Part 22 (1/2)

”If you will tell me all about him, and where he was last heard of, I will do all I can to find him.”

”Will ye, noo? will ye? The Lord bless ye for zaying that.” And he grasped my hand in his great iron fist, and fairly burst out crying.

”Was he a relation of yours?” I asked, gently.

”My bairn--my bairn--my eldest bairn. Dinnot yow ax me no moor--dinnot then, bor'. Gie on, yow powney, and yow goo leuk vor un.”

Another long silence.

”I've a been to Lunnon, looking vor un.”

Another silence.

”I went up and down, up and down, day and night, day and night, to all pot-houses as I could zee; vor, says I, he was a'ways a main chap to drink, he was. Oh, deery me! and I never cot zight on un--and noo I be most spent, I be.”--

And he pulled up at another public-house, and tried this time a gla.s.s of brandy. He stopped, I really think, at every inn between that place and Cambridge, and at each tried some fresh compound; but his head seemed, from habit, utterly fire-proof.

At last, we neared Cambridge, and began to pa.s.s groups of gay hors.e.m.e.n, and then those strange caps and gowns--ugly and unmeaning remnant of obsolete fas.h.i.+on.

The old man insisted on driving me up to the gate of * * * College, and there dropped me, after I had given him my address, entreating me to ”vind the bairn, and coom to zee him down to Metholl. But dinnot goo ax for Farmer Porter--they's all Porters there away. Yow ax for Wooden-house Bob--that's me; and if I barn't to home, ax for Mucky Billy--that's my brawther--we're all gotten our names down to ven; and if he barn't to home, yow ax for Frog-hall--that's where my sister do live; and they'll all veed ye, and lodge ye, and welcome come. We be all like one, doon in the ven; and do ye, do ye, vind my bairn!” And he trundled on, down the narrow street.

I was soon directed, by various smart-looking servants, to my cousin's rooms; and after a few mistakes, and wandering up and down n.o.ble courts and cloisters, swarming with gay young men, whose jaunty air and dress seemed strangely out of keeping with the stem antique solemnity of the Gothic buildings around, I espied my cousin's name over a door; and, uncertain how he might receive me, I gave a gentle, half-apologetic knock, which, was answered by a loud ”Come in!” and I entered on a scene, even more incongruous than anything I had seen outside.

”If we can only keep away from Jesus as far as the corner, I don't care.”

”If we don't run into that first Trinity before the willows, I shall care with a vengeance.”

”If we don't it's a pity,” said my cousin. ”Wadham ran up by the side of that first Trinity yesterday, and he said that they were as well gruelled as so many posters, before they got to the stile.”

This unintelligible, and to my inexperienced ears, irreverent conversation, proceeded from half a dozen powerful young men, in low-crowned sailors' hats and flannel trousers, some in striped jerseys, some in shooting-jackets, some smoking cigars, some beating up eggs in sherry; while my cousin, dressed like ”a fancy waterman,” sat on the back of a sofa, puffing away at a huge meerschaum.

”Alton! why, what wind on earth has blown you here?”

By the tone, the words seemed rather an inquiry as to what wind would be kind enough to blow me back again. But he recovered his self-possession in a moment.

”Delighted to see you! Where's your portmanteau? Oh--left it at the Bull!

Ah! I see. Very well, we'll send the gyp for it in a minute, and order some luncheon. We're just going down to the boat-race. Sorry I can't stop, but we shall all be fined--not a moment to lose. I'll send you in luncheon as I go through the b.u.t.teries; then, perhaps, you'd like to come down and see the race. Ask the gyp to tell you the way. Now, then, follow your n.o.ble captain, gentlemen--to glory and a supper.” And he bustled out with his crew.

While I was staring about the room, at the jumble of Greek books, boxing-gloves, and luscious prints of pretty women, a shrewd-faced, smart man entered, much better dressed than myself.

”What would you like, sir? Ox-tail soup, sir, or gravy-soup, sir? Stilton cheese, sir, or Ches.h.i.+re, sir? Old Stilton, sir, just now.”

Fearing lest many words might betray my rank--and, strange to say, though I should not have been afraid of confessing myself an artisan before the ”gentlemen” who had just left the room, I was ashamed to have my low estate discovered, and talked over with his compeers, by the flunkey who waited on them--I answered, ”Anything--I really don't care,” in as aristocratic and off-hand a tone as I could a.s.sume.

”Porter or ale, sir?”

”Water,” without a ”thank you,” I am ashamed to say for I was not at that time quite sure whether it was well-bred to be civil to servants.

The man vanished, and reappeared with a savoury luncheon, silver forks, snowy napkins, smart plates--I felt really quite a gentleman.

He gave me full directions as to my ”way to the boats, sir;” and I started out much refreshed; pa.s.sed through back streets, dingy, dirty, and profligate-looking enough; out upon wide meadows, fringed with enormous elms; across a ferry; through a pleasant village, with its old grey church and spire; by the side of a sluggish river, alive with wherries. I had walked down some mile or so, and just as I heard a cannon, as I thought, fire at some distance, and wondered at its meaning, I came to a sudden bend of the river, with a church-tower hanging over the stream on the opposite bank, a knot of tall poplars, weeping willows, rich lawns, sloping down to the water's side, gay with bonnets and shawls; while, along the edge of the stream, light, gaudily-painted boats apparently waited for the race,--altogether the most brilliant and graceful group of scenery which I had beheld in my little travels. I stopped to gaze; and among the ladies on the lawn opposite, caught sight of a figure--my heart leapt into my mouth!