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most picturesque little dwelling in the park of his, he acquired a very wide parish to this day. He took it into his renown. People used to come for miles head to lay out a garden, not on his to pay Mr. Trollop a visit. “The gentle own farm but about a quarter of a mile folk they was proud of him, I've heerd off; and I suspect he must have bought say, and they'd do anything for old the little patch of ground from one of Bright, as they called him.” Sometimes the small owners, of whom there were the old man, when he saw them comso many in those days. The farming ing, would give his house a turn. Lo! business did not give sufficient employ- There was no door and no window to ment to his active mind, and he spent be seen, for "there was a kind of a all his spare time upon his garden. In wooden wall, as you may say, that process of time he had surrounded his fitted all round that inside chamberlittle freehold [?] with a very thick like a great overcoat of boards, as you hedge "such as no one couldn't see may say.” The would-be visitors, after through;" and being a very ingenious knocking at the overcoat for a while, personage he contrived a kind of laby- would be greeted by the voice of old rinth "and gravel walks going all sorts Bright bidding them to go round to the of ways;" and he dug what he'd call a door, which they never found until he lake_“that wasn't no better nor a pit.” was pleased to give his revolving house ... “Yes it were! That were a pond! a turn, then the door came into sight, I've often heerd tell of the pond. That and old Bright stood looking out of the weren't no pit. Why, that weren't no window laughing at the gentlefolks. more nor a yard deep, and folks said Mr. Trollop prided himself greatly upon as he puddled it wi' clay his-self.” his gooseberries and his apples. There

The subtle distinction between a pond never were such gooseberries. But and a pit must be left. "Bright, he'd when a dish of these giants was used to call it his lake. Why, they was brought upon the table it was as likely always a-talking of Trollop's Folly as not to disappear suddenly. Hów, when we was young."


could imagine. Also In the midst of this earthly Para- there were occasions when the palace dise there was a little round house smelt very strong, indeed, of apples, which Mr. Trollop had built with his and Bright would assure his callers own hands. It had a door and a win- that there were sacks of them, and dow and was full of "all sorts of curi- any one who could find them should ous things as Bright had got together, have the very best of them to take and that got to be so heavy at last that away. Of course nobody ever did find when he was an old man he couldn't them till Bright showed them how. move it as he used.”

That was part of the game. One device Move it? Was it on wheels? No; of the old man he was exquisitely this palace of delights was fixed in some pleased with putting in practice. A miraculous way on a table and it turned visitor would declare that it was time upon a swivel. "Nobody never could to go home now. Then there came a make out how he did it. He was that creaking sound “of that there swivel.” crafty as he kind o puzzled 'em all!” The party rose to go. They opened the Having exercised his genius for many door-the only door-and to their horror years upon this splendid palace and they found themselves facing the


1 As far as I can make out from my informants the little house was moved about in the same way as the sails of a windmill were swung round to catch every change of wind. The

mechanism which Trollop invented, however, was in some way concealed from view by the screen which the overcoat afforded.

"lake," whose wide expanse and fath- Register as "an aged farmer.” Some omless depth appalled them. They of his handiwork and many of the were actually at its very edge. “Oh! trees he had planted, appear to have Mr. Trollop, we can't get out that way. remained for people to stare at and It is the wrong door. What shall we talk about till the railway ran through do?" etc., etc. Whereupon the creak- or near The Folly, and though the place ing "of that there swivel" began again; is not, and never will be, "as 'twas and the gentlefolks departed, having afore," yet the new has, perhaps, imby some other miraculous process been proved upon the old. provided with an apple a-piece and in high spirits at their escape from the What a very dull world it will be uncanny devices of the wizard and all when there remains no more folly in it. the perils of The Folly.

What a dreary life it will be when all "Ah! But that was a wonderful picturesqueness has become eliminated; place! I've heerd the old people tell when a horrible monotony of universal all sorts of wonderful stories about conformity makes it unlawful and imTrollop's Folly. And that was a rare possible for men and women to differ pity as that wasn't kept up. But you from one another in anything; when see as the last of they Trollops, he there are no more queer characters outwent on bad and he had to go. It side the lunatic asylums; when all the was just as old Bright kind o' prophe birds sing the same songs and dress sied, for he'd carved in big letters on alike in the winter and in the summer; The Folly

when all the men and women speak

the same language, and all the dear When I'm dead and come no more This place will be as 'twas afore.

quaint varieties of dialect have become eliminated, when all the dogs wag the

same tails, and-saddest consummation Brightmore Trollop died on the 27th of all-when all the elders tell the same of March, and was buried on the 30th stories, and none of these stories have of March, 1802. He is described in the any point or interest in them." The Nineteenth century.

Augustus Jessopp.


Friend, call me what you will: no jot care I;
I that shall stand for England till I die.
England! The England that rejoiced to see
Hellas unbound, Italy one and free;
The England that had tears for Poland's doom,
And in her heart for all the world made room;
The England from whose side I have not swerved;
The immortal England whom I too have served,
Accounting her all living lands above,
In justice and in mercy and in love.

William Watson.
The Speaker.


Quite recently it was suggested by didly picturesque effort of Shakethe writer of an article in the Spectator speare's genius, “The Tempest,” he that Shakespeare was now but little hurls us at the outset into the hurlyread, -that while his works were burly of a storm at sea, with all the quoted from as much as ever, the quo- terror-striking details attendant upon tations were obtained at second hand, the embaying of a ship in such weather. and that it would be hard to find to-day She is a passenger ship, too, and the any reader who had waded through all passengers behave as landsmen might that wonderful collection of plays and be expected to do in such a situation. poems. This is surely not a carefully The Master (not Captain be it noted, made statement. If there were any for there are no Captains in the meramount of truth in it, we might well chant service) calls the boatswain. regard such a state of things as only Here arises a difficulty for a modern one degree less deplorable than that sailor. Where was the mate? We can people should have ceased to read the not say that the office was not known, Bible. For next to the Bible there can although Shakespeare nowhere alludes be no such collection of writings avail- to such an officer, but this much is cerable wherein may be found food for tain, that for one person who would every mind. Even the sailor, critical understand who was meant by the as he always is of allusions to the tech- mate, ten would appreciate the mention nicalities of his calling that appear in of the boatswain's name, and that alone literature, is arrested by the truth of would justify its use in poetry. In Shakespeare's references to the sea and this short colloquy between the Master seafaring, while he cannot but wonder and the boatswain we have the very at their copiousness in the work of a spirit of sea-service. An immediate thorough landsman. Of course, in this reply to the Master's hail, and an inrespect it is necessary to remember quiry in a phrase now only used by that Elizabethan England spoke a lan- the vulgar, bring the assurance “Good;" guage which was far more frequently but it is at once followed by "Speak to studded with sea-terms than that which the mariners, fall to't yarely, or we we speak ashore to-day. With all our run ourselves aground; bestir, bestir." vast commerce and our utter depén. Having given his orders the Master dence upon the sea for our very life; its goes-he has other matters to attend romance, its expressions take little hold to-and the boatswain heartens up his of the immense majority of the people. crew in true nautical fashion, his lanTherein we differ widely from Ameri- guage being almost identical with that cans. In every walk of life from Maine used to-day. His "aside" is true sailor, to Mexico, from Philadelphia to San - “Blow till thou burst thy wind, if Francisco, the American people salt [we have] room enough.” This essentheir speech with terms borrowed from tially nautical feeling that given a good the sailor, as they do also with other ship and plenty of sea-room there is terms used by Shakespeare, and often nothing to fear, is alluded to again and considered by Shakespeare's country again in Shakespeare. He has the very men of the present day, quite wrongly. spirit of it. Then come the meddlesome to be slang.

passengers, hampering the hard-pressed In what is, perhaps, the most splen- officer with their questioning and ad

vice!-until, exasperated beyond cour In the "Twelfth Night" there are tesy, he bursts out: "You mar our labor. many salt-water allusions no less Keep your cabins. You do assist the happy, beginning with the bright picstorm.” Bidden to remember whom ture of Antonio presented by the Caphe has on board, he gives them more oftain (of a war ship?) breasting the sea his mind, winding up by again addres- upon a floating mast. Again, in Act I, sing his crew with "cheerly good Scene 6, Viola answers Malvolio's unhearts,” and, as a parting shot to his called for rudeness, “Will you hoist hinderers, "Out of our way, I say." sail, Sir?” with the ready idiom, “No,

But the weather grows worse; they good swabber, I am to hull (to heave-to] must needs strike the topmast and here a little longer.” In Act V, Scene heave-to under the main-course (main- 1, the Duke speaks of Antonio as Capsail), a manæuvre which, usual enough tain of a "bawbling vessel-for shallow with Elizabethan ships, would never draught, and bulk, unprizable;" in modbe attempted now. Under the same ern terms a small privateer that played circumstances the lower main-topsail such havoc with the enemy's fleet that would be used, the mainsail having “very envy and the tongue of loss cried been furled long before because of its fame and honor on him." Surely Shakeunwieldy size. Still the passengers speare must have had Drake in his annoy, now with abuse, which is an- mind when he wrote this. swered by an appeal to their reason Who does not remember Shylock's and an invitation for them to take hold contemptuous summing up of Antonio's and work. For the need presses. She means and their probable loss ?—"Ships is on a lee shore, and in spite of the are but boards, sailors but men, there fury of the gale sail must be made. be land rats and water rats, water "Set her two courses (mainsail and thieves and land thieves-I mean piforesail] off to sea again, lay her off.” rates; then there is the peril of waters, And now the sailors despair and speak winds and rocks.”--Act I, Scene 3. of prayer, their cries met scornfully In this same play, too, we have those by the valiant boatswain with "What, terrible quicksands, the Goodwins, must our mouths be cold?" Then fol- sketched for us in half a dozen lines: lows that wonderful sea-picture begin- "Where the carcasses of many a tall ning Scene II, which remains unap ship lie buried.” Act III, Scene 1; and proachable for vigor and truth. A little in the last scene of the last act Antonio farther on comes the old sea-supersti- says his “ships are safely come to tion of the rats quitting a foredoomed road,an expression briny as the sea ship, and in Ariel's report a spirited itself. account of what must have been sug In the “Comedy of Errors," Act I, gested to Shakespeare by stories of the Scene 1, we have a phrase that should appearance of "corposants" or St. have been coined by an ancient Greek Elmo's fire, usually accompanying a sailor-poet: “The always-wind-obeying storm of this kind, and in answer to deep," and a little lower down the page Prospero's question, "Who was so a touch of sea-lore that would of itself firm ?” etc., Ariel bears incidental suffice to stamp the writer as a man of tribute to the mariners,—"All but mari- intimate knowledge of nautical ways: ners plunged in the foaming brine and "A small spare mast, such as seafaring quit the vessel,” those same mariners men provide for storms." Who tola who are afterwards found, their ves- Shakespeare of the custom of sailors sel safely anchored, asleep under to carry spare spars for jury masts? hatches, their dangerous toil at an end. In "Macbeth," the first witch sings


of the winds and the compass card, and speaks of the Romans finding us in promises that her enemy's husband our "salt-water girdle." shall suffer all the torments of the tem But no play of Shakespeare's, except pest-tossed sailor without actual ship- “The Tempest,” smacks so smartly of wreck. She also shows a pilot's thumb the brine as “Pericles,” the story of "wrack'd as homeward he did come." that much enduring Prince of Tyre, Who, in these days of universal read whose nautical mishaps are made to ing, needs reminding of the allusion have such a miraculously happy endto the ship-boy's sleep in Act III, Scene ing. In Act II, Scene 1, enter Pericles, 1, of "Henry IV," a contrast of the most wet, invoking heaven that the sea, havpowerful and convincing kind, power- ing manifested its sovereignty over ful alike in its poetry and its truth to man, may grant him one last boon,-a the facts of Nature? Especially notice- peaceful death. To him appear three able is the line where Shakespeare fishermen characteristically engaged in speaks of the spindrift: "And in the vis- handling their nets, bullying one anitation of the winds Who take the ruf other and discussing the latest wreck. fian billows by the top, Curling their And here we get a bit of sea-lore that monstrous heads and hanging them all sailors deeply appreciate. "3rd fish. With deafʼning clamors in the slippery Nay, master, said not I as much, when clouds."

I saw the porpus how he bounced and "King Henry VI,” Act V, Scene 1, has tumbled? they say, they are half fish, this line full of knowledge of sea usage: half flesh; a plague on them! they ne'er "Than bear so low a sail to strike to come but I looked to be wash'd.” Few thee." Here is a plain allusion to the indeed are the sailors, even in these ancient custom whereby all ships of steamship days who have not heard any other nation, as well as all mer that the excited leaping of porpoises chant ships, were compelled to lower presages a storm. The whole scene their sails in courtesy to British ships well deserves quotation, especially the of war. The picture given in "Richard true description of the whale (rorqual) III,” Act I, Scene 4, of the sea-bed does “driving the poor fry before him and not call for so much wonder, for the at last swallows them all at a mouthcondition of that secret place of the sea ful.” Space presses, however, and it must have had peculiar fascination for will be much better for those interested such a mind as Shakespeare's. Set in to read for themselves. Act III, Scene those few lines he has given us a vision 1, brings before us a companion picture of the deeps of the sea that is final. to that in the opening of "The Tem

A wonderful passage is to be found pest,” perhaps even more vivid; where in “Cymbeline,” Act III, Scene 1, that the terrible travail of the elements is seems to have been strangely neglected, agonizingly contrasted with the birthwhere the Queen tells Cymbeline to wail of an infant, and the passing of remember

the hapless Princess. Beautiful indeed The natural bravery of your isle,

is the rough but honest heartening ofwhich stands

fered by the laboring sailors, broken As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in off by the sea-command toWith rocks unscaleable and roaring waters;

18t Sailor. Slack the bolins there; thou With sands that will not bear your

wilt not, wilt thou? enemies' boats,

Blow and split thyself. But suck them up to the top-mast.

2nd Sailor. But sea-room, an' the

brine and cloudy billow And again in the same scene, Cloten

kiss the moon, I care not.

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