Date: Sun, 9 Oct 2011 20:22:19 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Tom Browning's schooldays Ch 18

			 Tom Browning's Schooldays

				    By

				   Joel

			     Chapter Eighteen


"Don't worry," I said, "I don't suppose your grandfather knows you smoke
cigars and I'm not likely to tell him.  Were you sick as well?"

     He looked up then and the blush receded.

     Robin was staring at me.  "What was that?" he asked.

     "Master Neville is in Mr Ridley's House with me at Ashbourne.  He had
a little accident I told you about and had to be chastised, eh?"  I said
the last to the lad who smiled briefly, but it vanished.

     "You won't tell Grandpapa anything?" he implored me, and his eyelashes
fluttered.  When he looked at me that way he could ask anything.

     "Of course not," I acquiesced, "But Mr Pretyman did make your backside
suffer.  I saw you wriggling when you had to tear up the paper for the
Chase."

     "But I wasn't sick like Lawson was.  Serve him right.  They were his
cigars."  He smiled again.  "You were very good on those Paper Chases and
you beat Lascelles in that last one.  He's good at football isn't he?"

     "Yes, he is.  I'm his fag but we are also good friends."

     The lad nodded.  "I know that.  Lawson says you help him with his
work.  Lawson's big brother is in Mr Prior's form with him now and said he
wishes he had a fag who could help him."

     Lawson?  I knew who he meant.  He was in another of the rooms on our
corridor but I had only passed the time of day with him.  Robin was being
left out of all this but was listening avidly.  I had better introduce him.

     "Your grandfather has asked us to keep an eye on you.  This is Robin
Goodhew and he will be in Mr Ridley's House this coming term."

     That winsome smile was there again.  "I know," he said, "I am pleased
to meet you and I am Frederick Neville. I hope I am not a bother.  I do not
ride well as Mama refuses to let me ride at home and this is the first time
I have been allowed to stay with Grandpapa."

     "And shall we call you Freddy?" asked Robin as he raised his riding
crop and touched his hat in greeting.
     That smile was radiant now.  "Yes, please," Freddy said emphatically,
"Mama insists on Frederick at all times but I think that is too pompous."

     There was the sound of a horn at that point.  The huntsmen were
getting ready.  We had better ride over to the gathering.  We might even be
offered a stirrup-cup!  We were, but Freddy wasn't.  I surreptitiously
handed him mine with about a quarter of the hot punch in it.  Robin did the
same out of sight of the other riders and he swallowed that quickly, too,
handing the cup back with that captivating smile on his face.  We would
have to watch young Freddy carefully.  If he wasn't a confident rider to
begin with then with half a glass of strong liquor inside him some mishap
might unseat him sooner!  The four Westrup boys rode up and Clement said
he'd managed to have two glasses as it was a cold day. The eldest, in red,
said he'd probably end up with his arse in a gorse bush and serve him
right. That set Freddy off giggling and Robin told him he'd better hold on
tight, too, as he wasn't going to remove any prickles from his backside,
which made him giggle more.

     The serving boys collected the glasses and the horn sounded again.
Although Squire Matthews was Master of Hounds one of the other red-coated
gentlemen gave the instructions to the throng.  A fox had been sighted
earlier about a mile and a half away, no hedges or ditches in between, but
the river was to the left and the paths near the banks were icy.  'Straight
ahead' was the cry and the horns sounded again as the hounds were unleashed
and the riders took off at full pelt.

     Freddy looked a bit apprehensive as the red and black-coated riders
surged past and boys and youths also took up the chase hallooing and
hurraying.  "Keep between us," I instructed him, "Just look to the front
and the pony will find his way."  I had an idea the pony had been on many a
hunt before carrying new or apprentice riders.  I was not mistaken.  As our
mounts began to trot, so the pony kept up a steady pace.  We weren't the
last in the field as several ladies and younger girls were following us.

     One of these rode up beside me.  "I thought you'd be out today," she
shouted.  Of course, it was Millicent Jefferson looking well-seated on a
fine black mare.  I raised my hat and had to shout as well as we were going
at a fair trot.

     "Glad to see you," I yelled, "There should be a fox today."

     She laughed.  "I hope so.  Last three times, nothing."

     I thought I would ask.  "Is your brother here?"

     There was an answering laugh.  "No, the booby says he has taken a
chill.  And he won't say what happened at your place that night we stayed."
The laugh again.  "I know something happened."  She raised her riding crop
and waved it at me, not in a threatening way as she was still laughing.
And calling her brother 'a booby'!  I liked Millicent.

     I grinned at her. But could I say what we did.  Better wait until we
finished the Hunt and had luncheon.  Young Freddy and Robin were listening
to this exchange.  Robin knew what had happened and Freddy was all ears.

     "We could tell you later...," I called to her.  My turn to laugh.
"...In confidence, though!"

     "Don't worry.  Anything you say is mine alone."  She tossed her head.
"He's more than a booby.  He's a real ninny.  He's frightened by his own
shadow let alone sitting on a horse at a gallop!  I hope you didn't believe
any of his tales.  But, later!"

     We parted and rode on trying to keep within sighting distance of the
front riders.  We were going steadily and even caught up with Squire
Matthews who was riding a quite decrepit old nag. I guessed it once had
been a fine stallion.  He touched his tall hat with his crop.

     He sighed.  "Must get your father to find me a better mount than this.
I always forget how old the poor thing is."

     For all his crusty ways I liked the Squire.  "Sir, take my mount.  He
won't ride hard but you will be able to follow nearer."

     Robin looked at me in wonderment as I drew Blaze to a halt and
dismounted.  The Squire was a bit unsteady as he slid off.  I handed him my
reins and gave him a bit of a leg up.  Blaze was unused to other riders but
I had noticed the Squire used his riding crop sparingly so I was quite
unconcerned about his treatment.  He must have spoken soothing words to
Blaze as the horse neighed and responded to the reins immediately and they
were off at a gallop.

     Robin whistled as I got onto a horse at least two hands taller than
Blaze after leading him to a handy tree stump as a mounting block.  Not to
worry.  I knew to whisper kind words and to stroke his muzzle.  The
response was immediate.  He relaxed and I was master.  We rode on and found
the other riders surrounding a thicket with the hounds baying and being put
on the leash again.

     We rode up to my father who was pointing further on.  "They think the
blasted animal's gone to earth but I'm sure I saw a flash of fur over
there."

     "Sir, sir!" Freddy's voice was almost a squeak, "There, there!"

     We followed his pointing finger and sure enough a large dog fox
emerged from some scrub and was bounding through the snow.

     The huntsman next to father blew his horn and the dogs were unleashed
again.  Time had been lost, though, and Reynard had a good lead.  However,
as wily as he was he hadn't reckoned on one of the riders taking a short
cut through a patch of gorse, his horse leaping the spiny bushes with ease.
The river was directly to our left now and the fox hesitated which gave the
edge to the hounds, who were gaining.  We were left behind again as the
huntsmen were now in full pursuit with three horns being blown and great
shouts being exchanged.  The end came suddenly.  The leading hound overtook
the fox and sunk it's teeth into his neck and the other hounds surrounded
it quite obediently as the riders caught up.  A dead fox was held up and
it's brush was cut off.  Freddy was the youngest rider so, as I had been
when I was only nine, his brow and cheeks were anointed with the fox's
stinking blood.  The brush was handed to one of the older ladies as it was
her birthday.  There was a general laugh when the Squire announced that no
ages were to be asked.

     Freddy was overjoyed.  "Mama will never believe it.  I'd better not
tell her or she might faint again."

     The Squire rode over to me.  "My boy, I cannot thank you enough."  He
called over one of his grooms who helped him dismount.  I did the same.  It
seemed a long way up but the old horse was a grateful beast and I had
enjoyed my ride.  On the ground I reached up and stroked his muzzle.  It
might have been a stallion and could have been fractious but my gentle
touch was received and the horse neighed and it's head went up and down as
if it acknowledged my thanks.  I noted Squire Matthews stroked Blaze's
muzzle as well.  I realised more and more that horses and men were made for
each other and if you treated both with respect and kindness then little
went wrong.  I shuddered, though, as it made me remember Black Jack and his
evil ways.  "I must commend your action to your father," he continued,
putting a hand on my shoulder, "I think sometimes I am getting too old for
this sport but I feel quite invigorated by the chase."  He looked at
Freddy, his face smeared with blood.  "It's a day you'll always remember.
It's seventy years or more since my father blooded me and I'll never forget
it.  One thing though, I always feel sorry for the fox.  They might steal
your game or your chickens but they are handsome creatures, but too many
means anyone with a few fowls could lose all in one night."

     "Sir, I shall remember it, too," said Freddy, "Thank you for inviting
me.  Grandpapa says how much he enjoys a good hunt."

     At that moment Colonel Neville rode up.  "Frederick, you did well.
Have you thanked the lads for being with you?  Thomas is at Ashbourne, too.
Did y'know?"

     "Yes, Grandpapa, I felt quite safe and I have seen Master Tom at
school.  He is in Mr Ridley's House, too."

     "Ridley's a damn good fella!" he said emphatically.  "Knew his father.
Though a parson he ran a damn good pack o'hounds.  Did y'know him?"

     This question was directed at Squire Matthews.  "Ridley?  Up Sleaford
way?  Knew a Ridley there but he wasn't a parson."

     "No, further up than that.  Near Gainsborough.  Fine hunting there.
But I was in Africa after and that's too damned hot for hounds.  Lions
though."  He laughed.  "I can tell you, boys, you wouldn't want to chase
one of those with a pack of hounds!  Need a good rifle and a clean shot.
Got a couple of good pelts still.  You've seen them, Frederick?  Got 'em in
my study.  Get the boys over and they can see them, too."

     Thank goodness there was a another blast on a horn.  It meant food and
drink!  I quickly remounted Blaze and set off with Robin and Freddy and
managed to reach the stable yard of the Manor before the Colonel and the
Squire who were arguing then about the various Ridley's they knew.  There
were plenty of grooms and boys who took over the horses and we filed into
one of the stables which had been cleared and cleaned.  Trestle tables had
an assortment of platters, jugs and tankards on them.  Flat meat pies,
bread with good fresh butter, sausages and lumps of cheese, one needed both
hands to pick up enough.  I couldn't manage a tankard as well so left
sampling the ale until later.

     Father was talking to everyone but spied us.  "All well?" he asked and
laughed when he saw Freddy's blood-smeared face.  "First time out, eh?  Had
the same when I was your age.  Tom's had his turn."

     "Thank you, sir," Freddy said, "It was good.  I will tell everyone at
School.  It's more than some of them have done."

     Father looked at me.  "And did I see the Squire on Blaze?"  He smiled
as I nodded.  "You did well there, my boy.  He needs a new mount.  Nothing
too frisky."  He nodded.  "I know just the one.  Must go and have a word."

     We set too and made a good meal.  I always found riding made one
hungry.  Freddy was annoyed his grandfather called him Frederick but he
said we should ride over to Moss Hall if not before we went back to School
then at Easter as he was going to persuade his parents to let him stay with
Grandpapa again.  We found he lived in Suffolk, a small town called
Debenham.  His father was the vicar of a parish just outside the boundary.
Apparently it was mother who had money as they had a fine house, he said,
and a curate had the father's vicarage in the village.  His father spent
his time digging for Roman remains between where they lived and another
town called Eye and had found pots and bones and coins.  He said his father
wanted to build a museum but his mother wouldn't let him.  Freddy
sniggered.  "Mother has a faint if she is crossed," he said.  He put on an
angelic face.  "I try not to cross her...  ...too often!"

     We all had our fill, even downing a good tankard of reasonable ale and
chatted for a while with the Westrups, who were eating everything in sight.
They waved goodbye as they had to leave to ride back home before it got too
dark. We had another piece of pie each and came out to see a motley row of
lads and boys.  All had their hands out ready to receive a coin or two for
following the hounds and kicking up a good noise in hopes of getting any
other foxes or vermin out to be hunted.  Our old dog fox was the only
victim of the hunt today.  Of course, right at the front of the row of boys
was the familiar figure of young Philip.  He came over to us clutching a
sixpence and two pennies.  He was grinning.

     "I lost James," he announced, "He got a boot full of cow muck and he's
gone home."  He held up the two pennies.  "These are for him, though.  He
did start with us."

     Robin turned to Freddy, "Freddy, let me introduce my brother.  This is
Philip."

     The boys eyed one another and obviously liked what they saw.  Freddy
stuck out a hand.  "Pleased to meet you.  I didn't know your brother until
today.  He's a good rider."

     The coins were deposited quickly in a pocket and the two lads solemnly
shook hands as Philip studied Freddy's face carefully.

     "I must draw you sometime, 'specially with that blood.  It makes you
look like a savage!"

     Freddy laughed.  "I like that!  Grandpapa says how the savages in
Africa paint their faces and bodies before they go off to kill their
enemies.  Got any enemies I could kill for you?"

     "Not at present," Philip said with a grin, "But I'll keep you in
mind."

     Before warfare started in the village after that offer I thought
Philip ought to be diverted to other things. I noted two of his usual
companions standing behind him.  Billy Temple and Georgie Mead.

     "Why don't you take Billy and Georgie and see if there's any food
left?"  I had also noted most of the riders and huntsmen had come out of
the stable now and were saying their goodbyes to neighbours and friends.
Many had a good ride still ahead of them before they reached home, like the
Westrups,.  Freddy and his Grandfather would have to leave soon, too, as
Moss Hall was a good ten miles on towards Oakham.  The boys needed no more
telling.  Philip waved a goodbye to Freddy and the three were off.

     No sooner had they disappeared than Colonel Neville came marching up.
"Got you, my boy," he said, "Thought you'd run off to join the Horse
Marines."  This was a joke with Terence as well as he always told enquirers
that was his Corps, but most country people were unaware it didn't exist.
"Got to get going or you'll have to run in front with a lantern as I can't
see well in the dark."  Freddy and his grandfather got on well, I felt.
"Say goodbye to your friends... ...and how did I tell you to say it in
African?"

     Freddy screwed up his face.  "Hamba kukule," he said, "That's goodbye
and when I meet you again I'll say 'Molo'.  That's 'Hello'."  [Note: in
Xhosa, a Cape language.]

     Colonel Neville laughed.  "Proper little pagan he is.  I'd ship him
out tomorrow except he'd be king of the Zulus next."  Freddy pouted and
then grinned.

     "I might like that.  I wouldn't mind being king of the Zulus and shoot
a lion myself.  No more school and there would be quite a few kneeling down
before me to beg forgiveness."

     His grandfather had heard enough.  "You can kneel on that lion's skin
in my study and do those exercises Mr Pretyman set you.  I haven't seen you
open a book yet and your mother will not be pleased."

     "But I won't see her before I go back to Ashbourne," he protested.

     "But I have to answer Mr Pretyman's letters when he says you are
behind with your studies.  In that letter I received before Christmas he
did say you work well as long as he or the usher has an eye on you."

     At least Mr Pretyman hadn't written to say he'd been well-beaten for
misdemeanours.  Freddy shot a glance at me.  Just in case I opened my
mouth.  I did.

     "I know he's been quite industrious," I said, and paused, "I saw him
when he was tearing up the paper for the Hare and Hounds.  Most
industrious!"
     I had made a friend.  I had teased him without saying more.  Any
enemies I had he would annihilate!

     I had an inkling that Grandfather knew a bit more, but I was sure he
doted on the boy and wondered if he had him under his wing to keep him from
his mother.  I did say Robin and I would be riding to School to begin the
next term.  Colonel Neville nodded.  I thought we might be having another
companion.  We would have to wait and see.

     After we said goodbye to the pair we went to find if Millicent
Jefferson was still around but one of the serving girls told us the ladies
had gone straight into the Manor and all had left by now.  We were a bit
disappointed as Millicent had things to say about her brother.  Still, she
might be visiting the stables again before we went back to School and her
stories would keep as I had no desire to meet her brother again but there
were things to learn.

     Robin was most amused as we rode back to Careby Hall.  He thought
young Freddy was just like his brother and John Harrison.  "Are all boys of
twelve or so like that?  I don't think I was so forward with saying
things."

     "But we watched Jabez and the older ones and then I suppose we copied
them," I said.  "I think I was more aware of things around me, too, about
that age.  But I like young Freddy, he certainly has spirit."

     He laughed.  "Yes, he has.  And you and George have a little
hero-worshipper who'll follow all your doings at School.  I think Mr
Pretyman must have his hands full with that lad and his friends."

     Robin said he could stay the night but we had to be at his house early
as Liam was going to be there for his first day as a possible apprentice.
I would then have to get ready for the journey to London the next day.  I
was really looking forward to that, but I would miss Robin so we must make
sure we had plenty to remember for the time we would be apart.  More
urgently though, I had to decide all the clothes to take as I needed to
look smart.  Aunt Fanny Wright was a stickler for smartness.  I had been
dragged to a big clothes shop before and fitted out with more suitable
things to wear than the 'countrified' suit I had appeared in.  I wondered
what would happen this time!

     Dinner that evening was both convivial and thought-provoking.  Robin,
of course, stayed and he and I sat either side of my mother at her end of
the table.  She was amused at the tale of Freddy and his mother's vapours.
She said she knew one or two ladies who got their own way by that means.
My father said she never needed to do such a thing as he was always so
amenable to her wishes and wants.  She said she had a list of wishes and
wants in London as he well knew: a list that would test his docility.  He
just laughed and said he would be as docile as she needed.  He was in a
good mood, I thought, as Squire Matthews had decided he needed a new mount.
I was giggling after he announced the old horse I'd rode was called Pegasus
and it must have been a good few years since it had flown!  More like
Peg-Leg now.  I did say I thought it was a good horse.  Although it was an
old stallion it wasn't fractious.  Father said it all depended on how you
looked after your mounts.  In his opinion Squire Matthews was a good
horseman and his steeds were always well-cared for.  "Pegasus must be nigh
on nineteen years old. But he came from good stock and that's also
important.  Same as men and women, eh, Lancelot?"
     Cousin Lancelot had joined us for dinner as one of the maids had
injured her leg falling on a slippery icy path and needed treatment.  He
nodded at father's remark.  "True in the main, I suppose.  I've noted a
number of weak heads in the children when the parents are both a bit light
in their wits but it doesn't always follow.  Same with bodies. Two good,
stout parents usually produce good stout offspring but you do get a
weakling now and again.  But it also depends on upbringing.  I maintain
those poor children just sent back to Boston will never thrive unless they
get good food and drink.  We've discussed this, haven't we, Tom?"

     I said I'd noticed how scrawny and small the poor boys we knew were
even for their age compared with Robin, myself and other village boys from
better families.  I went on to say I'd noted this afternoon that Freddy
Neville and our three lads were all of an age and a size even though Freddy
was of a higher class.  Our lads were from families who could afford good
food for their children.  Lancelot agreed and said he thought too many men
were too intent on their own pleasure, and by that he meant drinking, so
that their families suffered.  A good example being the ruffian in the
lockup at the moment.

     I was surprised by her openness when my mother said she had seen a
book of drawings done by a man named Hogarth where he had depicted scenes
of drunkenness.  "One said 'Drunk for a penny, dead drunk for twopence'
with all these people lying around with mothers and babes as well," she
said, "He had a whole set of the 'Rake's Progress' where this boy of good
family gradually lost everything through drink and debauchery."

     I wasn't too clear what 'debauchery' meant but thought it might
include gambling as people lost money as well as gained it.  Robin must
have also wondered as he looked at me when she said that word.  Lancelot
wasn't at all reticent.

     "I've seen those drawings as well," he said, laughing, "Too many
temptations put in the way of young men.  Wine, gambling and young ladies
intent on spending your money.  Two of my first year at Cambridge
disappeared from sight through being let off the parental leash and were
rusticated for consorting with young and not so young ladies in the taverns
in the town."

     Father was in a jocular mood.  "And you did not stray?"

     Lancelot was grinning.  "Uncle, you know me better than that.  A
physician's lips are sealed when it comes to discussing patients' ills and
I must admit I had to visit a few taverns where some very sick persons
needed skilled attention."  He laughed.  "In fact I learned some very handy
skills with many of those patients."

     "If Tom wants to be a physician he will study at Cambridge," my mother
said, and I wasn't sure if the look in her eye was a twinkle, or just a
reflection from the candles in the sconce on the table, "And will he need
to treat patients of that sort?"

     "Aunt, you know a physician's duty is to treat anyone and anywhere.
Don't worry, knowing my industrious cousin he will be too busy
concentrating on his work and studies to consider spending time in such
dens."

     "Dens?" my father asked, "I shall have to ask Alfred how he spent his
time before he met your dear mother."  He laughed.  "He was abroad with
those young rips and he told me a few tales."

     I remembered what George had said about his Uncle catching the French
Pox and I then had a good idea what 'debauchery' implied.  I'd better keep
quiet!  My mother gave my father a look which I knew from previous
occasions meant 'change the subject'.  He took the hint!

     "Industrious students?  No fun?"  Father was off again. "Wasn't there
some fella who kept a bear in his rooms at Cambridge?"

     Lancelot nodded.  "True.  The infamous Lord Byron was at Trinity with
his bear and I don't think he was very industrious, unless drinking might
be considered an occupation."

     "He wrote some fine poetry, though," my mother said, "There are
splendid lines in 'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' which I'm very fond of.  'By
the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature
more'."  She looked at me and Robin.  "When you two have experienced the
sea as it pounds the shore as I've seen and heard it on the Welsh coast you
would see what the poet means."

     My mother was good at diverting conversation away from ticklish
subjects especially when Squire Matthews's wife was on one of her rampages
about some evil she had perceived in village life.  But Lancelot was not to
be diverted.

     "I would agree," Lancelot said, "There's nothing to beat a storm on
the crossing to France from Dover, though.  We've got that to come, haven't
we, boys?"

     Yes, the proposed trip to return the head.  Robin screwed his face up.
Before Lancelot could go on, and probably describe the head, Robin changed
the subject back.

     "Is that true about the bear?" he asked.

     Lancelot nodded.  "As far as I know it's true and there are always
stories about the strange creatures kept in College rooms and I don't mean
some of the old dons, though I must say a couple of the elderly Fellows at
St Mark's were worse than bears.  More like hairy elephants and a roar to
match a lion when the claret wasn't passed fast enough at High Table.  But
then St Mark's was always a strange place with all sorts of rumours and
tales about happenings in the past, but we never found out what they were.
I have heard that one or two families do not send their sons there.  That
is, they are not allowed to send their sons but names are not given and it
must be a sufficient time ago for anyone to have been there when whatever
happened."  He looked at Robin.  "Rather like my French Count and the Duc,
eh?"

     Before Robin could make any sort of reply my father was intrigued in
general.  "Yes, Alfred said there were things which weren't discussed even
when he was a Fellow." He laughed. "St Mark's for you, me boy," he said,
waving a fork at me from the other end of the table, "No bears, but you
could do some digging and find if there is a mystery."

     It wasn't until I had just finished a large helping of fig pudding
with sweet syrup sauce that father announced that he would not be in the
coach to London as he was going to help one of the grooms take the six
greys for Uncle Wright.  He looked at me.  "I have decided that three
drovers would be better than two so you can ride with us as well.  You can
learn how to lead two horses while you ride.  Much better than staring out
of a carriage window annoying your mother with 'how much further?'
questions."

     Well, that would be an experience.  Keeping two, probably mettlesome
horses, on rein was not an easy task.  Father obviously had some confidence
in me.  I hoped.  But, the 'How far?' sting was something I had been teased
with many times since that first journey to London when I was seven.

     Robin looked a bit downcast.  He would be left behind but we would
also have time together when I returned and then we would be at School soon
after.

     I then found that we would be leaving tomorrow at midday after an
early lunch so I would have a busy day with visiting the Goodhew's first
then being ready for the task of horse drover.

     As soon as possible, when the last plates were cleared and my mother
departed for her boudoir and father and Lancelot to the study for a pipe or
two, I went up to my room with Robin and started to sort through my
clothes.  Not difficult.  Clean shirts, undergarments, stockings, my best
new suit, boots, two nightshirts, all went into a sturdy travelling case
with Oliver Twist as I hadn't finished reading it.  No school books,
though.  For the almost three days riding I just put a clean shirt,
undergarment and a nightshirt into a saddlebag.  Benjy was given
instructions to see my travelling case went on the coach or else he would
suffer tremendous injuries, including decapitation, and have his head in a
jar to frighten any other boy who was lax in his duties.  Although he
hadn't seen Lancelot's memento we had told him about the poor Duc and he
had looked duly sick. "Fiends, both of you," he said, "But it was the
gentry who lost their heads in France so mind who you threaten!"  He just
got a good tickling for that.

     He didn't stay the night as James was now healed and had returned to
his bed at home each night.  He was going to be a permanent fixture in the
scullery and kitchen after New Year with his brother so would inhabit the
cubby-hole next to Benjy and Eamonn.  I could see that Benjy and Eamonn
would be good friends and from Benjy's hints they were enjoying boyish
pleasures together now Eamonn's rash was cured.

     Needless to say Robin and I did not fall asleep until we had enjoyed
each other twice and then again when Robin woke and roused me to a frenzy
of want.  Benjy found two boys entangled in each other's arms still asleep
but with smiles and flushed countenances when they awoke.  Benjy watched
silently as we kissed each other tenderly and both sighed realising we
would be parted for almost fourteen days.

     "Don't despair," Benjy said quietly, "You'll be together again quite
soon.  You've both got things to do."  He tapped me on the shoulder.  "You
must give Jabez all our best wishes and tell him we miss him.  I want to
know what he does.  His mother let me read his last letter he wrote to her
but it only said things about the household and that he was well.  I'm
certain our Jabez would have had more exciting things to tell."

     Robin laughed.  "He could hardly tell her if he gets into the scrapes
like he did here, not to mention what he showed all of us in old Thatcher's
barn."  Yes, our esteemed Registrar and Parish Clerk would have been
horrified at the happenings in his barn but it was his fault he hadn't
known there was a low door at the back which was easily opened by prying
hands.  It was a favourite meeting place where schemes and stratagems were
hatched and boyish pleasures enjoyed to the full.

     Benjy nodded.  "I really miss him.  Even Tom dared not do some of the
things Jabez suggested."  He sniggered.  "He did get caught and beaten when
he changed the time on the church clock, though."

     Yes, he had climbed inside the bell tower one Saturday evening and
moved the hands almost a full hour on using a stick through the wooden
slats.  There was great confusion on the Sunday morning as those who had
their own clocks and watches came to church later after those who relied on
the church clock for their timing.  I know Uncle Dodd was both angry and
amused and told Mr Clements he was not to give more than nine cuts.  Jabez
proudly displayed his weals to us boys on the Monday morning but that was
the end of his adventures as he was then employed as our scullery-boy to
keep him out of mischief.  It didn't!

      We had to have an early breakfast as we had to be present when Liam
started on his apprenticeship.  This accomplished we arrived well in time
just before Uncle Dodd turned up in his chaise with Liam beside him.  Niall
had already gone to the main stable where he was copying letters for Mr
Temple.  Liam looked a bit apprehensive but Steven came out and shook his
hand.

     "Welcome, Liam, I hope and pray you will do well.  Come into the house
and bring your things."  He went back to the chaise and came back with two
small bags.  I didn't suppose he had many belongings.  Steven turned to
Uncle Dodd.  "Sir, please come in as I need to tell Liam what I expect of
him."

     Robin and I followed the three of them into the house.  Jenny and the
two boys were standing waiting with Abel Munnings.

     Jenny stepped forward and smiled at Liam.  "You are welcome.  I hope
you will be happy with us."

     "Ma'am..." was Liam's rather reticent response.  He was, no doubt,
rather scared.  Probably even more so when Abel stepped forward.  Abel was
nearly six feet tall and was renowned for his size and strength.  Seeing
him effortlessly pick up a large piece of uncut stone made one wince
wondering if he would manage it.  He always did.

     He looked the much smaller Liam up and down.  "Welcome, my boy, you
look as if you will survive.  The Rector tells me you have had some
experience with a mason.  I can tell you there is no better trade and,
though he is here, there is no better master or mason than Steven Goodhew."
He put out a hand.  He gripped Liam's and Liam smiled.

     "Thank you, sir, I shall take your words and will do my very best to
be a good pupil and servant."

     "Not a servant to me," said Steven, "You will be a servant to the
stone before you and that's where your mastery will lie."

     Philip stepped forward holding a piece of paper.  "I want you to have
this.  I drew it after you were here before.  My mother said I should give
it to you to welcome you here."

     Liam took the paper and looked at it and then held it for Uncle Dodd
and us two boys to see.  It was a pencil likeness of him.  It was uncanny.
Young Philip had caught his expression exactly.  There was a directness in
the gaze and the features showed a most handsome young man.  I only wish I
had such a skill.

     "Thank you, Philip, I will treasure this.  Seeing it makes me even
more determined to succeed."

     Jenny nodded at Uncle Dodd.  It was a signal they must have agreed on.
"I think we should give thanks for a life of industry to come," he said,
"Let us all pray."

     Very quietly, as we stood with eyes closed and heads bowed, Uncle Dodd
prayed for Liam and his future, for the health and prosperity of all
present, especially Abel who was ready to make his own way in the world and
for those not present who still had their way in life to be determined.  We
knew he meant young Niall.

     As he finished Liam turned to him.  "I wish to thank you, sir, for all
the trust you and Mrs Dodd have place in me.  I hope your trust will be
well-founded now and in the future."

     Uncle Dodd thanked him, too, for his words and said if he ever wanted
to talk to always feel free to come to the Rectory.  In any case, he would
ask Steven to release him for a time so that he could visit Stamford and
the priest there.

     I shook hands with Liam as well and said I had to hurry off as I was
to learn how to be a horse drover and had a long ride before me. They all
laughed and Uncle Dodd said he expected me to end up as an omnibus driver
and he would expect a free ride.

     I managed to give Robin a hug and a quick kiss when I fetched Blaze
from the side of the outhouse.  Of course, we had to elude young Philip who
wanted to know if I was going to see John Harrison in London.  I said it
was unlikely but he gave me another roll of paper and said if I did would I
give it to him.  It was a another pencil drawing, this time of a lad, head
and bare shoulders and it could only be young John.  I asked the address,
but he had already written it on another piece of paper which he also gave
me.  He smiled, "I know you'll try."

     I had to get back to Careby Hall to find out what my duties would be.
My father was already in the dining room with a sheaf of papers in front of
him.  He grunted when I greeted him.  I waited.  "Sorry, my boy, I was
distracted, there are too many things happening at once."  He did smile
then.  "I'm glad I've got good men looking after my affairs."  He held up a
hand.  "First, there's all the contracts.  All signed and sealed and to be
sent off. I've signed the letters this morning.  That young lad has a fair
hand and makes no mistakes.  Should have employed him instead of letting
Grindcobbe offer him a place.  Not to worry.  Is that other one settled?"
Before father got to point two I said I had seen the little ceremony and
felt he was well-settled.  Father nodded.  "Too few good lads who buckle
down early.  Now, point two.  We'll ride down to the stables and collect
our pairs.  Young Rowley is driving the coach with that Peters lad so we'll
have that imp young Dyer with us to start."  That 'imp' was another of my
friends.  He was just younger than Jabez and had settled to being a groom
and was on the way to being a first class horseman.

     "Good," I said, "I wondered who would be chosen.  I like Natty Dyer.
He will be pleased to meet Jabez again."

     My father scowled, then his face creased into a smile.  "That pair!  I
hope they don't play japes at your Aunt's."  His chest heaved.  "I'll never
forget Alfred's face when he saw Old Mother Caudle's second-best shift
flapping on the flagpole on the church tower.  I had to tell him to behave
decently or someone might mention how he flew things around St Mark's."

     That was a story Lancelot had told me.  His father's exploits as a
student had become legends.  From chamber-pots on pinnacles and sewing up
the preaching gowns hung in the vestry, to lifting out several pipes in the
organ so making some notes silent.  But, best of all, letting free several
doves in Chapel when the psalm for the day got to the words 'Oh that I had
wings like a dove! For then I would fly away'.

     Uncle Dodd may not have been amused but the visiting preacher that day
of the flapping shift was an old College friend, now a Colonial bishop,
whose guffaws and pointing finger made light of the matter.  That was
another three strokes to Jabez's bare bottom so he was known as Barebum
Jabez after that as if he were some Puritan who was Barebones something or
other.  Poor Natty got four as he said a very rude word when Mr Clements's
stick landed the first time.

     "My third item is the route we take."  He smiled.  "We are setting off
early as I wish to see my new holding in St Albans.  We should get there in
good time tomorrow and we shall stay at the Peahen.  It's a fine inn and a
letter has already gone to the landlord.  I think we might get near enough
towards Peterborough today and start again by seven in the morning."

     It was a pity we weren't visiting Peterborough itself as I might have
been able to meet Theo. I was intrigued about his father being a
bishop. Still we would have a hard ride in front of us and it would be the
first time I had ridden all the way to London.

     I tucked into my food as I didn't know what fare we might get at our
inn this night.  I did manage to secrete two pieces of tart in my saddle
bag hoping they would not crush or stain my belongings there.  All ready,
saddled up, we set off to the stables. Natty Dyer was waiting there with
six fine greys. They had been well-schooled and we were away in no time in
single file, father first, me second and Natty bringing up the rear on a
roan gelding called Kerry.  We were able to keep going at a steady trot and
the horses did not tire.  We stopped just as dusk had fallen at a pleasant
inn and father was well-pleased at our progress.  The horses were taken to
be fed and watered and we repaired to the dining-room and had good roast
capon and a fry of potatoes.  The ale was good, too, and I felt quite
replete.  Father had a sketch map with him which he was studying by the
light of the candle on the table.

     "We'll try for the Huntingdon road towards Bedford and then straight
down to St Albans.  A good twelve hours tomorrow might do.  Are you tired,
boy?"  This directed not at me but Natty who was staring about him in
amazement at the mixed gathering of travellers including a group of theatre
players, some in multicoloured smocks and cloaks, one of whom was juggling
with three balls.

     "Nay, sir, but I ain't bin so far.  Is it Lunnin yet?"

     Father laughed seeing the lad's wonderment.  "No, my boy, you're not
there yet.  Two more days and you've seen nothing yet, either."

     Natty must have been tired.  We shared a bed in a warm room.  We said
our prayers and snuggled together and just slept.  I woke first as Natty
was a snorer.  I had a quick piss in the handy pot, which was difficult
because as usual I was erect, and then washed in the tepid water in the
basin by the still smouldering fire. A distant church clock chimed six as I
shook him awake.

     "Come on sleepyhead, up! up!"

     "Oh fuck," he murmured then realised where he was and who had woken
him.  "I thought you were that scoundrel Jackie Wells," he said as he
rubbed his eyes.  "Sorry I said that, Master Tom, but I was having a lovely
dream.  Can't remember what it was but I felt all good and warm."  He
stretched in the bed.  A second "Oh fuck!" was more emphatic than the
first.  He kicked off the covers and it was most evident what the
conclusion to the dream had been.  His nightshirt had a warm and wet patch
as mine had shown on several occasions until, that is, I took care the
night before that my boyish juices would not flow unnecessarily.  Poor
Natty was embarrassed though I had witnessed occasions when he and his
friends had competed to see who spurted furthest.

     "At least you need no release," I said as I pulled my nightshirt off
over my head.  I did have a short undershirt on beneath but it did not
cover my upright pizzle.  Natty took one look and laughed.

     "My! Master Tom, that has grown since I saw it last."  Natty was no
slouch.  I was thrust back onto the bed and a rough hand stroked me no more
than two dozen times and my undershirt was also warm and wet!

     We both laughed .  "Thank you, kind sir," I said, "Do you perform
other tricks like those persons we saw last night?"

     "I might learn to juggle with balls and yours hang low enough."

     I rolled out of the way of his stretched out hand and had to sit up
sharply again in case I stained the coverlet.

     We were still laughing as I changed my undershirt and then dressed as
he washed and also dressed.  We took our saddlebags downstairs and left
them with a potboy as we both had need of a privy. God! It was a stink!  We
wrinkled our noses and went back into the inn to meet my father who was up
and at a table with a big plate of thick ham and fried eggs before him.

     "I thought you would never appear," he grumbled good naturedly.  He
pointed at a serving boy who almost immediately carried out two plates
matching my father's.  "Get that into you and we'll be off.  No more snow,
and the man says the road is clear."

     My belly was full with that and a hot fruit cordial as we set off.
Our greys were obedient to the reins and all the steeds were well-rested.
We made good time and stopped for short breaks at two inns and I shared the
tart while we rode with Natty whose boyish appetite matched mine.  It was
near eight o'clock or so when we rode wearily into the yard of the Peahen.
We were starving and I was glad there were enough stablemen to take all our
horses and deal with them.  There was another merry throng in the big room
where we were seated.  Two of the other travellers knew father and plied
him with flagons of ale while we all ate enough to feed a multitude.  Both
Natty and I were saddle-sore and overtired so were content again with a
warm room and a wide bed and deep, deep sleep.

     We had no hurry in the morning.  We rubbed each other's backs as the
riding had made us tense and then aided each other to free ourselves of
other stiffness.

     "My arse is sore," moaned Natty as we dressed and sat side by side on
the padded bench near the fire, "I had no saddle of my own and that one is
made for someone bigger than me.  I feel my legs are pulled apart."

     I had to agree.  I was also sore but I think it was the newness of the
leather which had not yet moulded to my shape.  It was then I had an idea
to ask a nagging question.  But I would take care how I asked.

     "You'd better not complain on your return, or with legs apart like
that you may have to play the mare."

     Natty looked at me with astonishment writ plainly on his face.  "Who
told you of that game?" he asked almost hesitantly.

     I played the know-all.  I placed a finger by the side of my nose and
tapped it.  "Little birds watch from the rafters I expect," I said, also
pursing my lips in a knowing way.  "Little birds have beaks that tweet."

     "And I know a fucking little bird who'll tweet through his arsehole,"
Natty said with force.  "We'll have him on his back and see the biggest
rammer he can take!"

     He stopped.  He realised he had probably said too much.  He looked at
me questioningly.

     "How much do you know?  Really?"

     I would be honest with him.  I put an arm out and put it round his
shoulder.  "All I know Natty-bumpkin,..."  His name his mother called him
and taken up only by his nearest friends. "...is that there is a story that
young grooms play a game.  Is that true?"

     He nodded somewhat glumly then his face brightened.  "If it was who I
think he'll get a surprise when he comes next to the stables!"
     "Who do you think it is?" I asked, sitting up straight and taking my
arm away from his shoulder.

     "Benjamin Bigmouth of course!  He's always asking questions."  He
snickered.  "Why is he interested in that Flaxman's pizzle?  We all know
neither of them stand up straight.  I've seen 'em both and they curl to the
left.  Tatty Croft says they spend too much time on the..."  He didn't
finish the sentence, just made movements all boys did with his fist.
"Tatty said we'd all end up like that or in the madhouse if we're not
careful.  Haven't noticed with him, though!  And he can still spot a hare
at more than ten paces!"

     I laughed.  My curiosity had been answered quite straightforwardly!
And we'd all heard what happened if you frigged yourself too much, though
it would mean every boy I knew would be blind or locked away!  "Leave Benjy
alone.  He's just inquisitive and he's at the Hall all the time and doesn't
mingle with all the ruffians at the stables."

     "Ruffians, eh!" he moved along the settle and balled his fists like a
prizefighter, "He say that?"

     "No, but my Father says if the Frenchies attack again he'd put you all
in redcoats and you'd frighten the devils away."

     Natty laughed.  "He's right.  Thought I might try for the military.
Your Uncle's regiment.  I hear he's a General now."

     "That's true, we might see him as I've been told he's in London now."

     "Is he like your brother?"

     I knew he meant Terence who had kept the stablelads amused by
organising mock battles with pretend skirmishes against invisible enemies
while he sat in a wheeled chair with his leg up on a bench.

     "I expect he was when he was younger but he's very important now so I
don't think he has time to make you form fours, or try to fight off an
enemy with a broomstick!"

     Natty laughed.  "I had better stand up straight and see if he'll
recruit me."

     As Natty at seventeen or so was just a mite taller than me I didn't
think he would be taken on.  Anyway we were getting away from the story he
was telling me.

     "We'll have to see about that," I said, "But what's the game you
play?"

     He began to giggle.  "Don't know if I should tell you, but you'd hear
it no doubt from you-know-who!"

     I made a fist at him.  He screwed up his nose.

     "It's when we get a new young groom."  He grinned. "They did it to me,
too, so I know.  You know where we have those rooms?"
     I knew the young grooms had a row of small rooms behind the main
stables.  They slept there and were fed by the cook who provided the midday
meal also for all the stablehands. From grumbles I'd heard from Father's
secretary when visiting the stables they were supervised somewhat
intermittently by one of the older grooms.  As they were not allowed to
visit the inn they made their own amusements including brewing their own
small beer I had also heard.

     "Yes, I've seen them and they're not kept very tidy are they?"

     He sneered.  "Boys are boys, not little maidens!"

     I snickered.  "So I've seen when you've been taking the horses into
the river.  Squire Matthews says his wife has to close her eyes when they
pass on the road."

     "Ain't she never seen a cock before?" he laughed, "Must be an age
though with him and her so old, though I've heard he had it wagging around
when he were young."

     "The son in Canada?"

     He nodded his head.  "They do say there's a couple more set up in
Peterborough but I don't rightly know."

     Oh, so Torquil wasn't the only one!!  But the story.  Natty was ready
for that.

     "I was telling you we've got those rooms and when we have a young-'un
with a bit of beer in him we tell stories and one is that we're haunted by
a poor boy who died of a plague.  Once we're started and the boy's looking
afrighted someone is outside with a sheet around them and flaps at the
window.  Poor child just abouts shits hisself and we have to take him to
his bed and get him quieter. 'Cause some of them know it's us and get a
temper on.  Then if they tell us to fuck off we say they have to be
punished like they all do when we laugh and tell them."  He giggled. "We
start by getting 'em well addled with more ale and give 'em a good tickle
so their britches come off. Then we bend 'em over a table and hold on while
one of us gets the little rammer."

     "What's that?" I asked.

     Natty held his hands about five or six inches apart.  "It's a bit of
wood someone whittled to look like a dick.  It's years old we think and I
know it's been wielded plenty 'cause I've seen it used on at least six or
seven since I was done.  It's all greased up ready and then it's set on
their hole and in it goes."  He laughed again.  "There ain't one that don't
squeal when it goes in first but once it's begun a-ramming they start to
buck like a mare in heat and want it more.  Afore long that's out and the
next one goes in..." He held his hands out about eight inches.  "...that's
a well-polished one and we don't go no further usual but if he's a bad'un
we get the big old rammer out and that's a size."  He shook his head.  "I
wouldn't like it but that daft lummox Jammy Connor's had it twice I know of
and his hole's ready and waiting for it after the second one's been in.
Bugger shouts out 'More! More!'  until he squirts a gallon!"

     "How big is that one?" I asked and felt my buttocks twitch at the
tale.
     "Nigh on ten inches I'd say," said Natty, "Not I'd want it so I keep
out of trouble.  Farty Cooper got it last.  He'd riled us all 'cause he's a
lazy bastard so we decided he was for the big 'un.  Must say he took it
like a man.  Never even whimpered and promised he'd work harder if he could
have it again.  Bloody fool!"

     "Perhaps he just likes it." I ventured.

     He nodded.  "Tis said he and Charlie Tombs do play stallion and mare
together but 'tis a rumour and we don't want Mr Carter to hear or they'll
be dismissed."  He looked at me as if he'd said too much.  "You wouldn't
tell?"

     "Of course not," I said and took his hand.  I held it tightly.  "We
know too many things together, don't we.  That's just one more."

     He shook his head.  "I can't believe you're gentry.  You be more like
one o' us."

     "Natty," I said with emphasis, "I believe we're all the same.  Just
because my father owns all his land and a big house and I'm his son doesn't
make us more than you.  I know my father cares for all whether we're his
kin or whether it's those who work for him or whether they are tenants in
his farms."

     "I know that," Natty said nodding his head in agreement, "Your
father's a fine man and there ain't one has a bad word against him. Things
we hear about others.  That man who has that place up near Bitchfield.  His
tenants get told to go with no recompense if their rent is just a month or
so out..."

     "...Is that Mr Cavendish?" I asked knowing the over-bearing manner of
the son when he's been in the village.

     "Yes, that's his name.  They'd have him pitchforked if it weren't that
he'd got the village constable sniffing his arse who'd call the militia in
for any sign of trouble.  We've got two new lads since harvest time when
their fathers were turned out for want of a few pounds for rent that
quarter.  Your father asked no questions and just took them on.  They work
hard, too."

     True. I knew my father had a good reputation.  Terence had confided
he'd heard many stories of father's good works and that his kindnesses were
never taken advantage of.  His immediate reaction to Lancelot's request for
the poor family to be returned was a good example of his actions.

     "I hope I may be like my father," I said, "But I shall know all your
secrets, won't I, so you will have to be my willing slave!"  I put my arm
round him again and hugged him.  "But, Natty, you'd never be a slave."  I
laughed.  "Except for your mother."

     Natty's mother was a widow and had just Natty and a younger daughter.
It was the daughter who worked at the Goodhews while Mrs Dyer kept the
household for Mr Hine the draper.  Natty could do no wrong as far as his
mother was concerned.  Her Natty-bumpkin was the apple of her eye.  It
didn't spoil him and everyone liked him, too.

     He laughed.  "My mother tells me everything I should do.  At least I
am away now and Mr Carter says I have a way with the young horses..."  He
shook his head.  "... but I want to get away and see things."

     "Natty, you're only seventeen, plenty of time."

     "But everyone knows your business.  I couldn't fart behind a haystack
without old Mother Caudle be at my backside with her besom!"

     I knew what he meant.  One thing I missed at school was the flow of
gossip and tales of everyone's perceived misdemeanours.  But then, I had
heard and seen plenty there from the Whelps being red-arsed to Black Jack
being plug-arsed.  "You'll be in London tomorrow and that's an adventure, I
said, "I must warn you, though, don't go off wandering by yourself."

     He shook his head.  "That I won't.  Rowley says young lads like me be
fodder for the swindlers and thieves about.  He said he'll take me around."

     "That's true. We don't want you in any trouble."

     "What's this place like?" he asked.

     I assumed he meant St Albans.  "I don't know.  I've never been here
before.  I think my father wants to look at some land he's bought."

     Natty's eyes opened wide.  "More land.  There's a tale he's just
bought that old farm next to us."

     I grinned at him.  "I think my father has an eye to business and it'll
mean more for the village, too."

     I told him about his remarks about the fire-pump.  Natty agreed that
would be good as stupid buggers were always getting their houses on fire.
I didn't tell him about the jakes as he would be seeing Uncle Wright's big
house soon and there was even one in the stablehouse in the mews for the
grooms to use.

     We went down to breakfast and found father in deep conversation with
one of the fellows he'd greeted the night before.  From a snatch of
conversation I gathered there were plans for building artisans' houses on
plots of land now for sale in the town.  My father was nodding as if he
agreed it would be good to bid for land in that area.  After a good
breakfast and when we were ready for our inspection of the land he had
already bought he gave me same sage advice.

     "That fellow has an interest in those plots.  I've seen the burgesses'
plans and they are against building there as it's on marshy land by the Ver
river.  That crafty bugger thought I might borrow some money at a great
rate of interest and I knew I would have lost it.  Never take an offer that
prophesies you'll make more than what the Bank says is natural and make
your own enquiries is what Grindcobbe always tells me.  That's a rule I
stick to."  He winked at me.  "Grindcobbe knows his business and that land
here I've bought is dry and ready.  Maybe not for a year or two, but it's
ours now."

     We left the greys in the care of the stable-lads and the three of us
rode up into the town.  We passed the tall ancient clock tower behind the
Town Hall.  The houses on the high street further on were substantial and
much larger than those fronting our village main street.  Father said it
was a prosperous town and had a history back to the Romans with a fine
abbey now mainly in ruins.  I said I had heard of the Duke of St Albans and
how his ancestor had been ennobled.  He looked at me and grinned.  "I did
not think young boys knew about orange sellers."  I explained that Mr
Martin had read us parts of Mr Pepys' diary and that King Charles had
dallied with Miss Gwynne.  Father roared and almost startled his horse.
"What do they teach boys these days?  I wish I'd heard all that when I was
at Stamford.  You must find a copy of that diary while we are in London.  I
have heard of it."  He winked at me again.  "And when I've read it you may
be allowed to read it, too."

     The land we found was quite substantial and bordered the town to the
North-East and had several small farms and holdings situated on it.  The
land looked fertile and was both arable and put to cattle as well and
looked cared for even though there was snow lying.  Father looked pleased.
"I can see no poor husbandry," he said approvingly as we sat in the warmth
of a small inn and had a tankard of well-brewed ale each.  "You like what
you see, Natty?"

     Natty smiled.  "There are some fine cattle in those byres. That man
you spoke to driving those three fat beeves said there is a good market
here, too.  It looks a peaceful place."

     Father took a pull at his tankard.  "It wasn't always peaceful here,
my boy.  This is where there were battles in one of the Henry's times.
Those times were hard and cruel and many poor men were killed.  At least we
only suffer from the ranters now."  Father pulled out his large turnip
watch which did tell the time unlike George's.  I had noticed he had
checked it against the clock in the tower at half past eight.  "Onwards, my
boys.  We shall have a bite of something before we ride on and if we are
lucky we will be in London tonight.  It is almost ten so we have good
time."

     The 'bite' was fast.  A chop each and a great hunk of buttered bread
and a quick piss in the stinking privy.  The horses were rested and we made
good time to Barnet where we tarried at a poor inn for a bare quarter hour
as father was restless.  It was darkening as we joined all the fellow
horsemen, carriages and carts as they wended their way through the villages
outside the City with Natty peering round at all the new sights.  At long
last three weary travellers rode into the mews behind Uncle Wright's new
great house in Curzon Street behind Berkeley Square.  I said to Natty I
would see him in the morning as Mr Churcher, Uncle's head groom, took
charge of him and the horses.  He looked bemused as he took up his
saddlebag and followed the elderly man into the stable still staring up at
the gaslamps.

     Father and I walked to the side door of the mansion and I was
enveloped in a great hug by Aunt Fanny Wright.  Two figures were by her
side.  Mr Tuckwell the butler and the grinning Jabez Bottom.  We were
escorted to the diningroom where Aunt Fanny explained that Uncle Wright had
retired to bed as it was so late but there was hot soup and hot grog and
that Jabez would be my valet.  I was so tired I hardly remembered where my
mouth was but the food revived me somewhat though when Jabez helped me
undress I just collapsed into bed and fell fast asleep.

To be continued: