The Amateur Gentleman Part 140

"Much bigger than I expected."

"Ah, it is a bit biggish till you get used to it. And it's amazing what you can see--if you looks 'ard enough, like the tombs in St.

Paul's Churchyard, f'r instance. I knowed of a chap once as spent over a week a-looking for 'em, and never see so much as a single 'eadstone--but then, 'e were born stone-blind, so it were only nat'ral as 'e _should_ miss 'em, p'r'aps. But you, young sir, 'ow did you pa.s.s your time?"

"Princ.i.p.ally in dressing and undressing."

"Ah, jess so, jess so--coats cut 'igh and coats cut low! But what more?"

"And in eating and drinking."

"Ah, French hortolons, p'r'aps, with a occasional tongue of a lark throwed in for a relish, jess so! But what more--did ye marry a d.u.c.h.ess, f'r instance?"

"Alas, no!"

"Elope with a earl's daughter, then?"

"No."

"Well--did ye fight any dooels?"

"Not a single one."

"Lord, young sir--you 'ave been a-missing of your opportunities, you 'ave, playing fast and loose wi' Fortun', I calls it--ah, fair flying in the face o' Providence! Now, if instead o' selling books I took to writing of 'em, and tried to write you into a novel, why, Lord, what a poor thing that there novel would be! Who'd want to read it?--why, n.o.body! Oh, I can see as you've been throwing away your opportunities and wasting your chances shocking, you 'ave."

"Now I wonder," said Barnabas, frowning thoughtfully, "I wonder if I have?"

"Not a doubt of it!" answered the Pedler, swallowing the last of his potato.

"Then the sooner I begin to make up for it, the better."

"Ah!" nodded the Pedler. "I should begin at once, if I was you."

"I will," said Barnabas, gathering up the reins.

"And how, sir?"

"By going my allotted way and--striving to be content."

"Content!" exclaimed the Pedler, "lord, young sir, it's only fools as is ever content! A contented man never done anything much worth 'aving, nor said anything much worth 'caring as ever I 'eard. Never go for to be content, young sir, or you'll never do nothing at all!"

"Why, then," said Barnabas, smiling ruefully, "it is certain that I shall achieve something yet, because--I never shall be content!"

"That's the spirit, young sir--aim 'igh. Jest look at me--born in the gutter, but I wasn't content wi' the gutter so I taught myself to read and write. But I wasn't content to read and write, so I took to the book trade, and 'ere I am to-day travelling the roads and wi'

a fairish connection, but I ain't content--Lord, no! I'd like to be a dook a-rolling in a chariot, or a prince o' the blood, or the Prime Minister a-laying down the law. That's the sperrit--shoot 'igh, ah! shoot at the sun and you're bound to 'it summat if it's only a tree or a 'ay-stack. So, if you can't be a dook or a prince, you can allus be--a man--if you try 'ard enough. What--are ye going, young sir?"

"Yes," answered Barnabas, leaning down from the saddle, "good-by, and thank you for your advice," and he stretched out his hand.

Hereupon the pedler of books rose to his feet and rather diffidently clasped the proffered hand. So Barnabas smiled down at him, nodded and rode upon his way, but as for the Pedler, he stood there, staring after him open-mouthed, and with the yellow coins shining upon his palm.

CHAPTER LXXVIII

WHICH TELLS HOW BARNABAS CAME HOME AGAIN, AND HOW HE AWOKE FOR THE FOURTH TIME

Evening was falling as Barnabas came to the top of the hill and, drawing rein, paused there to look down at a certain inn. It was a somewhat small and solitary inn, an ancient inn with many lattices, and with pointed gables whose plaster and cross-beams were just now mellowed by the rosy glow of sunset.

Surely, surely, nowhere in all broad England could there be found just such another inn as this, or one more full of that reposeful dignity which only age can bestow. And in all its length of days never had "The Coursing Hound" looked more restful, more comfortable and home-like than upon this early Autumn evening. And remembering those two gray-headed men, who waited within its hospitable walls, eager to give him welcome, who might, perchance, even now be talking of him one to another, what wonder if, as our Barnabas gazed down at it from worn steps to crooked chimney, from the faded sign before the door of it to the fragrant rick-yard that lay behind it, what wonder (I say) if it grew blurred all at once, and misty, or that Barnabas should sigh so deeply and sit with drooping head, while the old inn blinked its cas.e.m.e.nts innocently in the level rays of the setting sun, like the simple, guileless old inn that it was!

But lo! all at once forth from its weather-beaten porch issued two figures, clean-limbed, athletic figures these--men who strode strong and free, with shoulders squared and upright of back, though the head of each was grizzled with years. On they came, shoulder to shoulder, the one a tall man with a mighty girth of chest, the other slighter, shorter, but quick and active as a cat, and who already had gained a good yard upon his companion; whereupon the big man lengthened his stride; whereupon the slighter man broke into a trot; whereupon the big man fell into a run; whereupon the slighter man followed suit and thus, neck and neck, they raced together up the hill and so, presently reaching the summit, very little breathed considering, pulled up on either side of Barnabas.

"Father!" he cried, "Natty Bell! Oh, it's good to be home again!"

"Man Jack, it's all right!" said Natty Bell, nodding to John, but shaking away at the hand Barnabas had reached down to him, "_our_ lad's come back to us, yes, Barnabas has come home, John, and--it _is_ our Barnabas--London and Fashion aren't spiled him, John, thank G.o.d!"

"No," answered John ponderously, "no, Natty Bell, London aren't spiled him, and--why, Barnabas, I'm glad to see ye, lad--yes, I'm--glad, and--and--why, there y'are, Barnabas."

"Looks a bit palish, though, John!" said Natty Bell, shaking his head, "but that's only nat'ral, arter all, yes--a bit palish, p'r'aps, but, man Jack--what o' that?"

"And a bit thinnish, Natty Bell," replied John, "but Lord! a few days and we'll have him as right as--as ever, yes, quite right, and there y' are, Natty Bell!"

"P'r'aps you might be wishful to tell him, John, as you've had the old 'Hound' brightened up a bit?"

"Why, yes, Barnabas," nodded John, "in honor o' this occasion--though, to be sure, the sign would look better for a touch o' paint here and there--the poor old Hound's only got three legs and a tail left, d' ye see--and the hare, Barnabas, the hare--ain't!"

"P'r'aps we'd better take and let him see for hisself, John?"

"Right, Natty Bell, so he shall."

Thus, presently, Barnabas rode on between them down the hill, looking from one to the other, but saying very little, because his heart was so full.

"And this be the 'oss you wrote us about--hey, Barnabas lad?"

inquired Natty Bell, stepping back and viewing 'The Terror' over with an eye that took in all his points. "Ha--a fine action, lad--"

'Pray haven't you heard of a jolly young coal-heaver Who down at Hungerford used for to ply--'

"A leetle--leggy? p'r'aps, Barnabas, and yet--ha!"

'His daddles he used with such skill and dexterity, Winning each mill, sir, and blacking each eye--'

"His cannons'll never trouble him, Barnabas, come rough or smooth, and you didn't say a word too much in your letter. Man Jack--you behold a 'oss as is a 'oss--though, mark you, John, a leetle bit roundish in the barrel and fullish in the shoulder--still, a animal, John, as I'm burning to c.o.c.k a leg over."

"Why, then, Natty Bell, so you shall," said Barnabas, and forthwith down he swung himself and, being a little careless, wracked his injured shoulder and flinched a little, which the slow-spoken, quick-eyed John was swift to notice and, almost diffidently drew his son's arm through his own. But, Natty Bell, joyful of eye, was already in the saddle; whereat "The Terror," resenting the change, immediately began to dance and to sidle, with, much rearing up in front and lashing out behind, until, finding this all quite unavailing, he set off at a stretching gallop with Natty Bell sitting him like a centaur.

"And now, Barnabas," said John slowly, "'ow might your shoulder be, now?"

"Nearly well, father."