Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour Part 45

'Oh, he's nicely,' replied Jack, adding, 'hasn't he come yet?'

'Not that I've seen,' answered Puffington, adding, 'I thought, perhaps, you might come together.'

'No,' grunted Jack; 'he comes from Jawleyford's, you know; I'm from Woodmansterne.'

'We'll go and see if he's come,' observed Puffington, opening a door in the garden-wall, into which he had manoeuvred Jack, communicating with the courtyard of the stable.

'Here are his horses,' observed Puffington, as Mr. Leather rode through the great gates on the opposite side, with the renowned hunters in full marching order.

'Monstrous fine animals they are,' said Jack, squinting intently at them.

'They are that,' replied Puffington.

'Mr. Sponge seems a very pleasant, gentlemanly man,' observed Mr.

Puffington.

'Oh, he is,' replied Jack.

'Can you tell me--can you inform me--that's to say, can you give me any idea,' hesitated Puffington, 'what is the usual practice--the usual course--the usual understanding as to the treatment of those sort of gentlemen?'

'Oh, the best of everything's good enough for them,' replied Jack, adding, 'just as it is with me.'

'Ah, I don't mean in the way of eating and drinking, but in the way of encouragement--in the way of a present, you know?' adding--'What did my lord do?' seeing Jack was slow at comprehension.

'Oh, my lord bad-worded him well,' replied Jack, adding, 'he didn't get much encouragement from him.'

'Ah, that's the worst of my lord,' observed Puffington; 'he's rather coa.r.s.e--rather too indifferent to public opinion. In a case of this sort, you know, that doesn't happen every day, or, perhaps, more than once in a man's life, it's just as well to be favourably spoken of as not, you know'; adding, as he looked intently at Jack--'Do you understand me?'

Jack, who was tolerably quick at a chance, now began to see how things were, and to fathom Mr. Puffington's mistake. His ready imagination immediately saw there might be something made of it, so he prepared to keep up the delusion.

'Wh-o-o-y!' said he, straddling out his legs, clasping his hands together, and squinting steadily through his spectacles, to try and see, by Puffington's countenance, how much he would stand. 'W-h-o-o-y!' repeated he, 'I shouldn't think--though, mind, it's mere conjectur' on my part--that you couldn't offer him less than--twenty or five-and-twenty punds; or, say, from that to thirty,' continued Jack, seeing that Puff's countenance remained complacent under the rise.

'And that you think would be sufficient?' asked Puff, adding--'If one does the thing at all, you know, it's as well to do it handsomely.'

'True,' replied Jack, sticking out his great thick lips, 'true. I'm a great advocate for doing things handsomely. Many a row I have with my lord for thanking fellows, and saying he'll _remember_ them instead of giving them sixpence or a shilling; but really I should say, if you were to give him forty or fifty pund--say a fifty--pund note, he'd be--'

The rest of the sentence was lost by the appearance of Mr. Sponge, cantering up the avenue on the conspicuous piebald. Mr. Puffington and Mr.

Spraggon greeted him as he alighted at the door.

Sponge was quickly followed by Tom Washball; then came Charley Slapp and Lumpleg, and Captain Guano came in a gig. Mutual bows and bobs and shakes of the hand being exchanged, amid offers of 'anything before dinner' from the host, the guests were at length shown to their respective apartments, from which in due time they emerged, looking like so many bridegrooms.

First came the worthy master of the hounds himself, in his scarlet dress-coat, lined with white satin; Tom Washball, and Charley Slapp also sported Puff's uniform; while Captain Guano, who was proud of his leg, sported the uniform of the m.u.f.fington Hunt--a pea-green coat lined with yellow, and a yellow collar, white shorts with gold garters, and black silk stockings.

Spraggon had been obliged to put up with Lord Scamperdale's second best coat, his lordship having taken the best one himself; but it was pa.s.sable enough by candle light, and the seediness of the blue cloth was relieved by a velvet collar and a new set of the Flat Hat Hunt b.u.t.tons. Mr. Sponge wore a plain scarlet with a crimson velvet collar, and a bright fox on the frosted ground of a gilt b.u.t.ton, with tights as before; and when Mr. Crane arrived he was found to be attired in a dress composed partly of Mr.

Puffington's and partly of the Muggeridge Hunt uniform--the red coat of the former surmounting the white shorts and black stockings of the other.

Altogether, however, they were uncommonly smart, and it is to be hoped that they appreciated each other.

The dinner was sumptuous. Puff, of course, was in the chair; and Captain Guano coming last into the room, and being very fond of office, was vice.

When men run to the 'n.o.ble science' of gastronomy, they generally outstrip the ladies in the art of dinner-giving, for they admit of no makeweight, or merely ornamental dishes, but concentrate the cook's energies on sterling and approved dishes. Everything men set on is meant to be eaten. Above all, men are not too fine to have the plate-warmer in the room, the deficiency of hot plates proving fatal to many a fine feast. It was evident that Puff prided himself on his table. His linen was the finest and whitest, his gla.s.s the most elegant and transparent, his plate the brightest, and his wines the most costly and _recherche_. Like many people, however, who are not much in the habit of dinner-giving, he was anxious and fussy, too intent upon making people comfortable to allow of their being so, and too anxious to get victuals and drink down their throats to allow of their enjoying either.

He not only produced a tremendous a.s.sortment of wines--Hock, Sauterne, Champagne, Barsack, Burgundy, but descended into endless varieties of sherries and Madeiras. These he pressed upon people, always insisting that the last sample was the best.

In these hospitable exertions Puffington was ably a.s.sisted by Captain Guano, who, being fond of wine, came in for a good quant.i.ty; first of all by asking everyone to take wine with him, and then in return every one asking him to do the same with them. The present absurd non-asking system was not then in vogue. The great captain, noisy and talkative at all times, began to be boisterous almost before the cloth was drawn.

Puffington was equally promiscuous with his after-dinner wines. He had all sorts of clarets, and 'curious old ports.' The party did not seem to have any objection to spoil their digestions for the next day, and took whatever he produced with great alacrity. Lengthened were the candle examinations, solemn the sips, and sounding the smacks that preceded the delivery of their Campbell-like judgements.

The conversation, which at first was altogether upon wine, gradually diverged upon sporting, and they presently brewed up a very considerable cry. Foremost among the noisy ones was Captain Guano. He seemed inclined to take the shine out of everybody.

'Oh! if they could but find a good fox that would give them a run of ten miles--say, ten miles--just ten miles would satisfy him--say, from Barnesley Wold to Chingforde Wood, or from Carleburg Clump to Wetherden Head. He was going to ride his famous horse Jack-a-Dandy--the finest horse that ever was foaled! No day too long for him--no pace too great for him--no fence too stiff for him--no brook too broad for him.'

Tom Washball, too, talked as if wearing a red coat was not the only purpose for which he hunted; and altogether they seemed to be an amazing, sporting, hard-riding set.

When at length they rose to go to bed, it struck each man as he followed his neighbour upstairs that the one before him walked very crookedly.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII

A DAY WITH PUFFINGTON'S HOUNDS

Day dawned cheerfully. If there was rather more sun than the strict rules of Beckford prescribe, still sunshine is not a thing to quarrel with under any circ.u.mstances--certainly not for a gentleman to quarrel with who wants his place seen to advantage on the occasion of a meet of hounds. Everything at Hanby House was in apple-pie order. All the stray leaves that the capricious wintry winds still kept raising from unknown quarters, and whisking about the trim lawns, were hunted and caught, while a heavy roller pa.s.sed over the Kensington gravel, pressing out the hoof and wheelmarks of the previous day. The servants were up betimes, preparing the house for those that were in it, and a _dejener a la fourchette_ for chance customers, from without.

They were equally busy at the stable. Although Mr. Bragg did profess such indifference for Mr. Sponge's opinion, he nevertheless thought it might perhaps be as well to be condescending to the stranger. Accordingly, he ordered his whips to be on the alert, to tie their ties and put on their boots as they ought to be, and to hoist their caps becomingly on the appearance of our friend. Bragg, like a good many huntsmen, had a sort of tariff of politeness, that he indicated by the manner in which he saluted the field. To a lord, he made a sweep of his cap like the dome of St.

Paul's; a baronet came in for about half as much; a knight, to a quarter.

Bragg had also a sort of City or monetary tariff of politeness--a tariff that was oftener called in requisition than the 'Debrett' one, in Mr.

Puffington's country. To a good 'tip' he vouchsafed as much cap as he gave to a lord; to a middling 'tip' he gave a sort of move that might either pa.s.s for a touch of the cap or a more comfortable adjustment of it to his head; a very small 'tip' had a forefinger to the peak; while he who gave nothing at all got a good stare or a good morning! or something of that sort. A man watching the arrival of the field could see who gave the fives, who the fours, who the threes, who the twos, who the ones, and who were the great o's.

But to our day with Mr. Puffington's hounds.

Our over-night friends were not quite so brisk in the morning as the servants and parties outside. Puffington's 'mixture' told upon a good many of them. Washball had a headache, so had Lumpleg; Crane was seedy; and Captain Guano, sea-green. Soda-water was in great request.

There was a splendid breakfast, table and sideboard looking as if Fortnum and Mason or Morel had opened a branch establishment at Hanby House. Though the staying guests could not do much for the good things set out, they were not wasted, for the place was fairly taken by storm shortly before the advertised hour of meeting; and what at one time looked like a most extravagant supply, at another seemed likely to prove a deficiency. Each man helped himself to whatever he fancied, without waiting for the ceremony of an invitation, in the usual style of fox-hunting hospitality.

A few minutes before eleven, a 'gently, Rantaway,' accompanied by a slight crack of a whip, drew the seedy and satisfied parties to the oriel window, to see Mr. Bragg pa.s.s along with his hounds. They were just gliding noiselessly over the green sward, Mr. Bragg rising in his stirrups, as spruce as a game-c.o.c.k, with his thoroughbred bay gambolling and pawing with delight at the frolic of the hounds, some cl.u.s.tering around him, others shooting forward a little, as if to show how obediently they would return at his whistle. Mr. Bragg was known as the whistling huntsman, and was a great man for telegraphing and signalizing with his arms, boasting that he could make hounds so handy that they could do everything, except pay the turnpike-gates. At his appearance the men all began to shuffle to the pa.s.sage and entrance-hall, to look for their hats and whips; and presently there was a great outpouring of red coats upon the lawn, all straddling and waddling of course. Then Mr. Bragg, seeing an audience, with a slight whistle and wave of his right arm, wheeled his forces round, and trotted gaily towards where our guests had grouped themselves, within the light iron railing that separated the smooth slope from the field. As he reined in his horse, he gave his cap an aerial sweep, taking off perpendicularly, and finishing at his horse's ears--an example that was immediately followed by the whips, and also by Mr. Bragg's second horseman, Tom Stot.

'Good morning, Mister Bragg! Good morning, Mister Bragg!--Good morning, Mister Bragg!' burst from the a.s.sembled spectators: for Mr. Bragg was one of those people that one occasionally meets whom everybody 'Misters.'

Mister Bragg, rising in his stirrups with a gracious smile, pa.s.sed a very polite bow along the line.

'Here's a fine morning, Mr. Bragg,' observed Tom Washball, who thought it knowing to talk to servants.

'Y_as_, sir,' replied Bragg, 'y_as_,' with a slight inclination to cap; '_r-a-y_-ther more s_a_n, p'raps, than desirable,' continued he, raising his face towards the heavens; 'but still by no means a bad day, sir--no, sir--by no means a bad day, sir.'

'Hounds looking well,' observed Charley Slapp between the whiffs of a cigar.

'Y_as_, sir,' said Bragg, 'y_as_,' looking around them with a self-satisfied smile; adding, 'so they ought, sir--so they ought; if _I_ can't bring a pack out as they should be, don't know who can.'