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family. - Stubbs, your good health. - Spiers, Crane, etc." The bottles
then pass round three times, on each of which occasions Mrs. Jorrocks
makes them pay toll. The fourth time she let them pass; and Jorrocks
began to grunt, hem, and haw, and kick the leg of the table, by way of
giving her a hint to depart. This caused a dead silence, which at length
was broken by the Yorkshireman's exclaiming "horrid pause!"

"Horrid paws!" vociferated Mrs. J - - , in a towering rage, "so would
yours, let me tell you, sir, if you had helped to cook all that dinner":
and gathering herself up and repeating the words "horrid paws, indeed,
I like your imperence," she sailed out of the room like an exasperated
turkey-cock; her face, from heat, anger, and the quantity she had drank,
being as red as her gown. Indeed, she looked for all the world as if she
had been put into a furnace and blown red hot. Jorrocks having got rid
of his "worser half," as he calls her, let out a reef or two of his acre
of white waistcoat, and each man made himself comfortable according to
his acceptation of the term. "Gentlemen," says Jorrocks, "I'll trouble
you to charge your glasses, 'eel-taps off - a bumper toast - no
skylights, if you please. Crane, pass the wine - you are a regular
old stop-bottle - a turnpike gate, in fact. I think you take back
hands - gentlemen, are you all charged? - then I'll give you THE NOBLE
SPORT OF FOX-'UNTING! gentlemen, with three times three, and Crane will
give the 'ips - all ready - now, ip, 'ip, 'ip, 'uzza, 'uzza, 'uzza - 'ip,
'ip, 'ip, 'uzza, 'uzza, 'uzza - 'ip, 'ip, 'ip, 'uzza, 'uzza, 'uzza. - one
cheer more, 'UZZA!" After this followed "The Merry Harriers," then came
"The Staggers," after that "The Trigger, and bad luck to Cheatum,"
all bumpers; when Jorrocks, having screwed his courage up to the
sticking-place, called for another, which being complied with, he rose
and delivered himself as follows:

"Gentlemen, in rising to propose the toast which I am now about to
propose - I feel - I feel - (Yorkshireman - 'very queer?') J - - No,
not verry queer, and I'll trouble you to hold your jaw (laughter).
Gentlemen, I say, in rising to propose the toast which I am about to
give, I feel - I feel - (Crane - 'werry nervous?') J - - No, not werry
nervous, so none of your nonsense; let me alone, I say. I say, in
rising to propose the toast which I am about to give, I feel - (Mr.
Spiers - 'very foolish?' Nimrod - 'very funny?' Crane - 'werry rum?') J - -
No, werry proud of the distinguished honour that has been conferred upon
me - conferred upon me - conferred upon me - distinguished honour that has
been conferred upon me by the presence, this day, of one of the most
distinguished men - distinguished men - by the presence, this day, of one
of the most distinguished men and sportsmen - of modern times (cheers.)
Gentlemen - this is the proudest moment of my life! the eyes of England
are upon us! I give you the health of Mr. Happerley Nimrod." (Drunk with
three times three.)

When the cheering, and dancing of the glasses had somewhat subsided,
Nimrod rose and spoke as follows:

"Mr. Jorrocks, and gentlemen",

"The handsome manner in which my health has been proposed by our worthy
and estimable host, and the flattering reception it has met with from
you, merit my warmest acknowledgments. I should, indeed, be unworthy of
the land which gave me birth, were I insensible of the honour which has
just been done me by so enlightened and distinguished an assembly as the
present. My friend, Mr. Jorrocks, has been pleased to designate me as
one of the most distinguished sportsmen of the day, a title, however,
to which I feel I have little claim: but this I may say, that I have
portrayed our great national sports in their brightest and most glowing
colours, and that on sporting subjects my pen shall yield to none
(cheers). I have ever been the decided advocate of many sports and
exercises, not only on account of the health and vigour they inspire,
but because I feel that they are the best safeguards on a nation's
energies, and the best protection against luxury, idleness, debauchery,
and effeminacy (cheers). The authority of all history informs us,
that the energies of countries flourished whilst manly sports have
flourished, and decayed as they died away (cheers). What says Juvenal,
when speaking of the entry of luxury into Rome?"

Saevior armis
Luxuria incubuit, victumque ulciscitur orbem.

"And we need only refer to ancient history, and to the writings of
Xenophon, Cicero, Horace, or Virgil, for evidence of the value they have
all attached to the encouragement of manly, active, and hardy pursuits,
and the evils produced by a degenerate and effeminate life on the
manners and characters of a people (cheers). Many of the most eminent
literary characters of this and of other countries have been ardently
attached to field sports; and who, that has experienced their beneficial
results, can doubt that they are the best promoters of the _mens sana
in corpore sano_ - the body sound and the understanding clear (cheers)?
Gentlemen, it is with feelings of no ordinary gratification that I find
myself at the social and truly hospitable board of one of the most
distinguished ornaments of one of the most celebrated Hunts in this
great country, one whose name and fame have reached the four corners
of the globe - to find myself after so long an absence from my native
land - an estrangement from all that has ever been nearest and dearest to
my heart - once again surrounded by these cheerful countenances which
so well express the honest, healthful pursuits of their owners. Let
us then," added Nimrod, seizing a decanter and pouring himself out a
bumper, "drink, in true Kentish fire, the health and prosperity of
that brightest sample of civic sportsmen, the great and renowned JOHN
JORROCKS!"

Immense applause followed the conclusion of this speech, during which
time the decanters buzzed round the table, and the glasses being
emptied, the company rose, and a full charge of Kentish fire followed;
Mr. Jorrocks, sitting all the while, looking as uncomfortable as men in
his situation generally do.

The cheering having subsided, and the parties having resumed their
seats, it was his turn to rise, so getting on his legs, he essayed to
speak, but finding, as many men do, that his ideas deserted him the
moment the "eyes of England" were turned upon him, after two or three
hitches of his nankeens, and as many hems and haws, he very coolly
resumed his seat, and spoke as follows:

"Gentlemen, unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I am taken quite
aback by this werry unexpected compliment (cheers); never since I filled
the hancient and honerable hoffice of churchwarden in the populous
parish of St. Botolph Without, have I experienced a gratification equal
to the present. I thank you from the werry bottom of my breeches-pocket
(applause). Gentlemen, I'm no horator, but I'm a honest man (cheers).
I should indeed be undeserving the name of a sportsman - undeserving of
being a member of that great and justly celebrated 'unt, of which Mr.
Happerley Nimrod has spun so handsome and flattering a yarn, if I
did not feel deeply proud of the compliment you have paid it. It is
unpossible for me to follow that great sporting scholar fairly over the
ridge and furrow of his werry intricate and elegant horation, for there
are many of those fine gentlemen's names - French, I presume - that he
mentioned, that I never heard of before, and cannot recollect; but if
you will allow me to run 'eel a little, I would make a few hobservations
on a few of his hobservations. - Mr. Happerley Nimrod, gentlemen, was
pleased to pay a compliment to what he was pleased to call my something
'ospitality. I am extremely obliged to him for it. To be surrounded
by one's friends is in my mind the 'Al' of 'uman 'appiness (cheers).
Gentlemen, I am most proud of the honour of seeing you all here to-day,
and I hope the grub has been to your likin' (cheers), if not, I'll
discharge my butcher. On the score of quantity there might be a little
deficiency, but I hope the quality was prime. Another time this shall
be all remedied (cheers). Gentlemen, I understand those cheers, and I'm
flattered by them - I likes 'ospitality! - I'm not the man to keep my
butter in a 'pike-ticket, or my coals in a quart pot (immense cheering).
Gentlemen, these are my sentiments, I leaves the flowers of speech to
them as is better acquainted with botany (laughter) - I likes plain
English, both in eating and talking, and I'm happy to see Mr. Happerley
Nimrod has not forgot his, and can put up with our homely fare, and do
without pantaloon cutlets, blankets of woe,[27] and such-like miseries."

[Footnote 27: "Blanquette de veau."]

"I hates their 'orse douvers (hors-d'oeuvres), their rots, and their
poisons (poissons); 'ord rot 'em, they near killed me, and right glad am
I to get a glass of old British black strap. And talking of black strap,
gentlemen, I call on old Crane, the man what supplies it, to tip us
a song. So now I'm finished - and you, Crane, lap up your liquor and
begin!" (applause).

Crane was shy - unused to sing in company - nevertheless, if it was
the wish of the party, and if it would oblige his good customer, Mr.
Jorrocks, he would try his hand at a stave or two made in honour of the
immortal Surrey. Having emptied his glass and cleared his windpipe,
Crane commenced:

"Here's a health to them that can ride!
Here's a health to them that can ride!
And those that don't wish good luck to the cause.
May they roast by their own fireside!
It's good to drown care in the chase,
It's good to drown care in the bowl.
It's good to support Daniel Haigh and his hounds,
Here's his health from the depth of my soul."

CHORUS

"Hurrah for the loud tally-ho!
Hurrah for the loud tally-ho!
It's good to support Daniel Haigh and his hounds.
And echo the shrill tally-ho!"

"Here's a health to them that can ride!
Here's a health to them that ride bold!
May the leaps and the dangers that each has defied,
In columns of sporting be told!
Here's freedom to him that would walk!
Here's freedom to him that would ride!
There's none ever feared that the horn should be heard
Who the joys of the chase ever tried."

"Hurrah for the loud tally-ho!
Hurrah for the loud tally-ho!
It's good to support Daniel Haigh and his hounds,
And halloo the loud tally-ho!"

"Beautiful! beautiful!" exclaimed Jorrocks, clapping his hands and
stamping as Crane had ceased.

"A werry good song, and it's werry well sung.
Jolly companions every one!"

"Gentlemen, pray charge your glasses - there's one toast we must drink in
a bumper if we ne'er take a bumper again. Mr. Spiers, pray charge your
glass - Mr. Stubbs, vy don't you fill up? - Mr. Nimrod, off with your 'eel
taps, pray - I'll give ye the 'Surrey 'Unt,' with all my 'art and soul.
Crane, my boy, here's your werry good health, and thanks for your song!"
(All drink the Surrey Hunt and Crane's good health, with applause, which
brings him on his legs with the following speech):

"Gentlemen, unaccustomed as I am to public speaking (laughter), I beg
leave on behalf of myself and the absent members of the Surrey 'Unt, to
return you our own most 'artfelt thanks for the flattering compliment
you have just paid us, and to assure you that the esteem and approbation
of our fellow-sportsmen is to us the magnum bonum of all earthly
'appiness (cheers and laughter). Gentlemen, I will not trespass longer
upon your valuable time, but as you seem to enjoy this wine of my friend
Mr. Jorrocks's, I may just say that I have got some more of the same
quality left, at from forty-two to forty-eight shillings a dozen, also
some good stout draught port, at ten and sixpence a gallon - some ditto
werry superior at fifteen; also foreign and British spirits, and Dutch
liqueurs, rich and rare." The conclusion of the vintner's address was
drowned in shouts of laughter. Mr. Jorrocks then called upon the company
in succession for a toast, a song, or a sentiment. Nimrod gave, "The
Royal Staghounds"; Crane gave, "Champagne to our real friends, and real
pain to our sham friends"; Green sung, "I'd be a butterfly"; Mr. Stubbs
gave, "Honest men and bonnie lasses"; and Mr. Spiers, like a patriotic
printer, gave, "The liberty of the Press," which he said was like
fox-hunting - "if we have it not we die" - all of which Mr. Jorrocks
applauded as if he had never heard them before, and drank in bumpers. It
was evident that unless tea was speedily announced he would soon become;

O'er the ills of life victorious,

for he had pocketed his wig, and had been clipping the Queen's English
for some time. After a pause, during which his cheeks twice changed
colour, from red to green and back to red, he again called for a bumper
toast, which he prefaced with the following speech, or parts of a
speech:

"Gentlemen - in rising - propose toast about to give - feel werry - feel
werry - (Yorkshireman, 'werry muzzy?') J - - feel werry - (Mr. Spiers,
'werry sick?') J - - werry - (Crane, 'werry thirsty?') J - - feel
werry - (Nimrod, 'werry wise?') J - - no; but werry sensible - great
compliment - eyes of England upon us - give you the health - Mr. Happerley
Nimrod - three times three!"

He then attempted to rise for the purpose of marking the time, but his
legs deserted his body, and after two or three lurches down he went with
a tremendous thump under the table. He called first for "Batsay," then
for "Binjimin," and, game to the last, blurted out, "Lift me up! - tie me
in my chair! - fill my glass!"



XIII. THE DAY AFTER THE FEAST:
AN EPISODE BY THE YORKSHIREMAN

On the morning after Mr. Jorrocks's "dinner party" I had occasion to go
into the city, and took Great Coram Street in my way. My heart misgave
me when I recollected Mrs. J - - and her horrid paws, but still I
thought it my duty to see how the grocer was after his fall. Arrived at
the house I rang the area bell, and Benjamin, who was cleaning knives
below, popped his head up, and seeing who it was, ran upstairs and
opened the door. His master was up, he said, but "werry bad," and his
misses was out. Leaving him to resume his knife-cleaning occupation, I
slipped quietly upstairs, and hearing a noise in the bedroom, opened the
door, and found Jorrocks sitting in his dressing-gown in an easy chair,
with Betsey patting his bald head with a damp towel.

"Do that again, Batsay! Do that again!" was the first sound I heard,
being an invitation to Betsey to continue her occupation. "Here's the
Yorkshireman, sir," said Betsey, looking around.

"Ah, Mr. York, how are you this morning?" said he, turning a pair of
eyes upon me that looked like boiled gooseberries - his countenance
indicating severe indisposition. "Set down, sir; set down - I'm werry
bad - werry bad indeed - bad go last night. Doesn't do to go to the
lush-crib this weather. How are you, eh? tell me all about it. Is Mr.
Nimrod gone?"

"Don't know," said I; "I have just come from Lancaster Street, where I
have been seeing an aunt, and thought I would take Great Coram Street in
my way to the city, to ask how you do - but where's Mrs. Jorrocks?"

_Jorrocks_. Oh, cuss Mrs. J - - ; I knows nothing about her - been reading
the Riot Act, and giving her red rag a holiday all the morning - wish
to God I'd never see'd her - took her for better and worser, it's werry
true; but she's a d - - d deal worser than I took her for. Hope your
hat may long cover your family. Mrs. J - - 's gone to the Commons to
Jenner - swears she'll have a diworce, a _mensa et thorax_, I think
she calls it - wish she may get it - sick of hearing her talk about
it - Jenner's the only man wot puts up with her, and that's because he
gets his fees. Batsay, my dear! you may damp another towel, and then
get me something to cool my coppers - all in a glow, I declare - complete
fever. You whiles go to the lush-crib, Mr. Yorkshireman; what now do you
reckon best after a regular drench?

_Yorkshireman._ Oh, nothing like a glass of soda-water with a bottom of
brandy - some people prefer a sermon, but that won't suit you or I. After
your soda and brandy take a good chivy in the open air, and you'll be
all right by dinner-time.

_Jorrocks._ Right I Bliss ye, I shall niver be right again. I can
scarce move out of my chair, I'm so bad - my head's just fit to split in
two - I'm in no state to be seen.

_Yorkshireman._ Oh, pooh! - get your soda-water and brandy, then have
some strong coffee and a red herring, and you'll be all right, and
if you'll find cash, I'll find company, and we'll go and have a lark
together.

_Jorrocks._ Couldn't really be seen out - -besides, cash is werry scarce.
By the way, now that I come to think on it, I had a five-pounder in my
breeches last night. Just feel in the pocket of them 'ere nankeens, and
see that Mrs. J - - has not grabbed it to pay Jenner's fee with.

_Yorkshireman_ (feels). No - all right - here it is - No. 10,497 - I promise
to pay Mr. Thos. Rippon, or bearer, on demand, five pounds! Let's demand
it, and go and spend the cash.

_Jorrocks._ No, no - put it back - or into the table-drawer, see - fives
are werry scarce with me - can't afford it - must be just before I'm
generous.

_Yorkshireman._ Well, then, J - - , you must just stay at home and get
bullied by Mrs. J - - , who will be back just now, I dare say, perhaps
followed by Jenner and half Doctors' Commons.

_Jorrocks_. The deuce! I forgot all that - curse Mrs. J - - and the
Commons too. Well, Mr. Yorkshireman, I don't care if I do go with
you - but where shall it be to? Some place where we can be quiet, for I
really am werry bad, and not up to nothing like a lark.

_Yorkshireman_. Suppose we take a sniff of the
briny - Margate - Ramsgate - Broadstairs?

_Jorrocks_. No, none of them places - over-well-known at 'em all - can't
be quiet - get to the lush-crib again, perhaps catch the cholera and go
to Gravesend by mistake. Let's go to the Eel Pye at Twickenham and live
upon fish.

_Yorkshireman_. Fish! you old flat. Why, you know, you'd be the first to
cry out if you had to do so. No, no - let's have no humbug - here, drink
your coffee like a man, and then hustle your purse and see what it will
produce. Why, even Betsey's laughing at the idea of your living upon
fish.

_Jorrocks_. Don't shout so, pray - your woice shoots through every nerve
of my head and distracts me (drinks). This is grand Mocho - quite the
cordial balm of Gilead - werry fine indeed. Now I feel rewived and can
listen to you.

_Yorkshireman_. Well, then, pull on your boots - gird up your loins, and
let's go and spend this five pounds - stay away as long as it lasts, in
fact.

_Jorrocks_. Well, but give me the coin - it's mine you know - and let me
be paymaster, or I know you'll soon be into dock again. That's right;
and now I have got three half-crowns besides, which I will add.

_Yorkshireman_. And I've got three pence, which, not to be behind-hand
in point of liberality, I'll do the same with, so that we have got five
pounds seven shillings and ninepence between us, according to Cocker.

_Jorrocks_. Between us, indeed! I likes that. You're a generous
churchwarden.

_Yorkshireman_. Well - we won't stand upon trifles the principle is the
thing I look to - and not the amount. So now where to, your honour?

After a long parley, we fixed upon Herne Bay. Our reasons for doing so
were numerous, though it would be superfluous to mention them, save
that the circumstance of neither of us ever having been there, and the
prospect of finding a quiet retreat for Jorrocks to recover in, were the
principal ones. Our arrangements were soon made. "Batsay," said J - - to
his principessa of a cook, slut, and butler, "the Yorkshireman and I are
going out of town to stay five pounds seven and ninepence, so put up my
traps." Two shirts (one to wash the other as he said), three pairs of
stockings, with other etceteras, were stamped into a carpet-bag, and
taking a cab, we called at the "Piazza," where I took a few things, and
away we drove to Temple Bar. "Stop here with the bags," said Jorrocks,
"while I go to the Temple Stairs and make a bargain with a Jacob
Faithful to put us on board, for if they see the bags they'll think it's
a case of necessity, and ask double; whereas I'll pretend I'm just going
a-pleasuring, and when I've made a bargain, I'll whistle, and you can
come." Away he rolled, and after the lapse of a few minutes I heard a
sort of shilling-gallery cat-call, and obeying the summons, found he had
concluded a bargain for one and sixpence. We reached St. Catherine's
Docks just as the Herne Bay boat - the _Hero_ - moored alongside,
consequently were nearly the first on board.

Herne Bay being then quite in its infancy, and this being what the cits
call a "weekday," they had rather a shy cargo, nor had they any of that
cockney tomfoolery that generally characterises a Ramsgate or Margate
crew, more particularly a Margate one. Indeed, it was a very slow cargo,
Jorrocks being the only character on board, and he was as sulky as a
bear with a sore head when anyone approached. The day was beautifully
fine, and a thin grey mist gradually disappeared from the Kentish hills
as we passed down the Thames. The river was gay enough. Adelaide, Queen
of Great Britain and Ireland, was expected on her return from Germany,
and all the vessels hung out their best and gayest flags and colours to
do her honour. The towns of Greenwich and Woolwich were in commotion.
Charity schools were marching, and soldiers were doing the like, while
steamboats went puffing down the river with cargoes to meet and escort
Her Majesty. When we got near Tilbury Fort, a man at the head of the
steamer announced that we should meet the Queen in ten minutes, and all
the passengers crowded on to the paddle-box of the side on which she
was to pass, to view and greet her. Jorrocks even roused himself up
and joined the throng. Presently a crowd of steamers were seen in the
distance, proceeding up the river at a rapid pace, with a couple of
lofty-masted vessels in tow, the first of which contained the royal
cargo. The leading steamboat was the celebrated _Magnet_ - considered
the fastest boat on the river, and the one in which Jorrocks and myself
steamed from Margate, racing against and beating the _Royal William._
This had the Lord Mayor and Aldermen on board, who had gone down to the
extent of the city jurisdiction to meet the Queen, and have an excuse
for a good dinner. The deck presented a gay scene, being covered with a
military band, and the gaudy-liveried lackeys belonging to the Mansion
House, and sheriffs whose clothes were one continuous mass of gold lace
and frippery, shining beautifully brilliant in the midday sun. The royal
yacht, with its crimson and gold pennant floating on the breeze, came
towering up at a rapid pace, with the Queen sitting under a canopy on
deck. As we neared, all hats were off, and three cheers - or at least as
many as we could wedge in during the time the cortège took to sweep past
us - were given, our band consisting of three brandy-faced musicians,
striking up _God save the King_ - a compliment which Her Majesty
acknowledged by a little mandarining; and before the majority of the
passengers had recovered from the astonishment produced by meeting a
live Queen on the Thames, the whole fleet had shot out of sight. By the
time the ripple on the water, raised by their progress, had subsided,
we had all relapsed into our former state of apathy and sullenness. A
duller or staider set I never saw outside a Quakers' meeting. Still the
beggars eat, as when does a cockney not in the open air? The stewards of
these steamboats must make a rare thing of their places, for they have
plenty of custom at their own prices. In fact, being in a steamboat is a
species of personal incarceration, and you have only the option between
bringing your own prog, or taking theirs at whatever they choose to
charge - unless, indeed, a person prefers going without any. Jorrocks
took nothing. He laid down again after the Queen had passed, and never
looked up until we were a mile or two off Herne Bay.

With the reader's permission, we will suppose that we have just landed,
and, bags in hand, ascended the flight of steps that conduct passengers,
as it were, from the briny ocean on to the stage of life.

"My eyes!" said Jorrocks, as he reached the top, "wot a pier, and wot
a bit of a place! Why, there don't seem to be fifty houses altogether,
reckoning the windmill in the centre as one. What's this thing?" said
he to a ticket-porter, pointing to a sort of French diligence-looking


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