Bristol Bells: A Story of the Eighteenth Century

y the time, rousing himself at intervals as a group of laughing girls passed him with their attendant beaux, for Clifton Hot S

under a row of trees in the May sunshine, heavy trams, drawn by patient horses at an even jog-trot, pass along at stated intervals, at all times and seasons, connecting the traffic

on where no hand can reach them, and flourishing with the scant nourishment that the crevices in the rocks afford them, fill the air with their fragrance. Generations of men come and go,

other meal at the confectioner's, and th

by Sam, in neat livery, who conducted him immediately to a pleasant parlour where Mrs Lambert was sitting; an old lady of a past time, her grey curls fastened back from her forehead by two combs

the throat by a gold pin. On her arms she wore thick mittens, which reached the elbow of h

ily treading as he did so on the paw of a tabby cat, who resisted t

t weight. I believe you brought me this letter,' laying her hand on

mured an

foolish match, the other died-both old servants. I have made efforts to

used. 'She isn't a servant. I bel

ve a little in

ney difficulty. I showed my son the letter, and from all he can make out the sum borrowed will have to be repaid. He will speak more of that hereafter, but I will send my answer to Mi

is face, again he shrank from the rough touch

oung serving-maids and depend on the services of Mrs Symes. I don't quite know what your views may be about Miss Palmer, but as I

fe. I am anxious to serve her, but I am not her accepted suitor.' Then, rising to his full h

r annum. This is only an arrangement, as I say, on trial, to

went on with some hesitation. 'She has been much cared for and-and loved. I ho

t I think, sir, you forget yourself wh

ached the thick oak beam across the ceiling of the par

cup of cider befo

ou. I have dined, and

departed on his way to scale those heights which rise above Bristol in a s

long legs tucked under him on the high stool in his uncle's workshop in Corn Street. When he reached the gate of the farmyard he paused and determined to go round by the l

im. Flick was satisfied, for he gave a low whine

ver-and-white pointer at his feet, leaning against the gate in an easy attitude; Bryda,

the gate, and said

. I have business

despatch it, by your leave

towards Bryda, but a hand, apparently as s

ill this gentleman is gone. He

oke down, and she hid

wait,' Jack said. 'Do

Yes' was

ere not for this wish of Miss Palmer's, sir, I would not wait your pleasure;

e, sir, be off!' was the only rejoinder

he heard as he was departing, and the qu

han Jack's patience held out, and he fumed

e like that!' he murmured.

eared above the low wall w

way. I do so wish she would come. It is all about that money and grandfather; but I don't like her

ced his steps up the lane, reaching the down just as the Squire, with a poi

her side i

s that fe

overed her se

father for a month,' and the swift colour came to

emanded, almost fiercely. 'Has he been f

respite. I am tired, that is all. Come in to supper; Betty is su

lt of his journey to Bristol. He had walked some twenty miles

and delivered your letter. Don't you

e have me?' But Bryda did n

am will give you ten pounds a year, and you will get a lot of books-I saw shelves full in the parlour-and

I thank you, Jack, for taki

stand what made Bryda seem so different from the eager, restless girl of

be persuaded to taste the little meat pie made ex

t, when I may not have a crust to gnaw before the ye

r was over, and made his way wit

mood, upbraiding him for his long absence,

I suppose, in my h

r Jim is worth six of you after all. You don't know how to take advant

ersmith,' Jack said, 'an

. For the sake of your widowed mother and six innocent little siste

works of old watches, with a glass in my eye and my back ready to break. However, I'm off again on Monday,' he said, altering his tone,

smartly than the farmers' wives in the neighbourhood. She was sprigging fine muslin for a cap,

taff's of old, but they were family heirlooms

and her six little girls to tumble up as best they could. It was thought by Dorothy Burrow and others, ridiculous to try to make Jack into a Bristol tradesman and Jim the farmer. But Jim was no favourite with his mother. She set great store on appearances

becoming a partner at last in Mr Henderson's busines

be paid back. And it all came from that worthless son of his years agone having to leave the country to escape the gallows. Farmer Short was here to-day and was telling me all about i

ck's only reply. 'I'm tired,