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DORRINGTON AINSLIE.

BY JOHN SHERER.

CHAP. VII.-JOSEPH GREENBLADES, THE GARDENER
AT WILLOWBRANCH.

WEEL, Ise grant that there is some sinfu' folk i' Scottry is a perfect ministry, as a body, when compared wi' the prelatic set that wag their jaws i' the pu'pits o' this kintra." Such was the speech that greeted the ears of Dorrington and his companion, as they entered the public room, followed by Reuben with a white cloth in his hand, and looking the very embodiment of business.

"Ah! Mr. Greenblades, is this you; how are you?" said the Naturalist, whose name was now, for the first time, heard by Dorrington.

"Ou, Mr. Otterwell, yir servant, I hope I see you well,"

VOL. I.

returned the other, who made no reply to the question respecting his own physical condition, but whose tall bony person and hale ruddy complexion sufficiently indicated the exuberant health which it was the happiness of Mr. Joseph Greenblades, the Scotch gardener of Willowbranch House, to enjoy. Mr. Otterwell and he seemed to be upon terms of familiarity, arising perhaps from the similarity of their pursuits, for nature, although Greenblades thought that the mechanism which was displayed in the construction of a leaf, was as wonderful and far more beautiful, than that which was found in the construction of an animal.

The person with whom the gardener was in dispute upon the morals and ministries of England and Scotland, was no other than Jack Purdie the Landlord who, as chief of his own castle, had, as he observed, "after the throng of the afternoon's business was over, come into the parlour to spend an hour with Mr. Greenblades." Mr. Otterwell and Dorring..

ton seated themselves beside the others, and begged that the conversation might not be interrupted on their account. "We were talking of nothing of much consequence," observed Purdie.

"But this being the Sabbath-day," continued Greenblades, " and none o' us having been at the Kirk-a place, indeed, that I mysel' seldom gang till here-we were just discoursing a little of the difference between the Presbyterian and the Episcopawlian ministries o' the twa kintras o' Scotland and England."

Your mode of worship is much simpler than ours, I believe," observed Mr. Otterwell.

"But every thing that has life belongs to the animal kingdom, Mr. Greenblades, whether it is classed with vermin or not," interposed Otterwell.

"That may be your opinion, but doctors differ," returned Joseph, “I ha'e seen things sticking on till rocks that had neither liver, lights nor heart in them, and yet they were living. Wad ye ca' they animals, freend Otterwell?" "Yes."

As none of the company had ever been in Scotland, Joseph evidently must have had an argument of this kind all to himself, but Purdie, whose disputatious disposition had been, in some degree, fostered by his desire never to see conversation flag under the sign of the Black Bull, observed, "that it mattered little what people preached in, provided what they said was to the purpose."

"That may be your opinion," returned Joseph, "but ye must recollect that the garments of the body are often an indication o' the garniture o' the mind, and the pulpit is no place to appear in mair dresses than one on the Sabbathday."

The dry and stubborn sarcasm of Joseph was too well known to Jack Purdie to allow himself to be drawn into an argument, where, if he would not be defeated by the power of the reasoning faculty of the Scotchman, he must infallibly have succumbed to the overwhelming strength of his lungs. He accordingly contented himself with three or four silent puffs of his pipe, by the end of which Mr. Otterwell had opened up the folds of his handkerchief, and displayed to Mr. Greenblades, the treasure which he had captured in the field.

"Man, that's a bonnie thing, an' a wee thing, an' a gracefu' thing. Whar got ye 't?" said Joseph, in a tone of unaffected wonder, as he folded his arms across his breast, and leant forward on the table in admiration of the diminutive animal.

"In the hollow of the large field between this and Willowbranch," said Otterwell, "and a rare chase I had before I made him my own."

"Ay! he's yours noo, then, safe enough;" said Joseph, "what will ye do wi' 't? Ye canna eat a thing like that, and its amaist ower sma' to preserve, except as a curiosity to amuse bairns wi', or sic folk that hae just as little sense as they."

This remark drew a severer scrutiny of the countenance of Mr. Greenblades than had hitherto been given it, and it was very evident that he had partaken rather freely of the strong waters of the Black Bull, which lowered him, at least, ten per cent. in the opinion of Dorrington, whose correct principles taught him to condemn all undue indulgence in, perhaps, the most degrading vice in the catalogue of the human passions. He the more deeply regretted this as he had entertained the idea of making some inquiries regarding the inhabitants of Willowbranch; but he recoiled from such an act, when he thought of the very name of the spotless Adela being pronounced by lips, over which the fulsome steam of potent hot gin and water was shedding its dew, like the descending spring of a waterfall over the adjoining sward. Determined, however, to make himself remembered by Joseph, he resolved to take a part in the conversation, and remarked with modesty that, "he was afraid Mr. Greenblades did not survey the animal world with the same interest that he did the vegetable."

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Joseph, "I've seen as mony animals as most people, and maybe ken as muckle about them, too, as most of my neebours; but that thing which Mr. Otterwell has got can hardly be called an animal, seeing that it comes under the category o' vermin."

These are questions which I cannot decide;" said Otterwell," but it will be a long time before you or any one else, will make out a mouse to be any thing but an animal.”

"And I am sure," continued Dorrington, "that Mr. Greenblades himself has put questions which even he cannot answer, and which if he could answer, would, in my opinion, be of little benefit to the moral welfare of mankind."

The subject was now suffered to drop as Mr. Otterwell had re-deposited his field-mouse in the pocket of his huntingcoat, and began to talk of seeking the glowworm beneath the hedges, as the night was fine.

Would not another night be better adapted for a pleasure of that kind, Mr. Otterwell?" asked Dorrington, who, considering it as a sort of desecration of the character of the evening, was on that account prompted to put the question. "O! I was at church this forenoon, and I shall only just glance at the hedges as I go home. I have to go through the fields at any rate, and we cannot shut our eyes to what we may see, you know, sir; and if a glowworm falls in the way, why there can be no great harm in picking it up." Thus did Otterwell back out of the question; still there was confusion in his mode of speech which a nice observer might have remarked sprung from a feeling that he had, in some measure, committed himself in the eyes of the stranger. Joseph, however, came to the rescue, by exclaiming,-.

"It's a' ae thing here, sir. A' days are alike, Sunday and Saturday; ye may do as ye like, frae pickin' strawberries to diggin' tawtaes. But its time I was awa'," and he pulled out 1 a silver watch that would have rivalled the half of a turnip of considerable dimensions, and which compelled him to wriggle once or twice in his chair before he could extract it from his fob. "Dear me, half-past eight o'clock. My stars! I'll get my head in my hand, like Charlie the First. What way ha'e I forgotten mysel' sac long? Time's the greatest thief that I ken o'. He comes and gangs and nae body hears or sees him, if thought be na in the way. maun awa'," and he finished the remains of a large tumbler of gin and water; rose, and swayed a little to one side, took up his hat, and, shaking hands with Jack Purdie and Dorrington, wished them good night.

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Stay, stay! Mr. Greenblades;" cried Otterwell, “I go a great part of your way, and we may as well enjoy each other's company."

"And so we may," returned Joseph, "and although they say time was made for slaves, it was made for freemen too, and nacbody's freer than ourselves."

"Well, sir," said Mr. Otterwell to Dorrington, "may I ask, if you are going to make any stay in this neighbourhood?

Dorrington said that he intended to remain a few days to see what was to be seen, and especially some old ruins which were but a few miles distant from Boxingwood.

"O! yes, the ruins of Tread under Castle. I shall be happy to accompany you," said Otterwell, "and show you several other interesting scenes, that we have about this neighbourhood."

"I shall be glad of your acquaintance, sir," returned Dorrington, when Joseph, who was standing with his hat

"No more do I, sir, without gets it for nothing; and then I can take a sup, just to please the man that gives it like; but for nought else," returned Reuben. "Just so; I'll take the cold fowl, Reuben."

me,

"Yes, sir," and Reuben vanished and returned almost instantly with the required accompaniment to the tea-table of our hero.

Leaving him to his comfortable refreshment, we will proceed with Mr. Otterwell and Joseph Greenblades on their road towards Willowbranch.

When they got into the open air, the first thing that surprised Joseph was the darkness of the night, and the next a consciousness, of which he said nothing, of his having taken a little more liquor than was consistent with the usual prudence by which the tenour of his conduct was characterized.

"Bless me; I hope I ha'e na been fulish. I doubt I ha'e said things I should na have said and spoken mair wi' the malt in me, than I would ha'e dune wi' the meal. That drink's a waefu' thing. It fools us a'. It'll be a while before I'm in Jack Purdie's again."

So ran his thoughts for the first few minutes after he had emerged from the parlour, in which he had spent the greater portion of the afternoon. By this time, however, they had come to the primary stile over which they had to clamber in order to trace the fields which led, first to Marigold Cottage, the house of Mr. Otterwell, and thence to the mansion of Willowbranch. Although the stile was high, being familiar to them both, they were soon over it, and fairly peregrinating the fields, when a quarter of an hour more placed them at a considerable distance from any human abode.

"Hush!" said Otterwell, "I hear somebody speaking," and they stood as still as death near to one of the hedges that divided the pastures. The senses of Joseph, however, being less acute than usual, he pronounced it to be a false alarm, which the other stoutly denied.

"Listen for a moment," said he, "and you will find that I am right."

Joseph listened; but his patience being as untractable as his faculties were obtuse, he said, "It was the mither o' the mouse that he heard, screeching for the young ane that he had in his pocket."

"Hark!" again whispered Otterwell, and Joseph this time heard the muttering sounds of some voices in the adjoining field.

"By my stars, ye're right, Mr. Otterwell, and it's some rascals poaching on our ain grounds, or I'm mista'en."

"Listen!" again said Otterwell, when the words, "The field is bushed," fell upon the ears of Joseph and made him grasp his oaken staff with a firmer hand than he had hitherto done.

"Crouch to your knees and mak' for the hedge,” said Joseph, himself suiting the action to the word; when he looked, in his dark Sunday suit, like a black dwarf Shetland pony slowly moving and browsing upon the grass.

Mr. Otterwell, however, was possessed of a less active or daring courage, and he had some doubts within himself, whether it was an act consistent with a well regulated prudence, to interrupt the sport of a party of desperate poachers, more particularly in a locality where the mouths of Briareus himself would have failed to bring assistance if they had been all opened at once and emission given to the voices they contained. Fearing, however, that Joseph would pronounce him a man of timidity, he thought it better to comply with the suggestion; but, at the same time, fervently hoped that some circumstance would arise to avert so serious a calamity as an encounter with men who were known seldom to go unarmed, and who were as determined a set of spirits as ever violated the laws of any country whatever. While Otterwell was reasoning, Joseph was fast approaching the spot whence the sounds proceeded, and in a few minutes he found himself secretly ensconced under the shadow of the hedge. Here he applied his ears with all his might to catch the conversation of the poachers and at the

same time endeavour to detect the voice of any one he might chance to know amongst them. The effort, however, was vain, as these "minions of the moon" were gradually moving away from the situation occupied by Joseph. In a few moments he was joined by Otterwell, whose first observation was that he would "spoil his trousers," thus creeping upon the grass upon which a heavy dew had begun to sprinkle itself.

"Never heed your breeks," said Joseph in his zeal for the public service, "there 're mair whar they cam frae. But the lads are moving further up the field. Follow ye me and we'll come upon them just like a thunder-clap.”

With this comforting counsel Joseph led the way upon his feet, stooping as he half trotted by the side of the hedge, closely followed by Otterwell, the transitions of whose reflections were as sudden and various as the mutations of a cloud playing over the sky, amid the conflicting currents of contrary winds. He wished he had not sought the company of Joseph homewards; then that he had gone by the high road; next, that he had not gone to the Black Bull; again, that he was at his own fireside, which was succeeded by the consolitary thought that he might soon be carried home on a board, or may hap, be so wounded as to be left to die in the field without the gratification of a single creature being near him to soothe the last agonies of his existence. This state of mental affliction, however, was suddenly terminated by Joseph dropping on his knees at the mouth of a hole in the hedge, through which a party of four men could easily be seen in the twilight grey of the night, shaking out the nets with which they were going to try for partridges.

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Now, Otterwell," said Joseph in a whisper, "ye must follow my onset wi' a' the spirit ye're maister o', and I'll tak the whole lot o' them in their ain nets."

Of the realization of this prophetic triumph, Otterwell had his doubts, but he returned no answer than by a significant sign that he would do his duty.

Joseph now buttoned his coat, pulled his hat close down upon his forehead, grasped his stick in his right hand, and slowly bored his way through the hole. In similar measures of preparation he was imitated by Otterwell, who, following hard upon the heels of Joseph, was instantly by his side in the same field with the poachers, and, as yet, unseen by them.

"Noo's the time," cried Joseph, when he saw the poachers spread a little from each other in disentangling their nets. 'Noo's our time," and shouting at the top of his voice, "The Philistines are on ye, lads," dashed in amongst them wielding his oaken cudgel with the strength of a Titan. But whether it was that the potency of his potations had made him see double, or the dim uncertain light by which the evening was characterized, had obscured the correctness of his vision, cannot positively be averred, at all events the first blows that he aimed at the depredators fell short, and only whistled in the air or were lost upon the ground.

"Not so fast," cried one of the poachers rivalling Joseph in height, and engaging him with a similar weapon in the use of which it was the malignant fate of Joseph to find he had caught a Tartar. At it they went, however, like a couple of combatants who had met to decide a pre-concerted trial of skill, but Joseph being more rash than wary, made a rush upon his antagonist in the expectation that he would overwhelm him and bear him to the ground. But in this he was disappointed, for the man was so dexterous in the use of his weapon, that he not only succeeded in knocking Joseph's out of his hand, but brought him such a thwack on the side of the head, that had the gardener's skull not been composed of a material equalling in hardness the granite of his native county, and also protected by the brim of his hat, he must have fallen to the ground as insensible as any of the cabbages which he was so proud of rearing in the kitchen garden of Willowbranch. Fortunately, at this moment Otterwell was by his side, and manfully took his place until he was enabled to regain possession of his stick, when down he came upon the poacher, with the whole of Scotland's courage in his heart, and stronger than ever. This onset

was tremendous. The depredator recled before it, but his companions, had by this time, drawn themselves up beside him, and it seemed now as if it was going to be a combat between the Horatii and the Curiatii, the only difference being marked by the inequality of the numbers.

The sticks now played and spoke against each others in the air. Otterwell's courage had grown with the heat of the melée, and with a cooler and a better judgment than the Scotchman, he not only ably defended himself, but made his blows tell with a rapidity and an effect for which his opponents were little prepared. Joseph, however, was now sober; and as the affair grew serious, he warmed with the danger. He towered sometimes like Ajax by the side of Otterwell, and his great strength, had it been used with more judgment, must have proved irresistible. Imprecations fell in showers from the lips of the poachers; which Joseph met with the language of scorn, in which was mingled such epithets as vagabonds, game robbers, poaching blackguards, and the like, which tended not a little to inflame the wrath of his enemies. His voice being heard above all the rest, and the noise of the combat having reached to a considerable distance, at length, brought assistance to the side of the weaker party.

"Is that you, Joseph?" cried a voice a little way off. "Yes, Lawrence, come and help us we' thir poaching scoundrels;" and, encouraged by the prospect of immediate aid, he almost broke the arm of his opponent by a lucky blow of his stick.

"Shall I fire?" cried Lawrence, who proved to be one of the keepers on the grounds of Willowbranch.

"E'ens ye like."

Bang! and the contents of a gun whizzed over the heads of the poachers, who split and squandered, and took to their heels as fast as their legs could carry them.

"After them!" cried Joseph, but he had just run a few paces, when his foot caught something that seemed like a bag of earth, over which he was stretched at his length, his hat, at the same time, leaving his head and rolling some yards further, after the poachers, and his stick quitting the faithful grasp of his hand.

"What's this," he cried, as he gathered himself up, at the same time, laying hold of a man who had made one of the poachers' party, and who had thrown himself down for safety on the report of the gun.

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Our work's no been for naething, at all events," said Joseph as his giant grasp fastened on the collar of the prostrate poacher, and raised him to his legs in an instant.

"Into Brindleton prison ye'll tak' up your quarters this night at ony rate," said Joseph, "let wha likes speak to the contrary."

"I'm not a poacher," cried the man, "I assure you; I know as little of poaching as the child unborn."

"Ye're no a poacher!" reiterated Joseph with surprise. "Have we no caught ye in the very act? Come awa'; come awa'."

"Yes, away with him," cried Lawrence.

"Yes, yes, off with him," said Otterwell, and he was collared and marched off, without further delay, to the little town of Brindleton, which lay about two miles on the other side of Willowbranch, and rejoiced not only in the possession of a prison, built in the form of a Martello tower, but also in a constable of the name of Jack Robinson.

In the panic which had seized the poachers on hearing

the report of Lawrence's gun, they had left behind them their nets, which were taken as the spoil of the victors, and carried with them to Brindleton. When they arrived at that town they called upon Jack Robinson, and found him at home, although he was just about going out in the performance of some of his duties. Into his hands the spoil and the poacher were deposited; not until the latter, however, had, in the most solemn manner, protested his innocence, and begged to be taken to the Goose and Goslings' public house, where, he declared, he was staying, and where the landlady would acquit him of being acquainted

with the other depredators, otherwise than by mere accident Nothing he could say, however, availed him in the slightest degree, with his captors. They had caught him in the fact, and if he did not actually fight against them, as he declared he did not, he was, to all intents and purposes, of the poaching party, and to prison he must go.

"Ye'll ha'e dry straw to lie upon at ony rate," observed Joseph, "and that's better than a clay field and a cracked crown, as ye might ha'e gotten, and indeed, as ye, may be, deserved as well as them that were wi' ye. They'll be nae fear o' ye getting yoursel' into mischief there. Stane wa's and cauld water will keep ye out o' accidents if ye be as senseless as a wean, or as wilfu' as a cuddie."

Such was the unpalatable speech which Joseph left ringing in the ears of the delinquent, whom the whole party saw with satisfaction immured in the "stone jug," as the prison of Brindleton was familiarly termed, when they turned to retrace their steps to Willowbranch, and thence to Marigold cottage.

When the prisoner was left to himself, his reflections took a painfully serious turn, and, although he had been almost saturated with strong drink all the day, he had yet sufficient feeling left in his soul to exclaim" Drift Daggs, Drift Daggs, what will become of ye!" as he closed his eyes on his pallet of straw. (To be continued in our next.)

shows as clearly as possible what they at present are. UR representation of the modern style of Ball Dresses But in nothing, not even in the Vernal or Autumnal seasons of the British year, are there so frequent changes as in the world of fashion. Taste and elegance ought always, however, to prevail in the dress of a female, and particular care should be taken in the choice of such colours as will harmonise with the complexion. These general remarks apply to every kind of dress, upon which so much depends in the adornment of the person; and in Ball Dresses more particularly, such colours ought to be chosen as shall violate no established principles of taste in the due disposition of the colours.