Part 30 (2/2)

”The fumes from the factories, Mr. Hawkins, have so played the devil with our trees that the general impoverishment of nature has earned for the locality of Sheffield the unpleasant t.i.tle of the 'Suburbs of h.e.l.l.'”

”I don't wonder,” I answered; ”no name could be more appropriate or better deserved; but if it were my fate to choose my locality, I should prefer to live in _the city itself_.”

A curious incident happened to us during this Yorks.h.i.+re visit. An excursion was arranged to see Warburton's, situated some few miles off, and notable for many oddities.

We were driven over, and when we arrived were by no means disappointed by the singularities of the mansion. It was enclosed within a high wall, which had been built, not for the purpose, as you might suppose, of preventing the house from getting away, but for that of keeping out rats and foxes; for there were birds to be preserved from these destructive animals. Next, this portion of the estate was surrounded by water, which afforded an additional security to its isolation, access to the island being attainable only by means of a bridge.

The mansion was occupied by a Mrs. Hailstone, whose duty it was to show visitors over the house and explain everything as she went along, ghost stories as well; and being a remarkably affable lady, with a great gift of language, we had a very intelligent and edifying lecture in every room we pa.s.sed through, now upon ornithology, now chronology, next on pisciculture and the habits of stuffed pike and other fish. But this was not all. Our guide was wonderfully well read in architecture, and displayed no end of knowledge in pointing out the different orders and sub-orders, periods of, and blendings of the same, so that we were quite ready for lunch as soon as that period should mercifully arrive.

But it was not exactly yet. There were many other curiosities to be shown. For instance, we had not done the Warburton Library, which was a most singular apartment, as we were informed, I don't know how many stories high, at the top of a very singular tower, with as many languages in it as the Tower of Babel itself, and very nearly as tall.

One only wished the whole thing would topple down before we could come to it.

At last, however, we climbed to this lofty eminence and revelled as well as we could amongst the musty old books, which themselves revelled in the dust of ages.

Having seen all the shelves and the backs of the books, and heard all the accounts of them without receiving any information, we commenced our descent by means of the winding staircase towards the garden. On our way a curious circ.u.mstance took place. There was an enormously great Danish boarhound, which had, unperceived by us, followed Mrs.

Hailstone from the library; it pushed by without ceremony, and proceeded until it reached the lady, who was some distance in advance.

He then carefully took the skirt of her dress with his mouth and carried it like an accomplished train-bearer until she reached the bottom of the stairs and the garden, when he let go the dress and gazed as an interested spectator. We were now in the midst of a very beautiful and well-kept garden, with a lawn like velvet stretching far away to the lake, where ultimately we should have to wait for a boat to ferry us along its placid water. This was part of our entertainment, and a very beautiful part it was.

But before we parted from Mrs. Hailstone, and while I was talking to her, I felt my hand in the boarhound's mouth, and a pretty capacious mouth it was, for I seemed to touch nothing but its formidable fangs.

It was not a pleasant experience, but I preserved sufficient presence of mind to make no demonstration. Dogs know well enough when a man or woman loves their kind, and I am sure this one was no exception, or he would never have behaved with such gentlemanly politeness. So soft was the touch of his fangs that I was only just conscious my hand was in his mouth by now and then the gentlest reminder. I knew animals too well to attempt to withdraw it, and so preserved a calm more wonderful than I could have given myself credit for.

While I was wondering what the next proceeding might be, Mrs.

Hailstone begged me to be quite easy, and on no account to show any opposition to the dog's proceedings, in which case she promised that he would lead me gently to the other side of the lawn, and there leave me without doing the least harm.

All this was said with such cool indifference that I wondered whether it was a part of the day's programme, and rather supposed it was; but it turned out that she said it to rea.s.sure me and prevent mischief. I also learned that it was not by any means the first occasion when this business had taken place. It was the first time in my life that I had been in custody, and if I had had my choice I should have preferred a pair of handcuffs without teeth.

As I was being led away Mrs. Hailstone said,--

”Do exactly as he wishes; he is jealous of your talking to me, and leads any one away who does so to the other side of the garden.”

Having conducted me to the remotest spot he could find, he opened his huge jaws and released my hand, wagged his tail, and trotted off, much pleased with his performance. He returned to his mistress and put his large paws on her arms--a striking proof, I thought, of the dog's sagacity.

There will be in this history some stories of my famous ”Jack,” but as he belonged to me after I became a Judge, they are deferred until that period arrives. The reminiscences of Jack are amongst my dearest and most pleasant recollections.

The changeful nature of popular clamour was never more manifested than on this visit.

The Claimant had been convicted and sentenced to penal servitude, but to deprive a man of his t.i.tle and estate because he was a butcher's son did not coincide with the wishes of a generous democracy, who lingered round the Sheffield court, where the fate of their sitting member was to be tried. They believed in their member, and, not knowing on which side I was retained, when I went along the corridor into the court they ”yah! yah'd!” at me with lungs that would have been strong enough to set their furnaces going or blow them out.

After the pet.i.tion was tried, and I had been successful, they changed their minds and their language. This same British public, which not long before had ”yah! yah'd!” at me, now came forward with true British hoorays and bravos. ”'Orkins for ever!” ”Hooray for Orkins!”

”Bravo, Orkins!” ”Hooray! a ---- hooray! Hooray for Wagga Wagga!”

This last cry had reference to a village in Australia where the great Tichborne fraud had its origin; where the first advertis.e.m.e.nt of the dowager seeking her lost son was shown to the butcher in his own little shop, the son of the respectable butcher of Wapping.

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