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wrought upon his wounded spirit, were strongly illustrated; for whereas

he had been last night accosted by Mr Punch as 'master,' and had by

inference left the audience to understand that he maintained that

individual for his own luxurious entertainment and delight, here he

was, now, painfully walking beneath the burden of that same Punch's

temple, and bearing it bodily upon his shoulders on a sultry day and

along a dusty road. In place of enlivening his patron with a constant

fire of wit or the cheerful rattle of his quarter-staff on the heads of

his relations and acquaintance, here was that beaming Punch utterly

devoid of spine, all slack and drooping in a dark box, with his legs

doubled up round his neck, and not one of his social qualities

remaining.

Mr Codlin trudged heavily on, exchanging a word or two at intervals

with Short, and stopping to rest and growl occasionally. Short led the

way; with the flat box, the private luggage (which was not extensive)

tied up in a bundle, and a brazen trumpet slung from his

shoulder-blade. Nell and her grandfather walked next him on either

hand, and Thomas Codlin brought up the rear.

When they came to any town or village, or even to a detached house of

good appearance, Short blew a blast upon the brazen trumpet and

carolled a fragment of a song in that hilarious tone common to Punches

and their consorts. If people hurried to the windows, Mr Codlin

pitched the temple, and hastily unfurling the drapery and concealing

Short therewith, flourished hysterically on the pipes and performed an

air. Then the entertainment began as soon as might be; Mr Codlin

having the responsibility of deciding on its length and of protracting

or expediting the time for the hero's final triumph over the enemy of

mankind, according as he judged that the after-crop of half-pence would

be plentiful or scant. When it had been gathered in to the last

farthing, he resumed his load and on they went again.

Sometimes they played out the toll across a bridge or ferry, and once

exhibited by particular desire at a turnpike, where the collector,

being drunk in his solitude, paid down a shilling to have it to

himself. There was one small place of rich promise in which their

hopes were blighted, for a favourite character in the play having

gold-lace upon his coat and being a meddling wooden-headed fellow was

held to be a libel on the beadle, for which reason the authorities

enforced a quick retreat; but they were generally well received, and

seldom left a town without a troop of ragged children shouting at their

heels.

They made a long day's journey, despite these interruptions, and were

yet upon the road when the moon was shining in the sky. Short beguiled

the time with songs and jests, and made the best of everything that

happened. Mr Codlin on the other hand, cursed his fate, and all the

hollow things of earth (but Punch especially), and limped along with

the theatre on his back, a prey to the bitterest chagrin.

They had stopped to rest beneath a finger-post where four roads met,

and Mr Codlin in his deep misanthropy had let down the drapery and

seated himself in the bottom of the show, invisible to mortal eyes and

disdainful of the company of his fellow creatures, when two monstrous

shadows were seen stalking towards them from a turning in the road by

which they had come. The child was at first quite terrified by the

sight of these gaunt giants--for such they looked as they advanced with

lofty strides beneath the shadow of the trees--but Short, telling her

there was nothing to fear, blew a blast upon the trumpet, which was

answered by a cheerful shout.

'It's Grinder's lot, an't it?' cried Mr Short in a loud key.

'Yes,' replied a couple of shrill voices.

'Come on then,' said Short. 'Let's have a look at you. I thought it

was you.'

Thus invited, 'Grinder's lot' approached with redoubled speed and soon

came up with the little party.

Mr Grinder's company, familiarly termed a lot, consisted of a young

gentleman and a young lady on stilts, and Mr Grinder himself, who used

his natural legs for pedestrian purposes and carried at his back a

drum. The public costume of the young people was of the Highland kind,

but the night being damp and cold, the young gentleman wore over his

kilt a man's pea jacket reaching to his ankles, and a glazed hat; the

young lady too was muffled in an old cloth pelisse and had a

handkerchief tied about her head. Their Scotch bonnets, ornamented

with plumes of jet black feathers, Mr Grinder carried on his instrument.

'Bound for the races, I see,' said Mr Grinder coming up out of breath.

'So are we. How are you, Short?' With that they shook hands in a very

friendly manner. The young people being too high up for the ordinary

salutations, saluted Short after their own fashion. The young

gentleman twisted up his right stilt and patted him on the shoulder,

and the young lady rattled her tambourine.

'Practice?' said Short, pointing to the stilts.

'No,' returned Grinder. 'It comes either to walkin' in 'em or carryin'

of 'em, and they like walkin' in 'em best. It's wery pleasant for the

prospects. Which road are you takin'? We go the nighest.'

'Why, the fact is,' said Short, 'that we are going the longest way,

because then we could stop for the night, a mile and a half on. But

three or four mile gained to-night is so many saved to-morrow, and if

you keep on, I think our best way is to do the same.'

'Where's your partner?' inquired Grinder.

'Here he is,' cried Mr Thomas Codlin, presenting his head and face in

the proscenium of the stage, and exhibiting an expression of

countenance not often seen there; 'and he'll see his partner boiled

alive before he'll go on to-night. That's what he says.'

'Well, don't say such things as them, in a spear which is dewoted to

something pleasanter,' urged Short. 'Respect associations, Tommy, even

if you do cut up rough.'

'Rough or smooth,' said Mr Codlin, beating his hand on the little

footboard where Punch, when suddenly struck with the symmetry of his

legs and their capacity for silk stockings, is accustomed to exhibit

them to popular admiration, 'rough or smooth, I won't go further than

the mile and a half to-night. I put up at the Jolly Sandboys and

nowhere else. If you like to come there, come there. If you like to

go on by yourself, go on by yourself, and do without me if you can.'

So saying, Mr Codlin disappeared from the scene and immediately

presented himself outside the theatre, took it on his shoulders at a

jerk, and made off with most remarkable agility.

Any further controversy being now out of the question, Short was fain

to part with Mr Grinder and his pupils and to follow his morose

companion. After lingering at the finger-post for a few minutes to see

the stilts frisking away in the moonlight and the bearer of the drum

toiling slowly after them, he blew a few notes upon the trumpet as a

parting salute, and hastened with all speed to follow Mr Codlin. With

this view he gave his unoccupied hand to Nell, and bidding her be of

good cheer as they would soon be at the end of their journey for that

night, and stimulating the old man with a similar assurance, led them

at a pretty swift pace towards their destination, which he was the less

unwilling to make for, as the moon was now overcast and the clouds were

threatening rain.

CHAPTER 18

The Jolly Sandboys was a small road-side inn of pretty ancient date,

with a sign, representing three Sandboys increasing their jollity with

as many jugs of ale and bags of gold, creaking and swinging on its post

on the opposite side of the road. As the travellers had observed that

day many indications of their drawing nearer and nearer to the race

town, such as gipsy camps, carts laden with gambling booths and their

appurtenances, itinerant showmen of various kinds, and beggars and

trampers of every degree, all wending their way in the same direction,

Mr Codlin was fearful of finding the accommodations forestalled; this

fear increasing as he diminished the distance between himself and the

hostelry, he quickened his pace, and notwithstanding the burden he had

to carry, maintained a round trot until he reached the threshold. Here

he had the gratification of finding that his fears were without

foundation, for the landlord was leaning against the door-post looking

lazily at the rain, which had by this time begun to descend heavily,

and no tinkling of cracked bell, nor boisterous shout, nor noisy

chorus, gave note of company within.

'All alone?' said Mr Codlin, putting down his burden and wiping his

forehead.

'All alone as yet,' rejoined the landlord, glancing at the sky, 'but we

shall have more company to-night I expect. Here one of you boys, carry

that show into the barn. Make haste in out of the wet, Tom; when it

came on to rain I told 'em to make the fire up, and there's a glorious

blaze in the kitchen, I can tell you.'

Mr Codlin followed with a willing mind, and soon found that the

landlord had not commended his preparations without good reason. A

mighty fire was blazing on the hearth and roaring up the wide chimney

with a cheerful sound, which a large iron cauldron, bubbling and

simmering in the heat, lent its pleasant aid to swell. There was a

deep red ruddy blush upon the room, and when the landlord stirred the

fire, sending the flames skipping and leaping up--when he took off the

lid of the iron pot and there rushed out a savoury smell, while the

bubbling sound grew deeper and more rich, and an unctuous steam came

floating out, hanging in a delicious mist above their heads--when he

did this, Mr Codlin's heart was touched. He sat down in the

chimney-corner and smiled.

Mr Codlin sat smiling in the chimney-corner, eyeing the landlord as

with a roguish look he held the cover in his hand, and, feigning that

his doing so was needful to the welfare of the cookery, suffered the

delightful steam to tickle the nostrils of his guest. The glow of the

fire was upon the landlord's bald head, and upon his twinkling eye, and

upon his watering mouth, and upon his pimpled face, and upon his round

fat figure. Mr Codlin drew his sleeve across his lips, and said in a

murmuring voice, 'What is it?'

'It's a stew of tripe,' said the landlord smacking his lips, 'and

cow-heel,' smacking them again, 'and bacon,' smacking them once more,

'and steak,' smacking them for the fourth time, 'and peas,

cauliflowers, new potatoes, and sparrow-grass, all working up together

in one delicious gravy.' Having come to the climax, he smacked his

lips a great many times, and taking a long hearty sniff of the

fragrance that was hovering about, put on the cover again with the air

of one whose toils on earth were over.

'At what time will it be ready?' asked Mr Codlin faintly.

'It'll be done to a turn,' said the landlord looking up to the

clock--and the very clock had a colour in its fat white face, and

looked a clock for jolly Sandboys to consult--'it'll be done to a turn

at twenty-two minutes before eleven.'

'Then,' said Mr Codlin, 'fetch me a pint of warm ale, and don't let

nobody bring into the room even so much as a biscuit till the time

arrives.'

Nodding his approval of this decisive and manly course of procedure,

the landlord retired to draw the beer, and presently returning with it,

applied himself to warm the same in a small tin vessel shaped

funnel-wise, for the convenience of sticking it far down in the fire

and getting at the bright places. This was soon done, and he handed it

over to Mr Codlin with that creamy froth upon the surface which is one

of the happy circumstances attendant on mulled malt.

Greatly softened by this soothing beverage, Mr Codlin now bethought him

of his companions, and acquainted mine host of the Sandboys that their

arrival might be shortly looked for. The rain was rattling against the

windows and pouring down in torrents, and such was Mr Codlin's extreme

amiability of mind, that he more than once expressed his earnest hope

that they would not be so foolish as to get wet.

At length they arrived, drenched with the rain and presenting a most

miserable appearance, notwithstanding that Short had sheltered the

child as well as he could under the skirts of his own coat, and they

were nearly breathless from the haste they had made. But their steps

were no sooner heard upon the road than the landlord, who had been at

the outer door anxiously watching for their coming, rushed into the

kitchen and took the cover off. The effect was electrical. They all

came in with smiling faces though the wet was dripping from their

clothes upon the floor, and Short's first remark was, 'What a delicious

smell!'

It is not very difficult to forget rain and mud by the side of a

cheerful fire, and in a bright room. They were furnished with slippers

and such dry garments as the house or their own bundles afforded, and

ensconcing themselves, as Mr Codlin had already done, in the warm

chimney-corner, soon forgot their late troubles or only remembered them

as enhancing the delights of the present time. Overpowered by the

warmth and comfort and the fatigue they had undergone, Nelly and the

old man had not long taken their seats here, when they fell asleep.

'Who are they?' whispered the landlord.

Short shook his head, and wished he knew himself.

'Don't you know?' asked the host, turning to Mr Codlin.

'Not I,' he replied. 'They're no good, I suppose.'

'They're no harm,' said Short. 'Depend upon that. I tell you

what--it's plain that the old man an't in his right mind--'