54 The Pride of Our Village. 



woman of nearly ninety, who inliabited the almshouse — 

 ^Yhose first husband was hung for robbing the mail, and 

 also hung in chains afterwards, in the latter part of the 

 last century, when George III. was king — to the parson's 

 daughter, who went to read " Pilgrim's Progress" to her, 

 " I have had a message from the Lord." The lady, who 

 was not unaccustomed to hear very old women say strange 

 things, asked innocently, *^ What was the message ? " 

 "Why," answered the nonagenarian, " the butler from the 

 gi^eat house was here yesterday, and ' ' told me that the 

 Lord " (meaning the noble owner) " had told him that 

 Cleorge, the celebrated jockey, is going to ride the favourite 

 for the Derby, and T do hope he will win." So you see the 

 poor old woman had mixed up her theology with stable 

 talk ; and, old as she was, her mind was on the Derby, as well 

 as ours. 



The fact was that the occupier of the big house — " the 

 Lord," as the poor people called him — was never known to 

 say or do anything except w^hat was kind and generous to 

 every one about him, especially to the jDOor, and conse- 

 sequently every one's heart was in the favourite's success, out 

 of regard to the owner ; and there is little doubt that, had 

 someone suddenly suggested that prayers should be offered 

 up for the favourite's success, the primitive people would 

 not have seen any profanity in it ; and most certainly, had 

 anyone shouted out in the middle of the sermon, " Ten to 

 one against the favourite ! " the parson — whom probably I 

 knew better than anyone else in this life, and who never 

 bet in his life before — would have answered, " Done, man ! 

 done, in sovereigns ! " So great was the feeling in favour 

 of the owner, that a clergjTuan whom I met at dinner in 

 London the Sunday before the Derby, said to me, " I 

 believe a racecourse to be little better than a pandemonium, 

 and I hate the whole system ; but the owner is such a kind- 



