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the uncommercial traveller-第13节

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'No; sir。'



Sharpeye (in the Move…on tone) puts in the pertinent inquiry; 'Then

why ain't you?'



'Ain't got no one here; Mr。 Sharpeye;' rejoin the woman and my good

man together; 'but our own family。'



'How many are you in family?'



The woman takes time to count; under pretence of coughing; and

adds; as one scant of breath; 'Seven; sir。'



But she has missed one; so Sharpeye; who knows all about it; says:



'Here's a young man here makes eight; who ain't of your family?'



'No; Mr。 Sharpeye; he's a weekly lodger。'



'What does he do for a living?'



The young man here; takes the reply upon himself; and shortly

answers; 'Ain't got nothing to do。'



The young man here; is modestly brooding behind a damp apron

pendent from a clothes…line。  As I glance at him I become … but I

don't know why … vaguely reminded of Woolwich; Chatham; Portsmouth;

and Dover。  When we get out; my respected fellow…constable

Sharpeye; addressing Mr。 Superintendent; says:



'You noticed that young man; sir; in at Darby's?'



'Yes。  What is he?'



'Deserter; sir。'



Mr。 Sharpeye further intimates that when we have done with his

services; he will step back and take that young man。  Which in

course of time he does:  feeling at perfect ease about finding him;

and knowing for a moral certainty that nobody in that region will

be gone to bed。



Later still in the night; we came to another parlour up a step or

two from the street; which was very cleanly; neatly; even

tastefully; kept; and in which; set forth on a draped chest of

drawers masking the staircase; was such a profusion of ornamental

crockery; that it would have furnished forth a handsome sale…booth

at a fair。  It backed up a stout old lady … HOGARTH drew her exact

likeness more than once … and a boy who was carefully writing a

copy in a copy…book。



'Well; ma'am; how do YOU do?'



Sweetly; she can assure the dear gentlemen; sweetly。  Charmingly;

charmingly。  And overjoyed to see us!



'Why; this is a strange time for this boy to be writing his copy。

In the middle of the night!'



'So it is; dear gentlemen; Heaven bless your welcome faces and send

ye prosperous; but he has been to the Play with a young friend for

his diversion; and he combinates his improvement with

entertainment; by doing his school…writing afterwards; God be good

to ye!'



The copy admonished human nature to subjugate the fire of every

fierce desire。  One might have thought it recommended stirring the

fire; the old lady so approved it。  There she sat; rosily beaming

at the copy…book and the boy; and invoking showers of blessings on

our heads; when we left her in the middle of the night; waiting for

Jack。



Later still in the night; we came to a nauseous room with an earth

floor; into which the refuse scum of an alley trickled。  The stench

of this habitation was abominable; the seeming poverty of it;

diseased and dire。  Yet; here again; was visitor or lodger … a man

sitting before the fire; like the rest of them elsewhere; and

apparently not distasteful to the mistress's niece; who was also

before the fire。  The mistress herself had the misfortune of being

in jail。



Three weird old women of transcendent ghastliness; were at

needlework at a table in this room。  Says Trampfoot to First Witch;

'What are you making?'  Says she; 'Money…bags。'



'WHAT are you making?' retorts Trampfoot; a little off his balance。



'Bags to hold your money;' says the witch; shaking her head; and

setting her teeth; 'you as has got it。'



She holds up a common cash…bag; and on the table is a heap of such

bags。  Witch Two laughs at us。  Witch Three scowls at us。  Witch

sisterhood all; stitch; stitch。  First Witch has a circle round

each eye。  I fancy it like the beginning of the development of a

perverted diabolical halo; and that when it spreads all round her

head; she will die in the odour of devilry。



Trampfoot wishes to be informed what First Witch has got behind the

table; down by the side of her; there?  Witches Two and Three croak

angrily; 'Show him the child!'



She drags out a skinny little arm from a brown dustheap on the

ground。  Adjured not to disturb the child; she lets it drop again。

Thus we find at last that there is one child in the world of

Entries who goes to bed … if this be bed。



Mr。 Superintendent asks how long are they going to work at those

bags?



How long?  First Witch repeats。  Going to have supper presently。

See the cups and saucers; and the plates。



'Late?  Ay!  But we has to 'arn our supper afore we eats it!'  Both

the other witches repeat this after First Witch; and take the

Uncommercial measurement with their eyes; as for a charmed winding…

sheet。  Some grim discourse ensues; referring to the mistress of

the cave; who will be released from jail to…morrow。  Witches

pronounce Trampfoot 'right there;' when he deems it a trying

distance for the old lady to walk; she shall be fetched by niece in

a spring…cart。



As I took a parting look at First Witch in turning away; the red

marks round her eyes seemed to have already grown larger; and she

hungrily and thirstily looked out beyond me into the dark doorway;

to see if Jack was there。  For; Jack came even here; and the

mistress had got into jail through deluding Jack。



When I at last ended this night of travel and got to bed; I failed

to keep my mind on comfortable thoughts of Seaman's Homes (not

overdone with strictness); and improved dock regulations giving

Jack greater benefit of fire and candle aboard ship; through my

mind's wandering among the vermin I had seen。  Afterwards the same

vermin ran all over my sleep。  Evermore; when on a breezy day I see

Poor Mercantile Jack running into port with a fair wind under all

sail; I shall think of the unsleeping host of devourers who never

go to bed; and are always in their set traps waiting for him。







CHAPTER VI … REFRESHMENTS FOR TRAVELLERS







In the late high winds I was blown to a great many places … and

indeed; wind or no wind; I generally have extensive transactions on

hand in the article of Air … but I have not been blown to any

English place lately; and I very seldom have blown to any English

place in my life; where I could get anything good to eat and drink

in five minutes; or where; if I sought it; I was received with a

welcome。



This is a curious thing to consider。  But before (stimulated by my

own experiences and the representations of many fellow…travellers

of every uncommercial and commercial degree) I consider it further;

I must utter a passing word of wonder concerning high winds。



I wonder why metropolitan gales always blow so hard at Walworth。  I

cannot imagine what Walworth has done; to bring such windy

punishment upon itself; as I never fail to find recorded in the

newspapers when the wind has blown at all hard。  Brixton seems to

have something on its conscience; Peckham suffers more than a

virtuous Peckham might be supposed to deserve; the howling

neighbourhood of Deptford figures largely in the accounts of the

ingenious gentlemen who are out in every wind that blows; and to

whom it is an ill high wind that blows no good; but; there can

hardly be any Walworth left by this time。  It must surely be blown

away。  I have read of more chimney…stacks and house…copings coming

down with terrific smashes at Walworth; and of more sacred edifices

being nearly (not quite) blown out to sea from the same accursed

locality; than I have read of practised thieves with the appearance

and manners of gentlemen … a popular phenomenon which never existed

on earth out of fiction and a police report。  Again:  I wonder why

people are always blown into the Surrey Canal; and into no other

piece of water!  Why do people get up early and go out in groups;

to be blown into the Surrey Canal?  Do they say to one another;

'Welcome death; so that we get into the newspapers'?  Even that

would be an insufficient explanation; because even then they might

sometimes put themselves in the way of being blown into the

Regent's Canal; instead of always saddling Surrey for the field。

Some nameless policeman; too; is constantly; on the slightest

provocation; getting himself blown into this same Surrey Canal。

Will SIR RICHARD MAYNE see to it; and restrain that weak…minded and

feeble…bodied constable?



To resume the consideration of the curious question of Refreshment。

I am a Briton; and; as such; I am aware that I never will be a

slave … and yet I have latent suspicion that there must be some

slavery of wrong custom in this matter。



I travel by railroad。  I start from home at seven or eight in the

morning; after breakfasting hurriedly。  What with skimming over the

open landscape; what with mining in the damp bowels of the earth;

what with banging; booming and shrieking the scores of miles away;

I am hungry when I arrive at the 'Ref

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