“Well, now,” said the Baronet, beginning at the top of the list, “I’ve put young Lord Polkaton down for fifty.”
“But my Lord doesn’t hunt, Sir Moses!” ejaculated Mr. Mossman, his Lordship’s land-agent, alarmed at the demand upon a very delicate purse.
“Doesn’t hunt!” retorted Sir Moses angrily. “No; but he might if he liked! If there were no hounds, how the deuce could he? It would do him far more good, let me tell him, than dancing at casinos and running after ballet girls, as he does. I’ve put him down for fifty, however,” continued Sir Moses, with a jerk of his head, “and you may tell him I’ve done so.”
“Wish you may get it,” growled Mr. Mossman, with disgust.
“Well, then,” said the Baronet, proceeding to the next name on the list, “comes old Lord Harpsichord. He’s good for fifty, too, I should say. At all events, I’ve put him down for that sum;” adding, “I’ve no notion of those great landed cormorants cutting away to the continent and shirking the obligations of country life. I hold it to be the duty of every man to subscribe to a pack of fox-hounds. In fact, I would make a subscription a first charge upon land, before poor-rate, highway-rate, or any sort of rate. I’d make it payable before the assessed taxes themselves”—(laughter and applause, very few of the company being land-owners). “Two fifties is a hundred, then,” observed Sir Moses, perking up; “and if we can screw another fifty out of old Lady Shortwhist, so much the better; at all events. I think she’ll be good for a pony; and then we come to the Baronets. First and foremost is that confounded prosy old ass, Sir George Persiflage, with his empty compliments and his fine cravats. I’ve put him down for fifty, though I don’t suppose the old sinner will pay it, though we may, perhaps, get half, which we shouldn’t do if we were not to ask for more. Well, we’ll call the supercilious old owls five-and-twenty for safety,” added Sir Moses. “Then there’s Sir Morgan Wildair; I should think we may say five-aud-twenty for him. What say you, Mr. Squeezely?” appealing to Sir Morgan’s agent at the low end of the table.
“I’ve no instructions from Sir Morgan on the subject, Sir Moses,” replied Mr. Squeezely, shaking his head.
“Oh, but he’s a young man, and you must tell him that it’s right—necessary, in fact,” replied Sir Moses. “You just pay it, and pass it through his accounts—that’s the shortest way. It’s the duty of an agent to save his principal trouble. I wouldn’t keep an agent who bothered me with all the twopenny-halfpenny transactions of the estate—dom’d if I would,” said Sir Moses, resuming his eye-glass reading.
He then went on through the names of several other parties, who he thought might be coaxed or bullied out of subscriptions, he taking this man, another taking that, and working them, as he said, on the fair means first, and foul means principle afterwards.
“Well, then, now you see, gentlemen,” said Sir Moses, pocketing his card and taking another sip of sherry prior to summing up; “it just amounts to this. Four days a-week, as I said before, is a dom’d deal better than three, and if we can get the fourth day out of these shabby screws, why so much the better; but if that can’t be done entirely, it can to a certain extent, and then it will only remain for the members of the club and the strangers—by the way, we shouldn’t forget them—it will only remain for the members of the club and the strangers to raise any slight deficiency by an increased subscription, and according to my plan of each man working his neighbour, whether the club subscription was to be increased to fifteen, or seventeen, or even to twenty pounds a-year will depend entirely upon ourselves; so you see, gentlemen, we have all a direct interest in the matter, and cannot go to work too earnestly or too strenuously; for believe me, gentlemen, there’s nothing like hunting, it promotes health and longevity, wards off the gout and sciatica, and keeps one out of the hands of those dom’d doctors, with their confounded bills—no offence to our friend Plaister, there,” alluding to a doctor of that name who was sitting about half-way down the table—“so now,” continued Sir Moses, “I think I cannot do better than conclude by proposing as a bumper toast, with all the honours, Long life and prosperity to the Hit-im and Hold-im shire hounds!”
When the forced cheering had subsided, our friend—or rather Major Yammerton’s friend—Mr. Smoothley, the gentleman who assisted at the sale of Bo-peep, arose to address the meeting amid coughs and knocks and the shuffling of feet. Mr. Smoothley coughed too, for he felt he had an uphill part to perform; but Sir Moses was a hard task-master, and held his “I. O. U.‘s” for a hundred and fifty-seven pounds. On silence being restored, Mr. Smoothley briefly glanced at the topics urged, as he said, in such a masterly manner by their excellent and popular master, to whom they all owed a deep debt of gratitude for the spirited manner in which he hunted the country, rescuing it from the degradation to which it had fallen, and restoring it to its pristine fame and prosperity—(applause from Sir Moses and his claqueurs). “With respect to the specific proposal submitted by Sir Moses, Mr. Smoothley proceeded to say, he really thought there could not be a difference of opinion on the subject—(renewed applause, with murmurs of dissent here and there). It was clearly their interest to have the country hunted four days a week, and the mode in which Sir Moses proposed accomplishing the object was worthy the talents of the greatest financier of the day—(applause)—for it placed the load on the shoulders of those who were the best able to bear it—(applause). Taking all the circumstances of the case, therefore, into consideration, he thought the very least they could do would be to pass a unanimous vote of thanks to their excellent friend for the brilliant sport he had hitherto shown them, and pledge themselves to aid to the utmost of their power in carrying out his most liberal and judicious proposal.