CHAPTER II.—POTTER'S VESSELS. To a mind with limited powers of inquiry, such as most of us are blest with, a great truth stands forth in robust relief, without being bound to show what it stands on, or where it came from, or anything else. In this frank spirit must be accepted the incontestable fact that "Latham," (an ancient and very good surname) takes upon the ordinary tongue of Devon the brief but still excellent form of "Larks." It made no difference from their lofty point of view, that the Captain's name was not "Latham" at all, any more than he called himself a Captain; but when he first appeared among the natives of this part-some fifteen years ago perhaps his rather scanty luggage was ticketed "L. Arthur," in flowing and free manuscript. The leading genius of Christowell-a premature intellect now removed from the stabs of contumely, to higher claims-pronounced at a glance that the word spelled "Latham while some almost equally capable of reading confessed, and some denied it. The Landlord of the "Three Horse-shoes," who could not sign his name (though he drew three horse-shoes at the bottom of a bill, more correctly than many an artist could), at once backed up the decision of the wit, and settled the question by declaring that his guest had the very same walk all over the world as Corporal Larks to Teigncombe had. So belore Mr. Arthur was one dinner-time older, he came forth upon the public as Captain Larks ;" and finding that people only shook their heads, and looked very knowing, if he said another word, he let them have their way, and let his ears and mind grow used to it. Through an agent at Exeter, whose name was Tucker, a neat little cottage, and some twenty acres of land near the moor, had been bought for him cheaply. Then the cottage was furnished very simply; and here he hoped to spend in peace and solitude his remaining days. As yet, there was not a grey hair on his head, though his face bore marks of evil climate, and uncourteous usage, in deep-grained sunburn, and scar of steel permanent in three places. This, and a pair of shaggy eyebrows gave him a formidable aspect, much against the meaning of his mind. But eyes of a soft bright bluc, as clear as a child's, and a nose of genial turn, and a really pleasant and hearty smile, showed plenty of good-will towards mankind, whatever man might have done to him. Moreover his large and wellknit frame, active step, and resolute bearing, commanded the good word of womankind. the better half of the entirety. Then Parson Short, becoming now prime minister of Christowell, said his say about Captain Larks, which was to the purpose as usual. "Under a cloud-fine fellow by his face-gentleman, according to his speech and manner. He wants to be quiet; it is none of our business. Let him alone, till he comes to us." The settler asked for nothing better than this course of treatment. The stir of his arrival soon settled, like himself, into gentle quietude; the men of the village were kind and respectful-as men still are in Devonshire and the women, though longing to know more about him, felt for him deeply as "the lonely gentleman," and hoped he would get over it, and have another wife. Whatever his trouble, he sought no pity, nor even appeared despondent; but lived upon his bit of land, and worked, and whistled among his trees, as sweetly as the blackbirds that came to answer. In spite of his maturity, or perhaps by reason of it, many a villagegirl, too young to dream of any courtingexcept in dim wonder at the number of the babies-resolved to be his wife, as soon as time should qualify her, and came up the steep hill, every fine evening, to peep through the hedge at him, and perhaps to get an apple. He, having love of children, as of ali things that are natural, would rest from his work, and come out at the stile, and pat their curly heads, and ask the history of the babies. and cut for them chips with his pruning-knife from a big stick of liquorice in his waistcoat pocket. Whether he had kith or kin, or any soft belongings, was a moot point at the Churchyard gate, and by many smouldering peatfires; until, about four years after his coming, a lively and lovely little girl was delivered at his gate by Tim Pugsley, the carrier. Tim went round about it, as a fox goes to his hole, and avoided the village on his way from Moreton; but in spite of all that, they were spied by a woman with a bundle of furze at the top of the cleve; and when human nature with five shillings in its pocket compelled Master Pugsley to pull up and bait at the "Three Horse-shoes," upon his homeward course, he had no call so much as to change his crown; so liberal was the desire to treat him, for the sake of the light that he could shed. The grateful carrier first drank his beer, then shook his head as vehemently as if it had been labelled “glass with care;" and then enlightened the company with a piece of news beyond all price"Every man should first tend his own business." For nine or ten years, every summer, and weighing more upon each delivery, this consignment came to pass; and Pugsley (like his cart-tilt, which was of some high new patent stuff) grew dryer and dryer, every time he was wetted; till Christowell understood at last, that if anybody was to blame for keeping the parish so unsettled, it was no less a person than the famous Bishop of Exeter. For Pugsley told them to go to the Bishop, if they wanted to know all the rights; and the next confirmation in that neighbourhood was largely attended by fathers and mothers. It did them good to be confirmed again, because of their principles wearing out; and the Landlord of the Inn was pleased with the evening they spent after it. Thus when Rose came down at last, "to have holiday for ever," (as she told Mr. Pugsley, every time he stopped to put a stone behind the wheel,) there was scarcely any one in Christowell old enough to rejoice, who failed of that most Christian duty. The Captain for once came out of his garden, and made a great bonfire of his weeds upon the beacon, and with his own hands rolled up a great barrel of cider unknown to the natives, whose ignorance culminated towards their heads. For he now grew apples of a lordly kind, which they (having faith in their grandsires only) disdained, till it turned the tables on them. Almost everybody said, that night, or else on the following morning, that for certain sure, such a lively maid could never abide in a place like that. Or if she did, she must soon go doiled—so tarble weist, and crule unkid as it was. For according to the way Captain Larks held his head up, in spite of demeaning himself now lately, his daughter must count upon having to behave like a lady, and not going to and fro, and in and out with the other young folk, as the butcher's and grocer's girls might do. And who was there likely to ask her in marriage, or to take her to a dance, or a fairing, or a club, comely as she was, and so nice-spoken? Why, Parson Tom Short was the only gentry-man, unless you went so far as Touchwood Park; and if ever there was a set bachelor in the world, Parson Short was one of them; let alone that his hair was all going from his poll, and his cook, Mrs. Aggett, would have no young doings. Up to the present time however, though nearly two years were gone by, Rose Arthur had complained to no one of discontent or loneliness. Her father, and her work, and books sufficed to her for company; and her lively nature filled itself with interest in all things. She knew everybody in the village now, and every flower in the garden; and her father's lonely life was blessed by her young enjoyment of the world. Pugsley (who lived at Moreton, and traded twice a week from Exeter, when the weather and the roads encouraged him) now began to find his horse wink one eye at the turn towards Christowell. So many trifles went to and fro, and some boxes that made the axle creak, and some quite large enough to sit upon. Even before this, he had taken mauns of plants, and baskets of choice pears and grapes to Exeter; when the Captain began to demean himself in the village esteem by traffic. But now the commerce increased and throve, as Rose threw her young life into it. If Pugsley had been a small-minded man, he must have gone promptly to Tavistock fair, and bought a new horse, to attend to this traffic; for his ancient nag, whose name was "Teddy," began to find the hills grow steeper, as the weight of years increased. But the carrier was of gentle tone, and largely generous sentiments; and hours of reflection made him wipe his head with loftier feeling. Therefore he would not deny his good neighbours the pleasure of benevolence, but allowed them to lend him a horse as often as they wished, and sometimes oftener. a Now Teddy was crawling up the hill, that beautiful April morning, with the long-desired load of pots. Three-quarters of a mile of jagged lane, or sometimes of roaring watercourse, led from the village to "Larks' Cot," as irreverent people called it. At best, and even for a fresh young horse, it was tough piece of collar-work; but Teddy, ancient though he was, would never have grumbled, if the lane had been wide enough for corkscrew. But in this part of Devon the rule of the road is, to make it just wide enough for one cart, and a cow to go past it without losing milk. If two carts meet, one must back to a gateway; and whether of the twain shall back, depends upon the issue which of the drivers is "the better man." Therefore this Teddy had a hard time of it—a long pull, a strong pull, and worst of all, a straight pull. And while he was pausing, to pant and to think, and his master whistled softly, Jem Trickey the cobbler came merrily down a steep place, and stopped to look at them. "Marnin' to 'e, Tim," shouted Trickey, for his breath was as plim " as a football newly filled; "what have 'e got then, this time, Carryer?” "No consarn of thine, Cobbler Trickey;" Pugsley made stout answer, being cross, and short-fetched in the wind; "cobblers is not excisemen yet." "Potses, and panses again, as sure as I be a zinner! Cappen Larks ought to be shamed of hiszelf. Lor' A'mighty never made his works to grow in crockery. And you'm a gwain' outside your trade. Backard and forrard is your proper coorse. Let me conzeider of they potses." "Ye be welcome to conzeider of them, cobbler. A niver zeed sich coorous cloam. Look'e yeer, they little holes hurneth all round 'em! Cappen's own diskivry, I do hear tell." The carrier loosened the cord of one crate, and allowed the intelligent Trickey to gaze, while he drew it towards the cart - tail. Trickey, though large enough of mind, was small of body, and he lifted himself by the lade, to see things justly. "You be bound by my advice," he cried, retreating hastily; "you take the next turn down to brook, and heft they into the watter. They was made for the witches, and no mistakk about 'em." "Zo I wull," Tim Pugsley answered, pretending to share his neighbour's fright, for he was a dry man, and full of book-learning. "Thank'e kindly for thy counsel, Jem. Into the watter they gooth, zure enough. Only thou must pay for the vally of 'em, and the carryage too, Cobbler Trickey." "Go thy way, with thy witchcraft," the other replied. "Do 'e know what I call thee, Carryer Pugsley? I call thee a poor timesarver, and a carryer of no conzistency." "I carry better stuff than thou dost," Pugsley shouted after him; as the shoemaker, with a springy step, set off down the hill, for fear of worse. "Do I zwindle the public with brown papper? Do I putt 'ooden pegs in, and zwear they be stitched? Do I clam on the heel-ball to hide my scamping? Do I————— Master Pugsley cut short his list of libels, as he saw Master Trickey, at a decent distance, deliver a gesture of supreme contempt, by turning up his coat-tail, and administering a slap to the quarter of his body which was latest in retreat. "Do 'e do the like of that to I?" the carrier inquired superfluously; "If it twadn't for business, and the blessed law-howso mever, a bain't worth thinking on, Ted 17, gee wugg! It be your vault mainly.' The old horse, wont as he was to bear the blame of troubles far outside of his own shafts, rallied with a shiver and a rattle of his chains, and threw himself forward upon the strain. For a very stiff tug arose just here, for a horse who had been to Exeter and back, with a tidy load, only yesterday; and whose knowledge of corn was too superficial, getting more of the husk than the kernel for its study. And the manner of a Devonshire lane is such, that dogmatic humps stand up in places where nothing seems to warrant them. The meadows, to the right and left, may be as pleasant as you please to walk upon, with a sleek benevolence, a velvet pile, and a spring of supple freshness. And yet, within a landyard, the lane is jumping scraggily, with ribs of solid rock, and pits and jerks of bold abruptness. The nag, being born to such conditions, plodded on without repining; but in spite of all spirit, and skill, and care, he suddenly fell into sad disgrace. For just as the near wheel was creaking on the verge of a steep slide of granite, where his turn-about was due-for the lane there allowed him chance of a little bit of slanting-Teddy did a thing that any other horse might do, or even a man in his position. He mistook a large stone-fly, just arisen from the Christow, for a genuine æstrus, a bot-fly, whame, or tabanus. If he had thought of the present time of year, he must have known better; but instead of thinking, he acted on his nerves, which struck into him like a spur. Up went his head, as if he were four years old, instead of going on for forty; and his old bones shook with indignation at the pestilent state the world was come to. Steady, you old fool! Who'm a-gwain for to kill'e?" the carrier exclaimed with a little friendly thump; but the mischief was done, while he was speaking. For the jump of the horse gave a jerk to the shaft, and this ran amiss into the axle-tree, gave a lollop to the near wheel, already on the wamble; and down went the felly with a blue grind of iron, into the very hole they meant to shun. The hole was more than deep enough to hold a good nine gallons; and the wheel ground down into its deepest depth, while the other took advantage of the position for a holiday, and proved itself the off-wheel by going off towards heaven. "Wull now!" said the carrier, without much haste, for his mind travelled slowly up the obstacles of thought; "this be a tarble dickyment; and here coom'th arl the cloam! Drat that old cobbler chap, 'twor arl his doings." An avalanche of pots from the unroped crate fell around him and upon him, while he reasoned thus. Like a quick shower of acorns from the shaken oak, but alas, much heavier and more valuable, they rattled on the on the carrier, and thumped his poor elbows, and a far more tender and impassioned part of man, till he fairly turned back, and let them roll upon his spine. "Jem, neighbour Jem, do'e come back, that's a dear;" he shouted as loud as his drummed condition furnished to the cobbler in the distance at the bottom of the hill. That good neighbour not only heard him, but replied right pleasantly, with a gladsome laugh, and a smart repetition of his gay defiance; then hastened on his course with a step more nimble than his customers generally could compass from his shoes. "All men is clay," said the carrier, recovering his native equanimity, and wiping the red dust from his fustian suit; "all men is clay; and the Lord hath not intended us to putt His material into these here shapes, with a C. R. upon 'em, maning carrier's risk. Wull, a carn't brak' no more of 'un nor there be, now can 'e, Teddy? Smarl blame to thee, old chap. We'll both of us toorn to our brexass. This hosebird job hath coom, I rackon, 'long of doing of despite to the gifts of the Lord." Beholding a very nice place to sit down, and content with the cart in its present firm fixture, he pulled out the nosebag, and buckled it for Teddy, so that he might cast one eye down at his lip-service. Then he drew forth his own provender, and seasoned it, by dwelling on its beauties with his broad brown thumb. "Nation good, nation good!" he could not help exclaiming; "a good waife is the making of a man's front-piece. A vartuous woman laveth no occasion for a man to think twaice of his vitteling, or zeek to read the papper. Best use of papper is to putt up bakkon in 'un." Sorrow, and breakage, and the other plagues of life began to use less and less of pressure on his heart, as he sat upon a ladyfern (not yet plumed for dancing, but rich with soft beauty for a heavy man to sit upon) and biting out the cork from a flat stone bottle, moistened down the roadway for the bread and meat to follow. Then he fell to very heartily, and in less than half an hour began to feel nicely refreshed, and fit to encounter the issue before him. CHAPTER III.-PARSON SHORT. "I AM almost sure that he must have broken down," said the fairest of his flowers to the gardener; "he is the most punctual man in the county, and scarcely ever more than three days late. I saw him not more than three miles off, on the top of the hill above Lustleigh, before the sun was three yards high; and he must have been here, wiping his head, as a delicate hint for cider, two hours ago, if he had gone on well.” Perhaps he has gone on too well, my dear, by taking the turn to 'The Three Horse-shoes.' Horse-shoes.' Not that I would cast any slur upon your pet; but still such things will happen." "To other people perhaps they might. But never to him-I am quite sure of that. The last time I saw him, he lamented cordially 'the mischief of them publics.' "That was very good of him, and showed high principle, as well as a tender conscience;" Mr. Arthur replied, while he took good care that his daughter should not observe his smile; for life enough was before her yet for correction of faith in human nature. Pugsley has the elements of a lofty character, industry, honesty, philosophy-in the sense of that word at present. Father," cried Rose, having finished her bunch, and running up to him, with the long grape-scissors in her hand, and a trail of bast around her neck; "have I got the elements of a lofty character-industry, certainly, just look at those ten bunches; honesty perhaps to a reasonable extent; but scarcely a bit of philosophy, I'm afraid?" "Certainly not too much of that," her father answered quietly; "but run in, and see about the breakfast, darling; or perhaps. you may discover some defects in mine." "How I wish that I could! But I shall never do that, if philosophy means good temper. Now come and see my work, sir, and say if it is good." "It is good sound work; far better than Lord Bicton's head-gardener at any money, could produce, in vineries like a cathedral. However it is not faultless yet; though I don't mean to say that I could do it better, even if my eyes were as young as yours. You understand thoroughly the bunch, as it is; and you shape it beautifully for the time; nothing could be neater, or more justly placed. But you have yet to learn the fine perception of the future, the bending of the footstalk, as the berries grow in weight, and the probable drop of the shoulders. And practice alone can teach you the different ins and outs of each kind of grape in swelling." "The subject appears to me to be endless. How shall I ever attain to such knowledge ?" By watching the results of your own work, and by never giving over.” "Till old experience do attain to something like prophetic strain. But father, how did you thus attain it? Have you ever been apprenticed to a gardener?" "Little pitchers may have long ears; but they must not have curious tongues! he replied, with a kiss on her forehead, to heal the rebuke. Now let us go to breakfast; and then seek Pugsley." Hence it came to pass that while the good carrier was still regarding the position of his cart and the attitude of his ancient horse, with calm eyes and well-kindled pipe, a spirited young lady stood before him, and did not share his patience. "Good morning, Master Pugsley; and you seem to think it good. But I always have understood that a cart ought to stand upon both wheels." "So her did. You'm right there, Miss; " the carrier answered with a quiet grin. "But there be times when her doth'nt do her dooty, but go'oth contrairy, like the wominvolk.” "And you mean to let her stay like that, for ever! And my father's pots lying in a heap upon the road!” Cappen is a just man, and a' wull look auver it. Partikler now you've zeed it, Miss, and can sartify 'twor no hooman doin's." "All I can certify is that you seem content to stay here for the rest of the day. Do please to get out of that hole at once, and bring all the pots you have managed not to break." "Lor', how natteral you do spake! It doth a man good to hear'e, Miss. Here us must baide, nolum wolum, till sich taime as Farmer Willum coom'th." vine, and bed down a pony, and salt a silverside, and store apples, and fry potatoes, and fill a pipe. And if all that is nothing, as you might be apt to think, because of being a man, Mr. Pugsley, I can answer for taking a hive of bees, without hurting one of them. Can you do that?” "The Lord forbid! He hath made 'em to be smoked, zoon as ever they a' done their work. their work. But, Missy, it amooseth me to hear you tell up. You tell up a sight of things as a well-inventioned man can do, or if not one, mebbe then anither of 'em. But you never tak' no count on the hardest thing of arl, the like of which no man can do in this here county. You knows what I mane, Miss Rose; and winderful it is to me, for sich a babe and suckling!" "Oh! I know what you mean quite well. You have made me do it in the cart so often. But I do assure you that it is quite easy." Aisy a' can never be," said the carrier decisively; "although a' zimth as some can do 'un, droo years of arly larnin'. To play the piander is winderful; but a varmer's datter may coom to that, bein' outside of her dooty; but niver can her coom to spakin' of the bad Vrench langoowich.” "I tell you, Master Pugsley, that every one can do it, in my proper rank of life. You are not stupid enough to suppose that because I pot vines "Noo, noo, Miss; axing of your pardon for breaking in upon you. I knows as well as the Royal mail doth, that you be one of the karlity. None but a vule could look twice at you and veel any doubt whatsomdever about that, my dear. And Cappen Larks, though he dooth quare things, is the very same; at any rate to my mind.` "And to everybody's mind, I should hope, Mr. Pugsley. But he must not, and he shall not be called 'Captain Larks,' as you know, if nobody else does. Now please to get out of your rut, and come on." Shallow The nature truly noble, and the mind of lofty power, reluctant as they always are to make disclosure of themselves, and shunning as they always do the frippery of random praise, unwittingly are revealed sometimes by the conduct of tobacco-smoke. men, or hasty fellows, or small sons of discontent, labour hard with restless puffs, and vex the air with turbid fumes promiscuously tossed from lip or bowl. How different is the process of the large, well-balanced, contemplative pipe! No swirling tempest battles round the brow, no waste of issue clouds the air; but blue wreaths hover far asunder, |