Memoirs of Henry Hunt, Esq., vol 2 | Page 2

two miles; and as, from
their extreme old age, some of the poor creatures were unable to walk
so far and back again, I always sent a cart and horse round to bring
them. They had an excellent dinner of substantial meat and pudding,
besides the dainties that went from my table, after which they regaled
themselves with good old October or cyder. The day and night were
always passed with the greatest hilarity, and I was never completely
satisfied, unless I was an eye-witness that there was as much mirth and
jollity amongst my old friends in the hall, as there was amongst my
other friends in the dining and drawing rooms. To bring these poor old
creatures together, and to make them once a year happy in each other's

company, was to me a source of inexpressible delight. The very first
year I assembled them after my father's death, several of them had
never seen each other for eight or ten years, in consequence of their
inability to leave their homes. They were overjoyed at meeting each
other again, as it was a pleasure which they had long since banished
from their hopes. One or two of them, who had never been a hundred
yards from their own humble sheds for years before, and who had
resigned all thoughts of ever going so far from their homes again, till
they were carried to their last long home in the church-yard, were now
inspired with new hopes, and appeared to enjoy new life; and they
actually met their old workfellows and acquaintances, and spent a
pleasant day with them on the 6th of November, in the hall at
Chisenbury House, for eight or ten years afterwards, where they never
failed to recount all the events of their youthful days. They were all full
of the tales of former times, and of the anecdotes of my forefathers, of
which they had been eye-witnesses. One gave a narrative of a feast of
which he had partaken, another had danced at my grandfather's
wedding, a third had nursed my father, and all of them were past their
prime when I was born. To listen to their garrulity, and to witness the
pleasure they felt in describing and recalling to each other's recollection,
the scenes of years long gone by, and their opinion respecting the
alteration in the times, was to me a source of indescribable delight. An
old man and woman, who were each of them above eighty years of age,
always sung with great glee a particular duet, which they had sung
together, at my grandfather's home-harvest, upwards of sixty years
before. Two women and a man, all above eighty, regularly danced a
reel. Each individual sung a song, or told a story, and, to finish the
evening, a tremendous milk-pail, full of humming toast and ale, wound
up the annual feast, which set the old boys' and girls' heads singing
again. Then, each heart being made full glad, care was taken that no
accident or inconvenience should happen to such old and infirm people,
by their being obliged to hobble home in the dark. A steady carter,
Thomas Cannings, and an able assistant, loaded them all up in a
waggon, in which they were drawn to their respective homes, and
deposited there in perfect safety, where they enjoyed a second pleasure
in recounting to their neighbours the merry scenes that passed on the
squire's birthday. It will easily be believed by the reader, that they

looked forward to the Christmas treat, of the same sort, and from
thence to the next birth-day, with as much anxiety as the country lads
and lasses look forward to the annual wake or fair.
The oldest woman in the parish had, all the year round, an invitation to
a Sunday's dinner; and, what is very remarkable, Hannah Rumbold,
who was the first Sunday's pensioner of mine, commenced it at the age
of _seventy-four_, and regularly continued it till she was eighty-three;
scarcely ever missing a dinner, from accident or illness, the whole time,
and never from illness, without the dinner being sent to her own home.
This, by some, may be called ostentation--be it so; it was the way in
which I discovered my pride; and I trust, at all events, that it was
equally laudable with the generous boon of our reverend doctor and
justice, of the "Old Alderney Cow." What a history have I heard of this
beneficent, generous, humane, chaste, and pious parson, in
consequence of the story of the Old Cow; but, as some of the anecdotes
require confirmation, without which they are almost incredible, I must
pause till the next Number, before I hand them down, together with the
doctor and the old cow, to posterity. I had now made an