age between him and his
companion, that Jorrocks was either a shark or a shark's jackal, and
the Yorkshireman a victim. With due professional delicacy, he contented
himself with scrutinising the latter through his specs. The Baron's
choler having subsided, he was the first to break the ice of silence.
"Foine noight," was the observation, which was thrown out promiscuously
to see who would take it up. Now Sam Spring, though he came late, had
learned from the porter that there was a Baron in the coach, and being a
great admirer of the nobility, for whose use he has a code of signals
of his own, consisting of one finger to his hat for a Baron Lord as he
calls them, two for a Viscount, three for an Earl, four for a Marquis,
and the whole hand for a Duke, he immediately responded with "Yes, my
lord," with a fore-finger to his hat. There is something sweet in the
word "Lord" which finds its way home to the heart of an Englishman.
No sooner did Sam pronounce it, than the Baron became transformed in
Jorrocks's eyes into a very superior sort of person, and forthwith he
commences ingratiating himself by offering him a share of a large paper
of sandwiches, which the Baron accepted with the greatest condescension,
eating what he could and stuffing the remainder into his hat. His
lordship was a better hand at eating than speaking, and the united
efforts of the party could not extract from him the precise purport of
his journey. Sam threw out two or three feasible offers in the way of
bets, but they fell still-born to the bottom of the coach, and Jorrocks
talked to him about hunting and had the conversation all to himself,
the Baron merely replying with a bow and a stare, sometimes diversified
with, or "I tank you--vare good." The conversation by degrees resolved
itself into a snore, in which they were all indulging, when the raw
morning air rushed in among them, as a porter with a lanthorn opened the
door and announced their arrival at Newmarket. Forthwith they turned
into the street, and the outside passengers having descended, they all
commenced straddling, yawning, and stretching their limbs while the
guard and porters sorted their luggage. The Yorkshireman having an eye
to a bed, speedily had Mr. Jorrocks's luggage and his own on the back
of a porter on its way to the "Rutland Arms," while that worthy citizen
followed in a sort of sleepy astonishment at the smallness of the place,
inquiring if they were sure they had not stopped