The boys present, including the little Princes,
gleefully emptied can after can of water on to the floor in their
attempts to revive the carpet, to the immense improvement of the
ceiling and furniture of the room underneath.
In the "sixties" Sunday was very strictly observed. In our own
Sabbatarian family, our toys and books all disappeared on Saturday
night. On Sundays we were only allowed to read Line upon Line, The
Peep of Day, and The Fairchild Family. I wonder if any one ever
reads this book now. If they haven't, they should. Mr. and Mrs.
Fairchild were, I regret to say it, self-righteous prigs of the
deepest dye, whilst Lucy, Emily, and Henry, their children, were
all little prodigies of precocious piety. It was a curious menage;
Mr. Fairchild having no apparent means of livelihood, and no
recreations beyond perpetually reading the Bible under a tree in
the garden. Mrs. Fairchild had the peculiar gift of being able to
recite a different prayer off by heart applicable to every
conceivable emergency; whilst John, their man-servant, was a real
"handy-man," for he was not only gardener, but looked after the
horse and trap, cleaned out the pigsties, and waited at table.
Pages:
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72