CHAPTER XLIV
WANTED--A RICH GOD-PAPA!
'When one door shuts another opens,' say the saucy servants; and fortunewas equally favourable to our friend Mr. Sponge. Though he could not thinkof any one to whom he could volunteer a visit. Dame Fortune provided himwith an overture from a party who wanted him! But we will introduce his newhost, or rather victim.
People hunt from various motives--some for the love of the thing--some forshow--some for fashion--some for health--some for appetites--some forcoffee-housing--some to say they have hunted--some because others hunt.
Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey did not hunt from any of these motives, and it wouldpuzzle a conjurer to make out why he hunted; indeed, the members of thedifferent hunts he patronized--for he was one of the run-about,non-subscribing sort--were long in finding out. It was observed that hegenerally affected countries abounding in large woods, such as StretchawayForest, Hazelbury Chase, and Oakington Banks, into which he would dive withthe greatest avidity. At first people thought he was a very keen hand,anxious to see a fox handsomely found, if he could not see him handsomelyfinished, against which latter luxury his figure and activity, or want ofactivity, were somewhat opposed. Indeed, when we say that he went by thename of the Woolpack, our readers will be able to imagine the style of manhe was: long-headed, short-necked, large-girthed, dumpling-legged littlefellow, who, like most fat men, made himself dangerous by compressing amost unreasonable stomach into a circumscribed coat, each particular buttonof which looked as if it was ready to burst off, and knock out the eye ofany one who might have the temerity to ride alongside of him. He was apuffy, wheezy, sententious little fellow, who accompanied his parables witha snort into a large finely plaited shirt-frill, reaching nearly up to hisnose. His hunting-costume consisted of a black coat and waistcoat, withwhite moleskin breeches, much cracked and darned about the knees and otherparts, as nether garments made of that treacherous stuff often are. Hisshapeless tops, made regardless of the refinements of 'right and left,'dangled at his horse's sides like a couple of stable-buckets; and hecarried his heavy iron hammer-headed whip over his shoulder like a flail.But we are drawing his portrait instead of saying why he hunted. Well,then, having married Mrs. Springwheat's sister, who was always boasting toMrs. Crowdey what a loving, doting husband Springey was after hunting, Mrs.Crowdey had induced Crowdey to try his hand, and though soon satisfied thathe hadn't the slightest taste for the sport, but being a great man for whathe called gibbey-sticks, he hunted for the purpose of finding them. As wesaid before, he generally appeared at large woodlands, into which he wouldride with the hounds, plunging through the stiffest clay, and forcing hisway through the strongest thickets, making observations all the while ofthe hazels, and the hollies, and the blackthorns, and, we are sorry to say,sometimes of the young oaks and ashes, that he thought would fashion intocurious-handled walking-sticks; and these he would return for at a futureday, getting them with as large clubs as possible, which he would cut intothe heads of beasts, or birds, or fishes, or men. At the time of which weare writing, he had accumulated a vast quantity--thousands; the garret atthe top of his house was quite full, so were most of the closets, while therafters in the kitchen, and cellars, and out-houses, were crowded withothers in a state of _deshabille_. He calculated his stock at immenseworth, we don't know how many thousand pounds; and as he cut, and puffed,and wheezed, and modelled, with a volume of Buffon, or the picture of someeminent man before him, he chuckled, and thought how well he was providingfor his family. He had been at it so long, and argued so stoutly, that Mrs.Jogglebury Crowdey, if not quite convinced of the accuracy of hiscalculations, nevertheless thought it well to encourage his huntingpredilections, inasmuch as it brought him in contact with people he wouldnot otherwise meet, who, she thought, might possibly be useful to theirchildren. Accordingly, she got him his breakfast betimes onhunting-mornings, charged his pockets with currant-buns, and saw to themending of his moleskins when he came home, after any of those casualtiesthat occur as well in the chase as in gibbey-stick hunting.
A stranger being a marked man in a rural country, Mr. Sponge excited morecuriosity in Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey's mind than Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey didin Mr. Sponge's. In truth, Jogglebury was one of those unsportsmanlikebeings, that a regular fox-hunter would think it waste of words to inquireabout, and if Mr. Sponge saw him, he did not recollect him; while, on theother hand, Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey went home very full of our friend. Now,Mrs. Jogglebury Crowdey was a fine, bustling, managing woman, with a largefamily, for whom she exerted all her energies to procure desirablegod-papas and mammas; and, no sooner did she hear of this newcomer, thanshe longed to appropriate him for god-papa to their youngest son.
'Jog, my dear,' said she, to her spouse, as they sat at tea; 'it would bewell to look after him.'
'What for, my dear?' asked Jog, who was staring a stick, with ahalf-finished head of Lord Brougham for a handle, out of countenance.
'What for, Jog? Why, can't you guess?'
'No,' replied Jog doggedly.
'No!' ejaculated his spouse. 'Why, Jog, you certainly are the stupidest manin existence.'
'Not necessarily!' replied Jog, with a jerk of his head and a puff into hisshirt-frill that set it all in a flutter.
'Not necessarily!' replied Mrs. Jogglebury, who was what they call a'spirited woman,' in the same rising tone as before. 'Not necessarily! butI say necessarily--yes, necessarily. Do you hear me, Mr. Jogglebury?'
'I hear you,' replied Jogglebury scornfully, with another jerk, and anotherpuff into the frill.
The two then sat silent for some minutes, Jogglebury still contemplatingthe progressing head of Lord Brougham, and recalling the eye and featuresthat some five-and-twenty years before had nearly withered him in a breachof promise action, 'Smiler _v_. Jogglebury,'[3] that being our friend'sname before his uncle Crowdey left him his property.
Mrs. Jogglebury having an object in view, and knowing that, thoughJogglebury might lead, he would not drive, availed herself of the lull totrim her sail, to try and catch him on the other tack.
'Well, Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey,' said she, in a passive tone of regret, 'Icertainly thought however indifferent you might be to me' (and here sheapplied her handkerchief--rather a coarse one--to her eyes) 'that still youhad some regard for the interests of your (sob) children'; and here thewaterfalls of her beady black eyes went off in a gush.
'Well, my dear,' replied Jogglebury, softened, 'I'm (puff) sure I'm(wheeze) anxious for my (puff) children. You don't s'pose if I wasn't(puff), I'd (wheeze) labour as I (puff--wheeze) do to leave themfortins?'--alluding to his exertions in the gibbey-stick line.
'Oh, Jog, I dare say you're very good and very industrious,' sobbed Mrs.Jogglebury, 'but I sometimes (sob) think that you might apply your (sob)energies to a better (sob) purpose.'
'Indeed, my dear (puff), I don't see that (wheeze),' replied Jogglebury,mildly.
'Why, now, if you were to try and get this rich Mr. Sponge for a god-papafor Gustavus James,' continued she, drying her eyes as she came to thepoint, '_that_, I should say, would be worthy of you.'
'But, my (puff) dear,' replied Jogglebury, 'I don't know Mr. (wheeze)Sponge, to begin with.'
'That's nothing,' replied Mrs. Jogglebury; 'he's a stranger, and you shouldcall upon him.'
Mr. Jogglebury sat silent, still staring at Lord Brougham, thinking how hepitched into him, and how sick he was when the jury, without retiring fromthe box, gave five hundred pounds damages against him.
'He's a fox-hunter, too,' continued his wife; 'and you ought to be civil tohim.'
'Well, but, my (puff) dear, he's as likely to (wheeze) these fifty years asany (puff, wheeze) man I ever looked at,' replied Jogglebury.
'Oh, nonsense,' replied Mrs. Jogglebury; 'there's no saying when afox-hunter may break his neck. My word! but Mrs. Slooman tells me prettystories of Sloo's doings with the harriers--jumping over hurdles, andeverything that comes in the way, and galloping along the stony lanes as ifthe wind was a s
nail compared to his horse. I tell you. Jog, you shouldcall on this gentleman--'
'Well,' replied Mr. Jogglebury.
'And ask him to come and stay here,' continued Mrs. Jogglebury.
'Perhaps he mightn't like it (puff),' replied Jogglebury. 'I don't knowthat we could (puff) entertain him as he's (wheeze) accustomed to be,'added he.
'Oh, nonsense,' replied Mrs. Jogglebury; 'we can entertain him well enough.You always say fox-hunters are not ceremonious. I tell you what, Jog, youdon't think half enough of yourself. You are far too easily set aside. Myword! but I know some people who would give themselves pretty airs if theirhusband was chairman of a board of guardians, and trustee of I don't knowhow many of Her Majesty's turnpike roads,' Mrs. Jog here thinking of hersister Mrs. Springwheat, who, she used to say, had married a mere farmer.'I tell you, Jog, you're far too humble, you don't think half enough ofyourself.'
'Well, but, my (puff) dear, you don't (puff) consider that all people ain't(puff) fond of (wheeze) children,' observed Jogglebury, after a pause.'Indeed, I've (puff) observed that some (wheeze) don't like them.'
'Oh, but those will be nasty little brats, like Mrs. James Wakenshaw's, orMrs. Tom Cheek's. But such children as ours! such charmers! such delights!there isn't a man in the county, from the Lord-Lieutenant downwards, whowouldn't be proud--who wouldn't think it a compliment--to be asked to begod-papa to such children. I tell you what, Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey, itwould be far better to get them rich god-papas and god-mammas than to leavethem a whole house full of sticks.'
'Well, but, my (puff) dear, the (wheeze) sticks will prove very (wheeze)hereafter,' replied Jogglebury, bridling up at the imputation on his hobby.
'I _hope_ so,' replied Mrs. Jogglebury, in a tone of incredulity.
'Well, but, my (puff) dear, I (wheeze) you that they will be--indeed(puff), I may (wheeze) say that they (puff) are. It was only the other(puff) day that (wheeze) Patrick O'Fogo offered me five-and-twenty (wheeze)shillings for my (puff) blackthorn Daniel O'Connell, which is by no meansso (puff) good as the (wheeze) wild-cherry one, or, indeed (puff), as theyew-tree one that I (wheeze) out of Spankerley Park.'
'I'd have taken it if I'd been you,' observed Mrs. Jogglebury.
'But he's (puff) worth far more,' retorted Jogglebury angrily; 'why(wheeze) Lumpleg offered me as much for Disraeli.'
'Well, I'd have taken it, too,' rejoined Mrs. Jogglebury.
'But I should have (wheeze) spoilt my (puff) set,' replied the gibbey-stickman. 'S'pose any (wheeze) body was to (puff) offer me five guineas a (puff)piece for the (puff) pick of my (puff) collection--my (puff) Wellingtons,my (wheeze) Napoleons, my (puff) Byrons, my (wheeze) Walter Scotts, my(puff) Lord Johns, d'ye think I'd take it?'
'I should hope so,' replied Mrs. Jogglebury.
'I should (puff) do no such thing,' snorted her husband into his frill. 'Ishould hope,' continued he, speaking slowly and solemnly, 'that a (puff)wise ministry will purchase the whole (puff) collection for a (wheeze)grateful nation, when the (wheeze)' something 'is no more (wheeze).' Theconcluding words being lost in the emotion of the speaker (as the reporterssay).
'Well, but will you go and call on Mr. Sponge, dear?' asked Mrs. JoggleburyCrowdey, anxious as well to turn the subject as to make good her originalpoint.
'Well, my dear, I've no objection,' replied Joggle, wiping a tear from thecorner of his eye with his coat-cuff.
'That's a good soul!' exclaimed Mrs. Jogglebury soothingly. 'Go to-morrow,like a nice, sensible man.'
'Very well,' replied her now complacent spouse.
'And ask him to come here,' continued she.
'I can't (puff) ask him to (puff) come, my dear (wheeze), until he(puff--wheeze) returns my (puff) call.'
'Oh, fiddle,' replied his wife, 'you always say fox-hunters never standupon ceremony; why should you stand upon any with him?'
Mr. Jogglebury was posed, and sat silent.
Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour Page 44