Bart Hodge

“ Kenneth St. Ives promises us some sport if we care to remain,” put in Bart Hodge, quietly.
“Phwat sort av sbort do yez think they can scare up here?” asked Barney, with a trace of contempt in his voice. “It’s croquet we moight play, but thot’s altogither too excoiting.”
“Yaw,” grunted Hans; “dot growkay likes me, for id don’d peen so much drouble to blay him. Der balls can knock me apoud shust so easy as nefer vas.” ”

“ Still, I know he is sometimes consumed with a longing for the wild life that's natural to one of his race. At times he wanders alone in the fields and woods. He takes pleasure in following the trail of any wild animal if he happens to find such a track. As a trailer, I believe he's almost as wonderful as a bloodhound."
The conversation wandered on to other topics, and finally Inza spoke of the wedding gift to Bart and Elsie. Hodge seemed quite overcome and unable to express himself.
"Not a word, old fellow!" cried Frank, glancing at his watch and rising quickly. ”

“ As night came on Crowfoot paused to say:
“Now, Black Eyes, keep sharp watch. Bad white men come to-night. Mebbe they try to ketch um sleeping.”
The first half of the night, however, passed without alarm. During these hours the old redskin continued to putter with his roots, which he carefully scraped with a keen knife. At midnight he buried them in the ashes, on which hot coals were heaped, and then directed Bart to lie down and sleep.
“Joe him watch now,” said the old fellow.
Trusting everything to the redskin, Hodge rolled himself in a blanket and slept soundly for two hours. ”

“ It’s crazy they git intirely, an’ divvil a bit do they look at th’ man at all, at all. It’s th’ toitle they’re thinkin’ av. They’re riddy to take any koind av an old thing, av it has a toitle hung to it.”
“I don’t believe Effie Random is that sort of a girl,” warmly declared Hodge. “She seems to have more sense than that.”
“It’s not always their since ye can measure by th’ looks av their face, me b’y.”
“I think you are insinuating things about Miss Random without having the least reason for doing so, and I don’t like it,” came warmly from Bart’s lips.
“Oll roight, me laddybuck,” nodded Barney. ”

“ With cheerfulness the eighteen pence he paid, And proudly to himself in whispers said, "This rascal stole the razors, I suppose.
"No matter if the fellow be a knave. Provided that the razors shave; It certainly will be a monstrous prize." So home the clown, with his good fortune, went, Smiling in heart and soul content, And quickly soaped himself to ears and eyes.
Being well lathered from a dish or tub, Hodge now began with grinning pain to grub, Just like a hedger cutting furze ”

“ Brought blood, and danced, blasphemed, and made wry faces, And cursed each razor's body o'er and o'er:
His muzzle formed of opposition stuff, Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff; So kept it,—laughing at the steel and suds. Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws, Vowing the direst vengeance with clenched claws, On the vile cheat that sold the goods. "Razors! a mean, confounded dog, Not fit to scrape a hog!"
[Pg 289] Hodge sought the fellow,—found him,—and begun: "P'rhaps, Master Razor-rogue, to you 't is fun, That people flay themselves out of their lives. ”

“ Hath no man stolen her ducks or hens, or gelded Gib, her cat?
Diccon. What devil can I tell, man? I could not have one word!
They gave no more heed to my talk than thou wouldst to a lord.
Hodge. Ich cannot skill but muse, what marvellous thing it is.
Chill in and know myself what matters are amiss.
Diccon. Then farewell, Hodge, a while, since thou dost inward haste,
For I will into the good wife Chat's, to feel how the ale doth taste.
[7]
THE FIRST ACT. THE THIRD SCENE. Hodge, Tib.
Hodge. Cham aghast; by the mass, ich wot not what to do. ”

“ It may be that the Chaplain, Mr. Hodge, was very much of the same mind as your Humble. He said often, that he had been bearleader quite long enough to this young Cub, and was sick alike of his savage hugs, and uncouth gestures, when he had a mind to dance. Yet was he wise enough in his generation to acknowledge the commodity of a fat Pasty and a full Flask every day in the year, and of a neverfailing crown piece in the pouch in the morning for a draught to cool one's throat, when the bottle had been pushed about pretty briskly overnight. Parson Hodge was a philosopher. ”

“ He's a scholar and a 'mind' and can't swallow all the rot of the old school, but he's more sinister really."
"I suppose that Hodges is the ideal palæo-cardiac," said Martin.
"Yes, Hodges, the great ass."
"Of course he's out to set up a kingdom of heaven upon earth," said Lawrence. "And can't you imagine his idea of it? It'll be stiff with people like himself, all blustering round and organising things. Football, Rich v. Poor. Of course there will still be rich and poor, for our Hodges is a Tory, but there'll be a spirit of fellowship oozing everywhere." ”

“ After all the ploughing and the sowing, the hoeing and the harvest, comes the miserable end. Strong as the labourer may be, thick-set and capable of immense endurance; by slow degrees that strength must wear away. The limbs totter, the back is bowed, the dimmed sight can no longer guide the plough in a straight furrow, nor the weak hands wield the reaping-hook, Hodge, who, Atlas-like, supported upon his shoulders the agricultural world, comes in his old age under the dominion of his last masters at the workhouse. ”

“ This is now Hodge's plight: he is uncertain whether the plants were some you had ordered, or were a gift to you from some friend, or merely a gratuitous advertisement by an American nurseryman. Whether yours or another's, of much value to you or none, he resolved that they should not enter the garden. There was no place for them in the garden without there being a place for their Latin names in his head, and his head would hold no more. At least his temper is the same that has incited all English rebellion: human nature need not stand for it! ”

“ Conyngham stopped playing and went to his cell. Before an hour had passed another visitor was announced. It was Mr. Hodge. He was not disguised, but dressed in his usual habit, that of a merchant in prosperous circumstances.
“I expected to see you as a cat’s-meat man or a turbaned Turk, my dear sir,” was Conyngham’s greeting, “and yet here you come as if you were dropping into the tavern of our friend on the hill.”
Hodge smiled. “There is very little more trouble. I bore some instructions from Paris that have made the commandant of the prison a very subservient individual.” ”

“ Then I have got a good-sized box of rufuses, and have swallowed three of them preparatory to the journey."
"A proper precaution," observed Hodges, with a smile.
"This is not all," replied Blaize. "By my mother's advice, I have eaten twenty leaves of rue, two roasted figs, and two pickled walnuts for breakfast, washing them down with an ale posset, with pimpernel seethed in it."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Hodges. "You must be in a pretty condition for a journey. But how could you bear to part with your mother and Patience?" ”

“ For Hodge is English landscape gardening in human shape. He is the benevolent spirit of the English turf, a malign spirit to English weeds. He is wall ivy, a root, a bulb, a rake, a wheelbarrow of spring manure, a pile of autumn leaves, a crocus. In a distant future mythology of our English rural life he will perhaps rank where he belongs—as a luminary next in importance to the sun: a two-legged god be-earthed in old clothes, with a stiff back, a stiff temper, the jaw of the mastiff and the eye of a prophet. ”

“ The old men, working so many years on a single farm, and whose minds were formed in days when a change of tenancy happened once in half a century, have so identified themselves with the order of things in the parish that it seems to personally affect them when a farmer leaves his place. But young Hodge cares nothing about his master, or his fellow's master. Whether they go or stay, prosperous or decaying, it matters nothing to him. He takes good wages, and can jingle some small silver in his pocket when he comes to the tavern a mile or so ahead ”

“ All that I wish to protest against is the assumption made by some that because he has written so feelingly about Hodge, because he has shown so quick a response to the beauties of the natural world, he was therefore gifted with a deep nature, as has been claimed for him by some of his admirers. ”

“ Marks' storming had failed to do—made him, for the time being, a sober man. He shunned the "Brampton Arms" as if the plague dwelt there, and sat in the chimney corner opposite Jane, gloomy, and fearful almost of his own [123] shadow, while his sister-in-law's eyes seemed to pierce him through more keenly than ever.
Mrs. Marks had steadily kept her promise, silently and secretly working with a will to seek out Hodge's son. Like most energetic women, a first failure did not daunt or dispirit her, it only roused her energies the more vigorously. She was not to be defeated. ”

“ And then farewell Gib, she is undone and lost, all save the skin.
Hodge. 'Tis [271] your nee'le, woman, I say; Gog's soul, give me a knife,
And chill have it out of her maw, or else chall lose my life.
Gammer. What! nay, Hodge, fie, kill not our cat, 'tis all the cats we ha' now.
Hodge. By the mass, dame Chat hase me so moved, ich care not what I kill, ma' God a vow.
Go to then, Tib, to this gear, hold up her tail and take her,
Chill see what devil is in her guts, chill take the pains to rake her.
Gammer. Rake a cat, Hodge! what wouldest thou do? ”

“ But it is my belief what must be done must be done quickly. Mr. Hodge should start with the mails for Paris—no one will recognize what those canvas bags contain, and we should scent out some purchaser and sail out of the harbor this very afternoon and hold a little auction off the coast.”
“How about the prisoners?” interrupted Mr. Hodge. “What are we to do with them?”
“I, for one, will say ‘good riddance,’” returned Conyngham, “when once they are on shore. We could never keep them while we are here in port, and I propose giving them a run this very day.” ”

“ Tib. See, Hodge, what's this? may it not be within it?
Hodge. Break it, fool, with thy hand, and see and thou canst find it.
[14]
Tib. Nay, break it you, Hodge, according to your word.
Hodge. Gog's sides! fie! it stinks! it is a cat's turd!
It were well done to make thee eat it, by the mass!
Gammer. This matter amendeth not; my nee'le is still where it was.
Our candle is at an end, let us all in quite,
And come another time, when we have more light.
THE SECOND ACT. First a Song.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough. ”

“ But I have more respect for Hodge. He has nothing to say for himself. If he is picturesque, it is not after the received fashion. If his life contains a poem, it is not one that would be appreciated, generally, either in the Eastern, or the Western, Row. He has, however, a stout, and withal a good heart. One ought to be the better for knowing something of his unobtrusive manly virtues. Achmed has a gust for pleasure, in which matter he has had some training. He is a merry fellow who will enliven your holiday. Hodge’s spiriting lies in a different direction. ”

“ Then came Hodges, the immaculately dressed epicure—a pale, clean-shaven, eye-glassed, sterilized kind of a man with a long neck and skinny fingers, who boasted of having twenty-one different clarets stored away under his sidewalk which were served to ordinary guests, and five special vintages which he kept under lock and key, and which were only uncorked for the elect, and who invariably munched an olive before sampling the next wine. ”

“ The friendship of the two lads was rather remarkable, considering how they had once been enemies, and how Hodge had worked hard to injure Frank.
Among the plebes there were a few who stood head and shoulders above their companions in athletics. Hodge went in for fencing, and Professor Rhynas declared he would make a master of the foil. Hugh Bascomb, with a pugilist's thick neck and round head, was spending all his spare time boxing, and it was said that he could strike a blow that would stagger an ox. ”

“ The farmer set him to scare the crows, and after that Hodge never went to school again. At a proper age he went to ploughing, and a ploughman he has been ever since. He married early, of course. I told him that was a pity; but, as he said, what was he to do? He had no father nor mother, and he wanted a home of his own, and, though his wife worked in a brickyard, she is as natty and tidy a little woman as you could wish to see anywhere, and the children are neat and orderly. He lives in a red-brick cottage with four rooms, for which he pays £4 a year, and has a nice little bit of garden, p. ”

“ Hodge. Chill broach thee with this, by m' father's soul, chill conjure that foul spreet.
Let door stand, Cock, why com'st indeed? keep door, thou whoreson boy.
Chat [to Doll.] Stand to it, thou dastard, for thine ears; ise teach the sluttish toy.
Hodge. Gog's wounds, whore, chill make thee avaunt,
Take heed, Cock, pull in the latch.
Chat. I' faith, sir loose-breech, had ye tarried, ye should have found your match.
Gammer. Now 'ware thy throat, losel, [263] thou'se pay for all. ”

“ Barclay's wealth? Was it all true? he was asked.
Oh, yes, there wasn't a doubt of it, said Hodge. It was just another of those cases where a man had money in abundance, and yet would have [Pg 48] given it all, he added, sentimentally, but here she uplifted rebukingly her white, slim hand,—or was it warningly? for there came a quick footfall on the porch without. The hall door opened sharply, letting in a gust of cold night wind, and, throwing off his cavalry cape with its faded yellow lining, Lieutenant Winn strode through the hallway into his little den at the rear. ”