they far wrong; for the
horse, after scrambling a hundred yards or two, gradually relaxed into
something between a walk and a trot, while the driver kept soliciting
every passer-by to "ride," much to our sportsmen's chagrin, who
conceived they were to have the "go" all to themselves. Remonstrance
was vain, and he crammed in a master chimney-sweep, Major Ballenger the
licensed dealer in tea, coffee, tobacco, and snuff, of Streatham
(a customer of Jorrocks), and a wet-nurse; and took up an Italian
organ-grinder to ride beside himself on the front, before they had
accomplished Brixton Hill. Jorrocks swore most lustily that he would
fine him, and at every fresh assurance, the driver offered a passer-by
a seat; but having enlisted Major Ballenger into their cause, they at
length made a stand, which, unfortunately for them, was more than the
horse could do, for just as he was showing off, as he thought, with a
bit of a trot, down they all soused in the mud. Great was the scramble;
guns, barrel-organ, Pompey, Jorrocks, driver, master chimney-sweep,
Major Ballenger, were all down together, while the wet-nurse, who sat at
the end nearest the door, was chucked clean over the hedge into a dry
ditch. This was a signal to quit the vessel, and having extricated
themselves the best way they could, they all set off on foot, and left
the driver to right himself at his leisure.

[Footnote 14: Doing a bit of resurrection work.]

Ballenger looked rather queer when he heard they were going to Nosey
Browne's, for it so happened that Nosey had managed to walk into his
books for groceries and kitchen-stuff to the tune of fourteen pounds, a
large sum to a man in a small way of business; and to be entertaining
friends so soon after his composition, seemed curious to Ballenger's
uninitiated suburban mind.

Crossing Streatham Common, a short turn to the left by some yew-trees
leads, by a near cut across the fields, to Browne's house; a fiery-red
brick castellated cottage, standing on the slope of a gentle eminence,
and combining almost every absurdity a cockney imagination can be
capable of. Nosey, who was his own "Nash," set out with the intention of
making it a castle and nothing but a castle, and accordingly the windows
were made in the loophole fashion, and the door occupied a third of the
whole frontage. The inconveniences of the arrangements were soon felt,
for while the light was almost excluded from the rooms, "rude Boreas"
had the comp