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If he had been Jack Spraggon, living in old Mother Nipcheese's lodgings at Starfield, as he was when Lord Scamperdale took him by the hand, he would have addressed him as 'Dear Sir, or perhaps in the third person, 'Mr. Jawleyford presents his compliments to Mr.
'Dog-cart name behind Right Honourable the Earl of Scamperdale lad with cockade everything genteel'; adding, 'by Jove, they'll take you for me! Having settled all these matters, and arranged how the information was to be communicated to Jawleyford, the friends at length took their block-tin candlesticks, with their cauliflower-headed candles, and retired to bed. When Mr.
The more Jawleyford drank, the more energetic he became, and the greater pleasure he anticipated from the meet of the morrow. He docked the lord, and spoke of 'Scamperdale' as an excellent fellow a real, good, hearty, honest Englishman a man that 'the more you knew the more you liked'; all of which was very encouraging to Sponge.
'Why not? asked Lord Scamperdale; 'he'll give you a good dinner fricassees, and all sorts of good things; far finer fare than you have here. 'That may all be, replied Jack, 'but I don't want none of his food. I hate the sight of the fellow, and detest him fresh every time I see him. Consider, too, you said you'd let me off if I sarved out Sponge; and I'm sure I did my best.
They talked of Scamperdale, and they talked of Frostyface, and the number of foxes he had killed, the price of corn, and the difference its price made in the keep of hounds and horses. Altogether they were very 'thick. 'And how's our friend Sponge? asked Puffington, as the conversation at length began to flag. 'Oh, he's nicely, replied Jack, adding, 'hasn't he come yet?
'A put-off, for a guinea! exclaimed his lordship. 'Hope so, muttered Jack. 'Hope not, replied his lordship. 'It is! exclaimed Jack, reading, 'Dear Mr. Spraggon, and so on. 'The humbug! muttered Lord Scamperdale, adding, 'I'll be bound he's got no more influenza than I have.
'I'm not hem cough cold, thank ye, mum. His face and hands were purple notwithstanding. 'How is my Lord Scamperdale? asked Amelia, who had a strong inclination to keep in with all parties. 'Hem cough hem my lord that's to say, my lady hem cough I mean to say, my lord's pretty well, thank ye, stuttered Jack. 'Is he coming? asked Amelia.
Neighbouring masters of hounds are often more or less jealous of each other. No man in the master-of-hound world is too insignificant for censure. Lord Scamperdale was an undoubted sportsman; while poor Mr. Puffington thought of nothing but how to be thought one.
Having travelled musingly along two or three miles of road, now thinking over the glorious run now of the gallant way in which Hercules had carried him now of the pity it was that there was nobody there to see now of the encounter with Lord Scamperdale, just as he passed a well-filled stackyard, that had shut out the view of a flaming red brick house with a pea-green door and windows, an outburst of 'hoo-rays! followed by one cheer more 'hoo-ray! made the remaining wild hounds prick up their ears, and our friend rein in his horse, to hear what was 'up. A bright fire in a room on the right of the door overpowered the clouds of tobacco-smoke with which the room was enveloped, and revealed sundry scarlet coats in the full glow of joyous hilarity.
We know better, and without imitating Mr. Jack Spraggon, or reminding every one present of that "two thousand five hundred twenty-five 'undred pounds a year" which Lord Scamperdale did or did not spend on his pack, are very well aware of what our master and the servants and the hounds had done that morning.
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