CHAPTER LXIII
THE RISING GENERATION
The lull that prevailed in the breakfast-room on Miss Howard's return fromthe window was speedily interrupted by fresh arrivals before the door. Thethree Master Baskets in coats and lay-over collars, Master Shutter in ajacket and trousers, the two Master Bulgeys in woollen overalls with verylarge hunting whips, Master Brick in a velveteen shooting-jacket, and thetwo Cheeks with their tweed trousers thrust into fiddle-case boots, on allsorts of ponies and family horses, began pawing and disordering the gravelin front of Nonsuch House.
George Cheek was the head boy at Mr. Latherington's classical andcommercial academy, at Flagellation Hall (late the Crown and Sceptre Hoteland Posting House, on the Bankstone road), where, for forty pounds a year,eighty young gentlemen were fitted for the pulpit, the senate, the bar, thecounting-house, or anything else their fond parents fancied them fit for.
George was a tall stripling, out at the elbows, in at the knees, with hisred knuckled hands thrust a long way through his tight coat. He was just ofthat awkward age when boys fancy themselves men, and men are not preparedto lower themselves to their level. Ladies get on better with them thanmen: either the ladies are more tolerant of twaddle, or their discerningeyes see in the gawky youth the germ of future usefulness. George was oncapital terms with himself. He was the oracle of Mr. Latherington's school,where he was not only head boy and head swell, but a considerable authorityon sporting matters. He took in _Bell's Life_, which he read from beginningto end, and 'noted its contents,' as they say in the city.
'I'll tell you what all these little (hiccup) animals will be wanting,'observed Sir Harry, as he cayenne-peppered a turkey's leg; 'they'll be comefor a (hiccup) hunt.'
'Wish they may get it,' observed Captain Seedeybuck; adding, 'why, theground's as hard as iron.'
'There's a big boy,' observed Miss Howard, eyeing George Cheek through thewindow.
'Let's have him in, and see what he's got to say for himself,' said MissGlitters.
'_You_ ask him, then,' rejoined Miss Howard, who didn't care to riskanother rub.
'Peter,' said Lady Scattercash to the footman, who had been loiteringabout, listening to the conversation,--'Peter, go and ask that tall boywith the blue neckerchief and the riband round his hat to come in.'
'Yes, my lady,' replied Peter.
'And the (hiccup) Spooneys, and the (hiccup) Bulgeys, and the (hiccup)Raws, and all the little (hiccup) rascals,' added Sir Harry.
'The Raws won't come. Sir H.,' observed Miss Howard soberly.
'Bigger fools they,' replied Sir Harry.
Presently Peter returned with a tail, headed by George Cheek, who camestriding and slouching up the room, and stuck himself down on LadyScattercash's right. The small boys squeezed themselves in as they could,one by Captain Seedeybuck, another by Captain Bouncey, one by MissGlitters, a fourth by Miss Howard, and so on. They all fell ravenously uponthe provisions.
Gobble, gobble, gobble was the order of the day.
'Well, and how often have you been flogged this half?' asked LadyScattercash of George Cheek, as she gave him a cup of coffee.
Her ladyship hadn't much liking for youths of his age, and would just assoon vex them as not.
'Well, and how often have you been flogged this half?' asked she again, notgetting an answer to her first inquiry.
'Not at all,' growled Cheek, reddening up.
'Oh, flogged!' exclaimed Miss Glitters. 'You wouldn't have a young man likehim flogged; it's only the little boys that get that--is it, Mister Cheek?'
'To be sure not,' assented the youth.
'Mister Cheek's a man,' observed Miss Glitters, eyeing him archly, as hesat stuffing his mouth with currant-loaf plentifully besmeared withraspberry-jam. 'He'll be wanting a wife soon,' added she, smiling acrossthe table at Captain Seedeybuck.
'I question but he's got one,' observed the captain.
'No, ar haven't,' replied Cheek, pleased at the imputation.
'Then there's a chance for you. Miss G.,' retorted the captain. 'Mrs.George Cheek would look well on a glazed card with gilt edges.'
'What a cub!' exclaimed Miss Howard, in disgust.
'You're another,' replied Master Cheek, amidst a roar of laughter from theparty.
'Well, but you ask your master if you mayn't have a wife next half, andwe'll see if we can't arrange matters,' observed Miss Glitters.
'Noo, ar sharn't,' replied George, stuffing his mouth full of preservedapricot.
'Why not?' asked Miss Howard, 'Because--because--ar'll have somethin'younger,' replied George.
'Bravo, young Chesterfield!' exclaimed Miss Howard; adding, 'what it is tobe thick with Lord John Manners!'
'Ar'm not,' growled the boy, amidst the mirth of the company.
'Well, but what must we do with these little (hiccup)?'asked Sir Harry, at last rising from the breakfast-table, and lookinglistlessly round the company for an answer.
'Oh! liquor them well, and send them home to their mammas,' suggestedCaptain Bouncey, who was all for the drink.
'But they won't take their (hiccup),' replied Sir Harry, holding up aCuracao bottle to show how little had disappeared.
'Try them with cherry brandy,' suggested Captain Seedeybuck; adding, 'it'ssweeter. Now, young man,' continued he, addressing George Cheek, as hepoured him out a wineglassful, 'this is the real Daffy's elixir that youread of in the papers. It's the finest compound that ever was known. Itwill make your hair curl, your whiskers grow, and you a man before yourmother.'
'N-o-a, n-o-ar, don't want any more,' growled the young gentleman, turningaway in disgust. 'Ar won't drink any more.'
'Well, but be sociable,' observed Miss Howard, helping herself to a glass.
'N-o-a, no, ar don't want to be sociable,' growled he, diving into histrouser-pockets, and wriggling about on his chair.
'Well, then, what _will_ you do?' asked Miss Howard.
'Hunt,' replied the youth.
'Hunt!' exclaimed Bob Spangles; 'why, the ground's as hard as bricks.'
'N-o-a, it's not,' replied the youth.
'What a whelp!' exclaimed Miss Howard, rising from the table in disgust.
'My Uncle Jellyboy wouldn't let such a frost stop him, I know,' observedthe boy.
'Who's your Uncle Jellyboy?' asked Miss Glitters.
'He's a farmer, and keeps a few harriers at Scutley,' observed BobSpangles, _sotto voce_.
'And is that your extraordinary horse with all the legs?' asked MissHoward, putting her glass to her eye, and scrutinizing a lank,woolly-coated weed, getting led about by a blue-aproned gardener. 'Is thatyour extraordinary horse, with all the legs?' repeated she, following theanimal about with her glass.
'Hoots, it hasn't more legs than other people's,' growled George.
'It's got ten, at all events,' replied Miss Howard, to the astonishment ofthe juveniles.
'Nor, it hasn't,' replied George.
'Yes, it has,' rejoined the lady.
'Nor, it hasn't,' repeated George.
'Come and see,' said the lady; adding, 'perhaps it's put out some since yougot off.'
George slouched up to where she stood at the window.
'Now,' said he, as the gardener turned the horse round, and he saw it hadbut four, 'how many has it?'
'Ten!' replied Miss Howard.
'Hoots,' replied George, 'you think it's April Fool's Day, I dare say.'
'No, I don't,' replied Miss Howard; 'but I maintain your horse has tenlegs. See, now!' continued she, 'what do you call these coming here?'
'His two forelegs,' replied George.
'Well, two fours--twice four's eight, eh? and his two hind ones make ten.'
'Hoots,' growled George, amidst the mirth of his comrades, 'you're makin' afool o' one.'
'Well, but what must I do with all these little (hiccup) creatures?' askedSir Harry again, seeing the plot still thickening outside.
'Turn them out a bagman?' suggested Mr. Sponge, in an undertone; adding,'Watchorn
has a three-legged 'un, I know, in the hay-loft.'
'Oh, Watchorn wouldn't (hiccup) on such a day as this,' replied Sir Harry.'New Year's Day, too--most likely away, seeing his young hounds at walk.'
'We might see, at all events,' observed Mr. Sponge.
'Well,' assented Sir Harry, ringing the bell. 'Peter,' said he, as theservant answered the summons, 'I wish you would (hiccup) to Mr. Watchorn's,and ask if he'll have the kindness to (hiccup) down here.' Sir Harry wasobliged to be polite, for Watchorn, too, was on the 'free' list as MissGlitters called it.
'Yes, Sir Harry,' replied Peter, leaving the room.
Presently Peter's white legs were seen wending their way among the laurelsand evergreens, in the direction of Mr. Watchorn's house; he having a houseand grass for six cows, all whose milk, he declared, went to the puppiesand young hounds. Luckily, or unluckily perhaps, Mr. Watchorn was at home,and was in the act of shaving as Peter entered. He was a square-builtdark-faced, dark-haired, good-looking, ill-looking fellow who cultivatedhis face on the four-course system of husbandry. First, he had a barefallow--we mean a clean shave; that of course was followed by a full cropof hair all over, except on his upper lip; then he had a soldier's shave,off by the ear; which in turn was followed by a Newgate frill. The latterwas his present style. He had now no whiskers, but an immense protuberanceof bristly black hair, rising like a wave above his kerchief. Though hecared no more about hunting than his master, he was very fond of his redcoat, which he wore on all occasions, substituting a hat for a cap when'off duty,' as he called it. Having attired himself in his best scarlet, ofwhich he claimed three a year--one for wet days, one for dry days, anotherfor high days--very natty kerseymere shorts and gaiters, with asmall-striped, standing-collar, toilenette waistcoat, he proceeded to obeythe summons.
'Watchorn,' said Sir Harry, as the important gentleman appeared at thebreakfast-room door--'Watchorn, these young (hiccup) gentlemen want a(hiccup) hunt.'
'Oh! want must be their master, Sir 'Arry,' replied Watchorn, with a broadgrin on his flushed face, for he had been drinking all night, and was halfdrunk then.
'Can't you manage it?' asked Sir Harry, mildly.
''Ow is't possible. Sir 'Arry,' asked the huntsman, ''ow is't possible? Noman's fonder of 'untin' than I am, but to turn out on sich a day as thiswould be a daring--a desperate violation of all the laws of registeredpropriety. The Pope's bull would be nothin' to it!'
'How so?' asked Sir Harry, puzzled with the jumble.
'How so?' repeated Watchorn; 'how so? Why, in the fust place, it's a mortal'ard frost, 'arder nor hiron; in the second place, I've got no arrangementsmade--you can't turn out a pack of 'igh-bred fox-'ounds as you would a lotof "staggers" or "muggers"; and, in the third place, you'll knock all yournags to bits, and they are a deal better in their wind than they are ontheir legs, as it is. No, Sir 'Arry--no,' continued he, slowly andthoughtfully. 'No, Sir 'Arry, no. Be Cardinal Wiseman, for once. Sir 'Arry;be Cardinal Wiseman for once, and don't _think_ of it.'
'Well,' replied Sir Harry, looking at George Cheek, 'I suppose there's nohelp for it.'
'It was quite a thaw where I came from,' observed Cheek, half to Sir Harryand half to the huntsman.
''Deed, sir, 'deed,' replied Mr. Watchorn, with a chuck of his fringedchin, 'it generally is a thaw everywhere but where hounds meet.'
'My Uncle Jollyboy wouldn't be stopped by such a frost as this,' observedCheek.
''Deed, sir, 'deed,' replied Watchorn, 'your Uncle Jellyboy's a very finefeller, I dare say--very fine feller; no such conjurers in these parts ashe is. What man dare, I dare; he who dares more, is no man,' addedWatchorn, giving his fat thigh a hearty slap.
'Well done, old Talliho!' exclaimed Miss Glitters. 'We'll have you on thestage next.'
'What will you wet your whistle with after your fine speech?' asked LadyScattercash.
'Take a tumbler of chumpine, if there is any,' replied Watchorn, lookingabout for a long-necked bottle.
'Fear you'll come on badly,' observed Captain Seedeybuck, holding up anempty one, 'for Bouncey and I have just finished the last'; the captainchucking the bottle sideways on to the floor, and rolling it towards itscompanion in the corner.
'Have a fresh bottle,' suggested Lady Scattercash, drawing the bell-stringat her chair.
'Champagne,' said her ladyship, as the footman answered the summons.
'Two on 'em!' exclaimed Captain Bouncey.
'Three!' shouted Sir Harry.
'We'll have a regular set-to,' observed Miss Howard, who was fond ofchampagne.
'New Year's Day,' replied Bouncey, 'and ought to be properly observed.'
Presently, Fiz--z,--pop,--bang! Fiz--z,--pop,--bang! went the bottles; and,as the hissing beverage foamed over the bottle-necks, glasses were soughtand held out to catch the creaming contents.
'Here's a (hiccup) happy new year to us all!' exclaimed Sir Harry, drinkingoff his wine. 'H-o-o-ray!' exclaimed the company in irregular order, asthey drank off theirs.
'We'll drink Mr. Watchorn and the Nonsuch hounds!' exclaimed Bob Spangles,as Watchorn, having drained off his tumbler, replaced it on the sideboard.
'With all the honours!' exclaimed Captain Cutitfat, filling his glass andrising to give the time; 'Watchorn, your good health!' 'Watchorn, your goodhealth!' sounded from all parts, which Watchorn kept acknowledging, andlooking about for the means to return the compliment, his friends beingmore intent upon drinking his health than upon supplying him with wine. Atlast he caught the third of a bottle of 'chumpine,' and, emptying it intohis tumbler, held it up while he thus addressed them:
'Gen'lemen all!' said he, 'I thank you most 'ticklarly for this mark ofyour 'tention (applause); it's most gratifying to my feelins to be thusremembered (applause). I could say a great deal more, but the liquor won'twait.' So saying, he drained off his glass while the wine effervesced.
'Well, and what d'ye (hiccup) of the weather now?' asked Sir Harry, as hishuntsman again deposited his tumbler on the sideboard.
'Pon my soul! Sir 'Arry,' replied Watchorn, quite briskly, 'I really thinkwe _might_ 'unt--we might try, at all events. The day seems changed,some'ow,' added he, staring vacantly out of the window on the bright sunnylandscape, with the leafless trees dancing before his eyes.
'_I_ think so,' said Sir Harry. 'What do you think, Mr. Sponge?' added he,appealing to our hero.
'Half an hour may make a great difference,' observed Mr. Sponge. 'The sunwill then be at its best.'
'We'll try, at all events,' observed Sir Harry.
'That's right,' exclaimed George Cheek, waving a scarlet bandana over hishead.
'I shall expect you to ride up to the 'ounds, young gent,' observedWatchorn, darting an angry look at the speaker.
'Won't I, old boy!' exclaimed George; 'ride over you, if you don't get outof the way.'
''Deed,' sneered the huntsman, whisking about to leave the room; muttering,as he passed behind the large Indian screen at the door, something about'jawing jackanapes, well called Cheek.'
''Unt in 'alf an hour!' exclaimed Watchorn, from the steps of the frontdoor; an announcement that was received by the little Raws, and littleSpooneys, and little Baskets, and little Bulgeys, and little Bricks, andlittle others, with rapturous applause.
All was now commotion and hurry-scurry inside and out; glasses weredrained, lips wiped, and napkins thrown hastily away, while ladies andgentlemen began grouping and talking about hats and habits, and what theyshould ride.
'You go with me, Orlando,' said Lady Scattercash to our friend Bugles,recollecting the quantity of diachylon plaster it had taken to repair thedamage of his former equestrian performance. 'You go with me, Orlando,'said she, 'in the phaeton; and I'll lend Lucy,' nodding towards MissGlitters, 'my habit and horse.'
'Who can lend me a coat?' asked Captain Seedeybuck, examining the skirts ofa much frayed invisible-green surtout.
'A coat!' replied Captain Quod; 'I can lend you a Joinville, if that willdo as well,' the captain feeling his own
extensive one as he spoke.
'Hardly,' said Seedeybuck, turning about to ask Sir Harry.
'What!--you are going to give Watchorn a tussle, are you?' asked CaptainCutitfat of George Cheek, as the latter began adjusting the fox-toothedriband about his hat.
'I believe you,' replied George, with a knowing jerk of his head; adding,'it won't take much to beat him.'
'What! he's a slow 'un, is he?' asked Cutitfat, in an undertone.
'Slowest coach I ever saw,' growled George.
'Won't ride, won't he?' asked the Captain.
'Not if he can help it,' replied George, adding, 'but he's such a shockinghuntsman--never saw such a huntsman in all my life.'
George's experience lay between his Uncle Jellyboy, who rode eighteen stoneand a half, Tom Scramble, the pedestrian huntsman of the Slowfoot hounds,near Mr. Latherington's, and Mr. Watchorn. But critics, especially huntingones, are all ready made, as Lord Byron said.
'Well, we'd better disperse and get ready,' observed Bob Spangles, makingfor the door; whereupon the tide of population flowed that way, and theroom was presently cleared.
George Cheek and the juveniles then returned to their friends in the front;and George got up pony races among the Johnny Raws, the Baskets, theBulgeys, and the Spooneys, thrice round the carriage ring and a distance,to the detriment of the gravel and the discomfiture of the flower-bed inthe centre.
Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour Page 63