Lord Caesar poured out a glass of Tokay for Mrs Kitty."Your health, my dear madam, I never saw you look more charming.Pray, what think you of these doings at St Dennis's?""Fine doings, indeed!" interrupted Von Blunderbussen; "I wish that we had my old uncle alive, he would have had some of them up to the halberts.He knew how to usa cat-o'-nine-tails.If things go on in this way, a gentleman will not be able to horsewhip an impudent farmer, or to say a civil word to a milk-maid."
"Indeed, it's very true, Sir," said Mrs Kitty; "their insolence is intolerable.Look at me, for instance:--a poor lone woman!--My dear Peter dead! I loved him:--so I did; and, when he died, Iwas so hysterical you cannot think.And now I cannot lean on the arm of a decent footman, or take a walk with a tall grenadier behind me, just to protect me from audacious vagabonds, but they must have their nauseous suspicions;--odious creatures!""This must be stopped," replied Lord Caesar."We ought to contribute to support my poor brother-in-law against these rascals.I will write to Squire Guelf on this subject by this night's post.His name is always at the head of our county subscriptions."If the people of St Dennis's had been angry before, they were well-nigh mad when they heard of this conversation.The whole parish ran to the manor-house.Sir Lewis's Swiss porter shut the door against them; but they broke in and knocked him on the head for his impudence.They then seized the Squire, hooted at him, pelted him, ducked him, and carried him to the watch-house.They turned the rector into the street, burnt his wig and band, and sold the church-plate by auction.They put up a painted Jezebel in the pulpit to preach.They scratched out the texts which were written round the church, and scribbled profane scraps of songs and plays in their place.They set the organ playing to pot-house tunes.Instead of being decently asked in church, they were married over a broomstick.But, of all their whims, the use of the new patent steel-traps was the most remarkable.
This trap was constructed on a completely new principle.It consisted of a cleaver hung in a frame like a window; when any poor wretch got in, down it came with a tremendous din, and took off his head in a twinkling.They got the squire into one of these machines.In order to prevent any of his partisans from getting footing in the parish, they placed traps at every corner.
It was impossible to walk through the highway at broad noon without tumbling into one or other of them.No man could go about his business in security.Yet so great was the hatred which the inhabitants entertained for the old family, that a few decent, honest people, who begged them to take down the steel-traps, and to put up humane man-traps in their room, were very roughly handled for their good nature.
In the meantime the neighbouring gentry undertook a suit against the parish on the behalf of Sir Lewis's heir, and applied to Squire Guelf for his assistance.
Everybody knows that Squire Guelf is more closely tied up than any gentleman in the shire.He could, therefore, lend them no help; but he referred them to the Vestry of the Parish of St George in the Water.These good people had long borne a grudge against their neighbours on the other side of the stream; and some mutual trespasses had lately occurred which increased their hostility.
There was an honest Irishman, a great favourite among them, who used to entertain them with raree-shows, and to exhibit a magic lantern to the children on winter evenings.He had gone quite mad upon this subject.Sometimes he would call out in the middle of the street--"Take care of that corner, neighbours; for the love of Heaven, keep clear of that post, there is a patent steel-trap concealed thereabouts." Sometimes he would be disturbed by frightful dreams; then he would get up at dead of night, open his window and cry "fire," till the parish was roused, and the engines sent for.The pulpit of the Parish of St George seemed likely to fall; I believe that the only reason was that the parson had grown too fat and heavy; but nothing would persuade this honest man but that it was a scheme of the people at St Dennis's, and that they had sawed through the pillars in order to break the rector's neck.Once he went about with a knife in his pocket, and told all the persons whom he met that it had been sharpened by the knife-grinder of the next parish to cut their throats.These extravagancies had a great effect on the people;and the more so because they were espoused by Squire Guelf's steward, who was the most influential person in the parish.He was a very fair-spoken man, very attentive to the main chance, and the idol of the old women, because he never played at skittles or danced with the girls; and, indeed, never took any recreation but that of drinking on Saturday nights with his friend Harry, the Scotch pedlar.His supporters called him Sweet William; his enemies the Bottomless Pit.
The people of St Dennis's, however, had their advocates.There was Frank, the richest farmer in the parish, whose great grandfather had been knocked on the head many years before, in a squabble between the parish and a former landlord.There was Dick, the merry-andrew, rather light-fingered and riotous, but a clever droll fellow.Above all, there was Charley, the publican, a jolly, fat, honest lad, a great favourite with the women, who, if he had not been rather too fond of ale and chuck-farthing, would have been the best fellow in the neighbourhood.
