CHAPTER XL

THE TWO PROFESSORS

The ladies being gone, the usual inquiries of “Are you warm enough here, sir?” “Won’t you take an armchair?” “Do you feel the door?” having been made and responded to, the party closed up towards Mr. Muleygrubs, who now assumed the top of the table, each man sticking out his legs, or hanging an arm over the back of his chair, as suited his ease and convenience. Mr. Jorrocks, being the stranger, the politeness of the party was directed to him.

“Been in this part of the country before, sir?” inquired Professor Girdlestone, cornering his chair towards Professor Jorrocks.

“In course I ’ave,” replied Mr. Jorrocks; “I ’unts the country, and am in all parts of it at times—ven I goes out of a mornin’ I doesn’t know where I may be afore night!

“Indeed!” exclaimed the Professor. “Delightful occupation!” continued he: “what opportunities you have of surveying nature in all her moods, and admiring her hidden charms! Did you ever observe the extraordinary formation of the hanging rocks about a mile and a half to the east of this? The—”

“I ran a fox into them werry rocks, I do believe,” interrupted Mr. Jorrocks, brightening up. “We found at Haddington Steep, and ran through Nosterley Firs, Crampton Haws, and Fitchin Park, where we had a short check, owin’ to the stain o’ deer, but I hit off the scent outside, like a workman as I am, and we ran straight down to these werry rocks, when all of a sudden th’ ’ounds threw up, and I was certain he had got among ’em. Vell, I gets a spade and a tarrier, and I digs, and digs, and houks as my Scotch ’untsman calls it, till near night, th’ ’ounds got starved th’ ’osses got cold, and I got the rheumatis, but, howsomever, we could make nothin’ of him; but I—”

“Then you would see the geological formation of the whole thing,” interposed the Professor. “The carboniferous series is extraordinarily developed. Indeed, I know of nothing to compare with it, except the Bristol coal-field, on the banks of the Avon. There the dolomitic conglomerate, a rock of an age intermediate between the carboniferous series and the lias, rests on the truncated edges of the coal and mountain limestone, and contains rolled and angular fragments of the latter, in which are seen the characteristic mountain limestone fossils. The geological formation—”

“Oh, I doesn’t know nothin’ about the geo-nothin’ formation o’ the thing,” interposed Mr. Jorrocks hastily, “nor does I care; I minds the top was soft enough, as most tops are, but it got confounded ’ard lower down, and we broke a pick-axe, a shovel, and two spades afore we were done, for though in a general way I’m as indifferent ’bout blood as any one, seein’ that a fox well fund w’e me is a fox as good as killed, and there is not never no fear o’ my ’ounds bein’ out o’ blood, for though I says it, who p’raps shouldn’t, there’s no better ’untsman than I am, but some’ow this beggar had riled me uncommon, ’avin’ most pertinaciously refused to brik at the end o’ the cover I wanted, and then took me a dance hup the werry steepest part o’ Higham Hill, ’stead o’ sailing plisantly away over Somerby water meadows, and so on to the plantations at Squerries—”

“That’s the very place I’ve been cudgelling my brains the whole of this blessed day to remember,” exclaimed the Professor, flourishing his napkin. “That’s the very place I’ve been cudgelling my brains the whole of this blessed day to remember. A mile and a half to the east of Squerries—no, south-east of Squerries, is a spring of carbonic acid gas, an elastic fluid that has the property of decomposing many of the hardest rocks with which it comes in contact, particularly that numerous class in whose composition felspar is an ingredient; it renders the oxide of iron soluble in water, and contributes to the solution of calcareous matter; I—”

“You don’t say so!” interrupted Mr. Jorrocks. “I wish I’d ’ad a bucket on it wi’ me, for I really believe I should ha’ got the fox, for though I holds with Beckford, that ’ounds ’ave no great happetite for foxes longer nor they’re hangry with ’em, yet in a houk, as we expects each dig to be the last, one forgets while one’s own hanger’s risin’ that their’s is coolin’, and though we worked as if we were borin’ for a spring—”

“That’s very strange!” now interrupted Mr. Marmaduke, who had been listening attentively all the time, anxious to get a word in sideways. “That’s very strange! Old Tommy Roadnight came to me one morning for a summons against Willy Udal for that very thing. He would have it that Willy had bored the rock to draw the water from his well. Now I as a justice of the peace of our sovereign lady the Queen— perhaps you are not in the Commission of the Peace, are you, Mr. Jorrocks?” inquired Mr. Muleygrubs again.

“Not I,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, carelessly.

“Well, never mind, perhaps you may get in some day or other,” observed the consoling justice; “but as I was saying, I as a county magistrate, with the immense responsibility of the due administration of the laws, tempered always with merey, without which legislation is intolerant and jurisprudence futile,—I, I say, did not feel justified in issuing my summons under my hand and seal for the attendance of the said William Udal, at the suit of the said Thomas Roadnight, without some better evidence than the conjecture of the said William, besides, perhaps, you are not aware that the Trespass Act, as it is termed, should rather be called the Wilful Damage Act, for the J.P. has to adjudicate more on the damage actually sustained by the trespass, than on the trespass itself, indeed without damage there would seem to be no trespass, therefore I felt unless the said Thomas Roadnight could prove that the said William Udal really and truly drew off the said water—”

“Con-found your water!” interrupted Mr. Jorrocks; “give us the wine, and let’s have a toast: wot say you to fox-’unting?”

“With all my heart,” replied Mr. Muleygrubs, looking very indignant, at the same time helping himself and passing the decanters. “Upon my word,” resumed he, “the man who administers justice fairly and impartially has no easy time of it, and were it not for the great regard I have for the Lord-Lieutenant and my unbounded loyalty to the Queen, I think I should cease acting altogether.”

“Do,” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks eagerly, “and take to ’unting instead,—make you an honorary member of my ’unt,—far finer sport than sittin’ in a ’ot shop with your ’at on;

Mr. Muleygrubs did not deign a reply.

The wine circulated languidly, and Mr. Jorrocks in vain tried to get up a conversation on hunting. The professor always started his stones, or Mr. Muleygrubs his law, varied by an occasional snore from Mr. Slowan, who had to be nudged by Jones every time the bottle went round. Thus they battled on for about an hour.

“Would you like any more wine?” at length inquired Mr. Muleygrubs, with a motion of rising.

“Not any more, I’m obleged to you,” replied the obsequious Mr. Jacob Jones, who was angling for the chaplaincy of Mr. Marmaduke’s approaching shrievalty.

“Just another bottle!” rejoined Mr. Jorrocks, encouragingly.

“Take a glass of claret,” replied Mr. Muleygrubs, handing the jug to our master.

“Rayther not, thank ye,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, “not the stuff for me.—By the way now, I should think,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, with an air of sudden enlightenment, “that some of those old ancient hancestors o’ yours have been fond o’ claret.”

“Why so?” replied Mr. Muleygrubs, pertly.

“Doesn’t know,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, musingly, “but I never hears your name mentioned without thinking o’ small claret. But come, let’s have another bottle o’ black strap—it’s good strap—sound and strong—got what I calls a good grip o’ the gob.”

“Well,” said Mr. Muleygrubs, getting up and ringing the bell, “if you must, you must, but I should think you have had enough.”

“Port Wine!” exclaimed he, with the air of a man with a dozen set out, to his figure footman as he answered the bell.

“Yes, sir,” said the boy, retiring for the same.

“Letter from the Secretary of State for the Home Department,” exclaimed Stiffneck, re-entering and presenting Mr. Muleygrubs with a long official letter on a large silver tray.

“Confound the Secretary of State for the Home Department!” muttered Mr. Muleygrubs, pretending to break a seal as he hurried out of the room.

“That’s a rouse!” (ruse), exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, putting his forefinger to his nose, and winking at Mr. De Green—“gone to the cellar.”

“Queer fellow, Muleygrubs,” observed Mr. De Green

“What a dinner it was!” exclaimed Mr. Slowan.

“ ’Ungry as when I sat down,” remarked Mr. Jorrocks.

“All flash,” rejoined Professor Girdlestone

“I pity his wife,” observed Jacob Jones; “they say he licks her like fun.”

“Little savage,” rejoined Mr. Jorrocks, “should like to make a drag of him for my ’ounds.”

The footboy at length appeared bringing the replenished decanter. Mr. Muleygrubs returned just as the lad left the room.

Having resumed his seat, Mr. Jorrocks rose and with great gravity addressed him as follows:—“Sir, in your absence we have ’ad the plissur o’ drinkin’ your werry good ’ealth, coupled with the expression of an ’ope that the illustrious ’ouse of Muleygrubs may long flourish in these your ancestral and baronial ’alls,” a sentiment so neat and so far from the truth, as to draw down the mirth concealing applause of the party.

“Mr. Jorrocks and gentlemen,” said Mr. Muleygrubs, rising after a proper lapse of time, and holding a brimmer of wine in his hand, “Mr. Jorrocks and gentlemen,” repeated he, “if any thing can compensate a public man for the faithful performance of an arduous and difficult office—increased by the prolixity of the laws and the redundancy of the statute-book, it is the applause of upright and intelligent men like yourselves (Hear, hear). He who would administer the laws faithfully and impartially, needs the hinward harmour of an approving conscience, with the houtward support of public happrobation (Hear, hear). I firmly believe the liberal portion of the unpaid magistracy of England are deserving of every enconium the world can bestow. Zealous in their duties, patient in their inquiries, impartial in their judgments, and inflexible in their decisions, they form a bulwark round the throne, more national and more noble than the coronetted spawn of a mushroom haristocracy.”

Mr. M. waited for applause, which, however, did not come. He then proceeded:—

“I feel convinced there is not a man in the commission who would not prefer the tranquility of private life to the lofty heminence of magisterial dignities, but there is a feeling deeply implanted in the breasts of English gentlemen which forbids the consideration of private ease when a nation’s wants have been expressed through the medium of a beloved Sovereign’s wishes,—England expects that every man will do his duty” continued Mr. Muleygrubs, raising his voice and throwing out his right arm.

“Bravo, Grubs!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks; “you speak like Cicero!” an encomium that drew forth the ill-suppressed mirth of the party, and cut the orator short in his discourse.

“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Muleygrubs, looking very indignantly at Mr. Jorrocks, “I thank you for the honour you have done me in drinking my health, and beg to drink all yours in return.”

“And ’ow’s the Secretary o’ State for the ’Ome Department?” inquired Mr. Jorrocks, with a malicious grin, after Mr. Muleygrubs had subsided into his seat.

“Oh, it was merely a business letter—official! A Fitzroyer in fact.”

“Ah!” said Mr. Jorrocks, “that’s the gent to whom we’re so much indebted for reforming our street cabs. A real piece o’ useful legislation that, for the most hexperienced man in London could never tell what a cab would cost.” Mr. Jorrocks then proceeded to compare the different expense of town transit, and, with the subject apparently well in hand, was suddenly done out of it by the stone-professor on his mentioning the subject of water-carriage.

“If geologists are right in their conjecture,” cut in the Professor, “that this country has been drained by large rivers, which were inhabited by gigantic oviparous reptiles, both bivorous and carnivorous, and small insectivorous mammifera, one may naturally conclude that out-of-doors gentlemen like you will often meet with rare specimens of animal antiquity.”

“No, we don’t,” retorted our Master snappishly. “When a man’s cuttin’ across country for ’ard life, he’s got summit else to do than look out for mammas. That’s ’ow chaps brick their necks,” added he.

“True,” jerked in Mr. Muleygrubs. “Then comes the coroner’s inquest, the jury, the finding, and the deodand,” observed the host. “I regard the office of coroner as one of the bulwarks of the constitution. It was formerly held in great esteem, and none could hold it under the degree of knight, third of Edward the First, chapter ten, I think; and by the fourteenth of Edward the Third, if I recollect right, chapter eight, no coroner could be chosen unless he had land in fee sufficient in the same county, whereof he might answer to all manner of people. My ancestor, Sir Jonathan Muleygrubs, whose portrait you see up there,” pointing to a bluff Harry-the-Eighth-looking gentleman in a buff jerkin, with a red-lined basket-handled sword at his side, “held it for many years. He was the founder of our family, and—”

“Then, let’s drink his ’ealth,” interposed Mr. Jorrocks, finding the wine did not circulate half as fast as he could wish. “A werry capital cock, and every way worthy of his line,” saying which he seized the decanter, and filled himself a bumper. “I wish he’d been alive, I’d have made him a member of our ’unt. And who’s that old screw with the beard?” inquired Mr. Jorrocks, pointing to the portrait next Sir Jonathan, a Roman senator-looking gentlemen, wrapped in a loose pink and white robe.

“That,” said Mr. Muleygrubs, “is my great grandfather, an alderman of London and a member of Parliament for Tewkesbury.”

“I thought you said it was Shakespeare,” observed Mr. Jones, somewhat dryly.

“Well,” said Mr. Jorrocks, knowingly, “that’s no reason why it should not be his great-grandfather too; I should say our ’ost’s werry like Shakespeare, partiklar about the ’ead—and, if I recollects right, Shakespeare said summut about justices o’ the peace too.”

“Tea and coffee wait your pleasure in the drawing-room,” observed the stiff-necked footman, opening the door and entering the apartment in great state.

“Cuss your tea and coffee!” muttered Mr. Jorrocks, buzzing the bottle. “Haven’t had half a drink. Here’s good sport for to-morrow,” said he, sipping his wine. “You ’unt with us, in course,” observed he to the professor.

“Oh, indeed, no,” said Professor Girdlestone, “that is quite out of my line; I am engaged to meet Mr. Lovel Lightfoot, the eminent geologist, to examine the tertiary strata of—”

“Well, then,” interrupted Mr. Jorrocks, all I’ve got to say is, if you meet the fox, don’t ’ead him:” saying which he drained his glass, threw down his napkin, and strutted out of the room, muttering something about justices, jackasses, and fossil fools.

Tea and coffee were enlivened by a collision between the foot-boys. Stiffneck with the tea-tray made a sudden wheel upon No. 2 with the coffee-tray, and about an equal number of cups and saucers were smashed. The crash was great, but Muleygrubs’ wrath was greater. “Stupidest beggars that ever were seen— deserve a month a-piece on the treadmill!”

“Weary of state without the machinery of state,” Mr. Jorrocks gladly took his chamber-candle to retire to his twopenny bead and farthing tail.