The Humourous Story of Farmer Bumpkin's Lawsuit Part 54

Mr. b.u.mpkin receives compliments from distinguished persons.

One evening as Mr. b.u.mpkin was sitting in his little parlour, ruminating, or as he termed it, "rummaging" in his mind over many things, and especially wondering when the trial would come on, Horatio, in breathless impatience, entered the room. His excited and cheerful appearance indicated that something of an unusually pleasant nature had occurred. A strong intimacy had long been established between this boy and Mr.

b.u.mpkin, who regarded Horatio as a kind of legal prodigy; his very hopes seemed centered in and inspired by this lad. He seemed to be the guiding spirit and the flywheel of the whole proceedings. Was Snooks to be pulverized? it must be under Horatio's heel!

This legal stripling brought almost as much comfort as Mr. Prigg himself; and it was quite a pleasure to hear the familiar terms in which he spoke of the bigwigs of the profession. He would say of McCannister, the Queen's Counsel, "I like Mac's style of putting a question, it's so soft like-it goes down like a Pick-me-up." Then he would allude to Mr.

Heavytop, Q.C., as Jack; to Mr. Bigpot as old Kettledrum; to Mr. Swagger, Q.C., as Pat; to B. C. Windbag, Q.C., M.P., as B. C.-all which indicated to the mind of Mr. b.u.mpkin the particularly intimate terms upon which Horatio was with these celebrities. Nor did his intimacy cease there: instead of speaking of the highest legal official of the land in terms of respectful deference, as "my Lord High Chancellor," or "my Lord Allworthy,"-he would say, in the most indifferent manner "Old Allworthy"

this, and "Old Allworthy," that; sometimes even, he ventured to call some of Her Majesty's Judges by nick-names; an example which, I trust, will not be followed by the Horatios of the future. But I believe the pale boy, like his great namesake, was fearless. It was a comfort to hear him denounce the law's delay, and the terrible "c.u.mbersomeness" of legal proceedings: not that he did it in soothing language or in happy phraseology: it was rather in a manner that led Mr. b.u.mpkin to believe the young champion was standing up for his particular rights; as if he had said to the authorities, whoever they might be, "Look here! I'll have no more of this: it's a shame and disgrace to this country that a simple dispute between a couple of neighbours can't be tried without months of quarrelling in Judges' Chambers and elsewhere; if you don't try this case before long I'll see what can be done." Then there was further consolation in the fact that Horatio declared that, in his opinion, Tommy _Catpup_, Q.C., would knock Snooks into a c.o.c.ked hat, and that Snooks already looked very down in the mouth.

On the evening at which I have arrived in my dream, when the pale boy came in, Mr. b.u.mpkin inquired what was the matter: was the case settled?

Had Snooks paid the damages? Nothing of the kind. Horatio's visit was of a common-place nature. He had simply come to inform Mr. b.u.mpkin that the Archbishop of Canterbury had kindly sent him a couple of tickets for the reserved seats at Canterbury Hall.

Mr. b.u.mpkin was disappointed. He cared nothing for Archbishops. He was in hopes it had been something better.

"I wunt goo," said he.

"We ought to go, I think," said Horatio; "it was very kind of old Archy to send em, and he wouldn't like it if we didn't go: besides, he and the Rolls are great chums."

"Rolls!" said b.u.mpkin.

"The Master of the Rolls. I shouldn't wonder if he aint got Archy to send em-don't you be a fool. And another thing, Paganani's going to play the farmyard on the fiddle to-night. Gemminey, ain't that good! You hear the pigs squeak, and the bull roar, and the old c.o.c.k crow, and the sow grunt, and the horse kick-"

"How the devil can thee hear a horse kick, unless he kicks zummat?"

"Well, he does," said Horatio; "that's just what he does do. Let's go, I am sure you will like it."

"It beant one o' these ere playhouse pleaces, be it?"

"Lor bless you," said Horatio, "there's pews just the same as if you was in Church: and the singing's beautiful."

"No sarmon, I s'pooase."

"Not on week nights, but I'll tell you what there is instead: a chap climbs up to the top of a high pole and stands on his head for ten minutes."

Mr. b.u.mpkin, although a man who never went out of an evening, could not resist the persuasions of his pale young friend. He had never been to any place of amus.e.m.e.nt, except the Old Bailey, since he had been in London; although he had promised himself a treat to the Cattle Show, provided that came on, which was very likely, as it only wanted five months to it, before his case.

So they got on the top of a 'Bus and proceeded on their way to Lambeth Palace; for the Canterbury Hall, as everyone knows, is in that ancient pile. And truly, when they arrived everything was astonishingly beautiful and pleasing. Mr. b.u.mpkin was taken through the Picture Gallery, which he enjoyed, although he would have liked to see one or two like the Squire had got in his Hall, such as "Clinker," the prize bull; and "Father Tommy," the celebrated ram. But the Archbishop probably had never taken a prize: not much of a breeder maybe.

Now they entered the Hall amid strains of sweet, soft, enchanting music.

Never before had the soul of b.u.mpkin been so enthralled: it was as if the region of fairyland had suddenly burst upon his astonished view. In presence of all this beauty, and this delicious cadence of sweet sounds, what a common-place thing _b.u.mpkin_ v. _Snooks_ seemed!

Theirs was a very nice pew, commanding a full view of the stage and all the angelic looking beings. And evidently our friends were considered fashionable people, for many of the audience looked round at them as they entered. So awed was Mr. b.u.mpkin when he first sat down, that he wondered whether he ought to look into his hat as the Squire did in Church; but, resolving to be guided by Horatio, and seeing that the pale youth did not even take his billyc.o.c.k off, but spread his elbows out on the front ledge and clapped his hands with terrific vehemence, and shouted "Anch.o.r.e" as loudly as he could, Mr. b.u.mpkin, in imitation, clapped his hands and said "Hooroar!"

It was glorious. The waiter came and exchanged winks with the pale boy, and brought some soda-and-brandy and a cigar. Mr. b.u.mpkin wondered more and more. It was the strangest place he had ever heard of. It seemed so strange to have smoking and drinking. But then he knew there were things occurring every day that the cleverest men could not account for: not even Mr. Slater, the schoolmaster at Yokelton, could account for them.

Just in front of the two friends was another pew, a very nice one that was, and for some little time it was unoccupied. Presently with a great rustling of silks and a great smell of Jockey Club, and preceded by one of the servants of the establishment, entered two beautiful and fashionably dressed ladies of extremely quiet (except the Jockey Club) and retiring demeanour. They could not but attract Mr. b.u.mpkin's attention: they so reminded him of the Squire's daughters, only they dressed much better. How he would like Nancy to see them: she was very fond of beautiful gowns, was Nancy.

"I wonder who they be?" whispered b.u.mpkin.

"I don't know," answered Horatio; "I'll ask as soon as I get a chance.

It's the Archbishop's pew; I believe they are his daughters."

"Wouldn't ur ha come wi em?" said b.u.mpkin.

"He generally does, but I suppose he can't get away to-night."

At this moment a waiter, or as b.u.mpkin called him a pew opener, was pa.s.sing, and Horatio whispered something in his ear, his companion looking at him the while from the corner of his eyes.

"The one on the right," whispered the waiter, untwisting the wire of a bottle of sodawater, "is the Countess Squeezem, and the other is Lady Flora, her sister."

b.u.mpkin nodded his head as much as to say, "Just see that: high life, that, if you like!"

And really the Countess and Lady Flora were as quiet and una.s.suming as if they had been the commonest bred people in the world.

Now came forward on the stage a sweet young lady dressed in yellow satin, with lovely red roses all down the front and one on the left shoulder, greeted by a thunder of applause. Her voice was thrilling: now it was at the back of the stage; now it was just behind your ear; now in the ceiling. You didn't know where to have it. After she had done, Horatio said:

"What do you think of Nilsson?"

"Wery good! wery good!"

"Hallo," says Horatio, "here's Sims Reeves. Bravo Sims! bravo Reeves!"

"I've eered tell o' he," says b.u.mpkin; "he be wery young, bean't he?"

"O," says Horatio, "they paint up so; but ain't he got a tenor-O gemminey crikery!"

"A tenner?" says b.u.mpkin, "what's thee mean, ten pun a week?"

"O my eye!" says the youth, "he gets more than that."

"It be good wages."

"Yes, but it's nothing to what some of em get," says Horatio; "why if a man can play the fool well he can get as much as the Prime Minister."

"Ah, and thic Prime Minister can play the fool well at times; it seem to me-they tooked the dooty of whate and made un too chape."

"Who's this?" asks Horatio of the waiter.

"Patti," says the waiter, "at the express wish of the Queen."

b.u.mpkin nods again, as though there was no end to the grandeur of the company.

Then comes another no less celebrated, if Horatio was correct.

"Hullo," says he, "here's Trebelli!"

Now this was too much for the absorbing powers of even a b.u.mpkin.

Horatio had carried it too far. Not that his friend had ever heard of the great vocalist, but if you are inclined for fun pray use names that will go down. Mr. b.u.mpkin looked hard at Horatio's face, on which was just the faintest trace of a smile. And then he said: