Village Worthies

Nay, I tell you, I am so well beloved in our town, that not
the worst dog in the street would hurt my little finger.

COLLIER OF CROYDON.

As the neighbouring village is one of those out-of-the-way, but
gossiping little places, where a small matter makes a great stir, it is
not to be supposed that the approach of a festival like that of May-Day
can be regarded with indifference, especially since it is made a matter
of such moment by the great folks at the Hall. Master Simon, who is the
faithful factotum of the worthy squire, and jumps with his humour in
everything, is frequent just now in his visits to the village, to give
directions for the impending fête; and as I have taken the liberty
occasionally of accompanying him, I have been enabled to get some
insight into the characters and internal politics of this very sagacious
little community.

Master Simon is in fact the Caesar of the village. It is true the squire
is the protecting power, but his factotum is the active and busy agent.
He intermeddles in all its concerns, is acquainted with all the
inhabitants and their domestic history, gives counsel to the old folks
in their business matters, and the young folks in their love affairs,
and enjoys the proud satisfaction of being a great man in a little
world.

He is the dispenser, too, of the squire's charity, which is bounteous;
and, to do Master Simon justice, he performs this part of his functions
with great alacrity. Indeed I have been entertained with the mixture of
bustle, importance, and kindheartedness which he displays. He is of too
vivacious a temperament to comfort the afflicted by sitting down moping
and whining and blowing noses in concert; but goes whisking about like a
sparrow, chirping consolation into every hole and corner of the village.
I have seen an old woman, in a red cloak, hold him for half an hour
together with some long phthisical tale of distress, which Master Simon
listened to with many a bob of the head, smack of his dog-whip, and
other symptoms of impatience, though he afterwards made a most faithful
and circumstantial report of the case to the squire. I have watched him,
too, during one of his pop visits into the cottage of a superannuated
villager, who is a pensioner of the squire, when he fidgeted about the
room without sitting down, made many excellent off-hand reflections with
the old invalid, who was propped up in his chair, about the shortness of
life, the certainty of death, and the necessity of preparing for "that
awful change;" quoted several texts of Scripture very incorrectly, but
much to the edification of the cottager's wife; and on coming out
pinched the daughter's rosy cheek, and wondered what was in the young
men, that such a