JOHN BROWN AND HIS FAVOURITE MARE "JESSIE."
Mr. and Mrs. Brown, who now kept the "Commercial" inn at St. Just, had
formerly lived, for many years, in the service of one of the ancient
aristocratic Cornish families in that neighbourhood,--the one as
coachman, the other as cook. Mr. Brown was rather effeminate and
methodical in his manners and habits, and particularly neat in his
dress. His hair, which he always kept short, was as smooth and sleek as
one of his master's coach-horses. He invariably wore a brown coat,
always nicely brushed, with light waistcoat and breeches; a white
neckerchief enveloped his neck, in which was enclosed a thick pad, and
tied in a neat little bow in front. His hat, which he wore continually
indoors and out, always looked as if it had just come out of the
hatter's shop; and as to his shoes!--if Mr. Brown was more particular in
one part of his dress than another, it was in the polish of his shoes,
which did credit to "Warren's Jet Blacking" and their master's energy
and skill,--for he invariably gave them an extra polish himself before
he put them on of a morning, after Bill, the stable-boy, had done his
best. If he was not quite the first groom of the chamber indoors, where
his wife held rule, he could certainly boast of being first groom of the
stall, when he got into the stables, where it was natural to suppose he
was in his element, from having been so many years coachman in a
gentleman's family.
He was a good judge of horseflesh, and had the sweetest little mare in
the stable that you would wish to set your eyes upon--a perfect picture
of a horse--a bright bay, with black tail and mane. And, although it was
January month, when most horses have their winter coats, yet, what with
grooming and clothing, and regular feeding and exercise, Mr. Brown's
mare Jessie was as sleek and smooth as if it had been the height of
summer, so well was she taken care of and petted by her master. This was
his hobby, and in this he spent most of his time, and a good deal of his
spare cash.
If Mr. Brown was too effeminate for a man, Mrs. Brown was certainly too
masculine for a woman,--at least so Mr. Brown thought sometimes,
although he had neither the courage nor the ill manners to say so. She
was neat, in her dress also, but not quite so particular as her husband.
A chintz gown, looped up through the pocket-holes,--a large coloured
silk handkerchief thrown over her shoulders, and pinned down in front
and confined at the ends by the wide string of her cheque apron, formed
the general character of Mrs. Brown's dress; and, like her husband, she
invariably wore her bonnet indoors and out.
The general business at "The Commercial" was not very extensive, but as
Mr. and Mrs. Brown had no children, and had saved a little money, they
kept on the house--which was their own property--more for amusement than
profit. They kept one servant indoors (a sort of maid-of-all-work),
whose name was Polly, and a boy in the stables to attend to Jessie the
mare, and do other little jobs to help the women. Mr. Brown made himself
useful in the house if required, when customers came in, by drawing beer
and attending to their wants, but he never did a single thing without
calling some one to help him; sometimes it was Polly, and sometimes
Billy, and sometimes even Peggy his wife; but he generally, poor man,
had to do the work alone, whatever it was, although fortunately it was
never very laborious.
On the afternoon of the day on which the two lovers met at the
Land's-End point, Mr. and Mrs. Brown were sitting in the kitchen
alone,--the latter having sent Polly upstairs, to brush up a bit, while
she went on with some work she had in hand for her husband. She was
knitting him a pair of white lamb's-wool stockings, for general wear, if
the truth must be told.
"I wish the boy was come to take the mare out a bit, I think," said Mr.
Brown, "this beautiful afternoon. I shall go out a mile or two myself if
he don't come soon."
"I tell 'ee what et es, Brown," said his wife; "there's more fuss made
about that mare than ef she'd b'en a cheeld. I'd have a glass case made
for har ef I wor you!"
"Don't 'ee be vexed, Peggy, 'cause I do take care of the poor thing.
There's the boy coming, I do believe," said he, rising from his seat,
and going towards the door. "Your sarvant, sar," he continued, as he met
a tall handsome young man in the passage; and without waiting for a
reply from the stranger, he returned to the kitchen, rubbing his hands,
followed by the stranger, and exclaiming, "Bless my life, Peggy! bless
my life!--es the best bedroom ready upstairs? here's a gentleman, my
dear!"
"Gentleman sure 'nuff!" said his wife, looking unutterable things at her
husband, and curtseying at the same time to the stranger;--"gentle or
semple is all the same to you, I believe, John Brown."
"Now, don't put yourselves out of the way for me, my good friends,"
said the stranger; "all I want is something to eat at once, and a
'shake-down' here for a night or two."
"We've got nothing in the house to eat, I do believe," said Mr. Brown;
"have us, Peggy? And as to a 'shake-down!'--why we don't have many
visitors here to sleep!"
"Brown!" said his better half, in an authoritative tone, "go and look to
the mare!"--and she pointed significantly to the door, through which Mr.
Brown made his escape, calling Billy, by way of covering his retreat,
without being further exposed to the stranger; for he saw he had gone a
little too far, in taking it upon himself to answer for what could or
could not be had in the house.
The stranger, in the meantime, had thrown himself carelessly into Mrs.
Brown's seat, and extended his legs before him, as if he was quite at
home, and was accustomed to make himself comfortable wherever he
happened to be.
"Now then, Mrs. Brown," said he, "a glass of your best ale to begin
with, and then something to eat, for I'm devilish hungry."
"I can give 'ee some eggs and a rasher at once, sar," replied Mrs.
Brown; "but ef you can wait 'bout half-an-hour or so, you shall have a
roast fowl and taties."
"I'll have the eggs and bacon by all means," said he; "I couldn't wait
half-an-hour for all the fowls in your yard;--and while you are dressing
the eggs and bacon, I will try if I can get some one to fetch my
carpet-bag." So he sauntered into the stable, where he found Mr. Brown
admiring his mare Jessie.
"Isn't she a beauty, sir?" said the landlord, combing his horse's tail
with a comb he kept in his pocket for the purpose.
"She is a handsome creature, certainly," said the stranger, looking at
the mare with the eye of a connoisseur; "but what can you possibly want
with a horse of that kind in this rough country?"
"That's to me, sir--asking your pardon," replied Mr. Brown, touching his
hat.
"Oh! of course, of course," said the stranger; "I meant no offence. I
came out to know if you could get anyone to go to Tol-pedn-Penwith
signal-station, where I have been staying, for my bag."
"Tol-pedn-Penwith signal-station, sir!" replied Mr. Brown; "why that's
Lieutenant Foster's 'cabin,' as he calls it, near Lamorna Cove?"
"That's the place," said the stranger;--"could you send anyone?"
"Yes, sir, certainly; when my boy Bill do come in, he shall take the
mare and ride down there,--it'll be very good exercise for her this fine
a'ternoon. Drat the boy, I wish he was come!"
Bill soon made his appearance, and was despatched on the mare with a
note to Lieutenant Fowler, written on a leaf torn from the gentleman's
pocket-book, while Mr. Brown walked round the mare twice, and used his
comb on her tail and mane.
"Isn't she a beauty, sir?" said he, as the boy cantered off. "Easy!
easy, now!" exclaimed Mr. Brown, calling after the boy; "ride her
gently. Wo! ho! Jessie! gently, lass, gently!"
These remarks might as well have been addressed to the wind as to the
boy or the mare, who seemed both intent on a gallop, and away they went
at full speed.
"Drat the boy," said Mr. Brown; "he'll wind her--that's a sure
thing--one of these days; and then where'll the money come from to buy
another? But no money could do it! Why, I wouldn't take a hundred
guineas for that mare, sir, if it was offered to me to-morrow morning!
she's worth her weight in gold, sir, that mare is!"
"Don't fidget about the mare, Mr. Brown," said the gentleman; "she'll be
all right; a little gallop will do her good. And now I shall try Mrs.
Brown's cookery,--it smells very good;" and he returned into the house
to appease his appetite, while the landlord went into the stable to
lament once more over the wilfulness of that scamp of a boy, as he
called him, and to see that all things were ready for his pet when she
came back. And, having done all this, he returned to the kitchen, where
he found the stranger smoking a pipe in the chimney-corner after his
frugal repast, and chatting with Mrs. Brown as if they had been old
acquaintances.
"Come, Mr. Brown," said he, "I'm going to have a glass of brandy and
water, and you must take one too; so mix them, if you please, and come
and tell me all the news."
"Polly! come and get the hot water and sugar for the gentleman," said
the landlord, calling to the maid, who was upstairs, as he went towards
the bar to get the two brandies. "Come, Poll! Poll! Polly!" But as Polly
did not come, he was obliged to bustle about himself; for he received no
help from his wife, although he called to her several times from the
bar. At length all things were placed on the little table, and the
stranger began to ask about "The Conjuror."
"The what!" exclaimed Mrs. Brown, dropping her needles, and looking up
in surprise and alarm,--while poor Mr. Brown stopped short in the act of
putting his glass to his lips.
"Hallo!" exclaimed the stranger; "you look as if you had heard some
fellow talking treason against His Most Gracious Majesty the King--God
bless him!"--and the stranger lifted his hat, which he had kept on out
of compliment to his host and hostess. "I mean Mr. Freeman, then," he
said, correcting himself; "I have heard such wonderful accounts of him,
that I should like to know what he can really do."
"He would shaw you what he could do, very soon, ef he heard you speak
that word, I reckon," replied Mrs. Brown, getting up from her seat and
going to the door of the kitchen, and looking into the passage and
closing the front door.
"He doesn't like being called a 'conjuror,' then," said the stranger.
"Like it?" said Mrs. Brown, drawing her chair nearer to the
chimney-corner; "iss,--just as much as you would like to be called '_no
conjuror_!'"
"That's very well," said Mr. Brown, venturing on a laugh, now that his
courage was being wound up by the brandy and water.
At this moment there came a clatter down the road, as of a horse at full
gallop.
"Drat the boy!" exclaimed Mr. Brown, rising in great excitement; "he
can't be come a'ready, can aw? To ride the mare like that es too bad!
too bad! I'll kill 'n ef 'tes he. Iss fie! tes; for she's stopped at the
stable-door. Dear lor'! Polly! Polly!"
When Mr. Brown went out, followed by the stranger and Mrs. Brown, there
was the mare sure enough, standing at the stable-door without a rider,
trembling from head to foot, and covered with foam and mud, with
scarcely a dry hair on her body.
"Drat the boy!" exclaimed Mr. Brown; "he's killed--that's a sure
thing--and the mare is ruined. Wo! ho! my darling; wo! ho!" And he took
the mare's nose into his arms, and caressed it as if it had been a
favourite daughter, while the stranger examined her all over, but could
find no wound or injury whatever. She had evidently been frightened, for
she was trembling still. They led her into the stable, and then began to
think of the boy.
"I'd go and search for him," said the stranger, "but I don't know which
way he went."
"No, nor yet I," said Mrs. Brown; "there's no knowing where that boy do
go, when he's out; he's mighty fond of taking the narrow roads and bye
lanes instead of the high road. There's two or three ways of going to
Tol-pedn-Penwith from here; and like enough he went the way that nobody
else would go ('cept 'The Maister')." This latter sentence she spoke
almost in a whisper.
"While we are talking here, the boy may die," said the stranger, "if
he's thrown and seriously hurt."
"The mare is all right," said Mr. Brown, coming out of the stable; "and
now, if missus will get Polly to make a 'warm mash,' and give it to her
at once, you and I'll go, sir, and see what can be done for the poor
boy."