Contributions to All The Year Round | Page 4

opening out before us everywhere, we joyfully
proceed, entreating our readers--without any of the pain of leave-taking
incidental to most journeys--to bear us company All the year round.
Saturday, May 28, 1859.

THE POOR MAN AND HIS BEER

My friend Philosewers and I, contemplating a farm-labourer the other
day, who was drinking his mug of beer on a settle at a roadside ale-
house door, we fell to humming the fag-end of an old ditty, of which
the poor man and his beer, and the sin of parting them, form the doleful
burden. Philosewers then mentioned to me that a friend of his in an
agricultural county--say a Hertfordshire friend--had, for two years last
past, endeavoured to reconcile the poor man and his beer to public
morality, by making it a point of honour between himself and the poor
man that the latter should use his beer and not abuse it. Interested in an

effort of so unobtrusive and unspeechifying a nature, "O Philosewers,"
said I, after the manner of the dreary sages in Eastern apologues, "Show
me, I pray, the man who deems that temperance can be attained without
a medal, an oration, a banner, and a denunciation of half the world, and
who has at once the head and heart to set about it!"
Philosewers expressing, in reply, his willingness to gratify the dreary
sage, an appointment was made for the purpose. And on the day fixed, I,
the Dreary one, accompanied by Philosewers, went down Nor'-West
per railway, in search of temperate temperance. It was a thunderous day;
and the clouds were so immoderately watery, and so very much
disposed to sour all the beer in Hertfordshire, that they seemed to have
taken the pledge.
But, the sun burst forth gaily in the afternoon, and gilded the old gables,
and old mullioned windows, and old weathercock and old clock-face,
of the quaint old house which is the dwelling of the man we sought.
How shall I describe him? As one of the most famous practical
chemists of the age? That designation will do as well as another--better,
perhaps, than most others. And his name? Friar Bacon.
"Though, take notice, Philosewers," said I, behind my hand, "that the
first Friar Bacon had not that handsome lady-wife beside him. Wherein,
O Philosewers, he was a chemist, wretched and forlorn, compared with
his successor. Young Romeo bade the holy father Lawrence hang up
philosophy, unless philosophy could make a Juliet. Chemistry would
infallibly be hanged if its life were staked on making anything half so
pleasant as this Juliet." The gentle Philosewers smiled assent.
The foregoing whisper from myself, the Dreary one, tickled the ear of
Philosewers, as we walked on the trim garden terrace before dinner,
among the early leaves and blossoms; two peacocks, apparently in very
tight new boots, occasionally crossing the gravel at a distance. The sun,
shining through the old house-windows, now and then flashed out some
brilliant piece of colour from bright hangings within, or upon the old
oak panelling; similarly, Friar Bacon, as we paced to and fro, revealed
little glimpses of his good work.
"It is not much," said he. "It is no wonderful thing. There used to be a
great deal of drunkenness here, and I wanted to make it better if I could.
The people are very ignorant, and have been much neglected, and I
wanted to make THAT better, if I could. My utmost object was, to help

them to a little self-government and a little homely pleasure. I only
show the way to better things, and advise them. I never act for them; I
never interfere; above all, I never patronise."
I had said to Philosewers as we came along Nor'-West that patronage
was one of the curses of England; I appeared to rise in the estimation of
Philosewers when thus confirmed.
"And so," said Friar Bacon, "I established my Allotment-club, and my
pig-clubs, and those little Concerts by the ladies of my own family, of
which we have the last of the season this evening. They are a great
success, for the people here are amazingly fond of music. But there is
the early dinner-bell, and I have no need to talk of my endeavours when
you will soon see them in their working dress".
Dinner done, behold the Friar, Philosewers, and myself the Dreary one,
walking, at six o'clock, across the fields, to the "Club- house."
As we swung open the last field-gate and entered the Allotment-
grounds, many members were already on their way to the Club, which
stands in the midst of the allotments. Who could help thinking of the
wonderful contrast between these club-men and the club-men of St.
James's Street, or Pall Mall, in London! Look at yonder prematurely
old man, doubled up