three men on the bummel(三个闲逛的人)-第13节
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knowledge of the ways of Nature？ Whatever the process； the man
himself was unconscious of it。
In my own case my inward watchman is； perhaps； somewhat out of
practice。 He does his best； but he is over…anxious； he worries himself；
and loses count。 I say to him； maybe； 〃Five…thirty； please；〃 and he wakes
me with a start at half…past two。 I look at my watch。 He suggests that；
perhaps； I forgot to wind it up。 I put it to my ear； it is still going。 He
thinks； maybe； something has happened to it； he is confident himself it is
half…past five； if not a little later。 To satisfy him； I put on a pair of
slippers and go downstairs to inspect the dining…room clock。 What
happens to a man when he wanders about the house in the middle of the
night； clad in a dressing…gown and a pair of slippers； there is no need to
recount； most men know by experience。 Everything especially
everything with a sharp cornertakes a cowardly delight in hitting him。
When you are wearing a pair of stout boots； things get out of your way；
when you venture among furniture in woolwork slippers and no socks； it
comes at you and kicks you。 I return to bed bad tempered； and refusing
to listen to his further absurd suggestion that all the clocks in the house
have entered into a conspiracy against me； take half an hour to get to sleep
again。 From four to five he wakes me every ten minutes。 I wish I had
never said a word to him about the thing。 At five o'clock he goes to sleep
himself； worn out； and leaves it to the girl； who does it half an hour later
than usual。
On this particular Wednesday he worried me to such an extent； that I
got up at five simply to be rid of him。 I did not know what to do with
myself。 Our train did not leave till eight； all our luggage had been
packed and sent on the night before； together with the bicycles； to
Fenchurch Street Station。 I went into my study； I thought I would put in
an hour's writing。 The early morning； before one has breakfasted； is not；
I take it； a good season for literary effort。 I wrote three paragraphs of a
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story； and then read them over to myself。 Some unkind things have been
said about my work； but nothing has yet been written which would have
done justice to those three paragraphs。 I threw them into the waste…
paper basket； and sat trying to remember what； if any； charitable
institutions provided pensions for decayed authors。
To escape from this train of reflection； I put a golf…ball in my pocket；
and selecting a driver； strolled out into the paddock。 A couple of sheep
were browsing there； and they followed and took a keen interest in my
practice。 The one was a kindly； sympathetic old party。 I do not think
she understood the game； I think it was my doing this innocent thing so
early in the morning that appealed to her。 At every stroke I made she
bleated：
〃Go…o…o…d； go…o…o…d ind…e…e…d！〃
She seemed as pleased as if she had done it herself。
As for the other one； she was a cantankerous； disagreeable old thing；
as discouraging to me as her friend was helpful。
〃Ba…a…ad； da…a…a…m ba…a…a…d！〃 was her comment on almost every
stroke。 As a matter of fact； some were really excellent strokes； but she
did it just to be contradictory； and for the sake of irritating。 I could see
that。
By a most regrettable accident； one of my swiftest balls struck the
good sheep on the nose。 And at that the bad sheep laughedlaughed
distinctly and undoubtedly； a husky； vulgar laugh； and； while her friend
stood glued to the ground； too astonished to move； she changed her note
for the first time and bleated：
〃Go…o…o…d； ve…e…ry go…o…o…d！ Be…e…e…est sho…o…o…ot he…e…e's ma…a… a…
de！〃
I would have given half…a…crown if it had been she I had hit instead of
the other one。 It is ever the good and amiable who suffer in this world。
I had wasted more time than I had intended in the paddock； and when
Ethelbertha came to tell me it was half…past seven； and the breakfast was
on the table； I remembered that I had not shaved。 It vexes Ethelbertha
my shaving quickly。 She fears that to outsiders it may suggest a poor…
spirited attempt at suicide； and that in consequence it may get about the
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neighbourhood that we are not happy together。 As a further argument；
she has also hinted that my appearance is not of the kind that can be trifled
with。
On the whole； I was just as glad not to be able to take a long farewell
of Ethelbertha； I did not want to risk her breaking down。 But I should have
liked more opportunity to say a few farewell words of advice to the
children； especially as regards my fishing rod； which they will persist in
using for cricket stumps； and I hate having to run for a train。 Quarter of a
mile from the station I overtook George and Harris； they were also
running。 In their caseso Harris informed me； jerkily； while we trotted
side by sideit was the new kitchen stove that was to blame。 This was
the first morning they had tried it； and from some cause or other it had
blown up the kidneys and scalded the cook。 He said he hoped that by the
time we returned they would have got more used to it。
We caught the train by the skin of our teeth； as the saying is； and
reflecting upon the events of the morning； as we sat gasping in the carriage；
there passed vividly before my mind the panorama of my Uncle Podger； as
on two hundred and fifty days in the year he would start from Ealing
Common by the nine…thirteen train to Moorgate Street。
From my Uncle Podger's house to the railway station was eight
minutes' walk。 What my uncle always said was：
〃Allow yourself a quarter of an hour； and take it easily。〃
What he always did was to start five minutes before the time and run。
I do not know why； but this was the custom of the suburb。 Many stout City
gentlemen lived at Ealing in those daysI believe some live there still
and caught early trains to Town。 They all started late； they all carried a
black bag and a newspaper in one hand； and an umbrella in the other； and
for the last quarter of a mile to the station； wet or fine； they all ran。
Folks with nothing else to do； nursemaids chiefly and errand boys；
with now and then a perambulating costermonger added； would gather on
the common of a fine morning to watch them pass； and cheer the most
deserving。 It was not a showy spectacle。 They did not run well； they
did not even run fast； but they were earnest； and they did their best。 The
exhibition appealed less to one's sense of art than to one's natural
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admiration for conscientious effort。
Occasionally a little harmless betting would take place among the
crowd。
〃Two to one agin the old gent in the white weskit！〃
〃Ten to one on old Blowpipes； bar he don't roll over hisself 'fore 'e gets
there！〃
〃Heven money on the Purple Hemperor！〃a nickname bestowed by a
youth of entomological tastes upon a certain retired military neighbour of
my uncle's；a gentleman of imposing appearance when stationary； but apt
to colour highly under exercise。
My uncle and the others would write to the Ealing Press complaining
bitterly concerning the supineness of the local police； and the editor would
add spirited leaders upon the Decay of Courtesy among the Lower Orders；
especially throughout the Western Suburbs。 But no good ever resulted。
It was not that my uncle did not rise early enough； it was that troubles
came to h
