Furlong pulled up the glass, and employed the interval between Mat's answer and reaching the Hall in making up his mind as to how he should "face the devil."
The carriage, after jolting for some time over a rough road skirted by a high and ruinous wall, stopped before a gateway that had once been handsome, and Furlong was startled by the sound of a most thundering bell, which the vigorous pull of Mat stimulated to its utmost pitch; the baying of dogs which followed was terrific. A savage-looking gatekeeper made his appearance with a light--not in a lantern, but shaded with his tattered hat; many questions and answers ensued, and at last the gate was opened. The carriage proceeded up a very ragged avenue, stopped before a large rambling sort of building, which even moonlight could exhibit to be very much out of repair, and after repeated knocking at the door (for Mat knew _his_ squire and the other squire were not friends now, and that he might be impudent), the door was unchained and unbarred, and Furlong deposited in Neck-or-Nothing Hall.
Ten good nights and ten good days It would take to tell thy ways, Various, many, and amazing: Neck-or-Nothing bangs all praising. Wonders great and wonders small Are found in Neck-or-Nothing Hall.
Racing rascals of ten a twain, Who care not a rush for hail nor rain, Messages swiftly to go or to come, Or duck a taxman or harry a bum,[7] Or "clip a server,"[8] did blithely lie In the stable parlour next to the sky[9] Dinners, save chance ones, seldom had they, Unless they could nibble their beds of hay; But the less they got, they were hardier all-- 'T was the custom of Neck-or-Nothing Hall.
[7] A facetious phrase for bailiff, so often kicked.
[8] Cutting off the ears of a process-server.
One lord there sat in that terrible hall, Two ladies came at his terrible call,-- One his mother and one his wife, Each afraid of her separate life; Three girls who trembled--four boys who shook Five times a day at his lowering look, Six blunderbuses in goodly show, Seven horse-pistols were ranged below, Eight domestics, great and small, In idlesse did nothing but curse them all; Nine state beds, where no one slept-- Ten for family use were kept; Dogs eleven with bums to make free, With a bold thirteen[10] in the treasury-- (Such its numerical strength, I guess It can't be more, but it may be less). Tar-barrels new and feathers old Are ready, I trow, for the caitiff bold Who dares to invade The stormy shade Of the grim O'Grade, In his hunting hold.