Page:Once a Week Volume 8.djvu/189

. 7, 1863.] I thought this remark very unjust to the body to which I belonged, and was disposed to address Sir Thomas from my screen; but, upon reflection, I concluded it was better to hold my tongue. I was glad I did so, for Sir Thomas said:

“Here’s another account of the same date,

So, I considered butlers were exonerated from Sir Thomas’s injurious observations.

“The rogues had little fear of the watch it seems, by what follows:

“The next extract is rather nearer our own time.

“Sir Richard Chase, and his friend from Wales, seem to have been prudent fellows, and to have known the feebleness of their own courage,” said Sir Thomas, laughing. “I think I should have made some fight for my money, or said nothing about the adventure.”

All the gentlemen agreed in Sir Thomas’s opinion, and I have no doubt Sir Richard Chase would have done the same, had he been sitting there in a bright warm room, with a jug or more of very fine claret within him.

“My uncle Zachary,” said Mr. N—r—th, “used to tell an adventure which occurred to him. He was very fond of racing, and was known to bet considerable sums, and to carry his money with him. On his way to Doncaster with a friend, he stopped at an inn where he was known, and invariably slept on his way down, and was annoyed to find that all the other decent rooms were occupied by persons who, like himself, were on their way to the races. So there was nothing to be done, but to yield up his own comfortable quarters to his friend, and content himself as best he could in a garret. My uncle’s friend was a mild, nervous man, who would have as soon thought of visiting Doncaster races, without the protection of my uncle, as descending the crater of Vesuvius. Before he retired to rest, it was his custom to look under his bed, and in any cupboard that might be in the room. He went through this examination on the night of my story, and all being perfectly satisfactory, my uncle’s friend raked the coals well together in the grate, extinguished his candle, and by the light of the fire got into bed. Many persons cannot sleep in a strange bed, and my uncle’s friend was one, so he lay awake for some time, looking at an eight-day clock in one corner of his room. The hands of the clock, he had noticed, stood at half-past eight, and it was then eleven; so, as the clock had stopped, my uncle’s friend thought that he should experience no disturbance from that quarter. He was mistaken, however, for he saw by the firelight, which played upon the polished surface of the clock-case, the door communicating with the weights and pendulum silently opened, and then a villanous face peered out, the eyes glaring at my uncle’s friend; whose breath, for a moment or two, came thick and fast, to be followed by a profuse perspiration. The danger, however, was too near to admit of much deliberation; my uncle’s friend jumped out of bed, rushed to the clock, and secured his enemy within, bawling at the same time:

‘Zachary—Zachary N—r—th! Murder! Thieves! Zachary N—r—th’

“The imprisoned rogue made desperate efforts to free himself, and the clock-case rocked about fearfully, but the situation was in favour of virtue for once, and vice met with its deserts. Assistance soon arrived, and from the interior of the clock-case (from which the weights and pendulum had been removed), a well-known diminutive Doncaster tout was dragged to light, the man afterwards confessing that he knew my Uncle Zachary always slept in this particular room at race-time, and that he was sure to carry a large sum of money with him. The incensed host and his household consigned the miserable little culprit to the horse-trough for nearly a quarter of an hour, and then left him to dry in the village cage. And that was the end of the story.”

“By-the-bye,” said Sir Thomas, “if I remember rightly, Zachary was once suspected of being a thief himself, was he not?”

“O, I remember,” replied Mr. N—r—th. “He was a free-and-easy man, and soon at home wherever he found himself. Arriving at a country inn, where he had been before, and made himself very agreeable to host and hostess, he entered, expecting to find a pleasant welcome, and so he held out his hand to the buxom lady of the house, and was surprised to find his proffered courtesy coldly received. Nothing abashed, however, he walked towards the kitchen, saying:

‘Haha! I thought my nose did not deceive me. Ducks! Capital—very fond of ducks, and one of those brown beauties shall be my dinner.’

‘I fancy you’ll find yourself mistaken, sir,’ said the hostess, whisking about the kitchen; ‘and, if you please, the parlour is in the front of the house, and we want the kitchen to ourselves just at present.’

‘Hey-day,’ said my uncle, “what is the matter, hostess? Don’t you remember me?’

‘O, yes! I remember you well enough—not likely to forget such a customer as you are,’ replied the hostess.

“My uncle stared at this rejoinder, and his wonder was not diminished when he saw the landlord in the garden beckoning him to come.

“My uncle went at once.

‘Well, landlord, what’s this mystery?’

‘Really, sir,’ said the host, ‘I hardly like to