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diff --git a/1419-h/1419-h.htm b/1419-h/1419-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8a232d --- /dev/null +++ b/1419-h/1419-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2325 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Mugby Junction</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Mugby Junction, by Charles Dickens</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mugby Junction, by Charles Dickens + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Mugby Junction + + +Author: Charles Dickens + +Release Date: April 4, 2005 [eBook #1419] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MUGBY JUNCTION*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1894 Chapman and Hall “Christmas Stories” +edition by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<h1>MUGBY JUNCTION</h1> +<h2>CHAPTER I—BARBOX BROTHERS</h2> +<h3>I.</h3> +<p>“Guard! What place is this?”</p> +<p>“Mugby Junction, sir.”</p> +<p>“A windy place!”</p> +<p>“Yes, it mostly is, sir.”</p> +<p>“And looks comfortless indeed!”</p> +<p>“Yes, it generally does, sir.”</p> +<p>“Is it a rainy night still?”</p> +<p>“Pours, sir.”</p> +<p>“Open the door. I’ll get out.”</p> +<p>“You’ll have, sir,” said the guard, glistening +with drops of wet, and looking at the tearful face of his watch by the +light of his lantern as the traveller descended, “three minutes +here.”</p> +<p>“More, I think.—For I am not going on.”</p> +<p>“Thought you had a through ticket, sir?”</p> +<p>“So I have, but I shall sacrifice the rest of it. I want +my luggage.”</p> +<p>“Please to come to the van and point it out, sir. Be +good enough to look very sharp, sir. Not a moment to spare.”</p> +<p>The guard hurried to the luggage van, and the traveller hurried after +him. The guard got into it, and the traveller looked into it.</p> +<p>“Those two large black portmanteaus in the corner where your +light shines. Those are mine.”</p> +<p>“Name upon ’em, sir?”</p> +<p>“Barbox Brothers.”</p> +<p>“Stand clear, sir, if you please. One. Two. +Right!”</p> +<p>Lamp waved. Signal lights ahead already changing. Shriek +from engine. Train gone.</p> +<p>“Mugby Junction!” said the traveller, pulling up the +woollen muffler round his throat with both hands. “At past +three o’clock of a tempestuous morning! So!”</p> +<p>He spoke to himself. There was no one else to speak to. +Perhaps, though there had been any one else to speak to, he would have +preferred to speak to himself. Speaking to himself he spoke to +a man within five years of fifty either way, who had turned grey too +soon, like a neglected fire; a man of pondering habit, brooding carriage +of the head, and suppressed internal voice; a man with many indications +on him of having been much alone.</p> +<p>He stood unnoticed on the dreary platform, except by the rain and +by the wind. Those two vigilant assailants made a rush at him. +“Very well,” said he, yielding. “It signifies +nothing to me to what quarter I turn my face.”</p> +<p>Thus, at Mugby Junction, at past three o’clock of a tempestuous +morning, the traveller went where the weather drove him.</p> +<p>Not but what he could make a stand when he was so minded, for, coming +to the end of the roofed shelter (it is of considerable extent at Mugby +Junction), and looking out upon the dark night, with a yet darker spirit-wing +of storm beating its wild way through it, he faced about, and held his +own as ruggedly in the difficult direction as he had held it in the +easier one. Thus, with a steady step, the traveller went up and +down, up and down, up and down, seeking nothing and finding it.</p> +<p>A place replete with shadowy shapes, this Mugby Junction in the black +hours of the four-and-twenty. Mysterious goods trains, covered +with palls and gliding on like vast weird funerals, conveying themselves +guiltily away from the presence of the few lighted lamps, as if their +freight had come to a secret and unlawful end. Half-miles of coal +pursuing in a Detective manner, following when they lead, stopping when +they stop, backing when they back. Red-hot embers showering out +upon the ground, down this dark avenue, and down the other, as if torturing +fires were being raked clear; concurrently, shrieks and groans and grinds +invading the ear, as if the tortured were at the height of their suffering. +Iron-barred cages full of cattle jangling by midway, the drooping beasts +with horns entangled, eyes frozen with terror, and mouths too: at least +they have long icicles (or what seem so) hanging from their lips. +Unknown languages in the air, conspiring in red, green, and white characters. +An earthquake, accompanied with thunder and lightning, going up express +to London. Now, all quiet, all rusty, wind and rain in possession, +lamps extinguished, Mugby Junction dead and indistinct, with its robe +drawn over its head, like Cæsar.</p> +<p>Now, too, as the belated traveller plodded up and down, a shadowy +train went by him in the gloom which was no other than the train of +a life. From whatsoever intangible deep cutting or dark tunnel +it emerged, here it came, unsummoned and unannounced, stealing upon +him, and passing away into obscurity. Here mournfully went by +a child who had never had a childhood or known a parent, inseparable +from a youth with a bitter sense of his namelessness, coupled to a man +the enforced business of whose best years had been distasteful and oppressive, +linked to an ungrateful friend, dragging after him a woman once beloved. +Attendant, with many a clank and wrench, were lumbering cares, dark +meditations, huge dim disappointments, monotonous years, a long jarring +line of the discords of a solitary and unhappy existence.</p> +<p>“—Yours, sir?”</p> +<p>The traveller recalled his eyes from the waste into which they had +been staring, and fell back a step or so under the abruptness, and perhaps +the chance appropriateness, of the question.</p> +<p>“Oh! My thoughts were not here for the moment. +Yes. Yes. Those two portmanteaus are mine. Are you +a Porter?”</p> +<p>“On Porter’s wages, sir. But I am Lamps.”</p> +<p>The traveller looked a little confused.</p> +<p>“Who did you say you are?”</p> +<p>“Lamps, sir,” showing an oily cloth in his hand, as farther +explanation.</p> +<p>“Surely, surely. Is there any hotel or tavern here?”</p> +<p>“Not exactly here, sir. There is a Refreshment Room here, +but—” Lamps, with a mighty serious look, gave his +head a warning roll that plainly added—“but it’s a +blessed circumstance for you that it’s not open.”</p> +<p>“You couldn’t recommend it, I see, if it was available?”</p> +<p>“Ask your pardon, sir. If it was—?”</p> +<p>“Open?”</p> +<p>“It ain’t my place, as a paid servant of the company, +to give my opinion on any of the company’s toepics,”—he +pronounced it more like toothpicks,—“beyond lamp-ile and +cottons,” returned Lamps in a confidential tone; “but, speaking +as a man, I wouldn’t recommend my father (if he was to come to +life again) to go and try how he’d be treated at the Refreshment +Room. Not speaking as a man, no, I would <i>not</i>.”</p> +<p>The traveller nodded conviction. “I suppose I can put +up in the town? There is a town here?” For the traveller +(though a stay-at-home compared with most travellers) had been, like +many others, carried on the steam winds and the iron tides through that +Junction before, without having ever, as one might say, gone ashore +there.</p> +<p>“Oh yes, there’s a town, sir! Anyways, there’s +town enough to put up in. But,” following the glance of +the other at his luggage, “this is a very dead time of the night +with us, sir. The deadest time. I might a’most call +it our deadest and buriedest time.”</p> +<p>“No porters about?”</p> +<p>“Well, sir, you see,” returned Lamps, confidential again, +“they in general goes off with the gas. That’s how +it is. And they seem to have overlooked you, through your walking +to the furder end of the platform. But, in about twelve minutes +or so, she may be up.”</p> +<p>“Who may be up?”</p> +<p>“The three forty-two, sir. She goes off in a sidin’ +till the Up X passes, and then she”—here an air of hopeful +vagueness pervaded Lamps—“does all as lays in her power.”</p> +<p>“I doubt if I comprehend the arrangement.”</p> +<p>“I doubt if anybody do, sir. She’s a Parliamentary, +sir. And, you see, a Parliamentary, or a Skirmishun—”</p> +<p>“Do you mean an Excursion?”</p> +<p>“That’s it, sir.—A Parliamentary or a Skirmishun, +she mostly <i>does</i> go off into a sidin’. But, when she +<i>can</i> get a chance, she’s whistled out of it, and she’s +whistled up into doin’ all as,”—Lamps again wore the +air of a highly sanguine man who hoped for the best,—“all +as lays in her power.”</p> +<p>He then explained that the porters on duty, being required to be +in attendance on the Parliamentary matron in question, would doubtless +turn up with the gas. In the meantime, if the gentleman would +not very much object to the smell of lamp-oil, and would accept the +warmth of his little room—The gentleman, being by this time very +cold, instantly closed with the proposal.</p> +<p>A greasy little cabin it was, suggestive, to the sense of smell, +of a cabin in a Whaler. But there was a bright fire burning in +its rusty grate, and on the floor there stood a wooden stand of newly +trimmed and lighted lamps, ready for carriage service. They made +a bright show, and their light, and the warmth, accounted for the popularity +of the room, as borne witness to by many impressions of velveteen trousers +on a form by the fire, and many rounded smears and smudges of stooping +velveteen shoulders on the adjacent wall. Various untidy shelves +accommodated a quantity of lamps and oil-cans, and also a fragrant collection +of what looked like the pocket-handkerchiefs of the whole lamp family.</p> +<p>As Barbox Brothers (so to call the traveller on the warranty of his +luggage) took his seat upon the form, and warmed his now ungloved hands +at the fire, he glanced aside at a little deal desk, much blotched with +ink, which his elbow touched. Upon it were some scraps of coarse +paper, and a superannuated steel pen in very reduced and gritty circumstances.</p> +<p>From glancing at the scraps of paper, he turned involuntarily to +his host, and said, with some roughness:</p> +<p>“Why, you are never a poet, man?”</p> +<p>Lamps had certainly not the conventional appearance of one, as he +stood modestly rubbing his squab nose with a handkerchief so exceedingly +oily, that he might have been in the act of mistaking himself for one +of his charges. He was a spare man of about the Barbox Brothers +time of life, with his features whimsically drawn upward as if they +were attracted by the roots of his hair. He had a peculiarly shining +transparent complexion, probably occasioned by constant oleaginous application; +and his attractive hair, being cut short, and being grizzled, and standing +straight up on end as if it in its turn were attracted by some invisible +magnet above it, the top of his head was not very unlike a lamp-wick.</p> +<p>“But, to be sure, it’s no business of mine,” said +Barbox Brothers. “That was an impertinent observation on +my part. Be what you like.”</p> +<p>“Some people, sir,” remarked Lamps in a tone of apology, +“are sometimes what they don’t like.”</p> +<p>“Nobody knows that better than I do,” sighed the other. +“I have been what I don’t like, all my life.”</p> +<p>“When I first took, sir,” resumed Lamps, “to composing +little Comic-Songs—like—”</p> +<p>Barbox Brothers eyed him with great disfavour.</p> +<p>“—To composing little Comic-Songs-like—and what +was more hard—to singing ’em afterwards,” said Lamps, +“it went against the grain at that time, it did indeed.”</p> +<p>Something that was not all oil here shining in Lamps’s eye, +Barbox Brothers withdrew his own a little disconcerted, looked at the +fire, and put a foot on the top bar. “Why did you do it, +then?” he asked after a short pause; abruptly enough, but in a +softer tone. “If you didn’t want to do it, why did +you do it? Where did you sing them? Public-house?”</p> +<p>To which Mr. Lamps returned the curious reply: “Bedside.”</p> +<p>At this moment, while the traveller looked at him for elucidation, +Mugby Junction started suddenly, trembled violently, and opened its +gas eyes. “She’s got up!” Lamps announced, excited. +“What lays in her power is sometimes more, and sometimes less; +but it’s laid in her power to get up to-night, by George!”</p> +<p>The legend “Barbox Brothers,” in large white letters +on two black surfaces, was very soon afterwards trundling on a truck +through a silent street, and, when the owner of the legend had shivered +on the pavement half an hour, what time the porter’s knocks at +the Inn Door knocked up the whole town first, and the Inn last, he groped +his way into the close air of a shut-up house, and so groped between +the sheets of a shut-up bed that seemed to have been expressly refrigerated +for him when last made.</p> +<h3>II.</h3> +<p>“You remember me, Young Jackson?”</p> +<p>“What do I remember if not you? You are my first remembrance. +It was you who told me that was my name. It was you who told me +that on every twentieth of December my life had a penitential anniversary +in it called a birthday. I suppose the last communication was +truer than the first!”</p> +<p>“What am I like, Young Jackson?”</p> +<p>“You are like a blight all through the year to me. You +hard-lined, thin-lipped, repressive, changeless woman with a wax mask +on. You are like the Devil to me; most of all when you teach me +religious things, for you make me abhor them.”</p> +<p>“You remember me, Mr. Young Jackson?” In another +voice from another quarter.</p> +<p>“Most gratefully, sir. You were the ray of hope and prospering +ambition in my life. When I attended your course, I believed that +I should come to be a great healer, and I felt almost happy—even +though I was still the one boarder in the house with that horrible mask, +and ate and drank in silence and constraint with the mask before me, +every day. As I had done every, every, every day, through my school-time +and from my earliest recollection.”</p> +<p>“What am I like, Mr. Young Jackson?”</p> +<p>“You are like a Superior Being to me. You are like Nature +beginning to reveal herself to me. I hear you again, as one of +the hushed crowd of young men kindling under the power of your presence +and knowledge, and you bring into my eyes the only exultant tears that +ever stood in them.”</p> +<p>“You remember Me, Mr. Young Jackson?” In a grating +voice from quite another quarter.</p> +<p>“Too well. You made your ghostly appearance in my life +one day, and announced that its course was to be suddenly and wholly +changed. You showed me which was my wearisome seat in the Galley +of Barbox Brothers. (When <i>they</i> were, if they ever were, +is unknown to me; there was nothing of them but the name when I bent +to the oar.) You told me what I was to do, and what to be paid; +you told me afterwards, at intervals of years, when I was to sign for +the Firm, when I became a partner, when I became the Firm. I know +no more of it, or of myself.”</p> +<p>“What am I like, Mr. Young Jackson?”</p> +<p>“You are like my father, I sometimes think. You are hard +enough and cold enough so to have brought up an acknowledged son. +I see your scanty figure, your close brown suit, and your tight brown +wig; but you, too, wear a wax mask to your death. You never by +a chance remove it—it never by a chance falls off—and I +know no more of you.”</p> +<p>Throughout this dialogue, the traveller spoke to himself at his window +in the morning, as he had spoken to himself at the Junction overnight. +And as he had then looked in the darkness, a man who had turned grey +too soon, like a neglected fire: so he now looked in the sun-light, +an ashier grey, like a fire which the brightness of the sun put out.</p> +<p>The firm of Barbox Brothers had been some offshoot or irregular branch +of the Public Notary and bill-broking tree. It had gained for +itself a griping reputation before the days of Young Jackson, and the +reputation had stuck to it and to him. As he had imperceptibly +come into possession of the dim den up in the corner of a court off +Lombard Street, on whose grimy windows the inscription Barbox Brothers +had for many long years daily interposed itself between him and the +sky, so he had insensibly found himself a personage held in chronic +distrust, whom it was essential to screw tight to every transaction +in which he engaged, whose word was never to be taken without his attested +bond, whom all dealers with openly set up guards and wards against. +This character had come upon him through no act of his own. It +was as if the original Barbox had stretched himself down upon the office +floor, and had thither caused to be conveyed Young Jackson in his sleep, +and had there effected a metempsychosis and exchange of persons with +him. The discovery—aided in its turn by the deceit of the +only woman he had ever loved, and the deceit of the only friend he had +ever made: who eloped from him to be married together—the discovery, +so followed up, completed what his earliest rearing had begun. +He shrank, abashed, within the form of Barbox, and lifted up his head +and heart no more.</p> +<p>But he did at last effect one great release in his condition. +He broke the oar he had plied so long, and he scuttled and sank the +galley. He prevented the gradual retirement of an old conventional +business from him, by taking the initiative and retiring from it. +With enough to live on (though, after all, with not too much), he obliterated +the firm of Barbox Brothers from the pages of the Post-Office Directory +and the face of the earth, leaving nothing of it but its name on two +portmanteaus.</p> +<p>“For one must have some name in going about, for people to +pick up,” he explained to Mugby High Street, through the Inn window, +“and that name at least was real once. Whereas, Young Jackson!—Not +to mention its being a sadly satirical misnomer for Old Jackson.”</p> +<p>He took up his hat and walked out, just in time to see, passing along +on the opposite side of the way, a velveteen man, carrying his day’s +dinner in a small bundle that might have been larger without suspicion +of gluttony, and pelting away towards the Junction at a great pace.</p> +<p>“There’s Lamps!” said Barbox Brothers. “And +by the bye—”</p> +<p>Ridiculous, surely, that a man so serious, so self-contained, and +not yet three days emancipated from a routine of drudgery, should stand +rubbing his chin in the street, in a brown study about Comic Songs.</p> +<p>“Bedside?” said Barbox Brothers testily. “Sings +them at the bedside? Why at the bedside, unless he goes to bed +drunk? Does, I shouldn’t wonder. But it’s no +business of mine. Let me see. Mugby Junction, Mugby Junction. +Where shall I go next? As it came into my head last night when +I woke from an uneasy sleep in the carriage and found myself here, I +can go anywhere from here. Where shall I go? I’ll +go and look at the Junction by daylight. There’s no hurry, +and I may like the look of one Line better than another.”</p> +<p>But there were so many Lines. Gazing down upon them from a +bridge at the Junction, it was as if the concentrating Companies formed +a great Industrial Exhibition of the works of extraordinary ground spiders +that spun iron. And then so many of the Lines went such wonderful +ways, so crossing and curving among one another, that the eye lost them. +And then some of them appeared to start with the fixed intention of +going five hundred miles, and all of a sudden gave it up at an insignificant +barrier, or turned off into a workshop. And then others, like +intoxicated men, went a little way very straight, and surprisingly slued +round and came back again. And then others were so chock-full +of trucks of coal, others were so blocked with trucks of casks, others +were so gorged with trucks of ballast, others were so set apart for +wheeled objects like immense iron cotton-reels: while others were so +bright and clear, and others were so delivered over to rust and ashes +and idle wheelbarrows out of work, with their legs in the air (looking +much like their masters on strike), that there was no beginning, middle, +or end to the bewilderment.</p> +<p>Barbox Brothers stood puzzled on the bridge, passing his right hand +across the lines on his forehead, which multiplied while he looked down, +as if the railway Lines were getting themselves photographed on that +sensitive plate. Then was heard a distant ringing of bells and +blowing of whistles. Then, puppet-looking heads of men popped +out of boxes in perspective, and popped in again. Then, prodigious +wooden razors, set up on end, began shaving the atmosphere. Then, +several locomotive engines in several directions began to scream and +be agitated. Then, along one avenue a train came in. Then, +along another two trains appeared that didn’t come in, but stopped +without. Then, bits of trains broke off. Then, a struggling +horse became involved with them. Then, the locomotives shared +the bits of trains, and ran away with the whole.</p> +<p>“I have not made my next move much clearer by this. No +hurry. No need to make up my mind to-day, or to-morrow, nor yet +the day after. I’ll take a walk.”</p> +<p>It fell out somehow (perhaps he meant it should) that the walk tended +to the platform at which he had alighted, and to Lamps’s room. +But Lamps was not in his room. A pair of velveteen shoulders were +adapting themselves to one of the impressions on the wall by Lamps’s +fireplace, but otherwise the room was void. In passing back to +get out of the station again, he learnt the cause of this vacancy, by +catching sight of Lamps on the opposite line of railway, skipping along +the top of a train, from carriage to carriage, and catching lighted +namesakes thrown up to him by a coadjutor.</p> +<p>“He is busy. He has not much time for composing or singing +Comic Songs this morning, I take it.”</p> +<p>The direction he pursued now was into the country, keeping very near +to the side of one great Line of railway, and within easy view of others. +“I have half a mind,”’ he said, glancing around, “to +settle the question from this point, by saying, ‘I’ll take +this set of rails, or that, or t’other, and stick to it.’ +They separate themselves from the confusion, out here, and go their +ways.”</p> +<p>Ascending a gentle hill of some extent, he came to a few cottages. +There, looking about him as a very reserved man might who had never +looked about him in his life before, he saw some six or eight young +children come merrily trooping and whooping from one of the cottages, +and disperse. But not until they had all turned at the little +garden-gate, and kissed their hands to a face at the upper window: a +low window enough, although the upper, for the cottage had but a story +of one room above the ground.</p> +<p>Now, that the children should do this was nothing; but that they +should do this to a face lying on the sill of the open window, turned +towards them in a horizontal position, and apparently only a face, was +something noticeable. He looked up at the window again. +Could only see a very fragile, though a very bright face, lying on one +cheek on the window-sill. The delicate smiling face of a girl +or woman. Framed in long bright brown hair, round which was tied +a light blue band or fillet, passing under the chin.</p> +<p>He walked on, turned back, passed the window again, shyly glanced +up again. No change. He struck off by a winding branch-road +at the top of the hill—which he must otherwise have descended—kept +the cottages in view, worked his way round at a distance so as to come +out once more into the main road, and be obliged to pass the cottages +again. The face still lay on the window-sill, but not so much +inclined towards him. And now there were a pair of delicate hands +too. They had the action of performing on some musical instrument, +and yet it produced no sound that reached his ears.</p> +<p>“Mugby Junction must be the maddest place in England,” +said Barbox Brothers, pursuing his way down the hill. “The +first thing I find here is a Railway Porter who composes comic songs +to sing at his bedside. The second thing I find here is a face, +and a pair of hands playing a musical instrument that <i>don’t</i> +play!”</p> +<p>The day was a fine bright day in the early beginning of November, +the air was clear and inspiriting, and the landscape was rich in beautiful +colours. The prevailing colours in the court off Lombard Street, +London city, had been few and sombre. Sometimes, when the weather +elsewhere was very bright indeed, the dwellers in those tents enjoyed +a pepper-and-salt-coloured day or two, but their atmosphere’s +usual wear was slate or snuff coloured.</p> +<p>He relished his walk so well that he repeated it next day. +He was a little earlier at the cottage than on the day before, and he +could hear the children upstairs singing to a regular measure, and clapping +out the time with their hands.</p> +<p>“Still, there is no sound of any musical instrument,” +he said, listening at the corner, “and yet I saw the performing +hands again as I came by. What are the children singing? +Why, good Lord, they can never be singing the multiplication table?”</p> +<p>They were, though, and with infinite enjoyment. The mysterious +face had a voice attached to it, which occasionally led or set the children +right. Its musical cheerfulness was delightful. The measure +at length stopped, and was succeeded by a murmuring of young voices, +and then by a short song which he made out to be about the current month +of the year, and about what work it yielded to the labourers in the +fields and farmyards. Then there was a stir of little feet, and +the children came trooping and whooping out, as on the previous day. +And again, as on the previous day, they all turned at the garden-gate, +and kissed their hands—evidently to the face on the window-sill, +though Barbox Brothers from his retired post of disadvantage at the +corner could not see it.</p> +<p>But, as the children dispersed, he cut off one small straggler—a +brown-faced boy with flaxen hair—and said to him:</p> +<p>“Come here, little one. Tell me, whose house is that?”</p> +<p>The child, with one swarthy arm held up across his eyes, half in +shyness, and half ready for defence, said from behind the inside of +his elbow:</p> +<p>“Phoebe’s.”</p> +<p>“And who,” said Barbox Brothers, quite as much embarrassed +by his part in the dialogue as the child could possibly be by his, “is +Phoebe?”</p> +<p>To which the child made answer: “Why, Phoebe, of course.”</p> +<p>The small but sharp observer had eyed his questioner closely, and +had taken his moral measure. He lowered his guard, and rather +assumed a tone with him: as having discovered him to be an unaccustomed +person in the art of polite conversation.</p> +<p>“Phoebe,” said the child, “can’t be anybobby +else but Phoebe. Can she?”</p> +<p>“No, I suppose not.”</p> +<p>“Well,” returned the child, “then why did you ask +me?”</p> +<p>Deeming it prudent to shift his ground, Barbox Brothers took up a +new position.</p> +<p>“What do you do there? Up there in that room where the +open window is. What do you do there?”</p> +<p>“Cool,” said the child.</p> +<p>“Eh?”</p> +<p>“Co-o-ol,” the child repeated in a louder voice, lengthening +out the word with a fixed look and great emphasis, as much as to say: +“What’s the use of your having grown up, if you’re +such a donkey as not to understand me?”</p> +<p>“Ah! School, school,” said Barbox Brothers. +“Yes, yes, yes. And Phoebe teaches you?”</p> +<p>The child nodded.</p> +<p>“Good boy.”</p> +<p>“Tound it out, have you?” said the child.</p> +<p>“Yes, I have found it out. What would you do with twopence, +if I gave it you?”</p> +<p>“Pend it.”</p> +<p>The knock-down promptitude of this reply leaving him not a leg to +stand upon, Barbox Brothers produced the twopence with great lameness, +and withdrew in a state of humiliation.</p> +<p>But, seeing the face on the window-sill as he passed the cottage, +he acknowledged its presence there with a gesture, which was not a nod, +not a bow, not a removal of his hat from his head, but was a diffident +compromise between or struggle with all three. The eyes in the +face seemed amused, or cheered, or both, and the lips modestly said: +“Good-day to you, sir.”</p> +<p>“I find I must stick for a time to Mugby Junction,” said +Barbox Brothers with much gravity, after once more stopping on his return +road to look at the Lines where they went their several ways so quietly. +“I can’t make up my mind yet which iron road to take. +In fact, I must get a little accustomed to the Junction before I can +decide.”</p> +<p>So, he announced at the Inn that he was “going to stay on for +the present,” and improved his acquaintance with the Junction +that night, and again next morning, and again next night and morning: +going down to the station, mingling with the people there, looking about +him down all the avenues of railway, and beginning to take an interest +in the incomings and outgoings of the trains. At first, he often +put his head into Lamps’s little room, but he never found Lamps +there. A pair or two of velveteen shoulders he usually found there, +stooping over the fire, sometimes in connection with a clasped knife +and a piece of bread and meat; but the answer to his inquiry, “Where’s +Lamps?” was, either that he was “t’other side the +line,” or, that it was his off-time, or (in the latter case) his +own personal introduction to another Lamps who was not his Lamps. +However, he was not so desperately set upon seeing Lamps now, but he +bore the disappointment. Nor did he so wholly devote himself to +his severe application to the study of Mugby Junction as to neglect +exercise. On the contrary, he took a walk every day, and always +the same walk. But the weather turned cold and wet again, and +the window was never open.</p> +<h3>III.</h3> +<p>At length, after a lapse of some days, there came another streak +of fine bright hardy autumn weather. It was a Saturday. +The window was open, and the children were gone. Not surprising, +this, for he had patiently watched and waited at the corner until they +<i>were</i> gone.</p> +<p>“Good-day,” he said to the face; absolutely getting his +hat clear off his head this time.</p> +<p>“Good-day to you, sir.”</p> +<p>“I am glad you have a fine sky again to look at.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir. It is kind if you.”</p> +<p>“You are an invalid, I fear?”</p> +<p>“No, sir. I have very good health.”</p> +<p>“But are you not always lying down?”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, I am always lying down, because I cannot sit up! +But I am not an invalid.”</p> +<p>The laughing eyes seemed highly to enjoy his great mistake.</p> +<p>“Would you mind taking the trouble to come in, sir? There +is a beautiful view from this window. And you would see that I +am not at all ill—being so good as to care.”</p> +<p>It was said to help him, as he stood irresolute, but evidently desiring +to enter, with his diffident hand on the latch of the garden-gate. +It did help him, and he went in.</p> +<p>The room upstairs was a very clean white room with a low roof. +Its only inmate lay on a couch that brought her face to a level with +the window. The couch was white too; and her simple dress or wrapper +being light blue, like the band around her hair, she had an ethereal +look, and a fanciful appearance of lying among clouds. He felt +that she instinctively perceived him to be by habit a downcast taciturn +man; it was another help to him to have established that understanding +so easily, and got it over.</p> +<p>There was an awkward constraint upon him, nevertheless, as he touched +her hand, and took a chair at the side of her couch.</p> +<p>“I see now,” he began, not at all fluently, “how +you occupy your hand. Only seeing you from the path outside, I +thought you were playing upon something.”</p> +<p>She was engaged in very nimbly and dexterously making lace. +A lace-pillow lay upon her breast; and the quick movements and changes +of her hands upon it, as she worked, had given them the action he had +misinterpreted.</p> +<p>“That is curious,” she answered with a bright smile. +“For I often fancy, myself, that I play tunes while I am at work.”</p> +<p>“Have you any musical knowledge?”</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>“I think I could pick out tunes, if I had any instrument, which +could be made as handy to me as my lace-pillow. But I dare say +I deceive myself. At all events, I shall never know.”</p> +<p>“You have a musical voice. Excuse me; I have heard you +sing.”</p> +<p>“With the children?” she answered, slightly colouring. +“Oh yes. I sing with the dear children, if it can be called +singing.”</p> +<p>Barbox Brothers glanced at the two small forms in the room, and hazarded +the speculation that she was fond of children, and that she was learned +in new systems of teaching them?</p> +<p>“Very fond of them,” she said, shaking her head again; +“but I know nothing of teaching, beyond the interest I have in +it, and the pleasure it gives me when they learn. Perhaps your +overhearing my little scholars sing some of their lessons has led you +so far astray as to think me a grand teacher? Ah! I thought +so! No, I have only read and been told about that system. +It seemed so pretty and pleasant, and to treat them so like the merry +Robins they are, that I took up with it in my little way. You +don’t need to be told what a very little way mine is, sir,” +she added with a glance at the small forms and round the room.</p> +<p>All this time her hands were busy at her lace-pillow. As they +still continued so, and as there was a kind of substitute for conversation +in the click and play of its pegs, Barbox Brothers took the opportunity +of observing her. He guessed her to be thirty. The charm +of her transparent face and large bright brown eyes was, not that they +were passively resigned, but that they were actively and thoroughly +cheerful. Even her busy hands, which of their own thinness alone +might have besought compassion, plied their task with a gay courage +that made mere compassion an unjustifiable assumption of superiority, +and an impertinence.</p> +<p>He saw her eyes in the act of rising towards his, and he directed +his towards the prospect, saying: “Beautiful, indeed!”</p> +<p>“Most beautiful, sir. I have sometimes had a fancy that +I would like to sit up, for once, only to try how it looks to an erect +head. But what a foolish fancy that would be to encourage! +It cannot look more lovely to any one than it does to me.”</p> +<p>Her eyes were turned to it, as she spoke, with most delighted admiration +and enjoyment. There was not a trace in it of any sense of deprivation.</p> +<p>“And those threads of railway, with their puffs of smoke and +steam changing places so fast, make it so lively for me,” she +went on. “I think of the number of people who can go where +they wish, on their business, or their pleasure; I remember that the +puffs make signs to me that they are actually going while I look; and +that enlivens the prospect with abundance of company, if I want company. +There is the great Junction, too. I don’t see it under the +foot of the hill, but I can very often hear it, and I always know it +is there. It seems to join me, in a way, to I don’t know +how many places and things that I shall never see.”</p> +<p>With an abashed kind of idea that it might have already joined himself +to something he had never seen, he said constrainedly: “Just so.”</p> +<p>“And so you see, sir,” pursued Phoebe, “I am not +the invalid you thought me, and I am very well off indeed.”</p> +<p>“You have a happy disposition,” said Barbox Brothers: +perhaps with a slight excusatory touch for his own disposition.</p> +<p>“Ah! But you should know my father,” she replied. +“His is the happy disposition!—Don’t mind, sir!” +For his reserve took the alarm at a step upon the stairs, and he distrusted +that he would be set down for a troublesome intruder. “This +is my father coming.”</p> +<p>The door opened, and the father paused there.</p> +<p>“Why, Lamps!” exclaimed Barbox Brothers, starting from +his chair. “How do you do, Lamps?”</p> +<p>To which Lamps responded: “The gentleman for Nowhere! +How do you DO, sir?”</p> +<p>And they shook hands, to the greatest admiration and surprise of +Lamp’s daughter.</p> +<p>“I have looked you up half-a-dozen times since that night,” +said Barbox Brothers, “but have never found you.”</p> +<p>“So I’ve heerd on, sir, so I’ve heerd on,” +returned Lamps. “It’s your being noticed so often +down at the Junction, without taking any train, that has begun to get +you the name among us of the gentleman for Nowhere. No offence +in my having called you by it when took by surprise, I hope, sir?”</p> +<p>“None at all. It’s as good a name for me as any +other you could call me by. But may I ask you a question in the +corner here?”</p> +<p>Lamps suffered himself to be led aside from his daughter’s +couch by one of the buttons of his velveteen jacket.</p> +<p>“Is this the bedside where you sing your songs?”</p> +<p>Lamps nodded.</p> +<p>The gentleman for Nowhere clapped him on the shoulder, and they faced +about again.</p> +<p>“Upon my word, my dear,” said Lamps then to his daughter, +looking from her to her visitor, “it is such an amaze to me, to +find you brought acquainted with this gentleman, that I must (if this +gentleman will excuse me) take a rounder.”</p> +<p>Mr. Lamps demonstrated in action what this meant, by pulling out +his oily handkerchief rolled up in the form of a ball, and giving himself +an elaborate smear, from behind the right ear, up the cheek, across +the forehead, and down the other cheek to behind his left ear. +After this operation he shone exceedingly.</p> +<p>“It’s according to my custom when particular warmed up +by any agitation, sir,” he offered by way of apology. “And +really, I am throwed into that state of amaze by finding you brought +acquainted with Phoebe, that I—that I think I will, if you’ll +excuse me, take another rounder.” Which he did, seeming +to be greatly restored by it.</p> +<p>They were now both standing by the side of her couch, and she was +working at her lace-pillow. “Your daughter tells me,” +said Barbox Brothers, still in a half-reluctant shamefaced way, “that +she never sits up.”</p> +<p>“No, sir, nor never has done. You see, her mother (who +died when she was a year and two months old) was subject to very bad +fits, and as she had never mentioned to me that she <i>was</i> subject +to fits, they couldn’t be guarded against. Consequently, +she dropped the baby when took, and this happened.”</p> +<p>“It was very wrong of her,” said Barbox Brothers with +a knitted brow, “to marry you, making a secret of her infirmity.’</p> +<p>“Well, sir!” pleaded Lamps in behalf of the long-deceased. +“You see, Phoebe and me, we have talked that over too. And +Lord bless us! Such a number on us has our infirmities, what with +fits, and what with misfits, of one sort and another, that if we confessed +to ’em all before we got married, most of us might never get married.”</p> +<p>“Might not that be for the better?”</p> +<p>“Not in this case, sir,” said Phoebe, giving her hand +to her father.</p> +<p>“No, not in this case, sir,” said her father, patting +it between his own.</p> +<p>“You correct me,” returned Barbox Brothers with a blush; +“and I must look so like a Brute, that at all events it would +be superfluous in me to confess to <i>that</i> infirmity. I wish +you would tell me a little more about yourselves. I hardly knew +how to ask it of you, for I am conscious that I have a bad stiff manner, +a dull discouraging way with me, but I wish you would.”</p> +<p>“With all our hearts, sir,” returned Lamps gaily for +both. “And first of all, that you may know my name—”</p> +<p>“Stay!” interposed the visitor with a slight flush. +“What signifies your name? Lamps is name enough for me. +I like it. It is bright and expressive. What do I want more?”</p> +<p>“Why, to be sure, sir,” returned Lamps. “I +have in general no other name down at the Junction; but I thought, on +account of your being here as a first-class single, in a private character, +that you might—”</p> +<p>The visitor waved the thought away with his hand, and Lamps acknowledged +the mark of confidence by taking another rounder.</p> +<p>“You are hard-worked, I take for granted?” said Barbox +Brothers, when the subject of the rounder came out of it much dirtier +than be went into it.</p> +<p>Lamps was beginning, “Not particular so”—when his +daughter took him up.</p> +<p>“Oh yes, sir, he is very hard-worked. Fourteen, fifteen, +eighteen hours a day. Sometimes twenty-four hours at a time.”</p> +<p>“And you,” said Barbox Brothers, “what with your +school, Phoebe, and what with your lace-making—”</p> +<p>“But my school is a pleasure to me,” she interrupted, +opening her brown eyes wider, as if surprised to find him so obtuse. +“I began it when I was but a child, because it brought me and +other children into company, don’t you see? <i>That</i> +was not work. I carry it on still, because it keeps children about +me. <i>That</i> is not work. I do it as love, not as work. +Then my lace-pillow;” her busy hands had stopped, as if her argument +required all her cheerful earnestness, but now went on again at the +name; “it goes with my thoughts when I think, and it goes with +my tunes when I hum any, and <i>that’s</i> not work. Why, +you yourself thought it was music, you know, sir. And so it is +to me.”</p> +<p>“Everything is!” cried Lamps radiantly. “Everything +is music to her, sir.”</p> +<p>“My father is, at any rate,” said Phoebe, exultingly +pointing her thin forefinger at him. “There is more music +in my father than there is in a brass band.”</p> +<p>“I say! My dear! It’s very fillyillially +done, you know; but you are flattering your father,” he protested, +sparkling.</p> +<p>“No, I am not, sir, I assure you. No, I am not. +If you could hear my father sing, you would know I am not. But +you never will hear him sing, because he never sings to any one but +me. However tired he is, he always sings to me when he comes home. +When I lay here long ago, quite a poor little broken doll, he used to +sing to me. More than that, he used to make songs, bringing in +whatever little jokes we had between us. More than that, he often +does so to this day. Oh! I’ll tell of you, father, +as the gentleman has asked about you. He is a poet, sir.”</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t wish the gentleman, my dear,” observed +Lamps, for the moment turning grave, “to carry away that opinion +of your father, because it might look as if I was given to asking the +stars in a molloncolly manner what they was up to. Which I wouldn’t +at once waste the time, and take the liberty, my dear.”</p> +<p>“My father,” resumed Phoebe, amending her text, “is +always on the bright side, and the good side. You told me, just +now, I had a happy disposition. How can I help it?”</p> +<p>“Well; but, my dear,” returned Lamps argumentatively, +“how can I help it? Put it to yourself sir. Look at +her. Always as you see her now. Always working—and +after all, sir, for but a very few shillings a week—always contented, +always lively, always interested in others, of all sorts. I said, +this moment, she was always as you see her now. So she is, with +a difference that comes to much the same. For, when it is my Sunday +off and the morning bells have done ringing, I hear the prayers and +thanks read in the touchingest way, and I have the hymns sung to me—so +soft, sir, that you couldn’t hear ’em out of this room—in +notes that seem to me, I am sure, to come from Heaven and go back to +it.”</p> +<p>It might have been merely through the association of these words +with their sacredly quiet time, or it might have been through the larger +association of the words with the Redeemer’s presence beside the +bedridden; but here her dexterous fingers came to a stop on the lace-pillow, +and clasped themselves around his neck as he bent down. There +was great natural sensibility in both father and daughter, the visitor +could easily see; but each made it, for the other’s sake, retiring, +not demonstrative; and perfect cheerfulness, intuitive or acquired, +was either the first or second nature of both. In a very few moments +Lamps was taking another rounder with his comical features beaming, +while Phoebe’s laughing eyes (just a glistening speck or so upon +their lashes) were again directed by turns to him, and to her work, +and to Barbox Brothers.</p> +<p>“When my father, sir,” she said brightly, “tells +you about my being interested in other people, even though they know +nothing about me—which, by the bye, I told you myself—you +ought to know how that comes about. That’s my father’s +doing.”</p> +<p>“No, it isn’t!” he protested.</p> +<p>“Don’t you believe him, sir; yes, it is. He tells +me of everything he sees down at his work. You would be surprised +what a quantity he gets together for me every day. He looks into +the carriages, and tells me how the ladies are dressed—so that +I know all the fashions! He looks into the carriages, and tells +me what pairs of lovers he sees, and what new-married couples on their +wedding trip—so that I know all about that! He collects +chance newspapers and books—so that I have plenty to read! +He tells me about the sick people who are travelling to try to get better—so +that I know all about them! In short, as I began by saying, he +tells me everything he sees and makes out down at his work, and you +can’t think what a quantity he does see and make out.”</p> +<p>“As to collecting newspapers and books, my dear,” said +Lamps, “it’s clear I can have no merit in that, because +they’re not my perquisites. You see, sir, it’s this +way: A Guard, he’ll say to me, ‘Hallo, here you are, Lamps. +I’ve saved this paper for your daughter. How is she a-going +on?’ A Head-Porter, he’ll say to me, ‘Here! +Catch hold, Lamps. Here’s a couple of wollumes for your +daughter. Is she pretty much where she were?’ And +that’s what makes it double welcome, you see. If she had +a thousand pound in a box, they wouldn’t trouble themselves about +her; but being what she is—that is, you understand,” Lamps +added, somewhat hurriedly, “not having a thousand pound in a box—they +take thought for her. And as concerning the young pairs, married +and unmarried, it’s only natural I should bring home what little +I can about <i>them</i>, seeing that there’s not a Couple of either +sort in the neighbourhood that don’t come of their own accord +to confide in Phoebe.”</p> +<p>She raised her eyes triumphantly to Barbox Brothers as she said:</p> +<p>“Indeed, sir, that is true. If I could have got up and +gone to church, I don’t know how often I should have been a bridesmaid. +But, if I could have done that, some girls in love might have been jealous +of me, and, as it is, no girl is jealous of me. And my pillow +would not have been half as ready to put the piece of cake under, as +I always find it,” she added, turning her face on it with a light +sigh, and a smile at her father.</p> +<p>The arrival of a little girl, the biggest of the scholars, now led +to an understanding on the part of Barbox Brothers, that she was the +domestic of the cottage, and had come to take active measures in it, +attended by a pail that might have extinguished her, and a broom three +times her height. He therefore rose to take his leave, and took +it; saying that, if Phoebe had no objection, he would come again.</p> +<p>He had muttered that he would come “in the course of his walks.” +The course of his walks must have been highly favourable to his return, +for he returned after an interval of a single day.</p> +<p>“You thought you would never see me any more, I suppose?” +he said to Phoebe as he touched her hand, and sat down by her couch.</p> +<p>“Why should I think so?” was her surprised rejoinder.</p> +<p>“I took it for granted you would mistrust me.”</p> +<p>“For granted, sir? Have you been so much mistrusted?”</p> +<p>“I think I am justified in answering yes. But I may have +mistrusted, too, on my part. No matter just now. We were +speaking of the Junction last time. I have passed hours there +since the day before yesterday.”</p> +<p>“Are you now the gentleman for Somewhere?” she asked +with a smile.</p> +<p>“Certainly for Somewhere; but I don’t yet know Where. +You would never guess what I am travelling from. Shall I tell +you? I am travelling from my birthday.”</p> +<p>Her hands stopped in her work, and she looked at him with incredulous +astonishment.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Barbox Brothers, not quite easy in his chair, +“from my birthday. I am, to myself, an unintelligible book +with the earlier chapters all torn out, and thrown away. My childhood +had no grace of childhood, my youth had no charm of youth, and what +can be expected from such a lost beginning?” His eyes meeting +hers as they were addressed intently to him, something seemed to stir +within his breast, whispering: “Was this bed a place for the graces +of childhood and the charms of youth to take to kindly? Oh, shame, +shame!”</p> +<p>“It is a disease with me,” said Barbox Brothers, checking +himself, and making as though he had a difficulty in swallowing something, +“to go wrong about that. I don’t know how I came to +speak of that. I hope it is because of an old misplaced confidence +in one of your sex involving an old bitter treachery. I don’t +know. I am all wrong together.”</p> +<p>Her hands quietly and slowly resumed their work. Glancing at +her, he saw that her eyes were thoughtfully following them.</p> +<p>“I am travelling from my birthday,” he resumed, “because +it has always been a dreary day to me. My first free birthday +coming round some five or six weeks hence, I am travelling to put its +predecessors far behind me, and to try to crush the day—or, at +all events, put it out of my sight—by heaping new objects on it.”</p> +<p>As he paused, she looked at him; but only shook her head as being +quite at a loss.</p> +<p>“This is unintelligible to your happy disposition,” he +pursued, abiding by his former phrase as if there were some lingering +virtue of self-defence in it. “I knew it would be, and am +glad it is. However, on this travel of mine (in which I mean to +pass the rest of my days, having abandoned all thought of a fixed home), +I stopped, as you have heard from your father, at the Junction here. +The extent of its ramifications quite confused me as to whither I should +go, <i>from</i> here. I have not yet settled, being still perplexed +among so many roads. What do you think I mean to do? How +many of the branching roads can you see from your window?”</p> +<p>Looking out, full of interest, she answered, “Seven.”</p> +<p>“Seven,” said Barbox Brothers, watching her with a grave +smile. “Well! I propose to myself at once to reduce +the gross number to those very seven, and gradually to fine them down +to one—the most promising for me—and to take that.”</p> +<p>“But how will you know, sir, which <i>is</i> the most promising?” +she asked, with her brightened eyes roving over the view.</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Barbox Brothers with another grave smile, +and considerably improving in his ease of speech. “To be +sure. In this way. Where your father can pick up so much +every day for a good purpose, I may once and again pick up a little +for an indifferent purpose. The gentleman for Nowhere must become +still better known at the Junction. He shall continue to explore +it, until he attaches something that he has seen, heard, or found out, +at the head of each of the seven roads, to the road itself. And +so his choice of a road shall be determined by his choice among his +discoveries.”</p> +<p>Her hands still busy, she again glanced at the prospect, as if it +comprehended something that had not been in it before, and laughed as +if it yielded her new pleasure.</p> +<p>“But I must not forget,” said Barbox Brothers, “(having +got so far) to ask a favour. I want your help in this expedient +of mine. I want to bring you what I pick up at the heads of the +seven roads that you lie here looking out at, and to compare notes with +you about it. May I? They say two heads are better than +one. I should say myself that probably depends upon the heads +concerned. But I am quite sure, though we are so newly acquainted, +that your head and your father’s have found out better things, +Phoebe, than ever mine of itself discovered.”</p> +<p>She gave him her sympathetic right hand, in perfect rapture with +his proposal, and eagerly and gratefully thanked him.</p> +<p>“That’s well!” said Barbox Brothers. “Again +I must not forget (having got so far) to ask a favour. Will you +shut your eyes?”</p> +<p>Laughing playfully at the strange nature of the request, she did +so.</p> +<p>“Keep them shut,” said Barbox Brothers, going softly +to the door, and coming back. “You are on your honour, mind, +not to open you eyes until I tell you that you may?”</p> +<p>“Yes! On my honour.”</p> +<p>“Good. May I take your lace-pillow from you for a minute?”</p> +<p>Still laughing and wondering, she removed her hands from it, and +he put it aside.</p> +<p>“Tell me. Did you see the puffs of smoke and steam made +by the morning fast-train yesterday on road number seven from here?”</p> +<p>“Behind the elm-trees and the spire?”</p> +<p>“That’s the road,” said Barbox Brothers, directing +his eyes towards it.</p> +<p>“Yes. I watched them melt away.”</p> +<p>“Anything unusual in what they expressed?”</p> +<p>“No!” she answered merrily.</p> +<p>“Not complimentary to me, for I was in that train. I +went—don’t open your eyes—to fetch you this, from +the great ingenious town. It is not half so large as your lace-pillow, +and lies easily and lightly in its place. These little keys are +like the keys of a miniature piano, and you supply the air required +with your left hand. May you pick out delightful music from it, +my dear! For the present—you can open your eyes now—good-bye!”</p> +<p>In his embarrassed way, he closed the door upon himself, and only +saw, in doing so, that she ecstatically took the present to her bosom +and caressed it. The glimpse gladdened his heart, and yet saddened +it; for so might she, if her youth had flourished in its natural course, +having taken to her breast that day the slumbering music of her own +child’s voice.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER II—BARBOX BROTHERS AND CO.</h2> +<p>With good-will and earnest purpose, the gentleman for Nowhere began, +on the very next day, his researches at the heads of the seven roads. +The results of his researches, as he and Phoebe afterwards set them +down in fair writing, hold their due places in this veracious chronicle. +But they occupied a much longer time in the getting together than they +ever will in the perusal. And this is probably the case with most +reading matter, except when it is of that highly beneficial kind (for +Posterity) which is “thrown off in a few moments of leisure” +by the superior poetic geniuses who scorn to take prose pains.</p> +<p>It must be admitted, however, that Barbox by no means hurried himself. +His heart being in his work of good-nature, he revelled in it. +There was the joy, too (it was a true joy to him), of sometimes sitting +by, listening to Phoebe as she picked out more and more discourse from +her musical instrument, and as her natural taste and ear refined daily +upon her first discoveries. Besides being a pleasure, this was +an occupation, and in the course of weeks it consumed hours. It +resulted that his dreaded birthday was close upon him before he had +troubled himself any more about it.</p> +<p>The matter was made more pressing by the unforeseen circumstance +that the councils held (at which Mr. Lamps, beaming most brilliantly, +on a few rare occasions assisted) respecting the road to be selected +were, after all, in nowise assisted by his investigations. For, +he had connected this interest with this road, or that interest with +the other, but could deduce no reason from it for giving any road the +preference. Consequently, when the last council was holden, that +part of the business stood, in the end, exactly where it had stood in +the beginning.</p> +<p>“But, sir,” remarked Phoebe, “we have only six +roads after all. Is the seventh road dumb?”</p> +<p>“The seventh road? Oh!” said Barbox Brothers, rubbing +his chin. “That is the road I took, you know, when I went +to get your little present. That is <i>its</i> story. Phoebe.”</p> +<p>“Would you mind taking that road again, sir?” she asked +with hesitation.</p> +<p>“Not in the least; it is a great high-road after all.”</p> +<p>“I should like you to take it,” returned Phoebe with +a persuasive smile, “for the love of that little present which +must ever be so dear to me. I should like you to take it, because +that road can never be again like any other road to me. I should +like you to take it, in remembrance of your having done me so much good: +of your having made me so much happier! If you leave me by the +road you travelled when you went to do me this great kindness,” +sounding a faint chord as she spoke, “I shall feel, lying here +watching at my window, as if it must conduct you to a prosperous end, +and bring you back some day.”</p> +<p>“It shall be done, my dear; it shall be done.”</p> +<p>So at last the gentleman for Nowhere took a ticket for Somewhere, +and his destination was the great ingenious town.</p> +<p>He had loitered so long about the Junction that it was the eighteenth +of December when he left it. “High time,” he reflected, +as he seated himself in the train, “that I started in earnest! +Only one clear day remains between me and the day I am running away +from. I’ll push onward for the hill-country to-morrow. +I’ll go to Wales.”</p> +<p>It was with some pains that he placed before himself the undeniable +advantages to be gained in the way of novel occupation for his senses +from misty mountains, swollen streams, rain, cold, a wild seashore, +and rugged roads. And yet he scarcely made them out as distinctly +as he could have wished. Whether the poor girl, in spite of her +new resource, her music, would have any feeling of loneliness upon her +now—just at first—that she had not had before; whether she +saw those very puffs of steam and smoke that he saw, as he sat in the +train thinking of her; whether her face would have any pensive shadow +on it as they died out of the distant view from her window; whether, +in telling him he had done her so much good, she had not unconsciously +corrected his old moody bemoaning of his station in life, by setting +him thinking that a man might be a great healer, if he would, and yet +not be a great doctor; these and other similar meditations got between +him and his Welsh picture. There was within him, too, that dull +sense of vacuity which follows separation from an object of interest, +and cessation of a pleasant pursuit; and this sense, being quite new +to him, made him restless. Further, in losing Mugby Junction, +he had found himself again; and he was not the more enamoured of himself +for having lately passed his time in better company.</p> +<p>But surely here, not far ahead, must be the great ingenious town. +This crashing and clashing that the train was undergoing, and this coupling +on to it of a multitude of new echoes, could mean nothing less than +approach to the great station. It did mean nothing less. +After some stormy flashes of town lightning, in the way of swift revelations +of red brick blocks of houses, high red brick chimney-shafts, vistas +of red brick railway arches, tongues of fire, blocks of smoke, valleys +of canal, and hills if coal, there came the thundering in at the journey’s +end.</p> +<p>Having seen his portmanteaus safely housed in the hotel he chose, +and having appointed his dinner hour, Barbox Brothers went out for a +walk in the busy streets. And now it began to be suspected by +him that Mugby Junction was a Junction of many branches, invisible as +well as visible, and had joined him to an endless number of by-ways. +For, whereas he would, but a little while ago, have walked these streets +blindly brooding, he now had eyes and thoughts for a new external world. +How the many toiling people lived, and loved, and died; how wonderful +it was to consider the various trainings of eye and hand, the nice distinctions +of sight and touch, that separated them into classes of workers, and +even into classes of workers at subdivisions of one complete whole which +combined their many intelligences and forces, though of itself but some +cheap object of use or ornament in common life; how good it was to know +that such assembling in a multitude on their part, and such contribution +of their several dexterities towards a civilising end, did not deteriorate +them as it was the fashion of the supercilious Mayflies of humanity +to pretend, but engendered among them a self-respect, and yet a modest +desire to be much wiser than they were (the first evinced in their well-balanced +bearing and manner of speech when he stopped to ask a question; the +second, in the announcements of their popular studies and amusements +on the public walls); these considerations, and a host of such, made +his walk a memorable one. “I too am but a little part of +a great whole,” he began to think; “and to be serviceable +to myself and others, or to be happy, I must cast my interest into, +and draw it out of, the common stock.”</p> +<p>Although he had arrived at his journey’s end for the day by +noon, he had since insensibly walked about the town so far and so long +that the lamp-lighters were now at their work in the streets, and the +shops were sparkling up brilliantly. Thus reminded to turn towards +his quarters, he was in the act of doing so, when a very little hand +crept into his, and a very little voice said:</p> +<p>“Oh! if you please, I am lost!”</p> +<p>He looked down, and saw a very little fair-haired girl.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said, confirming her words with a serious +nod. “I am indeed. I am lost!”</p> +<p>Greatly perplexed, he stopped, looked about him for help, descried +none, and said, bending low.</p> +<p>“Where do you live, my child?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know where I live,” she returned. +“I am lost.”</p> +<p>“What is your name?”</p> +<p>“Polly.”</p> +<p>“What is your other name?”</p> +<p>The reply was prompt, but unintelligible.</p> +<p>Imitating the sound as he caught it, he hazarded the guess, “Trivits.”</p> +<p>“Oh no!” said the child, shaking her head. “Nothing +like that.”</p> +<p>“Say it again, little one.”</p> +<p>An unpromising business. For this time it had quite a different +sound.</p> +<p>He made the venture, “Paddens?”</p> +<p>“Oh no!” said the child. “Nothing like that.”</p> +<p>“Once more. Let us try it again, dear.”</p> +<p>A most hopeless business. This time it swelled into four syllables. +“It can’t be Tappitarver?” said Barbox Brothers, rubbing +his head with his hat in discomfiture.</p> +<p>“No! It ain’t,” the child quietly assented.</p> +<p>On her trying this unfortunate name once more, with extraordinary +efforts at distinctness, it swelled into eight syllables at least.</p> +<p>“Ah! I think,” said Barbox Brothers with a desperate +air of resignation, “that we had better give it up.”</p> +<p>“But I am lost,” said the child, nestling her little +hand more closely in his, “and you’ll take care of me, won’t +you?”</p> +<p>If ever a man were disconcerted by division between compassion on +the one hand, and the very imbecility of irresolution on the other, +here the man was. “Lost!” he repeated, looking down +at the child. “I am sure <i>I</i> am. What is to be +done?”</p> +<p>“Where do you live?” asked the child, looking up at him +wistfully.</p> +<p>“Over there,” he answered, pointing vaguely in the direction +of his hotel.</p> +<p>“Hadn’t we better go there?” said the child.</p> +<p>“Really,” he replied, “I don’t know but what +we had.”</p> +<p>So they set off, hand-in-hand. He, through comparison of himself +against his little companion, with a clumsy feeling on him as if he +had just developed into a foolish giant. She, clearly elevated +in her own tiny opinion by having got him so neatly out of his embarrassment.</p> +<p>“We are going to have dinner when we get there, I suppose?” +said Polly.</p> +<p>“Well,” he rejoined, “I—Yes, I suppose we +are.”</p> +<p>“Do you like your dinner?” asked the child.</p> +<p>“Why, on the whole,” said Barbox Brothers, “yes, +I think I do.”</p> +<p>“I do mine,” said Polly. “Have you any brothers +and sisters?”</p> +<p>“No. Have you?”</p> +<p>“Mine are dead.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Barbox Brothers. With that absurd sense +of unwieldiness of mind and body weighing him down, he would have not +known how to pursue the conversation beyond this curt rejoinder, but +that the child was always ready for him.</p> +<p>“What,” she asked, turning her soft hand coaxingly in +his, “are you going to do to amuse me after dinner?”</p> +<p>“Upon my soul, Polly,” exclaimed Barbox Brothers, very +much at a loss, “I have not the slightest idea!”</p> +<p>“Then I tell you what,” said Polly. “Have +you got any cards at your house?”</p> +<p>“Plenty,” said Barbox Brothers in a boastful vein.</p> +<p>“Very well. Then I’ll build houses, and you shall +look at me. You mustn’t blow, you know.”</p> +<p>“Oh no,” said Barbox Brothers. “No, no, no. +No blowing. Blowing’s not fair.”</p> +<p>He flattered himself that he had said this pretty well for an idiotic +monster; but the child, instantly perceiving the awkwardness of his +attempt to adapt himself to her level, utterly destroyed his hopeful +opinion of himself by saying compassionately: “What a funny man +you are!”</p> +<p>Feeling, after this melancholy failure, as if he every minute grew +bigger and heavier in person, and weaker in mind, Barbox gave himself +up for a bad job. No giant ever submitted more meekly to be led +in triumph by all-conquering Jack than he to be bound in slavery to +Polly.</p> +<p>“Do you know any stories?” she asked him.</p> +<p>He was reduced to the humiliating confession: “No.”</p> +<p>“What a dunce you must be, mustn’t you?” said Polly.</p> +<p>He was reduced to the humiliating confession: “Yes.”</p> +<p>“Would you like me to teach you a story? But you must +remember it, you know, and be able to tell it right to somebody else +afterwards.”</p> +<p>He professed that it would afford him the highest mental gratification +to be taught a story, and that he would humbly endeavour to retain it +in his mind. Whereupon Polly, giving her hand a new little turn +in his, expressive of settling down for enjoyment, commenced a long +romance, of which every relishing clause began with the words: “So +this,” or, “And so this.” As, “So this +boy;” or, “So this fairy;” or, “And so this +pie was four yards round, and two yards and a quarter deep.” +The interest of the romance was derived from the intervention of this +fairy to punish this boy for having a greedy appetite. To achieve +which purpose, this fairy made this pie, and this boy ate and ate and +ate, and his cheeks swelled and swelled and swelled. There were +many tributary circumstances, but the forcible interest culminated in +the total consumption of this pie, and the bursting of this boy. +Truly he was a fine sight, Barbox Brothers, with serious attentive face, +and ear bent down, much jostled on the pavements of the busy town, but +afraid of losing a single incident of the epic, lest he should be examined +in it by-and-by, and found deficient.</p> +<p>Thus they arrived at the hotel. And there he had to say at +the bar, and said awkwardly enough; “I have found a little girl!”</p> +<p>The whole establishment turned out to look at the little girl. +Nobody knew her; nobody could make out her name, as she set it forth—except +one chamber-maid, who said it was Constantinople—which it wasn’t.</p> +<p>“I will dine with my young friend in a private room,” +said Barbox Brothers to the hotel authorities, “and perhaps you +will be so good as to let the police know that the pretty baby is here. +I suppose she is sure to be inquired for soon, if she has not been already. +Come along, Polly.”</p> +<p>Perfectly at ease and peace, Polly came along, but, finding the stairs +rather stiff work, was carried up by Barbox Brothers. The dinner +was a most transcendant success, and the Barbox sheepishness, under +Polly’s directions how to mince her meat for her, and how to diffuse +gravy over the plate with a liberal and equal hand, was another fine +sight.</p> +<p>“And now,” said Polly, “while we are at dinner, +you be good, and tell me that story I taught you.”</p> +<p>With the tremors of a Civil Service examination upon him, and very +uncertain indeed, not only as to the epoch at which the pie appeared +in history, but also as to the measurements of that indispensable fact, +Barbox Brothers made a shaky beginning, but under encouragement did +very fairly. There was a want of breadth observable in his rendering +of the cheeks, as well as the appetite, of the boy; and there was a +certain tameness in his fairy, referable to an under-current of desire +to account for her. Still, as the first lumbering performance +of a good-humoured monster, it passed muster.</p> +<p>“I told you to be good,” said Polly, “and you are +good, ain’t you?”</p> +<p>“I hope so,” replied Barbox Brothers.</p> +<p>Such was his deference that Polly, elevated on a platform of sofa +cushions in a chair at his right hand, encouraged him with a pat or +two on the face from the greasy bowl of her spoon, and even with a gracious +kiss. In getting on her feet upon her chair, however, to give +him this last reward, she toppled forward among the dishes, and caused +him to exclaim, as he effected her rescue: “Gracious Angels! +Whew! I thought we were in the fire, Polly!”</p> +<p>“What a coward you are, ain’t you?” said Polly +when replaced.</p> +<p>“Yes, I am rather nervous,” he replied. “Whew! +Don’t, Polly! Don’t flourish your spoon, or you’ll +go over sideways. Don’t tilt up your legs when you laugh, +Polly, or you’ll go over backwards. Whew! Polly, Polly, +Polly,” said Barbox Brothers, nearly succumbing to despair, “we +are environed with dangers!”</p> +<p>Indeed, he could descry no security from the pitfalls that were yawning +for Polly, but in proposing to her, after dinner, to sit upon a low +stool. “I will, if you will,” said Polly. So, +as peace of mind should go before all, he begged the waiter to wheel +aside the table, bring a pack of cards, a couple of footstools, and +a screen, and close in Polly and himself before the fire, as it were +in a snug room within the room. Then, finest sight of all, was +Barbox Brothers on his footstool, with a pint decanter on the rug, contemplating +Polly as she built successfully, and growing blue in the face with holding +his breath, lest he should blow the house down.</p> +<p>“How you stare, don’t you?” said Polly in a houseless +pause.</p> +<p>Detected in the ignoble fact, he felt obliged to admit, apologetically:</p> +<p>“I am afraid I was looking rather hard at you, Polly.”</p> +<p>“Why do you stare?” asked Polly.</p> +<p>“I cannot,” he murmured to himself, “recall why.—I +don’t know, Polly.”</p> +<p>“You must be a simpleton to do things and not know why, mustn’t +you?” said Polly.</p> +<p>In spite of which reproof, he looked at the child again intently, +as she bent her head over her card structure, her rich curls shading +her face. “It is impossible,” he thought, “that +I can ever have seen this pretty baby before. Can I have dreamed +of her? In some sorrowful dream?”</p> +<p>He could make nothing of it. So he went into the building trade +as a journeyman under Polly, and they built three stories high, four +stories high; even five.</p> +<p>“I say! Who do you think is coming?” asked Polly, +rubbing her eyes after tea.</p> +<p>He guessed: “The waiter?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Polly, “the dustman. I am getting +sleepy.”</p> +<p>A new embarrassment for Barbox Brothers!</p> +<p>“I don’t think I am going to be fetched to-night,” +said Polly. “What do you think?”</p> +<p>He thought not, either. After another quarter of an hour, the +dustman not merely impending, but actually arriving, recourse was had +to the Constantinopolitan chamber-maid: who cheerily undertook that +the child should sleep in a comfortable and wholesome room, which she +herself would share.</p> +<p>“And I know you will be careful, won’t you,” said +Barbox Brothers, as a new fear dawned upon him, “that she don’t +fall out of bed?”</p> +<p>Polly found this so highly entertaining that she was under the necessity +of clutching him round the neck with both arms as he sat on his footstool +picking up the cards, and rocking him to and fro, with her dimpled chin +on his shoulder.</p> +<p>“Oh, what a coward you are, ain’t you?” said Polly. +“Do you fall out of bed?”</p> +<p>“N—not generally, Polly.”</p> +<p>“No more do I.”</p> +<p>With that, Polly gave him a reassuring hug or two to keep him going, +and then giving that confiding mite of a hand of hers to be swallowed +up in the hand of the Constantinopolitan chamber-maid, trotted off, +chattering, without a vestige of anxiety.</p> +<p>He looked after her, had the screen removed and the table and chairs +replaced, and still looked after her. He paced the room for half +an hour. “A most engaging little creature, but it’s +not that. A most winning little voice, but it’s not that. +That has much to do with it, but there is something more. How +can it be that I seem to know this child? What was it she imperfectly +recalled to me when I felt her touch in the street, and, looking down +at her, saw her looking up at me?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Jackson!”</p> +<p>With a start he turned towards the sound of the subdued voice, and +saw his answer standing at the door.</p> +<p>“Oh, Mr. Jackson, do not be severe with me! Speak a word +of encouragement to me, I beseech you.”</p> +<p>“You are Polly’s mother.”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>Yes. Polly herself might come to this, one day. As you +see what the rose was in its faded leaves; as you see what the summer +growth of the woods was in their wintry branches; so Polly might be +traced, one day, in a careworn woman like this, with her hair turned +grey. Before him were the ashes of a dead fire that had once burned +bright. This was the woman he had loved. This was the woman +he had lost. Such had been the constancy of his imagination to +her, so had Time spared her under its withholding, that now, seeing +how roughly the inexorable hand had struck her, his soul was filled +with pity and amazement.</p> +<p>He led her to a chair, and stood leaning on a corner of the chimney-piece, +with his head resting on his hand, and his face half averted.</p> +<p>“Did you see me in the street, and show me to your child?” +he asked.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Is the little creature, then, a party to deceit?”</p> +<p>“I hope there is no deceit. I said to her, ‘We +have lost our way, and I must try to find mine by myself. Go to +that gentleman, and tell him you are lost. You shall be fetched +by-and-by.’ Perhaps you have not thought how very young +she is?”</p> +<p>“She is very self-reliant.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps because she is so young.”</p> +<p>He asked, after a short pause, “Why did you do this?”</p> +<p>“Oh, Mr. Jackson, do you ask me? In the hope that you +might see something in my innocent child to soften your heart towards +me. Not only towards me, but towards my husband.”</p> +<p>He suddenly turned about, and walked to the opposite end of the room. +He came back again with a slower step, and resumed his former attitude, +saying:</p> +<p>“I thought you had emigrated to America?”</p> +<p>“We did. But life went ill with us there, and we came +back.”</p> +<p>“Do you live in this town?”</p> +<p>“Yes. I am a daily teacher of music here. My husband +is a book-keeper.”</p> +<p>“Are you—forgive my asking—poor?”</p> +<p>“We earn enough for our wants. That is not our distress. +My husband is very, very ill of a lingering disorder. He will +never recover—”</p> +<p>“You check yourself. If it is for want of the encouraging +word you spoke of, take it from me. I cannot forget the old time, +Beatrice.”</p> +<p>“God bless you!” she replied with a burst of tears, and +gave him her trembling hand.</p> +<p>“Compose yourself. I cannot be composed if you are not, +for to see you weep distresses me beyond expression. Speak freely +to me. Trust me.”</p> +<p>She shaded her face with her veil, and after a little while spoke +calmly. Her voice had the ring of Polly’s.</p> +<p>“It is not that my husband’s mind is at all impaired +by his bodily suffering, for I assure you that is not the case. +But in his weakness, and in his knowledge that he is incurably ill, +he cannot overcome the ascendancy of one idea. It preys upon him, +embitters every moment of his painful life, and will shorten it.”</p> +<p>She stopping, he said again: “Speak freely to me. Trust +me.”</p> +<p>“We have had five children before this darling, and they all +lie in their little graves. He believes that they have withered +away under a curse, and that it will blight this child like the rest.”</p> +<p>“Under what curse?”</p> +<p>“Both I and he have it on our conscience that we tried you +very heavily, and I do not know but that, if I were as ill as he, I +might suffer in my mind as he does. This is the constant burden:—‘I +believe, Beatrice, I was the only friend that Mr. Jackson ever cared +to make, though I was so much his junior. The more influence he +acquired in the business, the higher he advanced me, and I was alone +in his private confidence. I came between him and you, and I took +you from him. We were both secret, and the blow fell when he was +wholly unprepared. The anguish it caused a man so compressed must +have been terrible; the wrath it awakened inappeasable. So, a +curse came to be invoked on our poor, pretty little flowers, and they +fall.’”</p> +<p>“And you, Beatrice,” he asked, when she had ceased to +speak, and there had been a silence afterwards, “how say you?”</p> +<p>“Until within these few weeks I was afraid of you, and I believed +that you would never, never forgive.”</p> +<p>“Until within these few weeks,” he repeated. “Have +you changed your opinion of me within these few weeks?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“For what reason?”</p> +<p>“I was getting some pieces of music in a shop in this town, +when, to my terror, you came in. As I veiled my face and stood +in the dark end of the shop, I heard you explain that you wanted a musical +instrument for a bedridden girl. Your voice and manner were so +softened, you showed such interest in its selection, you took it away +yourself with so much tenderness of care and pleasure, that I knew you +were a man with a most gentle heart. Oh, Mr. Jackson, Mr. Jackson, +if you could have felt the refreshing rain of tears that followed for +me!”</p> +<p>Was Phoebe playing at that moment on her distant couch? He +seemed to hear her.</p> +<p>“I inquired in the shop where you lived, but could get no information. +As I had heard you say that you were going back by the next train (but +you did not say where), I resolved to visit the station at about that +time of day, as often as I could, between my lessons, on the chance +of seeing you again. I have been there very often, but saw you +no more until to-day. You were meditating as you walked the street, +but the calm expression of your face emboldened me to send my child +to you. And when I saw you bend your head to speak tenderly to +her, I prayed to GOD to forgive me for having ever brought a sorrow +on it. I now pray to you to forgive me, and to forgive my husband. +I was very young, he was young too, and, in the ignorant hardihood of +such a time of life, we don’t know what we do to those who have +undergone more discipline. You generous man! You good man! +So to raise me up and make nothing of my crime against you!”—for +he would not see her on her knees, and soothed her as a kind father +might have soothed an erring daughter—“thank you, bless +you, thank you!”</p> +<p>When he next spoke, it was after having drawn aside the window curtain +and looked out awhile. Then he only said:</p> +<p>“Is Polly asleep?”</p> +<p>“Yes. As I came in, I met her going away upstairs, and +put her to bed myself.”</p> +<p>“Leave her with me for to-morrow, Beatrice, and write me your +address on this leaf of my pocket-book. In the evening I will +bring her home to you—and to her father.”</p> +<p>* * *</p> +<p>“Hallo!” cried Polly, putting her saucy sunny face in +at the door next morning when breakfast was ready: “I thought +I was fetched last night?”</p> +<p>“So you were, Polly, but I asked leave to keep you here for +the day, and to take you home in the evening.”</p> +<p>“Upon my word!” said Polly. “You are very +cool, ain’t you?”</p> +<p>However, Polly seemed to think it a good idea, and added: “I +suppose I must give you a kiss, though you <i>are</i> cool.”</p> +<p>The kiss given and taken, they sat down to breakfast in a highly +conversational tone.</p> +<p>“Of course, you are going to amuse me?” said Polly.</p> +<p>“Oh, of course!” said Barbox Brothers.</p> +<p>In the pleasurable height of her anticipations, Polly found it indispensable +to put down her piece of toast, cross one of her little fat knees over +the other, and bring her little fat right hand down into her left hand +with a business-like slap. After this gathering of herself together, +Polly, by that time a mere heap of dimples, asked in a wheedling manner:</p> +<p>“What are we going to do, you dear old thing?”</p> +<p>“Why, I was thinking,” said Barbox Brothers, “—but +are you fond of horses, Polly?”</p> +<p>“Ponies, I am,” said Polly, “especially when their +tails are long. But horses—n-no—too big, you know.”</p> +<p>“Well,” pursued Barbox Brothers, in a spirit of grave +mysterious confidence adapted to the importance of the consultation, +“I did see yesterday, Polly, on the walls, pictures of two long-tailed +ponies, speckled all over—”</p> +<p>“No, no, NO!” cried Polly, in an ecstatic desire to linger +on the charming details. “Not speckled all over!”</p> +<p>“Speckled all over. Which ponies jump through hoops—”</p> +<p>“No, no, NO!” cried Polly as before. “They +never jump through hoops!”</p> +<p>“Yes, they do. Oh, I assure you they do! And eat +pie in pinafores—”</p> +<p>“Ponies eating pie in pinafores!” said Polly. “What +a story-teller you are, ain’t you?”</p> +<p>“Upon my honour.—And fire off guns.”</p> +<p>(Polly hardly seemed to see the force of the ponies resorting to +fire-arms.)</p> +<p>“And I was thinking,” pursued the exemplary Barbox, “that +if you and I were to go to the Circus where these ponies are, it would +do our constitutions good.”</p> +<p>“Does that mean amuse us?” inquired Polly. “What +long words you do use, don’t you?”</p> +<p>Apologetic for having wandered out of his depth, he replied:</p> +<p>“That means amuse us. That is exactly what it means. +There are many other wonders besides the ponies, and we shall see them +all. Ladies and gentlemen in spangled dresses, and elephants and +lions and tigers.”</p> +<p>Polly became observant of the teapot, with a curled-up nose indicating +some uneasiness of mind.</p> +<p>“They never get out, of course,” she remarked as a mere +truism.</p> +<p>“The elephants and lions and tigers? Oh, dear no!”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear no!” said Polly. “And of course +nobody’s afraid of the ponies shooting anybody.”</p> +<p>“Not the least in the world.”</p> +<p>“No, no, not the least in the world,” said Polly.</p> +<p>“I was also thinking,” proceeded Barbox, “that +if we were to look in at the toy-shop, to choose a doll—”</p> +<p>“Not dressed!” cried Polly with a clap of her hands. +“No, no, NO, not dressed!”</p> +<p>“Full-dressed. Together with a house, and all things +necessary for housekeeping—”</p> +<p>Polly gave a little scream, and seemed in danger of falling into +a swoon of bliss.</p> +<p>“What a darling you are!” she languidly exclaimed, leaning +back in her chair. “Come and be hugged, or I must come and +hug you.”</p> +<p>This resplendent programme was carried into execution with the utmost +rigour of the law. It being essential to make the purchase of +the doll its first feature—or that lady would have lost the ponies—the +toy-shop expedition took precedence. Polly in the magic warehouse, +with a doll as large as herself under each arm, and a neat assortment +of some twenty more on view upon the counter, did indeed present a spectacle +of indecision not quite compatible with unalloyed happiness, but the +light cloud passed. The lovely specimen oftenest chosen, oftenest +rejected, and finally abided by, was of Circassian descent, possessing +as much boldness of beauty as was reconcilable with extreme feebleness +of mouth, and combining a sky-blue silk pelisse with rose-coloured satin +trousers, and a black velvet hat: which this fair stranger to our northern +shores would seem to have founded on the portraits of the late Duchess +of Kent. The name this distinguished foreigner brought with her +from beneath the glowing skies of a sunny clime was (on Polly’s +authority) Miss Melluka, and the costly nature of her outfit as a housekeeper, +from the Barbox coffers, may be inferred from the two facts that her +silver tea-spoons were as large as her kitchen poker, and that the proportions +of her watch exceeded those of her frying-pan. Miss Melluka was +graciously pleased to express her entire approbation of the Circus, +and so was Polly; for the ponies were speckled, and brought down nobody +when they fired, and the savagery of the wild beasts appeared to be +mere smoke—which article, in fact, they did produce in large quantities +from their insides. The Barbox absorption in the general subject +throughout the realisation of these delights was again a sight to see, +nor was it less worthy to behold at dinner, when he drank to Miss Melluka, +tied stiff in a chair opposite to Polly (the fair Circassian possessing +an unbendable spine), and even induced the waiter to assist in carrying +out with due decorum the prevailing glorious idea. To wind up, +there came the agreeable fever of getting Miss Melluka and all her wardrobe +and rich possessions into a fly with Polly, to be taken home. +But, by that time, Polly had become unable to look upon such accumulated +joys with waking eyes, and had withdrawn her consciousness into the +wonderful Paradise of a child’s sleep. “Sleep, Polly, +sleep,” said Barbox Brothers, as her head dropped on his shoulder; +“you shall not fall out of this bed easily, at any rate!”</p> +<p>What rustling piece of paper he took from his pocket, and carefully +folded into the bosom of Polly’s frock, shall not be mentioned. +He said nothing about it, and nothing shall be said about it. +They drove to a modest suburb of the great ingenious town, and stopped +at the fore-court of a small house. “Do not wake the child,” +said Barbox Brothers softly to the driver; “I will carry her in +as she is.”</p> +<p>Greeting the light at the opened door which was held by Polly’s +mother, Polly’s bearer passed on with mother and child in to a +ground-floor room. There, stretched on a sofa, lay a sick man, +sorely wasted, who covered his eyes with his emaciated hand.</p> +<p>“Tresham,” said Barbox in a kindly voice, “I have +brought you back your Polly, fast asleep. Give me your hand, and +tell me you are better.”</p> +<p>The sick man reached forth his right hand, and bowed his head over +the hand into which it was taken, and kissed it. “Thank +you, thank you! I may say that I am well and happy.”</p> +<p>“That’s brave,” said Barbox. “Tresham, +I have a fancy—Can you make room for me beside you here?”</p> +<p>He sat down on the sofa as he said the words, cherishing the plump +peachey cheek that lay uppermost on his shoulder.</p> +<p>“I have a fancy, Tresham (I am getting quite an old fellow +now, you know, and old fellows may take fancies into their heads sometimes), +to give up Polly, having found her, to no one but you. Will you +take her from me?”</p> +<p>As the father held out his arms for the child, each of the two men +looked steadily at the other.</p> +<p>“She is very dear to you, Tresham?”</p> +<p>“Unutterably dear.”</p> +<p>“God bless her! It is not much, Polly,” he continued, +turning his eyes upon her peaceful face as he apostrophized her, “it +is not much, Polly, for a blind and sinful man to invoke a blessing +on something so far better than himself as a little child is; but it +would be much—much upon his cruel head, and much upon his guilty +soul—if he could be so wicked as to invoke a curse. He had +better have a millstone round his neck, and be cast into the deepest +sea. Live and thrive, my pretty baby!” Here he kissed +her. “Live and prosper, and become in time the mother of +other little children, like the Angels who behold The Father’s +face!”</p> +<p>He kissed her again, gave her up gently to both her parents, and +went out.</p> +<p>But he went not to Wales. No, he never went to Wales. +He went straightway for another stroll about the town, and he looked +in upon the people at their work, and at their play, here, there, every-there, +and where not. For he was Barbox Brothers and Co. now, and had +taken thousands of partners into the solitary firm.</p> +<p>He had at length got back to his hotel room, and was standing before +his fire refreshing himself with a glass of hot drink which he had stood +upon the chimney-piece, when he heard the town clocks striking, and, +referring to his watch, found the evening to have so slipped away, that +they were striking twelve. As he put up his watch again, his eyes +met those of his reflection in the chimney-glass.</p> +<p>“Why, it’s your birthday already,” he said, smiling. +“You are looking very well. I wish you many happy returns +of the day.”</p> +<p>He had never before bestowed that wish upon himself. “By +Jupiter!” he discovered, “it alters the whole case of running +away from one’s birthday! It’s a thing to explain +to Phoebe. Besides, here is quite a long story to tell her, that +has sprung out of the road with no story. I’ll go back, +instead of going on. I’ll go back by my friend Lamps’s +Up X presently.”</p> +<p>He went back to Mugby Junction, and, in point of fact, he established +himself at Mugby Junction. It was the convenient place to live +in, for brightening Phoebe’s life. It was the convenient +place to live in, for having her taught music by Beatrice. It +was the convenient place to live in, for occasionally borrowing Polly. +It was the convenient place to live in, for being joined at will to +all sorts of agreeable places and persons. So, he became settled +there, and, his house standing in an elevated situation, it is noteworthy +of him in conclusion, as Polly herself might (not irreverently) have +put it:</p> +<blockquote><p>“There was an Old Barbox who lived on a hill,<br /> +And if he ain’t gone, he lives there still.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Here follows the substance of what was seen, heard, or otherwise +picked up, by the gentleman for Nowhere, in his careful study of the +Junction.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER III—THE BOY AT MUGBY</h2> +<p>I am the boy at Mugby. That’s about what <i>I</i> am.</p> +<p>You don’t know what I mean? What a pity! But I +think you do. I think you must. Look here. I am the +boy at what is called The Refreshment Room at Mugby Junction, and what’s +proudest boast is, that it never yet refreshed a mortal being.</p> +<p>Up in a corner of the Down Refreshment Room at Mugby Junction, in +the height of twenty-seven cross draughts (I’ve often counted +’em while they brush the First-Class hair twenty-seven ways), +behind the bottles, among the glasses, bounded on the nor’west +by the beer, stood pretty far to the right of a metallic object that’s +at times the tea-urn and at times the soup-tureen, according to the +nature of the last twang imparted to its contents which are the same +groundwork, fended off from the traveller by a barrier of stale sponge-cakes +erected atop of the counter, and lastly exposed sideways to the glare +of Our Missis’s eye—you ask a Boy so sitiwated, next time +you stop in a hurry at Mugby, for anything to drink; you take particular +notice that he’ll try to seem not to hear you, that he’ll +appear in a absent manner to survey the Line through a transparent medium +composed of your head and body, and that he won’t serve you as +long as you can possibly bear it. That’s me.</p> +<p>What a lark it is! We are the Model Establishment, we are, +at Mugby. Other Refreshment Rooms send their imperfect young ladies +up to be finished off by our Missis. For some of the young ladies, +when they’re new to the business, come into it mild! Ah! +Our Missis, she soon takes that out of ’em. Why, I originally +come into the business meek myself. But Our Missis, she soon took +that out of <i>me</i>.</p> +<p>What a delightful lark it is! I look upon us Refreshmenters +as ockipying the only proudly independent footing on the Line. +There’s Papers, for instance,—my honourable friend, if he +will allow me to call him so,—him as belongs to Smith’s +bookstall. Why, he no more dares to be up to our Refreshmenting +games than he dares to jump a top of a locomotive with her steam at +full pressure, and cut away upon her alone, driving himself, at limited-mail +speed. Papers, he’d get his head punched at every compartment, +first, second, and third, the whole length of a train, if he was to +ventur to imitate my demeanour. It’s the same with the porters, +the same with the guards, the same with the ticket clerks, the same +the whole way up to the secretary, traffic-manager, or very chairman. +There ain’t a one among ’em on the nobly independent footing +we are. Did you ever catch one of them, when you wanted anything +of him, making a system of surveying the Line through a transparent +medium composed of your head and body? I should hope not.</p> +<p>You should see our Bandolining Room at Mugby Junction. It’s +led to by the door behind the counter, which you’ll notice usually +stands ajar, and it’s the room where Our Missis and our young +ladies Bandolines their hair. You should see ’em at it, +betwixt trains, Bandolining away, as if they was anointing themselves +for the combat. When you’re telegraphed, you should see +their noses all a-going up with scorn, as if it was a part of the working +of the same Cooke and Wheatstone electrical machinery. You should +hear Our Missis give the word, “Here comes the Beast to be Fed!” +and then you should see ’em indignantly skipping across the Line, +from the Up to the Down, or Wicer Warsaw, and begin to pitch the stale +pastry into the plates, and chuck the sawdust sangwiches under the glass +covers, and get out the—ha, ha, ha!—the sherry,—O +my eye, my eye!—for your Refreshment.</p> +<p>It’s only in the Isle of the Brave and Land of the Free (by +which, of course, I mean to say Britannia) that Refreshmenting is so +effective, so ’olesome, so constitutional a check upon the public. +There was a Foreigner, which having politely, with his hat off, beseeched +our young ladies and Our Missis for “a leetel gloss host prarndee,” +and having had the Line surveyed through him by all and no other acknowledgment, +was a-proceeding at last to help himself, as seems to be the custom +in his own country, when Our Missis, with her hair almost a-coming un-Bandolined +with rage, and her eyes omitting sparks, flew at him, cotched the decanter +out of his hand, and said, “Put it down! I won’t allow +that!” The foreigner turned pale, stepped back with his +arms stretched out in front of him, his hands clasped, and his shoulders +riz, and exclaimed: “Ah! Is it possible, this! That +these disdaineous females and this ferocious old woman are placed here +by the administration, not only to empoison the voyagers, but to affront +them! Great Heaven! How arrives it? The English people. +Or is he then a slave? Or idiot?” Another time, a +merry, wideawake American gent had tried the sawdust and spit it out, +and had tried the Sherry and spit that out, and had tried in vain to +sustain exhausted natur upon Butter-Scotch, and had been rather extra +Bandolined and Line-surveyed through, when, as the bell was ringing +and he paid Our Missis, he says, very loud and good-tempered: “I +tell Yew what ’tis, ma’arm. I la’af. Theer! +I la’af. I Dew. I oughter ha’ seen most things, +for I hail from the Onlimited side of the Atlantic Ocean, and I haive +travelled right slick over the Limited, head on through Jeerusalemm +and the East, and likeways France and Italy, Europe Old World, and am +now upon the track to the Chief Europian Village; but such an Institution +as Yew, and Yewer young ladies, and Yewer fixin’s solid and liquid, +afore the glorious Tarnal I never did see yet! And if I hain’t +found the eighth wonder of monarchical Creation, in finding Yew and +Yewer young ladies, and Yewer fixin’s solid and liquid, all as +aforesaid, established in a country where the people air not absolute +Loo-naticks, I am Extra Double Darned with a Nip and Frizzle to the +innermostest grit! Wheerfur—Theer!—I la’af! +I Dew, ma’arm. I la’af!” And so he went, +stamping and shaking his sides, along the platform all the way to his +own compartment.</p> +<p>I think it was her standing up agin the Foreigner as giv’ Our +Missis the idea of going over to France, and droring a comparison betwixt +Refreshmenting as followed among the frog-eaters, and Refreshmenting +as triumphant in the Isle of the Brave and Land of the Free (by which, +of course, I mean to say agin, Britannia). Our young ladies, Miss +Whiff, Miss Piff, and Mrs. Sniff, was unanimous opposed to her going; +for, as they says to Our Missis one and all, it is well beknown to the +hends of the herth as no other nation except Britain has a idea of anythink, +but above all of business. Why then should you tire yourself to +prove what is already proved? Our Missis, however (being a teazer +at all pints) stood out grim obstinate, and got a return pass by Southeastern +Tidal, to go right through, if such should be her dispositions, to Marseilles.</p> +<p>Sniff is husband to Mrs. Sniff, and is a regular insignificant cove. +He looks arter the sawdust department in a back room, and is sometimes, +when we are very hard put to it, let behind the counter with a corkscrew; +but never when it can be helped, his demeanour towards the public being +disgusting servile. How Mrs. Sniff ever come so far to lower herself +as to marry him, I don’t know; but I suppose he does, and I should +think he wished he didn’t, for he leads a awful life. Mrs. +Sniff couldn’t be much harder with him if he was public. +Similarly, Miss Whiff and Miss Piff, taking the tone of Mrs. Sniff, +they shoulder Sniff about when he <i>is</i> let in with a corkscrew, +and they whisk things out of his hands when in his servility he is a-going +to let the public have ’em, and they snap him up when in the crawling +baseness of his spirit he is a-going to answer a public question, and +they drore more tears into his eyes than ever the mustard does which +he all day long lays on to the sawdust. (But it ain’t strong.) +Once, when Sniff had the repulsiveness to reach across to get the milk-pot +to hand over for a baby, I see Our Missis in her rage catch him by both +his shoulders, and spin him out into the Bandolining Room.</p> +<p>But Mrs. Sniff,—how different! She’s the one! +She’s the one as you’ll notice to be always looking another +way from you, when you look at her. She’s the one with the +small waist buckled in tight in front, and with the lace cuffs at her +wrists, which she puts on the edge of the counter before her, and stands +a smoothing while the public foams. This smoothing the cuffs and +looking another way while the public foams is the last accomplishment +taught to the young ladies as come to Mugby to be finished by Our Missis; +and it’s always taught by Mrs. Sniff.</p> +<p>When Our Missis went away upon her journey, Mrs. Sniff was left in +charge. She did hold the public in check most beautiful! +In all my time, I never see half so many cups of tea given without milk +to people as wanted it with, nor half so many cups of tea with milk +given to people as wanted it without. When foaming ensued, Mrs. +Sniff would say: “Then you’d better settle it among yourselves, +and change with one another.” It was a most highly delicious +lark. I enjoyed the Refreshmenting business more than ever, and +was so glad I had took to it when young.</p> +<p>Our Missis returned. It got circulated among the young ladies, +and it as it might be penetrated to me through the crevices of the Bandolining +Room, that she had Orrors to reveal, if revelations so contemptible +could be dignified with the name. Agitation become awakened. +Excitement was up in the stirrups. Expectation stood a-tiptoe. +At length it was put forth that on our slacked evening in the week, +and at our slackest time of that evening betwixt trains, Our Missis +would give her views of foreign Refreshmenting, in the Bandolining Room.</p> +<p>It was arranged tasteful for the purpose. The Bandolining table +and glass was hid in a corner, a arm-chair was elevated on a packing-case +for Our Missis’s ockypation, a table and a tumbler of water (no +sherry in it, thankee) was placed beside it. Two of the pupils, +the season being autumn, and hollyhocks and dahlias being in, ornamented +the wall with three devices in those flowers. On one might be +read, “MAY ALBION NEVER LEARN;” on another “KEEP THE +PUBLIC DOWN;” on another, “OUR REFRESHMENTING CHARTER.” +The whole had a beautiful appearance, with which the beauty of the sentiments +corresponded.</p> +<p>On Our Missis’s brow was wrote Severity, as she ascended the +fatal platform. (Not that that was anythink new.) Miss Whiff +and Miss Piff sat at her feet. Three chairs from the Waiting Room +might have been perceived by a average eye, in front of her, on which +the pupils was accommodated. Behind them a very close observer +might have discerned a Boy. Myself.</p> +<p>“Where,” said Our Missis, glancing gloomily around, “is +Sniff?”</p> +<p>“I thought it better,” answered Mrs. Sniff, “that +he should not be let to come in. He is such an Ass.”</p> +<p>“No doubt,” assented Our Missis. “But for +that reason is it not desirable to improve his mind?”</p> +<p>“Oh, nothing will ever improve <i>him</i>,” said Mrs. +Sniff.</p> +<p>“However,” pursued Our Missis, “call him in, Ezekiel.”</p> +<p>I called him in. The appearance of the low-minded cove was +hailed with disapprobation from all sides, on account of his having +brought his corkscrew with him. He pleaded “the force of +habit.”</p> +<p>“The force!” said Mrs. Sniff. “Don’t +let us have you talking about force, for Gracious’ sake. +There! Do stand still where you are, with your back against the +wall.”</p> +<p>He is a smiling piece of vacancy, and he smiled in the mean way in +which he will even smile at the public if he gets a chance (language +can say no meaner of him), and he stood upright near the door with the +back of his head agin the wall, as if he was a waiting for somebody +to come and measure his heighth for the Army.</p> +<p>“I should not enter, ladies,” says Our Missis, “on +the revolting disclosures I am about to make, if it was not in the hope +that they will cause you to be yet more implacable in the exercise of +the power you wield in a constitutional country, and yet more devoted +to the constitutional motto which I see before me,”—it was +behind her, but the words sounded better so,—“‘May +Albion never learn!’”</p> +<p>Here the pupils as had made the motto admired it, and cried, “Hear! +Hear! Hear!” Sniff, showing an inclination to join +in chorus, got himself frowned down by every brow.</p> +<p>“The baseness of the French,” pursued Our Missis, “as +displayed in the fawning nature of their Refreshmenting, equals, if +not surpasses, anythink as was ever heard of the baseness of the celebrated +Bonaparte.”</p> +<p>Miss Whiff, Miss Piff, and me, we drored a heavy breath, equal to +saying, “We thought as much!” Miss Whiff and Miss +Piff seeming to object to my droring mine along with theirs, I drored +another to aggravate ’em.</p> +<p>“Shall I be believed,” says Our Missis, with flashing +eyes, “when I tell you that no sooner had I set my foot upon that +treacherous shore—”</p> +<p>Here Sniff, either bursting out mad, or thinking aloud, says, in +a low voice: “Feet. Plural, you know.”</p> +<p>The cowering that come upon him when he was spurned by all eyes, +added to his being beneath contempt, was sufficient punishment for a +cove so grovelling. In the midst of a silence rendered more impressive +by the turned-up female noses with which it was pervaded, Our Missis +went on:</p> +<p>“Shall I be believed when I tell you, that no sooner had I +landed,” this word with a killing look at Sniff, “on that +treacherous shore, than I was ushered into a Refreshment Room where +there were—I do not exaggerate—actually eatable things to +eat?”</p> +<p>A groan burst from the ladies. I not only did myself the honour +of jining, but also of lengthening it out.</p> +<p>“Where there were,” Our Missis added, “not only +eatable things to eat, but also drinkable things to drink?”</p> +<p>A murmur, swelling almost into a scream, ariz. Miss Piff, trembling +with indignation, called out, “Name?”</p> +<p>“I <i>will</i> name,” said Our Missis. “There +was roast fowls, hot and cold; there was smoking roast veal surrounded +with browned potatoes; there was hot soup with (again I ask shall I +be credited?) nothing bitter in it, and no flour to choke off the consumer; +there was a variety of cold dishes set off with jelly; there was salad; +there was—mark me! <i>fresh</i> pastry, and that of a light construction; +there was a luscious show of fruit; there was bottles and decanters +of sound small wine, of every size, and adapted to every pocket; the +same odious statement will apply to brandy; and these were set out upon +the counter so that all could help themselves.”</p> +<p>Our Missis’s lips so quivered, that Mrs. Sniff, though scarcely +less convulsed than she were, got up and held the tumbler to them.</p> +<p>“This,” proceeds Our Missis, “was my first unconstitutional +experience. Well would it have been if it had been my last and +worst. But no. As I proceeded farther into that enslaved +and ignorant land, its aspect became more hideous. I need not +explain to this assembly the ingredients and formation of the British +Refreshment sangwich?”</p> +<p>Universal laughter,—except from Sniff, who, as sangwich-cutter, +shook his head in a state of the utmost dejection as he stood with it +agin the wall.</p> +<p>“Well!” said Our Missis, with dilated nostrils. +“Take a fresh, crisp, long, crusty penny loaf made of the whitest +and best flour. Cut it longwise through the middle. Insert +a fair and nicely fitting slice of ham. Tie a smart piece of ribbon +round the middle of the whole to bind it together. Add at one +end a neat wrapper of clean white paper by which to hold it. And +the universal French Refreshment sangwich busts on your disgusted vision.”</p> +<p>A cry of “Shame!” from all—except Sniff, which +rubbed his stomach with a soothing hand.</p> +<p>“I need not,” said Our Missis, “explain to this +assembly the usual formation and fitting of the British Refreshment +Room?”</p> +<p>No, no, and laughter. Sniff agin shaking his head in low spirits +agin the wall.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Our Missis, “what would you say to +a general decoration of everythink, to hangings (sometimes elegant), +to easy velvet furniture, to abundance of little tables, to abundance +of little seats, to brisk bright waiters, to great convenience, to a +pervading cleanliness and tastefulness positively addressing the public, +and making the Beast thinking itself worth the pains?”</p> +<p>Contemptuous fury on the part of all the ladies. Mrs. Sniff +looking as if she wanted somebody to hold her, and everbody else looking +as if they’d rayther not.</p> +<p>“Three times,” said Our Missis, working herself into +a truly terrimenjious state,—“three times did I see these +shameful things, only between the coast and Paris, and not counting +either: at Hazebroucke, at Arras, at Amiens. But worse remains. +Tell me, what would you call a person who should propose in England +that there should be kept, say at our own model Mugby Junction, pretty +baskets, each holding an assorted cold lunch and dessert for one, each +at a certain fixed price, and each within a passenger’s power +to take away, to empty in the carriage at perfect leisure, and to return +at another station fifty or a hundred miles farther on?”</p> +<p>There was disagreement what such a person should be called. +Whether revolutionise, atheist, Bright (<i>I</i> said him), or Un-English. +Miss Piff screeched her shrill opinion last, in the words: “A +malignant maniac!”</p> +<p>“I adopt,” says Our Missis, “the brand set upon +such a person by the righteous indignation of my friend Miss Piff. +A malignant maniac. Know, then, that that malignant maniac has +sprung from the congenial soil of France, and that his malignant madness +was in unchecked action on this same part of my journey.”</p> +<p>I noticed that Sniff was a-rubbing his hands, and that Mrs. Sniff +had got her eye upon him. But I did not take more particular notice, +owing to the excited state in which the young ladies was, and to feeling +myself called upon to keep it up with a howl.</p> +<p>“On my experience south of Paris,” said Our Missis, in +a deep tone, “I will not expatiate. Too loathsome were the +task! But fancy this. Fancy a guard coming round, with the +train at full speed, to inquire how many for dinner. Fancy his +telegraphing forward the number of dinners. Fancy every one expected, +and the table elegantly laid for the complete party. Fancy a charming +dinner, in a charming room, and the head-cook, concerned for the honour +of every dish, superintending in his clean white jacket and cap. +Fancy the Beast travelling six hundred miles on end, very fast, and +with great punctuality, yet being taught to expect all this to be done +for it!”</p> +<p>A spirited chorus of “The Beast!”</p> +<p>I noticed that Sniff was agin a-rubbing his stomach with a soothing +hand, and that he had drored up one leg. But agin I didn’t +take particular notice, looking on myself as called upon to stimulate +public feeling. It being a lark besides.</p> +<p>“Putting everything together,” said Our Missis, “French +Refreshmenting comes to this, and oh, it comes to a nice total! +First: eatable things to eat, and drinkable things to drink.”</p> +<p>A groan from the young ladies, kep’ up by me.</p> +<p>“Second: convenience, and even elegance.”</p> +<p>Another groan from the young ladies, kep’ up by me.</p> +<p>“Third: moderate charges.”</p> +<p>This time a groan from me, kep’ up by the young ladies.</p> +<p>“Fourth:—and here,” says Our Missis, “I claim +your angriest sympathy,—attention, common civility, nay, even +politeness!”</p> +<p>Me and the young ladies regularly raging mad all together.</p> +<p>“And I cannot in conclusion,” says Our Missis, with her +spitefullest sneer, “give you a completer pictur of that despicable +nation (after what I have related), than assuring you that they wouldn’t +bear our constitutional ways and noble independence at Mugby Junction, +for a single month, and that they would turn us to the right-about and +put another system in our places, as soon as look at us; perhaps sooner, +for I do not believe they have the good taste to care to look at us +twice.”</p> +<p>The swelling tumult was arrested in its rise. Sniff, bore away +by his servile disposition, had drored up his leg with a higher and +a higher relish, and was now discovered to be waving his corkscrew over +his head. It was at this moment that Mrs. Sniff, who had kep’ +her eye upon him like the fabled obelisk, descended on her victim. +Our Missis followed them both out, and cries was heard in the sawdust +department.</p> +<p>You come into the Down Refreshment Room, at the Junction, making +believe you don’t know me, and I’ll pint you out with my +right thumb over my shoulder which is Our Missis, and which is Miss +Whiff, and which is Miss Piff, and which is Mrs. Sniff. But you +won’t get a chance to see Sniff, because he disappeared that night. +Whether he perished, tore to pieces, I cannot say; but his corkscrew +alone remains, to bear witness to the servility of his disposition.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MUGBY JUNCTION***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 1419-h.htm or 1419-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/1/1419 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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