Isopel Berners: The History of certain doings in a Staffordshire Dingle, July, 1825Borrow, George
General
Isopel Berners: The History of certain doings in a Staffordshire Dingle, July, 1825
Borrow, George
England -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction
Belle went to her own little encampment; and as for myself, after having
flung the donkey's shoes into my tent, I put some fresh wood on the fire,
which was nearly out, and hung the kettle over it. I then issued forth
from the dingle, and strolled round the wood that surrounded it; for a
long time I was busied in meditation, looking at the ground, striking
with my foot, half unconsciously, the tufts of grass and thistles that I
met in my way. After some time, I lifted up my eyes to the sky, at first
vacantly, and then with more attention, turning my head in all directions
for a minute or two; after which I returned to the dingle. Isopel was
seated near the fire, over which the kettle was now hung; she had changed
her dress--no signs of the dust and fatigue of her late excursion
remained; she had just added to the fire a small billet of wood, two or
three of which I had left beside it; the fire cracked, and a sweet odour
filled the dingle.
"I am fond of sitting by a wood fire," said Belle, "when abroad, whether
it be hot or cold; I love to see the flames dart out of the wood; but
what kind is this, and where did you get it?"
"It is ash," said I, "green ash. Somewhat less than a week ago, whilst I
was wandering along the road by the side of a wood, I came to a place
where some peasants were engaged in cutting up and clearing away a
confused mass of fallen timber: a mighty-aged oak had given way the night
before, and in its fall had shivered some smaller trees; the upper part
of the oak, and the fragments of the rest, lay across the road. I
purchased, for a trifle, a bundle or two, and the wood on the fire is
part of it--ash, green ash."
"That makes good the old rhyme," said Belle, "which I have heard sung by
the old women in the great house:--
'Ash, when green,
Is fire for a queen.'"
"And on fairer form of queen, ash fire never shone," said I, "than on
thine, O beauteous queen of the dingle."
"I am half disposed to be angry with you, young man," said Belle.
"And why not entirely?" said I.
Belle made no reply.
"Shall I tell you?" I demanded. "You had no objection to the first part
of the speech, but you did not like being called queen of the dingle.
Well, if I had the power, I would make you queen of something better than
the dingle--Queen of China. Come, let us have tea."
"Something less would content me," said Belle, sighing as she rose to
prepare our evening meal.
So we took tea together, Belle and I.
"How delicious tea is after a hot summer's day, and a long walk!" said
she.
"I daresay it is most refreshing then," said I; "but I have heard people
say that they most enjoy it on a cold winter's night, when the kettle is
hissing on the fire, and their children playing on the hearth."
Belle sighed. "Where does tea come from?" she presently demanded.
"From China," said I; "I just now mentioned it, and the mention of it put
me in mind of tea."
"What kind of country is China?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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