The hall of the country squire was usually the scene of hospitality. At the upper end was placed the _orsille_, or high table, a little elevated above the floor, and here the master of the mansion presided, with an authority, if not a state, which almost equalled that of the potent Baron. The table was divided into upper and lower messes by a high salt-cellar, and the rank and consequence of the visitors were marked by the situation of their seats above and below the salt-cellar; a custom which not only distinguished the relative dignity of the guests, but extended likewise to the freemen; the wine frequently circulating only above the salt-cellar, and the dishes below it being of a coarser kind than those near the head of the table. Such was an old hall in ancient times. And such remains the old hall to which I have alluded, with this difference, that the people, the manners, and the customs have changed. The old hall is now tenanted by a gentleman of birth and fortune, who is also the spiritual guide of the scattered flocks of his somewhat extensive domain. He is, indeed, the “Good Shepherd of the Sheep,” and the sheep love him and follow him. It is his delight to make all cheerful about him, and nothing affords him greater pleasure than to give a grand treat at the hall to the young people, especially the children of the villagers round him. Once a year he has what he calls a “Juvenile Day at the Hall.” He invites both rich and poor, and mingles them together for their mutual good—deeming nothing to be more delightful than the text of scripture, “rich and poor meet together, for the Lord is the maker of them all.” [Illustration] It was a beautiful day in the latter end of June, that the “Juvenile Day at the Hall” took place. The day was ushered in by the jingle of the three bells of the little church or chapel close to the hall, and within its precincts. A flag was placed upon the little tower, and festoons of flowers were tastefully arranged in the avenue that led from the church to the mansion. Presently was seen the village schoolmaster, an old cripple with a very white head, and with his “four-and-twenty free boys” in their blue jackets and cord contrivances, and looking all fresh and rosy. Then came the schoolmistress, with her “clear-starched” cap, neat muslin apron, and demure demeanour, with her “twenty-four girls” in “russet brown.”