Country life -- England; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century
But suddenly there was in the midst of all this noise and jollity, a cry
of horror; and it was soon seen that one of the pointed stones that
stand at intervals on the top of the high wall all round the court, had
disappeared. It had given way with a man who clung to it, had fallen
upon him, and killed him on the spot. There was a momentary pause in the
festivity; a great running together to the spot of the catastrophe; but
the body was soon conveyed away to an outbuilding, and the tide of riot
rolled on. It was doomed, however, to receive a second check; for
another man, in the wild excitement of the time, and of the strong ale,
sprang at one bound over a wall that stood on the edge of a precipice,
and fell a shattered corpse into the hollow below. These were awful
events, and cast over some of the revellers a gloom that would not
disperse; but far the greater part were now too highly charged with
birth-day ale to be capable of reflection. All around was Bacchanalian
chaos. Singing, shouting, attempts at dancing, reeling, and tumbling.
Bodies lay thickly strewn through court and hall, and far around on the
lawn. Some gay sparks were, with mock respect, carried with much
struggling and laughter, and laid in sheds and stables and under trees,
and one especial dandy was deposited in a heap of soot. For myself,
perhaps the only sober person there, I hastened away, resolving to
revisit that fairy mansion in the time of its restored quiet.
And in what a far different aspect did it present itself when I next saw
it; and with what a far different company did I witness it! It was on
one of the most glorious days of a splendid summer that we passed under
the shadow of its oaks, as happy and attached a company as ever met on
earth. Ah! they are all dispersed now! Out of a dozen glad hearts, not
more than three are living now. But let me forget that. We were a joyful
band of tried friends then. All, except myself and a young Yorkshire
damsel, light as a sylph, and lovely and frolic as a fairy, were in
carriages; we were on horseback; and scarcely had we entered the park,
when, as if the sight of its fine wide level had filled her with an
irresistible desire to scour across it, the madcap gave her horse the
rein, and darted away. Under the boughs of the oaks she stooped, and
flew along with arrowy swiftness. Every moment I expected to see her
caught by one of them, and dashed to the ground; but she was too
practised a horsewoman for that: she cleared the trees; the deer bounded
away as she came galloping towards them, and turned and gazed at her
from a distance; the rooks and daws, and lapwings feeding on the turf,
soared up and raised wild cries; but she sped on, and there was nothing
for me to do but to follow. I spurred forwards, but it was only to see
her rush, at the same reckless speed, down a deep descent, where one
trip of her horse--and nothing was more likely--and she would have flown
far over his head to certain death.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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