CHAPTER XVIII

A SPORTING LECTOR

For some days after Mr. Jorrocks’s return from Pluckwelle Park, Diana Lodge was literally besieged with people, offering him horses of every sort, size, and description. A man “wanting a horse”—and, confound it! some people are always “wanting” them, and never buy,—a man “wanting a horse,” we say, is always an object of interest to the idle and unemployed, looking out for horses for other people; and Handley Cross being as idle a place as any, everybody seemed bent upon propagating the great M.F.H.’s wants. Even the ladies, who don’t generally bestir themselves in such matters, seemed smitten with the mania; and a horse being a horse with them, the curiosities their inquiries produced were very amusing. The horses that came were of all prices, from a hundred guineas down to thirty shillings; indeed, Mrs. Pearlash, the laundress, intimated that she might take “rayther” less than thirty for her old woe-begone white Rosinante. Our worthy M.F.H. was indebted to his wife for the offer of it; Mrs. Jorrocks making the subject of “’osses” one of her standing topics of conversation, as well with her visitors as to all those with whom she came in contact. Having casually mentioned her great sporting-spouse’s wants to Mrs. Pearlash, that useful functionary, sticking her fists in her sides, for the purpose of revolving the matter in her mind, said, “Well, now, she didn’t know but they might part with their horse, and she’d ask her old man;” who readily assented to the sale of an animal that could hardly crawl. Jorrocks was highly indignant when it came, and desired Mrs. J. not to meddle with matters she didn’t understand.

Mr. Jorrocks, on his part, having about satisfied himself that hunting a pack of hounds was a very different thing to riding after them, as near to them or as far off as he liked, repelled all inquiries as to when he would be going out again, and when he would begin to advertise, by saying, mysteriously, “that he must get things a little forwarder fust.” The fact was, he wanted to pick up a huntsman at whip’s wages, and had written to sundry friends in the City and elsewhere, describing what he wanted, and intimating that the whip might occasionally have to “’unt the ’ounds when he was away, or anything of that sort.” His City friends, who didn’t approve of his proceedings, and, moreover, had plenty of other matters to attend to of their own, gave his letters very little heed, if indeed they took any notice of them at all. Some of his old cronies shook their heads, and said they “wished any good might come of it;” while others said “he’d much better have stuck to his shop;” adding a wish that things might continue “serene” in the “lane.”

Altogether Jorrocks’s proceedings were not approved of in the commercial world, where hunting and gambling are often considered synonymous. He, however, was all swagger and cock-a-hoop, vowing that he had got “the best pack of ’ounds in the world;” adding, that “they would make the foxes cry ‘Capevi!”’

Belinda’s beauty and unaffected manners drew Mrs. Jorrocks plenty of callers, who soon found herself a much greater woman at Handley Cross than she was in Great Coram Street.

Belinda might have had an offer every day in the week, but somehow the suitors never could get the old girl out of the room—an error into which ladies who trade in beauty other than that of their own daughters, are very apt to fall. Mrs. Jorrocks wouldn’t admit that she was in any ways indebted to Belinda for her company, and of course sat to receive her own guests. Not that Belinda wanted any of their offers; for, as Ben intimated, she had a young chap in her eye, who will shortly appear in our pages; but Mrs. Jorrocks, like a skilful old mouser as she was, did not let that out.

So Belinda was talked of, and toasted, and toasted, and talked of, and “set out” for no end of people. The Jorrocks’s funds rose ten per cent. at least from having her, and the Barnington ones were depressed to a similar extent.

Our great M.F.H. not finding any responses to his inquiries for a whip, and being dreadfully anxious to be doing, resolved to make known his wants through the medium of the newspapers; and while his bold advertisement for a “huntsman” (not a whip who could ’unt the ’ounds occasionally) was working, he bethought him, instead of exposing his incompetence as a huntsman, to display his sporting knowledge in a lecture, in which he could also inculcate the precepts he wished practised towards himself, both at home and in the field.

Accordingly, he enlisted the assistance of Captain Doleful, to whose province such arrangements seemed peculiarly to belong, and the large room of the “Dragon” was engaged and tastefully fitted up under their joint superintendence. A temporary platform was placed at the far end, surmounted by a canopy of scarlet cloth, tastefully looped up in the centre with an emblematical sporting device, formed of a hunting-cap, a pair of leather breeches, a boot-jack, and three foxes’ brushes. Inside the canopy was suspended a green-shaded lamp, throwing a strong light upon the party below, and the room was brilliantly lighted with wax both from the chandeliers and reflecting-mirrors against the wall. The doors were besieged long before the appointed hour for commencing, and ere the worthy lecturer made his appearance there was not standing room to be had in any part. The orchestra was also full, and in it “we observed many elegantly dressed ladies,” as the reporters say.

Precisely at eight o’clock Mr. Jorrocks ascended the platform, attended by Captain Doleful, Roger Swizzle, Romeo Simpkins, and Abel Snorem, and was received with the most enthusiastic cheering. He wore the full-dress uniform of the hunt; sky-blue coat lined with pink silk, canary coloured shorts, and white silk stockings. His neckcloth and waistcoat were white, and a finely plaited shirt-frill protruded through the stand-up collar of the latter. Bunches of white ribbon dangled at his knees. In his hand he held a roll of notes, while some books of reference and a tumbler of brandy and water, were placed by Benjamin on a table at the back of the platform. Benjamin had on his new red frock with blue collar, cord breeches, and white stockings.

After bowing most familiarly to the company, Mr. Jorrocks cleared his voice with a substantial hem, and then addressed the meeting.

“Beloved ’earers! beloved I may call you, for though I have not the pleasure of knowin’ many of you, I hope werry soon to make your intimate acquaintance. Beloved ’earers, I say, I have come ’ere this evenin’ for the double purpose of seeing you, and instructin’ of you on those matters that have brought me to this your beautiful and salubrisome town. (Cheers.) Beautiful I may call it, for its architectural proportions are grand, and salubrisome it must be when it boasts so many cheerful, wigorous countenances as I now see gathered around me. (Loud applause.) And if by my comin’, I shall spread the great light of sportin’ knowledge, and enable you to perserve those glowin’ mugs when far removed from these waters, then shall I be a better doctor than either Swizzle or Sebastian, and the day that drew John Jorrocks from the sugars of retirement in Great Coram Street will henceforth remain red-lettered in the mental calendar of his existence. (Loud cheers.) Red lettered did I say? Ah! wot a joyous colour to denote a great and glorious ewent! Believe me there is no colour like red—no sport like ’unting.

“Blue coats and canaries,” observed Mr. Jorrocks looking down at his legs, “are well enough for dancin’ in, but the man wot does much dancin’ will not do much ’unting. But to business—Lectorin’ is all the go—and why should sportin’ be excluded? Is it because sportin’ is its own champion? Away with the idea! Are there no pints on which grey experience can show the beacon lights to ’to youth and indiscretion? Assuredly there are! Full then of hardour—full of keenness, one pure concentrated essence of ’unting, John Jorrocks comes to enlighten all men capable of instruction on pints that all wish to be considered conversant with.

“Well did that great man, I think it was Walter Scott, but if it war’nt, ’twas little Bartley, the boot-maker, say, that there was no young man wot would not rather have a himputation on his morality that on his ’ossmanship, and yet, how few there are wot really know anything about the matter! Oh, but if hignorance be bliss ’ow ’appy must they be! (Loud cheers and laughter.)

“’Unting is the sport of kings, the image of war without its guilt, and only five-and-twenty per cent. of its danger! In that word, ‘’unting,’ what a ramification of knowledge is compressed! The choice of an ’oss—the treatment of him when got—the groomin’ at home, the ridin’ abroad—the boots, the breeches, the saddle, the bridle, the ’ound, the ’untsman, the feeder, the Fox! Oh, how that beautiful word, Fox, gladdens my ’eart, and warms the declinin’ embers of my age. (Cheers.) The ’oss and the ’ound were made for each other, and natur threw in the Fox as a connectin’ link between the two. (Loud cheers,) He’s perfect symmetry, and my affection for him, is a perfect paradox. In the summer I loves him with all hardour of affection; not an ’air of his beautiful ’ead would I hurt; the sight of him is more glorious nor the Lord Mayor’s show! but when the hautumn comes—when the brownin’ copse and cracklin’ stubble proclaim the farmer’s fears are past, then, dash my vig, ’ow I glories in pursuing of him to destruction, and holdin’ him above the bayin’ pack! (Loud cheers.)

“And yet,” added Mr. Jorrocks thoughtfully, “it ar’nt that I loves the fox less, but that I loves the ’ound more, as the chap says in the play, when he sticks his friend in the gizzard. (Roars of laughter and applause.)

“The ’oss loves the ’ound, and I loves both; and it is that love wot brings me to these parts, to follow the all-glorious callin’ of the chase, and to enlighten all men capable of illumination. To-night I shall instruct you with a lecture on dealin’.

“ ‘O who shall counsel a man in the choice of a wife or an ’oss?’ asked that inspired writer, the renowned Johnny Lawrence. ‘The buyer has need of a hundred eyes, the seller of but one,’ says another equestrian conjuror. Who can take up an ’oss book and read ’bout splints, and spavins, and stringalts, and corns, and cuttin’, and farcy, and dropsy, and fever, and thrushes, and grease, and gripes, and mallenders, and sallenders, and ring-bones, and roarin’, etcetera, etceterorem, without a shudder lest such a complication of evils should fall to his lot? Who can expect a perfect ’oss, when he sees what an infinity of hills they are heirs to? I hopes I haven’t come to ’Andley Cross to inform none on you what an ’oss is, nor to explain that its component parts are four legs, a back-bone, an ’ead, a neck, a tail, and other etceteras, too numerous to insert in an ’and-bill, as old Georgy Robins used to say.

“’Eavens, wot a lot of rubbish has been written about ’osses!” continued the worthy lecturer, casting up his eyes.

“I took a fut rule t’other night and measured off a whole yard and an ’arf of real downright ’ard printin’ on the single word ’oss; each succeedin’ writer snubbin’ the last, swearin’ he know’d nothin’, until one would expect to arrive at the grand climax of hignorance, instead of gleaning wisdom as one went. There was Bartlet, and Bracken, and Gibson, and Griffiths, and Taplin, and Stewart, and Youatt, and ’Ands, and Lawrence, and Wite, and Percival, and Hosmer, and Peters, and Anonymous by ’Ookem, and Wilkinson on Lockjaw, and Colman, and Sewell, and Happerley, and Caveat Emptier, all snubbin’ each other like so many snobs.

“Away with them all, say I!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, throwing out his hands, to the imminent danger of his supporters right and left. “Away with them all! Away with all such rubbish, say I! John Jorrocks is the only real enlightened sapient sportsman; and ’ere, ’ere from this lofty heminence I hurls defiance at the whole tribe of word-manglin’, grammar-stranglin’, cotation-crammin’ cocks! bids them to a grand tilt or tournament of jaw, where hevery man may do his best, and I’ll make mincemeat of them all—catermauchously chaw them up, as the Americans say. (Loud cheers.)

“But, gently, old bouy,” continued he to himself, “you mustn’t be too ’ard on the fools, or you’ll kill ’em outright; curb your wehemence a little; come, I’ll give you a drop of brandy and water;” saying which, Mr. Jorrocks retired to the back of the platform, and took such a swig at the tumbler, as left nothing, as he observed, to “carry over.”

Presently he returned, smacking his lips, and resumed in a more composed tone as follows:—“Talkin’ about writers,” said he, “the best informed man to my mind wot ever wrote on equestrian matters was Mr. Gambado, who held the distinguished post of ridin’-master to the Doge of Wenice. Hosmer may be more learned, and Happerley more latiney, but for real downright shrewd hobserwation, the Doge’s man flogs all t’others, as the Kentucky boy said. Most writers go out of their way to bring in summat wot does not belong to the subject, but Gambado sticks to his text like a leech. Hosmer, for instance, tells us that a hostrich can outstrip an ’oss, but what matter does that make, seein’ that no one would like to go cuttin’ across country on a hostrich that could get an ’oss. Another tells us how many ’osses Xerxes had in his army after he passed the Hollespont, but it would have been far more to the purpose to have told us how many Mason or Bartley bought at the last ’Orncastle fair.

“Still I don’t mean to say that Gambado was all over right, for there are points upon which the Doge’s man and I differ, though fashion, in course, has altered things since his time. He writes upon ’osses in general, and says little about those for carryin’ a scarlet, without bringin’ it to shame, which is wot we most want information upon. Some of his positions too are bad. For instance, talkin’ of eyes, he says, some people make a great bother about an ’oss’s eyes, jest as if they have anything to do with his haction, and Geoffrey says, that if a man chooses to ride without a bridle it may be matter of moment to him to have an ’oss with an eye or two, but that if he has a bridle, and also a pair of eyes of his own, it is parfectlie immaterial whether the ’oss sees or not. Now, from this, I thinks we may infer that the Doge either did not keep ’ounds, or that the country he ’unted was flat and unenclosed, otherwise Gambado would certainlie have felt the inconwenience of ridin’ a blind ’un. Indeed, I almost think, from his declining the Rev. Mr. Nutmeg’s offer of a mount, on his brown ’oss, that Mr. Gambado either was not a sportsman, or had arrived at a time of life when the exertion of ’unting was too great for him.

“The case was this,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, taking up the work, “and the advice is as good now as it was then. Nutmeg says, in his letter to the ex-ridin’ master, who appears to have been actin’ as a sort of chamber counsel on ’oss cases:—‘You must know, sir, I am werry fond of ’unting, and live in as fine a scentin’ country as any in the kingdom. The soil is pretty stiff, the leaps large and frequent, and a great deal of timber to get over. Now, sir, my brown ’oss is a werry capital ’unter; and though he is slow, and I cannot absolutely ride over the ’ounds (indeed, the country is so enclosed that I do not see so much of them as I could wish), yet, in the end, he generally brings me in before the ’unsman goes home with the dogs.’

“And here let me observe,” said Mr. Jorrocks, breaking off, “that that is neither good sportin’ nor good language, and Nutmeg, I should think, had been one of your Macadamizin’ happetite ’unting parsons, or he would neither have talked of ridin’ over the ’ounds, or yet being content to draggle up after the worry, and just as the dogs, as he calls them, were going home—But let that pass.” Mr. Jorrocks then resumed his reading—

“ ‘Now, sir, my brown ’oss is a noble leaper, and never gave me a fall in his life in that way; but he has got a hawkward trick (though he clears everything with his forelegs in capital style) of leaving the other two on the wrong side of the fence; and if the gate or stile happens to be in a sound state, it is a work of time and trouble to get his hind legs over. He clears a ditch finely indeed, with two feet, but the others constantly fall in; that it gives me a strange pain in my back, very like what is called a lumbago; and unless you kindly stand my friend and instruct me how I am to bring these hind legs after me, I fear I shall never get rid of it. If you please, sir, you may ride him a ’unting yourself any day you will please to appoint, and you shall be ’eartily welcome.’

“To this letter Gambado replied as follows:—

“ ‘Reverend Sir,

“ ‘Your brown ’oss being so good an ’unter, and as you observe, having so fine a notion of leapin’, I should be ’appy if I could be of any service in assistin’ you to make his two hind legs follow the others; but, as you observe, they seem so werry perwerse and obstinate, that I cherish but small ’opes of prewailin’ upon them—I have looked and found many such cases, but no cure—However, in examinin’ my papers I have found out somethin’ that may prove of service to you, in your werry lamentable case—An oat-stealer or ostler has informed me, that it is a common trick played upon bagsters or London riders, when they are not generous to the servants in the inn, for a wicked boy or two to watch one of them as he turns out of the gateway, and to pop a bush or stick under his ’oss’s tail, which he instantly brings down upon the stick and ’olds it fast, kickin’ at the same time at such a rate as to dislodge the bagman that bestrides him—Suppose then, when your ’oss has flown over a gate or stile in his old way, with his fore legs only, you were to dismount, and clap your vip or stick properly under his tail, and then mount again; the puttin’ him in a little motion will set him on his kickin’ principles in a hurry, and it’s ten to one but by this means you get his hind legs to follow the others—You will be able, perhaps, to extricate your stick from its place of confinement when you are up and over (if you arn’t down) but should you not, it is but sixpence gone. I send you this as a mere surmise; perhaps it may answer; perhaps not.

“ ‘I thank you for your offer, which is a werry kind one, but I beg to be excused accepting it; all my hambition being to add to the theory with as little practice as possible.’

“ ‘Add to the theory with as little practice as possible,’ ” repeated Mr. Jorrocks,—“That’s wot a great many writers are anxious to do at the present day—But to proceed—Another circumstance wot leads me to suppose that Jeffery was not an ’unter is this. In some obserwations in his Preface on a portrait of Mr. Gambado that adorns the frontispiece, the editor says that it was done by a friend from memory, and tinctured with the prejudice of friendship. ‘Jeffery,’ he says, ‘was not so slim, nor was his eye so poignant; nor was he ever known to be possessed of a pair of top-boots himself, though he often mentions boots in his writings.’

“That I think,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, “is conclusive. But then what does it prove? Why, that if Gambado, the best of all sportin’ writers, knew nothin’ of ’unting, it is the more incumbent on John Jorrocks to supply the deficiency.

“But whether Gambado, if I may be allowed to speak of him with such familiarity, was a fox-hunter or not, it is quite clear that he possessed a knowledge of ’osses far superior to any man of the present day. ‘The Academy for Grown ’Ossmen’ is a perfect text-book in its way, and when a man has read Gambado’s instructions how to choose an ’oss, how to tackle him properly, in what sort of dress to ride him, how to mount and manage him, how to ride him out, and above all how to ride him ’ome again, dull must be the dog wot has occasion to go to a riding-school.

“There is a wast of fancy about dealin’—far more than relates to the mere colour; indeed some say that colour is immaterial, and there is an old saw about a good ’oss never being of a bad colour, but the first question a green ’orn asks is the colour of the prad. Old Steropes says, if you have no predilection that way, choose a mouse-coloured dun, for it has the peculiar adwantage of lookin’ equally well all the year round. A black list down the back makes it still more desirable, as the bystanders will suppose you are ridin’ with a crupper, a practice no finished ’ossmen ought to neglect. This latter point, however, is confuted by Gambado, who says, ‘be werry shy of a crupper if your ’oss naturally throws his saddle forward. It will certainlie make his tail sore, set him a kickin’, and werry likely bring you into trouble.’

“How perplexin’ must all this be to a beginner,” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, throwing up his hands.

“The height of an ’oss, Gambado says, is perfectly immaterial, prowided he is higher behind than before. Nothin’ is more pleasin’ to a traveller than the sensation of continually gettin’ forward; whereas the ridin’ of an ’oss of a contrary make is like swarmin’ the banisters of a staircase, when, though perhaps you really advance, you feel as if you were goin’ backwards.

“Gambado says nothin’ about the size of an ’oss’s head, but he says he should carry it low, that he may have an eye to the ground and see the better where he steps. Some say the ’ead should be as large as possible, inasmuch as the weight tends to prewent the ’oss from rearin’, which is a wice dangerous in the highest degree; my idea is, that the size of the ’ead is immaterial, for the ’oss doesn’t go on it, at least he didn’t ought to do I know.

“The ears cannot well be too long, Gambado says, for a judicious rider steers his course by fixin’ his eyes be-between them. This, however, is a disputed point, and old Dickey Lawrence recommends that they should be large and loppin’ in a horizontal direction, by which position no rain can possibly enter, and the ’oss will have no occasion to shake his ’ead, a habit which he says not only disturbs the brain, but frequently brings on the mad staggers.

“Here again the doctors differ!

“It seem agreed on all hand that the less a ’oss lifts his fore-legs, the easier he will move for his rider, and he will likewise brush all the stones out of his way, which might otherwise throw him down. Gambado thinks if he turns his toes well out, he will disperse them right and left, and not have the trouble of kickin’ the same stone a second time, but I don’t see much adwantage in this, and think he might as well be kickin’ the same stone as a fresh one.

“There can be no doubt that a Roman nose like Arterxerxes’s adds greatly to the gravity of an oss’s countenance. It has a fine substantial yeoman-like appearance, and well becomes the father of a family, a Church dignitary, or a man in easy circumstances.—A Roman nose and a shovel hat are quite unique.—Some think a small eye a recommendation, as they are less exposed to injuries than large ones, but that is matter of fancy. The nostrils, Lawrence says,—should be small, and the lips thick and leathery, which latter property aids the sensibility of the mouth werry considerably.—Some prefer an arched neck to a ewe, but the latter has a fine consequential hair, and ought not to be slighted.

“It may be prejudice, but I confess I likes an ’oss’s back wot inclines to a hog bend.—Your slack backs are all very well for carryin’ millers’ sacks, but rely upon it there’s nothin’ like the outward bow for makin’ them date their leaps properly. Many men in the Surrey remember my famous ’oss Star-gazer. He was made in that form, and in his leaps threw an arch like the dome of St. Paul’s. A long back is a grand thing for a family ’oss.—I’ve seen my cousin Joe clap six of his brats and his light porter on the back of the old Crockerdile, and the old nag would have carried another if his tail had been tied up.—In the ’unting field, however, one seldom sees more than one man on an ’oss, at a time. Two don’t look sportin’, and the world’s governed by appearances.

“Some people object to high blowers, that is, ’osses wot make a noise like steam-engines as they go. I don’t see no great objection to them myself, and think the use they are of in clearin’ the way in crowded thoroughfares, and the protection they afford in dark nights by preventin’ people ridin’ against you, more than counter-balance any disconwenience.—Gambado says, a bald face, wall eyes, and white legs, answer the same purpose, but if you can get all four, it will be so much the better.

“There is an author who says the hip-bones should project well beyond the ribs, which form will be found werry conwenient in ’to weather, as the rider may hang his hat on them occasionally, whilst he wipes the perspiration from his brow, addin’ that that form gives the hannimal greater facility in passin’ through stable-doors, but I am inclined to think, that the adwice is a little of what the French call pleasantre, and we call gammon; at all events, I don’t follow it.

“Broken knees is nothin’.—Where, let me ax, is the man with the ’oss that he will swear will never tumble down? Geoffrey indeed says, ‘Be sure to buy a broken-kneed ’oss whenever he falls in your way; the best bit of flesh that ever was crossed will certainly come down one day or another; whereas, one that has fallen (and scarified himself pretty tightly) never will again, if he can help it.’

“At an American ’oss sale, I read of t’other day, a buyer exclaims—

“‘Vy, he’s broken knee’d!’

“‘Not at all, you mister,’ cried the hauctioneer pertly. ‘The gen’leman wot sells this ’oss always marks his stud on the knee, that he may know ’em again’—haw! haw! haw!” chuckled Mr. Jorrocks; “‘Lofty hactioned ’oss!—struck his knee again his tooth!’ I once heard a dealer declare on behalf of a broken-kneed ’un in the City.

“There is an old sayin’ in Spain, that a man wot would buy a mule without a fault must not buy one at all, and faultless ’osses are equally rare. Gil Blas’s mule, if I recollects right, was ‘all faults,’ and there are many ’osses not much better. To be sure it makes a marvellous difference whether you are representin’ the ’oss’s qualities to an expectant purchaser, or are treatin’ yourself to a bit of unwarnished truth, as we all must do occasionally. It is an unpleasant reflection, and says little for the morality of the age, or the merits of the Reform Bill, that, out of London, one can hardly get rid of an ’oss without more or less doing wiolence to one’s feelin’s of integrity. ‘The purchaser has need of a hundred eyes, the seller of but one,’ says the authority I quoted before; but dash my vig, they require the seller to make up in tongue what he economises in wision.

“Warrantin’ an ’oss is highly inconwenient, ’specially when you’ve reason to know he’s a screw, and it requires a good deal of management to ewade the question so as not to diminish the price. I generally tries to laugh it off, sayin’, ‘Vy really warrantin’ is quite out of fashion, and never thought of at Tat.’s;’ or if the buyer is a young un, and apparently werdant, I says, ‘Why, faith, I should say he’s all right, but you can see the ’oss yourself, and can judge better nor I.’

“Men that have much business of this sort ought to keep a slippery-tongued grum to whom they can refer a purchaser in a hoff ’and sort of way, as though it were beneath their dignity to know nothin’ of the kind, and wished the grum to give every possible information, which the warmint knows a great deal better nor do.

“A respectable looking grum wot can lie like truth is truly inwaluable to gen’lemen of this description. If a man is rich, he may cheat you with impunity; it is only poor men wot suffer in consequence. Honesty is of no use to licensed ’oss dealers. Every man supposes they are rogues, and treat them accordingly. Who does not remember old bottle-nosed Richards? When any one axed his number, he said, ‘Oh, you ax any shop-keeper in Hoxford-street where the biggest rogue lives, and he’ll be sure to send you to me!’

“But to the warranty; as I said before, it’s werry inconwenient warrantin’, and if a customer sticks to his point, it is not a bad dodge to try and puzzle him by makin’ him explain wot he means by a sound ’oss, and if he gets any way near the point, ax him if he can lay his ’and on his ’art and say that he is not only sound but free from all impendin’ disease. I once frightened a chap uncommon when we got this far by exclaimin’, ‘I’m dashed if there ain’t a hectic flush on your mug at this moment that looks werry like consumption.’ He closed the bargain immediately, and under pretence of writin’ a cheque, went into the ’ouse and had a good look at himself in the glass. Tat. is werry clever at this work, and when a Jonny-raw axes him if he warrants an ’oss sound, he exclaims with a air of astonishment, ‘Warrant him sound! Why, sir, I wouldn’t warrant that he’s an ’oss, let alone that he’s sound’—haw, haw, haw.—My friend Dickey Grunt, who lisps werry much, did a clever thing in this line t’other day. He sold an uncommon green ’orn a broken-winded ’oss, lithping out when ax’d if he warranted him sound, ‘Oh in courthe like all men I w-a-a-n-t him thound;’ whereupon the youth paid the money and dispersed for a ride. Presently he comes back with a werry long wissage, and said, ‘Vy, sir, this ’ere ’oss is broken-winded.’

“‘I knows it,’ replies Dick, with the greatest effrontery.

“‘Then sir, you must take him back and return me my swag, for you warranted him sound.’

“‘No thuch thing, my good fellow,’ replied Dick, ‘you mithtook me altogether; I thaid I wanted him thound! not that I warranted him thound.’ (Loud laughter.)

“Old Joe Smith in Chiswell Street had a wicious nag wot would neither ride, nor drive, nor ’unt, nor do anything that a nag ought. Well, Joe took him to Barnet fair, where he fell in with a swaggerin’ chap in tight nankeens and hessians, who axed him in a hoff ’and sort of way, if he knowed of anything that would knock his buggy about, to which Joe conscientiously replied he did, and sold him his ’oss. Having got the tin, Joe left the town, for Barnet is only a dull place of recreation, when what should come past him like a flash of lightenin’, but his old nag, with his ’ead i’ the hair, kickin’ and millin’ the splash-board of a tidy yellow buggy, with a cane back, and red wheels picked out with green. Presently, up came the owner on a grey poster, with the traces all danglin’ at his ’eels, and jist as he neared Joe, the old nag charged the rails of the new mound, snappin’ the jimmey shafts like carrots, and leavin’ the rest of the buggy scattered all over the road.

“‘Hooi, you rogue! you willain! you waggabone!’ roared the buyer, gaspin’ with rage and fatigue, ‘I’ll teach you to sell such nags to family men of fortin! You’ve all but been the death of Mrs. and Miss Juggins and myself — Where do you live, you complicated abomination of a scoundrel?’

“Now Joe, who is a hoiley little chap, cunnin’ as the devil, and not easily put out of his way, ’special ven it’s his interest not to be so, let Jug run on till he was fairly blown, when he werry coolly observed, jinlin’ the odd pewter in his breeches pocket, ‘My dear sir, you are labourin’ under a werry considerable mistake. If you call to mind what you axed me, it was, if I knowed an oss to knock your buggy about, and egad! if he hasn’t done it to the letter (pointin’ to the remnants on the road,) I don’t know what knockin’ about is.’

“Haw, haw, haw!” laughed Mr. Jorrocks, a chuckle in which the majority of the company joined.

“Another chap that I know had an ’oss that was a capital ’unter, and good at everything but ’arness, which his soul disdained. Well, it didn’t suit the owner’s conwenience to keep anything but what the lawyers call qui tam ’osses, that is to say, ’osses wot will ride as well as drive; so he looked out for a customer, and presently found a softish sort of chap in green spectacles, and a shiny wite ’at, who having tried him to ride, axed if he was quiet in ’arness. To this the owner had no hestitation in sayin’ yes, for he had seen the nag standin’ in ’arness without movin’ a muscle, but when the buyer wanted to tack a carriage to the ’arness—Oh, my eyes! that was quite a different story; and my lord rebelled, and kicked the woiture to bits. The buyer tried to return him, but the owner conwinced him he was wrong, at least he conwinced him he would not take him back, which was pretty nearly the same thing.

“Daddy Higgins in Rupert Street had just such an ’oss as Joe Smith’s—one of the reg’lar good-for-nothin’s—and sold him to a quaker to draw his cruelty wan, assurin’ him, when axed if he was quiet in harness, that it would delight Hobadiah’s eyes to see him draw. Well, the quaker tried to tackle him, but the ’oss soon sent his ’eels through the splash board, and when Hobadiah remonstrated, all the Daddy did was to laugh, and assure him it would delight his eyes to see him draw, for the ’oss would never bear a pair of shafts in his life.

“But enough of sellin’—it’s time I was sayin’ somethin’ about buyin’—no easy matter either.

“Speakin’ of his time, Gambado said it was immaterial whether a purchaser went to Tattersall’s, or Haldridge’s, or Meynell’s ’unt, or to his Majesty’s, for it was probable he would be taken in wherever he went, and things are pretty much in the same state now.

“The less a man knows about an ’oss, the more he expects, and the greater the probability of his thinkin’ himself done. Oh, my beloved ’earers, happy is the day, when brimful of hignorance, the tyro enters on his first ’oss dealin’ speckilation—Great may be his greenness, but age and experience will cure all that, and who would not barter grey-’eaded gumption for the joyousness of youthful confidence and indiscretion? For that pure werdancy, wot sends ingenuous youth up back-slums in search of ’osses advertisin’ for kind masters rather than high prices, the property of noblemen deceased, or hofficers goin’ abroad? (Applause.)

“When I was a bouy, clods came to London expectin’ to find it paved with gold, and many wot read the newspaper adwertisements must think it’s the real place for humanity and ’oss flesh—sich shape—sich symmetry—sich action—sich temper, the most timid may ride, and sich bargins! Who would trudge, when for twenty pounds he can have a cob fit to carry a castle, or a canterin’ thorough-bred, that a child may ride. The werry trials they hoffer would keep a man goin’, prowided he could but get them.

“No man fit to be at large will ever trouble a puff advertisement. If he does he will find himself saddled with an ’oss that isn’t worth his saddle, or may be, taken to a police-office for stealin’ of him. Next, let him awoid choppin’ and changin’. ‘We know what we have, but we don’t know what we may get,’ is a werry treasurable truism.

“Whatever may be the risks of out-and-out dealin’, there is no doubt but exchanging is by far the most certain loss; and it is one of those provokin’ uncertain certainties, for a man is never certain wot he loses. ‘If he don’t suit, I’ll take him back,’ says a dealer; no doubt he will, but will he return you the tin? No such thing! He’ll give you somethin’ worse, and make you give him somethin’ for doin’ so, and the oftener you change, the worse you’ll be mounted.

“There’s an old sayin’ that it’s easier to perceive the wrong than pursue the right; and I reckon it’s a vast easier to tell a man wot he should not buy than wot he should. Walk along Piccadilly any summer afternoon, and see the seedy screws shaking on the cab-stands; there is age, wice, and infirmity, unaided by blisters or bran mashes. Flesh covers a multitude of sins, but cabby stands forth in the familiar anatomy of high bones, and yet there be good shapes and good pints to admire, but no one would think of buyin’ a cab-’oss! Still there is much good awoidance to be learned by lookin’ them over.

“‘Who wants to buy an ’oss, wot can walk five, and trot twenty miles an hour?’ exclaimed a wag among the crowd before the bettin’ room at Doncaster. ‘I do!’ ‘I do!’ ‘I do!’ replied a dozen woices. ‘Then if I hears of sich a one, I’ll let you know,’ replied the gentleman; and werry similar is my sitivation with regard to adwisin’ you where to purchase. One thing is quite certain, that you can’t buy experience with another man’s money, but then, havin’ to pay for it, he will do best wot gets it for least.

“The first step towards a purchase is to make up your mind what sort of an ’oss you want; ’unter, ’ackney, charger, coach, or ‘qui tamer.’ This is a most important point, especial where you go to a dealer’s, where they never have less than thirty or forty, and as many more comin’ from ’Orncastle or ’Owden, or at their farms in the country. For want of this previous arrangement, I once saw a rum scene between Septimus Green, old Verd Antique’s ninth son, and Tommy Doem, wot kept the Pelican Livery and Bait Stables in Cripplegate. Old Tommy was on the eve of his perihodical bankruptcy, and jest afore shuttin’ up, Septimus arrived flourishin his cambric, with his white jeans strapped under his chammy leather opera boots, and a tartan Joinville across his neck. Old Tom eyed him as he swaggered down the ride, and having exchanged nods, Septimus began axin’ Tommy if he had anything in his line, jest as though he bought an ’oss every other day. Tommy paused and considered, runnin’ his mind’s eye, as it were, through the seven stalls, and the ten stalls, and the fifteen stalls, and all the loose boxes, and then as usual he called for Joe. Joe was the pictur’ of a dealer’s man; red nose, blear eyes, long body, short legs—and master and man were one. After a little side talk, in the course of which Tommy heard with regret that the brown was at Greenwich, and the roan at Dulwich, and the white at Blackheath, and half a dozen others of Green’s cut away on trial, Tommy exclaimed with a hair of sudden enlightenment, ‘But, Joe, there’s the cow! jest slip on the ’alter, and bring her hup the ride.’

“‘Cow!’ exclaimed Septimus, ‘I wants an ’oss!’

“‘Well, but see her out at all ewents,’ replied Tommy in the sweetest manner possible; ‘lookin’ costs nothin’,’ added he.

“‘But I doesn’t vont a cow!’ roared Septimus, bursting with rage.

“Jest then the street gates closed, and hup came Joe, runnin’ the cow as he would an ’oss, old Tommy praising her haction, and the way she lifted her leg, swearin’ she never would come down, takin’ no notice of Green stormin’ and swearin’ he didn’t want a cow, he wouldn’t take a cow in a gift; and I really believe if I hadn’t been there, old Tommy would have talked him into it—for he certainlie had the most buttery tongue that ever was hung—and the gates were locked into the bargain.

“But let us narrow the field of ’oss speckilation, and view our buyer on the road to a dealer’s in search of an ’unter. No man should go there in black silk stockin’s; dress trousers are also out of character. And here I may observe that there be two sorts of fox-’unters—the quiet fox-’unter wot goes out werry swell, but comes home and resumes the appearance of a gemman, and the Tom-and-Jerry fox-’unter what goes out now and then, to smoke cigars, pick up a steeple-chaser, wear groomish clothes, and be able to talk of the ’ounds. The latter are not the men for the dealer’s money. They turn the stables over from end to end, worm out the secrets, and keep a register of the fluctuations in price of each ’oss. Some act as middle-men between the buyer and seller, gettin’ wot they can out of each for their trouble. ‘I can buy him cheaper than you,’ they say, and so they benefit the buyer by pocketin’ the difference. These are the bouys to bother a dealer’s vig! A vink from them stops many a bargain, while an approvin’ nod from such distinguished judges drives ingenuous youth into extempore bargains that they would otherwise bring half their acquaintance to inspect.

“When three men enter a yard, a dealer seldom opens out. Two are plenty for business—if the buyer is peagreen, he had better get some riper friend to play first fiddle, and he must be spectator. If he has a button at his ’at and ’olds his tongue, he may pass for a quiet fox-’unter, and so command respect. There’s ‘Masonry’ in fox-’unting, and a loop in at the linin’ or a button behind, will do more than all the swagger and bluster in the world.

“It is an inwariable rule with the dealers to praise the bad points and let the good uns speak for themselves. It is a waste of time observin’ that an ’oss is large in the ’ead or light in the carcase, ’cause a contradiction is sure to follow. It is equally useless axin’ the age of a dealer’s ’oss, because they are all ‘six hoff.’ If you object to shape, make, or colour, they will tell you it’s all fancy! That some folks like a happle, others a honion, and Lord So-and-so would give any price for sich an ’oss. As to argufying with a dealer, that’s quite out of the question, because he has his cut-and-dried answers to every obserwation you can make, and two or three grums to swear to what he says. Keep, therefore, in mind what Gambado said about being done, keep also in view the sort of nag you want, and don’t be talked into buyin’ a cow, and when an ’oss of your figure makes his appearance, look him full in the face, as though you were used to such interviews. If you have read about sand cracks, and sallenders, and sit-fasts, and thorough pins, and quittors, and locked jaws, and curbs, you will save yourself the trouble of enquirin’ after any of them by axin’ the dealer if he’ll warrant him sound. In course he’ll say yes, and you may then proceed with your view. The precept, ‘No fut, no ’oss,’ is well to be borne in mind perhaps, as also ‘No ’ock, no ’unter.’ Now, ’ark forward!

“The dealer, what with his tongue and his whip, will keep you and the nag in a state of trepidation.

“All the good qualities ’oss-flesh is heir to will be laid to his charge, and there will be nothin’ you can ax but what he will be able to do.—‘Leap! Lor’ bless you, Sir, I vish you’d see’d him last Friday gone a week with the Queen’s staggers at Slough. We was a runnin’ old Skylark, wot always goes straight, when he planted the field at a six foot vall, dashed and coped with broken bottles—not another ’oss looked at it, and Davis declared he never see’d such a lip in his life.’

“Spooney.—‘Vill he go in ’arness, do you think?’

“Dealer.—‘Quietest crittur alive! Jack’s eldest bouy here, a lad o’ thirteen, driv him and another to Mile End and back, ’long the Strand, through Fleet Street, Cheapside, and all, busiest time o’ day, and he nouther looked to the right nor the left. Lay your leg over him, sir!’

“Now this latter is an inwitation for the gen’leman to mount, and if so be he of the button has never been much used to ride, he had better let his friend use his leg, or should neither be werry expert, let the dealer’s man throw his over. Some ’osses don’t like strangers, and nothin’ looks so foolish as a man floored in a dealer’s yard. Still, mountin’ is the first step in practical ’ossmanship, and it don’t need no conjuror to know that unless a man mount he can have no ride. Should our friend think well of the nag’s looks, perhaps he cannot begin his acquaintance too soon. If he sees no wite of the eye or symptoms of wice, no coaxin’ or whooain’, or shoulderin’ to get him to stand, let him march boldly up and mount, like William the Conqueror. ’Osses are queer critturs, and know when we are frightened of them just as well as we do ourselves. Born to be controlled, they stoop to the forward and the bold!

“If Green’orn gets fairly up, the chances are he likes his mount. It is pleasant to find one’s self carried instead of kicked off, and some ’osses never ride so well as on trial. Out then Spooney goes, and tries all his paces; a self-satisfied smile plays on his mug, as rein on neck he returns down the covered ride, and the dealer, with a hair of indifference, axes ‘’Ow he likes him?’

“Spooney.—‘Why, pretty well—but I think he ray-ther pulls—I fear he’ll be windicitive with ’ounds.’

“Dealer.—‘Pulls! Vy if you pulls at him, in all humane probability he’ll pull at you—otherwise you might ride him with a thread,’ addin’ aside, ‘I sells ’osses, not ’ands. Finest mouth’d nag I ever was on!’

“Spooney.—‘Well, but you’ll take a lee-tle less than what you ax?’

“Dealer.—‘Couldn’t take a fardin’ less!—gave within three sovs. of that myself, and brought him all the vay from ’Orncastle.—Squire Smith will take him if you don’t—indeed, here comes his grum.’

“Here the dealer’s liveried and booted servant appears.

“The bargain is then closed—the money paid, a warranty included in the stamped receipt, and Spooney’s first ride is to Field’s, or the Weterinary College, to have him examined. One pound one is thus added to his price.

“Thus, my beloved ’earers,” concluded Mr. Jorrocks, “have I conducted you through the all-perilous journey of your first deal, showin’ how warious and conflictin’ are the opinions relative to ’osses, and how, as in many cases, wot is one man’s meat is anither man’s puzzon. Far be it from me to say that you will be much wizer from anything you have heard, for the old stager will find nothin’ but what he knew before, while all that can be taught the beginner is not to be too sanguinary in his expectations.

“‘Turn about is fair play,’ as the devil said to the smoke-jack, and it is only right that those what have inwested capital in the purchase of experience, should be allowed to get a little back. By-and-by it will be Green’orn’s turn, and then little Spooney, who now goes sneakin’ up the yard, will swagger boldly in, commandin’ the respect and attention of the world.

“We must all creep afore we can walk, and all be bitten afore we can bite. But let not ingenuous youth despair! If his ’oss is not so good as he might be, let him cherish the reflection that he might have been far worse! Let him apply that moral precept so beautifully inculcated towards his better ’alf:—

“So shall little Spooney jog on rejoinin’! Each succeedin’ year shall find him better mounted, and at each fresh deal he will become a wiser, and, I ’opes, an ’appier man.”

Mr. Jorrocks concluded amidst loud and universal applause.

A loud call being then made on Roger Swizzle, that genius at length stepped forward, and after a few preparatory hems, declared that “of all the lectures he had ever listened to, either at Guy’s, Bartholomew’s, or elsewhere, he had never heard one so replete with eloquence, genius, and genuine information.” (Cheers.) “Hunting, and Handley Cross waters” (the original Spa! some one cried out), “the original Spa, of course,” repeated Roger, “would cure every complaint under the sun, and if he hadn’t such a wash-ball seat, he declared he’d turn sportsman himself. Before they dispersed, however, let them pay a tribute of respect to the gentleman to whom they were indebted for such a great sporting luminary—he proposed three cheers for Captain Doleful.”

Captain Doleful returned thanks, and proposed three cheers for Roger Swizzle, after which the majority of the male portion of the meeting resolved themselves into a brandy-and-water committee (Jorrocks in the chair), which sat very late, and resulted in our friend being left to pay the greater share of the shot.