doing things, as an inroad of snug sordid
method; and thinks that this will soon become a mere matter-of-fact
world, where life will be reduced to a mathematical calculation of
conveniences, and every thing will be done by steam.

He maintains, also, that the nation has declined in its free and
joyous spirit, in proportion as it has turned its attention to
commerce and manufactures; and that, in old times, when England was an
idler, it was also a merrier little island. In support of this
opinion, he adduces the frequency and splendour of ancient festivals
and merry-makings, and the hearty spirit with which they were kept up
by all classes of people. His memory is stored with the accounts given
by Stow, in his Survey of London, of the holiday revels at the inns of
court, the Christmas mummeries, and the masquings and bonfires about
the streets. London, he says, in those days, resembled the continental
cities in its picturesque manners and amusements. The court used to
dance after dinner, on public occasions. After the coronation dinner
of Richard II, for example, the king, the prelates, the nobles, the
knights, and the rest of the company, danced in Westminster Hall to
the music of the minstrels. The example of the court was followed by
the middling classes, and so down to the lowest, and the whole nation
was a dancing, jovial nation. He quotes a lively city picture of the
times, given by Stow, which resembles the lively scenes one may often
see in the gay city of Paris; for he tells us that on holidays, after
evening prayers, the maidens in London used to assemble before the
door, in sight of their masters and dames, and while one played on a
timbrel, the others danced for garlands, hanged athwart the street.

"Where will we meet with such merry groups now-a-days?" the Squire
will exclaim, shaking his head mournfully;--"and then as to the gayety
that prevailed in dress throughout all ranks of society, and made the
very streets so fine and picturesque: 'I have myself,' says Gervaise
Markham, 'met an ordinary tapster in his silk stockings, garters deep
fringed with gold lace, the rest of his apparel suitable, with cloak
lined with velvet!' Nashe, too, who wrote in 1593, exclaims at the
finery of the nation: 'England, the player's stage of gorgeous attire,
the ape of all nations' superfluities, the continual masquer in
outlandish habiliments.'"

Such are a few of the authorities quoted by the Squire, by way of
contrasti