the uncommercial traveller-第17部分

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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　'Refreshment'　station　where　I　am

expected。　　Please　to　observe；　expected。　　I　have　said；　I　am　hungry；

perhaps　I　might　say；　with　greater　point　and　force；　that　I　am　to

some　extent　exhausted；　and　that　I　need　…　in　the　expressive　French

sense　of　the　word　…　to　be　restored。　　What　is　provided　for　my

restoration？　　The　apartment　that　is　to　restore　me　is　a　wind…trap；

cunningly　set　to　inveigle　all　the　draughts　in　that　country…side；

and　to　communicate　a　special　intensity　and　velocity　to　them　as　they

rotate　in　two　hurricanes：　　one；　about　my　wretched　head：　　one；　about

my　wretched　legs。　　The　training　of　the　young　ladies　behind　the

counter　who　are　to　restore　me；　has　been　from　their　infancy　directed

to　the　assumption　of　a　defiant　dramatic　show　that　I　am　NOT

expected。　　It　is　in　vain　for　me　to　represent　to　them　by　my　humble

and　conciliatory　manners；　that　I　wish　to　be　liberal。　　It　is　in　vain

for　me　to　represent　to　myself；　for　the　encouragement　of　my　sinking

soul；　that　the　young　ladies　have　a　pecuniary　interest　in　my

arrival。　　Neither　my　reason　nor　my　feelings　can　make　head　against

the　cold　glazed　glare　of　eye　with　which　I　am　assured　that　I　am　not

expected；　and　not　wanted。　　The　solitary　man　among　the　bottles　would

sometimes　take　pity　on　me；　if　he　dared；　but　he　is　powerless　against

the　rights　and　mights　of　Woman。　　（Of　the　page　I　make　no　account；

for；　he　is　a　boy；　and　therefore　the　natural　enemy　of　Creation。）

Chilling　fast；　in　the　deadly　tornadoes　to　which　my　upper　and　lower

extremities　are　exposed；　and　subdued　by　the　moral　disadvantage　at

which　I　stand；　I　turn　my　disconsolate　eyes　on　the　refreshments　that

are　to　restore　me。　　I　find　that　I　must　either　scald　my　throat　by

insanely　ladling　into　it；　against　time　and　for　no　wager；　brown　hot

water　stiffened　with　flour；　or　I　must　make　myself　flaky　and　sick

with　Banbury　cake；　or；　I　must　stuff　into　my　delicate　organisation；

a　currant　pincushion　which　I　know　will　swell　into　immeasurab