Mr Blewcome and his wife, Mrs Blewcome, were great travellers. There were few places, large and small, in England, where the forms of Mr and Mrs Blewcome were unknown.
Mr Blewcome was the proprietor of a travelling menagerie, and was a very distinguished personage in his own way, a man with a mind far above your ordinary proprietors of "wild beastesses," as Mrs Blewcome informed all whom she met. A man who had adopted that profession with the noble object of raising it to its proper level. Noble and enthusiastic Blewcome!
Mr Blewcome was tall and thin; Mrs B. was short and stout. The face of the manager and proprietor of Blewcome's Royal Menagerie was sallow and cadaverous. The face of his spouse was rubicund to a degree. In fact, in everything, the pair were admirably suited, according to the principle, that the more unlike two people are, the better they will agree; and they led a very prosperous "Jack Sprat and his wife" sort of life, roaming from place to place, with their caravans of wild beasts and yellow chariot of unhealthy-looking musicians, whose performance consisted of a very small quantity of trumpet, and a very great deal of drum. First-rate things in bands, drums are; they make so much noise, and hide such a multitude of mistakes. Besides, one tune will last so much longer with a judicious intermixture of drum. So Mr and Mrs Blewcome went about England, and Mr Blewcome gave incorrect lectures about impossible wild beasts, and Mrs Blewcome took the money at the door; while outside, the band played to delighted audiences, who always came to hear the music because they had not to pay anything for that pleasure.
Now it so happened that Blewcome's Royal Menagerie had made a most successful sojourn in Wilton, and was now on its way to the neighbouring town of Newbury; and, having reached the third milestone from Wilton, was passing the barn where Harry slept, fancying himself miles away from the hated grammar-school. Like most boys, he had not much idea of distance, and, besides, the night had deceived him.
The rumbling of the vans, and the growling of the beasts, who were making a great deal of very unnecessary noise, startled Harry from his sleep; and he ran out of his strange sleeping-chamber to see what it all meant, and stood staring open-mouthed at the curious divers-coloured caravans as they rolled along. The yellow chariot led the way. But the musicians were silent, and the drum swung from the back of the vehicle unbeaten and at peace. Last of all came Mr and Mrs Blewcome in the gaudiest of the caravans, drawn by two piebald steeds with very long manes and very thin tails, and who seemed to have seen their best days.
The eagle eye of Timothy Blewcome caught sight of Harry, and, turning to his wife, he remarked, in a tragic tone (he was a bit of an orator, was Blewcome; at least, he thought so):
"Jemimar, he'll do!"
And their conveyance came to a standstill, and Harry saw the portly form of the said Jemima Blewcome descending the caravan-steps and coming towards him.
He was not the least afraid, she looked so kind and good-natured.
"My dear!" said Mrs Blewcome, courteously, with the blandest of smiles.