The
contemplation of Cossack and Chancery being rubbed down, and
devouring their oats was so delightful to Frank Fordyce and Griffith
that they seldom wished to shirk it; but if there were any more
pleasing occupation, it was a matter of course that Clarence should
watch to see that the ostlers did their duty by the animals--an
obsolete ceremony, by the bye. He even succeeded in hunting up and
hiring a side saddle when the lovers, with the masterfulness of
their nature, devised appropriating the horses at all the most
beautiful places, in spite of Frank's murmur, 'What will mamma say?'
But, as Griff said, it was a real mercy, for Ellen was infinitely
more at her ease with Chancery than was Clarence. Then Emily had
Clarence to walk up the hills with her, and help her in botany--her
special department in our tour. Mine was sketching, Ellen's,
keeping the journal, though we all shared in each other's work at
times; and Griff, whose line was decidedly love-making, interfered
considerably with us all, especially with our chronicler. I spare
you the tour, young people; it lies before me on the table,
profusely illustrated and written in many hands. As I turn it over,
I see noble Dunster on its rock; Clarence leading Chancery down
Porlock Hill; Parson Frank in vain pursuit of his favourite ancient
hat over that wild and windy waste, the sheep running away from him;
a boat tossing at lovely Minehead; a 'native' bargaining over a crab
with my mother; the wonderful Valley of Rocks, and many another
scene, ludicrous or grand; for, indeed, we were for ever taking the
one step between the sublime and the ridiculous! I am inclined to
believe it is as well worth reading as many that have rushed into
print, and it is full of precious reminiscences to Emily and me; but
the younger generation may judge for itself, and it would be an
interruption here.
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