August 9, 1864. ] 



JOTJENAL OP HOKTIC TJLTTTEE AND COTTAGE GABDENEK. 



11? 



favours ? Fancy the quiet little town of four or five thou- 

 sand inhabitants suddenly exposed to the irruption of thirty 

 thousand people ! I could, name many that I have visited on 

 such occasions, and I like them. Often there is hut one real 

 street, the High Street, almost beginning before you get to 

 the town, and ending beyond it. I like the irregularity of 

 it — the dear old church standing on the highest spot in the 

 town, with its venerable square-turretted tower ; its almost 

 obsolete sundial on its wall ; its grotesque corbels ; its old 

 porch, inside which two fat-faced angels have watched those 

 who entered for centuries ; its green moss-covered tomb- 

 stones telling the tale of past and passing generations. Yet 

 it is not indifferent ; the glorious flag of old England flies from 

 the belfry, and the bells ring a merry peal all day. There 

 are the old houses with pointed gables, latticed windows, 

 and projecting upper stories ; the two red brick houses, one 

 belonging to the doctor, the other to the lawyer (why do 

 these professions always choose comparatively modern and 

 red brick houses ?) ; the old inn, probably the George, the 

 Angel, or the White Hart, venerable inside from its old dark 

 oak wainscots, its wide staircase, its long corridors, and its 

 square comfortable rooms ; the new Railway Hotel raising 

 its head above its predecessor, and boasting of its marble 

 and looking-glasses ; and the High Street in question — good, 

 wide, comfortable street — you might put Eegent Street in 

 the middle of it, and leave Lombard Street on each side — in 

 space only, be it understood. The shops lie many feet back 

 from the road and rise from the gutter that carries off the 

 rain. Many have trees in front. Long blinds protect from 

 sun. On these holiday occasions everything puts on its 

 best. There is the head haberdasher, look at his display, 

 and see the number of empty packages he has placed in 

 front to show the extent of his importations. The clothier 

 has baited his trap for the sort of men that will come in 

 charge of stock or on a holiday. The baits used to be smock- 

 frocks and leather leggings, but now they are, indescribable 

 hats and caps, fancy neckties, and cheap jewellery, especially 

 watch chains. "Why, even the butcher's shop looks attrac- 

 tive. The trees in front keep off the sun, it is scrupulously 

 clean, all the outer part is fresh painted, the back of the 

 shop is thrown open, disclosing a garden, the leaves and 

 boughs gently wave, suggesting a refreshing breeze; the 

 very dead meat looks comfortable. 



The neighbouring pleasure grounds and copses have been 

 laid under contribution. During the night waggons have 

 come rumbling in, the spade and pickaxe have been at work 

 during the darkness, and the morning finds an avenue of 

 fir, larch, and beech, huge limbs of which have been put in 

 the ground. Elags of every colour, nation, and society wave 

 in all directions. Garlands and devices attest the taste and 

 the industry of the good wives and daughters (I like the 

 term better than ladies, because if they are one they will 

 be the other), of the place. It is the day of days in the 

 history of the town — not only an Agricultural Meeting, but 

 the Horticultural Show, and the band of the 200th Eegiment. 

 Ordinarily the tradesmen of these quiet country towns are 

 men to be envied, compared with the hurried anxious-looking 

 men in London ; but for some days before the show and for 

 some days after they are at work night and day. Being an 

 idle man, I have had leisure to watch these things. I wag 

 much amused a few years since when dining with some 

 members of the committee the evening before the show. 

 The question was asked who should go to the station to 

 meet the military band. I hardly know why, but no one 

 cared to go. It is a common case for a committee collec- 

 tively to be all that is energetic, but not a member of it has, 

 ox fancies he has, sufficient energy to act alone. It was so 

 in this instance, and the difficulty became -so great that they 

 drew lots. The lot fell on the most diffident of all. Like a 

 pradent man, finding it inevitable, he began to make inquiry, 

 and prepare himself; and having ascertained that the band- 

 master of a crack regiment was a superior man, he went 

 home for a nighf s rest to fit himself for the ordeal of the 

 morrow. The station was nearly a mile from the town, and 

 the time for meeting the band was eleven. I determined to 

 bethere. The committee-man was on the platform fidgetting 

 nervously about. The bell rang, and hia excitement in- 

 creased. As the train drew up, men in caps with variegated 

 bands, clad in a white uniform with green facings, could be 



one who got out ; he was about to address several, at last, 

 like most nervous and unready men, he made the only mis- 

 take he could make — he asked the master to show him the 

 master. There is no mistake in addressing the sergeant as 

 the colonel, but vice versa. This was a contretemps, but he 

 got over it, or, rather, the subject of it saved him with much 

 tact. The band formed outside the station, and the com- 

 mittee-man walked at the head by the side of the master. 

 Then the transformation began ; he was wrong, and changed 

 step ; he became more upright ; he waived his walking-stick 

 like a baton, beat the measure, and stepped to time ; he 

 attached himself to the band all day, and headed it when it 

 returned to the station in the evening. 



These gatherings are essentially merry ones. The stream 

 from the station to the principal inns and the show-yard, 

 the country roads fall of carriages, from the four-horse drag 

 to the donkey-cart, the pedestrians dusty and travel-stained, 

 all show gay costumes and smiling faces. What a change in 

 costume and appearance ! Beards, moustaches, and strange 

 head-gears are the rale ! What would be thought of the 

 old heavy beaver of the gentlemen and yeomen, and the 

 dogskin hat of the labourer now, in the days of wideawakes, 

 deerstalkers, Sue., decorated with a flower or a feather ? But 

 folk are all merry and good-tempered, and they are press- 

 ing to the show-yard. The ladies go off direct to the poultry. 

 It is in a long tent, and that is crowded all day; thence 

 they go to the flowers, then the fruit, and come to their rest 

 where the band of the 200th Eegt. is performing. The con- 

 ductor understands his company, his grand music at the 

 beginning was intended for the sedate world, but as the 

 younger portion come to an anchor round him he glides off 

 into rapid waltz, polkas, and quadrilles. It tells ; every foot 

 is beating time, and many a heart wishing for a dance. The 

 male portion of the visitors are soon surrounding horses, 

 oxen, sheep, and pigs. Things would be too smooth if 

 there was not a little uproar. There is a stout man 

 standing by a pen of pigs, and he declares he will have 

 justice if it is to bo had for money; and he does not 

 hesitate to say the judges are fools, or something worse, 

 to dispute the age he has put on his pigs. He wo'n't show 

 any more, nor will a good many others; no, nor he wo'n't 

 subscribe, not he. 



There is a dinner at the Montmorency Arms at four. All 

 the county members will be there, and all the nobility and 

 gentry of the neighbourhood, and thither the throng wends. 

 Step into the hotel with me. Every room has three or four 

 parties in it. A dozen wait to take advantage of anyone 

 who moves from a table. Bells ring continually, but at- 

 tendants are few and far between. The extra men hired for 

 the occasion take things coolly, but the regular servants 

 fret, fume, and tear about, and wish the day over at two in 

 the afternoon. Eows of men carrying trays pass in pro- 

 cession from the inn to the Town Hall, where the dinner is 

 held. Fresh salads, pale pastry, drooping jellies, tempt the 

 gaping children. Fore-quarters of lamb, ribs of beef, chick- 

 ens that show a society for improving the breed of poultry 

 has work to do, hams, and fillets of veal, pass in quick suc- 

 cession. At four o'clock a light cart draws up to the door, 

 and is soon filled with savoury haunches from the parks of 

 the neighbouring gentry. It spins across the road and 

 returns for another burden; and then the business of the 

 dinner begins. The town then takes another character. 

 The shops shut up ; the real inhabitants turn out ; those 

 who have far to go home, or who dislike a crowd and bother, 

 order their carriages; those who go by train flock to the 

 station. There is an extra staff for the day, but it is useless 

 on the platform. The carriages are forcibly taken possession 

 of, and remonstrance is useless. We once met a superin- 

 tendant from London on such an occasion who was well up 

 to his work. His carriages were crowded, and he was set 

 at nought. When he said it was the wrong train he was 

 laughed at. But he was a man of resource. He entered his 

 office, and two porters issued from it a moment afterwards, 

 walked the length of the train, crying, " This train for Tring 

 and London only." The thing was well done. The engine 

 gave the premonitory scream, the guard asked if all was 

 right, and had the whistle to his lips, but not in his mouth, 

 when all the carriage doors opened, and disgorged the now 

 frightened though lately bounceable passengers, who, be- 



seen looking out of the windows. I saw my man scan every J longing to the many third-class stations in the neighbour* 



