efore supper.
The country squire was a long-lived but not always an intellectual
animal. He kept hawks of all kinds, and all sorts of hounds that ran
buck, fox, hare, otter, and badger. His great hall was commonly strewn
with marrow-bones, and full of hawks' perches, of hounds, spaniels, and
terriers. His oyster-table stood at one end of the room, and oysters he
ate at dinner and supper. At the upper end of the room stood a small
table with a double desk, one side of which held a church Bible, the
other Fox's "Book of Martyrs." He drank a glass or two of wine at his
meals, put syrup of gilly-flower in his sack, and always had a tun-glass
of small beer standing by him, which he often stirred about with
rosemary. After dinner, with a glass of ale by his side he improved his
mind by listening to the reading of a choice passage out of the "Book of
Martyrs."
This is a portrait of one Henry Hastings, of Dorsetshire, in Gilpin's
"Forest Scenery." He lived to be a hundred, and never lost his sight nor
used spectacles. He got on horseback without help, and rode to the death
of the stag till he was past fourscore.
The plain country fellow, plowman, or clown, is several pegs lower, and
described by Bishop Earle as one that manures his ground well, but lets
himself lie fallow and untitled. His hand guides the plow, and the plow
his thoughts. His mind is not much disturbed by objects, but he can fix a
half-hour's contemplation on a good fat cow. His habitation is under a
poor thatched roof, distinguished from his barn only by loop-holes that
let out the smoke. Dinner is serious work, for he sweats at it as much as
at his labor, and he is a terrible fastener on a piece of beef. His
religion is a part of his copyhold, which he takes from his landlord and
refers it wholly to his discretion, but he is a good Christian in his
way, that is, he comes to church in his best clothes, where he is capable
only of two prayers--for rain and fair weather.
The country clergymen, at least those of the lower orders, or readers,
were distinguished in Shakespeare's time by the appellation "Sir," as Sir
Hugh, in the "Merry Wives," Sir Topas, in "Twelfth Night," Sir Oliver, in
"As You Like It." The distinction is marked between priesthood and
knighthood when Vista says, "I am one that would rather go with Sir
Priest than Sir Knight." The clergy were not models of conduct in the
days of Elizabeth, but their position excites little wonder when we re
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