<h2> <SPAN name="XVI"> </SPAN> CHAPTER XVI. <br/><br/> <span class="small"> A GRAND SMOCK-FROCK. </span> </h2>
<p>Upon the Saturday after this, being market-day at Oxford, Zacchary
Cripps was in and out with the places and the people, as busy as the
best of them. The number of things that he had to do used to set his
poor brain buzzing; until he went into the Bar—not the grand one, but
the Hostler's Bar, at the Golden Cross—and left dry froth at the
bottom of a pewter quart measure of find old ale. At this flitting
trace of exhaustion he always gazed for a moment as if he longed to
behold just such another, and then, with a sigh of self-dedication to
all the great duties before him, out he pulled his leather bag, and
counted fourpence four times over (without any multiplication thereof,
but a desire to have less subtraction), and then he generally shook
his head, in penitence at his own love of good ale, and the fugitive
fate of the passion. The last step was to deposit his fourpence firmly
upon the metal counter, challenging all the bad pence and half-pence
pilloried there as a warning; and then with a glance at the barmaid
Sally, to encourage her still to hope for him, away went Cripps to the
duties of the day.</p>
<p>These always took him to the market first, a crowded and very narrow
quarter then, where he always had a great host of commissions, at very
small figures, to execute. His honesty was so broadly known that it
was become quite an onerous gift, as happens in much higher grades of
life. Folk, all along both his roads of travel, naturally took great
advantage of it; being certain that he would spend their money quite
as gingerly as his own, and charge them no more than he was compelled
by honesty towards himself to charge.</p>
<p>Farmers, butchers, poulterers, hucksters, chandlers, and
grocers—black, yellow, and green—all knew Zacchary Cripps, and paid
him the compliment of asking fifty per cent. above what they meant, or
even hoped to take. Of this the Carrier was well aware, and upon the
whole it pleased him. The triumph each time of rubbing down, by
friction of tongue and chafe of spirit, eighteen-pence into a
shilling, although it might be but a matter of course, never lost any
of its charms for him. His brisk eyes sparkled as he pulled off his
hat, and made the most learned annotations there—if learning is (as
generally happens) the knowledge of what nobody else can read.</p>
<p>But now, before he had filled the great leathern apron of his
capacities—which being full, his hat had no room for any further
entries—a thing came to pass which startled him; so far at least as
the road and the world had left him the power of starting. He saw his
own brother, Leviticus, standing in friendly talk with a rabbit-man; a
man whose reputation was not at a hopeless distance beyond reproach; a
man who had been three times in prison—whether he ought or ought not
to have been, this is a difficult point to debate. His friends
contended that he ought not—if so, he of course was wrong to go
there. His enemies vowed that he ought to be there—if so, he could
rightly be nowhere else. The man got the benefit of both opinions, in
a powerfully negative condition of confidence on the part of the human
brotherhood. But for all that, there were bigger rogues to be found in
Oxford.</p>
<p>Cripps, however, as the head of the family, having seigneurial rights
by birth—as well as, in his own opinion, force of superior
intellect—saw, and at once discharged, his duty. No taint of poached
rabbits must lie, for a moment, on the straightforward path of the
Crippses. Zacchary, therefore, held up one hand, as a warning to
Tickuss to say no more, until he could get at him—for just at this
moment a dead lock arose, through a fight of four women about a rotten
egg—but when that had lapsed into hysterics, the Carrier struggled to
his brother's elbow.</p>
<p>Leviticus Cripps was a large, ruddy man, half a head taller than the
heir of the house, but not so well built for carrying boxes. His frame
was at the broadest and thickest of itself at that very important part
of the human system which has to do with aliment. But inasmuch as all
parts do that, more or less directly, accuracy would specify (if
allowable) his stomach. Here he was well developed; but narrowed or
sloped towards less essential points; whereas the Carrier was at his
greatest across and around the shoulders. A keen physiologist would
refer this palpable distinction to their respective occupations. The
one fed pigs and fed upon them, and therefore required this local
enlargement for sympathy, and for assimilation. The other bore the
burden of good things for the benefit of others; which is anything but
fattening.</p>
<p>Be that as it will, they differed thus; and they differed still more
in countenance. Zacchary had a bright open face, with a short nose of
brave and comely cock, a mouth large, pleasant, and mild as a cow's, a
strong square forehead, and blue eyes of great vivacity, and some
humour. He had true Cripps' hair, like a horn-beam hedge in the month
of January; and a thick curly beard of good hay colour, shaven into
three scollops like a clover leaf. His manner of standing, and
speaking, and looking was sturdy, and plain, and resolute; and he
stuck out his elbows, and set his knuckles on his hips, whenever both
hands were empty.</p>
<p>On the contrary, Tickuss, his brother, looked at every one, and at all
times, rather as if he were being suspected. Wrongly suspected, of
course, and puzzled to tell at all why it should be so; and as a
general rule, a little surly at such injustice. The expression of his
face was heavy, slow-witted, and shyly inquisitive; his hair was
black, and his eyes of a muddy brown with small slippery pupils; and
he kept his legs in a fidgety state, as if prone to be wanted for
running away. In stature, however, and weight this man was certainly
above the average; and he would rather do a good than a bad thing,
whenever the motives were equivalent.</p>
<p>But if his soul could not always walk in spotless raiment, his body at
least was clad in the garb of innocence. No man in Oxford market wore
a smock that could be compared with his. For on such great occasions
Leviticus came in a noble shepherd's smock, long and flowing around
him well, a triumph of mind in design and construction, and a marvel
of hand in fine stitching and plaiting, goffering, crimping, and
ironing. The broad turned-over collar was like a snow-drift tattooed
by fairies, the sleeves were gathered in as religiously as a bishop's
gossamer; and the front was four-square with cunning work; a span was
the length, and a span the breadth, like the breastplate over the
ephod. As for Tickuss himself, he cared no more than the wool of a pig
for such trifles; beyond this, that he liked to have his neighbours
looking up to, and the women looking after, him. Even in the new
unsullied sanctity of this chasuble, he would grasp by the tail an
Irish pig, if sore occasion befell them both. It was Mrs. Leviticus
who adorned him (after a sea of soap-suds and many irons tested
ejectively) with this magnificent vesture, suggested to feminine
capacity, perhaps, in the days of the Tabernacle.</p>
<p>"Leviticus," said Zacchary sternly, leading him down a wet red alley,
peopled only with cooped chicks, and paved with unsaleable giblets;
"Leviticus, what be thou doing, this day? Many queer things have I
seed of thee—but to beat this here—never nothing!"</p>
<p>"I dunno what dost mean," Tickuss answered unsteadily.</p>
<p>"Now, I call that a lie," said the Carrier firmly but mildly, as if
well used thereto; as a dog is to fleas in the summer time.</p>
<p>"A might be; and yet again a might not," Tickuss replied, with keen
sense of logic, but none of impeached ethics.</p>
<p>"Do 'ee know, or do 'ee not?"—the ruthless Carrier pressed him—"that
there hosebird have a been in jail?"</p>
<p>"Now, I do believe; let me call to mind"—said Tickuss, with his
duller eyes at bay—"that I did hear summat as come nigh that. But,
Lord bless you, the best of men goes to jail sometimes! Do you call to
mind old Squire Dempster——"</p>
<p>"Naught to do wi' it! naught to do wi' it?" Zacchary cried, with a
crack of his thumb. "That were an old gentleman's misfortune; the same
as Saint Paul and Saint Peter did once. But that hosebird I see you
talking along of, have been in jail three times—three times I tell
'ee—and no miracle. And if ever I sees you dealing with him——" he
closed his sentence emphatically, by shaking his fist in the immediate
neighbourhood of his brother's retiring nose.</p>
<p>"Well, well! no need to take on so, Zak," cried the bigger man at safe
distance; "you might bear in mind that I has my troubles, and no
covered cart at the tail of me. And a family, Zak, as wears out more
boots than a tanyard a week could make good to 'em. But there, I never
finds anybody gifted with no consideration. Why, if I was to talk till
to-morrow night——"</p>
<p>"If you was to talk to next Leap-year's day, you could not fetch right
out of wrong, Tickuss. And you know pretty well what I be. Now, what
was you doing of with that black George? Mind, no lies won't go down
with me."</p>
<p>"Best way go and get him to tell 'ee," the younger brother answered
sulkily. "It will do 'ee good like, to get it out of he."</p>
<p>"No harm to try," answered Cripps with alacrity; "no fear for me to be
seen along of un; only for the likes of you, Tickuss."</p>
<p>The Carrier set off, to stake his higher repute against lowest
communications; but his brother, with no "heed of smock or of crock,"
took three long strides and stopped him.</p>
<p>"Hearken me, hearken me, Zak!" he cried, with a start at a cock that
crowed at him, and his face like the wattles of chanticleer—"Zak, for
the sake of the Lord in heaven, and of my seven little ones,—stop a
bit!"</p>
<p>"I bain't in no hurry that I know on," replied the Cripps of pure
conscience; "you told me to ask of him, and I were a-goin' on the wag
to do so."</p>
<p>"Come out into the Turl, Zak; come out into the Turl a minute; there
is nobody there now. They young College-boys be all at their lessons,
or hunting. There is no place to come near the Turl for a talk, when
they noisy College chaps are gone."</p>
<p>By a narrow back lane they got into the Turl, at that time of day
little harassed by any, unless it were the children of the porter of
Lincoln or Exeter. "Now, what is it thou hast got to say?" asked
Zacchary. But this was the very thing the younger brother was vainly
seeking for.</p>
<p>"Nort, nort, Zak; nort of any 'count," he stammered, after casting in
his slow imagination for a good, fat, well-seasoned lie.</p>
<p>"Now spake out the truth, man, whatever it be," said the Carrier,
trying to encourage him; "Tickuss, thou art always getting into
scrapes by manes of crooked dealing. But I'll not turn my back on
thee, if for once canst spake the truth like a man, brother."</p>
<p>Leviticus struggled with his nature, while his little eyes rolled
slowly, and his plaited breastplate rose and fell. He stole some
irresolute glances at his brother's clear, straight-forward face; and
he might have saved himself by doing what he was half-inclined to do.
But circumstances aided nature to defeat his better star. The wife of
the porter of Lincoln College had sent forth one of her little girls
to buy a bunch of turnips. She knew that turnips would be very scarce
after so much hard weather; but her stew would be no good without
them; and among many other fine emotions, anxiety was now foremost. So
she thrust forth her head from the venerable porch, and at the top of
her voice exclaimed—"Turmots, turmots, turmots!"</p>
<p>At that loud cry, Leviticus Cripps turned pale—for his conscience
smote him. "She meaneth me, she meaneth me, she meaneth my
turmot-field;" he whispered, with his long legs bent for departure;
"'tis a thousand pound they have offered, Zak. Come away, come away,
down Ship Street; there is a pump, and I want some water."</p>
<p>"But tell me what thou wast agoing to say," cried his brother, laying
hold of him.</p>
<p>"Dash it! I will tell thee the truth, then, Zak. I just went and cut
up a maisly sow—as fine a bit of pork as you ever clapped eyes on,
but for they little beauty spots. And the clerk of the market bought
some for his dinner; and he have got a bad cook, a cantankerous woman,
and now I be in a pretty mess!"</p>
<p>"Not a word of all that do I believe," said Cripps.</p>
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