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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." 



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