Town Versus Country

Town Versus Country, by Mary
Russell Mitford

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Title: Town Versus Country
Author: Mary Russell Mitford
Release Date: October 2, 2007 [EBook #22836]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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VERSUS COUNTRY ***

Produced by David Widger

TOWN VERSUS COUNTRY.
By Mary Russell Mitford
"I'm desperately afear'd, Sue, that that brother of thine will turn out a

jackanapes," was the apostrophe of the good yeoman Michael Howe, to
his pretty daughter Susan, as they were walking one fine afternoon in
harvest through some narrow and richly wooded lanes, which wound
between the crofts of his farm of Rutherford West, situate in that
out-of-the-way part of Berkshire which is emphatically called "the Low
Country," for no better reason that I can discover than that it is the very
hilliest part of the royal county. "I'm sadly afear'd, Sue, that he'll turn
out a jackanapes!"--and the stout farmer brandished the tall paddle
which served him at once as a walking stick and a weeding-hook, and
began vigorously eradicating the huge thistles which grew by the
roadside, as a mere vent for his vexation. "You'll see that he'll come
back an arrant puppy," quoth Michael Howe.
"Oh, father! don't say so," rejoined Susan, "why should you think so
hardly of poor William--our own dear William, whom we have not
seen these three years? What earthly harm has he done?"
"Harm, girl! Look at his letters! You know you're ashamed yourself to
take 'em of the postman. Pink paper, forsooth, and blue ink, and a seal
with bits of make-believe gold speckled about in it like a ladybird's
wings--I hate all make-believes, all shams; they're worse than
poison;--and stinking of some outlandish scent, so that I'm forced to
smoke a couple of pipes extra to get rid of the smell; and latterly, as if
this folly was not enough, he has crammed these precious scrawls into
a sort of paper-bag, pasted together just as if o' purpose to make us pay
double postage. Jackanapes did I call him? He's a worse mollycot than
a woman."
"Dear father, all young men will be foolish one way or another; and
you know my uncle says, that William is wonderfully steady for so
young a man, and his master is so well pleased with him, that he is now
foreman in his great concern. You must pardon a little nonsense in a
country youth, thrown suddenly into a fine shop in the gayest part of
London, and with his godfather's legacy coming unexpectedly upon
him, and making him too rich for a journeyman tradesman. But he's
coming to see us now. He would have come six months ago, as soon as
he got this money, if his master could have spared him; and he'll be

wiser before he goes back to London."
"Not he. Hang; Lunnon! Why did he go to Lunnon at all? Why could
not he stop at Rutherford like his father and his father's father, and see
to the farm? What business had he in a great shop?--a man-mercer's
they call it What call had he to Lunnon, I say? Tell me that, Miss
Susan.
"Why, dear father, you know very well that when Master George Arnot
was so unluckily obstinate about the affair of the water-course, and
would go to law with you, and swore that instead of marrying William,
poor Mary should be married to the rich maltster old Jacob Giles,
William, who had loved Mary ever since they were children together,
could not bear to stay in the country, and went off to my uncle,
forbidding me ever to mention her name in a letter; and,--" "Well!
well!" rejoined the father, somewhat softened, "but he need not have
turned puppy and coxcomb because he was crossed in love. Pshaw!"
added the good farmer, giving a mighty tug with his paddle at a tough
mullein which happened to stand in his way, "I was crossed in love
myself, in my young days, but I did not run off and turn tailor. I made
up plump to another wench--your poor mother, Susan, that's dead and
gone--and carried her off like a man; married her in a month, girl; and
that's what Will should have done. I'm afear'd we shall find him a sad
jackanapes. Jem Hathaway, the gauger, told me last market-day that he
saw him one Sunday in the what-dye-call't--the Park there, covered
with rings, and gold chains, and