Page:010 Once a week Volume X Dec 1863 to Jun 64.pdf/675

 4, 1864.] ments, a momentary surprise would steal over her at not seeing Clarice’s name. Only that very day, she had seen them mentioned as making part of the attendants at some great flower show: “The Earl of Oakburn and the Ladies Jane and Lucy Chesney,” but there was no Lady Clarice. “Papa and Jane are punishing her for her governess escapade, and won’t take her out this season,” thought Laura. “Serve her right! it was a senseless trick of Clarice’s ever to attempt such a thing.”

Sarah, who, whatever her other shortcomings, was apt at the lady’s-maid’s duties imposed upon her by her mistress, soon brought back the dress with the sleeves and black ribbons arranged in it, and Laura hastened to attire herself. Very, very handsome did she look; her beautiful brown hair rested in soft waves on her head, her cheeks were flushed, her fair neck contrasted with the jet chain lying lightly upon it. Laura, vain Laura, all too conscious of her own charms, lingered yet at the glass, and yet again; although perfectly aware that she was keeping the dinner waiting.

She tore herself away at last, a brighter flush of triumph on her cheeks, and ran down to the dining-room. Mr. Carlton was standing on the lower stairs near the surgery door, talking to some applicant, and Laura looked at them as she crossed the hall, and heard a few words that were then being spoken by the man, who was no other than little Wilkes the barber.

“And so, sir, as Mr. John was unable to come, my wife would not have the other; she felt afraid, and said she’d make bold to send for Mr. Carlton. If you’d excuse the being called in at a pinch, like, and attend, sir, we should be very grateful.”

“I’ll be round in half an hour,” was Mr. Carlton’s answer. “She is quite right; it is not pleasant to be attended by one who has made so fatal a mistake; one is apt to feel that there’s no security it may not be made again.”

And Laura knew that they were alluding to Stephen Grey.

but those who have lived at Sheffield, or in its vicinity, can readily understand the enthusiasm with which the natives of "Hallamshire” so often refer to the scenery of that district. The term “Hallamshire” is one that dates from Saxon times, and the Norman surveyors appear to have included under it the whole of the present manor of Sheffield lying on the right bank of the Don, together with the “chapelry” of Bradfield. At a later date have been added the townships of Ecclesfield, Brightside, and Attercliffe,—all of these being on the eastern side of the Don. Beginning with Richard de Lovetot, in the reign of Henry II., down to the Dukes of Norfolk in the present day, the designation of “Hallamshire” has been used in legal documents by the proprietors of the feudal and manorial rights in Sheffield and the district around. In the reign of James I. an Act was passed granting “to the cutlers and iron-workers of Hallamshire” certain jurisdiction therein, and also "within six miles’ compass of the same.” The extensive boundaries thus indicated imply that the cutlers had then established their works and machinery on the upper courses of those streams that are so notable in the physical geography of the district, and which have been of such essential importance in its manufacturing and social history.

The railway traveller, entering Sheffield from the Midland station, or in passing the town on the lofty viaduct of the Manchester line, finds himself in a fuliginous atmosphere similar to that of the Staffordshire “black country.”

Probably he would smile incredulously if he were told that he is there on the confines of a district which has been characterised as the

Yet, making due allowance for English fogs and clouds, the praise here implied is not too high for the beautiful scenery that abounds beside the brooks and in the ravines of Hallamshire. It is true the same poetess expresses a regret that,—

That lament, however, is now obsolete; for in due time Hallamshire found its poet in Ebenezer Elliott. In his impassioned verse we see reflected the extraordinary beauty of the valley of the Don and the loveliness of its tributary streams. In many of his passages may also be recognised the effect on the poet of the “mountain charm” of those lofty hills which hem in the town of steel on all sides, except on the east, from which it is usually approached.

Poets are not usually considered very trustworthy guides in matters of topography. They often mystify their readers, and mar the accuracy of their descriptions for the sake of adopting an enticing metaphor. Yet in Elliott’s “Village Patriarch” is one passage that may well serve as a basis from which to form a