"There is, unquestionably, something genuine and affectionate in the cheerfulness of the common people, when it springs from the bounty and familiarity of those above them: the warm glow of gratitude spreads over their mirth; and a kind word or look, or a little pleasantry, frankly said or done--and which calls in no degree for any sacrifice of personal dignity--always gladdens the heart of a dependant a thousand times more than oil and wine. It is wonderful, too, how much life and joy even one intelligent and good-humoured member of a pleasure-party will diffuse around him. The fountain of indwelling light, which animates his own bosom, overflows to others; and every thing around quickly freshens into smiles." It is, we fear, too evident that this passage comes direct from the reverend writer's heart: it seems clear to the meanest capacity, that he speaks from experience--perhaps of himself--when he expresses the delight which _even one_ intelligent person can convey to a party. It is quite clear, that in the party now assembled there either was no intelligent person, or only one--at least, the observation of the author leaves little room to doubt the disagreeable fact. At page 80, the following account of the natives of Caversham and the neighbouring districts is given, which is at once romantic and picturesque:-- "Among the equestrians, two are deserving that their looks and equipments should be alluded to in more than general terms. The animals they bestrode were a couple of broken-down ponies, gaunt and rusty, who had possibly once seen better days. The men themselves were not unsuitable figures for such a pair of steeds. They rode with short stirrups, that brought their knees almost under cover of the shaggy mane that overspread the ewe necks of the poor creatures; and carried their short thick sticks perpendicularly in their hands. Such was the appearance of these country wights as they shambled along the road that gave them so good a view of the City State Barge. And so mightily pleased was the Lord Mayor with their uncouth and ludicrous appearance, that he hailed one of them, and asked him to be the bearer of a message to Reading, touching his Lordship's carriage. The fellow seemed to feel as he never felt before! An honour was about to be conferred upon him alone--to be the _avant-courrier_ of the Lord Mayor of London!--above and beyond all other riders, drivers, and walkers of whatever quality and degree, who had thronged to the view of the civic party. And no sooner had his Lordship flung him a piece of money, and told him to 'make haste to the Bear Inn, Reading, and order the Lord Mayor's carriage to meet the barge at Caversham Bridge,' than the fellow instantly belaboured the starveling ribs of the poor animal that carried him, with kicks and cudgel; who, in a moment, dashed briskly forward, snuffling and snorting across the fields.