160 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



between you and him, you were all right ; other- 

 wise your position was not a very safe one, espe- 

 cially if, in the exuberance of your joy, you made 

 some remark that Josher did not consider compli- 

 mentary. 



His clothing, when not put with his dogs, did not 

 differ in the least from that of the poorest fisherman 

 in the village ; but when out with his dogs, Josher 

 was a transformed being, in a drab cord shooting- 

 jacket with capacious pockets, knee-breeches to 

 match, and with leggings called by his admirers 

 spattle- dashers. The whole get-up was crowned 

 by a drain-pipe hat. Superb the boys all thought 

 it, and only equalled by his language to the dogs. 

 One well -remembered morning, Old Craft, one of 

 our party of shooters, had business in the ma'shes, 

 as indeed every soul in the place had at times. He 

 told afterwards how from the thick hedge where he 

 had gone to look for something, he heard what he at 

 first thought was a drill-sergeant with a lot of raw 

 recruits, talking very high and mighty. On looking 

 through the hedge, behold Josher and his dogs. 

 " To ho oo o ! Dash h h ! Nellie. Down ! 

 Cha arge, cha arge ! Most zasperous you be 



