon this hill which here is seen
Many a battle there have been.
" ' If it is true as I heard zay,
King Gaarge did here the dragon slay,
And down below on yonder hill
They buried him as I heard tell.
/
" 'If you along the Piudgeway go,
About a mile for aught I know,
There Wayland's Cave then you may see
Surrounded by a group of trees.
" ' They say that in this cave did dwell
A smith that was invisible ;
At last he was found out, they say,
He blew up the place and vlod away.
" ' To Devonshire then he did go,
Full of sorrow, grief, and woe,
Never to return again,
So here I'll add the shepherd's name
JOB COKK.'
APPENDIX. 323
There is no merit in the lines beyond quaintness ; but
they are written in the sort of jingle which the poor
remember ; they have lived for fifty years and more,
and will probably, in quiet corners of the Vale, out-
live the productions of much more celebrated verse-
makers than Job Cork, though probably they were
never reduced into writing until written out at my re-
quest.
Job Cork was a village humorist, and stories are still
told of his sayings, some of which have a good deal of
fun in them ; I give one example in the exact words in
which it was told to me :
" One night as Job Cork came off the downs, drough-
wet to his very skin, it happened his wife had been a
baking. So, when he went to bed, his wife took his
leather breeches, and put 'em in the oven to dry 'em.
When he woke in the morning he began to feel about
for his thengs, and he called out, and zed, ' Betty, where
be mee thengs ? ' 'In the oven,' zed his wife. Zo he
looked in the oven and found his leather breeches all
cockled up together like a piece of parchment, and he
bawled out, ' Lard ! Lard ! what be I to do ? Was
ever man plagued as I be ? ' ' Patience, Job, patience,
Job,' zed his wife ; ' remember thy old namesake, how
he was plagued.' 'Ah ! ' zed the old man, ' a was plagued
surely ; but his wife never baked his breeches.' "
Other shepherds of the Hill have been poets in a
rough sort of way. I add one of their home-made songs,
324 APPENDIX.
as I am anxious to uphold the credit of my country-
men as a tuneful race.
" Come, all you shepherds as minds for to be,
You must have a gallant heart,
You must not be down-hearted,
You must a-bear the smart ;
You must a-bear the smart, my boys,
Let it hail or rain or snow,
For there is no ale to be had on the Hill
Where the wintry wind doth blow.
" When I kept sheep on White Horse Hill
My heart began to ache,
My old ewes all hung down their heads,
And my lambs began to bleat.
Then I. cheered up with courage bold,
And over the Hill did go,
For there is no ale to be had on the Hill
When the wintry wind doth blow.
" I drive my sheep into the fold,
To keep them safe all night,
For drinking of good ale, my boys,
It is my heart's delight.
I drove my sheep into the fold,
And homeward I did go,
For there is no ale to be had on the Hill
When the wintiy wind doth blow.
" We shepherds are the liveliest lads
As ever trod English ground,
If we drops into an ale-house
We values not a crownd.
We values not a crownd, my boys,
We'll pay before we go,
. For there is no ale to be had on the Hill
When the wintry wind doth blow."
tt^" Any books in this list will be sent free of postage, on receipt
of price.
BOSTON, 135 WASHINGTON STREET
JANUARY, 1859.
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