As the smoking, laughing, chattering12 cavalcade13 trotted14 merrily along, he had an opportunity of scanning many well-known individuals whom his business avocations15 of the morning had prevented his hitherto recognising. “The talent,” as it is called, was present, from Melton,—Melton, once the very metropolis16 of the hunting world, now, thanks to railroads, rivalled, if not surpassed, by Leicester and Market Harborough; and yet, what a nice place it is! Who that has ever spent a season in the cosy17, cheerful, joyous18 little town, but would wish to turn the stream of time, and live those golden days and pleasant nights over again?—would wish to be galloping19 his covert-hack once more through the fragrant20 air and under the dappled sky of a February morning, with a good horse to ride from Ranksborough Gorse or Barkby Holt, as his day’s amusement, and a choice of at least a couple of invitations, offering him the pleasantest society and the best dinner in England, for his evening’s gratification?
It is not more than thirty years since Nimrod wrote his celebrated21 “Quarterly Review Run”—the best description of fashionable hunting that has ever yet been printed, though many a hand, as light upon the bridle as the pen, has portrayed22 the same subject since then—not more than thirty years, certainly, and the ways of Melton are but little changed, only, of the dramatis person? there are not many left. Of those who charged the flooded Whissendine so boldly, the majority have already crossed the Styx. Nevertheless, a few of the old lot may still be seen ready, when the hounds run, to face “wood and water,” as of yore.
Mr. Sawyer, for an unimaginative man, was the least thing in the world of a hero-worshipper. As he rode along, contemplating23 from behind them the fine powerful frame and the slim and graceful24 figure of two Meltonians, who for many years have shone, a couple of lucida sidera, in the front rank, and of whom, indeed, so fast have they always gone, it may almost be said that
“Panting Time toils25 after them in vain,”
he was accosted26 by the pleasant, gentlemanlike personage with whom he had spent an agreeable quarter of an hour in the hovel, on that memorable27 day when his ambition had so completely “cooked the goose” of Hotspur with the Pytchley.
“Good-morning, sir,” said this affable individual, bringing his horse alongside of our friend, with a bow such as nobody in the Old Country could ever have perpetrated. “I thought you’d be out to-day, so I’ve a couple here for you to look at.”
When a nobleman not only touches his hat, but takes it off to you, at the same time offering you “a couple of horses to look at,” as if he were about to make you a present of them, such politeness, thought Mr. Sawyer, is rather overwhelming than reassuring28. He returned the greeting, however, with his best air, and took off his hat in return, somewhat disconcerted, however, by the rude behaviour of Struggles and Brush, who were riding beside him, and who both burst out laughing.
The illustrious stranger, too—who, by the way, though still in a black coat, was “got-up” with the utmost splendour of which a hunting costume admits—looked rather surprised, and winked29 at the two irreverent laughers as they are certainly not in the habit of winking30 in the House of Peers.
“Is that a favourite one you are riding?” inquired Mr. Sawyer, who fancied he must say something, and could think, at the moment, of no more apposite remark.
“I don’t know much of him,” was the reply. “He’s only a five-year-old; and I haven’t had him a fortnight. A thundering well-bred one, though, and can jump like a deer! I gave a hat-full of money for him, without getting on his back; but we’ll see what he’s made of this afternoon, I hope. I should say, now, that he’d carry you alarming!”
Mr. Sawyer, whose conversational31 powers were soon exhausted32, made no reply, but, more out of civility than curiosity, contented33 himself with scanning the five-year-old from his ears to his tail.
The illustrious unknown seemed to have no dislike to inspection34: on the contrary, he courted further companionship, by producing the gorgeous cigar-case, and offering Mr. Sawyer a weed.
“You will find them pretty good,” said he, striking a light from a little bijou of a briquet that hung to his watch-chain. “I import them myself: it’s the only way to ensure getting them first-rate, and it certainly is the cheapest in the long-run.”
The cigar was indeed excellent. Mr. Sawyer thought this would be a good opportunity to draw his noble friend for a box. He might perhaps make him a present of a couple of pounds or so. At all events (as he said, it was the cheapest plan) there was no harm in risking the chance of having to pay for them. He asked him, accordingly, with some little hesitation35, if he could do him the favour of procuring36 him a few?
“Certainly, certainly,” replied the other, in the most off-hand, good-humoured way possible. “You shall have them from my man. I’ll write to him to-night. How much shall I order? You can’t get anything like them at the money: they only stand us in five guineas a pound!”
Mr. Sawyer modestly opined “one pound would be quite sufficient for the present;” but he felt as if he had just lost a large double tooth. Without being stingy, it was not the custom in the Old Country thus to throw money away. He fell back upon Brush, sucking at the costly37 tobacco with considerable vehemence38.
“Who is he?” said he, nodding towards the rider of the five-year-old, then cantering on ahead, and sitting well down in the saddle, as he prepared to “lark” over a large fence, to the admiration39 of the field, instead of defiling40 through the hand-gate.
“Why, you seem to know him very well,” rejoined Major Brush, smiling (as well he might) at the query41: “I thought you seemed very thick, and were going to give him your custom.”
Mr. Sawyer had not the heart to repudiate42 the soft impeachment43. He liked to be “very thick” with a peer, and to have the credit of “giving him his custom” as a visitor and intimate.
“Yes,” he said, “I am; but, somehow, I cannot, for the life of me, remember his title. I’ve no ‘Debrett’ at Harborough; and I’ve such a bad memory for names. Lord—Lord—what the deuce is it? Some Irish peerage, if I remember right?”
Major Brush fairly burst out laughing. “No more a lord than you are, Sawyer,” said he, “though, I grant you, he ought to be a Duke. I thought everybody knew Mr. Varnish44, the horsedealer!” And the Major went off at score again, thinking what a capital story he had got against Sawyer for that day at dinner, and a good many days after. A joke, you see, lasts a long time in the hunting season, when the supply is by no means equal to the demand.
And Mr. Sawyer turned his horse’s head out of the crowd, feeling a little humiliated45, and not a little disgusted. The five guineas for the cigars stuck horribly in his throat. However, he and Mr. Varnish, as will presently be shown, had by no means closed accounts yet.
But where are the low spirits, blue devils, or uncomfortable reflections that can hold their own for an instant against the cheering sound of “Gone away!”? Three notes on the huntsman’s horn, five or six couple of hounds streaming noiselessly across a field, the rest more clamorous46, leaping and dashing through the gorse, a rush of horsemen towards the point at which the fox has broken; and the man who is really fond of hunting has not the vestige47 of an idea to spare for anything else in the world.
John Standish Sawyer could ride “above a bit.” Even in a strange country, and with hounds running “like smoke,” he was not a man to shrink from taking his own line; and scarcely valuing the grey, perhaps, according to its deserts, he had no scruple48 in risking that good little animal at whatever came in his way.
A quick turn to the five couple of leading hounds, that he spied racing49 down the side of a hedgerow, and the happy negotiation50 of a very nasty place, with a stake in it that would certainly have impaled51 a more costly nag, placed our friend on terms with the pack. A fine grass country lay spread out before him. The fox, evidently a good one, bore straight across the middle of the fields. The hounds, without forcing any extraordinary pace, appeared well settled to the scent52, and not inclined to flash over it a yard. A large fence and a little brook53 had combined to afford them more room than usual. Everything seemed to look uncommonly54 like a run; and the Honourable Crasher, shooting by our friend, on Confidence, whom he rode with a shamefully55 loose rein, observed that “It was all right; and he shouldn’t wonder if they were going to have a gallop8.”
Mr. Sawyer laid hold of the grey, and determined56 to assume a place in the front rank—of which the occupants would have been equally at home in the rows of stalls nearest the orchestra at the Opera. There was more than one lady riding as he never saw lady ride before—perfectly57 straight; turning aside from no obstacle; jumping a gate with extreme cordiality, if it should be locked; and taking it all in the earnest, yet off-hand, graceful manner, with which a woman sets about doing what she likes best. The Meltonians, stride for stride, and fence for fence, were sailing away with perfect ease, looking as if they were scarcely out of a canter; yet, do what he would—and it must be owned he was very hard upon the grey—Mr. Sawyer could not, for the life of him, decrease the distance between himself and these leading horsemen.
The Honourable Crasher, having got Confidence amongst some very intricate fences on the right, though a little wider than he liked of the hounds, was disporting58 himself therein with considerable gratification. Struggles and the Reverend Dove (to-day without the daughter) were forward with the flyers, though the former was already beginning to calculate on a check.
The double posts and rails about Norton-by-Galby were already visible: but the fox had evidently no intention of entering the gorse. Albeit59 much against the grain, and what he was totally unaccustomed to in the Old Country, when hounds were running, Mr. Sawyer found himself obliged to ride to a leader. That chestnut60 five-year-old was for ever in front of him, now doing an “in-and-out” cleverly, now topping a flight of rails gallantly61, then creeping under a tree, with a discretion62 beyond his years, and anon facing and rasping through a bullfinch, in the successful temerity63 of youth, Mr. Varnish sitting very far back the while, with the graceful ease of a man who is playing a favourite instrument in an arm-chair.
Presently the hounds checked, under Houghton-on-the-Hill; and Mr. Varnish, turning round to our friend, and casting his eye pitifully on the grey’s sobbing64 sides, consigned65 them to reprobation66 for so doing, “just as the crowd was shook off, and the horses getting settled to their work!”
Mr. Sawyer’s dander was up. It had been rising for the last two or three fences. He vowed67, in his wicked heart, that chestnut should be his own before nightfall; and the way in which the young one jumped out of the Billesdon Road, when they got to work again, only confirmed him in his determination.
Long before the crowd could come clattering68 up the high-road, the pack and the first flight had put a couple of grassy69 slopes once more between themselves and their pursuers. Considerable grief and discomfiture70 took place amongst the sportsmen, as must always be the case when hounds run straight, over Leicestershire. The holding pace at which they kept on, and the straight running of the fox, forbade the slightest chance of any but such as had got a good start at first, and stuck to them through thick and thin. Even these, well mounted and skilful71 as they were, had enough to do. The fox never turned but once, under the Coplow; and five minutes afterwards he was in hand, held high above the huntsman’s head, with the pack baying round him in expectation of their reward.
Those who were there to see, it would be invidious to name. Sufficient for me to say that Mr. Sawyer was not, though he came up whilst Warrior72 and Woldsman were disputing the last bit of a hind-leg.
Despite his judicious73 riding and undeniable nerve, he had not the material under him that was quite adapted for so severe a country. The grey had neither pace for the extensive fields, nor scope for the large fences, each of which, though he did them so gallantly, entailed74 too great an exertion75 to bear frequent repetition. Notwithstanding two falls, however, he struggled gamely to the end; and it speaks well both for man and horse, that they should have got there at all.
Mr. Sawyer, however, was now thoroughly bitten. He had never felt so keen in his life. He would never hunt anywhere else. He could ride with any of them, he thought: he was determined to be as well mounted. Mr. Varnish and he discussed the subject in all its bearings, as they rode home; and the result of their conversation was—the arrival of the chestnut five-year-old and a good-looking brown at Mr. Sawyer’s stables, and the transference to Mr. Varnish, in lieu thereof, of the Honourable Crasher’s cheque, and another signed in full with the perfectly solvent76 name of John Standish Sawyer.
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1
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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imbibed
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| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
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nag
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| v.(对…)不停地唠叨；n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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galloper
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| 骑马奔驰的人，飞驰的马，旋转木马； 轻野炮 | |
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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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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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avocations
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| n.业余爱好，嗜好( avocation的名词复数 )；职业 | |
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metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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toils
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| 网 | |
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accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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procuring
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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defiling
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| v.玷污( defile的现在分词 )；污染；弄脏；纵列行进 | |
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query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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repudiate
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| v.拒绝，拒付，拒绝履行 | |
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impeachment
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| n.弹劾；控告；怀疑 | |
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varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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negotiation
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| n.谈判，协商 | |
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51
impaled
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| 钉在尖桩上( impale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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54
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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shamefully
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| 可耻地； 丢脸地； 不体面地； 羞耻地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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disporting
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| v.嬉戏，玩乐，自娱( disport的现在分词 ) | |
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albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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consigned
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| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的过去式和过去分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
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reprobation
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| n.斥责 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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solvent
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| n.溶剂；adj.有偿付能力的 | |
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