Night and Morning | Page 4

rest; Not one so old has left this world of sin, More
like the being that he entered in."--CRABBE.
In one of the Welsh counties is a small village called A----. It is
somewhat removed from the high road, and is, therefore, but little
known to those luxurious amateurs of the picturesque, who view nature
through the windows of a carriage and four. Nor, indeed, is there
anything, whether of scenery or association, in the place itself,
sufficient to allure the more sturdy enthusiast from the beaten tracks
which tourists and guide-books prescribe to those who search the
Sublime and Beautiful amidst the mountain homes of the ancient
Britons. Still, on the whole, the village is not without its attractions. It
is placed in a small valley, through which winds and leaps down many
a rocky fall, a clear, babbling, noisy rivulet, that affords excellent sport
to the brethren of the angle. Thither, accordingly, in the summer season

occasionally resort the Waltons of the neighbourhood--young farmers,
retired traders, with now and then a stray artist, or a roving student
from one of the universities. Hence the solitary hostelry of A----, being
somewhat more frequented, is also more clean and comfortable than
could reasonably be anticipated from the insignificance and remoteness
of the village.
At a time in which my narrative opens, the village boasted a sociable,
agreeable, careless, half-starved parson, who never failed to introduce
himself to any of the anglers who, during the summer months, passed a
day or two in the little valley. The Rev. Mr. Caleb Price had been
educated at the University of Cambridge, where he had contrived, in
three years, to run through a little fortune of L3500. It is true, that he
acquired in return the art of making milkpunch, the science of pugilism,
and the reputation of one of the best-natured, rattling, open-hearted
companions whom you could desire by your side in a tandem to
Newmarket, or in a row with the bargemen. By the help of these gifts
and accomplishments, he had not failed to find favour, while his money
lasted, with the young aristocracy of the "Gentle Mother." And, though
the very reverse of an ambitious or calculating man, he had certainly
nourished the belief that some one of the "hats" or "tinsel gowns"--i.e.,
young lords or fellow- commoners, with whom he was on such
excellent terms, and who supped with him so often, would do
something for him in the way of a living. But it so happened that when
Mr. Caleb Price had, with a little difficulty, scrambled through his
degree, and found himself a Bachelor of Arts and at the end of his
finances, his grand acquaintances parted from him to their various posts
in the State Militant of Life. And, with the exception of one, joyous and
reckless as himself, Mr. Caleb Price found that when Money makes
itself wings it flies away with our friends. As poor Price had earned no
academical distinction, so he could expect no advancement from his
college; no fellowship; no tutorship leading hereafter to livings, stalls,
and deaneries. Poverty began already to stare him in the face, when the
only friend who, having shared his prosperity, remained true to his
adverse fate,--a friend, fortunately for him, of high connections and
brilliant prospects--succeeded in obtaining for him the humble living of
A----. To this primitive spot the once jovial roisterer cheerfully
retired--contrived to live contented upon an income somewhat less than

he had formerly given to his groom--preached very short sermons to a
very scanty and ignorant congregation, some of whom only understood
Welsh--did good to the poor and sick in his own careless, slovenly
way--and, uncheered or unvexed by wife and children, he rose in
summer with the lark and in winter went to bed at nine precisely, to
save coals and candles. For the rest, he was the most skilful angler in
the whole county; and so willing to communicate the results of his
experience as to the most taking colour of the flies, and the most
favoured haunts of the trout--that he had given especial orders at the
inn, that whenever any strange gentleman came to fish, Mr. Caleb Price
should be immediately sent for. In this, to be sure, our worthy pastor
had his usual recompense. First, if the stranger were tolerably liberal,
Mr. Price was asked to dinner at the inn; and, secondly, if this failed,
from the poverty or the churlishness of the obliged party, Mr. Price still
had an opportunity to hear the last news--to talk about the Great
World--in a word, to exchange ideas, and perhaps to get an old
newspaper, or an odd number of a magazine.
Now, it so happened that one afternoon in October, when the periodical
excursions of the anglers, becoming gradually