Dancing, of
course, was not thought of. In 1840 it may safely be said that there
were not twenty Independent families in Great Britain in which it
would have been tolerated, and, moreover, none but the rich learned
to dance.
No dancing-master ever came into Cowfold; there was no music-master
there; no concert was ever given; and Cowfold, in fact, never "saw
nor heard anything;" to use a modern phrase, save a travelling
menagerie with a brass band. What an existence! How DID they live?
It's certain, however, that they did live, and, on the whole, enjoyed
their life.
The picnics were generally on a Monday, as a kind of compliment to
Mr. Broad, who was supposed to need rest and change on Monday, and
who was also supposed not to be able to spare the time on any other
day. About a month after the conversation recorded in the previous
chapter Tanner's Lane was jogging along to Shott on one of its
excursions. It was a brilliant, blazing afternoon towards the end of
August. The corn stood in shocks, and a week with that sun would see
it all stacked. There was no dreary suburb round Cowfold, neither
town nor country, to shut out country influences.
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