the idle thoughts of an idle fellow[1].(一个浪子的随想)-第19章
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We felt a strong temptation； at one point； to turn into a village inn as
we passed and have a cheese and a few loaves between us； but we
heroically restrained ourselves： we should enjoy the duck all the better for
being famished。
We fancied we smelled it when we go into the town and did the last
quarter of a mile in three minutes。 We rushed upstairs； and washed
ourselves； and changed our clothes； and came down； and pulled our chairs
up to the table； and sat and rubbed our hands while the landlady removed
the covers； when I seized the knife and fork and started to carve。
It seemed to want a lot of carving。 I struggled with it for about five
minutes without making the slightest impression； and then Joe； who had
been eating potatoes； wanted to know if it wouldn't be better for some one
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THE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW。
to do the job that understood carving。 I took no notice of his foolish
remark； but attacked the bird again； and so vigorously this time that the
animal left the dish and took refuge in the fender。
We soon had it out of that； though； and I was prepared to make another
effort。 But Joe was getting unpleasant。 He said that if he had thought we
were to have a game of blind hockey with the dinner he would have got a
bit of bread and cheese outside。
I was too exhausted to argue。 I laid down the knife and fork with
dignity and took a side seat and Joe went for the wretched creature。 He
worked away in silence for awhile； and then he muttered 〃Damn the duck〃
and took his coat off。
We did break the thing up at length with the aid of a chisel； but it was
perfectly impossible to eat it； and we had to make a dinner off the
vegetables and an apple tart。 We tried a mouthful of the duck； but it was
like eating India…rubber。
It was a wicked sin to kill that drake。 But there！ there's no respect for
old institutions in this country。
I started this paper with the idea of writing about eating and drinking；
but I seem to have confined my remarks entirely to eating as yet。 Well；
you see； drinking is one of those subjects with which it is inadvisable to
appear too well acquainted。 The days are gone by when it was considered
manly to go to bed intoxicated every night； and a clear head and a firm
hand no longer draw down upon their owner the reproach of effeminacy。
On the contrary； in these sadly degenerate days an evil…smelling breath； a
blotchy face； a reeling gait； and a husky voice are regarded as the hall
marks of the cad rather than or the gentleman。
Even nowadays； though； the thirstiness of mankind is something
supernatural。 We are forever drinking on one excuse or another。 A man
never feels comfortable unless he has a glass before him。 We drink before
meals； and with meals； and after meals。 We drink when we meet a friend；
also when we part from a friend。 We drink when we are talking； when we
are reading； and when we are thinking。 We drink one another's healths and
spoil our own。 We drink the queen； and the army； and the ladies； and
everybody else that is drinkable； and I believe if the supply ran short we
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THE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW。
should drink our mothers…in…law。
By the way； we never eat anybody's health； always drink it。 Why
should we not stand up now and then and eat a tart to somebody's success？
To me； I confess the constant necessity of drinking under which the
majority of men labor is quite unaccountable。 I can understand people
drinking to drown care or to drive away maddening thoughts well enough。
I can understand the ignorant masses loving to soak themselves in drink
oh； yes； it's very shocking that they should； of coursevery shocking to us
who live in cozy homes； with all the graces and pleasures of life around us；
that the dwellers in damp cellars and windy attics should creep from their
dens of misery into the warmth and glare of the public…house bar； and seek
to float for a brief space away from their dull world upon a Lethe stream
of gin。
But think； before you hold up your hands in horror at their ill…living；
what 〃life〃 for these wretched creatures really means。 Picture the squalid
misery of their brutish existence； dragged on from year to year in the
narrow； noisome room where； huddled like vermin in sewers； they welter；
and sicken； and sleep； where dirt…grimed children scream and fight and
sluttish； shrill…voiced women cuff； and curse； and nag； where the street
outside teems with roaring filth and the house around is a bedlam of riot
and stench。
Think what a sapless stick this fair flower of life must be to them；
devoid of mind and soul。 The horse in his stall scents the sweet hay and
munches the ripe corn contentedly。 The watch…dog in his kennel blinks at
the grateful sun； dreams of a glorious chase over the dewy fields； and
wakes with a yelp of gladness to greet a caressing hand。 But the clod…like
life of these human logs never knows one ray of light。 From the hour when
they crawl from their comfortless bed to the hour when they lounge back
into it again they never live one moment of real life。 Recreation；
amusement； companionship； they know not the meaning of。 Joy； sorrow；
laughter； tears； love； friendship； longing； despair； are idle words to them。
From the day when their baby eyes first look out upon their sordid world
to the day when； with an oath； they close them forever and their bones are
shoveled out of sight； they never warm to one touch of human sympathy；
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THE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW。
never thrill to a single thought； never start to a single hope。 In the name of
the God of mercy； let them pour the maddening liquor down their throats
and feel for one brief moment that they live！
Ah！ we may talk sentiment as much as we like； but the stomach is the
real seat of happiness in this world。 The kitchen is the chief temple
wherein we worship； its roaring fire is our vestal flame； and the cook is
our great high…priest。 He is a mighty magician and a kindly one。 He
soothes away all sorrow and care。 He drives forth all enmity； gladdens all
love。 Our God is great and the cook is his prophet。 Let us eat； drink； and
be merry。
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THE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW。
ON FURNISHED APARTMENTS。
〃Oh； you have some rooms to let。〃
〃Mother！〃
〃Well； what is it？〃
〃'Ere's a gentleman about the rooms。〃
〃Ask 'im in。 I'll be up in a minute。〃
〃Will yer step inside； sir？ Mother'll be up in a minute。〃
So you step inside and after a minute 〃mother〃 comes slowly up the
kitchen stairs； untying her apron as she comes and calling down
instructions to some one below about the potatoes。
〃Good…morning； sir；〃 says 〃mother；〃 with a washed…out smile。 〃Will
you step this way； please？〃
〃Oh； it's hardly worth while my coming up；〃 you say。 〃What sort of
rooms are they； and how much？〃
〃Well；〃 says the landlady； 〃if you'll step upstairs I'll show them to
you。〃
So with a protesting murmur； meant to imply that any waste of time
complained of hereafter must not be laid to your charge； you follow
〃mother〃 upstairs。
At the first landing you run up against a pail and a broom； whereupon
〃mother〃 expatiates upon the unreliability of servant…girls； and bawls over
the balusters for Sarah to come and take them away at once。 When you get
outside the rooms she pauses； with her hand upon the door； to explain to
you that they are rather untidy just at present； as the last lodger left only
yesterday； and she also adds that this is their cleaning…dayit always is。
With this understanding you enter； and both stand solemnly feasting your
eyes upon the scene before you。 The rooms cannot be said to appear
inviting。 Even 〃mother's〃 face betrays no admiration。 Untenanted
〃furnished apartments〃 viewed in the morning sunlight do not inspire
cheery sensations。 There is a lifeless air about them。 It is a very different
thing when you have settled down and are living in them。 With your old
familiar household gods to greet your gaze whenever you glance up； and
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THE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW。
all your little knick…knacks spread around youwith the photos of all the
girls that you have loved and lost ranged upon the mantel…piece； and half a
dozen disreputable…looking pipes scattered about in painfully prominent
positionswith one carpet slipper peeping from beneath the coal…box and
the other perched on the top of the pianowith the well…known pictures to
hide the dingy walls； and these dear old friends； your books； higgledy…
piggledy all over the placewith the bits of old blue china that your
mother prized； and the screen she worked in those far by…gone days； when
the sweet old face was laughing and young； and the white soft hair
tumbled in gold…brown curls from under the coal…scuttle bonnet
Ah； old screen； what a gorgeous personage you must have been in your
young days； when the tulips and roses and lilies （all growing from one
stem） were fresh in their glistening sheen！ Many a summer and winter
have come and gone since then； my friend； and you have played with the
dancing firelight until you have grown sad and gray。 Your brilliant colors
are fast fading now； and the envious moths have gnawed your silken
threads。 You are withering away like the dead hands that wove you。 Do
you ever think of those dead hands？ You seem so grave and thoughtful
sometimes that I almost think
