Mr. Bumpkin’s experience of London life, enlarged.

On leaving the Old Bailey the two friends proceeded to a neighbouring public-house and partook of some light refreshment at the counter. Now Mr. Bumpkin had never yet examined the viands displayed on a counter. His idea of refreshment, when from home, had always been a huge round of beef smoking at one end of the table and a large leg of mutton smoking at the other, with sundry dishes of similar pretensions between, and an immense quantity of vegetables. When, therefore he saw some stale-looking sandwiches under the ordinary glass cover, he exclaimed: “Wittals must be mighty scarce to clap ’em under a glass case.”

“It’s to keep the flies off;” said his companion.

“They need well keep un off, for there bean’t enough for a couple if they was ony wise ongry like.”

However, our friends made the best of what there was, and Mr. O’Rapley, wishing success to his companion, enquired who was to be his counsel.

“I doan’t rightly know, but I’ll warrant Mr. Prigg’ll have a good un—he knows what he be about; and all I hopes is, he’ll rattle it into that there Snooks, for if ever there wur a bad un it be him.”

“He looks a bad un,” replied O’Rapley. “When do you think the case is likely to come on?”

“Well, it is supposed as it ull be on to-morrer; but I bleeve there’s no sartinty about thic. Now then, just give us a little moore, will ’ee sir?” (this to the waiter).

“I’ll pay for the next,” said O’Rapley, feeling in his pocket.

“Noa, noa, I’ll pay; and thankee, sir, for comin’.”

And then O’Rapley drank his friend’s health again, and wished further success to the case, and hoped Mr. Bumpkin would be sure to come to him when he was at Westminster; and expressed himself desirous to assist his friend in every way that lay in his power—declaring that he really must be going for he didn’t know what would happen if the Judge should find he was away; and was not at all certain it would not lead to some officious member of the House of Commons asking a question of the Prime Minister about it.

Mr. Bumpkin drank his good health, again and again, declaring he was “mighty proud to have met with un;” and that when the case was over and he had returned to his farm, he should be pleased if Mr. O’Rapley would come down and spend a few days with him. “Nancy,” he said, “’ll be rare and pleased to see thee. I got as nice a little farm as any in the county, and as pooty pigs as thee ever clapped eyes on.”

Mr. O’Rapley, without being too condescending, expressed himself highly gratified with making Mr. Bumpkin’s acquaintance, and observed that the finest pigs ever he saw were those of the Lord Chief Justice.

“Dade, sir, now what sort be they?” Mr. O’Rapley was not learned in pigs, and not knowing the name of any breed whatever, was at a loss how to describe them. Mr. Bumpkin came to his assistance.

“Be they smooth like and slim?”

“Yes,” said the Don.

“Hardly any hair?”

“Scarce a bit.”

“They be Chichesters then—the werry best breed as a man ever had in his stye.”

“I never see anything so pretty,” replied Mr. O’Rapley.

“Ah! and they be the smallest-boned pigs as ever could be—they bean’t got a bone bigger nor your little finger.”

“Ha!” said the Don, finishing his glass, “the smaller the bone the more the meat, that’s what I always say; and the Lord Chief Justice don’t care for bone, he likes meat.”

“An’ so do I—the Lud Judge be right, and if he tries my case he’ll know the difference betwixt thic pig as Snooks tooked away and one o’ them there—”

“Jackass-looking pigs,” said O’Rapley, seeing that his friend paused. “I hate them jackass pigs.”

“So do I—they never puts on fat.”

“I must go, really,” said O’Rapley. “What do you make the right time?”

Master Bumpkin pulled out his watch with great effort, and said it was just a quarter past four by Yokelton time.

“Here’s your good health again, Mr. Bumpkin.”

“And yours, sir; and now I think on it, if it’s a fair question Mr. O’Rapley, and I med ax un wirout contempt, when do you think this ’ere case o’ mine be likely to come on, for you ought to know summut about un?”

“Ha!” said the Don, partially closing one eye, and looking profoundly into the glass as though he were divining the future, “law, sir, is a mystery and judges is a mystery; masters is a mystery and ’sociates is a mystery; ushers is a mystery and counsel is a mystery;—the whole of life (here he tipped the contents of the glass down his throat) is a mystery.”

“So it be,” said Mr. Bumpkin, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth. “So it be sir, but do ’ee think—”

“Well, really,” answered the Don, “I should say in about a couple of years if you ask me.”

“How the h—”

“Excuse me, Master Bumpkin, but contempt follers us like a shadder: if you had said that to a Judge it would have been a year at least: it’s three months as it is if I liked to go on with the case; but I’m not a wicious man, I hope.”

“I didn’t mean no offence,” said the farmer.

“No, no, I dare say not; but still there is a way of doing things. Now if you had said to me, ‘Mr. O’Rapley, you are a gentleman moving in judicial circles, and are probably acquainted with the windings of the,’ &c. &c. &c. ‘Can you inform me why my case is being so unduly prolonged?’ Now if you had put your question in that form I should in all probability have answered: ‘I do not see that it is unduly prolonged, Master Bumpkin—you must have patience. Judges are but human and it’s a wonder to me they are as much as that, seein’ what they have to go through.’”

“But if there be a Court why can’t us get in and try un, Mr. Rapley?”

“Ah, now that is putting it pointedly;” and O’Rapley closed one eye and looked into his tumbler with the other before he answered:

“You see this is how it goes under the continerous sittings—off and on we sits continerously at Nisy Prisy in London three months in the year. Now that ain’t bad for London: but it’s nothing near so much time as they gives to places like Aylesbury, Bedford, and many others.”

Mr. Bumpkin looked like a terrier dog watching a hole out of which he expected a rat: at present he saw no sign of one.

“Take Aylesbury; well now, if a Judge went there once in seven years he’d find about every other assize enough work to last him till lunch. But in course two Judges must go to Aylesbury four times a year, to do nothing but admire the building where the Courts are held; otherwise you’d soon have Aylesbury marching on to London to know the reason why. P’r’aps the Judges have left five hundred cases untried in London to go to this Aylesbury.”

“Be it a big plaace, sir?”

“Not so big as a good-sized hotel,” said the Don. “Then,” he continued, “there’s Bedford ditto again—septennel would do for that; then comes Northampton—they don’t want no law there at all.” (I leave the obvious pun to anyone who likes to make it). “Then Okeham again—did you ever hear of anyone who came from Okeham? I never did.”

The Don paused, as though on the answer to this question depended his future course.

“Noa,” said Bumpkin, “can’t rightly say as ever I did.”

“And nobody ever did come from there except the Judges. Well, to Okeham they go four times a year, whereas if they was to go about once in every hundred years it wouldn’t pay. Why raly, Mr. Bumpkin, the Judges goes round like travellers arfter orders, and can’t get none. I’m not talkin’, as you are aware, about great centres like Liverpool, where if they had about fifty-two assizes in the year it wouldn’t be one too many; but I’m talking about circumfrences on the confines of civilization.”

“Oh dear!” sighed Bumpkin. The hole seemed to him too choked up with “larnin’” for the rat ever to come out—he could glean nothing from this highly wrought and highly polished enthusiasm.

“And, notwithstanding and accordingly,” continued the Don, “they do say, goodness knows how true it is, that they’re going to have two more assizes in the year. All that I can say is, Mr. Bumpkin—and, mark my words, there’ll be no stopping in London at all, but it will be just a reg’ler Judge’s merry-go-round.” [138]

Mr. Bumpkin dropped a look into his glass, and the two companions came out of the door and proceeded along under the archway until they came to the corner of Bridge Street, Blackfriars. Exactly at that point a young woman with a baby in her arms came in contact with Mr. Bumpkin, and in a very angry tone said,—

“I tell you what it is, don’t you take them liberties with me or I’ll give you in charge.”

And the young woman passed on with her baby. Just at that moment, and while Master Bumpkin was meditating on this strange conduct of the young female, he felt a smart tug at his watch, and, looking down, saw the broken chain hanging from his pocket.

“Zounds!” he exclaimed, “I never zeed anything claner than thic; did thee zee thic feller?”

“There he goes,” said O’Rapley.

“There ur gooes,” said Mr. Bumpkin, and, as fast as he could, pursued the thief.

“Stop un!” he cried. “Stop thic there thief; he got my watch.”

But it was a long time before Master Bumpkin’s mandate was obeyed; the value of a policeman, like that of every other commodity, depends upon his rarity. There was no policeman to be found. There was a fire escape in the middle of the street, but that was of no use to Master Bumpkin. Away went thief, and away went Bumpkin, who could “foot it,” as he said, “pooty well, old as he wur.” Nor did either the thief or himself stop until they got nearly to the bridge, when, to Bumpkin’s great astonishment, up came the thief, walking coolly towards him. This was another mystery, in addition to those mentioned by Mr. O’Rapley. But the fact was, that the hue and cry was now raised, and although Master Bumpkin did not perceive it, about a hundred people, men, women, and boys, were in full chase; and when that gentleman was, as Bumpkin thought, coolly coming towards him, he was simply at bay, run down, without hope of escape; and fully determined to face the matter out with all the coolness he could command.

“Take un,” said Bumpkin; “take un oop; thee dam scoundrel!”

“Take care what you’re saying,” said the thief. “I’m a respectable man, and there’s law in the land.”

“Yes, and thee shall have un, too, thee willin; thee stole my watch, thee knows that.”

“You’re a liar,” said the captive.

“Why thee’s got un on, dang if thee bean’t, and a wearin’ on un. Well, this bates all; take un oop, pleeceman.”

At this moment, which is always the nick of time chosen by the force, that is to say, when everything is done except the handcuffs, a policeman with a great deal of authority in his appearance came up, and plunged his hands under his heavy coat-tails, as though he were about to deliver them of the bower anchor of a ship.

“Do you give him in charge?”

“Sure enough do ur,” said Mr. Bumpkin.

So the handcuffs were put on, and the stalwart policeman, like a hero with the captive of his bow and spear, marched him along at a great rate, Bumpkin striding out manfully at the side, amid a great crowd of small boys, with all their heads turned towards the prisoner as they ran, in the highest state of delight and excitement. Even Bumpkin looked as if he had made a good thing of it, and seemed as pleased as the boys.

As they came again to the corner of Ludgate Hill, there stood Mr. O’Rapley, looking very pompous and dignified, as became so great a man.

“You’ve got him then,” said he.

“Ay; come on, Master Rapley, come on.”

“One moment,” said the official; “I must here leave you for the present, Mr. Bumpkin; we are not allowed to give evidence in Criminal Courts any more than Her Majesty’s Judges themselves; we are a part of the Court. But, besides all that, I did not see what happened; what was it?”

“Well,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “that be rum too, sir; thee see thic feller steal my watch, surely.”

“Indeed, Mr. Bumpkin, it was so quickly done that I really did not see it, if you ask me.”

“Why, he dragged un out o’ thic pocket.”

“No doubt, Master Bumpkin; but it does not follow that I see it.”

“Thee can come and say I wur with thee, anyhow.”

“I can’t give evidence, Mr. Bumpkin, as I told you before; and, besides, I must not appear in this matter at all. You know I was absent to oblige you, and it’s possible I may be of some further service to you yet; but please don’t mention me in this matter. I assure you it will do harm, and perhaps I should lose my place.”

“Well, Master Rapley,” said Bumpkin, taking his hand, “I won’t do thee no harm if I knows it, and there be plenty of evidence.”

“Evidence! You say you found the watch upon him?”

“Sartinly.”

“The case then is clear. You don’t want any evidence besides that.”

“Well, sir, you’re a man o’ larnin’. I bean’t much of a scollard, I’ll tak’ thy advice; but I must get along; they be waitin’ for I.”

“I will see you at Westminster to-morrow, Mr. Bumpkin.”

“All right, zir, all right.”

And with that Mr. O’Rapley proceeded on his way down Fleet Street, and Mr. Bumpkin proceeded on his up Ludgate Hill in the midst of an excited crowd.