The Cruise of the Land-Yacht "Wanderer" Part 15

Such was Bronte.

Such is Hurricane Bob, only more so.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

LETTERS HOME, AFTER BEING MONTHS ON THE ROAD.

"Come listen to my humble friends.

Nor scorn to read their letters, The faithfulness of horse and dog Oft-times makes us their debtors.

Yet selfish man leads folly's van, The thought is food for laughter.

He admits all virtues in his 'beast,'

But--denies him a hereafter."

I.

_Letter from Polly Pea-Blossom to a Lady-Friend_.

NOW fulfil my promise of writing to you, my dear, which you remember I made long ago, saying I should do so at the earliest opportunity. By the way, poor Corn-flower, my pole-mate, spells opportunity with one 'p.' It is quite distressing, my dear, to think how much Captain Corn-flower's education has been neglected in many ways. He is only called 'Captain' by courtesy you know, having never been in the army.

Heigho! what a deal of ups and downs one does see in one's life to be sure. Why, it is not more than three years since you and I, my dear, resided in the same big stable, and used to trot great fat old Lady C-- to church in that stupid big yellow chariot of hers. And now heigho!

the old lady has gone to heaven, or wherever else old ladies _do_ go, and you and I are parted. But often and often now, while housed in some sad unsavoury den, I think of you, my dear, and olden times till tears as big as beans roll over my halter. And I think of that old stable, with its tall doors, its lofty windows, its sweet floors and plaited straw, and the breath of new-mown hay that used to pervade it! Heigho!

again.

"I was telling Corn-flower only last night of how I once kicked an unruly, unmannerly nephew of my ladys.h.i.+p's out of the stable door, because he tried to pull hairs out of my tail to make a fis.h.i.+ng line.

Poor Corn-flower laughed, my dear, and said,--

"'Which ye was always unkimmon ready to kick, Polly, leastways ever since I has a-known ye.'

"He does talk so vulgarly, my dear, that sometimes my blood boils to think that a mare of my blood and birth should be--but there! never mind, Corn-flower has some good points after all. He never loses his temper, even when I kick him and bite him. I only wish he would. If he would only kick me in return, oh, then wouldn't I warm him just! I gave him a few promiscuous kicks before I commenced this letter. He only just sighed and said, 'Ye can't help it, Polly--that ye can't. You're honly a mare and I be a feelosopher, I be's.'

"On the whole, though, I have not much to complain of at present; my master is very kind and my coachman is very careful, and never loses his temper except when I take the bit in my teeth and have my own way for a mile.

"When we start of a morning we never know a bit where we are going to, or what is before us; sometimes it is wet or rainy, and even cold; but bless you, my dear, we are always hungry, that is the best of it, and really I would not change places with any carriage-horse ever I knew.

Travelling does improve one's mind so, though heigho! I don't think it has done much yet for the gallant Captain Corn-flower.

"The greatest bother is getting a nice stable. Sometimes these are cool and comfortable enough, but sometimes so close and stuffy one can hardly breathe. Sometimes they smell of hens, and sometimes even of pigs.

Isn't that dreadful, my dear? I hate pigs, my dear, and one day, about a month ago, one of these hateful creatures struck my near hind leg with such force that he was instantly converted into pork. As regards bedding, however, John--that is our coachman--does look well out for us, though on more than one occasion we could get nothing better than pea-straw. Now pea-straw may be good enough for Corn-flower, my dear, but not for me; I scorn to lie on it, and stand all night!

"I dearly love hay. Sometimes this is bad enough, but at other times a nice rackful of sweetly-scented meadow hay soothes me, and almost sends me to sleep; it must be like eating the lotus leaf that I hear master speak about.

"Perhaps you would not believe this, my dear--some innkeepers hardly ever clean out their stables. The following is a remark I heard only yesterday. It was a Yorks.h.i.+reman who made it--

"'Had I known you'd been coming, I'd ha' turned th' fowls out like, and cleaned oop a bit. We generally does clean oop _once a year_.'

"Sometimes, my dear, the roads are very trying, and what with big hills and thousands of flies it is a wonder on a warm day how I can keep my temper as well as I do.

"But there, my dear, this letter is long enough. We must not grumble, must we, my dear? It is the lot of horses to work and toil, and there _may_ be rest for us in some green hereafter, when our necks are stiffened in death, and our shoes taken off never to be nailed on again.

"_Quien sabe_? as master says. _Quien sabe_?

"Your affectionate old friend and stable-mate,--

"Polly Pea-blossom."

II.

From Captain Corn-Flower to Old Dobbin, a Brewer's Horse.

"Dear old Chummie,--Which i said last time i rubbed noses with you At the wagon and hosses, as 'ow i'd rite to you, and which i Now takes the Oportunity, bein' as 'ow i would ha' filled my Promise long Ago, If i was only arf as clever as Polly pea-blossom.

"My shoes! old chummie, but Polly be amazin' 'cute. She is My stable-mate is polly, likewise my pole-companion As you might say.

Which her name is polly pea-blossom, all complete. Gee up and away you goes!

"And which I considers it the completest 'onor out to be chums along o'

polly, anyhow whatsoever. Gee up and away you goes!

"'You're a lady, polly,' i says, says i, 'and i ain't a gentleman--no, beggar me if i be's.'

"'You sometimes speak the truth,' says polly, she says.

"Which that was a kind o' 2-handed compliment, dear dobbin. Gee up and away you goes!

"Which polly is unkimmin clever, and I allers appeals to polly.

"Which polly often amooses i like, while we Be a-munchin' a bit o'

meadow hay, arter we've been and gone and 'ad our jackets brushed, and our Feet washed, and got bedded-up like; Polly allers tells me o' the toime when she were a-pullin' of a big chariat and a-draggin' of a d.u.c.h.ess to church, and what a jolly nice stable she lived In, and what fine gold-plated 'arness she used to put on, and Lots else I don't recomember, dobbin, and all in such Fine english, dobbin, as you and i couldn't speak with our bits out. Yes, polly be's unkimmin clever. Gee up and away you goes!

"But 1 nite, dobbin, i says to myself, says i, i'll tell polly summit o'

_my_ younger days, so I hits out as follers: 'When i were a-livin' wi'

farmer Frogue, polly,' says i, which he were a farmer in a small way, and brew'd a drop o' good beer for the publics all round like, there were me and my mate, a boss called dobbin; and bless your old collar, polly, dobbin were a rare good un, and he'd a-draw'd a tree out by the roots dobbin would. Gee op and away ye goes! And there were old Garge who drov us like, which he Had a fine temper, polly, 'ceptin' when he got a drop too much, then it was whip, whip, whip, all day, up hill and down, and my shoulders is marked till this day. But Old farmer frogue, he comes to the stable once upon a time, which a very fat un were farmer frogue, wi' no legs to speak of like. Well, polly, as I were a sayin', he comes to the stable, and he says to Garge, 'Garge,' says he--

"But would you believe it, dear dobbin? I never got further on with my story like.

"'Oh! bother you,' cries polly, a-tossin o' her mane that proud like.

'Do you imagine for a moment that a born lady like me is interested in your Dobbins, and your Garges, and your fat old farmer Frogues? You're a vulgar old horse, Corn-flower.'

"Gee op, says i, and away ye goes!

"And polly ups wi' her hind foot and splinters the part.i.tion, and master had to pay for that, which polly is amazin' clever at doin' a kick like.

"But I likes polly unkimmon, and polly likes i, and though she bites and kicks she do be unhappy when i goes away to be shoed. Which I never loses my temper, dobbin, whatsomever. Gee up and away ye goes!

"Which we never funks a hill though, neither on us. When we Comes to a pertikler stiff un like i just appeals to polly.

"'Pull up,' says Polly, says she, 'every hill has a top to it; pull up, you old ha.s.s, pull op!'

"Sometimes the hay we gets ain't the sweetest o' perfoomery, dobbin, old chummie; then I appeals to polly, cause you see if polly can eat it so kin i.

"Sometimes we meet the tractive hengine; i never liked it, and what's more i never will. It seems unnatural like, so i appeals to polly.