idle thoughts of an idle fellow-第16章

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nly　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　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　drinkoh；　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；　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。



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　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　you　do。　　Come；　you　and　I　and　the　deep…glowing　embers；　let　us　talk　together。　　Tell　me　in　your　silent　language　what　you　remember　of　those　young　days；　when　you　lay　on　my　little　mother's　lap　and　her　girlish　fingers　played　with　your　rainbow　tresses。　　Was　there　never　a　lad　near　sometimesnever　a　lad　who　would　seize　one　of　those　little　hands　to　smother　it　with　kisses；　and　who　would　persist　in　holding　it；　thereby　sadly　interfering　with　the　progress　of　your　making？　　Was　not　your　frail　existence　often　put　in　jeopardy　by　this　same　clumsy；　headstrong　lad；　who　would　toss　you　disrespectfully　aside　that　henot　satisfied　with　onemight　hold　both　hands　and　gaze　up　into　the　loved　eyes？　　I　can　see　that　lad　now　through　the　haze　of　the　flickering　twilight。　　He　is　an　eager　bright…eyed　boy；　with　pinching；　dandy　shoes　and　tight…fitting　smalls；　snowy　shirt　frill　and　stock；　andoh！　such　curly　hair。　　A　wild；　light…hearted　boy！　　Can　he　be　the　great；　grave　gentleman　upon　whose　stick　I　used　to　ride　crosslegged；　the　care…worn　man　into　whose　thoughtful　face　I　used　to　gaze　with　childish　reverence　and　whom　I　used　to　call　〃father？〃　　You　say　〃yes；〃　old　screen；　but　are　you　quite　sure？　　It　is　a　serious　charge　you　are　bringing。　　Can　it　be　possible？　　Did　he　have　to　kneel　down　in　those　wonderful　smalls　and　pick　you　up　and　rearrange　you　before　he　was　forgiven　and　his　curly　head　smoothed　by　my　mother's　little　hand？　　Ah！　old　screen；　and　did　the　lads　and　the　lassies　go　making　love　fifty　years　ago　just　as　they　do　now？　　Are　men　and　women　so　unchanged？　　Did　little　maidens'　hearts　beat　the　same　under　pearl…embroidered　bodices　as　they　do　under　Mother　Hubbard　cloaks？　　Have　steel　casques　and　chimney…pot　hats　made　no　difference　to　the　brains　that　work　beneath　them？　　Oh；　Time！　great　Chronos！　and　is　this　your　power？　　Have　you　dried　up　seas　and　leveled　mountains　and　left　the　tiny　human　heart…strings　to　defy　you？　　Ah；　yes！　they　were　spun　by　a　Mightier　than　thou；　and　they　stretch　beyond　your　narrow　ken；　for　their　ends　are　made　fast　in　eternity。　　Ay；　you　may　mow　down　the　leaves　and　the　blossoms；　but　the　roots　of　life　lie　too　deep　for　your　sickle　to　sever。　　You　refashion　Nature's　garments；　but　you　cannot　vary　by　a　jot　the　throbbings　of　her　pulse。　　The　world　rolls　round　obedient　to　your　laws；　but　the　heart　of　man　is　not　of　your　kingdom；　for　in　its　birthplace　〃a　thousand　years　are　but　as　yesterday。〃

I　am　getting　away；　though；　I　fear；　from　my　〃furnished　apartments；〃　and　I　hardly　know　how　to　get　back。　　But　I　have　some　excuse　for　my　meanderings　this　time。　　It　is　a　piece　of　old　furniture　that　has　led　me　astray；　and　fancies　gather；　somehow；　round　old　furniture；　like　moss　around　old　stones。　　One's　chairs　and　tables　get　to　be　almost　part　of　one's　life　and　to　seem　like　quiet　friends。　　What　strange　tales　the　wooden…headed　old　fellows　could　tell　did　they　but　choose　to　speak！　　At　what　unsuspected　comedies　and　tragedies　have　they　not　assisted！　　What　bitter　tears　have　been　sobbed　into　that　old　sofa　cushion！　　What　passionate　whisperings　the　settee　must　have　overheard！

New　furniture　has　no　charms　for　me　compared　with　old。　　It　is　the　old　things　that　we　lovethe　old　faces；　the　old　books；　the　old　jokes。　　New　furniture　can　make　a　palace；　but　it　takes　old　furniture　to　make　a　home。　　Not　merely　old　in　itselflodging…house　furniture　generally　is　thatbut　it　must　be　old　to　us；　old　in　associations　and　recollections。　The　furniture　of　furnished　apartments；　however　ancient　it　may　be　in　reality；　is　new　to　our　eyes；　and　we　feel　as　though　we　could　never　get　on　with　it。　　As；　too；　in　the　case　of　all　fresh　acquaintances；　whether　wooden　or　human　（and　there　is　very　little　difference　between　the　two　species　sometimes）；　everything　impresses　you　with　its　worst　aspect。　The　knobby　wood…work　and　shiny　horse…hair　covering　of　the　easy…chair　suggest　anything　but　ease。　　The　mirror　is　smoky。　　The　curtains　want　washing。　　The　carpet　is　frayed。　　The　table　looks　as　if　it　would　go　over　the　instant　anything　was　rested　on　it。　　The　grate　is　cheerless；　the　wall…paper　hideous。　　The　ceiling　appears　to　have　had　coffee　spilt　all　over　it；　and　the　ornamentswell；　they　are　worse　than　the　wallpaper。

There　must　surely　be　some　special　and　secret　manufactory　for　the　production　of　lodging…house　ornaments。　　Precisely　the　same　articles　are　to　be　found　at　every　lodging…house　all　over　the　kingdom；　and　they