The old mansion had a still more venerable look in the yellowsunshine than by pale moonlight; and I could not but feel the force ofthe squire's idea, that the formal terraces, heavily mouldedbalustrades, and clipped yew-trees, carried with them an air ofproud aristocracy. There appeared to be an unusual number ofpeacocks about the place, and I was making some remarks upon what Itermed a flock of them, that were basking under a sunny wall, when Iwas gently corrected in my phraseology by Master Simon, who told methat, according to the most ancient and approved treatise onhunting, I must say a muster of peacocks. "In the same way," added he,with a slight air of pedantry, "we say a flight of doves orswallows, a bevy of quails, a herd of deer, of wrens, or cranes, askulk of foxes, or a building of rooks." He went on to inform me that,according to Sir Anthony Fitzherbert, we ought to ascribe to this bird"both understanding and glory; for, being praised, he will presentlyset up his tail, chiefly against the sun, to the intent you may thebetter behold the beauty thereof. But at the fall of the leaf, whenhis tail falleth, he will mourn and hide himself in corners, tillhis tail come again as it was."I could not help smiling at this display of small erudition on sowhimsical a subject; but I found that the peacocks were birds ofsome consequence at the hall; for Frank Bracebridge informed me thatthey were great favorites with his father, who was extremely carefulto keep up the breed; partly because they belonged to chivalry, andwere in great request at the stately banquets of the olden time; andpartly because they had a pomp and magnificence about them, highlybecoming an old family mansion. Nothing, he was accustomed to say, hadan air of greater state and dignity than a peacock perched upon anantique stone balustrade.
Master Simon had now to hurry off, having an appointment at theparish church with the village choristers, who were to perform somemusic of his selection. There was something extremely agreeable in thecheerful flow of animal spirits of the little man; and I confess I hadbeen somewhat surprised at his apt quotations from authors whocertainly were not in the range of every-day reading. I mentioned thislast circumstance to Frank Bracebridge, who told me with a smilethat Master Simon's whole stock of erudition was confined to some halfa dozen old authors, which the squire had put into his hands, andwhich he read over and over, whenever he had a studious fit; as hesometimes had on a rainy day, or a long winter evening. Sir AnthonyFitzherbert's Book of Husbandry; Markham's Country Contentments; theTretyse of Hunting, by Sir Thomas Cockayne, Knight; Izaac Walton'sAngler, and two or three more such ancient worthies of the pen, werehis standard authorities; and, like all men who know but a fewbooks, he looked up to them with a kind of idolatry, and quoted themon all occasions. As to his songs, they were chiefly picked out of oldbooks in the squire's library, and adapted to tunes that werepopular among the choice spirits of the last century. His practicalapplication of scraps of literature, however, had caused him to belooked upon as a prodigy of book knowledge by all the grooms,huntsmen, and small sportsmen of the neighborhood.
While we were talking we heard the distant tolling of the villagebell, and I was told that the squire was a little particular in havinghis household at church on a Christmas morning; considering it a dayof pouring out of thanks and rejoicing; for, as old Tusser observed,"At Christmas be merry, and thankful withal,And feast thy poor neighbors, the great with the small.""If you are disposed to go to church," said Frank Bracebridge, "Ican promise you a specimen of my cousin Simon's musicalachievements. As the church is destitute of an organ, he has formeda band from the village amateurs, and established a musical club fortheir improvement; he has also sorted a choir, as he sorted myfather's pack of hounds, according to the directions of JervaiseMarkham, in his Country Contentments; for the bass he has sought outall the 'deep, solemn mouths,' and for the tenor the 'loud-ringingmouths,' among the country bumpkins; and for 'sweet mouths,' he hasculled with curious taste among the prettiest lasses in theneighborhood; though these last, he affirms, are the most difficult tokeep in tune; your pretty female singer being exceedingly waywardand capricious, and very liable to accident."As the morning, though frosty, was remarkably fine and clear, themost of the family walked to the church, which was a very old buildingof gray stone, and stood near a village, about half a mile from thepark gate. Adjoining it was a low snug parsonage, which seemedcoeval with the church. The front of it was perfectly matted with ayew-tree, that had been trained against its walls, through the densefoliage of which apertures had been formed to admit light into thesmall antique lattices. As we passed this sheltered nest, the parsonissued forth and preceded us.
I had expected to see a sleek well-conditioned pastor, such as isoften found in a snug living in the vicinity of a rich patron's table,but I was disappointed. The parson was a little, meagre, black-lookingman, with a grizzled wig that was too wide, and stood off from eachear; so that his head seemed to have shrunk away within it, like adried filbert in its shell. He wore a rusty coat, with great skirts,and pockets that would have held the church Bible and prayer book: andhis small legs seemed still smaller, from being planted in largeshoes, decorated with enormous buckles.
