356 A PLEA FOR THE OLD RED RAG 



good-humour in his looks that pleased at first sight, 

 and made one forget all the rest. On his head sat 

 a bushy, nut-brown wig, worn for comfort and not 

 deception. 



Perhaps he seemed a trifle paler than when I last 

 had seen him — my copy is a genuine first edition ! — 

 but possibly my strong reflecting reading lamp may 

 have been responsible for the slight alteration in his 

 rubicund complexion. 



It was Mr. Jorrocks, of course. 



My dear old friend seemed in excellent spirits, as 

 he crossed his plump calves and elevated his jolly chin 

 while he took a strong pull at his tumbler and smacked 

 his lips heartily. " Dash my vig ! " he exclaimed, " it 

 is a thaw ! Do believe you'll 'unt to-morrow ; I knows 

 if I 'ad this country I'd 'ave a shy at it. I guessed 

 there was a thaw on," he continued, " for I 'eard 

 the ghost of Gabriel Junks screamin' before I came 

 'ere." 



" Before you came up, did you say ? " I inquired 

 drowsily. 



" I said nothing about hup ; I said 'ere," replied 

 Mr. Jorrocks, frowning a little. " Don't try to be so 

 werry sharp, my friend, but pass along the Scotchman ; 

 good stuff that, but I still prefers the V.O.P.," he 

 remarked, as he measured out another jorum. " But, 

 as I was sayin', I'll lay a guinea you 'unts to-morrow, 

 and I 'opes you'll 'ave a real good chevy, with a kill 

 at the end on't ! 'Ere, let's drink Fox-huntin', the 

 sport o' kings, the image of war without its guilt, 

 and only five-and-twenty per cent, of the danger. 



" What sort of a country is it down — er — I mean 



