their white shirt sleeves and pitchforks pulling down the straw, Uncle Roger with a portentous-looking club in the thick of the fight. On the ladder, cheering them on, stood grandpapa, holding little Tom in his arms, and at the bottom, armed with small sticks, were Charlie and Arthur, consoling themselves for being turned out of the melée, by making quite as much noise as all those who were doing real execution, thumping unmercifully at every unfortunate dead mouse or rat that was thrown out, and charging fiercely at the pigs, ducks, and geese that now and then came up to inspect proceedings, and perhaps, for such accidents will occur in the best regulated families, to devour a share of the prey.
Beatrice's first exclamation was, 'O! if papa was but here!'
'Nothing can go on without him, I suppose,' said Henrietta. 'And yet, is this one of his great enjoyments?'
'My dear, don't you know it is a part of the privilege of a free-born Englishman to delight in hunting 'rats and mice and such small deer,' as much or more than the grand chasse? I have not the smallest doubt that all the old cavaliers were fine old farm-loving fellows, who liked a rat hunt, and enjoyed turning out a barn with all their hearts.'
'There goes Fred!' cried Henrietta.
'Ah! capital. He takes to it by nature, you see. There-there! O what a scene it is! Look how beautifully the sun comes in, making that solid sort of light on the mist of dust at the top.'
'And how beautifully it falls on grandpapa's head! I think that grandpapa with little Tom is one of the best parts of the picture, Bee.'
'To be sure he is, that noble old head of his, and that beautiful gentle face; and to see him pointing, and soothing the child when he gets frightened at the hubbub, and then enjoying the victories over the poor rats as keenly as anybody!'
'Certainly,' said Henrietta, 'there is something very odd in man's nature; they can like to do such cruel- sounding things without being cruel! Grandpapa, or Fred, or Uncle Roger, or Alex now, they are as kind and gentle as possible: yet the delight they can take in catching and killing-'
'That is what town-people never can under- stand,' said Beatrice, 'that hunting-spirit of mankind. I hate above all things to hear it cried down, and the nonsense that is talked about it. I only wish that those people could have seen what I did last summer-grandpapa calling Carey, and holding the ladder for him while he put the young birds into their nest that had fallen out. And O the uproar that there was one day when Dick did something cruel to a poor rabbit; it was two or three years ago, and Alex and Carey set upon him and thrashed him so that they were really punished for it, bad as it was of Dick; it was one of those bursts of generous indignation.'
'It is a very curious thing,' said Henrietta, 'the soldier spirit it must be, I suppose-'
'What are you philosophising about, young ladies?' asked Mr. Langford, coming up as Henrietta said these last words.
'Only about the spirit of the chase, grandpapa,' said Beatrice, 'what the pleasure can be of the field of slaughter there.'
'Something mysterious, you may be sure, young ladies,' said grandpapa. 'I have hunted rats once or twice a year now these seventy years or more, and I can't say I am tired yet. And there is Master Fred going at it, for the first time in his life, as fiercely as any of us old veterans, and he has a very good eye for a hit, I can tell you, if it is any satisfaction to you. Ha! hoigh Vixen! hoigh Carey! that's it-there he goes!'
'Now, grandpapa,' said Beatrice, catching hold of his hand, 'I want just to speak to you. Don't you think we might have a little charade-acting on Monday to enliven the evening a little?'
'Eh? what? More charades? Well, they are very pretty sport, only I think they would astonish the natives here a little. Are we to have the end of Shylock?'
'No,' said Beatrice, 'we never condescend to repeat ourselves. We have a new word and a beauty, and don't you think it will do very well?'
'I am afraid grandmamma will think you are going to take to private theatricals.'
'Well, it won't be nearly such regular acting as the last,' said Beatrice, 'I do not think it would do to take another half-play for so many spectators, but a scene or two mostly in dumb show would make a very nice diversion. Only say that you consent, grandpapa.'
'Well, I don't see any harm in it,' said grandpapa, 'so long as grandmamma does not mind it. I suppose your mamma does not, Henrietta?'
'O no,' said Henrietta, with a certain mental reservation that she would make her not mind it, or at any rate not gainsay it. Fred's calling her affected was enough to make her consent, and bring her mamma to consent to anything; for so little is it really the nature of woman to exercise power, that if she domineers, it is sure to be compensated by some subjection in some other manner: and if Henrietta ruled her mother, she was completely under the dominion of Fred and Beatrice. Themistocles' wife might rule Athens, but she was governed by her son.
After this conversation they went in, and found Aunt Roger very busy, recommending servants to Aunt Mary, and grandmamma enforcing all she said. The visit soon came to an end, and they went on to the Pleasance, where the inspection did not prove quite as agreeable as on the first occasion; for grandmamma and Beatrice had very different views respecting the appropriation of the rooms, and poor Mrs. Frederick Langford was harassed and wearied by her vain attempts to accede to the wishes of both, and vex neither. Grandmamma was determined too to look over every corner, and discuss every room, and Henrietta, in despair at the fatigue her mother was obliged to go through, kept on seeking in vain for a seat for her, and having at last discovered a broken-backed kitchen chair in some of the regions below, kept diligently carrying it after her in all her peregrinations. She was constantly wishing that Uncle Geoffrey would come, but in vain; and between the long talking at Sutton Leigh, the wandering about the house, and the many discussions, her mamma was completely tired out, and obliged, when they came home, to confess that she had a headache. Henrietta fairly wished her safe at Rocksand.
While Henrietta was attending her mother to her own room, and persuading her to lay up for the evening, Beatrice, whose head was full of but one matter, pursued Mrs. Langford into the study, and propounded her grand object. As she fully expected, she met with a flat refusal, and sitting down in her arm-chair, Mrs. Langford very earnestly began with 'Now listen to me, my dear child,' and proceeded with a long story of certain private theatricals some forty years ago, which to her certain knowledge, ended in a young lady eloping with a music master. Beatrice set to work to argue: in the first place it was not probable that either she or Henrietta would run away with their cousins; secondly, that the former elopement was not chargeable on poor Shakespeare; thirdly, that these were not private theatricals at all.
'And pray what are they, then-when you dress yourselves up, and speak the speeches out as boldly as Mrs. Siddons, or any of them?'
'You pay us a great compliment,' said Beatrice, who could sometimes be pert when alone with grandmamma; and she then went on with her explanation of how very far this was from anything that could be called theatrical; it was the guessing the word, not their acting, that was the important point. The distinction was too fine for grandmamma; it was play-acting, and that was enough for her, and she would not have it done. 'But grandpapa liked it, and had given full consent.' This was a powerful piece of ordnance which Beatrice had kept in reserve, but at the first moment the shot did not tell.
'Ladies were the best judges in such a case as this,' said Mrs. Langford, 'and let who would consent, she would never have her granddaughters standing up, speaking speeches out of Shakespeare, before a whole room full of company.'
'Well, then, grandmamma, I'll tell you what: to oblige you, we will not have one single scene out of Shakespeare-not one. Won't that do?'
'You will go to some other play-book, and that is worse,' said Mrs. Langford.
'No, no, we will not: we will do every bit out of our own heads, and it shall be almost all Fred and Alex; Henrietta and I will scarcely come in at all. And it will so shorten the evening, and amuse every one so nicely! and grandpapa has said we may.'
Mrs. Langford gave a sort of sigh. 'Ah, well! you always will have your own way, and I suppose you must; but I never thought to see such things in my house. In my day, young people thought no more of a scheme when their elders had once said, 'No.''
'Yes, only you must not say so, grandmamma. I am sure we would give it up if you did; but pray do not-we will
