discernment and
dexterity with which he had directed
his whip. Catherine, though she could not help wondering
that with such perfect command of his horse, he should think
it necessary to alarm her with a relation of its tricks,
congratulated herself
sincerely on being under the care
of so excellent a
coachman; and perceiving that the animal
continued to go on in the same quiet manner, without showing
the smallest propensity towards any
unpleasant vivacity,
and (considering its
inevitable pace was ten miles an hour)
by no means alarmingly fast, gave herself up to all the
enjoyment of air and exercise of the most invigorating kind,
in a fine mild day of February, with the consciousness
of safety. A silence of several minutes succeeded their
first short dialogue; it was broken by Thorpe's saying
very
abruptly, "Old Allen is as rich as a Jew--is not he?"
Catherine did not understand him--and he
repeated his question,
adding in
explanation, "Old Allen, the man you are with."
"Oh! Mr. Allen, you mean. Yes, I believe, he is
very rich."
"And no children at all?"
"No--not any."
"A famous thing for his next heirs. He is your godfather,
is not he?"
"My godfather! No."
"But you are always very much with them."
"Yes, very much."
"Aye, that is what I meant. He seems a good kind
of old fellow enough, and has lived very well in his time,
I dare say; he is not gouty for nothing. Does he drink
his bottle a day now?"
"His bottle a day! No. Why should you think
of such a thing? He is a very
temperate man, and you
could not fancy him in
liquor last night?"
"Lord help you! You women are always thinking
of men's being in
liquor. Why, you do not suppose
a man is overset by a bottle? I am sure of this--that
if everybody was to drink their bottle a day, there would
not be half the disorders in the world there are now.
It would be a famous good thing for us all."
"I cannot believe it."
"Oh! Lord, it would be the saving of thousands.
There is not the
hundredth part of the wine consumed
in this kingdom that there ought to be. Our foggy climate
wants help."
"And yet I have heard that there is a great deal
of wine drunk in Oxford."
"Oxford! There is no drinking at Oxford now,
I assure you. Nobody drinks there. You would hardly meet
with a man who goes beyond his four pints at the utmost.
Now, for
instance, it was reckoned a
remarkable thing,
at the last party in my rooms, that upon an average we
cleared about five pints a head. It was looked upon
as something out of the common way. Mine is famous
good stuff, to be sure. You would not often meet with
anything like it in Oxford--and that may
account for it.
But this will just give you a notion of the general rate
of drinking there."
"Yes, it does give a notion," said Catherine warmly,
"and that is, that you all drink a great deal more wine
than I thought you did. However, I am sure James does
not drink so much."
This
declaration brought on a loud and overpowering reply,
of which no part was very
distinct, except the frequent
exclamations, amounting almost to oaths, which adorned it,
and Catherine was left, when it ended, with rather a strengthened
belief of there being a great deal of wine drunk in Oxford,
and the same happy
conviction of her brother's
comparative sobriety.
Thorpe's ideas then all reverted to the merits
of his own equipage, and she was called on to admire
the spirit and freedom with which his horse moved along,
and the ease which his paces, as well as the excellence
of the springs, gave the
motion of the
carriage.
She followed him in all his
admiration as well as she could.
To go before or beyond him was impossible. His knowledge