other symptoms of impatience, though he afterwards made a most faithful
and circumstantial report of the case to the squire. I have watched him,
too, during one of his pop visits into the cottage of a superannuated
villager, who is a pensioner of the squire, when he fidgeted about the
room without sitting down, made many excellent off-hand reflections with
the old invalid, who was propped up in his chair, about the shortness of
life, the certainty of death, and the necessity of preparing for "that
awful change;" quoted several texts of Scripture very incorrectly, but
much to the edification of the cottager's wife; and on coming out
pinched the daughter's rosy cheek, and wondered what was in the young
men, that such a pretty face did not get a husband.

[Illustration: "Master Simon pinched the daughter's cheek"]

He has also his cabinet councillors in the village, with whom he is very
busy just now, preparing for the May-Day ceremonies. Among these is the
village tailor, a pale-faced fellow, that plays the clarionet in the
church choir; and, being a great musical genius, has frequent meetings
of the band at his house, where they "make night hideous" by their
concerts. He is, in consequence, high in favour with Master Simon; and,
through his influence, has the making, or rather marring, of all the
liveries of the Hall; which generally look as though they had been cut
out by one of those scientific tailors of the Flying Island of Laputa,
who took measure of their customers with a quadrant. The tailor, in
fact, might rise to be one of the monied men of the village, was he not
rather too prone to gossip, and keep holidays, and give concerts, and
blow all his substance, real and personal, through his clarionet, which
literally keeps him poor both in body and estate. He has for the present
thrown by all his regular work, and suffered the breeches of the
village to go unmade and unmended, while he is occupied in making