scourse; but that valuable functionary was far otherwise
engaged,--indeed, during the summer months he was rarely seen at the
afternoon service. Not that he cared for being preached at,--not he; Mr.
Stirn would have snapped his fingers at the thunders of the Vatican.
But the fact was, that Mr. Stirn chose to do a great deal of gratuitous
business upon the day of rest. The squire allowed all persons who chose
to walk about the park on a Sunday; and many came from a distance to
stroll by the lake, or recline under the elms. These visitors were
objects of great suspicion, nay, of positive annoyance, to Mr.
Stirn--and, indeed, not altogether without reason, for we English have
a natural love of liberty, which we are even more apt to display in
the grounds of other people than in those which we cultivate ourselves.
Sometimes, to his inexpressible and fierce satisfaction, Mr. Stirn
fell upon a knot of boys pelting the swans; sometimes he missed a
young sapling, and found it in felonious hands, converted into a
walking-stick; sometimes he caught a hulking fellow scrambling up the
ha-ha to gather a nosegay for his sweetheart from one of poor Mrs.
Hazeldean's pet parterres; not infrequently, indeed, when all the family
were fairly at church, some curious impertinents forced or sneaked their
way into the gardens, in order to peep in at the windows. For these,
and various other offences of like magnitude, Mr. Stirn had long,
but vainly, sought to induce the squire to withdraw a permission so
villanously abused. But though there were times when Mr. Hazeldean
grunted and growled, and swore "that he would shut up the park, and
fill it [illegally] with mantraps and spring-guns," his anger always
evaporated in words. The park was still open to all the world on a
Sunday; and that blessed day was therefore converted into a day of
travail and wrath to Mr. Stirn. But it was from the last chime of the
afternoon-service bell until dusk that the spirit of this vigilant
functionary was most perturbed; for, amidst the flocks that gathered
from the little hamlets round to the voice of the pastor, there were
always some stray sheep, or rather climbing, desultory, vagabond goats,
who struck off in all perverse directions, as if for the special purpose
of distracting the energetic watchfulness of Mr. Stirn. As soon as
church was over, if the day were fine, the whole park became a scene
animated with red cloaks or lively shawls, Sunday waistcoats and