time.
This Boot was a lone house of public entertainment, situated in the fields at the back of the Foundling Hospital; a very solitary spot at that period, and quite deserted after dark. The tavern stood at some distance from any high road, and was approachable only by a dark and narrow lane; so that Hugh was much surprised to find several people drinking there, and great merriment going on. He was still more surprised to find among them almost every face that had caught his attention in the crowd; but his companion having whispered him outside the door, that it was not considered good manners at The Boot to appear at all curious about the company, he kept his own counsel, and made no show of recognition.
Before putting his lips to the liquor which was brought for them, Dennis drank in a loud voice the health of Lord George Gordon, President of the Great Protestant Association; which toast Hugh pledged likewise, with corresponding enthusiasm. A fiddler who was present, and who appeared to act as the appointed minstrel of the company, forthwith struck up a Scotch reel; and that in tones so invigorating, that Hugh and his friend (who had both been drinking before) rose from their seats as by previous concert, and, to the great admiration of the assembled guests, performed an extemporaneous No-Popery Dance.
Chapter 39
The applause which the performance of Hugh and his new friend elicited from the company at The Boot, had not yet subsided, and the two dancers were still panting from their exertions, which had been of a rather extreme and violent character, when the party was reinforced by the arrival of some more guests, who, being a detachment of United Bulldogs, were received with very flattering marks of distinction and respect.
The leader of this small party—for, including himself, they were but three in number—was our old acquaintance, Mr Tappertit, who seemed, physically speaking, to have grown smaller with years (particularly as to his legs, which were stupendously little), but who, in a moral point of view, in personal dignity and self-esteem, had swelled into a giant. Nor was it by any means difficult for the most unobservant person to detect this state of feeling in the quondam “prentice, for it not only proclaimed itself impressively and beyond mistake in his majestic walk and kindling eye, but found a striking means of revelation in his turned-up nose, which scouted all things of earth with deep disdain, and sought communion with its kindred skies.
Mr Tappertit, as chief or captain of the Bulldogs, was attended by his two lieutenants; one, the tall comrade of his younger life; the other, a “Prentice Knight in days of yore—Mark Gilbert, bound in the olden time to Thomas Curzon of the Golden Fleece. These gentlemen, like himself, were now emancipated from their “prentice thraldom, and served as journeymen; but they were, in humble emulation of his great example, bold and daring spirits, and aspired to a distinguished state in great political events. Hence their connection with the Protestant Association of England, sanctioned by the name of Lord George Gordon; and hence their present visit to The Boot.
“Gentlemen!” said Mr Tappertit, taking off his hat as a great general might in addressing his troops. “Well met. My lord does me and you the honour to send his compliments per self.”
“You've seen my lord too, have you?” said Dennis. “I see him this afternoon.”
“My duty called me to the Lobby when our shop shut up; and I saw him there, sir,” Mr Tappertit replied, as he and his lieutenants took their seats. “How do YOU do?”
“Lively, master, lively,” said the fellow. “Here's a new brother, regularly put down in black and white by Muster Gashford; a credit to the cause; one of the stick-at-nothing sort; one arter my own heart. D'ye see him? Has he got the looks of a man that'll do, do you think?” he cried, as he slapped Hugh on the back.
“Looks or no looks,” said Hugh, with a drunken flourish of his arm, “I'm the man you want. I hate the Papists, every one of “em. They hate me and I hate them. They do me all the harm they can, and I'll do them all the harm I can. Hurrah!”
“Was there ever,” said Dennis, looking round the room, when the echo of his boisterous voice bad died away; “was there ever such a game boy! Why, I mean to say, brothers, that if Muster Gashford had gone a hundred mile and got together fifty men of the common run, they wouldn't have been worth this one.”
The greater part of the company implicitly subscribed to this opinion, and testified their faith in Hugh by nods and looks of great significance. Mr Tappertit sat and contemplated him for a long time in silence, as if he suspended his judgment; then drew a little nearer to him, and eyed him over more carefully; then went close up to him, and took him apart into a dark corner.
“I say,” he began, with a thoughtful brow, “haven't I seen you before?”
“It's like you may,” said Hugh, in his careless way. “I don't know; shouldn't wonder.”
“No, but it's very easily settled,” returned Sim. “Look at me. Did you ever see ME before? You wouldn't be likely to forget it, you know, if you ever did. Look at me. Don't be afraid; I won't do you any harm. Take a good look—steady now.”
The encouraging way in which Mr Tappertit made this request, and coupled it with an assurance that he needn't be frightened, amused Hugh mightily—so much indeed, that be saw nothing at all of the small man before him, through closing his eyes in a fit of hearty laughter, which shook his great broad sides until they ached again.
“Come!” said Mr Tappertit, growing a little impatient under this disrespectful treatment. “Do you know me, feller?”
“Not I,” cried Hugh. “Ha ha ha! Not I! But I should like to.”
“And yet I'd have wagered a seven-shilling piece,” said Mr Tappertit, folding his arms, and confronting him with his legs wide apart and firmly planted on the ground, “that you once were hostler at the Maypole.”
Hugh opened his eyes on hearing this, and looked at him in great surprise.
“—And so you were, too,” said Mr Tappertit, pushing him away with a condescending playfulness. “When did MY eyes ever deceive— unless it was a young woman! Don't you know me now?”
“Why it an't—” Hugh faltered.
“An't it?” said Mr Tappertit. “Are you sure of that? You remember G. Varden, don't you?”
Certainly Hugh did, and he remembered D. Varden too; but that he didn't tell him.
“You remember coming down there, before I was out of my time, to ask after a vagabond that had bolted off, and left his disconsolate father a prey to the bitterest emotions, and all the rest of it— don't you?” said Mr Tappertit.
“Of course I do!” cried Hugh. “And I saw you there.”
“Saw me there!” said Mr Tappertit. “Yes, I should think you did see me there. The place would be troubled to go on without me. Don't you remember my thinking you liked the vagabond, and on that account going to quarrel with you; and then finding you detested him worse than poison, going to drink with you? Don't you remember that?”
“To be sure!” cried Hugh.
“Well! and are you in the same mind now?” said Mr Tappertit.
“Yes!” roared Hugh.
“You speak like a man,” said Mr Tappertit, “and I'll shake hands with you. “ With these conciliatory expressions he suited the action to the word; and Hugh meeting his advances readily, they performed the ceremony with a show of great heartiness.
“I find,” said Mr Tappertit, looking round on the assembled guests, “that brother What's-his-name and I are old acquaintance. —You never heard anything more of that rascal, I suppose, eh?”
“Not a syllable,” replied Hugh. “I never want to. I don't believe I ever shall. He's dead long ago, I hope.”
“It's to be hoped, for the sake of mankind in general and the happiness of society, that he is,” said Mr Tappertit, rubbing his palm upon his legs, and looking at it between whiles. “Is your other hand at all cleaner? Much the same. Well, I'll owe you another shake. We'll suppose it done, if you've no objection.”
Hugh laughed again, and with such thorough abandonment to his mad humour, that his limbs seemed dislocated, and his whole frame in danger of tumbling to pieces; but Mr Tappertit, so far from receiving this extreme merriment with any irritation, was pleased to regard it with the utmost favour, and even to join in it, so far as one
