University of Virginia Library

Then came a ragged row of Magazines,
And songs, and hymn-books; ‘Kettlewell on Death,’
And ‘Glass's Cookery.’ Treatises abstruse
On moles and warts, and virtues of all herbs,
And ailments manifold that flesh is heir to.
What wonder if respect akin to awe
For her who owned and studied those grave tomes
Impressed the simple neighbours? For myself—
Unblushingly I do confess it now—
Not without tremor, half delight, half fear,
I entered, clinging to the Nursemaid's hand,
Through the clipt laurel porch, that small neat room,
So nicely sanded round the clean-swept hearth,
Where sat expectant—(Mistress Jane, I trow,
Had her appointments for occult discourse
And cup of fragrant Hyson)—the wise woman,
With her strange primmed-up smile, the round claw table
Set out before her with its precious freight
(In Sheffield tea-tray) of old real china,
The sugar-basin a scooped cocoa-nut
Curiously carved all o'er and ebon-stained,
On three small toddling silver feet, rimmed round
With the same precious metal; silver tongs
Stuck for effect among the sparkling knobs,
With two thin tea-spoons of the treasured six;
There on its trivet the bright kettle sang,
Its cheek all ruddy with rich firelight glow;
And piping hot the buttered oven-cake
Smoked on the fender ledge, all ready quartered.
Inviting preparations not alone
To black-eyed Jane: the treat had charms for me
More irresistible;—that buttered cake!—
Forbidden dainty—tea with cream and sugar!
True, but just finished was my nursery meal—
Dry bread and milk and water. “What of that?
The precious lamb had walked a weary way,
And sure must need refreshment. One small piece
Of nice hot buttered cake would do her good,
And tea, a saucerful, to wash it down.”
So urged the Dame: Jane shook her head and smiled—
Conscience made faint resistance—the rich steam
Rose fragrant to my nostrils, and—I fell.