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When I talks of dog-fighting, I of course means rat-catching, and badger-baiting, ay, and bull-baiting too, just as when I speaks religiously, when I says one I means not one but three. And talking of religion puts me in mind that I have something else to do besides chaffing here, having a batch of dogs to send off by this night’s packet to the Pope of Rome.’
I crawled out from our heap of leaves, and was astonished at the change which a good night’s rest had wrought in his appearance. He was as blithe and joyous as a young bird, and was staying the keenness of his morning’s appetite by chewing the soft bark of a delicate branch he held in his hand, and he recommended the like to me, as an admirable antidote against the gnawings of hunger.
Another and a more practical instance of their patronage was then related, for the favoured landlord assured us that on one occasion, when he and his wife descended downstairs in the morning, they found the house cleared, the hearth ready swept, and all the contents of last night’s supper-table relaid on the brick floor, but d’un modo squisito, such as no human hand could ever have been deft enough to contrive.
He went quietly to the bench, took up his overcoat, put it on without a word, and went out of the hut. He did not find the forester in the next room; there was no one there. He took fifty kopecks in small change out of his pocket and put them on the table for his night’s lodging, the candle, and the trouble he had given. Coming out of the hut he saw nothing but forest all round.
When you have done this go home again and be sure you get there before daylight. It’s a hard night’s work I have put on you, Abe, but I will pay you well for it. Now, take off your boots and come with me.” The obedient fellow did as he was bid, and followed Joyce into the house and to Calhoun’s room. “Take him to the carriage,” whispered Joyce.
His wife had predicted this in her preceding night’s dream, and he, silly man, had not sense enough to give up his turn to another pilot. On arriving in the Downs, I was ordered next day to repair to my old tiresome cruising ground, where, during a period of three long, lingering months, we cruised, anchored, fished, and frequently on Sundays engaged the old women’s terror, the flotilla.
After one night’s repose in limbo, he sent a physician or surgeon of most profound skill and judgment to them, who brought the keys of their melancholy apartments, and pretending greatly to befriend them, advised them, if there were any of them counterfeits, to make haste out of the town, or otherwise they must expect no mercy from the mayor, unknown to whom he had privately stolen the keys; then, unlocking the door, forth issued the disabled and infirm prisoners; the lame threw aside their crutches and artificial legs, and made an exceeding good use of their natural ones: the blind made shift to see the way out of town; and the deaf themselves, with great attention, hearkened to this their friend, and followed his advice with all possible speed.
Little tokens of affection are interchanged, and promises to write are made, but seldom kept. With this mingling and outpouring of full hearts, the stream of punch still flows through tiny glasses: but, since “Many a little makes a mickle,” the farewell thus taken ends sometimes as a debauch. Hans, in the morning, is perhaps a little the worse for last night’s punch.
I thought I was a proper fellow with that quantity of ready cash upon my person, and a six weeks’ beard on my chin. Many adieus had been spoken in Hamburg at our last night’s revel, but a Danish friend was up betimes to see me out of town.
But he seemed to know that there was something queer about that night’s hunting, for he never came to Solomon Owl’s house again. It was winter. And for several days a strong south wind had swept up Pleasant Valley. That—as Solomon Owl knew very well—that meant a thaw was coming. He was not sorry, because the weather had been bitterly cold. Well, the thaw came.
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