The Hall

The ancientest house, and the best for housekeeping in this
county or the next, and though the master of it write but
squire, I know no lord like him.

MERRY BEGGARS.

The reader, if he has perused the volumes of the Sketch Book, will
probably recollect something of the Bracebridge family, with which I
once passed a Christmas. I am now on another visit at the Hall, having
been invited to a wedding which is shortly to take place. The squire's
second son, Guy, a fine, spirited young captain in the army, is about to
be married to his father's ward, the fair Julia Templeton. A gathering
of relations and friends has already commenced, to celebrate the joyful
occasion; for the old gentleman is an enemy to quiet, private weddings.
"There is nothing," he says, "like launching a young couple gaily, and
cheering them from the shore; a good outset is half the voyage."

Before proceeding any farther, I would beg that the squire might not be
confounded with that class of hard-riding, fox-hunting gentlemen so
often described, and, in fact, so nearly extinct in England. I use this
rural title, partly because it is his universal appellation throughout
the neighbourhood, and partly because it saves me the frequent
repetition of his name, which is one of those rough old English names at
which Frenchmen exclaim in despair.

The squire is, in fact, a lingering specimen of the old English country
gentleman; rusticated a little by living almost entirely on his estate,
and something of a humourist, as Englishmen are apt to become when they
have an opportunity of living in their own way. I like his hobby passing
well, however, which is, a bigoted devotion to old English manners and
customs; it jumps a little with my own humour, having as yet a lively
and unsated curiosity about the ancient and genuine characteristics of
my "fatherland."

There are some traits about the squire's family also, which appear to me
to be national. It is one of those old aristocratical families, which, I
believe, are peculiar to England, and scarcely understood in other
countries; that is to say, families of the ancient gentry, who, though
destitute of titled rank, maintain a high ancestral pride; who look down
upon all nobility of recent creation, and would consider it a sacrifice
of dignity to merge the venerable name of their house in a modern title.

This feeling is very much fostered by the importance which they enjoy on
their hereditary domains. The family mansion is an old manor-house,
standing in a retired and beautiful part of Yorkshire. Its inhabitants
have been always regarded through the surrounding country as "the great
ones of the earth;" and the little village near the hall looks