XXV. ALL ABOUT MARNHAM FEAST, AND PAUDEEN 



O'RAFFERTY. 



TO-DAY (i2th September) is Marnham feast and fair. 

 Mr. Hopper has never been at the revelry previously. 

 In days long gone by it was principally a gathering for 

 farmers and cattle dealers to dispose of their foals and young 

 beasts, but with the extension of the system of railways 

 throughout the land it has fallen from its former high estate 

 and reputation and is now more of a feast than a fair ; but 

 still 28 mares and foals were brought into the yard of the 

 ancient hostelry where Mr. Hopper's flag is flying, and a fairly 

 brisk trade took place. There is no Maypole that is a thing 

 of the past. The village damsel of half-a-century ago does 

 not nowadays disport herself in that fashion but affects the 

 modern day craze of the " bike," and wears her high-heeled 

 shoe, and the puff sleeves of the blouse, and is altogether a 

 different maiden from the young spinster of the good old days 

 gone by. Her nose is tilted in the air in a contemptuous 

 manner and with a supercilious sneer, and the country 

 bumpkin has to mind his P's and Q's in making his advances 

 to the fair one he fain would captivate. 



This has been a day and a half for Mr. Hopper. His most 

 recent experience has been the dancing on the brick floor in the 

 brewhouse. The band, represented by the accordion player 

 seated on high on the lid over the copper, is playing the most 

 marvellous polka tune that ever assailed Mr. Hopper's ears. 

 Broth is promised for to-morrow's dinner a special brew. 

 Mr. Hopper has inspected that copper lid and finds it weak 

 and otherwise faulty, and if perchance that lid gives way, the 

 probability is that having regard to the elevated condition of 

 the company, the broth would have a musical flavour about it, 

 for who would pull Mr. Musician out of the copper (unless 

 Mr. Hopper volunteered his aid) is a matter of very con- 

 siderable doubt. Mr. Musician is a bit of a ventriloquist, and 



