The shady side of Cheapside had become a luxury, and footmen in red plush breeches objects of real commiseration, when Mr. Jorrocks, tired of the heat and “ungrateful hurry of the town,” resolved upon undertaking an aquatic excursion.  He was sitting, as is “his custom always in the afternoon,” in the arbour at the farther end of his gravel walk, which he dignifies by the name of “garden,” and had just finished a rough mental calculation, as to whether he could eat more bread spread with jam or honey, when the idea of the jaunt entered his imagination.  Being a man of great decision, he speedily winnowed the project over in his mind, and producing a five-pound note from the fob of his small clothes, passed it in review between his fingers, rubbed out the creases, held it up to the light, refolded and restored it to his fob.  “Batsay,” cried he, “bring my castor—­the white one as hangs next the blue cloak;” and forthwith a rough-napped, unshorn-looking, white hat was transferred from the peg to Mr. Jorrocks’s head.  This done, he proceeded to the “Piazza,” where he found the Yorkshireman exercising himself up and down the spacious coffee-room, and, grasping his hand with the firmness of a vice, he forthwith began unburthening himself of the object of his mission. “’Ow are you?” said he, shaking his arm like the handle of a pump. “’Ow are you, I say?—­I’m so delighted to see you, ye carn’t think—­isn’t this charming weather!  It makes me feel like a butterfly—­really think the ’air is sprouting under my vig.”  Here he took off his wig and rubbed his hand over his bald head, as though he were feeling for the shoots.

“Now to business—­Mrs. J——­ is away at Tooting, as you perhaps knows, and I’m all alone in Great Coram Street, with the key of the cellar, larder, and all that sort of thing, and I’ve a werry great mind to be off on a jaunt—­what say you?” “Not the slightest objection,” replied the Yorkshireman, “on the old principle of you finding cash, and me finding company.”  “Why, now I’ll tell you, werry honestly, that I should greatly prefer your paying your own shot; but, however, if you’ve a mind to do as I do, I’ll let you stand in the half of a five-pound note and whatever silver I have in my pocket,” pulling out a great handful as he spoke, and counting up thirty-two and sixpence.  “Very good,” replied the Yorkshireman when he had finished, “I’m your man;—­and not to be behindhand in point of liberality, I’ve got threepence that I received in change at the cigar divan just now, which I will add to the common stock, so that we shall have six pounds twelve and ninepence between us.”  “Between us!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, “now that’s so like a Yorkshireman.  I declare you Northerns seem to think all the world are asleep except yourselves;—­howsomever, I von’t quarrel with you—­you’re a goodish sort of chap in your way, and so long as I keep the swag, we carn’t get far wrong.  Well, then, to-morrow at two we’ll start for Margate—­the most delightful place in all the world, where we will have a rare jollification, and can stay just as long as the money holds out.  So now good-bye—­I’m off home again to see about wittles for the woyage.”