In his great zeal, however, he had nearly done mischief;
for on returning from church, the horses of the bride's carriage took
fright from the discharge of a row of old gun-barrels, which he had
mounted as a park of artillery in front of the school-house, to give
the captain a military salute as he passed.
The day passed off with great rustic rejoicing. Tables were spread
under the trees in the park, where all the peasantry of the
neighbourhood were regaled with roast-beef and plum-pudding and oceans
of ale. Ready-Money Jack presided at one of the tables, and became so
full of good cheer, as to unbend from his usual gravity, to sing a
song out of all tune, and give two or three shouts of laughter, that
almost electrified his neighbours, like so many peals of thunder. The
schoolmaster and the apothecary vied with each other in making
speeches over their liquor; and there were occasional glees and
musical performances by the village band, that must have frightened
every faun and dryad from the park. Even old Christy, who had got on a
new dress from top to toe, and shone in all the splendour of bright
leather breeches and an enormous wedding favour in his cap, forgot his
usual crustiness, became inspired by wine and wassel, and absolutely
danced a hornpipe on one of the tables, with all the grace and agility
of a manikin hung upon wires.
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