by R S Surtees
“‘Ave you seen my ‘ounds, ould gal?” inquired he, pulling up short.
“Bless your beautiful countenance, my cock angel!” exclaimed the woman, in astonishment at the sight of a man in a scarlet coat with a face to match; “bless your beautiful countenance, you’re the very babe I’ve been looking for all this blessed day — cross my palm with a bit o’ siller, and I’ll tell you sich a fortin!”
“Cuss your fortin!” roared Mr. Jorrocks, sticking spurs into his horse, and grinning with rage at the idea of having pulled up to listen to such nonsense.
“I hope you’ll brick your neck, ye nasty ugly ould thief!” rejoined the gipsy, altering her tone.
“Opes I sharn’t,” muttered Mr. Jorrocks, trotting on to get out of hearing. Away he went, blob, blob, blobbing through the deep holding clay as before.
Presently he pulled up again with a “Pray, my good man, ‘ave you seen my ‘ounds — Mr. Jorrocks’s ‘ounds, in fact?” of a labourer scouring a fence-gutter. “Don’t you ‘ear me, man?” bellowed he, as the countryman stood staring with his hand on his spade.
“I be dull of hearin’, sir,” at length drawled the man, advancing very slowly towards our master with his hand up to his ear.
“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, starting off again, “was there ever sich a misfortinate indiwidual as John Jorrocks?— ‘Ark! vot’s that? Pigg’s ‘orn? Oh, dear, only a cow! Come hup, ‘oss, I say, you hugly beast! — there surely never was sich a worthless beast lapped in leather as you,” giving Arterxerxes a good double thonging as he spoke. “Oh, dear! oh, dear!” continued he, “I wish I was well back at the Cross, with my ‘ounds safe i’ kennel. — Vot a go is this! — Dinner at five — baked haddocks, prime piece of fore chine, Portingal honions, and fried plum-puddin’; and now, by these darkenin’ clouds, it must be near four, and here I be’s, miles and miles away— ‘ounds still runnin’, and adwertised for the Beef and Carrots on Wednesday — never will be fit to go, nor to the Daisy nouther.”
“Pray, my good man,” inquired he of a drab-coated, big-basketed farmer, on a bay cart-horse, whom he suddenly encountered at the turn of the road, “‘ave you seen anything of my ‘ounds? Mr. Jorrocks’s ‘ounds, in fact?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the farmer, all alive; “they were running past Langford plantations with the fox dead beat close afore them.”
“‘Ow long since, my frind?” inquired Mr. Jorrocks, brightening up.
“Oh, why just as long as it’s taken me to come here — mebbe ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, not longer certainly. If you put on you may be in at the death yet.”
Away went spurs, elbows, and legs, elbows and legs, Arterxerxes was again impelled into a canter, and our worthy master pounded along, all eyes, ears, and fears. Night now drew on, the darkening clouds began to lower, bringing with them fog and a drizzling rain. “Bad go this,” said Mr. Jorrocks, rubbing his hand down his coat-sleeve, and raising his face to ascertain the precise amount of the fall. “Bad go, indeed. Got my Sunday ‘at on, too. Hooi, bouys! did you see th’ ‘ounds?” inquired he of a troop of satchel-slung youths, plodding their ways homeward from school.
“Y-e-a-s,” at length drawled out one, after a good stare at the inquirer.
“‘Ow long since? come, quick, bouy!”
“May be twenty minutes; just as we com’d past Hookem-Snivey church we see’d fox, and hounds were close ahint — he was varra tired.”
“Twenty minutes,” repeated Mr. Jorrocks, aloud to himself; “twenty minutes — may be a werry long way off by this; foxes travel fast. Vich way were they a-goin’?”
“Straight for Staunton-Snivey,” drawled the boy.
“My vig!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, “vot a run; if we don’t kill werry soon, it’ll be pitch dark, and then there’ll be a pretty kittle o’ fish — th’ ‘ounds will kill all the ship (sheep)i’ the country — shall have a bill as long as my harm to pay.”
Fear lent fresh impetus to our worthy friend, and tightening his hold of Arterxerxes’s head, who now began tripping and stumbling, and floundering along in a most slovenly manner, Mr. Jorrocks trotted on, and reaching Hookem-Snivey, saw by the foot-people standing on the churchyard wall, that the hounds were “forrard;” he turned down a lane to the left of the village stocks, in the direction the people were looking, and catching Staunton-Snivey in the distance, set off for it as hard as ever he could tear. A pretty clattering he made down the stony road.
Night now drew on apace, and heavy darkening clouds proclaimed a fast approaching storm. At Staunton-Snivey, he learned that the hounds had just crossed the turnpike on to the Downs, with the fox “dead beat close afore them;” and still unwilling to give in, though every moment increased his difficulties, he groped open a bridle-gate, and entered upon the wide-extending Plain. The wind had now risen, and swept with uncommon keenness over the unprotected open. The drizzling rain too became changed into larger, heavier drops, and thrusting his hat upon his brow, Mr. Jorrocks buttoned his coat up to the throat, and wrapping its laps over his thighs, tucked them in between his legs and the saddle. Dismal and disheartening were his thoughts, and many his misgivings for his rashness. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” muttered he, “wot a most momentous crisis — lost! lost! lost! — completely lost! Dinner lost! ‘ounds lost, self lost — all lost together! Oh, vot evil genius ever tempted me from the lovely retirement o’ Great Coram Street? Oh! why did I neglect the frindly warnin’ o’ Gabriel Junks? Change, change — storm, storm — was in his every scream, and yet I would go. Cuss the rain, it’s gettin’ down my werry back, I do declare; “ saying which he turned the blue collar of his coat up to his ears, and both laps flew out with a desperate gust of wind. “Ord rot it,” said he, “it’s not never no use persewerin’, may as well give in at once and ‘ark back to Snivey; my Berlins are wet through, and I shall be drenched in another second. Who-ay, ‘oss! who-ay; stand still, you hugly beast, and let me listen. The ducking-headed brute at length obeyed.
“It is the ‘orn,” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, after sitting listening for some time, with his hand to his ear; “it is the ‘orn, Pigg’s not far off! There it goes again, but the ‘owling wind carries so many ways, there’s no saying whereabouts he is. I’ll blow, and see if I can ‘ail him.” Mr. Jorrocks then drew out his horn, and puffed and blew most lustily, but the raging tempest scattered the notes before they were well out of his mouth, and having exhausted his breath, he again paused, horn in hand, to listen. Between each blast of the raging hurricane, the faint notes of the horn were heard, some coming more fully as the gale blew more favourably, and a fuller one falling on his ear, during a period of partial lull, Mr. Jorrocks determined on advancing and endeavouring to rejoin his lost huntsman. “Come hup, I say, you hugly beast!” exclaimed he, getting Arterxerxes short by the head, and digging the spurs freely into his sides. The lumbering brute acknowledged the compliment with a sort of half hitch of a kick. “Great henterpriseless brute — do believe you’d rayther ‘ave a feed o’ corn than the finest run wot ever was seen,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, cropping him. Night had now closed in, and even the sort of light of darkness that remains so long to the traveller who journeys onward with the closing day, deserted him, and earth and sky assumed the same sombre hue:— “The dragon wing of night o’erspread the earth.” Scarce a star was visible in the firmament, and the few scattered lights that appeared here and there about the country, seemed like snatches of hope lit up for the moment to allure and perplex the wanderer.
“If ever mortal man catches me in such a quandary as this again,” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, “I ‘opes — oh, dear! who’s there? — Cus those Seidlitz pooders! — Speak, I say! — vot are you? — Come hup, ‘oss, I say!” roared he, ramming the spurs into Arterxerxes, who had suddenly shied off with a loud snort. “Now for a murder!” ejaculated Jorrocks, still cramming in the spurs.
“E-yah! E-yah! E-yah!” went a donkey, greatly to the relief of Mr. Jorrocks’s mind, who had clenched
his huge hammer-headed whip by the middle, so as to give an assailant the full benefit of its weight. Out then went his horn again, and the donkey brayed a full accompaniment.
“Oh, the deuce be with the hanimal!” cried Jorrocks, grinning with vexation, “never saw a donkey yet that knew when to ‘old his tongue. Oh, my vig, vot a vind! almost blows the ‘orn itself; shall be blown to hatoms, I do believe. And the rain too! I really thinks I’m wet to the werry waistband o’ my breeches. I’ll lay a guinea ‘at to a half-crown gossamer I haven’t a dry thread upon me in ‘alf a minute. Got a fivepund note i’ my pocket that will be hutterly ruined. Sarves me right, for bein’ such a hass as take these ‘ounds — vy wasn’t I content with the glorious old Surrey and an occasional turn with the Cut-’em-downs? Well; I thinks this night will be the last of John Jorrocks! Best master of ‘ounds wot ever was seen. ‘Orrible termination to a hactive life; starved on a common — eat by wolves, or shepherds’ dogs, which is much of a muchness as far as comfort’s concerned. Why even yon donkey would be ‘shamed of such an end. There goes the vind with my ‘at — lucky it’s tied on,” added he, trying to catch it as it dangled at his back, “or I should never have seen it no more. I’d give fifty punds to be back at ‘Andley Cross — I’d give a ‘underd punds to be back at ‘Andley Cross — knows no more where I am than if I was among the Bohea mountains — oh, dear, ’ow it pours! I’d give two ‘underd punds to be back at ‘Andley Cross — yonder’s a light, I do declare — two on ’em — come hup, ‘oss, I say. The hanimal seems to have no sense! I’ll lead you, you nasty hugly brute, for I do believe you’ll brick my neck, or my back, or both, arter all;” so saying, Mr. Jorrocks clambered down, and getting on to the sheltered side of the animal, proceeded to plunge and roll, and stagger and stumble across the common, with the water churning in his great boots, in the direction of the distant lights.
After a good hour’s roll about the open Downs, amid a most pelting, pitiless storm, our much-respected master at length neared the longed-for lights, which he had kept steadily in view, and found they proceeded from lamps at lodges on either side of handsome gates, betokening the entrance to a large demesne. Mounting his horse, he rode quickly through the gates, and trusting to the sound of Arterxerxes’ hoofs for keeping the road, he jogged on in search of the mansion. Tall stately pines, rising like towers to heaven, with sombre yews in massive clumps, now made darkness visible, and presently a sudden turn of the road brought a large screen full of lights to view, some stationary, others gliding about, which acted like sunbeams on our master’s mind; more grateful still was the shelter afforded by the lofty portals of the entrance, under which, as if by instinct, Arterxerxes bore his master, and then stood still to be delivered of his load. “The bell ‘ill be somewhere here, I guess,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, dismounting and running his hand up either side of the door-posts. “Here’s as much door as would serve Jack the Giant-killer’s castle, and leave a little over.” So saying, having grasped the bulky handle of a wall-ensconced bell, he gave it a hearty pull, and paused as they say for an answer.
In an instant, two tall, highly-powdered footmen, in rich scarlet and white lace-bedaubed liveries, threw wide the folding-doors as though they expected Daniel Lambert, or the great Durham ox, exhibiting a groom of the chamber and a lusty porter, laying down the newspapers, and hurrying from a blazing fire in the back-ground.
“Perhaps you would like to be shown to your room, sir, as you seem wet?” observed the groom of the chamber, after a mutual stare, which Mr. Jorrocks did not seem likely to interrupt.
“Seem vet!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, stamping and shaking himself, “seem vet; I’m just as vet as a man can be and no vetter; but what shall I do with my ‘oss? The musciful man, you know, is musciful to his quad.”
“Oh, there’s a stall all ready for him, sir; your servant’s been here this ‘alf-hour and more; I’ll send the ‘orse round for you, if you’ll allow me, sir. Here, Jones, take hold of him, and you, Peters, run down-stairs, and tell Saul to come and take it round.”
“Yes,” added Mr. Jorrocks; “and tell Pigg to let him have some warm gruel directly, and to get him well done hup, for he’s had a hard day. Werry clever of the chap,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, “runnin’ to ground here — seems a capital house — wot a passage! like the Thames Tunnel.” Jorrocks then stumped in.
“This way, if you please, sir,” said the groom of the chamber, motioning him across a magnificent old baronial hall, and turning short up a well-lit, softly-carpeted winding staircase, he preceded Mr. Jorrocks, with a chamber candle, along a lengthy gallery, all hung with portraits of grimvisaged warriors, and small-waisted, large looming ladies. “This is your room, sir,” said he, at length, opening a partially closed door, and ushering Mr. Jorrocks into a splendidly furnished apartment, whose blazing fire, gleaming on the rich crimson curtains and hangings of the room, imparted a glow that long exposure to the unruly elements made appear quite enchanting. “‘Eavens be praised for these and all other mercies!” exclaimed the grateful Mr. Jorrocks, throwing his hat and whip upon the sofa, and plunging into the luxurious depths of a many-cushioned easy chair.
“Your clothes are laid out, I think, sir,” observed the groom of the chamber, casting a glance at another sofa, on which clean linen, dress clothes, shiny thin shoes, were ranged in the most orthodox order “P’rhaps you’d like some hot water, sir?”
“Yes, I should,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, “werry much — and a little brandy, if you’ve no objection.”
“Certainly, sir, certainly,” replied the well-drilled servant, giving the top log on the fire a lift so as to make it blaze, and lighting the toilet-table candles.
All this passed with such extraordinary rapidity — the events of the day had been so numerous and exciting — the transition from the depths of misery to the height of luxury so sudden, and, above all, the perfect confidence of the servant so seductively convincing, that not doubting of the accuracy of every thing, and placing all to the credit of his renowned name and the acuteness of his northern huntsman, Mr. Jorrocks proceeded with the aid of a boot-jack to suck off his adhering boots, and divest himself of his well-soaked garments. The servant presently returned with a long-necked bottle of white brandy on a massive silver tray, accompanied with hot water, lemon, sugar, nutmeg, and a plate of biscuits. Seeing Mr. Jorrocks advancing rapidly to a state of nudity, he placed them on a table near the fire, and pointing to a bell beside the bed, observed that if Mr. Jorrocks would ring when he was ready, he would come and conduct him to the drawing-room. The servant then withdrew.
“Wonder if Pigg’s killed the fox,” observed Mr. Jorrocks to himself, pouring out half a tumbler of brandy and filling the glass up with hot water. “Capital fun ‘unting, to be sure,” said he, sipping away; “‘specially ven one gets into a good quarter like this,” continued he, jerking his head, “but desperation poor fun sleepin’ on a common!” and thereupon, after a few more preliminary sips, he drained off the tumbler.
“May as wel vet both eyes,” observed he, as he felt the grateful influence of the brandy upon his nearly exhausted frame, saying which he poured himself out another half tumbler of brandy, and adding sugar and lemon, drank off a good part of it, and left the remainder till he got himself washed.
“Werry considerate this,” said he,— “werry considerate indeed,” he repeated, taking a large Turkey sponge out of the handle of a hip bath of warm water, shaded from the fire by a glass screen, inside of which upon a rail hung a row of baked towels. “Kettle too,” said he, now attracted by its simmering, “may as well have a boil;” so saying, he emptied the contents into the bath, and pulling off his wig, proceeded to wash and disport himself therein, using the sponge as if it was his own. In the midst of his ablutions the door opened, and through the glass screen he saw a servant in a dark coat and scarlet waistcoat enter, and hastily retire as he caught a glimpse of our white Hottentot-like hero squatting in the water. Out Mr. Jorrocks got and bolted the door,
and hearing something going on in the passage, he listened for a moment and caught divers scraps of conversation, apparently between a servant and his master, such as, “Why, you stupid fool, don’t you know the room? You certainly are the greatest ass ever man encumbered himself with.”
“Beg pardon, sir, I could have sworn that was the room.”
“Stuff and nonsense! look along the passage; the doors are all so much alike, no wonder a fool like you is puzzled;” saying which the voices moved along, and Mr. Jorrocks heard knocking and opening of doors all along the gallery, until they gradually died away in the distance. Our hero had just done with his bath, and finished his brandy and water, when the sound of returning footsteps again drew his attention to his door, and an angry voice and a meek one sounded alternately through the panels.
“Now what are you staring there about, you great idiot — keeping me shivering in my wet clothes. If this is the room, why don’t you knock?”
“Please, sir, there’s a gen’leman in.”
“How d’you know?”
“Saw him, sir.”
“Then it can’t be my room.”
“Laid your clothes out in it howsomever, sir.”
“How do you know this is it?”
“‘Cause I tied this bit of straw round the ‘andle of the door.”
“Then knock and ask the gentleman to let you in, and get my clothes out again. You’ve put them into the wrong room, that’s the long and short of the matter — stupid fool!” The servant then ventured a very respectful double tap.
“Who’s there?” roared Jorrocks, in a voice of thunder.
“Beg pardon, sir, — but I think I’ve made a mistake, sir, with master’s clothes, sir.”
“No you haven’t! replied Mr. Jorrocks, in the same sweet tone as before.
“Oh, beg pardon, sir,” rejoined the servant.
“Now are you satisfied?” roared the master in the Jorrockian strain. “Go along, you fool, and seek a servant.”