Briskly crows (the shepherd’s clock),
Jocund, that the morning’s nigh.”
With a yawn, a stretch, and a shake, Trimbush completed his toilet one misty morning, just as a neighbouring cock had thrice thrown his chivalrous challenge on the breeze, and invited me, with a crack of his stern across my muzzle, to follow his early example of industry.
“Come,” said he, “it’s time to be awake and stirring. How do ye fare?”
“Hearty and hungry,” replied I, reluctantly arousing myself from a dream of enjoyment.
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Trimbush. “You’ll have to wait, then,” continued he, “till sunset for a meal, unless you earn a share for yourself.”
“How so?” inquired I.
“This will be the first meet o’ the season, and your first day of regular work. Mind,” said Trimbush, admonishingly, as he showed a long row of very white and strong teeth, “to let me see that you have profited by my lessons and the experience you’ve had in cub-hunting, or your jacket may be well shaken when least expected.”
“You needn’t begin to threaten,” rejoined I, somewhat indignantly, “without any cause. A rate’s well enough,” I continued, “when a fault is committed; but there’s no occasion to meet it half-way.”
“True,” returned Trimbush, “quite true; and your remark only proves that a young head may sometimes correct an old tongue, despite what may be said to the contrary. One of the greatest faults with all whippers-in,” resumed he, “is the rating us in anticipation of our doing wrong; or, after committing it, before soaking in the double-thong; whereas, they should wait until the cause is given, and then—after blistering us with the flax—proceed to lecture upon the impropriety of the conduct. It’s quite remarkable what effect a sound drubbing has upon the memory.”