Squire, where 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 pretty face did not
get a husband.

He has also his cabinet counsellors in the village, with whom he is
very busy just now, preparing for the May-day ceremonies. Among these
is the village tailor, a pale-faced fellow, that plays the clarionet
in the church choir; and; being a great musical genius, has frequent
meetings of the band at his house, where they "make night hideous" by
their concerts. He is, in consequence, high in favour with Master
Simon; and, through his influence, has the making, or rather marring,
of all the liveries of the Hall; which generally look as though they
had been cut out by one of those scientific tailors of the Flying
Island of Laputa, who took measure of their customers with a quadrant.
The tailor, in fact, might rise to be one of the moneyed men of the
village, were he not rather too prone to gossip, and keep holidays,
and give concerts, and blow all his substance, real and personal,
through his clarionet; which literally keeps him poor, both in body
and estate. He has for the present thrown by all his regular work,
and suffered the breeches of the village to go unmade and unmended,
while he is occupied in making garlands of party-coloured rags, in
imitation of flowers, for the decoration of the May-pole.

Another of Master Simon's counsellors is the apothecary, a short and
rather fat man, with a pair of prominent eyes, that diverge like those
of a lobster. He is the village wise man; very sententious, and full
of profound remarks on shallow subjects. Master Simon often quotes his
sayings, and mentions him as rather an extraordinary man; and even
consults him occasionally, in desperate cases of the dogs and horses.
Indeed, he seems to have been overwhelmed by the apothecary's
philosophy, which is exactly one observation deep, consisting of
indisputable maxims, such as may be gathered from the mottoes of
tobacco-boxes. I had a specimen of his philosophy, in my very first
conversation with him; in the course of which he ob