Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour

by Robert Smith Surtees

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE F.H.H. AGAIN

  Gentlemen unaccustomed to public hunting often make queer figures ofthemselves when they go out. We have seen them in all sorts of odd dresses,half fox-hunters half fishermen, half fox-hunters half sailors, with nowand then a good sturdy cross of the farmer.

  Mr. Jawleyford was a cross between a military dandy and a squire. Thegreen-and-gold Bumperkin foraging-cap, with the letters 'B.Y.C.' in front,was cocked jauntily on one side of his badger-pyed head, while he playedsportively with the patent leather strap--now, toying with it on his lip,now dropping it below his chin, now hitching it up on to the peak. He had atremendously stiff stock on--so hard that no pressure made it wrinkle, andso high that his pointed gills could hardly peer above it. His coat was abright green cut-away--made when collars were worn very high and veryhollow, and when waists were supposed to be about the middle of a man'sback, Jawleyford's back buttons occupying that remarkable position. These,which were of dead gold with a bright rim, represented a hare full stretchfor her life, and were the buttons of the old Muggeridge hunt--a hunt thathad died many years ago from want of the necessary funds (80_l_.) to carryit on. The coat, which was single-breasted and velvet-collared, wasextremely swallow-tailed, presenting a remarkable contrast to thebarge-built, roomy roundabouts of the members of the Flat Hat Hunt; thecollar rising behind, in the shape of a Gothic arch, exhibited all thestitchings and threadings incident to that department of the garment.

  But if Mr. Jawleyford's coat went to 'hare,' his waistcoat was fox and all'fox.' On a bright blue ground he sported such an infinity of 'heads,' thatthere is no saying that he would have been safe in a kennel of unsteadyhounds. One thing, to be sure, was in his favour--namely, that they werejust as much like cats' heads as foxes'. The coat and waistcoat were oldstagers, but his nether man was encased in rhubarb-coloured tweedpantaloons of the newest make--a species of material extremely soft andcomfortable to wear, but not so well adapted for roughing it acrosscountry. These had a broad brown stripe down the sides, and were shaped outover the foot of his fine French-polished paper boots, the heels of whichwere decorated with long-necked, ringing spurs. Thus attired, with a littlesilver-mounted whip which he kept flourishing about, he encountered Mr.Sponge in the entrance-hall, after breakfast. Mr. Sponge, like all men whoare 'extremely natty' themselves, men who wouldn't have a button out ofplace if it was ever so, hardly knew what to think of Jawleyford's costume.It was clear he was no sportsman; and then came the question, whether hewas of the privileged few who may do what they like, and who can carry offany kind of absurdity. Whatever uneasiness Sponge felt on that score,Jawleyford, however, was quite at his ease, and swaggered about like anaide-de-camp at a review.

  'Well, we should be going, I suppose,' said he, drawing on a pair ofhalf-dirty, lemon-coloured kid gloves, and sabreing the air with his whip.

  'Is Lord Scamperdale punctual?' asked Sponge.

  'Tol-lol,' replied Jawleyford, 'tol-lol.'

  'He'll wait for _you_, I suppose?' observed Sponge, thinking to tryJawleyford on that infallible criterion of favour.

  'Why, if he knew I was coming, I dare say he would,' replied Jawleyfordslowly and deliberately, feeling it was now no time for flashing. 'If heknew I was coming I dare say he would,' repeated he; 'indeed, I make nodoubt he would: but one doesn't like putting great men out of their way;besides which, it's just as easy to be punctual as otherwise. When I was inthe Bumperkin--'

  'But your horse is on, isn't it?' interrupted Sponge; 'he'll see your horsethere, you know.'

  'Horse on, my dear fellow!' exclaimed Jawleyford, 'horse on? No, certainlynot. How should I get there myself, if my horse was on?'

  'Hack, to be sure,' replied Sponge, striking a light for his cigar.

  'Ah, but then I should have no groom to go with me,' observed Jawleyford,adding, 'one must make a certain appearance, you know. But come, my dearMr. Sponge,' continued he, laying hold of our hero's arm, 'let us get tothe door, for that cigar of yours will fumigate the whole house; and Mrs.Jawleyford hates the smell of tobacco.'

  Spigot, with his attendants in livery, here put a stop to the confab byhurrying past, drawing the bolts, and throwing back the spacious foldingdoors, as if royalty or Daniel Lambert himself were 'coming out.'

  The noise they made was heard outside; and on reaching the top of thespacious flight of steps, Sponge's piebald in charge of a dirty villagelad, and Jawleyford's steeds with a sky-blue groom, were seen scuttlingunder the portoco, for the owners to mount. The Jawleyford cavalry was noneof the best; but Jawleyford was pleased with it, and that is a great thing.Indeed, a thing had only to be Jawleyford's, to make Jawleyford excessivelyfond of it.

  'There!' exclaimed he, as they reached the third step from the bottom.'There!' repeated he, seizing Sponge by the arm, 'that's what I call shape.You don't see such an animal as that every day,' pointing to a not badlyformed, but evidently worn-out, over-knee'd bay, that stood knuckling andtrembling for Jawleyford to mount.

  'One of the "has beens," I should say,' replied Sponge, puffing a cloud ofsmoke right past Jawleyford's nose; adding, 'It's a pity but you could gethim four new legs.'

  'Faith, I don't see that he wants anything of the sort,' retortedJawleyford, nettled as well at the smoke as the observation.

  'Well, where "ignorance is bliss," &c.,' replied Sponge, with anothergreat puff, which nearly blinded Jawleyford. 'Get on, and let's see how hegoes,' added he, passing on to the piebald as he spoke.

  Mr. Jawleyford then mounted; and having settled himself into a militaryseat, touched the old screw with the spur, and set off at a canter. Thepiebald, perhaps mistaking the portico for a booth, and thinking it was agood place to exhibit it, proceeded to die in the most approved form; andnot all Sponge's 'Come-up's' or kicks could induce him to rise before hehad gone through the whole ceremony. At length, with a mane full of gravel,a side well smeared, and a 'Wilkinson & Kidd' sadly scratched, the_ci-devant_ actor arose, much to the relief of the village lad, who havingindulged in a gallop as he brought him from Lucksford, expected his deathwould be laid at his door. No sooner was he up, than, without waiting forhim to shake himself, Mr. Soapey vaulted into the saddle, and seizing himby the head, let in the Latchfords in a style that satisfied the hack hewas not going to canter in a circle. Away he went, best pace; for like allMr. Sponge's horses, he had the knack of going, the general difficultybeing to get them to go the way they were wanted.

  Sponge presently overtook Mr. Jawleyford, who had been brought up by agate, which he was making sundry ineffectual Briggs-like passes and effortsto open; the gate and his horse seeming to have combined to prevent hisgetting through. Though an expert swordsman, he had never been able toaccomplish, the art of opening a gate, especially one of those gingerlybalanced spring-snecked things that require to be taken at the nick oftime, or else they drop just as the horse gets his nose to them.

  'Why aren't you here to open the gate?' asked Jawleyford, snappishly, asthe blue boy bustled up as his master's efforts became more hopeless ateach attempt.

  The lad, like a wise fellow, dropped from his horse, and opening it withhis hands, ran it back on foot.

  Jawleyford and Sponge then rode through.

  Canter, canter, canter, went Jawleyford, with an arm akimbo, head well up,legs well down, toes well pointed, as if he were going to a race, where hiswork would end on arriving, instead of to a fox-hunt, where it would onlybegin.

  JAWLEYFORD GOING TO THE HUNT]

  'You are rather hard on the old nag, aren't you?' at length asked Sponge,as, having cleared the rushy, swampy park, they came upon the macadamizedturnpike, and Jawleyford selected the middle of it as the scene of hisfurther progression.

  'Oh no!' replied Jawleyford, tit-tup-ing along with a loose rein, as if hewas on the soundest, freshest-legged horse in the world; 'oh no! my horsesare used to it.' 'Well, but if you mean to hunt him,' observed Sponge,'he'll be blown before he gets to cover.'

  'Get him in wind, my de
ar fellow,' replied Jawleyford, 'get him in wind,'touching the horse with the spur as he spoke.

  'Faith, but if he was as well on his legs as he is in his wind, he'd not beamiss,' rejoined Sponge.

  So they cantered and trotted, and trotted and cantered away, Spongethinking he could afford pace as well as Jawleyford. Indeed, a horse hasonly to become a hack, to be able to do double the work he was eversupposed to be capable of.

  But to the meet.

  Scrambleford Green was a small straggling village on the top of a somewhathigh hill, that divided the vale in which Jawleyford Court was situatedfrom the more fertile one of Farthinghoe, in which Lord Scamperdale lived.

  It was one of those out-of-the-way places at which the meet of the hounds,and a love feast or fair, consisting of two fiddlers (one for eachpublic-house), a few unlicensed packmen, three or four gingerbread stalls,a drove of cows and some sheep, form the great events of the year among apeople who are thoroughly happy and contented with that amount of gaiety.Think of that, you 'used up' young gentlemen of twenty, who have exhaustedthe pleasures of the world! The hounds did not come to Scrambleford Greenoften, for it was not a favourite meet; and when they did come, Frosty andthe men generally had them pretty much to themselves. This day, however,was the exception; and Old Tom Yarnley, whom age had bent nearly double,and who hobbled along on two sticks, declared that never in the course ofhis recollection, a period extending over the best part of a century, hadhe seen such a 'sight of red coats' as mustered that morning atScrambleford Green. It seemed as if there had been a sudden rising ofsportsmen. What brought them all out? What brought Mr. Puffington, themaster of the Hanby hounds, out? What brought Blossomnose again? What Mr.Wake, Mr. Fossick, Mr. Fyle, who had all been out the day before? Reader,the news had spread throughout the country that there was a great writerdown; and they wanted to see what he would say of them--they had come tosit for their portraits, in fact. There was a great gathering, at least forthe Flat Hat Hunt, who seldom mustered above a dozen. Tom Washball came, ina fine new coat and new flat-fliped hat with a broad binding; also Mr.Sparks, of Spark Hall; Major Mark; Mr. Archer, of Cheam Lodge; Mr. Reeves,of Coxwell Green; Mr. Bliss, of Boltonshaw; Mr. Joyce, of Ebstone; Dr.Capon, of Calcot; Mr. Dribble, of Hook; Mr. Slade, of Three-Burrow Hill;and several others. Great was the astonishment of each as the other castup.

  'Why, here's Joe Reeves!' exclaimed Blossomnose. 'Who'd have thought ofseeing you?'

  'And who'd have thought of seeing _you_?' rejoined Reeves, shaking handswith the jolly old nose.

  'Here's Tom Washball in time for once, I declare!' exclaimed Mr. Fyle, asMr. Washball cantered up in apple-pie order.

  'Wonders will never cease!' observed Fossick, looking Washy over.

  So the field sat in a ring about the hounds in the centre of which, asusual, were Jack and Lord Scamperdale, looking with their greattortoise-shell-rimmed spectacles, and short grey whiskers trimmed in acurve up to their noses, like a couple of horned owls in hats.

  'Here's the man on the cow!' exclaimed Jack, as he espied Sponge andJawleyford rising the hill together, easing their horses by standing intheir stirrups and holding on by their manes.

  'You don't say so!' exclaimed Lord Scamperdale, turning his horse in thedirection Jack was looking, and staring for hard life too. 'So there is, Ideclare!' observed he.' And who the deuce is this with him?'

  'That ass Jawleyford, as I live!' exclaimed Jack, as the blue-coatedservant now hove in sight.

  'So it is!' said Lord Scamperdale; 'the confounded humbug!'

  'This boy'll be after one of the young ladies,' observed Jack; 'not one ofthe writing chaps we thought he was.'

  'Shouldn't wonder,' replied Lord Scamperdale; adding, in an undertone, 'Ivote we have a rise out of old Jaw. I'll let you in for a good thing--youshall dine with him.'

  'Not I,' replied Jack.

  'You _shall_, though,' replied his lordship firmly.

  'Pray don't!' entreated Jack.

  'By the powers, if you don't,' rejoined his lordship, 'you shall not have amount out of me for a month.'

  While this conversation was going on, Jawleyford and Sponge, having risenthe hill, had resumed their seats in the saddle, and Jawleyford, settinghimself in attitude, tickled his horse with his spur, and proceeded tocanter becomingly up to the pack; Sponge and the groom following a littlebehind.

  'Ah, Jawleyford, my dear fellow!' exclaimed Lord Scamperdale, putting hishorse on a few steps to meet him as he came flourishing up. 'Ah,Jawleyford, my dear fellow, I'm delighted to see you,' extending a hand ashe spoke. 'Jack, here, told me that he saw your flag flying as he passed,and I said what a pity it was but I'd known before; for Jawleyford, said I,is a real good fellow, one of the best fellows I know, and has asked me todine so often that I'm almost ashamed to meet him; and it would have beensuch a nice opportunity to have volunteered a visit, the hounds being here,you see.'

  'Oh, that's so kind of your lordship!' exclaimed Jawleyford, quitedelighted--'that's so kind of your lordship--that's just what Ilike!--that's just what Mrs. Jawleyford likes!--that's just what we alllike!--coming without fuss or ceremony, just as my friend Mr. Sponge, here,does. By the way, will your lordship give me leave to introduce my friendMr. Sponge--my Lord Scamperdale.' Jawleyford suiting the action to theword, and manoeuvring the ceremony.

  'Ah, I made Mr. Sponge's acquaintance yesterday,' observed his lordshipdrily, giving a sort of servants' touch of his hat as he scrutinized ourfriend through his formidable glasses, adding, 'To tell you the truth,'addressing himself in an underone to Sponge, 'I took you for one of thosenasty writing chaps, who I 'bominate. But,' continued his lordship,returning to Jawleyford. 'I'll tell you what I said about the dinner. Jack,here, told me the flag was flying; and I said I only wished I'd knownbefore, and I would certainly have proposed that Jack and I should dinewith you, either to-day or to-morrow; but unfortunately I'd engaged myselfto my Lord Barker's not five minutes before.'

  'Ah, my lord!' exclaimed Jawleyford, throwing out his hand and shrugginghis shoulders as if in despair, 'you tantalize me--you do indeed. Youshould have come, or said nothing about it. You distress me--you doindeed.'

  'Well, I'm wrong, perhaps,' replied his lordship, patting Jawleyfordencouragingly on the shoulder; 'but, however, I'll tell you what,' said he,'Jack here's not engaged, and he shall come to you.'

  'Most happy to see Mr.--ha--hum--haw--Jack--that's to say, Mr. Spraggon,'replied Jawleyford, bowing very low, and laying his hand on his heart, asif quite overpowered at the idea of the honour.

  'Then, that's a bargain. Jack,' said his lordship, looking knowingly roundat his much disconcerted friend; 'you dine and stay all night at JawleyfordCourt to-morrow! and mind,' added he, 'make yourself 'greeable to thegirls--ladies, that's to say.'

  'Couldn't your lordship arrange it so that we might have the pleasure ofseeing you both on some future day?' asked Jawleyford, anxious to avert theJack calamity. 'Say next week,' continued he; 'or suppose you meet at theCourt?'

  'Ha--he--hum. Meet at the Court,' mumbled his lordship--'meet at theCourt--ha--he--ha--hum--no;--got no foxes.'

  'Plenty of foxes, I assure you, my lord!' exclaimed Jawleyford. 'Plenty offoxes!' repeated he.

  'We never find them, then, somehow,' observed his lordship, drily; 'atleast, none but those three-legged beggars in the laurels at the back ofthe stables.'

  'Ah! that will be the fault of the hounds,' replied Jawleyford; 'they don'ttake sufficient time to draw--run through the covers too quickly.'

  'Fault of the hounds be hanged!' exclaimed Jack, who was the champion ofthe pack generally. 'There's not a more patient, painstaking pack in theworld than his lordship's.'

  'Ah--well--ah--never mind that,' replied his lordship, 'Jaw and you cansettle that point over your wine to-morrow; meanwhile, if your friend Mr.What's-his-name here, 'll get his horse,' continued his lordship,addressing himself to Jawleyford, but looking at Sponge, who was still onthe piebald, 'we'll throw off.'

  'T
hank you, my lord,' replied Sponge; 'but I'll mount at the cover side.Sponge not being inclined to let the Flat Hat Hunt field see the differenceof opinion that occasionally existed between the gallant brown and himself.

  'As you please,' rejoined his lordship, 'as you please,' jerking his headat Frostyface, who forthwith gave the office to the hounds; whereupon allwas commotion. Away the cavalcade went, and in less than five minutes thelate bustling village resumed its wonted quiet; the old man on sticks, twocrones gossiping at a door, a rag-or-anything-else-gatherer going aboutwith a donkey, and a parcel of dirty children tumbling about on the green,being all that remained on the scene. All the able-bodied men had followedthe hounds. Why the hounds had ever climbed the long hill seemed a mystery,seeing that they returned the way they came.

  Jawleyford, though sore disconcerted at having 'Jack' pawned upon him,stuck to my lord, and rode on his right with the air of a general. He felthe was doing his duty as an Englishman in thus patronizing thehounds--encouraging a manly spirit of independence, and promoting ourunrivalled breed of horses. The post-boy trot at which hounds travel, to besure, is not well adapted for dignity; but Jawleyford nourished andvapoured as well as he could under the circumstances, and considering theywere going down hill. Lord Scamperdale rode along, laughing in his sleeveat the idea of the pleasant evening Jack and Jawleyford would havetogether, occasionally complimenting Jawleyford on the cut and condition ofhis horse, and advising him to be careful of the switching raspers withwhich the country abounded, and which might be fatal to his nicenutmeg--coloured trousers. The rest of the 'field' followed, the fall ofthe ground enabling them to see 'how thick Jawleyford was with my lord.'Old Blossomnose, who, we should observe, had slipped away unperceived onJawleyford's arrival, took a bird's-eye view from the rear. Naughty Blossomwas riding the horse that ought to have gone in the 'chay' to JawleyfordCourt.