CHAPTER 4

A proof that even the humblest fortune may grant happiness, which
depends not on circumstance, but constitution


The place of our retreat was in a little neighbourhood,
consisting of farmers, who tilled their own grounds, and were
equal strangers to opulence and poverty. As they had almost all
the conveniencies of life within themselves, they seldom visited
towns or cities in search of superfluity. Remote from the polite,
they still retained the primaeval simplicity of manners, and
frugal by habit, they scarce knew that temperance was a virtue.
They wrought with cheerfulness on days of labour; but observed
festivals as intervals of idleness and pleasure. They kept up the
Christmas carol, sent true love-knots on Valentine morning, eat
pancakes on Shrove-tide, shewed their wit on the first of April,
and religiously cracked nuts on Michaelmas eve. Being apprized of
our approach, the whole neighbourhood came out to meet their
minister, drest in their finest cloaths, and preceded by a pipe
and tabor: A feast also was provided for our reception, at which
we sat cheerfully down; and what the conversation wanted in wit,
was made up in laughter.

Our little habitation was situated at the foot of a sloping hill,
sheltered with a beautiful underwood behind, and a pratling river
before; on one side a meadow, on the other a green. My farm
consisted of about twenty acres of excellent land, having given
an hundred pound for my predecessor's good-will. Nothing could