the uncommercial traveller- 第13部分

'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