1827-1830] The Owens of Woodhouse 227 



kick made her shoulder black and blue. I was then only a 

 child, but I can still remember the expression of his face, 

 and the very place where he stood in Stonyfield at Down. 

 He was a great favourite with Mr Owen, a peppery and 

 despotic squire of the old school. 1 The household was large 

 and not always very orderly. Mr Owen used to hear, 

 or imagined he heard, people walking about late at night; 

 so he determined to trap them and piled up a mass of 

 crockery at the top of the stairs. Hearing a noise late at 

 night, he went out to catch the offender and be ready for 

 the crash, but forgetting exactly where his trap was laid, 

 himself sent all the crockery flying down the stairs, caus- 

 ing Mrs Owen to laugh so much that he went into a 

 furious passion. Another of my father's stories was of how 

 Mr Owen heard a noise of some sort in the middle of the 

 night, and got up and looked out of his window. There he 

 saw a woman sitting on some steps leading into the garden. 

 So he went off to call one of his sons known as a fleet 

 runner, and told him to go and catch this unknown woman. 

 As soon as they approached the window, off set the woman 

 and off set young Mr Owen after her. But as he got near, 

 he perceived it was one of the under-servants, and telling 

 her to run for her life, he promised he would not catch her, 

 knowing that she would be dismissed on the spot if he 

 brought her back. Great, as may be imagined, was Mr 

 Owen's wrath and scorn when his son came back alone, 

 much blown, and saying he hadn't been able to catch the 

 girl. Her story was that she had come home too late and 

 was sitting outside till the morning. The truth was never 

 revealed to Mr Owen. 



The following letter illustrates the increased luxury in 

 our habits of living. It must be remembered that Dr 

 Darwin was earning at this time a large income. 



Catherine Darwin to her cousin Fanny Wedgwood. 



SHREWSBURY, Thursday Evening [Dec., 1830]. 



. . . There is a spell in this house against my being ever 

 really and deliciously quiet. I cannot help being all day 

 long in a fidget and a bustle and making myself a great 

 many little things to think of. I am sure you will feel the 



1 I was told that he once thrashed one of hie grown-up sons ao 

 severely that his son was in bed for a fortnight. 



