Happy is that man who, by reason of an abundant fortune, knows
not the meaning of the word hunger; but thrice happy is he who,
when the hand of famine pinches, may stay his craving with such
a meal as this of mine. Never before, and never since have I
tasted just such eggs, and such ham--so tender! so delicate! so
full of flavor! It is a memory that can never fade. Indeed,
sometimes (even now), when I grow hungry, (about dinner-time) I
see once more the surly-faced man, the rosy-cheeked waiting-maid,
and the gloomy chamber of the "Old Cock" tavern as I saw them
upon that early May morning of the year of grace 18--.
So I sat, with a contented mind, smoking my pipe, and staring out
at the falling summer rain. And presently, chancing to turn my
eyes up the road, I beheld a chaise that galloped in a smother of
mud. As I watched its rapid approach, the postilion swung his
horses towards the inn, and a moment later had pulled up before
the door. They had evidently travelled fast and far, for the
chaise was covered with dirt; and the poor horses, in a lather of
foam, hung their heads, while their flanks heaved distressfully.
The chaise door was now thrown open, and three gentlemen alighted.
The first was a short, plethoric individual, bull-necked and loud
of voice, for I could hear him roundly cursing the post-boy for
some fault; the second was a tall, languid gentleman, who carried
a flat, oblong box beneath one arm, and who paused to fondle his
whisker, and look up at the inn with an exaggerated air of disgust;
while the third stood mutely by, his hands thrust into the pockets
of his greatcoat, and stared straight before him.
The three of them entered the room together, and, while the
languid gentleman paused to survey himself in the small, cracked
mirror that hung against the wall, the plethoric individual
bustled to the fire, and, loosening his coats and neckerchief,
spread out his hands to the blaze.
"A good half-hour before our time," said he, glancing towards the
third gentleman, who stood looking out of the window with his
hands still deep in his pockets; "we did the last ten miles well
under the hour--come, what do you say to a glass of brandy?"
At this, his languid companion turned from the mirror, and I
noticed that he, too, glanced at the silent figure by the window.
"By all means," said he, "though Sir Jasper would hardly seem in
a drinking humor," and, with the very slightest shrug of the
shoulders, he turned back to the mirror again.