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The Angel and the Author and others

by Jerome K。 Jerome






CHAPTER I



I had a vexing dream one night; not long ago:  it was about a 
fortnight after Christmas。  I dreamt I flew out of the window in my 
nightshirt。  I went up and up。  I was glad that I was going up。  
〃They have been noticing me;〃 I thought to myself。  〃If anything; I 
have been a bit too good。  A little less virtue and I might have 
lived longer。  But one cannot have everything。〃  The world grew 
smaller and smaller。  The last I saw of London was the long line of 
electric lamps bordering the Embankment; later nothing remained but a 
faint luminosity buried beneath darkness。  It was at this point of my 
journey that I heard behind me the slow; throbbing sound of wings。

I turned my head。  It was the Recording Angel。  He had a weary look; 
I judged him to be tired。

〃Yes;〃 he acknowledged; 〃it is a trying period for me; your Christmas 
time。〃

〃I am sure it must be;〃 I returned; 〃the wonder to me is how you get 
through it all。  You see at Christmas time;〃 I went on; 〃all we men 
and women become generous; quite suddenly。  It is really a delightful 
sensation。〃

〃You are to be envied;〃 he agreed。

〃It is the first Christmas number that starts me off;〃 I told him; 
〃those beautiful picturesthe sweet child looking so pretty in her 
furs; giving Bovril with her own dear little hands to the shivering 
street arab; the good old red…faced squire shovelling out plum 
pudding to the crowd of grateful villagers。  It makes me yearn to 
borrow a collecting box and go round doing good myself。

〃And it is not only meI should say I;〃 I continued; 〃I don't want 
you to run away with the idea that I am the only good man in the 
world。  That's what I like about Christmas; it makes everybody good。  
The lovely sentiments we go about repeating! the noble deeds we do! 
from a little before Christmas up to; say; the end of January! why 
noting them down must be a comfort to you。〃

〃Yes;〃 he admitted; 〃noble deeds are always a great joy to me。〃

〃They are to all of us;〃 I said; 〃I love to think of all the good 
deeds I myself have done。  I have often thought of keeping a diary
jotting them down each day。  It would be so nice for one's children。〃

He agreed there was an idea in this。

〃That book of yours;〃 I said; 〃I suppose; now; it contains all the 
good actions that we men and women have been doing during the last 
six weeks?〃  It was a bulky looking volume。

Yes; he answered; they were all recorded in the book。

'The Author tells of his Good Deeds。'

It was more for the sake of talking of his than anything else that I 
kept up with him。  I did not really doubt his care and 
conscientiousness; but it is always pleasant to chat about one's 
self。  〃My five shillings subscription to the Daily Telegraph's 
Sixpenny Fund for the Unemployedgot that down all right?〃 I asked 
him。

Yes; he replied; it was entered。

〃As a matter of fact; now I come to think of it;〃 I added; 〃it was 
ten shillings altogether。  They spelt my name wrong the first time。〃

Both subscriptions had been entered; he told me。

〃Then I have been to four charity dinners;〃 I reminded him; 〃I forget 
what the particular charity was about。  I know I suffered the next 
morning。  Champagne never does agree with me。  But; then; if you 
don't order it people think you can't afford it。  Not that I don't 
like it。  It's my liver; if you understand。  If I take more〃

He interrupted me with the assurance that my attendance had been 
noted。

〃Last week I sent a dozen photographs of myself; signed; to a charity 
bazaar。〃

He said he remembered my doing so。

〃Then let me see;〃 I continued; 〃I have been to two ordinary balls。  
I don't care much about dancing; but a few of us generally play a 
little bridge; and to one fancy dress affair。  I went as Sir Walter 
Raleigh。  Some men cannot afford to show their leg。  What I say is; 
if a man can; why not?  It isn't often that one gets the opportunity 
of really looking one's best。〃

He told me all three balls had been duly entered:  and commented 
upon。

〃And; of course; you remember my performance of Talbot Champneys in 
Our Boys the week before last; in aid of the Fund for Poor Curates;〃 
I went on。  〃I don't know whether you saw the notice in the Morning 
Post; but〃

He again interrupted me to remark that what the Morning Post man said 
would be entered; one way or the other; to the critic of the Morning 
Post; and had nothing to do with me。  〃Of course not;〃 I agreed; 〃and 
between ourselves; I don't think the charity got very much。  
Expenses; when you come to add refreshments and one thing and 
another; mount up。  But I fancy they rather liked my Talbot 
Champneys。〃

He replied that he had been present at the performance; and had made 
his own report。

I also reminded him of the four balcony seats I had taken for the 
monster show at His Majesty's in aid of the Fund for the Destitute 
British in Johannesburg。  Not all the celebrated actors and actresses 
announced on the posters had appeared; but all had sent letters full 
of kindly wishes; and the othersall the celebrities one had never 
heard ofhad turned up to a man。  Still; on the whole; the show was 
well worth the money。  There was nothing to grumble at。

There were other noble deeds of mine。  I could not remember them at 
the time in their entirety。  I seemed to have done a good many。  But 
I did remember the rummage sale to which I sent all my old clothes; 
including a coat that had got mixed up with them by accident; and 
that I believe I could have worn again。

And also the raffle I had joined for a motor…car。

The Angel said I really need not be alarmed; that everything had been 
noted; together with other matters I; may be; had forgotten。

'The Angel appears to have made a slight Mistake。'

I felt a certain curiosity。  We had been getting on very well 
togetherso it had seemed to me。  I asked him if he would mind my 
seeing the book。  He said there could be no objection。  He opened it 
at the page devoted to myself; and I flew a little higher; and looked 
down over his shoulder。  I can hardly believe it; even nowthat I 
could have dreamt anything so foolish:

He had got it all down wrong!

Instead of to the credit side of my account he had put the whole bag 
of tricks to my debit。  He had mixed them up with my sinswith my 
acts of hypocrisy; vanity; self…indulgence。  Under the head of 
Charity he had but one item to my credit for the past six months:  my 
giving up my seat inside a tramcar; late one wet night; to a dismal…
looking old woman; who had not had even the politeness to say 〃thank 
you;〃 she seemed just half asleep。  According to this idiot; all the 
time and money I had spent responding to these charitable appeals had 
been wasted。

I was not angry with him; at first。  I was willing to regard what he 
had done as merely a clerical error。

〃You have got the items down all right;〃 I said (I spoke quite 
friendly); 〃but you have made a slight mistakewe all do now and 
again; you have put them down on the wrong side of the book。  I only 
hope this sort of thing doesn't occur often。〃

What irritated me as much as anything was the grave; passionless face 
the Angel turned upon me。

〃There is no mistake;〃 he answered。

〃No mistake!〃 I cried。  〃Why; you blundering〃

He closed the book with a weary sigh。

I felt so mad with him; I went to snatch it out of his hand。  He did 
not do anything that I was aware of; but at once I began falling。  
The faint luminosity beneath me grew; and then the lights of London 
seemed shooting up to meet me。  I was coming down on the clock tower 
at Westminster。  I gave myself a convulsive twist; hoping to escape 
it; and fell into the river。

And then I awoke。

But it stays with me:  the weary sadness of the Angel's face。  I 
cannot shake remembrance from me。  Would I have done better; had I 
taken the money I had spent upon these fooleries; gone down with it 
among the poor myself; asking nothing in return。  Is this fraction of 
our superfluity; flung without further thought or care into the 
collection box; likely to satisfy the Impracticable Idealist; who 
actually suggestedone shrugs one's shoulders when one thinks of it…
…that one should sell all one had and give to the poor?

'The Author is troubled concerning his Investments。'

Or is our charity but a salve to consciencean insurance; at 
decidedly moderate premium; in case; after all; there should happen 
to be another world?  Is Charity lending to the Lord something we can 
so easily do without?

I remember a lady tidying up her house; clearing it of rubbish。  She 
called it 〃Giving to the Fresh Air Fund。〃  Into the heap of lumber 
one of her daughters flung a pair of crutches that for years had been 
knocking about the house。  The lady picked them out again。

〃We won't give those away;〃 she said; 〃they might come in useful 
again。  One never knows。〃

Another lady; I remember coming downstairs one evening dressed for a 
fancy ball。  I forget the title of the charity; but I remember that 
every lady who sold more than 

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