1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
|
<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd">
<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en">
<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" />
<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
<link rel="schema.DC" href="http://dublincore.org/documents/1998/09/dces" />
<meta name="author" content="Chas. H. Marshall" />
<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Chas. H. Marshall" />
<meta name="DC.Title" content="Horse Laughs" />
<meta name="DC.Date" content="2013-03-24" />
<meta name="DC.Language" content="EN" />
<title>
Horse Laughs,
by Chas. H. Marshall.—A Project Gutenberg eBook.
</title>
<style type="text/css">
body {
margin-left: 5%;
margin-right: 5%;
}
div.figcenter {
padding: 1em;
text-align: center;
font-size: 0.8em;
border: none;
margin: auto;
text-indent: 1em;
}
div.pic-narrow {
max-width: 400px;
}
div.pic-wide {
max-width: 600px;
}
h1 {
text-align:center;
font-size: 2em;
margin: .67em 0;
letter-spacing: 3px
}
p {
margin-top: 0;
margin-bottom: 0;
text-align: justify;
text-indent: 2em;
}
p.book-bylines {
text-indent: 0;
margin-top: 4em;
font-weight: bolder;
text-align: center;
}
p.book-dedication {
margin-top: 4em;
font-size: 1.17em;
font-weight: bolder;
text-align: center;
text-indent: 0;
}
p.caption {
text-indent: 0;
text-align: center;
font-weight: bold;
}
p.caption2 {
text-indent: 0;
font-weight: bold;
margin: 1em 0 0 0;
}
.smcap {
font-variant: small-caps;
}
/* * * * * * * * * * Start of variants for @media * * * * * * * * */
hr.chap {
margin-top: 6em;
margin-bottom: 4em;
clear: both;
}
@media handheld { /* Variants for @media handheld */
div.figcenter {
page-break-before: always;
}
hr.chap {
visibility: hidden;
display: none;
}
}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42402 ***</div>
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="600" height="453" alt="" />
<p class="caption">HORSE:LAUGHS.<br />
By Chas H. Marshall</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i002.jpg" width="600" height="449" alt="" />
<p class="caption">ADVICE GRATIS.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Boy (to Local Preacher sallying forth on a “spouting”
expedition).</em>—<span class="smcap">I say, Mester, if yer was to lengthen yer stirrups an’
shorten yer face, yer’d ride a bit easier.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter">
<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="600" height="452" alt="" />
</div>
<h1>HORSE:LAUGHS.</h1>
<p class="book-bylines">By Chas H. Marshall</p>
<p class="book-dedication">
To Gilbert Dalziel, Esq.,<br />
<small><small>
THE EDITOR OF “JUDY,”<br />
THIS LITTLE BOOK OF SKETCHES IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED,<br />
AS AN<br />
ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HIS KIND PERMISSION FOR ITS PUBLICATION,<br />
AND ALSO AS A<br />
RECOGNITION OF NUMEROUS FAVOURS RECEIVED FROM HIM ON VARIOUS OCCASIONS.<br />
WITH THE MOST LIVELY SENTIMENTS OF RESPECT,<br />
BY HIS MOST OBEDIENT SERVANT,<br />
THE AUTHOR AND ARTIST.
</small></small></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i007.jpg" width="600" height="417" alt="" />
<p class="caption">A NICE BEGINNING OF THE SEASON!</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Jovial Huntsman (turning up three-quarters of an hour late, with only
two or three couple of hounds, to Master).</em>—<span class="smcap">Fine huntinsh mornin’,
shurr. ’Oundish fine condishun—thirstin’ for bloodsh—Horshish
fresh—Mensh very fitsh.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i009.jpg" width="600" height="399" alt="" />
<p class="caption">QUALITY AND QUANTITY.</p>
<p class="caption2">
<em>Noble Lord (recently married, and rather proud of his Wife).</em>—<span class="smcap">There,
Muggins! What do you think of Her Ladyship?</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Muggins (a Tenant who has just been taking a prize at the Fat Stock
Show).</em>—<span class="smcap">Well, m’ Lord, <em>I</em> reckon she’s tuppence-’a’p’ny a pound
better than any other Lady in these parts.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i011.jpg" width="600" height="386" alt="" />
<p class="caption">AN EXCUSE FOR THE FOX.</p>
<p class="caption2">(<em>The Fox having been repeatedly headed back into cover, the Noble
Master rides up to ascertain the cause.</em>)</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Exasperated Huntsman (pointing to Old Lady, with withering
contempt).</em>—<span class="smcap">Why, my Lord, what</span>
<em>could</em> <span class="smcap">face that?</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i013.jpg" width="600" height="431" alt="" />
<p class="caption">WELL MEANT.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Highly elated little Gent.</em>—<span class="smcap">Now then, Miss, I’ll give yer a lead
hover. Come hup, Donovan! Hin or Hover!</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-narrow">
<img src="images/i015.jpg" width="500" height="510" alt="" />
<p class="caption">BOTH!</p>
<p class="caption2">“<span class="smcap">A Double Event.</span>”</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i017.jpg" width="600" height="454" alt="" />
<p class="caption">DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Awful County Magnate (to small Boy, occupying the only gap in big
fence).</em>—<span class="smcap">Come, get out of my way, you young Monkey!</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Small Boy.</em>—<span class="smcap">Who’s interfered with you, old Chawbacon? Keep to your
own Line, and don’t come riding in my Pocket.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i019.jpg" width="600" height="419" alt="" />
<p class="caption">A MUSICAL HORSE.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Officious Horsey Individual (who “knows a ’orse when ’e sees ’im,”
and who also “’as a hear for musick”).</em>—<span class="smcap">Your ’Orse will soon jine the
Brass Band, Sir.</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Swell (unconscious of his horse’s slight infirmity).</em>—<span class="smcap">Brass Band?
What do you mean?</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>O. H. Individual.</em>—<span class="smcap">Why, can’t yer ’ear that already ’e tootles a bit
on the flute; but by the end of the season it’ll be a case of trombone
with ’im, an’ no mistake.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i021.jpg" width="600" height="439" alt="" />
<p class="caption">“WHEN THE DEVIL WAS SICK THE DEVIL A MONK WOULD BE,”
&c.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Whip (who has come a severe cropper).</em>—<span class="smcap">Well, I’ll be</span>——(<em>hesitates;
wonders whether he’s mortally damaged; finds he’s all sound and
right</em>)—<br />
<span class="smcap">D——d!</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i023.jpg" width="600" height="411" alt="" />
<p class="caption">THE RIGHT SORT.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Young Curate.</em>—<span class="smcap">Sinful to Hunt? Oh dear no! I do not hunt now,
because certain Members of my Flock might take exception to it, and
think I neglected my Parish.</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Miss Gallopade.</em>—<span class="smcap">But, suppose the Hounds were to cross this Lane
“Full Cry,” could you withstand the Temptation?</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Young C.</em>—<span class="smcap">Well, I’m afraid then my conscience would not be the most
Formidable Obstacle I should have to negotiate.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i025.jpg" width="600" height="356" alt="" />
<p class="caption">“A CHOPPY SEA.”</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Seafaring Gent (who has been imbibing too freely of mixed “jumping
powders”).</em>—<span class="smcap">Awful shoppy shee. Musht cling to main-masht, or washt
overboardsht.</span></p>
<p class="caption2">(<em>Next Page.</em>)</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i027.jpg" width="600" height="403" alt="" />
<p class="caption2"><em>Having been obliged, owing to the violence of the
storm, to relinquish his hold of the main-mast our sea-faring friend</em>
<span class="smcap">was</span> <em>washed overboard, but rescued by Landlubbers, who conveyed him
home in an Agricultural Cart, which he imagined was the life-boat,
and tried to impress upon the driver that</em> “<span class="smcap">Veshel musht be
shaved—val-ble cargo aboardsh. Whyshnot dishplay Shignals of
Dishtresh?</span>”</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i029.jpg" width="600" height="417" alt="" />
<p class="caption">STILL IN THE SHAFTS.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Mr. Longfoot (to disagreeable friend, who has tried to destroy the
reputation of his new Horse).</em>—<span class="smcap">You said he would never make a Hunter,
and that he was only fit for Harness. Why, he carries me splendidly!</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Disagreeable Friend.</em>—<span class="smcap">Yes, no doubt he carries</span> <em>you</em> <span class="smcap">well; he sees
those feet of yours, and thinks he’s still in the shafts.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i031.jpg" width="600" height="416" alt="" />
<p class="caption">A VERY OLD AND CURIOUS VINTAGE.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>First “Old Varmint.”</em>—<span class="smcap">They tell me you are the oldest Foxhunter
going? Now, I don’t think you are; I have hunted with the H——
sixty-five years.</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Second Ditto.</em>—<span class="smcap">What Vintage are you?</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>First Ditto.</em>—<span class="smcap">I was “Shipped” in Eighteen-fifteen.</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Second Ditto.</em>—<span class="smcap">Pooh! you’re a mere Boy. I was “Bottled” before
Eighteen-hundred; and if Hounds will only run to-day you’ll find
there’s some “Body” in me yet.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i033.jpg" width="600" height="416" alt="" />
<p class="caption">EVERY MAN TO HIS TASTE.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Time—The very last day of the Season.</em></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>The Honourable Joe.</em>—<span class="smcap">Well, Jack, it’s all over now. What shall you
do with yourself until the Cub-Hunting comes in? I’m going to get
married, you know, and I shall travel with my wife.</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Lord Jack.</em>—<span class="smcap">Yes, Joe; you always were a slow going Chap. Now, <em>I</em>
shall buy a couple of awfully smart Terriers, and go in for Ratting in
Lincolnshire. There, what do you think o’ that?</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i035.jpg" width="600" height="395" alt="" />
<p class="caption">AT LINCOLN APRIL FAIR.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Poor Little Gent (about to purchase “Screw”).</em>—<span class="smcap">But surely there’s
something wrong with those Hock Joints—“Curbs,” are they not?</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Dealer.</em>—<span class="smcap">“Curbs?”
Lor’ bless yer, no! There’s where</span> <em>All</em> <span class="smcap">’is
jumping power is—prop-hellers, <em>I</em> calls ’em.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i037.jpg" width="600" height="422" alt="" />
<p class="caption">UP WITH THE YEOMANRY.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Trooper Stubbles (who has been repeatedly reprimanded by Officer for
riding in advance and breaking the line).</em>—<span class="smcap">Oi can’t help it, Squire.
It’s all th’ hould Mare. Hiver sin’ oi lent ’er to a Chap to roide at
th’ Easter Munoovers, she’s bin that howdacious an’ waliant oi can do
nought with ’er. She weant ploo, an’ she kicks t’ pieces ivery
blooming Cart she’s put to; an’ noo she weant do Soldiering unless
she’s fust. Yer’ll ’ave to foind me another ’Oss by Review Day, or
else mak’ a Hossifer on me.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i039.jpg" width="600" height="400" alt="" />
<p class="caption">THE REVIEW DAY.</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Trooper Stubbles, as he appeared in the March Past before the
Reviewing Officer.</em></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>On his return home he described the exciting scene as
follows</em>:—<span class="smcap">“Th’
wor th’ troop</span> <em>fust</em>, <span class="smcap">a-galloping like mad; th’ hould Mare second,
a-kicking like blazes; and then Oi a-running an’ a-hollering hoot for
some un to ketch ’er; but they only called hoot, ‘Go it, Stubbles! Tak
yer spurs off, an’ yer’ll be fust yet.’”</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i041.jpg" width="600" height="393" alt="" />
<p class="caption">“OH! WHAT A SWINDLE!”</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Chorus of Nephews and Nieces (to Stout Party on her way to the Meet
of the Coaching Club).</em>—<span class="smcap">Oh, Auntie! You said you were going to ride
astride, and we’ve all come purposely to see you.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter pic-wide">
<img src="images/i043.jpg" width="600" height="409" alt="" />
<p class="caption">MOST DISRESPECTFUL, AND <i>SO</i> IRREVERENT, TOO!</p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Aristocratic Old Lady (who likes to make her own bargains).</em>—<span class="smcap">No, he
won’t do, Mr. Huggins; he has such Very Bad Action—he throws his feet
about so.</span></p>
<p class="caption2"><em>Mr. Huggins (a dealer in “Screws”).</em>—<span class="smcap">Bad Hackshon? Throws his Feet
about? <em>I</em> call it Bee-utiful Hackshon. He goes as if</span>—(<em>waxes wrath
as he sees the old lady won’t be done</em>)—<span class="smcap">as if he didn’t care a ——
for You or any of your Relations. Tak’ ’im in, Bill; th’ Old Gal wants
a Hangel from ’Eavan for a Ten-Pun Note, an’ weer to foinde ’em oi
don’t know.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter">
<img src="images/i046.jpg" width="193" height="196" alt="" />
</div>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42402 ***</div>
</body>
</html>
|
