Perhaps the old groom6 was less omnipotent7 in the stable than elsewhere. Mr. Sawyer, like many other proprietors8 of small studs, chose to have his own way with his horses, and would no more have omitted to visit them after breakfast than he would have neglected to smoke his cigar. It is only the tip-top swells9, with whom our friend had not yet scraped acquaintance, who “suppose their fellow will have ‘two or three’ at the place of meeting.” But although it is doubtless a great luxury to own plenty of hunters, this very plurality often prevents a man from finding out which is his best horse. There are not a great many good runs over any country in one season. It is a long time before you have treated each one of your dozen to a clipper; and, till then, you only know you have a good hunter, but cannot tell you have got a good horse.
Mr. Sawyer, however, knew the merits and the failings of his own two or three nags10 but too well. He was pretty often on their backs, and, when off them, constantly in and out of the stable. Isaac would no more have dared to give one of them a gallop11, or a dose of physic, than to have inflicted12 the same discipline on his master. Nevertheless he grumbled13 always and continuously. As I have said before, it was the one relaxation14 he permitted himself. Perhaps he never had a better opportunity than on the morning after the new horse came home, when Mr. Sawyer, according to custom, but with a trifle more eagerness than usual, visited his favourites in their comfortable quarters. According to custom, too, he felt their legs all round; expressed his satisfaction that the grey’s had got “quite fine again,” and passed over a certain thick-set underbred bay horse without a remark. Indeed, it would have been difficult to say anything complimentary15 of this animal; and his remaining so long in Mr. Sawyer’s stable was less the consequence of his merits than that strangers seemed to have the same opinion of him as was entertained by his own master. It is somewhat galling16, when we cannot get rid of a bad one, to reflect that it should be so difficult to find a bigger fool than ourselves. The bay, who rejoiced in the classical appellation17 of Marathon, was a slow horse, a sulky horse, and by no means a safe fencer—about as unpleasant a hunter as a man would wish to get upon, but rather a favourite with Isaac notwithstanding, as he was sound, and a voracious18 feeder. These three, the roan, the grey (who had no name), and the bay, with a little three-cornered jumping hack19 called Jack-a-Dandy, now constituted Mr. Sawyer’s stud; and, as he contemplated20 them all hard at work with their eleven o’clock feed, he felt that spark of ambition glowing in his bosom21 which has lured22 so many great men to their destruction.
“He looks a clipper! don’t he, Isaac?” observed the master, nodding towards the roan’s long shapely quarters and square tail. “The rarest shaped one we’ve had in this stable for many a day,” he added, seeing his servant’s features screwed into the well-known twist that denoted disapprobation.
“Looks!” grunted24 Isaac, who never called his master “sir.” “Looks! Ah! he’d be a nice thing enough to knock a light trap about, or do you a day now and then when the country gets dry. He’ll never be fit for our ploughs—you see if he will! They’ll pull him to pieces in a fortnight—you see if they won’t!”
“I don’t want him for our ploughs,” answered Mr. Sawyer, waxing somewhat impatient. “I don’t think I shall have another day in the Old Country this year. Look ye here, Isaac. I’m going to move the horses. I’ve three now, let alone ‘Jack’” (this was an abbreviation for the hack who seldom enjoyed his fall name, being generally designated as above, or as “The Dandy”)—“three right good ones. I can easily pick up another, when I’m settled. I’m going down to the grass.”
“Grass!” grunted the listener. “Where be that?”
“Well, I’m going to see what sport they have in the Shires,” answered his master, warming up with the subject—“going to have a look at Mr. Tailby and the Earl of Stamford and Warrington, and try if I can’t make a fight good enough to see those Pytchley bitches run into their fox. I’m going to Market Harborough, Isaac. Such horses as mine are wasted in this out-of-the-way country. Why, the grey’s the best I’ve ever had; and the roan ought to be faster than he; and even the bay would carry me better, I think, in that country than he does here.”
A gleam as of pity softened25 old Isaac’s hard blue eyes, as it rested on Marathon tucking in his feed, and he pictured that devoted26 animal rolling and lurching, disconsolate27, over the ridge-and-furrow of a fifty-acre grass-field. But he only observed sardonically28,
“Markit Harboro’, is it? To stand at the sign of the ‘Hand-in-Pocket,’ I suppose?”
“Never mind what you suppose!” answered Mr. Sawyer, now positively29 angry. “You do what I bid you. Move the horses down to-morrow by the rail. Take The Boy with you; and mind you keep him out of mischief30. I’ve written to a friend of mine to engage stables. Next week we’ll begin work in right earnest. Come into the house, with your book, after your dinner; and hold your tongue!”
Old Isaac knew better than to pursue the subject any further; and, truth to tell, the old fellow had a spark of his youth’s adventurous31 spirit lingering about him still, which made him not averse32 to a change, although he thought the scheme wasteful33, imprudent, and extravagant34. He looked after his master, strolling leisurely35 towards the house, and observed very slowly to himself and the stable-cat:
“Market ’Arborow! Market ’Arborow! Five days a week, bullock-fences, and a wet country! Thorns, stubs, cracked heels, and hawful wear-an’-tear of horses! No—I couldn’t have believed it of him!”
Eight-and-forty hours more saw old Isaac stamping drearily36 about on the wet pavement of that excellent sporting locality. Market Harborough, though perhaps the best head-quarters in the world for fox-hunting, can scarcely be termed a gay or very beautiful town. On a wet, drizzling37 afternoon in early winter, when twilight38 begins somewhere about 2.45, with no movable object visible save a deserted39 carrier’s cart, and a small rain falling, which dulls the red-brick houses while it polishes the paved and slippery streets, it is, doubtless, a city suggestive of repose40, not to say stagnation41. Isaac’s was a temperament42 sufficiently43 susceptible44 of all unpleasant influences; and he began to wish heartily45 he hadn’t come. A variety of disadvantages had occurred to him since his arrival. The price of forage46 and stabling he considered enormous. The conveniences for hot water were not what he was accustomed to at home. Hotspur did by no means feed well in a strange box: the horse had begun to look poorer day by day since he left the dealer’s. And last night The Boy, who had never been from home before, certainly smelt47 of gin when he came to bed.
This youth—who, if he once had a name, must have long forgotten it, since he was never called anything but “The Boy”—was a continual thorn in the head groom’s side. He had originally been taken solely48 on Isaac’s recommendation, and had caused that worthy49 more trouble than all the rest of the establishment put together, horses, pigs, and the Cochin-Chinas to boot. He was a light, lathy lad, with a pretty face; a good horseman, considering his strength, or rather weakness; and had a knack50 of keeping his hands down: but he owned the usual faults of boyhood—carelessness, forgetfulness, “imperence” (as Isaac called it), a great love of procrastination51, and general insensibility to the beauty of truth.
“If he takes to drinking, the young warmint!” thought Isaac, “I’ll larrup the skin off him!” And thus consoling himself, the old man turned his cheek once more to the chill, misty52 heavens, and shook his head. His horses were done up; the door locked, and the key in his pocket; The Boy also secured by the same means in the loft53. Master could not arrive till eight or nine o’clock. It was the hour when, at The Grange, he was accustomed to see the pigs feed and the chickens to roost. He wished he was back in the Old Country: the time hung heavily on the old groom’s hands.
“Nothing to do, and lots of time to do it in! that seems to be about the size of it—eh, governor?” said a voice at his elbow; and, turning round, Isaac confronted a short and dapper personage, whom, by a sort of freemasonry, he had no difficulty in recognising as one of his own profession.
At any other time he would have treated this worthy’s advances to acquaintance with sovereign contempt; but his spirits were depressed54 and his heart solitary55, so he vented56 a grunt23 of acquiescence57, which, for him, was wonderfully polite.
“I think I see you arrive yesterday, with two or three nags,” continued this affable functionary58, “when I was out a hairin’ some o’ mine; and you’re puttin’ up close by my place. Come in, governor, and take something hot, to keep the cold off till we become better acquainted.”
With this hospitable59 offer, Isaac found himself following his new friend into a cosy60 little tap-room, with red curtains and a sanded floor, which apartment they had all to themselves; and whilst “something hot”—a delicious compound of yolk61 of egg, brown sugar, warm beer, and cordial gin—was being got ready, he had time to study the exterior62 of his new acquaintance.
Probably the utmost ingenuity63 of the tailor’s art must have been exhausted64 in constructing trousers so tight as the pair which clung to that person’s legs. Not a crease65 had they, nor a fold anywhere; and, unless the man slept in them, it was difficult to conceive how they could conveniently be used as articles of daily apparel. The person’s boots, too, were neat, round-toed Wellingtons; his waistcoat descended66 far below his hips67; and the waist-buttons of his grey-mixture coat were unusually low and wide apart. A cream-coloured silk neckcloth, secured by a horse-shoe pin, set off a pale, sharp-looking countenance68, speaking of hot stables and dissipation, while the closest possible crop of hair and whiskers did justice to a shaved hat with an exceedingly flat brim. A few splashes of mud on the boots and trousers showed he had been lately on horseback; and he held up one of his thin little legs as he took his seat, and contemplated the stains with a grin of morbid69 satisfaction.
“Blessed if ever I see this country so deep!” he remarked, after a pull at the flip70. “How my horses will stand it, I know no more than the dead, the way the governor rides. We’ve only nine this year; and he’s an awful hard man upon a horse.”
“Nine!” exclaimed old Isaac, smacking71 his lips after the draught72, which warmed the very cockles of his heart; and being a man of few words, only added, “Well, now, to be sure!”
“He is awful hard upon ’em—that’s the truth,” continued the narrator. “It was only last week he says to me, ‘Tiptop,’ says he—my name’s Tiptop—‘what made Boadicea’ (that’s our bay mare73 by Bellerophon out of Blue Light)—‘what made Boadicea stop with me under Carlton Clump74 to-day? Either she wasn’t fit,’ says he, ‘or she isn’t worth five shillings.’ ‘Well, sir,’ says I, ‘the mare’s a gross feeder,’ says I, ‘and you ride with rayther a slack rein75.’ ‘slack rein be hanged!’ says he. ‘If ever such a thing happens again, you’ll get the sack,’ says he. So I up and told him I was ready to go whenever he could replace me; and the upshot of it was as he apologised quite like a gentleman; for, indeed, he wouldn’t know whatever to do without me. He’s a good man—my governor—enough; but he’s hasty—very hasty. Why, to see him coming over a gate into the turnpike-road, as I did t’other day, on Catamount—that’s our chestnut76, as ran fourth for the Liverpool—you’d say he’d no discretion77 whatever; but they’ve all got their faults—all on ’em. What’s yours? Can he ride?”
Discreet78 Isaac answered with a counter-question. “What’s your governor’s name?” said he, peeping once more into the waning79 pewter measure.
“The Honourable80 Crasher,” replied Mr. Tiptop, not without an air of exultation81. “A brother he is to the Hearl of Heligoland. Now I’ve told you all about it, old bloke. There—you ease your mind in return, and give us your name.”
“I’ll let you know when I’ve seen the register,” answered Isaac. “But it’s a long way to the parish as owes me a settlement; and I’m afraid you’ll have to wait, Mr. Tiptop, till I can communicate with you by post.” Saying which Isaac finished the flip at a gulp82, and walked off to seven-o’clock stables without uttering another word.
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1
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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diurnal
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| adj.白天的，每日的 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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omnipotent
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| adj.全能的，万能的 | |
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proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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nags
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| n.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的名词复数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的第三人称单数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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galling
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| adj.难堪的,使烦恼的,使焦躁的 | |
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appellation
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| n.名称，称呼 | |
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voracious
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| adj.狼吞虎咽的，贪婪的 | |
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hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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25
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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sardonically
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| adv.讽刺地，冷嘲地 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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wasteful
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| adj.（造成）浪费的，挥霍的 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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drizzling
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| 下蒙蒙细雨，下毛毛雨( drizzle的现在分词 ) | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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stagnation
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| n. 停滞 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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46
forage
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| n.(牛马的)饲料，粮草；v.搜寻，翻寻 | |
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47
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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50
knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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51
procrastination
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| n.拖延，耽搁 | |
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52
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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53
loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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56
vented
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| 表达，发泄（感情，尤指愤怒）( vent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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58
functionary
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| n.官员；公职人员 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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61
yolk
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| n.蛋黄，卵黄 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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63
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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65
crease
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| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
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66
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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67
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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68
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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69
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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70
flip
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| vt.快速翻动；轻抛；轻拍；n.轻抛；adj.轻浮的 | |
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71
smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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72
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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73
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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74
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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75
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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76
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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79
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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80
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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81
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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82
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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