Nestleton Magna Part 33

One day, when Mr. Clayton was sauntering round the new erection, noticing with much satisfaction how nearly it approached completion, he was joined by John Morris, who paid a daily visit of inspection to the building in which he had so deep and strong an interest. They stood together, reading the inscription on the tablet and looking at the suggestive square within.

"Morris," said Mr. Clayton with a smile, "that cut in the stone will outlast the scar on my cheek! I count that seam one of the most precious things that I possess."

"And I," said Morris, "count it one of the most shameful things that even I ever did in my reckless wickedness. But, see, there is a B directly below it and an M immediately above it, and so it will perpetuate Black Morris's repentance so long as the walls endure; or, if you read it downwards, Morris's Brickbat is intimated quite as clearly."

"Well, that's one way of looking at it," said Mr. Clayton, laughing, "but I have already read it downwards, and in my own mind have translated it into Methodist Booty; and I declare to you that I would willingly bear the brunt of another attack if I could capture another brickbat and another warm-hearted Christian like John Morris;" so saying he shook his companion warmly by the hand. That worthy fellow's answer was a grateful look, through glistening eyes, as he silently turned away.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

NESTLETON PUTS ON HOLIDAY ATTIRE.

"Now all is done; bring home the bride again, Bring home the triumph of our victory; Bring home with you the glory of her gain, With joyaunce bring her and with jollitie.

Never had man more joyful day than this, Whom heaven would heap with bliss.

Make feast, therefore, now all this livelong day, This day for ever to me holy is."

_Spenser._

The spring buds had expanded into summer flowers, May blossoms had developed into autumn fruits, and the corn-fields were nearly white unto the harvest, when the finishing touch was given to Nestleton Chapel, and the day came round when that much-admired sanctuary was to be publicly opened and solemnly consecrated to G.o.d. Great as was the stir and the enthusiasm when the corner-stone was laid, that event had to hide its diminished head in presence of this crowning ceremony. The top-stone was emphatically brought on with shouting, and on that day Nestleton, with the whole Kesterton Circuit as a boon companion, gave itself up to an ecstacy of G.o.dly dissipation. Nor will this be wondered at, when it is remembered that the programme of the opening ceremonies included so joyous and important an episode as the marriage of Philip Fuller and Lucy Blyth. The fact that this ceremony was to take place in a "Methodist conventicle," as the new building was contemptuously called, an act which was just made legally possible, thinned the number of invited guests considerably, as well as did the fact of Philip's plebeian choice of a bride from a blacksmith's hearth-stone. Both he and his father could well afford to excuse the absence of all such pitiful slaves to an unreasonable conventionalism, which cared more for caste than character, and paid a grovelling homage at the shrine of Mrs. Grundy. Philip knew that he was about to gain a first-cla.s.s prize in what, as things go, is too truly a "matrimonial lottery." His father knew that he was about to welcome to Waverdale Hall a member of the higher aristocracy of goodness and virtue, compared with which, blue blood and a pedigree dating from the Norman Conquest were trivialities too insignificant for mention; as for a mere Plutocracy, whose merit consists in money and acres, the old squire, even before his moral change had come, would have looked down on it with disdain. Now, both his own and his son's convictions chimed in with Tennyson's sentiment,--

"Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere; From yon blue heavens above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife, Smile at your claims of long descent.

Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only n.o.ble to be good; Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood."

And so it was, that no shadow of regret or drawback mingled with the glad events of that auspicious day, which crowned the happiness of two loyal hearts, filled the old squire's cup with blessing, dispersed the last vestige of fear from Blithe Natty's mind, drove Nestleton into hysterical delight, and filled all Waverdale with joy.

At Old Adam Olliver's suggestion, the first service on the opening day was held at eight o'clock in the morning, and consisted solely of prayer and praise, with a brief address from Mr. Clayton, to whom they were so greatly indebted, alike for the initiation of the scheme and its triumphant completion. Herein, the wise and thoughtful villagers happed exactly on what was indisputably the fitting thing to do, both as to the nature of the primal service and the choice of the individual who should line out the first hymn of praise and offer the consecrating prayer. The custom which prevails of asking some popular minister from a distance to perform this honourable task, and to make a sermon the chief feature of the dedication, is one which would be much more honoured in the breach than the observance. _He_ has had no sleep-depriving cares, no tireless labours, no anxious heartaches, during the hara.s.sing history of the work, and probably never heard of it, until he receives the invitation to be the high priest of the day.

Let those who present the gift lay it upon the altar, and then it may be wise to summon whatever oratorical harp, sackbut, and psaltery may add effect and interest to the holy festival. During that early morning meeting the crowd of worshippers had evidence prompt and potent that their gift had "come up acceptable before G.o.d."

"c.u.m an' fill the hoose in which we sit!" pleaded Adam Olliver; "suddenly c.u.m te Thi' temple. It's Thahne! It's n.o.bbut a poor thing c.u.mpared wi' what Thoo's gi'en te uz, bud it's best we can deea! Mair sud Thoo hev, if we had mair! An' we gi' Thoo oorsens wiv it. Tak' it an' tak' uz, O Lord. c.u.m an' live in it, an' iv oor 'arts. Let t'

cloven tungues o' fire sit on uz while we kneel! Greeat grace be noo upon uz all!"

And "great grace" did come, "and the glory of the Lord filled the temple," for we may be a.s.sured that such a gift offered in such a spirit, by those inspired by such motives, shall now and ever be graciously acknowledged by Him whose name is recorded there. It will be seen that the building was now fitly prepared for the second ceremonial, which was nothing less than the joining together of Philip and Lucy in the holy bands of matrimony. I am sorry to disappoint those of my readers who are eagerly looking for "a true and particular description of that interesting transaction." Were I to make the attempt my pen would be like Pharaoh's chariots in the Red Sea's vacated bed, which "drave heavily," and would lag in tedious despondency, conscious that the feat was beyond its power. Suffice it to say that there were all the usual accessories common to such a rare occasion: orange flowers and veils and coaches, horses with white rosettes and ta.s.seled ear-caps, wedding guests in white gloves, white waistcoats, or white robes, according as their s.e.x demanded. This I may note, that the Rev. Matthew Mitch.e.l.l was promoted to the high position of "best man," adding my own opinion that a much better man would have been difficult to discover. Mr. Mitch.e.l.l was kept in countenance by a couple of Philip's college chums, who loved him in his student days, and whose esteem was of that true metal which did not lose its ring at the sight of a Methodist chapel or a cottage-born bride. Amongst the bridesmaids was one of Lucy's school companions, who rejoiced in being the daughter of "a private gentleman of competent means," which may probably be accepted by Mrs. Grundy as a pa.s.sable certificate, giving right of entry within the magic circle of "people of position." It may be depended on, however, that this was not our Lucy's reason for selecting her. That was because she was as good as gold, had been for years a correspondent given to writing crossed letters, and was a true and bosom friend. I should not like to forget that bonny Grace Houston was also an attractive feature of the bridal train, and more than one or two observant spectators of the day's proceedings were led to suspect, from certain numerous, but undefinable phenomena, that Mr. Mitch.e.l.l "had an eye in that direction." As for the two chief actors in this exciting and brilliant business, I can only say that Philip bore himself as n.o.bly as a conqueror should, and led his captive with so proud a mien that you might have thought she was a De Montmorency or a Fitzroy at the very least. Lucy was simply Lucy, for I declare that yards and yards of white tulle, yards and yards of silvery drapery, a marvellous wreath of orange blossoms, satin shoes, and all the rest of her bridal adornments, could not add one iota to the magical charm which dwelt in and around the plain unvarnished "Lucy" whom we know.

"Isn't she an angel," said little Alice Vokes, one of the white-kilted fairies who strewed the carpet pathway from gate to altar with flowers.

"Isn't she a stunner," said Tom Raspin, a chubby youth of ten who formed one of a Sunday-school detachment "on guard."

My own opinion is that she was both, even with the addition of the adjectives "perfect" and "regular" which were tacked on by the respondents in their emphatic replies.

There! I beg to decline further penny-a-lining on this subject. Let my readers paint the picture themselves, and then get an artist in colour to touch it off, with special orders "not to spare the paint," and thus they may arrive at a satisfactory idea of Lucy's wedding. Mr.

Clayton tied the "hymeneal knot," and I am in a position to affirm that he was "a.s.sisted by"--n.o.body; that nonsensical innovation was then happily unknown. When the wedding party drove off to Waverdale Hall, amid the enthusiastic applause of no end of uninvited spectators, Adam Olliver turned to Farmer Houston, and said with a smile,--

"There, Maister! T' pattern's finished. G.o.d set t' shuttle te wark i'

answer te wer' prayers. Nestleton Chapil was in it, Squire Fuller was in it, Philip and Lucy's weddin' was in it. Noo it's finished, bless the Lord, an' a pratty pattern it is."

The wedding breakfast was a grand business. The great dining-hall was "furnished with guests;" stately lackies with powdered hair and abnormal calves, got as usual into each other's way, and looked innocently unconscious of all that was going on. The most rigid justice was measured out to the sumptuous viands waiting sepulture, and then, that time of test and trial, that running of the gauntlet, that shivering plunge amid broken ice, the speechifying time, came round. Lucy pierced the Brobdignagian Greco-Gothic edifice of a bride-cake gallantly and resolutely, as though she had a spite against it, an article she never possessed against anything or anybody; then Philip gripped the weapon and speedily put it to the sword, sending round its ice-and-sugar mailed morsels to the expectant guests. Then followed the various toasts customary on such occasions, connected with speeches which need not be reported: their gist and character may be well imagined. Mr. Mitch.e.l.l was the last speaker. He could not begin with, "unaccustomed as I am to public speaking," as is often the case, but he displayed a nervousness which n.o.body who had heard him hold forth in Piggy Morris's malt-kiln would ever have given him credit for. For a minute or two he floundered, and no wonder, the surroundings were somewhat different from those in the Midden Harbour Chapel of Ease; but he happened to catch a suspicious smile on the face of one of Philip's college friends, and at once he felt the gravity of the occasion. The honour of Methodism, of Lucy Blyth's--I beg her pardon, Lucy Fuller's--clerical connections, of Philip's choice of a Church were at stake, so he pulled himself together, and planted his feet firmly en the ground, as though he was about to quote Sir Walter Scott,--

"Come one, come all! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I!"

"Mr. Chairman!" A roar of laughter and rappings that made the gla.s.ses dance a fandango, greeted this _lapsus linguae_, but he was now equal to the occasion,--

"That is the word I should have used if 'my foot had been on my native heath,' as it is I must forego the familiar formula, and at once address myself to the attractive task before me. There can be but one opinion as to the peculiar charm which the bridesmaids have lent to the happy proceedings of the day. Their winning beauty, the magic influence, shall I say, the grace,----"

"Yes, Grace Houston!" said a waggish guest, who had noted the speaker's marked devotion to that more than comely damsel: whereupon our tyro blushed like a boy, and almost lost his equilibrium, while Grace herself found something amiss with the rose on her bosom, which required close attention to secure its proper re-adjustment.

"I recommend the young gentlemen here present," continued he, "to 'use well the present moment,' for not only may they go further and fare worse, but they may go anywhere and not fare so well. I hope that this bevy of fair damsels may speedily follow in the steps of the bride, and have the promise of as fair a future."

Of course, "all went merry as a marriage bell," until at last the carriage rolled up to the door, and the bridal pair departed amid cheers, and tears, and blessings, to spend the honeymoon at Scarborough, in which delightful resort of health and pleasure I will leave them awhile, and proceed to chronicle the subsequent doings of Nestleton in its holiday attire.

The entire village, together with its numerous visitors, had immigrated bodily to Waverdale Park. A bountiful feast was spread for all comers, an ox had been roasted whole for their delectation, and a boundless supply of other comestibles had been provided by the squire and his son, to an extent that defied the heavy run upon them to exhaust. I am bound to say that there was also a sufficient supply of foaming ale, for beneficent teetotalism had not yet penetrated those rural regions, and Good Templary had not been even dreamed of by the most determined and sanguine votary of anti-Bacchus. Of course, there were more speeches, in the course of which the squire himself proposed the health of Old Adam Olliver. The old hedger received an ovation such as might well have turned the heads of less humble men. For a moment or two the old man was in danger of being mounted, chair and all, upon the shoulders of his fellow-villagers, and carried in triumph round the park. They contented themselves, however, by calling for a speech.

"Ah's varry mitch obliged te yo'," quoth Adam, "bud speeach-mackin' at tahmes like theease is altegither oot o' mah line. Ah will say this, hooivver, 'at Nestleton nivver saw sitch a day as this afoore, an' ah deean't think 'at it's ivver likely te see sitch anuther. Mah poor aud een's run a'most dry wi' tears o' gratt.i.tude an' joy. Nestleton's getten a chapil, an't' yung squire's getten Lucy, an' t' aud squire's getten a dowter withoot a marro', an' Nathan Blyth's getten a son 'at owt te mak' 'im stand three inches bigger iv his shoon; an' what Nestleton's getten i' hevin' 'em all 'll be a blessin' tiv it for ivver an' ivver. As for me an' Judy, we've n.o.bbut gotten yah wish left, an' that's te see Pete ageean. But that's as the Lord will. Ah's an aud man, an' me' wark's deean. Ah've hed te hing up me slashin'-knife an' hedgin'-gluvs, an' ah's just waitin' quietly te gan when t' Maister calls ma'. Ah pray 'at t' yung cupple may be varry happy, an' ah's seear they will, for--

"Tis religion 'at can give Reeal pleasure while we live;'

an', prayse the Lord, they hev it, beeath on 'em. Ah wop they'll hae their quiver full ov bonny bairns, an' bring 'em up i' t' fear o' G.o.d: an' efter a lang an' 'appy an' useful life, 'at they'll end their days i' peeace, an' gan te be for ivver wi' the Lord; for--

"Tis religion can supply Solid c.u.mfort when we die.'

May G.o.d bless 'em, an' bless t' aud squire, an' bless uz all. Amen!"

Old Adam's words were felt to be a benediction, and a deep and earnest "Amen!" arose to float the old man's prayer to heaven.

The day was fitly wound up with another service in the new chapel, when a sermon was preached by a minister of mighty name and fame from London, who had come to aid them in the dedication of their holy and beautiful house of prayer. So ended a day, which will long be remembered in the annals of Waverdale, as the day of "Nestleton Chapel opening and Lucy Blyth's wedding!"

CHAPTER XL.

AN EPISODE IN A METHODIST LOVE-FEAST.

"While listening to the tale Her spirits faltered and her cheeks turned pale; While her clasped hands descended to her knee, She, sinking, whispered forth, 'O G.o.d! 'tis he!'

The long-lost found, the mystery cleared, What mingled transports on her face appeared!

The gazing veteran stood with hands upraised-- 'Art thou indeed my son? then G.o.d be praised!'"

_Blomfield._

The opening services were continued for three successive Sundays, and one noteworthy feature in the course was the holding of a love-feast; that peculiarly Methodistic inst.i.tution which was so rich a blessing to the Church in the earlier days, and is yet, in the places which have maintained their primitive simplicity, and into which the cold criticisms of lethargic respectability and the frosty influences of a stately formality, have not found their mischievous and unwelcome way.