“Augh, Sir! but the Bible was addressed to them Jew creturs! How somever, it’s an excellent book for the poor; keeps ‘em in order, favours discipline,—none more so.” “Hold your tongue. I called you, Bunting, because I think I heard you say you had once been at York. Do you know what towns we shall pass on our road thither?”
“Not I, your honour; it’s a mighty long way.—What would the Squire think?—just at Lunnon, too. Could have learnt the whole road, Sir, inns all, if you had but gone on to Lunnon first. Howsomever, young gentlemen will be hasty,—no confidence in those older, and who are experienced in the world. I knows what I knows,” and the Corporal recommenced his whistle.
“Why, Bunting, you seem quite discontented at my change of journey. Are you tired of riding, or were you very eager to get to town?”
“Augh! Sir; I was only thinking of what best for your honour,—I!—‘tis not for me to like or dislike. Howsomever, the horses, poor creturs, must want rest for some days. Them dumb animals can’t go on for ever, bumpety, bumpety, as your honour and I do.—Whaugh!” “It is very true, Bunting, and I have had some thoughts of sending you home again with the horses, and travelling post.”
“Eh!” grunted the Corporal, opening his eyes; “hopes your honour ben’t serious.”
“Why if you continue to look so serious, I must be serious too; you understand, Bunting?”
“Augh—and that’s all, your honour,” cried the Corporal, brightening up, “shall look merry enough to-morrow, when one’s in, as it were, like, to the change of road. But you see, Sir, it took me by surprise. Said I to myself, says I, it is an odd thing for you, Jacob Bunting, on the faith of a man, it is! to go tramp here, tramp there, without knowing why or wherefore, as if you was still a private in the Forty-second, ‘stead of a retired Corporal. You see, your honour, my pride was a hurt; but it’s all over now;—only spites those beneath me,—I knows the world at my time o’ life.”
“Well, Bunting, when you learn the reason of my change of plan, you’ll be perfectly satisfied that I do quite right. In a word, you know that my father has been long missing; I have found a clue by which I yet hope to trace him. This is the reason of my journey to Yorkshire.”
“Augh!” said the Corporal, “and a very good reason: you’re a most excellent son, Sir;—and Lunnon so nigh!”
“The thought of London seems to have bewitched you; did you expect to find the streets of gold since you were there last?”