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interrupted by a loud horse-laugh raised by two or three toll-takers and
boys lounging about the gate.

"I say, Tom, twig this 'ere machine," said one. "Dash my buttons, I
never seed such a thing in all my life." "What's to pay?" inquired
Jorrocks, pulling up with great dignity, their observations not having
penetrated the cloak collar which encircled his ears. "To pay!" said the
toll-taker - "vy, vot do ye call your consarn?" "Why, a phaeton," said
Jorrocks. "My eyes! that's a good 'un," said another. "I say, Jim - he
calls this 'ere thing a phe-a-ton!" "A phe-a-ton! - vy, it's more like a
fire-engine," said Jim. "Don't be impertinent," said Jorrocks, who had
pulled down his collar to hear what he had to pay - "but tell me what's
to pay?" "Vy, it's a phe-a-ton drawn by von or more 'orses," said
the toll-taker; "and containing von or more asses," said Tom.
"Sixpence-halfpenny, sir," "You are a saucy fellow," said Jorrocks.
"Thank ye, master, you're another," said the toll-taker; "and now that
you have had your say, vot do ye ax for your mouth?" "I say, sir, do you
belong to the Phenix? Vy don't you show your badge?" "I say, Tom, that
'ere fire-engine has been painted by some house-painter, it's never been
in the hands of no coach-maker. Do you shave by that 'ere glazed castor
of yours?" "I'm blowed it I wouldn't get you a shilling a week to
shove your face in sand, to make moulds for brass knockers." "Ay, get
away! - make haste, or the fire will be out," bawled out another, as
Jorrocks whipped on, and rattled out of hearing.

"Now, you see," said he, resuming the thread of his discourse, as if
nothing had happened, "this back seat turns down and makes a box, so
that when Mrs. J - - goes to her mother's at Tooting, she can take all
her things with her, instead of sending half of them by the coach as she
used to do; and if we are heavy, there is a pole belonging to it, so
that we can have two horses; and then there is a seat draws out here
(pulling a stool from between his legs) which anybody can sit on." "Yes,
anybody that is small enough," said the Yorkshireman, "but you would cut
a queer figure on it, I reckon." The truth was, that the "fire-engine"
was one of those useless affairs built by some fool upon a plan of his
own, with the idea of combining every possible comfort and advantage,
and in reality not possessing one. Friend Jorrocks had seen it at a
second-hand shop in Fore Street, and became the happy owner of it, in
exchange for the cruelty-van and seventeen pounds. - Their appearance on
the road created no small sensation, and many were the jokes passed upon
the "fire-engine." One said they were mountebanks; another that it was
a horse-break; a third asked if it was one of Gurney's steam-carriages,
while a fourth swore it was a new convict-cart going to Brixton.
Jorrocks either did not or would not hear their remarks, and kept
expatiating upon the different purposes to which the machine might be
converted, and the stoutness of the horse that was drawing it.

As they approached the town of Croydon, he turned his cloak over his
legs in a very workman-like manner, and was instantly hailed by some
brother sportsmen; - one complimented him on his looks, another on his
breeches, a third praised his horse, a fourth abused the fire-engine,
and a fifth inquired where he got his glazed hat. He had an answer for
them all, and a nod or a wink for every pretty maid that showed at the
windows; for though past the grand climacteric, he still has a spice of
the devil in him - and, as he says, "there is no harm in looking." The
"Red Lion" at Smitham Bottom was the rendezvous of the day. It is a
small inn on the Brighton road, some three or four miles below Croydon.
On the left of the road stands the inn, on the right is a small
training-ground, and the country about is open common and down. There
was an immense muster about the inn, and also on the training-ground,
consisting of horsemen, gig-men, post-chaise-men, footmen, - Jorrocks and
the Yorkshireman made the firemen.

"Here's old Jorrocks, I do declare", exclaimed one, as Jorrocks drove
the fire-engine up at as quick a pace as his horse would go. "Why,
what a concern he's in", said another, "why, the old man's mad,
surely". - "He's good for a subscription," added another, addressing him.
"I say, Jorrocks, old boy, you'll give us ten pound for our hounds
won't you? - that's a good fellow." "Oh yes, Jorrocks promised us a
subscription last year," observed another, "and he is a man of his
word - arn't you old leather breeches?" "No, gentlemen," said Jorrocks,
standing up in the fire-engine, and sticking the whip into its nest,
"I really cannot - I wish I could, but I really cannot afford it. Times
really are so bad, and I have my own pack to subscribe to, and I must
be 'just before I am generous.'" "Oh, but ten pounds is nothing in your
way, you know, Jorrocks - adulterate a chest of tea. Old - - here will
give you all the leaves off his ash-trees." "No," said Jorrocks,
"I really cannot - ten pounds is ten pounds, and I must cut my coat
according to my cloth." "By Jove, but you must have had plenty of cloth
when you cut that coat you've got on, old boy. Why there's as much cloth
in the laps as would make a pair of horse-sheets." "Never mind," said
Jorrocks, "I wear it, and not you." "Now," said Jorrocks in an undertone
to the Yorkshireman, "you see what an unconscionable set of dogs these
stag-'unters are. They're at every man for a subscription, and talk
about guineas as if they grew upon gooseberry-bushes. Besides, they are
such a rubbishing set - all drafts from the fox'ounds. - Now there's a
chap on a piebald just by the trees - he goes into the _Gazette_ reglarly
once in three years, and yet to see him out, you'd fancy all the country
round belonged to him. And there's a buck with his bearing-rein so tight
that he can hardly move his neck," pointing to a gentleman in scarlet,
with a tremendous stiff blue cravat - "he lives by keeping a mad-house
and being werry high, consequential sort of a cock, they calls him the
'Lord High Keeper!' - I'll tell ye a joke about that fellow," said he,
pointing to a man alighting from a red-wheeled buggy - "he's a werry
shabby screw, and is always trying to save a penny. - Well, he hires a
young half-witted hawbuck for a servant, who didn't clean his boots to
his liking, so he began reading the Riot Act one day, and concluded by
saying, 'I'm blowed if I couldn't clean them better myself with a little
pump-water.' - The next day, up came the boots duller than ever. - 'Bless
my soul,' exclaimed he, 'why, they are worse than before, how's this,
sir?' - 'Please, sir, you said you could clean them better with a little
pump-water, so I tried it, and I do think they are worse!' Haw! haw!
haw! - Yon chap in the black plush breeches and Hessians, standing by the
ginger-pop tray, is the only man what ever got the better of me in the
'oss-dealing line, and he certainlie did bite me uncommon 'andsomely.
I gave him three and twenty pounds, a strong violin case with patent
hinges, lined with superfine green baize, and an uncut copy of
Middleton's _Cicero_, for an 'oss that the blacksmith really declared
wasn't worth shoeing. - Howsomever, I paid him off, for I christened the
'oss Barabbas - who, you knows, was a robber - and the seller has gone by
the name of Barabbas ever since."

"Well, but tell me, gentlemen, where do we dine?" inquired Jorrocks,
turning to a group who had just approached the fire-engine. "We don't
know yet," said a gentleman in scarlet, "the deer has not come yet; but
yonder he is," pointing up the road to a covered cart, "and there are
the hounds just coming over the hill at the back." The covered cart
approached, and several went to meet it. The cry of "Oh, it's old
Tunbridge," was soon heard. "Well, we shall have a good dinner," said
Jorrocks, "if that is the case. Is it Tunbridge?" inquired he eagerly
of one of the party who returned from the deer-cart. "Yes, it's old
Tunbridge, and Snooks has ordered dinner at the Wells for sixteen at
five o'clock, so the first sixteen that get there had better look out."
"Here, bouy," said Jorrocks in an undertone to his servant, who was
leading his screws about on the green, "take this 'oss out of the
carriage, and give him a feed of corn, and then go on to Tunbridge
Wells, and tell Mr. Pegg, at the Sussex Arms, that I shall be there with
a friend to the dinner, and bid him write 'Jorrocks' upon two plates and
place them together. - Nothing like making sure," said he, chuckling at
his own acuteness.

"Now to 'orse - to 'orse!" exclaimed he, suiting the action to the word,
and climbing on to his great chestnut, leaving the Yorkshireman to mount
the rat-tail brown. "Let's have a look at the 'ounds", turning his horse
in the direction in which they were coming. Jonathan Griffin[16] took off
his cap to Jorrocks, as he approached, who waved his hand in the most
patronising manner possible, adding "How are you, Jonathan?" "Pretty
well, thank you, Mister Jorrocks, hope you're the same." "No, not the
same, for I'm werry well, which makes all the difference - haw! haw! haw!
You seem to have but a shortish pack, I think - ten, twelve, fourteen
couple - 'ow's that? We always take nine and twenty with the Surrey".
"Why, you see, Mister Jorrocks, stag-hunting and fox-hunting are very
different. The scent of the deer is very ravishing, and then we have no
drawing for our game. Besides, at this season, there are always bitches
to put back - but we have plenty of hounds for sport. - I suppose we may
be after turning out," added Jonathan, looking at his watch - "it's past
eleven."

[Footnote 16: Poor Jonathan, one of the hardest riders and drinkers of his
day, exists, like his pack, but in the recollection of mankind. He
was long huntsman to the late Lord Derby, who, when he gave up his
staghounds, made Jonathan a present of them, and for two or three
seasons he scratched on in an indifferent sort of way, until the hounds
were sold to go abroad - to Hungary, we believe.]

On hearing this, a gentleman off with his glove and began collecting,
or capping, prior to turning out - it being the rule of the hunt to make
sure of the money before starting, for fear of accidents. "Half a crown,
if you please, sir." "Now I'll take your half a crown." "Mr. Jorrocks,
shall I trouble you for half a crown?" "Oh, surely," said Jorrocks,
pulling out a handful of great five-shilling pieces; "here's for this
gentleman and myself," handing one of them over, "and I shan't even ask
you for discount for ready money." The capping went round, and a goodly
sum was collected. Meanwhile the deer-cart was drawn to the far side of
a thick fence, and the door being opened, a lubberly-looking animal, as
big as a donkey, blobbed out, and began feeding very composedly. "That
won't do," said Jonathan Griffin, eyeing him - "ride on, Tom, and whip
him away." Off went the whip, followed by a score of sportsmen whose
shouts, aided by the cracking of their whips, would have frightened the
devil himself; and these worthies, knowing the hounds would catch them
up in due time, resolved themselves into a hunt for the present, and
pursued the animal themselves. Ten minutes having expired and the hounds
seeming likely to break away, Jonathan thought it advisable to let them
have their wicked will, and accordingly they rushed off in full cry
to the spot where the deer had been uncarted. Of course, there was no
trouble in casting for the scent; indeed they were very honest, and did
not pretend to any mystery; the hounds knew within an inch where it
would be, and the start was pretty much like that for a hunter's plate
in four-mile heats. A few dashing blades rode before the hounds
at starting, but otherwise the field was tolerably quiet, and was
considerably diminished after the three first leaps. The scent improved,
as did the pace, and presently they got into a lane along which they
rattled for five miles as hard as ever they could lay legs to the
ground, throwing the mud into each other's faces, until each man looked
as if he was roughcast. A Kentish wagon, drawn by six oxen, taking up
the whole of the lane, had obliged the dear animal to take to the fields
again, where, at the first fence, most of our high-mettled racers stood
still. In truth, it was rather a nasty place, a yawning ditch, with a
mud bank and a rotten landing. "Now, who's for it? Go it, Jorrocks,
you're a fox-hunter," said one, who, erecting himself in his stirrups,
was ogling the opposite side. "I don't like it," said Jorrocks; "is
never a gate near?" "Oh yes, at the bottom of the field," and away they
all tore for it. The hounds now had got out of sight, but were heard
running in cover at the bottom of the turnip-field into which they had
just passed, and also the clattering of horses' hoofs on the highway.
The hounds came out several times on to the road, evidently carrying the
scent, but as often threw up and returned into the cover. The huntsman
was puzzled at last; and quite convinced that the deer was not in the
wood, he called them out, and proceeded to make a cast, followed by the
majority of the field. They trotted about at a brisk pace, first to the
right, then to the left, afterwards to the north, and then to the
south, over grass, fallow, turnips, potatoes, and flints, through three
farmyards, round two horse-ponds, and at the back of a small village or
hamlet, without a note, save those of a few babblers. Everyone seemed to
consider it a desperate job. They were all puzzled; at last they heard
a terrible holloaing about a quarter of a mile to the south, and
immediately after was espied a group of horsemen, galloping along the
road at full speed, in the centre of which was Jorrocks; his green coat
wide open, with the tails flying a long way behind that of his horse,
his right leg was thrust out, down the side of which he kept applying
his ponderous hunting whip, making a most terrible clatter. As they
approached, he singled himself out from the group, and was the first to
reach the field. He immediately burst out into one of his usual hunting
energetic strains. "Oh Jonathan Griffin! Jonathan Griffin!" said he,
"here's a lamentable occurrence - a terrible disaster! Oh dear, oh
dear - we shall never get to Tunbridge - that unfortunate deer has escaped
us, and we shall never see nothing more of him - rely upon it, he's
killed before this." "Why, how's that?" inquired Griffin, evidently in a
terrible perturbation. "Why," said Jorrocks, slapping the whip down his
leg again, "there's a little girl tells me, that as she was getting
water at the well just at the end of the wood, where we lost him, she
saw what she took to be a donkey jump into a return post-chaise from the
'Bell', at Seven Oaks, that was passing along the road with the door
swinging wide open! and you may rely upon it, it was the deer. The
landlord of the 'Bell' will have cut his throat before this, for, you
know, he vowed wengeance against us last year, because his wife's
pony-chaise was upset, and he swore that we did it." "Oh, but that's a
bad job", said the huntsman; "what shall we do?" "Here, Tom," calling to
the whipper-in, "jump on to the Hastings coach" (which just came up),
"and try if you can't overtake him, and bring him back, chaise and all,
and I'll follow slowly with the hounds." Tom was soon up, the coach
bowled on, and Jonathan and the hounds trotted gently forward till they
came to a public-house. Here, as they stopped lamenting over their
unhappy fate, and consoling themselves with some cold sherry negus, the
post-chaise appeared in sight, with the deer's head sticking out of the
side window with all the dignity of a Lord Mayor. "Huzza! huzza! huzza!"
exclaimed Jorrocks, taking off his hat, "here's old Tunbridge come back
again, huzza! huzza!" "But who's to pay me for the po-chay," said the
driver, pulling up; "I must be paid before I let him out." "How much?"
says Jonathan. "Why, eighteen-pence a mile, to be sure, and three-pence
a mile to the driver." "No," says Jorrocks, "that won't do, yours is a
return chay; however, here's five shillings for you, and now, Jonathan,
turn him out again - he's quite fresh after his ride - and see, he's got
some straw in the bottom."

Old Tunbridge was again turned out, with his head towards the town from
whence he took his name, and after a quarter of an hour's law, the pack
was again laid on. He was not, however, in very good wind, and it was
necessary to divide the second chase into two heats, for which purpose
the hounds were whipped off about the middle, while the deer took a cold
bath, after which he was again set a-going. By half-past three they had
accomplished the run; and Mr. Pegg, of the "Sussex Arms," having mounted
his Pegasus, found them at the appointed place by the Medway, where old
Tunbridge's carriage was waiting, into which having handed him, they
repaired to the inn, and at five o'clock eighteen of them sat down to a
dinner consisting of every delicacy of the season, the Lord High Keeper
in the chair. Being all "hungry as hunters," little conversation passed
until after the removal of the cloth, when after the King and his
Majesty's Ministers had been drunk, the President gave "The noble, manly
sport of stag-hunting," which he eulogised as the most legitimate and
exhilarating of all sports, and sketched its progress from its wild
state of infancy when the unhappy sportsmen had to range the fields and
forests for their uncertain game, to the present state of luxurious ease
and elaborate refinement, when they not only brought their deer to the
meet, but by selecting the proper animal, could insure a finish at
the place they most wished to dine at - all of which was most
enthusiastically applauded; and on the speaker's ending, "Stag-hunting,"
and the "Surrey staghounds," and "Long life to all stag-hunters," were
drank in brimming and overflowing bumpers. Fox-hunting, hare-hunting,
rabbit-hunting, cat-hunting, rat-catching, badger-baiting - all wild,
seasonable, and legitimate sports followed; and the chairman having
run through his list, and thinking Jorrocks was getting rather mellow,
resolved to try the soothing system on him for a subscription, the
badgering of the morning not having answered. Accordingly, he called
on the company to charge their glasses, as he would give them a bumper
toast, which he knew they would have great pleasure in drinking. - "He
wished to propose the health of his excellent friend on his right - MR.
JORROCKS (applause), a gentleman whose name only required mentioning in
any society of hunters to insure it a hearty and enthusiastic reception.
He did not flatter his excellent friend when he said he was a man for
the imitation of all, and he was sure that when the present company
recollected the liberal support he gave to the Surrey foxhounds,
together with the keenness with which he followed that branch of
amusement, they would duly appreciate, not only the honour he had
conferred upon them by his presence in the field that morning, and at
the table that day, but the disinterested generosity which had prompted
him voluntarily to declare his intention of contributing to the future
support of the Surrey staghounds (immense cheers). He therefore thought
the least they could do was to drink the health of Mr. Jorrocks, and
success to the Surrey foxhounds, with three times three," which was
immediately responded to with deafening cheers.

Old Jorrocks, after the noise had subsided, got on his legs, and with
one hand rattling the five-shilling pieces in his breeches-pocket, and
the thumb of the other thrust into the arm-hole of his waistcoat, thus
began to address them. - "Gentlemen," said he, "I'm no orator, but I'm
an honest man - (hiccup) - I feels werry (hiccup) much obliged to my
excellent friend the Lord High Keeper (shouts of laughter), I begs his
pardon - my friend Mr. Juggins - for the werry flattering compliment he
has paid me in coupling my name (hiccup) with the Surrey fox'ounds - a
pack, I may say, without wanity (hiccup), second to none. I'm a werry
old member of the 'unt, and when I was a werry poor man (hiccup) I
always did my best to support them (hiccup), and now that I'm a werry
rich man (cheers) I shan't do no otherwise. About subscribing to the
staggers, I doesn't recollect saying nothing whatsomever about it
(hiccup), but as I'm werry friendly to sporting in all its
ramifications (hiccup), I'll be werry happy to give ten pounds to your
'ounds." - Immense cheers followed this declaration, which lasted for
some seconds. When they had subsided, Jorrocks put his finger on his
nose and, with a knowing wink of his eye, added: "Prowided my friend
the Lord High Keep - I begs his pardon - Juggins - will give ten pounds to
ours!"



V. THE TURF: MR. JORROCKS AT NEWMARKET

"A muffin - and the _Post_, sir," said George to the Yorkshireman, - on
one of the fine fresh mornings that gently usher in the returning
spring, and draw from the town-pent cits sighs for the verdure of
the fields, - as he placed the above mentioned articles on his usual
breakfast table in the coffee-room of the "Piazza."

With the calm deliberation of a man whose whole day is unoccupied, the
Yorkshireman sweetened his tea, drew the muffin and a select dish of
prawns to his elbow, and turning sideways to the table, crossed his legs
and prepared to con the contents of the paper. The first page as usual
was full of advertisements. - Sales by auction - Favour of your vote
and interest - If the next of kin - Reform your tailor's bills - Law - -
Articled clerk - An absolute reversion - Pony phaeton - Artificial
teeth - Messrs. Tattersall - Brace of pointers - Dog lost - Boy found - Great
sacrifice - No advance in coffee - Matrimony - A single gentleman - Board
and lodging in an airy situation - To omnibus proprietors - Steam to Leith
and Hull - Stationery - Desirable investment for a small capital - The fire
reviver or lighter.

Then turning it over, his eye ranged over a whole meadow of type,
consisting of the previous night's debate, followed on by City news,
Police reports, Fashionable arrivals and departures, Dinners given,
Sporting intelligence, Newmarket Craven meeting. "That's more in my
way," said the Yorkshireman to himself as he laid down the paper and
took a sip of his tea. "I've a great mind to go, for I may just as well
be at Newmarket as here, having nothing particular to do in either
place. I came to stay a hundred pounds in London it's true, but if I
stay ten of it at Newmarket, it'll be all the same, and I can go home
from there just as well as from here"; so saying, he took another turn
at the tea. The race list was a tempting one, Riddlesworth, Craven
Stakes, Column Stakes, Oatlands, Port, Claret, Sherry, Madeira, and all
other sorts. A good week's racing in fact, for the saintly sinners who
frequent the Heath had not then discovered any greater impropriety in
travelling on a Sunday, then in cheating each other on the Monday. The
tea was good, as were the prawns and eggs, and George brought a second
muffin, at the very moment that the Yorkshireman had finished the last
piece of the first, so that by the time he had done his breakfast and
drawn on his boots, which were dryer and pleasanter than the recent damp
weather had allowed of their being, he felt completely at peace with
himself and all the world, and putting on his hat, sallied forth with
the self-satisfied air of a man who had eat a good breakfast, and yet
not too much.

Newmarket was still uppermost in his mind, and as he sauntered along
in the direction of the Strand, it occurred to him that perhaps Mr.
Jorrocks might have no objection to accompany him. On entering that
great thoroughfare of humanity, he turned to the east, and having
examined the contents of all the caricature shops in the line, and paid
threepence for a look at the _York Herald_, in the Chapter Coffee-house,
St. Paul's Churchyard, about noon he reached the corner of St. Botolph
Lane. Before Jorrocks & Co.'s warehouse, great bustle and symptoms
of brisk trade were visible. With true city pride, the name on the
door-post was in small dirty-white letters, sufficiently obscure to
render it apparent that Mr. Jorrocks considered his house required no
sign; while, as a sort of contradiction, the covered errand-cart before
it, bore "JORROCKS & Co.'s WHOLESALE TEA WAREHOUSE," in great gilt
letters on each side of the cover, so large that "he who runs might
read," even though the errand-cart were running too. Into this cart,
which was drawn by the celebrated rat-tail hunter, they were pitching
divers packages for town delivery, and a couple of light porters nearly


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