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diff --git a/44822-0.txt b/44822-0.txt index b008bc5..20ee598 100644 --- a/44822-0.txt +++ b/44822-0.txt @@ -1,36 +1,4 @@ - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ask Mamma, by R. S. Surtees - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Ask Mamma -or The Richest Commoner In England - -Author: R. S. Surtees - -Illustrator: John Leech - -Release Date: February 2, 2014 [EBook #44822] -Last Updated: July 26, 2019 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASK MAMMA *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44822 *** “ASK MAMMA”, @@ -20526,360 +20494,4 @@ the hounds of old Moynell, End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ask Mamma, by R. S. 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S. Surtees </title> @@ -47,45 +48,8 @@ </style> </head> - <body> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ask Mamma, by R. S. Surtees - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Ask Mamma -or The Richest Commoner In England - -Author: R. S. Surtees - -Illustrator: John Leech - -Release Date: February 2, 2014 [EBook #44822] -Last Updated: July 26, 2019 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASK MAMMA *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44822 ***</div> <h1> “ASK MAMMA”, @@ -22273,374 +22237,7 @@ Leicestershire saga, and the hounds of old Moynell, <div style="height: 6em;"> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> </div> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ask Mamma, by R. S. Surtees - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASK MAMMA *** - -***** This file should be named 44822-h.htm or 44822-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/8/2/44822/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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- <title>
- Ask Mamma, Or the Richest Commoner in England, by R. S. Surtees
- </title>
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ask Mamma, by R. S. Surtees
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: Ask Mamma
-or The Richest Commoner In England
-
-Author: R. S. Surtees
-
-Illustrator: John Leech
-
-Release Date: February 2, 2014 [EBook #44822]
-Last Updated: July 26, 2019
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASK MAMMA ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
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-</pre>
-
- <h1>
- “ASK MAMMA”,
- </h1>
- <h4>
- or
- </h4>
- <h3>
- THE RICHEST COMMONER IN ENGLAND
- </h3>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <h2>
- By R. S. Surtees
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <h3>
- Illustrated by JOHN LEECH
- </h3>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/001m.jpg" alt="001m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/001.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. OUR HERO AND CO.—A SLEEPING
- PARTNER. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. THE ROAD. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. THE ROAD RESUMED.—MISS
- PHEASANT-FEATHERS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. A GLASS COACH.—MISS WILLING (EN
- GRAND COSTUME) </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. THE LADY’S BOUDOIR.—A
- DECLARATION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. THE HAPPY UNITED FAMILY.—CURTAIN
- CRESCENT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. THE EARL OF LADYTHORNE.—MISS
- DE GLANCEY. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> CHAPTER VIII. CUB-HUNTING. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER IX. A PUP AT WALK.—IMPERIAL JOHN.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER X. JEAN ROUGIER, OR JACK ROGERS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER XI. THE OPENING DAY.—THE HUNT
- BREAKFAST. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XII. THE MORNING FOX.—THE AFTERNOON
- FOX. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XIII. GONE AWAY! </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIV. THE PRINGLE CORRESPONDENCE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XV. MAJOR YAMMERTON’S COACH STOPS THE
- WAY. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XVI. THE MAJOR’S MENAGE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVII. ARRIVAL AT YAMMERTON GRANGE.—A
- FAMILY PARTY. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVIII. A LEETLE, CONTRETEMPS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XIX. THE MAJOR’S STUD. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XX. CARDS FOR A SPREAD. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XXI. THE GATHERING.—THE GRAND
- SPREAD ITSELF. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXII. A HUNTING MORNING.—UNKENNELING.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXIII. SHOWING A HORSE.—THE MEET.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIV. THE WILD BEAST ITSELF. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXV. A CRUEL FINISH. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXVI. THE PRINGLE CORRESPONDENCE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVII. SIR MOSES MAINCHANCE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVIII. THE HIT-IM AND HOLD-IM SHIRE
- HOUNDS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXIX. THE PANGBURN PARK ESTATE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXX. COMMERCE AND AGRICULTURE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXXI. SIR MOSES’S MENAGE.—DEPARTURE
- OF FINE BILLY. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXII. THE BAD STABLE; OR, “IT’S ONLY FOR
- ONE NIGHT.” </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXIII. SIR MOSES’S SPREAD. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIV. GOING TO COVER WITH THE HOUNDS.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXV. THE MEET. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXVI. A BIRD’S EYE VIEW. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVII. TWO ACCOUNTS OF A RUN; OR, LOOK
- ON THIS PICTURE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE SICK HORSE AND THE SICK
- MASTER. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXIX. MR. PRINGLE SUDDENLY BECOMES A
- MEMBER OF THE H. H. H. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XL. THE HUNT DINNER, </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XLI. THE HUNT TEA.—BUSHEY HEATH AND
- BARE ACRES. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLII. MR. GEORDEY GALLON. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLIII. SIR MOSES PERPLEXED—THE
- RENDEZVOUS FOR THE RACE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIV. THE RACE ITSELF. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLV. HENEREY BROWN & CO. AGAIN. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLVI. THE PRINGLE CORRESPONDENCE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVII. A CATASTROPHE.—A TÊTE-À-TÊTE
- DINNER </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVIII. ROUGIER’S MYSTERIOUS LODGINGS—THE
- GIFT HORSE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLIX. THE SHAM DAY. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER L. THE SURPRISE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER LI. MONEY AND MATRIMONY. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER LII. A NIGHT DRIVE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER LIII. MASTER ANTHONY THOM. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER LIV. MR. WOTHERSPOON’S DEJEUNER À LA
- FOURCHETTE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER LV. THE COUNCIL OF WAR.—POOR PUSS
- AGAIN! </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER LVI. A FINE RUN!—THE MAINCHANCE
- CORRESPONDENCE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER LVII. THE ANTHONY THOM TRAP. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER LVIII. THE ANTHONY THOM TAKE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0058"> CHAPTER LIX. ANOTHER COUNCIL OF WAR.—MR.
- GALLON AT HOME. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0059"> CHAPTER LX. MR. CARROTY KEBBEL. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0060"> CHAPTER LXI. THE HUNT BALL.—MISS DE
- GLANCEY’S REFLECTIONS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0061"> CHAPTER LXII. LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT.—CUPID’S
- SETTLING DAY. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0062"> CHAPTER LXIII. A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT. </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- PREFACE TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T may be a
- recommendation to the lover of light literature to be told, that the
- following story does not involve the complication of a plot. It is a mere
- continuous narrative of an almost everyday exaggeration, interspersed with
- sporting scenes and excellent illustrations by Leech.
- </p>
- <p>
- March 31, 1858.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I.<br/>OUR HERO AND CO.—A SLEEPING PARTNER.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="figleft" style="width:35%;">
- <img src="images/017.jpg" alt="017m " width="100%" /><br /> <a
- href="images/017.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </div>
- <p>
- ONSIDERING that Billy Pringle, or Fine Billy, as his good-natured friends
- called him, was only an underbred chap, he was as good an imitation of a
- Swell as ever we saw. He had all the airy dreaminess of an hereditary high
- flyer, while his big talk and off-hand manner strengthened the delusion.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was only when you came to close quarters with him, and found that
- though he talked in pounds he acted in pence, and marked his fine
- dictionary words and laboured expletives, that you came to the conclusion
- that he was “painfully gentlemanly.” So few people, however, agree upon
- what a gentleman is, that Billy was well calculated to pass muster with
- the million. Fine shirts, fine ties, fine talk, fine trinkets, go a long
- way towards furnishing the character with many. Billy was liberal, not to
- say prodigal, in all these. The only infallible rule we know is, that the
- man who is always talking about being a gentleman never is one. Just as
- the man who is always talking about honour, morality, fine feeling, and so
- on never knows anything of these qualities but the name.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nature had favoured Billy’s pretensions in the lady-killing way. In person
- he was above the middle height, five feet eleven or so, slim and
- well-proportioned, with a finely-shaped head and face, fair complexion,
- light brown hair, laughing blue eyes, with long lashes, good eyebrows,
- regular pearly teeth and delicately pencilled moustache. Whiskers he did
- not aspire to. Nor did Billy abuse the gifts of Nature by disguising
- himself in any of the vulgar groomy gamekeepery style of dress, that so
- effectually reduce all mankind to the level of the labourer, nor adopt any
- of the “loud” patterns that have lately figured so conspicuously in our
- streets. On the contrary, he studied the quiet unobtrusive order of
- costume, and the harmony of colours, with a view of producing a perfectly
- elegant general effect. Neatly-fitting frock or dress coats, instead of
- baggy sacks, with trouser legs for sleeves, quiet-patterned vests and
- equally quiet-patterned trousers. If he could only have been easy in them
- he would have done extremely well, but there was always a nervous
- twitching, and jerking, and feeling, as if he was wondering what people
- were thinking or saying of him.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the dress department he was ably assisted by his mother, a lady of very
- considerable taste, who not only fashioned his clothes but his mind,
- indeed we might add his person, Billy having taken after her, as they say;
- for his father, though an excellent man and warm, was rather of the
- suet-dumpling order of architecture, short, thick, and round, with a neck
- that was rather difficult to find. His name, too, was William, and some,
- the good-natured ones again of course, used to say that he might have been
- called “Fine Billy the first,” for under the auspices of his elegant wife
- he had assumed a certain indifference to trade; and when in the grand
- strut at Ramsgate or Broadstairs, or any of his watering-places, if
- appealed to about any of the things made or dealt in by any of the
- concerns in which he was a “Co.,” he used to raise his brows and shrug his
- shoulders, and say with a very deprecatory sort of air, “‘Pon my life, I
- should say you’re right,” or “‘Deed I should say it was so,” just as if he
- was one of the other Pringles,—the Pringles who have nothing to do
- with trade,—and in noways connected with Pringle & Co.; Pringle
- & Potts; Smith, Sharp & Pringle; or any of the firms that the
- Pringles carried on under the titles of the original founders. He was
- neither a tradesman nor a gentleman. The Pringles—like the happy
- united family we meet upon wheels; the dove nestling with the gorged cat,
- and so on—all pulled well together when there was a common victim to
- plunder; and kept their hands in by what they called taking fair
- advantages of each other, that is to say, cheating each other, when there
- was not.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nobody knew the ins and outs of the Pringles. If they let their own right
- hands know what their left hands did, they took care not to let anybody
- else’s right hand know. In multiplicity of concerns they rivalled that
- great man “Co.,” who the country-lad coming to London said seemed to be in
- partnership with almost everybody. The author of “Who’s Who?” would be
- puzzled to post people who are Brown in one place, Jones in a second, and
- Robinson in a third. Still the Pringles were “a most respectable family,”
- mercantile morality being too often mere matter of moonshine. The only
- member of the family who was not exactly “legally honest,”—legal
- honesty being much more elastic than common honesty,—was cunning
- Jerry, who thought to cover by his piety the omissions of his practice. He
- was a fawning, sanctified, smooth-spoken, plausible, plump little man, who
- seemed to be swelling with the milk of human kindness, anxious only to
- pour it out upon some deserving object. His manner was so frank and bland,
- and his front face smile so sweet, that it was cruel of his side one to
- contradict the impression and show the cunning duplicity of his nature.
- Still he smirked and smiled, and “bless-you, dear” and “hope-your-happy,”
- deared the women, that, being a bachelor, they all thought it best to put
- up with his “mistakes,” as he called his peculations, and sought his
- favour by frequent visits with appropriate presents to his elegant villa
- at Peckham Rye. Here he passed for quite a model man; twice to church
- every Sunday, and to the lecture in the evening, and would not profane the
- sanctity of the day by having a hot potato to eat with his cold meat.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was a ripe rogue, and had been jointly or severally, as the lawyers
- say, in a good many little transactions that would not exactly bear
- inspection; and these “mistakes” not tallying with the sanctified
- character he assumed, he had been obliged to wriggle out of them as best
- he could, with the loss of as few feathers as possible. At first, of
- course, he always tried the humbugging system, at which he was a great
- adept; that failing, he had recourse to bullying, at which he was not bad,
- declaring that the party complaining was an ill-natured, ill-conditioned,
- quarrelsome fellow, who merely wanted a peg to hang a grievance upon, and
- that Jerry, so far from defrauding him, had been the best friend he ever
- had in his life, and that he would put him through every court in the
- kingdom before he would be imposed upon, by him. If neither of these
- answered, and Jerry found himself pinned in a corner, he feigned madness,
- when his solicitor, Mr. Supple, appeared, and by dint of legal threats,
- and declaring that if the unmerited persecution was persisted in, it would
- infallibly consign his too sensitive client to a lunatic asylum, he
- generally contrived to get Jerry out of the scrape by some means or other
- best known to themselves. Then Jerry, of course, being clear, would
- inuendo his own version of the story as dexterously as he could, always
- taking care to avoid a collision with the party, but more than insinuating
- that he (Jerry) had been infamously used, and his well-known love of peace
- and quietness taken advantage of; and though men of the world generally
- suspect the party who is most anxious to propagate his story to be in the
- wrong, yet their number is but small compared to those who believe
- anything they are told, and who cannot put “that and that” together for
- themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- So Jerry went on robbing and praying and passing for a very proper man.
- Some called him “cunning Jerry,” to distinguish him from an uncle who was
- Jerry also; but as this name would not do for the family to adopt, he was
- generally designated by them as “Want-nothin’-but-what’s-right Jerry,”
- that being the form of words with which he generally prefaced his
- extortions. In the same way they distinguished between a fat Joe and a
- thin one, calling the thin one merely “Joe,” and the fat one “Joe who
- can’t get within half a yard of the table;” and between two clerks, each
- bearing the not uncommon name of Smith, one being called Smith, the other
- “Head-and-shoulders Smith,”—the latter, of course, taking his title
- from his figure.
- </p>
- <p>
- With this outline of the Pringle family, we will proceed to draw out such
- of its members as figure more conspicuously in our story.
- </p>
- <p>
- With Mrs. William Pringle’s (<i>née</i> Willing) birth, parentage, and
- education, we would gladly furnish the readers of this work with some
- information, but, unfortunately, it does not lie in our power so to do,
- for the simple reason, that we do not know anything. We first find her
- located at that eminent Court milliner and dressmaker’s, Madame Adelaide
- Banboxeney, in Furbelow Street, Berkeley Square, where her elegant
- manners, and obliging disposition, to say nothing of her taste in
- torturing ribbons and wreaths, and her talent for making plain girls into
- pretty ones, earned for her a very distinguished reputation. She soon
- became first-hand, or trier-on, and unfortunately, was afterwards tempted
- into setting-up for herself, when she soon found, that though fine ladies
- like to be cheated, it must be done in style, and by some one, if not with
- a carriage, at all events with a name; and that a bonnet, though beautiful
- in Bond Street, loses all power of attraction if it is known to come out
- of Bloomsbury. Miss Willing was, therefore, soon sold up; and Madame
- Banboxeney (whose real name was Brown, Jane Brown, wife of John Brown, who
- was a billiard-table marker, until his wife’s fingers set him up in a
- gig), Madame Banboxeney, we say, thinking to profit by Miss Willing’s
- misfortunes, offered her a very reduced salary to return to her situation;
- but Miss Willing having tasted the sweets of bed, a thing she very seldom
- did at Madame Banboxeney’s, at least not during the season, stood out for
- more money; the consequence of which was, she lost that chance, and had
- the benefit of Madame’s bad word at all the other establishments she
- afterwards applied to. In this dilemma, she resolved to turn her hand to
- lady’s-maid-ism; and having mastered the science of hair-dressing, she
- made the rounds of the accustomed servant-shops, grocers, oilmen,
- brushmen, and so on, asking if they knew of any one wanting a perfect
- lady’s-maid.
- </p>
- <p>
- As usual in almost all the affairs of life, the first attempt was a
- failure. She got into what she thoroughly despised, an untitled family,
- where she had a great deal more to do than she liked, and was grossly “put
- upon” both by the master and missis. She gave the place up, because, as
- she said, “the master would come into the missis’s room with nothing but
- his night-shirt and spectacles on,” but, in reality, because the missis
- had some of her things made-up for the children instead of passing them
- on, as of right they ought to have been, to her. She deeply regretted ever
- having demeaned herself by taking such a situation. Being thus out of
- place, and finding the many applications she made for other situations,
- when she gave a reference to her former one, always resulted in the ladies
- declining her services, sometimes on the plea of being already suited, or
- of another “young person” having applied just before her, or of her being
- too young (they never said too pretty, though one elderly lady on seeing
- her shook her head, and said she “had sons”); and, being tired of living
- on old tea leaves, Miss Willing resolved to sink her former place, and
- advertise as if she had just left Madame Banboxeney’s. Accordingly she
- drew out a very specious advertisement, headed “<i>to the nobility</i>,”
- offering the services of a lady’s-maid, who thoroughly understood
- millinery, dress-making, hair-dressing, and getting up fine linen, with an
- address to a cheese shop, and made an arrangement to give Madame
- Banboxeney a lift with a heavy wedding order she was busy upon, if she
- would recommend her as just fresh from her establishment.
- </p>
- <p>
- This advertisement produced a goodly crop of letters, and Miss Willing
- presently closed with the Honourable Mrs. Cavesson, whose husband was a
- good deal connected with the turf, enjoying that certain road to ruin
- which so many have pursued; and it says much for Miss Willing’s acuteness,
- that though she entered Mrs. Cavesson’s service late in the day, when all
- the preliminaries for a smash had been perfected, her fine sensibilities
- and discrimination enabled her to anticipate the coming evil, and to
- deposit her mistress’s jewellery in a place of safety three-quarters of an
- hour before the bailiffs entered. This act of fidelity greatly enhanced
- her reputation, and as it was well known that “poor dear Mrs. Cavesson”
- would not be able to keep her, there were several great candidates for
- this “treasure of a maid.” Miss Willing had now nothing to do but pick and
- choose; and after some consideration, she selected what she called a high
- quality family, one where there was a regular assessed tax-paper
- establishment of servants, where the butler sold his lord’s wine-custom to
- the highest bidder, and the heads of all the departments received their
- “reglars” upon the tradesmen’s bills; the lady never demeaning herself by
- wearing the same gloves or ball-shoes twice, or propitiating the nurse by
- presents of raiment that was undoubtedly hers—we mean the maid’s.
- She was a real lady, in the proper acceptation of the term.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the beautiful, and then newly married, Countess Delacey, whose
- exquisite garniture will still live in the recollection of many of the now
- bald-headed beaux of that period. For these delightful successes, the
- countess was mainly indebted to our hero’s mother, Miss Willing, whose
- suggestive genius oft came to the aid of the perplexed and exhausted
- milliner. It was to the service of the Countess Delacey that Miss Willing
- was indebted for becoming the wife of Mr. Pringle, afterwards “Fine Billy
- the first,”—an event that deserves to be introduced in a separate
- chapter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II.<br/>THE ROAD.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was on a cold,
- damp, raw December morning, before the emancipating civilisation of
- railways, that our hero’s father, then returning from a trading tour,
- after stamping up and down the damp flags before the Lion and Unicorn
- hotel and posting-house at Slopperton, waiting for the old True Blue
- Independent coach “comin’ hup,” for whose cramped inside he had booked a
- preference seat, at length found himself bundled into the straw-bottomed
- vehicle, to a very different companion to what he was accustomed to meet
- in those deplorable conveyances. Instead of a fusty old farmer, or a
- crumby basket-encumbered market-woman, he found himself opposite a
- smiling, radiant young lady, whose elegant dress and ring-bedizened hand
- proclaimed, as indeed was then generally the case with ladies, that she
- was travelling in a coach “for the first time in her life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was our fair friend, Miss Willing.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Earl and Countess Delacey had just received an invitation to spend the
- Christmas at Tiara Castle, where the countess on the previous year had
- received if not a defeat, at all events had not achieved a triumph, in the
- dressing way, over the Countess of Honiton, whose maid, Miss Criblace,
- though now bribed to secrecy with a full set of very little the worse for
- wear Chinchilla fur, had kept the fur and told the secret to Miss Willing,
- that their ladyships were to meet again. Miss Willing was now on her way
- to town, to arrange with the Countess’s milliner for an annihilating
- series of morning and evening dresses wherewith to extinguish Lady
- Honiton, it being utterly impossible, as our fair friends will avouch, for
- any lady to appear twice in the same attire. How thankful men ought to be
- that the same rule does not prevail with them!
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Willing was extremely well got up; for being of nearly the same size
- as the countess, her ladyship’s slightly-worn things passed on to her with
- scarcely a perceptible diminution of freshness, it being remarkable how,
- in even third and fourth-rate establishments, dresses that were not fit
- for the “missus” to be seen in come out quite new and smart on the maid.
- </p>
- <p>
- On this occasion Miss Willing ran entirely to the dark colours, just such
- as a lady travelling in her own carriage might be expected to wear. A
- black terry velvet bonnet with a single ostrich feather, a dark brown
- Levantine silk dress, with rich sable cuffs, muff, and boa, and a pair of
- well-fitting primrose-coloured kid gloves, which if they ever had been on
- before had not suffered by the act.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy—old Billy that is to say—was quite struck in a heap at
- such an unwonted apparition, and after the then usual salutations, and
- inquiries how she would like to have the window, he popped the old
- question, “How far was she going?” with very different feelings to what it
- was generally asked, when the traveller wished to calculate how soon he
- might hope to get rid of his <i>vis-à-vis</i> and lay up his legs on the
- seat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To town,” replied the lady, dimpling her pretty cheeks with a smile. “And
- you?” asked she, thinking to have as good as she gave.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ditto,” replied the delighted Billy, divesting himself of a great coarse
- blue and white worsted comforter, and pulling up his somewhat dejected
- gills, abandoning the idea of economising his Lincoln and Bennett by the
- substitution of an old Gregory’s mixture coloured fur cap, with its great
- ears tied over the top, in which he had snoozed and snored through many a
- long journey.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Willing then drew from her richly-buckled belt a beautiful Geneva
- watch set round with pearls, (her ladyship’s, which she was taking to town
- to have repaired), and Billy followed suit with his substantial
- gold-repeater, with which he struck the hour. Miss then ungloved the other
- hand, and passed it down her glossy brown hair, all smooth and regular,
- for she had just been scrutinising it in a pocket-mirror she had in her
- gold-embroidered reticule.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy’s commercial soul was in ecstacies, and he was fairly over head and
- ears in love before they came to the first change of horses. He had never
- seen sich a sample of a hand before, no, nor sich a face; and he felt
- quite relieved when among the multiplicity of rings he failed to discover
- that thin plain gold one that intimates so much.
- </p>
- <p>
- Whatever disadvantages old stage coaches possessed, and their name
- certainly was legion, it must be admitted that in a case of this sort
- their slowness was a recommendation. The old True Blue Independent did not
- profess to travel or trail above eight miles an hour, and this it only
- accomplished under favourable circumstances, such as light loads, good
- roads, and stout steeds, instead of the top-heavy cargo that now ploughed
- along the woolly turnpike after the weak, jaded horses, that seemed hardly
- able to keep their legs against the keen careering wind. If, under such
- circumstances, the wretched concern made the wild-beast-show looking place
- in London, called an inn, where it put up, an hour or an hour and a half
- or so after its time, it was said to be all very well, “considering,”—and
- this, perhaps, in a journey of sixty miles.
- </p>
- <p>
- Posterity will know nothing of the misery their forefathers underwent in
- the travelling way; and whenever we hear—which we often do—unreasonable
- grumblings about the absence of trifling luxuries on railways, we are
- tempted to wish the parties consigned to a good long ride in an old stage
- coach. Why the worst third class that ever was put next the engine is
- infinitely better than the inside of the best of them used to be, to say
- nothing of the speed. As to the outsides of the old coaches, with their
- roastings, their soakings, their freezings, and their smotherings with
- dust, one cannot but feel that the establishment of railways was a
- downright prolongation of life. Then the coach refreshments, or want of
- refreshments rather; the turning out at all hours to breakfast, dine, or
- sup, just as the coach reached the house of a proprietor “wot oss’d it,”
- and the cool incivility of every body about the place. Any thing was good
- enough for a coach passenger.
- </p>
- <p>
- On this auspicious day, though Miss Willing had her reticule full of
- macaroons and sponge biscuits, and Fine Billy the first had a great
- bulging paper of sandwiches in his brown overcoat pocket, they neither of
- them felt the slightest approach to hunger, ere the lumbering vehicle,
- after a series of clumsy, would-be-dash-cutting lurches and evolutions
- over the rough inequalities of the country pavement, pulled up short at
- the arched doorway of the Salutation Inn—we beg pardon, hotel—in
- Bramfordrig, and a many-coated, brandy-faced, blear-eyed guard let in a
- whole hurricane of wind while proclaiming that they “dined there and
- stopped half an hour.” Then Fine Billy the first had an opportunity of
- showing his gallantry and surveying the figure of his innamorata, as he
- helped her down the perilous mud-shot iron steps of the old Independent,
- and certainly never countess descended from her carriage on a drawing-room
- day with greater elegance than Miss Willing displayed on the present
- occasion, showing a lettle circle of delicate white linen petticoat as she
- protected her clothes from the mud-begrimed wheel, and just as much fine
- open-worked stocking above the fringed top of her Adelaide boots. On
- reaching the ground, which she did with a curtsey, she gave such a sweet
- smile as emboldened our Billy to offer his arm; and amid the nudging of
- outsiders, and staring of street-loungers, and “make way"-ing of inn
- hangers-on, our Billy strutted up the archway with all the dignity of a
- drum-major. His admiration increased as he now became sensible of the
- lady’s height, for like all little men he was an admirer of tall women. As
- he caught a glimpse of himself in the unbecoming mirror between the drab
- and red fringed window curtains of the little back room into which they
- were ushered, he wished he had had on his new blue coat and bright
- buttons, with a buff vest, instead of the invisible green and black spot
- swansdown one in which he was then attired.
- </p>
- <p>
- The outside passengers having descended from their eminences, proceeded to
- flagellate themselves into circulation, and throw off their husks, while
- Billy strutted consequentially in with the lady on his arm, and placed her
- in the seat of honour beside himself at the top of the table. The outsides
- then came swarming in, jostling the dish-bearers and seating themselves as
- they could. All seemed bent upon getting as much as they could for their
- money.
- </p>
- <p>
- Pork was the repast. Pork in varions shapes: roast at the top, boiled at
- the bottom, sausages on one side, fry on the other; and Miss Willing
- couldn’t eat pork, and, curious coincidence! neither could Billy. The lady
- having intimated this to Billy in the most delicate way possible, for she
- had a particular reason for not wishing to aggravate the new landlord, Mr.
- Bouncible, Billy gladly sallied forth to give battle as it were on his own
- account, and by way of impressing the household with his consequence, he
- ordered a bottle of Teneriffe as he passed the bar, and then commenced a
- furious onslaught about the food when he got into the kitchen. This
- reading of the riot act brought Bouncible from his “Times,” who having
- been in the profession himself took Billy for a nobleman’s gentleman, or a
- house-steward at least—a class of men not so easily put upon as
- their masters. He therefore, after sundry regrets at the fare not being
- ‘zactly to their mind, which he attributed to its being washing-day,
- offered to let them have the first turn at a very nice dish of hashed
- venison that was then simmering on the fire for Mrs. B. and himself,
- provided our travellers would have the goodness to call it hashed mutton,
- so that it might not be devoured by the outsiders, a class of people whom
- all landlords held in great contempt. To this proposition Billy readily
- assented, and returned triumphantly to the object of his adoration. He
- then slashed right and left at the roast pork, and had every plate but
- hers full by the time the hashed mutton made its appearance. He then
- culled out all the delicate tit-bits for his fair partner, and decked her
- hot plate with sweet sauce and mealy potatoes. Billy’s turn came next, and
- amidst demands for malt liquor and the arrival of smoking tumblers of
- brown brandy and water, clatter, patter, clatter, patter, became the order
- of the day, with an occasional suspicious, not to say dissatisfied, glance
- of a pork-eating passenger at the savoury dish at the top of the table.
- Mr. Bonncible, however, brought in the Teneriffe just at the critical
- moment, when Billy having replenished both plates, the pork-eaters might
- have expected to be let in; and walked off with the dish in exchange for
- the decanter. Our friends then pledged each other in a bumper of Cape. The
- pork was followed by an extremely large strong-smelling Cheshire cheese,
- in a high wooden cradle, which in its turn was followed by an extremely
- large strong-smelling man in a mountainous many-caped greatcoat, who with
- a bob of his head and a kick out behind, intimated that paying time was
- come for him. Growls were then heard of its not being half an hour, or of
- not having had their full time, accompanied by dives into the pockets and
- reticules for the needful—each person wondering how little he could
- give without a snubbing.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/027m.jpg" alt="027m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/027.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Quite “optional” of course. Billy, who was bent on doing the magnificent,
- produced a large green-and-gold-tasseled purse, almost as big as a
- stocking, and drew therefrom a great five-shilling piece, which having
- tapped imposingly on his plate, he handed ostentatiously to the man,
- saying, “for this lady and me,” just as if she belonged to him; whereupon
- down went the head even with the table, with an undertoned intimation that
- Billy “needn’t ‘urry, for he would make it all right with the guard.” The
- waiter followed close on the heels of the coachman, drawing every body for
- half-a-crown for the dinner, besides what they had had to drink, and what
- they “pleased for himself,” and Billy again anticipated the lady by paying
- for both. Instead, however, of disputing his right so to do, she seemed to
- take it as a matter of course, and bent a little forward and said in a
- sort of half-whisper, though loud enough to be heard by a twinkling-eyed,
- clayey-complexioned she-outsider, sitting opposite, dressed in a
- puce-coloured cloth pelisse and a pheasant-feather bonnet, “I fear you
- will think me very troublesome, but do you think you could manage to get
- me a finger-glass?” twiddling her pretty taper fingers as she spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly!” replied Billy, all alacrity, “certainly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With a little tepid water,” continued Miss Willing, looking imploringly
- at Billy as he rose to fulfil her behests.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Such airs!” growled Pheasant-feathers to her next neighbour with an
- indignant toss of her colour-varying head.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy presently appeared, bearing one of the old deep blue-patterned
- finger-glasses, with a fine damask napkin, marked with a ducal coronet—one
- of the usual perquisites of servitude.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss then holding each pretty hand downwards, stripped her fingers of
- their rings, just as a gardener strips a stalk of currants of its fruit,
- dropping, however, a large diamond ring (belonging to her ladyship, which
- she was just airing) skilfully under the table, and for which fat Billy
- had to dive like a dog after an otter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, dear!” she was quite ashamed at her awkwardness and the trouble she
- had given, she assured Billy, as he rose red and panting from the pursuit.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Done on purpose to show her finery,” muttered Pheasant-feather bonnet,
- with a sneer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss having just passed the wet end of the napkin across her cherry lips
- and pearly teeth, and dipped her fingers becomingly in the warm water, was
- restoring her manifold rings, when the shrill <i>twang, twang, twang</i>
- of the horn, with the prancing of some of the newly-harnessed cripples on
- the pavement as they tried to find their legs, sounded up the arch-way
- into the little room, and warned our travellers that they should be
- reinvesting themselves in their wraps. So declining any more Teneriffe,
- Miss Willing set the example by drawing on her pretty kid gloves, and
- rising to give the time to the rest. Up they all got.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III.<br/>THE ROAD RESUMED.—MISS PHEASANT-FEATHERS.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE room, as we
- said before, being crammed, and our fair friend Miss Willing taking some
- time to pass gracefully down the line of chair-backs, many of whose late
- occupants were now swinging their arms about in all the exertion of tying
- up their mouths, and fighting their ways into their over-coats, Mr.
- Pringle, as he followed, had a good opportunity of examining her exquisite
- <i>tournure</i>, than which he thought he never saw anything more
- beautifully perfect. He was quite proud when a little more width of room
- at the end of the table enabled him to squeeze past a robing, Dutch-built
- British-lace-vending pack-woman, and reclaim his fair friend, just as a
- gentleman does his partner at the end of an old country dance. How
- exultingly he marched her through the line of inn hangers-on, hostlers,
- waiters, porters, post-boys, coachmen, and insatiable Matthews-at-home of
- an inn establishment, “Boots,” a gentleman who will undertake all
- characters in succession for a consideration. How thankful we ought to be
- to be done with these harpies!
- </p>
- <p>
- Bouncible, either mistaking the rank of his guests, or wanting to have a
- better look at the lady, emerged from his glass-fronted den of a bar, and
- salaam’d them up to the dirty coach, where the highly-fee’d coachman stood
- door in hand, waiting to perform the last act of attention for his money.
- In went Billy and the beauty, or rather the beauty and Billy, bang went
- the door, the outsiders scrambled up on to their perches and shelves as
- best they could. “<i>All right! Sit tight!</i>” was presently heard, and
- whip, jip, crack, cut, three blind ‘uns and a bolter were again bumping
- the lumbering vehicle along the cobble-stoned street, bringing no end of
- cherry cheeks and corkscrew ringlets to the windows, to mark that
- important epoch of the day, the coach passing by.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/031m.jpg" alt="031m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/031.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Billy, feeling all the better for his dinner, and inspirited by sundry
- gulps of wine, proceeded to make himself comfortable, in order to open
- fire as soon as ever the coach got off the stones. He took a rapid
- retrospect of all the various angels he had encountered, those who had
- favoured him, those who had frowned, and he was decidedly of opinion that
- he had never seen anything to compare to the fair lady before him. He was
- rich and thriving and would please himself without consulting
- Want-nothin’-but-what’s-right Jerry, Half-a-yard-of-the-table Joe, or any
- of them. It wasn’t like as if they were to be in Co. with him in the lady.
- She would never come into the balance sheets. No; she was to be all his,
- and they had no business with it. He believed
- Want-nothin’-but-what’s-right would be glad if he never married. Just then
- the coach glid from the noisy pavement on to the comparatively speaking
- silent macadamised road, and Billy and the lady opened fire
- simultaneously, the lady about the discomforts of coach-travelling, which
- she had never tried before, and Billy about the smack of the Teneriffe,
- which he thought very earthy. He had some capital wine at home, he said,
- as everybody has. This led him to London, the street conveniences or
- inconveniences as they then were of the metropolis, which subject he plied
- for the purpose of finding out as well where the lady lived as whether her
- carriage would meet her or not; but this she skilfully parried, by asking
- Billy where he lived, and finding it was Doughty Street, Russell Square,
- she observed, as in truth it is, that it was a very airy part of the town,
- and proceeded to expatiate on the beauty of the flowers in Covent Garden,
- from whence she got to the theatres, then to the opera, intimating a very
- considerable acquaintance as well with the capital as with that enchanted
- circle, the West-end, comprising in its contracted limits what is called
- the world. Billy was puzzled. He wished she mightn’t be a cut above him—such
- lords, such ladies, such knowledge of the court—could she be a
- maid-of-honour? Well, he didn’t care. No ask no have, so he proceeded with
- the pumping process again. “Did she live in town?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Fair Lady</i>.—“Part of the year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Billy</i>.—“During the season I ‘spose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Fair Lady</i>.—“During the sitting of parliament.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There again!” thought Billy, feeling the expectation-funds fall ten per
- cent, at least. “Well, faint heart never won fair lady,” continued he to
- himself, considering how next he should sound her. She was very beautiful—what
- pretty pearly teeth she had, and such a pair of rosy lips—such a
- fair forehead too, and <i>such</i> nice hair—he’d give a fipun note
- for a kiss!—he’d give a tenpun note for a kiss!—dashed if he
- wouldn’t give a fifty-pun for a kiss. Then he wondered what
- Head-and-shoulders Smith would think of her. As he didn’t seem to be
- making much progress, however, in the information way, he now desisted
- from that consideration, and while contemplating her beauty considered how
- best he should carry on the siege. Should he declare who and what he was,
- making the best of himself of course, and ask her to be equally explicit,
- or should he beat about the bush a little longer and try to fish out what
- he could about her.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had a good deal of day before them yet, dark though the latter part
- of it would be; which, however, on second thoughts, he felt might be
- rather favourable, inasmuch as she wouldn’t see when he was taken aback by
- her answers. He would beat about the bush a little longer. It was very
- pleasant sport.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you say you lived in Chelsea?” at length asked Billy, in a stupid
- self-convicting sort of way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied the fair lady with a smile; “I never mentioned Chelsea.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no; no more you did,” replied Billy, taken aback, especially as the
- lady led up to no other place.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did she like the country?” at length asked he, thinking to try and fix
- her locality there, if he could not earth her in London.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, she liked the country, at least out of the season—there was no
- place like London in the season,” she thought.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy thought so too; it was the best place in summer, and the only place
- in winter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, the lady didn’t know, but if she had to choose either place for a
- permanency, she would choose London.
- </p>
- <p>
- This sent the Billy funds up a little. He forgot his intention of
- following her into the country, and began to expatiate upon the luxuries
- of London, the capital fish they got, the cod and hoyster sauce (for when
- excited, he knocked his h’s about a little), the cod and hoyster sauce,
- the turbot, the mackerel, the mullet, that woodcock of the sea, as he
- exultingly called it, thinking what a tuck-out he would have in revenge
- for his country inn abstinence. He then got upon the splendour of his own
- house in Doughty Street—the most agreeable in London. Its spacious
- entrance, its elegant stone staircase; his beautiful drawing-room, with its
- maroon and rose-coloured brocaded satin damask curtains, and rich Tournay
- carpet, its beautiful chandelier of eighteen lights, and Piccolo
- pianoforte, and was describing a most magnificent mirror—we don’t
- know what size, but most beautiful and becoming—when the pace of the
- vehicle was sensibly felt to relax; and before they had time to speculate
- on the cause, it had come to a stand-still.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stopped,” observed Billy, lowering the window to look out for squalls.
- </p>
- <p>
- No sooner was the window down, than a head at the door proclaimed
- mischief. The <i>tête-à-tête</i> was at an end. The guard was going to put
- Pheasant-feather bonnet inside. Open sesame <i>—W-h-i-s-h</i>. In
- came the cutting wind—oh dear what a day!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
- </p>
-
- <p>
- “Rum for a leddy?” asked the guard, raising a great half-frozen,
- grog-blossomy face out of the blue and white coil of a shawl-cravat in
- which it was enveloped,—“Git in” continued he, shouldering the leddy
- up the steps, without waiting for an answer, and in popped
- Pheasant-feathers; when, slamming-to the door, he cried “<i>right!</i>” to
- the coachman, and on went the vehicle, leaving the enterer to settle into
- a seat by its shaking, after the manner of the omnibus cads, who seem to
- think all they have to do is to see people past the door. As it was, the
- new-comer alighted upon Billy, who cannoned her off against the opposite
- door, and then made himself as big as he could, the better to incommode
- her. Pheasant-feathers, however, having effected an entrance, seemed to
- regard herself as good as her neighbours, and forthwith proceeded to
- adjust the window to her liking, despite the eyeing and staring of Miss
- Willing. Billy was indignant at the nasty peppermint-drop-smelling woman
- intruding between the wind and his beauty, and inwardly resolved he would
- dock the guard’s fee for his presumption in putting her there. Miss
- Willing gathered herself together as if afraid of contamination; and,
- forgetting her <i>role</i>, declared, after a jolt received in one of her
- seat-shiftings, that it was just the “smallest coach she had ever been
- in.” She then began to scrutinise her female companion’s attire.
- </p>
- <p>
- A cottage-bonnet, made of pheasant-feathers; was there ever such a
- frightful thing seen,—all the colours of the rainbow combined,—must
- be a poacher’s daughter, or a poulterer’s. Paste egg-coloured ribbons;
- what a cloth pelisse,—puce colour in some parts,—bath-brick
- colour in others,—nearly drab in others,—thread-bare all over.
- Dare say she thought herself fine, with her braided waist, up to her ears.
- Her glazy gloves might be any colour—black, brown, green, gray. Then
- a qualm shot across Miss Willing’s mind that she had seen the pelisse
- before. Yes, no, yes; she believed it was the very one she had sold to
- Mrs. Pickles’ nursery governess for eighteen shillings. So it was. She had
- stripped the fur edging off herself, and there were the marks. Who could
- the wearer be? Where could she have got it? She could not recollect ever
- having seen her unwholesome face before. And yet the little ferrety,
- white-lashed eyes settled upon her as if they knew her. Who could she be?
- What, if she had lived fellow—(we’ll not say what)—with the
- creature somewhere. There was no knowing people out of their working
- clothes, especially when they set up to ride inside of coaches.
- Altogether, it was very unpleasant.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy remarked his fair friend’s altered mood, and rightly attributed it
- to the intrusion of the nasty woman, whose gaudy headgear the few
- flickering rays of a December sun were now lighting up, making the
- feathers, so beautiful on a bird, look, to Billy’s mind, so ugly on a
- bonnet, at least on the bonnet that now thatched the frightful face beside
- him. Billy saw the fair lady was not accustomed to these sort of
- companions, and wished he had only had the sense to book the rest of the
- inside when the coach stopped to dine. However, it could not be helped
- now; so, having ascertained that Pheasant-feathers was going all the way
- to “Lunnnn,” as she called it, when the sun sunk behind its massive
- leadeen cloud, preparatory to that long reign of darkness with which
- travellers were oppressed,—for there were no oil-lamps to the roofs
- of stage-coaches,—Billy being no longer able to contemplate the
- beauties of his charmer, now changed his seat, for a little confidential
- conversation by her side.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then, after a few comforting remarks, not very flattering to
- Pheasant-feathers’ beauty, resumed his expatiations about his splendid
- house in Doughty Street, Russell Square, omitting, of course, to mention
- that it had been fitted up to suit the taste of another lady, who had
- jilted him. He began about his dining-room, twenty-five feet by eighteen,
- with a polished steel fender, and “pictors” all about the walls; for, like
- many people, he fancied himself a judge of the fine arts, and, of course,
- was very frequently fleeced.
- </p>
- <p>
- This subject, however, rather hung fire, a dining-room being about the
- last room in a house that a lady cares to hear about, so she presently
- cajoled him into the more genial region of the kitchen, which, unlike
- would-be fine ladies of the present day, she was not ashamed to recognise.
- From the kitchen they proceeded to the store-room, which Billy explained
- was entered by a door at the top of the back stairs, six feet nine by two
- feet eight, covered on both sides with crimson cloth, brass moulded in
- panels and mortise latch. He then got upon the endless, but
- “never-lady-tiring,” subject of bed-rooms—his best bed-room, with a
- most elegant five-feet-three canopy-top, mahogany bedstead, with beautiful
- French chintz furniture, lined with pink, outer and inner valance, trimmed
- silk tassel fringe, &c., &c., &c. And so he went maundering
- on, paving the way most elaborately to an offer, as some men are apt to
- do, instead of getting briskly to the “ask-mamma” point, which the ladies
- are generally anxious to have them at.
- </p>
- <p>
- To be sure, Billy had been bowled over by a fair, or rather unfair one,
- who had appeared quite as much interested about his furniture and all his
- belongings as Miss Willing did, and who, when she got the offer, and found
- he was not nearly so well off as Jack Sanderson, declared she was never so
- surprised in her life as when Billy proposed; for though, as she politely
- said, every one who knew him must respect him, yet he had never even
- entered her head in any other light than that of an agreeable companion.
- This was Miss Amelia Titterton, afterwards Mrs. Sanderson. Another lady,
- as we said before (Miss Bowerbank), had done worse; for she had regularly
- jilted him, after putting him to no end of expense in furnishing his
- house, so that, upon the whole, Billy had cause to be cautious. A coach,
- too, with its jolts and its jerks, and its brandy-and-water stoppages, is
- but ill calculated for the delicate performance of offering, to say
- nothing of having a pair of nasty white-lashed, inquisitive-looking,
- ferrety eyes sitting opposite, with a pair of listening ears, nestling
- under the thatch of a pheasant-feather bonnet. All things considered,
- therefore, Billy may, perhaps, stand excused for his slowness, especially
- as he did not know but what he was addressing a countess.
- </p>
- <p>
- And so the close of a scarcely dawned December day, was followed by the
- shades of night, and still the jip, jip, jipping; whip, whip, whipping;
- creak, creak, creaking of the heavy lumbering coach, was accompanied by
- Billy’s maunderings about his noble ebony this, and splendid mahogany
- that, varied with, here and there, a judicious interpolation of an
- “indeed,” or a “how beautiful,” from Miss Willing, to show how interested
- she was in the recital; for ladies are generally good listeners, and Miss
- Willing was essentially so.
- </p>
- <p>
- The “demeanour of the witness” was lost, to be sure, in the chancery-like
- darkness that prevailed; and Billy felt it might be all blandishment, for
- nothing could be more marked or agreeable than the interest both the other
- ladies had taken in his family, furniture, and effects. Indeed, as he
- felt, they all took much the same course, for, for cool home-questioning,
- there is no man can compete with an experienced woman. They get to the
- “What-have-you-got, and What-will-you-do” point, before a man has settled
- upon the line of inquiry—very likely before he has got done with
- that interesting topic—the weather.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length, a sudden turn of the road revealed to our friends, who were
- sitting with their faces to the horses, the first distant curve of
- glow-worm-like lamps in the distance, and presently the great white
- invitations to “try warren’s,” or “day and martin’s blacking,” began to
- loom through the darkness of the dead walls of the outskirts of London.
- They were fast approaching the metropolis. The gaunt elms and leafless
- poplars presently became fewer, while castellated and sentry-box-looking
- summer-houses stood dark in the little paled-off gardens. At last the
- villas, and semi-detached villas, collapsed into one continuous gas-lit
- shop-dotted street. The shops soon became better and more frequent,—more
- ribbons and flowers, and fewer periwinkle stalls. They now got upon the
- stones. Billy’s heart jumped into his month at the jerk, for he knew not
- how soon his charmer and he might part, and as yet he had not even
- ascertained her locality. Now or never, thought he, rising to the
- occasion, and, with difficulty of utterance, he expressed a hope that he
- might have the pleasure of seeing her ‘ome.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, <i>no</i>,” replied Miss Willing, emphatically, for it was
- just the very thing she most dreaded, letting him see her reception by the
- servants.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph!” grunted Billy, feeling his funds fall five-and-twenty per cent.—“Miss
- Titterton or Miss Bowerbank over again,” thought he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not but that I most fully appreciate your kindness,” whispered Miss
- Willing, in the sweetest tone possible, right into his ear, thinking by
- Billy’s silence that her vehemence had offended him; “but,” continued she,
- “I’m only going to the house of a friend, a long way from you, and I
- expect a servant to meet me at the Green Man in Oxford Street.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but let me see you to the”—(puff, gasp)—“Green Man,”
- ejaculated Billy, the funds of hope rising more rapidly than his words.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s very kind,” whispered Miss Willing, “and I feel it <i>very, very</i>
- much, but”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “But if your servant shouldn’t come,” interrupted Billy, “you’d never find
- your way to Brompton in this nasty dense yellow fog,” for they had now got
- into the thick of a fine fat one.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, but I’m not going to Brompton,” exclaimed Miss Willing, amused at
- this second bad shot of Billy’s at her abode.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, wherever you are going, I shall only be too happy to escort you,”
- replied Billy, “I know Lunnun well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So do I,” thought Miss Willing, with a sigh. And the coach having now
- reached that elegant hostelry, the George and Blue Badger, in High
- Holborn, Miss showed her knowledge of it by intimating to Billy that that
- was the place for him to alight; so taking off her glove she tendered him
- her soft hand, which Billy grasped eagerly, still urging her to let him
- see her home, or at all events to the Green Man, in Oxford Street.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss, however, firmly but kindly declined his services, assuring him
- repeatedly that she appreciated his kindness, which she evinced by
- informing him that she was going to a friend’s at No. —, Grosvenor
- Square, that she would only be in town for a couple of nights; but that if
- he <i>really</i> wished to see her again,—“<i>really</i> wished it,”
- she repeated with an emphasis, for she didn’t want to be trifled with,—she
- would be happy to see him to tea at eight o’clock on the following
- evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Eight o’clock!</i>” gasped Billy. “No. ——, Gruvenor
- Square,” repeated he. “I knows it—I’ll be with you to a certainty—I’ll
- be with you to a”—(puff)—“certainty.” So saying, he made a
- sandwich of her fair taper-fingered hand, and then responded to the
- inquiry of the guard, if there was any one to “git oot there,” by
- alighting. And he was so excited that he walked off, leaving his new silk
- umbrella and all his luggage in the coach, exclaiming, as he worked his
- way through the fog to Doughty Street, “No.——, Gruvenor Square—eight
- o’clock—eight o’clock—No.——, Gruvenor Square—was
- there ever such a beauty!—be with her to a certainty, be with her to
- a certainty.” Saying which, he gave an ecstatic bound, and next moment
- found himself sprawling a-top of a murder!—crying apple-woman in the
- gutter. Leaving him there to get up at his leisure, let us return to his
- late companion in the coach.
- </p>
- <p>
- Scarcely was the door closed on his exit, ere a sharp shrill “<i>You don’t
- know me!—you don’t know me!</i>” sounded from under the
- pheasant-feather bonnet, and shot through Miss Willing like a thrill.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, no, yes; who is it?” ejaculated she, thankful they were alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sarey Grimes, to be sure,” replied the voice, in a semi-tone of
- exultation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sarah Grimes!” exclaimed Miss Willing, recollecting the veriest little
- imp of mischief that ever came about a place, the daughter of a most
- notorious poacher. “So it is! Why, Sarah, who would ever have thought of
- seeing you grown into a great big woman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought you didn’t know me,” replied Sarah; “I used often to run
- errands for you,” added she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I remember,” replied Miss Willing, feeling in her reticule for her purse.
- Sarah had carried certain delicate missives in the country that Miss
- Willing would now rather have forgotten, how thankful she was that the
- creature had not introduced herself when her fat friend was in the coach.
- “What are you doing now?” asked Miss Willing, jingling up the money at one
- end of the purse to distinguish between the gold and the silver.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sarey explained that being now out of place (she had been recently
- dismissed from a cheesemonger’s at Lutterworth for stealing a copper
- coal-scoop, a pound of whitening, and a pair of gold spectacles, for which
- a donkey-travelling general merchant had given her seven and sixpence),
- the guard of the coach, who was her great-uncle, had given her a lift up
- to town to try what she could do there again; and Miss Willing’s quick
- apprehension seeing that there was some use to be made of such a
- sharp-witted thing, having selected a half-sovereign out of her purse,
- thus addressed her:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Sarah, I’m glad to see you again. You are very much improved, and
- will be very good-looking. There’s half a sovereign for you,” handing it
- to her, “and if you’ll come to me at six o’clock to-morrow evening in
- Grosvenor Square, I dare say I shall be able to look out some things that
- may be useful to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanke, mum; thanke!” exclaimed Sarey, delighted at the idea. “I’ll be
- with you, you may depend.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know Big Ben,” continued Miss Willing, “who was my lord’s own man;
- he’s hall-porter now, ring and tell him you come for me, and he’ll let you
- in at the door.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly, mum, certainly,” assented Pheasant-feathers, thinking how much
- more magnificent that would be than sneaking down the area.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the coach having now reached the Green Man, Miss Willing alighted and
- took a coach to Grosvenor Square, leaving Miss Grimes to pursue its
- peregrinations to the end of its journey.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Billy Pringle having, with the aid of the “pollis,” appeased the
- basket-woman’s wrath, was presently ensconced in his beautiful house in
- Doughty Street.
- </p>
- <p>
- So, <i>tinkle, tinkle, tinkle</i>,—down goes the curtain on this
- somewhat long chapter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV.<br/>A GLASS COACH.—MISS WILLING (EN GRAND COSTUME)
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>EXT day our friend
- Billy was buried in looking after his lost luggage and burnishing up the
- gilt bugle-horn buttons of the coat, waist-coat, and shorts of the Royal
- Epping Archers, in which he meant to figure in the evening. Having,
- through the medium of his “Boyle,” ascertained the rank of the owner of
- the residence where he was going to be regaled, he ordered a glass-coach—not
- a coach made of glass, juvenile readers, in which we could see a gentleman
- disparting himself like a gold-fish in a glass bowl, but a better sort of
- hackney coach with a less filthy driver, which, by a “beautiful fiction”
- of the times, used to be considered the hirer’s “private carriage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not the “thing” in those days to drive up to a gentleman’s door in
- a public conveyance, and doing the magnificent was very expensive: for the
- glass fiction involved a pair of gaunt raw-boned horses, which, with the
- napless-hatted drab-turned-up-with-grease-coated-coachman, left very
- little change out of a sovereign. How thankful we ought to be to railways
- and Mr. Fitzroy for being able to cut about openly at the rate of sixpence
- a mile. The first great man who drove up St. James’s Street at high tide
- in a Hansom, deserves to have his portrait painted at the public expense,
- for he opened the door of common sense and utility.
- </p>
- <p>
- What a follow-my-leader-world it is! People all took to street cabs
- simultaneously, just as they did to walking in the Park on a Sunday when
- Count D’Orsay set up his “‘andsomest ombrella in de vorld,” being no
- longer able to keep a horse. But we are getting into recent times instead
- of attending Mr. Pringle to his party. He is supposed to have ordered his
- glass phenomenon.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now Mr. Forage, the job-master, in Lamb’s Conduit Street, with whom our
- friend did his magnificence, “performed funerals” also, as his yard-doors
- indicated, and being rather “full,” or more properly speaking, empty, he
- acted upon the principle of all coaches being black in the dark, and sent
- a mourning one, so there was a striking contrast between the gaiety of the
- Royal Epping Archers’ uniform—pea-green coat with a blue collar,
- salmon-coloured vest and shorts—in which Mr. Pringle was attired,
- and the gravity of the vehicle that conveyed him. However, our lover was
- so intent upon taking care of his pumps, for the fog had made the flags
- both slippery and greasy, that he popped in without noticing the
- peculiarity, and his stuttering knock-knee’d hobble-de-hoy, yclept “Paul,”
- having closed the door and mounted up behind, they were presently jingling
- away to the west, Billy putting up first one leg and then the other on to
- the opposite seat to admire his white-gauze-silk-encased calves by the gas
- and chemists’ windows as they passed. So he went fingering and feeling at
- his legs, and pulling and hauling at his coat,—for the Epping Archer
- uniform had got rather tight, and, moreover, had been made on the
- George-the-Fourth principle, of not being easily got into—along
- Oxford Street, through Hanover Square, and up Brook Street, to the
- spacious region that contained the object of his adoration. The coach
- presently drew up at a stately Italian-column porticoed mansion: down goes
- Paul, but before he gets half through his meditated knock, the door opens
- suddenly in his face, and he is confronted by Big Ben in the full livery,—we
- beg pardon,—uniform of the Delacey family, beetroot-coloured coat,
- with cherry-coloured vest and shorts, the whole elaborately bedizened with
- gold-lace.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/043m.jpg" alt="043m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/043.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- The unexpected apparition, rendered more formidable by the blazing fire in
- the background, throwing a lurid light over the giant, completely deprived
- little Paul of his breath, and he stood gaping and shaking as if he
- expected the monster to address him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who may you please to want?” at length demanded Ben, in a deep sonorous
- tone of mingled defiance and contempt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “P—p—p—please, wo—wo—wo—want,”
- stuttered little Paul, now recollecting that he had never been told who to
- ask for.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, who do you wish to see?” demanded Ben, in a clear explanatory tone,
- for though he had agreed to dress up for the occasion on the reciprocity
- principle of course—Miss Willing winking at his having two nephews
- living in the house—he by no means undertook to furnish civility to
- any of the undergraduates of life, as he called such apologies as Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I—I’ll ask,” replied Paul, glad to escape back to the
- coach, out of which the Royal Archer’s bull-head was now protruding,
- anxious to be emancipated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who—ho—ho am I to a—a—ask for, pa—pa—per—please?”
- stuttered Paul, trembling all over with fear and excitement, for he had
- never seen such a sight except in a show.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ask for!” muttered Billy, now recollecting for the first time that the
- fair lady and he were mutually ignorant of each other’s names. “Ask for!
- What if it should be a hoax?” thought he; “how foolish he would look!”
- </p>
- <p>
- While these thoughts were revolving in Billy’s mind, Big Ben, having
- thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his cherry-coloured shorts, was
- contemplating the dismal-looking coach in the disdainful cock-up-nose sort
- of way that a high-life Johnny looks at what he considers a low-life
- equipage; wondering, we dare say, who was to be deceived by such a thing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy, seeing the case was desperate, resolved to put a bold face on the
- matter, especially as he remembered his person could not be seen in the
- glass coach; so, raising his crush hat to his face, he holloaed out, “<i>I
- say! is this the Earl of Delacey’s?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is,” replied Ben, with a slight inclination of his gigantic person.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, let me out,” demanded Billy of Paul. And this request being
- complied with, Billy skipped smartly across the flags, and was presently
- alongside of Ben, whispering up into his now slightly-inclined ear, “<i>I
- say, was there a lady arrived here last night from the country?</i>” (He
- was going to say “by the coach,” but he checked himself when he got to the
- word country.)
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was, sir,” replied Ben, relaxing into something like condescension.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I’m come to see her,” whispered Billy, with a grin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your name, if you please, sir?” replied Ben, still getting up the steam
- of politeness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Pringle—Mr. William Pringle!” replied Billy with firmness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right, sir,” replied the blood-red monster, pretending to know more
- than he did; and, motioning Billy onward into the black and white
- marble-flagged entrance hall, he was about to shut him in, when Billy,
- recollecting himself, holloaed, “‘<i>Ome!</i>” to his coachman, so that he
- mightn’t be let in for the two days’ hire. The door then closed, and he
- was in for an adventure.
- </p>
- <p>
- It will be evident to our fair friends that the Archer bold had the
- advantage over the lady, in having all his raiment in town, while she had
- all hers, at least all the pick of hers,—her first-class things,—in
- the country. Now every body knows that what looks very smart in the
- country looks very seedy in London, and though the country cousins of life
- do get their new things to take back with them there, yet regular
- town-comers have theirs ready, or ready at all events to try on against
- they arrive, and so have the advantage of looking like civilised people
- while they are up. London, however, is one excellent place for remedying
- any little deficiency of any sort, at least if a person has only either
- money or credit, and a lady or gentleman can soon be rigged out by driving
- about to the different shops.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now it so happened that Miss Willing had nothing of her own in town, that
- she felt she would be doing herself justice to appear before Billy in, and
- had omitted bringing her ladyship’s keys, whereby she might have remedied
- the deficiency out of that wardrobe; however, with such a commission as
- she held, there could be no difficulty in procuring the loan of whatever
- was wanted from her ladyship’s milliner. We may mention that on accepting
- office under Lady Delacey, Miss Willing, with the greatest spirit of
- fairness, had put her ladyship’s custom in competition among three
- distinguished modistes, viz. her old friend Madame Adelaide Banboxeney,
- Madame Celeste de Montmorency, of Dover Street, and Miss Julia Freemantle,
- of Cowslip Street, May Fair; and Miss Freemantle having offered the same
- percentage on the bill (£15) as the other two, and £20 a year certain
- money more than Madame Banboxeney, and £25 more than Madame Celeste de
- Montmorency, Miss Freemantle had been duly declared the purchaser, as the
- auctioneers say, and in due time (as soon as a plausible quarrel could be
- picked with the then milliner) was in the enjoyment of a very good thing,
- for though the Countess Delacey, in the Gilpin-ian spirit of the age,
- tried to tie Miss Freemantle down to price, yet she overlooked the extras,
- the little embroidery of a bill, if we may so call it, such as four pound
- seventeen and sixpence for a buckle, worth perhaps the odd silver, and the
- surreptitious lace, at no one knows what, so long as they were not all in
- one item, and were cleverly scattered about the bill in broken sums, just
- as the lady thought the ribbon dear at a shilling a yard, but took it when
- the counter-skipper replied, “S’pose, marm, then, we say thirteen pence”—Miss
- Willing having had a consultation with Miss Freemantle as to the most
- certain means of quashing the Countess of Honiton, broached her own little
- requirements, and Miss Freemantle, finding that she only wanted the dress
- for one night, agreed to lend her a very rich emerald-green Genoa velvet
- evening-dress, trimmed with broad Valenciennes lace, she was on the point
- of furnishing for Alderman Boozey’s son’s bran-new wife; Miss Freemantle
- feeling satisfied, as she said, that Miss Willing would do it no harm;
- indeed, would rather benefit it by the sit her fine figure would give it,
- in the same way as shooters find it to their advantage to let their
- keepers have a day or two’s wear out of their new shoes in order to get
- them to go easy for themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reader will therefore have the goodness to consider Miss Willing
- arrayed in Alderman Boozey’s son’s bran-new wife’s bran-new Genoa velvet
- dress, with a wreath of pure white camellias on her beautiful brown
- Madonna-dressed hair, and a massive true-lover’s-knot brooch in brilliants
- at her bosom. On her right arm she wears a magnificent pearl armlet, which
- Miss Freemantle had on sale or return from that equitable
- diamond-merchant, Samuel Emanuel Moses, of the Minories, the price
- ranging, with Miss Freemantle, from eighty to two hundred and fifty
- guineas, according to the rank and paying properties of the inquirer,
- though as between Moses and “Mantle,” the price was to be sixty guineas,
- or perhaps pounds, depending upon the humour Moses might happen to be in,
- when she came with the dear £. s. d. The reader will further imagine an
- elegant little boudoir with its amber-coloured silk fittings and
- furniture, lit up with the united influence of the best wax and Wallsend,
- and Miss Willing sitting at an inlaid centre-table, turning over the
- leaves of Heath’s “Picturesque Annual” of the preceding year. Opposite the
- fire are large white and gold folding-doors, opening we know not where,
- outside of which lurks Pheasant-feathers, placed there by Miss Willing on
- a service of delicacy.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V.<br/>THE LADY’S BOUDOIR.—A DECLARATION.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HIS way, sir,—please,
- sir,—yes, sir,” bowed the now obsequious Ben, guiding Billy by the
- light of a chamber candle through the intricacies of the half-lit inner
- entrance. “Take care, sir, there’s a step, sir,” continued he, stopping
- and showing where the first stumbling-block resided. Billy then commenced
- the gradual accent of the broad, gently-rising staircase, each step
- increasing his conviction of the magnitude of the venture, and making him
- feel that his was not the biggest house in town. As he proceeded he
- wondered what Nothin’-but-what’s-right Jerry, or Half-a-yard-of-the-table
- Joe, above all Mrs. Half-a-yard-of-the-table, would say if they could see
- him thus visiting at a nobleman’s house, it seemed more like summut in a
- book or a play than downright reality. Still there was no reason why a
- fine lady should not take a fancy to him—many deuced deal uglier
- fellows than he had married fine ladies, and he would take his chance
- along with the rest of them—so he laboured up after Ben, hoping he
- might not come down stairs quicker than he went up.
- </p>
- <p>
- The top landing being gained, they passed through lofty folding-doors into
- the suite of magnificent but now put-away drawing-rooms, whose spectral
- half collapsed canvas bags, and covered statues and sofas, threw a
- Kensal-Green-Cemetery sort of gloom over Billy’s spirits; speedily,
- however, to be dispelled by the radiance of the boudoir into which he was
- now passed through an invisible door in the gilt-papered wall. “Mr.
- William Pringle, ma’m,” whispered Ben, in a tone that one could hardly
- reconcile to the size of the monster: and Miss Willing having risen at the
- sound of the voice, bowing, Billy and she were presently locked hand in
- hand, smiling and teeth-showing most extravagantly. “I’ll ring for tea
- presently,” observed she to Ben, who seemed disposed to fuss and loiter
- about the room. “If you please, my lady,” replied Ben, bowing himself
- backwards through the panel. Happy Billy was then left alone with his
- charmer, save that beetroot-coloured Ben was now listening at one door on
- his own account, and Pheasant-feathers at the other on Miss Willing’s.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy was quite taken aback. If he had been captivated in the coach what
- chance had he now, with all the aid of dress, scenery, and decorations. He
- thought he had never seen such a beauty—he thought he had never seen
- such a bust—he thought he had never seen such an arm! Miss Titterton—pooh!—wasn’t
- to be mentioned in the same century—hadn’t half such a waist. “Won’t
- you be seated?” at length asked Miss Willing, as Billy still stood staring
- and making a mental inventory of her charms. “Seat”—(puff)—“seat”
- (wheeze), gasped Billy, looking around at the shining amber-coloured
- magnificence by which he was surrounded, as if afraid to venture, even in
- his nice salmon-coloured shorts. At length he got squatted on a gilt chair
- by his charmer’s side, when taking to look at his toes, she led off the
- ball of conversation. She had had enough of the billing and cooing or
- gammon and spinach of matrimony, and knew if she could not bring him to
- book at once, time would not assist her. She soon probed his family
- circle, and was glad to find there was no “mamma” to “ask,” that dread
- parent having more than once been too many for her. She took in the whole
- range of connection with the precision of an auctioneer or an equity
- draftsman.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no occasion for much diplomacy on her part, for Billy came into
- the trap just like a fly to a “Ketch-’em-alive O!” The conversation soon
- waxed so warm that she quite forgot to ring for the tea; and Ben, who
- affected early hours in the winter, being slightly asthmatical, as a
- hall-porter ought to be, at length brought it in of his own accord. Most
- polite he was; “My lady” and “Your ladyship-ing” Miss Willing with
- accidental intention every now and then, which raised Billy’s opinion of
- her consequence very considerably. And so he sat, and sipped and sipped,
- and thought what a beauty she would be to transfer to Doughty Street. Tea,
- in due time, was followed by the tray—Melton pie, oysters,
- sandwiches, anchovy toast, bottled stout, sherry and Seltzer water, for
- which latter there was no demand.
- </p>
- <p>
- A profane medicine-chest-looking mahogany case then made its appearance,
- which, being opened, proved to contain four cut-glass spirit-bottles,
- labelled respectively, “Rum,” “Brandy,” “Whiskey,” “Gin,” though they were
- not true inscriptions, for there were two whiskey’s and two brandy’s. A
- good old-fashioned black-bottomed kettle having next mounted a stand
- placed on the top bar, Miss intimated to Ben that if they had a few more
- coals, he need not “trouble to sit up;” and these being obtained, our
- friends made a brew, and then drew their chairs together to enjoy the
- feast of reason and the flow of soul; Miss slightly raising Alderman
- Boozey’s son’s bran-new wife’s bran-new emerald-green velvet dress to show
- her beautiful white-satin slippered foot, as it now rested on the polished
- steel fender.
- </p>
- <p>
- The awkwardness of resuming the interrupted addresses being at length
- overcome by sundry gulphs of the inspiring fluid, our friend Mr. Pringle
- was soon in full fervour again. He anathematised the lawyers and
- settlements, and delay, and was all for being married off-hand at the
- moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss, on her part, was dignified and prudent. All she would say was that
- Mr. William Pringle was not indifferent to her,—“No,” sighed she,
- “he wasn’t”—but there were many, many considerations, and many, many
- points to be discussed, and many, many questions to be asked of each
- other, before they could even begin to <i>talk</i> of such a thing as
- immediate—“hem”—(she wouldn’t say the word) turning away her
- pretty head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Ask away, then!</i>” exclaimed Billy, helping himself to another
- beaker of brandy—for he saw he was approaching the “Ketch-’em-alive
- O.” Miss then put the home-question whether his family knew what he was
- about, and finding they did not, she saw there was no time to lose; so
- knocking off the expletives, she talked of many considerations and points,
- the main one being to know how she was likely to be kept,—whether
- she was to have a full-sized footman, or an under-sized stripling, or a
- buttony boy of a page, or be waited upon by that greatest aversion to all
- female minds, one of her own sex. Not that she had the slightest idea of
- saying “No,” but her experience of life teaching her that all early
- grandeur may be mastered by footmen, she could very soon calculate what
- sort of a set down she was likely to have by knowing the style of her
- attendant. “Show me your footman, and I will tell you what you are,” was
- one of her maxims. Moreover, it is well for all young ladies to have a
- sort of rough estimate, at all events, of what they are likely to have,—which,
- we will venture to say, unlike estimates in general, will fall very far
- short of the reality. Our friend Billy, however, was quite in the
- promising mood, and if she had asked for half-a-dozen Big Bens he would
- have promised her them, canes, powder, and all.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! she should have anything, everything she wanted! A tall man with good
- legs, and all right about the mouth,—an Arab horse, an Erard harp, a
- royal pianoforte, a silver tea-urn, a gold coffee-pot, a service of gold—<i>eat
- gold</i>, if she liked,” and as he declared she might eat gold if she
- liked, he dropped upon his salmon-coloured knees, and with his glass of
- brandy in one hand, and hers in the other, looked imploringly up at her, a
- beautiful specimen of heavy sentimentality; and Miss, thinking she had got
- him far enough, and seeing it was nearly twelve o’clock, now urged him to
- rise, and allow her maid to go and get him a coach. Saying which, she
- disengaged her hand, and slipping through the invisible door, was
- presently whispering her behests to the giggling Pheasant-feathers, on the
- other side of the folding ones. A good half-hour, however, elapsed before
- one of those drowsy vehicles could be found, during which time our suitor
- obtained the fair lady’s consent to allow him to meet her at her friend
- Mrs. Freemantle’s, as she called her, in Cowslip Street, May Fair, at
- three o’clock in the following afternoon; and the coach having at length
- arrived, Miss Willing graciously allowed Mr. Pringle to kiss her hand, and
- then accompanied him to the second landing of the staircase, which
- commanded the hall, in order to check any communication between
- Pheasant-feathers and him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reader will now perhaps accompany us to this famed milliner, dress and
- mantle-maker’s, who will be happy to execute any orders our fair ones may
- choose to favour her with.
- </p>
- <p>
- Despite the anathemas of a certain law lord, match-forwarding is quite the
- natural prerogative and instinct of women. They all like it, from the
- duchess downwards, and you might as well try to restrain a cat from
- mousing as a woman from match-making. Miss Freemantle (who acted Mrs. on
- this occasion) was as fond of the pursuit as any one. She looked Billy
- over with a searching, scrutinising glance, thinking what a flat he was,
- and wondered what he would think of himself that time twelvemonths. Billy,
- on his part, was rather dumb-foundered. Talking before two women was not
- so easy as talking to one; and he did not get on with the immediate
- matrimony story half so well as he had done over-night. The ladies saw his
- dilemma, and Miss Willing quickly essayed to relieve him. She put him
- through his pleadings with all the skill of the great Serjeant
- Silvertougue, making Billy commit himself most irretrievably.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma” (Miss Freemantle that is to say) then had her innings.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was much afraid it couldn’t be done off-hand—indeed she was.
- There was a place on the Border—Gretna Green—she dare say’d
- he’d heard of it; but then it was a tremendous distance, and would take
- half a lifetime to get to it. Besides, Miss p’raps mightn’t like taking
- such a journey at that time of year.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss looked neither yes nor no. Mamma was more against it than her, Mamma
- feeling for the countess’s coming contest and her future favours. Other
- difficulties were then discussed, particularly that of publicity, which
- Miss dreaded more than the journey to Gretna. It must be kept secret,
- whatever was done. Billy must be sworn to secrecy, or Miss would have
- nothing to say to him. Billy was sworn accordingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mamma then thought the best plan was to have the banns put up in some
- quiet church, where no questions would be asked as to where they lived,
- and it would be assumed that they resided within the parish, and when they
- had been called out, they could just go quietly and get married, which
- would keep things square with the countess and everybody else. And this
- arrangement being perfected, and liberty given to Billy to write to his
- bride, whose name and address were now furnished him, he at length took
- his departure; and the ladies having talked him over, then resolved
- themselves into a committee of taste, to further the forthcoming
- tournament. And by dint of keeping all hands at work all night, Miss
- Willing was enabled to return to the countess with the first instalment of
- such a series of lady-killing garments as mollified her heart, and enabled
- her to sustain the blow that followed, which however was mitigated by the
- assurance that Mr. and Mrs. William Pringle were going to live in London,
- and that Madam’s taste would always be at her ladyship’s command.
- </p>
- <p>
- We wish we could gratify our lady readers with a description of the
- brilliant attire that so completely took the shine out of the Countess of
- Honiton as has caused her to hide her diminished head ever since, but our
- pen is unequal to the occasion, and even if we had had a John Leech to
- supply our deficiencies, the dresses of those days would look as nothing
- compared to the rotatory haystacks of the present one.
- </p>
- <p>
- What fair lady can bear the sight of her face painted in one of the old
- poke bonnets of former days? To keep things right, the bonnet ought to be
- painted to the face every year or two.
- </p>
- <p>
- But to the lovers.
- </p>
- <p>
- In due time “Mamma” (Miss Freemantle) presented her blooming daughter to
- the happy Billy, who was attended to the hymeneal alter by his
- confidential clerk, Head-and-shoulders Smith. Big Ben, who was dressed in
- a blue frock coat with a velvet collar, white kerseymere trousers, and
- varnished boots, looking very like one of the old royal dukes, was the
- only other person present at the interesting ceremony, save
- Pheasant-feathers, who lurked in one of the pews.
- </p>
- <p>
- The secret had been well kept, for the evening papers of that day and the
- morning ones of the next first proclaimed to the “great world,” that
- sphere of one’s own acquaintance, that William Pringle, Esquire, of
- Doughty Street, Russell Square, was married to Miss Emma Willing, of—the
- papers did not say where.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI.<br/>THE HAPPY UNITED FAMILY.—CURTAIN CRESCENT.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/052m.jpg" alt="052m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/052.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE PRINGLES of
- course were furious when they read the announcement of Billy’s marriage.
- Such a degradation to such a respectable family, and communicated in such
- a way. We need scarcely say that at first they all made the worst of it,
- running Mrs. William down much below her real level, and declaring that
- Billy though hard enough in money matters, was soft enough in love
- affairs. Then Mrs. Half-a-yard-of-the-table Joe, who up to that time had
- been the <i>belle</i> of the family, essayed to pick her to pieces,
- intimating that she was much indebted to her dress—that fine
- feathers made fine birds—hoped that Billy would like paying for the
- clothes, and wondered what her figure would be like a dozen years thence.
- Mrs. Joe had preserved hers, never having indeed having been in the way of
- spoiling it. Joe looked as if he was to perpetuate the family name.
- By-and-by, when it became known that the Countess Delacey’s yellow
- carriage, with the high-stepping greys and the cocked-up-nose
- beet-root-and-cherry-coloured Johnnies, was to be seen astonishing the
- natives in Doughty Street, they began to think better of it; and though
- they did not stint themselves for rudeness (disguised as civility of
- course), they treated her less like a show, more especially when Billy was
- present. Still, though they could not make up their minds to be really
- civil to her, they could not keep away from her, just as the moth will be
- at the candle despite its unpleasant consequences. Indeed, it is one of
- the marked characteristics of Snobbism, that they won’t be cut. At least,
- if you do get a Snob cut, ten to one but he will take every opportunity of
- rubbing up against you, or sitting down beside you in public, or
- overtaking you on the road, or stopping a mutual acquaintance with you in
- the street, either to show his indifference or his independence, or in the
- hope of its passing for intimacy. There are people who can’t understand
- any coolness short of a kick. The Pringles were tiresome people. They
- would neither be in with Mrs. William, nor out with her. So there was that
- continual knag, knag, knagging going on in the happy united family, that
- makes life so pleasant and enjoyable. Mrs. William well knew, when any of
- them came to call upon her, that her sayings and doings would furnish
- recreation for the rest of the cage. It is an agreeable thing to have
- people in one’s house acting the part of spies. One day Mrs. Joe, who
- lived in Guildford Street, seeing the Countess’s carriage-horses
- cold-catching in Doughty Street, while her ladyship discussed some
- important millinery question with Mrs. William, could not resist the
- temptation of calling, and not being introduced to the Countess, said to
- Mis. William, with her best vinegar sneer, the next time they met. She
- “‘oped she had told her fine friend that the vulgar woman she saw at her
- ‘ouse was no connection of her’s.” But enough of such nonsense. Let us on
- to something more pleasant.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, then, of course the next step in our story is the appearance of our
- hero, the boy Billy——Fine Billy, aforesaid. Such a boy as
- never was seen! All other mammas went away dissatisfied with theirs, after
- they had got a peep of our Billy. If baby-shows had been in existence in
- those days, Mrs. Billy might have scoured the country and carried away all
- the prizes. Everybody was struck in a heap at the sight of him, and his
- sayings and doings were worthy of a place in Punch. So thought his
- parents, at least. What perfected their happiness, of course, operated
- differently with the family, and eased the minds of the ladies, as to the
- expediency of further outward civility to Mrs. William, who they now
- snubbed at all points, and prophesied all sorts of uncharitableness of.
- Mrs., on her side, surpassed them all in dress and good looks, and bucked
- Billy up into a very produceable-looking article. Though he mightn’t
- exactly do for White’s bay-window on a summer afternoon, he looked
- uncommonly well on “‘Change,” and capitally in the country. Of course, he
- came in for one of the three cardinal sources of abuse the world is always
- so handy with, viz., that a man either behaves ill to his wife, is a
- screw, or is out-running the constable, the latter, of course, being
- Billy’s crime, which admitted of a large amount of blame being laid on the
- lady, though, we are happy to say, Billy had no trial of speed with the
- constable, for his wife, by whose permission men thrive, was a capital
- manager, and Billy slapped his fat thigh over his beloved balance-sheets
- every Christmas, exclaiming, as he hopped joyously round on one leg,
- snapping his finger and thumb, “<i>Our Billy shall be a gent! Our Billy
- shall be a gent!</i>” And he half came in to the oft-expressed wish of his
- wife, that he might live to see him united to a quality lady: Mr. and Lady
- Arabella Pringle, Mr. and Lady Sophia Pringle, or Mr. and Lady Charlotte
- Elizabeth Pringle, as the case might be.
- </p>
- <p>
- Vainglorious ambition! After an inordinate kidney supper, poor Billy was
- found dead in his chair. Great was the consternation among the Pringle
- family at the lamentable affliction. All except Jerry, who, speculating on
- his habits, had recently effected a policy on his life, were deeply
- shocked at the event. They buried him with all becoming pomp, and then,
- Jerry, who had always professed great interest in the boy Billy—so
- great, indeed, as to induce his brother (though with no great opinion of
- Jerry, but hoping that his services would never be wanted, and that it
- might ingratiate the nephew with the bachelor uncle,) to appoint him an
- executor and guardian—waited upon the widow, and with worlds of
- tears and pious lamentations, explained to her in the most unexplanatory
- manner possible, all how things were left, but begging that she would not
- give herself any trouble about her son’s affairs, for, if she would attend
- to his spiritual wants, and instil high principles of honour, morality,
- and fine feeling into his youthful mind, he would look after the mere
- worldly dross, which was as nothing compared to the importance of the
- other. “Teach him to want nothin’ but what’s right,” continued Jerry, as
- he thought most impressively. “Teach him to want nothin’ but what’s right,
- and when he grows up to manhood marry him to some nice, pious respectable
- young woman in his own rank of life, with a somethin’ of her own;
- gentility is all very well to talk about, but it gets you nothin’ at the
- market,” added he, forgetting that he was against the mere worldly dross.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Mrs. Pringle, who knew the value of the article, intimated at an early
- day, that she would like to be admitted into the money partnership as
- well, whereupon Jerry waxing wroth, said with an irate glance of his keen
- grey eyes, “My dear madam, these family matters, in my opinion, require to
- be treated not only in a business-like way, but with a very considerable
- degree of delicacy,” an undisputed dogma, acquiring force only by the
- manner in which it was delivered. So the pretty widow saw she had better
- hold her tongue, and hope for the best from the little fawning bully.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/055m.jpg" alt="055m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/055.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- The melancholy catastrophe with which we closed our last chapter found our
- hero at a preparatory school, studying for Eton, whither papa proposed
- sending him on the old principle of getting him into good society; though
- we believe it is an experiment that seldom succeeds. The widow, indeed,
- took this view of the matter, for her knowledge of high life caused her to
- know that though a “proud aristocracy” can condescend, and even worship
- wealth, yet that they are naturally clannish and exclusive, and tenacious
- of pedigree. In addition to this, Mrs. Pringle’s experience of men led her
- to think that the solemn pedantic “Greek and Latin ones,” as she called
- them, who know all about Julius Cæsar coming, “<i>summa diligentia</i>,”
- on the top of the diligence, were not half so agreeable as those who could
- dance and sing, and knew all that was going on in the present-day world;
- which, in addition to her just appreciation of the delicate position of
- her son, made her resolve not to risk him among the rising aristocracy at
- Eton, who, instead of advancing, might only damage his future prospects in
- life, but to send him to Paris, where, besides the three R’s,—“reading,
- riting, and rithmetic,”—he would acquire all the elegant
- accomplishments and dawn fresh upon the world an unexpected meteor.
- </p>
- <p>
- This matter being arranged, she then left Dirty Street, as she called
- Doughty Street, with all the disagreeable Pringle family espionage, and
- reminiscences, and migrated westward, taking up her abode in the more
- congenial atmosphere of Curtain Crescent, Pimlico, or Belgravia, as, we
- believe the owners of the houses wish to have it called. Here she
- established herself in a very handsome, commodious house, with porticoed
- doorway and balconied drawing-rooms—every requisite for a genteel
- family in short; and such a mansion being clearly more than a single lady
- required, she sometimes accommodated the less fortunate, through the
- medium of a house-agent, though both he and she always begged it to be
- distinctly understood that she did not let lodgings, but “apartments;” and
- she always requested that the consideration might be sent to her in a
- sealed envelope by the occupants, in the same manner as she transmitted
- them the bill. So she managed to make a considerable appearance at a
- moderate expense, it being only in the full season that her heart yearned
- towards the houseless, when of course a high premium was expected. There
- is nothing uncommon in people letting their whole houses; so why should
- there be anything strange in Mrs. Pringle occasionally letting a part of
- one? Clearly nothing. Though Mrs. Joe did say she had turned a
- lodging-house keeper, she could not refrain from having seven-and-sixpence
- worth of Brougham occasionally to see how the land lay.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is but justice to our fair friend to say that she commenced with great
- prudence. So handsome unprotected a female being open to the criticisms of
- the censorious, she changed her good-looking footman for a sedate elderly
- man, whose name, Properjohn, John Properjohn, coupled with the severe
- austerity of his manners, was enough to scare away intruders, and to keep
- the young girls in order, whom our friend had consigned to her from the
- country, in the hopes that her drilling and recommendation would procure
- them admission into quality families.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/057m.jpg" alt="057m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/057.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Properjohn had been spoiled for high service by an attack of the jaundice,
- but his figure was stately and good, and she sought to modify his injured
- complexion by a snuff-coloured, Quaker-cut coat and vest, with
- claret-coloured shorts, and buckled shoes. Thus attired, with his
- oval-brimmed hat looped up with gold cord, and a large double-jointed
- brass-headed cane in his hand, he marched after his mistress, a damper to
- the most audacious. Properjohn, having lived in good families until he got
- spoiled by the jaundice, had a very extensive acquaintance among the
- aristocracy, with whom Mrs. Pringle soon established a peculiar
- intercourse. She became a sort of ultimate Court of Appeal, a <i>Cour de
- Cassation</i>, in all matters of taste in apparel,—whether a bonnet
- should be lilac or lavender colour, a dress deeply flounced or lightly, a
- lady go to a ball in feathers or diamonds, or both—in all those
- varying and perplexing points that so excite and bewilder the female mind:
- Mrs. Pringle would settle all these, whatever Mrs. Pringle said the fair
- applicants would abide by, and milliners and dress-makers submitted to her
- judgment. This, of course, let her into the privacies of domestic life.
- She knew what husbands stormed at the milliners’ and dress-makers’ bills,
- bounced at the price of the Opera-box, and were eternally complaining of
- their valuable horses catching cold. She knew who the cousin was who was
- always to be admitted in Lavender Square, and where the needle-case-shaped
- note went to after it had visited the toy-shop in Arcadia Street. If her
- own information was defective, Properjohn could supply the deficiency. The
- two, between them, knew almost everything.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor was Mrs. Pringle’s influence confined to the heads of houses, for it
- soon extended to many of the junior members also. It is a well known fact
- that, when the gorgeous Lady Rainbow came to consult her about her
- daughter’s goings on with Captain Conquest, the Captain and Matilda saw
- Mamma alight from the flaunting hammer-clothed tub, as they stood behind
- the figured yellow tabaret curtains of Mrs. Pringle’s drawing-room window,
- whither they had been attracted by the thundering of one of the old noisy
- order of footmen. Blessings on the man, say we, who substituted bells for
- knockers—so that lovers may not be disturbed, or visitors
- unaccustomed to public knocking have to expose their incompetence.
- </p>
- <p>
- We should, however, state, that whenever Mrs. Pringle was consulted by any
- of the juveniles upon their love affairs, she invariably suggested that
- they had better “Ask Mamma,” though perhaps it was only done as a matter
- of form, and to enable her to remind them at a future day, if things went
- wrong, that she had done so. Many people make offers that they never mean
- to have accepted, but still, if they are not accepted, <i>they made them
- you know</i>. If they are accepted, why then they wriggle out of them the
- best way they can. But we are dealing in generalities, instead of
- confining ourselves to Mrs. Pringle’s practice. If the young lady or
- gentleman—for Mrs. Pringle was equally accessible to the sexes—preferred
- “asking” her to “Asking Mamma,” Mrs. Pringle was always ready to do what
- she could for them; and the fine Sèvres and Dresden china, the opal vases,
- the Bohemian scent-bottles, the beautiful bronzes, the or-molu jewel
- caskets, and Parisian clocks, that mounted guard in the drawing-room when
- it was not “in commission” (occupied as apartments), spoke volumes for the
- gratitude of those she befriended. Mrs. Pringle was soon the repository of
- many secrets, but we need not say that the lady who so adroitly concealed
- Pheasant Feathers on her own account was not likely to be entrapped into
- committing others; and though she was often waited upon by pleasant
- conversationalists on far-fetched errands, who endeavoured to draw
- carelessly down wind to their point, as well as by seedy and half-seedy
- gentlemen, who proceeded in a more business-like style, both the pleasant
- conversationalists and the seedy and the half-seedy gentlemen went away as
- wise as they came. She never knew anything; it was the first she had heard
- of anything of the sort.
- </p>
- <p>
- Altogether, Mrs. Pringle was a wonderful woman, and not the least
- remarkable trait in her character was that, although servants, who, like
- the rest of the world, are so ready to pull people down to their own
- level, knew her early professional career, yet she managed them so well
- that they all felt an interest in elevating her, from the Duke’s Duke,
- down to old quivering-calved Jeames de la Pluche, who sipped her hop
- champagne, and told all he heard while waiting at table—that festive
- period when people talk as if their attendants were cattle or inanimate
- beings.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reader will now have the goodness to consider our friend, Fine Billy,
- established with his handsome mother in Curtain Crescent—not
- Pimlico, but Belgravia—with all the airs and action described in our
- opening chapter. We have been a long time in working up to him, but the
- reader will not find the space wasted, inasmuch as it has given him a good
- introduction to “Madam,” under whose auspices Billy will shortly have to
- grapple with the “Ask Mamma” world. Moreover, we feel that if there has
- been a piece of elegance overlooked by novelists generally, it is the
- delicate, sensitive, highly-refined lady’s-maid. With these observations,
- we now pass on to the son He had exceeded, if possible, his good mother’s
- Parisian anticipations, for if he had not brought away any great amount of
- learning, if he did not know a planet from a fixed star, the difference of
- oratory between Cicero and Demosthenes, or the history of Cupid and the
- minor heathen deities, he was nevertheless an uncommonly good hand at a
- polka, could be matched to waltz with any one, and had a tremendous
- determination of words to the mouth. His dancing propensities, indeed,
- were likely to mislead him at starting; for, not getting into the sort of
- society Mrs. Pringle wished to see him attain, he took up with Cremorne
- and Casinos, and questionable characters generally.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Pringle’s own establishment, we are sorry to say, soon furnished her
- with the severest cause of disquietude; for having always acted upon the
- principle of having pretty maids—the difference, as she said,
- between pretty and plain ones being, that the men ran after the pretty
- ones, while the plain ones ran after the men—having always, we say,
- acted upon the principle of having pretty ones, she forgot to change her
- system on the return of her hopeful son; and before she knew where she
- was, he had established a desperate <i>liaison</i> with a fair maid whose
- aptitude for breakage had procured for her the <i>sobriquet</i> of Butter
- Fingers. Now, Butter Fingers, whose real name was Disher—Jane Disher—was
- a niece of our old friend, Big Ben, now a flourishing London hotel
- landlord, and Butter Fingers partook of the goodly properties and
- proportions for which the Ben family are distinguished. She was a little,
- plump, fair, round-about thing, with every quality of a healthy country
- beauty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fine Billy was first struck with her one Sunday afternoon, tripping along
- in Knightsbridge, as she was making her way home from Kensington Gardens,
- when the cheap finery—the parasol, the profusely-flowered white
- gauze bonnet, the veil, the machinery laced cloak, the fringed kerchief,
- worked sleeves, &c., which she kept at Chickory the greengrocer’s in
- Sun Street, and changed there for the quiet apparel in which she left Mrs.
- Pringle’s house in Curtain Crescent—completely deceived him; as much
- as did the half-starting smile of recognition she involuntarily gave him
- on meeting. Great was his surprise to find that such a smart,
- neat-stepping, well-set-up, <i>bien chaussée</i> beauty and he came from
- the same quarters. We need not say what followed: how Properjohn couldn’t
- see what everybody else saw; and how at length poor Mrs. Pringle, having
- changed her mind about going to hear Mr. Spurgeon, caught the two sitting
- together, on her richly carved sofa of chaste design, in the then
- non-commissioned put-away drawing room. There was Butter Fingers in a
- flounced book-muslin gown with a broad French sash, and her hair clubbed
- at the back <i>à la</i> crow’s-nest. It was hard to say which of the three
- got the greatest start, though the blow was undoubtedly the severest on
- the poor mother, who had looked forward to seeing her son entering the
- rank of life legitimately in which she had occupied a too questionable
- position. The worst of it was, she did not know what to do—whether
- to turn her out of the house at the moment, and so infuriate the uncle and
- her son also, or give her a good scolding, and get rid of her on the first
- plausible opportunity. She had no one to consult. She knew what
- “Want-nothin’-but-what’s-right Jerry” would say, and that nothing would
- please Mrs. Half-a-yard-of-the-table Joe more than to read the marriage of
- Billy and Butter Fingers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Pringle was afraid too of offending Big Ben by the abrupt dismissal
- of his niece, and dreaded if Butter Fingers had gained any ascendancy over
- William, that he too might find a convenient marrying place as somebody
- else had done.
- </p>
- <p>
- Altogether our fair friend was terribly perplexed. Thrown on the natural
- resources of her own strong mind, she thought, perhaps, the usual way of
- getting young ladies off bad matches, by showing them something better,
- might be tried with her son. Billy’s <i>début</i> in the metropolis had
- not been so flattering as she could have wished, but then she could make
- allowances for town exclusiveness, and the pick and choice of dancing
- activity which old family connections and associations supplied. The
- country was very different; there, young men were always in request, and
- were taken with much lighter credentials.
- </p>
- <p>
- If, thought she, sweet William could but manage to establish a good
- country connection, there was no saying but he might retain it in town; at
- all events, the experiment would separate him from the artful Butter
- Fingers, and pave the way for her dismissal.
- </p>
- <p>
- To accomplish this desirable object, Mrs. Pringle therefore devoted her
- undivided attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII.<br/>THE EARL OF LADYTHORNE.—MISS DE GLANCEY.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>MONG Mrs.
- Pringle’s many visitors was that gallant old philanthropist, the
- well-known Earl of Ladythorne, of Tantivy Castle, Featherbedfordshire and
- Belvedere House, London.
- </p>
- <p>
- His lordship had known her at Lady Delacey’s, and Mrs. Pringle still wore
- and prized a ruby ring he slipped upon her finger as he met her
- (accidentally of course) in the passage early one morning as he was going
- to hunt. His saddle-horses might often be seen of a summer afternoon,
- tossing their heads up and down Curtain Crescent, to the amusement of the
- inhabitants of that locality. His lordship indeed was a well-known general
- patron of all that was fair and fine and handsome in creation, fine women,
- fine houses, fine horses, fine hounds, fine pictures, fine statues, fine
- every thing. No pretty woman either in town or country ever wanted a
- friend if he was aware of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had long hunted Featherbedfordshire in a style of great magnificence,
- and though latterly his energies had perhaps been as much devoted to the
- pursuit of the fair as the fox, yet, as he found the two worked well
- together, he kept up the hunting establishment with all the splendour of
- his youth. Not that he was old: as he would say, “<i>far from it!</i>”
- Indeed, to walk behind him down St. James’s Street (he does not go quite so
- well up), his easy jaunty air, tall graceful figure, and elasticity of
- step, might make him pass for a man in that most uncertain period of
- existence the “prime of life,” and if uncivil, unfriendly, inexorable time
- has whitened his pow, his lordship carries it off with the aid of gay
- costume and colour. He had a great reputation among the ladies, and though
- they all laughed and shook their heads when his name was mentioned, from
- the pretty simpering Mrs. Ringdove, of Lime-Tree Grove, who said he was a
- “naughty man,” down to the buxom chambermaid of the Rose and Crown, who
- giggled and called him a “gay old gentleman,” they all felt pleased and
- flattered by his attentions.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hunting a country undoubtedly gives gay old gentlemen great opportunities,
- for, under pretence of finding a fox, they may rummage any where from the
- garret<a href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" id="linknoteref-1">[1]</a> to the cellar.
- </p>
-
-<p>
-<a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1">
-<!-- Note --> </a>
-</p>
-<p class="footnote">
-<a href="#linknoteref-1"> [1]</a><br/> Ex. gra., As we say in the classics.
-“A Fox Run into a Lady’s Dressing-Room.—The Heythrop hounds met at
-Ranger’s Lodge, within about a mile of Charlbury, found in Hazell Wood,
-and went away through Great Cranwell, crossing the park of Cornbury, on by the
-old kennel to Live Oak, taking the side hill, leaving Leafield (so celebrated
-for clay-pipes) to his left, crossed the bottom by Five Ashes; then turned to
-the right, through King’s Wood. Smallstones, Knighton Copse, over the
-plain to Ranger’s Lodge, with the hounds close at his brush, where they
-left him in a mysterious manner. After the lapse of a little time he was
-discovered by a maid- servant in the ladies’ dressing-room, from which he
-immediately bolted on the appearance of the petticoats, without doing the
-slightest damage to person or property."—Bell’s Life. What a gentlemanly
-fox!
-</p>
-
- <p>
- In this interesting pursuit, his lordship was ably assisted by his
- huntsman, Dicky Boggledike. Better huntsman there might be than Dicky,
- but none so eminently qualified for the double pursuit of the fox and the
- fine. He had a great deal of tact and manner, and looked and was
- essentially a nobleman’s servant. He didn’t come blurting
- open-mouthed with “I’ve seen a davilish,” for such was
- his dialect, “I’ve seen a davilish fine oss, my lord,”
- or “They say Mrs. Candle’s cow has gained another
- prize,” but he would take an opportunity of introducing the subject
- neatly and delicately, through the medium of some allusion to the country
- in which they were to be found, some cover wanting cutting, some poacher
- wanting trouncing, or some puppy out at walk, so that if his lordship
- didn’t seem to come into the humour of the thing, Dicky could whip
- off to the other scent as if he had nothing else in his mind. It was
- seldom, however, that his lordship was not inclined to profit by
- Dicky’s experience, for he had great sources of information, and
- was very careful in his statements. His lordship and Dicky had now hunted
- Featherbedfordshire together for nearly forty years, and though they
- might not be so punctual in the mornings, or so late in leaving off in
- the evenings, as they were; and though his lordship might come to the
- meet in his carriage and four with the reigning favourite by his side,
- instead of on his neat cover hack, and though Dicky did dance longer at
- his fences than he used, still there was no diminution in the scale of
- the establishment, or in Dicky’s influence throughout the country.
- Indeed, it would rather seem as if the now well-matured hunt ran to show
- instead of sport, for each succeeding year brought out either another
- second horseman (though neither his lordship nor Dicky ever tired one),
- or another man in a scarlet and cap, or established another Rose and
- Crown, whereat his lordship kept dry things to change in case he got wet.
- He was uncommonly kind to himself, and hated his heir with an intensity
- of hatred which was at once the best chance for longevity and for
- sustaining the oft-disappointed ambitious hopes of the fair.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now Mrs. Pringle had always had a very laudable admiration of fox-hunters.
- She thought the best introduction for a young man of fortune was at the
- cover side, and though Jerry Pringle (who looked upon them as synonymous)
- had always denounced “gamblin’ and huntin’” as the two greatest vices of
- the day, she could never come in to that opinion, as far as hunting was
- concerned.
- </p>
- <p>
- She now thought if she could get Billy launched under the auspices of that
- distinguished sportsman, the Earl of Ladythorne, it might be the means of
- reclaiming him from Butter Fingers, and getting him on in society, for she
- well knew how being seen at one good place led to another, just as the
- umbrella-keepers at the Royal Academy try to lead people into giving them
- something in contravention of the rule above their heads, by jingling a
- few half-pence before their faces. Moreover, Billy had shown an
- inclination for equitation—by nearly galloping several of Mr.
- Spavin, the neighbouring livery-stable-keeper’s horses’ tails off; and
- Mrs. Pringle’s knowledge of hunting not being equal to her appreciation of
- the sport, she thought that a master of hounds found all the gentlemen who
- joined his hunt in horses, just as a shooter finds them in dogs or guns,
- so that the thing would be managed immediately.
- </p>
- <p>
- Indeed, like many ladies, she had rather a confused idea of the whole
- thing, not knowing but that one horse would hunt every day in the week; or
- that there was any distinction of horses, further than the purposes to
- which they were applied. Hunters and racehorses she had no doubt were the
- same animals, working their ways honestly from year’s end to year’s end,
- or at most with only the sort of difference between them that there is
- between a milliner and a dressmaker. Be that as it may, however, all
- things considered, Mrs. Pringle determined to test the sincerity of her
- friend the Earl of Ladythorne: and to that end wrote him a gossiping sort
- of letter, asking, in the postscript, when his dogs would be going out, as
- her son was at home and would “<i>so like</i>” to see them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although we introduced Lord Ladythorne as a philanthropist, his
- philanthropy, we should add, was rather lop-sided, being chiefly confined
- to the fair. Indeed, he could better stand a dozen women than one man. He
- had no taste or sympathy, for the hirsute tribe, hence his fields were
- very select, being chiefly composed of his dependents and people whom he
- could d—— and do what he liked with. Though the Crumpletin
- Railway cut right through his country, making it “varry contagious,” as
- Harry Swan, his first whip, said, for sundry large towns, the sporting
- inhabitants thereof preferred the money-griping propensities of a certain
- Baronet—Sir Moses Mainchance—whose acquaintance the reader
- will presently make, to the scot-free sport with the frigid civilities of
- the noble Earl. Under ordinary circumstances, therefore, Mrs. Pringle had
- made rather an unfortunate selection for her son’s <i>début</i>, but it so
- happened that her letter found the Earl in anything but his usual frame of
- mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was suffering most acutely for the hundred and twentieth time or so
- from one of Cupid’s shafts, and that too levelled by a hand against whose
- attacks he had always hitherto been thought impervious. This wound had
- been inflicted by the well-known—perhaps to some of our readers too
- well-known—equestrian coquette, Miss de Glancey of
- Half-the-watering-places-in-England-and-some-on-the-Continent, whose many
- conquests had caused her to be regarded as almost irresistible, and
- induced, it was said—with what degree of truth we know not—a
- party of England’s enterprising sons to fit her out for an expedition
- against the gallant Earl of Ladythorne under the Limited Liability Act.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, none but a most accomplished, self-sufficient coquette, such as Miss
- de Glancey undoubtedly was, would have undertaken such an enterprise, for
- it was in direct contravention of two of the noble Earl’s leading
- principles, namely, that of liking large ladies (fine, coarse women, as
- the slim ones call them,) and of disliking foxhunting ones, the sofa and
- not the saddle being, as he always said, the proper place for the ladies;
- but Miss de Glancey prided herself upon her power of subjugating the
- tyrant man, and gladly undertook to couch the lance of blandishment
- against the hitherto impracticable nobleman. In order, however, to
- understand the exact position of parties, perhaps the reader will allow us
- to show how his lordship came to be seized with his present attack, and
- also how he treated it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, the ash was yellow, the beech was brown, and the oak ginger
- coloured, and the indomitable youth was again in cub-hunting costume—a
- white beaver hat, a green cut-away, a buff vest, with white cords and
- caps, attended by Boggledike and his whips in hats, and their last
- season’s pinks or purples, disturbing the numerous litters of cubs with
- which the country abounded, when, after a musical twenty minutes with a
- kill in Allonby Wood, his lordship joined horses with Dicky, to discuss
- the merits of the performance, as they rode home together.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yas, my lord, yas,” replied Dicky, sawing away at his hat, in reply to
- his lordship’s observation that they ran uncommonly well; “yas, my lord,
- they did. I don’t know that I can ever remamber bein’ better pleased with
- an entry than I am with this year’s. I really think in a few more seasons
- we shall get ’em as near parfection as possible. Did your lordship notish
- that Barbara betch, how she took to runnin’ to-day? The first time she has
- left my oss’s eels. Her mother, old Blossom, was jest the same. Never left
- my oss’s eels the first season, and everybody said she was fit for nothin’
- but the halter; but my!” continued he, shaking his head, “what a rare
- betch she did become.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She did that,” replied his lordship, smiling at Dicky’s pronunciation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that reminds me,” continued Dicky, emboldened by what he thought the
- encouragement, “I was down at Freestone Banks yasterday, where Barbara was
- walked, a seein’ a pup I have there now, and I think I seed the very
- neatest lady’s pad I ever set eyes on!”—Dicky’s light-blue eyes
- settling on his lordship’s eagle ones as he spoke. “Aye! who’s was that?”
- asked the gay old gentleman, catching at the word “lady.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, they say she belongs to a young lady from the south—a Miss
- Dedancey, I think they call her,” with the aptitude people have for
- mistaking proper names.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dedancey,” repeated his lordship, “Dedancey; never heard of the name
- before—what’s set her here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She’s styin’ at Mrs. Roseworth’s, at Lanecroft House, but her osses stand
- at the Spread Heagle, at Bush Dill—Old Sam ‘Utchison’s, you know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Indomitable Youth</i>. Horses! what, has she more than one?
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Dicky</i>. Two, a bay and a gray,—it’s the bay that takes my
- fancy most:—the neatest stepper, with the lightest month, and
- fairest, freeest, truest action I ever seed.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Indomitable Youth</i>. What’s she going to do with them?
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Dicky.</i> Ride them, ride them! They say she’s the finest oss-woman
- that ever was seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In-deed,” mused his lordship, thinking over the <i>pros</i> and <i>cons</i>
- of female equestrianism,—the disagreeableness of being beat by them,—the
- disagreeableness of having to leave them in the lurch,—the
- disagreeableness of seeing them floored,—the disagreeableness of
- seeing them all running down with perspiration;—the result being
- that his lordship adhered to his established opinion that women have no
- business out hunting.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dicky knew his lordship’s sentiments, and did not press the matter, but
- drew his horse a little to the rear, thinking it fortunate that all men
- are not of the same way of thinking. Thus they rode on for some distance
- in silence, broken only by the occasional flopping and chiding of Harry
- Swan or his brother whip of some loitering or refractory hound. His
- lordship had a great opinion of Dicky’s judgment, and though they might
- not always agree in their views, he never damped Dicky’s ardour by openly
- differing with him. He thought by Dicky’s way of mentioning the lady that
- he had a good opinion of her, and, barring the riding, his lordship saw no
- reason why he should not have a good opinion of her too. Taking advantage
- of the Linton side-bar now bringing them upon the Somerton-Longville road,
- he reined in his horse a little so as to let Dicky come alongside of him
- again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is this young lady like?” asked the indomitable youth, as soon as
- they got their horses to step pleasantly together again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well now,” replied Dicky, screwing up his mouth, with an apologetic touch
- of his hat, knowing that that was his weak point, “well now, I don’t mean
- to say that she’s zactly—no, not zactly, your lordship’s model,—not
- a large full-bodied woman like Mrs. Blissland or Miss Poach, but an
- elegant, <i>very</i> elegant, well-set-up young lady, with a high-bred
- hair about her that one seldom sees in the country, for though we breeds
- our women very beautiful—uncommon ‘andsome, I may say—we don’t
- polish them hup to that fine degree of parfection that they do in the
- towns, and even if we did they would most likely spoil the ‘ole thing by
- some untoward unsightly dress, jest as a country servant spoils a London
- livery by a coloured tie, or goin’ about with a great shock head of ‘air,
- or some such disfigurement; but this young lady, to my mind, is a perfect
- pictor, self, oss, and seat,—all as neat and perfect as can be, and
- nothing that one could either halter or amend. She is what, savin’ your
- lordship’s presence, I might call the ‘pink of fashion and the mould of
- form!’—Dicky sawing away at his hat as he spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tall, slim, and genteel, I suppose,” observed his lordship drily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jest so,” assented Dicky, with a chuck of the chin, making a clean breast
- of it, “jest so,” adding, “at least as far as one can judge of her in her
- ‘abit, you know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thought so,” muttered his lordship.
- </p>
- <p>
- And having now gained one of the doors in the wall, they cut across the
- deer-studded park, and were presently back at the Castle. And his lordship
- ate his dinner, and quaffed his sweet and dry and twenty-five Lafitte
- without ever thinking about either the horse, or the lady, or the habit,
- or anything connected with the foregoing conversation, while the reigning
- favourite, Mrs. Moffatt, appeared just as handsome as could be in his
- eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII.<br/>CUB-HUNTING.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="figleft" style="width:35%;">
- <img src="images/069m.jpg" alt="069m " width="100%" /><br /> <a
- href="images/069.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </div>
- <p>
- THOUGH his lordship, as we said before, would stoutly deny being old, he
- had nevertheless got sufficiently through the morning of life not to let
- cub-hunting get him out of bed a moment sooner than usual, and it was
- twelve o’clock on the next day but one to that on which the foregoing
- conversation took place, that Mr. Boggledike was again to be seen standing
- erect in his stirrups, yoiking and coaxing his hounds into Crashington
- Gorse. There was Dicky, cap-in-hand, in the Micentre ride, exhorting the
- young hounds to dive into the strong sea of gorse. “<i>Y-o-o-icks! wind
- him! y-o-o-icks! pash him up!</i>” cheered the veteran, now turning his
- horse across to enforce the request. There was his lordship at the high
- corner as usual, ensconced among the clump of weather-beaten blackthorns—thorns
- that had neither advanced nor receded a single inch since he first knew
- them,—his eagle eye fixed on the narrow fern and coarse
- grass-covered dell down which Reynard generally stole. There was Harry
- Swan at one corner to head the fox back from the beans, and Tom Speed at
- the other to welcome him away over the corn-garnered open. And now the
- whimper of old sure-finding Harbinger, backed by the sharp “yap” of the
- terrier, proclaims that our friend is at home, and presently a perfect
- hurricane of melody bursts from the agitated gorse,—every hound is
- in the paroxysm of excitement, and there are five-and-twenty couple of
- them, fifty musicians in the whole!
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Tally-ho!</i> there he goes across the ride!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Cub!</i>” cries his lordship.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Cub!</i>” responded Dicky.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Crack!</i>” sounds the whip.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now the whole infuriated phalanx dashed across the ride and dived into the
- close prickly gorse on the other side as if it were the softest,
- pleasantest quarters in the world. There is no occasion to coax, and
- exhort, and ride cap-in-hand to them now. It’s all fury and commotion.
- Each hound seems to consider himself personally aggrieved,—though we
- will be bound to say the fox and he never met in their lives,—and to
- be bent upon having immediate satisfaction. And immediate, any tyro would
- think it must necessarily be, seeing such preponderating influence brought
- to bear upon so small an animal. Not so, however: pug holds his own; and,
- by dint of creeping, and crawling, and stopping, and listening, and lying
- down, and running his foil, he brings the lately rushing, clamorous pack
- to a more plodding, pains-taking, unravelling sort of performance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile three foxes in succession slip away, one at Speed’s corner, two
- at Swan’s; and though Speed screeched, and screamed, and yelled, as if he
- were getting killed, not a hound came to see what had happened. They all
- stuck to the original scent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here he comes again!” now cries his lordship from his thorn-formed bower,
- as the cool-mannered fox again steals across the ride, and Dicky again
- uncovers, and goes through the capping ceremony. Over come the pack,
- bristling and lashing for blood—each hound looking as if he would
- eat the fox single-handed. Now he’s up to the high corner as though he
- were going to charge his lordship himself, and passing over fresh ground
- the hounds get the benefit of a scent, and work with redoubled energy,
- making the opener gorse bushes crack and bend with their pressure. Pug has
- now gained the rabbit-burrowed bank of the north fence, and has about made
- up his mind to follow the example of his comrades, and try his luck in the
- open, when a cannonading crack of Swan’s whip strikes terror into his
- heart, and causes him to turn tail, and run the moss-grown mound of the
- hedge. Here he unexpectedly meets young Prodigal face to face, who,
- thinking that rabbit may be as good eating as fox, has got up a little
- hunt of his own, and who is considerably put out of countenance by the <i>rencontre</i>;
- but pug, not anticipating any such delicacy on the part of a pursuer,
- turns tail, and is very soon in the rear of the hounds, hunting them
- instead of their hunting him. The thing then becomes more difficult,
- businesslike, and sedate—the sages of the pack taking upon them to
- guide the energy of the young. So what with the slow music of the hounds,
- the yap, yap, yapping of the terriers, and the shaking of the gorse, an
- invisible underground sort of hunt is maintained—his lordship
- sitting among his blackthorn bushes like a gentleman in his opera-stall,
- thinking now of the hunt, now of his dinner, now of what a good thing it
- was to be a lord, with a good digestion and plenty of cash, and nobody to
- comb his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- At length pug finds it too hot to hold him. The rays of an autumnal sun
- have long been striking into the gorse, while a warm westerly wind does
- little to ventilate it from the steam of the rummaging inquisitive pack.
- Though but a cub, he is the son of an old stager, who took Dicky and his
- lordship a deal of killing, and with the talent of his sire, he thus
- ruminates on his uncomfortable condition.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If,” says he, “I stay here, I shall either be smothered or fall a prey to
- these noisy unrelenting monsters, who seem to have the knack of finding me
- wherever I go. I’d better cut my stick as I did the time before, and have
- fresh air and exercise at all events, in the open:” so saying he made a
- dash at the hedge near where Swan was stationed, and regardless of his
- screams and the cracks of his whip, cut through the beans and went away,
- with a sort of defiant whisk of his brush.
- </p>
- <p>
- What a commotion followed his departure! How the screeches of the men
- mingled with the screams of the hounds and the twangs of the horn! In an
- instant his lordship vacates his opera-stall and is flying over the ragged
- boundary fence that separates him from the beans; while Mr. Boggledike
- capers and prances at a much smaller place, looking as if he would fain
- turn away were it not for the observation of the men. Now Dicky is over!
- Swan and Speed take it in their stride, just as the last hound leaves the
- gorse and strains to regain his distant companions. A large grass field,
- followed by a rough bare fallow, takes the remaining strength out of poor
- pug; and, turning short to the left, he seeks the friendless shelter of a
- patch of wretched oats. The hounds overrun the scent, but, spreading like
- a rocket, they quickly recover it; and in an instant, fox, hounds, horses,
- men, are among the standing corn,—one ring in final destruction of
- the beggarly crop, and poor pug is in the hands of his pursuers. Then came
- the grand <i>finale</i>, the <i>who hoop!</i> the baying, the blowing, the
- beheading, &c. Now Harry Swan, whose province it is to magnify sport
- and make imaginary runs to ground, exercises his calling, by declaring it
- was five-and-thirty minutes (twenty perhaps), and the finest young fox he
- ever had hold of. Now his lordship and Dicky take out their <i>tootlers</i>
- and blow a shrill reverberating blast; while Swan stands straddling and
- yelling, with the mangled remains high above his head, ready to throw it
- into the sea of mouths that are baying around to receive it. After a
- sufficiency of noise, up goes the carcase; the wave of hounds breaks
- against it as it falls, while a half-ravenous, half-indignant, growling
- worry succeeds the late clamourous outcry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tear ‘im and eat ‘im!” cries Dicky.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tear ‘im and eat ‘im!” shouts his lordship.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tear ‘im and eat ‘im!” shrieks Speed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Hie worry! worry! worry!</i>” shouts Swan, trying to tantalize the
- young hounds with a haunch, which, however, they do not seem much to care
- about.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/073m.jpg" alt="073m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/073.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- The old hounds, too, seem as if they had lost their hunger with their
- anger; and Marmion lets Warrior run off with his leg with only a snap and
- an indignant rise of his bristles.
- </p>
- <p>
- Altogether the froth and effervescence of the thing has evaporated; so his
- lordship and Dicky turning their horses’ heads, the watchful hounds give a
- bay of obedient delight as they frolic under their noses; and Swan having
- reclaimed his horse from Speed, the onward procession is formed to give
- Brambleton Wood a rattle by way of closing the performance of the day.
- </p>
- <p>
- His lordship and Dicky ride side by side, extolling the merits of the pack
- and the excellence of Crashington Gorse. Never was so good a cover. Never
- was a better pack. Mainchance’s! <i>pooh!</i> Not to be mentioned in the
- same century. So they proceed, magnifying and complimenting themselves in
- the handsomest terms possible, down Daisyfield lane, across Hill House
- pastures, and on by Duston Mills to Broomley, which is close to Brambleton
- Wood.
- </p>
- <p>
- Most of our Featherbedfordshire friends will remember that after leaving
- Duston Mills the roads wind along the impetuous Lime, whose thorn and
- broom-grown banks offer dry, if not very secure, accommodation for master
- Reynard; and the draw being pretty, and the echo fine, his lordship
- thought they might as well run the hounds along the banks, not being aware
- that Peter Hitter, Squire Porker’s keeper, had just emerged at the east
- end as they came up at the west. However, that was neither here nor there,
- Dicky got his <i>Y-o-o-icks</i>, his lordship got his view, Swan and Speed
- their cracks and canters, and it was all in the day’s work. No fox, of
- course, was the result. “<i>Tweet, tweet, tweet</i>,” went the horns, his
- lordship taking a blow as well as Dicky, which sounded up the valley and
- lost itself among the distant hills. The hounds came straggling leisurely
- out of cover, as much as to say, “You know there never <i>is</i> a fox
- there, so why bother us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- All hands being again united, the cavalcade rose the hill, and were
- presently on the Longford and Aldenbury turnpike. Here the
- Featherbedfordshire reader’s local knowledge will again remind him that
- the Chaddleworth lane crosses the turnpike at right angles, and just as
- old Ringwood, who, as usual, was trotting consequentially in advance of
- the pack, with the fox’s head in his mouth, got to the finger-post, a fair
- equestrian on a tall blood bay rode leisurely past with downcast eyes in
- full view of the advancing party. Though her horse whinnied and shied, and
- seemed inclined to be sociable, she took no more notice of the cause than
- if it had been a cart, merely coaxing and patting him with her delicate
- primrose-coloured kid gloves. So she got him past without even a sidelong
- look from herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- But though she did not look my lord did, and was much struck with the air
- and elegance of everything—her mild classic features—her
- black-felt, Queen’s-patterned, wide-awake, trimmed with lightish-green
- velvet, and green cock-feathered plume, tipped with straw-colour to match
- the ribbon that now gently fluttered at her fair neck,—her hair, her
- whip, her gloves, her <i>tout ensemble</i>. Her lightish-green habit was
- the quintessence of a fit, and altogether there was a high-bred finish
- about her that looked more like Hyde Park than what one usually sees in
- the country.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who the deuce is that, Dicky?” asked his lordship, as she now got out of
- hearing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That be <i>her</i>, my lord,” whispered Dicky, sawing away at his hat.
- “That be <i>her</i>,” repeated he with a knowing leer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Her!</i> who d’ye mean?” asked his lordship, who had forgotten all
- Dicky’s preamble.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,—Miss—Miss—What’s her name—Dedancev,
- Dedancey,—the lady I told you about.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the Earl’s heart smote him, for he felt that he had done injustice to
- Dicky, and moreover, had persevered too long in his admiration of large
- ladies, and in his repudiation of horsemanship. He thought he had never
- seen such a graceful seat, or such a piece of symmetrical elegance before,
- and inwardly resolved to make Dicky a most surprising present at
- Christmas, for he went on the principle of giving low wages, and of
- rewarding zeal and discretion, such as Dicky’s, profusely. And though he
- went and drew Brambleton Wood, he was thinking far more of the fair maid,
- her pensive, downcast look, her long eyelashes, her light silken hair, her
- graceful figure, and exquisite seat, than of finding a fox; and he was not
- at all sorry when he heard Dicky’s horn at the bridle-gate at the Ashburne
- end blowing the hounds out of cover. They then went home, and his lordship
- was very grumpy all that evening with his fat fair-and-forty friend, Mrs.
- Moffatt, who could not get his tea to his liking at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- We dare say most of our readers will agree with us, that when a couple
- want to be acquainted there is seldom much difficulty about the matter,
- even though there be no friendly go-between to mutter the cabalistic words
- that constitute an introduction; and though Miss de Glancey did ride so
- unconcernedly past, it was a sheer piece of acting, as she had long been
- waiting at Carlton Clumps, which commands a view over the surrounding
- country, timing herself for the exact spot where she met the too
- susceptible Earl and his hounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- No one knew better how to angle for admiration than this renowned young
- lady,—when to do the bold—when the bashful—when the
- timid—when the scornful and retiring, and she rightly calculated
- that the way to attract and win the young old Earl was to look as if she
- didn’t want to have anything to say to him. Her downcast look, and
- utter indifference to that fertile source of introduction, a pack of
- hounds, had sunk deeper into his tender heart than if she had pulled up
- to admire them collectively, and to kiss them individually. We all know
- how useful a dog can be made in matters of this sort—how the fair
- creatures can express their feelings by their fondness. And if one dog
- can be so convenient, by how much more so can a whole pack of hounds be
- made!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX.<br/>A PUP AT WALK.—IMPERIAL JOHN.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span> ext day his
- lordship, who was of the nice old Andlesey school of dressers, was to be
- seen in regular St. James’s Street attire, viz. a bright blue coat with
- gilt buttons, a light blue scarf, a buff vest with fawn-coloured leathers,
- and brass heel spurs, capering on a long-tailed silver dun, attended by a
- diminutive rosy-cheeked boy—known in the stables as
- Cupid-without-Wings—on a bay.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was going to see a pup he had at walk at Freestone Banks, of which the
- reader will remember Dicky had spoken approvingly on a previous day; and
- the morning being fine and sunny, his lordship took the bridle-road over
- Ashley Downs, and along the range of undulating Heathmoor Hills, as well
- for the purpose of enjoying the breeze as of seeing what was passing in
- the vale below. So he tit-up’d and tit-up’d away, over the sound green
- sward, on his flowing-tailed steed, his keen far-seeing eye raking all the
- roads as he went. There seemed to be nothing stirring but heavy crushing
- waggons, with doctor’s gigs and country carts, and here and there a
- slow-moving steed of the grand order of agriculture.
- </p>
- <p>
- When, however, he got to the broken stony ground where all the independent
- hill tracks join in common union to effect the descent into the vale, his
- hack pricked his ears, and looking a-head to the turn of the lane into
- which the tracks ultimately resolved themselves, his lordship first saw a
- fluttering, light-tipped feather, and then the whole figure of a
- horsewoman, emerge from the concealing hedge as it were on to the open
- space beyond. Miss, too, had been on the hills, as the Earl might have
- seen by her horse’s imprints, if he had not been too busy looking abroad;
- and she had just had time to effect the descent as he approached. She was
- now sauntering along as unconcernedly as if there was nought but herself
- and her horse in the world. His lordship started when he saw her, and a
- crimson flush suffused his healthy cheeks as he drew his reins, and felt
- his hack gently with his spur to induce him to use a little more
- expedition down the hill. Cupid-without-Wings put on also, to open the
- rickety gate at the bottom, and his lordship telling him, as he passed
- through, to “shut it gently,” pressed on at a well-in-hand trot, which he
- could ease down to a walk as he came near the object of his pursuit.
- Miss’s horse heard footsteps coming and looked round, but she pursued the
- even tenour of her way apparently indifferent to everything—even to
- a garotting. His lordship, however, was not to be daunted by any such
- coolness; so stealing quietly alongside of her, he raised his hat
- respectfully, and asked, in his mildest, blandest tone, if she had “seen a
- man with a hound in a string?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Hound! me! see!</i>” exclaimed Miss de Glancey, with a well feigned
- start of astonishment. “<i>No, sir, I have not,</i>” continued she
- haughtily, as if recovering herself, and offended by the inquiry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m afraid my hounds startled your horse the other day,” observed his
- lordship, half inclined to think she didn’t know him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no, they didn’t,” replied she with an upward curl of her pretty lip;
- “my horse is not so easily startled as that; are you, Cock Robin?” asked
- she, leaning forward to pat him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Cock Robin replied by laying back his ears, and taking a snatch at his
- lordship’s hack’s silver mane, which afforded him an opportunity of
- observing that Cock Robin was not very sociable.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Not with strangers</i>,” pouted Miss de Glancey, with a flash of her
- bright hazel eyes. So saying, she touched her horse lightly with her
- gold-mounted whip, and in an instant she was careering away, leaving his
- lordship to the care of the now grinning Cupid-without-Wings.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/079m.jpg" alt="079m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/079.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- And thus the mynx held the sprightly youth in tow, till she nearly drove
- him mad, not missing any opportunity of meeting him, but never giving him
- too much of her company, and always pouting at the suggestion of <i>her</i>
- marrying a “<i>mere fox-hunter.</i>” The whole thing, of course, furnished
- conversation for the gossips, and Mr. Boggledike, as in duty bound,
- reported what he heard. She puzzled his lordship more than any lady he had
- ever had to do with, and though he often resolved to strike and be free,
- he had only to meet her again to go home more subjugated than ever. And so
- what between Miss de Glancey out of doors and Mrs. Moffatt in, he began to
- have a very unpleasant time of it. His hat had so long covered his family,
- that he hardly knew how to set about obtaining his own consent to marry;
- and yet he felt that he ought to marry if it was only to spite his odious
- heir—<i>old</i> General Binks; for his lordship called him old
- though the General was ten years younger than himself; but still he would
- like to look about him a little longer. What he would now wish to do would
- be to keep Miss de Glancey in the country, for he felt interested in her,
- and thought she would be ornamental to the pack. Moreover, he liked all
- that was handsome, <i>piquant</i>, and gay, and to be joked about the
- Featherbedfordshire witches when he went to town. So he resolved himself
- into a committee of ways and means, to consider how the object was to be
- effected, without surrendering himself. That must be the last resource at
- all events, thought he.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now upon his lordship’s vast estates was a most unmitigated block-head
- called Imperial John, from his growing one of those chin appendages. His
- real name was Hybrid—John Hybrid, of Barley Hill Farm; but his
- handsome sister, “Imperial Jane,” as the wags called her, having attracted
- his lordship’s attention, to the danger as it was thought of old Binks, on
- leaving her furnishing seminary at Turnham Green, John had been taken by
- the hand, which caused him to lose his head, and make him set up for what
- he called “a gent.” He built a lodge and a portico to Barley Hill Farm,
- rough cast, and put a pine roof on to the house, and then advertised in
- the “Featherbedfordshire Gazette,” that letters and papers were for the
- future to be addressed to John Hybrid, Esquire, Barley Hill Hall, and not
- Farm as they had hitherto been. And having done so much for the place,
- John next revised his own person, which, though not unsightly, was coarse,
- and a long way off looking anything like that of a gentleman. He first
- started the imperial aforesaid, and not being laughed at as much as he
- expected for that, he was emboldened to order a red coat for the then
- approaching season. Mounting the pink is a critical thing, for if a man
- does not land in the front rank they will not admit him again into the
- rear, and he remains a sort of red bat for the rest of his life,—neither
- a gentleman nor a farmer.
- </p>
- <p>
- John, however, feeling that he had his lordship’s countenance, went boldly
- at it, and the first day of the season before that with which we are
- dealing, found him with his stomach buttoned consequentially up in a spic
- and span scarlet with fancy buttons, looking as bumptious as a man with a
- large balance at his banker’s. He sat bolt upright, holding his whip like
- a field-marshal’s bâton, on his ill-groomed horse, with a tight-bearing
- rein chucking the Imperial chin well in the air, and a sort of
- half-defiant “you’d better not laugh at me” look. And John was always
- proud to break a fence, or turn a hound, or hold a horse, or do anything
- his lordship bid him, and became a sort of hunting aide-de-camp to the
- great man. He was a boasting, bragging fool, always talking about m-o-y
- hall, and m-o-y lodge, and m-o-y plate in m-o-y drawing-room, for he had
- not discovered that plate was the appendage of a dining-room, and
- altogether he was very magnificent.
- </p>
- <p>
- Imperial Jane kept old Binks on the fret for some time, until another of
- his lordship’s tenants, young Fred Poppyfield, becoming enamoured of her
- charms, and perhaps wishing to ride in scarlet too, sought her fair hand,
- whereupon his lordship, acting with his usual munificence, set them up on
- a farm at so low a rent that it acquired the name of Gift Hall Farm. This
- arrangement set Barley Hall free so far as the petticoats were concerned,
- and his lordship little knowing how well she was “up” in the country,
- thought this great gouk of a farmer, with his plate in his drawing-room,
- might come over the accomplished Miss de Glancey,—the lady who
- sneered at himself as “a mere fox-hunter.” And the wicked monkey favoured
- the delusion, which she saw through the moment his lordship brought the
- pompous egotist up at Newington Gorse, and begged to be allowed to
- introduce his friend, Mr Hybrid, and she inwardly resolved to give Mr.
- Hybrid a benefit. Forsaking his lordship therefore entirely, she put forth
- her most seductive allurements at Imperial John, talked most amazingly to
- him, rode over whatever he recommended, and seemed quite smitten with him.
- </p>
- <p>
- And John, who used to boast that somehow the “gals couldn’t withstand
- him,” was so satisfied with his success, that he presently blundered out
- an offer, when Miss de Glancey, having led him out to the extreme length
- of his tether, gave such a start and shudder of astonishment as Fanny
- Kemble, or Mrs. Siddons herself, might have envied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Mr. Hybrid! O, Mr. Hybrid!” gasped she, opening wide her intelligent
- eyes, as if she had but just discovered his meaning. “O, Mr. Hybrid!”
- exclaimed she for the third time, “<i>you—you—you</i>,” and
- turning aside as if to conceal her emotion, she buried her face in her
- laced-fringed, richly-cyphered kerchief.
- </p>
- <p>
- John, who was rather put out by some women who were watching him from the
- adjoining turnip-field, construing all this into the usual misfortune of
- the ladies not being able to withstand him, returned to the charge as soon
- as he got out of their hearing, when he was suddenly brought up by such a
- withering “<i>Si-r-r-r! do you mean to insult me?</i>” coupled with a look
- that nearly started the basket-buttons of his green cut-away, and
- convinced him that Miss de Glancey, at all events, could withstand him. So
- his Majesty slunk off, consoling himself with the reflection, that
- riding-habits covered a multitude of sins, and that if he was not much
- mistaken, she would want a deal of oil-cake, or cod liver oil, or summut
- o’ that sort, afore she was fit to show.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the next time Miss met my lord (which, of course, she did by
- accident), she pouted and frowned at the “mere fox-hunter,” and intimated
- her intention of leaving the country—going home to her mamma, in
- fact.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was just at this juncture that Mrs. Pringle’s letter arrived, and his
- lordship’s mind being distracted between love on his own account, dread of
- matrimony, and dislike of old Binks, he caught at what he would in general
- have stormed at, and wrote to say that he should begin hunting the first
- Monday in November, and if Mrs. Pringle’s son would come down a day or two
- before, he would “put him up” (which meant mount him), and “do for him”
- (which meant board and lodge him), all, in fact, that Mrs. Pringle could
- desire. And his lordship inwardly hoped that Mr. Pringle might be more to
- Miss de Glancey’s liking than his Imperial Highness had proved. At all
- events, he felt it was but a simple act of justice to himself to try. Let
- us now return to Curtain Crescent.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X.<br/>JEAN ROUGIER, OR JACK ROGERS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/083m.jpg" alt="083m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/083.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>E need not say
- that Mrs. Pringle was overjoyed at the receipt of the Earl’s letter. It
- was so kind and good, and so like him. He always said he would do her a
- good turn if he could: but there are so many fine-weather friends in this
- world that there is no being certain of any one. Happy are they who never
- have occasion to test the sincerity of their friends, say we.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Pringle was now all bustle and excitement, preparing Billy for the
- great event.
- </p>
- <p>
- His wardrobe, always grand, underwent revision in the undergarment line.
- She got him some magnificently embroidered dress shirts, so fine that the
- fronts almost looked as if you might blow them out, and regardful of the
- <i>rôle</i> he was now about to play, she added several dozen with horses,
- dogs, birds, and foxes upon them, “suitable for fishing, shooting,
- boating, &c.,” as the advertisements said. His cambric kerchiefs were
- of the finest quality, while his stockings and other things were in great
- abundance, the whole surmounted by a splendid dressing-case, the like of
- which had ne’er been seen since the days of Pea-Green Haine. Altogether he
- was capitally provided, and quite in accordance with a lady’s-maid’s ideas
- of gentility.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy, on his part, was active and energetic too, for though he had his
- doubts about being able to sit at the jumps, he had no objection to wear a
- red coat; and mysterious-looking boys, with blue bags, were constantly to
- be found seated on the mahogany bench, in the Curtain Crescent passage,
- waiting to try on his top boots; while the cheval glass up-stairs was
- constantly reflecting his figure in scarlet, <i>à la</i> Old Briggs. The
- concomitants of the chase, leathers, cords, whips, spurs, came pouring in
- apace. The next thing was to get somebody to take care of them.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is observable that the heads of the various branches of an
- establishment are all in favour of “master” spending all his money on
- their particular department. Thus, the coachman would have him run
- entirely to carriages, the groom to horses, the cook to the <i>cuisine</i>,
- the butler to wines, the gardener to grapes, &c., and so on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Pringle, we need hardly say, favoured lady’s-maids and valets. It has
- been well said, that if a man wants to get acquainted with a gentleman’s
- private affairs, he should either go to the lawyer or else to the valet
- that’s courting the lady’s-maid; and Mrs. Pringle was quite of that
- opinion. Moreover, she held that no man with an efficient, properly
- trained valet, need ever be catspawed or jilted, because the lady’s-maid
- would feel it a point of honour to let the valet know how the land lay, a
- compliment he would return under similar circumstances. To provide Billy
- with this, as she considered, most essential appendage to a gentleman, was
- her next consideration—a valet that should know enough and not too
- much—enough to enable him to blow his master’s trumpet properly, and
- not too much, lest he should turn restive and play the wrong tune.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length she fixed upon the Anglo-Frenchman, whose name stands at the
- head of this chapter—Jean Rougier, or Jack Rogers. Jack was the son
- of old Jack Rogers, so well known as the enactor of the Drunken Huzzar,
- and similar characters of Nutkins’s Circus; and Jack was entered to his
- father’s profession, but disagreeing with the clown, Tom Oliver, who used
- to give him sundry most unqualified cuts and cuffs in the Circus, Jack,
- who was a tremendously strong fellow, gave Oliver such a desperate beating
- one night as caused his life to be despaired off. This took place at
- Nottingham, from whence Jack fled for fear of the consequences; and after
- sundry vicissitudes he was next discovered as a post-boy, at
- Sittingbourne, an office that he was well adapted for, being short and
- stout and extremely powerful. No brute was ever too bad for Jack’s riding:
- he would tame them before the day was over. Somehow he got bumped down to
- Dover, when taking a fancy to go “foreign,” he sold his master’s horses
- for what they would fetch; and this being just about the time that the
- late Mr. Probert expiated a similar mistake at the Old Bailey, Jack
- hearing of it, thought it was better to stay where he was than give Mr.
- Calcraft any trouble. He therefore accepted the situation of boots to the
- Albion Hotel, Boulogne-sur-mer; but finding that he did not get on half so
- well as he would if he were a Frenchman, he took to acquiring the
- language, which, with getting his ears bored, letting his hair and
- whiskers grow, and adopting the French costume in all its integrity,
- coupled with a liberal attack of the small-pox, soon told a tale in favour
- of his fees. After a long absence, he at length returned at the Bill Smith
- Revolution; and vacillating for some time between a courier and a valet,
- finally settled down to what we now find him.
- </p>
- <p>
- We know not how it is, if valets are so essentially necessary, that there
- should always be so many out of place, but certain it is that an
- advertisment in a morning paper will always bring a full crop to a door.
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps, being the laziest of all lazy lives, any one can turn his hand to
- valeting, who to dig is unable, and yet to want is unwilling.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Pringle knew better than hold a levee in Curtain Crescent, letting
- all the applicants pump Properjohn or such of the maids as they could get
- hold of; and having advertised for written applications, stating full
- particulars of previous service, and credentials, to be addressed to F. P.
- at Chisel the baker’s, in Yeast Street, she selected some half-dozen of
- the most promising ones, and appointed the parties to meet her, at
- different hours of course, at the first-class waiting-room of the great
- Western Station, intimating that they would know her by a bunch of red
- geraniums she would hold in her hand. And the second applicant, Jean
- Rougier, looked so like her money, having a sufficient knowledge of the
- English language to be able to understand all that was said, and yet at
- the same time sufficiently ignorant of it to invite confidential
- communications to be made before him; that after glancing over the
- testimonials bound up in his little parchment-backed passport book, she
- got the name and address of his then master, and sought an interview to
- obtain Monsieur’s character. This gentleman, Sir Harry Bolter, happening
- to owe Jack three-quarters of a year’s wages, which he was not likely to
- pay, spoke of him in the highest possible terms, glossing over his little
- partiality for drink by saying that, like all Frenchmen, he was of a
- convivial turn; and in consequence of Sir Harry’s and Jack’s own
- recommendations, Mrs. Pringle took him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reader will therefore now have the kindness to consider our hero and
- his valet under way, with a perfect pyramid of luggage, and Monsieur
- arrayed in the foraging cap, the little coatee, the petticoat trowsers,
- and odds and ends money-bag of his long adopted country, slung across his
- ample chest.
- </p>
- <p>
- Their arrival and reception at Tantivy Castle will perhaps be best
- described in the following letter from Billy to his mother:—
- </p>
- <p>
- Tantivy Castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- My dearest Mamma,
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>I write a line to say that I arrived here quite safe by the 5-30 train,
- and found the Earl as polite as possible. I should tell you that I made a
- mistake at starting, for it being dark when I arrived, and getting
- confused with a whole regiment of footmen, I mistook a fine gentleman who
- came forward to meet me for the Earl, and made him a most respectful bow,
- which the ass returned, and began to talk about the weather; and when the
- real Earl came in I took him for a guest, and was going to weather him.
- However he soon put all matters right, and introduced me to Mrs. Moffatt,
- a very fine lady, who seems to rule the roast here in grand style. They
- say she never wears the same dress twice.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>There are always at least half-a-dozen powdered footmen, in cerulean
- blue lined with rose-coloured silk, and pink silk stockings, the whole
- profusely illustrated with gold lace, gold aigulets, and I don’t know
- what, lounging about in the halls and passages, wailing for company which
- Rougier says never comes. This worthy seems to have mastered the ins and
- outs of the place already, and says, “my lor has an Englishman to cook his
- beef-steak for breakfast, a Frenchman to cook his dinner, and an Italian
- confectioner; every thing that a ‘my lord’ ought to have” It is a splendid
- place,—as you will see by the above picture, * more like Windsor
- than anything I ever saw, and there seems to be no expense spared that
- could by any possibility be incurred. I’ve got a beautiful bedroom with
- warm and cold baths and a conservatory attached.</i>
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-* Our friend was writing on Castle-paper, of course.
-</pre>
- <p>
- <i>To-morrow is the first day of the season, and all the world and his
- wife will be there to a grand déjeuner à la Fourchette. The hounds meet
- before the Castle. His lordship says he will put me on a safe, steady
- hunter, and I hope he will, for I am not quite sure that I can sit at the
- jumps. However I’ll let you know how I come on. Meanwhile as the gong is
- sounding for dressing, believe me, my dearest mamma,</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Ever your truly affectionate son,</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- Wm. PRINGLE.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Pringle,
- </p>
- <p>
- Curtain Crescent, Belgrade Square, London.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI.<br/>THE OPENING DAY.—THE HUNT BREAKFAST.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/087m.jpg" alt="087m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/087.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>EVERSING the usual
- order of things, each first Monday in November saw the sporting inmates of
- Tantivy Castle emerge from the chrysalis into the butterfly state of
- existence. His lordship’s green-duck hunter and drab caps disappeared, and
- were succeeded by a spic-and-span span new scarlet and white top; Mr.
- Roggledike’s last year’s pink was replaced by a new one, his hat was
- succeeded by a cap; and the same luck attended the garments of both Swan
- and Speed. The stud-groom, the pad-groom, the sending-on groom, all the
- grooms down to our little friend, Cupid-without-Wings, underwent
- renovation in their outward men. The whole place smelt of leather and new
- cloth. The Castle itself on this occasion seemed to participate in the
- general festivity, for a bright sun emblazoned the quarterings of the
- gaily flaunting flag, lit up the glittering vanes of the lower towers, and
- burnished the modest ivy of the basements. Every thing was bright and
- sunny, and though Dicky Boggledike did not “zactly like” the red sunrise,
- he “oped the rine might keep off until they were done, ‘specially as it
- was a show day.” Very showy indeed it was, for all the gentlemen out of
- livery,—those strange puzzlers—were in full ball costume;
- while the standard footmen strutted like peacocks in their rich blue
- liveries with rose-coloured linings, and enormous bouquets under their
- noses, feeling that for once they were going to have something to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- The noble Earl, having got himself up most elaborately in his new hunting
- garments, and effected a satisfactory tie of a heart’s-ease embroidered
- blue satin cravat, took his usual stand before the now blazing wood and
- coal fire in the enormous grate in the centre of his magnificent baronial
- hall, ready to receive his visitors and pass them on to Mrs. Moffat in the
- banqueting room. This fair lady was just as fine as hands could make her,
- and the fit of her rich pale satin dress, trimmed with swan’s-down,
- reflected equal credit on her milliner and her maid. Looking at her as she
- now sat at the head of the sumptuously-furnished breakfast table, her
- plainly dressed hair surmounted by a diminutive point-lace cap, and her
- gazelle-like eye lighting up an intelligent countenance, it were hardly
- possible to imagine that she had ever been handsomer, or that beneath that
- quiet aspect there lurked what is politely called a “high spirit,” that is
- to say, a little bit of temper.
- </p>
- <p>
- That however is more the Earl’s look-out than ours, so we will return to
- his lordship at the entrance hall fire.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course this sort of gathering was of rather an anomalous character,—some
- coming because they wanted something, some because they “dirsn’t” stay
- away, some because they did not know Mrs. Moffat would be there, some
- because they did not care whether she was or not. It was a show day, and
- they came to see the beautiful Castle, not Mrs. Anybody.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first to arrive were the gentlemen of the second class, the agents and
- dependents of the estate,—Mr. Cypher, the auditor, he who never
- audited; Mr. Easylease, the land agent; his son, Mr. John Easylease, the
- sucking land agent; Mr. Staple, the mining agent; Mr. James Staple, the
- sucking mining agent; Mr. Section, the architect; Mr. Pillerton, the
- doctor; Mr. Brick, the builder; &c., who were all very polite ard
- obsequious, “your lordship” and my “my lording” the Earl at every
- opportunity. These, ranging themselves on either side of the fire, now
- formed the nucleus of the court, with the Earl in the centre.
- </p>
- <p>
- Presently the rumbling of wheels and the grinding of gravel was succeeded
- by the muffled-drum sort of sound of the wood pavement of the grand
- covered portico, and the powdered footmen threw back the folding-doors as
- if they expected Daniel Lambert or the Durham Ox to enter. It was our old
- friend Imperial John, who having handed his pipeclayed reins to his
- ploughman-groom, descended from his buggy with a clumsy half buck, half
- hawbuck sort of air, and entered the spacious portals of the Castle hall.
- Having divested himself of his paletot in which he had been doing “the
- pride that apes humility,” he shook out his red feathers, pulled up his
- sea-green-silk-tied gills, finger-combed his stiff black hair, and stood
- forth a sort of rough impersonation of the last year’s Earl. His coat was
- the same cut, his hat was the same shape, his boots and breeches were the
- same colour, and altogether there was the same sort of resemblance between
- John and the Earl that there is between a cart-horse and a race-horse.
- </p>
- <p>
- Having deposited his whip and paletot on the table on the door-side of a
- tall, wide-spreading carved oak screen, which at once concealed the
- enterers from the court, and kept the wind from that august assembly, John
- was now ready for the very obsequious gentleman who had been standing
- watching his performances without considering it necessary to give him any
- assistance. This bland gentleman, in his own blue coat with a white vest,
- having made a retrograde movement which cleared himself of the screen,
- John was presently crossing the hall, bowing and stepping and bowing and
- stepping as if he was measuring off a drain.
- </p>
- <p>
- His lordship, who felt grateful for John’s recent services, and perhaps
- thought he might require them again, advanced to meet him and gave him a
- very cordial shake of the hand, as much as to say, “Never mind Miss de
- Glancey, old fellow, we’ll make it right another time.” They then fell to
- conversing about turnips, John’s Green Globes having turned out a splendid
- crop, while his Swedes were not so good as usual, though they still might
- improve.
- </p>
- <p>
- A more potent wheel-roll than John’s now attracted his lordship’s
- attention, and through the far windows he saw a large canary-coloured ark
- of a coach, driven by a cockaded coachman, which he at once recognised as
- belonging to his natural enemy Major Yammerton, “five-and-thirty years
- master of haryers,” as the Major would say, “without a subscription.” Mr.
- Boggledike had lately been regaling his lordship with some of the Major’s
- boastings about his “haryars” and the wonderful sport they showed, which
- he had had the impudence to compare with his lordship’s fox hounds.
- Besides which, he was always disturbing his lordship’s covers on the
- Roughborough side of the country, causing his lordship to snub him at all
- opportunities. The Major, however, who was a keen, hard-bitten, little
- man, not easily choked off when he wanted anything, and his present want
- being to be made a magistrate, he had attired himself in an antediluvian
- swallow-tailed scarlet, with a gothic-arched collar, and brought his wife
- and two pretty daughters to aid in the design. Of course the ladies were
- only coming to see the Castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- The cockaded coachman having tied his reins to the rail of the
- driving-box, descended from his eminence to release his passengers, while
- a couple of cerulean-blue gentlemen looked complacently on, each with half
- a door in his hand ready to throw open as they approached, the party were
- presently at the hall table, where one of those indispensable articles, a
- looking-glass, enabled the ladies to rectify any little derangement
- incidental to the joltings of the journey, while the little Major run a
- pocket-comb through a fringe of carroty curls that encircled his bald
- head, and disposed of a cream-coloured scarf cravat to what he considered
- the best advantage. Having drawn a doeskin glove on to the left hand, he
- offered his arm to his wife, and advanced from behind the screen with his
- hat in his ungloved right hand ready to transfer it to the left should
- occasion require.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah Major Yammerton!” exclaimed the Earl, breaking off in the middle of
- the turnip dialogue with Imperial John. “Ah, Major Yammerton, I’m
- delighted to see you” (getting a glimpse of the girls). “Mrs. Yammerton,
- this is indeed extremely kind,” continued he, taking both her hands in
- his; “and bringing your lovely daughters,” continued he, advancing to
- greet them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Yammerton here gave the Major a nudge to remind him of his propriety
- speech. “The gi—gi—girls and Mrs. Ya—Ya—Yammerton,”
- for he always stuttered when he told lies, which was pretty often; “the gi—gi—girls
- and Mrs. Ya—Ya—Yammerton have done me the honour—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Another nudge from Mrs. Yammerton.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I mean to say the gi—gi—girls and Mrs. Ya—Ya—Yammerton,”
- observed he, with a stamp of the foot and a shake of the head, for he saw
- that his dread enemy, Imperial John, was laughing at him, “have done
- themselves the honour of co—co—coming, in hopes to be allowed
- the p—p—p—pleasure of seeing your mama—magnificent
- collection of pi—pi—pictors.” the Major at length getting out
- what he had been charged to say.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/091m.jpg" alt="091m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/091.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- “By all means!” exclaimed the delighted Earl, “by all means; but first let
- me have the pleasure of conducting you to the refreshment-room;” saying
- which his lordship offered Mrs. Yammerton his arm. So passing up the long
- gallery, and entering by the private door, he popped her down beside Mrs.
- Moffatt before Mrs. Yammerton knew where she was.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just then our friend Billy Pringle, who, with the aid of Rougier, had
- effected a most successful <i>logement</i> in his hunting things, made his
- appearance, to whom the Earl having assigned the care of the young ladies,
- now beat a retreat to the hall, leaving Mrs. Yammerton lost in
- astonishment as to what her Mrs. Grundy would say, and speculations as to
- which of her daughters would do for Mr. Pringle.
- </p>
- <p>
- Imperial John, who had usurped the Earl’s place before the fire, now shied
- off to one side as his lordship approached, and made his most flexible
- obeisance to the two Mr. Fothergills and Mr. Stot, who had arrived during
- his absence. These, then, gladly passed on to the banqueting-room just as
- the Condor-like wings of the entrance hall door flew open and admitted
- Imperial Jane, now the buxom Mrs. Poppyfield. She came smiling past the
- screen, magnificently attired in purple velvet and ermine, pretending she
- had only come to warm herself at the “‘All fire while Pop looked for the
- groom, who had brought his ‘orse, and who was to drive her ‘ome;” but
- hearing from the Earl that the Yammertons were all in the banqueting-room,
- she saw no reason why she shouldn’t go too; so when the next shoal of
- company broke against the screen, she took Imperial John’s arm, and
- preceded by a cloud of lackeys, cerulean-blue and others, passed from the
- hall to the grand apartment, up which she sailed majestically, tossing her
- plumed head at that usurper Mrs. Moffatt; and then increased the kettle of
- fish poor Mrs. Yammerton was in by seating herself beside her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impudent woman,” thought Mrs. Yammerton, “if I’d had any idea of this I
- wouldn’t have come;” and she thought how lucky it was she had put the
- Major up to asking to see the “pictors.” It was almost a pity he was so
- anxious to be a magistrate. Thought he might be satisfied with being Major
- of such a fine regiment as the Featherbedfordshire Militia. Nor were her
- anxieties diminished by the way the girls took the words out of each
- other’s mouths, as it were, in their intercourse with Billy Pringle, thus
- preventing either from making any permanent impression.
- </p>
- <p>
- The great flood of company now poured into the hall, red coats, green
- coats, black coats, brown coats, mingled with variously-coloured
- petticoats. The ladies of the court, Mrs. Cypher, Mrs. Pillerton, Mrs. and
- the Misses Easylease, Mrs. Section, and others, hurried through with a
- shivering sort of step as if they were going to bathe. Mr. D’Orsay Davis,
- the “we” of the Featherbedfordshire Gazette, made his bow and passed on
- with stately air, as a ruler of the roast ought to do. The Earl of Stare,
- as Mr. Buckwheat was called, from the fixed protuberance of his eyes—a
- sort of second edition of Imperial John, but wanting his looks, and
- Gameboy Green, the hard rider of the hunt, came in together; and the Earl
- of Stare, sporting scarlet, advanced to his brother peer, the Earl, who,
- not thinking him an available card, turned him over to Imperial John who
- had now returned from his voyage with Imperial Jane, while his lordship
- commenced a building conversation with Mr. Brick.
- </p>
- <p>
- A lull then ensuing as if the door had done its duty, his lordship gave a
- wave of his hand, whereupon the trained courtiers shot out into horns on
- either side, with his lordship in the centre, and passed majestically
- along to the banqueting-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The noble apartment a hundred feet long, and correspondingly proportioned,
- was in the full swing of hospitality when the Earl entered. The great
- influx of guests for which the Castle was always prepared, had at length
- really arrived, and from Mrs. Moffatt’s end of the table to the door, were
- continuous lines of party-coloured eaters, all engaged in the noble act of
- deglutition. Up the centre was a magnificent avenue of choice exotics in
- gold, silver, and china vases, alternating with sugar-spun Towers,
- Temples, Pagodas, and Rialtos, with here and there the more substantial
- form of massive plate, <i>èpergnes</i>, testimonials, and prizes of
- different kinds. It was a regular field day for plate, linen, and china.
- </p>
- <p>
- The whole force of domestics was now brought to bear upon the charge, and
- the cerulean-blue gentlemen vied with the gentlemen out of livery in the
- assiduity of their attentions. Soup, game, tea, coffee, chocolate, ham,
- eggs, honey, marmalade, grapes, pines, melons, ices, buns, cakes, skimmed
- and soared, and floated about the room, in obedience to the behests of the
- callers. The only apparently disengaged person in the room, was Monsieur
- Jean Rougier, who, in a blue coat with a velvet collar and bright buttons,
- a rolling-collared white vest, and an amplified lace-tipped black
- Joinville, stood like a pouter pigeon behind Mr. Pringle’s chair, the <i>beau
- ideal</i> of an indifferent spectator. And yet he was anything but an
- indifferent spectator; for beneath his stubbly hair were a pair of little
- roving, watchful eyes, and his ringed ears were cocked for whatever they
- could catch. The clatter, patter, clatter, patter of eating, which was
- slightly interrupted by the entrance of his lordship was soon in full
- vigour again, and all eyes resumed the contemplation of the plates.
- </p>
- <p>
- Presently, the “fiz, pop, bang” of a champagne cork was heard on the
- extreme right, which was immediately taken up on the left, and ran down
- either side of the table like gigantic crackers. Eighty guests were now
- imbibing the sparkling fluid, as fast as the footmen could supply it. And
- it was wonderful what a volubility that single glass a-piece (to be sure
- they were good large ones) infused into the meeting; how tongue-tied ones
- became talkative, and awed ones began to feel themselves sufficiently at
- home to tackle with the pines and sugar ornaments of the centre. Grottoes
- and Pyramids and Pagodas and Rialtos began to topple to their fall, and
- even a sugar Crystal Palace, which occupied the post of honour between two
- flower-decked Sèvres vases, was threatened with destruction. The band and
- the gardeners were swept away immediately, and an assault on the fountains
- was only prevented by the interference of Mr. Beverage, the butler. And
- now a renewed pop-ponading commenced, more formidable, if possible, than
- the first, and all glasses were eagerly drained, and prepared to receive
- the salute.
- </p>
- <p>
- All being ready, Lord Ladythorne rose amid the applause so justly due to a
- man entertaining his friends, and after a few prefatory remarks,
- expressive of the pleasure it gave him to see them all again at the
- opening of another season, and hoping that they might have many more such
- meetings, he concluded by giving as a toast, “Success to fox-hunting!”—which,
- of course, was drunk upstanding with all the honours.
- </p>
- <p>
- All parties having gradually subsided into their seats after this
- uncomfortable performance, a partial lull ensued, which was at length
- interrupted by his lordship giving Imperial John, who sat on his left, a
- nod, who after a loud throat-clearing <i>hem!</i> rose bolt upright with
- his imperial chin well up, and began, “Gentlemen and Ladies!” just as
- little weazeley Major Yammerton commenced “Ladies and gentlemen!” from
- Mrs. Moffatt’s end of the table. This brought things to a stand still—some
- called for Hybrid, some for Yammerton, and each disliking the other,
- neither was disposed to give way. The calls, however, becoming more
- frequent for Yammerton, who had never addressed them before, while Hybrid
- had, saying the same thing both times, the Earl gave his Highness a hint
- to sit down, and the Major was then left in that awful predicament, from
- which so many men would be glad to escape, after they have achieved it,
- namely,—the possession of the meeting.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, Yammerton had got his speech well off, and had the heads of it
- under his plate; so on silence being restored, he thus went away with it:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ladies and gentlemen,—(cough)—ladies and gentlemen,—(hem)
- I rise, I assure you—(cough)—with feelings of considerable
- trepidation—(hem)—to perform an act—(hem)—of
- greater difficulty than may at first sight appear—(hem, hem, haw)—for
- let me ask what it is I am about to do? (“You know best,” growled Imperial
- John, thinking how ill he was doing it.) I am going to propose the health
- of a nobleman—(applause)—of whom, in whose presence, if I say
- too much, I may offend, and if I say too little, I shall most justly
- receive your displeasure (renewed applause). But, ladies and gentlemen,
- there are times when the ‘umblest abilities become equal to the occasion,
- and assuredly this is one—(applause). To estimate the character of
- the illustrious nobleman aright, whose health I shall conclude by
- proposing, we must regard him in his several capacities—(applause)—as
- Lord-Lieutenant of the great county of Featherbedford, as a great and
- liberal landlord, as a kind and generous neighbour, and though last, not
- least, as a brilliant sportsman—(great applause, during which
- Yammerton looked under his plate at his notes.)—As Lord-Lieutenant,”
- continued he, “perhaps the greatest praise I can offer him, the ‘ighest
- compliment I can pay him, is to say that his appointments are so truly
- impartial as not to disclose his own politics—(applause)—as a
- landlord, he is so truly a pattern that it would be a mere waste of words
- for me to try to recommend him to your notice,—(applause)—as a
- neighbour, he is truly exemplary in all the relations of life,—(applause)—and
- as a sportsman, having myself kept haryers five-and-thirty years without a
- subscription, I may be permitted to say that he is quite first-rate,—(laughter
- from the Earl’s end of the table, and applause from Mrs. Moffatt’s.)—In
- all the relations of life, therefore, ladies and gentlemen,”—continued
- the Major, looking irately down at the laughers—“I beg to propose
- the bumper toast of health, and long life to our ‘ost, the noble Earl of
- Ladythorne!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Whereupon the little Major popped down on his chair, wondering whether he
- had omitted any thing he ought to have said, and seeing him well down,
- Imperial John, who was not to be done out of his show-off, rose, glass in
- hand, and exclaimed in a stentorian voice,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gentlemen and Ladies! Oi beg to propose that we drink this toast up
- standin’ with all the honours!—Featherbedfordshire fire!” upon which
- there was a great outburst of applause, mingled with demands for wine, and
- requests from the ladies, that the gentlemen would be good enough to take
- their chairs off their dresses, or move a little to one side, so that they
- might have room to stand up; Crinoline, we should observe, being very
- abundant with many of them.
- </p>
- <p>
- A tremendous discharge of popularity then ensued, the cheers being led by
- Imperial John, much to the little Major’s chagrin, who wondered how he
- could ever have sat down without calling for them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, the Earl, we should observe, had not risen in the best of moods that
- morning, having had a disagreeable dream, in which he saw old Binks riding
- his favourite horse Valiant, Mazeppa fashion, making a drag of his statue
- of the Greek slave, enveloped in an anise-seeded bathing-gown; a vexation
- that had been further increased when he arose, by the receipt of a letter
- from his “good-natured friend” in London, telling him how old Binks had
- been boasting at Boodle’s that he was within an ace of an Earldom, and now
- to be clumsily palavered by Yammerton was more than he could bear.
- </p>
- <p>
- He didn’t want to be praised for anything but his sporting propensities,
- and Imperial John knew how to do it. Having, however, a good dash of
- satire in his composition, when the applause and the Crinoline had
- subsided, he arose as if highly delighted, and assured them that if
- anything could enhance the pleasure of that meeting, it was to have his
- health proposed by such a sportsman as Major Yammerton, a gentleman who he
- believed had kept harriers five-and-thirty years, a feat he believed
- altogether unequalled in the annals of sporting—(laughter and
- applause)—during which the little Major felt sure he was going to
- conclude by proposing his health with all the honours, instead of which,
- however, his lordship branched off to his own department of sport, urging
- them to preserve foxes most scrupulously, never to mind a little poultry
- damage, for Mr. Boggledike would put all that right, never to let the
- odious word Strychnine be heard in the country, and concluded by proposing
- a bumper to their next merry meeting, which was the usual termination of
- the proceedings. The party then rose, chairs fell out of line, and flying
- crumpled napkins completed the confusion of the scene.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII.<br/>THE MORNING FOX.—THE AFTERNOON FOX.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/097m.jpg" alt="097m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/097.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE day was quite
- at its best, when the party-coloured bees emerged from the sweets of
- Tantivy Castle, to taint the pure atmosphere with their nasty cigars, and
- air themselves on the terrace, letting the unadmitted world below see on
- what excellent terms they were with an Earl. Then Imperial John upbraided
- Major. Yammerton for taking the words out of his mouth, as it were, and
- the cockey Major turned up his nose at the “farmer fellow” for presuming
- to lector him. Then the emboldened ladies strolled through the
- picture-galleries and reception-rooms, regardless of Mrs. Moffatt or any
- one else, wondering where this door led to and where that. The hounds had
- been basking and loitering on the lawn for some time, undergoing the
- inspection and criticisms of the non-hunting portion of the establishment,
- the gardeners, the gamekeepers, the coachmen, the helpers, the housemaids,
- and so on. They all pronounced them as perfect as could be, and Mr.
- Hoggledike received their compliments with becoming satisfaction, saying,
- with a chuck of his chin, “Yas, Yas, I think they’re about as good as can
- be! Parfaction. I may say!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Having abused the cigars, we hope our fair friends will now excuse us for
- saying that we know of few less agreeable scenes than a show meet with
- fox-hounds. The whole thing is opposed to the wild nature of hunting. Some
- people can eat at any time, but to a well-regulated appetite, having to
- undergo even the semblance of an additional meal is inconvenient; while to
- have to take a <i>bonâ fide</i> dinner in the morning, soup, toast,
- speeches and all, is perfectly suicidal of pleasure. On this occasion, the
- wine-flushed guests seemed fitted for Cremorne or Foxhall, as they used to
- pronounce Vauxhall, than for fox-hunting. Indeed, the cigar gentry
- swaggered about with a very rakish, Regent Street air. His lordship alone
- seemed impressed with the importance of the occasion; but his anxiety
- arose from indecision, caused by the Binks’ dream and letter, and fear
- lest the Yammerton girls might spoil Billy for Miss de Glancey, should his
- lordship adhere to his intention of introducing them to each other. Then
- he began to fidget lest he might be late at the appointed place, and Miss
- de Glancey go home, and so frustrate either design.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>To horse! to horse!</i>” therefore exclaimed he, now hurrying through
- the crowd, lowering his Imperial Jane-made hat-string, and drawing on his
- Moffatt-knit mits. “<i>To horse! to horse!</i>” repeated he, flourishing
- his cane hunting-whip, causing a commotion among the outer circle of
- grooms. His magnificent black horse, Valiant (the one he had seen old
- Binks bucketing), faultless in shape, faultless in condition, faultless
- every way, stepped proudly aside, and Cupid-without-Wings dropping himself
- off by the neck, Mr. Beanley, the stud groom, swept the coronetted rug
- over the horse’s bang tail, as the superb and sensible animal stepped
- forward to receive his rider, as the Earl came up. With a jaunty air, the
- gay old gentleman vaulted lightly into the saddle, saying as he drew the
- thin rein, and felt the horse gently with his left leg, “Now get Mr.
- Pringle his horse.” His lordship then passed on a few paces to receive the
- sky-scraping salutes of the servants, and at a jerk of his head the
- cavalcade was in motion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our friend Billy then became the object of attention. The dismounted Cupid
- dived into the thick of the led horses to seek his, while Mr. Beanley went
- respectfully up to him, and with a touch of his flat-brimmed hat,
- intimated that “his oss was at ‘and.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What sort of an animal is it?” asked the somewhat misgiving Billy, now
- bowing his adieus to the pretty Misses Yammerton.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A very nice oss, sir,” replied Mr. Beanley, with another touch of hat;
- “yes, sir, a very nice oss—a perfect ‘unter—nothin’ to do but
- sit still, and give ‘im ‘is ‘ead, he’ll take far better care o’ you than
- you can of ‘im.” So saying, Mr. Beanley led the way to a very
- sedate-looking, thorough-bred bay, with a flat flapped saddle, and a
- splint boot on his near foreleg, but in other respects quite
- unobjectionable. He was one of Swan’s stud, but Mr. Beanley, understanding
- from the under butler, who had it from Jack Rogers—we beg his
- pardon,—Monsieur Rougier himself, that Mr. Pringle was likely to be
- a good tip, he had drawn it for him. The stirrups, for a wonder, being the
- right length, Billy was presently astride, and in pursuit of his now
- progressing lordship, the gaping crowd making way for the young lord as
- they supposed him to be—for people are all lords when they visit at
- lords.
- </p>
- <p>
- Pop, pop, bob, bob, went the black caps of the men in advance, indicating
- the whereabouts of the hounds, while his lordship ambled over the green
- turf on the right, surrounded by the usual high-pressure toadies. Thus the
- cavalcade passed through the large wood-studded, deer-scattered park,
- rousing the nearer herds from their lairs, frightening the silver-tails
- into their holes, and causing the conceited hares to scuttle away for the
- fern-browned, undulating hills, as if they had the vanity to suppose that
- this goodly array would condescend to have anything to do with them. Silly
- things! Peppercorn, the keeper, had a much readier way of settling their
- business. The field then crossed the long stretch of smooth, ornamental
- water, by the old gothic-arched bridge, and passed through the beautiful
- iron gates of the south lodge, now wheeled back by grey-headed porters, in
- cerulean-blue plush coats, and broad, gold-laced hats. Meanwhile, the
- whereabouts of the accustomed hunt was indicated by a lengthening line of
- pedestrians and small cavalry, toiling across the park by Duntler the
- watcher’s cottage and the deer sheds, to the door in the wall at the
- bottom of Crow-tree hill, from whence a bird’s-eye view of the surrounding
- country is obtained. The piece had been enacted so often, the same
- company, the same day, the same hour, the same find, the same finish, that
- one might almost imagine it was the same fox On this particular occasion,
- however, as if out of pure contradiction, Master Reynard, by a series of
- successful manoeuvres, lying down, running a wall, popping backwards and
- forwards between Ashley quarries and Warmley Gorse, varied by an
- occasional trip to Crow-tree hill, completely baffled Mr. Boggledike, so
- that it was afternoon before he brought his morning fox to hand, to the
- great discomfort of the Earl, who had twice or thrice signaled Swan to
- “who hoop” him to ground, when the tiresome animal popped up in the midst
- of the pack. At length Boggledike mastered him; and after proclaiming him
- a “cowardly, short-running dastardly traitor, no better nor a ‘are,” he
- chucked him scornfully to the hounds, decorating Master Pillerton’s pony
- with the brush, while Swan distributed the pads among others of the rising
- generation.
- </p>
- <p>
- The last act of the “show meet” being thus concluded, Mr. Boggledike and
- his men quickly collected their hounds, and set off in search of fresh
- fields and pastures new.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Earl, having disposed of his show-meet fox—a bagman, of course—now
- set up his business-back, and getting alongside of Mr. Boggledike, led the
- pack at as good a trot as the hounds and the state of the line would
- allow. The newly laid whinstone of the Brittleworth road rather impeded
- their progress at first; but this inconvenience was soon overcome by the
- road becoming less parsimonious in width, extending at length to a grass
- siding, along which his lordship ambled at a toe in the stirrup trot, his
- eagle-eye raking every bend and curve, his mind distracted with visions of
- Binks, and anxiety for the future.
- </p>
- <p>
- He couldn’t get over the dream, and the letter had anything but cheered
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very odd,” said he to himself, “very odd,” as nothing but drab-coated
- farmers and dark-coated grooms lounging leisurely “on,” with here and
- there a loitering pedestrian, broke the monotony of the scene. “Hope she’s
- not tired, and gone home,” thought he, looking now at his watch, and now
- back into the crowd, to see where he had Billy Pringle. There was Billy
- riding alongside of Major Yammerton’s old flea-bitten grey, whose rider
- was impressing Billy with a sense of his consequence, and the excellence
- of his “haryers,” paving the way for an invitation to Yammerton Grange. “<i>D-a-ash</i>
- that Yammerton,” growled his lordship, thinking how he was spoiling sport
- at both ends; at the Castle by his uninvited eloquence, and now by his
- fastening on to the only man in the field he didn’t want him to get
- acquainted with. And his lordship inwardly resolved that he would make
- Easylease a magistrate before he would make the Major one. So settling
- matters in his own mind, he gave the gallant Valiant a gentle tap on the
- shoulder with his whip, and shot a few paces ahead of Dicky, telling the
- whips to keep the crowd off the hounds—meaning off himself. Thus he
- ambled on through the quiet little village of Strotherdale, whose
- inhabitants all rushed out to see the hounds pass, and after tantalising
- poor Jonathan Gape, the turnpike-gate man, at the far end, who thought he
- was going to get a grand haul, he turned short to the left down the
- tortuous green lane leading to Quarrington Gorse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s a footmark,” said his lordship to himself, looking down at the
- now closely eaten sward. “Ah! and there’s a hat and feather,” added he as
- a sudden turn of the lane afforded a passing glimpse. Thus inspirited, he
- mended his pace a little, and was presently in sight of the wearer. There
- was the bay, and there was the wide-awake, and there was the green
- trimming, and there was the feather; but somehow, as he got nearer, they
- all seemed to have lost <i>caste</i>. The slender waist and graceful
- upright seat had degenerated into a fuller form and lazy slouch; the habit
- didn’t look like her habit, nor the bay horse like her bay horse, and as
- he got within speaking distance, the healthy, full-blown face of Miss
- Winkworth smiled upon him instead of the mild, placid features of the
- elegant de Glancey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, my dear Miss Winkworth!” exclaimed his half-disgusted, half-delighted
- lordship, raising his hat, and then extending the right-hand of
- fellowship; “Ah, my dear Miss Winkworth, I’m charmed to see you” (inwardly
- wondering what business women had out hunting). “I hope you are all well
- at home,” continued he (most devoutly wishing she was there); and without
- waiting for an answer, he commenced a furious assault upon Benedict, who
- had taken a fancy to follow him, a performance that enabled General
- Boggledike to come up with that army of relief, the pack, and engulf the
- lady in the sea of horsemen in the rear.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If that had been <i>her</i>,” said his lordship to himself, “old Binks
- would have had a better chance;” and he thought what an odious thing a bad
- copy was.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Another bend of the land and another glimpse, presently put all matters
- right. The real feather now fluttered before him. There was the graceful,
- upright seat, the elegant air, the well-groomed horse, the <i>tout
- ensemble</i> being heightened, if possible, by the recent contrast with
- the coarse, country attired Miss Winkworth.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Earl again trotted gently on, raising his hat most deferentially as he
- came along side of her, as usual, unaverted head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good morning, my Lord!” exclaimed she gaily, as if agreeably surprised,
- tendering for the first time her pretty, little, primrose-coloured
- kid-gloved hand, looking as though she would condescend to notice a “mere
- fox-hunter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The gay old gentleman pressed it with becoming fervour, thinking he never
- saw her looking so well before.
- </p>
- <p>
- They then struck up a light rapid conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss perhaps never did look brighter or more radiant, and as his lordship
- rode by her side, he really thought if he could make up his mind to
- surrender his freedom to any woman, it would be to her. There was a
- something about her that he could not describe, but still a something that
- was essentially different to all his other flames.
- </p>
- <p>
- He never could bear a riding-woman before, but now he felt quite proud to
- have such an elegant, piquant attendant on his pack.—Should like, at
- all events, to keep her in the country, and enjoy her society.—Would
- like to add her to the collection of Featherbedfordshire witches of which
- his friends joked him in town.—“Might have done worse than marry
- Imperial John,” thought his lordship. John mightn’t be quite her match in
- point of manner, but she would soon have polished him up, and John must be
- doing uncommonly well as times go—cattle and corn both selling
- prodigiously high, and John with his farm at a very low rent. And the
- thought of John and his beef brought our friend Billy to the Earl’s mind,
- and after a sort of random compliment between Miss de Glancey and her
- horse, he exclaimed, “By the way! I’ve got a young friend out I wish to
- introduce to you,” so rising in his saddle and looking back into the crowd
- he hallooed out, “Pringle!” a name that was instantly caught up by the
- quick-eared Dicky, a “Mister” tacked to it and passed backward to Speed,
- who gave it to a groom; and Billy was presently seen boring his way
- through the opening crowd, just as a shepherd’s dog bores its way through
- a flock of sheep.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pringle,” said his lordship, as the approach of Billy’s horse caused
- Valiant to lay back his ears, “Pringle! I want to introduce you to Miss de
- Glancey, Miss de Glancey give me leave to introduce my friend Mr.
- Pringle,” continued he, adding <i>soto voce</i>, as if for Miss de
- Glancey’s ear alone, “young man of very good family and fortune—<i>richest
- Commoner, in England, they say</i>.” But before his lordship got to the
- richest Commoner part of his speech, a dark frown of displeasure had
- overcast the sweet smile of those usually tranquil features, which
- luckily, however, was not seen by Billy; and before he got his cap
- restored to his head after a sky scraping salute, Miss de Glancey had
- resumed her wonted complacency,—inwardly resolving to extinguish the
- “richest Commoner,” just as she had done his lordship’s other “friend Mr.
- Hybrid.” Discarding the Earl, therefore, she now opened a most voluble
- battering on our good-looking Billy who, to do him justice, maintained his
- part so well, that a lady with less ambitious views might have been very
- well satisfied to be Mrs. Pringle. Indeed, when his lordship looked at the
- two chattering and ogling and simpering together, and thought of that
- abominable old Binks and the drag, and the letter from the Boodleite, his
- heart rather smote him for what he had done; for young and fresh as he
- then felt himself, he knew that age would infallibly creep upon him at
- last, just as he saw it creeping upon each particular friend when he went
- to town, and he questioned that he should ever find any lady so eminently
- qualified to do the double duty of gracing his coronet and disappointing
- the General. Not but that the same thought had obtruded itself with regard
- to other ladies; but he now saw that he had been mistaken with respect to
- all of them, and that this was the real, genuine, no mistake, “right one.”
- Moreover, Miss de Glancey was the only lady who according to his idea had
- not made up to him—rather snubbed him in fact. Mistaken nobleman!
- There are, many ways of making up to a man. But as with many, so with his
- lordship, the last run was always the finest, and the last lady always the
- fairest—the most engaging. With distracting considerations such as
- these, and the advantage of seeing Miss de Glancey play the artillery of
- her arts upon our young friend, they reached the large old pasture on the
- high side of Quarrington Gorse, a cover of some four acres in extent,
- lying along a gently sloping bank, with cross rides cut down to the brook.
- Mr. Boggledike pulled up near the rubbing-post in the centre of the field,
- to give his hounds a roll, while the second-horse gentlemen got their
- nags, and the new comers exchanged their hacks for their hunters. Judging
- by the shaking of hands, the exclamations of “halloo! old boy is that
- you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say! where are you from?” and similar inquiries, there were a good many
- of the latter—some who never went to the Castle, some who thought it
- too far, some who thought it poor fun. Altogether, when the field got
- scattered over the pasture, as a shop-keeper scatters his change on the
- counter, or as an old stage coachman used to scatter his passengers on the
- road with an upset, there might be fifty or sixty horsemen, assmen, and
- gigmen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Most conspicuous was his lordship’s old eye-sore, Hicks, the flying hatter
- of Hinton (Sir Moses Mainchance’s “best man”), who seemed to think it
- incumbent upon him to kill his lordship a hound every year by his reckless
- riding, and who now came out in mufti, a hunting-cap, a Napoleon-grey
- tweed jacket, loose white cords, with tight drab leggings, and spurs on
- his shoes, as if his lordship’s hounds were not worth the green cut-a-way
- and brown boots he sported with Sir Moses. He now gave his cap-peak a sort
- of rude rap with his fore-finger, as his lordship came up, as much as to
- say, “I don’t know whether I’ll speak to you or not,” and then ran his
- great raking chestnut into the crowd to get at his old opponent Gameboy
- Green, who generally rode for the credit of the Tantivy hunt. As these
- sort of cattle always hunt in couples, Hicks is followed by his shadow,
- Tom Snowdon, the draper—or the Damper, as he is generally called,
- from his unhappy propensity of taking a gloomy view of everything.
- </p>
- <p>
- To the right are a knot of half-horse, half-pony mounted Squireen-looking
- gentlemen, with clay pipes in their mouths, whose myrtle-green coats,
- baggy cords, and ill-cleaned tops, denote as belonging to the Major’s
- “haryers.” And mark how the little, pompons man wheels before them, in
- order that Pringle may see the reverence they pay to his red coat. He
- raises his punt hat with all the dignity of the immortal Simpson of
- Vauxhall memory, and passes on in search of further compliments.
- </p>
- <p>
- His lordship has now settled himself into the “Wilkinson and Kidd” of Rob
- Roy, a bay horse of equal beauty with Valiant, but better adapted to the
- country into which they are now going, Imperial John has drawn his girths
- with his teeth, D’Orsay Davis has let down his hat-string, Mr. John
- Easylease has tightened his curb, Mr. Section drawn on his gloves, the
- Damper finished his cigar, and all things are approximating a start.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Elope, lads! Elope!</i>” cries Dicky Boggledike to his hounds,
- whistling and waving them together, and in an instant the rollers and
- wide-spreaders are frolicking and chiding under his horse’s nose. “<i>G-e-e-ntly</i>,
- lads! <i>g-e-ently!</i>” adds he, looking the more boisterous ones
- reprovingly in the face—“gently lads, gently,” repeats he, “or
- you’ll be rousin’ the gem’lman i’ the gos.” This movement of Dicky and the
- hounds has the effect of concentrating the field, all except our fair
- friend and Billy, who are still in the full cry of conversation, Miss
- putting forth her best allurements the sooner to bring Billy to book.
- </p>
- <p>
- At a chuck of his lordship’s chin, Dicky turns his horse towards the
- gorse, just as Billy, in reply to Miss de Glancey’s question, if he is
- fond of hunting, declares, as many a youth has done who hates it, that he
- “doats upon it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A whistle, a waive, and a cheer, and the hounds are away. They charge the
- hedge with a crash, and drive into the gorse as if each hound had a bet
- that he would find the fox himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Boggledike being now free of his pack, avails himself of this moment
- of ease, to exhibit his neat, newly clad person of which he is not a
- little proud, by riding along the pedestrian-lined hedge, and requesting
- that “you fut people,” as he calls them, “will have the goodness not to
- ‘alloa, but to ‘old up your ‘ats if you view the fox;” and having
- delivered his charge in three several places, he turns into the cover by
- the little white bridle-gate in the middle, which Cupid-without-Wings is
- now holding open, and who touches his hat as Dicky passes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The scene is most exciting. The natural inclination of the land affords
- every one a full view of almost every part of the sloping, southerly-lying
- gorse, while a bright sun, with a clear, rarified atmosphere, lights up
- the landscape, making the distant fences look like nothing. Weak must be
- the nerves that would hesitate to ride over them as they now appear.
- </p>
- <p>
- Delusive view! Between the gorse and yonder fir-clad hills are two
- bottomless brooks, and ere the dashing rider reaches Fairbank Farm, whose
- tall chimney stands in bold relief against the clear, blue sky, lies a
- tract of country whose flat surface requires gulph-like drains to carry
- off the surplus water that rushes down from the higher grounds. To the
- right, though the country looks rougher, it is in reality easier, but
- foxes seem to know it, and seldom take that line; while to the left is a
- strongly-fenced country, fairish for hounds, but very difficult for
- horses, inasmuch as the vales are both narrow and deep. But let us find
- our fox and see what we can do among them. And as we are in for a burst,
- let us do the grand and have a fresh horse.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII.<br/>GONE AWAY!
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>EE! a sudden
- thrill shoots through the field, though not a hound has spoken; no, not
- even a whimper been heard. It is Speed’s new cap rising from the dip of
- the ground at the low end of the cover, and now having seen the fox “right
- well away,” as he says, he gives such a ringing view halloa as startles
- friend Echo, and brings the eager pack pouring and screeching to the cry—
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Tweet! tweet! tweet!</i>” now goes cantering Dicky’s superfluous horn,
- only he doesn’t like to be done out of his blow, and thinks the “fut
- people” may attribut’ the crash to his coming.
- </p>
- <p>
- All eyes are now eagerly strained to get a view of old Reynard, some for
- the pleasure of seeing him, others to speculate upon whether they will
- have to take the stiff stake and rise in front, or the briar-tangled
- boundary fence below, in order to fulfil the honourable obligation of
- going into every field with the hounds. Others, again, who do not
- acknowledge the necessity, and mean to take neither, hold their horses
- steadily in hand, to be ready to slip down Cherry-tree Lane, or through
- West Hill fold-yard, into the Billinghurst turnpike, according as the line
- of chase seems to lie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Talli-ho!</i>” cries the Flying Hatter, as he views the fox whisking
- his brush as he rises the stubble-field over Fawley May Farm, and in an
- instant he is soaring over the boundary-fence to the clamorous pack just
- as his lordship takes it a little higher up, and lands handsomely in the
- next field. Miss de Glancey then goes at it in a canter, and clears it
- neatly, while Billy Pringle’s horse, unused to linger, after waiting in
- vain for an intimation from his rider, just gathers himself together, and
- takes it on his own account, shooting Billy on to his shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s off! no, he’s on; he hangs by the mane!” was the cry of the foot
- people, as Billy scrambled back into his saddle, which he regained with
- anything but a conviction that he could sit at the jumps. Worst of all, he
- thought he saw Miss de Glancey’s shoulders laughing at his failure.
- </p>
- <p>
- The privileged ones having now taken their unenviable precedence, the
- scramble became general, some going one way, some another, and the recent
- frowning fences are soon laid level with the fields.
- </p>
- <p>
- A lucky lane running parallel with the line, along which the almost mute
- pack were now racing with a breast-high scent, relieved our friend Billy
- from any immediate repetition of the leaping inconvenience, though he
- could not hear the clattering of horses’ hoofs behind him without
- shuddering at the idea of falling and being ridden over. It seemed very
- different he thought to the first run, or to Hyde Park; people were all so
- excitcd, instead of riding quietly, or for admiration, as they do in the
- park. Just as Billy was flattering himself that the leaping danger was at
- an end, a sudden jerk of his horse nearly chucked him into Imperial John’s
- pocket, who happened to be next in advance. The fox had been headed by the
- foot postman between Hinton and Sambrook; and Dicky Boggledike, after
- objurgating the astonished man, demanding, “What the daval business he had
- there?” had drawn his horse short across the lane, thus causing a sudden
- halt to those in the rear.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Flying Hatter and the Damper pressing close upon the pack as usual,
- despite the remonstrance of Gameboy Green and others, made them shoot up
- to the far-end of the enclosure, where they would most likely have topped
- the fence but for Swan and Speed getting round them, and adding the
- persuasion of their whips to the entreaties of Dicky’s horn. The hounds
- sweep round to the twang, lashing and bristling with excitement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Yo doit!</i>” cries Dicky, as Sparkler and Pilgrim feather up the
- lane, trying first this side, then that. Sparkler speaks! “He’s across the
- lane.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Hoop! hoop! tallio! tallio!</i>” cries Dicky cheerily, taking off his
- cap, and sweeping it in the direction the fox has gone, while his
- lordship, who has been bottling up the vial of his wrath, now uncorks it
- as he gets the delinquents within hearing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, Mr. Hicks, for pressing on my hounds! Much obleged to you, Mr.
- Hicks, for pressing on my hounds! Hang you, Mr. Hicks, for pressing on my
- hounds!” So saying, his lordship gathered Rob Roy together, and followed
- Mr. Boggledike through a very stiff bullfinch that Dicky would rather have
- shirked, had not the eyes of England been upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>S-w-ic-h!</i> Dicky goes through, and the vigorous thorns close again
- like a rat-trap.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Allow me, my lord!” exclaims Imperial John from behind, anxious to be
- conspicuous.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank ‘e, no,” replied his lordship, carelessly thinking it would not do
- to let Miss de Glancey too much into the secrets of the hunting field.
- “Thank ‘e, no,” repeated he, and ramming his horse well at it, he gets
- through with little more disturbance of the thorns than Dicky had made.
- Miss de Glancey comes next, and riding quietly up the bank, she gives her
- horse a chuck with the curb and a touch with the whip that causes him to
- rise well on his haunches and buck over without injury to herself, her
- hat, or her habit. Imperial John was nearly offering his services to break
- the fence for her, but the “<i>S-i-r-r!</i> do you mean to insult me?”
- still tingling in his ears, caused him to desist. However he gives Billy a
- lift by squashing through before him, whose horse then just rushed through
- it as before, leaving Billy to take care of himself. A switched face was
- the result, the pain, however, being far greater than the disfigurement.
- </p>
- <p>
- While this was going on above, D’Orsay Davis, who can ride a spurt, has
- led a charge through a weaker place lower down; and when our friend had
- ascertained that his eyes were still in his head, he found two distinct
- lines of sportsmen spinning away in the distance as if they were riding a
- race. Added to this, the pent-up party behind him having got vent, made a
- great show of horsemanship as they passed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come along!” screamed one.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look alive!” shouted another.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never say die!” cried a third, though they were all as ready to shut up
- as our friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy’s horse, however, not being used to stopping, gets the bit between
- his teeth, and scuttles away at a very overtaking pace, bringing him
- sufficiently near to let him see Gameboy Green and the Flying Hatter
- leading the honourable obligation van, out of whose extending line now a
- red coat, now a green coat, now a dark coat drops in the usual “had
- enough” style.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the ride-cunning, or know-the-country detachment, Miss de Glancey’s
- flaunting habit, giving dignity to the figure and flowing elegance to the
- scene, might be seen going at perfect ease beside the noble Earl, who from
- the higher ground surveys Gameboy Green and the Hatter racing to get first
- at each fence, while the close-packing hounds are sufficiently far in
- advance to be well out of harm’s way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “C—a—a—tch ’em, if you can!” shrieks his lordship,
- eyeing their zealous endeavours.
- </p>
- <p>
- “C—a—a—tch ’em, if you can!” repeats he, laughing, as
- the pace gets better and better, scarce a hound having time to give
- tongue.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yooi, over he goes!” now cries his lordship, as a spasmodic jerk of the
- leading hounds, on Alsike water meadow, turns Trumpeter’s and Wrangler’s
- heads toward the newly widened and deepened drain-cut, and the whole pack
- wheel to the left. What a scramble there is to get over! Some clear it,
- some fall back, while some souse in and out.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now Gameboy, seeing by the newly thrown out gravel the magnitude of the
- venture, thrusts down his hat firmly on his brow, while Hicks gets his
- chesnut well by the head, and hardening their hearts they clear it in
- stride, and the Damper takes soundings for the benefit of those who come
- after. What a splash he makes!
- </p>
- <p>
- And now the five-and-thirty years master of “haryers” without a
- subscription coming up, seeks to save the credit of his quivering-tailed
- grey by stopping to help the discontented Damper out of his difficulty,
- whose horse coming out on the wrong side affords them both a very fair
- excuse for shutting up shop.
- </p>
- <p>
- The rest of the detachment, unwilling to bathe, after craning at the cut,
- scuttle away by its side down to the wooden cattle-bridge below, which
- being crossed, the honourable obligationers and the
- take-care-of-their-neckers are again joined in common union. It is,
- however, no time to boast of individual feats, or to inquire for absent
- friends, for the hounds still press on, though the pace is not quite so
- severe as it was. They are on worse soil, and the scent does not serve
- them so well. It soon begins to fail, and at length is carried on upon the
- silent system, and looks very like failing altogether.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Boggledike, who has been riding as cunning as any one, now shows to
- the front, watching the stooping pack with anxious eye, lest he should
- have to make a cast over fences that do not quite suit his convenience.
- </p>
- <p>
- “G—e—ntly, urryin’! gently!” cries he, seeing that a little
- precipitancy may carry them off the line. “Yon cur dog has chased the fox,
- and the hounds are puzzled at the point where he has left him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, sarr, what the daval business have you out with a dog on such an
- occasion as this?” demands Dicky of an astonished drover who thought the
- road was as open to him as to Dicky.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, sar! sar! you desarve to be put i’ the lock-up,” continues Dicky, as
- the pack now divide on the scent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, sar! sar! you should be chaasetised!” added he, shaking his whip at
- the drover, as he trotted on to the assistance of the pack.
- </p>
- <p>
- The melody of the majority however recalls the cur-ites, and saves Dicky
- from the meditated assault.
- </p>
- <p>
- While the brief check was going on, his lordship was eyeing Miss de
- Glancey, thinking of all the quiet captivating women he had ever seen, she
- was the most so. Her riding was perfection, and he couldn’t conceive how
- it was that he had ever entertained any objection to sports-women. It must
- have been from seeing some clumsy ones rolling about who couldn’t ride;
- and old Binks’s chance at that moment was not worth one farthing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where’s Pringle?” now asked his lordship, as the thought of Binks brought
- our hero to his recollection.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Down,” replied Miss de Glancey carelessly, pointing to the ground with
- her pretty amethyst-topped whip.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Down, is he!” smiled the Earl, adding half to himself and half to her,
- “thought he was a mull’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Our friend indeed has come to grief. After pulling and hauling at his
- horse until he got him quite savage, the irritated animal, shaking his
- head as a terrier shakes a rat, ran blindfold into a bullfinch, shooting
- Billy into a newly-made manure-heap beyond. The last of the “harryer” men
- caught his horse, and not knowing who he belonged to, just threw the
- bridle-rein over the next gatepost, while D’Orsay Davis, who had had
- enough, and was glad of an excuse for stopping, pulls up to assist Billy
- out of his dirty dilemma.
- </p>
- <p>
- Augh, what a figure he was!
- </p>
- <p>
- But see! Mr. Boggledike is hitting off the scent, and the astonished
- drover is spurring on his pony to escape the chasetisement Dicky has
- promised him.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this critical moment, Miss de Glancey’s better genius whispered her to
- go home. She had availed herself of the short respite to take a sly peep
- at herself in a little pocket-mirror she carried in her saddle, and found
- she was quite as much heated as was becoming or as could be ventured upon
- without detriment to her dress. Moreover, she was not quite sure but that
- one of her frizettes was coming out.
- </p>
- <p>
- So now when the hounds break out in fresh melody, and the Flying Hatter
- and Gameboy Green are again elbowing to the front, she sits reining in her
- steed, evidently showing she is done.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, come along!” exclaimed the Earl, looking back for her. “Oh, come
- along,” repeated he, waving her onward, as he held in his horse.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no resisting the appeal, for it was clear he would come back for
- her if she did, so touching her horse with the whip, she is again
- cantering by his side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’d give the world to see you beat that impudent ugly hatter,” said he,
- now pointing Hicks out in the act of riding at a stiff newly-plashed fence
- before his hounds were half over.
- </p>
- <p>
- And his lordship spurred his horse as he spoke with a vigour that spoke
- the intensity of his feelings.
- </p>
- <p>
- The line of chase then lay along the swiftly flowing Arrow banks and
- across Oxley large pastures, parallel with the Downton bridle-road, along
- which Dicky and his followers now pounded; Dicky hugging himself with the
- idea that the fox was making for the main earths on Bringwood moor, to
- which he knew every yard of the country.
- </p>
- <p>
- And so the fox was going as straight and as hard as ever he could, but as
- ill luck would have it, young Mr. Nailor, the son of the owner of Oxley
- pastures, shot at a snipe at the west corner of the large pasture just as
- pug entered at the east, causing him to shift his line and thread
- Larchfield plantations instead of crossing the pasture, and popping down
- Tillington Dean as he intended.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dicky had heard the gun, and the short turn of the hounds now showing him
- what had happened, he availed himself of the superiority of a well-mounted
- nobleman’s huntsman in scarlet over a tweed-clad muffin-capped shooter,
- for exclaiming at the top of his voice as he cantered past, horn in hand,
- </p>
- <p>
- “O ye poachin’ davil, what business ‘ave ye there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O ye nasty sneakin’ snarin’ ticket-o’-leaver, go back to the place from
- whance you came!” leaving the poor shooter staring with astonishment.
- </p>
- <p>
- A twang of the horn now brings the hounds—who have been running with
- a flinging catching side-wind scent on to the line, and a full burst of
- melody greets the diminished field, as they strike it on the bright grass
- of the plantation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For—rard! for—rard!” is the cry, though there isn’t a hound
- but what is getting on as best as he can.
- </p>
- <p>
- The merry music reanimates the party, and causes them to press on their
- horses with rather more freedom than past exertions warrant.
- </p>
- <p>
- Imperial John’s is the first to begin wheezing, but his Highness feeling
- him going covers a retreat of his hundred-and-fifty-guineas-worth, as he
- hopes he will be, under shelter of the plantation.
- </p>
- <h3>
- ****
- </h3>
- <p>
- “I think the ‘atter’s oss has about ‘ad enough,” now observes Dicky to his
- lordship, as he holds open the bridle-gate at the end of the plantation
- into the Benington Lane for his lordship and Miss de Glancey to pass.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Glad of it,” replied the Earl, thinking the Hatter would not be able to
- go home and boast how he had cut down the Tantivy men and hung them up to
- dry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Old ‘ard, one moment!” now cries Dicky, raising his right hand as the
- Hatter comes blundering through the quickset fence into the hard lane, his
- horse nearly alighting on his nose.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Old ‘ard, please!” adds he, as the Hatter spurs among the road-stooping
- pack.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hooick to Challenger! Hooick to Challenger!” now holloas Dicky, as
- Challenger, after sniffing up the grassy mound of the opposite hedge,
- proclaims that the fox is over; and Dicky getting his horse short by the
- head, slips behind the Hatter’s horse’s tail for his old familiar friend
- the gap in the corner, while the Hatter gathers his horse together to
- fulfil the honourable obligation of going with the hounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “C—u—r—m up!” cries he, with an <i>obligato</i>
- accompaniment of the spur rowels, which the honest beast acknowledges by a
- clambering flounder up the bank, making the descent on his head on the
- field side that he nearly executed before. The Hatter’s legs perform a
- sort of wands of a mill evolution.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not hurt, I hope!” holloas the Earl, who with Miss de Glancey now lands a
- little above, and seeing the Hatter rise and shake himself he canters on,
- giving Miss de Glancey a touch on the elbow, and saying with a knowing
- look, “<i>That’s capital!</i> get rid of him, leggings and all!”
- </p>
- <p>
- His lordship having now seen the last of his tormentors, has time to look
- about him a little.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Been a monstrous fine run,” observes he to the lady, as they canter
- together behind the pace-slackening pack.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monstrous,” replies the lady, who sees no fun in it at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How long has it been?” asks his lordship of Swan, who now shows to the
- front as a whip-aspiring huntsman is wont to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- “An hour all but five minutes, my lord,” replies the magnifier, looking at
- his watch. “No—no—an hour ‘zactly, my lord,” adds he, trotting
- on—restoring his watch to his fob as he goes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “An hour best pace with but one slight check—can’t have come less
- than twelve miles,” observes his lordship, thinking it over.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed,” replied Miss de Glancey, wishing it was done.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grand sport fox-hunting, isn’t it?” asked his lordship, edging close up
- to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Charming!” replied Miss de Glancey, feeling her failing frizette.
- </p>
- <p>
- The effervescence of the thing is now about over, and the hounds are
- reduced to a very plodding pains-taking pace. The day has changed for the
- worse, and heavy clouds are gathering overhead. Still there is a good
- holding scent, and as the old saying is, a fox so pressed must stop at
- last, the few remaining sportsmen begin speculating on his probable
- destination, one backing him for Cauldwell rocks, another for Fulford
- woods, a third for the Hawkhurst Hills.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Awk’urst ‘ills for a sovereign!” now cries Dicky, hustling his horse,
- as, having steered the nearly mute pack along Sandy-well banks, Challenger
- and Sparkler strike a scent on the track leading up to Sorryfold Moor, and
- go away at an improving pace.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Awk’urst ‘ills for a fi’-pun note!” adds he, as the rest of the pack
- score to cry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Going to have rine!” now observes he, as a heavy drop beats upon his
- up-turned nose. At the same instant a duplicate drop falls upon Miss de
- Glancey’s fair cheek, causing her to wish herself anywhere but where she
- was.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another, and another, and another, follow in quick succession, while the
- dark, dreary moor offers nothing but the inhospitable freedom of space.
- The cold wind cuts through her, making her shudder for the result. “He’s
- for the hills!” exclaims Gameboy Green, still struggling on with a
- somewhat worse-for-wear looking steed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s for the hills!” repeats he, pointing to a frowning line in the misty
- distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the same instant his horse puts his foot in a stone-hole, and Gameboy
- and he measure their lengths on the moor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That comes of star-gazing,” observed his lordship, turning his
- coat-collar up about his ears. “That comes of star-gazing,” repeats he,
- eyeing the loose horse scampering the wrong way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ll see no more of him,” observed Miss de Glancey, wishing she was as
- well out of it as Green.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not likely, I think,” replied his lordship, seeing the evasive rush the
- horse gave, as Speed, who was coming up with some tail hounds, tried to
- catch him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The heath-brushing fox leaves a scent that fills the painfully still
- atmosphere with the melody of the hounds, mingled with the co-beck—co-beck—co-beck
- of the startled grouse. There is a solemn calm that portends a coming
- storm. To Miss de Clancey, for whom the music of the hounds has no charms,
- and the fast-gathering clouds have great danger, the situation is
- peculiarly distressing. She would stop if she durst, but on the middle of
- a dreary moor how dare she.
- </p>
- <p>
- An ominous gusty wind, followed by a vivid flash of lightning and a
- piercing scream from Miss de Glancey, now startled the Earl’s meditations.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lightning!” exclaimed his lordship, turning short round to her
- assistance. “Lightning in the month of November—never heard of such
- a thing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But ere his lordship gets to Miss de Glancey’s horse, a most terrific clap
- of thunder burst right over head, shaking the earth to the very centre,
- silencing the startled hounds, and satisfying his lordship that it <i>was</i>
- lightning.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another flash, more vivid if possible than the first, followed by another
- pealing crash of thunder, more terrific than before, calls all hands to a
- hurried council of war on the subject of shelter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must make for the Punch-bowl at Rockbeer,” exclaims General
- Boggledike, flourishing his horn in an ambiguous sort of way, for he
- wasn’t quite sure he could find it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>You</i> know the Punch-bowl at Rockbeer!” shouts he to Harry Swan,
- anxious to have some one on whom to lay the blame if he went wrong.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know it when I’m there,” replied Swan, who didn’t consider it part of
- his duty to make imaginary runs to ground for his lordship.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Know it when you’re there, man,” retorted Dicky in disgust; “why any————”
- the remainder of his sentence being lost in a tremendously illuminating
- flash of lightning, followed by a long cannonading, reverberating roll of
- thunder.
- </p>
- <p>
- Poor Miss de Glancey was ready to sink into the earth.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/113m.jpg" alt="113m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/113.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- “<i>Elope, hounds! elope!</i>” cried Dicky, getting his horse short by the
- head, and spurring him into a brisk trot. “<i>Elope, hounds! elope!</i>”
- repeated he, setting off on a speculative cast, for he saw it was no time
- for dallying.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now,
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage;
-Till in the furious elemental war
-Dissolved, the whole precipitated mass,
-Unbroken floods and solid torrents pour.”
- </pre>
- <p>
- Luckily for Dicky, an unusually vivid flash of lightning so lit up the
- landscape as to show the clump of large elms at the entrance to Rockbeer;
- and taking his bearings, he went swish swash, squirt spurt, swish swash,
- squirt spurt, through the spongy, half land, half water moor, at as good a
- trot as he could raise. The lately ardent, pressing hounds follow on in
- long-drawn file, looking anything but large or formidable. The frightened
- horses tucked in their tails, and looked fifty per cent. worse for the
- suppression. The hard, driving rain beats downways, and sideways, and
- frontways, and backways—all ways at once. The horses know not which
- way to duck, to evade the storm. In less than a minute Miss de Glancey is
- as drenched as if she had taken a shower-bath. The smart hat and feathers
- are annihilated; the dubious frizette falls out, down comes the hair; the
- bella-donna-inspired radiance of her eyes is quenched; the Crinoline and
- wadding dissolve like ice before the fire; and ere the love-cured Earl
- lifts her off her horse at the Punch-bowl at Rockbeer, she has no more
- shape or figure than an icicle. Indeed she very much resembles one, for
- the cold sleet, freezing as it fell, has encrusted her in a rich coat of
- ice lace, causing her saturated garments to cling to her with the utmost
- pertinacity. A more complete wreck of a belle was, perhaps, never seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>What an object!</i>” inwardly ejaculated she, as Mrs. Hetherington,
- the landlady, brought a snivelling mould candle into the cheerless,
- fireless little inn-parlour, and she caught a glimpse of herself in the—at
- best—most unbecoming mirror. What would she have given to have
- turned back!
- </p>
- <p>
- And as his lordship hurried up stairs in his water-logged boots, he said
- to himself, with a nervous swing of his arm, “I was right!—women <i>have</i>
- no business out hunting.” And the Binks chance improved amazingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The further <i>denouement</i> of this perishing day will be gleaned from
- the following letters.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV.<br/>THE PRINGLE CORRESPONDENCE.
- </h2>
- <h3>
- MR WILLIAM TO HIS MAMMA.
- </h3>
- <p>
- “Tantivy Castle, November.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dearest Mamma,
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“Though I wrote to you only the other day, I take up my pen, stiff and
- sore as I am and scarcely able to sit, to tell you of my first day’s hunt,
- which, I assure you, was anything but enjoyable. In fact, at this moment I
- feel just as if I had been thumped by half the pugilists in London and
- severely kicked at the end. To my fancy, hunting is about the most
- curious, unreasonable amusement that ever was invented. The first fox was
- well enough, running backwards and forwards in an agreeable manner, though
- they all abused him and called him a cowardly beggar, though to my mind it
- was far pluckier to do what he did, with fifty great dogs after him, than
- to fly like a thief as the next one did. Indeed I saw all the first run
- without the slightest inconvenience or exertion, for a very agreeable
- gentleman, called Major Hammerton, himself an old keeper of hounds, led me
- about and showed me the country.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“I don’t mean to say that he led my horse, but he showed me the way to
- go, so as to avoid the jumps, and pointed out the places where I could get
- a peep of the fox. I saw him frequently. The Major, who was extremely
- polite, asked me to go and stay with him after I leave here, and I
- wouldn’t mind going if it wasn’t for the hounds, which, however, he says
- are quite as fine as his lordship’s, without being so furiously and
- inconveniently fast. For my part, however, I don’t see the use of hunting
- an animal that you can shoot, as they do in France. It seems a monstrous
- waste of exertion. If they were all as sore as I am this morning, I’m sure
- they wouldn’t try it again in a hurry. I really think racing, where you
- pay people for doing the dangerous for you, is much better fun, and
- prettier too, for you can choose any lively colour you like for your
- jacket, instead of having to stick to scarlet or dark clothes.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“But I will tell you about fox No. 2. I was riding with a very pretty
- young lady, Miss de Glancey, whom the Earl had just introduced me to, when
- all of a sudden everybody seemed to be seized with an uncontrollable
- galloping mania, and set off as hard as ever their horses could lay legs
- to the ground. My horse, who they said was a perfect hunter, but who, I
- should say, was a perfect brute, partook of the prevailing epidemic, and,
- though he had gone quite quietly enough before, now seized the bit between
- his teeth, and plunged and reared as though he would either knock my teeth
- down my throat, or come back over upon me. ‘Drop your hand!’ cried one.
- ‘Ease his head!’ cried another, and what was the consequence? He ran away
- with me and, dashing through a flock of turkeys, nearly capsized an old
- sow.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“Then the people, who had been so civil before, all seemed to be seized
- with the rudes. It was nothing but ‘g-u-u-r along, sir! g-u-u-r along!
- Hang it! don’t you see the hounds are running!’ just as if I had made them
- run, or as if I could stop them. My good friend, the Major, seemed to be
- as excited as any body: indeed, the only cool person was Miss de Glancey,
- who cantered away in a most unconcerned manner. I am sorry to say she came
- in for a desperate ducking. It seems that after I had had as much as I
- wanted, and pulled up to come home, they encountered a most terrific
- thunder-storm in crossing some outlandish moor, and as his lordship, who
- didn’t get home till long after dark, said she all at once became a
- dissolving view, and went away to nothing. Mrs. Moffatt, who is stout and
- would not easily dissolve, seemed amazingly tickled with the joke, and
- said she supposed she would look like a Mermaid—which his lordship
- said was exactly the case. When the first roll of thunder was heard here,
- the Earl’s carriage and four was ordered out, with dry things, to go in
- quest of him; but they tried two of his houses of call before they fell in
- with him. It then had to return to take the Mermaid to her home, who had
- to borrow the publican’s wife’s Sunday clothes to travel in.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“After dinner, the stud-groom came in to announce the horses for
- to-day; and hearing one named for me, I begged to decline the honour, on
- the plea of having a great many letters to write, so Mrs. Moffatt
- accompanied his lordship to the meet, some ten miles north of this, in his
- carriage and four, from whence she has just returned, and says they went
- away with a brilliant scent from Foxlydiate Gorse, meaning, I presume,
- with another such clatter as we had yesterday. I am glad I didn’t go, for
- I don’t think I could have got on to a horse, let alone sit one,
- especially at the jumps, which all the Clods in the country seem to have
- clubbed their ideas to concoct. Rougier says people are always stiff after
- the first day’s hunting; but if I had thought I should be as sore and
- stiff as I am, I don’t think I would ever have taken a day, because Major
- Hammerlon says it is not necessary to go out hunting in the morning to
- entitle one to wear the dress uniform in the evening—which is really
- all I care for.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“The servants here seem to live like fighting-cocks, from Rougier’s
- account; breakfasts, luncheons, dinners, teas, and suppers. They sit down,
- ten or a dozen at the second table, and about thirty or so in the hall,
- besides which there are no end of people out of doors. Rougier says they
- have wine at the second table, and eau de vie punch at night at
- discretion, of which, I think, he takes more than is discreet, for he came
- swaggering into my room at day-break this morning, in his evening dress,
- with his hat on, and a great pewter inkstand in his hand, which he set
- down on the dressing-table, and said, ‘dere, sir, dere is your shavin’
- water!’ Strange to say, the fellow speaks better English when he’s drunk
- than he does when he’s sober. However, I suppose I must have a valet,
- otherwise I should think it would be a real kindness to give the great
- lazy fellows here something to do, other than hanging about the passages
- waylaying the girls, I’ll write you again when I know what I’m going to
- do, but I don’t think I shall stay here much longer, if I’m obliged to
- risk my neck after these ridiculous dogs. Ever, my dearest Mamma your most
- affectionate, but excruciatingly sore, son.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wm. PRINGLE.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The following is Mrs. Pringle’s answer; who, it will be seen, received
- Billy’s last letter while she was answering his first one:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “25, Curtain Crescent, “Belgrave Square, London.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My own dearest William,
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“I was overjoyed, my own darling, to receive your kind letter, and hear
- that you had arrived safe, and found his lordship so kind and agreeable. I
- thought you had known him by sight, or I would have prevented your making
- the mistake by describing him to you. However, there is no harm done. In a
- general way, the great man of the place is oftentimes the least.—The
- most accessible, that is to say. The Earl is an excellent, kind-hearted
- man, and it will do you great good among your companions to be known to be
- intimate with him, for I can assure you it is not every one he takes up
- with. Of course, there are people who abuse him, and say he is this and
- that, and so on; but you must take people—especially great ones—as
- you find them in this world; and he is quite as good as his whites of
- their eyes turning-up neighbours. Don’t, however presume on his kindness
- by attempting to stay beyond what he presses you to do, for two short
- visits tell better than one long one, looking as though you had been
- approved of. You can easily find out from the butler or the groom of the
- chambers, or some of the upper servants, how long you are expected to
- stay, or perhaps some of the guests can tell you how long they are invited
- for.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“I had written thus far when your second welcome letter arrived, and I
- can’t tell you how delighted I am to hear you are safe and well, though
- I’m sorry to hear you don’t like hunting, for I assure you it is the best
- of all possible sports, and there is none that admits of such elegant
- variety of costume.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“Look at a shooter,—what a ragamuffin dress his is, hardly
- distinguishable from a keeper; and yachters and cricketers might be taken
- for ticket-of-leave men. I should be very sorry indeed if you were not to
- persevere in your hunting; for a red coat and leathers are quite your
- become, and there is none, in my opinion, in which a gentleman looks so
- well, or a snob so ill. Learning to hunt can’t be more disagreeable than
- learning to sail or to smoke, and see how many hundreds—thousands I
- may say—overcome the difficulty every year, and blow their clouds,
- as they call them, on the quarterdeck, as though they had been born
- sailors with pipes in their mouths. Remember, if you can’t manage to sit
- your horse, you’ll be fit for nothing but a seat in Parliament along with
- Captain Catlap and the other incurables. I can’t think there can be much
- difficulty in the matter, judging from the lumpy wash-balley sort of men
- one hears talking about it. I should think if you had a horse of your own,
- you would be able to make better out. Whatever you do, however, have
- nothing to do with racing. It’s only for rogues and people who have more
- money than they know what to do with, and to whom it doesn’t matter
- whether they win or they lose. We musn’t have you setting up a
- confidential crossing-sweeper with a gold eyeglass. No gentleman need
- expect to make money on the turf, for if you were to win they wouldn’t pay
- you, whereas, if you lose it’s quite a different thing. One of the
- beauties of hunting is that people have no inducement to poison each
- other; whereas in racing, from poisoning horses they have got to poisoning
- men, besides which one party must lose if the other is to win. Mutual
- advantage is impossible. Another thing, if you were to win ever so, the
- trainer would always keep his little bill in advance of your gains, or he
- would be a very bad trainer.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“I hope Major Hammerton is a gentleman of station, whose acquaintance
- will do you good, though the name is not very aristocratic—Hamilton
- would have been better. Are there any Miss H’s? Remember there are always
- forward people in the world, who think to advance themselves by taking
- strangers by the hand, and that a bad introduction is far worse than none.
- Above all, never ask to be introduced to a great man. Great people have
- their eyes and ears about them just as well as little ones, and if they
- choose to know you, they will make the advance. Asking to be introduced
- only prejudices them against you, and generally insures a cut at the first
- opportunity.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“Beware of Miss de Glancey. She is a most determined coquette, and if
- she had fifty suitors, wouldn’t be happy if she saw another woman with
- one, without trying to get him from her. She hasn’t a halfpenny. If you
- see her again, ask her if she knows Mr. Hotspur Smith, or Mr. Enoch
- Benson, or Mr. Woodhorn, and tell me how she looks. What is she doing down
- there? Surely she hasn’t the vanity to think she can captivate the Earl.
- You needn’t mention me to Mrs. Moffatt, but I should like to know what she
- has on, and also if there are any new dishes for dinner. Indeed, the less
- you talk about your belongings the better; for the world has but two ways,
- that of running people down much below their real level, or of extolling
- them much beyond their deserts. Remember, well-bred people always take
- breeding for granted, ‘one of us,’ as they say in others when they find
- them at good houses, and as you have a good name, you have nothing to do
- but hold your tongue, and the chances are they will estimate you at far
- more than your real worth.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“A valet is absolutely indispensable for a young gentleman. Bless you!
- you would be thought nothing of among the servants if you hadn’t one. They
- are their masters’ trumpeters. A valet, especially a French one, putting
- on two clean shirts a day, and calling for Burgundy after your cheese, are
- about the most imposing things in the lower regions. In small places,
- giving as much trouble as possible, and asking for things you think they
- haven’t got, is very well; but this will not do where you now are. In a
- general way, it is a bad plan taking servants to great houses, for, as
- they all measure their own places by the best they have ever seen, and
- never think how many much worse ones there are, they come back
- discontented, and are seldom good for much until they have undergone a
- quarter’s starving or so, out of place. It is a good thing when the great
- man of a country sets an example of prudence and economy, for then all
- others can quote him, instead of having the bad practices of other places
- raked up as authority for introducing them into theirs. The Earl, however,
- would never be able to get through half his income if he was not to wink
- at a little prodigality, and the consumption of wine in great houses would
- be a mere nothing if it was not for the assistance of the servants.
- Indeed, the higher you get into society, the less wine you get, until you
- might expect to see it run out to nothing at a Duke’s. I dare say Rougier
- will be fond of drink, and the English servants will perhaps be fond of
- plying him with it; but, so long as he does not get incompetent, a little
- jollity on his part will make them more communicative before him, and it
- is wonderful what servants can tell. They know everything in the kitchen—nothing
- in the parlour. His lordship, I believe, doesn’t allow strange servants to
- wait except upon very full occasions, otherwise it might be well to put
- Rougier under the surveillance of Beverage, the butler, lest he should
- come into the room drunk and incompetent, which would be very
- disagreeable.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“I enclose you a gold fox-head pin to give Mr. Boggledike, who doesn’t
- take money, at least nothing under £5, and this only costs 18s. He is a
- favourite with his lordship, and it will be well to be in with him. You
- had better give the men who whip the hounds a trifle, say 10s. or
- half-a-sovereign each—gold looks better than silver. If you go to
- Major Hammertons you must let me know; but perhaps you will inquire
- further before you fix. And now, hoping that you will stick to your
- hunting, and be more successful on another horse after a quieter fox,
- believe me ever, my own dearest William, your most truly and sincerely
- affectionate mother,</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i> “Emma Pringle. </i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“P.S.—Don’t forget the two clean shirts.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“P.S.—When you give Dicky Boggledike the pin, you can compliment him
- on his talents as a huntsman (as Mr. Redpath did the actor); and as they
- say he is a very bad one, he will be all the more grateful for it.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“P.S.—I have just had another most pressing letter from your uncle
- Jerry, urging me to go and look through all the accounts and papers, as he
- says it is not fair throwing such a heavy responsibility upon him. Poor
- man! He need not be so pressing. He little knows how anxious I am to do
- it. I hope now we shall get something satisfactory, for as yet I know no
- more than I did before your poor father died.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“P.S.—Don’t forget to tell me if there are any Miss H.‘s, and
- whatever you do, take care of Dowb, that is, yourself.”</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- But somehow Billy forgot to tell his Mamma whether there were any Miss
- H.‘s or not, though he might have said “No,” seeing they were Miss “Y.‘s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And now, while our hero is recovering from his bruises, let us introduce
- the reader further to his next host, Major Y.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV.<br/>MAJOR YAMMERTON’S COACH STOPS THE WAY.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>AJOR Yammerton was
- rather a peculiar man, inasmuch as he was an Ass, without being a Fool. He
- was an Ass for always puffing and inflating himself, while as regarded
- worldly knowledge, particularly that comprised in the magic letters £. s.
- d., few, if any, were his equals. In the former department, he was always
- either on the strut or the fret, always either proclaiming the marked
- attention he had met with, or worrying himself with the idea that he had
- not had enough. At home, instead of offering people freely and hospitably
- what he had, he was continually boring them with apologies for what he had
- not. Just as if all men were expected to have things alike, or as if the
- Major was an injured innocent who had been defrauded of his rights. If he
- was not boring and apologising, then he was puffing or praising everything
- indiscriminately—depending, of course, upon who he had there—a
- great gun or a little one.
- </p>
- <p>
- He returned from his Tantivy Castle hunt, very much pleased with our
- Billy, who seemed to be just the man for his money, and by the aid of his
- Baronetage he made him out to be very highly connected. Mrs. Yammerton and
- the young ladies were equally delighted with him, and it was unanimously
- resolved that he should be invited to the Grange, for which purpose the
- standing order of the house “never to invite any one direct from a great
- house to theirs,” was suspended. A very salutary rule it is for all who
- study appearances, seeing that what looks very well one way may look very
- shady the other; but this being perhaps a case of “now or never,” the
- exception would seem to have been judiciously made. The heads of the house
- had different objects in view; Mamma’s, of course, being matrimonial, the
- Major’s, the laudable desire to sell Mr. Pringle a horse. And the mention
- of Mamma’s object leads us to the young ladies.
- </p>
- <p>
- These, Clara, Flora, and Harriet, were very pretty, and very highly
- educated—that is to say, they could do everything that is useless—play,
- draw, sing, dance, make wax-flowers, bead-stands, do decorative gilding,
- and crochet-work; but as to knowing how many ounces there are in a pound
- of tea, or how many pounds of meat a person should eat in a day, they were
- utterly, entirely, and most elegantly ignorant. Towards the close of the
- last century, and at the beginning of the present one, ladies ran entirely
- to domesticity, pickling, preserving, and pressing people to eat. Corded
- petticoats and patent mangles long formed the staple of a mid life woman’s
- conversation. Presently a new era sprang up, which banished everything in
- the shape of utilitarianism, and taught the then rising generation that
- the less they knew of domestic matters the finer ladies they would be,
- until we really believe the daughters of the nobility are better
- calculated for wives, simply because they are generally economically
- brought up, and are not afraid of losing <i>caste</i>, by knowing what
- every woman ought to do. No man thinks the worse of a woman for being able
- to manage her house, while few men can afford to marry mere music-stools
- and embroidery frames. Mrs. Yammerton, however, took a different view of
- the matter. She had been brought up in the patent mangle and corded
- petticoat school, and inwardly resolved that her daughters should know
- nothing of the sort—should be “real ladies,” in the true kitchen
- acceptation of the term. Hence they were mistresses of all the little
- accomplishments before enumerated, which, with making calls and drinking
- tea, formed the principal occupation of their lives. Not one of them could
- write a letter without a copy, and were all very uncertain in their
- spelling—though they knew to a day when every King and Queen began
- to reign, and could spout all the chief towns in the kingdom. Now this
- might have been all very well, at least bearable, if the cockey Major had
- had plenty of money to give them, but at the time they were acquiring
- them, the “contrary was the case,” as the lawyers say. The Major’s
- grandfather (his father died when he was young) had gone upon the old
- annexation principle of buying land and buying land simply because “it
- joined,” and not always having the cash to pay for it with, our Major came
- into an estate (large or small, according as the reader has more or less
- of his own) saddled with a good, stout, firmly setting mortgage. Land,
- however, being the only beast of burthen that does not show what it
- carries, our orphan—orphan in top-boots to be sure—passed for
- his best, and was speedily snapped up by the then beautiful, Italian—like
- Miss Winnington, who consoled herself for the collapse of his fortune, by
- the reflection that she had nothing of her own. Perhaps, too, she had made
- allowance for the exaggeration of estimates, which generally rate a man at
- three or four times his worth. The Winningtons, however, having made a
- great “crow” at the “catch,” the newly-married couple started at score as
- if the estate had nothing to carry but themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/123m.jpg" alt="123m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/123.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- In due time the three graces appeared,—Clara, very fair, with large
- languishing blue eyes and light hair; Flora, with auburn hair and hazel
- eyes; and Harriet, tall, clear, and dark, like Mamma. As they grew up, and
- had had their heads made into Almanacs at home, they were sent to the
- celebrated Miss Featherey’s finishing and polishing seminary at Westbourne
- Grove, who for £200 a-year, or as near £200 as she could get, taught them
- all the airs and graces, particularly how to get in and out of a carriage
- properly, how to speak to a doctor, how to a counter-skipper, how to a
- servant, and so on. The Major, we may state, had his three daughters taken
- as two. Well, just as Miss Harriet was supplying the place of Miss Clara
- (polished), that great agricultural revolution, the repeal of the corn
- laws, took place, and our Major, who had regarded his estate more with an
- eye to its hunting and shooting capabilities than to high farming, very
- soon found it slipping away from him, just as Miss de Glancey slipped away
- from her dress in the thunder-storm. Up to that time, his easy-minded
- agent, Mr. Bullrush, a twenty stone man of sixty years of age, had thought
- the perfection of management was not to let an estate go back, but now the
- Major’s seemed likely to slip through its girths altogether. To be sure,
- it had not had any great assistance in the advancing line, and was just
- the same sour, rush-grown, poachy, snipe-shooting looking place that it
- was when the Major got it; but this was not his grandfather’s fault, who
- had buried as many stones in great gulf-like drains, as would have carried
- off a river and walled the estate all round into the bargain; but there
- was no making head against wet land with stone drains, the bit you cured
- only showing the wetness of the rest. The blotchy March fallows looked as
- if they had got the small pox, the pastures were hardly green before
- Midsummer, and the greyhound-like cattle that wandered over them were
- evidently of Pharaoh’s lean sort, and looked as if they would <i>never</i>
- be ready for the butcher. Foreign cattle, too, were coming in free, and
- the old cry of “down corn, down horn,” frightened the fabulously famed
- “stout British farmer” out of his wits.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then those valuable documents called leases—so binding on the
- landlord, were found to be wholly inoperative on the tenants, who threw up
- their farms as if there were no such things in existence.
- </p>
- <p>
- If the Major wouldn’t take their givings up, why then he might just do his
- “warst;” meanwhile, of course, they would “do their warst,” by the land.
- With those who had nothing (farming and beer-shop keeping being about the
- only trades a man can start with upon nothing), of course, it was of no
- use persisting, but the awkward part of the thing was, that this probing
- of pockets showed that in too many cases the reputed honesty of the
- British farmer was also mere fiction; for some who were thought to be well
- off, now declared that their capital was their aunt’s, or their uncle’s,
- or their grandmother’s, or some one else’s, so that the two classes, the
- have-somethings, and the have-nothings, were reduced to a level. This sort
- of thing went on throughout the country, and landlords who could not face
- the difficulty by taking their estates in hand, had to submit to very
- serious reductions of rent, and rent once got down, is very difficult to
- get up again, especially in countries where they value by the rate-book,
- or where a traditionary legend attaches to land of the lowest rent it has
- ever been let for.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our Major was sorely dispirited, and each market-day, as he returned from
- Mr. Bullrush’s with worse and worse news than before, he pondered o’er his
- misfortunes, fearing that he would have to give up his hounds and his
- horses, withdraw his daughters from Miss Featherey’s, and go to Boulogne,
- and as he contemplated the airy outline of their newly-erected rural
- palace of a workhouse, he said it was lucky they had built it, for he
- thought they would all very soon be in it. Certainly, things got to their
- worst in the farming way, before they began to mend, and such land as the
- Major’s—good, but “salivated with wet,” as the cabman said of his
- coat—was scarcely to be let at any price.
- </p>
- <p>
- In these go-a-head days of farming, when the enterprising sons of trade
- are fast obliterating the traces of the heavy-heel’d order of easy-minded
- Hodges who,
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-——“held their farms and lived content
-While one year paid another’s rent,”
- </pre>
- <p>
- without ever making any attempt at improvement, it may be amusing to
- record the business-like offer of some of those indolent worthies who
- would bid for a pig in a poke. Thus it runs:—It should have been
- dated April 1, instead of 21:—
- </p>
- <h3>
- TO MAJOR YAMMERTON.
- </h3>
- <p>
- “Onard Sir,
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“Hobnail Hill, April 21. </i>
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wheas We have considered we shall give you for Bonnyrig’s farme the som
- £100 25 puns upon condishinds per year if you should think it to little we
- may perhaps advance a little as we have not looked her carefully over her
- and for character Mr. Sowerby will give you every information as we are
- the third giniration that’s been under the Sowerbys.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“Yours sincerely,</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henerey Brown,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Homfray Brown—Co.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>If you want anye otes I could sell you fifteen bowels of verye fine
- ones.</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- Now the “som £100 25 puns” being less than half what the Major’s
- grandfather used to get for the farm:—viz. “£200 63 puns,”—our
- Major was considerably perplexed; and as “Henerey and Homfray”’s offer was
- but a sample of the whole, it became a question between Boulogne and
- Bastile, as those once unpopular edifices, the workhouses, were then
- called. And here we may observe, that there is nothing perhaps, either so
- manageable or so unmanageable as land—nothing easier to keep right
- than land in good order, and nothing more difficult to get by the head,
- and stop, than land that has run wild; and it may be laid down as an
- infallible rule, that the man who has no taste for land or horses should
- have nothing to do with either. He should put his money in the funds, and
- rail or steam when he has occasion to travel. He will be far richer, far
- fatter, and fill the bay window of his club far better, than by undergoing
- the grinding of farmers and the tyranny of grooms. Land, like horses, when
- once in condition is easily kept so, but once let either go down, and the
- owner becomes a prey to the scratchers and the copers.
- </p>
- <p>
- If, however, a man likes a little occupation better than the eternal
- gossip, and “<i>who’s that?</i>” of the clubs, and prefers a smiling
- improving landscape to a barren retrograding scene, he will find no
- pleasanter, healthier, or more interesting occupation than improving his
- property. And a happy thing it was for this kingdom, that Prince Albert
- who has done so much to refine and elevate mankind, should have included
- farming in the list of his amusements,—bringing the before despised
- pursuit into favour and fashion, so that now instead of land remaining a
- prey to the “Henerey Browns & Co.” of life, we find gentlemen
- advertising for farms in all directions, generally stipulating that they
- are to be on the line of one or other of the once derided railways.
- </p>
- <p>
- But we are getting in advance of the times with our Major, whom we left in
- the slough of despond, consequent on the coming down of his rents. Just
- when things were at their worst, the first sensible sunbeam of simplicity
- that ever shone upon land, appeared in the shape of the practical,
- easy-working Drainage Act, an act that has advanced agriculture more than
- all previous inventions and legislation put together. But our gallant
- friend had his difficulties to contend with even here.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Bullrush was opposed to it. He was fat and didn’t like trouble, so he
- doubted the capacity of such a pocket companion as a pipe to carry off the
- superfluous water, then he doubted the ability of the water to get into
- the pipe at such a depth, above all he doubted the ability of the tenants
- to pay drainage interests. “How could they if they couldn’t pay their
- rents?” Of course, the tenants adopted this view of the matter, and were
- all opposed to making what they called “experiences,” at their own
- expense; so upon the whole, Mr. Bullrush advised the Major to have nothing
- to do with it. It being, however, a case of necessity with the Major, he
- disregarded Mr. Bullrush’s advice which led to a separation, and being now
- a free agent, he went boldly at the government loan, and soon scared all
- the snipes and half the tenants off his estate. The water poured off in
- torrents; the plump juicy rushes got the jaundice, and Mossington bog,
- over which the Major used to have to scuttle on foot after his “haryers,”
- became sound enough to carry a horse. Then as Mr. Bullrush rode by and saw
- each dreary swamp become sound ground, he hugged himself with the sloven’s
- consolation that it “wouldn’t p-a-a-y.” Pay, however, it did, for our
- Major next went and got some stout horses, and the right sort of
- implements of agriculture, and soon proved the truth of the old adage,
- that it is better to follow a sloven than a scientific farmer. He worked
- his land well, cleaned it well, and manured it well; in which three simple
- operations consists the whole science of husbandry, and instead of growing
- turnips for pickling, as his predecessors seemed to do, he got great
- healthy Swedes that loomed as large as his now fashionable daughter’s
- dresses. He grew as many “bowels” of oats upon one acre of land as any
- previous tenant had done upon three. So altogether, our Major throve, and
- instead of going to Boulogne, he presently set up the Cockaded Coach in
- which we saw him arrive at Tantivy Castle. Not that he went to a
- coachmaker’s and said, “Build me a roomy family coach regardless of
- expense,” but, finding that he couldn’t get an inside seat along with the
- thirty-six yard dresses in the old chariot, he dropped in at the sale of
- the late Squire Trefoil’s effects, who had given some such order, and,
- under pretence of buying a shower-bath, succeeded in getting a capital
- large coach on its first wheels for ten pounds,—scarcely the value
- of the pole.
- </p>
- <p>
- As a contrast to Henerey Brown and Co.‘s business-like offer for the farm,
- and in illustration of the difference between buying and selling, we
- append the verbose estimate of this ponderous affair. Thus it runs—
- </p>
- <h3>
- HENRY TREFOIL, ESQ.
- </h3>
- <p>
- To CHALKER AND CHARGER COACHMAKERS, BY APPOINTMENT, TO THE EMPEROR OF
- CHINA, Emperor of Morocco, the King of Oude, the King of the Cannibal
- Islands, &c., &c., &c., &c.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Long Acre, London</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- (Followed by all the crowns, arms, orders, flourish, and flannel, peculiar
- to aristocratic tradesmen.)
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/128m.jpg" alt="128m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/128.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Three hundred and ninety pounds! And to think that the whole should come
- to be sold for ten sovereigns. Oh, what a falling off was there, my
- coachmakers! Surely the King of the Cannibal Islands could never afford to
- pay such prices as those! Verily, Sir Robert Peel was right when he said
- that there was no class of tradespeople whose bills wanted reforming so
- much as coachmakers. What ridiculous price they make wood and iron assume,
- and what absurd offers they make when you go to them to sell!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI.<br/>THE MAJOR’S MENAGE.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/129m.jpg" alt="129m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/129.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>ND first about the
- “haryers!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Five-and-thirty years master of haryers without a subscription!”
- </p>
- <p>
- This, we think, is rather an exaggeration, both as regards time and money,
- unless the Major reckons an undivided moiety he had in an old lady-hound
- called “Lavender” along with the village blacksmith of Billinghurst when
- he was at school. If he so calculates, then he would be right as to time,
- but wrong as to money, for the blacksmith paid his share of the tax, and
- found the greater part of the food. For thirty years, we need hardly tell
- the reader of sporting literature, that the Major had been a master of
- harriers—for well has he blown the horn of their celebrity during
- the whole of that long period—never were such harriers for finding
- jack hares, and pushing them through parishes innumerable, making them
- take rivers, and run as straight as railways, putting the costly
- performances of the foxhounds altogether to the blush. Ten miles from
- point to point, and generally without a turn, is the usual style of thing,
- the last run with this distinguished pack being always unsurpassed by any
- previous performance. Season after season has the sporting world been
- startled with these surprising announcements, until red-coated men, tired
- of blanks and ringing foxes, have almost said, “Dash my buttons, if I
- won’t shut up shop here and go and hunt with these tremendous harriers,”
- while other currant-jelly gentlemen, whose hares dance the fandango before
- their plodding pack, have sighed for some of these wonderful “Jacks” that
- never make a curve, or some of the astonishing hounds that have such a
- knack at making them fly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, but the reader will, perhaps, say it’s the blood that does it—the
- Major has an unrivalled, unequalled strain of harrier blood that nobody
- else can procure. Nothing of the sort! Nothing of the sort! The Major’s
- blood is just anything he can get. He never misses a chance of selling
- either a single hound or a pack, and has emptied his kennel over and over
- again. But then he always knows where to lay hands on more; and as soon as
- ever the new hounds cross his threshold they become the very “best in the
- world”—better than any he ever had before. They then figure upon
- paper, just as if it was a continuous pack; and the field being under
- pretty good command, and, moreover, implicated in the honour of their
- performances, the thing goes on smoothly and well, and few are any the
- wiser. There is nothing so popular as a little fuss and excitement, in
- which every man may take his share, and this it is that makes scratch
- packs so celebrated. Their followers see nothing but their perfections.
- They are
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“To their faults a little blind,
-And to their virtues ever kind.”
- </pre>
- <p>
- At the period of which we are writing, the Major’s pack was rather better
- than usual, being composed of the pick of three packs,—“cries of
- dogs” rather—viz., the Corkycove harriers, kept by the shoemakers of
- Waxley; the Bog-trotter harriers (four couple), kept by some moor-edge
- miners; the Dribbleford dogs, upon whom nobody would pay the tax; and of
- some two or three couple of incurables, that had been consigned from
- different kennels on condition of the Major returning the hampers in which
- they came.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major was open to general consignments in the canine line—Hounds,
- Pointers, Setters, Terriers, &c.—not being of George the Third’s
- way of thinking, who used to denounce all “presents that eat.” He would
- take anything; anything, at least, except a Greyhound, an animal that he
- held in mortal abhorrence. What he liked best was to get a Lurcher, for
- which he soon found a place under a pear-tree.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major’s huntsman, old Solomon, was coachman, shepherd, groom, and
- gamekeeper, as well as huntsman, and was the cockaded gentleman who drove
- the ark on the occasion of our introduction. In addition to all this, he
- waited at table on grand occasions, and did a little fishing, hay-making,
- and gardening in the summer. He was one of the old-fashioned breed of
- servants, now nearly extinct, who passed their lives in one family and
- turned their hands to whatever was wanted. The Major, whose maxim was not
- to keep any cats that didn’t catch mice, knowing full well that all
- gentlemen’s servants can do double the work of their places, provided they
- only get paid for it, resolved, that it was cheaper to pay one man the
- wages of one-and-a-half to do the work of two men, than to keep two men to
- do the same quantity; consequently, there was very little hissing at bits
- and curb-chains in the Major’s establishment, the hard work of other
- places being the light work, or no work at all, of his. Solomon was the <i>beau
- idéal</i> of a harrier huntsman, being, as the French say, <i>d’un certain
- age</i>, quiet, patient, and a pusillanimous rider.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now about the subscription.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is true that the Major did not take a subscription in the common
- acceptation of the term, but he took assistance in various ways, such as a
- few days ploughing from one man, a few “bowels” of seed-wheat from
- another, a few “bowels” of seed-oats from a third, a lamb from a fourth, a
- pig from a fifth, added to which, he had all the hounds walked during the
- summer, so that his actual expenses were very little more than the tax.
- This he jockeyed by only returning about two-thirds the number of hounds
- he kept; and as twelve couple were his hunting maximum, his taxing minimum
- would be about eight—eight couple—or sixteen hounds, at twelve
- shillings a-piece, is nine pound twelve, for which sum he made more noise
- in the papers than the Quorn, the Belvoir, and the Cottesmore all put
- together. Indeed the old adage of “great cry and little wool,” applies to
- packs as well as flocks, for we never see hounds making a great “to-do” in
- the papers without suspecting that they are either good for nothing, or
- that the fortunate owner wants to sell them.
- </p>
- <p>
- With regard to horses, the Major, like many people, had but one sort—the
- best in England—though they were divided into two classes, viz.,
- hunters and draught horses. Hacks or carriage horses he utterly eschewed.
- Horses must either hunt or plough with him; nor was he above putting his
- hunters into the harrows occasionally. Hence he always had a pair of
- efficient horses for his carriage when he wanted them, instead of animals
- that were fit to jump out of their skins at starting, and ready to slip
- through them on coming home.
- </p>
- <p>
- Clothing he utterly repudiated for carriage horses, alleging, that people
- never get any work out of them after they are once clothed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hunters were mostly sedate, elderly animals, horses that had got
- through the “morning of life” with the foxhounds, and came to the harriers
- in preference to harness. The Major was always a buyer or an exchanger, or
- a mixer of both, and would generally “advance a little” on the
- neighbouring job-master’s prices. Then having got them, he recruited the
- veterans by care and crushed corn, which, with cutting their tails, so
- altered them, that sometimes their late groom scarcely knew them again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Certainly, if the animals could have spoken, they would have expressed
- their surprise at the different language the Major held as a buyer and as
- a seller; as a buyer, when like Gil Blas’ mule, he made them out to be all
- faults, as a seller when they suddenly seemed to become paragons of
- perfection. He was always ready for a deal, and would accommodate matters
- to people’s convenience—take part cash, part corn, part hay, part
- anything, for he was a most miscellaneous barterer, and his stable loft
- was like a Marine Store-dealer’s shop. Though always boasting that his
- little white hands were not “soiled with trade,” he would traffic in
- anything (on the sly) by which he thought he could turn a penny. His last
- effort in the buying way had nearly got him into the County Court, as the
- following correspondence will show, as also how differently two people can
- view the same thing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Being in town, with wheat at 80s. and barley and oats in proportion, and
- consequently more plethoric in the pocket than usual, he happened to stray
- into a certain great furniture mart where two chairs struck him as being
- cheap. They were standing together, and one of them was thus ticketed:
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-No. 8205.
-
-2 Elizabethan chairs.
-
-India Japanned.
-
-43 s.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The Major took a good stare at them, never having seen any before. Well,
- he thought they could not be dear at that; little more than a guinea each.
- Get them home for fifty shillings, say. There was a deal of gold, and
- lacker, and varnish about them. Coloured bunches of flowers, inlaid with
- mother of pearl, Chinese temples, with “insolent pig-tailed barbarians,”
- in pink silk jackets, with baggy blue trowsers, and gig whips in their
- hands, looking after the purple ducks on the pea-grcen lake—all very
- elegant.
- </p>
- <p>
- He’d have them, dashed if he wouldn’t! Would try and swap them for Mrs.
- Rocket Larkspur’s Croydon basket-carriage that the girls wanted. Just the
- things to tickle her fancy. So he went into the office and gave his card
- most consequentially, with a reference to Pannell, the sadler in Spur
- Street, Leicestor-square, desiring that the chairs might be most carefully
- packed and forwarded to him by the goods train with an invoice by post.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the invoice came, behold! the 43s. had changed into 86s.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hilloa!” exclaimed the astonished Major. This won’t do! 86s. is twice
- 43s.; and he wrote off to say they had made a mistake. This brought the
- secretary of the concern, Mr. Badbill, on to the scene. He replied beneath
- a copious shower of arms, orders, flourish, and flannel, that the mistake
- was the Major’s—that they, “never marked their goods in pairs,” to
- which the Major rejoined, that they had in this instance, as the ticket
- which he forwarded to Pannell for Badbill’s inspection showed, and that he
- must decline the chairs at double the price they were ticketed for.
- </p>
- <p>
- Badbill, having duly inspected the ticket, retorted that he was surprised
- at the Major’s stupidity, that two meant one, in fact, all the world over.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major rejoined, that he didn’t know what the Reform Bill might have
- done, but that two didn’t mean one when he was at school; and added, that
- as he declined the chairs at 86s. they were at Badhill’s service for
- sending for.
- </p>
- <p>
- Badbill wrote in reply—
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>We really cannot understand how it is possible, for any one to make
- out that a ticket on an article includes the other that may stand next it.
- Certainly the ticket you allude to referred only to the chair on which it
- was placed</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And in a subsequent letter he claimed to have the chairs repacked at the
- Major’s expense, as it was very unfair saddling them with the loss arising
- entirely from the Major’s mistake.
- </p>
- <p>
- To which our gallant friend rejoined, “that as he would neither admit that
- the mistake was his, nor submit to the imputation of unfairness, he would
- stick to the chairs at the price they were ticketed at.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Badbill then wrote that this declaration surprised them much—that
- they did not for a moment think he “intentionally misunderstood the ticket
- as referring to a pair of chairs, whereas it only gave the price of one
- chair,” and again begged to have them back; to which the Major inwardly
- responded, he “wished they might get them,” and sent them an order for the
- 43s.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was returned with expressions of surprise, that after the explanation
- given, the Major should persevere in the same “course of error,” and hoped
- that he would, without further delay, favour the Co. with the right
- amount, for which Badbill said they “anxiously waited,” and for which the
- Major inwardly said, they “might wait.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In due time came a lithographed circular, more imposingly flourished and
- flanneled than ever, stating the terms of the firm were “cash on
- delivery;” and that unless the Major remitted without further delay, he
- would be handed over to their solicitor, &c.; with an intimation at
- the bottom, that that was the “third application”—of which our
- gallant friend took no notice.
- </p>
- <p>
- Next came a written,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>I am desired by this firm to inform you, that unless we hear from you
- by return of post respecting the payment of our account, we shall place
- the matter in the hands of our solicitors without further notice, and
- regret you should have occasioned us so much trouble through your own
- misunderstanding</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came the climax. The Major’s solicitor went, ticket in hand, and
- tendered the 43s., when the late bullying Badbill was obliged to write as
- follows:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>It appears you are quite correct rejecting the ticket, and we are in
- error. Our ticketing clerk had placed the figure in the wrong part of the
- card, the figure ‘two’ referring to the number of chairs in stock, and not
- as understood to signifying chairs for 43s.;</i>” and Badbill humorously
- concluded by expressing a hope that the Major would return the chairs and
- continue his custom—two very unlikely events, as we dare say the
- reader will think, to happen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Such, then, was the knowing gentleman who now sought the company of Fine
- Billy; and considering that he is to be besieged on both sides, we hope to
- be excused for having gone a little into his host and hostess’ pedigree
- and performances.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major wrote Billy a well-considered note, saying, that when he could
- spare a few days from his lordship and the foxhounds, it would afford Mrs.
- Yammerton and himself great pleasure if he would come and pay them a visit
- at Yammerton Grange, and the Major would be happy to mount him, and keep
- his best country for him, and show him all the sport in his power, adding,
- that they had been having some most marvellous runs lately—better
- than any he ever remembered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, independently of our friend Billy having pondered a good deal on the
- beauty of the young lady’s eyes, he could well spare a few days from the
- foxhounds, for his lordship, being quite de Glancey-cured, and wishing to
- get rid of him, had had him out again, and put him on to a more fractious
- horse than before, who after giving him a most indefinite shaking, had
- finally shot him over his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Earl was delighted, therefore, when he heard of the Major’s
- invitation, and after expressing great regret at the idea of losing our
- Billy, begged he would “come back whenever it suited him:” well knowing
- that if he once got him out of the house, he would be very sly if he got
- in again. And so Billy, who never answered Mamma’s repeated inquiries if
- there were any “Miss H’s” engaged himself to Yammerton Grange, whither the
- reader will now perhaps have the kindness to accompany him.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII.<br/>ARRIVAL AT YAMMERTON GRANGE.—A FAMILY PARTY.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0020" id="linkimage-0020"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="figleft" style="width:35%;">
- <img src="images/135m.jpg" alt="135m " width="100%" /><br /> <a
- href="images/135.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </div>
- <p>
- AILWAYS have taken the starch out of country magnificence, as well as out
- of town.
- </p>
- <p>
- Time was when a visitor could hardly drive up to a great man’s door in the
- country in a po’chav—now it would be considered very magnificent—a
- bliss, or a one-oss fly being more likely the conveyance. The Richest
- Commoner in England took his departure from Tantivy Castle in a one-horse
- fly, into which he was assisted by an immense retinue of servants. It was
- about time for him to be gone for Mons. Jean Rougier had been what he
- called “boxaing” with the Earl’s big watcher, Stephen Stout, to whom
- having given a most elaborate licking, the rest of the establishment were
- up in arms, and would most likely have found a match for Monsieur among
- them. Jack—that is to say, Mons. Jean—now kissed his hand, and
- grinned, and bowed, and <i>bon-jour’d</i> them from the box of the fly,
- with all the affability of a gentleman who has had the best of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Off then they ground at as good a trot as the shaky old quadruped could
- raise.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is undoubtedly a good sound principle that Major and Mrs. Yammerton
- went upon, never to invite people direct from great houses to theirs; it
- dwarfs little ones so. A few days ventilation at a country inn with its
- stupid dirty waiters, copper-showing plate, and wretched cookery, would be
- a good preparation, only no one ever goes into an inn in England that can
- help it. Still, coming down from a first-class nobleman’s castle to a
- third-class gentleman’s house, was rather a trial upon the latter. Not
- that we mean to say anything disrespectful of Yammerton Grange, which,
- though built at different times, was good, roomy, and rough-cast, with a
- man-boy in brown and yellow livery, who called himself the “Butler,” but
- whom the women-servants called the “Bumbler.” The above outline will give
- the reader a general idea of the “style of thing,” as the insolvent dandy
- said, when he asked his creditors for a “wax candle and eau-de-Cologne”
- sort of allowance. Everything at the Grange of course was now put into
- holiday garb, both externally and internally—gravel raked, garden
- spruced, stables strawed, &c. All the Major’s old sheep-caps, old
- hare-snares, old hang-locks, old hedging-gloves, pruning-knives, and
- implements of husbandry were thrust into the back of the drawer of the
- passage table, while a mixed sporting and military trophy, composed of
- whips, swords and pistols, radiated round his Sunday hat against the wall
- above it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The drawing-room, we need not say, underwent metamorphose, the chairs and
- sofas suddenly changing from rather dirty print to pea-green damask, the
- druggeted carpet bursting into cornucopias of fruit and gay bouquets,
- while a rich cover of many colours adorned the centre table, which, in
- turn, was covered with the proceeds of the young ladies’ industry. The
- room became a sort of exhibition of their united accomplishments. The
- silver inkstand surmounted a beautiful unblemished blotting-book, fresh
- pens and paper stood invitingly behind, while the little dictionary was
- consigned, with other “sundries,” to the well of the ottoman.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the finishing preparations were progressing, the Major and Mrs.
- Yammerton carried on a broken discussion as to the programme of
- proceedings, and as, in the Major’s opinion,
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“There’s nothing can compare,
-To hunting of the hare,”
- </pre>
- <p>
- he wanted to lead off with a <i>gallope</i>, to which Mrs. Yammerton
- demurred. She thought it would be a much better plan to have a quiet day
- about the place—let the girls walk Mr. Pringle up to Prospect Hill
- to see the view from Eagleton Rocks, and call on Mrs. Wasperton, and show
- him to her ugly girls, in return for their visit with Mr. Giles Smith. The
- Major, on the contrary, thought if there was to be a quiet day about the
- place, he would like to employ it in showing Billy a horse he had to sell;
- but while they were in the midst of the argument the click of front gate
- sneck, followed by the vehement bow-wow-wow-wow-wow bark of the Skye
- terrier, Fury, announced an arrival, and from behind a ground-feathering
- spruce, emerged the shaky old horse, dragging at its tail the heavily
- laden cab. Then there was such a scattering of crinoline below, and such a
- gathering of cotton above, to see the gentleman alight, and such
- speculations as to his Christian name, and which of the young ladies he
- would do for.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say his name’s Harry!” whispered Sally Scuttle, the housemaid, into
- Benson’s—we beg pardon—Miss Benson’s, the ladies’-maid’s ear,
- who was standing before her, peeping past the faded curtains of the
- chintz-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say it’s John!” replied Miss Benson, now that Mr. Pringle’s head
- appeared at the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say it’s Joseph!” interposed Betty Bone, the cook, who stood behind
- Sally Scuttle, at which speculation they all laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hoot, no! he’s not a bit like Joseph,” replied Sally, eyeing Billy as he
- now alighted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lauk! he’s quite a young gent,” observed Bone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Young!</i> to be sure!” replied Miss Henson; “you don’t s’pose we want
- any old’uns here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’ll do nicely for Miss;” observed Sally.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why not for Miss F.?” asked Henson, from whom she had just received
- an old gown.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, either,” rejoined Sally; “only Miss had the last chance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, curates go for nothin’!” retorted Benson; “if it had been a captin it
- would have been something like.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but there’s Miss Harriet; you never mention Miss Harriet, why
- shouldn’t Miss Harriet have a chance?” interposed the cook.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh. Miss Harriet must wait her turn. Let her sisters be served first.
- They can’t all have him, you know, so it’s no use trying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy having entered the house, the ladies’ attention was now directed to
- Monsieur.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a thick, plummy man he is!” observed Benson, looking down on
- Rougier’s broad shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He looks as if he got his vittles well,” rejoined Bone, wondering how he
- would like their lean beef and bacon fare.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where will he have to sleep?” asked Sally Scuttle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, with the Bumbler to be sure,” replied Bone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not <i>he!</i>” interposed Miss Benson, with disdain. “You don’t s’pose a
- reg’lar valley-de-chambre ‘ill condescend to sleep with a footman! You
- don’t know them—if you think that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s got mouse catchers,” observed Sally Scuttle, who had been eyeing
- Monsieur intently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, and a beard like a blacking brush,” whispered Bone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s surely a foreigner,” whispered Benson, as Monsieur’s, “<i>I say!</i>
- take <i>vell</i> care of her!—<i>lee</i>aft her down j-e-a-ntly”
- (alluding to his own carpet bag, in which he had a bottle of rum enveloped
- in swaddling clothes of dirty linen) to the cabman, sounded upstairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So he is,” replied Benson, adding, after a pause, “Well, anybody may have
- him for me;”—saying which she tripped out of the room, quickly
- followed by the others.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our Major having, on the first alarm, rushed off to his dirty Sanctum, and
- crowned himself with a drab felt wide-a-wake, next snatched a little
- knotty dog-whip out of the trophy as he passed, and was at the sash door
- of the front entrance welcoming our hero with the full spring tide of
- hospitality as he alighted from his fly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major was overjoyed to see him. It was indeed kind of him, leaving the
- castle to “come and visit them in their ‘umble abode.” The Major, of
- course, now being on the humility tack.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me take your cloak!” said he; “let me take your cap!” and, with the
- aid of the Bumbler, who came shuffling himself into his brown and yellow
- livery coat, Billy was eased of his wrapper, and stood before the now
- thrown-open drawing-room door, just as Mrs. Yammerton having swept the
- last brown holland cover off the reclining chair, had stuffed it under the
- sofa cushion. She, too, was delighted to see Billy, and thankful she had
- got the room ready, so as to be able presently to subside upon the sofa,
- “Morning Post” in hand, just as if she had been interrupted in her
- reading. The young ladies then dropped in one by one; Miss at the passage
- door, Miss Flora at the one connecting the drawing-room with the Sanctum,
- and Miss Harriet again at the passage door, all divested of their aprons,
- and fresh from their respective looking-glasses. The two former, of
- course, met Billy as an old acquaintance, and as they did not mean to
- allow Misa Harriet to participate in the prize, they just let her shuffle
- herself into an introduction as best she could. Billy wasn’t quite sure
- whether he had seen her before or he hadn’t. At first he thought he had;
- then he thought he hadn’t; but whether he had or he hadn’t, he knew there
- would be no harm in bowing, so he just promiscuated one to her, which she
- acknowledged with a best Featherey curtsey. A great cry of conversation,
- or rather of random observation, then ensued; in the midst of which the
- Major slipped out, and from his Sanctum he overheard Monsieur getting up
- much the same sort of entertainment in the kitchen. There was such
- laughing and giggling and “<i>he-hawing</i>” among the maids, that the
- Major feared the dinner would be neglected.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major’s dining-room, though small, would accommodate a dozen people,
- or incommode eighteen, which latter number is considered the most
- serviceable-sized party in the country where people feed off their
- acquaintance, more upon the debtor and creditor system, than with a view
- to making pleasant parties, or considering who would like to meet. Even
- when they are what they call “alone,” they can’t be “alone,” but must have
- in as many servants as they can raise, to show how far the assertion is
- from the truth.
- </p>
- <p>
- Though the Yammertons sat down but six on the present occasion, and there
- were the two accustomed dumb-waiters in the room, three live ones were
- introduced, viz., Monsieur, the Bumbler, and Solomon, whose duty seemed to
- consist in cooling the victuals, by carrying them about, and in preventing
- people from helping themselves to what was before them, by taking the
- dishes off the steady table, and presenting them again on very unsteady
- hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- No one is ever allowed to shoot a dish sitting if a servant can see it.
- How pleasant it would be if we were watched in all the affairs of life as
- we are in eating!
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur, we may observe, had completely superseded the Bumbler, just as a
- colonel supersedes a captain on coming up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oi am Colonel Crushington of the Royal Plungers,” proclaims the Colonel,
- stretching himself to his utmost altitude.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I am Captain Succumber, of the Sugar-Candy Hussars,” bows the Captain
- with the utmost humility; whereupon the Captain is snuffed out, and the
- Colonel reigns in his stead.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am Monsieur Jean Rougier, valet-de-chambre to me lor Pringle, and I
- sail take in de potage,—de soup,” observed Rougier, coming down
- stairs in his first-class clothes, and pushing the now yellow-legged
- Bumbler aside.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0021" id="linkimage-0021"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/141m.jpg" alt="141m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/141.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- And these hobble-de-hoys never being favourites with the fair, the maids
- saw him reduced without remorse.
- </p>
- <p>
- So the dinner got set upon the table without a fight and though Monsieur
- allowed the Bumbler to announce it in the drawing-room, it was only that
- he might take a suck of the sherry while he was away. But he was standing
- as bolt upright as a serjeant-major on parade when “me lor” entered the
- dining-room with Mrs. Yammerton on his arm, followed by the Graces, the
- Major having stayed behind to blow out the composites.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were soon settled in their places, grace said, and the assault
- commenced.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major was rather behind Imperial John in magnificence, for John had
- got his plate in his drawing-room, while the Major still adhered to the
- good old-fashioned blue and red, and gold and green crockery ware of his
- youth.
- </p>
- <p>
- Not but that both Mamma and the young ladies had often represented to him
- the absolute necessity of having plate, but the Major could never fall in
- with it at his price—that of German silver, or Britannia metal
- perhaps.
- </p>
- <p>
- We dare say Fine Billy would never have noticed the deficiency, if the
- Major had not drawn attention to it by apologising for its absence, and
- fearing he would not be able to eat his dinner without; though we dare
- say, if the truth were known our readers—our male readers at least—will
- agree with us, that a good, hot well-washed china dish is a great deal
- better than a dull, lukewarm, hand-rubbed silver one. It’s the “wittles”
- people look to, not the ware.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the Major was afraid his wine wouldn’t pass muster after the Earl’s,
- and certainly his champagne was nothing to boast of, being that ambiguous
- stuff that halts between the price of gooseberry and real; in addition to
- which, the Major had omitted to pay it the compliment of icing it, so that
- it stood forth in all its native imperfection. However, it hissed, and
- fizzed, and popped, and banged, which is always something exciting at all
- events; and as the Major sported needle-case-shaped glasses which he had
- got at a sale (very cheap we hope), there was no fear of people getting
- enough to do them any harm.
- </p>
- <p>
- Giving champagne is one of those things that has passed into custom almost
- imperceptibly. Twenty, or five-and-twenty years ago, a mid-rank-of-life
- person giving champagne was talked of in a very shake-the-head, solemn, “I
- wish-it-may-last,” style; now everybody gives it of some sort or other. We
- read in the papers the other day of ninety dozen, for which the holder had
- paid £400, being sold for 13s. 6d. a doz.! What a chance that would have
- been for our Major. We wonder what that had been made of.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a happy discovery that giving champagne at dinner saved other wine
- after, for certainly nothing promotes the conviviality of a meeting so
- much as champagne, and there is nothing so melancholy and funereal as a
- dinner party without it. Indeed, giving champagne may be regarded as a
- downright promoter of temperance, for a person who drinks freely of
- champagne cannot drink freely of any other sort of wine after it: so that
- champagne may be said to have contributed to the abolition of the old
- port-wine toping wherewith our fathers were wont to beguile their long
- evenings. Indeed, light wines and London clubs have about banished
- inebriety from anything like good society. Enlarged newspapers, too, have
- contributed their quota, whereby a man can read what is passing in all
- parts of the world, instead of being told whose cat has kittened in his
- own immediate neighbourhood.—With which philosophical reflections,
- let us return to our party.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although youth is undoubtedly the age of matured judgment and
- connoisseurship in everything, and Billy was quite as knowing as his
- neighbours, he accepted the Major’s encomiums on his wine with all the
- confidence of ignorance, and, what is more to the purpose, he drank it.
- Indeed, there was nothing faulty on the table that the Major didn’t
- praise, on the old horse-dealing principle of lauding the bad points, and
- leaving the good ones to speak for themselves. So the dinner progressed
- through a multiplicity of dishes; for, to do the ladies justice, they
- always give good fare:—it is the men who treat their friends to
- mutton-chops and rice puddings.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty Bone, too, was a noble-hearted woman, and would undertake to cook
- for a party of fifty,—roasts, boils, stews, soups, sweets,
- savouries, sauces, and all! And so what with a pretty girl along side of
- him, and two sitting opposite, Billy did uncommonly well, and felt far
- more at home than he did at Tantivy Castle with the Earl and Mrs. Moffatt,
- and the stiff dependents his lordship brought in to dine.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major stopped Billy from calling for Burgundy after his cheese by
- volunteering a glass of home-brewed ale, “bo-bo-bottled,” he said, “when
- he came of age,” though, in fact, it had only arrived from Aloes, the
- chemist’s, at Hinton, about an hour before dinner. This being only sipped,
- and smacked, and applauded, grace was said, the cloth removed, the Major
- was presently assuring Billy, in a bumper of moderate juvenile port, how
- delighted he was to see him, how flattered he felt by his condescension in
- coming to visit him at his ‘umble abode, and how he ‘oped to make the
- visit agreeable to him. This piece of flummery being delivered, the
- bottles and dessert circulated, and in due time the ladies retired, the
- Misses to the drawing-room, Madam to the pantry, to see that the Bumbler
- had not pocketed any of the cheese-cakes or tarts, for which, boy-like, he
- had a propensity.
- </p>
- <h3>
- * * * *
- </h3>
- <p>
- The Major, we are ashamed to say, had no mirror in his drawing-room,
- wherein the ladies could now see how they had been looking; so, of course,
- they drew to that next attraction—the fire, which having duly
- stirred, Miss Yammerton and Flora laid their heads together, with each a
- fair arm resting on the old-fashioned grey-veined marble mantel-piece, and
- commenced a very laughing, whispering conversation. This, of course,
- attracted Miss Harriet, who tried first to edge in between them, and then
- to participate at the sides; but she was repulsed at all points, and at
- length was told by Miss Yammerton to “<i>get away!</i>” as she had
- “nothing to do with what they were talking about.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes I have,” pouted Miss Harriet, who guessed what the conversation was
- about.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, you haven’t,” retorted Miss Flora.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s between Flora and me,” observed Miss Yammerton dryly, with an air of
- authority.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but that’s not fair!” exclaimed Miss Harriet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes it is!” replied Miss Yammerton, throwing up her head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes it <i>is!</i>” asserted Miss Flora, supporting her elder sister’s
- assertion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it’s <i>not!</i>” retorted Miss Harriet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You weren’t there at the beginning,” observed Miss Yammerton, alluding to
- the expedition to Tantivy Castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was not my fault,” replied Miss Harriet, firmly; “Pa would go in the
- coach.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind, you were <i>not</i> there,” replied Miss Yammerton tartly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but I’ll <i>ask mamma</i> if that’s fair?” rejoined Miss Harriet,
- hurrying out of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII.<br/>A LEETLE, CONTRETEMPS.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Major having
- inducted his guest into one of those expensive articles of dining-room
- furniture, an easy chair—expensive, inasmuch as they cause a great
- consumption of candles, by sending their occupants to sleep,—now set
- a little round table between them, to which having transferred the
- biscuits and wine, he drew a duplicate chair to the fire for himself, and,
- sousing down in it, prepared for a <i>tête-à-tête</i> chat with our
- friend. He wanted to know what Lord Ladythorne said of him, to sound
- Billy, in fact, whether there was any chance of his making him a
- magistrate. He also wanted to find out how long Billy was going to stay in
- the country, and see whether there was any chance of selling him a horse;
- so he led up to the points, by calling upon Billy to fill a bumper to the
- “Merry haryers,” observing casually, as he passed the bottle, that he had
- now kept them “five-and-thirty years without a subscription, and was as
- much attached to the sport as ever.” This toast was followed by the
- foxhounds and Lord Ladythorne’s health, which opened out a fine field for
- general dissertation and sounding, commencing with Mr. Boggledike, who,
- the Major not liking, of course, he condemned; and Mrs. Pringle having
- expressed an adverse opinion of him too, Billy adopted their ideas, and
- agreed that he was slow, and ought to be drafted.
- </p>
- <p>
- With his magisterial inquiry the Major was not so fortunate, his lordship
- being too old a soldier to commit himself before a boy like Billy; and the
- Major, after trying every meuse, and every twist, and every turn, with the
- proverbial patience and pertinacity of a hare-hunter, was at length
- obliged to whip off and get upon his horses. When a man gets upon his
- horses, especially after dinner, and that man such an optimist as the
- Major, there is no help for it but either buying them in a lump or going
- to sleep; and as we shall have to endeavour to induce the reader to
- accompany us through the Major’s stable by-and-bye, we will leave Billy to
- do which he pleases, while we proceed to relate what took place in another
- part of the house. For this purpose, it will be necessary to “<i>ease</i>
- her—<i>back</i> her,” as the Thames steamboat boys say, our story a
- little to the close of the dinner.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Jean Rougier having taken the general bearings of the family as
- he stood behind “me lor Pringle’s” chair, retired from active service on
- the coming in of the cheese, and proceeded to Billy’s apartment, there to
- arrange the toilette table, and see that everything was <i>comme il faut</i>.
- Billy’s dirty boots, of course, he took downstairs to the Bumbler to
- clean, who, in turn, put them off upon Solomon.
- </p>
- <p>
- Very smart everything in the room was. The contents of the gorgeous
- dressing-case were duly displayed on the fine white damask cloth that
- covered the rose-colour-lined muslin of the gracefully-fringed and
- festooned toilette cover, whose flowing drapery presented at once an
- effectual barrier to the legs, and formed an excellent repository for old
- crusts, envelopes, curlpapers, and general sweepings. Solid ivory
- hair-brushes, with tortoiseshell combs, cosmetics, curling fluids, oils
- and essences without end, mingled with the bijouterie and knick-nacks of
- the distinguished visitor. Having examined himself attentively in the
- glass, and spruced up his bristles with Billy’s brushes, Jack then stirred
- the fire, extinguished the toilette-table candle, which he had lit on
- coming in, and produced a great blue blouse from the bottom drawer of the
- wardrobe, in which, having enveloped himself in order to prevent his fine
- clothes catching dust, he next crawled backwards under the bed. He had not
- lain there very long ere the opening and shutting of downstairs doors,
- with the ringing of a bell, was followed by the rustling of silks, and the
- light tread of airy steps hurrying along the passage, and stopping at the
- partially-opened door. Presently increased light in the apartment was
- succeeded by less rustle and tip-toe treads passing the bed, and making up
- to the looking-glass. The self-inspection being over, candles were then
- flashed about the room in various directions; and Jack having now thrown
- all his energies into his ears, overheard the following hurried <i>sotto
- voce</i> exclamations:—
- </p>
- <p>
- First Voice. “Lauk! what a little dandy it is!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Second Voice. “Look, I say! look at his boots—one, two, three, four,
- five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten: ten pair, as I live, besides jacks and
- tops.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0022" id="linkimage-0022"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/145m.jpg" alt="145m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/145.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- First Voice. “And shoes in proportion,” the speaker running her candle
- along the line of various patterned shoes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Second Voice. (Advancing to the toilette-table). “Let’s look at his studs.
- Wot an assortment! Wonder if those are diamonds or paste he has on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- First Voice. “Oh, <i>diamonds</i> to be sure” (with an emphasis on
- diamonds). “You don’t s’pose such a little swell as that would wear paste.
- See! there’s a pearl and diamond ring. Just fits me, I do declare,” added
- she, trying it on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Second Voice. “What beautiful carbuncle pins!”
- </p>
- <p>
- First Voice. “Oh. what studs!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Second Voice. “Oh. what chains!”
- </p>
- <p>
- First Voice. “Oh, what pins!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Second Voice. “Oh, what a love of a ring!” And so the ladies continued,
- turning the articles hastily over. “Oh, how happy he <i>must</i> be,”
- sighed a languishing voice, as the inspection proceeded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “See! here’s his little silver shaving box,” observed the first speaker,
- opening it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wonder what <i>he</i> wants with a shaving box,—got no more beard
- than I have,” replied the other, taking up Billy’s badger-hair
- shaving-brush, and applying it to her own pretty chin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! smell what delicious perfume!” now exclaimed the discoverer of the
- shaving-box. “Essence of Rondeletia, I do believe! No, extrait de
- millefleurs,” added she, scenting her ‘kerchief with some.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then there was a hurried, frightened “<i>hush!</i>” followed by a “Take
- care that ugly man of his doesn’t come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ever <i>see</i> such a monster!” ejaculated the other earnestly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Kept his horrid eyes fixed upon me the whole dinner,” observed the first
- speaker.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Frights they are,” rejoined the other.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He must keep him for a foil,” suggested the first.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s go, or we’ll be caught!” replied the alarmist; and forthwith the
- rustling of silks was resumed, the candles hurried past, and the ladies
- tripped softly out of the room, leaving the door ajar, with Jack under the
- bed to digest their compliments at his leisure.
- </p>
- <h3>
- * * * *
- </h3>
- <p>
- But Monsieur was too many for them. Miss had dropped her glove at the foot
- of the bed, which Jack found on emerging from his hiding place, and
- waiting until he had the whole party reassembled at tea, he walked
- majestically into the middle of the drawing-room with it extended on a
- plated tray, his “horrid eyes” combining all the venom of a Frenchman with
- the <i>hauteur</i> of an Englishman, and inquired, in a loud and audible
- voice, “Please, has any lady or shentleman lost its glo-o-ve?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I have!” replied Miss, hastily, who had been wondering where she had
- dropped it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed, marm,” replied Monsieur, bowing and presenting it to her on the
- tray, adding, in a still louder voice, “I found it in Monsieur Pringle’s
- bed-room.” And Jack’s flashing eye saw by the brightly colouring girls
- which were the offenders.
- </p>
- <p>
- Very much shocked was Mamma at the announcement; and the young ladies were
- so put about, that they could scarcely compose themselves at the piano,
- while Miss Harriet’s voice soared exultingly as she accompanied herself on
- her harp.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX.<br/>THE MAJOR’S STUD.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. Yammerton
- carried the day, and the young ladies carried paper-booted Billy, or
- rather walked him up to Mrs. Wasperton’s at Prospect Hill, and showed him
- the ugly girls, and also the beautiful view from Eagleton Rocks, over the
- wide-spreading vale of Vernerley beyond, which, of course, Billy enjoyed
- amazingly, as all young gentlemen do enjoy views under such pleasant
- circumstances. Perhaps he might have enjoyed it more, if two out of three
- of the dear charmers had been absent, but then things had not got to that
- pass, and Mamma would not have thought it proper—at least, not
- unless she saw her way to a very decided preference—which, of
- course, was then out of the question. Billy was a great swell, and the
- “chaws” who met him stared with astonishment at such an elegant parasol’d
- exquisite, picking his way daintily along the dirty, sloppy, rutty lanes.
- Like all gentlemen in similar circumstances, he declared his boots
- “wouldn’t take in wet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, Mamma charged the girls not to be out late, an injunction that
- applied as well to precaution against the night air, as to the importance
- of getting Billy back by afternoon stable time, when the Major purposed
- treating him to a sight of his stud, and trying to lay the foundation of a
- sale.
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps our sporting readers would like to take a look into the Major’s
- stable before he comes with his victim, Fine Billy. If so, let them
- accompany us; meanwhile our lady friends can skip the chapter if they do
- not like to read about horses—or here; if they will step this way,
- and here comes the Dairymaid, they can look at the cows: real Durham
- short-horns, with great milking powers and most undeniable pedigrees. Ah,
- we thought they would tickle your fancy. The cow is to the lady, what the
- horse is to the gentleman, or, on the score of usefulness, what
- hare-hunting is to fox-hunting—or shooting to hunting. Master may
- have many horses pulled backwards out of his stable without exciting half
- the commiseration among the fair, that the loss of one nice quiet
- milk-giving cushy cow affords. Cows are friendly creatures. They remember
- people longer than almost any other animal, dogs not excepted. Well, here
- are four of them, Old Lily, Strawberry Cream, Red Rose, and Toy; the house
- is clean and sweet, and smells of milk, and well-made hay, instead of the
- nasty brown-coloured snuff-smelling stuff that some people think good
- enough for the poor cow.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major is proud of his cows, and against the whitewashed wall he has
- pasted the description of a perfect one, in order that people may compare
- the originals with the portrait. Thus it runs:—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-She’s long in the face, she’s fine in the horn,
-She’ll quickly get fat without cake or corn;
-She’s clean in her jaws, and full in her chine,
-She’s heavy in flank, and wide in her loin;
-She’s broad in her ribs, and long in her rump,
-A straight and flat back without ever a hump;
-She’s wide in her hips, and calm in her eyes,
-She’s fine in her shoulders, and thin in her thighs;
-She’s light in her neck, and small in her tail,
-She’s wide at the breast, and good at the pail.
-She’s fine in her bone and silky of skin.
-She’s a grazier’s without, and a butcher’s within.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Now for the stable; this way, through the saddle-room, and mind the
- whitening on the walls. Stoop yonr head, for the Major being low himself,
- has made the door on the principle of all other people being low too.
- There, there you are, you see, in a stable as neat and clean as a London
- dealer’s; a Newmarket straw plait, a sanded floor with a roomy bench
- against the wall on which the Major kicks his legs and stutters forth the
- merits of his steeds. They are six in number, and before he comes we will
- just run the reader through the lot, with the aid of truth for an
- accompaniment.
- </p>
- <p>
- This grey, or rather white one next the wall, White Surrey, as he calls
- him, is the old quivering tailed horse he rode on the de Glancey day, and
- pulled up to save, from the price-depressing inconvenience of being beat.
- He is eighteen years old, the Major having got him when he was sixteen, in
- a sort of part purchase, part swap, part barter deal. He gave young Mr.
- Meggison of Spoonbill Park thirteen pounds ten shillings, an old mahogany
- Piano-Forte, by Broadwood, six and a half octaves, a Squirrel Cage, two
- Sun-blinds, and a very feeble old horse called Nonpareil, that Tom Rivett
- the blacksmith declared it would be like robbing Meggison to put new shoes
- on to, for him. He is a game good shaped old horse, but having frequently
- in the course of a chequered career, been in that hardest of all hard
- places, the hands of young single horse owners, White Surrey has done the
- work of three or four horses. He has been fired and blistered, and
- blistered and fired, till his legs are as round and as callous as those of
- a mahogany dining-table; still it is wonderful how they support him, and
- as he has never given the Major a fall, he rides him as if he thought he
- never would. His price is sometimes fifty, sometimes forty, sometimes
- thirty, and there are times when he might be bought for a little less—two
- sovereigns, perhaps, returned out of the thirty. The next one to him—the
- white legged brown,—is of the antediluvian order too. He is now
- called Woodpecker, but he may be traced by half-a-dozen aliases through
- other stables—Buckhunter, Captain Tart, Fleacatcher, Sportsman, Marc
- Anthony, &c. He is nearly, if not quite thorough bred, and the ignoble
- purposes to which he has been subjected, false start making, steeple
- chasing, flat and hurdle racing, accounts for the number of his names. The
- Major got him from Captain Caret, of the Apple-pie huzzars, when that
- gallant regiment was ordered out to India,—taking him all away
- together, saddle, bridle, clothing, &c., for twenty-three pounds, a
- strong iron-bound chest, fit for sea purposes, as the Major described it,
- and a spying glass. This horse, like all the rest of them, indeed, is
- variously priced, depending upon the party asking, sometimes fifty,
- sometimes five-and-twenty would buy him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The third is a mare, a black mare, called Star, late the property of Mr.
- Hazey, the horse-dealing master of the Squeezington hounds. Hazey sold her
- in his usual course of horse-dealing cheating to young Mr. Sprigginson, of
- Marygold Lodge, for a hundred and twenty guineas (the shillings back),
- Hazey’s discrimination enabling him to see that she was turning weaver,
- and Sprigginson not liking her, returned her on the warranty; when, of
- course, Hazey refusing to receive her, she was sent to the Eclipse Livery
- and Bait Stables at Hinton, where, after weaving her head off, she was
- sold at the hammer to the Major for twenty-nine pounds. Sprig then brought
- an action against Hazey for the balance, bringing half-a-dozen witnesses
- to prove that she wove when she came; Hazey, of course, bringing a dozen
- to swear that she never did nothin’ ‘o the sort with him, and must have
- learnt it on the road; and the jury being perplexed, and one of them
- having a cow to calve, another wanting to see his sweetheart, and the rest
- wanting their dinners, they just tossed up for it, “Heads!” for Sprig;
- “Tails!” for Hazey, and Sprig won. There she goes, you see, weaving
- backwards and forwards like a caged panther in a den. Still she is far
- from being the worst that the Major has; indeed, we are not sure that she
- is not about the best, only, as Solomon says, with reference to her
- weaving, she gets the “langer the warser.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Number four is a handsome whole coloured bright bay horse, “Napoleon the
- Great,” as the Major calls him, in hopes that his illustrious name will
- sell him, for of all bad tickets he ever had, the Major thinks Nap is the
- worst. At starting, he is all fire, frisk, and emulation, but before he
- has gone five miles, he begins to droop, and in hunting knocks up entirely
- before he has crossed half-a-dozen fields. He is a weak, watery, washy
- creature, wanting no end of coddling, boiled corn, and linseed tea. One
- hears of two days a-week horses, but Napoleon the Great is a day in two
- weeks one. The reader will wonder how the Major came to get such an
- animal, still more how he came to keep him; above all, how he ever came to
- have him twice. The mystery, however, is explained on the old bartering,
- huckstering, half-and-half system. The Major got him first from Tom
- Brandysneak, a low public-house-keeping leather-plater, one of those
- sporting men, not sportsmen, who talk about supporting the turf, as if
- they did it like the noblemen of old, upon principle, instead of for what
- they can put into their own pockets; and the Major gave Sneak an old green
- dog-cart, a melon frame, sixteen volumes of the “Racing Calendar,” bound
- in calf, a ton of seed-hay, fifty yards of Croggon’s asphalt roofing felt,
- and three “golden sovereigns” for him. Nap was then doing duty under the
- title of Johnny Raw, his calling being to appear at different posts
- whenever the cruel conditions of a race required a certain number of
- horses to start in order to secure the added money; but Johnny enacted
- that office so often for the benefit of the “Honourable Society of
- Confederated Legs,” that the stewards of races framed their conditions for
- excluding him; and Johnny’s occupation being gone, he came to the Major in
- manner aforesaid. Being, however, a horse of prepossessing appearance, a
- good bay, with four clean black legs, a neat well set-on head, with an
- equally neat set-on tail, a flowing mane, and other &c’s, he soon
- passed into the possession of young Mr. Tabberton, of Green Linnet Hill,
- whose grandmamma had just given him a hundred guineas wherewith to buy a
- good horse—a <i>real</i> good one he was to be—a
- hundred-guinea-one in fact. Tabberton soon took all the gay insolence out
- of Johnny’s tail, and brought him back to the Major, sadly dilapidated—a
- sad satire upon his former self.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile the Major had filled up his stall with a handsome rich-coloured
- brown mare, with a decidedly doubtful fore-leg; and the Major, all candour
- and affability, readily agreed to exchange, on condition of getting
- five-and-twenty pounds to boot. The mare presently went down to exercise,
- confirming the Major’s opinion of the instability of her leg, and
- increasing his confidence in his own judgment. Napoleon the Great, late
- Johnny Raw, now reigns in her stead, and very well he looks in the straw.
- Indeed, that is his proper place; and as many people only keep their
- horses to look at, there is no reason why Napoleon the Great should remain
- in the Major’s stables. He certainly won’t if the Major can help it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Number five is a vulgar looking little dun-duck-et-y mud-coloured horse,
- with long white stockings, and a large white face, called Bull-dog, that
- Solomon generally rides. Nobody knows how old he is, or how many masters
- he has had, or where he came from, or who his father was, or whether he
- had a grandfather, or anything whatever about him. The Major got him for a
- mere nothing—nine pounds—at Joe Seton’s, the runaway Vet’s
- sale, about five years ago, and being so desperately ugly and common
- looking, no one has ever attempted to deprive the Major of him either in
- the way of barter or sale. Still Bully is a capital slave, always ready
- either to hunt, or hack, or go in harness, and will pass anything except a
- public-house, being familiarly and favourably known at the doors of every
- one in the county. Like most horses, he has his little peculiarity; and
- his consists of a sort of rheumatic affection of the hind leg, which
- causes him to catch it up, and sends him limping along on three legs, like
- a lame dog, but still he never comes down, and the attack soon goes off.
- Solomon and he look very like their work together.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next horse to Bull-dog, and the last in the stable, is Golden-drop, a
- soft, mealy chestnut—of all colours the most objectionable. He is a
- hot, pulling, hauling, rushing, rough-actioned animal, that gives a rider
- two days’ exercise in one.
- </p>
- <p>
- The worst of him is, he has the impudence to decline harness; for though
- he doesn’t “mill,” as they call it, he yet runs backwards as fast as
- forwards, and would crash through a plate-glass window, a gate, a
- conservatory, or anything else that happened to be behind. As a hack he is
- below mediocrity, for in his walk he digs his toes into the ground about
- every tenth step, and either comes down on his nose, or sets off at score
- for fear of a licking, added to which, he shies at every heap of stones
- and other available object on the road, whereby he makes a ten miles’
- journey into one of twelve. The Major got him of Mr. Brisket, the butcher,
- at Hinton, being taken with the way in which his hatless lad spun him
- about the ill-paved streets, with the meat-basket on his arm—the
- full trot, it may be observed, being the animal’s pace—but having
- got him home, the more the Major saw of him the less he liked him. He had
- a severe deal for him too, and made two or three journeys over to Hinton
- on market-days, and bought a pennyworth of whipcord of one saddler, a set
- of spur-leathers of another, a pot of harness-paste of a third, in order
- to pump them about the horse ere he ventured to touch. He also got Mr.
- Paul Straddler, the disengaged gentleman of the place, whose greatest
- pleasure is to be employed upon a deal, to ferret out all he could about
- him, who reported that the horse was perfectly sound, and a capital
- feeder, which indeed he is, for he will attack anything, from a hayband
- down to a hedge-stake. You see he’s busy on his bedding now.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brisket knowing his man, and that the Major killed his own mutton, and
- occasionally beef, in the winter, so that there was no good to be got of
- him in the meat way, determined to ask a stiff price, viz., £25 (Brisket
- having given £14, which the Major having beat down to £23 commenced on the
- mercantile line, which Brisket’s then approaching marriage favoured, and
- the Major ultimately gave a four-post mahogany bedstead, with blue damask
- furniture, palliasse and mattress to match; a mahogany toilet-mirror, 23
- inches by 28: a hot-water pudding-dish, a silver-edged cake-basket, a bad
- barometer, a child’s birch-wood crib, a chess-board, and £2 10 s. in cash
- for him, the £2 10 s.. being, as the Major now declares (to himself, of
- course,) far more than his real worth. However, there the horse stands;
- and though he has been down twice with the Major, and once with the
- Humbler, these little fore paws (<i>faux pas</i>) as the Major calls them,
- have been on the soft, and the knees bear no evidence of the fact. Such is
- our friend’s present stud, and such is its general character.
- </p>
- <p>
- But stay! We are omitting the horse in this large family-pew-looking box
- at the end, whose drawn curtains have caused us to overlook him. He is
- another of the Major’s bad tickets, and one of which he has just become
- possessed in the following way:—
- </p>
- <p>
- Having—in furtherance of his character of a “thorrer sportsman,” and
- to preserve the spirit of impartiality so becoming an old master of
- “haryers”—gone to Sir Moses Mainchance’s opening day, as well as to
- my Lord’s, Sir Moses, as if in appreciation of the compliment, had offered
- to give the horse on which his second whip was blundering among the blind
- ditches.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major jumped at the offer, for the horse looked well with the whip on
- him; and, as he accepted, Sir Moses increased the stream of his generosity
- by engaging the Major to dine and take him away. Sir Moses had a
- distinguished party to meet him, and was hospitality itself. He plied our
- Major with champagne, and hock, and Barsac, and Sauterne, and port, and
- claret, and compliments, but never alluded to the horse until about an
- hour after dinner, when Mr. Smoothley, the jackal of the hunt, brought him
- on the <i>tapis</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” exclaimed Sir Moses, as if in sudden recollection, “that’s true!
- Major, you’re quite welcome to ‘Little-bo-peep,’ (for so he had christened
- him, in order to account for his inquisitive manner of peering). Your <i>quite</i>
- welcome to ‘Little-bo-peep,’ and I hope he’ll be useful to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank’e, Sir Moses, thank’e!” bobbed the grateful Major, thinking what a
- good chap the baronet was.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Not a bit!</i>” replied Sir Moses, chucking up his chin, just as if he
- was in the habit of giving a horse away every other day in the week. “<i>Not
- a bit!</i> Keep him as long as you like—all the season if you please—and
- send him back when you are done.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, as if in deprecation of any more thanks, he plied the wine again,
- and gave the Major and his “harriers” in a speech of great gammonosity.
- The Major was divided between mortification at the reduction of the gift
- into a loan, and gratification at the compliment now paid him, but was
- speedily comforted by the flattering reception his health, and the
- stereotyped speech in which he returned thanks, met at the hands of the
- company. He thought he must be very popular. Then, when they were all well
- wined, and had gathered round the sparkling fire with their coffee or
- their Curaçoa in their hands, Sir Moses button-holed the Major with a loud
- familiar, “I’ll tell ye what, Yammerton! you’re a devilish good feller,
- and there shall be no obligation between us—you shall just give me
- forty puns for ‘Little-bo-peep,’ and that’s making you a present of him
- for it’s a hundred less than I gave.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Ah! that’s the way to do it!” exclaimed Mr. Smoothley, as if delighted
- at Sir Moses having dropped upon the right course. “Ah! <i>that’s</i> the
- way to do it!” repented he, swinging himself gaily round on his toe, with a
- loud snap of his finger and thumb in the air.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Sir Moses said it in such a kind, considerate, matter-of-course sort
- of way, before company too, and Smoothley clenched it so neatly, that our
- wine-flushed Major, acute as he is, hadn’t presence of mind to say “No.”
- So he was saddled with “Little-bo-peep,” who has already lost one eye from
- cataract, which is fast going with the other.
- </p>
- <p>
- But see! Here comes Solomon followed by the Bumbler in fustian, and the
- boy from the farm, and we shall soon have the Major and Billy, so let us
- step into Bo-peep’s box, and I hear the Major’s description of his stud.
- </p>
- <h3>
- * * * *
- </h3>
- <p>
- Scarcely have the grooms dispersed the fast-gathering gloom of a November
- afternoon, by lighting the mould candles in the cord-suspended lanterns
- slung along the ceiling, and began to hiss at the straw, when the Major
- entered, with our friend Billy at his heels. The Bumbler and Chaw then put
- on extra activity, and the stable being presently righted, heads were
- loosened, water supplied, and the horses excited by Solomon’s well-known
- peregrination to the crushed corn-bin. All ears were then pricked, eyes
- cast back, and hind-quarters tucked under to respond gaily to the “come
- over” of the feeder.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0023" id="linkimage-0023"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/155m.jpg" alt="155m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/155.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- The late watchful whinnying restlessness is succeeded by gulping, diving,
- energetic eating. Our friend having passed his regiment of horses in
- silent review, while the hissing was going on, now exchanges a few
- confidential words with the stud groom, as if he left everything to him,
- and then passes upwards to where he started from. Solomon having plenty to
- do elsewhere, presently retires, followed by his helpers, and the Major
- and Billy seat themselves on the bench. After a few puffs and blows of the
- cheeks and premonitory jerks of the legs, the Major nods an approving
- “nice ‘oss, that,” to Napoleon the Great, standing opposite, who is the
- first to look up from his food, being with it as with his work, always in
- a desperate hurry to begin, and in an equally great one to leave off.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nice ‘oss, that,” repeats the Major, nodding again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse, he looks like a nice ‘orse;” replied Billy, which is really as
- much as any man can say under the circumstances.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That ‘oss should have won the D-d-d-derby in Nobbler’s year,” observed
- the Major; “only they d-d-drugged him the night before starting, and he
- didn’t get half round the c-c-co-course,” which was true enough, only it
- wasn’t owing to any drugging, for he wasn’t worth the expense.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That ‘oss should be in Le-le-le-leieestershire,” observed the Major. “He
- has all the commandin’ s-s-s-statur requisite to make large fences look
- s-s-s-small, and the s-s-s-smoothest, oiliest action i-ma-ma-maginable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse;” replied Billy, wondering what pleasure there was in looking at a
- lot of blankets and hoods upon horses—which was about all he could
- see.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He should be at Me-me-melton,” observed the Major; still harping on
- Napoleon—“wasted upon haryers,” added he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” replied Billy, not caring where he was.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major then took a nod at the Weaver, who, as if in aid of her master’s
- design, now stood bolt upright, listening, as it were, instead of reeling
- from side to side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s a sw-sw-swe-e-t mare,” observed the Major, wishing he was rid of
- her. “I don’t know whether I would rather have her or the horse (Nap);”
- which was true enough, though he knew which he would like to sell Billy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ll remember the g-g-gray, the whi-white,” continued he; looking on at
- the old stager against the wall. “That’s the ‘oss I rode with the Peer, on
- the Castle day, and an undeniable g-g-good one he is;” but knowing that he
- was not a young man’s horse—moreover, not wanting to sell him, he
- returned to Napoleon, whose praises he again sounded considerably. Billy,
- however, having heard enough about him, and wanting to get into the house
- to the ladies, drew his attention to Bull-dog, now almost enveloped in
- blankets and straw; but the Major, not feeling inclined to waste any words
- on him either, replied, “That he was only a servant’s ‘oss.” He, however,
- spoke handsomely of Golden-drop, declaring he was the fastest trotter in
- England, perhaps in Europe, perhaps in the world, and would be invaluable
- to a D-d-doctor, or any man who wanted to get over the ground. And then,
- thinking he had said about enough for a beginning, it all at once occurred
- to him that Billy’s feet must be wet, and though our friend asserted most
- confidently that they were not, as all townsmen do assert who walk about
- the country in thin soles, the Major persisted in urging him to go in and
- change, which Billy at length reluctantly assented to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XX.<br/>CARDS FOR A SPREAD.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0024" id="linkimage-0024"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/158m.jpg" alt="158m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/158.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Major’s ménage
- not admitting of two such great events as a hunt and a dinner party taking
- place on the same day, and market interfering as well, the hunt again had
- to be postponed to the interests of the table. Such an event as a
- distinguished stranger—the friend of an Earl, too—coming into
- the country could not but excite convivial expectations, and it would ill
- become a master of hounds and a mother of daughters not to parade the
- acquisition. Still, raising a party under such circumstances, required a
- good deal of tact and consideration, care, of course, being taken not to
- introduce any matrimonial competitor, at the same time to make the
- gathering sufficiently grand, and to include a good bellman or two to
- proclaim its splendour over the country. The Major, like a county member
- with his constituents, was somewhat hampered with his hounds, not being
- able to ask exactly who he liked, for fear of being hauled over the coals,
- viz. warned off the land of those who might think they ought to have been
- included, and altogether, the party required a good deal of management.
- Inclination in these matters is not of so much moment, it being no
- uncommon thing in the country for people to abuse each other right well
- one day, and dine together the next. The “gap” which the Major prized so
- much with his hounds, he strongly objected to with his parties.
- </p>
- <p>
- Stopping gaps, indeed, sending out invitations at all in the country, so
- as not to look like stopping gaps, requires circumspection, where people
- seem to have nothing whatever to do but to note their neighbours’
- movements. Let any one watch the progress of an important trial, one for
- murder say, and mark the wonderful way in which country people come
- forward, long after the event, to depose to facts, that one would imagine
- would never have been noticed—the passing of a man with a cow, for
- instance, just as they dropped their noses upon their bacon plates, the
- suspension of payment by their clock, on that morning, or the post
- messenger being a few minutes late with the letters on that day, and so
- on. What then is there to prevent people from laying that and that
- together, where John met James, or Michael saw Mary, so as to be able to
- calculate, whether they were included in the first, second, or third batch
- of invitations? Towns-people escape this difficulty, as also the equally
- disagreeable one of having it known whether their “previous engagements”
- are real or imaginary; but then, on the other hand, they have the
- inconvenience of feeling certain, that as sure as ever they issue cards
- for a certain day, every one else will be seized with a mania for giving
- dinners on the same one. No one can have an idea of the extent of London
- hospitality—who has not attempted to give a dinner there. Still, it
- is a difficult world to please, even in the matter of mastication, for
- some people who abuse you if you don’t ask them to dine, abuse you quite
- as much if you do. Take the Reverend Mr. Tightlace, the rector, and his
- excellent lady, for instance. Tightlace was always complaining, at least
- observing, that the Yammertons never asked them to dine—wondered “<i>why</i>
- the Yammertons never asked them to dine, was very odd they never asked
- them to dine,” and yet, when Miss Yammerton’s best copper-plate
- handwriting appeared on the highly-musked best cream-laid satin
- note-paper, “requesting, &c.” Tightlace pretended to be quite put out
- at the idea of having to go to meet that wild sporting youth, who, “he’d
- be bound to say, could talk of nothing but hunting.” Indeed, having most
- reluctantly accepted the invitation, he found it necessary to cram for the
- occasion, and having borrowed a copy of that veteran volume, the “British
- Sportsman,” he read up all the long chapter on racing and hunting, how to
- prepare a horse for a hunting match or plate; directions for riding a
- hunting match or plate; of hunting the hare, and hunting the fox, with
- directions for the choice of a hunter, and the management of a hunter;
- part of which latter consisted in putting him to grass between May and
- Bartholomew-tide, and comforting his stomach before going out to hunt with
- toasted bread and wine, or toasted bread and ale, and other valuable
- information of that sort—all of which Tightlace stored in his mind
- for future use—thinking to reduce his great intellect to the level
- of Billy’s capacity.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. and Mrs. Rocket Larkspur, of Ninian Green, were also successfully
- angled for and caught; indeed, Mrs. Larkspur would have been much
- disappointed if they had not been invited, for she had heard of Billy’s
- elegant appearance from her maid, and being an aspiring lady, had a great
- desire to cultivate an acquaintance with high life, in which Billy
- evidently moved. Rocket was a good slow sort of gentleman-farmer, quite a
- contrast to his fast wife, who was all fire, bustle, and animation,
- wanting to manage everybody’s house and affairs for them. He had married
- her, it was supposed, out of sheer submission, because she had made a dead
- set at him, and would not apparently be said “nay” to. It is a difficult
- thing to manouvre a determined woman in the country, where your habits are
- known, and they can assail you at all points—church, streets,
- fields, roads, lanes, all are open to them; or they can even get into your
- house under plea of a charity subscription, if needs be. Mrs. and Miss
- Dotherington, of Goney Garth, were invited to do the Morning Post
- department, and because there was no fear of Miss Dotherington, who was
- “very amiable,” interfering with our Billy. Mrs. Dotherington’s other <i>forte</i>,
- besides propagating parties, consisted in angling for legacies, and she
- was continually on the trot looking after or killing people from whom she
- had, or fancied she had, expectations. “I’ve just been to see poor Mrs.
- Snuff,” she would say, drawing a long face; “she’s looking <i>wretchedly</i>
- ill, poor thing; fear she’s not long for this world;” or, with a grin, “I
- suppose you’ve heard old Mr. Wheezington has had another attack in the
- night, which nearly carried him off.” Nothing pleased her so much as being
- told that any one from whom she had expectations was on the wane. She
- could ill conceal her satisfaction.
- </p>
- <p>
- So far so good; the party now numbered twelve, six of themselves and six
- strangers, and nobody to interfere with Fine Billy. The question then
- arose, whether to ask the Blurkinses, or the Faireys, or the Crickletons,
- and this caused an anxious deliberation. Blurkins was a landowner, over
- whose property the Major frequently hunted; but then on the other hand, he
- was a most disagreeable person, who would be sure to tread upon every
- body’s corns before the evening was over. Indeed, the Blurkins’ family,
- like noxious vermin, would seem to have been sent into the world for some
- inscrutable purpose, their mission apparently being to take the conceit
- out of people by telling them home truths. “Lor’ bless us! how old you
- have got! why you’ve lost a front tooth! declare I shouldn’t have known
- you!” or “Your nose and your chin have got into fearful proximity,” was
- the sort of salute Blurkins would give an acquaintance after an absence.
- Or if the “Featherbedfordshire Gazette,” or the “Hit-im and Hold-im shire
- Herald” had an unflattering paragraph respecting a party’s interference at
- the recent elections, or on any other subject, Blurkins was the man who
- would bring it under his notice. “There, sir, there; see what they say
- about you!” he would say, coming up in the news-room, with the paper
- neatly folded to the paragraph, and presenting it to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Faireys of Yarrow Court were the most producible people, but then Miss
- was a beauty, who had even presumed to vie with the Yammertons, and they
- could not ask the old people without her. Besides which, it had transpired
- that a large deal box, carefully covered with glazed canvas, had recently
- arrived at the Rosedale station, which it was strongly suspected contained
- a new dinner dress from Madame Glace’s in Hanover Street; and it would
- never do to let her sport it at Yammerton Grange against their girl’s
- rather soiled—but still by candle-light extremely passable—watered
- silk ones. So, after due deliberation, the Faireys were rejected.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Crickletons’ claims were then taken into consideration.
- </p>
- <p>
- Crick was the son of Crickleton, the late eminent chiropodist of Bolton
- Row, whom many of our readers will remember parading about London on his
- piebald pony, with a groom in a yellow coat, red plush breeches, and
- boots; and the present Crickleton was now what he called “seeking repose”
- in the country, which, in his opinion, consisted in setting all his
- neighbours by the ears. He rented Lavender Lodge and farm, and being a
- thorough Cockney, with a great inclination for exposing his ignorance both
- in the sporting and farming way, our knowing Major was making rather a
- good thing of him. At first there was a little rivalry between them, as to
- which was the greater man: Crickleton affirming that his father might have
- been knighted; the Major replying, that as long as he wasn’t knighted it
- made no matter. The Major, however, finding it his interest to humour his
- consequence, compromised matters, by always taking in Mrs. Crickleton, a
- compliment that Crick returned by taking in Mrs. Yammerton. Though the
- Major used, when in the running-down tack, to laugh at the idea of a
- knight’s son claiming precedence, yet, when on the running-up one, he used
- to intimate that his friend’s father might have been knighted, and even
- sometimes assigned the honour to his friend himself. So he talked of him
- to our Billy.
- </p>
- <p>
- The usual preponderating influence setting in in favour of acceptances,
- our host and hostess were obliged to play their remaining card with
- caution. There were two sets of people with equal claims—the
- Impelows of Buckup Hill, and the Baskyfields of Lingworth Lawn; the
- Impelows, if anything, having the prior claim, inasmuch as the Yammertons
- had dined with them last; but then, on the other hand, there was a very
- forward young Impelow whom they couldn’t accommodate, that is to say,
- didn’t want to have; while, as regarded the Baskyfields, old Basky and
- Crickleton were at daggers drawn about a sow Basky had sold him, and they
- would very likely get to loggerheads about it during the evening. A plan
- of the table was drawn up, to see if it was possible to separate them
- sufficiently, supposing people would only have the sense to go to their
- right places, but it was found to be impracticable to do justice to their
- consequence, and preserve the peace as well; so the idea of having the
- Baskyfields was obliged to be relinquished. This delay was fatal to the
- Impelows, for John Giles, their man-of-all-work, having seen Solomon
- scouring the country on horseback with a basket, in search of superfluous
- poultry, had reported the forthcoming grand spread at the Grange to his
- “Missis”; and after waiting patiently for an invitation, it at length came
- so late as to be an evident convenience, which they wouldn’t submit to; so
- after taking a liberal allowance of time to answer, in order to prevent
- the Yammertons from playing the same base trick upon any one else, they
- declined in a stiff, non-reason-assigning note. This was the first check
- to the hitherto prosperous current of events, and showed our sagacious
- friends that the time was past for stopping gaps with family people, and
- threw them on the other resources of the district.
- </p>
- <p>
- The usual bachelor stop-gaps of the neighbourhood were Tom Hetherington,
- of Bearbinder Park, and Jimmy Jarperson, of Fothergill Burn, both of whom
- had their disqualifications; Jarperson’s being an acute nerve-shaking sort
- of laugh, that set every one’s teeth on edge who heard it, and earned for
- him the title of the Laughing Hyæna; the other’s misfortune being, that he
- was only what may be called an intermediate gentleman, that is to say, he
- could act the gentleman up to a pint of wine or so, after which quantity
- nature gradually asserted her supremacy, and he became himself again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our friend Paul Straddler, of Hinton, at one time had had the call of them
- both, but the Major, considering that Straddler had not used due diligence
- in the matter of Golden-drop, was not inclined to have him. Besides which,
- Straddler required a bed, which the Major was not disposed to yield, a bed
- involving a breakfast, and perhaps a stall for his horse, to say nothing
- of an out-of-place groom Straddler occasionally adopted, and who could eat
- as much as any two men. So the Laughing Hyæna and Hetherington were
- selected.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now, gentle reader, if you will have the kindness to tell them off on
- your fingers as we call them over, we will see if we have got country, and
- as many as ever the Major can cram into his diningroom. Please count:—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-Major, Mrs., three Misses Yammerton and Fine Billy...6
-
-The Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Tightlace......................2
-
-Mr. and Mrs. Rocket Larkspur.........................2
-
-Mrs. and Miss Dotherington...........................2
-
-Mr. and Mrs. Blurkins................................2
-
-Mr. and Mrs. Crickleton..............................2
-
-The Hyæna, and Hetherington..........................2
-
-18
-</pre>
- <p>
- All right! eighteen; fourteen for dining-room chairs, and four for bedroom
- ones. There are but twelve Champagne needle-cases, but the deficiency is
- supplied by half-a-dozen ale glasses at the low end of the table, which
- the Major says will “never be seen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So now, if you please, we will go and dress—dinner being sharp six,
- recollect.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXI.<br/>THE GATHERING.—THE GRAND SPREAD ITSELF.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F a dinner-party
- in town, with all the aids and appliances of sham-butlers, job-cooks,
- area-sneak-entrés, and extraneous confectionary, causes confusion in an
- establishment, how much more so must a party in the country, where, in
- addition to the guests, their servants, their horses, and their carriages,
- are to be accommodated. What a turning-out, and putting-up, and
- make-shifting, is there! What a grumbling and growling at not getting into
- the best stable, or at not having the state-vehicle put into the
- coach-house. If Solomon had not combined the wisdom of his namesake, with
- the patience of Job, he would have succumbed to the pressure from without.
- As it was, he kept persevering on until having got the last shandry-dan
- deposited under the hay house, he had just time to slip up-stairs to
- “clean himself,” and be ready to wait at dinner.
- </p>
- <p>
- But what a commotion the party makes in the kitchen! Everybody is in a
- state of stew, from the gallant Betty Bone down to the hind’s little girl
- from Bonnyriggs Farm, whom they have “got in” for the occasion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor do their anxieties end with the dishing-up of the dinner; for no
- sooner is it despatched, than that scarcely less onerous entertainment,
- the supper for the servants, has to be provided.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then comes the coffee, then the tea, then the tray, and then the carriages
- wanted, then good night, good night, good night; most agreeable evening;
- no idea it was so late; and getting away. But the heat, and steam, and
- vapour of the kitchen overpowers us, and we gladly seek refuge in the
- newly “done-up” drawing-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- In it behold the Major!—the Major in all the glory of the Yammerton
- harrier uniform, a myrtle-green coat, with a gold embroidered hare on the
- myrtle-green velvet collar, and puss with her ears well back, striding
- away over a dead gold surface, with a raised burnished rim of a button, a
- nicely-washed, stiffly-starched, white vest, with a yellow silk one
- underneath, black shorts, black silk stockings, and patent leather pumps.
- He has told off his very rare and singularly fine port wine, his prime old
- Madeira, matured in the West Indies; his nutty sherry, and excellently
- flavoured claret, all recently bought at the auction mart, not forgetting
- the ginger-pop-like champagne,—allowing the liberal measure of a
- pint for each person of the latter, and he is now trying to cool himself
- down into the easy-minded, unconcerned, every-day-dinner-giving host.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Yammerton too, on whom devolves the care of the wax and the
- modérateurs, is here superintending her department—seeing that the
- hearth is properly swept, and distributing the Punches, and Posts, and
- “Ask Mamma’s” judiciously over the fine variegated table-cover. She is
- dressed in a rich silvery grey—with a sort of thing like a silver
- cow tie, with full tassels, twisted and twined serpent-like into her full,
- slightly streaked, dark hair.
- </p>
- <p>
- The illumination being complete, she seats herself fan in hand on the
- sofa, and a solemn pause then ensues, broken only by Billy’s and
- Monsieur’s meanderings over-head, and the keen whistle of the November
- wind careering among the hollies and evergreens which the Major keeps
- interpreting into wheels.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then his wife and he seek to relieve the suspense of the moment by
- speculating on who will come first.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Those nasty Tightlaces for a guinea,” observed the Major, polishing his
- nails, while Mrs. Yammerton predicted the Larkspurs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, the Tights,” reiterated the Major, jingling his silver; “Tights
- always comes first—thinks to catch one unprepared—”
- </p>
- <p>
- At length the furious bark of the inhospitable terrier, who really seemed
- as if he would eat horses, vehicle, visitors, and all, was followed by a
- quick grind up to the door, and such a pull at the bell as made the Major
- fear would cause it to suspend payment for good—<i>ring-ring-ring-ring-ring</i>
- it went, as if it was never going to stop.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pulled the bell out of the socket, for a guinea,” exclaimed the Major,
- listening for the letting down of steps, iron or recessed—recessed
- had it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. D.” said the Major—figuring her old Landaulet in his mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Ladies</i> evidently,” assented Mrs. Yammerton, as the rustle of silks
- on their way to the put-to-rights Sanctum, sounded past the drawing-room
- door. The Major then began speculating as to whether they would get
- announced before another arrival took place, or not.
- </p>
- <h3>
- ****
- </h3>
- <p>
- Presently a renewed rustle was succeeded by the now yellow-legged,
- brown-backed Bumbler, throwing open the door and exclaiming in a
- stentorian voice, as if he thought his master and mistress had turned
- suddenly deaf, “Mrs. and Miss Dotherington!” and in an instant the four
- were hugging, and grinning, and pump-handling each other’s arms as if they
- were going into ecstacies, Mrs. Dotherington interlarding her gymnastics
- with Mrs. Yammerton, with sly squeezes of the hand, suited to <i>soto voce</i>
- observations not intended for the Major’s ears, of “so <i>‘appy</i> to ear
- it! so glad to congratulate you! <i>So nice!</i>” with an inquisitive
- whisper of—“<i>which is it? which is it?</i> Do tell me!”
- </p>
- <h3>
- ****
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>Bow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow</i> went the clamorous Fury again; <i>Ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring</i>
- went the aggravated bell, half drowning Mrs. Yammerton’s impressive “O
- dear! nothin’ of the sort—nothin’ of the sort, only a fox-hunting
- acquaintance of the Major’s—only a fox-hunting acquaintance of the
- Major’s.” And then the Major came to renew his affectionate embraces, with
- inquiries about the night, and the looks of the moon—was it hazy, or
- was it clear, or how was it?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. and Mrs. Rocket Larkspur!” exclaimed the Bumbler, following up the
- key-note in which he had pitched his first announcement and forthwith the
- hugging and grinning was resumed with the new comers, Mrs. Larkspur
- presently leading Mrs. Yammerton off sofawards, in order to poke her
- inquiries unheard by the Major, who was now opening a turnip dialogue with
- Mr. Rocket—yellow bullocks, purple tops, and so on. “Well, tell me—<i>which
- is it?</i>” ejaculated Mrs. Rocket Larkspur, looking earnestly, in Mrs.
- Yammerton’s expressive eyes—“<i>which is it,</i>” repeated she, in a
- determined sort of take-no-denial tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh dear! nothin’ of the sort—nothin’ of the sort, I assure you!”
- whispered Mrs. Yammerton anxiously, well knowing the danger of holloaing
- before you are out of the wood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, <i>tell me—tell me</i>,” whispered Mrs. Rocket, coaxingly; “I’m
- not like Mrs.————um there, looking at Mrs.
- Dotherington, who would blab it all over the country.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Really</i> I have nothing to tell,” replied Mrs. Yammerton serenely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, do you mean to say he’s not after one of the————um’s?”
- demanded Mrs. Rocket eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know what you mean,” laughed Mrs. Yammerton.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0025" id="linkimage-0025"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/167m.jpg" alt="167m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/167.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- <i>Bow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow</i> went the terrier again, giving Mrs.
- Yammerton an excuse for sidling off to Mrs. “um,” who with her daughter
- were lost in admiration at a floss silk cockatoo, perched on an orange
- tree, the production of Miss Flora. “Oh, it was so beautiful! Oh, what a
- love of a screen it would make; what would she give if her Margaret could
- do such work,” inwardly thinking how much better Margaret was employed
- making her own—we will not say what.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Bow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow</i> went Fury again, the proceeds of this bark
- being Mr. and Mrs. Tightlace, who now entered, the former “‘oping they
- weren’t late,” as he smirked, and smiled, and looked round for the youth
- on whom he had to vent his “British Sportsman” knowledge—the latter
- speedily drawing Mrs. Yammerton aside—to the ladies know what. But
- it was “no go” again. Mrs. Yammerton really didn’t know what Mrs.
- Tightlace meant. No; she <i>really</i> didn’t. Nor did Mrs. Tightlace’s
- assurance that it was “the talk of the country,” afford any clue to her
- meaning—but Mrs. Tightlace’s large miniature brooch being luckily
- loose, Mrs. Yammerton essayed to fasten it, which afforded her an
- opportunity of bursting into transports of delight at its beauty, mingled
- with exclamations as to its “<i>wonderful</i> likeness to Mr. T.,” though
- in reality she was looking at Mrs. Tightlace’s berthe, to see whether it
- was machinery lace, or real.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the grand rush took place; and Fury’s throat seemed wholly inadequate
- to the occasion, as first Blurkins’s Brougham, then Jarperson’s Gig, next
- the corn-cutter’s <i>calèche</i>, and lastly, Hetherington’s Dog-cart
- whisked up to the door, causing a meeting of the highly decorated watered
- silks of the house, and the hooded enveloped visitors hurrying through the
- passage to the cloak-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the time the young ladies had made their obeisances and got
- congratulated on their looks, the now metamorphosed visitors came trooping
- in, flourishing their laced kerchiefs, and flattening their <i>chapeaux
- mèchaniques</i> as they entered. Then the full chorus of conversation was
- established; moon, hounds, turnips, horses.
- </p>
- <p>
- Parliament, with the usual—“Oi see by the papers that Her
- Majesty is gone to Osborne,” or, “Oi see by the papers that
- the Comet is coming;” while Mrs. Rocket Larkspur draws Miss
- Yammerton aside to try what she can fish out of her. But here comes Fine
- Billy, and if ever hero realised an author’s description of him,
- assuredly it is our friend, for he sidles as unconcernedly into the room
- as he would into a Club or Casino, with all the dreamy listlessness of a
- thorough exquisite, apparently unconscious of any change having taken
- place in the party. But if Billy is unconscious of the presence of
- strangers, his host is not, and forthwith he inducts him into their
- acquaintance—Hetherington’s, Hyæna’s, and all.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is, doubtless, very flattering of great people to vote all the little
- ones “one of us,” and not introduce them to anybody, but we take leave to
- say, that society is considerably improved by a judicious presentation. We
- talk of our advanced civilisation, but manners are not nearly so good, or
- so “at-ease-setting,” as they were with the last generation of apparently
- stiffer, but in reality easier, more affable gentlemen of the old school.
- But what a note of admiration our Billy is! How gloriously he is attired.
- His naturally curling hair, how gracefully it flows; his elliptic collar,
- how faultlessly it stands; his cravat, how correct; his shirt, how
- wonderfully fine; and, oh! how happy he must be with such splendid
- sparkling diamond studs—such beautiful amethyst buttons at his
- wrists—and such a love of a chain disporting itself over his richly
- embroidered blood-stone-buttoned vest. Altogether, such a first-class
- swell is rarely seen beyond the bills of mortality. He looks as if he
- ought to be kept under a glass shade. But here comes the Bumbler, and now
- for the agony of the entertainment.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major, who for the last few minutes has been fidgetting about pairing
- parties off according to a written programme he has in his waistcoat
- pocket, has just time to assign Billy to Mrs. Rocket Larkspur, to assuage
- her anguish at not being taken in before Mrs. Crickleton, when the
- Bumbler’s half-fledged voice is heard proclaiming at its utmost altitude—“dinner
- is sarved!” Then there is such a bobbing and bowing, and backing of
- chairs, and such inward congratulations, that the “‘orrid ‘alf’our” is
- over, and hopes from some that they may not get next the fire—while
- others wish to be there. Though the Major could not, perhaps, manage to
- get twenty thousand men out of Hyde Park, he can, nevertheless, manouvre a
- party out of his drawing-room into his dining-room, and forthwith he led
- the way, with Mrs. Crickleton under his arm, trusting to the reel winding
- off right at the end. And right it would most likely have wound off had
- not the leg-protruding Bumbler’s tongue-buckle caught the balloon-like
- amplitude of Mrs. Rocket Larkspur’s dress and caused a slight stoppage—in
- the passage,—during which time two couples slipped past and so
- deranged the entire order of the table. However, there was no great harm
- done, as far as Mrs. Larkspur’s consequence was concerned, for she got
- next Mr. Tightlace, with Mr. Pringle between her and Miss Yammerton, whom
- Mrs. Larkspur had just got to admit, that she wouldn’t mind being Mrs. P————,
- and Miss having been thus confidential, Mrs. was inclined, partly out of
- gratitude,—partly, perhaps, because she couldn’t help it—to
- befriend her. She was a great mouser, and would promote the most forlorn
- hope, sooner than not be doing.
- </p>
- <p>
- We are now in the dining-room, and very smart everything is. In the centre
- of the table, of course, stands the Yammerton testimonial,—a
- “Savory” chased silver plated candelabrum, with six branches, all lighted
- up, and an ornamental centre flower-basket, decorated with evergreens and
- winter roses, presented to our friend on his completing his “five and
- twentieth year as master of harriers,” and in gratitude for the
- unparalleled sport he had uniformly shown the subscribers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Testimonialising has become quite a mania since the Major got his, and no
- one can say whose turn it may be next. It is not everybody who, like Mr.
- Daniel Whittle Harvey with the police force one, can nip them in the bud;
- but Inspector Field, we think, might usefully combine
- testimonial-detecting with his other secret services. He would have plenty
- to do—especially in the provinces. Indeed London does not seem to be
- exempt from the mania, if we may judge by Davis the Queen’s huntsman’s
- recent attempt to avert the intended honour; neatly informing the
- projectors that “their continuing to meet him in the hunting field would
- be the best proof of their approbation of his conduct.” However, the Major
- got his testimonial; and there it stands, flanked by two pretty imitation
- Dresden vases decorated with flowers and evergreens also. And now the
- company being at length seated and grace said, the reeking covers are
- removed from the hare and mock turtle tureens, and the confusion of
- tongues gradually subsides into sip-sip-sipping of soup. And now
- Jarperson, having told his newly caught footman groom to get him hare soup
- instead of mock turtle, the lad takes the plate of the latter up to the
- tureen of the former, and his master gets a mixture of both—which he
- thinks very good.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now the nutty sherry comes round, which the Major introduces with a
- stuttering exordium that would induce anyone who didn’t know him to
- suppose it cost at least 80s. a-dozen, instead of 36s. (bottles included);
- and this being sipped and smacked and pronounced excellent, “two fishes”
- replace the two soups, and the banquet proceeds, Mr. Tightlace trying to
- poke his sporting knowledge at Billy between heats, but without success,
- the commoner not rising at the bait, indeed rather shirking it.
- </p>
- <p>
- A long-necked green bottle of what the Bumbler called “bluecellas,” then
- goes its rounds; and the first qualms of hunger being appeased, the
- gentlemen are more inclined to talk and listen to the luncheon-dining
- ladies. Mrs. Rocket Larkspur has been waiting most anxiously for Billy’s
- last mouthful, in order to interrogate him, as well as to London fashion,
- as to his opinions of the Miss “ums.” Of course with Miss “um” sitting
- just below Billy, the latter must be done through the medium of the
- former,—so she leads off upon London.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She supposed he’d been very gay in London?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” drawled Billy in the true dandified style, drawing his napkin
- across his lips as he spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Rocket wasn’t so young as she had been, and Billy was too young to
- take up with what he profanely called “old ladies.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’d live at the west-end, she s’posed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” replied Billy, feeling his amplified tie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did he know Billiter Square?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” replied he, running his ringed fingers down his studs. “Was it
- fashionable?” asked Mrs. Rocket. (She had a cousin lived there who had
- asked her to go and see her.)
- </p>
- <p>
- “Y-a-a-rse, I should say it is,” drawled Billy, now playing with a bunch
- of trinkets, a gold miniature pistol, a pearl and diamond studded locket,
- a gold pencil-case, and a white cornelian heart, suspended to his
- watch-chain. “Y-a-a-rse, I should say it is,” repeated he; adding “not so
- fashionable as Belgrave.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sceuse me, sare,” interrupted Monsieur Jean Rougier from behind his
- master’s chair, “Sceuse me, it is not fashionable, sare,—it is not
- near de Palace or de Park of Hyde, sare, bot down away among those dem
- base mechanics in de east—beyond de Mansion ‘Ouse, in fact.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, ah, y-a-a-rse, true,” replied Billy, not knowing where it was, but
- presuming from Mrs. Larkspur’s inquiry that it was some newly sprung-up
- square on one of the western horns of the metropolis.
- </p>
- <p>
- Taking advantage of the interruption, Mr. Tightlace again essayed to edge
- in his “British Sportsman” knowledge beginning with an inquiry if “the
- Earl of Ladythorne had a good set of dogs this season?” but the Bumbler
- soon cut short the thread of his discourse by presenting a bottle of brisk
- gooseberry at his ear. The fizzing stuff then went quickly round, taxing
- the ingenuity of the drinkers to manoeuvre the frothy fluid out of their
- needlecase-shaped glasses. Then as conversation was beginning to be
- restored, the door suddenly flew open to a general rush of returning
- servants. There was Soloman carrying a sirloin of beef, followed by Mr.
- Crickleton’s gaudy red-and-yellow young man with a boiled turkey, who in
- turn was succeeded by Mr. Rocket Larkspur’s hobbledehoy with a ham, and
- Mr. Tightlace’s with a stew. Pâtés and côtelettes, and minces, and messes
- follow in quick succession; and these having taken their seats,
- immediately vacate them for the Chiltern-hundreds of the hand. A shoal of
- vegetables and sundries alight on the side table, and the feast seems
- fairly under weigh.
- </p>
- <p>
- But see! somehow it prospers not!
- </p>
- <p>
- People stop short at the second or third mouthful, and lay down their
- knives and forks as if they had had quite enough. Patties, and cutlets,
- and sausages, and side-dishes, all share the same fate!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take round the champagne,” says the Major, with an air, thinking to
- retrieve the character of his kitchen with the solids. The juicy roast
- beef, and delicate white turkey with inviting green stulling, and rich red
- ham, and turnip-and-carrot-adorned stewed beef then made their progresses,
- but the same fate attends them also. People stop at the second or third
- mouthful;—some send their plates away slily, and ask for a little of
- a different dish to what they have been eating, or rather tasting. That,
- however, shares the same fate.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take round the champagne,” again says the Major, trying what another
- cheerer would do. Then he invites the turkey-eaters—or leavers,
- rather—to eat beef; and the beef eaters—or leavers—to
- eat turkey: but they all decline with a thoroughly satisfied
- ‘no-more-for-me’ sort of shake of the head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take away!” at length says the Major, with an air of disgust, following
- the order with an invitation to Mrs. Rocket Larkspur to take wine. The
- guests follow the host’s example, and a momentary rally of liveliness
- ensues. Mrs. Rocket Larkspur and Mr. Tightlace contend for Fine Billy’s
- ear; but Miss Yammerton interposing with a sly whisper supersedes them
- both. Mrs. Rocket construes that accordingly. A general chirp of
- conversation is presently established, interspersed with heavy demands
- upon the breadbasket by the gentlemen. Presently the door is thrown open,
- and a grand procession of sweets enters—jellies, blancmanges, open
- tarts, shut tarts, meringues, plum pudding, maccaroni, black puddings,—we
- know not what besides: and the funds of conviviality again look up. The
- rally is, however, but of momentary duration. The same evil genius that
- awaited on the second course seems to attend on the third. People stop at
- the second or third mouthful and send away the undiminished plates slily,
- as before. Some venture on other dishes—but the result is the same—the
- plate vanishes with its contents. There is, however, a great run upon the
- cheese—Cheshire and Gloucester; and the dessert suffers severely.
- All the make-weight dishes, even, disappear; and when the gentlemen rejoin
- the ladies in the drawing-room they attack the tea as if they had not had
- any dinner.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length a “most agreeable evening” is got through; and as each group
- whisks away, there is a general exclamation of “What a most extraordinary
- taste everything had of—————” What do you
- think, gentle reader?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can’t guess! can’t you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you think, Mrs. Brown?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you think, Mrs. Jones?
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you, Mrs. Robinson?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! none of you able to guess! And yet everybody at table hit off
- directly!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All give it up?” Brown, Jones, and Robinson?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—yes—yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, we’ll tell you”:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everything tasted of Castor oil!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Castor oil!</i>” exclaims Mrs. Brown.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Castor oil!” shrieks Mrs. Jones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Castor oil!” shudders Mrs. Robinson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O-o-o-o! how nasty!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how came it there?” asks Mrs. Brown.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ll tell you that, too—”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major’s famous cow Strawberry-cream’s calf was ill, and they had
- tapped a pint of fine “cold-drawn” for it, which Monsieur Jean Rougier
- happening to upset, just mopped it up with his napkin, and chucking it
- away, it was speedily adopted by the hind’s little girl in charge of the
- plates and dishes, who imparted a most liberal castor oil flavour to
- everything she touched.
- </p>
- <p>
- And that entertainment is now known by the name of the “Castor Oil
- Dinner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXII.<br/>A HUNTING MORNING.—UNKENNELING.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HAT a commotion
- there was in the house the next morning! As great a disturbance as if the
- Major had been going to hunt an African Lion, a royal Bengal Tiger, or a
- Bison itself. <i>Ring-ring-ring-ring</i> went one bell, <i>tinkle-tinkle-tinkle</i>
- went another, <i>ring-ring-ring</i> went the first again, followed by
- exclamations of “There’s master’s bell again!” with such a running down
- stairs, and such a getting up again. Master wanted this, master wanted
- that, master had carried away the buttons at his knees, master wanted his
- other pair of White what-do-they-call-ems—not cords, but moleskins—that
- treacherous material being much in vogue among masters of harriers. Then
- master’s boots wouldn’t do, he wanted his last pair, not the newly-footed
- ones, and they were on the trees, and the Bumbler was busy in the stable,
- and Betty Bone could not skin the trees, and altogether there was a
- terrible hubbub in the house. His overnight exertions, though coupled with
- the castor oil catastrophe, seemed to have abated none of his ardour in
- pursuit of the hare.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile our little dandy, Billy, lay tumbling and tossing in bed,
- listening to the dread preparations, wishing he could devise an excuse for
- declining to join him. The recollection of his bumps, and his jumps, and
- his falls, arose vividly before him, and he would fain have said “no” to
- any more. He felt certain that the Major was going to give him a startler,
- more dreadful perhaps than those he had had with his lordship. Would that
- he was well out of it! What pleasure could there be in galloping after an
- animal they could shoot? In the midst of these reflections Mons. Rougier
- entered the apartment and threw further light on the matter by opening the
- shutters.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You sall get up, sare, and pursue the vild beast of de voods—de
- Major is a-goin’ to hont.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Y-a-r-se,” replied Billy, turning over.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I sal get out your habit verd, your green coat, dat is to say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>No! no!</i>” roared Billy; “<i>the red! the red!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>De red!</i>” exclaimed Monsieur in astonishment, “de red Not for de
- soup dogs! you only hont bold reynard in de red.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, you do,” retorted Billy, “didn’t the Major come to the carstle
- in red?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because he came to hont de fox,” replied Monsieur; “if he had com’ for to
- hont poor puss he would ‘ave ‘ad on his green or his grey, or his some
- other colour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy now saw the difference, and his mortification increased. “Well, I’ll
- breakfast in red at all events,” said he, determined to have that
- pleasure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vell, sare, you can pleasure yourself in dat matter; but it sall be moch
- ridicule if you pursue de puss in it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why not?” asked Billy, “hunting’s hunting, all the world over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot tell you vy, sir; but it is not <i>etiquette</i>, and I as a
- professor of garniture, toggery vot you call, sid lose <i>caste</i> with
- my comrades if I lived with a me lor vot honted poor puss in de pink.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Humph!</i>” grunted Billy, bouncing out of bed, thinking what a bore
- it was paying a man for being his master. He then commenced the operations
- of the occasion, and with the aid of Monsieur was presently attired in the
- dread costume. He then clonk, clonk, clonked down stairs with his
- Jersey-patterned spurs, toes well out to clear the steps, most heartily
- wishing he was clonking up again on his return from the hunt.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0026" id="linkimage-0026"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/175m.jpg" alt="175m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/175.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Monsieur was right. The Major is in his myrtle-green coat—a coat,
- not built after the fashion of the scanty swallow-tailed red in which he
- appears at page 65 of this agreeable work, but with the more liberal
- allowance of cloth peculiar to the period in which we live. A loosely
- hanging garment, and not a strait-waistcoat, in fact, a fashion very much
- in favour of bunglers, seeing that anybody can make a sack, while it takes
- a tailor to make a coat. The Major’s cost him about two pounds five, the
- cloth having been purchased at a clothier’s and made up at home, by a
- three shilling a day man and his meat. We laugh at the ladies for liking
- to be cheated by their milliners; but young gentlemen are quite as
- accommodating to their tailors. Let any man of forty look at his tailor’s
- bill when he was twenty, and see what a liberality of innocence it
- displays. And that not only in matters of taste and fashion, which are the
- legitimate loopholes of extortion, but in the sober articles of ordinary
- requirement. We saw a once-celebrated west-end tailor’s bill the other
- day, in which a plain black coat was made to figure in the following
- magniloquent item:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “A superfine black cloth coat, lappels sewed on” (we wonder if they are
- usually pinned or glued) “lappels sewed on, cloth collar, cotton sleeve
- linings, velvet handfacings,” (most likely cotton too,) “embossed edges
- and fine wove buttons”—how much does the reader think? four guineas?
- four pound ten? five guineas? No, five pound eighteen and sixpence! An
- article that our own excellent tailor supplies for three pounds fifteen!
- In a tailor’s case that was recently tried, a party swore that fourteen
- guineas was a fair price for a Taglioni, when every body knows that they
- are to be had for less than four. But boys will be boys to the end of the
- chapter, so let us return to our sporting Major. He is not so happy in his
- nether garments as he is in his upper ones; indeed he has on the same
- boots and moleskins that Leech drew him in at Tantivy Castle, for these
- lower habiliments are not so easy of accomplishment in the country as
- coats, and though most people have tried them there, few wear them out,
- they are always so ugly and unbecoming. As, however, our Major doesn’t
- often compare his with town-made ones, he struts about in the comfortable
- belief that they are all right—very smart.
- </p>
- <p>
- He is now in a terrible stew, and has been backwards and forwards between
- the house and the stable, and in and out of the kennel, and has called
- Solomon repeatedly from his work to give him further instructions and
- further instructions still, until the Major has about confused himself and
- every body about him. As soon as ever he heard by his tramp overhead that
- Billy had got into his boots, he went to the bottom of the stairs and
- holloaed along the passage towards the kitchen. “Betty! Betty! Betty! send
- in breakfast as soon as ever Mr. Pringle comes down!”’ “Ah, dere is de
- Majur.” observed Monsieur, pausing from Billy’s hair-arranging to listen—“him
- kick up dc deval’s own dost on a huntin’ mornin’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s happened him?” asked Billy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t know—but von vould think he was going to storm a city—take
- Sebastopol himself,” replied Monsieur, shrugging his broad shoulders. He
- then resumed his valeting operations, and crowned the whole by putting
- Billy into his green cut-away, without giving him even a peep of the pink.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile, Mrs. Yammerton has been holding a court of inquiry in the
- kitchen and larder, as to the extent of the overnight mischief, smelling
- at this dish and that, criticising the spoons, and subjecting each
- castor-oily offender to severe ablution in boiling water. Of course no one
- could tell in whose hands the bottle of “cold drawn” had come “in two,”
- and Monsieur was too good a judge to know anything about it; so as the
- mischief couldn’t be repaired, it was no use bewailing it farther than to
- make a knot in her mind to be more careful of such dangerous commodities
- in future.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty Bone had everything—tea, coffee, bread, cakes, eggs, ham
- (fried so as to hide the spurious flavour), honey, jam, &c., ready for
- Miss Benson, who had been impressed into the carrying service, <i>vice</i>
- the Bumbler turned whip, to take in as soon as Mr. Pringle descended, a
- fact that was announced to the household by the Major’s uproarious
- greeting of him in the passage. He was overjoyed to see him! He hoped he
- was none the worse for his over-night festivities; and without waiting for
- an answer to that, he was delighted to say that it was a fine hunting
- morning, and as far as human judgment could form an opinion, a good
- scenting one; but after five-and-thirty years’ experience as a master of
- “haryers,” he could conscientiously say that there was nothing so doubtful
- or ticklish as scent, and he made no doubt Mr. Pringle’s experience would
- confirm his own, that many days when they might expect it to be
- first-rate, it was bad, and many days when they might expect it to be bad,
- it was first-rate; to all which accumulated infliction Billy replied with
- his usual imperturbable “Yarse,” and passed on to the more agreeable
- occupation of greeting the young ladies in the dining-room. Very glad they
- all were to see him as he shook hands with all three.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major, however, was not to be put off that way; and as he could not
- get Billy to talk about hunting, he drew his attention to breakfast,
- observing that they had a goodish trot before them, and that punctuality
- was the politeness of princes. Saying which, he sat down, laying his great
- gold watch open on a plate beside him, so that its noisy ticking might
- remind Billy of what they had to do. The Major couldn’t make it out how it
- was that the souls of the young men of the present day are so difficult to
- inflame about hunting. Here was he, turned of————,
- and as eager in the pursuit as ever. “Must be that they smoke all their
- energies out,” thought he; and then applied himself vigorously to his tea
- and toast, looking up every now and then with irate looks at his wife and
- daughters, whose volubility greatly retarded Billy’s breakfast
- proceedings. He, nevertheless, made sundry efforts to edge in a hunting
- conversation himself, observing that Mr. Pringle mustn’t expect such an
- establishment as the Peer’s, or perhaps many that he was accustomed to—that
- they would have rather a shortish pack out, which would enable them to
- take the field again at an early day, and so on; all of which Billy
- received with the most provoking indifference, making the Major wish he
- mightn’t be a regular crasher, who cared for nothing but riding. At
- length, tea, toast, eggs, ham, jam, all had been successively taxed, the
- Major closed and pocketed his noisy watch, and the doomed youth rose to
- perform the dread penance with the pack. “Good byes,” “good mornings,”
- “hope you’ll have good sport,” followed his bowing spur-clanking exit from
- the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- A loud crack of the Major’s hammer-headed whip now announced their arrival
- in the stable-yard, which was at once a signal for the hounds to raise a
- merry cry, and for the stable-men to loosen their horses’ heads from the
- pillar-reins. It also brought a bevy of caps and curl-papers to the back
- windows of the house to see the young Earl, for so Rougier had assured
- them his master was—(heir to the Earldom of Ladythorne)—mount.
- At a second crack of the whip the stable-door flew open, and as a
- shirt-sleeved lad receded, the grey-headed, green-coated sage Solomon
- advanced, leading forth the sleek, well-tended, well-coddled, Napoleon the
- Great.
- </p>
- <p>
- Amid the various offices filled by this Mathews-at-home of a servant,
- there was none perhaps in which he looked better or more natural than in
- that of a huntsman. Short, spare, neat, with a bright black eye,
- contrasting with the sobered hue of his thin grey hair, no one would
- suppose that the calfless little yellow and brown-liveried coachman of the
- previous night was the trim, neatly-booted, neatly-tied huntsman now
- raising his cap to the Richest Commoner in England, and his great master
- Major Yammerton—Major of the Featherbedfordshire Militia, master of
- “haryers,” and expectant magistrate.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Solomon,” said the Major, acknowledging his salute, as though it
- was their first meeting of the morning, “well, Solomon, what do you think
- of the day?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, sir, I think the day’s well enough,” replied Solomon, who was no
- waster of words.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think so too,” said the Major, drawing on his clean doeskin gloves. The
- pent-up hounds then raised another cry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s pretty!” exclaimed the Major listening
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s <i>beautiful!</i>” added he, like an enthusiastic admirer of music
- at the opera.
- </p>
- <p>
- Imperturbable Billy spoke not.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pr’aps you’d like to see them unkenneled?” said the Major, thinking to
- begin with the first act of the drama.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” replied Billy, feeling safe as long as he was on foot.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major then led the way through a hen-house-looking door into a little
- green court-yard, separated by peeled larch palings from a flagged one
- beyond, in which the expectant pack were now jumping and frisking and
- capering in every species of wild delight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, you beauties!” exclaimed the Major, again cracking his whip. He then
- paused, thinking there would surely be a little praise. But no; Billy just
- looked at them as he would at a pen full of stock at a cattle show.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be-be-beauties, ar’n’t they?” stuttered the Major.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” replied Billy; thinking they were prettier than the great
- lounging, slouching foxhounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ca-ca-capital hounds,” observed the Major.
- </p>
- <p>
- No response from Billy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undeniable b-b-blood,” continued our friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- No response again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “F-f-foxhounds in mi-mi-miniature,” observed the Major.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” replied Billy, who understood that.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lovely! Lovely! Lovely! there’s a beautiful bitch,” continued the Major,
- pointing to a richly pied one that began frolicking to his call.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bracelet! Bracelet! Bracelet!” holloaed he to another; “pretty bitch that—pure
- Sir Dashwood King’s blood, just the right size for a haryer—shouldn’t
- be too large. I hold with So-so-somerville,” continued the Major, waxing
- warm, either with his subject, or at Billy’s indifference, “that one
- should
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-‘A di-di-different hound for every chase
-Select with judgment; nor the timorous hare,
-O’ermatch’d, destroy; but leave that vile offence
-To the mean, murderous, coursing crew, intent
-On blood and spoil.’”
- </pre>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” replied Billy, turning on his heel as though he had had enough of
- the show.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this juncture, the Major drew the bolt, open flew the door, and out
- poured the pack; Ruffler and Bustler dashing at Billy, and streaking his
- nice cream-coloured leathers down with their dirty paws, while Thunder and
- Victim nearly carried him off his legs with the couples. Billy was in a
- great fright, never having been in such a predicament before.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major came to the rescue, and with the aid of his whip and his voice,
- and his “for shame, Ruffler! for shame, Bustler!” with cuts at the coupled
- ones, succeeded in restoring order.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s mount,” said he, thinking to get Billy out of further danger; so
- saying he wheeled about and led the way through the outer yard with the
- glad pack gamboling and frisking around him to the stables.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hounds raise a fresh cry of joy as they see Solomon with his horse
- ready to receive them.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIII.<br/>SHOWING A HORSE.—THE MEET.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Bumbler, like
- our Mathews-at-home of a huntsman, is now metamorphosed, and in lieu of a
- little footman, we have a capped and booted whip. Not that he <i>is</i> a
- whip, for Solomon carries the couples as well as the horn, and also a
- spare stirrup-leather slung across his shoulder; but our Major has an eye
- as well to show as to business, and thinks he may as well do the
- magnificent, and have a horse ready to change with Billy as soon as
- Napoleon the Great seems to have had enough. To that end the Bumbler now
- advances with the Weaver which he tenders to Billy, with a deferential
- touch of his cap.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, that’s <i>your</i> horse!” exclaimed the Major, making for White
- Surrey, to avoid the frolics and favours of his followers; adding, as he
- climbed on, “you’ll find her a ca-ca-capital hack and a first-rate hunter.
- Here, <i>elope, hounds, elope!</i>” added he, turning his horse’s head
- away to get the course clear for our friend to mount unmolested.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy then effects the ascent of the black mare, most devoutly wishing
- himself safe off again. The stirrups being adjusted to his length, he
- gives a home thrust with his feet in the irons, and gathering the thin
- reins, feels his horse gently with his left leg, just as Solomon mounts
- Napoleon the Great and advances to relieve the Major of his charge. The
- cavalcade then proceed; Solomon, with the now clustering hounds, leading;
- the Major and Billy riding side by side, and the Bumbler on Bulldog
- bringing up the rear. Caps and curl-papers then disappear to attend to the
- avocations of the house, the wearers all agreeing that Mr. Pringle is a
- very pretty young gentleman, and quite worthy of the pick of the young
- ladies.
- </p>
- <p>
- Crossing Cowslip garth at an angle they get upon Greenbat pasture, where
- the first fruits of idleness are shown by Twister and Towler breaking away
- at the cows.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Yow, yow!</i>” they go in the full enjoyment of the chase. It’s a
- grand chance for the Bumbler, who, adjusting his whip-thong, sticks spurs
- into Bulldog and sets off as hard as ever the old horse can lay legs to
- the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get round them, man! get round them,” shouts the Major, watching Bully’s
- leg-tied endeavours, the old horse being a better hand at walking than
- galloping.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length they are stopped and chided and for shamed, and two more fields
- land our party in Hollington lane, which soon brings them into the
- Lingytine and Ewehurst-road, whose liberal width and ample siding bespeaks
- the neighbourhood of a roomier region. Solomon at a look from the Major
- now takes the grass siding with his hounds, while the gallant master just
- draws his young friend alongside of them on the road, casting an
- unconcerned eye upon the scene, in the hope that his guest will say
- something handsome at last. But no, Billy doesn’t. He is fully occupied
- with his boots and breeches, whose polish and virgin purity he still
- deplores. There’s a desperate daub down one side. The Major tries to
- engage his attention by coaxing and talking to the hounds. “Cleaver, good
- dog! Cleaver! Chaunter, good dog! Chaunter!” throwing them bits of
- biscuit, but all his efforts are vain. Billy plods on at the old post-boy
- pace, apparently thinking of nothing but himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile Solomon ambles cockily along on Napoleon, with a backward and
- forward move of his leg to the horse’s action, who ducks and shakes his
- head and plays good-naturedly with the hounds, as if quite delighted at
- the idea of what they are going to do. He shows to great advantage. He has
- not been out for a week, and the coddling and linseeding have given a
- healthy bloom to his bay coat, and he has taken a cordial ball with a
- little catechu, and ten grains of opium, to aid his exertions. Solomon,
- too, shows him off well. Though he hasn’t our friend Dicky Boggledike’s
- airified manner, like him he is little and light, sits neatly in his
- saddle, while his long coat-lap partly conceals the want of ribbing home
- of the handsome but washy horse. His boots and breeehes, drab cords and
- brown tops, are good, so are his spurs, also his saddle and bridle.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is a difference of twenty per cent, between the looks of a horse in
- a good, well-made London saddle, and in one of those great, spongy, pulby,
- puddingy things we see in the country. Again, what a contrast there is
- between a horse looking through a nice plain-fronted, plain-buckled,
- thin-reined, town-made bridle, and in one of those gaudy-fronted things,
- all over buckles, with reins thick enough for traces to the Lord Mayor’s
- coach.
- </p>
- <p>
- All this adornment, however, is wasted upon fine Billy, who hasn’t got
- beyond the mane and tail beauties of a horse. Action, strength, stamina,
- symmetry, are as yet sealed subjects to him. The Major was the man who
- could enlighten him, if Billy would only let him do it, on the two words
- for himself and one for Billy principle. Do it he would, too, for he saw
- it was of no use waiting for Billy to begin.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0027" id="linkimage-0027"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/181m.jpg" alt="181m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/181.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- “Nice ‘oss that,” now observed the Major casually, nodding towards Nap.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” replied Billy, looking him over.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s the o-o-oss I showed you in the stable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it?” observed Billy, who didn’t recognize him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ought to be at M-m-melton, that oss,” observed the Major.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why isn’t he?” asked Billy, in the innocence of his heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t know,” replied the Major carelessly, with a toss of his head;
- “don’t know. The fact is, I’m idle—no one to send with him—too
- old to go myself—haryers keep me at home—year too short to do
- all one has to do—see what a length he is—ord bless us he’d go
- over Ashby p-p-pastures like a comet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy had now got his eyes well fixed upon the horse, which the Major
- seeing held his peace, for he was a capital seller, and had the great gift
- of knowing when he had said enough. He was not the man to try and bore a
- person into buying, or spoil his market by telling a youngster that the
- horse would go in harness, or by not asking enough. So with Solomon still
- to and froing with his little legs, the horse still lively and gay, the
- hounds still frisking and playing, the party proceeded through the
- fertility-diminishing country, until the small fields with live fences
- gradually gave way to larger, drabber enclosures with stone walls, and
- Broadstruther hill with its heath-burnt summit and quarry broken side at
- length announces their approach to the moors. The moors! Who does not feel
- his heart expand and his spirit glow as he comes upon the vast ocean-like
- space of moorland country? Leaving the strife, the cares, the contentions
- of a narrow, elbow-jostling world for the grand enjoyment of pure
- unrestricted freedom! The green streak of fertile soil, how sweet it
- looks, lit up by the fitful gleam of a cloud-obscured sun, the distant
- sky-touching cairn, how tempting to reach through the many intricacies of
- mountain ground—so easy to look at, so difficult to travel. The ink
- rises gaily in our pen at the thought, and pressing on, we cross the
- rough, picturesque, stone bridge over the translucent stream, so unlike
- the polished, chiseled structures of town art, where nothing is thought
- good that is not expensive; and now, shaking off the last enclosure, we
- reach the sandy road below the watcher’s hill-ensconced hut, and so wind
- round into the panorama of the hills within.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! there we are!” exclaimed the Major, now pointing out the myrtle-green
- gentlemen with their white cords, moving their steeds to and fro upon the
- bright sward below the grey rocks of Cushetlaw hill.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There we are,” repeated he, eyeing them, trying to make out who they
- were, so as to season his greetings accordingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was farmer Rintoul on the white, and Godfrey Faulder, the cattle
- jobber, on the grey; and Caleb Bennison, the horse-breaker, in his
- twilled-fustian frock, ready to ride over a hound as usual; and old
- Duffield, the horse-leech, in his low-crowned hat, black tops, and one
- spur; and Dick Trail, the auctioneer, on his long-tailed nag; and Bonnet,
- the billiard-table keeper of Hinton, in his odious white hat, grey tweed,
- and collar-marked screw; but who the cluster of men are on the left the
- Major can’t for the life of him make out. He had hoped that Crickleton
- might have graced the meet with his presence, but there is no symptom of
- the yellow-coated groom, and Paul Straddler would most likely be too
- offended at not being invited to dine and have gone to Sir Moses’s hounds
- at the Cow and Calf on the Fixton and Primrose-bank road. Still there were
- a dozen or fourteen sportsmen, with two or three more coming over the
- hill, and distance hiding the deficiencies as well of steeds as of
- costume, the whole has a very lively and inspiriting effect.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the joyous, well-known “here they come!” of the lookers out, a move is
- perceptible among the field, who forthwith set off to meet the hounds, and
- as the advancing parties near, the Major has time to identify and
- appropriate their faces and their persons. First comes Captain Nabley, the
- chief constable of Featherbeds, who greets our master with the
- friendliness of a brother soldier, “one of us” in arms, and is forthwith
- introduced to our Billy. Next is fat farmer Nettlefold, who considers
- himself entitled to a shake of the hand in return for the Major’s frequent
- comings over his farm at Carol-hill green, which compliment being duly
- paid the great master then raises his hat in return for the salutes of
- Faulder, Rennison, and Trail, and again stops to shake hands with an aged
- well-whiskered dandy in mufty, one Mr. Wotherspoon, now farming or
- starving a little property he purchased with his butlerage savings under
- the great Duke of Thunderdownshire. Wotherspoon apes the manners of high
- life with the brandified face of low, talks parliament, and takes snuff
- from a gold box with a George-the-Fourthian air. He now offers the Major a
- pinch, who accepts it with graceful concession.
- </p>
- <p>
- The seedy-looking gentleman in black, on the too palpable three and
- sixpence a sider, is Mr. Catoheside, the County Court bailiff, with his
- pocket full of summonses, who thinks to throw a round with the Major into
- the day’s hire of his broken-knee’d chestnut, and the greasy-haired,
- shining-faced youth with him, on the longtailed white pony, is Ramshaw,
- the butcher’s boy, on the same sort of speculation. Then we have Mr.
- Meggison’s coachman availing himself of his master’s absence to give the
- family horse a turn with the hounds instead of going to coals, as he
- ought; and Mr. Dotherington’s young man halting on his way to the doctor’s
- with a note. He will tell his mistress the doctor was out and he had to
- wait ever so long till he came home. The four truants seem to herd
- together on the birds-of-a-feather principle. And now the reinforced party
- reach the meet below the grey ivy-tangled rocks, and Solomon pulls up at
- the accustomed spot to give his hounds a roll, and let the Major receive
- the encomiums of the encircling field. Then there is a repetition of the
- kennel scene: “Lovely! Lovely! Lovely!—beautiful bitch that—Chaunter.
- Chaunter! Chaunter!—there’s a handsome hound—Bustler, good
- dog!” Only each man has his particular favourite or hound that he has
- either bred or walked, or knows the name of, and so most of the pack come
- in for more or less praise. It is agreed on all hands that they never
- looked better, or the establishment more complete. “Couldn’t be better if
- it had cost five thousand a-year!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Most grateful were their commendations to the Major after the dry,
- monotonous “yarses” of Billy, who sits looking unconcernedly on, a regular
- sleeping partner in the old established firm of “Laudation and Co.” The
- Major inwardly attributes his indifference to conceited fox-hunting pride.
- “Looks down upon haryers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The field, however, gradually got the steam of praise up to a very high
- pitch. Indeed, had not Mr. Wotherspoon, who was only an air-and-exercise
- gentleman, observed, after a pompous pinch of snuff, that he saw by the
- papers that the House of Lords, of which he considered himself a sort of
- supernumerary member, were going to do something or not to do something,
- caused a check in the cry, there is no saying but they might altogether
- have forgotten what they had come out about. As it was, the mention of Mr.
- Wotherspoon’s favourite branch of the legislature, from which they had all
- suffered more or less severely, operated like the hose of a fire-engine
- upon a crowd, sending one man one way, another another, until Wotherspoon
- had only Solomon and the hounds to finish off before. “Indeed, sir,” was
- all the encouragement he got from Solomon. But let us get away from the
- insufferable Brummagem brandy-faced old bore by supposing Solomon
- transferred from Napoleon the Great to Bulldog, Billy mounted on the washy
- horse instead of the weaving mare, the Major’s girths drawn, clay pipes
- deposited in the breast pockets of the owners, and thongs unloosened to
- commence the all-important operation of thistle-whipping.
- </p>
- <p>
- At a nod from the Major, Solomon gives a wave of his hand to the hounds,
- and putting his horse on, the tide of sportsmen sweep after, and Cushetlaw
- rocks are again left in their pristine composure.
- </p>
- <p>
- Despite Billy’s indifference, the Major is still anxious to show to
- advantage, not knowing who Billy may relate his day’s sport to, and has
- therefore arranged with Solomon not to cast off until they get upon the
- more favourable ground of Sunnylaws moor. This gives Billy time to settle
- in his new saddle, and scrape acquaintance with Napoleon, whom he finds a
- very complacent, easy-going horse. He has a light, playful mouth, and
- Billy doesn’t feel afraid of him. Indeed, if it wasn’t for the idea of the
- jumps, he would rather enjoy it. His mind, however, might have been easy
- on that score, for they are going into the hills instead of away from
- them, and the Major has scuttled over the ground so often that he knows
- every bog, and every crossing, and every vantage-taking line; where to
- view the hare, and where to catch up his hounds, to a nicety.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length they reached a pretty, amphitheatreish piece of country,
- encircled by grassy hills, folding gracefully into each other, with the
- bolder outline of the Arkenhill moors for the background. A silvery stream
- meanders carelessly about the lowland, occasionally lost to view by sand
- wreaths and gravel beds thrown up by impetuous torrents rushing down from
- the higher grounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- The field is here reinforced by Tom Springer, the generally out-of-place
- watcher, and his friend Joe Pitfall, the beer-shop keeper of Wetten hill,
- with their tenpenny wide-awakes, well-worn, baggy-pocketed shooting-coats,
- and strong oak staffs, suitable either for leaping or poking poles.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major returns their salute with a lowering brow, for he strongly
- suspects they are there on their own account, and not for the sake of
- enjoying a day with his unrivalled hounds. However, as neither of them
- have leave over the ground, they can neither of them find fault, and must
- just put up with each other.
- </p>
- <p>
- So the Major, addressing Springer, says “I’ll give you a shillin’ if
- you’ll find me a hare,” as he turns to the Bumbler and bids him uncouple
- Billy’s old friends Ruffler and Bustler. This done, the hounds quickly
- spread to try and hit off the morning scent, while the myrtle-greeners and
- others distribute themselves, cracking, Hopping, and hissing, here, there,
- and everywhere. Springer and Pitfall go poke, poke, tap, tap, peep, peep,
- at every likely bush and tuft, but both the Major and they are too often
- over the ground to allow of hares being very plentiful. When they do find
- them they are generally well in wind from work. Meanwhile, Mr. Wotherspoon,
- finding that Billy Pringle is a friend of Lord Ladythorne’s, makes up to
- him, and speaks of his lordship in the kind, encouraging way, so becoming
- a great man speaking of a lesser one. “Oh, he knew his lordship well,
- excellent man he was, knew Mrs. Moffatt, too—‘andsome woman she was.
- Not so ‘andsome, p’raps, as Mrs. Spangles, the actress, but still a
- v-a-a-ry ‘andsome woman. Ah, he knew Mrs. Spangles, poor thing, long
- before she came to Tantivy—when she was on the stage, in fact.” And
- here the old buck, putting his massive, gold-mounted riding-whip under his
- arm, heaved a deep sigh, as though the mention of her name recalled
- painful recollections, and producing his gold snuff-box, after offering it
- to Billy, he consoled himself with a long-drawn respiration from its
- contents. He then flourished his scarlet, attar-of-rose-scented bandana,
- and seemed lost in contemplation of the stripes down his trowsers and his
- little lacquered-toe’d boots. Billy rode silently on with him, making no
- doubt he was a very great man—just the sort of man his Mamma would
- wish him to get acquainted with.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0028" id="linkimage-0028"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/187m.jpg" alt="187m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/187.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIV.<br/>THE WILD BEAST ITSELF.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>UST as the old
- buck was resuming the thread of his fashionable high-life narrative,
- preparatory to sounding Billy about the Major and his family, the same
- sort of electric thrill shot through the field that characterised the
- terrible “g-n-r along—don’t you see the hounds are running?” de
- Glancey day with the Earl. Billy felt all over he-didn’t-know-how-ish—very
- wish-he-was-at-home-ish. The horse, too, began to caper.
- </p>
- <p>
- The thrill is caused by a shilling’s-worth of wide-awake on a stick held
- high against the sky-line of the gently-swelling hill on the left,
- denoting that the wild beast is found, causing the Major to hold up his
- hat as a signal of reply, and all the rest of the field to desist from
- their flopping and thistle-whipping, and rein in their screws for the
- coming conflict.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now s-s-sir!” exclaims the stuttering Major, cantering up to our Billy
- all flurry and enthusiasm. “Now, s-s-sir! we ha-ha-have her, and if you’ll
- fo-fo-follow me, I’ll show you her,” thinking he was offering Billy the
- greatest treat imaginable. So saying the Major drops his hands on White
- Surrey’s neck, rises in his stirrups, and scuttles away, bounding over the
- gorse bushes and broom that intervened between him and the still
- stick-hoisted tenpenny.
- </p>
- <h3>
- ****
- </h3>
- <p>
- “<i>Where is she?</i>” demands the Major. “<i>Where is she!</i>’ repeats
- he, coming up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A Major, he mun gi’ us halfe-croon ony ho’ this time,” exclaims our
- friend Tom Springer, whose head gear it is that has been hoisted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Deed mun ye!” asserts Pitfall, who has now joined his companion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>No, no!</i>” retorts the Major angrily, “I said a shillin’—a
- shillin’s my price, and you know it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but consider what a time we’ve been a lookin’ for her, Major,”
- replied Springer, mopping his brow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but consider that you are about to partake of the enjoyments as
- well as myself, and that I find the whole of this expensive
- establishment,” retorted the Major, looking back for his hounds. “Not a
- farthin’ subscription.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say two shillin’s, then,” replied Springer coaxingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no,” replied the Major, “a shillin’s plenty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Make it eighteen-pence then,” said Pitfall, “and oop she goes for the
- money.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, come,” snapped the Major hurriedly, as Billy now came elbowing up.
- “Where is she? Where is she?” demanded he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A, she’s not here—she’s not here, but I see her in her form
- thonder,” replied Springer, nodding towards the adjoining bush-dotted
- hill.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go to her, then,” said the Major, jingling the eighteen-pence in his
- hand, to be ready to give him on view of the hare.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man then led the way through rushes, brambles, and briars, keeping a
- steady eye on the spot where she sate. At length he stopped. “There she’s,
- see!” said he, <i>sotto voce</i>, pointing to the green hill-side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have her!” whispered the Major, his keen eyes sparkling with delight.
- “Come here,” said he to Billy, “and I’ll show her to you. There,” said he,
- “there you see that patch of gorse with the burnt stick stumps, at the low
- end—well, carry your eye down the slope of the land, past the old
- willow-tree, and you have her as plain as a pike-staff.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy shook his head. He saw nothing but a tuft or two of rough grass.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, you see her large eyes watching us,” continued the Major,
- “thinking she sees us without our seeing her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” our friend didn’t.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very odd,” laughed the Major, “very odd,” with the sort of vexation a man
- feels when another can’t be made to see the object he does.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you give them a view now?” asked Springer, “or put her away
- quietly?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, put her away quietly,” replied the Major, “put her away quietly; and
- let them get their noses well down to the scent;” adding—“I’ve got
- some strange hounds out, and I want to see how they work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man then advanced a few paces, and touching one of the apparently
- lifeless tufts with his pole, out sprang puss and went stotting and
- dotting away with one ear back and the other forward, in a state of
- indignant perturbation. “Buck!” exclaims Pitfall, watching her as she
- goes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Doubt it,” replied the Major, scrutinising her attentively.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay look at its head and shoulders; did you iver see sic red shoulders as
- those on a doe?” asked Springer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” said the Major, “there’s your money,” handing Springer the
- eighteen-pence, “and I hope she’ll be worth it; but mind, for the futur’ a
- shillin’s my price.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After scudding up the hill, puss stopped to listen and ascertain the
- quality of her pursuers. She had suffered persecution from many hands,
- shooters, coursers, snarers, and once before from the Major and his
- harriers. That, however, was on a bad scenting day, and she had not had
- much difficulty in beating them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile Solomon has been creeping quietly on with his hounds,
- encouraging such to hunt as seemed inclined that way, though the majority
- were pretty well aware of the grand discovery and lean towards the
- horsemen in advance. Puss however had slipped away unseen by the hounds,
- and Twister darts at the empty form thinking to save all trouble by a
- chop. Bracelet then strikes a scent in advance. Ruffler and Chaunter
- confirm it, and after one or two hesitating rashes and flourishes,
- increasing in intensity each time, a scent is fairly established, and away
- they drive full cry amid exclamations of “Beautiful! beautiful! never saw
- anything puttier!” from the Major and the field—the music of the
- hounds being increased and prolonged by the echoes of the valleys and
- adjacent hills.
- </p>
- <p>
- The field then fall into line, Silent Solomon first, the Major of course
- next. Fine Billy third, with Wotherspoon and Nettlefold rather contending
- for his company. Nabley, Duffield, Bonnet, Reunison. Fanlder, Catcheside,
- truants, all mixed up together in heterogeneous confusion, jostling for
- precedence as men do when there are no leaps. So they round Hawthorn hill,
- and pour up the pretty valley beyond, each man riding a good deal harder
- than his horse, the hounds going best pace, which however is not very
- great.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give me,—” inwardly prays the Major, cantering consequentially
- along with his thong-gathered whip held up like a sword, “give me five and
- twenty minutes, the first fifteen a burst, then a fault well hit off’, and
- the remaining ten without a turn,” thinking to astonish the supercilious
- foxhunter. Then he takes a sly look to see how Napoleon is faring, it
- being by no means his intention to let Fine Billy get to the bottom of
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- On, on, the hounds press, for now is the time to enjoy the scent with a
- hare, and they have run long enough together to have confidence in their
- leaders.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now Lovely has the scent, now Lilter, now Ruffler flings in advance, and
- again is superseded by Twister.
- </p>
- <p>
- They brush through the heathery open with an increasing cry, and fling at
- the cross-road between Birwell Mill and Capstone with something like the
- energy of foxhounds; Twister catches it up beyond the sandy track, and
- hurrying over it, some twenty yards further on is superseded by Lovely,
- who hits it off to the left.
- </p>
- <p>
- Away she goes with the lead.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beautiful! beautiful!” exclaims the Major, hoping the fox-hunter sees it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beautiful! beautiful!” echoes Nettlefold, as the clustering pack drop
- their sterns to the scent and push forward with renewed velocity.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major again looks for our friend Billy, who is riding in a very
- careless slack-rein sort of style, not at all adapted for making the most
- of his horse. However it is no time for remonstrance, and the music of the
- hounds helps to make things pleasant. On, on they speed; up one hill, down
- another, round a third, and so on.
- </p>
- <p>
- One great advantage of hunting in a strange country undoubtedly is, that
- all runs are straight, with harriers as well as foxhounds, with some men,
- who ride over the same ground again and again without knowing that it is
- the same, and Billy was one of this sort. Though they rounded Hawthorn
- hill again, it never occurred to him that it was the second time of
- asking; indeed he just cantered carelessly on like a man on a
- watering-place hack, thinking when his hour will be out, regardless of the
- beautiful hits made by Lovely and Lilter or any of them, and which almost
- threw the Major and their respective admirers into ecstacies. Great was
- the praise bestowed upon their performances, it being the interest of
- every man to magnify the run and astonish the stranger. Had they but known
- as much of the Richest Commoner as the reader does, they would not have
- given themselves the trouble.
- </p>
- <p>
- Away they pour over hill and dale, over soft ground and sound, through
- reedy rushes and sedgy flats, and over the rolling stones of the fallen
- rocks.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then they score away full cry on getting upon more propitious ground. What
- a cry they make! and echo seemingly takes pleasure to repeat the sound!
- </p>
- <p>
- Napoleon the Great presently begins to play the castanets with his feet,
- an ominous sound to our Major, who looks back for the Bumbler, and
- inwardly wishes for a check to favour his design of dismounting our hero.
- </p>
- <p>
- Half a mile or so further on, and the chance occurs. They get upon a piece
- of bare heather burnt ground, whose peaty smell baffles the scent, and
- brings the hounds first to a check, then to a stand-still.
- </p>
- <p>
- Solomon’s hand in the air beckons a halt, to which the field gladly
- respond, for many of the steeds are eating new oats, and do not get any
- great quantity of those, while some are on swedes, and others only have
- hay. Altogether their condition is not to be spoken of.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major now all hurry scurry, just like a case of “second horses!
- second horses! where’s my fellow with my second horse?” at a check in
- Leicestershire, beckons the Bumbler up to Billy; and despite of our
- friend’s remonstrance, who has got on such terms with Napoleon as to allow
- of his taking the liberty of spurring him, and would rather remain where
- he is, insists upon putting him upon the mare again, observing, that he
- couldn’t think of taking the only spare ‘orse from a gen’lman who had done
- him the distinguished honour of leaving the Earl’s establishment for his
- ‘umble pack; and so, in the excitement of the moment, Billy is hustled off
- one horse and hurried on to another, as if a moment’s hesitation would be
- fatal to the fray. The Major then, addressing the Bumbler in an undertone,
- says, “Now walk that ‘orse quietly home, and get him some linseed tea, and
- have him done up by the time we get in.” He then spurs gallantly up to the
- front, as though he expected the hounds to be off again at score. There
- was no need of such energy, for puss has set them a puzzle that will take
- them some time to unravel; but it saved an argument with Billy, and
- perhaps the credit of the bay. He now goes drooping and slouching away,
- very unlike the cock-horse he came out.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile, the hounds have shot out and contracted, and shot out and
- contracted—and tried and tested, and tried and tested—every
- tuft and every inch of burnt ground, while Solomon sits motionless between
- them and the head mopping chattering field.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must be on,” observes Caleb Rennison, the horse-breaker, whose
- three-year-old began fidgetting and neighing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Back, I say,” speculated Bonnet, whose domicile lay to the rear.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very odd,” observed Captain Nabley, “they ran her well to here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hares are queer things,” said old Duffield, wishing he had her by the
- ears for the pot.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Far more hunting with a hare nor a fox,” observed Mr. Rintoul, who always
- praised his department of the chase.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must have squatted,” observes old “Wotherspoon, taking a pinch of snuff,
- and placing his double gold eye-glasses on his nose to reconnoitre the
- scene.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lies very close, if she has,” rejoins Godfrey Faulder, flopping at a
- furze-bush as he spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lost her, I fear,” ejaculated Mr. Trail, who meant to beg her for a
- christening dinner if they killed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fact is, puss having, as we said before, had a game at romps with her
- pursuers on a bad scenting day, when she regulated her speed by their
- pace, has been inconveniently pressed on the present occasion, and feeling
- her strength fail, has had recourse to some of the many arts for which
- hares are famous. After crossing the burnt ground she made for a greasy
- sheep-track, up which she ran some fifty yards, and then deliberately
- retracing her steps, threw herself with a mighty spring into a rushy furze
- patch at the bottom of the hill. She now lies heaving and panting, and
- watching the success of her stratagem from her ambush, with the
- terror-striking pack full before her.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0029" id="linkimage-0029"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/191m.jpg" alt="191m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/191.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- And now having accommodated Mr. Pringle with a second horse, perhaps the
- reader will allow us to take a fresh pen and finish the run in another
- Chapter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXV.<br/>A CRUEL FINISH.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>VERY hound having
- at length sniffed and snuffed, and sniffed and snuffed, to satiety,
- Solomon now essays to assist them by casting round the flat of
- smoke-infected ground. He makes the ‘head good first, which manouvre
- hitting off the scent, he is hailed and applauded as a conqueror. Never
- was such a huntsman as Solomon! First harrier huntsman in England! Worth
- any money is a huntsman! The again clamorous pack bustle up the
- sheep-path, at such a pace as sends the leaders hurrying far beyond the
- scent. Then the rear rush to the front, and a general spread of
- bewildered, benighted, confusion ensues.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where <i>has</i> she got to?” is the question.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Doubled!” mutters the disappointed Major, reining in his steed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Squatted!” exclaims Mr. Rintoul, who always sported an opinion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hold hard!” cries Mr. Trail, though they were all at a standstill; but
- then he wished to let them know he was there.
- </p>
- <p>
- The leading hounds retrace their steps, and again essay to carry the scent
- forward. The second effort is attended with the same result as the first.
- They cannot get it beyond the double.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cunning animal!” mutters the Major, eyeing their endeavours.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Far more hunt with a hare nor a fox,” now observes Mr. Bonnet, raising
- his white hat to cool his bald head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Far!” replies Mr. Faulder, thinking he must be off.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If it weren’t for the red coats there wouldn’t be so many fox-hunters,”
- chuckles old Duffield, who dearly loves roast hare.
- </p>
- <p>
- Solomon is puzzled; but as he doesn’t profess to be wiser than the hounds,
- he just lets them try to make it out for themselves. If they can’t wind
- her, he can’t: so the old sage sits like a statue.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length the majority give her up.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now Springer and Pitfall, and two or three other pedestrians who have
- been attracted from their work by the music of the hounds, and have been
- enjoying the panorama of the chase with their pipes from the summit of an
- inside hill, descend to see if they can either prick her or pole her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Down go their heads as if they were looking for a pin.—The hounds,
- however, have obliterated all traces of her, and they soon have recourse
- to their staves.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Bang, bang, bang</i>, they beat the gorse and broom and juniper bushes
- with vigorous sincerity. Crack, flop, crack, go the field in aid of their
- endeavours. Solomon leans with his hounds to the left, which is lucky for
- puss, for though she withstood the downward blow of Springer’s pole on her
- bush, a well-directed side thrust sends her flying out in a state of the
- greatest excitement. What an outburst of joy the sight of her occasioned!
- Hounds, horses, riders, all seemed to participate in the common
- enthusiasm! How they whooped, and halloo’d and shouted! enough to frighten
- the poor thing out of her wits. Billy and the field have a grand view of
- her, for she darts first to the right, then to the left, then off the
- right and again to the left, ere she tucks her long legs under her and
- strides up Kleeope hill at a pace that looks quite unapproachable. Faulder
- alone remains where he is, muttering “fresh har” as she goes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major and all the rest of the field hug their horses and tear along in
- a state of joyous excitement, for they see her life is theirs. They keep
- the low ground and jump with the hounds at the bridlegate between Greenlaw
- sheep-walks and Hindhope cairn just as Lovely hits the scent off over the
- boundary wall, and the rest of the pack endorse her note. They are now on
- fresh ground, which greatly aids the efforts of the hounds, who push on
- with a head that the Major thinks ought to procure them a compliment from
- Billy. Our friend, however, keeps all his compliments for the ladies, not
- being aware that there is anything remarkable in the performance, which he
- now begins to wish at an end. He has ridden as long as he likes, quite as
- much as Mr. Spavin, or any of the London livery stable-keepers, would let
- him have for half-a-guinea. Indeed he wishes he mayn’t have got more than
- is good for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major meanwhile, all energy and enthusiasm, rides gallantly forward,
- for though he is no great hand among the enclosures, he makes a good fight
- in the hills, especially when, as now, he knows every yard of the country.
- Many’s the towl he’s had over it, though to look at his excited face one
- would think this was his first hunt. He’ll now “bet half-a-crown they kill
- her!” He’ll “bet a guinea they kill her!” He’ll “bet a fi-pun note they
- kill her!” He’ll “bet half the national debt they kill her!” as Dainty,
- and Lovely, and Bustler, after dwelling and hesitating over some rushy
- ground, at length proclaim the scent beyond.
- </p>
- <p>
- Away they all sweep like the careering wind. On follow the field in
- glorious excitement. A flock of black-faced sheep next foil the ground—sheep
- as wild, if not wilder, than the animal the hounds are pursuing. We often
- think, when we see these strong-scented animals scouring the country, that
- a good beast of chase has been overlooked for the stag. Why shouldn’t an
- old wiry black-faced tup, with his wild sparkling eyes and spiral horns,
- afford as good a run as a home-fed deer? Start the tup in his own rough
- region, and we will be bound to say he will give the hounds and their
- followers a scramble. The Major now denounces the flying flock—“Oh,
- those nasty muttons!” exclaims he, “bags of bone rather, for they won’t be
- meat these five years. Wonder how any sane people can cultivate such
- animals.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The hounds hunt well through the difficulty, or the Major would have been
- more savage still. On they go, yapping and towling, and howling as before,
- the Major’s confidence in a kill increasing at every stride.
- </p>
- <p>
- The terror-striking shouts that greeted poor puss’s exit from the bush,
- have had the effect as well of driving her out of her country as of
- pressing her beyond her strength; and she has no sooner succeeded in
- placing what she hopes is a comfortable distance between herself and her
- pursuers, than she again has recourse to those tricks with which nature
- has so plentifully endowed her. Sinking the hill she makes for the little
- enclosed allotments below, and electing a bare fallow—bare, except
- in the matter of whicken grass—she steals quietly in, and commences
- her performances on the least verdant part of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- First she described a small circle, then she sprung into the middle of it
- and squatted. Next she jumped up and bounded out in a different direction
- to the one by which she had entered. She then ran about twenty yards up a
- furrow, retracing her steps backwards, and giving a roll near where she
- started from. Then she took three bounding springs to the left, which
- landed her on the hard headland, and creeping along the side of the wall
- she finally popped through the water-hole, and squeezed into an incredibly
- small space between the kerbstone and the gate-post. There she lay with
- her head to the air, panting and heaving, and listening for her dread
- pursuers coming. O what agony was hers!
- </p>
- <p>
- Presently the gallant band came howling and towling over the hill, in all
- the gay delirium of a hunt without leaps—the Major with difficulty
- restraining their ardour as he pointed out the brilliance of the
- performance to Billy—“Most splendid running! most capital hunting!
- most superb pack!” with a sly “<i>pish</i>” and “<i>shaw</i>” at foxhounds
- in general, and Sir Mosey’s in particular. The Major hadn’t got over the
- Bo-peep business, and never would.
- </p>
- <p>
- The pack now reached the scene of Puss’s frolics, and the music very soon
- descended from a towering tenour to an insignificant whimper, which at
- length died out altogether. Soloman and Bulldog were again fixtures,
- Solomon as usual with his hand up beckoning silence. He knew how weak the
- scent must be, and how important it was to keep quiet at such a critical
- period; and let the hounds hit her off if they could.
- </p>
- <p>
- Puss had certainly given them a Gordian knot to unravel, and not all the
- hallooing and encouragement in the world could drive them much beyond the
- magic circle she had described. Whenever the hunt seemed likely to be
- re-established, it invariably resulted in a return to the place from
- whence they started. They couldn’t get forward with it at all, and poked
- about, and tested the same ground over and over again.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a regular period or full stop.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very rum,” observed Caleb Rennison, looking first at his three-year-old,
- then at his watch, thinking that it was about pudding-time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She’s surely a witch,” said Mr. Wotherspoon, taking a prolonged pinch of
- snuff.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘We’ll roast her for one at all events,” laughed Mr. Trail, the
- auctioneer, still hoping to get her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “First catch your hare, says Mrs. Somebody,” responded Captain Nabley,
- eyeing the sorely puzzled pack.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O ketch her! we’re sure to ketch her,” observed Mr. Nettlefold, chucking
- up his chin and dismounting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not so clear about that,” muttered Mr. Rintoul, as Lovely, and Bustler,
- and Lilter, again returned to repeat the search.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If those hounds can’t own her, there are no hounds in England can,”
- asserted the Major, anxious to save the credit of his pack before the—he
- feared—too critical stranger.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this depressing moment, again come the infantry, and commence the same
- system of peering and poking that marked their descent on the former
- occasion.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now poor puss being again a little recruited, steals out of her
- hiding-place, and crosses quietly along the outside of the wall to where a
- flock of those best friends to a hunted hare, some newly-smeared,
- white-faced sheep, were quietly nibbling at the halfgrass, half-heather,
- of the little moor-edge farm of Mossheugh-law, whose stone-roofed
- buildings, washed by a clear mountain stream, and sheltered by a clump of
- venerable Scotch firs, stand on a bright green patch, a sort of oasis in
- the desert. The sheep hardly deign to notice the hare, far different to
- the consternation bold Reynard carries into their camp, when they go
- circling round like a squadron of dragoons, drawing boldly up to charge
- when the danger’s past. So poor, weary, foot sore, fur-matted puss, goes
- hobbling and limping up to the farm-buildings as if to seek protection
- from man against his brother man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now it so happened that Mrs. Kidwell, the half-farmer, half-shepherd’s
- pretty wife, was in the fold-yard, washing her churn, along with her
- little chubby-faced Jessey, who was equally busy with her Mamma munching
- away at a very long slice of plentifully-buttered and sugar’d bread; and
- Mamma chancing to look up from the churn to see how her darling
- progressed, saw puss halting at the threshold, as if waiting to be asked
- in.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0030" id="linkimage-0030"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/199m.jpg" alt="199m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/199.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- “It’s that mad old Major and his dogs!” exclaimed Mrs. Kidwell, catching
- up the child lest its red petticoat might scare away the visitor, and
- popping into the dairy, she saw the hare, after a little demur, hobble
- into the cow-house. Having seen her well in, Mrs. Kidwell emerged from her
- hiding-place, and locking the door, she put the key in her pocket, and
- resumed her occupation with her churn. Presently the familiar melody—the
- yow, yow, yap, yap, yow, yow of the hounds broke upon her ear, increasing
- in strength as she listened, making her feel glad she was at hand to
- befriend the poor hare.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hunt was indeed revived. The hounds, one and all, having declared
- their inability to make any thing more of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Solomon had set off on one of his cruises, which resulted in the yeomen
- prickers and he meeting at the gate, where the hare had squatted, when
- Lovely gave tongue, just as Springer, with his eyes well down, exclaimed,
- “<i>here she’s!</i>” Bustler, and Bracelet, and Twister, and Chaunter,
- confirmed Lovely’s opinion, and away they went with the feeble scent
- peculiar to the sinking animal. Their difficulties are further increased
- by the sheep, it requiring Solomon’s oft-raised hand to prevent the hounds
- being hurried over the line—as it is, the hunt was conducted on the
- silent system for some little distance. The pace rather improved after
- they got clear of the smear and foil of the muttons, and the Major pulled
- up his gills, felt his tie, and cocked his hat jauntily, as the hounds
- pointed for the pretty farm-house, the Major thinking to show off to
- advantage before Mrs. Kidwell. They presently carried the scent up to the
- still open gates of the fold-yard. Lovely now proclaims where puss has
- paused. Things look very critical.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good mornin’, Mrs. Kidwell,” exclaimed the gallant Major, addressing her;
- “pray how long have you been at the churn?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, this twenty minutes or more, Major,” replied Mrs. Kidwell, gaily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You haven’t got the hare in it, have you?” asked he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not that I know of; but you can look if you like,” replied Mrs. Kidwell,
- colouring slightly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, no; we’ll take your word for it,” rejoined the Major gallantly.
- “Must be on, Solomon; must be on,” said he—nodding his huntsman to
- proceed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Solomon is doubtful, but “master being master,” Solomon holds his hounds
- on past the stable, round the lambing-sheds and stackyard, to the front of
- the little three windows and a doored farm-house, without eliciting a
- whimper, no, not even from a babbler.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just at this moment a passing cloud discharged a gentle shower over the
- scene, and when Solomon returned to pursue his inquiries in the fold-yard,
- the last vestige of scent had been effectually obliterated.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Kidwell now stood watching the inquisitive proceedings if the party,
- searching now the hen-house, now the pigstye, now the ash-hole; and when
- Solomon tried the cow-house door, she observed carelessly: “Ah, that’s
- locked;” and he passed on to examine the straw-shed adjoining. All places
- were overhauled and scrutinized. At length, even Captain Nabley’s
- detective genius failed in suggesting where puss could be.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where did you see her last?” asked Mrs. Kidwell, with well-feigned
- ignorance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, we’ve not seen her for some time; but the hounds hunted her up to
- your very gate,” replied the Major.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Deary me, how strange! and you’ve made nothin’ of her since?” observed
- she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothin’,” assented the Major, reluctantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very odd,” observed Mr. Catcheside, who was anxious for a kill.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never saw nothin’ like it,” asserted Mr. Rintoul, looking again into the
- pigstye.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She must have doubled back,” suggested Mr. Nettlefold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Should have met her if she had,” observed old Duffield.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She must be somewhere hereabouts,” observes Mr. Trail, dismounting, and
- stamping about on foot among the half-trodden straw of the fold-yard.
- </p>
- <p>
- No puss there.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hard upon the hounds,” observes Mr. Wotherspoon, replenishing his nose
- with a good charge of snuff.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Cruel</i>, indeed,” assented the Major, who never gave them more than
- entrails.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never saw a hare better hunted!” exclaimed Captain Nabley, lighting a
- cigar.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor I,” assented fat Mr. Nettleford, mopping his brow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How long was it?” asked Mr. Rintoul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “An hour and five minutes,” replied the Major, looking at his watch
- (five-and-forty minutes in reality).
- </p>
- <p>
- “V-a-a-ry good running,” elaborates old dandy Wortherspoon. “I see by the
- <i>Post</i>, that——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I s’pose we must give her up,” interrupted the Major, who didn’t
- want to have the contents of his own second-hand copy forestalled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pity to leave her,” observes Mr. Trail, returning to his horse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What can you do?” asked the Major, adding, “it’s no use sitting here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None,” assents Captain Nabley, blowing a cloud.
- </p>
- <p>
- At a nod from the Major, Solomon now collects his hounds, and passing
- through the scattered group, observes with a sort of Wellingtonian touch
- of his cap, in reply to their condolence, “Yes, sir, but it takes a <i>slee</i>
- chap, sir, to kill a moor-edge hare, sir!”
- </p>
- <p>
- So the poor Major was foiled of his fur, and when the cows came lowing
- down from the fell to be milked, kind Mrs. Kidwell opened the door and out
- popped puss, as fresh and lively as ever; making for her old haunts, where
- she was again to be found at the end of a week.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVI.<br/>THE PRINGLE CORRESPONDENCE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE reader will
- perhaps wonder what our fair friend Mrs. Pringle is about, and how there
- happens to be no tidings from Curtain Crescent. Tidings there were, only
- the Tantivy Castle servants were so oppressed with work that they could
- never find time to redirect her effusions. At length Mr. Beverage, the
- butler, seeing the accumulation of letters in Mr. Packwood, the
- house-steward’s room, suggested that they might perhaps be wanted,
- whereupon Mr. Packwood huddled them into a fresh envelope, and sent them
- to the post along with the general consignment from the Castle. Very
- pressing and urgent the letters were, increasing in anxiety with each one,
- as no answer had been received to its predecessor. Were it not that Mrs.
- Pringle knew the Earl would have written, she would have feared her Billy
- had sustained some hunting calamity. The first letter merely related how
- Mrs. Pringle had gone to uncle Jerry’s according to appointment to have a
- field-day among the papers, and how Jerry had gone to attend an
- anti-Sunday-band meeting, leaving seed-cake, and sponge-cake, and wine,
- with a very affectionate three-cornered note, saying how deeply he
- deplored the necessity, but how he hoped to remedy the delay by another
- and an early appointment. This letter enclosed a very handsome large
- coat-of-arms seal, made entirely out of Mrs. Pringle’s own head—containing
- what the heralds call assumptive arms—divided into as many
- compartments as a backgammon board, which she advised Billy to use
- judiciously, hinting that Major H. (meaning our friend Major Y.) would be
- a fitter person to try it upon than Lord L. The next letter, among many
- other things of minor importance, reminded Billy that he had not told his
- Mamma what Mrs. Moffatt had on, or whether they had any new dishes for
- dinner, and urging him to write her full particulars, but to be careful
- not to leave either his or her letters lying about, and hoping that he
- emptied his pockets every night instead of leaving that for Rougier to do,
- and giving him much other good and wholesome advice. The third letter was
- merely to remind him that she had not heard from him in answer to either
- of her other two, and begging him just to drop her a single line by return
- of post, saying he was well, and so on. The next was larger, enclosing him
- a double-crest seal, containing a lion on a cap of dignity, and an eagle,
- for sealing notes in aid of the great seal, and saying that she had had a
- letter from uncle Jerry, upbraiding her for not keeping her appointment
- with him, whereas she had never made any, he having promised to make one
- with her, and again urging Billy to write to her, if only a single line,
- and when he had time to send her a full account of what Mrs. Moffatt had
- on every day, and whether they had any new dishes for dinner, and all the
- news, sporting and otherwise, urging him as before to take care of Dowb
- (meaning himself), and hoping he was improving in his hunting, able to sit
- at the jumps, and enjoying himself generally..
- </p>
- <p>
- The fifth, which caused the rest to come, was a mere repetition of her
- anxieties and requests for a line, and immediately produced the following
- letter:—
- </p>
- <h3>
- MR. WILLIAM TO HIS MAMMA.
- </h3>
- <p>
- “Yammerton Grange.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dearest Mamma,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your letters have all reached me at once, for though both Rougier and I
- especially charged the butler and another fine fellow, and gave them heads
- to put on, to send all that came immediately, they seem to have waited for
- an accumulation so as to make one sending do. It is very idle of them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The seals are beautiful, and I am very much obliged to you for them. I
- will seal this letter with the large one by way of a beginning. It seems
- to be uncommonly well quartered—quite noble.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will now tell you all my movements.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been here at Major Yammerton’s,—not Hammerton’s as you
- called him—for some days enjoying myself amazingly, for the Major
- has a nice pack of harriers that go along leisurely, instead of tearing
- away at the unconscionable pace the Earl’s do. Still, a canter in the Park
- at high tide in my opinion is a much better thing with plenty of ladies
- looking on. Talking of cantering reminds me I’ve bought a horse of the
- Major’s,—bought him all except paying for him, so you had better
- send me the money, one hundred guineas; for though the Major says I may
- pay for him when I like, and seems quite easy about it, they say horses
- are always ready money, so I suppose I must conform to the rule. It is a
- beautiful bay with four black legs, and a splendid mane and tail—very
- blood-like and racing; indeed the Major says if I was to put him into some
- of the spring handicaps I should be sure to win a hatful of money with
- him, or perhaps a gold cup or two. The Major is a great sportsman and has
- kept hounds for a great number of years, and altogether he is very
- agreeable, and I feel more at home here than I did at the Castle, where,
- though everything was very fine, still there was no fun and only Mrs.
- Moffatt to talk to, at least in the lady way, for though she always
- professed to be expecting lady callers, none ever came that I saw or heard
- of.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really forget all about the dinners there, except that they were very
- good and lasted a long time. We had a new dish here the other night, which
- if you want a novelty, you can introduce, namely, to flavour the plates
- with castor oil; you will find it a very serviceable one for saving your
- meat, as nobody can eat it. Mrs. Moffatt was splendidly dressed every day,
- sometimes in blue, sometimes in pink, sometimes in green, sometimes in
- silk, sometimes in satin, sometimes in velvet with a profusion of very
- lovely lace and magnificent jewelry. Rougier says, ‘she makes de hay vile
- the son does shine.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know how long I shall stay here, certainly over Friday, and most
- likely until Monday, after which I suppose I shall go back to the Castle.
- The Major says I must have another day with his hounds, and I don’t care
- if I do, provided he keeps in the hills and away from the jumps, as I can
- manage the galloping well enough. It’s the jerks that send me out of my
- saddle. A hare is quite a different animal to pursue to a fox, and seems
- to have some sort of consideration for its followers. She stops short
- every now and then and jumps up in view, instead of tearing away like an
- express train on a railway.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The girls here are very pretty—Miss Yammerton extremely so,—fair,
- with beautiful blue eyes, and such a figure; but Rougier says they are
- desperately bad-tempered, except the youngest one, who is dark and like
- her Mamma; but I shouldn’t say Monsieur is a particular sweet-tempered
- gentleman himself. He is always grumbling and grouting about what he calls
- his ‘grob’ and declares the Major keeps his house on sturdied mutton and
- stale beer. But he complained at the Castle that there was nothing but
- port and sherry, and composite candles to go to bed with, which he
- declared was an insult to his station, which entitles him to wax.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can’t, think how funny and small this place looked after the Castle.
- It seemed just as if I had got into a series of closets instead of rooms.
- However, I soon got used to it, and like it amazingly. But here comes
- Monsieur with my dressing things, so I must out with the great seal and
- bid you good bye for the present, for the Major is a six o’clock man, and
- doesn’t like to be kept waiting for his dinner, so now, my dearest Mamma,
- believe me to remain ever your most truly affectionate son,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wm. Pringle,”
- </p>
- <p>
- To which we need scarcely say the delighted Mrs. Pringle replied by return
- of post, writing in the following loving and judicious strain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “25, Curtain Crescent,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Belgrave Square.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My own Beloved Darling,
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was so overjoyed you can’t imagine, to receive your most welcome
- letter, for I really began to be uneasy about you, not that I feared any
- accident out hunting, but I was afraid you might have caught cold or be
- otherwise unwell—mind, if ever you feel in the slightest degree
- indisposed send for the doctor immediately. There is nothing like taking
- things in time. It was very idle of the servants at Tantivy Castle to
- neglect your instructions so, but for the future you had better always
- write a line to the post-master of the place where you are staying, giving
- him your next address to forward your letters to; for it is the work for
- which they are paid, and there is no shuffling it off on to anybody else’s
- shoulders. The greatest people are oftentimes the worst served, not
- because the servants have any particular objection to them personally—but
- because they are so desperately afraid of being what they call put upon by
- each other, that they spend double the time in fighting off doing a thing
- that it would take to do it. This is one of the drawbacks upon rank.
- Noblemen must keep a great staff of people, whom in a general way they
- cannot employ, and who do nothing but squabble and fight with each other
- who is to do the little there is, the greatest man among servants being he
- who does the least. However, as you have got the letters at last we will
- say no more about it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope your horse is handsome, and neighs and paws the ground prettily;
- you should be careful, however, in buying, for few people are magnanimous
- enough to resist cheating a young man in horses;—still, I am glad
- you have bought one if he suits you, as it is much better and pleasanter
- to ride your own horse than be indebted to other people for mounts.
- Nevertheless, I would strongly advise you to stick to either the fox or
- the stag, with either of which you can sport pink and look smart. Harriers
- are only for bottle-nosed old gentlemen with gouty shoes. I can’t help
- thinking, that a day with a milder, more reasonable fox than the ones you
- had with Lord Ladythorne, would convince you of the superiority of
- fox-hounds over harriers. I was asking Mr. Ralph Rasper, who called here
- the other day, how little Tom Stott of the Albany managed with the
- Queen’s, and he said Tom always shoes his horses with country nails, and
- consequently throws a shoe before he has gone three fields, which enables
- him to pull up and lament his ill luck. He then gets it put on, and has a
- glorious ride home in red—landing at the Piccadilly end of the
- Albany about dusk. He then goes down to the Acacia or some other Club, and
- having ordered his dinner, retires to one of the dressing-rooms to change—having
- had, to his mind, a delightful day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beware of the girls!—There’s nothing so dangerous as a young man
- staying in a country house with pretty girls. He is sure to fall in love
- with one or other of them imperceptibly, or one or other of them is sure
- to fall in love with him; and then when at length he leaves, there is sure
- to be a little scene arranged, Miss with her red eye-lids and lace fringed
- kerchief, Mamma with her smirks and smiles, and hopes that he’ll <i>soon
- return,</i> and so on. There are more matches made up in country houses
- than in all the west-end London ones put together,—indeed, London is
- always allowed to be only the cover for finding the game in, and the
- country the place for running it down. Just as you find your fox in a wood
- and run him down in the open. Be careful therefore what you are about.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is much easier to get entangled with a girl than to get free again,
- for though they will always offer to set a young man free, they know
- better than do it, unless, indeed, they have secured something better,—above
- all, never consult a male friend in these matters.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The stupidest woman that ever was born, is better than the cleverest man
- in love-affairs. In fact, no man is a match for a woman until he’s
- married,—not all even then. The worst of young men is, they never
- know their worth until it is too late—they think the girls are
- difficult to catch, whereas there is nothing so easy, unless, as I said
- before, the girls are better engaged. Indeed, a young man should always
- have his Mamma at his elbow, to guard him against the machinations of the
- fair. As, however, that cannot be, let me urge you to be cautious what you
- are about, and as you seem to have plenty of choice, Don’t be more
- attentive to one sister than to another, by which means you will escape
- the red eye-lids, and also escape having Mamma declaring you have trifled
- with Maria or Sophia’s feelings, and all the old women of the
- neighbourhood denouncing your conduct and making up to you themselves for
- one of their own girls. Some ladies ask a man’s intentions before he is
- well aware that he has any himself, but these are the spoil-sport order of
- women. Most of them are prudent enough to get a man well hooked before
- they hand him over to Papa. It is generally a case of ‘Ask Mamma’ first.
- Beware of brothers!—I have known undoubted heiresses crumpled up
- into nothing by the appearance (after the catch) of two or three great
- heavy dragooners. Rougier will find all that out for you.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be cautious too about letter-writing. There is no real privacy about
- love-letters, any more than there is about the flags and banners of a
- regiment, though they occasionally furl and cover them up. The love
- letters are a woman’s flags and banners, her trophies of success, and the
- more flowery they are, the more likely to be shown, and to aid in
- enlivening a Christmas tea-party. Then the girls’ Mammas read them, their
- sisters read them, their maids read them, and ultimately, perhaps, a
- boisterous energetic barrister reads them to an exasperated jury, some of
- whose daughters may have suffered from simitar effusions themselves.
- Altogether, I assure you, you are on very ticklish ground, and I make no
- doubt if you could ascertain the opinion of the neighbourhood, you are
- booked for one or other of the girls, so again I say, my dearest boy,
- beware what you are about, for it is much easier to get fast than to get
- free again;—get a lady of rank, and not the daughter of a little
- scrubby squire; and whatever you do, don’t leave this letter lying about,
- and mind, empty your pockets at nights, and don’t leave it for Rougier to
- find.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, about your movements. I think I wouldn’t go back to Lord L.‘s unless
- he asks you, or unless he named a specific day for your doing so when you
- came away. Mere general invitations mean nothing; they are only the small
- coin of good society. ‘Sorry you’re going. Hope we shall soon meet again.
- Hope we shall have the pleasure of seeing you to dinner some day,’ is a
- very common mean-nothing form of politeness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed, I question that your going to a master of harriers from Tantivy
- Castle would be any great recommendation to his Lordship; for masters of
- foxhounds and masters of harriers are generally at variance. Altogether, I
- think I would pause and consider before you decided on returning. I would
- not talk much about his Lordship where you now are, as it would look as if
- you were not accustomed to great people. You’ll find plenty of friends
- ready to bring him in for you, just as Mr. Handycock brings in Lord
- Privilege in Peter Simple. We all like talking of titles. Remember, all
- noblemen under the rank of dukes are lords in common conversation. No
- earls or marquises then.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It just occurs to me, that as you are in the neighbourhood, you might
- take advantage of the opportunity for paying a visit to Yawnington Hot
- Wells, where you will find a great deal of good society assembled at this
- time of year, and where you might pickup some useful and desirable
- acquaintances. Go to the best hotel whatever it is, and put Rougier on
- board wages, which will get rid of his grumbling. It is impertinent, no
- doubt, but still it carries weight in a certain quarter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As you have got a hunting horse, you will want a groom, and should try to
- get a nice-looking one. He should not be knocknee’d; on the contrary,
- bow-legged,—the sort of legs that a pig can pop through. Look an
- applicant over first, and if his appearance is against him. just put him
- off quietly by taking his name and address, and say that there are one or
- two before him, and that you will write to him if you are likely to
- require his services.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will soon have plenty to choose from, but it is hard to say whether
- the tricks of the town ones, or the gaucheries of the country ones are
- most objectionable. The latter never put on their boots and upper things
- properly. A slangy, slovenly-looking fellow should be especially avoided.
- Also men with great shock heads of hair. If they can’t trim themselves,
- there will not be much chance of their trimming their horses. In short, I
- believe a groom—a man who really knows and cares anything about
- horses—is a very difficult person to get. There are plenty who can
- hiss and fuss, and be busy upon nothing, but very few who can both dress a
- horse, and dress themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know Lord Ladythorne makes it a rule never to take one who has been
- brought up in the racing-stable, for he says they are all hurry and
- gallop, and for putting two hours’ exercise into one. Whatever you do,
- don’t take one without a character, for however people may gloss over
- their late servant’s faults and imperfections, and however abject and
- penitent the applicants may appear, rely upon it, nature will out, and as
- soon as ever they get up their condition, as they call it, or are
- installed into their new clothes, they begin to take liberties, and
- ultimately relapse into their old drunken dissolute habits. It is
- fortunate for the world that most of them carry their characters in their
- faces. Besides, it isn’t fair to respectable servants to bring them in
- contact with these sort of profligates.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whatever you do, don’t let him find his own clothes. There isn’t one in
- twenty who can be trusted to do so, and nothing looks worse than the
- half-livery, half-plain, wholly shabby clothes some of them adopt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is wonderful what things they will vote good if they have to find
- others themselves, things that they would declare were not fit to put on,
- and they couldn’t be seen in if master supplied them. The best of
- everything then is only good enough for them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some of them will grumble and growl whatever you give them; declare this
- man’s cloth is bad, and another’s boots inferior, and recommend you to go
- to Mr. Somebody else, who Mr. This, or Captain That, employs, Mr. This, or
- Captain That, having, in all probability, been recommended to this Mr.
- Somebody by some other servant. The same with the saddlers and
- tradespeople generally. If you employ a saddler who does not tip them,
- there will be nothing bad enough for his workmanship, or they will declare
- he does not do that sort of work, only farmer’s work—cart-trappings,
- and such like things.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The remedy for this is to pay your own bills, and give the servants to
- understand at starting that you mean to be master. They are to be had on
- your own terms, if you only begin as you mean to go on. If the worst comes
- to the worst, a month’s notice, or a month’s pay, settles all differences,
- and it is no use keeping and paying a servant that doesn’t suit you.
- Perhaps you will think Rougier trouble enough, but he would be highly
- offended if you were to ask him to valet a horse. I will try if I can hear
- of anything likely to suit you, but the old saying, ‘who shall counsel a
- man in the choice of a wife, or a horse,’ applies with equal force to
- grooms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, my own dearest boy, having given you all the advice and
- assistance in my power, I will conclude by repeating what joy the arrival
- of your letter occasioned me, and also my advice to beware of the girls,
- and request that you will not leave this letter in your pockets, or lying
- about, by signing myself ever, my own dearest son, your most truly loving
- and affectionate Mamma,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Emma Pringle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>P.S.—I will enclose the halves of two fifty-pound notes for the
- horse, the receipt of which please to acknowledge by return of post, when
- I will send the other halves.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- “P.S.—Mind the red eyelids! There’s nothing so infectious
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVII.<br/>SIR MOSES MAINCHANCE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>UR friend Billy,
- as the foregoing letter shows, was now very comfortably installed in his
- quarters, and his presence brought sundry visitors, as well to pay their
- respects to him and the family, as to see how matters were progressing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. and Mrs. Rocket Larkspur, Mrs. Blurkins, and Mrs. Dotherington, also
- Mrs. Crickleton came after their castor-oil entertainment, and Mrs. and
- Miss Wasperton, accompanied by their stiff friend Miss Freezer, who had
- the reputation of being very satirical. Then there were Mr. Tight and Miss
- Neate, chaperoned by fat Mrs. Plumberry, of Hollingdale Lodge, and several
- others. In fact Billy had created a sensation in the country, such
- godsends as a London dandy not being of every-day occurrence in the
- country, and everybody wanted to see the great “catch.” How they magnified
- him! His own mother wouldn’t have known him under the garbs he assumed;
- now a Lord’s son, now a Baronet’s, now the Richest Commoner in England;
- with, oh glorious recommendation! no Papa to consult in the matter of a
- wife. Some said not even a Mamma, but there the reader knows they were
- wrong. In proportion as they lauded Billy they decried Mrs. Yammerton; she
- was a nasty, cunning, designing woman, always looking after somebody.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wasperton, alluding to Billy’s age, declared that it was just like
- kidnapping a child, and she inwardly congratulated herself that she had
- never been guilty of such meanness. Billy, on his part, was airified and
- gay, showing off to the greatest advantage, perfectly unconscious that he
- was the observed of all observers. Like Mrs. Moffatt he never had the same
- dress on twice, and was splendid in his jewelry.
- </p>
- <p>
- Among the carriage company who came to greet him was the sporting Baronet,
- Sir Moses Mainchance, whose existence we have already indicated, being the
- same generous gentleman that presented Major Yammerton with a horse, and
- then made him pay for it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses had heard of Billy’s opulence, and being a man of great
- versatility, he saw no reason why he should not endeavour to partake of
- it. He now came grinding up in his dog cart, with his tawdry cockaded
- groom (for he was a Deputy-Lieutenant of Hit-im and Holt-im shire), to lay
- the foundation of an invitation, and was received with the usual <i>wow,
- wow, wow, wow</i>, of Fury, the terrier, and the coat shuffling of the
- Bumbler.
- </p>
- <p>
- If the late handsome Recorder of London had to present this ugly old file
- to the Judges as one of the Sheriffs of London and Middlesex, he would
- most likely introduce him in such terms as the following:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “My Lords, I have the honour to present to your Lordships’ (hem) notice
- Sir Moses Mainchance, (cough) Baronet, and (hem) foxhunter, who has been
- unanimously chosen by the (hem) livery of London to fill the high and
- important (cough) office of Sheriff of that ancient and opulent city. My
- Lords, Sir Moses, as his name indicates, is of Jewish origin. His
- great-grandfather, Mr. Moses Levy, I believe dealt in complicated
- penknives, dog-collars, and street sponges. His grandfather, more
- ambitious, enlarged his sphere of action, and embarked in the old-clothes
- line. He had a very extensive shop in the Minories, and dealt in rhubarb
- and gum arabic as well. He married a lady of the name of Smith, not an
- uncommon one in this country, who inheriting a large fortune from her
- uncle, Mr. Mainchance, Mr. Moses Levy embraced Christianity, and dropping
- the name of Levy became Mr. Mainchance, Mr. Moses Mainchance, the founder
- of the present most important and distinguished family. His son, the
- Sheriff elect’s father, also carried on the business in the Minories,
- adding very largely to his already abundant wealth, and espousing a lady
- of the name of Brown.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In addition to the hereditary trade he opened a curiosity shop in the
- west end of London, where, being of a highly benevolent disposition, he
- accommodated young gentlemen whose parents were penurious,—unjustly
- penurious of course,—with such sums of money as their stations in
- life seemed likely to enable them to repay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, my Lords, the usury laws, as your Lordships will doubtless
- recollect, being then in full operation, to the great detriment of
- heirs-at-law, Mr. Mainchance, feeling for the difficulties of the young,
- introduced an ingenious mode of evading them, whereby <i>some</i> article
- of <i>vertu</i>—generally a picture or something of that sort—was
- taken as half, or perhaps three-quarters of the loan, and having passed
- into the hands of the borrower was again returned to Mr. Mainchance at its
- real worth, a Carlo Dolce, or a Coal Pit, as your Lordships doubtless
- know, being capable of representing any given sum of money. This
- gentleman, my Lords, the Sheriff elect’s father, having at length paid the
- debt of nature—the only debt I believe that he was ever slow in
- discharging—the opulent gentleman who now stands at my side, and
- whom I have the honour of presenting to the Court, was enabled through one
- of those monetary transactions to claim the services of a distinguished
- politician now no more, and obtain that hereditary rank which he so
- greatly adorns. On becoming a baronet Sir Moses Mainchance withdrew from
- commercial pursuits, and set up for a gentleman, purchasing the
- magnificent estate of Pangburn Park, in Hit-im and Hold-im shire, of which
- county he is a Deputy-Lieutenant, getting together an unrivalled pack of
- foxhounds—second to none as I am instructed—and hunting the
- country with great circumspection; and he requests me to add, he will be
- most proud and happy to see your Lordships to take a day with his hounds
- whenever it suits you, and also to dine with him this evening in the
- splendid Guildhall of the ancient and renowned City of London.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- The foregoing outline, coupled with Sir Moses’ treatment of the Major,
- will give the reader some idea of the character of the gentleman who had
- sought the society of our hero. In truth, if nature had not made him the
- meanest, Sir Moses would have been the most liberal of mankind, for his
- life was a continual struggle between the magnificence of his offers and
- the penury of his performances. He was perpetually forcing favours upon
- people, and then backing out when he saw they were going to be accepted.
- It required no little face to encounter the victim of such a recent “do”
- as the Major’s, but Sir Moses was not to be foiled when he had an object
- in view. Telling his groom to stay at the door, and asking in a stentorian
- voice if Mr. Pringle is at home, so that there may be no mistake as to
- whom he is calling upon, the Baronet is now ushered into the drawing-room,
- where the dandified Billy sits in all the dangerous proximity of three
- pretty girls without their Mamma. Mrs. Yammerton knew when to be out.
- “Good morning, young ladies!” exclaims Sir Moses gaily, greeting them all
- round—“Mr. Pringle,” continued he, turning to Billy, “allow me to
- introduce myself—I believe I have the pleasure of addressing a
- nephew of my excellent old friend Sir Jonathan Pringle, and I shall be
- most happy if I can contribute in any way to your amusement while in this
- neighbourhood. Tell me now,” continued he, without waiting for Billy’s
- admission or rejection of kindred with Sir Jonathan, “tell me now, when
- you are not engaged in this delightful way,” smiling round on the
- beauties, “would you like to come and have a day with my hounds?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy shuddered at the very thought, but quickly recovering his
- equanimity, he replied, “Yarse, he should like it very much.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Mr. Pringle’s a mighty hunter!” exclaimed Miss Yammerton, who really
- thought he was.—“Very good!” exclaimed Sir Moses, “very good! Then
- I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We meet on Monday at the Crooked Billet on
- the Bushmead Road—Tuesday at Stubbington Hill—Thursday,
- Woolerton, by Heckfield—Saturday, the Kennels. S’pose now you come
- to me on Sunday, I would have said Saturday, only I’m engaged to dine with
- Lord Oilcake, but you wouldn’t mind coming over on a Sunday, I dare say,
- would you?” and without waiting for an answer he went on to say, “Come on
- Sunday, I’ll send my dogcart for you, the thing I have at the door, we’ll
- then hunt Monday and Tuesday, dine at the Club at Hinton on Wednesday,
- where we always have a capital dinner, and a party of excellent fellows,
- good singing and all sorts of fun, and take Thursday at Woolerton, in your
- way home—draw Shawley Moss, the Withy beds at Langton, Tangleton
- Brake, and so on, but sure to find before we get to the Brake, for there
- were swarms of foxes on the moss the last time we were there, and capital
- good ones they are. Dom’d if they aren’t. So know I think you couldn’t be
- better Thursday, and I’ll have a two-stalled stable ready for you on
- Sunday, so that’s a bargain—ay, young ladies, isn’t it?” appealing
- to our fair friends. And now fine Billy, who had been anxiously waiting to
- get a word in sideways while all this dread enjoyment was paraded,
- proceeded to make a vigorous effort to deliver himself from it. He was
- very much obliged to this unknown friend of his unknown uncle, Sir
- Jonathan, but he had only one horse, and was afraid he must decline. “Only
- one horse!” exclaimed Sir Moses, “only one horse!” who had heard he had
- ten, “ah, well, never mind,” thinking he would sell him one. “I’ll tell
- you what I’ll do, I’ll mount you on the Tuesday—I’ll mount you on
- the Tuesday—dom’d if I won’t—and that’ll make it all right—and
- that’ll make all right.” So extending his hand he said, “Come on Sunday
- then, come on Sunday,” and, bowing round to the ladies, he backed out of
- the room lest his friend the Major might appear and open his grievance
- about the horse. Billy then accompanied him to the door, where Sir Moses,
- pointing to the gaudy vehicle, said, “Ah, there’s the dog-cart you see,
- there’s the dog-cart, much at your service, much at your service,” adding,
- as he placed his foot upon the step to ascend, “Our friend the Major here
- I make no doubt will lend you a horse to put in it, and between
- ourselves,” concluded he in a lower tone, “you may as well try if you
- can’t get him to lend you a second horse to bring with you.” So saying,
- Sir Moses again shook hands most fervently with his young friend, the
- nephew of Sir Jonathan, and mounting the vehicle soused down in his seat
- and drove off with the air of a Jew bailiff in his Sunday best.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0031" id="linkimage-0031"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/213m.jpg" alt="213m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/213.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Of course, when Billy returned to the drawing-room the young ladies were
- busy discussing the Baronet, aided by Mamma, who had gone up stairs on the
- sound of wheels to reconnoitre her person, and was disappointed on coming
- down to find she had had her trouble for nothing.
- </p>
- <p>
- If Sir Moses had been a married man instead of a widower, without
- incumbrance as the saying is, fine Billy would have been more likely to
- have heard the truth respecting him, than he was as matters stood. As it
- was, the ladies had always run Sir Moses up, and did not depart from that
- course on the present occasion. Mrs. Yammerton, indeed, always said that
- he looked a great deal older than he really was, and had no objection to
- his being talked of for one of her daughters, and as courtships generally
- go by contraries, the fair lady of the glove with her light sunny hair,
- and lambent blue eyes, rather admired Sir Moses’ hook-nose and clear olive
- complexion than otherwise. His jewelry, too, had always delighted her, for
- he had a stock equal to that of any retired pawnbroker. So they impressed
- Billy very favourably with the Baronet’s pretensions, far more favourably
- the reader may be sure than the Recorder did the Barons of the Court of
- Exchequer.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVIII.<br/>THE HIT-IM AND HOLD-IM SHIRE HOUNDS.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ESCENDING Long
- Benningborough Hill on the approach from the west, the reader enters the
- rich vale of Hit-im and Hold-im shire, rich in agricultural productions,
- lavish of rural beauties, and renowned for the strength and speed of its
- foxes.
- </p>
- <p>
- As a hunting country Hit-im and Hold-im shire ranks next to
- Featherbedfordshire, and has always been hunted by men of wealth and
- renown. The great Mr. Bruiser hunted it at one time, and was succeeded by
- the equally great Mr. Customer, who kept it for upwards of twenty years.
- He was succeeded by Mr. Charles Crasher, after whom came the eminent Lord
- Martingal, who most materially improved its even then almost perfect
- features by the judicious planting of gorse covers on the eastern or
- Droxmoor side, where woodlands are deficient.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was during Lord Martingal’s reign that Hit-im and Hold-im shire may be
- said to have attained the zenith of its fame, for he was liberal in the
- extreme, not receiving a farthing subscription, and maintaining the Club
- at the Fox and Hounds Hotel at Hinton with the greatest spirit and
- popularity. He reigned over Hit-im and Hold-im shire for the period of a
- quarter of a century, his retirement being at length caused by a fall from
- his horse, aggravated by distress at seeing his favourite gorses
- Rattleford and Chivington cut up by a branch-line of the Crumpletin
- railway.
- </p>
- <p>
- On his lordship’s resignation, the country underwent the degradation of
- passing into the hands of the well-known Captain Flasher, a gentleman who,
- instead of keeping hounds, as Lord Martingal had done, expected the hounds
- to keep him. To this end he organised a subscription—a difficult
- thing to realise even when men have got into the habit of paying, or
- perhaps promising one—but most difficult when, as in this case, they
- had long been accustomed to have their hunting for nothing. It is then
- that the beauties of a free pack are apparent. The Captain, however,
- nothing daunted by the difficulty, applied the screw most assiduously,
- causing many gentlemen to find out that they were just going to give up
- hunting, and others that they must go abroad to economise. This was just
- about the gloomy time that our friend the Major was vacillating between
- Boulogne and Bastille; and it so happened that Mr. Plantagenet Brown, of
- Pangburn Park, whose Norman-conquest family had long been pressing on the
- vitals of the estate, taking all out and putting nothing in, suddenly
- found themselves at the end of their tether. The estate had collapsed.
- Then came the brief summing-up of a long career of improvidence in the
- shape of an auctioneer’s advertisement, offering the highly valuable
- freehold property, comprising about two thousand five hundred acres in a
- ring fence, with a modern mansion replete with every requisite for a
- nobleman or gentleman’s seat, for sale, which, of course, brought the
- usual train of visitors, valuers, Paul-Pryers, and so on—some
- lamenting the setting, others speculating on the rising sun.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the sale, a most repulsive, poverty-stricken looking little old Jew
- kept protracting the biddings when everybody else seemed done, in such a
- way as to cause the auctioneer to request an <i>imparlance</i>, in order
- that he might ascertain who his principal was; when the Jew, putting his
- dirty hands to his bearded mouth, whispered in the auctioneer’s ear, “Shir
- Moshes Mainchance,” whereupon the languid biddings were resumed, and the
- estate was ultimately knocked down to the Baronet.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came the ceremony of taking possession—the carriage-and-four,
- the flags, the band of music, the triumphal arch, the fervid address and
- heartfelt reply, amid the prolonged cheers of the wretched pauperised
- tenantry.
- </p>
- <p>
- That mark of respect over, let us return to the hounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- Captain Flasher did not give satisfaction, which indeed was not to be
- expected, considering that he wanted a subscription. No man would have
- given satisfaction under the circumstances, but the Captain least of all,
- because he brought nothing into the common stock, nothing, at least,
- except his impudence, of which the members of the hunt had already a
- sufficient supply of their own. The country was therefore declared vacant
- at the end of the Captain’s second season, the Guarantee Committee
- thinking it best to buy him off the third one, for which he had contracted
- to hunt it. This was just about the time that Sir Moses purchased Pangburn
- Park, and, of course, the country was offered to him. A passion for
- hunting is variously distributed, and Sir Moses had his share of it. He
- was more than a mere follower of hounds, for he took a pleasure in their
- working and management, and not knowing much about the cost, he jumped at
- the offer, declaring he didn’t want a farthing subscription, no, not a
- farthing: he wouldn’t even have a cover fund—no, not even a cover
- fund! He’d pay keepers, stoppers, damage, everything himself,—dom’d
- if he wouldn’t. Then when he got possession of the country, he declared
- that he found it absolutely indispensable for the promotion of sport, and
- the good of them all, that there should be a putting together of purses—every
- man ought to have a direct interest in the preservation of foxes, and,
- therefore, they should all pay five guineas,—just five guineas
- a-year to a cover fund. It wasn’t fair that he should pay all the cost—dom’d
- if it was. He wouldn’t stand it—dom’d if he would.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the next season he declared that five guineas was all moonshine—it
- would do nothing in the way of keeping such a country as Hit-im and
- Hold-im shire together—it must be ten guineas, and that would leave
- a great balance for him to pay. Well, ten guineas he got, and emboldened
- by his success, at the commencement of the next season he got a grand
- gathering together, at a hand-in-the-pocket hunt dinner at the Fox and
- Hounds Hotel at Hinton, to which he presented a case of champagne, when
- his health being drunk with suitable enthusiasm, he got up and made them a
- most elaborate speech on the pleasures and advantages of fox-hunting,
- which he declared was like meat, drink, washing and lodging to him, and to
- which he mainly attributed the very excellent health which they had just
- been good enough to wish him a continuance of in such complimentary terms,
- that he was almost overpowered by it. He was glad to see that he was not a
- monopoliser of the inestimable blessings of health, for, looking round the
- table, he thought he never saw such an assemblage of cheerful contented
- countenances—(applause)—and it was a great satisfaction to him
- to think that he in any way contributed to make them so—(renewed
- applause). He had been thinking since he came into the room whether it was
- possible to increase in any way the general stock of prosperity—(great
- applause)—and considering the success that had already marked his
- humble endeavours, he really thought that there was nothing like sticking
- to the same medicine, and, if possible, increasing the dose; for—(the
- conclusion of this sentence was lost in the general applause that
- followed). Having taken an inspiriting sip of wine, he thus resumed, “He
- now hunted the country three days a-week,” he said, “and, thanks to their
- generous exertions, and the very judicious arrangement they had
- spontaneously made of having a hunt club, he really thought it would stand
- four days.”—(Thunders of applause followed this announcement,
- causing the glasses and biscuits to dance jigs on the table. Sir Moses
- took a prolonged sip of wine, and silence being at length again restored,
- he thus resumed):—“It had always stood four in old Martingal’s time,
- and why shouldn’t it do so in theirs?—(applause). Look at its
- extent! Look at its splendid gorses! Look at its magnificent woodlands! He
- really thought it was second to none!” And so the company seemed to think
- too by the cheering that followed the announcement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then,” said Sir Moses, drawing breath for the grand effort, “there
- was only one thing to be considered—one leetle difficulty to be
- overcome—but one, which after the experience he had had of their
- gameness and liberality, he was sure they would easily surmount.”—(A
- murmur of “O-O-O’s,” with Hookey Walkers, and fingers to the nose,
- gradually following the speaker.)
- </p>
- <p>
- “That <i>leetle</i> difficulty, he need hardly say, was their old familiar
- friend £ s. d.! who required occasionally to be looked in the face.”—(Ironical
- laughter, with <i>sotto voce</i> exclamations from Jack to Tom and from
- Sam to Harry, of—) “I say! <i>three</i> days are <i>quite</i> enough—<i>quite</i>
- enough. Don’t you think so?” With answers of “Plenty! plenty!” mingled
- with whispers of, “I say, this is what he calls hunting the country for
- nothing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, gentlemen,” continued Sir Moses, tapping the table with his
- presidential hammer, to assert his monopoly of noise, “Well, gentlemen, as
- I said before, I have no doubt we can overcome any difficulty in the
- matter of money—what’s the use of money if it’s not to enjoy
- ourselves, and what enjoyment is there equal to fox-hunting? (applause).
- None! none!” exclaimed Sir Moses with emphasis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, gentlemen, what I was going to say was this: It occurred to me
- this morning as I was shaving myself——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That you would shave us,” muttered Mr. Paul Straddler to Hicks, the
- flying hatter, neither of whom ever subscribed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “—It occurred to me this morning, as I was shaving myself, that for
- a very little additional outlay—say four hundred a year—and
- what’s four hundred a-year among so many of us? we might have four days
- a-week, which is a great deal better than three in many respects, inasmuch
- as you have two distinct lots of hounds, accustomed to hunt together,
- instead of a jumble for one day, and both men and horses are in steadier
- and more regular work; and as to foxes, I needn’t say we have plenty of
- them, and that they will be all the better for a little more exercise.—(Applause
- from Sir Moses’ men, Mr. Smoothley and others). Well, then, say four
- hundred a-year, or, as hay and corn are dear and likely to continue so,
- suppose we put it at the worst, and call it five—five hundred—what’s
- five hundred a-year to a great prosperous agricultural and commercial
- country like this? Nothing! A positive bagatelle! I’d be ashamed to have
- it known at the ‘Corner’ that we had ever haggled about such a sum.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You pay it, then,” muttered Mr. Straddler.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Catch him doing that,” growled Hicks.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses here took another sip of sherry, and thus resumed:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, now, gentlemen, as I said before, it only occurred to me this
- morning as I was shaving, or I would have been better prepared with some
- definite proposal for your consideration, but I’ve just dotted down here,
- on the back of one of Grove the fishmonger’s cards (producing one from his
- waistcoat pocket as he spoke), the names of those who I think ought to be
- called upon to contribute;—and, waiter!” exclaimed he, addressing
- one of the lanky-haired order, who had just protruded his head in at the
- door to see what all the eloquence was about, “if you’ll give me one of
- those mutton fats,—and your master ought to be kicked for putting
- such things on the table, and you may tell him I said so,—I’ll just
- read the names over to you.” Sir Moses adjusting his gold double eye
- glasses on his hooked nose as the waiter obeyed his commands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, now,” said the Baronet, beginning at the top of the list, “I’ve put
- young Lord Polkaton down for fifty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But my Lord doesn’t hunt, Sir Moses!” ejaculated Mr. Mossman, his
- Lordship’s land-agent, alarmed at the demand upon a very delicate purse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Doesn’t hunt!” retorted Sir Moses angrily. “No; but he might if he liked!
- If there were no hounds, how the deuce could he? It would do him far more
- good, let me tell him, than dancing at casinos and running after ballet
- girls, as he does. I’ve put him down for fifty, however,” continued Sir
- Moses, with a jerk of his head, “and you may tell him I’ve done so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wish you may get it,” growled Mr. Mossman, with disgust.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” said the Baronet, proceeding to the next name on the list,
- “comes old Lord Harpsichord. He’s good for fifty, too, I should say. At
- all events, I’ve put him down for that sum;” adding, “I’ve no notion of
- those great landed cormorants cutting away to the continent and shirking
- the obligations of country life. I hold it to be the duty of every man to
- subscribe to a pack of fox-hounds. In fact, I would make a subscription a
- first charge upon land, before poor-rate, highway-rate, or any sort of
- rate. I’d make it payable before the assessed taxes themselves”—(laughter
- and applause, very few of the company being land-owners). “Two fifties is
- a hundred, then,” observed Sir Moses, perking up; “and if we can screw
- another fifty out of old Lady Shortwhist, so much the better; at all
- events. I think she’ll be good for a pony; and then we come to the
- Baronets. First and foremost is that confounded prosy old ass, Sir George
- Persiflage, with his empty compliments and his fine cravats. I’ve put him
- down for fifty, though I don’t suppose the old sinner will pay it, though
- we may, perhaps, get half, which we shouldn’t do if we were not to ask for
- more. Well, we’ll call the supercilious old owls five-and-twenty for
- safety,” added Sir Moses. “Then there’s Sir Morgan Wildair; I should think
- we may say five-aud-twenty for him. What say you, Mr. Squeezely?”
- appealing to Sir Morgan’s agent at the low end of the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve no instructions from Sir Morgan on the subject, Sir Moses,” replied
- Mr. Squeezely, shaking his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, but he’s a young man, and you must tell him that it’s right—<i>necessary</i>,
- in fact,” replied Sir Moses. “You just pay it, and pass it through his
- accounts—that’s the shortest way. It’s the duty of an agent to save
- his principal trouble. I wouldn’t keep an agent who bothered me with all
- the twopenny-halfpenny transactions of the estate—dom’d if I would,”
- said Sir Moses, resuming his eye-glass reading.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then went on through the names of several other parties, who he thought
- might be coaxed or bullied out of subscriptions, he taking this man,
- another taking that, and working them, as he said, on the fair means
- first, and foul means principle afterwards.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, now you see, gentlemen,” said Sir Moses, pocketing his card
- and taking another sip of sherry prior to summing up; “it just amounts to
- this. Four days a-week, as I said before, is a dom’d deal better than
- three, and if we can get the fourth day out of these shabby screws, why so
- much the better; but if that can’t be done entirely, it can to a certain
- extent, and then it will only remain for the members of the club and the
- strangers—by the way, we shouldn’t forget them—it will only
- remain for the members of the club and the strangers to raise any slight
- deficiency by an increased subscription, and according to my plan of each
- man working his neighbour, whether the club subscription was to be
- increased to fifteen, or seventeen, or even to twenty pounds a-year will
- depend entirely upon ourselves; so you see, gentlemen, we have all a
- direct interest in the matter, and cannot go to work too earnestly or too
- strenuously; for believe me, gentlemen, there’s nothing like hunting, it
- promotes health and longevity, wards off the gout and sciatica, and keeps
- one out of the hands of those dom’d doctors, with their confounded bills—no
- offence to our friend Plaister, there,” alluding to a doctor of that name
- who was sitting about half-way down the table—“so now,” continued
- Sir Moses, “I think I cannot do better than conclude by proposing as a
- bumper toast, with all the honours, Long life and prosperity to the Hit-im
- and Hold-im shire hounds!”
- </p>
- <p>
- When the forced cheering had subsided, our friend—or rather Major
- Yammerton’s friend—Mr. Smoothley, the gentleman who assisted at the
- sale of Bo-peep, arose to address the meeting amid coughs and knocks and
- the shuffling of feet. Mr. Smoothley coughed too, for he felt he had an
- uphill part to perform; but Sir Moses was a hard task-master, and held his
- “I. O. U.‘s” for a hundred and fifty-seven pounds. On silence being
- restored, Mr. Smoothley briefly glanced at the topics urged, as he said,
- in such a masterly manner by their excellent and popular master, to whom
- they all owed a deep debt of gratitude for the spirited manner in which he
- hunted the country, rescuing it from the degradation to which it had
- fallen, and restoring it to its pristine fame and prosperity—(applause
- from Sir Moses and his <i>claqueurs</i>). “With respect to the specific
- proposal submitted by Sir Moses, Mr. Smoothley proceeded to say, he really
- thought there could not be a difference of opinion on the subject—(renewed
- applause, with murmurs of dissent here and there). It was clearly their
- interest to have the country hunted four days a week, and the mode in
- which Sir Moses proposed accomplishing the object was worthy the talents
- of the greatest financier of the day—(applause)—for it placed
- the load on the shoulders of those who were the best able to bear it—(applause).
- Taking all the circumstances of the case, therefore, into consideration,
- he thought the very least they could do would be to pass a unanimous vote
- of thanks to their excellent friend for the brilliant sport he had
- hitherto shown them, and pledge themselves to aid to the utmost of their
- power in carrying out his most liberal and judicious proposal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jewish enough,” whispered Mr. Straddler into the flying hatter’s ear.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the following week’s Hit-im and Hold-im shire Herald, and also the
- Featherbedfordshire Gazette, contained a string of resolutions, embodying
- the foregoing, as unanimously passed at a full meeting of the members of
- the Hit-im and Hold-im shire hunt, held at the Fox and Hounds Hotel, in
- Ilinton, Sir Moses Mainchance, Bart., in the chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- And each man set to work on the pocket of his neighbour with an
- earnestness inspired by the idea of saving his own. The result was that a
- very considerable sum was raised for the four days a-week, which, somehow
- or other, the country rarely or ever got, except in the shape of
- advertisements; for Sir Moses always had some excuse or other for shirking
- it,—either his huntsman had got drunk the day before, or his first
- whip had had a bad fall, or his second whip had been summoned to the small
- debts court, or his hounds had been fighting and several of them had got
- lamed, or the distemper had broken out in his stable, or something or
- other had happened to prevent him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Towards Christmas, or on the eve of an evident frost, he came valiantly
- out, and if foiled by a sudden thaw, would indulge in all sorts of sham
- draws, and short days, to the great disgust of those who were not in the
- secret. Altogether Sir Moses Mainchance rode Hit-im and Hold-im shire as
- Hit-im and Hold-im shire had never been ridden before.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0032" id="linkimage-0032"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/223m.jpg" alt="223m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/223.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIX.<br/>THE PANGBURN PARK ESTATE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE first thing
- that struck Sir Moses Mainchance after he became a “laird” was that he got
- very little interest for his money. Here he was he who had always looked
- down with scorn upon any thing that would not pay ten per cent., scarcely
- netting three by his acres. He couldn’t understand it—dom’d if he
- could. How could people live who had nothing but land? Certainly Mr.
- Plantagenet Smith had left the estate in as forlorn a condition as could
- well be imagined. Latterly his agent, Mr. Tom Teaser, had directed his
- attention solely to the extraction of rent, regardless of maintenance, to
- say nothing of improvements, consequently the farm buildings were
- dilapidated, and the land impoverished in every shape and way. Old
- pasture-field after old pasture-field had gradually succumbed to the
- plough, and the last ounce of freshness being extracted, the fields were
- left to lay themselves down to weeds or any thing they liked. As this sort
- of work never has but one ending, the time soon arrived when the rent was
- not raiseable. Indeed it was the inability to make “both ends meet,” as
- Paul Pry used to say, which caused Mr. Plantagenet Smith to retire from
- Burke’s landed gentry, which he did to his own advantage, land being
- sometimes like family plate, valuable to sell, but unprofitable to keep.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses, flushed with his reception and the consequence he had acquired,
- met his tenants gallantly the first rent-day, expecting to find everything
- as smooth and pleasant as a London house-rent audit. Great was his
- surprise and disgust at the pauperised wretches he encountered, creatures
- that really appeared to be but little raised above the brute creation,
- were it not for the uncommon keenness they showed at a “catch.” First came
- our old friend Henerey Brown & Co., who, foiled in their attempt to
- establish themselves on Major Yammerton’s farm at Bonnyrigs, and also upon
- several other farms in different parts of the county, had at length “wheas
- we have considered” Mr. Teaser to some better purpose for one on the
- Pangburn Park Estate.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was Doblington farm, consisting of a hundred and sixty of undrained
- obdurate clay, as sticky as bird-lime in wet, and as hard as iron in dry
- weather, and therefore requiring extra strength to take advantage of a
- favourable season. Now Henerey Brown & Co. had farmed, or rather
- starved, a light sandy soil of some two-thirds the extent of Doblington,
- and their half-fed pony horses and wretched implements were quite unable
- to cope with the intractable stubborn stuff they had selected. Perhaps we
- can hardly say they selected it, for it was a case of Hobson’s choice with
- them, and as they offered more rent than the outgoing tenant, who had
- farmed himself to the door, had paid, Mr. Teaser installed them in it. And
- now at the end of the year, (the farms being let on that beggarly
- pauper-encouraging system of a running half year) Henerey & Humphrey
- came dragging their legs to the Park with a quarter of a year’s rent
- between them, Henerey who was the orator undertaking to appear, Humphrey
- paying his respects only to the cheer. Sir Moses and Mr. Teaser were
- sitting in state in the side entrance-hall, surrounded by the usual
- paraphernalia of pens, ink, and paper, when Henerey’s short, square
- turnip-headed, vacant-countenanced figure loomed in the distance. Mr.
- Teaser trembled when he saw him, for he knew that the increased rent
- obtained for Henerey’s farm had been much dwelt upon by the auctioneer,
- and insisted upon by the vendor as conducive evidence of the improving
- nature of the whole estate. Teaser, like the schoolboy in the poem, now
- traced the day’s disaster in Henerey’s morning face. However, Teaser put a
- good face on the matter, saying, as Henerey came diverging up to the
- table, “This is Mr. Brown, Sir Moses, the new tenant of Doblington—the
- farm on the Hill.” he was going to add “with the bad out-buildings,” but
- he thought he had better keep that to himself. <i>Humph</i> sniffed the
- eager baronet, looking the new tenant over.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your sarvent, Sir Moses,” ducked the farmer, seating himself in the dread
- cash-extracting chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, my man, and how dy’e do? I hope you’re well—How’s your wife?
- I hope she’s well,” continued the Baronet, watching Henerey’s protracted
- dive into his corduroy breeches-pockets, and his fish up of the dirty
- canvas money-bag. Having deliberately untied the string, Henerey, without
- noticing the Baronet’s polite enquiries, shook out a few local five pound
- notes, along with some sovereigns, shillings, and sixpence upon the table,
- and heaving a deep sigh, pushed them over towards Mr. Teaser. That worthy
- having wet his thumb at his mouth proceeded to count the dirty old notes,
- and finding them as he expected, even with the aid of the change, very
- short of the right amount, he asked Henerey if he had any bills against
- them?
- </p>
- <p>
- “W-h-o-y no-a ar think not,” replied Henerey, scratching his
- straggling-haired head, apparently conning the matter over in his mind.
- “W-h-o-y, yeas, there’s the Income Tax, and there’s the lime to ‘loo off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lime!” exclaimed the Baronet, “What have I to do with lime?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “W-h-o-y, yeas, you know you promised to ‘loo the lime,” replied Hererey,
- appealing to Mr. Teaser, who frowned and bit his lip at the over-true
- assertion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never heard of such a thing!” exclaimed Sir Moses, seeing through the
- deceit at a glance. “Never heard of such a thing,” repeated he. “That’s
- the way you keep up your rents is it?” asked he: “Deceive yourselves by
- pretending to get more money than you do, and pay rates and taxes upon
- your deceit as a punishment. That ‘ill not do! dom’d if it will,”
- continued the Baronet, waxing warm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but the income tax won’t bring your money up to anything like the
- right amount,” observed Mr. Teaser to Henerey, anxious to get rid of the
- lime question.
- </p>
- <p>
- “W-h-o-y n-o-a,” replied Henerey, again scratching his pate, “but it’s as
- much as I can bring ye to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To-day, man!” retorted Sir Moses, “Why, don’t you know that this is the
- rent-day! the day on which the entire monetary transactions on the whole
- estate are expected to be settled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Henerey</i>—“O, w-h-o-y it ‘ill make ne odds to ye, Sir Moses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Sir Moses</i>—“Ne odds to me! How do you know that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Henerey</i>—(apologetically) “Oh, Sir Moses, you have plenty, Sir
- Moses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Sir Moses</i>—“Me plenty! me plenty! I’m the poorest crittur
- alive!” which was true enough, only not in the sense Sir Moses intended
- it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Henerey</i>—“Why, why, Sir Moses, ar’ll bring ye some more after
- a bit; but ar tell ye,” appealing to Teaser, “<i>Ye mun ‘loo for the lime.</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The lime be hanged,” exclaimed Sir Moses. “Dy’e sp’ose I’m such a fool as
- to let you the land, and farm ye the land, and pay income tax on rent that
- I never receive? That won’t do—dom’d if it will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Henerey</i>—(boiling up) “Well, but Sir Moses, wor farm’s far
- o’er dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Sir Moses</i>—(turning flesh-colour with fury) “O’er dear! Why,
- isn’t it the rent you yourself offered for it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Henerey</i>—“Why, why, but we hadn’t looked her carefully over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bigger fool you,” ejaculated the Jew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The land’s far worse nor we took it for—some of the plough’s a shem
- to be seen—wor stable rains in desprate—there isn’t a dry
- place for a coo—the back wall of the barn’s all bulgin oot—the
- pigs get into wor garden for want of a gate—there isn’t a fence ‘ill
- turn a foal—the hars eat all wor tormots—we’re perfectly
- ruined wi’ rats,” and altogether Henerey opened such a battery of
- grievances as completely drove Sir Moses, who hated anyone to talk but
- himself, from his seat, and made him leave the finish of his friend to Mr.
- Teaser.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the Baronet went swinging out of the room he mentally exclaimed, “Never
- saw such a man as that in my life—dom’d if ever I did!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Teaser then proceeded with the wretched audit, each succeeding tenant
- being a repetition of the first—excuses—drawbacks—allowances
- for lime—money no matter to Sir Moses—and this with a whole
- year’s rent due, to say nothing of hopeless arrears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How the deuce,” as Sir Moses asked, “do people live who have nothing but
- land?”
- </p>
- <p>
- When Sir Moses returned, at the end of an hour or so, he found one of the
- old tenants of the estate, Jacky Hindmarch, in the chair. Jacky was one of
- the real scratching order of farmers, and ought to be preserved at Madame
- Tussaud’s or the British Museum, for the information of future ages. To
- see him in the fields, with his crownless hat and tattered clothes, he was
- more like a scare-crow than a farmer; though, thanks to the influence of
- cheap finery, he turned out very shiney and satiney on a Sunday. Jacky had
- seventy acres of land,—fifty acres of arable and twenty acres of
- grass, which latter he complimented with an annual mowing without giving
- it any manure in return, thus robbing his pastures to feed his fallows,—if,
- indeed, he did not rob both by selling the manure off his farm altogether.
- Still Jacky was reckoned a cute fellow among his compatriots. He had
- graduated in the Insolvent Debtors’ Court to evade his former landlord’s
- claims, and emerged from gaol with a good stock of bad law engrafted on
- his innate knavery. In addition to this, Jacky, when a hind, had nearly
- had to hold up his hand at Quarter Sessions for stealing his master’s
- corn, which he effected in a very ingenious way:—The granary being
- above Jacky’s stable, he bored a hole through the floor, to which he
- affixed a stocking; and, having drawn as much corn as he required, he
- stopped the hole up with a plug until he wanted a fresh supply. The farmer—one
- Mr. Podmore—at length smelt a rat; but giving Jacky in charge rather
- prematurely, he failed in substantiating the accusation, when the latter,
- acting “under advice,” brought an action against Podmore, which ended in a
- compromise, Podmore having to pay Jacky twenty pounds for robbing him!
- This money, coupled with the savings of a virtuous young woman he
- presently espoused, and who had made free with the produce of her master’s
- dairy, enabled Jacky to take the farm off which he passed through the
- Insolvent Debtors’ Court, on to the Pangburn Park estate, where he was
- generally known by the name of Lawyer Hindmarch.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jacky and his excellent wife attempted to farm the whole seventy acres
- themselves; to plough, harrow, clean, sow, reap, mow, milk, churn,—do
- everything, in fact; consequently they were always well in arrear with
- their work, and had many a fine run after the seasons. If Jacky got his
- turnips in by the time other people were singling theirs, he was thought
- to do extremely well. To see him raising the seed-furrow in the autumn, a
- stranger would think he was ploughing in a green crop for manure, so
- luxuriant were the weeds. But Jacky Hindmarch would defend his system
- against Mr. Mechi himself; there being no creature so obstinate or
- intractable as a pig-headed farmer. A landlord had better let his land to
- a cheesemonger, a greengrocer, a draper, anybody with energy and capital,
- rather than to one of these self-sufficient, dawdling nincompoops. To be
- sure, Jacky farmed as if each year was to be his last, but he wouldn’t
- have been a bit better if he had had a one-and-twenty years’ lease before
- him. “Take all out and put nothing in,” was his motto. This was the genius
- who was shuffling, and haggling, and prevaricating with Mr. Teaser when
- Sir Moses returned, and who now gladly skulked off: Henerey Brown not
- having reported very favourably of the great man’s temper.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next to come was a woman,—a great, mountainous woman—one
- Mrs. Peggy Turnbull, wife of little Billy Turnbull of Lowfield Farm, who,
- she politely said, was not fit to be trusted from home by hisself.—Mrs.
- Turnbull was, though, being quite a match for any man in the country,
- either with her tongue or her fists. She was a great masculine
- knock-me-down woman, round as a sugar-barrel, with a most extravagant
- stomach, wholly absorbing her neck, and reaching quite up to her chin.
- Above the barrel was a round, swarthy, sunburnt face, lit up with a pair
- of keen little twinkling beady black eyes. She paused in her roll as she
- neared the chair, at which she now cast a contemptuous look, as much as to
- say, “How can I ever get into such a thing as that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Teaser saw her dilemma and kindly gave her the roomier one on which he
- was sitting—while Sir Moses inwardly prepared a little dose of
- politeness for her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, my good woman,” said he as soon as she got soused on to the seat.
- “Well, my good woman, how dy’e do? I hope you’re well. How’s your husband?
- I hope he’s well;” and was proceeding in a similar strain when the monster
- interrupted his dialogue by thumping the table with her fist, and
- exclaiming at the top of her voice, as she fixed her little beady black
- eyes full upon him—
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>D’ye think we’re ganninn to get a new B-a-r-r-u-n?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dom you and your b-a-r-r-n!” exclaimed the Baronet, boiling up. “Why
- don’t you leave those things to your husband?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>He’s see shy!</i>” roared the monster.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re not shy, however!” replied Sir Moses, again jumping up and running
- away.
- </p>
- <p>
- And thus what with one and another of them, Sir Moses was so put out, that
- dearly as he loved a let off for his tongue, he couldn’t bring himself to
- face his friends again at dinner. So the agreeable duty devolved upon Mr.
- Teaser, of taking the chair, and proposing in a bumper toast, with all the
- honours and one cheer more, the health of a landlord who, it was clear,
- meant to extract the uttermost farthing he could from his tenants.
- </p>
- <p>
- And that day’s proceedings furnished ample scope for a beginning, for
- there was not one tenant on the estate who paid up; and Sir Moses declared
- that of all the absurdities he had ever heard tell of in the whole course
- of his life, that of paying income-tax on money he didn’t receive was the
- greatest. “Dom’d if it wasn’t!” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- In fact the estate had come to a stand still, and wanted nursing instead
- of further exhaustion. If it had got into the hands of an improving owner—a
- Major Yammerton, for instance,—there was redemption enough in the
- land; these scratching fellows, only exhausting the surface; and draining
- and subsoiling would soon have put matters right, but Sir Moses declared
- he wouldn’t throw good money after bad, that the rushes were meant to be
- there and there they should stay. If the tenants couldn’t pay their rents
- how could they pay any drainage interest? he asked. Altogether Sir Moses
- declared it shouldn’t be a case of over shoes, over boots, with him—that
- he wouldn’t go deeper into the mud than he was, and he heartily wished he
- had the price of the estate back in his pocket again, as many a man has
- wished, and many a one will wish again—there being nothing so
- ticklish to deal with as land. There is no reason though why it should be
- so; but we will keep our generalities for another chapter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses’s property went rapidly back, and soon became a sort of last
- refuge for the destitute, whither the ejected of all other estates
- congregated prior to scattering their stock, on failing to get farms in
- more favoured localities. As they never meant to pay, of course they all
- offered high rents, and then having got possession the Henerey Brown scene
- was enacted—the farm was “far o’er dear”—they could “make
- nout on’t at that rent!” nor could they have made aught on them if they had
- had them for nothing, seeing that their capital consisted solely of their
- intense stupidity. Then if Sir Moses wouldn’t reduce the rent, he might
- just do his “warst,” meanwhile they pillaged the land both by day and by
- night. The cropping of course corresponded with the tenure, and may be
- described as just anything they could get off the land. White crop
- succeeded white crop, if the weeds didn’t smother the seeds, or if any of
- the slovens did “try for a few turnips,” as they called it, they were sown
- on dry spots selected here and there, with an implement resembling a
- dog’s-meat man’s wheelbarrow—drawn by one ass and steered by
- another.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile Mr. Teaser’s labours increased considerably, what with the
- constant lettings and leavings and watchings for “slopings.” There was
- always some one or other of the worthies on the wing, and the more paper
- and words Mr. Teaser employed to bind them, the more inefficient and
- futile he found the attempt. It soon became a regular system to do the new
- landlord, in furtherance of which the tenants formed themselves into a
- sort of mutual aid association. Then when a seizure was effected, they
- combined not to buy, so that the sufferer got his wretched stock back at
- little or no loss.
- </p>
- <p>
- Wretched indeed, was the spectacle of a sale; worn out horses, innocent of
- corn; cows, on whose hips one could hang one’s hat; implements that had
- been “fettled oop” and “fettled oop,” until not a particle of the parent
- stock remained; carts and trappings that seemed ready for a bonfire; pigs,
- that looked as if they wanted food themselves instead of being likely to
- feed any one else; and poultry that all seemed troubled with the pip.
- </p>
- <p>
- The very bailiff’s followers were shocked at the emptiness of the larders.
- A shank bone of salt meat dangling from the ceiling, a few eggs on a
- shelf, a loaf of bread in a bowl, a pound of butter in a pie-dish,—the
- whole thing looking as unlike the plentiful profusion of a farm-house as
- could well be imagined.
- </p>
- <p>
- The arduous duties of the office, combined with the difficulty of pleasing
- Sir Moses, at length compelled Mr. Teaser to resign, when our “laird,”
- considering the nature of the services required concluded that there could
- be no one so fit to fulfil them as one of the “peoplish.” Accordingly he
- went to town, and after Consulting Levy this, and “Goodman” that, and
- Ephraim t’other, he at length fixed upon that promising swell, young Mr.
- Mordecai Nathan, of Cursitor-street, whose knowledge of the country
- consisted in having assisted in the provincial department of his father’s
- catchpoll business in the glorious days of writs and sponging-houses.
- </p>
- <p>
- In due time down came Mordecai, ringed and brooched and chained and
- jewelled, and as Sir Moses was now the great man, hunting the country,
- associating with Lord Oilcake, and so on, he gave Mordecai a liberal
- salary, four-hundred a year made up in the following clerical way:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><a name="linkimage-0033" id="linkimage-0033"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/230m.jpg" alt="230m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/230.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Besides, which, Sir Moses promised him ten per cent, upon all recovered
- arrears, which set Mordecai to work with all the enthusiastic energy of
- his race.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXX.<br/>COMMERCE AND AGRICULTURE.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0034" id="linkimage-0034"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/231m.jpg" alt="231m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/231.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>NE of the most
- distinguishing features between commerce and agriculture undoubtedly is
- the marked indifference shown to the value of time by the small followers
- of the latter, compared to the respectful treatment it receives at the
- hands of the members of the commercial world. To look at their relative
- movements one would think that the farmer was the man who carried on his
- business under cover, instead of being the one who exposes all his
- capital to the weather. It is a rare thing to see a farmer—even in
- hay time—in a hurry. If the returns could be obtained we dare say
- it would be found that three-fourths of the people who are late for
- railway trains are farmers.
- </p>
- <p>
- In these accelerated days, when even the very street waggon horses trot,
- they are the only beings whose pace has not been improved. The small
- farmer is just the same slowly moving dawdling creature that he was before
- the perfection of steam. Never punctual, never ready, never able to give a
- direct answer to a question; a pitchfork at their backs would fail to push
- some of these fellows into prosperity. They seem wholly lost to that
- emulative spirit which actuates the trader to endeavour to make each
- succeeding year leave him better than the last. A farmer will be forty
- years on a farm without having benefited himself, his family, his
- landlord, or any human being whatever. The last year’s tenancy will find
- him as poor as the first, with, in all probability, his land a great deal
- poorer. In dealing, a small farmer is never happy without a haggle. Even
- if he gets his own price he reproaches hiself when he returns home with
- not having asked a little more, and so got a wrangle. Very often, however,
- they outwit themselves entirely by asking so much more than a thing is
- really worth, that a man who knows what he is about, and has no hopes of
- being able to get the sun to stand still, declines entering upon an
- apparently endless negotiation.
- </p>
- <p>
- See lawyer Hindmarch coming up the High Street at Halterley fair, leading
- his great grey colt, with his landlord Sir Moses hailing him with his
- usual “Well my man, how d’ye do? I hope you’re well, how much for the
- colt?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer’s keen intellect—seeing that it is his landlord, with
- whom he is well over the left—springs a few pounds upon an already
- exorbitant price, and Sir Moses, who can as he says, measure the horse out
- to ninepence, turns round on his heel with a chuck of his chin, as much as
- to say, “you may go on.” Then the lawyer relenting says, “w—h—o—y,
- but there’ll be summit to return upon that, you know, Sir Moses, Sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should think so,” replies the Baronet, walking away, to “Well my man—how
- d’ye do? I hope you’re well,” somebody else.
- </p>
- <p>
- A sale by auction of agricultural stock illustrates our position still
- further, and one remarkable feature is that the smaller the sale the more
- unpunctual people are. They seldom get begun under a couple of hours after
- the advertised time, and then the dwelling, the coaxing, the wrangling,
- the “puttings-up” again, the ponderous attempts at wit are painful and
- oppressive to any one accustomed to the easy gliding celerity of town
- auctioneers. A conference with a farmer is worse, especially if the party
- is indiscreet enough to let the farmer come to him instead of his going to
- the farmer.
- </p>
- <p>
- The chances, then, are, that he is saddled with a sort of old man of the
- sea; as a certain ambassador once was with a gowk of an Englishman, who
- gained an audience under a mistaken notion, and kept sitting and sitting
- long after his business was discussed, in spite of his Excellency’s
- repeated bows and intimations that he might retire.
- </p>
- <p>
- Gowk seemed quite insensible to a hint. In vain his Excellency stood
- bowing and bowing—hoping to see him rise. No such luck. At length
- his Excellency asked him if there was anything else he could do for him?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, noa.” replied Gowk drily; adding after a pause, “but you haven’t
- asked me to dine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I beg your pardon!” replied his Excellency, “I wasn’t aware that it
- was in my instructions, but I’ll refer to them and see,” added he, backing
- out of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Let us fancy old Heavyheels approaching his landlord, to ask if he thinks
- they are gannin to get a new barrun, or anything else he may happen to
- want, for these worthies have not discovered the use of the penny-post,
- and will trudge any distance to deliver their own messages. Having got
- rolled into the room, the first thing Heels does is to look out for a
- seat, upon which he squats like one of Major Yammerton’s hares, and from
- which he is about as difficult to raise. Instead of coming out with his
- question as a trader would, “What’s rum? what’s sugar? what’s indigo?” he
- fixes his unmeaning eyes on his landlord, and with a heavy aspiration, and
- propping his chin up with a baggy umbrella, ejaculates—“<i>N-o-o</i>,” just
- as if his landlord had sent for him instead of his having come of his own
- accord.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well!” says the landlord briskly, in hopes of getting him on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s a foine day,” observes Heavyheels, as if he had nothing whatever on
- his mind, and so he goes maundering and sauntering on, wasting his own and
- his landlord’s time, most likely ending with some such preposterous
- proposition as would stamp any man for a fool if it wasn’t so decidedly in
- old Heavyheel’s own favour.
- </p>
- <p>
- To give them their due, they are never shy about asking, and have always a
- host of grievances to bait a landlord with who gives them an opportunity.
- Some of the women—we beg their pardon—ladies of the
- establishments, seem to think that a landlord rides out for the sake of
- being worried, and rush at him as he passes like a cur dog at a beggar.
- </p>
- <p>
- Altogether they are a wonderful breed! It will hardly be credited
- hereafter, when the last of these grubbing old earthworms is extinct, that
- in this anxious, commercial, money-striving country, where every man is
- treading on his neighbour’s heels for cash, that there should ever have
- been a race of men who required all the coaxing and urging and patting on
- the back to induce them to benefit themselves that these slugs of small
- tenant farmers have done. And the bulk of them not a bit better for it.
- They say “y-e-a-s,” and go and do the reverse directly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fancy our friend Goodbeer, the brewer, assembling his tied Bonnifaces at a
- banquet consisting of all the delicacies of the season—beef, mutton,
- and cheese, as the sailor said—and after giving the usual loyal and
- patriotic toasts, introducing his calling in the urgent way some landlords
- do theirs—pointing out that the more swipes they sell the greater
- will be their profit, recommending them to water judiciously, keeping the
- capsicum out of sight, and, in lieu of some new implement of husbandry,
- telling them that a good, strong, salt Dutch cheese, is found to be a
- great promoter of thirst, and recommending each man to try a cheese on
- himself—perhaps ending by bowling one at each of them by way of a
- start.
- </p>
- <p>
- But some will, perhaps, say that the interests of the landlord and
- tenant-farmer are identical, and that you cannot injure the latter without
- hurting the former.
- </p>
- <p>
- Not more identical, we submit, than the interests of Goodbeer with the
- Bonnifaces; the land is let upon a calculation what each acre will
- produce, just as Goodbeer lets a public-house on a calculation founded on
- its then consumption of malt liquor; and whatever either party makes
- beyond that amount, either through the aid of guano, Dutch cheese, or what
- not, is the tenant’s. The only difference we know between them is, that
- Goodbeer, being a trader, will have his money to the day; while in course
- of time the too easy landlord’s rent has become postponed to every other
- person’s claim. It is, “O, it will make ne matter to you, Sir Moses,” with
- too many of them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, if that convenient view is acquiesced in, the party submitting is
- called a “good landlord” (which in too many instances only means a great
- fool), until some other favour is refused, when the hundredth one denied
- obliterates the recollection of the ninety-nine conferred, and he sinks
- into a “rank bad un.” The best landlord, we imagine, is he who lets his
- land on fair terms, and keeps his tenants well up to the mark both with
- their farming and their payments. At present the landlords are too often a
- sort of sleeping partners with their tenants, sharing with them the losses
- of the bad years without partaking with them in the advantages of the good
- ones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, it’s all dom’d well,” we fancy we hear Sir Moses Mainchance exclaim,
- “saying, ‘keep them up to the mark,’ but how d’ye do it? how d’ye do it?
- can you bind a weasel? No man’s tried harder than I have!”
- </p>
- <p>
- We grant that it is difficult, but agriculture never had such
- opportunities as it has now. The thing is to get rid of the weasels, and
- with public companies framed for draining, building, doing everything that
- is required without that terrible investigation of title, no one is
- justified in keeping his property in an unproductive state. The fact is
- that no man of capital will live in a cottage, the thing therefore is to
- lay a certain number of these small holdings together, making one good
- farm of them all, with suitable buildings, and, as the saying is, let the
- weasels go to the wall. They will be far happier and more at home with
- spades or hoes in their hands, than in acting a part for which they have
- neither capital, courage, nor capacity. Fellows take a hundred acres who
- should only have five, and haven’t the wit to find out that it is cheaper
- to buy manure than to rent land.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is not a question of crinoline or taste that might be advantageously
- left to Mrs. Pringle; but is one that concerns the very food and well
- being of the people, and landlords ought not to require coaxing and
- patting on the back to induce them to partake of the cheese that the
- commercial world offers them. Even if they are indifferent about
- benefiting themselves they should not be regardless of the interests for
- their country. But there are very few people who cannot spend a little
- more money than they have. Let them “up then and at” the drainage
- companies, and see what wonders they’ll accomplish with their aid!
- </p>
- <p>
- We really believe the productive powers of the country might be
- quadrupled.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXI.<br/>SIR MOSES’S MENAGE.—DEPARTURE OF FINE BILLY.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0035" id="linkimage-0035"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/235m.jpg" alt="235m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/235.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>IR MOSES, being
- now a magnate of the land, associating with Lord Oilcake, Lord Repartee,
- Sir Harry Fuzball and other great dons, of course had to live up to the
- mark, an inconvenient arrangement for those who do not like paying for it,
- and the consequence was that he had to put up with an inferior article.—take
- first-class servants who had fallen into second-class circumstances. He
- had a ticket-of-leave butler, a <i>delirium tremens</i> footman, and our
- old friend pheasant-feathers, now calling herself Mrs. Margerum, for cook
- and house-keeper. And first, of the butler. He was indeed a magnificent
- man, standing six feet two and faultlessly proportioned, with a commanding
- presence of sufficient age to awe those under him, and to inspire
- confidence in an establishment with such a respectable looking man at the
- head. Though so majestic, he moved noiselessly, spoke in a whisper, and
- seemed to spirit the things off the table without sound or effort. Pity
- that the exigencies of gambling should have caused such an elegant man to
- melt his master’s plate, still greater that he should have been found out
- and compelled to change the faultless white vest of upper service for the
- unbecoming costume of prison life. Yet so it was: and the man who was
- convicted as Henry Stopper, and sentenced to fourteen years’
- transportation, emerged at the end of four with a ticket-of-leave, under
- the assumed name of Demetrius Bankhead. Mr. Bankhead, knowing the sweets
- of office, again aspired to high places, but found great difficulty in
- suiting himself, indeed in getting into service at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- People who keep fine gentlemen are very chary and scrupulous whom they
- select, and extremely inquisitive and searching in their inquiries.
- </p>
- <p>
- In vain Mr. Bankhead asserted that he had been out of health and living on
- the Continent, or that he had been a partner in a brewery which hadn’t
- succeeded, or that his last master was abroad he didn’t know where, and
- made a variety of similar excuses.
- </p>
- <p>
- Though many fine ladies and gentlemen were amazingly taken with him at
- first, and thought he would grace their sideboards uncommonly, they were
- afraid to touch for fear “all was not right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then those of a lower grade, thought he wouldn’t apply to them after
- having lived in such high places as he described, and this notwithstanding
- Bankhead’s plausible assertion, that he wished for a situation in a quiet
- regular family in the country, where he could get to bed at a reasonable
- hour, instead of being kept up till he didn’t know when. He would even
- come upon trial, if the parties liked, which would obviate all inquiries
- about character; just as if a man couldn’t run off with the plate the
- first day as well as the last.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our readers, we dare say, know the condescending sort of gentleman “who
- will accept of their situations,” and who deprecate an appeal to their
- late masters by saying in an airified sort of way, with a toss of the head
- or a wave of the hand, that they told his Grace or Sir George they
- wouldn’t trouble to ask them for characters. Just as if the Duke or Sir
- George were infinitely beneath their notice or consideration.
- </p>
- <p>
- And again the sort of men who flourish a bunch of testimonials, skilfully
- selecting the imposing passages and evading the want of that connecting
- link upon which the whole character depends, and who talk in a patronising
- way of “poor lord this,” or “poor Sir Thomas that,” and what they would
- have done for them if they had been alive, poor men!
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Demetrius Bankhead tried all the tricks of the trade—we beg
- pardon—profession—wherever he heard of a chance, until hope
- deferred almost made his noble heart sick. The “puts off” and excuses he
- got were curiously ingenious. However, he was pretty adroit himself, for
- when he saw the parties were not likely to bite, he anticipated a refusal
- by respectfully declining the situation, and then saying that he might
- have had so and so’s place, only he wanted one where he should be in town
- half the year, or that he couldn’t do with only one footman under him.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was under stress of circumstances that Sir Moses Mainchance became
- possessed of Mr. Bankhead’s services. He had kicked his last butler (one
- of the fine characterless sort) out of the house for coming in drunk to
- wait at dinner, and insisting upon putting on the cheese first with the
- soup, then with the meat, then with the sweets, and lastly with the
- dessert; and as Sir Moses was going to give one of his large hunt dinners
- shortly after, it behoved him to fill up the place—we beg pardon—office—as
- quickly as possible. To this end he applied to Mrs. Listener, the
- gossiping Register Office-keeper of Hinton, a woman well calculated to
- write the history of every family in the county, for behind her screen
- every particular was related, and Mrs. Listener, having paraded all the
- wretched glazey-clothed, misshapen creatures that always turn up on such
- occasions, Sir Moses was leaving after his last visit in disgust, when Mr.
- Bankhead walked in—“quite promiscuous,” as the saying is, but by
- previous arrangement with Mrs. Listener. Sir Moses was struck with
- Bankhead’s air and demeanour, so quiet, so respectful, raising his hat as
- he met Sir Moses at the door, that he jumped to the conclusion that he
- would do for him, and returning shortly after to Mrs. Listener, he asked
- all the usual questions, which Mrs. Listener cleverly evaded, merely
- saying that he professed to be a perfect butler, and had several most
- excellent testimonials, but that it would be much better for Sir Moses to
- judge for himself, for really Mrs. Listener had the comfort of Sir Moses
- so truly at heart that she could not think of recommending any one with
- whom she was not perfectly conversant, and altogether she palavered him so
- neatly, always taking care to extol Bankhead’s personal appearance as
- evidence of his respectability, that the baronet was fairly talked into
- him, almost without his knowing it, while Mrs. Listener salved her own
- conscience with the reflection that it was Sir Moses’s own doing, and that
- the bulk of his plate was “Brummagem” ware—and not silver. So the
- oft-disappointed ticket-of-leaver was again installed in a butlers pantry.
- And having now introduced him, we will pass over the delirium tremens
- footman and arrive at that next important personage in an establishment,
- the housekeeper, in this case our old friend pheasant’s-feathers. Mrs.
- Margerum, late Sarey Grimes, the early coach companion and confidante of
- our fair friend Mrs. Pringle—had undergone the world’s “ungenerous
- scorn,” as well for having set up an adopted son, as for having been
- turned away from many places for various domestic peculations. Mrs.
- Margerum, however, was too good a judge to play upon anything that anybody
- could identify, consequently though she was often caught, she always had
- an answer, and would not unfrequently turn the tables on her accusers—lawyer
- Hindmarch like—and make them pay for having been robbed. No one knew
- better than Mrs. Margerum how many feathers could be extracted from a bed
- without detection, what reduction a horse-hair mattress would stand, or
- how to make two hams disappear under the process of frying one. Indeed she
- was quite an adept in housekeeping, always however preferring to live with
- single gentlemen, for whom she would save a world of trouble by hiring all
- the servants, thus of course having them well under her thumb.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses having suffered severely from waste, drunkenness and incapacity,
- had taken Mrs. Margerum on that worst of all recommendations, the
- recommendation of another servant—viz., Lord Oilcake’s cook, for
- whom Mrs. Margerum had done the out-door carrying when in another
- situation. Mrs. Margerum’s long career, coupled with her now having a son
- equal to the out-door department, established a claim that was not to be
- resisted when his lordship’s cook had a chance, on the application of Sir
- Moses, of placing her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Margerum entered upon her duties at Pangburn Park, with the greatest
- plausibility, for not content with the usual finding fault with all the
- acts of her predecessors, she absolutely “reformed the butcher’s bills,”
- reducing them nearly a pound a-week below what they had previously been,
- and showed great assiduity in sending in all the little odds and ends of
- good things that went out. To be sure the hams disappeared rather quickly,
- but then they <i>do</i> cut so to waste in frying, and the cows went off
- in their milk, but cows are capricious things, and Mrs. Hindmarch and she
- had a running account in the butter and egg line, Mrs. Hindmarch
- accommodating her with a few pounds of butter and a few score of eggs when
- Sir Moses had company, Mrs. Margerum repaying her at her utmost
- convenience, receiving the difference in cash, the repayment being always
- greatly in excess of the advance. Still as Mrs. Margerum permitted no
- waste, and allowed no one to rob but herself, the house appeared to be
- economically kept, and if Sir Moses didn’t think that she was a “charming
- woman,” he at all events considered he was a most fortunate man, and felt
- greatly indebted to Lord Oilcake’s cook for recommending her—“dom’d
- if he didn’t.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But though Mrs. Margerum kept the servants well up to their tea and sugar
- allowances, she granted them every indulgence in the way of gadding about,
- and also in having their followers, provided the followers didn’t eat, by
- which means she kept the house quiet, and made her reign happy and
- prosperous.
- </p>
- <p>
- Being in full power when Mr. Bankhead came, she received him with the
- greatest cordiality, and her polite offer of having his clothes washed in
- Sir Moses’s laundry being accepted, of course she had nothing to fear from
- Mr. Bankhead. And so they became as they ought to be, very good friends—greatly
- to Sir Moses’s advantage.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now for the out-door department of Sir Moses’s ménage. The hunting
- establishment was of the rough and ready order, but still the hounds
- showed uncommon sport, and if the horses were not quite up to the mark,
- that perhaps was all in favour of the hounds. The horses indeed were of a
- very miscellaneous order—all sorts, all sizes, all better in their
- wind than on their legs—which were desperately scored and
- iron-marked. Still the cripples could go when they were warm, and being
- ridden by men whose necks were at a discount, they did as well as the
- best. There is nothing like a cheap horse for work.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses’s huntsman was the noted Tom Findlater, a man famous for
- everything in his line except sobriety, in which little item he was sadly
- deficient. Tom would have been quite at the top of the tree if it hadn’t
- been for this unfortunate infirmity. “The crittur,” as a Scotch huntsman
- told Sir Moses at Tattersall’s, “could no keep itself sober.” To show the
- necessities to which this degrading propensity reduces a man, we will
- quote Tom’s description of himself when he applied to be discharged under
- the Insolvent Debtors’ Act before coming to Sir Moses. Thus it ran—“John
- Thomas Findlater known also as Tom Find’ater, formerly huntsman to His
- Grace the Duke of Streamaway, of Streamaway Castle, in Streamaway-shire,
- then of No. 6, Back Row, Broomsfield, in the county of Tansey, helper in a
- livery stable, then huntsman to Sampson Cobbyford, Esq., of Bluntfield
- Park, master of the Hugger Mugger hounds in the county of Scramblington,
- then huntsman to Sir Giles Gatherthrong, Baronet, of Clipperley Park, in
- the county of Scurry, then huntsman to the Right Honourable Lord Lovedale,
- of Gayhurst Court, in the county of Tipperley, then of No. 11, Tan Yard
- Lane, Barrenbin, in the county of Thistleford, assistant to a ratcatcher,
- then huntsman to Captain Rattlinghope, of Killbriton Castle, in the County
- Steepleford, then whipper-in to the Towrowdeshire hounds in
- Derrydownshire, then helper at the Lion and the Lamb public-house at
- Screwford, in the County of Mucklethrift, then of 6 1/2 Union Street, in
- Screwford, aforesaid, moulder to a clay-pipe maker, then and now out of
- business and employ, and whose wife is a charwoman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Such were the varied occupations of a man, who might have lived like a
- gentleman, if he had only had conduct. There is no finer place than that
- of a huntsman, for as Beckford truly says, his office is pleasing and at
- the same time flattering, he is paid for that which diverts him, nor is a
- general after a victory more proud, than is a huntsman who returns with
- his fox’s head.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Sir Moses fell in with Tom Findlater down Tattersall’s entry, Tom was
- fresh from being whitewashed in the Insolvent Debtors’ Court, and having
- only ninepence in the world, and what he stood up in, he was uncommonly
- good to deal with. Moreover, Sir Moses had the vanity to think that he
- could reclaim even the most vicious; and, provided they were cheap enough,
- he didn’t care to try. So, having lectured Tom well on the importance of
- sobriety, pointing out to him the lamentable consequences of drunkenness—of
- which no one was more sensible than Tom—Sir Moses chucked him a
- shilling, and told him if he had a mind to find his way down to Pangburn
- Park, in Hit-im-and-Hold-im shire, he would employ him, and give him what
- he was worth; with which vague invitation Tom came in the summer of the
- season in which we now find him.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now having sketched the ménage, let us introduce our friend Billy
- thereto. But first we must get him out of the dangerous premises in which
- he is at present located—a visit that has caused our handsome friend
- Mrs. Pringle no little uneasiness.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was fortunate for Sir Moses Mainchance, and unfortunate for our friend
- Fine Billy, that the Baronet was a bachelor, or Sir Moses would have fared
- very differently at the hands of the ladies who seldom see much harm in a
- man so long as he is single, and, of course, refrains from showing a
- decided preference for any young lady. It is the married men who
- monopolise all the vice and improprieties of life. The Major, too, having
- sold Billy a horse, and got paid for him, was not very urgent about his
- further society at present, nor indisposed for a little quiet, especially
- as Mrs. Yammerton represented that the napkins and table-linen generally
- were running rather short. Mamma, too, knowing that there would be nothing
- but men-parties at Pangburn Park, had no uneasiness on that score, indeed
- rather thought a little absence might be favourable, in enabling Billy to
- modify his general attentions in favour of a single daughter, for as yet
- he had been extremely dutiful in obeying his Mamma’s injunctions not to be
- more agreeable to one sister than to another. Indeed, our estimable young
- friend did not want to be caught, and had been a good deal alarmed at the
- contents of his Mamma’s last letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- One thing, however, was settled, namely, that Billy was to go to the Park,
- and how to get there was the next consideration; for, though the Baronet
- had offered to convey him in the first instance, he had modified the offer
- into the loan of the gig at the last, and there would be more trouble in
- sending a horse to fetch it, than there would be in starting fair in a
- hired horse and vehicle from Yammerton Grange. The ready-witted Major,
- however, soon put matters right.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll te te tell you wot,” said he, “you can do. You can have old Tommy
- P-p-plumberg, the registrar of b-b-births, deaths, and marriages, t-t-trap
- for a trifle—s-s-say, s-s-seven and sixpence—only you must
- give him the money as a p-p-present, you know, not as it were for the
- hire, or the Excise would be down upon him for the du-du-duty, and
- p-p-p’raps fine him into the b-b-bargain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, that seemed all right and feasible enough, and most likely would
- have been all right if Monsieur had proposed it; but, coming from master,
- of course Monsieur felt bound to object.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It vouldn’t hold alf a quarter their things,” he said; “besides, how de
- deuce were they to manage with de horse?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major essayed to settle that, too. There would be no occasion for Mr.
- Pringle to take all his things with him, as he hoped he would return to
- them from Sir Moses’s and have another turn with the haryers—try if
- they couldn’t circumvent the old hare that had beat them the other day,
- and the thing would be for Mr. Pringle to ride his horse quietly over,
- Monsieur going in advance with the gig, and having all things ready
- against Mr. Pringle arrived; for the Major well knew that the Baronet’s
- promises were not to be depended upon, and would require some little
- manouvering to get carried out, especially in the stable department.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still there was a difficulty—Monsieur couldn’t drive. No, by his
- vord, he couldn’t drive. He was <i>valet-de-chambre</i>, not coachman or
- grum, and could make nothing of horses. Might know his ear from his tail,
- but dat was all. Should be sure to opset, and p’raps damage his crown.
- (Jack wanted to go in a carriage and pair.) Well, the Major would
- accommodate that too. Tom Cowlick, the hind’s lad at the farm, should act
- the part of charioteer, and drive Monsieur, bag, baggage and all. And so
- matters were ultimately settled, it never occurring to Billy to make the
- attempt on the Major’s stud that the Baronet proposed, in the shape of
- borrowing a second horse, our friend doubtless thinking he carried
- persecution enough in his own nag. The knotty point of transit being
- settled, Billy relapsed into his usual easy languor among the girls, while
- Monsieur made a judicious draft of clothes to take with them, leaving him
- a very smart suit to appear in at church on Sunday, and afterwards ride
- through the county in. We will now suppose the dread hour of departure
- arrived.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was just as Mrs. Pringle predicted! There were the red eye-lids and
- laced kerchiefs, and all the paraphernalia of leave-taking, mingled with
- the hopes of Major and Mrs. Yammerton, that Billy would soon return (after
- the washing, of course); for, in the language of the turf, Billy was
- anybody’s game, and one sister had just as good a right to red eye-lids as
- another.
- </p>
- <p>
- Having seen Billy through the ceremony of leave-taking, the Major then
- accompanied him to the stable, thinking to say a word for himself and his
- late horse ‘ere they parted. After admiring Napoleon the Great’s
- condition, as he stood turned round in the stall ready for mounting, the
- Major observed casually, “that he should not be surprised if Sir Moses
- found fault with that ‘oss.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why?” asked Billy, who expected perfection for a hundred guineas.
- </p>
- <p>
- “D-d-don’t know,” replied the Major, with a Jack Rogers’ shrug of the
- shoulders. “D-d-don’t know, ‘cept that Sir Moses seldom says a good word
- for anybody’s ‘oss but his own.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The clothes being then swept over the horse’s long tail into the manger,
- he stepped gaily out, followed by our friend and his host.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought it b-b-better to send your servant on,” observed the Major
- confidentially, as he stood eyeing the gay deceiver of a horse: “for,
- between ourselves, the Baronet’s stables are none of the best, and it will
- give you the opportunity of getting the pick of them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” replied Billy, who did not enter into the delicacies of
- condition.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That ho-ho-horse requires w-w-warmth,” stuttered the Major, “and Sir
- Moses’s stables are both d-d-damp and d-d-dirty;” saying which, he
- tendered his ungloved hand, and with repeated hopes that Billy would soon
- return, and wishes for good sport, not forgetting compliments to the
- Baronet, our hero and his host at length parted for the present.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the Major breathed more freely as he saw the cock-horse capering round
- the turn into the Helmington road.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXII.<br/>THE BAD STABLE; OR, “IT’S ONLY FOR ONE NIGHT.”
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ROM Yammerton
- Grange to Pangburn Park is twelve miles as the crow flies, or sixteen by
- the road. The Major, who knows every nick and gap in the country, could
- ride it in ten or eleven; but this species of knowledge is not to be
- imparted to even the most intelligent head. Not but what the Major tried
- to put it into Billy’s, and what with directions to keep the Helmington
- road till he came to the blacksmith’s shop, then to turn up the crooked
- lane on the left, leaving Wanley windmill on the right, and Altringham
- spire on the left, avoiding the village of Rothley, then to turn short at
- Samerside Hill, keeping Missleton Plantations full before him, with
- repeated assurances that he couldn’t miss his way, he so completely
- bewildered our friend, that he was lost before he had gone a couple of
- miles. Then came the provoking ignorance of country life,—the
- counter-questions instead of answers,—the stupid stare and tedious
- drawl, ending, perhaps, with “ars a stranger,” or may be the utter
- negation of a place within, perhaps, a few miles of where the parties
- live. Billy blundered and blundered; took the wrong turning up the crooked
- lane, kept Wanley windmill on the left instead of the right, and finally
- rode right into the village of Rothley, and then began asking his way. It
- being Sunday, he soon attracted plenty of starers, such an uncommon swell
- being rare in the country; and one told him one way; another, another; and
- then the two began squabbling as to which was the right one, enlisting of
- course the sympathies of the bystanders, so that Billy’s progress was
- considerably impeded. Indeed, he sometimes seemed to recede instead of
- advance, so contradictory were the statements as to distance, and the
- further be went the further he seemed to have to go.
- </p>
- <p>
- If Sir Moses hadn’t been pretty notorious as well from hunting the country
- as from his other performances, we doubt whether Billy would have reached
- Pangburn Park that night. As it was, Sir Moses’s unpopularity helped Billy
- along in a growling uncivil sort of way, so different to the usual
- friendly forwarding that marks the approach to a gentleman’s house in the
- country.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0036" id="linkimage-0036"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/243m.jpg" alt="243m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/243.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- “Ay, ay, that’s the way,” said one with a sneer. “What, you’re gannin to
- him—are ye?” asked another, in a tone that as good as said, I
- wouldn’t visit such a chap. “Aye, that’s the way—straight on,
- through Addingham town”—for every countryman likes to have his
- village called a town—“straight on through Addingham town, keep the
- lane on the left, and then when ye come to the beer-shop at three road
- ends, ax for the Kingswood road, and that’ll lead ye to the lodges.”
- </p>
- <p>
- All roads are long when one has to ask the way—the distance seems
- nearly double in going to a place to what it does in returning, and Billy
- thought he never would get to Pangburn Park. The shades of night, too,
- drew on—Napoleon the Great had long lost his freedom and gaiety of
- action, and hung on the bit in a heavy listless sort of way. Billy wished
- for a policeman to protect and direct him. Lights began to be scattered
- about the country, and day quickly declined in favour of night. The
- darkening mist gathered perceptibly. Billy longed for those lodges of
- which he had heard so much, but which seemed ever to elude him. He even
- appeared inclined to compound for the magnificence of two by turning in at
- Mr. Pinkerton’s single one. By the direction of the woman at this one, he
- at length reached the glad haven, and passing through the open portals was
- at length in Pangburn Park. The drab-coloured road directed him onward,
- and Billy being relieved from the anxieties of asking his way, pulled up
- into a walk, as well to cool his horse as to try and make out what sort of
- a place he had got to. With the exception, however, of the road, it was a
- confused mass of darkness, that might contain trees, hills, houses,
- hay-stacks, anything. Presently the melodious cry of hounds came wafted on
- the southerly breeze, causing our friend to shudder at the temerity of his
- undertaking. “Drat these hounds,” muttered he, wishing he was well out of
- the infliction, and as he proceeded onward the road suddenly divided, and
- both ways inclining towards certain lights, Billy gave his horse his
- choice, and was presently clattering on the pavement of the court-yard of
- Pangburn Park.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses’s hospitality was rather of a spurious order; he would float his
- friends with claret and champagne, and yet grudge their horses a feed of
- corn. Not but that he was always extremely liberal and pressing in his
- offers, begging people would bring whatever they liked, and stay as long
- as they could, but as soon as his offers were closed with, he began to
- back out. Oh, he forgot! he feared he could only take in one horse; or if
- he could take in a horse he feared he couldn’t take in the groom. Just as
- he offered to lend Billy his gig and horse and then reduced the offer into
- the loan of the gig only. So it was with the promised two-stalled stable.
- When Monsieur drove, or rather was driven, with folded arms into the
- court-yard, and asked for his “me lors stable,” the half-muzzy groom
- observed with a lurch and a hitch of his shorts, that “they didn’t take in
- (hiccup) osses there—leastways to stop all night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vell, but you’ll put up me lor Pringle’s,” observed Jack with an air of
- authority, for he considered that he and his master were the exceptions to
- all general rules.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fear we can’t (hiccup) it,” replied the blear-eyed caitiff; “got as many
- (hiccup) osses comin to-night as ever we have room for. Shall have to
- (hiccup) two in a (hiccup) as it is” (hiccup).
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you can stow him away somewhere,” now observed Mr. Demetrius
- Bankhead, emerging from his pantry dressed in a pea-green wide-awake, a
- Meg Merrilies tartan shooting-jacket, a straw-coloured vest, and drab
- pantaloons.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ll be Mr. Pringle’s gentleman, I presume,” observed Bankhead, now
- turning and bowing to Jack, who still retained his seat in the gig.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I be, sare,” replied Jack, accepting the proffered hand of his friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, you’ll put him up somewhere, Fred,” observed Bankhead, appealing
- again to the groom, “he’ll take no harm anywhere,” looking at the hairy,
- heated animal, “put ‘im in the empty cow-house,” adding “it’s only for one
- night—only for one night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O dis is not the quadruped,” observed Monsieur, nodding at the cart mare
- before him, “dis is a job beggar vot ve can kick out at our pleasure, but
- me lor is a cornin’ on his own proper cheval, and he vill vant space and
- conciliation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, we’ll manage him somehow,” observed Bankhead confidently, “only we’ve
- a large party to-night, and want all the spare stalls we can raise, but
- they’ll put ‘im up somewhere,” added he, “they’ll put ‘im up somewhere,”
- observing as before, “it’s only for one night—only for one night.
- Now won’t you alight and walk in,” continued he, motioning Monsieur to
- descend, and Jack having intimated that his lor vould compliment their
- politeness if they took vell care of his ‘orse, conceived he had done all
- that a faithful domestic could under the circumstances, and leaving the
- issue in the hands of fate, alighted from his vehicle, and entering by the
- back way, proceeded to exchange family “particulars” with Mr. Bankhead in
- the pantry.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now the Pangburn Park stables were originally very good, forming a
- crescent at the back of the house, with coach-houses and servants’ rooms
- intervening, but owing to the trifling circumstance of allowing the drains
- to get choked, they had fallen into disrepute. At the back of the crescent
- were some auxiliary stables, worse of course than the principal range,
- into which they put night-visitors’ horses, and those whose owners were
- rash enough to insist upon Sir Moses fulfilling his offers of hospitality
- to them. At either end of these latter were loose boxes, capable of being
- made into two-stalled stables, only these partitions were always
- disappearing, and the roofs had long declined turning the weather; but
- still they were better than nothing, and often formed receptacles for sly
- cabby’s, or postboys who preferred the chance of eleemosynary fare at Sir
- Moses’s to the hand in the pocket hospitality of the Red Lion, at
- Fillerton Hill, or the Mainchance Arms, at Duckworth Bridge. Into the
- best of these bad boxes the gig mare was put, and as there was nothing to
- get in the house, Tom Cowlick took his departure as soon as she had eaten
- her surreptitious feed of oats. The pampered Napoleon the Great, the horse
- that required all the warmth and coddling in the world, was next
- introduced, fine Billy alighting from his back in the yard with all the
- unconcern that he would from one of Mr. Splint’s or Mr. Spavins’s week day
- or hour jobs. Indeed, one of the distinguishing features between the new
- generation of sportsmen and the old, is the marked indifference of the
- former to the comforts of their horses compared to that shown by the old
- school, who always looked to their horses before themselves, and not
- unfrequently selected their inns with reference to the stables.
- Now-a-days, if a youth gives himself any concern about the matter, it will
- often only be with reference to the bill, and he will frequently ride away
- without ever having been into the stable. If, however, fine Billy had seen
- his, he would most likely have been satisfied with the comfortable
- assurance that it was “only for one night,” the old saying, “enough to
- kill a horse,” leading the uninitiated to suppose that they are very
- difficult to kill.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, my dear Pringle!” exclaimed Sir Moses, rising from the depths of a
- rather inadequately stuffed chair (for Mrs. Margerum had been at it). “Ah,
- my dear Pringle, I’m delighted to see you!” continued the Baronet, getting
- Billy by both hands, as the noiseless Mr. Bankhead, having opened the
- library door, piloted him through the intricacies of the company. Our host
- really was glad of a new arrival, for a long winter’s evening had
- exhausted the gossip of parties who in a general way saw quite enough, if
- not too much, of each other. And this is the worst of country visiting in
- winter; people are so long together that they get exhausted before they
- should begin.
- </p>
- <p>
- They have let off the steam of their small talk, and have nothing left to
- fall back upon but repetition. One man has told what there is in the
- “Post,” another in “Punch,” a third in the “Mark Lane Express,” and then
- they are about high-and-dry for the rest of the evening. From criticising
- Billy, they had taken to speculating upon whether he would come or not,
- the odds—without which an Englishmen can do nothing—being
- rather in favour of Mrs. Yammerton’s detaining him. It was not known that
- Monsieur Rougier had arrived. The mighty problem was at length solved by
- the Richest Commoner in England appearing among them, and making the usual
- gyrations peculiar to an introduction. He was then at liberty for ever
- after to nod or speak or shake hands with or bow to Mr. George and Mr.
- Henry Waggett, of Kitteridge Green, both five-and-twenty pound subscribers
- to the Hit-im and Hold-im-shire hounds, to Mr. Stephen Booty, of Verbena
- Lodge, who gave ten pounds and a cover, to Mr. Silverthorn, of Dryfield,
- who didn’t give anything, but who had two very good covers which he had
- been hinting he should require to be paid for,—a hint that had
- procured him the present invitation, to Mr. Strongstubble, of Buckup Hill,
- and Mr. Tupman, of Cowslip Cottage, both very good friends to the sport
- but not “hand in the pocket-ites,” to Mr. Tom Dribbler, Jun., of
- Hardacres, and his friend Captain Hurricane, of Her Majesty’s ship
- Thunderer, and to Mr. Cuthbert Flintoff, commonly called Cuddy Flintoff,
- an “all about” sportsman, who professed to be of all hunts but blindly
- went to none. Cuddy’s sporting was in the past tense, indeed he seemed to
- exist altogether upon the recollections of the chace, which must have made
- a lively impression upon him, for he was continually interlarding his
- conversation with view holloas, yoicks wind ‘ims! yoick’s push ‘im ups!
- Indeed, in walking about he seemed to help himself along with the aid of
- for-rardson! for-rards on! so that a person out of sight, but within
- hearing, would think he was hunting a pack of hounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- He dressed the sportsman, too, most assiduously, bird’s-eye cravats,
- step-collared striped vests, green or Oxford-grey cutaways, with the
- neatest fitting trousers on the best bow-legs that ever were seen. To see
- him at Tattersall’s sucking his cane, his cheesy hat well down on his
- nose, with his stout, well-cleaned doe-skin gloves, standing criticising
- each horse, a stranger would suppose that he lived entirely on the saddle,
- instead of scarcely ever being in one. On the present occasion, as soon as
- he got his “bob” made to our Billy, and our hero’s back was restored to
- tranquillity, he at him about the weather,—how the moon looked,
- whether there were any symptoms of frost, and altogether seemed
- desperately anxious about the atmosphere. This inquiry giving the
- conversation a start in the out-of-doors line, was quickly followed by Sir
- Moses asking our Billy how he left the Major, how he found his way there,
- with hopes that everything was comfortable, and oh! agonising promise!
- that he would do his best to show him sport.
- </p>
- <p>
- The assembled guests then took up the subject of their “magnificent
- country” generally, one man lauding its bottomless brooks, another its
- enormous bullfinches, a third its terrific stone walls, a fourth its
- stupendous on-and-offs, a fifth its flying foxes, and they unanimously
- resolved that the man who could ride over Hit-im and Hold-im-shire could
- ride over any country in the world. “<i>Any country in the world!</i>”
- vociferated Cuddy, slowly and deliberately, with a hearty crack of his fat
- thigh. And Billy, as he sat listening to their dreadful recitals, thought
- that he <i>had</i> got into the lion’s den with a vengeance. Most
- sincerely he wished himself back at the peaceful pursuits of Yammerton
- Grange. Then, as they were in full cry with their boasting eulogiums, the
- joyful dressing-bell rang, and Cuddy Flintoff putting his finger in his
- ear, as if to avoid deafening himself, shrieked, “<i>hoick halloa! hoick!</i>”
- in a tone that almost drowned the sound of the clapper. Then when the
- “ticket of leaver” and the <i>delirium tremens</i> footman appeared at the
- door with the blaze of bedroom candles, Cuddy suddenly turned whipper-in,
- and working his right arm as if he were cracking a whip, kept holloaing, “<i>get
- away hoick! get away hoick!</i>” until he drove Billy and Baronet and all
- before him.
- </p>
- <h3>
- ****
- </h3>
- <p>
- “Rum fellow that,” observed the Baronet, now showing Billy up to his room,
- as soon as he had got sufficient space put between them to prevent Cuddy
- hearing, “Rum fellow that,” repeated he, not getting a reply from our
- friend, who didn’t know exactly how to interpret the word “rum.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That fellow’s up to everything,—cleverest fellow under the sun,”
- continued Sir Moses, now throwing open the door of an evident bachelor’s
- bed-room. Not but that it was one of the best in the house, only it was
- wretchedly furnished, and wanted all the little neatnesses and
- knic-knaceries peculiar to a lady-kept house. The towels were few and
- flimsy, the soap hard and dry, there was a pincushion without pins, a
- portfolio without paper, a grate with a smoky fire, while the feather-bed
- and mattress had been ruthlessly despoiled of their contents. Even the
- imitation maple-wood sofa on which Billy’s dress-clothes were now laid,
- had not been overlooked, and was as lank and as bare as a third-rate
- Margate lodging-house, one—all ribs and hollows.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, there you are!” exclaimed Sir Moses, pointing to the garments, “There
- you are!” adding, “You’ll find the bell at the back of your bed,” pointing
- to one of the old smothering order of four-posters with its dyed moreen
- curtains closely drawn, “You’ll find the bell at the back of the bed, and
- when you come down we shall be in the same room as we were before.” So
- saying, the Baronet retired, leaving our Billy to commence operations.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXIII.<br/>SIR MOSES’S SPREAD.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0037" id="linkimage-0037"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/251m.jpg" alt="251m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/251.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>E dare pay it has
- struck such of our readers as have followed the chace for more than the
- usual average allowance of three seasons, that hunts flourish most
- vigorously where there is a fair share of hospitality, and Sir Moses
- Mainchance was quite of that opinion. He found it answered a very good
- purpose as well to give occasional dinners at home as to attend the club
- meetings at Hinton. To the former he invited all the elite of his field,
- and such people as he was likely to get anything out of while the latter
- included the farmers and yeomen, the Flying Hatters, the Dampers, and so
- on, whereby, or by reason or means whereof, as the lawyers say, the spirit
- of the thing was well sustained. His home parties were always a great
- source of annoyance to our friend Mrs. Margerum, who did not like to be
- intruded upon by the job cook (Mrs. Pomfret, of Hinton), Mrs. Margerum
- being in fact more of a housekeeper than a cook, though quite cook enough
- for Sir Moses in a general way, and perhaps rather too much of a
- housekeeper for him—had he but known it. Mrs. Pomfret, however,
- being mistress of Mrs. Margerum’s secret (viz., who got the dripping), the
- latter was obliged to “put up” with her, and taking her revenge by hiding
- her things, and locking up whatever she was likely to want. Still, despite
- of all difficulties, Mrs. Pomfret, when sober, could cook a very good
- dinner, and as Sir Moses allowed her a pint of rum for supper, she had no
- great temptation to exceed till then. She was thought on this occasion, if
- possible, to surpass herself, and certainly Sir Moses’s dinner contrasted
- very favourably with what Billy Pringle had been partaking of at our
- friend Major Yammerton’s, whose cook had more energy than execution. In
- addition to this, Mr. Bankhead plied the fluids most liberally, as the
- feast progressed, so that what with invitations to drink, and the regular
- course of the tide, the party were very happy and hilarious.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, after dinner, the hot chestnuts and filberts and anchovy toasts
- mingling with an otherwise excellent desert flavoured the wine and brought
- out no end of “yoicks wind ‘ims” and aspirations for the morrow. They all
- felt as if they could ride—Billy and all!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not any more, thank you,” being at length the order of the day, a move
- was made back to the library, a drawing-room being a superfluous luxury
- where there is no lady, and tea and coffee were rung for. A new subject of
- conversation was wanted, and Monsieur presently supplied the deficiency.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s a Frenchman, that servant of yours, isn’t he, Pringle?” asked Sir
- Moses, when Monsieur retired with the tray.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” replied Billy, feeling his trifling moustache after its dip in
- the cup.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thought so,” rejoined Sir Moses, who prided himself upon his penetration.
- “I’ll have a word with him when he comes in again,” continued he.
- </p>
- <p>
- Tea followed quickly on the heels of coffee, Monsieur coming in after
- Bankhead. Monsieur now consequentially drank, and dressed much in the
- manner that he is in the picture of the glove scene at Yammerton Grange.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Ah, Monsieur! comment vous portez-vous?</i>” exclaimed the Baronet,
- which was about as much French as he could raise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pretty middlin’, tenk you, sare,” replied Jack, bowing and grinning at
- the compliment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, you speak English, do you?” asked the Baronet, thinking he might as
- well change the language.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I spake it, sare, some small matter, sare,” replied Jack, with a shrug of
- his shoulders—“Not nothing like my modder’s tongue, you knows.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! you speak it domd well,” replied Sir Moses. “Let you and I have a
- talk together. Tell me, now, were you ever out hunting?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Jean Rougier</i>. “Oh, yes, sare, I have been at the chasse of de small
- dicky-bird—tom-tit—cock-robin—vot you call.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Sir Moses</i> (laughing). “No, no, that is not the sort of chace I
- mean; I mean, have you ever been out fox-hunting?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Jean Rougier</i> (confidentially). “Nevare, sare—nevare.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses. “Ah, my friend, then you’ve a great pleasure to come to—a
- great pleasure to come to, indeed. Well, you’re a domd good feller, and
- I’ll tell you what I’ll do—I’ll tell you what I’ll do—I’ll
- mount you to-morrow—domd if I won’t—you shall ride my old
- horse, Cockatoo—carry you beautifully. What d’ye ride? Thirteen
- stun, I should say,” looking Jack over, “quite up to that—quite up
- to that—stun above it, for that matter. You’ll go streaming away
- like a bushel of beans.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, sare, I tenk you, sare,” replied Jack, “but I have not got my hunting
- apparatus—my mosquet—my gun, my—no, not notin at all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gun!” exclaimed Sir Moses, amidst the laughter of the company. “Why, you
- wouldn’t shoot the fox, would ye?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Certainement</i>” replied Jack. “I should pop him over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, the devil!” exclaimed Sir Moses, throwing up his hands in
- astonishment. “Why, man, we keep the hounds on purpose to hunt him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silly fellers,” replied Jack, “you should pepper his jacket.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Monsieur, I see you have a deal to learn,” rejoined Sir Moses,
- laughing. “However, it’s never too late to begin—never too late to
- begin, and you shall take your first lesson to-morrow. I’ll mount you on
- old Cockatoo, and you shall see how we manage these matters in England.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, sare, I tenk you moch,” replied Jack, again excusing himself. “But I
- have not got no breeches, no boot-jacks—no notin, <i>comme il faut</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll lend you everything you want,—a boot-jack and all,” replied
- Sir Moses, now quite in the generous mood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, sare, you are vare beautiful, and I moch appreciate your benevolence;
- bot I sud not like to risk my neck and crop outside an unqualified,
- contradictory quadruped.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing of the sort!” exclaimed Sir Moses, “nothing of the sort! He’s the
- quietest, gentlest crittur alive—a child might ride him, mightn’t
- it, Cuddy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Safest horse under the sun,” replied Cuddy Flintoff, confidently. “Don’t
- know such another. Have nothing to do but sit on his back, and give him
- his head, and he’ll take far better care of you than you can of him. He’s
- the nag to carry you close up to their stems. <i>Ho-o-i-ck, forrard,
- ho-o-i-ck!</i> Dash my buttons, Monsieur, but I think I see you sailing
- away. Shouldn’t be surprised if you were to bring home the brush, only
- you’ve got one under your nose as it is,” alluding to his moustache.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack at this looked rather sour, for somehow people don’t like to be
- laughed at; so he proceeded to push his tray about under the guests’
- noses, by way of getting rid of the subject. He had no objection to a
- hunt, and to try and do what Cuddy Flintoff predicted, only he didn’t want
- to spoil his own clothes, or be made a butt of. So, having had his say, he
- retired as soon as he could, inquiring of Bankhead, when he got out, who
- that porky old fellow with the round, close-shaven face was.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the second flight of tea-cups came in, Sir Moses was seated on a
- hardish chaise longue, beside our friend Mr. Pringle, to whom he was doing
- the agreeable attentive host, and a little of the inquisitive stranger;
- trying to find out as well about the Major and his family, as about Billy
- himself, his friends and belongings. The Baronet had rather cooled on the
- subject of mounting Monsieur, and thought to pave the way for a back-out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s a stout-built feller of yours,” observed he to Billy, kicking up
- his toe at Jack as he passed before them with the supplementary tray of
- cakes and cream, and so on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” drawled Billy, wondering what matter it made to Sir Moses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stouter than I took him for,” continued the Baronet, eyeing Jack’s broad
- back and strong undersettings. “That man’ll ride fourteen stun, I dessay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy had no opinion on the point so began admiring his pretty foot;
- comparing it with Sir Moses’s, which was rather thick and clumsy.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Baronet conned the mount matter over in his mind; the man was heavy;
- the promised horse was old and weak; the country deep, and he didn’t know
- that Monsieur could ride,—altogether he thought it wouldn’t do. Let
- his master mount him if he liked, or let him stay at home and help
- Bankhead with the plate, or Peter with the shoes. So Sir Moses settled it
- in his own mind, as far as he was concerned, at least, and resumed his
- enquiries of our Billy. Which of the Miss Yammertons he thought the
- prettiest, which sang the best, who played the harp, if the Major indulged
- him with much hare-soup, and then glanced incidentally at his stud, and
- Bo-Peep.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then asked him about Lord Ladythorne; if it was true that Mrs. Moffatt
- and he quarrelled; if his lordship wasn’t getting rather slack; and
- whether Billy didn’t think Dicky Boggledale an old woman, to which latter
- interrogatory he replied, “Yarse,”—he thought he was, and ought to
- be drafted.
- </p>
- <p>
- While the <i>tête-à-tête</i> was going on, a desultory conversation ensued
- among the other guests in various parts of the room, Mr. Booty
- button-holeing Captain Hurricane, to tell him a capital thing out of
- “Punch,” and receiving in return an exclamation of—“Why, man, I told
- you that myself before dinner.” Tom Dribbler going about touching people
- up in the ribs with his thumb, inquiring with a knowing wink of his eye,
- or a jerk of his head, “Aye, old feller, how goes it;” which was about the
- extent of Tom’s conversational powers. Henry Waggett talking “wool” to Mr.
- Tupman; while Cuddy Flintoff kept popping out every now and then to look
- at the moon, returning with a “hoick wind ‘im; ho-ick!” or—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“A southerly wind and a cloudy sky,
-Proclaimeth a hunting morning.”
- </pre>
- <p>
- Very cheering the assurance was to our friend Billy Pringle, as the reader
- may suppose; but he had the sense to keep his feelings to himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length the last act of the entertainment approached, by the door flying
- open through an invisible agency, and the <i>delirium tremens</i> footman
- appearing with a spacious tray, followed by Bankhead and Monsieur, with
- “Cardigans” and other the materials of “night-caps,” which they placed on
- the mirth-promoting circle of a round table. All hands drew to it like
- blue-bottle-flies to a sugar-cask, as well to escape from themselves and
- each other, as to partake of the broiled bones, and other the good things
- with which the tray was stored.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hie, worry! worry! worry!” cried Cuddy Flintoff, darting at the black
- bottles, for he dearly loved a drink, and presently had a beaker of
- brandy, so strong, that as Silverthorn said, the spoon almost stood
- upright in it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s get chairs!” exclaimed he, turning short round on his heel: “let’s
- get chairs, and be snug; it’s as cheap sitting as standing,” so saying, he
- wheeled a smoking chair up to the table, and was speedily followed by the
- rest of the party, with various shaped seats. Then such of the guests as
- wanted to shirk drinking took whiskey or gin, which they could dilute as
- much as they chose; while those who didn’t care for showing their
- predilection for drink, followed Cuddy’s example, and made it as strong as
- they liked. This is the time that the sot comes out undisguisedly. The
- form of wine-drinking after dinner is mere child’s play in their
- proceedings: the spirit is what they go for.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length sots and sober ones were equally helped to their liking; and,
- the approving sips being taken, the other great want of life—tobacco—then
- became apparent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Smoking allowed here,” observed Cuddy Flintoff, diving into his
- side-pocket for a cigar, adding, as he looked at the wretched old red
- chintz-covered furniture, which, not even the friendly light of the <i>moderateur</i>
- lamps could convert into anything respectable: “No fear of doing any harm
- here, I think?”
- </p>
- <p>
- So the rest of the company seemed to think, for there was presently a
- great kissing of cigar-ends and rising of clouds, and then the party
- seeming to be lost in deep reveries. Thus they sat for some minutes, some
- eyeing their cocked-up toes, some the dirty ceiling, others smoking and
- nursing their beakers of spirit on their knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length Tom Dribbler gave tongue—“What time will the hounds leave
- the kennel in the morning, Sir Moses?” asked he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hoick to Dribbler! Hoick!” immediately cheered Cuddy—as if capping
- the pack to a find.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, why, let me see,” replied Sir Moses, filliping the ashes off the end
- of his cigar—“Let me see,” repeated he—“Oh—ah—tomorrow’s
- Monday; Monday, the Crooked Billet—Crooked Billet—nine miles—eight
- through Applecross Park; leave here at nine—ten to nine, say—nothing
- like giving them plenty of time on the road.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing,” assented Cuddy Flintoff, taking a deep drain at his glass,
- adding, as soon as he could get his nose persuaded to come out of it
- again, “I <i>do</i> hate to see men hurrying hounds to cover in a
- morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No fear of mine doing that,” observed Sir Moses, “for I always go with
- them myself when I can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Capital dodge, too,” assented Cuddy, “gets the fellers past the public
- houses—that drink’s the ruin of half the huntsmen in England;”
- whereupon he took another good swig.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, Monsieur, and you’ll all go together, I suppose,” interrupted
- Dribbler, who wanted to see the fun.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur, Monsieur—oh, ah, that’s my friend Pringle’s valet,”
- observed Sir Moses, drily; “what about him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why he’s going, isn’t he?” replied Dribbler.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, poor fellow, no,” rejoined Sir Moses; “he doesn’t want to go—it’s
- no use persecuting a poor devil because a Frenchman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I dare say he’d enjoy it very much,” observed Dribbler.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, will you mount him?” asked Sir Moses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why I thought <i>you</i> were going to do it,” replied Dribbler.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Me</i> mount him!” exclaimed Sir Moses, throwing out his ringed hands
- in well-feigned astonishment, as if he had never made such an offer—“<i>Me</i>
- mount him! why, my dear fellow, do you know how many people I have to
- mount as it is? Let me tell you,” continued he, counting them off on his
- fingers, “there’s Tom, and there’s Harry, and there’s Joe, and there’s the
- pad-groom and myself, five horses out every day—generally six, when
- I’ve a hack—six horses a day, four days a week—if that isn’t
- enough, I don’t know what is—dom’d if I do,” added he, with a snort
- and a determined jerk of his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but we can manage him a mount among us, somehow, I dare say,”
- persevered Dribbler, looking round upon the now partially smoke-obscured
- company.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh no, let him alone, poor fellow; let him alone,” replied Sir Moses,
- coaxingly, adding, “he evidently doesn’t wish to go—evidently
- doesn’t wish to go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know that,” exclaimed Cuddy Flintoff, with a knowing jerk of his
- head; “I don’t know that—I should say he’s rather a y-o-o-i-cks wind
- ‘im! y-o-i-eks push ‘im up! sort of chap.” So saying, Cuddy drained his
- glass to the dregs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should say you’re rather a y-o-i-eks wind ‘im—y-o-i-cks drink ‘im
- up sort of chap,” replied Sir Moses, at which they all laughed heartily.
- </p>
- <p>
- Cuddy availed himself of the <i>divertissement</i> to make another equally
- strong brew—saying, “It was put there to drink, wasn’t it?” at which
- they all laughed again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still there was a disposition to harp upon the hunt—Dribbler tied on
- the scent, and felt disposed to lend Jack a horse if nobody else would. So
- he threw out a general observation, that he thought they could manage a
- mount for Monsieur among them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but perhaps his master mayn’t, like it,” suggested Sir Moses, in
- hopes that Billy would come to the rescue.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I don’t care about it,” replied Billy, with an air of indifference,
- who would have been glad to hunt by deputy if he could, and so that chance
- fell to the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Hoick to Governor! Hoick to Governor!</i>” cheered Cuddy at the
- declaration. “Now who’ll lend him a horse?” asked he, taking up the
- question. “What say you, Stub?” appealing to Mr. Strongstubble, who
- generally had more than he could ride.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s such a beefey beggar,” replied Strongstubble, between the whiffs of
- a cigar.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, ah, and a Frenchman too!” interposed Sir Moses, “he’ll have no idea
- of saving a horse, or holding a horse together, or making the most of a
- horse.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Put him on one that ‘ll take care of himself,” suggested Cuddy; “there’s
- your old Nutcracker horse, for instance,” added he, addressing himself to
- Harry Waggett.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Got six drachms of aloes,” replied Waggett, drily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Or your Te-to-tum, Booty,” continued Cuddy, nothing baffled by the
- failure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lame all round,” replied Booty, following suit.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hut you and your lames,” rejoined Cuddy, who knew better—“I’ll tell
- you what you must do then, Tommy,” continued he, addressing himself
- familiarly to Dribbler, “you must lend him your old kicking chestnut—the
- very horse for a Frenchman,” added Cutty, slapping his own tight-trousered
- leg—“you send the Shaver to the Billet in the morning along with
- your own horse, and old Johnny Crapaud will manage to get there somehow or
- other—walk if he can’t ride: shoemaker’s pony’s very safe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I’ll send him in my dog-cart if that’s all,” exclaimed Sir Moses,
- again waxing generous.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That ‘ll do! That ‘ll do!” replied Cuddy, appealing triumphantly to the
- brandy. Then as the out-door guests began to depart, and the in-door ones
- to wind up their watches and ask about breakfast, Cuddy took advantage of
- one of Sir Moses’ momentary absences in the entrance hall to walk off to
- bed with the remainder of the bottle of brandy, observing, as he hurried
- away, that he was “apt to have spasms in the night”; and Sir Moses,
- thinking he was well rid of him at the price, went through the ceremony of
- asking the “remanets” if they would take any more, and being unanimously
- answered in the negative, he lit the bedroom candles, turned off the <i>modérateurs</i>,
- and left the room to darkness and to Bankhead.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXIV.<br/>GOING TO COVER WITH THE HOUNDS.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>OW different a
- place generally proves to what we anticipate, and how difficult it is to
- recall our expectations after we have once seen it, unless we have made a
- memorandum beforehand. How different again a place looks in the morning to
- what we have conjectured over-night. What we have taken for towers perhaps
- have proved to be trees, and the large lake in front a mere floating mist.
- </p>
- <p>
- Pangbum Park had that loose rakish air peculiar to rented places, which
- carry a sort of visible contest between landlord and tenant on the face of
- everything. A sort of “it’s you to do it, not me” look. It showed a sad
- want of paint and maintenance generally. Sir Moses wasn’t the man to do
- anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary, “Dom’d if he was,” so inside
- and outside were pretty much alike.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our friend Billy Pringle was not a man of much observation in rural
- matters, though he understood the cut of a coat, the tie of a watch-ribbon
- cravat, or the fit of a collar thoroughly. We are sorry to say he had not
- slept very well, having taken too much brandy for conformity’s sake, added
- to which his bed was hard and knotty, and the finely drawn bolsters and
- pillows all piled together, were hardly sufficient to raise his throbbing
- temples. As he lay tossing and turning about, thinking now of Clara
- Yammerton’s beautiful blue eyes and exquisitely rounded figure, now of
- Flora’s bright hair, or Harriet’s graceful form, the dread Monsieur
- entered his shabbily furnished bed-room, with, “Sare, I have de pleasure
- to bring you your pink to-day,” at once banishing the beauties and
- recalling the over-night’s conversation, the frightful fences, the yawning
- ditches, the bottomless brooks, with the unanimous declaration that the
- man who could ride over Hit-im and Hold-im-shire could ride over any
- country in the world. And Billy really thought if he could get over the
- horrors of that day he would retire from the purgatorial pleasures of the
- chace altogether.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0038" id="linkimage-0038"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/259m.jpg" alt="259m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/259.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- With this wise resolution he jumped out of bed with the vigorous
- determination of a man about to take a shower-bath, and proceeded to
- invest himself in the only mitigating features of the chace, the red coat
- and leathers. He was hardly well in them before a clamorous bell rang for
- breakfast, quickly followed by a knock at the door, announcing that it was
- on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses was always in a deuce of a hurry on a hunting morning. Our hero
- was then presently performing the coming downstairs feat he is represented
- doing at page 147. and on reaching the lower regions he jumped in with a
- dish of fried ham which led him straight to the breakfast room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here Sir Moses was doing all things at once, reading the “Post,” blowing
- his beak, making the tea, stirring the fire, crumpling his envelopes,
- cussing the toast, and doming the footman, to which numerous avocations he
- now added the pleasing one of welcoming our Billv.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well done you! First down, I do declare!” exclaimed he, tendering him his
- left hand, his right one being occupied with his kerchief. “Sit down, and
- let’s be at it,” continued he, kicking a rush-bottomed chair under Billy
- as it were, adding “never wait for any man on a hunting morning.” So
- saying, he proceeded to snatch an egg, in doing which he upset the
- cream-jug. “Dom the thing,” growled he, “what the deuce do they set it
- there for. D’ye take tea?” now asked he, pointing to the tea-pot with his
- knife—“or coffee?” continued he, pointing to the coffee-pot with his
- fork, “or both praps,” added he, without waiting for an answer to either
- question, but pushing both pots towards his guest, following up the
- advance with ham, eggs, honey, buns, butter, bread, toast, jelly,
- everything within reach, until he got Billy fairly blocked with good
- things, when he again set-to on his own account, munching and crunching,
- and ended by nearly dragging all the contents of the table on to the floor
- by catching the cloth with his spur as he got up to go away.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then went doming and scuttling out of the room, charging Billy if he
- meant to go with the hounds to “look sharp.”
- </p>
- <p>
- During his absence Stephen Booty and Mr. Silverthorn came dawdling into
- the room, taking it as easy as men generally do who have their horses on
- and don’t care much about hunting.
- </p>
- <p>
- Indeed Silverthorn never disguised that he would rather have his covers
- under plough than under gorse, and was always talking about the rent he
- lost, which he estimated at two pounds an acre, and Sir Moses at ten
- shillings.
- </p>
- <p>
- Finding the coast clear, they now rang for fresh ham, fresh eggs, fresh
- tea, fresh everything, and then took to pumping Billy as to his connection
- with the house, Sir Moses having made him out over night to be a son of
- Sir Jonathan Pringle’s, with whom he sometimes claimed cousinship, and
- they wanted to get a peep at the baronetage if they could. In the midst of
- their subtle examination, Sir Moses came hurrying back, whip in one hand,
- hat in the other, throwing open the door, with, “Now, are you ready?” to
- Billy, and “morning, gentlemen,” to Booty and Silverthorn.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Billy rose with the desperate energy of a man going to a dentist’s,
- and seizing his cap and whip off the entrance table, followed Sir Moses
- through the intricacies of the back passages leading to the stables,
- nearly falling over a coal-scuttle as he went. They presently changed the
- tunnel-like darkness of the passage into the garish light of day, by the
- opening of the dirty back door.
- </p>
- <p>
- Descending the little flight of stone steps, they then entered the
- stable-yard, now enlivened with red coats and the usual concomitants of
- hounds leaving home. There was then an increased commotion, stable-doors
- flying open, from which arch-necked horses emerged, pottering and feeling
- for their legs as they went. Off the cobble-stone pavement, and on to the
- grass grown soft of the centre, they stood more firm and unflinching. Then
- Sir Moses took one horse, Tom Findlater another, Harry the first whip a
- third, Joe the second whip a fourth, while the blue-coated pad groom came
- trotting round on foot from the back stables, between Sir Moses’s second
- horse and Napoleon the Great.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy dived at his horse without look or observation, and the clang of
- departure being now at its height, the sash of a second-floor window flew
- up, and a white cotton night-capped head appeared bellowing out, “<i>Y-o-i-cks
- wind ‘im! y-o-i-cks push ‘im up!</i>” adding, “<i>Didn’t I tell ye</i> it
- was going to be a hunting morning?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, ay, Cuddy you did,” replied Sir Moses laughing, muttering as he went:
- “That’s about the extent of your doings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’ll be late, won’t he?” asked Billy, spurring up alongside of the
- Baronet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, he’s only an afternoon sportsman that,” replied Sir Moses; adding,
- “he’s greatest after dinner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed!” mused Billy, who had looked upon him with the respect due to a
- regular flyer, a man who could ride over Hit-im and Hold-im-shire itself.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reverie was presently interrupted by the throwing open of the kennel
- door, and the clamorous rush of the glad pack to the advancing red coats,
- making the green sward look quite gay and joyful.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gently, there! gently!” cried Tom Findlater, and first and second whips
- falling into places, Tom gathered his horse together and trotted briskly
- along the side of the ill-kept carriage road, and on through the
- dilapidated lodges: a tattered hat protruding through the window of one,
- and two brown paper panes supplying the place of glass in the other. They
- then got upon the high road, and the firy edge being taken off both hounds
- and horses, Tom relaxed into the old post-boy pace, while Sir Moses
- proceeded to interrogate him as to the state of the kennel generally, how
- Rachael’s feet were, whether Prosperous was any better, if Abelard had
- found his way home, and when Sultan would be fit to come out again.
- </p>
- <p>
- They then got upon other topics connected with the chace, such as, who the
- man was that Harry saw shooting in Tinklerfield cover; if Mrs Swan had
- said anything more about her confounded poultry; and whether Ned Smith the
- rat-catcher would take half a sovereign for his terrier or not.
- </p>
- <p>
- Having at length got all he could out of Tom, Sir Moses then let the
- hounds flow past him, while he held back for our Billy to come up. They
- were presently trotting along together a little in the rear of Joe, the
- second whip.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve surely seen that horse before,” at length observed Sir Moses, after
- a prolonged stare at our friend’s steed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very likely,” replied Billy, “I bought him of the Major.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The deuce you did!” exclaimed Sir Moses, “then that’s the horse young
- Tabberton had.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, you know him, do you?” asked Billy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Know him! I should think so,” rejoined Moses; “everybody knows him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed!” observed Billy, wondering whether for good or evil.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dare say, now, the Major would make you give thirty, or five-and-thirty
- pounds for that horse,” observed Sir Moses, after another good stare.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Far more!” replied Billy, gaily, who was rather proud of having given a
- hundred guineas.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Far more!” exclaimed Sir Moses with energy; “far more! Ah!” added he,
- with a significant shake of the head, “he’s an excellent man, the Major—an
- excellent man,—but a <i>leet</i>le too keen in the matter of
- horses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Just at this critical moment Tommy Heslop of Hawthorndean, who had been
- holding back in Crow-Tree Lane to let the hounds pass, now emerged from
- his halting-place with a “Good morning, Sir Moses, here’s a fine hunting
- morning?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good morning, Tommy, good morning,” replied Sir Moses, extending his
- right hand; for Tommy was a five-and-twenty pounder besides giving a
- cover, and of course was deserving of every encouragement.
- </p>
- <p>
- The salute over, Sir Moses then introduced our friend Billy,—“Mr.
- Pringle, a Featherbedfordshire gentleman, Mr. Heslop,” which immediately
- excited Tommy’s curiosity—not to say jealousy—for the “Billet”
- was very “contagious,” for several of the Peer’s men, who always brought
- their best horses, and did as much mischief as they could, and after ever
- so good a run, declared it was nothing to talk of. Tommy thought Billy’s
- horse would not take much cutting down, whatever the rider might do.
- Indeed, the good steed looked anything but formidable, showing that a bad
- stable, though “only for one night,” may have a considerable effect upon a
- horse. His coat was dull and henfeathered; his eye was watery, and after
- several premonitory sneezes, he at length mastered a cough. Even Billy
- thought he felt rather less of a horse under him than he liked. Still he
- didn’t think much of a cough. “Only a slight cold,” as a young lady says
- when she wants to go to a ball.
- </p>
- <p>
- Three horsemen in front, two black coats and a red, and two reds joining
- the turnpike from the Witch berry road, increased the cavalcade and
- exercised Sir Moses’ ingenuity in appropriating backs and boots and
- horses. “That’s Simon Smith,” said he to himself, eyeing a pair of
- desperately black tops dangling below a very plumb-coloured, long-backed,
- short-lapped jacket. “Ah! and Tristram Wood,” added he, now recognising
- his companion. He then drew gradually upon them and returned their salutes
- with an extended wave of the hand that didn’t look at all like money. Sir
- Moses then commenced speculating on the foremost group. There was Peter
- Linch and Charley Drew; but who was the fellow in black? He couldn’t make
- out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who’s the man in black, Tommy?” at length asked he of Tommy Heslop.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t know,” replied Tommy, after scanning the stranger attentively.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It can’t be that nasty young Rowley Abingdon; and yet I believe it is,”
- continued Sir Moses, eyeing him attentively, and seeing that he did not
- belong to the red couple, who evidently kept aloof from him. “It is that
- nasty young Abingdon,” added he. “Wonder at his impittance in coming out
- with me. It’s only the other day that ugly old Owl of a father of his
- killed me young Cherisher, the best hound in my pack,” whereupon the
- Baronet began grinding his teeth, and brewing a little politeness
- wherewith to bespatter the young Owl as he passed. The foremost horses
- hanging back to let their friends the hounds overtake them, Sir Moses was
- presently alongside the black coat, and finding he was right in his
- conjecture as to who it contained, he returned the youth’s awkward salute
- with, “Well, my man, how d’ye do? hope you’re well. How’s your father?
- hope he’s well,” adding, “dom ‘im, he should be hung, and you may tell ‘im
- I said so.” Sir Moses then felt his horse gently with his heel, and
- trotted on to salute the red couple. And thus he passed from singles to
- doubles, and from doubles to triples, and from triples to quartets, and
- back to singles again, including the untold occupants of various vehicles,
- until the ninth milestone on the Bushmead road, announced their approach
- to the Crooked Billet. Tom Findlater then pulled up from the postboy jog
- into a wallk, at which pace he turned into the little green field on the
- left of the blue and gold swinging sign. Here he was received by the
- earthstopper, the antediluvian ostler, and other great officers of state.
- But for Sir Moses’ presence the question would then have been “What will
- you have to drink?” That however being interdicted, they raised a
- discussion about the weather, one insisting that it was going to be a
- frost; another, that it was going to be nothing of the sort.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXV.<br/>THE MEET.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Crooked Billet
- Hotel and Posting house, on the Bushmead road had been severed from
- society by the Crumpletin Railway. It had indeed been cut off in the prime
- of life: for Joe Cherriper, the velvet-collared doeskin-gloved Jehu of the
- fast Regulator Coach, had backed his opinion of the preference of the
- public for horse transit over steam, by laying out several hundred pounds
- of his accumulated fees upon the premises, just as the surveyors were
- setting out the line.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A rally might be andy enough for goods and eavy marchandise,” Joe said;
- “but as to gents ever travellin’ by sich contraband means, that was
- utterly and entirely out of the question. Never would appen so long as
- there was a well-appointed coach like the Regulator to be ad.” So Joe laid
- on the green paint and the white paint, and furbished up the sign until it
- glittered resplendent in the rays of the mid-day sun. But greater prophets
- than Joe have been mistaken.
- </p>
- <p>
- One fine summer’s afternoon a snorting steam-engine came puffing and
- panting through the country upon a private road of its own, drawing after
- it the accumulated rank, beauty, and fashion of a wide district to open
- the railway, which presently sucked up all the trade and traffic of the
- country. The Crooked Billet fell from a first-class way-side house at
- which eight coaches changed horses twice a-day, into a very seedy
- unfrequented place—a very different one to what it was when our
- hero’s mother, then Miss Willing, changed horses on travelling up in the
- Old True Blue Independent, on the auspicious day that she captured Mr.
- Pringle. Still it was visited with occasional glimpses of its former
- greatness in the way of the meets of the hounds, when the stables were
- filled, and the long-deserted rooms rang with the revelry of visitors.
- This was its first gala-day of the season, and several of the
- Featherbedfordshire gentlemen availed themselves of the fineness of the
- weather to see Sir Moses’ hounds, and try whether they, too, could ride
- over Hit-im and Hold-im shire.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hounds had scarcely had their roll on the greensward, and old black
- Challenger proclaimed their arrival with his usual deep-toned vehemence,
- ere all the converging roads and lanes began pouring in their tributaries,
- and the space before the bay-windowed red brick-built “Billet” was soon
- blocked with gentlemen on horseback, gentlemen in Malvern dog-carts,
- gentlemen in Newport Pagnells, gentlemen in Croydon clothesbaskets, some
- divesting themselves of their wraps, some stretching themselves after
- their drive, some calling for brandy, some for baccy, some for both brandy
- and baccy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then followed the usual inquiries, “Is Dobbinson coming?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where’s the Damper?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has anybody seen anything of Gameboy Green?” Next, the heavily laden
- family vehicles began to arrive, containing old fat <i>paterfamilias</i>
- in the red coat of his youth, with his “missis” by his side, and a couple
- of buxom daughters behind, one of whom will be installed in the driving
- seat when papa resigns. Thus we have the Mellows of Mawdsley Hill, the
- Chalkers of Streetley, and the Richleys of Jollyduck Park, and the cry is
- still, “They come! they come!” It is going to be a bumper meet, for the
- foxes are famous, and the sight of a good “get away” is worth a dozen
- Legers put together.
- </p>
- <p>
- See here comes a nice quiet-looking little old gentleman in a
- well-brushed, flat-brimmed hat, a bird’s-eye cravat, a dark grey coat
- buttoned over a step-collared toilanette vest, nearly matching in line his
- delicate cream-coloured leathers, who everybody stares at and then
- salutes, as he lifts first one rose-tinted top and then the other, working
- his way through the crowd, on a thorough-bred snaffle-bridled bay. He now
- makes up to Sir Moses, who exclaims as the raised hat shows the familiar
- blue-eyed face, “Ah! Dicky my man! how d’ye do? glad to see you?” and
- taking off his glove the Baronet gives our old friend Boggledike a hearty
- shake of the hand. Dicky acknowledges the honour with becoming reverence,
- and then begins talking of sport and the splendid runs they have been
- having, while Sir Moses, instead of listening, cons over some to give him
- in return.
- </p>
- <p>
- But who have we here sitting so square in the tandem-like dogcart, drawn
- by the high-stepping, white-legged bay with sky-blue rosettes, and long
- streamers, doing the pride that apes humility in a white Macintosh, that
- shows the pink collar to great advantage? Imperial John, we do believe?
- </p>
- <p>
- Imperial John, it is! He has come all the way from Barley Hill Hall,
- leaving the people on the farm and the plate in the drawing-room to take
- care of themselves, starting before daylight, while his footman groom has
- lain out over night to the serious detriment of a half sovereign. As John
- now pulls up, with a trace-rattling ring, he cocks his Imperial chin and
- looks round for applause—a “Well done, you!” or something of that
- sort, for coming such a distance. Instead of that, a line of winks, and
- nods, and nudges, follow his course, one man whispering another, “I say,
- here’s old Imperial John,” or “I say, look at Miss de Glancey’s boy;”
- while the young ladies turn their eyes languidly upon him to see what sort
- of a hero the would-be Benedict is. His Highness, however, has quite got
- over his de Glancey failure, and having wormed his way after divers “with
- your leaves,” and “by your leaves,” through the intricacies of the crowd,
- he now pulls up at the inn door, and standing erect in his dog-cart,
- sticks his whip in the socket, and looks around with a “This is Mr. Hybrid
- the-friend-of-an-Earl” sort of air.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Hybrid, how d’ye do?” now exclaims Sir Moses familiarly; “hope you’re
- well?—how’s the Peer? hope he’s well. Come all the way from Barley
- Hill?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Barley Hill <i>Hall</i>,” replies the great man with an emphasis on the
- Hall, adding in the same breath, “Oi say, ostler, send moy fellow!”
- whereupon there is a renewed nudging and whispering among the ladies
- beside him, of “That’s Mr. Hybrid!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s Imperial John, the gentleman who wanted to marry Miss de Glancey
- for though Miss de Glancey was far above having him, she was not above
- proclaiming the other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His Highness then becomes an object of inquisitive scrutiny by the fair;
- one thinking he might do for Lavinia Edwards; another, for Sarah Bates; a
- third, for Rachel Bell; a fourth, perhaps, for herself. It must be a poor
- creature that isn’t booked for somebody.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still, John stands erect in his vehicle, flourishing his whip, hallooing
- and asking for his fellow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ring the bell for moy fellow!—Do go for moy fellow!—Has
- anybody seen moy fellow? Have you seen moy fellow?” addressing an old
- smock-frocked countryman with a hoe in his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor, arm d—d if iver ar i did!” replied the veteran, looking him
- over, a declaration that elicited a burst of laughter from the bystanders,
- and an indignant chuck of the Imperial chin from our John.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Tweet, tweet, tweet!</i>” who have we here? All eyes turn up the
- Cherryburn road; the roused hounds prick their ears, and are with
- difficulty restrained from breaking away. It’s Walker, the cross postman’s
- gig, and he is treating himself to a twang of the horn. But who has he
- with him? Who is the red arm-folded man lolling with as much dignity as
- the contracted nature of the vehicle will allow? A man in red, with cap
- and beard, and all complete. Why it’s Monsieur! Monsieur coming <i>in
- forma pauperis</i>, after Sir Moses’ liberal offer to send him to cover,—Monsieur
- in a faded old sugar-loaf shaped cap, and a scanty coat that would have
- been black if it hadn’t been red.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0039" id="linkimage-0039"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/266m.jpg" alt="266m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/266.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Still Walker trots him up like a man proud of his load amid the suppressed
- titters and “Who’s this?” of the company. Sir Moses immediately vouchsafes
- him protection—by standing erect in his stirrups, and exclaiming
- with a waive of his right hand, “Ah, Monsieur! <i>comment vous
- portez-vous?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pretty bobbish, I tenk you, sare, opes you are vell yourself and all de
- leetle Mainchanees,” replied Monsieur, rising in the gig, showing the
- scrimpness of his coat and the amplitude of his cinnamon-coloured peg-top
- trousers, thrust into green-topped opera-boots, much in the style of old
- Paul Pry. Having put something into Walker’s hand, Monsieur alights with
- due caution and Walker whipping on, presently shows the gilt “V. R.” on
- the back of his red gig as he works his way through the separating crowd.
- Walker claims to be one of Her Majesty’s servants; if not to rank next to
- Lord Palmerston, at all events not to be far below him. And now Monsieur
- being left to himself, thrusts his Malacca cane whip stick under his arm,
- and drawing on a pair of half-dirty primrose-coloured kid gloves, pokes
- into the crowd in search of his horse, making up to every disengaged one
- he saw, with “Is dee’s for me? Is dee’s for me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile Imperial John having emancipated himself from his Mackintosh,
- and had his horse placed becomingly at the step of the dog-cart, so as to
- transfer himself without alighting, and let everybody see the magnificence
- of the establishment, now souces himself into the saddle of a fairish
- young grey, and turns round to confront the united field; feeling by no
- means the smallest man in the scene. “Hybrid!” exclaims Sir Moses, seeing
- him approach the still dismounted Monsieur, “Hybrid! let me introduce my
- friend Rougier, Monsieur Rougier, Mr. Hybrid! of Barley Hill Hall, a great
- friend of Lord Ladythorne’s,” whereupon off went the faded
- sugar-loaf-shaped cap, and down came the Imperial hat, Sir Moses
- interlarding the ceremony with, “great friend of Louis Nap’s, great friend
- of Louis Nap’s,” by way of balancing the Ladythorne recommendation of
- John. The two then struck up a most energetic conversation, each being
- uncommonly taken with the other. John almost fancied he saw his way to the
- Tuileries, and wondered what Miss “somebody” would say if he got there.
- </p>
- <p>
- The conversation was at length interrupted by Dribbler’s grinning groom
- touching Jack behind as he came up with a chestnut horse, and saying,
- “Please, Sir, here’s your screw.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, my screw, is it!” replied Jack, turning round, “dat is a queer name
- for a horse—screw—hopes he’s a good ‘un.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A good ‘un, and nothin’ but a good ‘un,” replied the groom, giving him a
- punch in the ribs, to make him form up to Jack, an operation that produced
- an ominous grunt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vell” said Jack, proceeding to dive at the stirrup with his foot without
- taking hold of the reins; “if Screw is a good ‘un I sall make you handsome
- present—tuppence a penny, p’raps—if he’s a bad ‘un, I sall
- give you good crack on the skoll,” Jack flourishing his thick whipstick as
- he spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you!” replied the man, leaving go of the rein, whereupon down went
- the horse’s head, up went his heels, and Jack was presently on his
- shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, de devil!” roared Jack, “he vill distribute me! he vill distribute
- me! I vill be killed! Nobody sall save me! here, garçon, grum!” roared he
- amid the mirth of the company. “Lay ‘old of his ‘ead! lay ‘old of his
- ‘ocks! lay ‘old of ‘eels! Oh, murder! murder!” continued he in
- well-feigned dismay, throwing out his supplicating arms. Off jumped
- Imperial John to the rescue of his friend, and seizing the dangling rein,
- chucked up the horse’s head with a resolute jerk that restored Jack to his
- seat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, my friend, I see you are not much used to the saddle,” observed His
- Highness, proceeding to console the friend of an Emperor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vell, sare, I am, and I am not,” replied Jack, mopping his brow, and
- pretending to regain his composure, “I am used to de leetle ‘orse at de
- round-about at de fair, I can carry off de ring ten time out of twice, but
- these great unruly, unmannerly, undutiful screws are more than a match for
- old Harry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just so,” assented His Highness, with a chuck of his Imperial chin, “just
- so;” adding in an under-tone, “then I’ll tell you what we’ll do—I’ll
- tell you what we’ll do—we’ll pop into the bar at the back of the
- house, and have a glass of something to strengthen our nerves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By all means, sare,” replied Jack, who was always ready for a glass. So
- they quietly turned the corner, leaving the field to settle their risible
- faculties, while they summoned the pretty corkscrew ringletted Miss Tubbs
- to their behests.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What shall it be?” asked Imperial John, as the smiling young lady tripped
- down the steps to where they stood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brandy,” replied Jack, with a good English accent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Two brandies!” demanded Imperial John, with an air of authority.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cold, <i>with</i>?” asked the lady, eyeing Monsieur’s grim visage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Neat!</i>” exclaimed Jack in a tone of disdain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Sir,” assented the lady, bustling away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Shilling</i> glasses!” roared Jack, at the last flounce of her blue
- muslin.
- </p>
- <p>
- Presently she returned bearing two glasses of very brown brandy, and each
- having appropriated one, Jack began grinning and bowing and complimenting
- the donor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sare,” said he, after smelling at the beloved liquor, “I have moch
- pleasure in making your quaintance. I am moch pleased, sare, with the
- expression of your mog. I tink, sare, you are de ‘andsomest man I never
- had de pleasure of lookin’ at. If, sare, dey had you in my country, sare,
- dey vod make you a King—Emperor, I mean. I drink, sare, your vare
- good health,” so saying, Jack swigged off the contents of his glass at a
- draught.
- </p>
- <p>
- Imperial John felt constrained to do the same.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Better now,” observed Jack, rubbing his stomach as the liquid fire began
- to descend. “Better now,” repeated he, with a jerk of his head, “Sare,”
- continued he, “I sall return the compliment—I sall treat you to a
- glass.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Imperial John would rather not. He was a glass of sherry and a biscuit
- sort of man; but Monsieur was not to be balked in his liberality. “Oh,
- yes, sare, make me de pleasure to accept a glass,” continued Jack, “Here!
- Jemima! Matilda! Adelaide! vot the doose do they call de young vomans—look
- sharp,” added he, as she now reappeared. “Apportez, dat is to say, bring
- tout suite, directly; two more glasses; dis gentlemans vill be goode
- enough to drink my vare good ‘ealth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly,” replied the smiling lady, tripping away for them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, sare, it is de stoff to make de air corl,” observed Jack, eyeing his
- new acquaintance. “Ye sall go like old chaff before the vind after it.
- Vill catch de fox myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The first glass had nearly upset our Imperial friend, and the second one
- appeared perfectly nauseous. He would give anything that Jack would drink
- them both himself. However, Monsieur motioned blue muslin to present the
- tray to John first, so he had no alternative but to accept. Jack then took
- his glass, and smacking his lips, said—“I looks, sare, towards you,
- sare, vith all de respect due to your immortal country. De English, sare,
- are de finest nation under de moon; and you, sare, and you are as fine a
- specimens of dat nation as never vas seen. Two such mans as you, sare,
- could have taken Sebastopol. You could vop all de ell ound savage Sepoys
- by yourself. So now, sare,” continued Jack, brandishing his glass, “make
- ready, present, <i>fire!</i>” and at the word fire, he drained off his
- glass, and then held it upside down to show he had emptied it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Poor Imperial John was obliged to follow suit.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Imperial head now began to swim. Mr. Hybrid saw two girls in blue
- muslin, two Monsieurs, two old yellow Po-chaises, two water-carts with a
- Cochin-China cock a gollowing a-top of each.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack, on the contrary, was quite comfortable. He had got his nerves
- strung, and was now ready for anything. “S’pose, now,” said he, addressing
- his staring, half-bewildered friend, “you ascend your gallant grey, and
- let us look after dese mighty chasseurs. But stop,” added he, “I vill
- first pay for de tipple,” pretending to dive into his peg-top trousers
- pocket for his purse. “<i>Ah! malheureusement</i>,” exclaimed he, after
- feeling them both. “I have left my blont, my tin, in my oder trousers
- pockets. Navare mind! navare mind,” continued he, gaily, “ve vill square
- it op some other day. Here,” added he to the damsel, “dis gentlemens vill
- pay, and I vill settle vid him some oder day—some oder day.” So
- saying, Jack gathered his horse boldly together, and spurred out of the
- inn-yard in a masterly way, singing <i>Partant pour la Syrie</i> as he
- went.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXVI.<br/>A BIRD’S EYE VIEW.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0040" id="linkimage-0040"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="figleft" style="width:25%;">
- <img src="images/273.jpg" alt="273m " width="100%" /><br /> <a
- href="images/273.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </div>
- <p>
- HE friends reappeared at the front of the Crooked Billet Hotel when the
- whole cavalcade had swept away, leaving only the return ladies, and such
- of the grooms as meant to have a drink, now that “master was safe.” Sir
- Moses had not paid either Louis Napoleon’s or Lord Ladythorne’s friend
- the compliment of waiting for them. On the contrary, having hailed the
- last heavy subscriber who was in the habit of using the Crooked Billet
- meet, he hallooed the huntsman to trot briskly away down Rickleton Lane,
- and across Beecham pastures, as well to shake off the foot-people, as to
- prevent any attempted attendance on the part of the carriage company. Sir
- Moses, though very gallant, was not always in the chattering mood; and,
- assuredly, if ever a master of hounds may be excused for a little
- abruptness, it is when he is tormented by the rival spirits of the
- adjoining hunt, people who always see things so differently to the men of
- the country, so differently to what they are meant to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was evident however by the lingering looks and position of parties that
- the hunt had not been long gone—indeed, the last red coat might
- still be seen bobbing up and down past the weak and low parts of the
- Rickleton Lane fence. So Monsieur, having effected a satisfactory
- rounding, sot his horse’s head that way, much in the old threepence a-mile
- and hopes for something over, style of his youth. Jack hadn’t forgotten
- how to ride, though he might occasionally find it convenient to pretend to
- be a tailor. Indeed, his horse seemed to have ascertained the fact, and
- instead of playing any more monkey-tricks, he began to apply himself
- sedulously to the road. Imperial John was now a fitter subject for
- solicitude than Monsieur, His Highness’s usual bumptious bolt-upright seat
- being exchanged for a very slouchy, vulgar roll. His saucy eyes too seemed
- dim and dazzled, like an owl’s flying against the sun. Some of the toiling
- pedestrians, who in spite of Sir Moses’s intention to leave them in the
- lurch, had started for the hunt, were the first overtaken, next two
- grinning boys riding a barebacked donkey, one with his face to the tail,
- doing the flagellation with an old hearth-brush, then a brandy-nosed
- horse-breaker, with a badly-grown black colt that didn’t promise to be
- good for anything, next Dr. Linton on his dun pony, working his arms and
- legs most energetically, riding far faster than his nag; next Noggin, the
- exciseman, stealing quietly along on his mule as though he were bent on
- his business and had no idea of a hunt; and at length a more legitimate
- representative of the chace in the shape of young Mr. Hadaway, of
- Oakharrow Hill, in a pair of very baggy white cords, on but indifferent
- terms about the knees with his badly cleaned tops. They did not, however,
- overtake the hounds, and the great body of scarlet, till just as they
- turned off the Summersham road into an old pasture-field, some five acres
- of the low end of which had been cut off for a gorse to lay to the
- adjoining range of rocky hills whose rugged juniper and broom-dotted sides
- afforded very comfortable and popular lying for the foxes. It being, if a
- find, a quick “get away,” all hands were too busy thinking of themselves
- and their horses, and looking for their usual opponents to take heed of
- anything else, and Jack and his friends entered without so much as an
- observation from any one.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just at that moment up went Joe’s cap on the top of the craig, and the
- scene changed to one of universal excitement. Then, indeed, had come the
- tug of war! Sir Moses, all hilarity, views the fox! Now Stephen Booty sees
- him, now Peter Lynch, and now a whole cluster of hats are off in his
- honour.
- </p>
- <h3>
- ****
- </h3>
- <p>
- And now his honour’s off himself—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“Shrill horns proclaim his flight.”
- Oh dear! oh dear! where’s Billy Pringle?
-Oh dear! oh dear! where’s Imperial John?
-Oh dear! where’s Jack Rogers?
-</pre>
- <p>
- Jack’s all right! There he is grinning with enthusiasm, quite forgetting
- that he’s a Frenchman, and hoisting his brown cap with the best of them.
- Another glass would have made him give a stunning view-halloa.
- </p>
- <p>
- Imperial John stares like a man just awoke from a dream. Is he in bed, or
- is he out hunting, or how! he even thinks he hears Miss de Glancey’s “<i>Si-r-r!</i>
- do you mean to insult me?” ringing in his ears.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy Pringle! poor Billy! he’s not so unhappy as usual. His horse is very
- docile. His tail has lost all its elegant gaiety, and altogether he has a
- very drooping, weedy look: he coughs, too, occasionally. Billy, however,
- doesn’t care about the coughs, and gives him a dig with his spur to stop
- it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come along, Mr. Pringle, come along!” now shrieks Sir Moses, hurrying
- past, hands down, head too, hugging and spurring his horse as he goes. He
- is presently through the separating throng, leaving Billy far in the rear.
- “<i>Quick’s</i>” the word, or the chance is lost. There are no reserved
- places at a hunt. A flying fox admits of no delay. It is either go or
- stay.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now, Monsieur Jean Rougier having stuck his berry-brown conical cap
- tight on his bristly black head, crams his chestnut horse through the
- crowd, hallooing to his transfixed brandy friend, “Come along, old
- cock-a-doodle! come along, old Blink Bonny!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Imperial John, who has been holding a mental conference with himself,
- poising himself in the saddle, and making a general estimate of his
- condition, thinking he is not so drunk as “all that,” accepts the familiar
- challenge, and urges his horse on with the now flying crowd. He presently
- makes a bad shot at a gate on the swing, which catching him on the
- kneecap, contributes very materially to restore his sobriety, the pain
- making him first look back for his leg, which he thinks must be off, and
- then forward at the field. It is very large; two bustling Baronets, two
- Monsieurs, two huntsmen, two flying hatters—everybody in duplicate,
- in short.
- </p>
- <p>
- Away they scud up Thorneycroft Valley at a pace that looks very like
- killing. The foremost rise the hill, hugging and holding on by the manes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll go!” says his Highness to himself, giving up rubbing his kneecap,
- and settling himself in his saddle, he hustles his horse, and pushing past
- the undecided ones, is presently in the thick of the fray. There is Jack
- going, elbows and legs, elbows and legs, at a very galloping, dreary, done
- sort of pace, the roaring animal he bestrides contracting its short,
- leg-tied efforts every movement. Jack presently begins to objurgate the
- ass who lent it him; first wishes he was on himself, then declares the
- tanner ought to have him. He now sits sideways, and proceeds to give him a
- good rib-roasting in the old post-boy style.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now there’s a bobbing up and down of hats, caps, and horses’ heads in
- front, with the usual deviation under the “hounds clauses consolidation
- act,” where the dangerous fencing begins. A pair of white breeches are
- summersaulting in the air, and a bay horse is seen careering in a wild
- head in the air sort of way, back to the rear instead of following the
- hounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s lucky,” said Jack Rogers to himself, as soon as he saw him coming
- towards him, and circumventing him adroitly at the corner of a
- turnip-field, he quits his own pumped-out animal and catches him. “That’s
- good,” said he, looking him over, seeing that he was a lively young animal
- in fairish condition, with a good saddle and bridle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stirrups just my length, too, I do believe,” continued he, preparing to
- mount. “All right, by Jove!” added he, settling himself into the saddle,
- feet well home, and gathering his horse together, he shot forward with the
- easy elasticity of breeding. It was a delightful change from the rolling
- cow-like action of the other.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let us see vot he as in his monkey,” said Jack to himself, now drawing
- the flask from the saddle-case.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sherry, I fear,” said he, uncorking it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brandy, I declare,” added he with delight, after smelling it. He then
- took a long pull at the contents.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good it is, too!” exclaimed he, smacking his lips; “better nor ve ad at
- de poblic;” so saying, he took another long suck of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “May as vell finish it,” continued he, shaking it at his ear to ascertain
- what was left; and having secured the remainder, he returned the monkey to
- the saddle-case, and put on his horse with great glee, taking a most
- independent line of his own.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack’s triumph, however, was destined to be but of short duration. The fox
- being hard pressed, abandoned his original point for Collington Woods, and
- swerving to the left over Stanbury Hundred, was headed by a cur, and
- compelled to seek safety in a drain in the middle of a fallow field. The
- hounds were presently feathering over the mouth in the usual wild,
- disappointed sort of way, that as good as says, “No fault of ours, you
- know; if he won’t stay above ground, we can’t catch him for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Such of the field as had not ridden straight for Collington Woods, were
- soon down at the spot; and while the usual enquiries, “Where’s Pepper?”
- “Where’s Viper?” “Where can we get a spade?” “Does anybody know anything
- about the direction of this drain?” were going on, a fat, fair,
- red-coated, flushed-faced pedestrian—to wit, young Mr. Threadcroft,
- the woolstapler’s son of Harden Grange and Hinton, dived into the thick of
- the throng, and making up to Monsieur, exclaimed in an anger-choked voice,
- “This (puff) is my (gasp) horse! What the (gasp, puff) devil do you mean
- by riding away with him in this (puff-, gasp) way?” the youth mopping his
- brow with a yellow bandanna as he spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0041" id="linkimage-0041"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/277m.jpg" alt="277m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/277.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- “Your oss!” exclaimed Jack with the greatest effrontery, “on de loose can
- he be your os: I catched him fair! and I’ve a right to ride him to de end
- of de run;” a claim that elicited the uproarious mirth of the field, who
- all looked upon the young wool-pack, as they called him, as a muff.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Nonsense!</i>” retorted the youth, half frantic with rage. “How can
- that be?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ow can dat be,” repeated Jack, turning sideways in his saddle, and
- preparing to argue the case, “Ow can dat be? Dis hont, sare, I presume,
- sare, is condocted on de principle of de grand hont de Epping, vere every
- mans vot cotched anoder’s oss, is entitled to ride him to the end of de
- ron,” replied Jack gravely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nonsense!” again retorted the youth, amidst the renewed laughter of the
- field. “We know nothing of Epping hunts here!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothin’ of Epping onts here?” exclaimed Jack, throwing out his hands with
- well feigned astonishment. “Nothin’ of Epping honts here! Vy, de grand
- hont de Epping rules all the oder honts, jost as the grand Clob de Jockey
- at Newmarket rules all oder Jockey Clubs in de kingdom.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hoot, toot,” sneered the fat youth, “let’s have none of yonr jaw. Give me
- my horse, I say, how can he be yours?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because, sare,” replied Jack, “I tells you I cotched ‘im fairly in de
- field. Bot for me he vod have been lost to society—to de vorld at
- large—eat up by de loup—by de volf—saddle, bridle, and
- all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing of the sort!” retorted Mr. Treadcroft, indignantly, “you had no
- business to touch him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur (with energy). I appeal to you, Sare Moses Baronet, de grand
- maître de chien, de master of all de dogs and all de dogs’ vives, if I
- have not a right to ride ‘im.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, I’m afraid, Monsieur, it’s not the law of this country,” replied Sir
- Moses, laughing. “It may be so in France, perhaps; but tell me, where’s
- your own horse?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur. Pomped out de beggar; had no go in ‘im; left him in a ditch.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses. That’s a pity!—if you’d allowed me, I’d have sent you a
- good ‘un.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Treadcroft, thus reinforced by Sir Moses’s decision, returned to the
- charge with redoubled vigour. “If you don’t give me up my horse, sir,”
- says he, with firmness, “I’ll give you in charge of the police for
- stealing him.” Then
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“Conscience, which makes cowards of us all,”
- </pre>
- <p>
- caused Jack to shrink at the recollection of his early indiscretion in the
- horse-stealing line, and instantly resolving not to give Jack Ketch a
- chance of taking any liberties with his neck, he thus addresses Mr.
- Treadcroft:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sare, if Sare Moses Baronet, de grand maître de chien, do grandmodder of
- all de dogs and all de dogs’ vives, says it is not a case of catch ‘im and
- keep ‘im ‘cordin’ to de rules of de grand hont de Epping, I must surrender
- de quadruped, but I most say it is dem un’andsome treatment, after I ‘ave
- been at de trouble of catching ‘im.” So saying, Jack dropped off on the
- wrong side of the saddle, and giving the horse a slap on his side left his
- owner to take him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Tally-ho! there he goes!</i>” now exclaimed a dozen voices, as out
- bounced the fox with a flourish of his well tagged brush that looked
- uncommonly defiant. What a commotion he caused! Every man lent a shout
- that seemed to be answered by a fresh effort from the flyer: but still,
- with twenty couple of overpowering animals after him, what chance did
- there seem for his life, especially when they could hunt him by his scent
- after they had lost sight. Every moment, however, improved his
- opportunity, and a friendly turn of the land shutting him out of view, the
- late darting, half-frantic pack were brought to their noses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hold hard for <i>one</i>, minute!” is the order of the day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, catch ’em if you can!” is the cry.
- </p>
- <p>
- Away they go in the settled determined way of a second start. The bolt
- taking place on the lower range of the gently swelling Culmington hills,
- that stretch across the north-east side of Hit-im and Hold-im shire, and
- the fox making for the vale below, Monsieur has a good bird’s eye view of
- the scramble, without the danger and trouble of partaking of the struggle.
- Getting astride a newly stubbed ash-tree near the vacated drain mouth, he
- thus sits and soliloquises—“He’s a pretty flyer, dat fox—if
- dey catch ‘im afore he gets to the hills,” eyeing a gray range uudulating
- in the distance, “they’ll do well. That Moff of a man,” alluding to
- Treadcroft, “‘ill never get there. At all events,” chuckled Jack, “his
- brandy vont. Dats ‘im! I do believe,” exclaimed Jack, “off again!” as a
- loose horse is now seen careering across a grass field. “No; dat is a
- black coat,” continued Jack, as the owner now appeared crossing the field
- in pursuit of his horse. “Bot dat vill be ‘im! dat vill be friend Moll’,”
- as a red rider now measures his length on the greensward of a field in the
- rear of the other one; and Jack, taking off his faded cap, waives it
- triumphantly as he distinctly recognises the wild, staring running of his
- late steed. “Dash my buttons!” exclaims he, working his arms as if he was
- riding, “bot if it hadn’t been for dat unwarrantable, unchristian-like
- cheek I’d ha’ shown those red coats de vay on dat oss, for I do think he
- has de go in him and only vants shovin’ along.—Ah Moff—my
- friend Moff!” laughed he, eyeing Treadcroft’s vain endeavour to catch his
- horse, “you may as vell leave ‘im where he is—you’ll only fatigue
- yourself to no purpose. If you ‘ad ‘im you’d be off him again de next
- minute.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The telescope of the chace is now drawn out to the last joint, and Jack,
- as he sits, has a fine bird’s eye view of the scene. If the hounds go
- rather more like a flock of wild geese than like the horses in the chariot
- of the sun, so do the field, until the diminutive dots, dribbling through
- the vale, look like the line of a projected railway.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I mistake not,” continued Jack, “dat leetle shiny eel-like ting,”
- eyeing a tortuous silvery thread meandering through the vale, “is vater,
- and dere vill be some fon by de time dey get there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack is right in his conjecture. It is Long Brawlingford brook, with its
- rotten banks and deep eddying pools, describing all sorts of geographical
- singularities in its course through the country, too often inviting
- aspiring strangers to astonish the natives by riding at it, while the
- cautious countrymen rein in as they approach, and, eyeing the hounds, ride
- for a ford at the first splash.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack’s friend, Blink Bonny, has ridden not amiss, considering his
- condition—at all events pretty forward, as may be inferred from his
- having twice crossed the Flying Hatter and come in for the spray of his
- censure. But for the fact of his Highness getting his hats of the flyer,
- he would most likely have received the abuse in the bulk. As it was, the
- hatter kept letting it go as he went.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now as the hounds speed over the rich alluvial pastures by the brook,
- occasionally one throwing its tongue, occasionally another, for the scent
- is first-rate and the pace severe, there is a turning of heads, a checking
- of horses, and an evident inclination to diverge. Water is in no request.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who knows the ford?” cries Harry Waggett, who always declined extra risk.—“You
- know the ford, Smith?” continued he, addressing himself to black tops.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not when I’m in a hur-hur-hurry,” ejaculates Smith, now fighting with his
- five-year-old bay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O’ill show ye the ford!” cries Imperial John, gathering his grey together
- and sending him at a stiff flight of outside slab-made rails which
- separate the field from the pack. This lands His Highness right among the
- tail hounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hold hard, Mr. Hybrid!” now bellows Sir Moses, indignant at the idea of
- a Featherbedfordshire farmer thinking to cut down his gallant field.
- </p>
- <p>
- “One minuit! and you may go as hard as iver you like!” cries Tom
- Findlater, who now sees the crows hovering over his fox as he scuttles
- away on the opposite side of the brook.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is then a great yawing of mouths and hauling of heads and renewed
- inquiries for fords.—You know the ford, Brown? You know the ford,
- Green? <i>Who</i> knows the ford?
- </p>
- <p>
- His Highness, thus snubbed and rebuked on all sides, is put on his mettle,
- and inwardly resolves not to be bullied by these low Hit-im and Hold-im
- shire chaps. “If they don’t know what is due to the friend of an Earl, he
- will let them see that he does.” So, regardless of their shouts, he shoves
- along with his Imperial chin well in the air, determined to ride at the
- brook—let those follow who will. He soon has a chance. The fox has
- taken it right in his line, without deviating a yard either way, and
- Wolds-man, and Bluecap, and Ringwood, and Hazard, and Sparkler are soon
- swimming on his track, followed by the body of the screeching,
- vociferating pack.
- </p>
- <p>
- Old Blink Bonny now takes a confused, wish-I-was-well-over, sort of look
- at the brook, shuddering when he thought how far he was from dry clothes.
- It is however, too late to retreat. At it he goes in a half resolute sort
- of way, and in an instant the Imperial hat and the Imperial horse’s head
- are all that appear above water.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Hoo-ray!</i>” cheer some of the unfeeling Hit-im and Hold-im
- shireites, dropping down into the ford a little below.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Hoo-ray!</i>” respond others on the bank, as the Red Otter, as
- Silverthorne calls His Highness, rises hatless to the top.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come here, and I’ll help you out!” shouts Peter Linch, eyeing Mr.
- Hybrid’s vain darts first at the hat and then at the horse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Featherbedfordshire for ever!” cries Charley Drew, who doesn’t at all
- like Imperial John.
- </p>
- <p>
- And John, who finds the brook not only a great deal wider, but also a
- great deal deeper and colder than he expected, is in such a state of
- confusion that he lands on one side and his horse on the other, so that
- his chance of further distinction is out for the day. And as he stands
- shivering and shaking and emptying his hat, he meditates on the
- vicissitudes of life, the virtues of sobriety, and the rashness of coping
- with a friend of His Imperial brother, Louis Nap. His horse meanwhile
- regales upon grass, regardless of the fast receding field. Thus John is
- left alone in his glory, and we must be indebted to other sources for an
- account of the finish of this day’s sport.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXVII.<br/>TWO ACCOUNTS OF A RUN; OR, LOOK ON THIS PICTURE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>ONSIEUR Jean
- Rougier having seen the field get small by degrees, if not beautifully
- less, and having viewed the quivering at the brook, thinking the
- entertainment over, now dismounted from his wooden steed, and, giving it a
- crack with his stick, saying it was about as good as his first one,
- proceeded to perform that sorry exploit of retracing his steps through the
- country on foot. Thanks to the influence of civilisation, there is never
- much difficulty now in finding a road; and, Monsieur was soon in one whose
- grassy hoof-marked sides showed it had been ridden down in chase. Walking
- in scarlet is never a very becoming proceeding; but, walking in such a
- scarlet as Jack had on, coupled with such a cap, procured him but little
- respect from the country people, who took him for one of those scarlet
- runners now so common with hounds. One man (a hedger) in answer to his
- question, “If he had seen his horse?” replied, after a good stare—“Nor—nor
- nobody else;” thinking that the steed was all imaginary, and Jack was
- wanting to show off: another said, “Coom, coom, that ill not de; you’ve ne
- horse.” Altogether, Monsieur did not get much politeness from anyone; so
- he stumped moodily along, venting his spleen as he went.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first thing that attracted his attention was his own pumped-out steed,
- standing with its snaffle-rein thrown over a gate-post; and Jack, having
- had about enough pedestrian exercise, especially considering that he was
- walking in his own boots, now gladly availed himself of the lately
- discarded mount.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wooay, ye great grunting brute!” exclaimed he, going up with an air of
- ownership, taking the rein off the post, and climbing on.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had scarcely got well under way, ere a clattering of horses’ hoofs
- behind him, attracted his attention; and, looking back, he saw the
- Collington Woods detachment careering along in the usual wild, staring, <i>which-way?
- which-way?</i> sort of style of men, who have been riding to points, and
- have lost the hounds. In the midst of the flight was his master, on the
- now woe-begone bay; who came coughing, and cutting, and hammer and
- pincering along, in a very ominous sort of way. Billy, on the other hand,
- flattered himself that they were having a very tremendous run, with very
- little risk, and he was disposed to take every advantage of his horse, by
- way of increasing its apparent severity, thinking it would be a fine thing
- to tell his Mamma how he had got through his horse. Monsieur having
- replied to their <i>which ways?</i> with the comfortable assurance “that
- they need not trouble themselves any further, the hounds being miles and
- miles away,” there was visible satisfaction on the faces of some; while
- others, more knowing, attempted to conceal their delight by lip-curling
- exclamations of “What a bore!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thought <i>you</i> knew the country, Brown.” “Never follow you again,
- Smith,” and so on. They then began asking for the publics. “Where’s the
- Red Lion?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Does anybody know the way to the Barley Mow?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How far is it to the Dog and Duck at Westpool?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dat oss of yours sall not be quite vell, I tink, sare,” observed Jack to
- his master, after listening to one of its ominous coughs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes he is, only a little lazy,” replied Billy, giving him a
- refresher, as well with the whip on his shoulder, as with the spur on his
- side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is feeble, I should say, sare,” continued Jack, eyeing him pottering
- along.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What should I give him, then?” asked Billy, thinking there might be
- something in what Jack said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I sud say a leetle gin vod be de best ting for im,” replied Jack.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gin! but where can I get gin here?” asked Billy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dese gentlemens is asking their vays to de Poblic ouses,” replied Jack;
- “and if you follows dem, you vill laud at some tap before long.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack was right. Balmey Zephyr, as they call Billy West, the surgeon of
- Hackthorn, who had joined the hunt quite promiscuous, is leading the way
- to the Red Lion, and the cavalcade is presently before the well-frequented
- door; one man calling for Purl, another Ale, a third for Porter; while
- others hank their horses on to the crook at the door, while they go in to
- make themselves comfortable. Jack dismounting, and giving his horse in
- charge of his master, entered the little way-side hostelry; and, asking
- for a measure of gin, and a bottle of water, he drinks off the gin, and
- then proceeds to rinse Billy’s horse’s mouth out with the water, just as a
- training-groom rinses a horse’s after a race.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dat vill do,” at length said Jack, chucking the horse’s head up in the
- air, as if he gets him to swallow the last drop of the precious beverage.
- “Dat vill do,” repeated he, adding, “he vill now carry you ome like a
- larkspur.” So saying, Jack handed the bottle back through the window, and,
- paying the charge, remounted his steed, kissing his hand, and <i>bon-jouring</i>
- the party, as he set off with his master in search of Pangburn Park.
- </p>
- <p>
- Neither of them being great hands at finding their way about a country,
- they made sundry bad hits, and superfluous deviations, and just reached
- Pangburn Park as Sir Moses and Co. came triumphantly down Rossington hill,
- flourishing the brush that had given them a splendid fifty minutes (ten
- off for exaggeration) without a check, over the cream of their country,
- bringing Imperial John, Gameboy Green, and the flower of the
- Featherbedfordshire hunt, to the most abject and unmitigated grief.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, such a run!” exclaimed Sir Moses, throwing out his paws. “Oh, such a
- run! Finest run that ever was seen! Sort of run, that if old Thorne
- (meaning Lord Ladythorne) had had, he’d have talked about it for a year.”
- Sir Moses then descended to particulars, describing the heads up and
- sterns down work to the brook, the Imperial catastrophe which he dwelt
- upon with great <i>goût</i>, dom’d if he didn’t; and how, leaving John in
- the water, they went away over Rillington Marsh, at a pace that was
- perfectly appalling, every field choking off some of those
- Featherbedfordshireites, who came out thinking to cut them all down; then
- up Tewey Hill, nearly to the crow trees, swinging down again into the vale
- by Billy Mill, skirting Laureston Plantations, and over those splendid
- pastures of Arlingford, where there was a momentary check, owing to some
- coursers, who ought to be hung, dom’d if they shouldn’t. “This,” continued
- Sir Moses, “let in some of the laggers, Dickey among the number; but we
- were speedily away again; and, passing a little to the west of Pickering
- Park, through the decoy, and away over Larkington Rise, shot down to the
- Farthing-pie House, where that great Owl, Gameboy Green, thinking to show
- off, rode at an impracticable fence, and got a cropper for his pains,
- nearly knocking the poor little Damper into the middle of the week after
- next by crossing him. Well, from there he made for the main earths in
- Purdoe Banks, where, of course, there was no shelter for him; and,
- breaking at the east end of the dene, he set his head straight for Brace
- well Woods, good two miles off (one and a quarter, say); but his strength
- failing him over Winterflood Heath, we ran from scent to view, in the
- finest, openest manner imaginable,—dom’d if we didn’t,” concluded
- Sir Moses, having talked himself out of breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- The same evening, just as Oliver Armstrong was shutting up day by trimming
- and lighting the oil-lamp at the Lockingford toll-bar, which stands within
- a few yards from where the apparently well-behaved little stream of Long
- Brawlingford brook divides the far-famed Hit-im and Hold-im shire from
- Featherbedfordshire, a pair of desperately mud-stained cords below a black
- coat and vest, reined up behind a well wrapped and buttoned-up gentleman
- in a buggy, who chanced to be passing, and drew forth the usual inquiry of
- “What sport?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The questioner was no less a personage than Mr. Easylease, Lord
- Ladythorne’s agent—we beg pardon, Commissioner—and Mr. Gameboy
- Green, the tenant in possession of the soiled cords, recognising the voice
- in spite of the wraps, thus replied—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Mr. Easylease it’s you, sir, is it? Hope you’re well, sir,” with a
- sort of move of his hat—not a take off, nor yet a keep on—“hope
- Mrs. Easylease is quite well, and the young ladies.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite well, thank you; hope Mrs. G.‘s the same. What sport have you had?”
- added the Commissioner, without waiting for an answer to the inquiry about
- the ladies.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sport!” repeated Gameboy, drawing his breath, as he conned the matter
- hastily over. “Sport!” recollecting he was as good as addressing the Earl
- himself—master of hounds—favours past—hopes for future,
- and so on. “Well,” said he, seeing his line; “We’ve had a nice-ish run—a
- fair-ish day—five and twenty minutes, or so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fast?” asked Mr. Easylease, twirling his gig-whip about, for he was going
- to Tantivy Castle in the morning, and thought he might as well have
- something to talk about beside the weather.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Middlin’—nothin’ partieklar,” replied Green, with a chuck of the
- chin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Kill?” asked the Commissioner, continuing the laconics.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t know,” replied the naughty Green, who knew full well they had; for
- he had seen them run into their fox as he stood on Dinglebank Hill; and,
- moreover, had ridden part of the way home with Tommy Heslop, who had a
- pad.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, you’ve been down!” exclaimed the Commissioner, starting round at the
- unwonted announcement of Gameboy Green, the best man of their hunt, not
- knowing if they had killed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Down, aye,” repeated Gameboy, looking at his soiled side, which looked as
- if he had been at a sculptor’s, having a mud cast taken of himself. “I’m
- indebted to the nasty little jealous Damper for that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Damper!” exclaimed the Commissioner, knowing how the Earl hated him.
- “The Damper! that little rascally draper’s always doing something wrong.
- How did he manage it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just charged me as I was taking a fence,” replied Green, “and knocked me
- clean over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a shame!” exclaimed the Commissioner, driving on. “What a shame,”
- repeated he, whipping his horse into a trot.
- </p>
- <p>
- And as he proceeded, he presently fell in with Dr. Pillerton, to whom he
- related how infamously the Hit-im and Hold-im shire chaps had used poor
- Green, breaking three of his ribs, and nearly knocking his eye out. And
- Dr. Pillerton, ever anxious, &c., told D’Orsay Davis, the great we of
- the Featherbedfordshire Gazette, who forthwith penned such an article on
- fox-hunting Jealousy, generally, and Hit-im and Hold-im shire Jealousy in
- particular, as caused Sir Moses to declare he’d horsewhip him the first
- time he caught him,—“dom’d if he wouldn’t.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br/>THE SICK HORSE AND THE SICK MASTER.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0042" id="linkimage-0042"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/288m.jpg" alt="288m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/288.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OUR oss sall be
- seek—down in de mouth dis mornin’, sare,” observed
- Monsieur to Billy, as the latter lay tossing about in his uncomfortable
- bed, thinking how he could shirk that day’s hunting penance; Sir
- Moses, with his usual dexterity, having evaded the offer of lending him a
- horse, by saying that Billy’s having nothing to do the day before
- would be quite fresh for the morrow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Shall be w-h-a-w-t?” drawled our hero, dreading the reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Down in de mouth—seek—onvell,” replied Jack, depositing the
- top-boots by the sofa, and placing the shaving-water on the toilette
- table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, is he!” said Billy, perking up, thinking he saw his way out of the
- dilemma. “What’s the matter with him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He coughs, sare—he does not feed, sare—and altogether he is
- not right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So-o-o,” said Billy, conning the matter over—“then, p’raps I’d
- better not ride him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vot you think right, sare,” replied Jack. “He is your quadruped, not
- mine; but I should not say he is vot dey call, op to snoff—fit to
- go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,” replied Billy. “I’ll not ride ‘im! hate a horse that’s not up to the
- mark.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sare Moses Baronet vod perhaps lend you von, sare,” suggested Jack.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, by no means!” replied Billy in a fright. “By no means! I’d just as
- soon not hunt to-day, in fact, for I’ve got a good many letters to write
- and things to do; so just take the water away for the present and bring it
- back when Sir Moses is gone.” So saying, Billy turned over on his thin
- pillow, and again sought the solace of his couch. He presently fell into a
- delightful dreamy sort of sleep, in which he fancied that after dancing
- the Yammerton girls all round, he had at length settled into an
- interminable “Ask Mamma Polka,” with Clara, from which he was disagreeably
- aroused by Jack Rogers’ hirsute face again protruding between the
- partially-drawn curtains, announcing, “Sare Moses Baronet, sare, has cot
- his stick—is off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir Moses, <i>what!</i>” started Billy, dreading to hear about the hunt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sare Moses Baronet, sare, is gone, and I’ve brought you your <i>l’eau
- chaude</i>, as you said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right!” exclaimed Billy, rubbing his eyes and recollecting himself,
- “all right;” and, banishing the beauty, he jumped out of bed and resigned
- himself to Rogers, who forthwith commenced the elaborate duties of his
- office. As it progressed he informed Billy how the land lay. “Sare Moses
- was gone, bot Coddy was left, and Mrs. Margerum said there should be no <i>déjeuner</i>
- for Cod” (who was a bad tip), till Billy came down. And Jack didn’t put
- himself at all out of his way to expedite matters to accommodate Cuddy.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length Billy descended in a suit of those tigerish tweeds into which he
- had lapsed since he got away from Mamma, and was received with a round of
- tallihos and view-holloas by Cuddy, who had been studying <i>Bell’s Life</i>
- with exemplary patience in the little bookless library, reading through
- all the meets of the hounds as if he was going to send a horse to each of
- them. Then Cuddy took his revenge on the servants by ringing for
- everything he could think of, demanding them all in the name of Mr.
- Pringle; just as an old parish constable used to run frantically about a
- fair demanding assistance from everybody in the name of the Queen. Mr.
- Pringle wanted devilled turkey, Mr. Pringle wanted partridge pie, Mr.
- Pringle wanted sausages, Mr. Pringle wanted chocolate, Mr. Pringle wanted
- honey, jelly and preserve. Why the deuce, didn’t they send Mr. Pringle his
- breakfast in properly? And if the servants didn’t think Billy a very great
- man, it wasn’t for want of Cuddy trying to make them.
- </p>
- <p>
- And so, what with Cuddy’s exertions and the natural course of events,
- Billy obtained a very good breakfast. The last cup being at length
- drained, Cuddy clutched <i>Bell’s Life</i>, and wheeling his semicircular
- chair round to the fire, dived into his side pocket, and, producing a
- cigar-case, tendered Billy a weed. And Cuddy did it in such a
- matter-of-course way, that much as Billy disliked smoking, he felt
- constrained to accept one, thinking to get rid of it by a sidewind, just
- as he had got rid of old Wotherspoon’s snuff, by throwing it away. So,
- taking his choice, he lit it, and prepared to beat a retreat, but was
- interrupted by Cuddy asking where “he was going?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only into the open air,” replied Billy, with the manner of a professed
- smoker.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Open air, be hanged!” retorted Cuddy. “Open airs well enough in
- summer-time when the roses are out, and the strawberries ripe, but this is
- not the season for that kind of sport. No, no, come and sit here, man,”
- continued he, drawing a chair alongside of him for Billy, “and let’s have
- a chat about hunting.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Sir Moses won’t like his room smoked in,” observed Billy, making a
- last effort to be off.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Sir Moses don’t care!” rejoined Cuddy, with a jerk of his head; “Sir
- Moses don’t care! can’t hurt such rubbish as this,” added he, tapping the
- arm of an old imitation rose-wood painted chair that stood on his left.
- “No old furniture broker in the Cut, would give ten puns for the whole
- lot, curtains, cushions, and all,” looking at the faded red hangings
- around.
- </p>
- <p>
- So Billy was obliged to sit down and proceed with his cigar. Meanwhile
- Cuddy having established a good light to his own, took up his left leg to
- nurse, and proceeded with his sporting speculations.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, hunting wasn’t what it used to be (whiff), nor racing either (puff).
- Never was a truer letter (puff), than that of Lord Derby’s (whiff), in
- which he said racing had got into the (puff) hands of (whiff) persons of
- an inferior (puff) position, who keep (puff) horses as mere instruments of
- (puff) gambling, instead of for (whiff) sport.” Then, having pruned the
- end of his cigar, he lowered his left leg and gave his right one a turn,
- while he indulged in some hunting recollections. “Hunting wasn’t what it
- used to be (puff) in the days of old (whiff) Warde and (puff) Villebois
- and (whiff) Masters. Ah no!” continued he, taking his cigar out of his
- month, and casting his eye up at the dirty fly-dotted ceiling. “Few such
- sportsmen as poor Sutton or Ralph Lambton, or that fine old fire-brick,
- Assheton Smith. People want to be all in the ring now, instead of sticking
- to one sport, and enjoying it thoroughly—yachts, manors, moors,
- race-horses, cricket, coaches, coursing, cooks—and the consequence
- is, they get blown before they are thirty, and have to live upon air the
- rest of their lives. Wasn’t one man in fifty that hunted who really
- enjoyed it. See how glad they were to tail off as soon as they could. A
- good knock on the nose, or a crack on the crown settled half of them.
- Another thing was, there was no money to be made by it. Nothing an
- Englishman liked so much as making money, or trying to make it.” So
- saying, Cuddy gave his cigar another fillip, and replacing it in his
- mouth, proceeded to blow a series of long revolving clouds, as he lapsed
- into a heaven of hunting contemplations.
- </p>
- <p>
- From these he was suddenly aroused by the violent retching of Billy. Our
- friend, after experiencing the gradual growth of seasickness mingled with
- a stupifying headache, was at length fairly overcome, and Cuddy had just
- time to bring the slop-basin to the rescue. Oh, how green Billy looked!
- </p>
- <h3>
- ****
- </h3>
- <p>
- “Too soon after breakfast—too soon after breakfast,” muttered Cuddy,
- disgusted at the interruption. “Lie down for half an hour, lie down for
- half an hour,” continued he ringing the bell violently for assistance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Send Mr. Pringle’s valet here! send Mr. Pringle’s valet here!” exclaimed
- he, as the half-davered footman came staring in, followed by the
- ticket-of-leave butler, “Here, Monsieur!” continued he, as Rougier’s hairy
- face now peeped past the door, “your master wants you—eat something
- that’s disagreed with him—that partridge-pie, I think, for I feel
- rather squeamish myself; and you, Bankhead,” added he, addressing the
- butler, “just bring us each a drop of brandy, not that nasty brown stuff
- Mother Margermn puts into the puddings, but some of the white, you know—the
- best, you know,” saying which, with a “now old boy!” he gave Billy a hoist
- from his seat by the arm, and sent him away with his servant. The brandy,
- however, never came, Bankhead declaring they had drunk all he had out, the
- other night. So Cuddy was obliged to console himself with his cigars and
- <i>Bell’s Life</i>, which latter he read, marked, learned, and inwardly
- digested, pausing every now and then at the speculative passages,
- wondering whether Wilkinson and Kidd, or Messrs. Wilkinson and Co. were
- the parties who had the honour of having his name on their books, where
- Henry Just, the backer of horses, got the Latin for his advertisement
- from, and considering whether Nairn Sahib, the Indian fiend, should be
- roasted alive or carried round the world in a cage. He also went through
- the column and a quarter of the meets of hounds again, studied the doings
- at Copenhagen Grounds, Salford Borough Gardens, and Hornsea Wood, and
- finally finished off with the time of high-water at London Bridge, and the
- list of pedestrian matches to come. He then folded the paper carefully up
- and replaced it in his pocket, feeling equal to a dialogue with anybody.
- Having examined the day through the window, he next strolled to his old
- friend the weather-glass at the bottom of the stairs, and then
- constituting himself huntsman to a pack of hounds, proceeded to draw the
- house for our Billy; “<i>Y-o-o-icks</i>, wind him! <i>y-o-o-icks</i>, push
- him up!” holloaed he, going leisurely up-stairs, “<i>E’leu in there! E’leu
- in!</i>” continued he, on arriving at a partially closed door on the first
- landing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>There’s nobody here! There’s nobody here!</i>” exclaimed Mrs.
- Margerum, hurrying out. “There’s nobody here, sir!” repeated she, holding
- steadily on by the door, to prevent any one entering where she was busy
- packing her weekly basket of perquisites, or what the Americans more
- properly call “stealings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nobody here! bitch-fox, at all events!” retorted Cuddy, eyeing her
- confusion—“where’s Mr. Pringle’s room?” asked he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll show you, sir; I’ll show you,” replied she, closing the room-door,
- and hurrying on to another one further along. “This is Mr. Pringle’s room,
- sir,” said she, stopping before it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right!” exclaimed Cuddy, knocking at the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come in,” replied a feeble voice from within; and in Cuddy went.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0043" id="linkimage-0043"> </a>
- </p>
-
- <p>
- There was Billy in bed, with much such a disconsolate face as he had when
- Jack Rogers appeared with his hunting things. As, however, nobody ever
- admits being sick with smoking, Billy readily adopted Cuddy’s suggestion,
- and laid the blame on the pie. Cuddy, indeed, was good enough to say he
- had been sick himself, and of course Billy had a right to be so, too.
- “Shouldn’t have been so,” said Cuddy, “if that beggar Bankhead had brought
- the brandy; but there’s no getting anything out of that fellow.” And Caddy
- and Billy being then placed upon terms of equality, the interesting
- invalids agreed to have a walk together. To this end Billy turned out of
- bed and re-established himself in his recently-discarded coat and vest;
- feeling much like a man after a bad passage from Dover to Calais. The two
- then toddled down-stairs together, Cuddy stopping at the bottom of the
- flight to consult his old friend the glass, and speculate upon the
- Weather.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dash it! but it’s falling,” said he, with a shake of
- the head after tapping it. “Didn’t like the looks of the sky
- this morning—wish there mayn’t be a storm brewing. Had one
- just about this time last year. Would be a horrid bore if hunting was
- stopped just in its prime,” and talked like a man with half-a-dozen
- horses fit to jump out of their skins, instead of not owning one. And
- Billy thought it would be the very thing for him if hunting was stopped.
- With a somewhat light heart, he followed Cuddy through the back slums to
- the stables.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir Moses doesn’t sacrifice much to appearances, does he?” asked Cuddy,
- pointing to the wretched rough-cast peeling off the back walls of the
- house, which were greened with the drippings of the broken spouts.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied Billy, staring about, thinking how different things looked
- there to what they did at the Carstle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Desperately afraid of paint,” continued Cuddy, looking about. “Don’t
- think there has been a lick of paint laid upon any place since he got it.
- Always tell him he’s like a bad tenant at the end of a long lease,” which
- observation brought them to the first stable-door. “Who’s here?” cried
- Cuddy, kicking at the locked entrance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who’s there?” demanded a voice from within.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me! <i>Mr. Flintoff</i>’!” replied Cuddy, in a tone of authority; “<i>open
- the door</i>” added he, imperiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- The dirty-shirted helper had seen them coming; but the servants generally
- looking upon Cuddy as a spy, the man had locked the door upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beg pardon, sir,” now said the Catiff, pulling at his cowlick as he
- opened it; “beg pardon, sir, didn’t know it was you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn’t you,” replied Cuddy, adding, “you might have known by my knock,”
- saying which Cuddy stuck his cheesey hat down on his nose, and pocketing
- his hands, proceeded to scrutinise the stud.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s this ‘orse got a bandage on for?” asked he about one. “Why don’t
- ye let that ‘orse’s ‘ead down?” demanded he of another. “Strip
- this ’orse,” ordered he of a third. Then Cuddy stood criticising his
- points, his legs, his loins, his hocks, his head, his steep shoulder, as
- he called it, and then ordered the clothes to be put on again. So he went
- from stable to stable, just as he does at Tattersall’s on a Sunday, Cuddy
- being as true to the “corner” as the needle to the pole, though, like the
- children, he looks, but <i>never</i> touches, that is to say, “bids,” at
- least not for himself. Our Billy, soon tiring of this amusement—if,
- indeed, amusement it can be called—availed himself of the
- interregnum caused by the outside passage from one set of stables to
- another, to slip away to look after his own horse, of whose health he
- suddenly remembered Rougier had spoken disparagingly in the morning. After
- some little trouble he found the Juniper-smelling head groom, snoring
- asleep among a heap of horse-cloths before the fire in the saddle-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is said that a man who is never exactly sober is never quite drunk, and
- Jack Wetun was one of this order, he was always running to the
- “unsophisticated gin-bottle,” keeping up the steam of excitement, but
- seldom overtopping it, and could shake himself into apparent sobriety in
- an instant. Like most of Sir Moses’s people, he was one of the fallen
- angels of servitude, having lived in high places, from which his
- intemperate habits had ejected him; and he was now gradually descending to
- that last refuge of the destitute, the Ostlership of a farmer’s inn.
- Starting out of his nest at the rousing shake of the helper, who holloaed
- in his ear that “Mr. Pringle wanted to see his ‘orse,” Wetun stretched his
- brawny arms, and, rubbing his eyes, at length comprehended Billy, when he
- exclaimed with a start, “Oss, sir? Oh, by all means, sir;” and, bundling
- on his greasy-collared, iron-grey coat, he reeled and rolled out of the
- room, followed by our friend. “That (hiccup) oss of (hiccup) yours is
- (hiccup) amiss, I think (hiccup), sir,” said he, leading, or rather
- lurching the way. “A w-h-a-w-t?” drawled Billy, watching Weton’s tack and
- half-tack gait.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Amiss (hiccup)—unwell—don’t like his (hiccup) looks,” replied
- the groom, rolling past the stable-door where he was. “Oh, beg pardon,”
- exclaimed he, bumping against Billy on turning short back, as he suddenly
- recollected himself; “Beg pardon, he’s in here,” added he, fumbling at the
- door. It was locked. Then, oh dear, he hadn’t got the (hiccup) key, then
- (hiccup); yes, he had got the (hiccup) key, as he recollected he had his
- coat on, and dived into the pocket for it. Then he produced it; and, after
- making several unsuccessful pokes at the key-hole, at length accomplished
- an entry, and Billy again saw Napoleon the Great, now standing in the
- promised two-stalled stable along with Sir Moses’s gig mare.
- </p>
- <p>
- To a man with any knowledge of horses, Napoleon certainly did look very
- much amiss—more like a wooden horse at a harness-maker’s, than an
- animal meant to go,—stiff, with his fore-logs abroad, and an anxious
- care-worn countenance continually cast back at its bearing flanks.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph!” said Billy, looking him over, as he thought, very knowingly. “Not
- so much amiss, either, is he?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, sir, what you think,” replied Wetun, glad to find that Billy didn’t
- blame him for his bad night’s lodgings.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I dare say he’ll be all right in a day or two,” observed
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy, half inclined to recommend his having his feet put into warm water.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ope so,” replied Wetun, looking up the horse’s red nostrils, adding, “but
- he’s not (hiccup) now, somehow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Just then a long reverberating crack sounded through the courtyard,
- followed by the clattering of horses’ hoofs, and Wetun exclaiming, “<i>Here
- be Sir Moses!</i>” dropped the poor horse’s head, and hurried ont to meet his
- master, accompanied by Billy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Pringle!” exclaimed Sir Moses, gaily throwing his leg over his
- horse’s head as he alighted. “Ah, Pringle, my dear fellow, what, got you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, what sport?” demanded Cuddy Flintoff, rushing up with eager anxiety
- depicted on his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very good,” replied Sir Moses, stamping the mud off his boots, and then
- giving himself a general shake; “very good,” repeated he; “found at
- Lobjolt Corse—-ran up the banks and down the banks, and across to
- Beatie’s Bog, then over to Deep-well Rocks, and back again to the banks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Did you kill?</i>” demanded Cuddy, not wanting to hear any more about
- the banks—up the banks or down the banks either.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, no,” replied Sir Moses, moodily; “if that dom’d old Daddy Nevins
- hadn’t stuck his ugly old mug right in the way, we should have forced him
- over Willowsike Pastures, and doubled him up in no time, for we were close
- upon him; whereas the old infidel brought us to a check, aud we never
- could get upon terms with him again; but, come,” continued Sir Moses,
- wishing to cut short this part of the narrative, “let’s go into the house
- and get ourselves warmed, for the air’s cold, and I haven’t had a bite
- since breakfast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, come in!” cried Cuddy, leading the way; “come in, and get Mr. Pringle
- a drop of brandy, for he’s eat something that’s disagreed with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eat something that’s disagreed with him. Sorry to hear that; what could
- it be?—what could it be?” asked Sir Moses, as the party now groped
- their way along the back passages.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, I blame the partridge-pie,” replied Cuddy, demurely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not a bit of it!” rejoined Sir Moses—“not a bit of it! eat some
- myself—eat some myself—will finish it now—will finish it
- now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ve saved you that trouble,” replied Cuddy, “for we finished it
- ourselves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The deuce you did!” exclaimed Sir Moses, adding, “and were <i>you</i>
- sick?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Squeamish,” replied Cuddy—“Squeamish; not so bad as Mr. Pringle.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But bad enough to want some brandy, I suppose,” observed the Baronet, now
- entering the library.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite so,” said Cuddy—“quite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why didn’t you get some?—why didn’t you get some?” asked the
- Baronet, moving towards the bell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because Bankhead has none out,” replied Mr. Cuddy, before Sir Moses rang.
- </p>
- <p>
- “None out!” retorted Sir Moses—“none out!—what! have you
- finished that too!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Somebody has, it seems,” replied Cuddy, quite innocently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, I’ll tell you what you must do—I’ll tell you what you
- must do,” continued the Baronet, lighting a little red taper, and feeling
- in his pocket for the keys—“you must go into the cellar yourself and
- get some—go into the cellar yourself and get some;” so saying, Sir
- Moses handed Cuddy the candle and keys, saying, “shelf above the left hand
- bin behind the door,” adding, “you know it—you know it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Better bring two when I’m there, hadn’t I?” asked Cuddy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” said Sir Moses, dryly, “I s’pose there’ll be no great harm if you
- do;” and away Cuddy went.
- </p>
- <p>
- “D-e-e-a-vil of a fellow to drink—d-e-e-a-vil of a fellow to drink,”
- drawled Sir Moses, listening to his receding footsteps along the passage.
- He then directed his blarney to Billy. “Oh dear, he was sorry to hear he’d
- been ill; what could it be? Lost a nice gallop, too—dom’d if he
- hadn’t. Couldn’t be the pie! Wondered he wasn’t down in the morning.” Then
- Billy explained that his horse was ill, and that prevented him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Horse ill!” exclaimed Sir Moses, throwing out his hands, and raising his
- brows with astonishment—“horse ill! O dear, but that shouldn’t have
- stopped you, if I’d known—should have been most welcome to any of
- mine—dom’d if you shouldn’t! There’s Pegasus, or Atalanta, or
- Will-o’-the-Wisp, or any of them, fit to go. O dear, it was a sad mistake
- not sending word. Wonder what Wetun was about not to tell me—would
- row him for not doing so,” and as Sir Moses went on protesting and
- professing and proposing, Cuddy Flintoff’s footstep and “<i>for-rard on!
- for-rard on!</i>” were heard returning along the passage, and he presently
- entered with a bottle in each hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are a brace of beauties!” exclaimed he, placing them on the round
- table, with the dew of the cellar fresh on their sides—“there are a
- brace of blood-like beauties!” repeated he, eyeing their neat tapering
- necks, “the very race-horse of bottles—perfect pictures, I declare;
- so different to those great lumbering roundshouldered English things, that
- look like black beer or porter, or something of that sort.” Then Cuddy ran
- off for glasses and tumblers and water; and Sir Moses, having taken a
- thimble-full of brandy, retired to change his clothes, declaring he felt
- chilly; and Cuddy, reigning in his stead, made Billy two such uncommonly
- strong brews, that we are sorry to say he had to be put to bed shortly
- after.
- </p>
- <p>
- And when Mr. Bankhead heard that Cuddy Flintoff had been sent to the
- cellar instead of him, he declared it was the greatest insult that had
- ever been offered to a gentleman of his “order,” and vowed that he would
- turn his master off the first thing in the morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXIX.<br/>MR. PRINGLE SUDDENLY BECOMES A MEMBER OF THE H. H. H.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>EXT day being a
- “dies non” in the hunting way, Sir Moses Mainchance lay at earth to
- receive his steward, Mr. Mordecai Nathan, and hear what sport he had had
- as well in hunting up arrears of rent as in the management of the Pangburn
- Park estate generally. Very sorry the accounts were, many of the apparent
- dullard farmers being far more than a match for the sharp London Jew. Mr.
- Mordecai Nathan indeed, declared that it would require a detective
- policeman to watch each farm, so tricky and subtile were the occupants.
- And as Sir Moses listened to the sad recitals, how Henery Brown & Co.
- had been leading off their straw by night, and Mrs. Turnbull selling her
- hay by day, and Jacky Hindmarch sowing his fallows without ever taking out
- a single weed, he vowed that they were a set of the biggest rogues under
- the sun, and deserved to be hung all in a row,—dom’d if they didn’t!
- And he moved and seconded and carried a resolution in his own mind, that
- the man who meddled with land as a source of revenue was a very great
- goose. So, charging Mr. Mordecai Nathan to stick to them for the money,
- promising him one per cent. more (making him eleven) on what he recovered,
- he at length dissolved the meeting, most heartily wishing he had Pangburn
- Park in his pocket again. Meanwhile Messrs. Flintoff and Pringle had
- yawned away the morning in the usual dreamy loungy style of guests in
- country-houses, where the meals are the chief incidents of the day. Mr.
- Pringle not choosing to be tempted with any more “pie,” had slipped away
- to the stable as soon as Cuddy produced the dread cigar-case after
- breakfast, and there had a conference with Mr. Wetun, the stud-groom,
- about his horse Napoleon the Great. The drunkard half laughed when Billy
- asked “if he thought the horse would be fit to come out in the morning,
- observing that he thought it would be a good many mornins fust, adding
- that Mr. Fleams the farrier had bled him, but he didn’t seem any better,
- and that he was coming back at two o’clock, when p’raps Mr. Pringle had
- better see him himself.” Whereupon our friend Billy, recollecting Sir
- Moses’s earnest deprecation of his having stayed at home for want of a
- horse the day before, and the liberal way he had talked of Atalanta and
- Pegasus, and he didn’t know what else, now charged Mr. Wetun not to
- mention his being without a horse, lest Sir Moses might think it necessary
- to mount him; which promise being duly accorded, Billy, still shirking
- Cuddy, sought the retirement of his chamber, where he indited an epistle
- to his anxious Mamma, telling her all, how he had left Major Yammerton’s
- and the dangerous eyes, and had taken up his quarters with Sir Moses
- Mainchance, a great fox-hunting Hit-im and Hold-im shire Baronet at
- Pangburn Park, expecting she would be very much pleased and struck with
- the increased consequence. Instead of which, however, though Mrs. Pringle
- felt that he had perhaps hit upon the lesser evil, she wrote him a very
- loving letter by return of post, saying she was glad to hear he was
- enjoying himself, but cautioning him against “Moses Mainchance” (omitting
- the Sir), adding that every man’s character was ticketed in London, and
- the letters “D. D.” for “Dirty Dog” were appended to his. She also told
- him that uncle Jerry had been inquiring about him, and begging she would
- call upon him at an early day on matters of business, all of which will
- hereafter “more full and at large appear,” as the lawyers say; meanwhile,
- we must back the train of ideas a little to our hero. Just as he was
- affixing the great seal of state to the letter, Cuddy Flintoff’s “for-rard
- on! for-rard on!” was heard progressing along the passage, followed by a
- noisy knock, with an exclamation of “Pringle” at our friend’s door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come in!” cried he; and in obedience to the invitation, Flintoff stood in
- the doorway. “Don’t forget,” said he, “that we dine at Hinton to-day, and
- the Baronet’s ordered the trap at four,” adding, “I’m going to dress, and
- you’d better do the same.” So saying, Cuddy closed the door, and hunted
- himself along to his own room at the end of the passage—“<i>E’leu in
- there! E’leu in!</i>” oried he as he got to the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hinton, once the second town in Hit-im and Hold-im shire, stands at the
- confluence of the Long Brawlinerford and Riplinton brooks, whose united
- efforts here succeed in making a pretty respectable stream. It is an
- old-fashioned country place, whose component parts may be described as
- consisting of an extensive market-place, with a massive church of the
- florid Gothic, or gingerbread order of architecture at one end, a quaint
- stone-roofed, stone-pillared market cross at the other, the Fox and Hounds
- hotel and posting-house on the north side, with alternating shops and
- public houses on the south.
- </p>
- <p>
- Its population, according to a certain “sore subject” topographical
- dictionary, was 23,500, whilst its principal trade might have been
- described as “fleecing the foxhunters.” That was in its golden days, when
- Lord Martingal hunted the country, holding his court at the Fox and Hounds
- hotel, where gentlemen stayed with their studs for months and months
- together, instead of whisking about with their horses by steam. Then every
- stable in the town was occupied at very remunerative rents, and the
- inhabitants seemed to think they could never build enough.
- </p>
- <p>
- Like the natives of most isolated places, the Hintonites were very
- self-sufficient, firmly believing that there were no such conjurors as
- themselves; and, when the Grumpletin railway was projected, they resolved
- that it would ruin their town, and so they opposed it to a man, and
- succeeded in driving it several miles off, thus scattering their trade
- among other places along the line. Year by year the bonnet and mantle
- shops grew less gay, the ribbons less attractive, until shop after shop
- lapsed into a sort of store, hardware on one side, and millinery, perhaps,
- on the other. But the greatest fall of all was that of the Fox and Hounds
- hotel and posting-house. This spacious hostelry had apparently been built
- with a view of accommodating everybody; and, at the time of our story, it
- loomed in deserted grandeur in the great grass-grown market-place. In
- structure it was more like a continental inn than an English one;
- quadrangular, entered by a spacious archway, from whose lofty ceiling hung
- the crooks, from whence used to dangle the glorious legs and loins of
- four-year-old mutton, the home-fed hams, the geese, the ducks, the game,
- with not unfrequently a haunch or two of presentation venison. With the
- building, however, the similarity ended, the cobble-stoned courtyard
- displaying only a few water-casks and a basket-caged jay, in lieu of the
- statues, and vases, and fountains, and flower-stands that grace the
- flagged courts of the continent. But in former days it boasted that which
- in the eye of our innkeeper passes show, namely, a goodly line of
- two-horse carriages drawn across its ample width. In those days county
- families moved like county families, in great, caravan-like carriages,
- with plenty of servants, who, having drunk the “Park or Hall” allowance,
- uphold their characters and the honour of their houses, by topping up the
- measure of intemperance with their own money. Their masters and
- mistresses, too, considered the claims of the innkeepers, and ate and
- drank for the good of the house, instead of sneaking away to pastry-cooks
- for their lunches at a third of the price of the inn ones. Not that any
- landlord had ever made money at the Fox and Hounds hotel. Oh, no! it would
- never do to admit that. Indeed, Mr. Binny used to declare, if it wasn’t
- “the great regard he had for Lord Martingal and the gents of his hunt,
- he’d just as soon be without their custom;” just as all Binnys decry,
- whatever they have—military messes, hunt messes, bar messes, any
- sort of messes. They never make anything by them—not they.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, however, that the hunt was irrevocably gone, words were inadequate to
- convey old Peter the waiter’s lamentations at its loss. “Oh dear, sir!” he
- would say, as he showed a stranger the club-room, once the eighth wonder
- of the world, “Oh dear, sir! I never thought to see things come to this
- pass. This room, sir, used to be occupied night after night, and every
- Wednesday we had more company than it could possibly hold. Now we have
- nothing but a miserable three-and-sixpence a head once a month, with Sir
- Moses in the chair, and a shilling a bottle for corkage. Formerly we had
- six shillings a bottle for port and five for sherry, which, as our
- decanters didn’t hold three parts, was pretty good pay.” Then Peter would
- open the shutters and show the proportions of the room, with the
- unrivalled pictures on the walls: Lord Martingal on his horse, Lord
- Martingal off his horse; Mr. Customer on his horse, Mr. Customer off his
- horse, Mr. Customer getting drunk; Mr. Crasher on his horse, Mr. Crasher
- with a hound, &c., all in the old woodeny style that prevailed before
- the gallant Grant struck out a fresh light in his inimitable “Breakfast,”
- and “Meet of the Stag-hounds.” But the reader will perhaps accompany us to
- one of Sir Moses’s “Wednesday evenings;” for which purpose they will have
- the goodness to suppose the Baronet and Mr. Flintoff arrayed in the dress
- uniform of the hunt—viz., scarlet coats with yellow collars and
- facings, and Mr. Pringle attired in the height of the fashion, bundling
- into one of those extraordinary-shaped vehicles that modern times have
- introduced. “<i>Right!</i>” cries the footman from the steps of the door,
- as Bankhead and Monsieur mount the box of the carriage, and away the
- well-muffled party drive to the scene of action.
- </p>
- <p>
- The great drawback to the Hit-im and Hold-im shire hunt club-room at the
- Fox and Hounds hotel and posting-house at Hinton, undoubtedly was, that
- there was no ante or reception room. The guests on alighting from their
- vehicles, after ascending the broad straight flight of stairs, found
- themselves suddenly precipitated into the dazzling dining-room, with such
- dismantling accommodation only as a low screen before the door at the
- low-end of the room afforded. The effect therefore was much the or same as
- if an actor dressed for his part on the stage before the audience; a
- fox-hunter in his wraps, and a fox-hunter in his red, being very distinct
- and different beings. It was quite destructive of anything like imposing
- flourish or effect. Moreover the accumulation of steaming things on a wet
- night, which it generally was on a club dinner, added but little to the
- fragrance of the room. So much for generalities; we will now proceed to
- our particular dinner.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0044" id="linkimage-0044"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/301m.jpg" alt="301m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/301.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Sir Moses being the great gun of the evening, of course timed himself to
- arrive becomingly late—indeed the venerable post-boy who drove him,
- knew to a moment when to arrive; and as the party ascended the straight
- flight of stairs they met a general buzz of conversation coming down, high
- above which rose the discordant notes of the Laughing Hyæna. It was the
- first hunt-dinner of the season, and being the one at which Sir Moses
- generally broached his sporting requirements, parties thought it prudent
- to be present, as well as to hear the prospects of the season as to
- protect their own pockets. To this end some twenty or five-and-twenty
- variegated guests were assembled, the majority dressed in the red coat and
- yellow facings of the hunt, exhibiting every variety of cut, from the
- tight short-waisted swallow-tails of Mr. Crasher’s (the contemporary of
- George the Fourth) reign, down to the sack-like garment of the present
- day. Many of them looked as if, having got into their coats, they were
- never to get out of them again, but as pride feels no pain, if asked about
- them, they would have declared they were quite comfortable. The
- dark-coated gentry were principally farmers, and tradespeople, or the
- representatives of great men in the neighbourhood. Mr. Buckwheat, Mr.
- Doubledrill, Mr. James Corduroys, Mr. Stephen Broadfurrow; Mr. Pica, of
- the “Hit-im and Hold-im shire Herald;” Hicks, the Flying Hatter, and his
- shadow Tom Snowdon the draper or Damper, Manford the corn-merchant, Smith
- the saddler. Then there was Mr. Mossman, Lord Polkaton’s Scotch factor,
- Mr. Squeezeley, Sir Morgan Wildair’s agent, Mr. Lute, on behalf of Lord
- Harpsichord, Mr. Stiff representing Sir George Persiflage, &c., &c.
- These latter were watching the proceedings for their employers, Sir Moses
- having declared that Mr. Mossman, on a former occasion (see page 188,
- ante), had volunteered to subscribe fifty pounds to the hounds, on behalf
- of Lord Polkaton, and Sir Moses had made his lordship pay it too—“dom’d
- if he hadn’t.” With this sketch of the company, let us now proceed to the
- entry.
- </p>
- <p>
- Though the current of conversation had been anything but flattering to our
- master before his arrival, yet the reception they now gave him, as he
- emerged from behind the screen, might have made a less self-sufficient man
- than Sir Moses think he was extremely popular. Indeed, they rushed at him
- in a way that none but Briareus himself could have satisfied. They all
- wanted to hug him at once. Sir Moses having at length appeased their
- enthusiasm, and given his beak a good blow, proceeded to turn part of
- their politeness upon Billy, by introducing him to those around. Mr.
- Pringle, Mr. Jarperson—Mr. Pringle, Mr. Paul Straddler—Mr.
- Pringle, Mr. John Bullrush, and so on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile Cuddy Flintoff kept up a series of view halloas and hunting
- noises, as guest after guest claimed the loan of his hand for a shake. So
- they were all very hearty and joyful as members of a fox-hunting club
- ought to be.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0045" id="linkimage-0045"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/303m.jpg" alt="303m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/303.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- The rules of the Hit-im and Hold-im-shire hunt, like those of many other
- hunts and institutions, were sometimes very stringent, and sometimes very
- lax—very stringent when an objectionable candidate presented himself—very
- lax when a good one was to be obtained. On the present occasion Sir Moses
- Mainchance had little difficulty in persuading the meeting to suspend the
- salutary rule (No. 5) requiring each new candidate to be proposed and
- seconded at one meeting, and his name placed above the mantelpiece in the
- club-room, until he was ballotted for at another meeting, in favour of the
- nephew of his old friend and brother Baronet, Sir Jonathan Pringle; whom
- he described as a most promising young sportsman, and likely to make a
- most valuable addition to their hunt. And the members all seeing matters
- in that light, Cuddy Flintoff was despatched for the ballot-box, so that
- there might be no interruption to the advancement of dinner by summoning
- Peter. Meanwhile Sir Moses resumed the introductory process, Mr. Heslop
- Mr. Pringle, Mr. Pringle Mr. Smoothley, Mr. Drew Mr. Pringle, helping
- Billy to the names of such faces as he could not identity for want of
- their hunting caps. Cleverer fellows than Billy are puzzled to do that
- sometimes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Presently Mr. Flintoff returned with the rat-trap-like ballot-box under
- his arm, and a willow-pattern soup-plate with some beans in the bottom of
- it, in his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Make way!” cried he, “make way!” advancing up the room with all the
- dignity of a mace-bearer. “Where will you have it, Sir Moses?” asked he,
- “where will you have it, Sir Moses?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here!” replied the Baronet, seizing a card-table from below the portrait
- of Mr. Customer getting drunk, and setting it out a little on the left of
- the fire. The ballot-box was then duly deposited on the centre of the
- green baize with a composite candle on each side of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses, then thinking to make up in dignity what he had sacrificed to
- expediency, now called upon the meeting to appoint a Scrutineer on behalf
- of the club, and parties caring little who they named so long as they were
- not kept waiting for dinner, holloaed out “Mr. Flintoff!” whereupon Sir
- Moses put it to them if they were all content to have Mr. Flintoff
- appointed to the important and responsible office of Scrutineer, and
- receiving a shower of “yes-es!” in reply, he declared Mr. Flintoff was
- duly elected, and requested him to enter upon the duties of his office.
- </p>
- <p>
- Cuddy, then turning up his red coat wrists, so that there might be no
- suspicion of concealed beans, proceeded to open and turn the drawers of
- the ballot-box upside down, in order to show that they were equally clear,
- and then restoring them below their “Yes” and “No” holes, he took his
- station behind the table with the soup-plate in his hand ready to drop a
- bean into each member’s hand, as he advanced to receive it. Mr. Heslop
- presently led the way at a dead-march-in-Saul sort of pace, and other
- members falling in behind like railway passengers at a pay place, there
- was a continuous dropping of beans for some minutes, a solemn silence
- being preserved as if the parties expected to hear on which side they
- fell.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length the constituency was exhausted, and Mr. Flintoff having assumed
- the sand-glass, and duly proclaimed that he should close the ballot, if no
- member appeared before the first glass was out, speedily declared it was
- run, when, laying it aside, he emptied the soup-plate of the remaining
- beans, and after turning it upside down to show the perfect fairness of
- the transaction, handed it to Sir Moses to hold for the result. Drawing
- out the “Yes” drawer first, he proceeded with great gravity to count the
- beans out into the soup-plate—one, two, three, four, five, six,
- seven, and so on, up to eighteen, when the inverted drawer proclaimed they
- were done.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eighteen Ayes,” announced Sir Moses to the meeting, amid a murmur of
- applause.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Flintoff then produced the dread “No,” or black-ball drawer, whereof
- one to ten white excluded, and turning it upside down, announced, in a
- tone of triumph, “<i>none!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hooray!” cried Sir Moses, seizing our hero by both hands, and hugging him
- heartily—“Hooray! give you joy, my boy! you’re a member of the first
- club in the world! The Caledonian’s nothing to it;—dom’d if it is.”
- So saying, he again swung him severely by the arms, and then handed him
- over to the meeting.
- </p>
- <p>
- And thus Mr. Pringle was elected a member of the Hit-im and Hold-im shire
- hunt, without an opportunity of asking his Mamma, for the best of all
- reasons, that Sir Moses had not even asked him himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XL.<br/>THE HUNT DINNER,
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0046" id="linkimage-0046"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:35%;">
- <img src="images/307.jpg" alt="307m " width="100%" /><br /> <a
- href="images/307.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </div>
- <p>
- CARCELY were the congratulations of the company to our hero, on his
- becoming a member of the renowned Hit-im and Hold-im shire hunt, over, ere
- a great rush of dinner poured into the room, borne by Peter and the usual
- miscellaneous attendants at an inn banquet; servants in livery, servants
- out of livery, servants in a sort of half-livery, servants in place,
- servants out of place, post-boys converted into footmen, “boots” put into
- shoes. Then the carrot and turnip garnished roasts and boils, and stews
- were crowded down the table, in a profusion that would astonish any one
- who thinks it impossible to dine under a guinea a head. Rounds, sirloins
- middles, sucking-pigs, poultry, &c. (for they dispensed with the
- formalities of soup and fish ), being duly distributed. Peter announced
- the fact deferentially to Sir Moses, as he stood monopolizing the best
- place before the fire, whereupon the Baronet, drawing his hands out of his
- trowser’s pockets, let fall his yellow lined gloves and clapping his
- hands, exclaimed. “DINNER GENTLEMAN!” in a stentorian voice, adding,
- “PRINGLE you sit on my right! and CUDDY!” appealing to our friend
- Flintoff’. “will you take the vice-chair?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With all my heart!” replied Cuddy, whereupon making an imaginary
- hunting-horn of his hand, he put it to his mouth, and went blowing and
- hooping down the room, to entice a certain portion of the guests after
- him. All parties being at length suited with seats, grace was said, and
- the assault commenced with the vigorous determination of over-due
- appetites.
- </p>
- <p>
- If a hand-in-the-pocket-hunt-dinner possesses few attractions in the way
- of fare, it is nevertheless free from the restraints and anxieties that
- pervade private entertainments, where the host cranes at the facetious as
- he scowls at his butler, or madame mingles her pleasantries with prayers
- for the safe arrival of the creams, and those extremely capricious
- sensitive jellies. People eat as if they had come to dine and not to talk,
- some, on this occasion, eating with their knives, some with their forks,
- some with both occasionally. And so, what with one aid and another, they
- made a very great clatter.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first qualms of hunger being at length appeased, Sir Moses proceeded
- to select subjects for politeness in the wine-taking way—men whom he
- could not exactly have at his own house, but who might be prevented from
- asking for cover-rent, or damages, by a little judicious flattery, or
- again, men who were only supposed to be lukewarmly disposed towards the
- great Hit-im and Hold-im shire hunt.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses would rather put his hand into a chimney-sweep’s pocket than
- into his own, but so long as anything could be got by the tongue he never
- begrudged it. So he “sherried” with Mossman and the army of observation
- generally, also with Pica, who always puffed his hunt, cutting at D’Orsay
- Davis’s efforts on behalf of the Earl, and with Buckwheat (whose son he
- had recently dom’d à la Rowley Abingdon), and with Corduroys, and
- Straddler, and Hicks, and Doubledrill—with nearly all the dark
- coats, in short—Cuddy Flintoff, too, kept the game a-going at his
- end of the table, as well to promote conviviality as to get as much wine
- as he could; so altogether there was a pretty brisk consumption, and some
- of the tight-clad gentlemen began to look rather apoplectic.
- Cannon-ball-like plum-puddings, hip-bath-like apple-pies, and foaming
- creams, completed the measure of their uneasiness, and left little room
- for any cheese. Nature being at length most abundantly satisfied
- throughout the assembly, grace was again said, and the cloth cleared for
- action. The regulation port and sherry, with light—very light—Bordeaux,
- being duly placed upon the table, with piles of biscuits at intervals,
- down the centre, Sir Moses tapped the well-indented mahogany with his
- presidential hammer, and proceeded to prepare the guests for the great
- toast of the evening, by calling upon them to fill bumpers to the usual
- loyal and patriotic ones. These being duly disposed of, he at length rose
- for the all-important let off, amid the nudges and “now then’s,” of such
- of the party as feared a fresh attempt on their pockets—Mossman and
- Co., in particular, were all eyes, ears, and fears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gentlemen!” cries Sir Moses, rising and diving his hands into his
- trouser’s pockets—“Gentlemen!” repeated he, with an ominous cough,
- that sounded very like cash.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Hark to the Bar owl!—hark</i>” cheered Cuddy Flintoff from the
- other end of the room, thus cutting short a discussion about wool, a
- bargain for beans, and an inquiry for snuff in his own immediate
- neighbourhood, and causing a tapping of the table further up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gentlemen!” repeated Sir Moses, for the third time, amid cries of “hear,
- hear,” and “order, order,”—“I now have the pleasure of introducing
- to your notice the toast of the evening—a toast endeared by a
- thousand associations, and rendered classical by the recollection of the
- great and good men who have given it in times gone by from this very chair—(applause).
- I need hardly say, gentlemen, that that toast is the renowned Hit-im and
- Hold-im shire hunt—(renewed applause)—a hunt second to none in
- the kingdom; a hunt whose name is famous throughout the land, and whose
- members are the very flower and élite of society—(renewed applause).
- Never, he was happy to say, since it was established, were its prospects
- so bright and cheering as they were at the present time—(great
- applause, the announcement being considered indicative of a healthy
- exchequer)—its country was great, its covers perfect, and thanks to
- their truly invaluable allies—the farmers—their foxes most
- abundant—(renewed applause). Of those excellent men it was
- impossible to speak in terms of too great admiration and respect—(applause)—whether
- he looked at those he was blessed with upon his own estate—(laughter)—or
- at the great body generally, he was lost for words to express his opinion
- of their patriotism, and the obligations he felt under to them. So far
- from ever hinting at such a thing as damage, he really believed a farmer
- would be hooted from the market-table who broached such a subject—(applause,
- with murmurs of dissent)—or who even admitted it was possible that
- any could be done—(laughter and applause). As for a few cocks and
- hens, he was sure they felt a pleasure in presenting them to the foxes. At
- all events, he could safely say he had never paid for any—(renewed
- laughter). Looking, therefore, at the hunt in all its aspects—its
- sport past, present, and to come—he felt that he never addressed
- them under circumstances of greater promise, or with feelings of livelier
- satisfaction. It only remained for them to keep matters up to the present
- mark, to insure great and permanent prosperity. He begged, therefore, to
- propose, with all the honours, Success to the Hit-im and Hold-im shire
- hunt!”—(drunk with three times three and one cheer more). Sir Moses
- and Cuddy Flintoff mounting their chairs to mark time. Flintoff finishing
- off with a round of view halloas and other hunting noises.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the applause and Sir Moses had both subsided, parties who had felt
- uneasy about their pockets, began to breathe more freely, and as the
- bottles again circulated, Mr. Mossman and others, for whom wine was too
- cold, slipped out to get their pipes, and something warm in the bar;
- Mossman calling for whiskey, Buckwheat for brandy, Broadfurrow for gin,
- and so on. Then as they sugared and flavoured their tumblers, they chewed
- the cud of Sir Moses’s eloquence, and at length commenced discussing it,
- as each man got seated with his pipe in his mouth and his glass on his
- knee, in a little glass-fronted bar.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a man he is to talk, that Sir Moses,” observed Buckwheat after a
- long respiration.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s a greet economist of the truth, I reckon,” replied Mr. Mossman,
- withdrawing his pipe from his mouth, “for I’ve written to him till I’m
- tired, about last year’s damage to Mrs. Anthill’s sown grass.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s right, though, in saying he never paid for poultry,” observed Mr.
- Broadfurrow, with a humorous shake of his big head, “but, my word, his
- hook-nosed agent has as many letters as would paper a room;” and so they
- sipped, and smoked, and talked the Baronet over, each man feeling
- considerably relieved at there being no fresh attempt on the pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile Sir Moses, with the aid of Cuddy Flintoff, trimmed the table,
- and kept the bottles circulating briskly, presently calling on Mr. Paul
- Straddler for a song, who gave them the old heroic one, descriptive of a
- gallant run with the Hit-im and Hold-im shire hounds, in the days of Mr.
- Customer, at which they all laughed and applauded as heartily as if they
- had never heard it before. They then drank Mr. Straddler’s health, and
- thanks to him for his excellent song.
- </p>
- <p>
- As it proceeded, Sir Moses intimated quietly to our friend Billy Pringle
- that he should propose his health next, which would enable Mr. Pringle to
- return the compliment by proposing Sir Moses, an announcement that threw
- our hero into a very considerable state of trepidation, but from which he
- saw no mode of escape. Sir Moses then having allowed a due time to elapse
- after the applause that followed the drinking of Mr. Straddler’s health,
- again arose, and tapping the table with his hammer, called upon them to
- fill bumpers to the health of his young friend on his right (applause).
- “He could not express the pleasure it afforded him,” he said, “to see a
- nephew of his old friend and brother Baronet, Sir Jonathan Pringle, become
- a member of their excellent hunt, and he hoped Billy would long live to
- enjoy the glorious diversion of fox-hunting,” which Sir Moses said it was
- the bounden duty of every true-born Briton to support to the utmost of his
- ability, for that it was peculiarly the sport of gentlemen, and about the
- only one that defied the insidious arts of the blackleg, adding that Lord
- Derby was quite right in saying that racing had got into the hands of
- parties who kept horses not for sport, but as mere instruments of
- gambling, and if his (Sir Moses’s) young friend, Mr. Pringle, would allow
- him to counsel him, he would say, Never have anything to do with the turf
- (applause). Stick to hunting, and if it didn’t bring him in money, it
- would bring him in health, which was better than money, with which
- declaration Sir Moses most cordially proposed Mr. Pringle’s health (drunk
- with three times three and one cheer more).
- </p>
- <p>
- Now our friend had never made a speech in his life, but being, as we said
- at the outset, blessed with a great determination of words to the mouth,
- he rose at a hint from Sir Moses, and assured the company “how grateful he
- was for the honour they had done him as well in electing him a member of
- their delightful sociable hunt, as in responding to the toast of his
- health in the flattering manner they had, and he could assure them that
- nothing should be wanting on his part to promote the interests of the
- establishment, and to prove himself worthy of their continued good
- opinion,” at which intimation Sir Moses winked knowingly at Mr. Smoothley,
- who hemmed a recognition of his meaning.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile Mr. Pringle stood twirling his trifling moustache, wishing to
- sit down, but feeling there was something to keep him up: still he
- couldn’t hit it off. Even a friendly round of applause failed to help him
- out; at length, Sir Moses, fearing he might stop altogether, whispered the
- words “<i>My health</i>,” just under his nose; at which Billy perking up,
- exclaimed, “Oh, aye, to be sure!” and seizing a decanter under him, he
- filled himself a bumper of port, calling upon the company to follow his
- example. This favour being duly accorded, our friend then proceeded, in a
- very limping, halting sort of way, to eulogise a man with whom he was very
- little acquainted amid the friendly word-supplying cheers and plaudits of
- the party. At length he stopped again, still feeling that he was not due
- on his seat, but quite unable to say why he should not resume it. The
- company thinking he might have something to say to the purpose, how he
- meant to hunt with them, or something of that sort, again supplied the
- cheers of encouragement. It was of no use, however, he couldn’t hit it
- off.
- </p>
- <h3>
- ****
- </h3>
- <p>
- “<i>All the honors!</i>” at length whispered Sir Moses as before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, ah, to be sure! <i>all the honors!</i>” replied Billy aloud, amidst
- the mirth of the neighbours. “Gentlemen!” continued he, elevating his
- voice to its former pitch, “This toast I feel assured—that is to
- say, I feel quite certain. I mean,” stammered he, stamping with his foot,
- “I, I, I.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Aye, two thou’s i’ Watlington goods!</i>” exclaimed the half-drunken
- Mr. Corduroys, an announcement that drew forth such a roar of laughter as
- enabled Billy to tack the words, “all the honors,” to the end, and so with
- elevated glass to continue the noise with cheers. He then sate down
- perfectly satisfied with this his first performance, feeling that he had
- the germs of oratory within him.
- </p>
- <p>
- A suitable time having elapsed, Sir Moses rose and returned thanks with
- great vigour, declaring that beyond all comparison that was the proudest
- moment of his life, and that he wouldn’t exchange the mastership of the
- Hit-im and Hold-im shire hounds for the highest, the noblest office in the
- world—Dom’d if he would! with which asseveration he drank all their
- very good healths, and resumed his seat amidst loud and long continued
- applause, the timidest then feeling safe against further demands on their
- purses. Another song quickly followed, and then according to the usual
- custom of society, that the more you abuse a man in private the more you
- praise him in public, Sir Moses next proposed the health of that excellent
- and popular nobleman the Earl of Ladythorne, whose splendid pack showed
- such unrivalled sport in the adjoining county of Featherbedford; Sir
- Moses, after a great deal of flattery, concluding by declaring that he
- would “go to the world’s end to serve Lord Ladythorne—Dom’d if he
- wouldn’t,” a sort of compliment that the noble Earl never reciprocated; on
- the contrary, indeed, when he condescended to admit the existence of such
- a man as Sir Moses, it was generally in that well-known disparaging
- enquiry, “Who <i>is</i> that Sir Aaron Mainchance? or who is that Sir
- Somebody Mainchance, who hunts Hit-im and Hold-im shire?” He never could
- hit off the Baronet’s Christian or rather Jewish name. Now, however, it
- was all the noble Earl, “my noble friend and brother master,” the “noble
- and gallant sportsman,” and so on. Sir Moses thus partly revenging himself
- on his lordship with the freedom.
- </p>
- <p>
- When a master of hounds has to borrow a “draw” from an adjoining country,
- it is generally a pretty significant hint that his own is exhausted, and
- when the chairman of a hunt dinner begins toasting his natural enemy the
- adjoining master, it is pretty evident that the interest of the evening is
- over. So it was on the present occasion. Broad backs kept bending away at
- intervals, thinking nobody saw them, leaving large gaps unclosed up, while
- the guests that remained merely put a few drops in the bottoms of their
- glasses or passed the bottles altogether.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Aaron, we beg his pardon—Sir Moses, perceiving this, and knowing
- the value of a good report, called on those who were left to “fill a
- bumper to the health of their excellent and truly invaluable friend Mr.
- Pica, contrasting his quiet habits with the swaggering bluster of a
- certain Brummagem Featherbedfordshire D’Orsay.” (Drunk with great
- applause, D’Orsay Davis having more than once sneered at the equestrian
- prowess of the Hit-im aud Hold-im shire-ites.)
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Pica, who was a fisherman and a very bad one to boot, then arose and
- began dribbling out the old stereotyped formula about air we breathe, have
- it not we die, &c., which was a signal for a general rise; not all Sir
- Moses and Cuddy Flintoff’s united efforts being able to restrain the
- balance of guests from breaking away, and a squabble occurring behind the
- screen about a hat, the chance was soon irrevocably gone. Mr. Pica was,
- therefore, left alone in his glory. If any one, however, can afford to be
- indifferent about being heard, it is surely an editor who can report
- himself in his paper, and poor Pica did himself ample justice in the
- “Hit-im and Hold-im shire Herald” on the Saturday following.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XLI.<br/>THE HUNT TEA.—BUSHEY HEATH AND BARE ACRES.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0047" id="linkimage-0047"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/313m.jpg" alt="313m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/313.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE 15th rule of
- the Hit-im and Hold-im shire hunt, provides that all members who dine at
- the club, may have tea and muffins ad libitum for 6 d. a head afterwards,
- and certainly nothing can be more refreshing after a brawling riotous
- dinner than a little quiet comfortable Bohea. Sir Moses always had his
- six-penn’orth, as had a good many of his friends and followers. Indeed the
- rule was a proposition of the Baronet’s, such a thing as tea being unheard
- of in the reign of Mr. Customer, or any of Sir Moses’s great predecessors.
- Those were the days of “lift him up and carry him to bed.” Thank goodness
- they are gone! Men can hunt without thinking it necessary to go out with a
- headache. Beating a jug in point of capacity is no longer considered the
- accomplishment of a gentleman.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Pica’s eloquence having rather prematurely dissolved the meeting, Sir
- Moses and his friends now congregated round the fire all very cheery and
- well pleased with themselves—each flattering the other in hopes of
- getting a compliment in return. “Gone off amazingly well!” exclaimed one,
- rubbing his hands in delight at its being over. “Capital party,” observed
- another. “Excellent speech yours, Sir Moses,” interposed a third. “Never
- heard a better,” asserted a fourth. “Ought to ask to have it printed,”
- observed a fifth. “O, never fear! Pica’ll do that,” rejoined a sixth, and
- so they went on warding off the awkward thought, so apt to arise of “what
- a bore these sort of parties are. Wonder if they do any good?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The good they do was presently shown on this occasion by Mr. Smoothley,
- the Jackall of the hunt, whose pecuniary obligations to Sir Moses we have
- already hinted at, coming bowing and fawning obsequiously up to our Billy,
- revolving his hands as though he were washing them, and congratulating him
- upon becoming one of them. Mr. Smoothley was what might be called the head
- pacificator of the hunt, the gentleman who coaxed subscriptions,
- deprecated damage, and tried to make young gentlemen believe they had had
- very good runs, when in fact they had only had very middling ones.
- </p>
- <p>
- The significant interchange of glances between Sir Moses and him during
- Billy’s speech related to a certain cover called Waverley gorse, which the
- young Woolpack, Mr. Treadcroft, who had ascertained his inability to ride,
- had announced his intention of resigning. The custom of the hunt was,
- first to get as many covers as they could for nothing; secondly to quarter
- as few on the club funds as possible; and thirdly to get young gentlemen
- to stand godfathers to covers, in other words to get them to pay the rent
- in return for the compliment of the cover passing by their names, as
- Heslop’s spiny, Linch’s gorse, Benson’s banks, and so on.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was generally an after-dinner performance, and required a skilful
- practitioner to accomplish, more particularly as the trick was rather
- notorious. Mr. Smoothley was now about to try his hand on Mr. Pringle. The
- bowing and congratulations over, and the flexible back straightened, he
- commenced by observing that, he supposed a copy of the rules of the hunt
- addressed to Pangburn Park, would find our friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” drawled Billy, wondering if there would be anything to pay. “Dash
- it, he wished there mightn’t? Shouldn’t be surprised if there was?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0048" id="linkimage-0048"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/315m.jpg" alt="315m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/315.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Mr. Smoothley, however, gave him little time for reflection, for taking
- hold of one of his own red-coat buttons, he observed, “that as he supposed
- Mr. Pringle would be sporting the hunt uniform, he might take the liberty
- of mentioning that Garnett the silversmith in the market-place had by far
- the neatest and best pattern’d buttons.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Garnett, oh, yarse,” replied Billy, thinking he would get a set for
- his pink, instead of the plain ones he was wearing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “His shop is next the Lion and the Lamb public house,” continued Mr.
- Smoothley, “between it and Mrs. Russelton the milliner’s, and by the way
- that reminds me,” continued he, though we don’t exactly see how it could,
- “and by the way that reminds me that there is an excellent opportunity for
- distinguishing yourself by adopting the cover young Mr. Treadcroft has
- just abandoned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The w-h-a-at?” drawled Billy, dreading a “do;” his mother having
- cautioned him always to be mindful after dinner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, merely the gorse,” continued Mr. Smoothley, in the most affable
- matter-of-course way imaginable, “merely the gorse—if you’ll step
- this way, I’ll show you,” continued he, leading the way to where a large
- dirty board was suspended against the wall below the portrait of Lord
- Martingal on his horse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Now he’s running into him!</i>” muttered Sir Moses to himself, his
- keen eye supplying the words to the action.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This, you see,” explained Mr. Smoothley, hitching the board off its
- brass-headed nail, and holding it to the light—“this, you see, is a
- list of all the covers in the country—Screechley, Summer-field,
- Reddingfield, Bewley, Lanton Hill, Baxterley, and so forth. Then you see
- here,” continned he, pointing to a ruled column opposite, “are the names
- of the owners or patrons—yes” (reading), “owners or patrons—Lord
- Oilcake, Lord Polkaton, Sir Harry Fuzball, Mr. Heslop, Lord Harpsichord,
- Mr. Drew, Mr. Smith. Now young Mr. Treadcroft, who has had as many falls
- as he likes, and perhaps more, has just announced his intention of
- retiring and giving up this cover,” pointing to Waverley, with Mr.
- Treadcroft, Jun.‘s name opposite to it, “and it struck me that it would be
- a capital opportunity for you who have just joined us, to take it before
- anybody knows, and then it will go by the name of Pringle’s gorse, and
- you’ll get the credit of all the fine runs that take place from it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Y-a-r-s-e,” drawled Billy, thinking that that would be a sharp thing to
- do, and that it would be fine to rank with the lords.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” continued Mr. Smoothley, taking the answer for an assent, “I’ll
- just strike Treadey’s name ont, and put yours in;” so saying, he darted at
- the sideboard, and seizing an old ink-clotted stump of a pen, with just
- enough go in it to make the required alteration, and substituted Mr.
- Pringle’s name for that of Mr. Treadcroft. And so, what with his cover,
- his dinner, and his button, poor Billy was eased of above twenty pounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just as Sir Moses was blowing his beak, stirring the fire, and chuckling
- at the success of the venture, a gingling of cups and tinkling of spoons
- was heard in the distance, and presently a great flight of tea-trays
- emerged from either side of the screen, conspicuous among the bearers of
- which were the tall ticket-of-leave butler and the hirsute Monsieur Jean
- Rougier. These worthies, with a few other “gentlemen’s gentlemen,” had
- been regaled to a supper in the “Blenheim,” to which Peter had contributed
- a liberal allowance of hunt wine, the consumption of which was checked by
- the corks, one set, it was said, serving Peter the season. That that which
- is everybody’s business is nobody’s, is well exemplified in these sort of
- transactions, for though a member of the hunt went through the form of
- counting the cork-tops every evening, and seeing that they corresponded
- with the number set down in Peter’s book, nobody ever compared the book
- with the cellar, so that in fact Peter was both check-keeper and auditor.
- Public bodies, however, are all considered fair game, and the Hit-im and
- Hold-im shire hunt was no exception to the rule. In addition to the wine,
- there had been a sufficient allowance of spirits in the “Blenheim” to set
- the drunkards to work on their own account, and Jack Rogers, who was quite
- the life of the party, was very forward in condition when the tea-summons
- was heard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hush!” cried Peter, holding up his hand, and listening to an ominous
- bell-peal, “I do believe that’s for tea! So it is,” sighed he, as a second
- summons broke upon the ear. “Tea at this hour!” ejaculated he, “who’d ha’
- thought it twenty years ago! Why, this is just the time they’d ha’ been
- calling for Magnums, and beginnin’ the evening—<i>Tea!</i> They’d as
- soon ha’ thought of callin’ for winegar!” added he, with a bitter sneer.
- So saying, Peter dashed a tear from his aged eye, and rising from his
- chair, craved the assistance of his guests to carry the degrading beverage
- up-stairs, to our degenerate party. “A set of weshenvomen!” muttered he,
- as the great slop-basin-like-cups stood ranged on trays along the
- kitchen-table ready for conveyance. “Sarves us right for allowing such a
- chap to take our country,” added he, adopting his load, and leading the
- tea-van.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the soothing, smoking beverage entered, our friend, Cuddy Flintoff,
- was “yoicking” himself about the club-room, stopping now at this picture,
- now that, holloaing at one, view-holloaing at another, thus airing his
- hunting noises generally, as each successive subject recalled some lively
- association in his too sensitive hunting imagination. Passing from the
- contemplation of that great work of art, Mr. Customer getting drunk, he
- suddenly confronted the tea-brigade entering, led by Peter, Monsieur, and
- the ticket-of-leave butler.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holloa! old Bushey Heath!” exclaimed Cuddy, dapping his hands, as
- Mousieur’s frizzed face loomed congruously behind a muffin-towering
- tea-tray. “Holloa! old Bushey Heath!” repeated he, louder than before, “<i>What
- cheer there?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vot cheer there, Brother Bareacres?” replied Jack in the same familiar
- tone, to the great consternation of Cuddy, and the amusement of the party.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dash the fellow! but he’s getting bumptious,” muttered Cuddy, who had no
- notion of being taken up that way by a servant. “Dash the fellow! but he’s
- getting bumptious,” repeated he, adding aloud to Jack, “That’s not the way
- you talked when you tumbled off your horse the other day!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tombled off my ‘oss, sare!” replied Jack, indignantly—“tombled off
- my ‘oss, sare—nevare, sare!—nevare!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What!” retorted Cuddy, “do you mean to say you didn’t tumble off your
- horse on the Crooked Billet day?” for Cuddy had heard of that exploit, but
- not of Jack’s subsequent performance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, sare, I jomp off,” replied Jack, thinking Cuddy alluded to his change
- of horses with the Woolpack.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Jo-o-m-p</i> off! j-o-omp off!” reiterated Cuddy, “we all jomp off,
- when we can’t keep on. Why didn’t old Imperial John take you into the
- Crooked Billet, and scrape you, and cherish you, and comfort you, and
- treat you as he would his own son?” demanded Cuddy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Imperial John, sare, nevare did nothin’ of the sort,” replied Jack,
- confidently. “Imperial John and I retired to ‘ave leetle drop drink
- together to our better ‘quaintance. I met John there, <i>n’est-ce pas?</i>
- Monsieur Sare Moses, Baronet! Vasn’t it as I say?” asked Jack, jingling
- his tea-tray before the Baronet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh yes,” replied Sir Moses,—“Oh yes, undoubtedly; I introduced you
- there; but here! let me have some tea,” continued he, taking a cup,
- wishing to stop the conversation, lest Lord Ladythorne might hear he had
- introduced his right-hand man, Imperial John, to a servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- Cuddy, however, wasn’t to be stopped. He was sure Jack had tumbled off,
- and was bent upon working him in return for his Bareacres compliment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but tell us,” said he, addressing Jack again, “did you come over
- his head or his tail, when you jomp off?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t, Cuddy! don’t!” now muttered Sir Moses, taking the entire top tier
- off a pile of muffins, and filling his mouth as full as it would hold;
- “don’t,” repeated he, adding, “it’s no use (munch) bullying a poor
- (crunch) beggar because he’s a (munch) Frenchman” (crunch). Sir Moses then
- took a great draught of tea.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur’s monkey, however, was now up, and he felt inclined to tackle
- with Flintoff. “I tell you vot, sare Cuddy,” said he, looking him full in
- the face, “you think yourself vare great man, vare great ossmaan, vare
- great foxer, and so on, bot I vill ride you a match for vot monies you
- please.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hoo-ray! well done you! go it, Monsieur! Who’d ha’ thought it! Now for
- some fun!” resounded through the room, bringing all parties in closer
- proximity.
- </p>
- <p>
- Flintoff was rather taken aback. He didn’t expect anything of that sort,
- and though he fully believed Jack to be a tailor, he didn’t want to test
- the fact himself; indeed he felt safer on foot than on horseback, being
- fonder of the theory than of the reality of hunting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hut you and your matches,” sneered he, thrusting his hands deep in his
- trousers’ pockets, inclining to sheer of, adding, “go and get his Imperial
- Highness to ride you one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His Imperial Highness, sare, don’t deal in oss matches. He is not a
- jockey, he is a gentlemans—great friend of de great lords vot rules
- de oder noisy dogs,” replied Jack.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Humph</i>, grunted Sir Moses, not liking the language.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In-deed!” exclaimed Cuddy with a frown, “In-deed! Hark to Monsieur!
- Hark!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, make him a match, Cuddy! make him a match!” now interposed Paul
- Straddler, closing up to prevent Cuddy’s retreat. Paul, as we said before,
- was a disengaged gentleman who kept a house of call for Bores at Hinton,—a
- man who was always ready to deal, or do anything, or go any where at any
- body else’s expense. A great judge of a horse, a great judge of a groom, a
- great judge of a gig, a gentleman a good deal in Cuddy Flintoff’s own line
- in short, and of course not a great admirer of his. He now thought he saw
- his way to a catch, for the Woolpack had told him how shamefully Jack had
- bucketed his horse, and altogether he thought Monsieur might be as good a
- man across country as Mr. Flintoff. At all events he would like to see.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, make him a match, Cuddy! make him a match!” now exclaimed he, adding
- in Flintoff’s ear, “never let it be said you were afraid of a Frenchman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Afraid!” sneered Cuddy, “nobody who knows me will think that, I guess.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, <i>make</i> him a match!” urged Tommy Heslop, who was no great
- admirer of Cuddy’s either; “<i>make</i> him a match, and I’ll go your
- halves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I’ll go Monsieur’s,” said Mr. Straddler, still backing the thing up.
- Thus appealed to, poor Cuddv was obliged to submit, and before he knew
- where he was, the dread pen, ink and paper were produced, and things began
- to assume a tangible form. Mr. Paul Straddler, having seated himself on a
- chair at the opportune card-table, began sinking his pen and smoothing out
- his paper, trying to coax his ideas into order.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, let us see,” said he, “now let us see. Monsieur, what’s his name—old
- Bushey-heath as you call him, agrees to ride Mr. Flintoff a match across
- country—now for distance, time, and stake! now for distance, time,
- and stake!” added he, hitting off the scent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but how can you make a match without any horses? how can you make a
- match without any horses?” asked Sir Moses, interposing his beak, adding
- “I’ll not lend any—dom’d if I will.” That being the first time Sir
- Moses was ever known not to volunteer one.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, we’ll find horses,” replied Tommy Heslop, “we’ll find horses!”
- thinking Sir Moses’s refusal was all in favor of the match. “Catch
- weights, catch horses, catch every thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now for distance, time, and stake,” reiterated Mr. Straddler. “Now for
- distance, time, and stake, Monsieur!” continued he, appealing to Jack.
- “What distance would you like to have it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vot you please, sare,” replied Monsieur, now depositing his tray on the
- sideboard; “vot you please, sare, much or little; ten miles, twenty miles,
- any miles he likes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, the fellow’s mad,” muttered Cuddy, with a jerk of his head, making a
- last effort to be off.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t be in a hurry, Cuddy, don’t be in a hurry,” interposed Heslop,
- adding, “he doesn’t understand it—he doesn’t understand it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I understands it, nicely, vell enough,” replied Jack, with a shrug of
- his shoulders; “put us on to two orses, and see vich gets first to de
- money post.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aye, yes, exactly, to be sure, that’s all right,” asserted Paul
- Straddler, looking up approvingly at Jack, “and you say you’ll beat Mr.
- Flintoff?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say I beat Mr. Flintoff,” rejoined Jack—“beat im dem vell too—beat
- his ead off—beat him <i>stupendous!</i>” added he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, dash it all, we can’t stand that, Caddy!” exclaimed Mr. Heslop,
- nudging Mr. Flintoff; “honor of the country, honor of the hunt, honor of
- England, honor of every thing’s involved.” Cuddy’s bristles were now up
- too, and shaking his head and thrusting his hands deep into his trousers
- pockets, “he declared he couldn’t stand that sort of language,—shot
- if he could.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; nor nobody else,” continued Mr. Heslop, keeping him up to the
- indignity mark; “must be taught better manners,” added he with a pout of
- the lip, as though fully espousing Caddy’s cause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come along, then! come along!” cried Paul Straddler, flourishing his
- dirty pen; “let’s set up a school for grown sportsmen. Now for the good
- boys. Master Bushey-heath says he’ll ride Master Bareacres a match across
- country—two miles say—for, for, how much?” asked he, looking
- up.
- </p>
- <p>
- This caused a pause, as it often does, even after dinner, and not the less
- so in the present instance, inasmuch as the promoters of the match had
- each a share in the risk. What would be hundreds in other people’s cases
- becomes pounds in our own.
- </p>
- <p>
- Flintoff and Straddler looked pacifically at each other, as much as to
- say, “There’s no use in cutting each other’s throats, you know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Suppose we say,” (exhibiting four fingers and a thumb, slyly to indicate
- a five pound note), said Heslop demurely, after a conference with Cuddy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “With all my heart,” asserted Straddler, “glad it was no more.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And call it fifty,” whispered Heslop.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly!” assented Straddler, “very proper arrangement.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Two miles for fifty pounds,” announced Straddler, writing it down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “P. P. I s’pose?” observed he, looking up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “P. P.” assented Heslop.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, what next?” asked Paul, feeling that there was something more
- wanted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “An umpire,” suggested Mr. Smoothley.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, to be sure, an umpire,” replied Mr. Straddler; “who shall it be?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir Moses!” suggested several voices.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir Moses, by all means,” replied Straddler.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Content,” nodded Mr. Heslop.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be on a non-hunting day, then,” observed the Baronet, speaking
- from the bottom of his tea-cup.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Non-hunting day!” repeated Cuddy; “non-hunting day; fear that ‘ill not do—want
- to be off to town on Friday to see Tommy White’s horses sold. Have been
- above a week at the Park, as it is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ve been a fortnight to-morrow, sir,” observed the ticket-of-leave
- butler (who had just come to announce the carriage) in a very different
- tone to his usual urbane whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fortnight to-morrow, have I?” rejoined Cuddy sheepishly; “greater reason
- why I should be off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, never think about that! O, never think about that! Heartily welcome,
- heartily welcome,” rejoined Sir Moses, stuffing his mouth full of muffin,
- adding “Mr. Pringle will keep you company; Mr. Pringle will keep you
- company.” (Hunch, munch, crunch.)
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Pringle <i>must</i> stop,” observed Mr. Straddler, “unless he goes
- without his man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To besure he must,” assented Sir Moses, “to be sure he must,” adding,
- “stop as long as ever you like. I’ve no engagement till Saturday—no
- engagement till Saturday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Now putting off our friend’s departure till Saturday just gave a clear day
- for the steeple-chase, the next one, Thursday, being Woolerton by
- Heckfield, Saturday the usual make-believe day at the kennels; so of
- course Friday was fixed upon, and Sir Moses having named “noon” as the
- hour, and Timberlake toll-bar as the <i>rendezvous</i>, commenced a series
- of adieus as he beat a retreat to the screen, where having resumed his
- wraps, and gathered his tail, he shot down-stairs, and was presently
- re-ensconced in his carriage.
- </p>
- <p>
- The remanets then of course proceeded to talk him and his friends over,
- some wishing the Baronet mightn’t be too many for Billy, others again
- thinking Cuddy wasn’t altogether the most desirable acquaintance a young
- man could have, though there wasn’t one that didn’t think that he himself
- was.
- </p>
- <p>
- That topic being at length exhausted, they then discussed the projected
- steeple-chase, some thinking that Cuddy was a muff, others that Jack was,
- some again thinking they both were. And as successive relays of hot brandy
- and water enabled them to see matters more clearly, the Englishman’s
- argument of betting was introduced, and closed towards morning at “evens,”
- either jockey for choice.
- </p>
- <p>
- Let us now take a look at the homeward bound party.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was lucky for Billy that the night was dark and the road rough with
- newly laid whinstones, for both Sir Moses and Cuddy opened upon him most
- volubly and vehemently as soon as ever they got off the uneven pavement,
- with no end of inquiries about Jack and his antecedents. If he could ride?
- If he had ever seen him ride? If he had ever ridden a steeplechase? Where
- he got him? How long he had had him?
- </p>
- <p>
- To most of which questions, Billy replied with his usual monosyllabic
- drawling, “yarses,” amid jolts, and grinds, and gratings, and doms from
- Sir Moses, and cusses from Cuddy, easing his conscience with regard to
- Jack’s service, by saying that he had had him “some time.” Some time! What
- a fine elastic period that is. We’d back a lawyer to make it cover a
- century or a season. Very little definite information, however, did they
- extract from Billy with regard to Jack for the best of all reasons, that
- Billy didn’t know anything. Both Cuddy and Sir Moses interpreted his
- ignorance differently, and wished he mightn’t know more than was good for
- them. And so in the midst of roughs and smooths, and jolts and jumps, and
- examinings, and cross-examinings, and re-examinings, they at length
- reached Pangburn Park Lodges, and were presently at home.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Breakfast at eight!” said Sir Moses to Bankhead, as he alighted from the
- carriage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Breakfast at eight, Pringle!” repeated he, and seizing a flat candlestick
- from the half-drunken footman in the passage, he hurried up-stairs,
- blowing his beak with great vigour to drown any appeal to him about a
- horse.
- </p>
- <p>
- He little knew how unlikely our young friend was to trouble him in that
- way.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XLII.<br/>MR. GEORDEY GALLON.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>UDDY Flintoff did
- not awake at all comfortable the next morning, and he distinctly traced
- the old copyhead of “Familiarity breeds contempt,” in the hieroglyphic
- pattern of his old chintz bed-hangings. He couldn’t think how he could
- ever be so foolish as to lay himself open to such a catastrophe; it was
- just the wine being in and the wit being out, coupled with the fact of the
- man being a Frenchman, that led him away—and he most devoutly wished
- he was well out of the scrape. Suppose Monsieur was a top sawyer! Suppose
- he was a regular steeple-chaser! Suppose he was a second Beecher in
- disguise! It didn’t follow because he was a Frenchman that he couldn’t
- ride. Altogether Mr. Flintoff repented. It wasn’t nice amusement,
- steeple-chasing he thought, and the quicksilver of youth had departed from
- him; getting called Bareacres, too, was derogatory, and what no English
- servant would have done, if even he had called him Bushy Heath.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy Pringle, on the other hand, was very comfortable, and slept soundly,
- regardless of clubs, cover rents, over-night consequences, altogether.
- Each having desired to be called when the other got up, they stood a
- chance of lying in bed all day, had not Mrs. Margerum, fearing they would
- run their breakfast, and the servants’-hall dinner together, despatched
- Monsieur and the footman with their respective hot-water cans, to say the
- other had risen. It was eleven o’clock ere they got dawdled down-stairs,
- and Cuddy again began demanding this and that delicacy in the name of Mr.
- Pringle: Mr. Pringle wanted Yorkshire pie; Mr. Pringle wanted potted
- prawns; Mr. Pringle wanted bantams’ eggs; Mr. Pringle wanted honey. Why
- the deuce didn’t they attend to Mr. Pringle?
- </p>
- <p>
- The breakfast was presently interrupted by the sound of wheels, and almost
- ere they had ceased to revolve, a brisk pull at the doorbell aroused the
- inmates of both the front and back regions, and brought the hurrying
- footman, settling himself into his yellow-edged blue-livery coat as he
- came.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Mr. Heslop. Heslop in a muffin cap, and so disguised in
- heather-coloured tweed, that Mr. Pringle failed to recognise him as he
- entered. Cuddy did, though; and greeting him with one of his best view
- holloas, he invited him to sit down and partake.
- </p>
- <p>
- Heslop was an early bird, and had broke his fast hours before: but a
- little more breakfast being neither here nor there, he did as he was
- requested, though he would much rather have found Cuddy alone. He wanted
- to talk to him about the match, to hear if Sir Moses had said anything
- about the line of country, what sort of a horse he would like to ride, and
- so on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy went munch, munch, munching on, in the tiresome, pertinacious sort
- of way people do when others are anxiously wishing them done,—now
- taking a sip of tea, now a bit of toast, now another egg, now looking as
- if he didn’t know what he would take. Heslop inwardly wished him at
- Jericho. At length another sound of wheels was heard, followed by another
- peal of the bell; and our hero presently had a visitor, too, in the person
- of Mr. Paul Straddler. Paul had come on the same sort of errand as Heslop,
- namely, to arrange matters about Monsieur; and Heslop and he, seeing how
- the land lay, Heslop asked Cuddy if there was any one in Sir Moses’s
- study; whereupon Cuddy arose and led the way to the sunless little
- sanctum, where Sir Moses kept his other hat, his other boots, his rows of
- shoes, his beloved but rather empty cash-box, and the plans and papers of
- the Pangburn Park estate.
- </p>
- <p>
- Two anxious deliberations then ensued in the study and breakfast-room, in
- the course of which Monsieur was summoned into the presence of either
- party, and retired, leaving them about as wise as he found them. He
- declared he could ride, ride “dem vell too,” and told Paul he could “beat
- Cuddy’s head off;” but he accompanied the assertions with such wild,
- incoherent arguments, and talked just as he did to Imperial John before
- the Crooked Billet, that they thought it was all gasconade. If it hadn’t
- been P. P., Paul would have been off. Cuddy, on the other hand, gained
- courage; and as Heslop proposed putting him on his famous horse General
- Havelock, the reported best fencer in the country, Cuddy, who wasn’t
- afraid of pace, hoped to be able to give a good account of himself.
- Indeed, he so far recovered his confidence, as to indulge in a few hunting
- noises—“<i>For-rard, on! For-rard on!</i>” cheered he, as if he was
- leading the way with the race well in hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0049" id="linkimage-0049"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/323m.jpg" alt="323m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/323.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Meanwhile Monsieur, who could keep his own counsel, communicated by a
- certain mysterious agency that prevails in most countries, and seems to
- rival the electric telegraph in point of speed, to enlist a confederate in
- his service. This was Mr. Geordey Gallon, a genius carrying on the trades
- of poacher, pugilist, and publican, under favour of that mistaken piece of
- legislation the Beer Act. Geordey, like Jack, had begun life as a
- post-boy, and like him had undergone various vicissitudes ere he finally
- settled down to the respectable calling we have named. He now occupied the
- Rose and Crown beershop at the Four Lane-Ends, on the Heatherbell Road,
- some fifteen miles from Pangburn Park, where, in addition to his regular
- or irregular calling, he generally kept a racing-like runaway, that
- whisked a light spring-cart through the country by night, freighted with
- pigeons, poultry, game, dripping—which latter item our readers
- doubtless know includes every article of culinary or domestic use. He was
- also a purveyor of lead, lead-stealing being now one of the liberal
- professions.
- </p>
- <p>
- Geordey had had a fine time of it, for the Hit-im and Hold-im shire
- constables were stupid and lazy, and when the short-lived Superintendent
- ones were appointed, it was only a trifle in his way to suborn them. So he
- made hay while the sun shone, and presently set up a basket-buttoned green
- cutaway for Sundays, in lieu of the baggy pocketed, velveteen
- shooting-jacket of week-days, and replaced the fox-skin cap with a bare
- shallow drab, with a broad brim, and a black band, encasing his
- substantial in cords and mahogany tops, instead of the navvie boot that
- laced his great bulging calves into globes. He then called himself a
- sporting man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Not a fair, not a fight, not a fray of any sort, but Geordey’s great
- square bull-headed carcase was there, and he was always ready to run his
- nag, or trot his nag, or match his nag in any shape or way—Mr.
- George Gallon’s Blue Ruin, Mr. George Gallon’s Flower of the West, Mr.
- George Gallon’s Honor Bright, will be names familiar to most lovers of
- leather-plating. * Besides this, he did business in a smaller way. Being a
- pure patriot, he was a great promoter of the sports and pastimes of the
- people, and always travelled with a prospectus in his pocket of some
- raffle for a watch, some shooting-match for a fat hog, some dog or some
- horse to be disposed of in a surreptitious way, one of the conditions
- always being, that a certain sum was to be spent by the winner at Mr.
- Gallon’s, of the Hose and Crown, at the Four Lane-ends on the Heatherbell
- Road.
- </p>
- <p>
- Such was the worthy selected by Monsieur Rougier to guard his interests in
- the matter. But how the communication was made, or what were the
- instructions given, those who are acquainted with the wheels within
- wheels, and the glorious mystification that prevails in all matters
- relating to racing or robbing, will know the impossibility of narrating.
- Even Sir Moses was infected with the prevailing epidemic, and returned
- from hunting greatly subdued in loquacity. He wanted to be on for a £5 or
- two, but couldn’t for the life of him make out which was to be the right
- side. So he was very chary of his wine after dinner, and wouldn’t let
- Cuddy have any brandy at bed-time—“Dom’d if he would.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XLIII.<br/>SIR MOSES PERPLEXED—THE RENDEZVOUS FOR THE RACE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE great event was
- ushered in by one of those fine bright autumnal days that shame many
- summer ones, and seem inclined to carry the winter months fairly over into
- the coming year. The sun rose with effulgent radiance, gilding the
- lingering brown and yellow tints, and lighting up the landscape with
- searching, inquisitorial scrutiny. Not a nook, not a dell, not a cot, not
- a curl of smoke but was visible, and the whole scene shone with the vigour
- of a newly burnished, newly varnished picture. The cattle stood in bold
- relief against the perennially green fields, and the newly dipped lambs
- dotted the hill-sides like white marbles. A clear bright light gleamed
- through the stems of the Scotch fir belt, encircling the brow of High Rays
- Hill, giving goodly promise of continued fineness.
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-* We append one of Mr. Gallon’s advertisements for a horse,
-which is very characteristic of the man:—
-
-“A Flash high-stepping SCREW WANTED. Must be very fast,
-steady in single harness, and the price moderate. Blemishes
-no object. Apply, by letter, real name and address, with
-full description, to Mr. George Gallon, Rose and Crown,
-Four-Lane-ends. Hit-im and Hold-im shire.”
- </pre>
- <p>
- Sir Moses, seeing this harbinger of fair from his window as he dressed,
- arrayed himself in his best attire, securing his new blue and white satin
- cravat with a couple of massive blood-stone pins, and lacing his
- broad-striped vest with a multiplicity of chains and appendant gew-gaws.
- He further dared the elements with an extensive turning up of velvet.
- Altogether he was a great swell, and extremely well pleased with his
- appearance.
- </p>
- <p>
- The inmates of the Park were all at sixes and sevens that morning,
- Monsieur having left Billy to be valeted by the footman, whose services
- were entirely monopolised by Cuddy Flintoff and Sir Moses. When he did at
- length come, he replied to Billy’s enquiry “how his horse was,” that he
- was “quite well,” which was satisfactory to our friend, and confirmed him
- in his opinion of the superiority of his judgment over that of Wetun and
- the rest. Sir Moses, however, who had made the tour of the stables,
- thought otherwise, and telling the Tiger to put the footboard to the back
- of the dog-cart, reserved the other place in front for his guest. A
- tremendous hurry Sir Moses was in to be off, rushing in every two or three
- minutes to see if Billy wasn’t done his breakfast, and at last ordering
- round the vehicle to expedite his movements. Then he went to the door and
- gave the bell such a furious ring as sounded through the house and seemed
- well calculated to last for ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy then came, hustled along by the ticket-of-leave butler and the
- excitable footman, who kept dressing him as he went; and putting his mits,
- his gloves, his shawl, cravat, and his taper umbrella into his hands,
- they helped him up to the seat by Sir Moses, who forthwith soused him
- down, by touching the mare with the whip, and starting off at a pace that
- looked like trying to catch an express train. Round flew the wheels, up
- shot the yellow mud, open went the lodge gates, bark went the curs, and
- they were presently among the darker mud of the Marshfield and Greyridge
- Hill Road.
- </p>
- <p>
- On, on, Sir Moses pushed, as if in extremis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well now, how is it to be?” at length asked he, getting his mare more by
- the head, after grinding through a long strip of newly-laid whinstone:
- “How is it to be? Can this beggar of yours ride, or can he not?” Sir Moses
- looking with a scrutinising eye at Billy as he spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse, he can ride,” replied Billy, feeling his collar; “rode the other
- day, you know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Sir Moses</i>. “Ah, but that’s not the sort of riding I mean. Can he
- ride across country? Can he ride a steeple-chase, in fact?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Mr. Pringle</i>. “Yarse, I should say he could,” hesitated our friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Sir Moses</i>. “Well, but it won’t do to back a man to do a thing one
- isn’t certain he can do, you know. Now, between ourselves,” continued he,
- lowering his voice so as not to let the Tiger hear—“Cuddy Flintoff
- is no great performer—more of a mahogany sportsman than any thing
- else, and it wouldn’t take any great hand to beat him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy couldn’t say whether Monsieur was equal to the undertaking or not,
- and therefore made no reply. This perplexed Sir Moses, who wished that
- Billy’s downy face mightn’t contain more mischief than it ought. It would
- be a devil of a bore, he thought, to be done by such a boy. So he again
- took the mare short by the head, and gave expression to his thoughts by
- the whip along her sides. Thus he shot down Walkup Hill at a pace that
- carried him half way up the opposing one. Still he couldn’t see his way—dom’d
- if he could—and he felt half inclined not to risk his “fi-pun” note.
- </p>
- <p>
- In this hesitating mood he came within sight of the now crowd-studded
- rendezvous.
- </p>
- <p>
- Timberlake toll bar, the rendezvous for the race, stands on the summit of
- the hog-backed Wooley Hill, famous for its frequent sheep-fairs, and
- commands a fine view over the cream of the west side of
- Featherbedfordshire, and by no means the worst part of the land of Jewdea,
- as the wags of the former country call Hit-im and Hold-im shire.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses had wisely chosen this rendezvous, in order that he might give
- Lord Ladythorne the benefit of the unwelcome intrusion without exciting
- the suspicion of the farmers, who would naturally suppose that the match
- would take place over some part of Sir Moses’s own country. In that,
- however, they had reckoned without their host. Sir Moses wasn’t the man to
- throw a chance away—dom’d if he was.
- </p>
- <p>
- The road, after crossing the bridge over Bendibus Burn, being all against
- collar, Sir Moses dropped his reins, and sitting back in his seat,
- proceeded to contemplate the crowd. A great gathering there was, horsemen,
- footmen, gigmen, assmen, with here and there a tinkling-belled
- liquor-vending female, a tossing pie-man, or a nut-merchant. As yet the
- spirit of speculation was not aroused, and the people gathered in groups,
- looking as moody as men generally do who want to get the better of each
- other. The only cheerful faces on the scene were those of Toney Loftus,
- the pike-man, and his wife, whose neat white-washed, stone-roofed cottage
- was not much accustomed to company, save on the occasion of the fairs.
- They were now gathering their pence and having a let-off for their long
- pent-up gossip.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses’s approach put a little liveliness into the scene, and satisfied
- the grumbling or sceptical ones that they had not come to the wrong place.
- There was then a general move towards the great white gate, and as he paid
- his fourpence the nods of recognition and How are ye’s? commenced amid a
- vigorous salute of the muffin bells. <i>Tinkle tinkle tinkle, buy buy buy</i>,
- toss and try! toss and try! <i>tinkle tinkle tinkle</i>. Barcelona nuts,
- crack ’em and try ’em, crack ’em and try ’em; the invitation being
- accompanied with the rattle of a few in the little tin can.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, where are the jockeys?” asked Sir Moses, straining his eye-balls
- over the open downs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They’re coomin. Sir Moses, they’re coomin,” replied several voices; and
- as they spoke, a gaily-dressed man, on a milk-white horse, emerged from
- the little fold-yard of Butterby farm, about half a mile to the west,
- followed by two distinct groups of mounted and dismounted companions, who
- clustered round either champion like electors round a candidate going to
- the hustings.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s Geordey Gallon!” was now the cry, as the hero of the white horse
- shot away from the foremost group, and came best pace across the
- rush-grown sward of the sheep-walk towards the toll-bar. “There’s Geordey
- Gallon! and now we shall hear summut about it;” whereupon the scattered
- groups began to mingle and turn in the direction of the coming man.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Mr. Gallon,—Gallon on his famous trotting hack Tippy Tom—a
- vicious runaway brute, that required constant work to keep it under, a
- want that Mr. Gallon liberally supplied it with. It now came yawning and
- boring on the bit, one ear lying one way, the other another, shaking its
- head like a terrier with a rat in its mouth, with a sort of air that as
- good as said. “Let me go, or I’ll either knock your teeth down your throat
- with my head, or come back over upon you.” So Mr. Gallon let him go, and
- came careering along at a leg-stuck-out sort of butcher’s shuffle, one
- hand grasping the weather-bleached reins, the other a cutting-whip, his
- green coat-laps and red kerchief ends lying out, his baggy white cords and
- purple plush waistcoat strings all in a flutter, looking as if he was
- going to bear away the gate and house, Toney Loftus and wife, all before
- him. Fortunately for the byestanders there was plenty of space, which,
- coupled with the deep holding ground and Mr. Gallon’s ample weight—good
- sixteen stone—enabled him to bring the white nag to its bearings;
- and after charging a flock of geese, and nearly knocking down a
- Barcelona-nut merchant, he got him manoeuvred in a semicircular sort of
- way up to the gate, just as if it was all right and plain sailing. He then
- steadied him with a severe double-handed jerk of the bit, coupled with one
- of those deep ominous <i>wh-o-o ah’s</i> that always preceded a hiding.
- Tippy Tom dropped his head as if he understood him.
- </p>
- <p>
- All eyes were now anxiously scrutinising Gallon’s great rubicund
- double-chinned visage, for, in addition to his general sporting knowledge
- and acquirements, he was just fresh from the scene of action where he had
- doubtless been able to form an opinion. Even Sir Moses, who hated the
- sight of him, and always declared he “ought to be hung,” vouchsafed him a
- “good morning, Gallon,” which the latter returned with a familiar nod.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then composed himself in his capacious old saddle, and taking off his
- white shallow began mopping his great bald head, hoping that some one
- would sound the key-note of speculation ere the advancing parties arrived
- at the gate. They all, however, seemed to wish to defer to Mr. Gallon—Gallon
- was the man for their money, Gallon knew a thing or two, Gallon was up to
- snuff,—go it, Gallon!
- </p>
- <h3>
- ****
- </h3>
- <p>
- “What does onybody say ‘boot it Frenchman?” at length asked he in his
- elliptical Yorkshire dialect, looking round on the company.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you say ‘boot it Frenchman, Sir Moses?” asked he, not getting an
- answer from any one.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, I know nothing,” replied the Baronet, with a slight curl of the
- lip.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, yeer tied to know summut, hooever,” replied Gallon, rubbing his nose
- across the back of his hand; “yeer tied to know summut, hooever. Why, he’s
- a stoppin’ at yeer house, isn’t he?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That may all be,” rejoined Sir Moses, “without my knowing anything of his
- riding. What do you say yourself? you’ve seen him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seen him!” retorted Gallon, “why he’s a queer lookin’ chap, ony hoo—that’s
- all ar can say: haw, haw, haw.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You won’t back him, then?” said Sir Moses, inquiringly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hardly that,” replied Gallon, shaking his head and laughing heartily,
- “hardly that, Sir Moses. Ar’ll tell you whatar’ll do, though,” said he,
- “just to mak sport luike, ar’ll tak yeer two to one—two croons to
- one,” producing a greasy-looking metallic-pencilled betting-book as he
- spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just then a move outside the ring announced an arrival, and presently Mr.
- Heslop came steering Cuddy Flintoff along in his wife’s Croydon
- basket-carriage, Cuddy’s head docked in an orange-coloured silk cap, and
- his whole person enveloped in a blue pilot coat with large mother-of-pearl
- buttons. The ominous green-pointed jockey whip was held between his knees,
- as with folded arms he lolled carelessly in the carriage, trying to look
- comfortable and unconcerned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mornin’, Flintoff’, how are ye?” cried Sir Moses, waving his hand from
- his loftier vehicle, as they drew up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mornin’, Heslop, how goes it? Has anybody seen anything of Monsieur?”
- asked he, without waiting for an answer to either of these important
- inquiries.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s coming, Sir Moses,” cried several voices, and presently the
- Marseillaise hymn of liberty was borne along on the southerly breeze, and
- Jack’s faded black hunting-cap was seen bobbing up and down in the crowd
- that encircled him, as he rode along on Paul Straddler’s shooting pony.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack had been at the brandy bottle, and had imbibed just enough to make
- him excessively noisy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three cheers for Monsieur Jean Rougier, de next Emperor of de French!”
- cried he, rising in his stirrups, as he approached the crowd, taking off
- his old brown hunting-cap, and waving it triumphantly, “Three cheers for
- de best foxer, de best fencer, de best fighter in all Europe!” and at a
- second flourish of the cap the crowd came into the humour of the thing,
- and cheered him lustily. And then of course it was one cheer more for
- Monsieur; and one cheer more he got.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three cheers for ould England!” then demanded Mr. Gallon on behalf of Mr.
- Flintoff, which being duly responded to, he again asked “What onybody
- would do ‘boot it Frenchman?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, gentlemen,” cried Sir Moses, standing erect in his dogcart, and
- waving his hand for silence: “Now, gentlemen, listen to me!” Instead of
- which somebody roared out, “Three cheers for Sir Moses!” and at it they
- went again, <i>Hooray, hooray, hooray</i>, for when an English mob once
- begins cheering, it never knows when to stop. “Now, gentlemen, listen to
- me,” again cried he, as soon as the noise had subsided. “It’s one o’clock,
- and it’s time to proceed to business. I called you here that there might
- be no unnecessary trespass or tampering with the ground, and I think I’ve
- chosen a line that will enable you all to see without risk to yourselves
- or injury to anyone” (applause, mingled with a tinkling of the little
- bells). “Well now,” added he, “follow me, and I’ll show you the way;” so
- saying, he resumed his seat, and passing through the gate turned short to
- the right, taking the diagonal road leading down the hill, in the
- direction of Featherbedfordshire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where can it be?” was then the cry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know,” replied one of the know-everything ones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rainford, for a guinea!” exclaimed Mr. Gallon, fighting with Tippy Tom,
- who wanted to be back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say Rushworth!” rejoined Mr. Heslop, cutting in before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothin’ o’ the sort!” asserted Mr. Buckwheat; “he’s for Harlingson green
- to a certainty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The heterogeneous cavalcade then fell into line, the vehicles and
- pedestrians keeping the road, while the horsemen spread out on either side
- of the open common, with the spirit of speculation divided between where
- the race was to be and who was to win.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus they descended the hill and joined the broad, once well-kept
- turnpike, whose neglected milestones still denoted the distance between
- London and Hinton—London so many miles on one side, Hinton so many
- miles on the other—things fast passing into the regions of
- antiquity. Sir Moses now put on a little quicker, and passing through the
- village of Nettleton and clearing the plantation beyond, a long strip of
- country lay open to the eye, hemmed in between the parallel lines of the
- old road and the new Crumpletin Railway.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then pulled up on the rising ground, and placing his whip in the
- socket, stood up to wait the coming of the combatants, to point them out
- the line he had fixed for the race. The spring tide of population flowed
- in apace, and he was presently surrounded with horsemen, gigmen, footmen,
- and bellmen as before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, gentlemen!” cried Sir Moses, addressing Mr. Flintoff and Monsieur,
- who were again ranged on either side of his dogcart: “Now, gentlemen, you
- see the line before you. The stacks, on the right here,” pointing to a row
- of wheat stacks in the adjoining field, “are the starting post, and you
- have to make your ways as straight as ever you can to Lawristone Clump
- yonder,” pointing to a clump of dark Scotch firs standing against the
- clear blue sky, on a little round hill, about the middle of a rich old
- pasture on Thrivewell Farm, the clump being now rendered more conspicuous
- by sundry vehicles clustered about its base, the fair inmates of which had
- received a private hint from Sir Moses where to go to. The Baronet always
- played up to the fair, with whom he flattered himself he was a great
- favourite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now then, you see,” continued he, “you can’t get wrong, for you’ve
- nothing to do but to keep between the lines of the rail and the road, on
- to neither of which must you come: and now you gentlemen,” continued he,
- addressing the spectators generally, “there’s not the slightest occasion
- for any of you to go off the road, for you’ll see a great deal better on
- it, and save both your own necks and the farmers’ crops; so just let me
- advise you to keep where you are, and follow the jockeys field by field as
- they go. And now, gentlemen,” continued he, again addressing the
- competitors, ‘“having said all I have to say on the subject, I advise you
- to get your horses and make a start of it, for though the day is fine its
- still winter, you’ll remember, and there are several ladies waiting for
- your coming.” So saying, Sir Moses soused down in his seat, and prepared
- to watch the proceedings.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Flintoff was the first to peel; and his rich orange and white silk
- jacket, natty doeskins, and paper-like boots, showed that he had got
- himself up as well with a due regard to elegance as to lightness. He even
- emptied some halfpence out of his pockets, in order that he might not
- carry extra weight. He would, however, have been a great deal happier at
- home. There was no “yoieks, wind him,” or “yoicks, push ‘im up,” in him
- now.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur did not show to so much advantage as Cuddy; but still he was a
- good deal better attired than he was out hunting on the Crooked-Billet
- day. He still retained the old brown cap, but in lieu of the shabby
- scarlet, pegtop trousers and opera-boots, he sported a red silk jacket, a
- pair of old-fashioned broad-seamed leathers, and mahogany boots—the
- cap being the property of Sir Moses’s huntsman, Tom Findlater, the other
- articles belonging to Mr. George Gallon of the Rose and Crown. And the
- sight of them, as Monsieur stripped, seemed to inspirit the lender, for he
- immediately broke out with the old inquiry, “What does onybody say ‘boot
- it Frenchman?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do <i>you</i> say ‘boot it Frenchman, Sir Moses?” asked he.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses was silent, for he couldn’t see his way to a satisfactory
- investment; so, rising in his seat, he holloaed out to the grooms, who
- were waiting their orders outside the crowd, to “bring in the horses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Make way, there! make way, there!” cried he, as the hooded and sheeted
- animals approached and made up to their respective riders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Takeoff his nightcap! take off his nightcap!” cried Jack, pulling
- pettedly at the strings of the hood; “take off his nightcap!” repeated he,
- stamping furiously, amid the laughter of the bystanders, many of whom had
- never seen a Frenchman, let alone a mounted one, before.
- </p>
- <p>
- The obnoxious nightcap being removed, and the striped sheet swept over his
- tail, Mr. Rowley Abingdon’s grey horse Mayfly Blood showing himself as if
- he was in a dealer’s yard, for as yet he had not ascertained what he was
- out for. A horse knows when he is going to hunt, or going to exercise, or
- going to be shod, or going to the public house, but these unaccustomed
- jaunts puzzle him. Monsieur now proceeded to inform him by clutching at
- the reins, as he stood preparing for a leg-up on the wrong side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The other side, mun, the other side,” whispered Paul Straddler in his
- ear; whereupon Monsieur passed under the horse’s head, and appeared as he
- ought. The movement, however, was not lost on Sir Moses, who forthwith
- determined to back Cuddy. Cuddy might be bad, but Monsieur must be worse,
- he thought.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll lay an even five on Mr. Flintoff!” cried he in a loud and audible
- voice. “I’ll lay an even five on Mr. Flintoff,” repeated he, looking
- boldly round. “Gallon, what say you?” asked he, appealing to the hero of
- the white horse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can’t be done, Sir Moses, can’t be done,” replied Gallon, grinning from
- ear to ear, with a shake of his great bull head. “Tak yeer three to two if
- you loike,” added he, anxious to be on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses now shook his head in return.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Back myself, two pound ten—forty shillin’, to beat dis serene and
- elegant Englishman!” exclaimed Jack, now bumping up and down in his saddle
- as if to establish a seat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you owe him any wages?” asked Sir Moses of Billy in an under-tone,
- wishing to ascertain what chance there was of being paid if he won.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse, I owe him some,” replied Billy; but how much he couldn’t say, not
- having had Jack’s book lately.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses caught at the answer, and the next time Jack offered to back
- himself, he was down upon him with a “Done!” adding, “I’ll lay you an even
- pund if you like.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With all my heart, Sare Moses Baronet,” replied Jack gaily; adding, “you
- are de most engagin’, agreeable mans I knows; a perfect beauty vidout de
- paint.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Gallon now saw his time was come, and he went at Sir Moses with a “Weell,
- coom, ar’le lay ye an even foive.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Done!” cried the Baronet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A tenner, if you loike!” continued Gallon, waxing valiant.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses shook his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get me von vet sponge, get me von vet sponge,” now exclaimed Jack,
- looking about for the groom.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wet sponge! What the deuce do you want with a wet sponge?” demanded Sir
- Moses with surprise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yet sponge, just damp my knees leetle—make me stick on better,”
- replied Jack, turning first one knee and then the other out of the saddle
- to get sponged.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O dom it, if it’s come to that, I may as well have the ten,” muttered Sir
- Moses to himself. So, nodding to Gallon, he said “I’ll make it ten.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Done!” said Gallon, with a nod, and the bet was made—Done, and
- Done, being enough between gentlemen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, then,” cried Sir Moses, stepping down from his dogcart, “come into
- the field, and I’ll start you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Away then the combatants went, and the betting became brisk in the ring.
- Mr. Flintoff the favourite at evens.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XLIV.<br/>THE RACE ITSELF.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0050" id="linkimage-0050"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/335m.jpg" alt="335m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/335.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ROM the Nettleton
- cornstacks to Lawristone Clump was under two miles, and, barring Bendibus
- Brook, there was nothing formidable in the line—nothing at least to
- a peaceably disposed man pursuing the even tenor of his way, either on
- horseback or in his carriage along the deserted London road.
- </p>
- <p>
- Very different, however, did the landscape now appear to our friend Cuddy
- Flintoff as he saw it stretching away in diminishing perspective,
- presenting an alternating course of husbandry stubble after grass, wheat
- after stubble, seeds after wheat, with perhaps pasture again after fallow.
- Bendibus, too, as its name indicates, seemed to be here, there, and
- everywhere; here, as shown by the stone bridge on the road,—there,
- as marked by the pollard willows lower down—and generally wherever
- there was an inconvenient breadth and irregularity of fence. The more Mr.
- Flintoff looked at the landscape, the less he liked it. Still he had a
- noble horse under him in General Havelock—a horse that could go
- through deep as fast as he could over grass, and that only required
- holding together and sitting on to carry him safe over his fences. It was
- just that, however, that Cuddy couldn’t master. He couldn’t help fancying
- that the horse would let him down, and he didn’t like the idea.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mayfly, on the other hand, was rather skittish, and began prancing and
- capering as soon as he got off the road into the field.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get ‘im by de nob! get ‘im by de nob!” cried Jack, setting up his
- shoulders. “Swing ‘im round by de tail! swing ‘im round by de tail!”
- continued he, as the horse still turned away from his work.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ord dom it, that’s that nasty crazy brute of old Rowley Abingdon’s, I do
- declare!” exclaimed Sir Moses, getting out of the now plunging horse’s
- way. “Didn’t know the beggar since he was clipped. That’s the brute that
- killed poor Cherisher,—best hound in my pack. Take care, Monsieur!
- that horse will eat you if he gets you off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eat me!” cried Jack, pretending alarm; “dat vod be vare unkind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Sir Moses</i>. “Unkind or not, he’ll do it, I assure you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, dear! oh! dear!” cried Jack, as the horse laid back his ears, and
- gave a sort of wincing kick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll tell you what,” cried Sir Moses, emboldened by Jack’s fear, “I’ll
- lay you a crown you don’t get over the brook.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Crown, sare! I have no crowns,” replied Jack, pulling the horse round.
- “I’ll lay ve sovereign—von pon ten, if vou like.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, I’ll make it ten shillings. I’ll make it ten shillings,” replied
- Sir Moses: adding, “Mr. Flintoff is my witness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Done!” cried Monsieur. “Done! I takes the vager. Von pon I beats old
- Cuddy to de clomp, ten shillin’ I gets over de brook.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right!” rejoined Sir Moses, “all right! Now,” continued he, clapping
- his hands, “get your horses together—one, two, three, and <i>away!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- Up bounced Mayfly in the air; away went Cuddy amidst the cheers and shouts
- of the roadsters—“<i>Flintoff! Flintoff! Flinfoff!! The yaller! the
- yaller! the yaller!</i>” followed by a general rush along the grass-grown
- Macadamised road, between London and Hinton.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, dat is your game, is it?” asked Jack as Mayfly, after a series of
- minor evolutions, subsided on all fours in a sort of attitude of
- attention. “Dat is your game, is it!” saying which he just took him short
- by the head, and, pressing his knees closely into the saddle, gave him
- such a couple of persuasive digs with his spurs as sent him bounding away
- after the General. “<i>Go it, Frenchman!</i>” was now the cry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go it! aye he <i>can</i> go it,” muttered Jack, as the horse now dropped
- on the bit, and laid himself out for work. He was soon in the wake of his
- opponent.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first field was a well-drained wheat stubble, with a newly plashed
- fence on the ground between it and the adjoining pasture; which,
- presenting no obstacle, they both went at it as if bent on contending for
- the lead, Monsieur <i>sacré</i>ing, grinning, and grimacing, after the
- manner of his adopted country; while Mr. Flintoff sailed away in the true
- jockey style, thinking he was doing the thing uncommonly well.
- </p>
- <p>
- Small as the fence was, however, it afforded Jack an opportunity of
- shooting into his horse’s shoulders, which Cuddy perceiving, he gave a
- piercing view holloa, and spurred away as if bent on bidding him goodbye.
- This set Jack on his mettle; and getting back into his seat he gathered
- his horse together and set too, elbows and legs, elbows and legs, in a way
- that looked very like frenzy.
- </p>
- <p>
- The <i>feint</i> of a fall, however, was a five-pound note in Mr. Gallon’s
- way, for Jack did it so naturally that there was an immediate backing of
- Cuddv. “<i>Flintoff! Flintoff! Flintoff! The yaller! the yaller! the
- yaller!</i>” was again the cry.
- </p>
- <p>
- The pasture was sound, and they sped up it best pace, Mr. Flintoff well in
- advance.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fence out was nothing either—a young quick fence set on the
- ground, which Cuddy flew in Leicestershire style, throwing up his right
- arm as he went. Monsieur was soon after him with a high bucking jump.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were now upon plough,—undrained plough, too, which the recent
- rains bad rendered sticky and holding. General Havelock could have crossed
- it at score, but the ragged boundary fence of Thrivewell farm now
- appearing in view, Mr. Flintoff held him well together, while he scanned
- its rugged irregularities for a place.
- </p>
- <p>
- “These are the nastiest fences in the world,” muttered Cuddy to himself,
- “and I’ll be bound to say there’s a great yawning ditch either on this
- side or that. Dash it! I wish I was over,” continued he, looking up and
- down for an exit. There was very little choice. Where there weren’t great
- mountain ash or alder growers laid into the fence, there were bristling
- hazel uprights, which presented little more attraction. Altogether it was
- not a desirable obstacle. Even from the road it looked like something. “<i>Go
- it, Cuddy! Go it!</i>” cried Sir Moses, now again in his dogcart, from the
- midst of the crowd, adding, “It’s nothing of a place!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Isn’t it,” muttered Cuddy, still looking up and down, adding, “I wish you
- had it instead of me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ord dom it, go at it like a man!” now roared the Baronet, fearing for his
- investments. “Go at it for the honour of the hunt! for the honour of
- Hit-im and Hold-im shire!” continued he, nearly stamping the bottom of his
- dog-cart out. The mare started forward at the sound, and catching Tippy
- Tom with the shafts in the side, nearly upset Geordey Gallon, who, like
- Sir Moses, was holloaing on the Frenchman. There was then a mutual
- interchange of compliments. Meanwhile Cuddy, having espied a weak
- bush-stopped gap in a bend of the hedge, now walks his horse quietly up to
- it, who takes it in a matter-of-course sort of way that as good as says,
- “What <i>have</i> you been making such a bother about.” He then gathers
- himself together, and shoots easily over the wide ditch on the far side,
- Cuddy hugging himself at its depth as he lands. Monsieur then exclaiming,
- “Dem it, I vill not make two bites of von cherry,” goes at the same place
- at the rate of twenty miles an hour, and beat beside Cuddy ere the latter
- had well recovered from his surprise at the feat. “Ord rot it!” exclaimed
- he, starting round, “what d’ye mean by following a man that way? If I’d
- fallen, you’d ha’ been a-top of me to a certainty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, never fear,” replied Monsieur, grinning and flourishing his whip.
- “Oh, never fear, I vod have ‘elped you to pick up de pieces.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pick up the pieces, sir!” retorted Cuddy angrily. “I don’t want to pick
- up the pieces. I want to ride the race as it should be.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come then, old cock,” cried Monsieur, spurring past, “you shall jomp ‘pon
- me if you can.” So saying, Jack hustled away over a somewhat swampy
- enclosure, and popping through an open bridle-gate, led the way into a
- large rich alluvial pasture beyond.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack’s feat at the boundary fence, coupled with the manner in which he now
- sat and handled his horse, caused a revulsion of feeling on the road, and
- Gallon’s stentorian roar of “The <i>Frenchman! the Frenchman!</i>” now
- drowned the vociferations on behalf of Mr. Flintoff and the “yaller.” Sir
- Moses bit his lips and ground his teeth with undisguised dismay. If
- Flintoff let the beggar beat him, he—-he didn’t know what he would
- do. “<i>Flintoff! Flintoff!</i>” shrieked he as Cuddy again took the lead.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now dread Rendibus appears in view! There was no mistaking its
- tortuous sinuosities, even if the crowd on the bridge had not kept
- vociferating, “The bruk! the bruk!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The bruk be hanged!” growled Cuddy, hardening his heart for the conflict.
- “The bruk be hanged!” repeated he, eyeing its varying curvature, adding,
- “if ever I joke with any man under the rank of a duke again, may I be
- capitally D’d. Ass that I was,” continued he, “to take a liberty with this
- confounded Frenchman, who cares no more for his neck than a frog. Dashed,
- if ever I joke with any man under the rank of a prince of the blood
- royal,” added he, weaving his eyes up and down the brook for a place.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Go at it full tilt!</i>” now roars Sir Moses from the bridge; “go at
- it full tilt for the honour of Hit-im and Hold-im shire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Honour of Hit-im and Hold-im shire be hanged!” growled Cuddy; “who’ll pay
- for my neck if I break it, I wonder!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cut along, old cock of vax!” now cries Monsieur, grinning up on the grey.
- “Cut along, old cock of vax, or I’ll be into your pocket.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Shove him along!</i>” roars stentorian-lunged Gallon, standing erect
- in his stirrups, and waving Monsieur on with his hat. “<i>Shove him along!</i>”
- repeats he, adding, “he’ll take it in his stride.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mayfly defers to the now-checked General, who, accustomed to be ridden
- freely, lays back his vexed ears for a kick, as Monsieur hurries up. Cuddy
- still contemplates the scene, anxious to be over, but dreading to go.
- “Nothing so nasty as a brook,” says he; “never gets less, but may get
- larger.” He then scans it attentively. There is a choice of ground, but it
- is choice of evils, of which it is difficult to choose the least when in a
- hurry.
- </p>
- <p>
- About the centre are sedgy rushes, indicative of a bad taking off, while
- the weak place next the ash involves the chance of a crack of the crown
- against the hanging branch, and the cattle gap higher up may be mended
- with wire rope, or stopped with some awkward invisible stuff. Altogether
- it is a trying position, especially with the eyes of England upon him from
- the bridge and road.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, go at it, mun!” roars Sir Moses, agonised at his hesitation; “Oh, go
- at it, mun! It’s <i>nothin</i>’ of a place!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Isn’t it,” muttered Cuddy; “wish you were at it instead of me.” So
- saying, he gathers his horse together in an undecided sort of way, and
- Monsieur charging at the moment, lands Cuddie on his back in the field and
- himself in the brook.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0051" id="linkimage-0051"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/339m.jpg" alt="339m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/339.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Then a mutual roar arose, as either party saw its champion in distress.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Stick to him, Cuddy! stick to him!</i>” roars Sir Moses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Stick to him, Mouncheer! stick to him!</i>” vociferates Mr. Gallon on
- the other side.
- </p>
- <p>
- They do as they are bid; Mr. Flintoff remounting just as Monsieur
- scrambles out of the brook, aud Cuddy’s blood now being roused, he runs
- the General gallantly at it, and lands, hind legs and all, on the opposite
- bank. Loud cheers followed the feat.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is now anybody’s race, and the vehemence of speculation is intense.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The red!”—“The yaller! the yaller!”—“The red!” Mr. Gallon is
- frantic, and Tippy Tom leads the way along the turnpike as if he, too, was
- in the race. Sir Moses’s mare breaks into a canter, and makes the action
- of the gig resemble that of a boat going to sea. The crowd rush pell-mell
- without looking where they are going; it is a wonder that nobody is
- killed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lawristone Clump is now close at hand, enlivened with the gay parasols and
- colours of the ladies.
- </p>
- <p>
- There are but three more fences between the competitors and it, and seeing
- what he thinks a weak place in the next, Mr. Flintoff races for it over
- the sound furrows of the deeply-drained pasture. As he gets near it begins
- to look larger, and Cuddy’s irresolute handling makes the horse swerve.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, then, old stoopid!” cries Jack, in a good London cabman’s accent;
- “Now, then, old stoopid! vot are ye stargazing that way for? Vy don’t ye
- go over or get out o’ de vay?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Go yourself</i>,’” growled Cuddy, pulling his horse round.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go myself!” repeated Jack; “‘ow the doose can I go vid your great carcase
- stuck i’ the vay!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My great carcase stuck i’ the way!” retorted Cuddy, spurring and hauling
- at his horse. “My great carcase stuck in the way! Look at your own, and be
- hanged to ye!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vell, look at it!” replied Jack, backing his horse for a run, and
- measuring his distance, he clapped spurs freely in his sides, and going at
- it full tilt, flew over the fence, exclaiming as he lit, “Dere, it is for
- you to ’zamine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That feller can ride a deuced deal better than he pretends,” muttered
- Cuddy, wishing his tailorism mightn’t be all a trick; saying which he
- followed Jack’s example, and taking a run he presently landed in the next
- field, amidst the cheers of the roadsters. This was a fallow, deep, wet,
- and undrained, and his well ribbed-up horse was more than a match for
- Jack’s across it. Feeling he could go, Cuddy set himself home in his
- saddle, and flourishing his whip, cantered past, exclaiming, “Come along
- old stick in the mud!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll stick i’ the mod ye!” replied Jack, hugging and holding his sobbing
- horse. “I’ll stick i’ the mod ye! Stop till I gets off dis birdliming
- field, and I’ll give you de go-bye, Cuddy, old cock.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack was as good as his word, for the ground getting sounder on the slope,
- he spurted up a wet furrow, racing with Cuddy for the now obvious gap,
- that afforded some wretched half-starved calves a choice between the
- rushes of one field and the whicken grass of the other. Pop, Jack went
- over it, looking back and exclaiming to Cuddy, “Bon jour! top of de
- mornin’ to you, sare!” as he hugged his horse and scuttled up a
- high-backed ridge of the sour blue and yellow-looking pasture.
- </p>
- <p>
- The money was now in great jeopardy, and the people on the road shouted
- and gesticulated the names of their respective favourites with redoubled
- energy, as if their eagerness could add impetus to the animals. “<i>Flintoff!
- Flintoff! Flintoff!</i>” “<i>The Frenchman! the Frenchman!</i>” as
- Monsieur at length dropped his hands and settled into something like a
- seat. On, on, they went, Monsieur every now and then looking back to see
- that he had a proper space between himself and his pursuer, and, giving
- his horse a good dig with his spurs, he lifted him over a stiff
- stake-and-rice fence that separated him from the field with the Clump.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here they come!” is now the cry on the hill, and fair faces at length
- turn to contemplate the galloppers, who come sprawling up the valley in
- the unsightly way fore-shortened horses appear to do. The road gate on the
- right flies suddenly open, and Tippy Tom is seen running away with Geordey
- Gallon, who just manages to manouvre him round the Clump to the front as
- Monsieur comes swinging in an easy winner.
- </p>
- <p>
- Glorious victory for Geordey! Glorious victory for Monsieur! They can’t
- have won less than thirty pounds between them, supposing they get paid,
- and that Geordey gives Jack his “reglars.” Well may Geordey throw up his
- shallow hat and hug the winner. But who shall depict the agony of Sir
- Moses at this dreadful blow to his finances? The way he dom’d Cuddy, the
- way he dom’d Jack, the way he swung frantically about Lawristone Clump,
- declaring he was ruined for ever and ever! After thinking of everybody at
- all equal to the task, we are obliged to get, our old friend Echo to
- answer “Who!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XLV.<br/>HENEREY BROWN & CO. AGAIN.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE first paroxysm
- of rage being over, Sir Moses remounted his dog-cart, and drove rapidly
- off, seeming to take pleasure in making his boy-groom (who was at the
- mare’s head) run after it as long as he could.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s it Baronet off?” exclaimed Mr. Gallon, staring with astonishment
- at the fast-receding vehicle; “what’s it, Baronet off?” repeated he,
- thinking he would have to go to Pangburn Park for his money.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O dear Thir Mothes is gone!” lisped pretty Miss Mechlinton, who wanted to
- have a look at our hero, Mr. Pringle, who she heard was frightfully
- handsome, and alarmingly rich. And the ladies, who had been too much
- occupied with the sudden rush of excited people to notice Sir Moses’s
- movements, wondered what had happened that he didn’t come to give his
- tongue an airing among them as usual. One said he had got the tooth-ache;
- another, the ear-ache; a third, that he had got something in his eye;
- while a satirical gentleman said it looked more like a B. in his bonnet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ony hoo,” however, as Mr. Gallon would say, Sir Moses was presently out
- of the field and on to the hard turnpike again.
- </p>
- <p>
- We need scarcely say that Mr. Pringle’s ride home with him was not of a
- very agreeable character: indeed, the Baronet had seldom been seen to be
- so put out of his way, and the mare came in for frequent salutations with
- the whip—latitudinally, longitudinally, and horizontally, over the
- head and ears, accompanied by cutting commentaries on Flintoff’s utter
- uselessness and inability to do anything but drink.
- </p>
- <p>
- He “never saw such a man—domd if ever he did,” and he whipped the
- mare again in confirmation of the opinion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor did matters mend on arriving at home; for here Mr. Mordecai Nathan met
- him in the entrance hall, with a very doleful face, to announce that
- Henerey Brown & Co., who had long been coddling up their horses, had
- that morning succeeded in sloping with them and their stock to Halterley
- Fair, and selling them in open market, leaving a note hanging to the key
- in the house-door, saying that they had gone to Horseterhaylia where Sir
- Moses needn’t trouble to follow them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ond dom it!” shrieked the Baronet, jumping up in the air like a stricken
- deer; “ond dom it! I’m robbed! I’m robbed! I’m ruined! I’m ruined!” and
- tottering to an arm-chair, he sank, overpowered with the blow. Henerey
- Brown & Co. had indeed been too many for him. After a long course of
- retrograding husbandry, they seemed all at once to have turned over a new
- leaf, if not in the tillage way, at all events in that still better way
- for the land, the cattle line,—store stock, with some symptoms of
- beef on their bones, and sheep with whole fleeces, going on all-fours
- depastured the fields, making Mordecai Nathan think it was all the fruits
- of his superior management. Alaek a-day! They belonged to a friend of
- Lawyer Hindmarch’s, who thought Henerey Brown & Co. might as well eat
- all off the land ere they left. And so they ate it as bare as a board.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ond dom it, how came you to let them escape?” now demanded the Baronet,
- wringing his hands in despair; “ond dom it, how came you to let them
- escape?” continued he, throwing himself back in the chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why really, Sir Moses, I was perfectly deceived; I thought they were
- beginning to do better, for though they were back with their ploughing,
- they seemed to be turning their attention to stock, and I was in hopes
- that in time they would pull round.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pull round!” ejaculated the Baronet; “pull round! They’ll flatten me I
- know with their pulling;” and thereupon he kicked out both legs before him
- as if he was done with them altogether.
- </p>
- <p>
- His seat being in the line of the door, a rude draught now caught his
- shoulder, which making him think it was no use sitting there to take cold
- and the rheumatism, he suddenly bounced up, and telling Nathan to stay
- where he was, he ran up stairs, and quickly changed his fine satiney,
- velvetey, holiday garments, for a suit of dingy old tweeds, that looked
- desperately in want of the washing-tub. Then surmounting the whole with a
- drab wide-awake, he clutched a knotty dog-whip, and set off on foot with
- his agent to the scene of disaster, rehearsing the licking he would give
- Henerey with the whip if he caught him, as he went.
- </p>
- <p>
- Away he strode, as if he was walking a match, down Dolly’s Close, over the
- stile, into Farmer Hayford’s fields, and away by the back of the lodges,
- through Orwell Plantation and Lowestoff End, into the Rushworth and
- Mayland Road.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doblington farm-house then stood on the rising ground before him. It was
- indeed a wretched, dilapidated, woe-begone-looking place; bad enough when
- enlivened with the presence of cattle and the other concomitants of a
- farm; but now, with only a poor white pigeon, that Henerey Brown &
- Co., as if in bitter irony, had left behind them, it looked the very
- picture of misery and poverty-stricken desolation.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was red-tiled and had been rough-cast, but the casting was fast coming
- off, leaving fine map-like tracings of green damp on the walls,—a
- sort of map of Italy on one side of the door, a map of Africa on the
- other, one of Horseterhaylia about the centre, with a perfect battery of
- old hats bristling in the broken panes of the windows. Nor was this all;
- for, by way of saving coals, Henerey & Humphrey had consumed all the
- available wood about the place—stable-fittings, cow-house-fittings,
- pig-sty-fittings, even part of the staircase—and acting under the
- able advice of Lawyer Hindmarch, had carried away the pot and oven from
- the kitchen, and all the grates from the fire-places, under pretence of
- having bought them of the outgoing tenant when they entered,—a fact
- that the lawyer said “would be difficult to disprove.” If it had not been
- that Henerey Brown & Co. had been sitting rent-free, and that the
- dilapidated state of the premises formed an excellent subject of attack
- for parrying payment when rent came to be demanded, it would be difficult
- to imagine people living in a house where they had to wheel their beds
- about to get to the least drop-exposed quarter, and where the ceilings
- bagged down from the rafters like old-fashioned window-hangings. People,
- however, can put up with a great deal when it saves their own pockets.
- Master and man having surveyed the exterior then entered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” said Sir Moses, looking round on the scene of desolation, “they’ve
- made a clean sweep at all events.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They have that,” assented Mr. Mordecai Nathan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder it didn’t strike you, when you caught them selling their straw
- off at night, that they would be doing something of this sort,” observed
- Sir Moses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, I thought it rather strange,” replied Mr. Nathan; “only they assured
- me that for every load of straw they sold, they brought back double the
- value in guano, or I certainly should have been more on the alert.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Guano be hanged!” rejoined the Baronet, trying to open the kitchen
- window, to let some fresh air into the foul apartment; “guano be hanged!
- one ton of guano makes itself into twenty ton with the aid of Kentish
- gravel. No better trade than spurious manure-manufacturing; almost as good
- as cabbage-cigar making. Besides,” continued he, “the straw goes off to a
- certainty, whereas there’s no certainty about the guano coming back
- instead of it. Oh, dom it, man,” continued he, knocking some of the old
- hats out of the broken panes, after a fruitless effort to open the window,
- “I’d have walked the bailiffs into the beggars if I could have foreseen
- this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So would I, Sir Moses,” replied Mr. Nathan; “only who could we get to
- come in their place?”
- </p>
- <p>
- That observation of Mr. Mordecai Nathan comprises a great deal, and
- accounts for much apparent good landlordism, which lets a bad tenant go on
- from year to year with the occasional payment of a driblet of rent,
- instead of ejecting him; the real fact being that the landlord knows there
- is no one to get to come in his place—no better one at least—and
- that fact constitutes one of the principal difficulties of land-owning. If
- a landlord is not prepared to take an out-of-order farm into his own
- hands, he must either put up with an incompetent non-paying tenant, or run
- the risk of getting a worse one from the general body of outlying
- incompetence. A farm will always let for something.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is a regular rolling stock of bad farmers in every country, who pass
- from district to district, exercising their ingenuity in extracting
- whatever little good their predecessors have left in the land. These men
- are the steady, determined enemies to grass. Their great delight is to get
- leave to plough out an old pasture-field under pretence of laying it down
- better. There won’t be a grass field on a farm but what they will take
- some exception to, and ask leave to have “out” as they call it. Then if
- they get leave, they take care never to have a good take of seeds, and so
- plough on and plough on, promising to lay it down better after each fresh
- attempt, just as a thimble-rigger urges his dupe to go on and go on, and
- try his luck once more, until land and dupe are both fairly exhausted. The
- tenant then marches, and the thimble-rigger decamps, each in search of
- fresh fields and flats new.
- </p>
- <p>
- Considering that all writers on agriculture agree that grass land pays
- double, if not treble, what arable land does, and that one is so much more
- beautiful to the eye than the other, to say nothing of pleasanter to ride
- over, we often wonder that landlords have not turned their attention more
- to the increase and encouragement of grass land on their estates than they
- have done.
- </p>
- <p>
- To be sure they have always had the difficulty to contend with we have
- named, viz., a constant hankering on the part of even some good tenants to
- plough it out. A poor grass-field, like Gay’s hare, seems to have no
- friends. Each man proposes to improve it by ploughing it out, forgetful of
- the fact, that it may also be improved by manuring the surface. The
- quantity of arable land on a farm is what puts landlords so much in the
- power of bad farmers. If farms consisted of three parts grass and one part
- plough, instead of three parts plough and one part grass, no landlord need
- ever put up with an indifferent, incompetent tenant; for the grass would
- carry him through, and he could either let the farm off, field by field,
- to butchers and graziers, or pasture it himself, or hay it if he liked.
- Nothing pays better than hay. A very small capital would then suffice for
- the arable land; and there being, as we said before, a rolling stock of
- scratching land-starvers always on the look-out for out-of-order farms, so
- every landowner should have a rolling stock of horses and farm-implements
- ready to turn upon any one that is not getting justice done it. There is
- no fear of gentlemen being overloaded with land; for the old saying, “It’s
- a good thing to follow the laird,” will always insure plenty of applicants
- for any farm a landlord is leaving—supposing, of course, that he has
- been doing it justice himself, which we must say landlords always do; the
- first result we see of a gentleman farming being the increase of the size
- of his stock-yard, and this oftentimes in the face of a diminished acreage
- under the plough.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then see what a saving there is in grass-farming compared to tillage
- husbandry: no ploughs, no harrows, no horses, no lazy leg-dragging clowns,
- who require constant watching; the cattle will feed whether master is at
- home or polishing St. James’s Street in paper boots and a tight
- bearing-rein.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again, the independence of the grass-farmer is so great. When the wind
- howls and the rain beats, and the torrents roar, and John Flail lies
- quaking in bed, fearing for his corn, then old Tom Nebuchadnezzar turns
- quietly over on his side like the Irish jontleman who, when told the house
- was on fire, replied, “Arrah, by Jasus, I’m only a lodger!” and says, “Ord
- rot it, let it rain; it’ll do me no harm! I’m only a grass-grower!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But we are leaving Sir Moses in the midst of his desolation, with nothing
- but the chilly fog of a winter’s evening and his own bright thoughts to
- console him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And dom it, I’m off,” exclaimed he, fairly overcome with the impurity of
- the place; and hurrying out, he ran away towards home, leaving Mr.
- Mordecai Nathan to lock the empty house up, or not, just as he liked.
- </p>
- <p>
- And to Pangburn Park let us now follow the Baronet, and see what our
- friend Billy is about.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XLVI.<br/>THE PRINGLE CORRESPONDENCE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>R. Pringle’s
- return was greeted with an immense shoal of letters, one from Mamma, one
- with “Yammerton Grange” on the seal, two from his tailors—one with
- the following simple heading, “To bill delivered,” so much; the other
- containing a vast catalogue of what a jury of tailors would consider
- youthful “necessaries,” amounting in the whole to a pretty round sum,
- accompanied by an intimation, that in consequence of the tightness of the
- money-market, an early settlement would be agreeable—and a very
- important-looking package, that had required a couple of heads to convey,
- and which, being the most mysterious of the whole, after a due feeling and
- inspection, he at length opened. It was from his obsequious friend Mr.
- Smoothley, and contained a printed copy of the rules of the Hit-im and
- Hold-im shire Hunt, done up in a little red-backed yellow-lined book, with
- a note from the sender, drawing Mr. Pringle’s attention to the tenth rule,
- which stipulated that the annual club subscription of fifteen guineas was
- to be paid into Greedy and Griper’s bank, in Hinton, by Christmas-day in
- each year at latest, or ten per cent, interest would be charged on the
- amount after that.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fi-fi-fifteen guineas! te-te-ten per cent.!” ejaculated Billy, gasping
- for breath; “who’d ever have thought of such a thing!” and it was some
- seconds before he sufficiently recovered his composure to resume his
- reading. The rent of the cover he had taken, Mr. Smoothley proceeded to
- say, was eight guineas a-year. “Eight guineas a-year!” again ejaculated
- Billy; “eight guineas a-year! why I thought it was a mere matter of form.
- Oh dear, I can’t stand this!” continued he, looking vacantly about him.
- “Surely, risking one’s neck is quite bad enough, without paying for doing
- so. Lord Ladythorne never asked me for any money, why should Sir Moses? Oh
- dear, oh dear! I wish i’d never embarked in such a speculation. Nothing to
- be made by it, but a great deal to be lost. Bother the thing, I wish I was
- out of it,” with which declaration he again ventured to look at Mr.
- Smoothley’s letter. It went on to say, that the rent would not become
- payable until the next season, Mr. Treadcroft being liable for that year’s
- rent. “Ah well, come, that’s some consolation, at all events,” observed
- our friend, looking up again; “that’s some consolation, at all events,”
- adding, “I’ll take deuced good care to give it up before another year
- comes round.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Smoothley then touched upon the more genial subject of the hunt-buttons.
- he had desired Garnet, the silversmith, to send a couple of sets off the
- last die, one for Billy’s hunting, the other for his dress coat; and he
- concluded by wishing our friend a long life of health and happiness to
- wear them with the renowned Hit-im and Hold-im shire hunt; and assuring
- him that he was always his, with great sincerity, John Smoothley.
- “Indeed,” said Billy, throwing the letter down; “more happiness if I don’t
- wear them,” continued he, conning over his many misfortunes, and the great
- difficulty he had in sitting at the jumps. “However,” thought he, “the
- dress ones will do for the balls,” with which not uncommon consolation he
- broke the red seal of the Yammerton Grange letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was from our friend the Major, all about a wonderful hunt his
- “haryers” had had, which he couldn’t resist the temptation of writing to
- tell Billy of. The description then sprawled over four sides of letter
- paper, going an arrant burst from end to end, there not being a single
- stop in the whole, whatever there might have been in the hunt; and the
- Major concluded by saying, that it was by far the finest run he had ever
- seen during his long mastership, extending over a period of
- five-and-thirty years.
- </p>
- <p>
- Glancing his eye over its contents, how they found at Conksbury Corner,
- and ran at a racing pace without a check to Foremark Hill, and down over
- the water-meadows at Dove-dale Green to Marbury Hall, turning short at
- Fullbrook Folly, and over the race-course at Ancaster Lawn, doubling at
- Dinton Dean, and back over the hill past Oakhanger Gorse to Tufton Holt,
- where they killed, the account being interwoven, parenthesis within
- parenthesis, with the brilliant hits and performances of Lovely, and
- Lilter, and Dainty, and Bustler, and others, with the names of the
- distinguished party who were out, our old friend Wotherspoon among the
- number, Billy came at last to a sly postscript, saying that “his bed and
- stall were quite ready for him whenever he liked to return, and they would
- all be delighted to see him.” The wording of the Postscript had taken a
- good deal of consideration, and had undergone two or three revisions at
- the hands of the ladies before they gave it to the Major to add—one
- wanting to make it rather stronger, another rather milder, the Major
- thinking they had better have a little notice before Mr. Pringle returned,
- while Mamma (who had now got all the linen up again) inclined, though she
- did not say so before the girls, to treat Billy as one of the family. Upon
- a division whether the word “quite” should stand part of the Postscript or
- not, the Major was left in a minority, and the pressing word passed. His
- bed and stall were “quite ready,” instead of only “ready” to receive him.
- Miss Yammerton observing, that “quite” looked as if they really wished to
- have him, while “ready” looked as if they did not care whether he came or
- not. And Billy, having pondered awhile on the Postscript, which he thought
- came very opportunely, proceeded to open his last letter, a man always
- taking those he doesn’t know first.
- </p>
- <p>
- This letter was Mamma’s—poor Mamma’s—written in the usual
- strain of anxious earnestness, hoping her beloved was enjoying himself,
- but hinting that she would like to have him back. Butterfingers was gone,
- she had got her a place in Somersetshire, so anxiety on that score was
- over. Mrs. Pringle’s peculiar means of information, however, informed her
- that the Misses Yammerton were dangerous, and she had already expressed
- her opinion pretty freely with regard to Sir Moses. Indeed, she didn’t
- know which house she would soonest hear of her son being at—Sir
- Moses’s with his plausible pocket-guarding plundering, or Major
- Yammerton’s, with the three pair of enterprising eyes, and Mamma’s mature
- judgment directing the siege operations. Mrs. Pringle wished he was either
- back at Tantivy Castle, or in Curtain Crescent again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still she did not like to be too pressing, but observed, as Christmas was
- coming, when hunting would most likely be stopped by the weather, she
- hoped he would run up to town, where many of his friends, Jack Sheppard,
- Tom Brown, Harry Bean, and others, were asking for him, thinking he was
- lost. She also said, it would be a good time to go to Uncle Jerry’s, and
- try to get a settlement with him, for though she had often called,
- sometimes by appointment, she had never been able to meet with him, as he
- was always away, either seeing after some chapel he was building, or
- attending a meeting for the conversion of the Sepoys, or some other
- fanatics.
- </p>
- <p>
- The letter concluded by saying, that she had looked about in vain for a
- groom likely to suit him; for, although plenty had presented themselves
- from gentlemen wishing for high wages with nothing to do, down to those
- who would garden and groom and look after cows, she had not seen anything
- at all to her mind. Mr. Luke Grueler, however, she added, who had called
- that morning, had told her of one that he could recommend, who was just
- leaving the Honourable Captain Swellington; and being on his way to town
- from Doubleimupshire, where the Captain had got to the end of his tether,
- he would very possibly call; and, if so, Billy would know him by his
- having Mr. Grueler’s card to present. And with renewed expressions of
- affection, and urging him to take care of himself, as well among the leaps
- as the ladies, she signed herself his most doting and loving “Mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Groom!” (humph) “Swellington!” (humph) muttered Billy, folding up the
- letter, and returning it to its highly-musked envelope.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wonder what sort of a beggar he’ll be?” continued he, twirling his
- mustachios; “Wonder how he’ll get on with Rougier?” and a thought struck
- him, that he had about as much as he could manage with Monsieur. However,
- many people have to keep what they don’t want, and there is no reason why
- such an aspiring youth as our friend should be exempt from the penance of
- his station. Talking of grooms, we are not surprised at “Mamma’s”
- difficulty in choosing one, for we know of few more difficult selections
- to make; and, considering the innumerable books we have on the choice and
- management of horses, we wonder no one has written on the choice and
- management of grooms. The truth is, they are as various as the horse-tribe
- itself; and, considering that the best horse may soon be made a
- second-rate one by bad grooming, when a second-rate one may be elevated to
- the first class by good management, and that a man’s neck may be broken by
- riding a horse not fit to go, it is a matter of no small importance. Some
- men can dress themselves, some can dress their horses; but very few can
- dress both themselves and their horses. Some are only fit to strip a horse
- and starve him. It is not every baggy-corded fellow that rolls slangily
- along in top-boots, and hisses at everything he touches, that is a groom.
- In truth, there are very few grooms, very few men who really enter into
- the feelings and constitutions of horses, or look at them otherwise than
- as they would at chairs or mahogany tables. A horse that will be perfectly
- furious under the dressing of one man, will be as quiet as possible in the
- hands of another—-a rough subject thinking the more a horse prances
- and winces, the greater the reason to lay on. Some fellows have neither
- hands, nor eyes, nor sense, nor feeling, nor anything. We have seen one
- ride a horse to cover without ever feeling that he was lame, while a
- master’s eye detected it the moment he came in sight. Indeed, if horses
- could express their opinions, we fear many of them would have very
- indifferent ones of their attendants. The greater the reason, therefore,
- for masters giving honest characters of their servants.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our friend Mr. Pringle, having read his letters, was swinging up and down
- the little library, digesting them, when the great Mr. Bankhead bowed in
- with a card on a silver salver, and announced, in his usual bland way,
- that the bearer wished to speak to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me!” exclaimed Billy, wondering who it could be; “Me!” repeated he,
- taking the highly-glazed thin pasteboard missive off the tray, and
- reading, “Mr. Luke Grueler, Half-Moon Street, Piccadilly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grueler, Grueler!” repeated Billy, frowning and biting his pretty lips;
- “Grueler—I’ve surely heard that name before.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The bearer, sir, comes <i>from</i> Mr. Grueler, sir,” observed Mr.
- Bankhead, in explanation: “the party’s own name, sir, is Gaiters; but he
- said by bringing in this card, you would probably know who he is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! to be sure, so I do,” replied Billy, thus suddenly enlightened, “I’ve
- just been reading about him. Send him in, will you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you please, sir,” whispered the bowing Bankhead as he withdrew.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy then braced himself up for the coming interview.
- </p>
- <p>
- A true groom’s knock, a loud and a little one, presently sounded on the
- white-over-black painted door-panel, and at our friend’s “Come in,” the
- door opened, when in sidled a sleek-headed well put on groomish-looking
- man, of apparently forty or five-and-forty years of age. The man bowed
- respectfully, which Billy returned, glancing at his legs to see whether
- they were knock-kneed or bowed, his Mamma having cautioned him against the
- former. They were neither; on the contrary, straight good legs, well set
- off with tightish, drab-coloured kerseymere shorts, and continuations to
- match. His coat was an olive-coloured cutaway, his vest a canary-coloured
- striped toilanette, with a slightly turned-down collar, showing the
- whiteness of his well-tied cravat, secured with a gold flying-fox pin.
- Altogether he was a most respectable looking man, and did credit to the
- recommendation of Mr. Grueler.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still he was a groom of pretension—that is to say, a groom who
- wanted to be master. He was hardly, indeed, satisfied with that, and would
- turn a gentleman off who ventured to have an opinion of his own on any
- matter connected with his department. Mr. Gaiters considered that his
- character was the first consideration, his master’s wishes and
- inclinations the second; so if master wanted to ride, say, Rob Roy, and
- Gaiters meant him to ride Moonshine, there would be a trial of skill which
- it should be.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Gaiters always considered himself corporally in the field, and
- speculated on what people would be saying of “his horses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Some men like to be bullied, some don’t, but Gaiters had dropped on a good
- many who did. Still these are not the lasting order of men, and Gaiters
- had attended the dispersion of a good many studs at the Corner. Again,
- some masters had turned him off, while he had turned others off; and the
- reason of his now being disengaged was that the Sheriff of Doubleimupshire
- had saved him the trouble of taking Captain Swellington’s horses to
- Tattersall’s, by selling them off on the spot. Under these circumstances,
- Gaiters had written to his once former master—or rather employer—Mr.
- Grueler, to announce his retirement, which had led to the present
- introduction. Many people will recommend servants who they wouldn’t take
- themselves. Few newly married couples but what have found themselves
- saddled with invaluable servants that others wanted to get rid of.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mutual salutations over, Gaiters now stood in the first position, hat in
- front, like a heavy father on the stage.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our friend not seeming inclined to lead the gallop, Mr. Gaiters, after a
- prefatory hem, thus commenced: “Mr. Grueler, sir, I presume, would tell
- you, sir, that I would call upon you, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy nodded assent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m just leaving the Honourable Captain Swellington, of the Royal
- Hyacinth Hussars, sir, whose regiment is ordered out to India; and fearing
- the climate might not agree with my constitution, I have been obliged to
- give him up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” ejaculated Billy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have his testimonials,” continued Gaiters, putting his hat between his
- legs, and diving into the inside pocket of his cutaway as he spoke. “I
- have his testimonials,” repeated he, producing a black, steel-clasped
- banker or bill-broker’s looking pocket-book, and tedding up a lot of
- characters, bills, recipes, and other documents in the pocket. He then
- selected Captain Swellington’s character from the medley, written on the
- best double-thick, cream-laid note-paper, sealed with the Captain’s crest—a
- goose—saying that the bearer John Gaiters was an excellent groom,
- and might safely be trusted with the management of hunters. “You’ll
- probably know who the Captain is, sir,” continued Mr. Gaiters, eyeing
- Billy as he read it. “He’s a son of the Right Honourable Lord Viscount
- Flareup’s, of Flareup Castle, one of the oldest and best families in the
- kingdom—few better families anywhere,” just as if the Peer’s
- pedigree had anything to do with Gaiters’s grooming. “I have plenty more
- similar to it,” continued Mr. Gaiters, who had now selected a few out of
- the number which he held before him, like a hand at cards. “Plenty more
- similar to it,” repeated he, looking them over. “Here is Sir Rufus
- Rasper’s, Sir Peter Puller’s, Lord Thruster’s, Mr. Cropper’s, and others.
- Few men have horsed more sportsmen than I have done; and if my principals
- do not go in the first flight, it is not for want of condition in my
- horses. Mr. Grueler was the only one I ever had to give up for overmarking
- my horses; and he was so hard upon them I couldn’t stand it; still he
- speaks of me, as you see, in the handsomest manner,” handing our friend
- Mr. Grueler’s certificate, couched in much the same terms as Captain
- Swellington’s.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” replied Billy, glancing over and then returning it, thinking, as
- he again eyed Mr. Gaiters, that a smart lad like Lord Ladythorne’s Cupid
- without wings would be more in his way than such a full-sized magnificent
- man. Still his Mamma and Mr. Grueler had sent Gaiters, and he supposed
- they knew what was right. In truth, Gaiters was one of those overpowering
- people that make a master feel as if he was getting hired, instead of
- suiting himself with a servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- This preliminary investigation over, Gaiters returned the characters to
- his ample book, and clasping it together, dropped it into his capacious
- pocket, observing, as it fell, that he should be glad to endeavour to
- arrange matters with Mr. Pringle, if he was so inclined.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our friend nodded, wishing he was well rid of him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s not every place I would accept,” continued Mr. Gaiters, growing
- grand; “for the fact is, as Mr. Grueler will tell you, my character is as
- good as a Bank of England note; and unless I was sure I could do myself
- justice, I should not like to venture on an experiment, for it’s no use a
- man undertaking anything that he’s not allowed to carry out his own way;
- and nothing would be so painful to my feelings as to see a gentleman not
- turned out as he should be.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Pringle drawled a “yarse,” for he wanted to be turned out properly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” continued Mr. Gaiters, changing his hat from his right hand
- to his left, subsiding into the second position, and speaking slowly and
- deliberately, “I suppose you want a groom to take the entire charge and
- management of your stable—a stud groom, in short?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse, I s’pose so,” replied Billy, not knowing exactly what he wanted,
- and wishing his Mamma hadn’t sent him such a swell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, sir,” continued Mr. Gaiters, casting his eyes up to the dirty
- ceiling, and giving his chin a dry shave with his disengaged hand; “Well,
- then, sir, I flatter myself I can fulfil that office with credit to myself
- and satisfaction to my employer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yarse,” assented Billy, thinking there would be very little satisfaction
- in the matter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Buy the forage, hire the helpers, do everything appertaining to the
- department,—in fact, just as I did with the Honourable Captain
- Swellington.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph,” said Billy, recollecting that his Mamma always told him never to
- let servants buy anything for him that he could help.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Might I ask if you buy your own horses?” inquired Mr. Gaiters, after a
- pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, yarse, I do,” replied Billy; “at least I have so far.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hum! That would be a consideration,” muttered Gaiters, compressing his
- mouth, as if he had now come to an obstacle; “that would be a
- consideration. Not that there’s any benefit or advantage to be derived
- from buying horses,” continued he, resuming his former tone; “but when a
- man’s character’s at stake, it’s agreeable, desirable, in fact, that he
- should be intrusted with the means of supporting it. I should like to buy
- the horses,” continued he, looking earnestly at Billy, as if to ascertain
- the amount of his gullibility.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” drawled Billy, “I don’t care if you do,” thinking there wouldn’t
- be many to buy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” gasped Gaiters, relieved by the announcement; he always thought he
- had lost young Mr. Easyman’s place by a similar demand, but still he
- couldn’t help making it. It wouldn’t have been doing justice to the Bank
- of England note character, indeed, if he hadn’t.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” repeated he, emboldened by success, and thinking he had met with the
- right sort of man. He then proceeded to sum up his case in his mind,—forage,
- helpers, horses, horses, helpers, forage;—he thought that was all he
- required; yes, he thought it was all he required, and the Bank of England
- note character would be properly supported. He then came to the
- culminating point of the cash. Just as he was clearing his throat with a
- prefatory “<i>Hre</i>” for this grand consideration, a sudden rush and
- banging of doors foreboding mischief resounded through the house, and
- something occurred——that we will tell in another chapter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XLVII.<br/>A CATASTROPHE.—A TÊTE-À-TÊTE DINNER
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N, Sir, Sir,
- please step this way! please step this way!” exclaimed the <i>delirium
- tremems</i> footman, rushing coatless into the room where our hero and Mr.
- Gaiters were,—his shirt-sleeves tucked up, and a knife in hand, as
- if he had been killing a pig, though in reality he was fresh from the
- knife-board.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Sir, Sir, please step this way!” repeated he, at once demolishing the
- delicate discussion at which our friend and Mr. Gaiters had arrived.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s ha-ha-happened?” demanded Billy, turning deadly pale; for his
- cares were so few, that he couldn’t direct his fears to any one point in
- particular.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Please, sir, your ‘oss has dropped down in a f-f-fit!” replied the man,
- all in a tremble.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fit!” ejaculated Billy, brushing past Gaiters, and hurrying out of the
- room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fit!” repeated Gaiters, turning round with comfortable composure, looking
- at the man as much as to say, what do you know about it?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, f-f-fit!” repeated the footman, brandishing his knife, and running
- after Billy as though he were going to slay him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dashing along the dark passages, breaking his shins over one of those
- unlucky coal-scuttles that are always in the way, Billy fell into an
- outward-bound stream of humanity,—Mrs. Margerum, Barbara the
- housemaid, Mary the Lanndrymaid, Jones the gardener’s boy, and others, all
- hurrying to the scene of action.
- </p>
- <p>
- Already there was a ring formed round the door, of bare-armed helpers, and
- miscellaneous hangers-on, looking over each other’s shoulders, who opened
- a way for Billy as he advanced.
- </p>
- <p>
- The horse was indeed down, but not in a fit; for he was dying, and expired
- just as Billy entered. There lay the glazy-eyed hundred-guinea Napoleon
- the Great, showing his teeth, reduced to the mere value of his skin; so
- great is the difference between a dead horse and a live one.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bad job!” said Wetun, who was on his knees at its head, looking up; “bad
- job!” repeated he, trying to look dismal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! is he dead?” demanded Billy, who could hardly realise the fact.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dead, ay—he’ll never move more,” replied Wetun, showing his
- fast-stiffening neck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By Jove! why didn’t you send for the doctor?” demanded Billy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Doctor! we had the doctor,” replied Wetun, “but he could do nothin’ for
- him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothin’ for him!” retorted Billy; “why not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because he’s rotten,” replied Wetun.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rotten! how can that be?” asked our friend, adding, “I only bought him
- the other day!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you open ‘im you’ll find he’s as black as ink in his inside, rejoined
- the groom, now getting up in the stall and rubbing his knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but what’s that with?” demanded Billy. “It surely must be owing to
- something. Horses don’t die that way for nothing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Owing to a bad constitution—harn’t got no stamina,” replied Wetun,
- looking down upon the dead animal.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy was posed with the answer, and stood mute for a while.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That ‘oss ‘as never been rightly well sin he com’d,” now observed Joe
- Bates, the helper who looked after him, over the heads of the door-circle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t like his looks when he com’d in from ‘unting that day,”
- continued Tom Wisp, another helper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, nor the day arter nonther,” assented Jack Strong, who was a capital
- hand at finding fault, and could slur over his work with anybody.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just then Mr. Gaiters arrived; and a deferential entrance was opened for
- his broadcloth by the group before the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The great Mr. Gaiters entered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Treating the dirty blear-eyed Wetun more as a helper than an equal, he
- advanced deliberately up the stall and proceeded to examine the dead
- horse.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked first up his nostrils, next at his eye, then at his neck to see
- if he had been bled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could have cured that horse if I’d had him in time,” observed he to
- Billy with a shake of the head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Neither you nor no man under the sun could ha’ done it,” asserted Mr.
- Wetun, indignant at the imputation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could though—at least he never should have been in that state,”
- replied Gaiters coolly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say you couldn’t!” retorted Wetun, putting his arms a-kimbo, and
- sideling up to the daring intruder, a man who hadn’t even asked leave to
- come into his stable.
- </p>
- <p>
- A storm being imminent, our friend slipped off, and Sir Moses arrived from
- Henerey Brown &, Co.‘s just at the nick of time to prevent a fight.
- </p>
- <p>
- So much for a single night in a bad stable, a result that our readers will
- do well to remember when they ask their friends to visit them—“Love
- me, love my horse,” being an adage more attended to in former times than
- it is now.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, my dear Pringle! I’m so sorry to hear about your horse! go sorry to
- hear about your horse!” exclaimed Sir Moses, rushing forward to greet our
- friend with a consolatory shake of the hand, as he came sauntering into
- the library, flat candlestick in hand, before dinner. “It’s just the most
- unfortunate thing I ever knew in my life; and I wouldn’t have had it
- happen at my house for all the money in the world—dom’d if I would,”
- added he, with a downward blow of his fist.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy could only reply with one of his usual monotonous “y-a-r-ses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “However,” said the Baronet, “it shall not prevent your hunting to-morrow,
- for I’ll mount you with all the pleasure in the world—all the
- pleasure in the world,” repeated he, with a flourish of his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank ye,” replied Billy, alarmed at the prospect; “but the fact is, the
- Major expects me back at Yammerton Grange, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s nothin!” interrupted Sir Moses; “that’s nothin; hunt, and go there
- after—all in the day’s work. Meet at the kennel, find a fox in five
- minutes, have your spin, and go to the Grange afterwards.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, indeed, yes, you shall,” continued he, settling it so, “shall have the
- best horse in my stable—Pegasus, or Atalanta, or Old Jack, or any of
- them—dom’d if you shalln’t—so that matter’s settled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, but, but,” hesitated our alarmed friend, “I—I—I shall
- have no way of getting there after hunting.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I’ll manage that too,” replied Sir Moses, now in the generous mood.
- “I’ll manage that too—shall have the dog-cart—the thing we
- were in to-day; my lad shall go with you and bring it back, and that’ll
- convey you and your traps and all altogether. Only sorry I can’t ask you
- to stay another week, but the fact is I’ve got to go to my friend Lord
- Lundyfoote’s for Monday’s hunting at Harker Crag,”—the fact being
- that Sir Moses had had enough of Billy’s company and had invited himself
- there to get rid of him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The noiseless Mr. Bankhead then opened the door with a bow, and they
- proceeded to a tête-à-tête dinner, Cuddy Flintoff having wisely sent for
- his things from Heslop’s house, and taken his departure to town under
- pretence, as he told Sir Moses in a note, of seeing Tommy White’s horses
- sold.
- </p>
- <p>
- Cuddy was one of that numerous breed of whom every sportsman knows at
- least one—namely, a man who is always wanting a horse, a “do you
- know of a horse that will suit me?” sort of a man. Charley Flight, who
- always walks the streets like a lamplighter and doesn’t like to be checked
- in his stride, whenever he sees Cuddy crawling along Piccadilly towards
- the Corner, puts on extra steam, exclaiming as he nears him, “How are you,
- Cuddy, how are you? I <i>don’t</i> know of a horse that will suit you!” So
- he gets past without a pull-up.
- </p>
- <p>
- But we are keeping the soup waiting—also the fish—cod sounds
- rather—for Mrs. Margerum not calculating on more than the usual
- three days of country hospitality,—the rest day, the drest day, and
- the pressed day,—had run out of fresh fish. Indeed the whole repast
- bespoke the exhausted larder peculiar to the end of the week, and an adept
- in dishes might have detected some old friends with new faces. Some <i>rechauffers</i>
- however are quite as good if not better than the original dishes—hashed
- venison for instance—though in this case, when Sir Moses inquired
- for the remains of the Sunday’s haunch, he was told that Monsieur had had
- it for his lunch—Jack being a safe bird to lay it upon, seeing that
- he had not returned from the race. If Jack had been in the way then, the
- cat would most likely have been the culprit, or old Libertine, who had the
- run of the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- Neither the Baronet nor Billy however was in any great humour for eating,
- each having cares of magnitude to oppress his thoughts, and it was not
- until Sir Moses had imbibed the best part of a pint of champagne besides
- sherry at intervals, that he seemed at all like himself. So he picked and
- nibbled and dom’d and dirted as many plates as he could. Dinner being at
- length over, he ordered a bottle of the green-sealed claret (his best),
- and drawing his chair to the fire proceeded to crack walnuts and pelt the
- shells at particular coals in the fire with a vehemence that showed the
- occupation of his mind. An observing eye could almost tell which were
- levelled at Henerey Brown, which at Cuddy Flintoff, and which again at the
- impudent owner of Tippy Tom.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length, having exhausted his spleen, he made a desperate dash at the
- claret-jug, and pouring himself out a bumper, pushed it across to our
- friend, with a “help yourself,” as he sent it. The ticket-of-leave butler,
- who understood wine, had not lost his skill during his long residence at
- Portsmouth, and brought this in with the bouquet in great perfection. The
- wine was just as it should be, neither too warm nor too cold; and as Sir
- Moses quaffed a second glass, his equanimity began to revive.
- </p>
- <p>
- When not thinking about money, his thoughts generally took a sporting
- turn,
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-Horses and hounds, and the system of kennel,
-Leicestershire saga, and the hounds of old Moynell,
-</pre>
- <p>
- as the song says; and the loss of Billy’s horse now obtruded on his mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How the deuce it had happened he couldn’t imagine; his man, Wetun,—and
- there was no better judge—said he seemed perfectly well, and a
- better stable couldn’t be than the one he was in; indeed he was standing
- alongside of his own favourite mare, Whimpering Kate,—‘faith, he
- wished he had told them to take her out, in case it was anything
- infectious,—only it looked more like internal disease than anything
- else.—Wished he mightn’t be rotten. The Major was an excellent man,—cute,——”
- and here he checked himself, recollecting that Billy was going back there
- on the morrow. “A young man,” continued he, “should be careful who he
- dealt with, for many what were called highly honourable men were very
- unscrupulous about horses;” and a sudden thought struck Sir Moses, which,
- with the aid of another bottle, he thought he might try to carry out. So
- apportioning the remains of the jug equitably between Billy and himself,
- he drew the bell, and desired the ticket-of-leave butler to bring in
- another bottle and a devilled biscuit.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That wine won’t hurt you,” continued he, addressing our friend, “that
- wine won’t hurt you, it’s not the nasty loaded stuff they manufacture for
- the English market, but pure, unadulterated juice of the grape, without a
- headache in a gallon of it so saying, Sir Moses quaffed off his glass and
- set it down with evident satisfaction, feeling almost a match for the
- owner of Tippy Tom. He then moved his chair a little on one side, and
- resumed his contemplation of the fire,—the blue lights rising among
- the red,—the gas escaping from the coal,—the clear flame
- flickering with the draught. He thought he saw his way,—yes, he
- thought he saw his way, and forthwith prevented any one pirating his
- ideas, by stirring the fire. Mr. Bankhead then entered with the bottle and
- the biscuit, and, placing them on the table, withdrew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, Pringle!” cried Sir Moses cheerfully, seizing the massive cut-glass
- decanter, “let’s drink the healths of the young ladies at——,
- you know where,” looking knowingly at our friend, who blushed. “We’ll have
- a bumper to that,” continued he, pouring himself out one, and passing the
- bottle to Billy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The young ladies at Yammerton Grange!” continued Sir Moses, holding the
- glass to the now sparkling fire before he transferred its bright
- ruby-coloured contents to his thick lips. He then quaffed it off with a
- smack.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The young ladies at Yammerton Grange!” faltered Billy, after filling
- himself a bumper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nice girls those, dom’d if they’re not,” observed the Baronet, now
- breaking the devilled biscuit. “You must take care what you’re about
- there, though, for the old lady doesn’t stand any nonsense; the Major
- neither.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy said he wasn’t going to try any on——.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—but they’ll try it on with you,” retorted Sir Moses; “mark my
- words if they don’t.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, but I’m only there for hunting,” observed Billy, timidly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dare say,” replied Sir Moses, with a jerk of his head, “I dare say,—but
- it’s very agreeable to talk to a pretty girl when you come in, and those
- <i>are</i> devilish pretty girls, let me tell you,—dom’d if they’re
- not,—only one talk leads to another talk, and ultimately Mamma talks
- about a small gold ring.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy was frightened, for he felt the truth of what Sir Moses said. They
- then sat for some minutes in silence, ruminating on their own affairs,—Billy
- thinking he would be careful of the girls, and wondering how he could
- escape Sir Moses’s offer of a bump on the morrow,—Sir Moses thinking
- he would advance that performance a step. He now led the way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ll be wanting a horse to go with the Major’s harriers,” observed he;
- “and I’ve got the very animal for that sort of work; that grey horse of
- mine, the Lord Mayor, in the five-stalled stable on the right; the safest,
- steadiest animal ever man got on to; and I’ll make you a present of him,
- dom’d if I won’t; for I’m more hurt at the loss of yours than words can
- express; wouldn’t have had such a thing happen at my house on any account;
- so that’s a bargain, and will make all square; for the grey’s an
- undeniable good ‘un—worth half-a-dozen of the Major’s—and will
- do you some credit, for a young man on his preferment should always study
- appearances, and ride handsome horses; and the grey is one of the
- handsomest I ever saw. Lord Tootleton, up in Neck-and-crop-shire, who I
- got him of, gave three ‘under’d for him at the hammer, solely, I believe,
- on account of his looks, for he had never seen him out except in the ring,
- which is all my eye, for telling you whether a horse is a hunter or not;
- but, however, he <i>is</i> a hunter, and no mistake, and you are most
- heartily welcome to him, dom’d if you’re not; and I’m deuced glad that it
- occurred to me to give him you, for I shall now sleep quite comfortable;
- so help yourself, and we’ll drink Foxhunting,” saying which, Sir Moses,
- who had had about enough wine, filled on a liberal heel-tap, and again
- passed the bottle to his guest.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now Billy, who had conned over the matter in his bedroom before dinner,
- had come to the conclusion that he had had about hunting enough, and that
- the loss of Napoleon the Great afforded a favourable opportunity for
- retiring from the chase; indeed, he had got rid of the overpowering Mr.
- Gaiters on that plan, and he was not disposed to be cajoled into a
- continuance of the penance by the gift of a horse; so as soon as he could
- get a word in sideways, he began hammering away at an excuse, thanking Sir
- Moses most energetically for his liberality, but expressing his inability
- to accept such a magnificent offer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses, however, who did not believe in any one refusing a gift,
- adhered pertinaciously to his promise,—“Oh, indeed, he should have
- him, he wouldn’t be easy if he didn’t take him,” and ringing the bell he
- desired the footman to tell Wetun to see if Mr. Pringle’s saddle would fit
- the Lord Mayor, and if it didn’t, to let our friend have one of his in the
- morning, and “here!” added he, as the man was retiring, “bring in tea.”—And
- Sir Moses being peremptory in his presents, Billy was compelled to remain
- under pressure of the horse.—So after a copious libation of tea the
- couple hugged and separated for the night, Sir Moses exclaiming “Breakfast
- at nine, mind!” as Billy sauntered up stairs, while the Baronet ran off to
- his study to calculate what Henerey Brown & Co. had done him out of.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XLVIII.<br/>ROUGIER’S MYSTERIOUS LODGINGS—THE GIFT HORSE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>R. Gallon’s
- liberality after the race with Mr. Flintoff was so great that Monsieur
- Rougier was quite overcome with his kindness and had to be put to bed at
- the last public-house they stopped at, viz.—the sign of the
- Nightingale on the Ashworth road. Independently of the brandy not being
- particularly good, Jack took so much of it that he slept the clock round,
- and it was past nine the next morning ere he awoke. It then took him good
- twenty minutes to make out where he was; he first of all thought he was at
- Boulogne, then in Paris, next at the Lord Warden Hotel at Dover, and
- lastly at the Coal-hole in the Strand.
- </p>
- <p>
- Presently the recollection of the race began to dawn upon him—the
- red jacket—the grey horse, Cuddy in distress, and gradually he
- recalled the general outline of the performance, but he could not fill it
- up so as to make a connected whole, or to say where he was.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then looked at his watch, and finding it was half-past four, he
- concluded it had stopped,—an opinion that was confirmed on holding
- it to his ear; so without more ado, he bounded out of bed in a way that
- nearly sent him through the gaping boards of the dry-rotting floor of the
- little attic in which they had laid him. He then made his way to the
- roof-raised window to see what was outside. A fine wet muddy road shone
- below him, along which a straw-cart was rolling; beyond the road was a
- pasture, then a turnip field; after which came a succession of green,
- brown, and drab fields, alternating and undulating away to the horizon,
- varied with here and there a belt or tuft of wood. Jack was no wiser than
- he was, but hearing sounds below, he made for the door, and opening the
- little flimsy barrier stood listening like a terrier with its ear at a
- rat-hole. These were female voices, and he thus addressed them—“I
- say, who’s there? Theodosia, my dear,” continued he, speaking down stairs,
- “vot’s de time o’ day, my sweet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lady thus addressed as Theodosia was Mrs. Windybank, a very forbidding
- tiger-faced looking woman, desperately pitted with the small-pox, who was
- not in the best of humours in consequence of the cat having got to the
- cream-bowl; so all the answer she made to Jack’s polite enquiry was, “Most
- ten.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Most ten!” repeated Jack, “most ten! how the doose can that be?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is hooiver,” replied she, adding, “you may look if you like.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, my dear, I’ll take your word for it,” replied Jack; “but tell me,
- Susannah,” continued he, “whose house is this I’m at?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whose house is’t?” replied the voice; “whose house is’t? why, Jonathan
- Windybank’s—you knar that as well as I do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “De lady’s not pleasant,” muttered Jack to himself; so returning into the
- room, he began to array himself in his yesterday’s garments, Mr. Gallon’s
- boots and leathers, his own coat with Finlater’s cap, in which he
- presently came creaking down stairs and confronted the beauty with whom he
- had had the flying colloquy. The interview not being at all to her
- advantage, and as she totally denied all knowledge of Pangburn Park, and
- “de great Baronet vot kept the spotted dogs,” Monsieur set off on foot to
- seek it; and after divers askings, mistakings, and deviations, he at
- length arrived on Rossington hill just as the servants’ hall dinner-bell
- was ringing, the walk being much to the detriment of Mr. Gallon’s boots.
- </p>
- <p>
- In consequence of Monsieur’s <i>laches</i>, as the lawyers would say, Mr.
- Pringle was thrown on the resources of the house the next morning; but Sir
- Moses being determined to carry out his intention with regard to the
- horse, sent the footman to remind Billy that he was going to hunt, and to
- get him his things if required. So our friend was obliged to adorn for the
- chase instead of retiring from further exertion in that line as he
- intended; and with the aid of the footman he made a very satisfactory
- toilette,—his smart scarlet, a buff vest, a green cravat, correct
- shirt-collar, with unimpeachable leathers and boots.
- </p>
- <p>
- Though this was the make-believe day of the week, Sir Moses was all hurry
- and bustle as usual, and greeted our hero as he came down stairs with the
- greatest enthusiasm, promising, of all things in the world! to show him a
- run.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now bring breakfast! bring breakfast!” continued he, as if they had got
- twenty miles to go to cover; and in came urn and eggs, and ham, and cakes,
- and tongue, and toast, and buns, all the concomitants of the meal.—At
- it Sir Moses went as if he had only ten minutes to eat it in, inviting his
- guest to fall-to also.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just as they were in the midst of the meal a horse was heard to snort
- outside, and on looking up the great Lord Mayor was seen passing up the
- Park.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, there’s your horse!” exclaimed Sir Moses, “there’s your horse! been
- down to the shop to get his shoes looked to,” though in reality Sir Moses
- had told the groom to do just what he was doing, viz.—to pass him
- before the house at breakfast-time without his clothing.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Lord Mayor was indeed a sort of horse that a youngster might well be
- taken in with, grey, with a beautiful head and neck, and an elegantly
- set-on tail. He stepped out freely and gaily, and looked as lively as a
- lark.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was, however, as great an impostor as Napoleon the Great; for,
- independently of being troubled with the Megrims, he was a shocking bad
- hack, and a very few fields shut him up as a hunter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well now,” said Sir Moses, pausing in his meal, with the uplifted knife
- and fork of admiration, “that, to my mind, is the handsomest horse in the
- country,—I don’t care where the next handsomest is.—Just look
- at his figure, just look at his action.—Did you ever see anything so
- elegant? To my mind he’s as near perfection as possible, and what’s more,
- he’s as good as he looks, and all I’ve got to say is, that you are most
- heartily welcome to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, thank’e,” replied Billy, “thank’e, but I couldn’t think of accepting
- him,—I couldn’t think of accepting him indeed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, but you shall,” said Sir Moses, resuming his eating, “O but you shall,
- so there’s an end of the matter.—And now have some more tea,”
- whereupon he proceeded to charge Billy’s cup in the awkward sort of way
- men generally do when they meddle with the tea-pot.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses, having now devoured his own meal, ran off to his study, telling
- Billy he would call him when it was time to go, and our friend proceeded
- to dandle and saunter, and think what he would do with his gift horse. He
- was certainly a handsome one—handsomer than Napoleon, and grey was a
- smarter colour than bay—might not be quite so convenient for riding
- across country on, seeing the color was conspicuous, but for a hot day in
- the Park nothing could be more cool or delightful. And he thought it was
- extremely handsome of Sir Moses giving it to him, more, he felt, than
- nine-tenths of the people in the world would have done.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our friend’s reverie was presently interrupted by Sir Moses darting back,
- pen and paper in hand, exclaiming, “I’ll tell ye what, my dear Pringle!
- I’ll tell ye what! there shall be no obligation, and you shall give me
- fifty puns for the grey and pay for him when you please. But <i>mark</i>
- me!” added he, holding up his forefinger and looking most scrutinisingly
- at our friend, “<i>Only on one condition, mind! only on one condition,
- mind!</i> that you give me the refusal of him if ever you want to part
- with him;” and without waiting for an answer, he placed the paper before
- our friend, and handing him the pen, said, “There, then, sign that I. O.
- U.” And Billy having signed it, Sir Moses snatched it up and disappeared,
- leaving our friend to a renewal of his cogitations.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0052" id="linkimage-0052"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/365m.jpg" alt="365m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/365.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Sir Moses having accomplished the grand “do,” next thought he would back
- out of the loan of the dog-cart. For this purpose he again came hurrying
- back, pen in hand, exclaiming, “Oh dear, he was so sorry, but it had just
- occurred to him that he wanted the mare to go to Lord Lundyfoote’s;
- however, I’ll make it all square, I’ll make it all square,” continued he;
- “I’ll tell Jenkins, the postman, to send a fly as soon as he gets to
- Hinton, which, I make no doubt, will be here by the time we come in from
- hunting, and it will take you and your traps all snug and comfortable; for
- a dog-cart, after all, is but a chilly concern at this time of year, and I
- shouldn’t like you to catch cold going from my house;” and without waiting
- for an answer, he pulled-to the door and hurried back to his den. Billy
- shook his head, for he didn’t like being put off that way, and muttered to
- himself, “I wonder who’ll pay for it though.” However, on reflection, he
- thought perhaps he would be as comfortable in a fly as finding his way
- across country on horseback; and as he had now ascertained that Monsieur
- could ride, whether or not he could drive, he settled that he might just
- as well take the grey to Yammerton Grange as not. This then threw him back
- on his position with regard to the horse, which was not so favourable as
- it at first appeared; indeed, he questioned whether he had done wisely in
- signing the paper, his Mamma having always cautioned him to be careful how
- he put his name to anything. Still, he felt he couldn’t have got off
- without offending Sir Moses; and after all, it was more like a loan than a
- sale, seeing that he had not paid for him, and Sir Moses would take him
- back if he liked. Altogether he thought he might be worse off, and,
- considering that Lord Tootleton had given three hundred for the horse, he
- certainly must be worth fifty. There is nothing so deceiving as price.
- Only tell a youngster that a horse has cost a large sum, and he
- immediately looks at him, while he would pass him by if he stood at a low
- figure. Having belonged to a lord, too, made him so much more acceptable
- to Billy.
- </p>
- <p>
- A loud crack of a whip, accompanied by a “Now, Pringle!” presently
- resounded through the house, and our friend again found himself called
- upon to engage in an act of horsemanship.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Coming!” cried he, starting from the little mirror above the scanty grey
- marble mantel-piece, in which he was contemplating his moustachios;
- “Coming!” and away he strode, with the desperate energy of a man bent on
- braving the worst. His cap, whip, gloves, and mits, were all laid ready
- for him on the entrance hall-table; and seizing them in a cluster, he
- proceeded to decorate himself as he followed Sir Moses along the intricate
- passages leading to the stable-yard.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XLIX.<br/>THE SHAM DAY.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ATURDAY is a very
- different day in the country to what it is in London. In London it is the
- lazy day of the week, whereas it is the busy one in the country. It is
- marked in London by the coming of the clean-linen carts, and the hurrying
- about of Hansoms with gentlemen with umbrellas and small carpet-bags,
- going to the steamers and stations for pleasure; whereas in the country
- everybody is off to the parliament of his local capital on business. All
- the markets in Hit-im and Hold-im shire were held on a Saturday, and
- several in Featherbedfordshire; and as everybody who has nothing to do is
- always extremely busy, great gatherings were the result. This circumstance
- made Sir Moses hit upon Saturday for his fourth, or make-believe day with
- the hounds, inasmuch as few people would be likely to come, and if they
- did, he knew how to get rid of them. The consequence was, that the
- court-yard at Pangburn Park exhibited a very different appearance, on this
- occasion, to what it would have done had the hounds met there on any other
- day of the week. Two red coats only, and those very shabby ones, with very
- shady horses under them—viz., young Mr. Billikins of Red Hill Lodge,
- and his cousin Captain Luff of the navy (the latter out for the first time
- in his life), were all that greeted our sportsmen; the rest of the field
- being attired in shooting-jackets, tweeds, antigropolos and other
- anti-fox-hunting looking things.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good morning, gentlemen! good morning!” cried Sir Moses, waving his hand
- from the steps at the promiscuous throng; and without condescending to
- particularise any one, he hurried across for his horse, followed by our
- friend. Sir Moses was going to ride Old Jack, one of the horses he had
- spoken of for Billy, a venerable brown, of whose age no one’s memory about
- the place supplied any information—though when he first came all the
- then wiseacres prophesied a speedy decline. Still Old Jack had gone on
- from season to season, never apparently getting older, and now looking as
- likely to go on as ever. The old fellow having come pottering out of the
- stable and couched to his load, the great Lord Mayor came darting forward
- as if anxious for the fray. “It’s <i>your</i> saddle, sir,” said Wetun,
- touching his forehead with his finger, as he held on by the stirrup for
- Billy to mount. Up then went our friend into the old seat of suffering.
- “There!” exclaimed Sir Moses, as he got his feet settled in the stirrups;
- “there, you do look well! If Miss ‘um’ sees you,” continued he, with a
- knowing wink, “it’ll be all over with you;” so saying, Sir Moses touched
- Old Jack gently with the spur, and proceeded to the slope of the park,
- where Findlater and the whips now had the hounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- Tom Findlater, as we said before, was an excellent huntsman, but he had
- his peculiarities, and in addition to that of getting drunk, he sometimes
- required to be managed by the rule of contrary, and made to believe that
- Sir Moses wanted him to do the very reverse of what he really did. Having
- been refused leave to go to Cleaver the butcher’s christening-supper at
- the sign of the Shoulder of Mutton, at Kimberley, Sir Moses anticipated
- that this would be one of his perverse days, and so he began taking
- measures accordingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good morning, Tom,” said he, as huntsman and whips now sky-scraped to his
- advance—“morning all of you,” added he, waving a general salute to
- the hound-encircling group.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, Tom,” said he, pulling up and fumbling at his horn, “I’ve been
- telling Mr. Pringle that we’ll get him a gallop so as to enable him to
- arrive at Yammerton Grange before dark.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Sir Moses,” replied Tom, with a rap of his cap-peak, thinking he
- would take very good care that he didn’t.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now whether will Briarey Banks or the Reddish Warren be the likeliest
- place for a find?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Neither, Sir Moses, neither,” replied Tom confidently, “Tipthorne’s the
- place for us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was just what Sir Moses wanted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tipthorne, you think, do you?” replied he, musingly. “Tipthorne, you
- think—well, and where next?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Shillington, Sir Moses, and Halstead Hill, and so on to Hatchington
- Wood.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good!” replied the Baronet, “Good!” adding, “then let’s be going.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At a whistle and a waive of his hand the watchful hounds darted up, and
- Tom taking the lead, the mixed cavalcade swept after them over the now
- yellow-grassed park in a north-easterly direction, Captain Luff working
- his screw as if he were bent on treading on the hounds’ stems.
- </p>
- <p>
- There being no one out to whom Sir Moses felt there would be any
- profitable investment of attention, he devoted himself to our hero,
- complimenting him on his appearance, and on the gallant bearing of his
- steed, declaring that of all the neat horses he had ever set eyes on the
- Lord Mayor was out-and-out the neatest. So with compliments to Billy, and
- muttered “cusses” at Luff, they trotted down Oxclose Lane, through the
- little village of Homerton, past Dewfield Lawn, over Waybridge Common,
- shirking Upwood toll-bar, and down Cornforth Bank to Burford, when
- Tipthorne stood before them. It was a round Billesdon Coplow-like hill,
- covered with stunted oaks, and a nice warm lying gorse sloping away to the
- south; but Mr. Tadpole’s keeper having the rabbits, he was seldom out of
- it, and it was of little use looking there for a fox.
- </p>
- <p>
- That being the case, of course it was more necessary to make a great
- pretension, so halting noiselessly behind the high red-berried hedge,
- dividing the pasture from the gorse, Tom despatched his whips to their
- points, and then touching his cap to Sir Moses, said, “P’raps Mr. Pringle
- would like to ride in and see him find.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, to be sure,” replied Sir Moses, “let’s both go in,” whereupon Tom
- opened the bridle-gate, and away went the hounds with a dash that as good
- as said if we don’t get a fox we’ll get a rabbit at all events.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A fox for a guinea!” cried Findlater, cheering them, and looking at his
- watch as if he had him up already. “A fox for a guinea!” repeated he,
- thinking how nicely he was selling his master.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Keep your eye on this side,” cried Sir Moses to Billy. “he’ll cross
- directly!” Terrible announcement. How our friend did quake.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Yap, yap, yap</i>,” now went the shrill note of Tartar, the tarrier, “<i>Yough,
- yough, yough</i>” followed the deep tone of young Venturesome, close in
- pursuit of a bunny.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Crack!</i>” went a heavy whip, echoing through the air and resounding
- at the back of the hill.
- </p>
- <p>
- All again was still, and Tom advanced up the cover, standing erect in his
- stirrups, looking as if half-inclined to believe it was a fox after all.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Eloo in! Eloo in!</i>” cried he, capping Talisman and Wonderful
- across. “Yoicks wind ‘im! yoicks push him up!” continued he, thinking what
- a wonderful performance it would be if they did find.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Squeak, yap, yell, squeak,” now went the well-known sound of a hound in a
- trap. It is Labourer, and a whip goes diving into the sea of gorse to the
- rescue.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, dom those traps,” cries Sir Moses, as the clamour ceases, adding, “no
- fox here, I told you so,” adding, “should have gone to the Warren.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He then took out his box-wood horn and stopped the performance by a most
- discordant blast. The hounds came slinking out to the summons, some of
- them licking their lips as if they had not been there altogether for
- nothing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where to, now, please Sir Moses?” asked Tom, with a touch of his cap, as
- soon as he had got them all out.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0053" id="linkimage-0053"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/371m.jpg" alt="371m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/371.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- “<i>Tally-ho!</i>” cries Captain Luff, in a most stentorian strain—adding
- immediately, “Oh no! I’m mistaken, <i>It’s a hare!</i>” as half the hounds
- break away to his cry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, dom you and your noise,” cries Sir Moses, in well-feigned disgust,
- adding—“Why don’t you put your spectacles on?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Luff looks foolish, for he doesn’t know what to say, and the excitement
- dies out in a laugh at the Captain’s expense.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where to, now, please, Sir Moses?” again asks Tom, chuckling at his
- master’s displeasure, and thinking how much better it would have been if
- he had let him go to the supper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where you please,” growled the Baronet, scowling at Luff’s nasty rusty
- Napoleons—“where you please, you said Shillington, didn’t you—anywhere,
- only let us find a fox,” added he, as if he really wanted one.
- </p>
- <p>
- Tom then got his horse short by the head, and shouldering his whip,
- trotted off briskly, as if bent on retrieving the day. So he went through
- the little hamlet of Hawkesworth over Dippingham water meadows, bringing
- Blobbington mill-race into the line, much to Billy’s discomfiture, and
- then along the Hinton and London turnpike to the sign of the Plough at the
- blacksmith’s shop at Shillington.
- </p>
- <p>
- The gorse was within a stone’s throw of the “Public,” so Luff and some of
- the thirsty ones pulled up to wet their whistles and light the clay pipes
- of gentility.
- </p>
- <p>
- The gorse was very open, and the hounds ran through it almost before the
- sots had settled what they would have, and there being a bye-road at the
- far end, leading by a slight <i>détour</i> to Halstead Hill, Sir Moses
- hurried them out, thinking to shake off some of them by a trot. They
- therefore slipped away with scarcely a crack of the whip, let alone the
- twang of a horn.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bad work this,” said Sir Moses, spurring and reining up alongside of
- Billy, “bad work this; that huntsman of mine,” added he, in an under tone,
- “is the most obstinate fool under the sun, and let me give you a bit of
- advice,” continued he, laying hold of our friend’s arm, as if to enforce
- it. “If ever you keep hounds, always give orders and never ask opinions.
- Now, Mister Findlater!” hallooed he, to the bobbing cap in advance, “Now,
- Mister Findlater! you’re well called Findlater, by Jove, for I think
- you’ll never find at all. Halstead Hill, I suppose, next?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Sir Moses,” replied Tom, with a half-touch of his cap, putting on a
- little faster, to get away, as he thought, from the spray of his master’s
- wrath. And so with this comfortable game at cross purposes, master and
- servant passed over what is still called Lingfield common (though it now
- grows turnips instead of gorse), and leaving Cherry-trees Windmill to the
- left, sunk the hill at Drovers’ Heath, and crossing the bridge at the
- Wellingburn, the undulating form of Halstead Hill stood full before them.
- Tom then pulled up into a walk, and contemplated the rugged intricacies of
- its craggy bush-dotted face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If there’s a fox in the country one would think he’d be here,” observed
- he, in a general sort of way, well knowing that Mr. Testyfield’s keeper
- took better care of them than that. “Gently hurrying!” hallooed he, now
- cracking his whip as the hounds pricked their ears, and seemed inclined to
- break away to an outburst of children from the village school below.
- </p>
- <p>
- Tom then took the hounds to the east end of the hill, where the lying
- began, and drew them along the face of it with the usual result, “<i>Nil</i>.”
- Not even a rabbit.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, that’s queer,” said he, with well feigned chagrin, as Pillager,
- Petulant, and Ravager appeared on the bare ground to the west, leading out
- the rest of the pack on their lines. They were all presently clustering in
- view again. A slight twang of the horn brought them pouring down to the
- hill to our obstinate huntsman just as Captain Luff and Co. hove in sight
- on the Wellingburn Bridge, riding as boldly as refreshed gentlemen
- generally do.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was nothing for it then but Hatchington Wood, with its deep holding
- rides and interminable extent.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is a Hatchington Wood in every hunt, wild inhospitable looking
- thickets, that seem as if they never knew an owner’s care, where men light
- their cigars and gather in groups, well knowing that whatever sport the
- hounds may have, theirs is over for the day. Places in which a man may
- gallop his horse’s tail off, and not hear or see half as much as those do
- who sit still.
- </p>
- <p>
- Into it Tom now cheered his hounds, again thinking how much better it
- would have been if Sir Moses had let him go to the supper. “<i>Cover
- hoick! Cover hoick!</i>” cheered he to his hounds, as they came to the
- rickety old gate. “I wouldn’t ha’ got drunk,” added he to himself. “<i>Yoi,
- wind him! Yoi, rouse him, my boys!</i> what ‘arm could it do him, my
- going, I wonders?” continued he to himself. “Yoi, try for him, Desp’rate,
- good lass! Desp’rate bad job my not gettin’, I know,” added he, rubbing
- his nose on the back of his hand; and so with cheers to his hounds and
- commentaries on Sir Moses’s mean conduct, the huntsman proceeded from ride
- to road and from road to ride, varied with occasional dives into the fern
- and the rough, to exhort and encourage his hounds to rout out a fox; not
- that he cared much now whether he found one or not, for the cover had long
- existed on the reputation of a run that took place twelve years before,
- and it was not likely that a place so circumstanced would depart from its
- usual course on that day.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is nothing certain, however, about a fox-hunt, but uncertainty; the
- worst-favoured days sometimes proving the best, and the best-favoured ones
- sometimes proving the worst. We dare say, if our sporting readers would
- ransack their memories, they will find that most of their best days have
- been on unpromising ones. So it was on the present occasion, only no one
- saw the run but Tom and the first whip. Coming suddenly upon a fine
- travelling fox, at the far corner of the cover, they slipped away with him
- down wind, and had a bona fide five and thirty minutes, with a kill, in
- Lord Ladythorne’s country, within two fields of his famous gorse cover, at
- Cockmere.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ord! rot ye, but ye should ha’ seen that, if you’d let me go to the
- supper,” cried Tom, as he threw himself off his lathered tail-quivering
- horse to pick up his fox, adding, “I knows when to blow the horn and when
- not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile Sir Moses, having got into a wrangle with Jacky Phillips about
- the price of a pig, sate on his accustomed place on the rising ground by
- the old tumble-down farm-buildings, wrangling, and haggling, and declaring
- it was a “do.” In the midst of his vehemence, Robin Snowball’s camp of
- roystering, tinkering besom-makers came hattering past; and Robin, having
- a contract with Sir Moses for dog horses, gave his ass a forwarding bang,
- and ran up to inform his patron that “the hunds had gone away through
- Piercefield plantins iver see lang since:”—a fact that Robin was
- well aware of, having been stealing besom-shanks in them at the time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, the devil!” shrieked Sir Moses, as if he was shot. “Oh, the devil!”
- continued he, wringing his hands, thinking how Tom would be bucketing
- Crusader now that he was out of sight; and catching up his horse, he stuck
- spurs in his sides, and went clattering up the stony cross-road to the
- west, as hard as ever the old Jack could lay legs to the ground, thinking
- what a wigging he would give Tom if he caught him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hark!” continued he, pulling short up across the road, and nearly
- shooting Billy into his pocket with the jerk of his suddenly stopped
- horse, “Hark!” repeated he, holding up his hand, “Isn’t that the horn?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, dom it! it’s Parker, the postman,” added he,—“what business has
- the beggar to make such a row!” for, like all noisy people, Sir Moses had
- no idea of anybody making a noise but himself. He then set his horse
- agoing again, and was presently standing in his stirrups, tearing up the
- wretched, starvation, weed-grown ground outside the cover.
- </p>
- <p>
- Having gained a sufficient elevation, he again pulled up, and turning
- short round, began surveying the country. All was quiet and tranquil. The
- cattle had their heads to the ground, the sheep were scattered freely over
- the fields, and the teams were going lazily over the clover-lays, leaving
- shiny furrows behind them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, that’s a sell, at all events!” said he, dropping his reins. “Be
- b’und to say they are right into the heart of Featherbedfordshire by this
- time,—most likely at Upton Moss in Woodberry Yale,—as fine a
- country as ever man crossed,—and to think that that wretched deluded
- man has it all to himself!—I’d draw and quarter him if I had him,
- dom’d if I wouldn’t,” added Sir Moses, cutting frantically at the air with
- his thong-gathered whip.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our friend Billy, on the other hand, was all ease and composure. He had
- escaped the greatest punishment that could befall him, and was so clean
- and comfortable, that he resolved to surprise his fair friends at
- Yammerton Grange in his pink, instead of changing as he intended.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses, having strained his eye-balls about the country in vain, at
- length dropped down in his saddle, and addressing the few darkly-clad
- horsemen around him with, “Well, gentlemen, I’m afraid it’s all over for
- the day,” adding, “Come, Pringle, let us be going,” he poked his way past
- them, and was presently retracing his steps through the wood, picking up a
- lost hound or two as he went. And still he was so loth to give it up, that
- he took Forester Hill in his way, to try if he could see anything of them;
- but it was all calm and blank as before; and at length he reached Pangburn
- Park in a very discontented mood.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the court-yard stood the green fly that had to convey our friend back
- to fairy-land, away from the red coats, silk jackets and other the
- persecutions of pleasure, to the peaceful repose of the Major and his
- “haryers.” Sir Moses looked at it with satisfaction, for he had had as
- much of our friend’s society as he required, and did not know that he
- could “do” him much more if he had him a month; so if he could now only
- get clear of Monsieur without paying him, that was all he required.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack, however, was on the alert, and appeared on the back-steps as Sir
- Moses dismounted; nor did his rapid dive into the stable avail him, for
- Jack headed him as he emerged at the other end, with a hoist of his hat,
- and a “Bon jour, Sare Moses, Baronet!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Monsieur, comment vous portez-vous?” replied the Baronet, shying off,
- with a keep-your-distance sort of waive of the hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jack, however, was not to be put off that way, and following briskly up,
- he refreshed Sir Moses’s memory with, “Pund, I beat Cuddy, old cock, to de
- clomp; ten franc—ten shillin’—I get over de brook; thirty
- shillin’ in all, Sare Moses, Baronet,” holding out his hand for the money.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, ah, true,” replied Sir Moses, pretending to recollect the bets,
- adding, “If you can give me change of a fifty-pun note, I can pay ye,”
- producing a nice clean one from his pocket-book that he always kept ready
- for cases of emergency like the present.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fifty-pun note, Sare Moses!” replied Jack, eyeing it. “Fifty-pun note! I
- ‘ave not got such an astonishin’ som about me at present,” feeling his
- pockets as he spoke; “bot I vill seek change, if you please.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, no,” replied Sir Moses, thinking he had better not part with the
- decoy-duck. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, though,” continued he, restoring
- it to its case; “I’ll send you a post-office order for the amount, or pay
- it to your friend, Mr. Gallon, whichever you prefer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vell, Sir Moses, Baronet,” replied Jack, considering, “I think de leetle
- post-office order vill be de most digestible vay of squarin’ matters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Va-a-ry good,” cried Sir Moses, “Va-a-ry good. I’ll send you one, then,”
- and darting at a door in the wall, he slipped through it, and shot the
- bolt between Jack and himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- And our hero, having recruited nature with lunch, and arranged with Jack
- for riding his horse, presently took leave of his most hospitable host,
- and entered the fly that was to convey him back to Yammerton Grange. And
- having cast himself into its ill-stuffed hold he rumbled and jolted across
- country in the careless, independent sort of way that a man does who has
- only a temporary interest in the vehicle, easy whether he was upset or
- not. Let us now anticipate his arrival by transferring our imaginations to
- Yammerton Grange.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER L.<br/>THE SURPRISE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T is all very well
- for people to affect the magnificent, to give general invitations, and say
- “Come whenever it suits you; we shall always be happy to see you,” and so
- on; but somehow it is seldom safe to take them at their word. How many
- houses has the reader to which he can ride or drive up with the certainty
- of not putting people “out,” as the saying is. If there is a running
- account of company going on, it is all very well; another man more or less
- is neither here nor there; but if it should happen to be one of those
- solemn lulls that intervene between one set of guests going and another
- coming, denoted by the wide-apart napkins seen by a side glance as he
- passes the dining-room window, then it is not a safe speculation. At all
- events, a little notice is better, save, perhaps, among fox-hunters, who
- care less for appearances than other people.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Saturday, as we said before, and our friend the Major had finished
- his week’s work:—paid his labourers, handled the heifers that had
- left him so in the lurch, counted the sheep, given out the corn, ordered
- the carriage for church in case it kept dry, and as day closed had come
- into the house, and exchanged his thick shoes for old worsted worked
- slippers, and cast himself into a semicircular chair in the druggeted
- drawing-room to wile away one of those long winter evenings that seem so
- impossible in the enduring length of a summer day, with that best of all
- papers, the “Hit-im and Hold-im shire Herald.” The local paper is the
- paper for the country gentleman, just as the “Times” is the paper for the
- Londoner. The “Times” may span the globe, tell what is doing at Delhi and
- New York, France, Utah, Prussia, Spain, Ireland, and the Mauritius; but
- the paper that tells the squire of the flocks and herds, the hills and
- dales, the births and disasters of his native district, is the paper for
- his money. So it was with our friend the Major. He enjoyed tearing the
- half-printed halfwritten envelope off his “Herald,” and holding its damp
- sides to the cheerful fire until he got it as crisp as a Bank of England
- note, and then, sousing down in his easy chair to enjoy its contents,
- conscious that no one had anticipated them. How he revelled in the
- advertisements, and accompanied each announcement with a mental commentary
- of his own.
- </p>
- <p>
- We like to see country gentlemen enjoying their local papers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Ashover farm to let, conjured up recollections of young Mr.
- </p>
- <p>
- Gosling spurting past in white cords, and his own confident prediction
- that the thing wouldn’t last.
- </p>
- <p>
- Burlinson the auctioneer’s assignment for the benefit of his creditors,
- reminded him of his dogs, and his gun, and his manor, and his airified
- looks, and drew forth anathemas on Burlinson in particular, and on
- pretenders in general.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Mr. Napier’s announcement that Mr. Draggleton of Rushworth had
- applied for a loan of four thousand pounds from the Lands Improvement
- Company for draining, sounded almost like a triumph of the Major’s own
- principles, Draggleton having long derided the idea of water getting into
- a two-inch pipe at a depth of four feet, or of draining doing any good.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the Major chuckled with delight at the thought of seeing the long
- pent-up water flow in pure continuous streams off the saturated soil, and
- of the clear, wholesome complexion the land would presently assume. Then
- the editorial leader on the state of the declining corn markets, and of
- field operations (cribbed of course from the London papers) drew forth an
- inward opinion that the best thing for the land-owners would be for corn
- to keep low and cattle to keep high for the next dozen years or more, and
- so get the farmers’ minds turned from the precarious culture of corn to
- the land-improving practice of grazing and cattle-feeding.
- </p>
- <p>
- And thus the Major sat, deeply immersed in the contents of each page; but
- as he gradually mastered the cream of their contents, he began to turn to
- and fro more rapidly; and as the rustling increased, Mrs. Yammerton, who
- was dying for a sight of the paper, at length ventured to ask if there was
- anything about the Hunt ball in it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hunt ball!” growled the Major, who was then in the hay and straw market,
- wondering whether, out of the twenty-seven carts of hay reported to have
- been at Hinton Market on the previous Saturday, there were any of his
- tenants there on the sly; “Hunt ball!” repeated he, running the candle up
- and down the page; “No, there’s nothin’ about it here,” replied he,
- resuming his reading.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’ll be on the front page, my dear,” observed Mrs. Yammerton, “if there
- is anything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I’ll give it you presently,” replied the Major, resuming his
- reading; and so he wens on into the wool markets, thence to the potato and
- hide departments, until at length he found himself floundering among the
- Holloway Pills, Revalenta Food, and “Sincere act of gratitude,” &c.,
- advertisements; when, turning the paper over with a wisk, and an inward
- “What do they put such stuff as that in for?” he handed it to his wife:
- while, John Bull like, he now stood up, airing himself comfortably before
- the fire.
- </p>
- <p>
- No sooner was the paper fairly in Mamma’s hands, than there was a general
- rush of the young ladies to the spot, and four pairs of eyes were eagerly
- glancing up and down the columns of the front page, all in search of the
- magical letter “B” for Ball. Education—Fall in Night Lights—Increased
- Rate of Interest—Money without Sureties—Iron and Brass
- Bedsteads—Glenfield Starch—Deafness Cured—German Yeast—Insolvent
- Debtor—Elkington’s Spoons—Boots and Shoes,—but, alas! no
- Ball.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, there it is! No it isn’t,” now cried Miss Laura, as her blue eye
- caught at the heading of Mrs. Bobbinette the milliner’s advertisement, in
- the low corner of the page, Mrs. Bobbinette, like some of her customers,
- perhaps, not being a capital payer, and so getting a bad place. Thus it
- ran—
- </p>
- <h3>
- HIT-IM AND HOLD-IM SHIRE HUNT BALL.
- </h3>
- <p>
- —Mrs. Bobbinette begs to announce to the ladies her return from
- Paris, with every novelty in millinery, mantles, embroideries, wreaths,
- fans, gloves, &c.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. Bobbinette be hanged,” growled the Major, who winced under the very
- name of milliner; “just as much goes to Paris as I do. Last time she was
- there I know she was never out of Hinton, for Paul Straddler watched her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but she gets very pretty things at all events,” replied Mrs.
- Yammerton, thinking she would pay her a visit.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aye, and a pretty bill she’ll send in for them,” replied the Major.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, my dear, but you must pay for fashion, you know,” rejoined Mamma.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pay for fashion! pay for haystacks!” growled the Major; “never saw such
- balloons as the women make of themselves. S’pose we shall have them as
- flat as doors next. One extreme always leads to another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This discussion was here suddenly interrupted by a hurried “hush!” from
- Miss Clara, followed by a “hish!” from Miss Flora; and silence being
- immediately accorded, all ears recognised a rumbling sound outside the
- house that might have been mistaken for wind, had it not suddenly ceased
- before the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The whole party was paralysed: each drawing breath, reflecting on his or
- her peculiar position:—Mamma thinking of her drawing-room—Miss,
- of her hair—Flora, of her sleeves—Harriet, of her shabby shoes—the
- Major, of his dinner.
- </p>
- <p>
- The agony of suspense was speedily relieved by the grating of an iron step
- and a violent pull at the door-bell, producing ejaculations of, “It <i>is</i>,
- however!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Him, to a certainty!” with, “I told you so,—nothing but liver and
- bacon for dinner,” from the Major; while Mrs. Yammerton, more composed,
- swept three pair of his grey worsted stockings into the well of the
- ottoman, and covered the old hearth-rug with a fine new one from the
- corner, with a noble antlered stag in the centre. The young ladies hurried
- out of the room, each to make a quick revise of her costume.
- </p>
- <p>
- The shock to the nervous sensibilities of the household was scarcely less
- severe than that experienced by the inmates of the parlour; and the driver
- of the fly was just going to give the bell a second pull, when our friend
- of the brown coat came, settling himself into his garment, wondering who
- could be coming at that most extraordinary hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Major at home?” asked our hero, swinging himself out of the vehicle into
- the passage, and without waiting for an answer, he began divesting himself
- of his muffin-cap, cashmere shawl, and other wraps.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was then ready for presentation. Open went the door. “Mr. Pringle!”
- announced the still-astonished footman, and host and hostess advanced in
- the friendly emulation of cordiality. They were overjoyed to see him,—as
- pleased as if they had received a consignment of turtle and there was a
- haunch of venison roasting before the fire. The young ladies presently
- came dropping in one by one, each “<i>so</i> astonished to find Mr.
- Pringle there!” Clara thinking the ring was from Mr. Jinglington, the
- pianoforte-tuner; Flora, that it was Mr. Tightlace’s curate; while Harriet
- did not venture upon a white lie at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- Salutations and expressions of surprise being at length over, the ladies
- presently turned the weather-conversation upon Pangburn Park, and inquired
- after the sport with Sir Moses, Billy being in the full glory of his pink
- and slightly soiled leathers and boots, from which they soon diverged to
- the Hunt ball, about which they could not have applied to any better
- authority than our friend. He knew all about it, and poured forth the
- volume of his information most freely.
- </p>
- <p>
- Though the Major talked about there being nothing but liver and bacon for
- dinner, he knew very well that the very fact of there being liver and
- bacon bespoke that there was plenty of something else in the larder. In
- fact he had killed a south-down,—not one of your modern
- muttony-lambs, but an honest, home-fed, four-year-old, with its fine dark
- meat and rich gravy; in addition to which, there had been some minor
- murders of ugly Cochin-China fowls,—to say nothing of a hunted hare,
- hanging by the heels, and several snipes and partridges, suspended by the
- neck.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is true, there was no fish, for, despite the railroad, Hit-im and
- Hold-im shire generally was still badly supplied with fish, but there was
- the useful substitute of cod-sounds, and some excellent mutton-broth;
- which latter is often better than half the soups one gets. Altogether
- there was no cause for despondency; but the Major, having been outvoted on
- the question of requiring notice of our friend’s return, of course now
- felt bound to make the worst of the case—especially as the necessary
- arrangements would considerably retard his dinner, for which he was quite
- ready. He had, therefore, to smile at his guest, and snarl at his family,
- at one and the same time.—Delighted to see Mr. Pringle back.—Disgusted
- at his coming on a Saturday.—Hoped our hero was hungry.—Could
- answer for it, he was himself,—with a look at Madam, as much as to
- say, “Come, you go and see about things and don’t stand simpering there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Billy, who had eaten a pretty hearty lunch at Pangburn Park, had not
- got jolted back into an appetite by his transit through the country, and
- did not enter into the feelings of his half-famished host. A man who has
- had half his dinner in the shape of a lunch, is far more than a match for
- one who has fasted since breakfast, and our friend chatted first with one
- young lady, and then with another, with an occasional word at Mamma,
- delighted to get vent for his long pent-up flummery. He was indeed most
- agreeable.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile the Major was in and out of the room, growling and getting into
- everybody’s way, retarding progress by his anxiety to hurry things on.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length it was announced that Mr. Pringle’s room was ready; and
- forthwith the Major lit him a candle, and hurried him upstairs, where his
- uncorded boxes stood ready for the opening keys of ownership.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, there you are!” cried the Major, flourishing the composite candle
- about them; “there you are! needn’t mind much dressing—only
- ourselves—only ourselves. There’s the boot-jack,—here’s some
- hot water,—and we’ll have dinner as soon as ever you are ready.” So
- saying, he placed the candle on the much be-muslined toilette-table, and,
- diving into his pocket for the key of the cellar, hurried off to make the
- final arrangement of a feast.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our friend, however, who was always a dawdling leisurely gentleman, took
- very little heed of his host’s injunctions, and proceeded to unlock and
- open his boxes as if he was going to dress for a ball instead of a dinner;
- and the whole party being reassembled, many were the Major’s speculations
- and enquiries “what could he be about?” “must have gone to bed,” “would go
- up and see,” ere the glad sound of his opening door announced that he
- might be expected. And before he descended a single step of the staircase
- the Major gave the bell such a pull as proclaimed most volubly the
- intensity of his feelings. The ladies of course were shocked, but a hungry
- man is bad to hold, and there is no saying but the long-pealing tongue of
- the bell saved an explosion of the Major’s. At all events when our friend
- came sauntering into the now illuminated drawing-room, the Major greeted
- him with, “Heard you coming, rang the bell, knew you’d be hungry, long
- drive from Sir Moses’s here;” to which Billy drawled a characteristic
- “Yarse,” as he extinguished his candle and proceeded to ingratiate himself
- with the now elegantly attired ladies, looking more lovely from his recent
- restriction to the male sex.
- </p>
- <p>
- The furious peal of the bell had answered its purpose, for he had scarcely
- got the beauties looked over, and settled in his own mind that it was
- difficult to say which was the prettiest, ere the door opened, the
- long-postponed dinner was announced to be on the table, and the Major,
- having blown out the composites, gladly followed the ladies to the scene
- of action.
- </p>
- <p>
- And his host being too hungry to waste his time in apologies for the
- absence of this and that, and the footboy having plenty to do without
- giving the dishes superfluous airings, and the gooseberry champagne being
- both lively and cool, the dinner passed off as pleasantly as a luncheon,
- which is generally allowed to be the most agreeable sociable meal of the
- day, simply because of the absence of all fuss and pretension. And by the
- time the Major had got to the cheese, he found his temper considerably
- improved. Indeed, so rapidly did his spirits rise, that before the cloth
- was withdrawn he had well-nigh silenced all the ladies, with his
- marvellous haryers,—five and thirty years master of haryers without
- a subscription,—and as soon as he got the room cleared, he inflicted
- the whole hunt upon Billy that he had written to him about, an account of
- which he had in vain tried to get inserted in the Featherbedfordshire
- Gazette, through the medium of old ‘Wotherspoon, who had copied it out and
- signed himself “A Delighted Stranger.” Dorsay Davis, however, knew his
- cramped handwriting, and put his manuscript into the fire, observing in
- his notice to correspondents that “A Delighted Stranger” had better send
- his currant jelly contributions to grandmamma, meaning the Hit-im and
- Hold-im shire Herald. So our friend was victimised into a <i>viva voce</i>
- account of this marvellous chase, beginning at Conksbury corner and the
- flight up to Foremark Hill and down over the water meadows to Dove-dale
- Green, &c., interspersed with digressions and explanations of the
- wonderful performance of the particular members of the pack, until he
- scarcely knew whether a real run or the recital of one was the most
- formidable. At length the Major, having talked himself into a state of
- excitement, without making any apparent impression on his guest’s obdurate
- understanding, proposed as a toast “The Merry Haryers,” and intimated that
- tea was ready in the drawing room, thinking he never had so phlegmatic an
- auditor before. Very different, however, was his conduct amid the general
- conversation of the ladies, who thought him just as agreeable as the Major
- thought him the contrary. And they were all quite surprised when the clock
- struck eleven, and declared they thought it could only be ten, except the
- Major, who knew the odd hour had been lost in preparing the dinner. So he
- moved an adjournment, and proclaimed that they would breakfast at nine,
- which would enable them to get to church in good time. Whereupon mutual
- good-nights were exchanged, our friend was furnished with a flat
- candlestick, and the elder sisters retired to talk him over in their own
- room; for however long ladies may be together during the day, there is
- always a great balance of conversation to dispose of at last, and so the
- two chatted and talked until midnight.
- </p>
- <p>
- Next morning they all appeared in looped-up dresses, showing the
- party-coloured petticoats of the prevailing fashion, which looked
- extremely pretty, and were all very well—a great improvement on the
- draggletails—until they came to get into the coach, when it was
- found, that large as the vehicle was, it was utterly inadequate for their
- accommodation. Indeed the door seemed ludicrously insufficient for the
- ingress, and Miss Clara turned round and round like a peacock contending
- with the wind, undecided which way to make the attempt. At last she chose
- a bold sideways dash, and entered with a squeeze of the petticoat, which
- suddenly expanded into its original size, but when the sisters had
- followed her example there was no room for the Major, nor would there have
- been any for our hero had not Mamma been satisfied with her own natural
- size, and so left space to squeeze him in between herself and the fair
- Clara. The Major then had to mount the coach box beside old Solomon, and
- went growling and grumbling along at the extravagances of fashion, and
- wondering what the deuce those petticoats would cost, he was presently
- comforted by seeing two similar ones circling over the road in advance,
- which on overtaking proved to contain the elegant Miss Bushels, daughters
- of his hind at Bonnyrigs farm, whereupon he made a mental resolution to
- reduce Bushel’s wages a shilling a week at least.
- </p>
- <p>
- This speedy influx of fashion and abundance of cheap tawdry finery has
- well nigh destroyed the primitive simplicity of country churches. The
- housemaid now dresses better—finer at all events—than her
- mistress did twenty years ago, and it is almost impossible to recognise
- working people when in their Sunday dresses. Gauze bonnets, Marabout
- feathers, lace scarfs, and silk gowns usurp the place of straw and cotton
- print, while lace-fringed kerchiefs are flourished by those whose parents
- scarcely knew what a pocket-handkerchief was. There is a medium in all
- things, but this mania for dress has got far beyond the bounds of either
- prudence or propriety; and we think the Major’s recipe for reducing it is
- by no means a bad one.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0054" id="linkimage-0054"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/385m.jpg" alt="385m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/385.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- We need scarcely say, that our hero’s appearance at church caused no small
- sensation in a neighbourhood where the demand for gossip was far in excess
- of the supply. Indeed, we fear many fair ladies’ eyes were oftener
- directed to Major Yammerton’s pew than to the Reverend Mr. Tightlace in
- the pulpit. Wonderful were the stories and exaggerations that ensued,
- people always being on the running-up tack until a match is settled, after
- which, of course, they assume the running-down one, pitying one or other
- victim extremely—wouldn’t be him or her for anything—Mr.
- Tightlace thought any of the young ladies might do better than marry a
- mere fox-hunter, though we are sorry to add that the fox-hunter was far
- more talked of than the sermon. The general opinion seemed to be that our
- hero had been away preparing that dread document, the proposals for a
- settlement; and there seemed to be very little doubt that there would be
- an announcement of some sort in a day or two—especially when our
- friend was seen to get into the carriage after the gay petticoats, and the
- little Major to remount the box seat.
- </p>
- <p>
- And when at the accustomed stable stroll our master of haryers found the
- gallant grey standing in the place of the bay, he was much astonished, and
- not a little shocked to learn the sad catastrophe that had befallen the
- bay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, he never heard anything like that!—<i>dead</i>! What, do you
- mean to say he absolutely died on your hands without any apparent cause?”
- demanded the Major; “must have been poisoned surely;” and he ran about
- telling everybody, and making as much to do as if the horse had still been
- his own. He then applied himself to finding out how Billy came by the
- grey, and was greatly surprised to learn that Sir Moses had given it him.
- “Well, that was queer,” thought he, “wouldn’t have accused him of that.”
- And he thought of the gift of Little Bo-peep, and wondered whether this
- gift was of the same order.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LI.<br/>MONEY AND MATRIMONY.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>ONEY and
- matrimony! what a fine taking title! If that does not attract readers, we
- don’t know what will. Money and matrimony! how different, yet how
- essentially combined, how intimately blended! “No money, no matrimony,”
- might almost be written above some doors. Certainly money is an essential,
- but not so absorbing an essential as some people make it. Beyond the
- expenditure necessary for a certain establishment, a woman is seldom much
- the better for her husband’s inordinate wealth. We have seen the wife of a
- reputed millionaire no better done by than that of a country squire.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Prospero Plutus may gild his coach and his harness, and his horses
- too, if he likes, but all the lacker in the world will not advance him a
- step in society; therefore, what can he do with his surplus cash but carry
- it to the “reserve fund,” as some Joint-Stock Bankers pretend to do. Still
- there is a money-worship among us, that is not even confined to the
- opposite sex, but breaks out in veneration among men, just as if one man
- having half a million or a million pieces of gold could be of any
- advantage to another man, who only knows the rich man to say “How d’ye
- do?” to. A clever foreigner, who came to this country some years ago for
- the honestly avowed purpose of marrying an heiress, used to exclaim, when
- any one told him that another man had so many thousands a year, “Vell, my
- good friend, vot for that to me? I cannot go for be marry to him!” and we
- never hear a man recommended to another man for his wealth alone, without
- thinking of our foreign friend. What earthly good can Plutus’s money do
- us? We can safely say, we never knew a rich man who was not uncommonly
- well able to take care of his cash. It is your poor men who are easy about
- money. To tell a young lady that a young gentleman has so many thousands a
- year is very different; and this observation leads us to say, that people
- who think they do a young man a kindness by exaggerating his means or
- expectations, are greatly mistaken. On the contrary, they do him an
- injury; for, sooner or later, the lawyers know everything, and
- disappointment and vexation is the result.
- </p>
- <p>
- Since our friend Warren wrote his admirable novel, “Ten Thousand a Year,”
- that sum has become the fashionable income for exaggerators. Nobody that
- has anything a year has less, though we all know how difficult a sum it is
- to realise, and how impossible it is to extract a five-pound note, or even
- a sovereign, from the pockets of people who talk of it as a mere
- bagatelle. This money mania has increased amazingly within the last few
- years, aided, no doubt, by the gigantic sums the Joint-Stock Banks have
- enabled penniless people to “go” for.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Wainwright, the first of the assurance office defrauders by poison,
- was in prison, he said to a person who called upon him, “You see with what
- respect they treat me. They don’t set me to make my bed, or sweep the
- yard, like those fellows,” pointing to his brother prisoners; “no, they
- treat me like a gentleman. They think I’m in for ten thousand pounds.” Ten
- thousand pounds! What would ten thousand pounds be nowadays, when men
- speculate to the extent of a quarter or may be half a million of money?
- Why Wainwright would have had to clean out the whole prison on the present
- scale of money delinquency. A hundred thousand pounder is quite a common
- fellow, hardly worth speaking of. There was a time when the greediest man
- was contented with his plum. Now the cry is “More! more!” until some fine
- morning the crier is “no more” himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- This money-craving and boasting is all bad. It deceives young men, and
- drives those of moderate income into the London clubs, instead of their
- marrying and settling quietly as their fathers did before them. They hear
- of nothing but thousands and tens of thousands until they almost believe
- in the reality, and are ashamed to encounter the confessional stool of the
- lawyers, albeit they may have as much as with prudence and management
- would make married life comfortable. Boasting and exaggeration also
- greatly misleads and disappoints anxious “Mammas,” all ready to believe
- whatever they like, causing very likely promising speculations to be
- abandoned in favour of what turn out great deal worse ventures. Only let a
- young man be disengaged, professionally and bodily, and some one or other
- will be sure to invest him with a fortune, or with surprising expectations
- from an uncle, an aunt, or other near relation. It is surprising how fond
- people are of fanning the flame of a match, and how they will talk about
- what they really know nothing, until an unfortunate youth almost appears
- to participate in their exaggerations. Could some of these Leviathans of
- fortune know the fabulous £ s. d. colours under which they have sailed,
- they would be wonderfully astonished at the extent of their innocent
- imposture. Yet they were not to blame because people said they had ten
- thousand a year, were richest commoners in fact. Many would then
- understand much unexplained politeness, and appreciate its
- disinterestedness at its true value. Captain Quaver would see why Mrs.
- Sunnybrow was to anxious that he should hear Matilda sing; Mr. Grist why
- Mrs. Snubwell manoeuvred to get him next Bridget at dinner; and perhaps
- our “Richest Commoner” why Mrs. Yammerton was so glad to see him back at
- the Grange.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LII.<br/>A NIGHT DRIVE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>EOPLE who travel
- in the winter should remember it isn’t summer, and time themselves
- accordingly. Sir Moses was so anxious to see Monsieur Rougier off the
- premises, in order to stop any extra hospitality, that he delayed starting
- for Lundyfoote Castle until he saw him fairly mounted on the gift grey and
- out of the stable-yard; he then had the mare put to the dog-cart, and
- tried to make up for lost time by extra speed upon the road. But winter is
- an unfavourable season for expedition; if highways are improving,
- turnpikes are getting neglected, save in the matter of drawing the
- officers’ sinecure salaries, and, generally speaking, the nearer a
- turnpike is to a railway, the worse the turnpike is, as if to show the
- wonderful advantage of the former. So Sir Moses went flipping and
- flopping, and jipping and jerking, through Bedland and Hawksworth and
- Washingley-field, but scarcely reached the confines of his country when he
- ought to have been nearing the Castle. It was nearly four o’clock by the
- great gilt-lettered clock on the diminutive church in the pretty village
- of Tidswell, situated on the banks of the sparkling Lune, when he pulled
- up at the sign of the Hold-away Harriers to get his mare watered and fed.
- It is at these sort of places that the traveller gets the full benefit of
- country slowness and stupidity. Instead of the quick ostler, stepping
- smartly up to his horse’s head as he reins up, there is generally a hunt
- through the village for old Tom, or young Joe, or some worthy who is
- either too old or too idle to work. In this case it was old bow-legged,
- wiry Tom Brown, whose long experience of the road did not enable him to
- anticipate a person’s wants; so after a good stare at the driver, whom at
- first he thought was Mr. Meggison, the exciseman; then Mr. Puncheon, the
- brewer; and lastly, Mr. Mossman, Lord Polkaton’s ruler; he asked, with a
- bewildered scratch of his head, “What, de ye want her put oop?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oop, yes,” replied Sir Moses; “what d’ye think I’m stopping for? Look
- alive; that’s a good fellow,” added he, throwing him the reins, as he
- prepared to descend from the vehicle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it’s you, Sir Moses, is it,” rejoined the now enlightened patriarch,
- “I didn’t know you without your red coat and cap;” so saying, he began to
- fumble at the harness, and, with the aid of the Baronet, presently had the
- mare out of the shafts. It then occurred to the old gentleman that he had
- forgotten the key of the stable. “A sink,” said he, with a dash of his
- disengaged hand, “I’ve left the key i’ the pocket o’ mar coat, down i’
- Willy Wood’s shop, when ar was helpin’ to kill a pig—run, lad, doon
- to Willy Wood,” said he to a staring by-standing boy, “and get me mar
- coat,” adding to Sir Moses, as the lad slunk unwillingly away, “he’ll be
- back directly wi’ it.” So saying, he proceeded to lead the mare round to
- the stable at the back of the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the coat came, then there was no pail; and when they got a pail, then
- the pump had gone dry; and when they got some water from the well, then
- the corn had to be brought from the top of the house; so, what with one
- delay and another, day was about done before Sir Moses got the mare out of
- the stable again. Night comes rapidly on in the short winter months, and
- as Sir Moses looked at the old-fashioned road leading over the steepest
- part of the opposite hill, he wished he was well on the far side of it. He
- then examined his lamps, and found there were no candles in them, just as
- he remembered that he had never been to Lundyfoote Castle on wheels, the
- few expeditions he had made there having been performed on horseback, by
- those nicks and cuts that fox-hunters are so famous at making and finding.
- “Ord dom it,” said he to himself, “I shall be getting benighted. Tell me,”
- continued he, addressing the old ostler, “do I go by Marshfield and
- Hengrove, or——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, you’ve no business at noughter Marshfield nor Hengrove,”
- interrupted the sage; “veer way is straight oop to Crowfield-hall and
- Roundhill-green, then to Brackley Moor and Belton, and so on into the
- Sandywell-road at Langley. But if ar were you,” continued he, beginning to
- make confusion worse confounded, “ar would just gan through Squire
- Patterson’s Park here,” jerking his thumb to the left to indicate the
- direction in which it lay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it shorter?” demanded Sir Moses, re-ascending the vehicle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “W-h-o-y no, it’s not shorter,” replied the man, “but it’s a better road
- rayther—less agin collar-like. When ye get to the new lodge ye mun
- mind turn to the right, and keep Whitecliffe Law to the left, and Lidney
- Mill to the right, you then pass Shimlow tilery, and make straight for
- Roundhill Green, and Brackley Moor, and then on to Belton, as ar toll’d ye
- afoor—ye can’t miss yeer way,” added he, thinking he could go it in
- the dark himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can’t I?” replied Sir Moses, drawing the reins. He then chucked the man a
- shilling, and touching the mare with the point of the whip, trotted across
- the bridge over the Lane, and was speedily brought up at a toll-bar on the
- far side.
- </p>
- <p>
- It seems to be one of the ordinances of country life, that the more toll a
- man pays the worse road he gets, and Sir Moses had scarcely parted with
- his sixpence ere the sound running turnpike which tempted him past Squire
- Patterson’s lodge, ran out into a loose, river-stoned track, that grew
- worse and worse the higher he ascended the hill. In vain he hissed, and
- jerked, and jagged at the mare. The wheels revolved as if they were going
- through sea-sand. She couldn’t go any faster.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is labour and sorrow travelling on wheels, with a light horse and a
- heavy load, on woolly winter roads, especially under the depressing
- influence of declining day—when a gorgeous sunset has no charms. It
- is then that the value of the hissing, hill-rounding, plain-scudding
- railway is appreciated. The worst line that ever was constructed, even one
- with goods, passengers, and minerals all mixed in one train, is fifty
- times better than one of these ploughing, sobbing, heart-breaking drives.
- So thought Sir Moses, as, whip in hand, he alighted from the vehicle to
- ease the mare up the steep hill, which now ran parallel with Mr.
- Patterson’s rather indifferent park wall.
- </p>
- <p>
- What a commentary on consequence a drive across country affords, One sees
- life in all its phases—Cottage, House, Grange, “Imperial John” Hall,
- Park, Tower, Castle, &c. The wall, however, is the true index of the
- whole. Show me your wall and I’ll tell you what you have. There is the
- five hundred—by courtesy, thousand—a year wall, built of
- common stone, well embedded in mortar, extending only a few yards on
- either side of the lodgeless green gate. The thousand—by courtesy,
- fifteen hundred—a year wall, made of the same material, only the
- mortar ceases at the first convenient bend of the road, and the mortared
- round coping of the top is afterwards all that holds it together. Then
- there is the aspiring block and course wall, leading away with a sweep
- from either side of a handsome gateway, but suddenly terminating in
- hedges. The still further continued wall, with an abrupt juncture in split
- oak paling, that looks as if it had been suddenly nipped by a want-of-cash
- frost. We then get to the more successful all-round-the-park alike efforts
- of four or five thousand a-year—the still more solid masonry and
- ornamental work of “Ten Thousand a Year,” a Warren wall in fact, until at
- length we come to one so strong and so high, that none but a man on a
- laden wain can see over it, which of course denotes a Ducal residence,
- with fifty or a hundred thousand a year. In like manner, a drive across
- country enables a man to pick up information without the trouble of asking
- for it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The board against the tree at the corner of the larch plantation, stating
- that “Any one trespassing on these grounds, the property of A. B. C.
- Sowerby, Esq., will, &c., with the utmost, &c.,” enables one to
- jump to the conclusion that the Westmoreland-slated roof we see peering
- among the eagle-winged cedars and luxuriant Scotch firs on the green slope
- to the left, is the residence of said Sowerby, who doesn’t like to be
- trespassed upon. A quick-eyed land-agent would then trace the boundaries
- of the Sowerby estate from the rising ground, either by the size of its
- trees, its natural sterility, or by the rough, gateless fences, where it
- adjoins the neighbouring proprietors.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again, the sign of the Smith Arms at a wayside public-house, denotes that
- some member of that illustrious family either lives or has property in
- that immediate neighbourhood, and as everybody has a friend Smith, we
- naturally set about thinking whether it is our friend Smith or not. So a
- nobleman’s coronet surmounting his many-quartered coat-of-arms, suggests
- that the traveller is in the neighbourhood of magnificence; and if his
- appearance is at all in his favour, he will, perhaps, come in for a touch,
- or a demi-touch, of the hat from the passers-by, the process being almost
- mechanical in aristocratic parts. A board at a branch road with the words
- “To Lavender Lodge only,” saves one the trouble of asking the name of the
- place towards which we see the road bending, while a great deal of curious
- nomenclature may be gleaned from shop-fronts, inn-signs, and cart-shafts.
- </p>
- <p>
- But we are leaving Sir Moses toiling up the hill alongside of his
- dog-cart, looking now at his watch, now at his jaded mare, now at Mr.
- Patterson’s fragile park wall, thinking how he would send it over with his
- shoulder if he came to it out hunting. The wall was at length abruptly
- terminated by a cross-road intersecting the hill along a favourable fall
- of the ground, about the middle of it, and the mare and Sir Moses mutually
- stopped, the former to ease herself on the piece of level ground at the
- junction, the latter to consider whether his course was up the hill or
- along the more inviting line to the left.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marshfield,” muttered he to himself, “is surely that way, but then that
- old buffer said I had no business at Marshfield. Dom the old man,”
- continued he, “I wish I’d never asked him anything about it, for he has
- completely bewildered me, and I believe I could have found my way better
- without.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So saying, Sir Moses reconnoitered the scene; the balance of the fat hill
- in front, with the drab-coloured road going straight up the steepest part
- of it, the diverging lines either way; above all, the fast closing canopy
- around. Across the road, to the right, was a paintless, weather-beaten
- finger-post, and though our friend saw it had lost two of its arms, he yet
- thought the remaining ones might give him some information. Accordingly,
- he went over to consult it. Not a word, no, not a letter was legible.
- There were some upright marks, but what they had stood for it was
- impossible to decipher. Sir Moses was nonplussed. Just at this critical
- moment, a rumbling sound proceeded from below, and looking down the hill,
- a grey speck loomed in the distance, followed by a darker one a little
- behind. This was consoling; for those who know how soon an agricultural
- country becomes quiet after once the labourers go to their homes can
- appreciate the boon of any stirrers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still the carts came very slowly, and the quick falling shades of night
- travelled faster than they. Sir Moses stood listening anxiously to their
- jolting noises, thinking they would never come up. At the same time, he
- kept a sharp eye on the cross-road, to intercept any one passing that way.
- A tinker, a poacher, a mugger, the veriest scamp, would have been welcome,
- so long as he knew the country. No one, however, came along. It was an
- unfrequented line; and old Gilbert Price, who worked by the day, always
- retired from raking in the mud ruts on the approach of evening. So Sir
- Moses stood staring and listening, tapping his boot with his whip, as he
- watched the zig-zag course of the grey up the hill. He seemed a good
- puller, and to understand his work, for as yet no guiding voice had been
- heard. Perhaps the man was behind. As there is always a stout pull just
- before a resting-place, the grey now came to a pause, to collect his
- energies for the effort.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses looked at his mare, and then at the carts halting below,
- wondering whether if he left her she would take off. Just as he determined
- to risk it, the grey applied himself vigorously to the collar, and with a
- grinding, ploughing rush, came up to where Sir Moses stood.
- </p>
- <p>
- The cart was empty, but there was a sack-like thing, with a wide-awake hat
- on the top, rolling in the one behind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holloo, my man!” shouted Sir Moses, with the voice of a Stentor.
- </p>
- <p>
- The wide-awake merely nodded to the motion of the cart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Holloo, I say!</i>” roared he, still louder.
- </p>
- <p>
- An extended arm was thrown over the side of the cart, and the wide-awake
- again nodded as before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The beggar’s asleep!” muttered Sir Moses, taking the butt-end of his
- whip, and poking the somnambulist severely in the stomach.
- </p>
- <p>
- A loud grunt, and with a strong smell of gin, as the monster changed his
- position, was all that answered the appeal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The brute’s drunk,” gasped Sir Moses, indignant at having wasted so much
- time in waiting for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sober grey then made a well-rounded turn to the right, followed by the
- one in the rear, leaving our friend enveloped in many more shades of
- darkness than he was when he first designed him coming. Night had indeed
- about closed in, and lights began to appear in cottages and farm-houses
- that sparsedly dotted the hill side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, here’s a pretty go,” said Sir Moses, remounting the dogcart, and
- gathering up the reins; “I’ll just give the mare her choice,” continued
- he, touching her with the whip, and letting her go. The sensible animal
- took the level road to the left, and Sir Moses’s liberality was at first
- rewarded by an attempted trot along it, which, however, soon relaxed into
- a walk. The creaking, labouring vehicle shook and rolled with the
- concussion of the ruts.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had got upon a piece of township road, where each surveyor shuffled
- through his year of office as best he could, filling up the dangerous
- holes in summer with great boulder stones that turned up like flitches of
- bacon in winter. So Sir Moses rolled and rocked in imminent danger of an
- upset. To add to his misfortunes, he was by no means sure but that he
- might have to retrace his steps: it was all chance.
- </p>
- <p>
- There are but two ways of circumventing a hill, either by going round it
- or over it; and the road, after evading it for some time, at length took a
- sudden turn to the right, and grappled fairly with its severity. The mare
- applied herself sedulously to her task, apparently cheered by the
- increasing lights on the hill. At length she neared them, and the radiant
- glow of a blacksmith’s shop cheered the drooping spirit of the traveller.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holloo, my man!” cried Sir Moses, at length, pulling up before it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holloo!” responded the spark-showering Vulcan from within.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is this the way to Lord Lundyfoote’s?” demanded Sir Moses, knowing the
- weight a nobleman’s name carries in the country.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lord Lundyfoote’s!” exclaimed Osmand Hall, pausing in his work; “Lord
- Lundyfoote’s!” repeated he; “why, where ha’ you come from?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tidswell,” replied Sir Moses, cutting off the former part of the journey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, what set ye this way?” demanded the dark man, coming to the door
- with a red-hot horse-shoe on a spike, which was nearly all that
- distinguished him from the gloom of night; “ye should never ha’ coom’d
- this way; ye should ha’ gone by Marshfield and Hengrove.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dom it, I said so!” ejaculated the Baronet, nearly stamping the bottom of
- his gig out with vexation. “However, never mind,” continued he,
- recollecting himself, “I’m here now, so tell me the best way to proceed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This information being at length accorded, Sir Moses proceeded; and the
- rest of the hill being duly surmounted, the dancing and stationary lights
- spreading o’er the far-stretching vale now appeared before him, with a
- clustering constellation, amid many minor stars scattered around, denoting
- the whereabouts of the castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is always cheering to see the far end of a journey, distant though the
- haven be, and Sir Moses put on as fast as his lampless condition would
- allow him, trusting to his eyes and his ears for keeping on the road. Very
- much surprised would he have been had he retraced his steps the next
- morning, and seen the steep banks and yawning ditches he had suddenly
- saved himself from going over or into by catching at the reins or feeling
- either wheel running in the soft.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length he reached the lodges of the massive variously-windowed castle,
- and passing gladly through them, found, on alighting at the door, that,
- instead of being late for dinner as he anticipated, his Lordship, who
- always ate a hearty lunch, was generally very easy about the matter,
- sometimes dining at seven, sometimes at eight, sometimes in summer even at
- nine o’clock. The footman, in reply to Sir Moses inquiring what time his
- Lordship dined, said he believed it was ordered at seven, but he didn’t
- know when it would be on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- Being an ardent politician, Lord Lundyfoote received Sir Moses with the
- fellow-feeling that makes us wondrous kind cordiality, and dived so
- energetically into his subject, as soon as he got the weather disposed of,
- as never to wait for an answer to his question, whether his guest would
- like to take anything before dinner, the consequence of which was, that
- our poor friend was nearly famished with waiting. In vain the library
- time-piece ticked, and chimed, and struck; jabber, jabber, jabber, went
- his voluble Lordship; in vain the deep-toned castle-clock reverberated
- through the walls—on, on he went, without noticing it, until the
- butler, in apparent despair, took the gong, and gave it such a beating
- just outside the door, that he could scarcely hear himself speak. Sir
- Moses then adroitly slipped in the question if that was the signal for
- dressing; to which his Lordship having yielded a reluctant “Yes,” he took
- a candle from the entering footman, and pioneered the Baronet up to his
- bedroom, amid a running commentary on the state of the country and the
- stability of the ministry. And when he returned he found his Lordship
- distributing his opinions amoung an obsequious circle of neighbours, who
- received all he said with the deference due to a liberal dispenser of
- venison; so that Sir Moses not only got his dinner in comparative peace,
- but warded his Lordship off the greater part of the evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LIII.<br/>MASTER ANTHONY THOM.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0055" id="linkimage-0055"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/396m.jpg" alt="396m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/396.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE two-penny post
- used to be thought a great luxury in London, though somehow great people
- were often shy of availing themselves of its advantages, indeed of taking
- their two-penny-posters in. “Two-penny-posters,” circulars, and ticketed
- shops, used to be held in about equal repugnance by some. The Dons, never
- thought of sending their notes or cards of invitation by the two-penny
- post. John Thomas used always to be trotted out for the purpose of
- delivery. Pre-paying a letter either by the two-penny post or the general
- used to be thought little short of an insult. Public opinion has undergone
- a great change in these matters. Not paying them is now the offence. We
- need scarcely expatiate on the boon of the penny post, nor on the
- advantage of the general diffusion of post-offices throughout the country,
- though we may observe, that the penny post was one of the few things that
- came without being long called for: indeed, so soon as it was practicable
- to have it, for without the almost simultaneous establishment of railways
- it would have been almost impossible to have introduced the system. The
- mail could not have carried the newspaper traffic and correspondence of
- the present day. The folded tablecloths of <i>Times</i>, the voluminous <i>Illustrated
- News</i>, the <i>Punch’s,</i> the huge avalanches of papers that have
- broken upon the country within the last twenty years. Sir Moses
- Mainchance, unlike many country gentlemen, always had his letters
- forwarded to him where-ever he went. He knew it was only the trouble of
- writing a line to the Post-office, saying re-direct my letters to
- so-and-so, to have what he wanted, and thus to keep pace with his
- correspondence. He was never overpowered with letters when he came home
- from a visit or tour, as some of our acquaintance are, thus making writing
- doubly repugnant to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- The morning after his arrival at Lundyfoote Castle brought him a great
- influx of re-directed letters and papers. One from Mr. Heslop, asking him
- to meet at his house on the Friday week following, as he was going to have
- a party, one from Signior Quaverini, the eminent musician, offering his
- services for the Hunt ball: one from Mr. Isinglass, the confectioner,
- hoping to be allowed to supply the ices and refreshment as usual; another
- (the fifth), from Mr. Mossman, about the damage to Mr. Anthill’s sown
- grass; an envelope, enclosing the card and terms of Signior Dulcetto, an
- opposition musician, offering lower terras than Quaverini; a note from Mr.
- Paul Straddler, telling him about a horse to be bought dog cheap; and a
- “dead letter office” envelope, enclosing a blue ink written letter,
- directed to Master Anthony Thom, at the Inn-in-the-Sands Inn, Beechwood
- Green, stating that the party was not known at the address, reintroduces
- Mr. Geordey Gallon, a gentleman already known to the reader.
- </p>
- <p>
- How this letter came to be sent to Sir Moses was as follows:—
- </p>
- <p>
- When Mr. Geordey Gallon went upon the “Torf,” as he calls it, becoming, as
- he considered, the associate of Princes, Prime Ministers, and so on, he
- bethought him of turning respectable, and giving up the
- stolen-goods-carrying-trade,—a resolution that he was further
- confirmed in by the establishment of that troublesome obnoxious corps the
- Hit-im-and-Hold-im-shire Rural Police.
- </p>
- <p>
- To this end, therefore, he gradually reduced the number of his
- Tippy-Tom-jaunts through the country by night, intimating to his numerous
- patrons that they had better suit themselves elsewhere ere he ceased
- travelling altogether.
- </p>
- <p>
- Among the inconvenienced, was our old friend Mrs. Margerum, long one of
- his most regular customers; for it was a very rare thing for Mr. Gallon
- not to find a carefully stitched-up bundle in the corner of Lawyer
- Hindmarch’s cattle-shed, abutting on the Shillburn road as he passed in
- his spring cart.
- </p>
- <p>
- To remedy this serious inconvenience, Mrs. Margerum had determined upon
- inducting her adopted son, Master Anthony Thom, into the
- about-to-be-relinquished business; and Mr. Gallon having made his last
- journey, the accumulation of dripping caused by our hero’s visit to
- Pangburn Park made it desirable to have a clearing-out as soon as
- possible.
- </p>
- <p>
- To this end, therefore, she had written the letter now sent to Sir Moses;
- but, being a very prudent woman, with a slight smattering of law, she
- thought so long as she did not sign her surname at the end she was safe,
- and that no one could prove that it was from her. The consequence was,
- that Anthony Thom not having shifted his quarters as soon as intended, the
- letter was refused at the sign of the Sun-in-the-Sands, and by dint of
- postmark and contents, with perhaps a little <i>malice prepense</i> on the
- part of the Post-master, who had suffered from a dishonest housekeeper
- himself, it came into the hands of Sir Moses. At first our master of the
- hounds thought it was a begging-letter, and threw it aside accordingly;
- but in course of casting about for a fresh idea wherewith to propitiate
- Mr. Mossman about the sown grass, his eye rested upon the writing, which
- he glanced at, and glanced at, until somehow he thought he had seen it
- before. At length he took the letter up, and read what made him stare very
- much as he proceeded. Thus it run:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “PANGBURN PARK, Thursday Night.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My own ever dear Anthony Thom,
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>I write to you, trusting you will receive this safe, to say that as
- Mr. George Gallon has discontinued travelling altogether, I must trust to
- you entirely to do what is necessary in futur, but you must be most
- careful and watchful, for these nasty Pollis fellers are about every
- where, and seem to think they have a right to look into every bodies
- basket and bundle. We live in terrible times, I’m sure, my own beloved
- Anthony Thom, and if it wasn’t for the hope that I may see you become a
- great gentleman, like Mr. George Gallon, I really think I would forswear
- place altogether, for no one knows the anxiety and misery of living with
- such a nasty, mean, covetous body as Old Nosey.</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Old Nosey!” ejaculated Sir Moses, stopping short in his reading, and
- feeling his proboscis; “Old Nosey! dom it, can that mean me? Do believe it
- does—and it’s mother Margerum’s handwriting—dom’d if it
- isn’t,” continued he, holding the letter a little way off to examine and
- catch the character of the writing; “What does she mean by calling me a
- nasty, covetous body? I that hunt the country, subscribe to the Infirmary,
- Agricultural Society, and do everything that’s liberal and handsome. I’ll
- Old Nosey her!” continued he, grinding his teeth, and giving a vigorous
- flourish of his right fist; “I’ll Old Nosey her! I’ll turn her out of the
- house as soon as ever I get home, dom’d if I won’t,” said Sir Moses
- quivering with rage as he spoke. At length he became sufficiently composed
- to resume his reading—
- </p>
- <p>
- “-<i>No one knows the anxiety and misery of living with such a nasty,
- mean, covetous body as Old Nosey, who is always on the fret about expense,
- and thinks everybody is robbing him.</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, dom it, that means me sure enough!” exclaimed Sir Moses; “that’s on
- account of the row I was kicking up t’other day about the tea—declared
- I drank a pound a week myself. I’ll tea her!” continued he, again turning
- to the letter and reading,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “-<i>I declare I’d almost as soon live under a mistress as under such a
- shocking mean, covetous man.</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would you?” muttered Sir Moses; adding, “you shall very soon have a
- chance then.” The letter thus continued,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “-<i>The old feller will be away on Saturday and Sunday, so come afore
- lightning on Monday morning, say about four o’clock, and I’ll have
- everything ready to lower from my window</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh the deuce!” exclaimed Sir Moses, slapping his leg; “Oh the deuce!
- going to rob the house, I declare!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “-<i>To lower from my window</i>” read he again, “<i>for it’s not safe
- trusting things by the door as we used to do, now that these nasty knavish
- Pollis fellers are about; so now my own beloved Anthony Thom, if you will
- give a gentle whistle, or throw a little bit of soft dirt up at the
- window, where you will see a light burning, I’ll be ready for you, and
- you’ll be clear of the place long afore any of the lazy fellers here are
- up,—for a set of nastier, dirtier drunkards never were gathered
- together.</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph!” grunted Sir Moses, “that’s a cut at Mr. Findlater.” The writer
- then proceeded to say,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>—But mind my own beloved Anthony Thom, if any body questions
- you, say it’s a parcel of dripping, and tell them they are welcome to
- look in if they like, which is the readiest way of stopping them from
- doing so. We have had a large party here, including a young gent from that
- fine old Lord Ladythorne, who I would dearly like to live with, and also
- that nasty, jealous, covetous body Cuddy Flintoff, peeping and prying
- about everywhere as usual. He deserves to have a dish-clout pinned to his
- tail</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>He, he, he!</i>” chuckled Sir Moses, as he read it
- </p>
- <p>
- “-<i>I shall direct this letter by post to you at the sign of the Sun in
- the Sands, unless I can get it conveyed by a private hand. I am half in
- hopes Mr. Gallon may call, as there is going to be a great steeple match
- for an immense sum of money, £200 they say, and they will want his fine
- judgment to direct matters. Mr. Gallon is indeed a man of a thousand</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph!” grunted Sir Moses, adding, “we are getting behind the curtain
- now.” He then went on reading,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “—<i>Oh my own dear darling Anthony Thom! what would I give to see
- you a fine gentleman like Mr. George Gallon. I do hope and trust, dearest,
- that it may yet come to pass; but we must make money, and take care of our
- money when made, for a man is nothing without money. What a noble example
- you have before you in Mr. George Gallon! He was once no better nor you,
- and now he has everything like a gentleman,—a hunting horse to ride
- on, gold studs in his shirt, and goose for his dinner. O my own beloved
- Anthony Thom, if I could but see you on a white horse, with a flowered
- silk tie, and a cut velvet vest with bright steel buttons, flourishing a
- silver-mounted whip, how glad, how rejoiced it would make me. Then I
- shouldn’t care for the pryings and grumblings of Old Nosey, or the jealous
- watchings of the nasty, waspish set with which one is surrounded, for I
- should say my Anthony Thom will revenge and protect me, and make me
- comfortable at last. So now my own dearest Anthony Thom, be careful and
- guarded in coming about here, for I dread those nasty lurkin Pollis men
- more nor can I say, for I never knew suspicious people what were good for
- any thing themselves; and how they ever come to interduce such nasty town
- pests into the quiet peaceful country, I can’t for the life of me imagine;
- but Mr. George Gallon, who is a man of great intellect, says they are
- dangerous, and that is partly why he has given up travelling; so therefore
- my own dearest Anthony Thom be guarded, and mind put on your pee jacket
- and red worsted comforter, for I dread these hoar frosts, and I’ll have
- everything ready for my darling pet, so that you won’t be kept waiting a
- moment; but mind if there’s snow on the ground you don’t come for fear of
- the tracks. I think I have littel more to say this time, my own darling
- Anthony Thom, except that I am, my own dear, dear son, </i>
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your ever loving mother,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sarah.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “B-o-o-y Jove!” exclaimed Sir Moses, sousing himself down in an easy chair
- beside the table at which he had been writing “b-o-y Jove, what a
- production! Regular robber, dom’d if she’s not. Would give something to
- catch Master Anthony Thom, in his red worsted comforter, with his parcel
- of dripping. Would see whether I’d look into it or not. And Mr. Geordey
- Gallon, too! The impudent fellow who pretended not to know the Frenchman.
- Regular plant as ever was made. Will see whether he gets his money from
- me. Ten punds the wretch tried to do me out of by the basest deceit that
- ever was heard of. Con-found them, but I’ll see if I can’t be upsides with
- them all though,” continued he, writhing for vengeance. And the whole of
- that day, and most of that night, and the whole of the following day when
- hunting at Harker Crag, he was thinking how he could manage it. At length,
- as he was going quietly home with the hounds, after only an indifferent
- day’s sport, a thought struck him which he proceeded to put in execution
- as soon as he got into the house. He wrote a note to dear Lord Repartee,
- saying, if it would be quite convenient to Lady Repartee and his Lordship,
- he would be glad to stay all night with them before hunting Filberton
- forest; and leaving the unfolded note on the library table to operate
- during the night, he wrote a second one in the morning, inquiring the
- character of a servant; and putting the first note into the fire, he
- sealed the second one, and laid it ostentatiously on the hall table for
- the post.
- </p>
- <p>
- We take it we all have some ambitious feeling to gratify—all have
- some one whom we either wish to visit, or who we desire should visit us.
- We will candidly state that our ambition is to dine with the Lord Mayor.
- If we could but achieve that great triumph, we really think we should rest
- satisfied the rest of our life. We know how it would elevate us in the
- eyes of such men as Cuddy Flintoff and Paul Straddler, and what an
- advantage it would be to us in society being able to talk in a familiar
- way of his Lordship (Lordship with a capital L., if you please, Mr.
- Printer).
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus the world proceeds on the aspiring scale, each man looking to the
- class a little in advance of his own.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O knew they but their happiness, of men the happiest” are the sporting
- country gentlemen who live at home at ease—unvexed alike with the
- torments of the money-maker and the anxieties of the great, and yet
- sufficiently informed and refined to be the companions of either—men
- who see and enjoy nature in all her moods and varieties, and live
- unfettered with the pomp and vexation of keeping up appearances, envying
- no one, whoever may envy them. If once a man quits this happy rank to
- breast the contending billows of party in hopes of rising to the one above
- it, what a harvest of discord he sows for his own reaping. If a man wants
- to be thoroughly disgusted with human nature, let him ally himself
- unreservedly to a political party. He will find cozening and sneaking and
- selfishness in all their varieties, and patriotic false pretences in their
- most luxuriant growth. But we are getting in advance of our subject, our
- thesis being Mr. and Mrs. Wotherspoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our snuffy friend Spoon was not exempt from the ambitious failings of
- lesser men. His great object of ambition was to get Major Yammerton to
- visit him—or perhaps to put it more correctly, his great object of
- ambition was to visit Major Yammerton. But then, unfortunately, it
- requires two parties to these bargains; and Mrs. Yammerton wouldn’t agree
- to it, not so much because old Spoon had been a butler, but because his
- wife (our pen splutters as it writes the objection) his wife had been a—a—housekeeper.
- A handsome housekeeper she was, too, when she first came into the country;
- so handsome, indeed, that Dicky Boggledike had made two excursions over to
- their neighbour, Farmer Flamstead, to see her, and had reported upon her
- very favourably to the noble Earl his august master.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still Mrs. Yammerton wouldn’t visit her. In vain Mrs. Wotherspoon sent her
- bantams’ eggs, and guinea fowls’ eggs, and cuttings from their famous
- yellow rose-tree; in vain old Spoon got a worn-out horse, and invested his
- nether man in white cords and top boots to turn out after the harriers; in
- vain he walked a hound in summer, and pulled down gaps, and lifted gates
- off their hinges in winter—it all only produced thanks and
- politeness. The Yammertons and they were very good How-do-you-do?
- neighbours, but the true beef-and-mutton test of British friendship was
- wanting. The dinner is the thing that signs and seals the acquaintance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus they had gone on from summer to summer, and from season to season,
- until hope deferred had not only made old Spoon’s heart sick, but had also
- seen the white cords go at the knees, causing him to retire his legs into
- the military-striped cinnamon-coloured tweeds in which he appears in:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0056" id="linkimage-0056"> </a>
- </p>
-
- <p>
- In addition to muffling his legs, he had begun to mutter and talk about
- giving up hunting,—getting old,—last season—and so on,
- which made the Major think he would be losing one of the most personable
- of his field. This made him pause and consider how to avert the
- misfortune. Hunted hares he had sent him in more than regular rotation: he
- had liquored him repeatedly at the door; the ladies had reciprocated the
- eggs and the cuttings, with dahlias, and Sir Harry strawberry runners; and
- there really seemed very little left about the place wherewith to
- propitiate a refractory sportsman. At this critical juncture, a too
- confiding hare was reported by Cicely Bennett, farmer Merry field’s
- dairymaid, to have taken up her quarters among some tussuckey brambles at
- the north-east corner of Mr. Wotherspoon’s cow pasture—a most
- unusual, indeed almost unprecedented circumstance, which was communicated
- by Wotherspoon in person to the Major at the next meet of the hounds at
- Girdle Stone Green, and received with unfeigned delight by the latter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t say so!” exclaimed he, wringing the old dandy’s hand; “you
- don’t say so!” repeated he, with enthusiasm, for hares were scarce, and
- the country good; in addition to which the Major knew all the gaps.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>I do</i>,” replied Spoon, with a confident air, that as good as said,
- you may take my word for anything connected with hunting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” rejoined the Major, poking him
- familiarly in the ribs with his whip, “I’ll tell you what we’ll do; we’ll
- have a turn at her on Tuesday—meet at your house, eh? what say you
- to that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With all my heart,” responded the delighted Wotherspoon, adding, in the
- excitement of the moment, “S’pose you come to breakfast?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Breakfast,” gasped the Major, feeling he was caught. “Dash it, what would
- Mrs. Yammerton say? Breakfast!” repeated he, running the matter through
- his mind, the wigging of his wife, the walk of his hound, the chance of
- keeping the old boy to the fore if he went—go he would. “With all my
- heart,” replied he, dashing boldly at the oiler; for it’s of no use a man
- saying he’s engaged to breakfast, and the Major felt that if the worst
- came to the worst, it would only be to eat two, one at home, the other
- with Spoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- So it was settled, much to Mr. and Mrs. Wotherspoon’s satisfaction, who
- were afterwards further delighted to hear that our friend Billy had
- returned, and would most likely be of the party. And most assiduously they
- applied themselves to provide for this, the great event of their lives.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LIV.<br/>MR. WOTHERSPOON’S DÉJEUNER À LA FOURCHETTE.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0057" id="linkimage-0057"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/404m.jpg" alt="404m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/404.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>VY BANK Tower
- (formerly caled Cow gate Hill), the seat of Jeames Wotherspoon Esquire,
- stands on a gentle eminence about a stone’s throw from the Horseheath and
- Hinton turnpike road, and looks from the luxuriance of its ivy, like a
- great Jack-in-the-green. Ivy is a troublesome thing, for it will either
- not grow at all or it grows far too fast, and Wotherspoon’s had fairly
- overrun the little angular red brick, red tiled mansion, and helped it to
- its new name of Ivy Bank Tower. If the ivy flourished, however, it was the
- only thing about the place that did; for Wotherspoon was no farmer, and
- the 75A, 3R. 18P., of which the estate consisted, was a very uninviting
- looking property. Indeed Wotherspoon was an illustration of the truth of
- Sydney Smith’s observation that there are three things which every man
- thinks he can do, namely, drive a gig, edit a newspaper, and farm a small
- property, and Spoon bought Cowgate Hill thinking it would “go of itself,”
- as they say of a horse, and that in addition to the rent he would get the
- farmer’s profit as well, which he was told ought to be equal to the rent.
- Though he had the Farmers’ Almanack, he did not attend much to its
- instructions, for if Mrs. Wotherspoon wanted the Fe-a-ton, as she called
- it, to gad about the country in, John Strong, the plough-boy footman
- “loused” his team, and arraying himself in a chocolate-coloured coat, with
- a red striped vest and black velveteens, left the other horse standing
- idle for the day. So Spoon sometimes caught the season and sometimes he
- lost it; and the neighbours used to hope that he hadn’t to live by his
- land. If he caught the season he called it good management; if he didn’t
- he laid the blame upon the weather, just as a gardener takes the credit
- for all the good crops of fruit, and attributes the failures to the
- seasons. Still Spoon was not at all sensible of his deficiencies, and
- subscribed a couple of guineas a year to the Harrowford Agricultural
- Society, in return for which he always had the toast of the healths of the
- tenant farmers assigned to him, which he handled in a very magnificent and
- condescending way, acknowledging the obligations the landowners were under
- to them, and hoping the happy union would long subsist to their mutual
- advantage; indeed, if he could only have got the words out of his mouth as
- fast as he got the drink into it, there is no saying but he might some day
- have filled the presidential chair. Now, however, a greater honour even
- than that awaited him, namely, the honour of entertaining the great Major
- Yammerton to breakfast. To this end John Strong was first set to clean the
- very dirty windows, then to trim the ivy and polish the brass knocker at
- the door, next to dig the border, in which grew the famous yellow rose,
- and finally to hoe and rake the carriage-drive up to the house; while Mrs.
- Wotherspoon, aided by Sally Brown, her maid-of-all-work, looked out the
- best blue and gold china, examined the linen, selected a tongue,
- guillotined the poultry, bespoke the eggs, and arranged the general
- programme of the entertainment.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major thought himself very sly, and that he was doing the thing very
- cleverly by nibbling and playing with his breakfast on the appointed
- morning, instead of eating voraciously as usual; but ladies often know a
- good deal more than they pretend to do, and Mrs. Yammerton had seen a card
- from Mrs. Wotherspoon to their neighbour, Mrs. Broadfurrow, of
- Blossomfield Farm, inviting Broadfurrow and her to a “<i>déjeuner à la
- fourchette</i>” to meet Major Yammerton and see the hounds. However, Mrs.
- Yammerton kept the fact to herself, thinking she would see how her Major
- would manoeuvre the matter, and avoid a general acquaintance with the
- Wotherspoons. So she merely kept putting his usual viands before him, to
- try to tempt him into indulgence; but the Major, knowing the arduous part
- he would have to perform at the Tower, kept rejecting all her insidious
- overtures for eating, pretending he was not altogether right. “Almond
- pudding hadn’t agreed with him,” he thought. “Never did—should have
- known better than take it,” and so on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our dawdling hero rather discontented his host, for instead of applying
- himself sedulously to his breakfast, he did nothing but chatter and talk
- to the young ladies, as if there was no such important performance before
- them as a hare to pursue, or the unrivalled harriers to display. He took
- cup after cup, as though he had lost his reckoning, and also the little
- word “no” from his vocabulary. At length the Major got him raised from the
- table, by telling him they had two miles farther to go than they really
- had, and making for the stable, they found Solomon and the footman
- whipper-in ready to turn out with the hounds. Up went our sportsmen on to
- their horses, and forth came the hounds wriggling and frolicking with joy.
- The cavalcade being thus formed, they proceeded across the fields, at the
- back of the house, and were presently passing up the Hollington Lane. The
- gift grey was the first object of interest as soon as they got well under
- way, and the Major examined him attentively, with every desire to find
- fault.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Neatish horse,” at length observed he, half to himself, half to our
- friend; “neatish horse—lightish of bone below the knee, p’raps, but
- still by no means a bad shaped ‘un.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Still though the Major could’nt hit off the fault, he was pretty sure
- there was a screw loose somewhere, to discover which he now got Billy to
- trot the horse, aud cauter him, and gallop him, successively.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph!” grunted he, as he returned after a brush over the rough ground of
- Farthingfield Moor; “he has the use of his legs—gets well away; easy
- horse under you, I dessay?” asked he.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy said he was, for he could pull him about anywhere; saying which he
- put him boldly at a water furrow, and landed handsomely on the far side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph!” grunted the Major again, muttering to himself, “May be all right—but
- if he is, it’s devilish unlike the Baronet, giving him. Wish he would take
- that confounded moon-eyed brute of mine and give me my forty puns back.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he gave him ye, did he?” asked the Major, with a scrutinising stare
- at our friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why—yarse—no—yarse—not exactly,” replied Billy,
- hesitating. “The fact is, he offered to give me him, and I didn’t like
- taking him, and so, after a good deal to do, he said I might give him
- fifty pounds for him, and pay him when it suited me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I twig,” replied the Major, adding, “then you have to pay fifty pounds
- for him, eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Or return him,” replied Billy, “or return him. He made me promise if over
- I wanted to part with him, I would give him the refusal of him again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Humph!” grunted the Major, looking the horse over attentively. “Fifty
- puns,” muttered he to himself,—“must be worth that if he’s sound,
- and only eight off. Wouldn’t mind giving fifty for him myself,” thought
- he; “must be something wrong about him—certain of that—or Sir
- Moses wouldn’t have parted with him;” with which firm conviction, and the
- full determination to find out the horse’s weak point, the Major trotted
- along the Bodenham Road, through the little hamlet of Maywood, thence
- across Faulder the cattle jobber’s farm, into the Heath-field Road at
- Gilden Bridge. A quarter of a mile further, and Mr. Wotherspoon’s
- residence was full in sight.
- </p>
- <p>
- The “Tower” never, perhaps, showed to greater advantage than it did on
- this morning, for a bright winter’s sun lit up the luxuriant ivy on its
- angular, gable-ended walls, nestling myriads of sparrows that flew out in
- flocks at the approach of each visitor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What place is this?” asked our hero, as, at a jerk of the Major’s head,
- Solomon turned off the road through the now propped-open gate of the
- approach to the mansion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, this is where we meet,” replied the Major; “this is Mr.
- Wotherspoon’s, the gentleman you remember out with us the day we had the
- famous run when we lost the hare at Mossheugh Law—the farm by the
- moor, you know, where the pretty woman was churning—you remember,
- eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, ah!” repeated Billy: “but I thought they called his place a Tower,—Ivy
- something Tower,” thinking this was more like two great sentry boxes
- placed at right angles, and covered with ivy than anything else.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, yes; he calls this a Tower,” replied the Major, seeing by Billy’s
- face that his friend had not risen in his estimation by the view of his
- mansion. “Capital feller Spoon, though,” continued he, “must go in and pay
- our respects to him and his lady.” So saying, he turned off the road upon
- the closely eaten sward, and, calling to Solomon to stop and let the
- hounds have a roll on the grass, he dismounted, and gave his horse in
- charge of a fustian-clad countryman, telling him to walk him about till he
- returned, and he would remember him for his trouble. Our friend Billy did
- the same, and knocking the mud sparks off his boots against the well
- pipe-clayed door-steps, prepared to enter the Tower. Before inducting
- them, however, let us prepare the inmates for their reception.
- </p>
- <p>
- Both Mr. and Mrs. Wotherspoon had risen sufficiently early to enable them
- to put the finishing stroke to their respective arrangements, and then to
- apparel themselves for the occasion. They were gorgeously attired, vieing
- with the rainbow in the colour of their clothes. Old Spoon, indeed, seemed
- as if he had put all the finery on he could raise, and his best brown
- cauliflower wig shone resplendent with Macassar oil. He had on a light
- brown coat with a rolling velvet collar, velvet facings and cuffs, with a
- magnificent green, blue, and yellow striped tartan velvet vest, enriched
- with red cornelian buttons, and crossed diagonally with a massive
- Brazilian gold chain, and the broad ribbon of his gold double-eye-glasses.
- He sported a light blue satin cravat, an elaborately worked ruby-studded
- shirt front, over a pink flannel vest, with stiff wrist-bands well turned
- up, showing the magnificence of his imitation India garnet buttons. On his
- clumsy fingers he wore a profusion of rings—a brilliant cluster, a
- gold and opal, a brilliant and sapphire, an emerald half-hoop ring, a
- massive mourning, and a signet ring,—six in all,—genuine or
- glass as the case might be, equally distributed between the dirty-nailed
- fingers of each hand. His legs were again encased in the treacherous white
- cords and woe-begone top-boots that were best under the breakfast table.
- He had drawn the thin cords on very carefully, hoping they would have the
- goodness to hang together for the rest of the day.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wotherspoon was bedizened with jewellery and machinery lace. She wore
- a rich violet-coloured velvet dress, with a beautiful machinery lace
- chemisette, fastened down the front with large Cairngorum buttons, the
- whole connected with a diminutive Venetian chain, which contrasted with
- the massive mosaic one that rolled and rattled upon her plump shoulders. A
- splendid imitation emerald and brilliant brooch adorned her bust, while
- her well-rounded arms were encircled with a mosaic gold, garnet and
- turquoise bracelet, an imitation rose diamond one, intermixed with pearl,
- a serpent armlet with blood-stone eyes, a heavy jet one, and an equally
- massive mosaic gold one with a heart’s ease padlock. Though in the full
- development of womanhood, she yet distended her figure with crinoline, to
- the great contraction of her room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two had scarcely entered the little parlour, some twelve feet square,
- and Spoon got out his beloved Morning Post, ere Mr. and Mrs. Broadfurrow
- were seen wending their way up the road, at the plodding diligent sort of
- pace an agricultural horse goes when put into harness; and forthwith the
- Wotherspoons dismissed the last anxieties of preparation, and lapsed into
- the easy, unconcerned host and hostess. When John Strong threw open the
- door, and announced Mr. and Mrs. Broadfurrow, they were discovered
- standing over the fire, as if <i>d’ejeuner à la fourchette</i> giving was
- a matter of every day’s occurrence with them. Then, at the summons, they
- turned and came forward in the full glow of cordiality, and welcomed their
- guests with all the fervour of sincerity; and when Mrs. Wotherspoon
- mounted the weather for a trot with Mrs. Broadfurrow, old Spoon out with
- his engine-turned gold snuff-box, and offered Broadfurrow a pinch ere he
- threw his conversation into the columns of his paper. The offer being
- accepted, Wotherspoon replenished his own nose, and then felt ready for
- anything. He was in high feather. He sunk his favourite topic, the doings
- of the House of Lords, and expatiated upon the Princess Royal’s then
- approaching marriage. Oh, dear, he was so glad. He was so glad of it—glad
- of it on every account—glad of it on the Princess’s account—glad
- of it on her most gracious Majesty’s account. Bless her noble heart! it
- almost made him feel like an old man when he remembered the Prince Consort
- leading her to the hymeneal altar herself. Well, well, life was life, and
- he had seen as much of it as most men; and just as he was going to indulge
- in some of his high-flown reminiscences, the crack of a hunting whip
- sounded through the house, and farmer Nettlefold’s fat figure, attired in
- the orthodox green coat and white cords of the Major Yammerton’s hunt was
- seen piled on a substantial brown cob, making his way to the stables at
- the back of the Tower. Mr. Nettlefold, who profanely entered by the back
- door, was then presently announced, and the same greetings having been
- enacted towards him, Wotherspoon made a bold effort to get back to the
- marriage, beginning with “As I was observing,” when farmer Rintoul came
- trotting up on his white horse, and holloaed out to know if he could get
- him put up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, certainly,” replied Wotherspoon, throwing up the window, when a
- sudden gust of wind nearly blew off his wig, and sadly disconcerted the
- ladies by making the chimney smoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just at this moment our friend appeared in sight, and all eyes were then
- directed to the now gamboling tongue-throwing hounds, as they spread
- frisking over the green.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What beauties!” exclaimed Mrs. Wotherspoon, pretending to admire them,
- though in reality she was examining the Point de Paris lace on Mrs.
- Broadfurrow’s mantle—wondering what it would be a yard, thinking it
- was very extravagant for a person like her to have it so broad. Old Spoon,
- meanwhile, bustled away to the door, to be ready to greet the great men as
- they entered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Major Yammerton and Mr. Jingle!” announced John Strong, throwing it open,
- and the old dandy bent nearly double with his bow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How are ye, Wotherspoon?” demanded our affable master, shaking him
- heartily by the hand, with a hail-fellow-well-met air of cordiality. “Mr.
- Pringle you know,” continued he, drawing our friend forward with his left
- hand, while he advanced with his right to greet the radiant Mrs.
- Wotherspoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major then went the round of the party, whole handing Mrs.
- Broadfurrow, three fingering her husband, presenting two to old Rintonl,
- and nodding to Nettlefold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, here’s a beautiful morning,” observed he, now Colossus-of-Rhodesing
- with his clumsily built legs—“most remarkable season this I ever
- remember during the five-and-thirty years that I have kept haryers—more
- like summer than winter, only the trees are as bare of leaves as
- boot-trees, <i>haw, haw, haw</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>He, he, he</i>,” chuckled old Wotherspoon, “v-a-a-ry good, Major,
- v-a-a-ry good,” drawled he, taking a plentiful replenishment of snuff as
- he spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- Breakfast was then announced, and the Major making up to the inflated Mrs.
- Wotherspoon tendered his arm, and with much difficulty piloted her past
- the table into the little duplicate parlour across the passage, followed
- by Wotherspoon with Mrs. Broadfurrow and the rest of the party.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now the fruits of combined science appeared in the elegant arrangement
- of the breakfast-table, the highly polished plate vieing with the snowy
- whiteness of the cloth, and the pyramidical napkins encircling around.
- Then there was the show pattern tea and coffee services, chased in wreaths
- and scrolls, presented to Mr. Wotherspoon by the Duke of Thunderdownshire
- on his marriage; the Louis Quatorze kettle presented to Mrs. Wotherspoon
- by the Duchess, with the vine-leaf-patterned cake-basket, the
- Sutherland-patterned toast-rack, and the tulip-patterned egg-stand, the
- gifts and testimonials of other parties.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor was the entertainment devoted to mere show, for piles of cakes and
- bread of every shape and make were scattered profusely about, while a
- couple of covered dishes on the well polished little sideboard denoted
- that the fourchette of the card was not a mere matter of form. Best of
- all, a group of flat vine-leaf encircling Champagne glasses denoted that
- the repast was to be enlivened with the exhilarating beverage.
- </p>
- <p>
- The party having at length settled into seats, Major Yammerton on Mrs.
- Wotherspoon’s right, Mr. Pringle on her left, Mrs. Broadfurrow on Spoon’s
- right, her husband on his left, with Rintoul and Nettlefold filling in the
- interstices, breakfast began in right earnest, and Mrs. Wotherspoon having
- declined the Major’s offer of assisting with the coffee, now had her hands
- so full distributing the beverages as to allow him to apply himself
- sedulously to his food. This he did most determinedly, visiting first one
- detachment of cakes, then another, and helping himself liberally to both
- hashed woodcocks and kidneys from under the covers. His quick eye having
- detected the Champagne glasses, and knowing Wotherspoon’s reputed
- connoisseurship in wines, he declined Mrs. Wotherspoon’s tea, reserving
- himself for what was to follow. In truth, Spoon was a good judge of wine,
- so much so that he acted as a sort of decoy duck to a London house, who
- sent him very different samples to the wine they supplied to the customers
- with whom he picked up. He had had a great deal of experience in wines,
- never, in the course of a longish life having missed the chance of a
- glass, good, bad, or indifferent. We have seen many men set up for judges
- without a tithe of Wotherspoon’s experience. Look at a Club for instance.
- We see the footman of yesterday transformed into the butler of to-day,
- giving his opinion to some newly joined member on the next, with all the
- authority of a professor—talking of vintages, and flavours, and
- roughs and smooths, and sweets, and drys, as if he had been drinking wine
- all his life. Wotherspoon’s prices were rather beyond the Major’s mark,
- but still he had no objection to try his wine, and talk as if he would
- like to have some of the same sort. So having done ample justice to the
- eatables he turned himself back in his chair and proceeded to criticise
- Mrs. Wotherspoon’s now slightly flushed face, and wonder how such a pretty
- woman could marry such a snuffy old cock. While this deliberate scrutiny
- was going on, the last of the tea-drinkers died out, and at a pull of the
- bell, John Strong came in, and after removing as many cups and saucers as
- he could clutch, he next proceeded to decorate the table with Champagne
- glasses amid the stares and breath-drawings of the company.
- </p>
- <p>
- While this interesting operation was proceeding, the old dandy host
- produced his snuff-box, and replenishing his nose passed it on to
- Broadfurrow to send up the table, while he threw himself back in his chair
- and made a mental wager that Strong would make a mistake between the
- Champagne and the Sillery. The glasses being duly distributed, and the
- Major’s eye at length caught, our host after a prefatory throat-clearing
- hem thus proceeded to address him, individually, for the good of the
- company generally.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Major Yammerton,” said he, “I will take the liberty of recommending a
- glass of Sillery to you.—The sparkling, I believe, is very good, but
- the still is what I particularly pride myself upon and recommend to my
- friends.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Strong!” continued he, addressing the clown, “the Sillery to Major
- Yammerton,” looking at Strong as much as to say, “you know it’s the bottle
- with the red cord round the neck.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Major, however, like many of us, was not sufficiently versed in the
- delicacies of Champagne drinking to prefer the Sillery, and to his host’s
- dismay called for the sparkling-stuff that Wotherspoon considered was only
- fit for girls at a boarding school. The rest of the party, however, were
- of the Major’s opinion, and all glasses were eagerly held for the
- sparkling fluid, while the Sillery remained untouched to the master.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is but justice to Wotherspoon to add, that he showed himself deserving
- of the opportunity, for he immediately commenced taking two glasses to his
- guest’s one.
- </p>
- <p>
- That one having been duly sipped and quaffed and applauded, and a becoming
- interval having elapsed between, Mr. Wotherspoon next rose from his chair,
- and looking especially wise, observed, up the table “that there was a
- toast he wished—he had—he had—he wished to propose,
- which he felt certain under any—any (pause) circumstances, would be
- (pause again) accepted—he meant received with approbation
- (applause), not only with approbation, but enthusiasm,” continued he,
- hitting off the word he at first intended to use, amid renewed applause,
- causing a slight “this is my health,” droop of the head from the Major—“But
- when,” continued the speaker, drawing largely on his snuff-box for
- inspiration, “But when in addition to the natural and intrinsic (pause)
- merit of the (hem) illustrious individual” (“Coming it strong,” thought
- the Major, who had never been called illustrious before,) “there is
- another and a stronger reason,” continued Wotherspoon, looking as if he
- wished he was in his seat again—“a reason that comes ‘ome to the
- ‘earts and symphonies of us all (applause). (“Ah, that’s the hounds,”
- thought the Major, “only I ‘spose he means sympathies.”) “I feel (pause)
- assured,” continued Mr. Wotherspoon, “that the toast will be received with
- the enthusiasm and popularity that ever attends the (pause) mention of
- intrinsic merit, however (pause) ‘umbly and inadequately the (pause) toast
- may be (pause) proposed,” (great applause, with cries of no, no,) during
- which the orator again appealed to his snuff-box. He knew he had a good
- deal more to say, but he felt he couldn’t get it out. If he had only kept
- his seat he thought he might have managed it. “I therefore,” said he,
- helping Mrs. Broadfurrow to the sparkling, and passing the bottle to her
- husband while he again appealed to the Sillery, “beg to propose, with
- great sincerity, the ‘ealth of Her most gracious Majesty The Queen! The
- Queen! God bless her!” exclaimed Wotherspoon, holding up a brimming bumper
- ere he sunk in his chair to enjoy it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “With all my heart!” gasped the disgusted Major, writhing with vexation—observing
- to Mrs. Wotherspoon as he helped her, and then took severe toll of the
- passing bottle himself, “by Jove, your husband ought to be in Parliament—never
- heard a man acquit himself better”—the Major following the now
- receding bottle with his eye, whose fast diminishing contents left little
- hopes of a compliment for himself out of its contents. He therefore felt
- his chance was out, and that he had been unduly sacrificed to Royalty. Not
- so, however, for Mr. Wotherspoon, after again charging his nose with
- snuff, and passing his box round the table while he collected his
- scattered faculties for the charge, now drew the bell-cord again, and
- tapping with his knife against the empty bottle as “Strong” entered,
- exclaimed, “Champagne!” with the air of a man accustomed to have all the
- wants of life supplied by anticipation. There’s nobody gets half so well
- waited upon as an old servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- This order being complied with, and having again got up the steam of his
- eloquence, Mr. Wotherspoon arose, and, looking as wise as before,
- observed, “That there was another toast he had to propose, which he felt
- (pause) sure would (pause) would be most agreeable and acceptable to the
- meeting,—he meant to say the party, the present party (applause)—under
- any circumstances (sniff, snuff, sneeze); he was sure it would be most
- (snuff) acceptable, for the great and distinguished (pause), he had almost
- said illustrious (sniff), gentleman (pause), was—was estimable”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is me, at all events,” thought the Major, again
- slightly drooping his too bashful head, as though the shower-bath of
- compliment was likely to be too heavy for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “——was estimable (pause) and glorious in every relation
- of life (applause), and keeps a pack of hounds second to none in the
- kingdom (great applause, during which the drooping head descended an inch
- or two lower). I need not after that (snuff) expression of your (sniff)
- feelings (pause), undulate on the advantage such a character is of to the
- country, or in promoting (pause) cheerful hospitality in all its (pause)
- branches, and drawing society into sociable communications; therefore I
- think I shall (pause) offer a toast most, most heartily acceptable
- (sniff) to all your (snuff) feelings, when I propose, in a bumper toast,
- the health of our most—most distinguished and—and hospitable
- host—guest, I mean—Major Yammerton, and his harriers!”
- saying which, the old orator filled himself a bumper of Sillery, and sent
- the sparkling beverage foaming and creaming on its tour. He then
- presently led the charge with a loud, “Major! your very good
- health!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Major, your very good health!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your very good health, Major!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Major, your very good health!” then followed up as quickly as the glasses
- could be replenished, and the last explosion having taken place, the
- little Major arose, and looked around him like a Bantam cock going to
- crow. He was a man who could make what he would call an off-hand speech,
- provided he was allowed to begin with a particular word, and that word was
- “for.” Accordingly, he now began with,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ladies and gentlemen, <i>For</i> the very distinguished honour you have
- thus most unexpectedly done me, I beg to return you my most grateful and
- cordial thanks. (Applause.) I beg to assure you, that the ‘steem and
- approbation of my perhaps too partial friends, is to me the most
- gratifying of compliments; and if during the five-and-thirty years I have
- kept haryers, I have contributed in any way to the ‘armony and good
- fellowship of this neighbourhood, it is indeed to me a source of unfeigned
- pleasure. (Applause.) I ‘ope I may long be spared to continue to do so.
- (Renewed applause.) Being upon my legs, ladies and gentlemen,” continued
- he, “and as I see there is still some of this most excellent and
- exhilarating beverage in the bottle (the Major holding up a half-emptied
- one as he spoke), permit me to conclude by proposing as a toast the ‘ealth
- of our inestimable ‘ost and ‘ostess—a truly exemplary couple, who
- only require to be known to be respected and esteemed as they ought to be.
- (Applause.) I have great pleasure in proposing the ‘ealth of Mr. and Mrs.
- Wotherspoon! (Applause.) Mrs. Wotherspoon,” continued he, bowing very low
- to his fair hostess, and looking, as he thought, most insinuating, “your
- <i>very</i> good ‘ealth! Wotherspoon!” continued he, standing erect, and
- elevating his voice, “Your very good ‘ealth!” saying which he quaffed off
- his wine, and resumed his seat as the drinking of the toast became
- general.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile old Wotherspoon had taken a back hand at the Sillery, and again
- arose, glass in hand, to dribble out his thanks for the honour the Major
- and company had done Mrs. Wotherspoon and himself, which being the
- shortest speech he had made, was received with the greatest applause.
- </p>
- <p>
- All parties had now about arrived at that comfortable state when the
- inward monitor indicates enough, and the active-minded man turns to the
- consideration of the “next article, mem,”—as the teasing
- shop-keepers say, The Major’s “next article,” we need hardly say, was his
- haryers, which were still promenading in front of the ivy-mantled tower,
- before an admiring group of pedestrians and a few sorrily mounted
- horsemen,—old Duffield, Dick Trail, and one or two others,—who
- would seem rather to have come to offer up their cattle for the boiler,
- than in expectation of their being able to carry them across country with
- the hounds. These are the sort of people who stamp the farmers’ hedges
- down, and make hare hunting unpopular.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, sir, what say you to turning out?” now asked our Master, as
- Wotherspoon still kept working away at the Sillery, and maundering on to
- Mr. Broadfurrow about the Morning Post and high life.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, sir, what you think proper,” replied Spoon, taking a heavy pinch of
- snuff, and looking at the empty bottles on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The hare, you say, is close at hand,” observed our master of hounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Close at hand, close at hand—at the corner of my field, in fact,”
- assented Wotherspoon, as if there was no occasion to be in a hurry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then let’s be at her!” exclaimed the Major rising with wine-inspired
- confidence, and feeling that it would require a very big fence to stop him
- with the hounds in full cry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but we are going to see you, ain’t we?” asked Mrs. Wotherspoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By all means,” replied our Master; adding, “but hadn’t you better get
- your bonnet on?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly,” rejoined Mrs. Wotherspoon, looking significantly at Mrs.
- Broadfurrow; whereupon the latter rose, and with much squeezing, and
- pardoning, and thank-you-ing, the two succeeded in effecting a retreat.
- The gentlemen then began kicking their legs about, feeling as though they
- would not want any dinner that day.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LV.<br/>THE COUNCIL OF WAR.—POOR PUSS AGAIN!
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HILE the ladies
- were absent adorning themselves, the gentlemen held a council of war as to
- the most advisable mode of dealing with the hare, aud the best way of
- making her face a good country. The Major thought if they could set her
- a-going with her head towards Martinfield-heath, they would stand a good
- chance of a run; while Broadfurrow feared Borrowdale brook would be in the
- way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not Linacres?” asked Mr. Rintoul, who preferred having the hounds
- over any one’s farm but his own.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Linacres is not a bad line,” assented the Major thoughtfully; “Linacres
- is not a bad line, ‘specially if she keeps clear of Minsterfield-wood and
- Dowland preserve; but if once she gets to the preserve it’s all U. P., for
- we should have as many hares as hounds in five minutes, to say nothing of
- Mr. Grumbleton reading the riot act among us to boot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll tell ye how to do, then,” interposed fat Mr. Nettlefold, holding his
- coat laps behind him as he protruded his great canary-coloured stomach
- into the ring; “I’ll tell you how to do, then. Just crack her away back
- over this way, and see if you can’t get her for Witherton and Longworth.
- Don’t you mind,” continued he, button-holeing the Major, “what a hunt we
- had aboot eighteen years since with a har we put off old Tommy Carman’s
- stubble, that took us reet away over Marbury Plot, the Oakley hill, and
- then reet down into Woodbury Yale, where we killed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure I do!” exclaimed the delighted Major, his keen eyes glistening
- with pleasure at the recollection. “The day Sam Snowball rode into
- Gallowfield bog and came out as black as a sweep—I remember it well.
- Don’t think I ever saw a better thing. If it had been a—a—certain
- somebody’s hounds (<i>he, he, he!</i>), whose name I won’t mention (<i>haw,
- haw, haw!</i>), we should never have heard the last of it (<i>he, he, he!</i>).”
- </p>
- <p>
- While this interesting discussion was going on, old Wotherspoon who had
- been fumbling at the lock of the cellaret, at length got it open, and
- producing therefrom one of those little square fibre-protected bottles,
- with mysterious seals and hieroglyphical labels, the particoloured letters
- leaning different ways, now advanced, gold-dotted liquor-glass in hand,
- towards the group, muttering as he came, “Major Yammerton, will you ‘blege
- me with your ‘pinion of this Maraschino di Zara, which my wine merchants
- recommend to me as something very ‘tickler,” pouring out a glass as he
- spoke, and presenting it to his distinguished guest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “With all my heart,” replied the Major, who rather liked a glass of
- liquor; adding, “we’ll all give our opinion, won’t we, Pringle?” appealing
- to our hero.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much pleasure,” replied Billy, who didn’t exactly know what it was, but
- still was willing to take it on trust.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s right,” rejoined old Spoon; “that’s right; then ‘blege me,”
- continued he, “by helping yourselves to glasses from the sideboard,”
- nodding towards a golden dotted brood clustering about a similarly adorned
- glass jug like chickens around a speckled hen.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this intimation a move was made to the point; and all being duly
- provided with glasses, the luscious beverage flowed into each in
- succession, producing hearty smacks of the lips, and “very goods” from
- all.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I think so,” replied the self-satisfied old dandy; “I think so,”
- repeated he, replenishing his nose with a good pinch of snuff; “Comes from
- Steinberger and Leoville, of King Street, Saint Jeames’s—very old
- ‘quaintance of mine—great house in the days of George the Fourth of
- festive memory. And, by the way, that reminds me,” continued he, after a
- long-drawn respiration, “that I have forgotten a toast that I feel (pause)
- we ought to have drunk, and—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s have it now then,” interrupted the Major, presenting his glass for
- a second helping.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you please,” replied “Wotherspoon, thus cut short in his oration,
- proceeding to replenish the glasses, but with more moderate quantities
- than before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, now what’s your toast?” demanded the Major, anxious to be off.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The toast I was about to propose—or rather, the toast I forgot to
- propose,” proceeded the old twaddler, slowly and deliberately, with divers
- intermediate sniffs and snuffs, “was a toast that I feel ‘sured will come
- ‘ome to the ‘arts and symphonies of us all, being no less a—a—(pause)
- toast than the toast of the illustrious (pause), exalted—I may say,
- independent—I mean Prince—Royal Highness in fact—who
- (wheeze) is about to enter into the holy state of matrimony with our own
- beloved and exalted Princess (Hear, hear, hear). I therefore beg to
- (pause) propose that we drink the ‘ealth of His Royal (pause) ‘Ighness
- Prince (pause) Frederick (snuff) William (wheeze) Nicholas (sniff)
- Charles!” with which correct enunciation the old boy brightened up and
- drank off his glass with the air of a man who has made a clean breast of
- it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Drink both their ‘ealths!” exclaimed the Major, holding up his glass, and
- condensing the toast into “The ‘ealths of their Royal Highnesses!” it was
- accepted by the company with great applause.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just as the last of the glasses was drained, and the lip-smacking guests
- were preparing to restore them to the sideboard, a slight rustle was heard
- at the door, which opening gently, a smart black velvet bonnet trimmed
- with cerise-coloured velvet and leaves, and broad cerise-coloured ribbons,
- piloted Mrs. Wotherspoon’s pretty face past the post, who announced that
- Mrs. Broadfurrow and she were ready to go whenever they were.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s be going, then,” exclaimed Major Yammerton, hurrying to the
- sideboard and setting down his glass. “How shall it be, then? How shall it
- be?” appealing to the company. “Give them a view or put her away quietly?—give
- them a view or put her away quietly?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, put her away quietly,” responded Mr. Broadfurrow, who had seen many
- hares lost by noise and hurry at starting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “With her ‘ead towards Martinfield?” asked the Major.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you can manage it,” replied Broadfurrow, well knowing that these sort
- of feats are much easier planned than performed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Spose we let Mrs. Wotherspoon put her away for us,” now suggested Mr.
- Rintonl.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By all means!” rejoined the delighted Major; “by all means! She knows the
- spot, and will conduct us to it. Mrs. Wotherspoon,” continued he, stumping
- up to her as she now stood waiting in the little passage, “allow me to
- have the honour of offering you my arm;” so saying, the Major presented it
- to her, observing confidentially as they passed on to the now open front
- door, “I feel as if we were going to have a clipper!” lowering the ominous
- hat-string as he spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Solomon! Solomon!” cried he, to the patient huntsman, who had been
- waiting all this time with the hounds. “We are going! we are going!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Major,” replied Solomon, with a respectful touch of his cap.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now for it!” cried the Major, wheeling sharp round with his fair charge,
- and treading on old Wotherspoon’s gouty foot, who was following too
- closely behind with Mrs. Broadfurrow on his arm, causing the old cock to
- catch up his leg and spin round on the other, thus splitting the
- treacherous cords across the knee.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0058" id="linkimage-0058"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/419m.jpg" alt="419m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/419.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- “<i>Oh-o-o-o!</i>” shrieked he, wrinkling his face up like a Norfolk
- biffin, and hopping about as if he was dancing a hornpipe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Oh-o-o-o!</i>” went he again, on setting it down to try if he could
- stand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really beg you ten thousand pardons!” now exclaimed the disconcerted
- Major, endeavouring to pacify him. “I really beg you ten thousand pardons;
- but I thought you were ever so far behind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So did I, I’m sure,” assented Mrs. Wotherspoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re such a gay young chap, and step so smartly, you’d tread on any
- body’s heels,” observed the Major jocularly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but it was a pincher, I assure you,” observed Wotherspoon, still
- screwing up his mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length he got his foot down again, and the assault party was reformed,
- the Major and Mrs. Wotherspoon again leading, old Spoon limping along at a
- more respectful distance with Mrs. Broadfurrow, while the gentlemen
- brought up the rear with the general body of pedestrians, who now deserted
- Solomon and the hounds in order to see poor puss started from her form.
- Solomon was to keep out of sight until she was put away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Passing through the little American blighted orchard, and what Spoon
- magnificently called his kitchen garden, consisting of a dozen grass-grown
- gooseberry bushes, and about as many winter cabbages, they came upon a
- partially-ploughed fallow, with a most promising crop of conch grass upon
- the unturned part, the hungry soil looking as if it would hardly return
- the seed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fine country! fine country!” muttered the Major, looking around on the
- sun-bright landscape, and thinking he could master it whichever way the
- hare went. Up Sandywell Lane for Martinfield Moor, past Woodrow Grange for
- Linacres, and through Farmer Fulton’s fold-yard for Witherton.
- </p>
- <p>
- Oh, yes, he could do it; and make a very good show out of sight of the
- ladies.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, where have you her? where have you her?” whispered he, squeezing
- Mrs. Wotherspoon’s plump arm to attract her attention, at the same time
- not to startle the hare.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, in the next field,” whispered she, “in the next field,” nodding
- towards a drab-coloured pasture in which a couple of lean and dirty cows
- were travelling about in search of a bite. They then proceeded towards it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The gallant Major having opened the ricketty gate that intervened between
- the fallow and it, again adopted his fair charge, and proceeded stealthily
- along the high ground by the ragged hedge on the right, looking back and
- holding up his hand for silence among the followers.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length Mrs. Wotherspoon stopped. “There, you see,” said she, nodding
- towards a piece of rough, briary ground, on a sunny slope, in the far
- corner of the field.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see!” gasped the delighted Major; “I see!” repeated he, “just the very
- place for a hare to be in—wonder there’s not one there always. Now,”
- continued he, drawing his fair charge a little back, “we’ll see if we
- can’t circumvent her, and get her to go to the west. Rintoul!” continued
- he, putting his hand before his mouth to prevent the sound of what he said
- being wafted to the hare. “Rintoul! you’ve got a whip—you go below
- and crack her away over the hill, that’s a good feller, and we’ll see if
- we can’t have something worthy of com-mem-mo-ration”—the Major
- thinking how he would stretch out the run for the newspapers—eight
- miles in forty minutes, an hour and twenty with only one check—or
- something of that sort.
- </p>
- <p>
- The pause thrilled through the field, and caused our friend Billy to feel
- rather uncomfortable, he didn’t appreciate the beauties of the thing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rintoul having now got to his point, and prepared his heavy whip-thong,
- the gallant band advanced, in semicircular order, until they came within a
- few paces of where the briars began. At a signal from the Major they all
- hailed. The excitement was then intense.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see her!” now whispered the Major into Mrs. Wotherspoon’s ear. “I see
- her!” repeated he, squeezing her arm, and pointing inwardly with his
- thong-gathered whip.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wotherspoon’s wandering eyes showed that she did not participate in
- the view.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t you see the tuft of fern just below the thick red-berried rose bush
- a little to the left here?” asked the Major; “where the rushes die out?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wotherspoon nodded assent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, she’s just under the broken piece of fern that lies bending
- this way. You can see her ears moving at this moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wotherspoon’s eyes brightened as she saw a twinkling something.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Now then, put her away!</i>” said the Major gaily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She won’t bite, will she?” whispered Mrs. Wotherspoon, pretending alarm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, bite, no!” laughed the Major; “hares don’t bite—not pretty
- women at least,” whispered he. “Here take my whip and give her a touch
- behind,” handing it to her as he spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wotherspoon having then gathered up her violet-coloured velvet dress
- a little, in order as well to escape the frays of the sharp-toothed
- brambles as to show her gay red and black striped petticoat below, now
- advanced cautiously into the rough sea, stepping carefully over this
- tussuck and t’other, avoiding this briar and that, until she came within
- whip reach of the fern. She then paused, and looked back with the eyes of
- England upon her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Up with her!”</i> cried the excitcd Major, as anxious for a view as if
- he had never seen a hare in his life.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Wotherspoon then advanced half a step farther, and protruding the
- Major’s whip among the rustling fern, out sprang—what does the
- reader think?—A GREAT TOM CAT!
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Tallyho!</i>” cried Billy Pringle, deceived by the colour.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Hoop, hoop, hoop!</i>” went old Spoon, taking for granted it was a
- hare.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Crack!</i> resounded Rintoul’s whip from afar.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Haw, haw, haw!</i> never saw anything like that!” roared the Major,
- holding his sides.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, it’s a cat!” exclaimed the now enlightened Mrs. Wotherspoon, opening
- wide her pretty eyes as she retraced her steps towards where he stood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cat, ay, to be sure, my dear! why, it’s your own, isn’t it?” demanded our
- gallant Master.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; ours is a grey—that’s a tabby,” replied she, returning him his
- whip.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grey or tab, it’s a cat,” replied the Major, eyeing puss climbing up a
- much-lopped ash-tree in the next hedge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, Spoon, old boy, don’t you know a cat when you see her?” demanded he,
- as his chagrined host now came pottering towards them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought it was a hare, ‘pon honour, as we say in the Lords,” replied
- the old buck, bowing and consoling himself with a copious pinch of snuff.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it’s a sell,” said the Major, thinking what a day he had lost.
- </p>
- <p>
- “D-a-a-vilish likely place for a hare,” continued old Wotherspoon,
- reconnoitring it through his double eye-glasses; “D-a-a-vilish likely
- place, indeed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, likely enough,” muttered the Major, with a chuck of his chin, “likely
- enough,—only it isn’t one, <i>that’s all!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I wish it had been,” replied the old boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So do I,” simpered his handsome wife, drawing her fine lace-fringed
- kerchief across her lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- The expectations of the day being thus disappointed, another council of
- war was now held, as to the best way of retrieving the misfortune.
- Wotherspoon, who was another instance of the truth of the observation,
- that a man who is never exactly sober is never quite drunk, was inclined
- to get back to the bottle. “Better get back to the house,” said he, “and
- talk matters quietly over before the fire;” adding, with a full
- replenishment of snuff up his nose, “I’ve got a batch of uncommonly fine
- Geisenheimer that I would like your ‘pinion of, Major,” but the Major, who
- had had wine enough, and wanted to work it off with a run, refused to
- listen to the tempter, intimating, in a whisper to Mrs. Spoon, who again
- hung on his arm, that her husband would be much better of a gallop.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Mrs. Wotherspoon, thinking from the haziness of the old gentleman’s
- voice, and the sapient twinkling of his gooseberry eyes, that he had had
- quite enough wine, seconded this view of the matter; whereupon, after much
- backing and bowing, and shaking of hands, and showing of teeth, the ladies
- and gentlemen parted, the former to the fire, the latter to the field,
- where the performance of the pack must stand adjourned for another
- chapter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LVI.<br/>A FINE RUN!—THE MAINCHANCE CORRESPONDENCE.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0059" id="linkimage-0059"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="figleft" style="width:35%;">
- <img src="images/424.jpg" alt="424m " width="100%" /><br /> <a
- href="images/424.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </div>
- <p>
- HE worst of these <i>dejeuners à la fourchette</i>, and also of luncheons,
- is, that they waste the day, and then send men out half-wild to ride over
- the hounds or whatever else comes in their way. The greatest funkers, too,
- are oftentimes the boldest under the influence of false courage; so that
- the chances of mischief are considerably increased. The mounted Champagne
- bottle smoking a cigar, at page 71, is a good illustration of what we
- mean. We doubt not Mr. Longneck was very forward in that run.
- </p>
- <p>
- All our Ivy Tower party were more or less primed, and even old Wotherspoon
- felt as if he could ride. Billy, too, mounted the gallant grey without his
- usual nervous misgivings, and trotted along between the Major and Rintoul
- with an easy Hyde Park-ish sort of air. Rintonl had intimated that he
- thought they would find a hare on Mr. Merryweather’s farm at Swayland, and
- now led them there by the fields, involving two or three little obstacles—a
- wattled hurdle among the rest—which they all charged like men of
- resolution. The hurdle wasn’t knocked over till the dogs’-meatmen came to
- it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Arrived at Swayland, the field quickly dispersed, each on his own separate
- hare-seeking speculation, one man fancying a fallow, another a pasture:
- Rintonl reserving the high hedge near the Mill bridle-road, out of which
- he had seen more than one whipped in his time. So they scattered
- themselves over the country, flipping and flopping all the tufts ard
- likely places, aided by the foot-people with their sticks, and their
- pitchings and tossings of stones into bushes and hollows, and other
- tempting-looking retreats.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hounds, too, ranged far and wide, examining critically each likely
- haunt, pondering on spots where they thought she had been, but which would
- not exactly justify a challenge.
- </p>
- <p>
- While they were all thus busily employed, Rintoul’s shallow hat in the air
- intimated that the longed-for object was discerned, causing each man to
- get his horse by the head, and the foot-people to scramble towards him,
- looking anxiously forward and hurriedly back, lest any of the riders
- should be over them. Rintoul had put her away, and she was now travelling
- and stopping, and travelling and stopping, listening and wondering what
- was the matter. She had been coursed before but never hunted, and this
- seemed a different sort of proceeding.
- </p>
- <p>
- The terror-striking notes of the hounds, as they pounced upon her empty
- form, with the twang of the horn and the cheers of the sportsmen urging
- them on, now caused her to start; and, laying back her long ears, she
- scuttled away over Bradfield Green and up Ridge Hill as hard as ever she
- could lay legs to the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come along, Mr. Pringle! come along, Mr. Pringle!” cried the excited
- Major, spurring up, adjusting his whip as if he was going to charge into a
- solid square of infantry. He then popped through an open gate on the left.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bustling beauties of hounds had now fallen into their established
- order of precedence, Lovely and Lilter contending for the lead, with
- Bustler and Bracelet, and Ruffler and Chaunter, and Ruin and Restless, and
- Dauntless and Driver, and Dancer and Flaunter and others striving after,
- some giving tongue because they felt the scent, others, because the
- foremost gave it.—So they went truthfully up the green and over the
- hill, a gap, a gate, and a lane serving the bustling horsemen.
- </p>
- <p>
- The vale below was not quite so inviting to our “green linnets” as the
- country they had come from, the fields being small, with the fences as
- irregular as the counties appear on a map of England. There was none of
- that orderly squaring up and uniformity of size, that enables a roadster
- to trace the line of communication by gates through the country.—All
- was zigzag and rough, indicating plenty of blackthorns and briers to tear
- out their eyes. However, the Champagne was sufficiently alive in our
- sportsmen to prevent any unbecoming expression of fear, though there was a
- general looking about to see who was best acquainted with the country.
- Rintoul was now out of his district, and it required a man well up in the
- line to work them satisfactorily, that is to say, to keep them in their
- saddles, neither shooting them over their horses’ heads nor swishing them
- over their tails. Our friend Billy worked away on the grey, thinking, if
- anything, he liked him better than the bay. He even ventured to spur him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The merry pack now swing musically down the steep hill, the chorus
- increasing as they reach the greener regions below. The fatties, and
- funkers, and ticklish forelegged ones, begin who-a-ing and g-e-e-ntly-ing
- to their screws, holding on by the pommels and cantrells, and keeping
- their nags’ heads as straight as they can. Old Wotherspoon alone gets off
- and leads down. He’s afraid of his horse slipping upon its haunches. The
- sight of him doing so emboldens our Billy, who goes resolutely on, and
- incautiously dropping his hand too soon, the grey shot away with an
- impetus that caused him to cannon off Broadfurrow and the Major and pocket
- himself in the ditch at the bottom of the hill. Great was the uproar! The
- Richest Commoner in England was in danger! Ten thousand a-year in
- jeopardy! “Throw yourself off!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get clear of him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Keep hold of him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mind he doesn’t strike ye!” resounded from all parts, as first the
- horse’s head went up, and then his tail, and then his head again, in his
- efforts to extricate himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length Billy, seizing a favourable opportunity, threw himself off on
- the green sward, and, ere he could rise, the horse, making a desperate
- plunge, got out, and went staring away with his head in the air, looking
- first to the right and then to the left, as the dangling reins kept
- checking and catching him.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0061" id="linkimage-0061"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/427m.jpg" alt="427m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/427.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- “Look sharp or you’ll loss him!” now cried old Duffield, as after an
- ineffectual snatch of the reins by a passing countryman, the horse ducked
- his head and went kicking and wriggling and frolicking away to the left,
- regardless of the tempting cry of the hounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- The pace, of course, was too good for assistance—and our friend and
- the field were presently far asunder.
- </p>
- <p>
- Whatever sport the hounds had—and of course they would have a
- clipper—we can answer for it Mr. Pringle had a capital run; for his
- horse led him a pretty Will-o’-the-wisp sort of dance, tempting him on and
- on by stopping to eat whenever his rider—or late rider, rather—seemed
- inclined to give up the chase, thus deluding him from field to lane and
- from lane to field until our hero was fairly exhausted.—Many were
- the rushes and dashes and ventures made at him by hedgers and ditchers and
- drainers, but he evaded them all by laying back his ears and turning the
- battery of his heels for the contemplation, as if to give them the choice
- of a bite or a kick.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length he turned up the depths of the well-known Love Lane, with its
- paved <i>trottoir</i>, for the damsels of the adjoining hamlets of East
- and West Woodhay to come dry-shod to the gossip-shop of the well; and
- here, dressed in the almost-forgotten blue boddice and red petticoat of
- former days, stood pretty Nancy Bell, talking matrimonially to Giles
- Bacon, who had brought his team to a stand-still on the higher ground of
- the adjoining hedge, on the field above.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hearing the clatter of hoofs, as the grey tried first the hard and then
- the soft of the lane, Bacon looked that way; and seeing a loose horse he
- jumped bodily into the lane, extending his arms and his legs and his eyes
- and his mouth in a way that was very well calculated to stop even a bolder
- animal than a horse. He became a perfect barrier. The grey drew up with an
- indignant snort and a stamp of his foot, and turning short round he
- trotted back, encountering in due time his agitated and indignant master,
- who had long been vowing what a trimming he would give him when he caught
- him. Seeing Billy in a hurry,—for animals are very good judges of
- mischief, as witness an old cock how he ducks when one picks up a stone,—seeing
- Billy in a hurry we say, the horse again wheeled about, and returned with
- more leisurely steps towards his first opponent. Bacon and Nancy were now
- standing together in the lane; and being more pleasantly occupied than
- thinking about loose horses, they just stood quietly and let him come
- towards them, when Giles’s soothing w-ho-o-ays and matter-of-course style
- beguiled the horse into being caught.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy presently came shuffling up, perspiring profusely, with his feet
- encumbered with mud, and stamping the thick of it off while he answered
- Bacon’s question as to “hoo it happened,” and so on, in the grumpy sort of
- way a man does who has lost his horse, he presented him with a shilling,
- and remounting, rode off, after a very fine run of at least twenty
- minutes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first thing our friend did when he got out of sight of Giles Bacon and
- Nancy, was to give his horse a good rap over the head with his whip for
- its impudent stupidity in running away, causing him to duck his head and
- shake it, as if he had got a pea or a flea in his ear.—He then
- began wheeling round and round, like a dog wanting to lie down, much to
- Billy’s alarm, for he didn’t wish for any more nonsense. That performance
- over, he again began ducking and shaking his head, and then went moodily
- on, as if indifferent to consequences. Billy wished he mightn’t have hit
- him so hard.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he got home, he mentioned the horse’s extraordinary proceedings to
- the Major, who, being a bit of a vet. and a strong suspector of Sir
- Moses’ generosity to boot, immediately set it down to the right cause—megrims—and
- advised Billy to return him forthwith, intimating that Sir Moses was not
- altogether the thing in the matter of horses; but our friend, who kept the
- blow with the whip to himself, thought he had better wait a day or two and
- see if the attack would go off.—In this view he was upheld by Jack
- Rogers, who thought his old recipe, “leetle drop gin,” would set him all
- right, and proceeded to administer it to himself accordingly. And the
- horse improved so much that he soon seemed himself again, whereupon Billy,
- recollecting Sir Moses’s strenuous injunctions to give him the refusal of
- him if ever he wanted to part with him, now addressed him the following
- letter:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yammerton Grange.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear Sir Moses,
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“As I find I must return to town immediately after the hunt ball, to
- which you were so good as invite me, and as the horse you were so good as
- give me would be of no use to me there, I write, in compliance with my
- promise to offer him back to you if ever I wanted to part with him, to say
- that he will be quite at your service after our next day’s hunting, or
- before if you like, as I dare say the Major will mount me if I require it.
- He is a very nice horse, and I feel extremely obliged for your very
- handsome intentions with regard to him, which, under other circumstances,
- I should have been glad to accept. Circumstanced as I am, however, he
- would be wasted upon me, and will be much better back in your stud. </i>
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will, therefore, send him over on hearing from you; and you can either
- put my I.O.U. in the fire, or enclose it to me by the Post.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Again thanking you for your very generous offer, and hoping you are
- having good sport, I beg to subscribe myself,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear Sir Moses,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yours very truly,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wm. PRINGLE
- </p>
- <p>
- “To Sir Moses Mainchance, Bart.,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pangburn Park.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And having sealed it with the great seal of state, he handed it to Rougier
- to give to the postman, without telling his host what he had done.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next post brought the following answer:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Many, very many thanks to you, my dear Pringle, for your kind
- recollection of me with regard to the grey, which I assure you stamps you
- in my opinion as a most accurate and excellent young man.—You are
- quite right in your estimate of my opinion of the horse; indeed, if I had
- not considered him something very far out of the common way, I should not
- have put him into your hands; but knowing him to be as good as he’s
- handsome, I had very great satisfaction in placing him with you, as well
- on your own account as from your being the nephew of my old and excellent
- friend and brother baronet, Sir Jonathan Pringle—to whom I beg you
- to make my best regards when you write.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“Even were it not so, however, I should be precluded from accepting your
- kind and considerate offer for only yesterday I sent Wetun into
- Doubleimupshire, to bring home a horse I’ve bought of Tom Toweler, on Paul
- Straddler’s recommendation, being, as I tell Paul, the last I’ll ever buy
- on his judgment, unless he turns out a trump, as he has let me in for some
- very bad ones.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“But, my dear Pringle, ain’t you doing yourself a positive injustice in
- saying that you would have no use for the grey in town? Town, my dear
- fellow, is the very place for a horse of that colour, figure, and
- pretension; and a very few turns in the Park, with you on his back, before
- that best of all pennyworths, the chair-sitting swells, might land you in
- the highest ranks of the aristocracy—unless, indeed, you are booked
- elsewhere, of which, perhaps, I have no business to inquire.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“I may, however, as a general hint, observe to the nephew of my old
- friend, that the Hit-im and Hold-imshire Mammas don’t stand any nonsense,
- so you will do well to be on your guard. No; take my advice, my dear
- fellow, and ride that horse in town.—It will only be sending him to
- Tat.‘s if you tire of him there, and if it will in any way conduce to your
- peace of mind, and get rid of any high-minded feeling of obligation, you
- can hand me over whatever you get for him beyond the £50 —And that
- reminds me, as life is uncertain, and it is well to do everything
- regularly, I’ll send my agent, Mr. Mordecai Nathan, over with your I.O.U.,
- and you can give me a bill at your own date—say two or three months—instead,
- and that will make us all right and square, and, I hope, help to maintain
- the truth of the old adage, that short reckonings make long friends,—which
- I assure you is a very excellent one.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“And now, having exhausted both my paper and subject, I shall conclude
- with repeating my due appreciation of your kind recollection of my wishes;
- and with best remembrances to your host and hostess, not forgetting their
- beautiful daughters, whom I hope to see in full feather at the ball, I
- remain,</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“My dear Pringle.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“Very truly and sincerely, yours,</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“Moses Mainchance.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“To Wm. Pringle”</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- We need scarcely add that Mr. Mordecai Nathan followed quickly on the
- heels of the letter, and that the I. 0. U. became a short-winded bill of
- exchange, thus saddling our friend permanently with the gallant grey. And
- when Major Yammerton heard the result, all the consolation Billy got from
- him was, “<i>I told you so</i>,” meaning that he ought to have taken his
- advice, and returned the horse as unsound.
- </p>
- <p>
- With this episode about the horse, let us return to Pangburn Park.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LVII.<br/>THE ANTHONY THOM TRAP.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>IR Moses was so
- fussy about his clothes, sending to the laundry for this shirt and that,
- censuring the fold of this cravat and that, inquiring after his new
- hunting ties and best boots, that Mrs. Margerum began to fear the buxom
- widow, Mrs. Vivian, was going to be at Lord Repartee’s, and that she might
- be saddled with that direst of all dread inflictions to an honest
- conscientious housekeeper, a teasing, worreting, meddling mistress. That
- is a calamity which will be best appreciated by the sisterhood, and those
- who watch how anxiously “widowers and single gentlemen” places are
- advertised for in the newspapers, by parties who frequently, not perhaps
- unaptly, describe themselves as “thoroughly understanding their business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses, indeed, carried out the deception well; for not only in the
- matter of linen, but in that of clothes also, was he equally particular,
- insisting upon having all his first-class daylight things brought out from
- their winter quarters, and reviewing them himself as they lay on the sofa,
- ere he suffered Mr. Bankhead to pack them.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length they were sorted and passed into the capacious depths of an
- ample brown leather portmanteau, and the key being duly turned and
- transferred to the Baronet, the package itself was chucked into the
- dog-cart in the unceremonious sort of way luggage is always chucked about.
- The vehicle itself then came to the door, and Sir Moses having delivered
- his last injunctions about the hounds and the horses, and the line of
- coming to cover so as to avoid public-houses, he ascended and touching the
- mare gently with the whip, trotted away amid the hearty—“well shut
- of yous” of the household. Each then retired to his or her private
- pursuits; some to drink, some to gamble, some to write letters, Mrs.
- Margerum, of course, to pick up the perquisites. Sir Moses, meanwhile,
- bowled away ostentatiously through the lodges, stopping to talk to
- everybody he met, and saying he was going away for the night.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bonmot Park, the seat of Lord Repartee, stands about the junction of
- Hit-im and Hold-imshire, with Featherbedfordshire. Indeed, his great cover
- of Tewington Wood is neutral between the hunts, and the best way to the
- park on wheels, especially in winter time, is through Hinton and Westleak,
- which was the cause of Sir Moses hitting upon it for his deception,
- inasmuch as he could drive into the Fox and Hounds Hotel; and at Hinton,
- under pretence of baiting his mare without exciting suspicion, and there
- make his arrangements for the night. Accordingly, he took it very quietly
- after he got clear of his own premises, coveting rather the shades of
- evening that he had suffered so much from before, and as luck would have
- it by driving up Skinner Lane, instead of through Nelson Street, he caught
- a back view of Paul Straddler, as for the twenty-third time that worthy
- peeped through the panes of Mrs. Winship, the straw-bonnet maker’s window
- in the market-place, at a pretty young girl she had just got from
- Stownewton. Seeing his dread acquaintance under such favourable
- circumstances, Sir Moses whipped Whimpering Kate on, and nearly upset
- himself against the kerb-stone as he hurried up the archway of the huge
- deserted house,—the mare’s ringing hoofs alone, announcing his
- coming.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Ostler! Ostler! Ostler!</i> cried he in every variety of tone, and at
- length the crooked-legged individual filling that and other offices, came
- hobbling and scratching his head to the summons. Sir Moses alighting then,
- gave him the reins and whip; and wrapper in hand, proceeded to the
- partially gas-lit door in the archway, to provide for himself while the
- ostler looked after the mare.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, it so happened, that what with bottle ends and whole bottles, and the
- occasional contributions of the generous, our friend Peter the waiter was
- even more inebriated than he appears at page 263; and the rumbling of
- gig-wheels up the yard only made him waddle into the travellers’ room, to
- stir the fire and twist up a bit of paper to light the gas, in case it was
- any of the despised brotherhood of the road.—He thought very little
- of bagmen—Mr. Customer was the man for his money. Now, he rather
- expected Mr. Silesia, Messrs. Buckram the clothiers’ representative, if
- not Mr. Jaconette, the draper’s also, about this time; and meeting Sir
- Moses hurrying in top-coated and cravated with the usual accompaniments of
- the road, he concluded it was one of them; so capped him on to the
- commercial room with his dirty duster-holding hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get me a private room, Peter; get me a private room,” demanded the
- Baronet, making for the bottom of the staircase away from the indicated
- line of scent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Private room,” muttered Peter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, who is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me! me!” exclaimed Sir Moses, thinking Peter would recognise him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but whether are ye a tailor or a draper?” demanded Peter, not
- feeling inclined to give way to the exclusiveness of either.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tailor or draper! you stupid old sinner—don’t you see it’s me—me
- Sir Moses Mainchance?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Sir Moses, Sir, I beg your pardon, Sir,” stammered the now
- apologising Peter, hurrying back towards the staircase. “I really begs
- your pardon, Sir; but my eyes are beginning to fail me, Sir—not so
- good as they were when Mr. Customer hunted the country.—Well Sir
- Moses, Sir, I hope you’re well, Sir; and whether will you be in the Sun or
- the Moon? You can have a fire lighted in either in a minute, only you see
- we don’t keep fires constant no ways now, ‘cept in the commercial room.—Great
- change, Sir Moses, Sir, since Mr. Customer hunted the country; yes, Sir,
- great change—used to have fires in every room, Sir, and brandy and—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but,” interrupted Sir Moses, “I can’t sit freezing up stairs till
- the fire’s burnt up.—You go and get it lighted, and come to me in
- the commercial-room and tell me when it’s ready; and here!” continued he,
- “I want some dinner in an hour’s time, or so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By all means, Sir Moses. What would you like to take, Sir Moses?” as if
- there was everything at command.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Sir Moses</i>—“Have you any soup?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Peter</i>—“Soup, Sir Moses. No, I don’t think there is any soup.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Sir Moses</i>—“Fish; have you any fish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Peter</i>—“Why, no; I don’t think there’ll be any fish to-day,
- Sir Moses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Sir Moses</i>—“What have you, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Peter</i>—(Twisting the dirty duster), “Mutton chops—beef
- steak—beef steak—mutton chops—boiled fowl, p’raps you’d
- like to take?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Sir Moses</i>—“No. I shouldn’t (<i>muttering</i>, most likely got
- to be caught and killed yet.) Tell the cook,” continued he, speaking up,
- “to make on a wood and coal fire, and to do me a nice dish of mutton chops
- on the gridiron; not in the frying-pan mind, all swimming in grease; and
- to boil some mealy potatoes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Peter</i>—“Yes, Sir Moses; and what would you like to have to
- follow?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Cheese!</i>” said Sir Moses, thinking to cut short the inquiry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And hark’e.” continued Sir Moses: Don’t make a great man of me by
- bringing out your old battered copper showing-dishes; but tell the cook to
- send the chops up hot and hot, between good warm crockery-ware plates,
- with ketchup or Harvey sauce for me to use as I like.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Sir Moses,” replied Peter, toddling off to deliver as much of the
- order as he could remember.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Sir Moses having thawed himself at the commercial-room fire, next
- visited the stable to see that his mare had been made comfortable, and
- told the ostler post-boy boots to be in the way, as he should most likely
- want him to take him out in the fly towards night. As he returned, he met
- Bessey Bannister, the pretty chambermaid, now in the full glow of glossy
- hair and crinoline, whom he enlisted as purveyor of the mutton into the
- Moon, in lieu of the antiquated Peter, whose services he was too glad to
- dispense with.—It certainly is a considerable aggravation of the
- miseries of a country inn to have to undergo the familiarities of a dirty
- privileged old waiter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0062" id="linkimage-0062"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/435m.jpg" alt="435m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/435.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- So thought Sir Moses, as he enjoyed each succeeding chop, and complimented
- the fair maiden so on her agility and general appearance, that she
- actually dreamt she was about to become Lady Mainchance.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LVIII.<br/>THE ANTHONY THOM TAKE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>IR Moses
- Mainchance, having fortified himself against the night air with a pint of
- club port, and a glass of pale brandy after his tea, at length ordered out
- the inn fly, without naming its destination to his fair messenger. These
- vehicles, now so generally scattered throughout the country, are a great
- improvement on the old yellow post-chaise, that made such a hole in a
- sovereign, and such a fuss in getting ready, holloaing, “Fust pair out!”
- and so on, to give notice to a smock-frocked old man to transform himself
- into a scarlet or blue jacketed post-boy by pulling off his blouse, and
- who, after getting a leg-up and a ticket for the first turnpike-gate, came
- jingling, and clattering, and cracking his dog-whip round to the inn door,
- attracting all the idlers and children to the spot, to see who was going
- to get into the “chay.” The fly rumbles quietly round without noise or
- pretension, exciting no curiosity in any one’s mind; for it is as often
- out as in, and may only be going to the next street, or to Woodbine Lodge,
- or Balsam Bower, on the outskirts of the town, or for an hour’s airing
- along the Featherbedfordshire or the old London road. It does not even
- admit of a pull of the hair as a hint to remember the ostler as he stands
- staring in at the window, the consequence of which is, that the driver is
- generally left to open the door for his passenger himself. Confound those
- old iniquities of travelling!—a man used never to have his hand out
- of his pocket. Let not the rising generation resuscitate the evil, by
- contravening the salutary regulation of not paying people on railways.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses hearing the sound of wheels, put on his wraps; and, rug in hand,
- proceeded quietly down stairs, accompanied only by the fair Bessy
- Bannister, instead of a flight of dirty waiters, holloaing “Coming down!
- coming down! now then! look sharp!” and so on.
- </p>
- <p>
- The night was dark, but the ample cab-lamps threw a gleam over the drab
- and red lined door that George Beer the driver held back in his hand to
- let his customer in.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good night, my dear,” said Sir Moses, now slyly squeezing Miss
- Bannister’s hand, wondering why people hadn’t nice clean quiet-stepping
- women to wait upon them, instead of stuck-up men, who thought to teach
- their masters what was right, who wouldn’t let them have their
- plate-warmers in the room, or arrange their tables according to their own
- desires.—With these and similar reflections he then dived
- head-foremost into the yawning abyss of a vehicle. “Bang” went the door,
- and Beer then touched the side of his hat for instructions where to go to.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me see,” said Sir Moses, adjusting his rug, as if he hadn’t quite
- made up his mind. “Let me see—oh, ah! drive me northwards, and I’ll
- tell you further when we stop at the Slopewell turnpike-gate:” so saying
- Sir Moses drew up the gingling window, Beer mounted the box, and away the
- old perpetual-motion horse went nodding and knuckling over the uneven
- cobble-stone pavement, varying the motion with an occasional bump and jump
- at the open channels of the streets. Presently a smooth glide announced
- the commencement of Macadam, and shortly after the last gas-lamp left the
- road to darkness and to them. All was starlight and serene, save where a
- strip of newly laid gravel grated against the wheels, or the driver
- objurgated a refractory carter for not getting out of his way. Thus they
- proceeded at a good, steady, plodding sort of pace, never relaxing into a
- walk, but never making any very vehement trot.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the Slopewell gate Sir Moses told Beer to take a ticket for the
- Winterton Burn one; arrived at which, he said, “Now go on and stop at the
- stile leading into the plantation, about half a mile on this side of my
- lodges,” adding, “I’ll walk across the park from there;” in obedience to
- which the driver again plied his whip along the old horse’s ribs, and in
- due time the vehicle drew up at the footpath along-side the plantation.—The
- door then opened, Sir Moses alighted and stood waiting while the man
- turned his fly round and drove off, in order to establish his night eyes
- ere he attempted the somewhat intricate passage through the plantation to
- his house.
- </p>
- <p>
- The night, though dark, was a good deal lighter than it appeared among the
- gloom of the houses and the glare of the gaslights at Hinton; and if he
- was only well through the plantation, Sir Moses thought he should not have
- much difficulty with the rest of the way. So conning the matter over in
- his mind, thinking whereabouts the boards over the ditch were, where the
- big oak stood near which the path led to the left, he got over the stile,
- and dived boldly into the wood.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Baronet made a successful progress, and emerged upon the open space of
- Coldnose, just as the night breeze spread the twelve o’clock notes of his
- stable clock through the frosty air, upon the quiet country.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right,” said he to himself, sounding his repeater to ascertain the
- hour, as he followed the tortuous track of the footpath, through cowslip
- pasture, over the fallow and along the side of the turnip field; he then
- came to the turn from whence in daylight the first view of the house is
- obtained.
- </p>
- <p>
- A faint light glimmered in the distance, about where he thought the house
- would be situate.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do believe that’s her room,” said Sir Moses, stopping and looking at the
- light. “Do believe that’s her signal for beloved Anthony Thom. If I catch
- the young scoundrel,” continued he, hurrying on, “I’ll—I’ll—I’ll
- break every bone in his skin.” With this determination, Sir Moses put on
- as fast as the now darker lower ground would allow, due regard being had
- to not missing his way.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length he came to the cattle hurdles that separated the east side of
- the park from the house, climbing over which he was presently among the
- dark yews and hollies, and box-bushes of the shrubbery. He then paused to
- reconnoitre.—The light was still there.—If it wasn’t Mrs.
- Margerum’s room, it was very near it; but he thought it was hers by the
- angle of the building and the chimneys at the end. What should he do?—Throw
- a pebble at the window and try to get her to lower what she had, or wait
- and see if he could take Anthony Thom, cargo and all? The night was cold,
- but not sufficiently so, he thought, to stop the young gentleman from
- coming, especially if he had his red worsted comforter on; and as Sir
- Moses threw his rug over his own shoulders, he thought he would go for the
- great haul, at all events; especially as he felt he could not converse
- with Mrs. Margerum à la Anthony Thom, should she desire to have a little
- interchange of sentiment. With this determination he gathered his rug
- around him, and proceeded to pace a piece of open ground among the
- evergreens, like the Captain of a ship walking the quarter-deck, thinking
- now of his money, now of his horses, now of Miss Bannister, and now of the
- next week’s meets of his hounds.—He had not got half through his
- current of ideas when a footstep sounded upon the gravel-walk; and,
- pausing in his career, Sir Moses distinctly recognised the light patter of
- some one coming towards him. He down to charge like a pointer to his game,
- and as the sound ceased before the light-showing window, Sir Moses crept
- stealthily round among the bushes, and hid behind a thick ground-sweeping
- yew, just as a rattle of peas broke upon the panes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sash then rose gently, and Sir Moses participated in the following
- conversation:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Mrs. Margerum</i> (from above)—“O, my own dearly beloved Anthony
- Thom, is that you, darling! But don’t, dear, throw such big ‘andfulls, or
- you’ll be bricking the winder.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Master Anthony Thom</i> (from below)—“No, mother; only I thought
- you might be asleep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Mrs. Margerum</i>—“Sleep, darling, and you coming! I never sleep
- when my own dear Anthony Thom is coming! Bless your noble heart! I’ve been
- watching for you this—I don’t know how long.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Master Anthony Thom</i>—“Couldn’t get Peter Bateman’s cuddy to
- come on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Mrs. Margerum</i>—“And has my Anthony Thom walked all the way?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Master Anthony Thom</i>—“No; I got a cast in Jackey Lishman the
- chimbley-sweep’s car as far as Burnfoot Bridge. I’ve walked from there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Mrs. Margerum</i>—“Bless his sweet heart! And had he his worsted
- comforter on?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Master Anthony Thom</i>—“Yes; goloshes and all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Mrs. Margerum</i>—“Ah, goloshes are capital things. They keep the
- feet, warm, and prevent your footsteps from being heard. And has my
- Anthony Thom got the letter I wrote to him at the Sun in the Sands?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Master Anthony Thom</i>—“No, never heard nothin’ of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Mrs. Margerum—“No!</i> Why what can ha’ got it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Master Anthony Thom</i>—“Don’t know.—Makes no odds.—I
- got the things all the same.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Mrs. Margerum</i>—“O, but my own dear Anthony Thom, but it does.
- Mr. Gerge Gallon says it’s very foolish for people to write anything if
- they can ‘elp it—they should always send messages by word of mouth.
- Mr. Gallon is a man of great intellect, and I’m sure what he says is
- right, and I wish I had it back.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Master Anthony Thom</i>—“O, it’ll cast up some day, I’ll be
- bound.—It’s of no use to nobody else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Mrs. Margerum</i>—“I hope so, my dear. But it is not pleasant to
- think other folks may read what was only meant for my own Anthony Thom.
- However, it’s no use crying over spilt milk, and we must manish better
- another time. So now look out, my beloved, and I’ll lower what I have.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So saying, a grating of cord against the window-sill announced a descent,
- and Master Anthony Thom, grasping the load, presently cried, “All right!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Mrs. Margerum</i>,—“It’s not too heavy for you, is it, dear?” <i>Master
- Anthony Thom</i> (hugging the package)—“O, no; I can manish it. When
- shall I come again, then, mother?” asked he, preparing to be off.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Mrs. Margerum</i>—“Oh, bless your sweet voice, my beloved. When
- shall you come again, indeed? I wish I could say very soon; but, dearest,
- it’s hardly safe, these nasty pollis fellers are always about, besides
- which, I question if old Nosey may be away again before the ball; and as
- he’ll be all on the screw for a while, to make up for past expense, I
- question it will be worth coming before then. So, my own dear Anthony
- Thom, s’pose we say the ball night, dear, about this time o’ night, and
- get a donkey to come on as far as the gates, if you can, for I dread the
- fatigue; and if you could get a pair of panniers, so much the better,
- you’d ride easier, and carry your things better, and might have a few
- fire-bricks or hearth-stones to put at the top, to pretend you were
- selling them, in case you were stopped—which, however, I hope won’t
- be the case, my own dear; but you can’t be too careful, for it’s a sad,
- sinful world, and people don’t care what they say of their neighbours. So
- now, my own dearest Anthony Thom, good night, and draw your worsted
- comforter close round your throat, for colds are the cause of half our
- complaints, and the night air is always to be dreaded; and take care that
- you don’t overheat yourself, but get a lift as soon as you can, only mind
- who it is with, and don’t say you’ve been here, and be back on the ball
- night. So good night, my own dearest Anthony Thom, and take care of
- yourself whatever you do, for——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good night, mother,” now interrupted Anthony Thom, adjusting the bundle
- under his arm, and with repeated “Good night, my own dearest,” from her,
- he gave it a finishing jerk, and turning round, set off on his way
- rejoicing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses was too good a sportsman to holloa before his game was clear of
- the cover; and he not only let Anthony Thom’s footsteps die out on the
- gravel-walk, but the sash of Mrs. Margerum’s window descend ere he
- withdrew from his hiding-place and set off in pursuit. He then went
- tip-toeing along after him, and was soon within hearing of the heavily
- laden lad.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Anthony Thom, my dear! Anthony Thom,” whispered he, coming hastily upon
- him as he now turned the corner of the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- Anthony Thom stopped, and trembling violently exclaimed, “O Mr. Gallon, is
- it you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, my dear, it’s me,” replied Sir Moses, adding, “you’ve <i>got</i> a
- great parcel, my dear; let me carry it for you,” taking it from him as he
- spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0063" id="linkimage-0063"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/441m.jpg" alt="441m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/441.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- “<i>Shriek! shriek! scream!</i>” now went the terrified Thom, seeing into
- whose hands he had fallen. “O you dom’d young rascal,” exclaimed Sir
- Moses, muffling him with his wrapper,—“I’ll draw and quarter you if
- you make any noise. Come this way, you young miscreant!” added he, seizing
- him by the worsted comforter and dragging him along past the front of the
- house to the private door in the wall, through which Sir Moses disappeared
- when he wanted to evade Mon s. Rougier’s requirements for his
- steeple-chase money.
- </p>
- <p>
- That passed, they were in the stable-yard, now silent save the occasional
- stamp of the foot or roll of the halter of some horse that had not yet
- lain down. Sir Moses dragged his victim to the door in the corner leading
- to the whipper-in’s bedroom, which, being open, he proceeded to grope his
- way up stairs. “Harry! Joe! Joe! Harry!” holloaed he, kicking at the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, Harry was away, but Joe was in bed; indeed he was having a hunt in
- his sleep, and exclaimed as the door at length yielded to the pressure of
- Sir Moses’ foot. “‘Od rot it! Don’t ride so near the hounds, man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Joe!” repeated Sir Moses, making up to the corner from whence the sound
- proceeded. “Joe! Joe!” roared he still louder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I beg your pardon! I’ll open the gate!” exclaimed Joe, now throwing
- off the bed-clothes and bounding vigorously on to the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holloa!” exclaimed he, awaking and rubbing his eyes. “Holloa! who’s
- there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me,” said Sir Moses, “me,”—adding: “Don’t make a row, but strike a
- light as quick as you can; I’ve got a bag fox I want to show you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bag fox, have you?” replied Joe, now recognising his master’s voice,
- making for the mantel-piece and feeling for the box. “Bag fox, have you?
- Dreamt we were in the middle of a run from Ripley Coppice, and that I
- couldn’t get old Crusader over the brook at no price.” He then hit upon
- the box, and with a scrape of a lucifer the room was illuminated.
- </p>
- <p>
- Having lit a mould candle that stood stuck in the usual pint-bottle neck,
- Joe came with it in his hand to receive the instructions of his master.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here’s a dom’d young scoundrel I’ve caught lurking about the house,” said
- Sir Moses, pushing Anthony Thom towards him “and I want you to give him a
- good hiding.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly, Sir Moses; certainly,” replied Joe, taking Anthony Thom by the
- ear as he would a hound, and looking him over amid the whining and
- whimpering and beggings for mercy of the boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why this is the young rascal that stole my Sunday shirt off Mrs.
- Saunders’s hedge!” exclaimed Joe, getting a glimpse of Anthony Thom’s
- clayey complexioned face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it’s not,” whined the boy. “No, it’s not. I never did nothin’ o’ the
- sort.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothin’ o’ the sort!” retorted Joe, “why there ain’t two hugly boys with
- hare lips a runnin’ about the country,” pulling down the red-worsted
- comforter, and exposing the deformity as he spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s you all over,” continued he, seizing a spare stirrup leather, and
- proceeding to administer the buckle-end most lustily. Anthony Thom
- shrieked and screamed, and yelled and kicked, and tried to bite; but Joe
- was an able practitioner, and Thom could never get a turn at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Having finished one side, Joe then turned him over, and gave him a
- duplicate beating on the other side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There! that’ll do: kick him down stairs!” at length cried Sir Moses,
- thinking Joe had given him enough; and as the boy went bounding head
- foremost down, he dropped into his mother’s arms, who, hearing his
- screams, had come to the rescue.
- </p>
- <p>
- Joe and his master then opened the budget and found the following goods:—
- </p>
- <p>
- 2 lb. of tea, 1 bar of brown soap in a dirty cotton night-cap, marked C.
- F.; doubtless, as Sir Moses said, one of Cuddy Flintoff’s.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dom all such dripping,” said Sir Moses, as he desired Joe to carry the
- things to the house. “No wonder that I drank a great deal of tea,” added
- he, as Joe gathered them together.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who the deuce would keep house that could help it?” muttered Sir Moses,
- proceeding on his way to the mansion, thinking what a trouncing he would
- give Mrs. Margerum ere he turned her out of doors.
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 lb. of coffee
- </p>
- <p>
- 3 lb. of brown sugar
- </p>
- <p>
- 3 lb. of starch
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 lb. of currants
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 lb. of rushlights
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 roll of cocoa
- </p>
- <p>
- 2 oz. of nutmegs
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 lb. of mustard
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 bar of pale soap
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 lb. of orange peel
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 bottle of capers
- </p>
- <p>
- 1 quail of split pras
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LIX.<br/>ANOTHER COUNCIL OF WAR.—MR. GALLON AT HOME.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. Margerum
- having soothed and pressed her beautiful boy to her bosom, ran into the
- house, and hurrying on the everlasting pheasant-feather bonnet in which
- she was first introduced to the reader, and a faded red and green tartan
- cloak hanging under it, emerged at the front door just as Sir Moses and
- Joe entered at the back one, vowing that she would have redress if it cost
- her a fi’ pun note. Clutching dear Anthony Thom by the waist, she made the
- best of her way down the evergreen walk, and skirting the gardens, got
- upon the road near the keeper’s lodge. “Come along, my own dear Anthony
- Thom,” cried she, helping him along, “let us leave this horrid wicked
- hole.—Oh, dear! I wish I’d never set foot in it; but I’ll not have
- my Anthony Thom chastised by any nasty old clothesman—no, that I
- won’t, if it cost me a fifty pun note”—continued she, burning for
- vengeance. But Anthony Thom had been chastised notwithstanding, so well,
- indeed, that he could hardly hobble—seeing which, Mrs. Margerum
- halted, and again pressing him to her bosom, exclaimed, “Oh, my beloved
- Anthony Thom can’t travel; I’ll take him and leave him at Mr. Hindmarch’s,
- while I go and consult Mr. Gallon.”—So saying, she suddenly changed
- her course, and crossing Rye-hill green, and the ten-acre field adjoining,
- was presently undergoing the <i>wow-wow wow-wow</i> of the farmer lawyer’o
- dog, Towler. The lawyer, ever anxious for his poultry, was roused by the
- noise; and after a rattle of bolts, and sliding of a sash, presented his
- cotton night-capped head at an upper window, demanding in a stentorian
- voice “who was there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me! Mr. Hindmarch, me! Mrs. Margerum; for pity’s sake take us in, for my
- poor dear boy’s been most shemfully beat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beat, has he!” exclaimed the lawyer, recognising the voice, his ready wit
- jumping to an immediate conclusion; “beat, has he!” repeated he,
- withdrawing from the window to fulfil her behest, adding to himself as he
- struck a light and descended the staircase, “that’ll ha’ summut to do with
- the dripping, I guess—always thought it would come to mischief at
- last.” The rickety door being unbolted and opened, Mrs. Margerum and her
- boy entered, and Mrs. Hindmarch having also risen and descended, the
- embers of the kitchen fire were resuscitated, and Anthony Thom was
- examined by the united aid of a tallow candle and it. “Oh, see! see!”
- cried Mrs. Margerum, pointing out the wales on his back,—“was there
- ever a boy so shemfully beat? But I’ll have revenge on that villainous
- man,—that I will, if it cost me a hundred pun note.”—The marks
- seen, soothed, and deplored, Mr. Hindmarch began inquiring who had done
- it. “Done it! that nasty old Nosey,” replied Mrs. Margerum, her eyes
- flashing with fire; “but I’ll make the mean feller pay for it,” added she,—“that
- I will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it wasn’t old No-No-Nosey, mo-mo-mother,” now sobbed Anthony Thom,
- “it was that nasty Joe Ski-Ski-Skinner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Skinner, was it, my priceless jewel,” replied Mrs. Margerum, kissing him,
- “I’ll skin him; but Nosey was there, wasn’t he, my pet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, yes, Nosey was there,” replied Anthony Thom, “it was him that took me
- to Ski-Ski-Skinner”—the boy bursting out into a fresh blubber, and
- rubbing his dirty knuckles into his streaming eyes as he spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O that Skinner’s a bad un,” gasped Mrs. Margerum, “always said he was a
- mischievous, dangerous man; but I’ll have satisfaction of both him and old
- Nosey,” continued she, “or I’ll know the reason why.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The particulars of the catastrophe being at length related (at least as
- far as it suited Mrs. Margerum to tell it), the kettle was presently put
- on the renewed fire, a round table produced, and the usual consolation of
- the black bottle resorted to. Then as the party sat sipping their grog, a
- council of war was held as to the best course of proceeding. Lawyer
- Hindmarch was better versed in the law of landlord and tenant—the
- best way of a tenant doing his landlord,—than in the more recondite
- doctrine of master and servant, particularly the delicate part relating to
- perquisites; and though he thought Sir Moses had done wrong in beating the
- boy, he was not quite sure but there might be something in the boy being
- found about the house at an unseasonable hour of the night. Moreover, as
- farming times were getting dull, and the lawyer was meditating a slope <i>à
- la</i> Henerey Brown & Co.? he did not wish to get mixed up in a case
- that might bring him in collision with Sir Moses or his agent, so he
- readily adopted Mrs. Margerum’s suggestion of going to consult Mr. George
- Gallon. He really thought Mr. Gallon would be the very man for her to see.
- Geordey was up to everything, and knew nicely what people could stand by,
- and what they could not; and lawyer Hindmarch was only sorry his old grey
- gig-mare was lame, or he would have driven her up to George’s at once.
- However, there was plenty of time to get there on foot before morning, and
- they would take care of Anthony Thom till she came back, only she must be
- good enough not to return till nightfall; for that nasty suspicious Nathan
- was always prowling about, and would like nothing better than to get him
- into mischief with Sir Moses.—And that point being settled, they
- replenished their glasses, and drank success to the mission; and having
- seen the belaboured Anthony Thom safe in a shakedown, Mrs. Margerum
- borrowed Mrs. Hindmarch’s second best bonnet, a frilled and beaded black
- velvet one with an ostrich feather, and her polka jacket, and set off on
- foot for the Rose and Crown beer-shop, being escorted to their door by her
- host and hostess, who assured her it wouldn’t be so dark when she got away
- from the house a bit.
- </p>
- <p>
- And that point being accomplished, lawyer and Mrs. Hindmarch retired to
- rest, wishing they were as well rid of Anthony Thom, whom they made no
- doubt had got into a sad scrape, in which they wished they mightn’t be
- involved.
- </p>
- <p>
- A sluggish winter’s day was just dragging its lazy self into existence as
- Mrs. Margerum came within sight of Mr. Gallon’s red-topped roof at the
- four lane ends, from whose dumpy chimney the circling curl of a wood fire
- was just emerging upon the pure air. As she got nearer, the early-stirring
- Mr. Gallon himself crossed the road to the stable, attired in the baggy
- velveteen shooting-jacket of low with the white cords and shining
- pork-butcher’s top-boots of high life. Mr. Gallon was going to feed Tippy
- Tom before setting off for the great open champion coursing meeting to be
- held on Spankerley Downs, “by the kind permission of Sir Harry Fuzball,
- Baronet,” it being one of the peculiar features of the day that gentlemen
- who object to having their game killed in detail, will submit to its going
- wholesale, provided it is done with a suitable panegyrick. “By the kind
- permission of Sir Harry Fuzball, Baronet,” or “by leave of the lord of the
- manor of Flatshire,” and so on; and thus every idler who can’t keep
- himself is encouraged to keep a greyhound, to the detriment of a nice
- lady-like amusement, and the encouragement of gambling and poaching.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Gallon was to be field steward of this great open champion meeting,
- and had been up betimes, polishing off Tippy Tom; which having done, he
- next paid a similar compliment to his own person; and now again was going
- to feed the flash high-stepping screw, ere he commenced with his
- breakfast.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Margerum’s “<i>hie Mr. Gallon, hie!</i>” and up-raised hand, as she
- hurried down the hill towards his house, arrested his progress as he
- passed to the stable with the sieve, and he now stood biting the oats, and
- eyeing her approach with the foreboding of mischief that so seldom
- deceives one.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O Mr. Gallon! O Mr. Gallon!” cried Mrs. Margerum, tottering up, and
- dropping her feathered head on his brawny shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>What’s oop? What’s oop?</i>” eagerly demanded our sportsman, fearing
- for his fair character.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O Mr. Gallon! <i>such</i> mischief! <i>such</i> mischief!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak, woman! speak!” demanded our publican; “say, <i>has he cotched ye?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Gerge, yes,” sobbed Mrs. Margerum, bursting into tears. “To devil he
- has!” exclaimed Mr. Gallon, stamping furiously with his right foot, “Coom
- into it hoose, woman; coom into it hoose, and tell us arl aboot it.” So
- saying, forgetting Tippy Toni’s wants, he retraced his steps with the
- corn, and flung frantically into the kitchen of his little two-roomed
- cottage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, lassie!” cried he, to a little girl, who was frying a dish of
- bubble-and-squeak at the fire. “Here, lassie, set doon it pan loike, aud
- tak this corn to it huss, and stand by while it eats it so saying he
- handed her the sieve, and following her to the door, closed it upon her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Noo,” said he to Mrs. Margerum, “sit doon and tell us arl aboot it. Who
- cotched ye? Nosey, or who?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “0 it wasn’t me! It was Anthony Thom they caught, and they used him most
- shemful; but I’ll have him tried for his life ofore my Lord Size, and
- transported, if it costs me all I’m worth in the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Anthony Thom was it?” rejoined Mr. Gallon, raising his great eye-brows,
- and staring wide his saucer eyes, “Anthony Thom was it? but he’d ha’
- nothin’ upon oi ‘ope?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothin’, Gerge,” replied Mrs. Margerum, “nothin’—less now it might
- just appen to be an old rag of a night-eap of that nasty, covetous body
- Cuddy Flintoff; but whether it had a mark upon it or not I really can’t
- say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O dear, but that’s a bad job,” rejoined Mr. Gallon, biting his lips and
- shaking his great bull-head; “O dear, but that’s a bad job. you know I
- always chairged ye to be careful ‘boot unlawful goods.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You did, Gerge! you did!” sighed Mrs. Margerum; “and if this old rag had
- a mark, it was a clear oversight. But, O dear!” continued she, bursting
- into tears, “how they did <i>beat</i> my Anthony Thom!” With this relief
- she became more composed, and proceeded to disclose all the particulars.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, this ‘ill be a trick of those nasty pollis fellers,” observed Mr.
- Gallon thoughtfully, “oi know’d they’d be the ruin o’ trade as soon as
- ever they came into it country loike—nasty pokin’, pryin’,
- mischievous fellers. Hoosomiver it mun be seen to, aud that quickly,”
- continued he. “for it would damage me desp’rate on the Torf to have ony
- disturbance o’ this sorrt, and we mun stop it if we can.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, lassie!” cried he to the little girl who had now returned from the
- stable, “lay cloth i’ next room foike, and then finish the fryin’; and
- oi’ll tell ve what,” continued he, laying his huge hand on Mrs. Margerum’s
- shoulder, “oi’ve got to go to it champion cooursin’ meetin’, so I’ll just
- put it hus into harness and droive ye round by it Bird-i’-the-Bush, where
- we’ll find Carroty Kebbel, who’ll tell us what te do, for oi don’t like
- the noight-cap business some hoo,” so saying Mr. Gallon took his silver
- plated harness down from its peg in the kitchen, and proceeded to
- caparison Tippy Tom, while the little girl, now assisted by Mrs. Margerum,
- prepared the breakfast, and set it on the table. Rather a sumptuous repast
- they had, considering it was only a way-side beer-shop; bubble-and-squeak,
- reindeer-tongue, potted game, potted shrimps, and tea strikingly like some
- of Sir Moses’s. The whole being surmounted with a glass a-piece of pure
- British gin, Mr. Gallon finished his toilette, and then left to put the
- high-stepping screw into the light spring-cart, while Mrs. Margerum
- reviewed her visage in the glass, and as the openworks clock in the
- kitchen struck nine, they were dashing down the Heatherbell-road at the
- rate of twelve miles an hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LX.<br/>MR. CARROTY KEBBEL.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>R. Carroty Kebbel
- was a huge red-haired, Crimean-bearded, peripatetic attorney, who
- travelled from petty sessions to petty sessions, spending his intermediate
- time at the public houses, ferreting out and getting up cases. He was a
- roistering ruffian, who contradicted everybody, denied everything, and
- tried to get rid of what he couldn’t answer with a horse-laugh. He was in
- good practice, for he allowed the police a liberal per-centage for
- bringing him prosecutions, while his bellowing bullying insured him plenty
- of defences on his own account. He was retained by half the ragamuffins in
- the country. He had long been what Mr. Gallon not inaptly called his
- “liar,” and had done him such good service as to earn free quarters at the
- Rose and Crown whenever he liked to call. He had been there only the day
- before, in the matter of an <i>alibi</i> he was getting up for our old
- hare-finding friend Springer, who was most unhandsomely accused of
- night-poaching in Lord Oilcake’s preserves, and that was how Mr. Gallon
- knew where to find him. The Crumpletin railway had opened out a fine
- consecutive line of petty sessions, out of which Carrots had carved a
- “home circuit” of his own. He was then on his return tour.
- </p>
- <p>
- With the sprightly exertions of Tippy Tom, Gallon and Mrs. Margerum were
- soon within sight of the Bird-in-the-Bush Inn, at which Gallon drew up
- with a dash. Carrots, however, had left some half-hour before, taking the
- road for Farningford, where the petty sessions were about to be held; and
- though this was somewhat out of Gallon’s way to Spankerley Downs, yet the
- urgency of the case determined him to press on in pursuit, and try to see
- Carrots. Tippy Tom, still full of running, went away again like a shot,
- and bowling through Kimberley toll-bar with the air of a man who was free,
- Gallon struck down the Roughfield road to the left, availing himself of
- the slight fall of the ground to make the cart run away with the horse, as
- it were, and so help him up the opposing hill. That risen, they then got
- upon level ground; and, after bowling along for about a mile or so, were
- presently cheered with the sight of the black wide-awake crowned lawyer
- striding away in the distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Carrots was a disciple of the great Sir Charles Napier, who said that a
- change of linen, a bit of soap, and a comb were kit enough for any one;
- and being only a two-shirts-a-week man, he generally left his “other” one
- at such locality as he was likely to reach about the middle of it, so as
- to apportion the work equally between them. This was clean-shirt day with
- him, and he was displaying his linen in the ostentatious way of a man
- little accustomed to the luxury. With the exception of a
- lavender-and-white coloured watch-ribbon tie, he was dressed in a complete
- suit of black-grounded tweed, with the purple dots of an incipient rash,
- the coat having capacious outside pockets, and the trousers being now
- turned up at the bottoms to avoid the mud; “showing” rhinoceros hide-like
- shoes covering most formidable-looking feet. Such was the monster who was
- now swinging along the highway at the rate of five miles an hour, in the
- full vigour of manhood, and the pride of the morning. At the sight of him
- in advance, Mr. Gallon just touched Tippy Tom with the point of the whip,
- which the animal resented with a dash at the collar and a shake of the
- head, that as good as said, “You’d better not do that again, master,
- unless you wish to take your vehicle home in a sack.” Mr. Gallon therefore
- refrained, enlisting the aid of his voice instead, and after a series of
- those slangey-whiney <i>yaah-hoo! yaah-hoo’s!</i> that the
- swell-stage-coachmen, as they called the Snobs, used to indulge in to
- clear the road or attract attention, Mr. Gallon broke out into a good
- downright “Holloa, Mr. Kebbel! Holloa!”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the sound of his name, Carrots, who was spouting his usual exculpatory
- speech, vowing he felt certain no bench of Justices would convict on such
- evidence, and so on, pulled up; and Mr. Gallon, waving his whip over his
- head, he faced about, and sat down on a milestone to wait his coming. The
- vehicle was presently alongside of him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holloa, George!” exclaimed Carrots, rising and shaking hands with his
- client. “Holloa! What’s up? Who’s this you’ve got?” looking intently at
- Mrs. Margerum.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll tell you,” said George, easing the now quivering-tailed Tippy Tom’s
- head; “this is Mrs. Margerum you’ve heard me speak ‘boot; and she’s loike
- to get into a little trooble loike; and I tell’d her she’d best see a
- ‘liar’ as soon as she could.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just so,” nodded Kebbel, anticipating what had happened. “You see,”
- continued Mr. Gallon, winding his whip thong round the stick as he spoke
- “in packing up some little bit things in a hurry loike, she put up a
- noight cap, and she’s not quoite sure whether she can stand by it or not,
- ye know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see,” assented Carrots; “and they’ve got it, I ‘spose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know that they got it,” now interposed Mrs. Margerum; “but they
- got my Anthony Thom, and beat him most shameful. Can’t I have redress for
- my Anthony Thom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ll see,” said Carrots, resuming his seat on the milestone, and
- proceeding to elicit all particulars, beginning with the usual important
- inquiry, whether Anthony Thom had said anything or not. Finding he had
- not, Carrots took courage, and seemed inclined to make light of the
- matter. “The groceries you bought, of course,” said he, “of Roger Rounding
- the basket-man—Roger will swear anything for me; and as for the
- night-cap, why say it was your aunt’s, or your niece’s, or your sister’s—Caroline
- Somebody’s—Caroline Frazer’s, Charlotte Friar’s, anybody’s whose
- initials are C. F.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O! but it wasn’t a woman’s night-cap, sir, it was a man’s; the sort of
- cap they hang folks in; and I should like to hang Old Mosey for beating my
- Anthony Thom,” rejoined Mrs. Margerum.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m afraid we can’t hang him for that,” replied Mr. Kebbel, laughing.
- “Might have him up for the assault, perhaps.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, have him up for the assault,” rejoined Mrs. Margerum; “have him up
- for the assault. What business had he to beat my Anthony Thom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get him fined a shilling, and have to pay your own costs, perhaps,”
- observed Mr. Kebbel; “better leave that alone, and stick to the parcel
- business—better stick to the parcel business. There are salient
- points in the case. The hour of the night is an awkward part,” continued
- he, biting his nails; “not but that the thing is perfectly capable of
- explanation, only the Beaks don’t like that sort of work, it won’t do for
- us to provoke an inquiry into the matter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just so,” assented Mr. Gallon, who thought Mrs. Margerum had better be
- quiet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but it’s hard that my Anthony Thom’s to be beat, and get no
- redress!” exclaimed Mrs. Margerum, bursting into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hush, woman! hush!” muttered Mr. Gallon, giving her a dig in the ribs
- with his elbow; adding, “ye mun de what it liar tells ye.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll tell you what I can do,” continued Mr. Kebbel, after a pause.
- “They’ve got my old friend Mark Bull, the ex-Double-im-up-shire Super,
- into this force, and think him a great card. I’ll get him to go to Sir
- Moses about the matter; and if Mark finds we are all right about the cap,
- he’s the very man to put Mosey up to a prosecution, and then we shall make
- a rare harvest out of him,” Carrots rubbing his hands with glee at the
- idea of an action for a malicious prosecution.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, that’ll be the gam,” said Mr. Gallon, chuckling,—“that’ll be
- the gam; far better nor havin’ of him oop for the ‘sult.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think so,” said Mr. Kebbel, “I think so; at all events I’ll consider
- the matter; and if I send Mark to Sir Moses, I’ll tell him to come round
- by your place and let you know what he does; but, in the meantime,”
- continued Kebbel, rising and addressing Mrs. Margerum earnestly, “<i>don’t
- you answer any questions</i> to anybody, and tell Anthony Thom to hold his
- tongue too, and I’ve no doubt Mr. Gallon and I’ll make it all right;” so
- saying, Mr. Kebbel shook hands with them both, and stalked on to his
- petty-sessional practice.
- </p>
- <p>
- Gallon then coaxed Tippy Turn round, and, retracing his steps as far as
- Kimberley gate, paid the toll, and shot Mrs. Margerum out, telling her to
- make the best of her way back to the Rose and Crown, and stay there till
- he returned. Gallon then took the road to the right, leading on to the
- wide-extending Spankerley Downs; where, unharnessing Tippy Tom under lea
- of a secluded plantation, he produced a saddle and bridle from the back of
- the cart, which, putting on, he mounted the high-stepping white, and was
- presently among the coursers, the greatest man at the meeting, some of the
- yokels, indeed, taking him for Sir Harry Fuzball himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when Mr. Mark Bull arrived at Sir Moses’s, things had taken another
- turn, for the Baronet, in breaking open what he thought was one of Mrs.
- Margerum’s boxes, had in reality got into Mr. Bankhead’s, where, finding
- his ticket of leave, he was availing himself of that worthy’s absence to
- look over the plate prior to dismissing him, and Sir Moses made so light
- of Anthony Thom’s adventure that the Super had his trouble for nothing.
- Thus the heads of the house—<i>the</i> Mr. and Mrs. in fact, were
- cleared out in one and the same day, by no means an unusual occurrence in
- an establishment, after which of course Sir Moses was so inundated with
- stories against them, that he almost resolved to imitate his great
- predecessor’s example and live at the Fox and Hounds Hotel at Hinton in
- future. To this place his mind was now more than ordinarily directed in
- consequence of the arrangements that were then making for the approaching
- Hunt Ball, to which long looked-for festival we will now request the
- company of the reader.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0060" id="link2HCH0060"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LXI.<br/>THE HUNT BALL.—MISS DE GLANCEY’S REFLECTIONS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0064" id="linkimage-0064"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/452m.jpg" alt="452m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/452.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hit-im and
- Hold-im shire hunt balls had long been celebrated for their matrimonial
- properties, as well for settling ripe flirtations, as for bringing to a
- close the billing and cooing of un-productive love, and opening fresh
- accounts with the popular firm of “Cupid and Co.” They were the greenest
- spot on the memory’s waste of many, on the minds of some whose
- recollections carried them back to the romping, vigorous Sir Roger de
- Coverley dances of Mr. Customer’s time,—of many who remembered the
- more stately glide of the elegant quadrille of Lord Martingal’s reign,
- down to the introduction of the once scandalising waltz and polka of our
- own. Many “Ask Mamma’s” had been elicited by these balls, and good luck
- was said to attend all their unions.
- </p>
- <p>
- Great had been the changes in the manners and customs of the country, but
- the one dominant plain gold ring idea remained fixed and immutable. The
- Hit-im and Hold-im shire hunt ball was expected to furnish a great demand
- for these, and Garnet the silversmith always exhibited an elegant white
- satin-lined morocco case full in his window, in juxtaposition with rows of
- the bright dress-buttons of the hunt, glittering on beds of delicate
- rose-tinted tissue paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- All the milliners far and wide used to advertise their London and Parisian
- finery for the occasion, like our friend Mrs. Bobbinette,—for the
- railway had broken through the once comfortable monopoly that Mrs.
- Russelton and the Hinton ones formerly enjoyed, and had thrown crinoline
- providing upon the country at large. Indeed, the railway had deranged the
- old order of things; for whereas in former times a Doubleimnpshire or a
- Neck-and-Crop shire sportsman was rarely to be seen at the balls, aud
- those most likely under pressure of most urgent “Ask Mamma” circumstances,
- now they came swarming down like swallows, consuming a most unreasonable
- quantity of Champagne—always, of course, returning and declaring it
- was all “gusberry.” Formerly the ball was given out of the Hit-im and
- Hold-im shire hunt funds; but this unwonted accession so increased the
- expense, that Sir Moses couldn’t stand it, dom’d of he could; and he
- caused a rule to be passed, declaring that after a certain sum allowed by
- the club, the rest should be paid by a tax on the tickets, so that the
- guest-inviting members might pay for their friends. In addition to this, a
- sliding-seale of Champagne was adopted, beginning with good, and gradually
- relaxing in quality, until there is no saying but that some of the late
- sitters might get a little gooseberry. Being, however, only a guest, we
- ought not perhaps to be too critical in the matter, so we will pass on to
- the more general features of the entertainment.
- </p>
- <p>
- We take it a woman’s feelings and a man’s feelings with regard to a ball
- are totally different and distinct.
- </p>
- <p>
- Men—unmarried men, at least—know nothing of the intrinsic
- value of a dress, they look at the general effect on the figure. Piquant
- simplicity, something that the mind grasps at a glance and retains—such
- as Miss Yammerton’s dress in the glove scene—is what they like. Many
- ladies indeed seem to get costly dresses in order to cover them over with
- something else, just as gentlemen build handsome lodges to their gates,
- and then block them out of sight by walls.
- </p>
- <p>
- But even if ball-dresses were as attractive to the gentlemen as the ladies
- seem to think them, they must remember the competition they have to
- undergo in a ball-room, where great home beauties may be suddenly eclipsed
- by unexpected rivals, and young gentlemen see that there are other angels
- in the world besides their own adored ones. Still balls are balls, and
- fashion is fashion, and ladies must conform to it, or what could induce
- them to introduce the bits of black of the present day into their coloured
- dresses, as if they were just emerging from mourning. Even our fair
- friends at Yammerton Grange conformed to the fashion, and edged the many
- pink satin-ribboned flounces of their white tulle dresses with narrow
- black lace—though they would have looked much prettier without.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of all the balls given by the members of the Hit-im and Hold-im shire
- hunt, none had perhaps excitcd greater interest than the one about to take
- place, not only on account of its own intrinsic merits as a ball, but
- because of the many tender emotions waiting for solutions on that eventful
- evening. Among others it may be mentioned that our fat friend the
- Woolpack, whose portrait adorns page 241, had confided to Mrs. Rocket
- Larkspur, who kept a sort of register-office for sighers, his admiration
- of the fair auburn-haired Flora Yammerton; and Mrs. Rocket having duly
- communicated the interesting fact to the young lady, intimating, of
- course, that he would have the usual “ten thousand a year,” Flora had
- taken counsel with herself whether she had not better secure him, than
- contend with her elder sister either for Sir Moses or Mr. Pringle,
- especially as she did not much fancy Sir Moses, and Billy was very
- wavering in his attentions, sometimes looking extremely sweet at her,
- sometimes equally so at Clara, and at other times even smiling on that
- little childish minx Harriet. Indeed Mrs. Rocket Larkspur, in the
- multiplicity of her meddling, had got a sort of half-admission from that
- young owl, Rowley Abingdon, that he thought Harriet very pretty, and she
- felt inclined to fan the flame of that speculation too.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Miss Fairey, of Yarrow Court, was coming, and it was reported that
- Miss de Glancey had applied for a ticket, in order to try and cut her out
- with the elegant Captain Languisher, of the Royal Hollyhock Hussars.
- Altogether it was expected to be a capital ball, both for dancers and
- lookers-on.
- </p>
- <p>
- People whose being’s end and aim is gaiety, as they call converting night
- into day, in rolling from party to party, with all the means and
- appliances of London, can have little idea of the up-hill work it is in
- the country, getting together the ingredients of a great ball. The writing
- for rooms, the fighting for rooms—the bespeaking of horses, the not
- getting horses—the catching the train, the losing the train—above
- all, the choosing and ordering those tremendous dresses, with the dread of
- not getting those tremendous dresses, of their being carried by in the
- train, or not fitting when they come. Nothing but the indomitable love of
- a ball, as deeply implanted in a woman’s heart as the love of a hunt is in
- that of a man, can account for the trouble and vexation they undergo.
- </p>
- <p>
- But if ’tis a toil to the guests, what must it be to the givers, with no
- friendly Grange or Gunter at hand to supply everything, guests included,
- if required, at so much per head! Youth, glorious youth, comes to the aid,
- aud enters upon the labour with all the alacrity that perhaps
- distinguished their fathers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Let us now suppose the absorbing evening come; and that all-important
- element in country festivities, the moon shining with silvery dearness as
- well on the railway gliders as on the more patient plodders by the road.
- What a converging there was upon the generally quiet town of Hinton;
- reminding the older inhabitants of the best days of Lord Martingal and Mr.
- Customer’s reigns. What a gathering up there was of shining satins and
- rustling silks and moire antiques, white, pink, blue, yellow, green, to
- say nothing of clouds of tulle; what a compression of swelling eider-down
- and watch-spring petticoats; and what a bolt-upright sitting of that happy
- pride which knows no pain, as party after party took up and proceeded to
- the scene of hopes and fears at the Fox and Hounds Hotel and Posting
- House.
- </p>
- <p>
- The ball-room was formed of the entire suite of first-floor front
- apartments, which, on ordinary occasions, did duty as private rooms—private,
- at least, as far as thin deal partitions could make them so—and the
- supper was laid out in our old acquaintance the club-room, connected by a
- sort of Isthmus of Suez, with a couple of diminutive steps towards the end
- to shoot the incautious becomingly, headforemost, into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Carriages set down under the arched doorway, and a little along the
- passage the Blenheim was converted into a cloak-room for the ladies, where
- the voluminous dresses were shook out, and the last hurried glances
- snatched amid anxious groups of jostling arrivals. Gentlemen then emerging
- from the commercial room rejoined their fair friends in the passage, and
- were entrusted with fans and flowers while, with both hands, they steered
- their balloon-like dresses up the red druggetted staircase.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0065" id="linkimage-0065"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/455m.jpg" alt="455m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/455.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Gentlemen’s balls have the advantage over those given by ladies, inasmuch
- as the gentlemen must be there early to receive their fair guests; and as
- a ball can always begin as soon as there are plenty of gentlemen, there
- are not those tedious delays and gatherings of nothing but crinoline that
- would only please Mr. Spurgeon.
- </p>
- <p>
- The large highly-glazed, gilt-lettered, yellow card of invitation,
- intimated nine o’clock as the hour; by which time most of the Hinton
- people were ready, and all the outlying ones were fast drawing towards the
- town. Indeed, there was nothing to interfere with the dancing festivities,
- for dinner giving on a ball night is not popular with the ladies—enough
- for the evening being the dance thereof. Country ladies are not like
- London ones, who can take a dinner, an opera, two balls, and an at-home in
- one and the same night. As to the Hinton gentlemen, they were very
- hospitable so long as nobody wanted anything from them; if they did, they
- might whistle a long time before they got it. If, for instance, that
- keeper of a house of call for Bores, Paul Straddler, saw a mud-sparked man
- with a riding-whip in his hand, hurrying about the town, he would after
- him, and press him to dine off, perhaps, “crimped cod and oyster sauce,
- and a leg of four year old mutton, with a dish of mince pies or woodcocks,
- whichever he preferred;” but on a ball night, when it would be a real
- convenience to a man to have a billet, Paul never thought of asking any
- one, though when he met his friends in the ball, and heard they had been
- uncomfortable at the Sun or the Fleece, he would exclaim, with
- well-feigned reproach, “Oh dash it, man, why didn’t you come to me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But let us away to the Fox and Hounds, and see what is going on.
- </p>
- <p>
- To see the repugnance people have to being early at a ball, one would
- wonder how dancing ever gets begun. Yet somebody must be there first,
- though we question whether any of our fair readers ever performed the
- feat; at all events, if ever they did, we will undertake to say they have
- taken very good care not to repeat the performance.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Blurkinses were the first to arrive on this occasion, having only
- themselves to think about, and being anxious, as they said, to see as much
- as they could for their money. Then having been duly received by Sir Moses
- and the gallant circle of fox-hunters, and passed inwardly, they took up a
- position so as to be able to waylay those who came after with their coarse
- compliments, beginning with Mrs. Dotherington, who, Blurkins declared, had
- worn the grey silk dress she then had on, ever since he knew her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jimmy Jarperson, the Laughing Hyæna, next came under his notice, Blurkins
- telling him that his voice grated on his ear like a file; asking if any
- body else had ever told him so.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Rocket Larkspur, who was duly distended in flaming red satin, was
- told she was like a full-blown peony; and young Treadcroft was asked if he
- knew that people called him the Woolpack.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile Mrs. Blurkins kept pinching and feeling the ladies’ dresses as
- they passed, making a mental estimate of their cost. She told Miss
- Yammerton she had spoilt her dress by the black lace.
- </p>
- <p>
- A continuously ascending stream of crinoline at length so inundated the
- room, that by ten o’clock Sir Moses thought it was time to open the ball;
- so deputing Tommy Heslop to do the further honours at the door, he sought
- Lady Fuzball, and claimed the favour of her hand for the first quadrille.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was a signal for the unmated ones to pair; and forthwith there was
- such a drawing on of gloves, such a feeling of ties, such a rising on
- tiptoes, and straining of eyes, and running about, asking for Miss This,
- and Miss That, and if anybody had seen anything of Mrs. So-and-so.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length the sought ones were found, anxiety abated, and the glad couples
- having secured suitable <i>vis-à-vis</i>, proceeded to take up positions.
- </p>
- <p>
- At a flourish of the leader’s baton, the enlivening “La Traviata” struck
- up, and away the red coats and black coats went sailing and sinking, and
- rising and jumping, and twirling with the lightly-floating dresses of the
- ladies.
- </p>
- <p>
- The “Pelissier Galop” quickly followed, then the “Ask Mamma Polka,” and
- just as the music ceased, and the now slightly-flushed couples were
- preparing for a small-talk promenade, a movement took place near the door,
- and the elegant swan-like de Glancey was seen sailing into the room with
- her scarlet-geranium-festooned dress set off with eight hundred yards of
- tulle! Taking her chaperone Mrs. Roseworth’s arm, she came sailing
- majestically along, the men all alive for a smile, the ladies laughing at
- what they called her preposterous dimensions.
- </p>
- <p>
- But de Glancey was not going to defeat her object by any premature
- condescension; so she just met the men’s raptures with the slightest
- recognition of her downcast eyes, until she encountered the gallant
- Captain Languisher with lovely Miss Fairey on his arm, when she gave him
- one of her most captivating smiles, thinking to have him away from Miss
- Fairey in no time.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Miss de Glancey was too late! The Captain had just “popped the
- question,” and was then actually on his way to “Ask Mamma,” and so
- returned her greeting with an air of cordial indifference, that as good as
- said, “Ah, my dear, you’ll not do for me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss de Glancey was shocked. It was the first time in her life that she
- had ever missed her aim. Nor was her mortification diminished by the cool
- way our hero, Mr. Pringle, next met her advances. She had been so
- accustomed to admiration, that she could ill brook the want of it, and the
- double blow was too much for her delicate sensibilities. She felt faint,
- and as soon as she could get a fly large enough to hold herself and her
- chaperone, she withdrew, the mortification of this evening far more than
- counterbalancing all the previous triumphs of her life.
- </p>
- <p>
- One person more or less at a ball, however, is neither here nor there, and
- the music presently struck up again, and the whirling was resumed, just as
- if there was no such person as Miss de Glancey in existence. And thus
- waltz succeeded polka, and polka succeeded quadrille, with lively rapidity—every
- one declaring it was a most delightful ball, and wondering when supper
- would be.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length there was a lull, and certain unmistakeable symptoms announced
- that the hour for that superfluous but much talked of meal had arrived,
- whereupon there was the usual sorting of consequence to draw to the cross
- table at the top of the room, with the pairing off of eligible couples who
- could be trusted alone, and the shirking of Mammas by those who were not
- equally fortunate. Presently a movement was made towards the Isthmus of
- Suez, on reaching which the rotund ladies had to abandon their escorts to
- pilot their petticoats through the straits amid the cries of “take care of
- the steps!” “mind the steps at the end!” from those who knew the dangers
- of the passage. And thus the crinoline came circling into the supper room—each
- lady again expanding with the increased space, and reclaiming her beau.
- Supper being as we said before a superfluous meal, it should be light and
- airy, something to please the eye and tempt the appetite; not composed of
- great solid joints that look like a farmer’s ordinary, or a rent-day
- dinner with “night mare” depicted on every dish. The Hit-im and Hold-im
- shire hunt balls had always been famous for the elegance of their supper,
- Lord Ladythorne kindly allowing his Italian confectioner, Signor
- Massaniello, to superintend the elegancies, that excited such admiration
- from the ladies as they worked their ways or wedged themselves in at the
- tables, but whose beauty did not save them from destruction as the evening
- advanced. At first of course the solids were untouched, the tongues, the
- hams, the chickens, the turkeys, the lobster salads, the nests of plover
- eggs, the clatter patter being relieved by a heavy salvo of Champagne
- artillery. Brisk was the demand for it at starting, for the economical
- arrangement was as well known as if it had been placarded about the room.
- When the storm of corks had subsided and clean plates been supplied, the
- sweets, the jellies, the confectionery were attacked, and occasional sly
- sorties were made against the flower sugar vases and ornaments of the
- table. Then perspiring waiters came panting in with more Champagne fresh
- out of the ice, and again arm-extended the glasses hailed its coming,
- though some of the Neck-and-Crop-shire gentlemen smacked their lips after
- drinking it, and pronounced it to be No. 2. Nevertheless they took some
- more when it came round again. At length the most voracious cormorant was
- appeased, and all eyes gradually turned towards the sporting president in
- the centre of the cross table.
- </p>
- <p>
- We have heard it said that the House of Commons is the most appalling and
- critical assembly in the world to address, but we confess we think a mixed
- party of ladies and gentlemen at a sit-down supper a more formidable
- audience.
- </p>
- <p>
- We don’t know anything more painful than to hear a tongue-tied country
- gentleman floundering for words and scrambling after an idea that the
- quick-witted ladies have caught long before he comes within sight of his
- subject. Theirs is like the sudden dart of the elastic greyhound compared
- to the solemn towl of the old slow-moving “southern” hound after its game.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Moses, however, as our readers know, was not one of the tongue-tied
- sort—on the contrary, he had a great flow of words and could palaver
- the ladies as well as the gentlemen. Indeed he was quite at home in that
- room where he had coaxed and wheedled subscriptions, promised wonders, and
- given away horses without the donees incurring any “obligation.”
- Accordingly at the fitting time he rose from his throne, and with one
- stroke of his hammer quelled the remaining conversation which had been
- gradually dying out in anticipation of what was coming. He then called for
- a bumper toast, and after alluding in felicitous terms to the happy event
- that so aroused the “symphonies” of old Wotherspoon, he concluded by
- proposing the health of her Majesty the Queen, which of course was drunk
- with three times three and one cheer more. The next toast, of course, was
- the ladies who had honoured the Ball with their presence, and certainly if
- ever ladies ought to be satisfied with the compliments paid them, it was
- on the present occasion, for Sir Moses vowed and protested that of all
- beauties the Hit-im and Hold-im shire beauties were the fairest, the
- brightest, and the best; and he said it would be a downright reflection
- upon the rising generation if they did not follow the Crown Prince of
- Prussia’s excellent example, and make that ball to be the most blissful
- and joyous of their recollections. This toast being heartily responded to,
- Sir Moses leading the cheers, Sir Harry Fuzball rose to return thanks on
- behalf of the ladies, any one of whom could have done it a great deal
- better; after which old Sir George Persiflage, having arranged his
- lace-tipped tie, proposed the health of Sir Moses, and spoke of him in
- very different terms to what Sir Moses did of Sir George at the hunt
- dinner, and this, answer affording Sir Moses another opportunity—the
- good Champagne being exhausted—he renewed his former advice, and
- concluded by moving an adjournment to the ball-room. Then the weight of
- oratory being off, the school broke loose as it were, and all parties
- paired off as they liked. Many were the trips at the steps as they
- returned by the narrow passage to the ball-room. The “Ask Mamma” Polka
- then appropriately struck up, but polking being rather beyond our
- Baronet’s powers he stood outside the ring rubbing his nose and eyeing the
- gay twirlers, taking counsel within himself what he should do. The state
- of his household had sorely perplexed him, aud he had about come to the
- resolution that he must either marry again or give up housekeeping and
- live at Hinton. Then came the question whom he should take? Now Mrs.
- Yammerton was a noted good manager, and in the inferential sort of way
- that we all sometimes deceive ourselves, he came to the conclusion that
- her daughters would be the same. Clara was very pretty—dom’d if she
- wasn’t—She would look very well at the head of his table, and just
- at the moment she came twirling past with Billy Pringle, the pearl loops
- of her pretty pink wreath dancing on her fair forehead. The Baronet was
- booked; “he would have her, dom’d if he wouldn’t,” and taking courage
- within himself as the music ceased, he claimed her hand for the next
- quadrille, and leading her to the top of the dance, commenced joking her
- about Billy, who he said would make a very pretty girl, and then commenced
- praising herself. He admired her and everything she had on, from the
- wreath to her ribbon, and was so affectionate that she felt if he wasn’t a
- little elevated she would very soon have an offer. Then Mammas, and Mrs.
- Rocket Larkspurs, and Mrs. Dotherington, and Mrs. Impelow, and many other
- quick-eyed ladies followed their movements, each thinking that they saw by
- the sparkle of Clara’s eyes, and the slight flush of her pretty face, what
- was going on. But they were prématuré. Sir Moses did not offer until he
- had mopped his brow in the promenade, when, on making the second slow
- round of the room, a significant glance with a slight inclination of her
- handsome head as she passed her Mamma announced that she was going to be
- Lady Mainchance!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0066" id="linkimage-0066"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/463m.jpg" alt="463m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/463.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Hoo-ray for the Hunt Ball!
- </p>
- <p>
- Sold again and the money paid! as the trinket-sellers say at a fair.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another offer and accepted say we. Captain and Mrs. Languisher, Sir Moses
- and Lady Mainchance. Who wouldn’t go to a Hit-im-and-Hold-im-shire hunt
- ball?
- </p>
- <p>
- Then when the music struck up again, instead of fulfilling her engagements
- with her next partner. Clara begged to be excused—had got a little
- headache, and went and sat down between her Mamma and her admiring
- intended; upon which the smouldering fire of surmise broke out into
- downright assertion, and it ran through the room that Sir Moses had
- offered to Miss Yammerton. Then the indignant Mammas rose hastily from
- their seats and paraded slowly past, to see how the couple looked, pitying
- the poor creature, and young gentlemen joked with each other, saying—“Go
- thou and do likewise.” and paired off to the supper room to acquire
- courage from the well iced but inferior Champagne.
- </p>
- <p>
- And so the ardent ball progressed, some laying the foundations for future
- offers, some advancing their suits a step, others bringing them to we
- hope, a happy termination. Never was a more productive hunt ball known,
- and it was calculated that the little gentleman who rides so complacently
- on our first page exhausted all his arrows o the occasion.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0067" id="linkimage-0067"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/465m.jpg" alt="465m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/465.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- When the mortified Miss de Glancey returned to her lodgings at Mrs.
- Sarsnet the milliner’s, in Verbena Crescent, she bid Mrs. Roseworth
- good-night, and dismissing her little French maid to bed, proceeded to her
- own apartment, where, with the united aid of a chamber and two
- toilette-table candles, she instituted a most rigid examination, as well
- of her features as her figure, in her own hand-mirror and the various
- glasses of the room, and satisfied herself that neither her looks nor her
- dress were any way in fault for the indifference with which she had been
- received. Indeed, though she might perhaps be a little partial, she
- thought she never saw herself looking better, and certainly her dress was
- as stylish and looming as any in the ball-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Those points being satisfactorily settled, she next unclasped the single
- row of large pearls that fastened the bunch of scarlet geraniums into her
- silken brown hair; and taking them off her exquisitely modelled head, laid
- them beside her massive scarlet geranium bouquet and delicate kid gloves
- upon the toilette-table. She then stirred the fire; and wheeling the
- easy-chair round to the front of it, took the eight hundred yards of tulle
- deliberately in either hand and sunk despondingly into the depths of the
- chair, with its ample folds before her. Drawing her dress up a little in
- front, she placed her taper white-satined feet on the low green fender,
- and burying her beautiful face in her lace-fringed kerchief, proceeded to
- take an undisturbed examination of what had occurred. How was it that she,
- in the full bloom of her beauty and the zenith of her experience, had
- failed in accomplishing what she used so easily to perform? How was it
- that Captain Langnisher seemed so cool, and that supercilious Miss eyed
- her with a side-long stare, that left its troubled mark behind, like the
- ripple of the water after a boat. And that boy Pringle, too, who ought to
- have been proud and flattered by her notice, instead of grinning about
- with those common country Misses?
- </p>
- <p>
- All this hurt and distressed our accomplished coquette, who was unused to
- indifference and mortification. Then from the present her mind reverted to
- the past; aud stirring the fire, she recalled the glorious recollections
- of her many triumphs, beginning with her school-girl days, when the
- yeomanry officers used to smile at her as they met the girls out walking,
- until Miss Whippey restricted them to the garden during the eight days
- that the dangerous danglers were on duty. Next, how the triumph of her
- first offer was enhanced by the fact that she got her old opponent Sarah
- Snowball’s lover from her—who, however, she quickly discarded for
- Captain Capers—who in turn yielded to Major Spankley.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dicer, and the grave Mr. Woodhouse all in tow together, each thinking
- himself the happy man and the others the cat’s-paw, until the rash Hotspur
- Smith exploded amongst them, and then suddenly dwindled from a millionaire
- into a mouse. Other names quickly followed, recalling the recollections of
- a successful career. At last she came to that dread, that fatal day, when,
- having exterminated Imperial John, and with the Peer well in hand, she was
- induced, much against her better judgment, to continue the chase, and lose
- all chance of becoming a Countess. Oh, what a day was that! She had long
- watched the noble Earl’s increasing fervour, and marked his admiring eye,
- as she sat in the glow of beauty and the pride of equestrianism; and she
- felt quite sure, if the chase had ended at the check caused by the
- cattle-drover’s dog, he would have married her. Oh, that the run should
- ever have continued! Oh, that she should ever have been lured on to her
- certain destruction! Why didn’t she leave well alone? And at the
- recollection of that sad, that watery day, she burst into tears and sobbed
- convulsively. Her feelings being thus relieved, and the fire about
- exhausted, she then got out of her crinoline and under the counterpane.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0061" id="link2HCH0061"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LXII.<br/>LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT.—CUPID’S SETTLING DAY.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> sudden change now
- came over the country.—The weather, which had been mild and
- summer-like throughout, changed to frost, binding all nature up in a few
- hours. The holes in the streets which were shining with water in the
- gas-lights when Miss de Glancey retired to bed, had a dull black-leaded
- sort of look in the morning, while the windows of her room glistened with
- the silvery spray of ferns and heaths and fancy flowers.—The air was
- sharp and bright, with a clear blue sky overhead, all symptomatic of
- frost, with every appearance of continuing.—That, however, is more a
- gentleman’s question than a lady’s, so we will return within doors.
- </p>
- <p>
- Flys being scarce at Hinton, and Miss de Glancey wishing to avoid the gape
- and stare of the country town, determined to return by the 11.30 train; so
- arose after a restless night, and taking a hurried breakfast, proceeded,
- with the aid of her maid, to make one of those exquisite toilettes for
- which she had so long been justly famous. Her sylph-like figure was set
- off in a bright-green terry-velvet dress, with a green-feathered bonnet of
- the same colour and material, trimmed with bright scarlet ribbons, and a
- wreath of scarlet flowers inside.—A snow-white ermine tippet, with
- ermine cuffs and muff, completed her costume. Having surveyed herself in
- every mirror, she felt extremely satisfied, and only wished Captain
- Languisher could see her. With that exact punctuality which constant
- practice engenders, but which sometimes keeps strangers sadly on the fret,
- the useful fly was at length at the door, and the huge box containing the
- eight hundred yards of tulle being hoisted on to the iron-railed roof, the
- other articles were huddled away, and Miss de Glancey ascending the steps,
- usurped the seat of honour, leaving Mrs. Roseworth and her maid to sit
- opposite to her. A smile with a half-bow to Mrs. Sarsnet, as she now stood
- at the door, with a cut of the whip from the coachman, sent our party
- lilting and tilting over the hard surface of the road to the rail.
- </p>
- <p>
- The line ran true and smooth this day, and the snorting train stopped at
- the pretty Swiss cottage station at Fairfield just as Mrs. Roseworth saw
- the last of the parcels out of the fly, while Miss de Glancey took a
- furtive peek at the passengers from an angle of the bay window, at which
- she thought she herself could not be seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, it so happened that the train was in charge of the well-known Billy
- Bates, a smart young fellow, whose good looks had sadly stood in the way
- of his preferment, for he never could settle to anything; and after having
- been a footman, a whipper-in, a watcher, a groom, and a grocer, he had now
- taken up with the rail, where he was a great favourite with the fair, whom
- he rather prided himself upon pairing with what he considered appropriate
- partners. Seeing our lovely coquette peeping out, it immediately occurred
- to him, that he had a suitable <i>vis-à-vis</i> for her—a dashing
- looking gent., in a red flannel Emperor shirt, a blue satin cravat, a buff
- vest, aud a new bright-green cut-away with fancy buttons; altogether a
- sort of swell that isn’t to be seen every day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This way, ladies!” now cried Billy, hurrying into the first-class
- waiting-room, adjusting the patent leather pouch-belt of his smart
- grcen-and-red uniform as he spoke. “This way, ladies, please!” waving them
- on with his clean white doeskin-gloved hand towards the door; whereupon
- Miss de Glancey, drawing herself up, and primming her features, advanced
- on to the platform, like the star of the evening coming on to the stage of
- a theatre.
- </p>
- <p>
- Billy then opened the frosty-windowed door of a carriage a few paces up
- the line; whereupon a red railway wrapper-rug with brown foxes’ heads
- being withdrawn, a pair of Bedford-corded legs dropped from the opposite
- seat, and a dogskin gloved hand was protruded to assist the ascent of the
- enterer. A pretty taper-fingered primrose-kidded one was presently inside
- it; but ere the second step was accomplished, a convulsive thrill was
- felt, and, looking up, Miss de Glancey found herself in the grasp of her
- old friend Imperial John!
- </p>
- <p>
- “O Mr. Hybrid!” exclaimed she, shaking his still retained hand with the
- greatest cordiality; “O Mr. Hybrid! I’m so <i>glad</i> to see you! I’m so
- <i>glad</i> to meet somebody I know!” and gathering herself together, she
- entered the carriage, and sat down opposite him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Roseworth then following, afforded astonished John a moment to
- collect his scattered faculties, yet not sufficient time to compare the
- dread. “<i>Si-r-r-r!</i> do you <i>mean to insult me!</i>” of their former
- meeting, with the cordial greeting of this. Indeed, our fair friend felt
- that she had a great arrear of politeness to make up, and as railway time
- is short, she immediately began to ply her arts by inquiring most kindly
- after His Highness’s sister Mrs. Poppeyfield and her baby, who she heard
- was <i>such</i> a sweet boy; and went on so affably, that before Billy
- Bates arrived with the tickets, which Mrs. Roseworth had forgotten to
- take, Imperial John began to think that there must have been some mistake
- before, and Miss de Glancey couldn’t have understood him. Then, when the
- train was again in motion, she applied the artillery of her eyes so well—for
- she was as great an adept in her art as the Northumberland horse-tamer is
- in his—that ere they stopped at the Lanecroft station, she had again
- subjugated Imperial John;—taken his Imperial reason prisoner! Nay
- more, though he was going to Bowerbank to look at a bull, she actually
- persuaded him to alight and accompany her to Mrs. Roseworth’s where we
- need scarcely say he was presently secured, and in less than a week she
- had him so tame that she could lead him about, anywhere.
- </p>
- <p>
- The day after the ball was always a busy one in Hit-im-and-Hold-em-shire.
- It was a sort of settling day, only the parties scattered about the
- country instead of congregating at the “corner.” Those who had made up
- their minds overnight, came to “Ask Mamma” in the morning, and those who
- had not mustered sufficient courage, tried what a visit to inquire how the
- young lady was after the fatigue of the ball would do to assist them.
- Those who had got so far on the road as to have asked both the young lady
- and “Mamma,” then got handed over to the more business-like inquiries of
- Papa—when Cupid oft “spreads his light wings and in a moment flies.”
- Then it is that the terrible money exaggerations come out—the great
- expectations dwindling away, and the thousands a-year becoming hundreds.
- We never knew a reputed Richest Commoner’s fortune that didn’t collapse
- most grievously under the “what have you got, and what will you do?”
- operation. But if it passes Papa, the still more dread ordeal of the
- lawyer has to be encountered when one being summoned on either side, a
- hard money-driving bargain ensues, one trying how much he can get, the
- other how little he can give—until the whole nature and character of
- the thing is changed. Money! money! money! is the cry, as if there was
- nothing in the world worth living for but those eternal bits of yellow
- coin. But we are getting in advance of our subject, our suitor not having
- passed the lower, or “Ask-Mamma” house.
- </p>
- <p>
- Among the many visited on this auspicious day were our fair friends at
- Yammerton Grange, our Richest Commoner having infused a considerable
- degree of activity into the matrimonial market. There is nothing like a
- little competition for putting young gentlemen on the alert. First to
- arrive was our friend Sir Moses Mainchance, who dashed up to the door in
- his gig with the air of a man on safe ground, saluting Mamma whom he found
- alone in the drawing-room, and then the young ladies as they severally
- entered in succession. Having thus sealed and delivered himself into the
- family, as it were, he enlarged on the delights of the ball—the
- charming scene, the delightful music, the excellent dancing, the sudden
- disappearance of de Glancey and other the incidents of the evening. These
- topics being duly discussed, and cake and wine produced, “Mamma” presently
- withdrew, her example being followed at intervals by Flora and Harriet.
- </p>
- <p>
- Scarcely had she got clear of the door ere the vehement bark of the
- terrier called her attention to the front of the house, where she saw our
- fat friend the Woolpack tit-tup-ing up on the identical horse Jack Rogers
- so unceremoniously appropriated on the Crooked Billet day. There was young
- Treadcroft with his green-liveried cockaded groom behind him, trying to
- look as unconcerned as possible, though in reality he was in as great a
- fright as it was well possible for a boy to be. Having dismounted and
- nearly pulled the bell out of its socket with nervousness, he gave his
- horse to the groom, with orders to wait, and then followed the footman
- into the dining-room, whither Mrs. Yammerton had desired him to be shown.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, the Woolpack and the young Owl (Rowley Abingdon), had been very
- attentive both to Flora and Harriet at the ball, the Woolpack having twice
- had an offer on the tip of his tongue for Flora, without being able to get
- it off.
- </p>
- <p>
- Somehow his tongue clave to his lips—he felt as if his mouth was
- full of claggum. He now came to see if he could have any better luck at
- the Grange.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Yammerton had read his feelings at the ball, and not receiving the
- expected announcement from Flora, saw that he wanted a little of her
- assistance, so now proceeded to give it. After a most cordial greeting and
- interchanges of the usual nothings of society, she took a glance at the
- ball, and then claimed his congratulations on Clara’s engagement, which of
- course led up to the subject, opening the locked jaw at once; and Mamma
- having assured the fat youth of her perfect approval and high opinion of
- his character, very soon arranged matters between them, and produced Flora
- to confirm her. So she gained two sons-in-law in one night. Miss Harriet
- thus left alone, took her situation rather to heart, and fine Billy,
- forgetful of his Mamma’s repeated injunctions and urgent entreaties to him
- to return now that the ball was over, and the hunting was stopped by the
- frost, telling him she wanted him on most urgent and particular business,
- was tender-hearted enough on finding Harriet in tears the next day to
- offer to console her with his hand, which we need not say she joyfully
- accepted, no lady liking to emulate “the last rose of summer and be left
- blooming alone.” So all the pretty sisters were suited, Harriet perhaps
- the best off, as far as looks at least went.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, when in due course the old “what have you got and what will you do?”
- inquiries came to be instituted, we are sorry to say our fine friend could
- not answer them nearly so satisfactorily as the Woolpack, who had his
- balance-sheets nearly off by heart. Billy replying in the vacant <i>negligè</i>
- sort of way young gentlemen do, that he supposed he would have four or
- five thousand a-year, though when asked why he thought he’d have four or
- five thousand a-year, he really could not tell the reason why. Then when
- further probed by our persevering Major, he admitted that it was all at
- the mercy of uncle Jerry, and that his Mamma had said their lawyer had
- told her he did not think pious Jerry would account except under pressure
- of the Court of Chancery, whereupon the Major’s chin dropped, as many a
- man’s chin has dropped, at the dread announcement. It sounds like an
- antidote to matrimony. Even Mrs. Yammerton thought under the circumstances
- that the young Owl might be a safer speculation than fine Billy, though
- she rather leant to fine Billy, as people do lean to strangers in
- preference to those they knew all about. Still Chancery was a choker.
- Equity is to the legal world what Newmarket is to the racing world, the
- unadulterated essence of the thing. As at Newmarket there is none of the
- fun and gaiety of the great race-meetings, so in Chancery there is none of
- the pomp and glitter and varied incident that rivets so many audiences to
- the law courts.
- </p>
- <p>
- All is dull, solemn, and dry—paper, paper, paper—a redundancy
- of paper, as if it were possible to transfer the blush of perjury to
- paper. Fifty people will make affidavits for one that will go into a
- witness-box and have the truth twisted out of them by cross-examination.
- The few strangers who pop into court pop out again as quickly as they can,
- a striking contrast to those who go in in search of their rights—though
- wrestling for one’s rights under a pressure of paper, is very like
- swimming for one’s life enveloped in a salmon-net. It is juries that give
- vitality to the administration of justice. A drowsy hum pervades the bar,
- well calculated for setting restless children to sleep, save when some
- such brawling buffoon as the Indian juggler gets up to pervert facts, and
- address arguments to an educated judge that would be an insult to the mind
- of a petty juryman. One wonders at men calling themselves gentlemen
- demeaning themselves by such practices. Well did the noble-hearted Sir
- William Erie declare that the licence of the bar was such that he often
- wished the offenders could be prosecuted for a misdemeanour. We know an
- author who made an affidavit in a chancery suit equal in length to a
- three-volume novel, and what with weighing every word in expectation of
- undergoing some of the polished razors keen of that drowsy bar, he could
- not write fiction again for a twelvemonth. As it was, he underwent that
- elegant extract Mr. Verde, whose sponsors have done him such justice in
- the vulgar tongue, and because he made an immaterial mistake he was held
- up to the Court as utterly unworthy of belief! We wonder whether Mr.
- Verde’s character or the deponent’s suffered most by the performance. But
- enough of such worthies. Let all the bullies of the bar bear in mind if
- they have tongues other people have pens, and that consideration for the
- feelings of others is one of the distinguishing characteristics of
- gentlemen.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0062" id="link2HCH0062"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER LXIII.<br/>A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0068" id="linkimage-0068"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="figleft" style="width:35%;">
- <img src="images/473.jpg" alt="473m " width="100%" /><br /> <a
- href="images/473.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </div>
- <p>
- HE proverbial serenity of Poodles was disturbed one dull winter afternoon
- by our old friend General Binks banging down the newly-arrived evening
- paper with a vehemence rarely witnessed in that quiet quarter. Mr.
- Dorfold, who was dosing as usual with outstretched leg’s before the fire,
- started up, thinking the General was dying. Major Mustard’s hat dropped
- off, Mr. Proser let fall the “Times Supplement,” Mr. Crowsfoot ceased
- conning the “Post..” Alemomh, the footman, stood aghast, and altogether
- there was a general cessation of every thing—Beedles was paralyzed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The General quickly followed up the blow with a tremendous oath, and
- seizing Colonel Callender’s old beaver hat instead of his own new silk
- one, flung frantically out of the room, through the passage and into St.
- James’s Street, as if bent on immediate destruction.
- </p>
- <p>
- All was amazement! What’s happened the General? Something must have gone
- wrong with the General! The General—the calmest, the quietest, the
- most, placid man in the world—suddenly convulsed with such a violent
- paroxysm. He who had neither chick nor child, nor anything to care about,
- with the certainty of an Earldom, what <i>could</i> have come over him?
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll tell you,” exclaimed Mr. Bullion who had just dropped in on his way
- from the City: “I’ll tell you,” repeated he. taking up the paper which the
- General had thrown down. “<i>His bank’s failed!</i> Heard some qweerish
- hints as I came down Cornhill:” and forthwith! Bullion turned to the City
- article, and ran his accustomed eye down its contents.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Funds opened heavily. Foreign stocks quiet. About £20,000 in bar gold.
- The John Brown arrived from China. Departure of the Peninsular Mail
- postponed,” and so on; but neither failures, nor rumours of failures,
- either of bankers or others, were there.
- </p>
- <p>
- Very odd—what could it be, then? must be something in the paper. And
- again the members resolved themselves into a committee of the whole house
- to ascertain what it was.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first place that a lady would look to for the solution of a mystery of
- this sort, is, we believe, about the last place that a man would look to,
- namely, the births, deaths, and marriages; and it was not until the
- sensation had somewhat subsided, and Tommy White was talking of beating up
- the General’s quarter in Bury Street, to hear what it was, that his
- inseparable—that “nasty covetous body Cuddy Flintoff,” who had been
- plodding very perseveringly on the line, at length hit off what astonished
- him as much as we have no doubt it will the reader, being neither more nor
- less than the following very quiet announcement at the end of the list of
- marriages:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “This morning, at St. Barnabas, by the Rev. Dr. Duff, the Right Hon. The
- Earl of Ladythorne, to Emma, widow of the late Wm, Pringle, Esq.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Earl of Ladythorne married to Mrs. Pringle! Well done our fair friend
- of the frontispiece! The pure white camellias are succeeded by a coronet!
- The borrowed velvet dress replaced by anything she likes to own. Who would
- have thought it!
- </p>
- <p>
- But wonders will never cease; for on this eventful day Mr. George Gallon
- was seen driving the Countess’s old coach companion, Mrs. Margerum, from
- Cockthorpe Church, with long white rosettes flying at Tippy Tom’s head,
- and installing her mistress of the Rose and Crown, at the cross roads;
- thus showing that truth is stranger than fiction. “George,” we may add,
- has now taken the Flying Childers Inn at Eversley Green, where he purposes
- extending his “Torf” operations, and we make no doubt will be heard of
- hereafter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of our other fair friends we must say a few parting words on taking a
- reluctant farewell.
- </p>
- <p>
- Though Miss Clara, now Lady Mainchance, is not quite so good a housekeeper
- as Sir Moses could have wished, she is nevertheless extremely ornamental
- at the head of his table; and though she has perhaps rather exceeded with
- Gillow, the Major promises to make it all right by his superior management
- of the property. Mr. Mordecai Nathan has been supplanted by our master of
- “haryers,” who has taken a drainage loan, and promises to set the
- water-works playing at Pangburn Park, just as he did at Yammerton Grange.
- He means to have a day a week there with his “haryers,” which, he says, is
- the best way of seeing a country.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss de Glancey has revised Barley Hill Hall, for which place his Highness
- now appears in Burke’s “Landed Gentry,” very considerably; and though she
- has not been to Gillow, she has got the plate out of the drawing-room, and
- made things very smart. She keeps John in excellent order, and rides his
- grey horse admirably. Blurkins says “the grey mare is the better horse,”
- but that is no business of ours.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="linkimage-0069" id="linkimage-0069"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:65%;">
- <img src="images/475m.jpg" alt="475m " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h4>
- <a href="images/475.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a>
- </h4>
- <p>
- Of all the brides, perhaps, Miss Flora got the best set down; for the
- Woolpack’s house was capitally furnished, and he is far happier driving
- his pretty wife about the country with a pair of pyebald ponies, making
- calls, than in risking his neck across country with hounds—or rather
- after them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of all our beauties, and thanks to Leech we have dealt in nothing else,
- Miss Harriet alone remains unsettled with her two strings to her bow—fine
- Billy and Rowley Abingdon; though which is to be the happy man remains to
- be seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- We confess we incline to think that the Countess will be too many for the
- Yammertons; but if she is, there is no great harm done; for Harriet is
- very young, and the Owl is a safe card in the country where men are more
- faithful than they are in the towns. Indeed, fine Billy is almost too
- young to know his own mind, and marrying now would only perhaps involve
- the old difficulty hereafter of father and son wanting top boots at the
- same time, supposing our friend to accomplish the difficult art of sitting
- at the Jumps.
- </p>
- <p>
- So let us leave our hero open. And as we have only aimed at nothing but
- the natural throughout, we will finish by proposing a toast that will
- include as well the mated and the single of our story, as the mated and
- the single all the world over, namely, the old and popular one of “The
- single married, and the married happy!” drunk with three times three and
- one cheer more! HOO-RAY!
- </p>
- <h3>
- THE END.
- </h3>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-
-
-
-
-
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