COMPULSORY6 DRINKING STATION
Adults, 1 quart
Children, 1 pint7
THIRST FORBIDDEN BETWEEN HERE AND THE NEXT STATION
Under the eye of an armed chuff, who watched them suspiciously, the wretched wanderers drank the water in silence, but without enthusiasm. Then they shuffled8 on down the road.
At the front of the small procession a slender girl, in a much-stained sports suit, rode on a tall black horse. Beside the horse trudged9 a bulky man in a grotesque10 garb11 of dirty lavender quilting. A matted whisk of coarse beard drooped12 from his chin, but his blue eyes burned brightly in his sunburnt face. Over his shoulder he carried a six foot length of brass13 railing, a small folding table, and a shabby knapsack.
Behind the horse limped a lean, dyspeptic-colored individual in a Palm Beach suit that would have been a social death-warrant on the shining sands of its name-place. There is no form of sartorialism that takes on such utter humility14 as a Palm Beach suit gone wrong. This particular vestment was spotted15 with ink, with mud, with fruit-juices, with every kind of stain; it was punctured16 with perforations that might have been due to fallen tobacco tinder. The individual within this travesty17 of clothing was painfully propelling a wheelbarrow, in which rode (not without complaint) a substantial woman and a baby. An older child trailed from the Palm Beach coat-tail.
These jovial18 vagabonds, as the reader will have suspected, were no other than Theodolinda Chuff, Virgil Quimbleton, and the family of Bleaks.
Affairs had gone steadily20 from bad to worse. After the incident—or, as some blasphemously21 called it, the miracle—at Cana, Bishop22 Chuff had commenced ruthless warfare23. Enraged24 beyond control by the perfidy25 of his daughter, he had sent out the armies of the Pan-Antis to wreak26 vengeance27 on every human enterprise that could be suspected of complicity in the matter of fermentation. Not only had the countryside been laid waste, but the printing press had been abolished and all publishing trades were now a thing of the past. This, of course, had thrown Dunraven Bleak19 out of a job. He had retrieved28 his wife and children from the seashore, and in company with Quimbleton and Miss Chuff, and the noble and faithful horse John Barleycorn, they had led a nomad29 existence for weeks, flying from bands of pursuing chuffs, and bravely preaching their illicit30 gospel of good cheer in the face of terrible dangers.
The girl, who was indeed the Jeanne d'Arc of their cause, was their sole means of subsistence. It was her psychic31 powers that made it possible for them, in a furtive32 way, to give their little entertainments. Their method was, on reaching a village where there were no chuff troops, to distribute certain handbills which Bleak had been able to get printed by stealth. These read thus:
THE SIX QUIMBLETONS or The Decanterbury Pilgrims In Their Artistic33 Revival34 Of Old and Entertaining Customs, Tableaux35 Vivants Vanished Arts, Folklore36 Games and Conjuring37 Tricks Such as The Drinking of Healths, Toasts, Nosepainting, The Lifted Elbow, Let's Match For It, Say When, Light or Dark? and This One's On Me. COMMunion WITH DEPARTED SPIRITS Please Do Not Leave Before the Hat Goes Round
Having taken their station in some not too prominent place, Bleak would mount the wheelbarrow and play Coming Through the Rye on a jew's-harp. This, his sole musical accomplishment38, was exceedingly distasteful to him: all his training had been in the anonymity39 of a newspaper office, and he felt his public humiliation40 bitterly.
When a crowd had gathered, Quimbleton would ascend41 the barrow and make a brief speech (of a highly inflammatory and treasonable nature) after which he would set up the small table and the brass rail, produce a white apron42 and a tumbler from his knapsack, and introduce Theodolinda for an alcoholic43 trance. It was found that the public entered into the spirit of these seances with great gusto, and often the collection taken up was gratifyingly large. However, the life was hazardous44 in the extreme, and they were in perpetual danger of meeting secret service agents. It was only by repeated private trances of their own that they were able to keep up their morale45.
Reaching a bend in the way, where a grove46 of trees cast a grateful shade, the Decanterbury Pilgrims halted to rest. Quimbleton helped Theodolinda down from her horse, and they all sat sadly by the roadside.
"Theo," said Quimbleton, as he wiped his brow, "do you think, dear, that if I set up the table you could give us a little trance? Upon my soul, I am nearly done in."
"Darling Virgil," said Theodolinda, "I really can't do it. You know I've given you four trances already this morning, and you have communed with the soul of Wurzburger at least a dozen times. Then, as you know, I have put Mr. Bleak in touch with a julep six or seven times. All that takes it out of me dreadfully. I really must consider my art a bit: I don't want to be a mere47 psychic bartender, a clairvoyant48 distiller."
"You are quite right, dear girl," said Quimbleton remorsefully50. "But I couldn't help thinking how agreeable a psychical51 seidel of dark beer would be just now. You are our little Jeanne Dark, you know," he added, with an atrocious attempt at pleasantry.
"That's all very well," said Bleak (who preferred julep to beer), "but if we don't look out Miss Chuff will go into a permanent trance. I've noticed it has been harder and harder to bring her back from these states of suspended sobriety. You know, if we crowd these phantasms of the grape upon her too fast, she might pass over altogether, and stay behind the bar for good. We are deeply indebted to Miss Chuff for her adorable willingness to act as a kind of bunghole into the spirit world, but we don't want her to slip through the hole and evaporate."
"Safety thirst!" cried Quimbleton, raising his loved one to his lips.
"We can't go on like this indefinitely," continued Bleak. "I don't mind being a mountebank52, but mountebanks don't pay much interest. I'd rather be a safe deposit somewhere out of Chuff's reach. There's too much drama in this way of living."
"I can stand the drama as long as I get the drams," said the unrepentant Quimbleton.
"Well, I won't stand it!" exclaimed Mrs. Bleak, shrilly53. "Look what your insane schemes have brought us to! You and my husband seem to find comfort in your psychical toping, but I don't notice any psychical millinery being draped about for Miss Chuff or myself. And look at the children! They're simply in rags. If you really loved Miss Chuff I should think you'd be ashamed to use her as a spiritual demijohn! You've alienated54 her from her father, and reduced my husband from managing editor of a leading paper to managing jew's-harpist of a gang of psychic bootleggers." She burst into angry tears.
Quimbleton groaned55, and turned a ghastly fade upon Bleak.
"It's quite true," he said.
In the excitement Miss Chuff had turned very pale.
"Virgil," she said faintly, "I believe I feel a trance coming on."
"Great grief!" cried the harassed56 leader. "Not now, my darling! I think I see some troops in the distance. Quick, try to concentrate your mind on lemonade, on buttermilk, on beef tea!"
Happily this crisis passed. Theodolinda had presence of mind enough to pull out a little photograph of her father from some secret hiding place, and by putting her mind on it shook off the dominion57 of the other world.
Quimbleton spoke58 with anguished59 remorse49.
"Mrs. Bleak is right. I've been trying to hide it from myself, but I can do so no longer. This monkey business—what we might call this gorilla60 warfare—must stop. We will only land in front of a firing squad61. I have only one idea, which I have been saving in case all else failed."
The Bleaks were too discouraged to comment, but Theodolinda smiled bravely.
"Virgil dear," she said, "your ideas are always so original. What is it?"
Quimbleton stood up, unconsciously putting one foot on the portable brass rail which rested on its six-inch legs by the roadside. His tired eyes shone anew with characteristic enthusiasm. It was plain that he imagined himself before a large and sympathetic audience.
"My friends," he said, "the secret of eloquence62 is to know your facts—or, as the all-powerful Chuff would amend63 it, to know your tracts64. One fact, I think I may say, is plain. The jig65 is up, or (more literally), the jag is up. I can see now that alcohol will never be more than a memory. Principalities and powers are in league against us. If the malt has lost its favor, wherewith shall it be malted?"
He paused a moment, as though expecting a little applause, and Theodolinda murmured an encouraging "Here, here."
With rekindled66 eye he resumed.
"Alcohol, I say, will never be more than a memory. Yet even a memory must be kept alive. The great tradition must not die. For the very sake of antiquarian accuracy, for the instruction of posterity67, some exact record must be kept of the influence of alcohol upon the human soul. How can this be preserved? Not in books, not in the dead mummies of a museum. No, not in dead mummies, indeed, but in living rummies. That brings me to my great idea, which I have long cherished.
"I propose, my dear friends, that in some appropriate shrine68, surrounded by all the authentic69 trappings and utensils70, some chosen individual be maintained at the public charge, to exhibit for the contemplation of a drouthing world the immortal71 flame of intoxication72. He will be known, without soft concealments, as the Perpetual Souse. In his little bar, served by austere73 attendants, he will be kept in a state of gentle exhilaration. Nothing gross, nothing unseemly, I insist! In that state of sweetly glowing mind and heart, in that ineffable74 blossoming of all the nobler qualities of human dignity, this priest of alcohol will represent and perpetuate75 the virtues76 of the grape. Booze, in the general sense, will have gone West, but ah how fair and ruddy a sunset will it have in the person of this its vicar! There he will live, visited, studied, revered77, a living memorial. There he will live, perpetually in a mellow78 fume79 of bliss80, trailing clouds of glory, as if—as some poet says,
As if his whole vocation81
Were endless intoxication.
And now, my friends—not to weary you with the minor82 details of this far-reaching proposal—let me come to the point. For so gravely responsible a post, for an office so representative of the ideals and ambitions of millions, the choice cannot be cast haphazard83. The choice must fall upon one qualified84, confirmed, consecrated85 to this end. This deeply significant office must be conferred by the people themselves. It must be conferred by popular election. Candidates must be nominated, must stump86 the country explaining their qualifications. And let me say that, upon looking over the whole field, I see one man, who by the jury of his peers—or shall I say by the jury of his beers?—is supremely87 fitted for this post. It is my intention to nominate Mr. Dunraven Bleak for the office of Perpetual Souse."
There was a moment of complete silence while his hearers considered the vast scope of this remarkable88 suggestion. It is only fair to say that Mr. Bleak's face had at first lighted up, but then he glanced at his wife and his countenance89 grew pinched. He spoke hastily:
"A very generous thought, my dear fellow; but I feel that you would be far more competent for this form of public service than I could hope to be."
"Your modesty90 does you credit," replied Quimbleton, "but you forget that owing to my relation with Miss Chuff I shall happily be precluded91 from the necessity of entering public life for this purpose."
"And what, pray," said Mrs. Bleak with distinct asperity92, "is to become of me and the children if Mr. Bleak is elected to this preposterous93 office?"
"I was coming to that," said Quimbleton eagerly. "It would be arranged, of course, that the Perpetual Souse would be granted a liberal salary for his family expenses; you and your delightful94 children would be maintained at the public expense in a suitable bungalow95 nearby, with a private family entrance into the official cellars. Your rank, of course, would be that of Perpetual Spouse96."
"My good Quimbleton," said Bleak, somewhat bitterly, "this is a fascinating vision indeed, but how can it be accomplished97? How would you ever get such a scheme accepted by Bishop Chuff, who will never forgive you for kidnaping his daughter? You are building bar-rooms in Spain, my dear chap; you are blowing mere soap-bubbles."
"And why not?" cried his friend. "Bishop Chuff has called me a soap-box orator98. At any rate, a man who stands upon a soap-box is nearer heaven by several inches than the man who stands upon the ground."
Theodolinda's face sparkled with the impact of an idea.
"Come," she said, "it's not impossible after all. I have a thought. We'll offer Father an armistice99 and talk things over with him. He doesn't know what straits we're in, and maybe we can bring him to terms. He was very badly scared by those gooseberry bombs, and maybe we can bluff100 him into a concession101."
"If we had had any luck," said Quimbleton, "we would have blown him into a concussion102. But anyway, that's a bonny scheme. We'll grant him a truce103. Bleak, you're a newspaper man, just get hold of the United Press and let them know the armistice is signed."
Bleak smiled wanly104 at the thrust.
"All right," he said. "Let's go. But what's your idea, Miss Chuff? We must have something to base negotiations105 on."
"Wait and see," she cried gayly. "We'll talk it over as we go along."
Mrs. Bleak aroused her children, who had fallen asleep, and climbed back into the wheelbarrow.
"I don't know that I approve of that scheme of making Dunraven the Perpetual Souse," she remarked. "I can imagine what my poor mother would say about it if she were living. She came of fine old Kentucky stock, and it would humiliate106 her deeply to know to what a level we had been reduced."
"My dear Mrs. Bleak," said Quimbleton, as he hoisted107 his betrothed108 into the saddle and the pilgrims began to move, "I know of a great deal of good old Kentucky stock that has had a far worse fate than that in these tragic109 years."
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1
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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2
devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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3
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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4
orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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uprooted
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| v.把（某物）连根拔起( uproot的过去式和过去分词 )；根除；赶走；把…赶出家园 | |
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6
compulsory
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| n.强制的，必修的；规定的，义务的 | |
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pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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8
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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9
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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10
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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11
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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12
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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14
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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15
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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16
punctured
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| v.在（某物）上穿孔( puncture的过去式和过去分词 )；刺穿（某物）；削弱（某人的傲气、信心等）；泄某人的气 | |
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17
travesty
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| n.歪曲，嘲弄，滑稽化 | |
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18
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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19
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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20
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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21
blasphemously
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22
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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23
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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24
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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25
perfidy
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| n.背信弃义，不忠贞 | |
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26
wreak
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| v.发泄；报复 | |
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27
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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28
retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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29
nomad
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| n.游牧部落的人，流浪者，游牧民 | |
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30
illicit
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| adj.非法的，禁止的，不正当的 | |
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31
psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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32
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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33
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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34
revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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35
tableaux
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| n.舞台造型，（由活人扮演的）静态画面、场面；人构成的画面或场景( tableau的名词复数 )；舞台造型；戏剧性的场面；绚丽的场景 | |
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36
folklore
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| n.民间信仰，民间传说，民俗 | |
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37
conjuring
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| n.魔术 | |
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38
accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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39
anonymity
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| n.the condition of being anonymous | |
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40
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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41
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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42
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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43
alcoholic
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| adj.（含）酒精的，由酒精引起的；n.酗酒者 | |
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44
hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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45
morale
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| n.道德准则，士气，斗志 | |
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46
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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47
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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48
clairvoyant
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| adj.有预见的；n.有预见的人 | |
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49
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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50
remorsefully
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| adv.极为懊悔地 | |
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51
psychical
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| adj.有关特异功能现象的；有关特异功能官能的；灵魂的；心灵的 | |
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52
mountebank
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| n.江湖郎中；骗子 | |
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53
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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54
alienated
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| adj.感到孤独的，不合群的v.使疏远( alienate的过去式和过去分词 )；使不友好；转让；让渡（财产等） | |
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55
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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56
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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57
dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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58
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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59
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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60
gorilla
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| n.大猩猩，暴徒，打手 | |
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61
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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62
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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63
amend
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| vt.修改，修订，改进；n.[pl.]赔罪，赔偿 | |
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64
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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65
jig
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| n.快步舞（曲）；v.上下晃动；用夹具辅助加工；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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66
rekindled
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| v.使再燃( rekindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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68
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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utensils
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| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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perpetuate
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| v.使永存，使永记不忘 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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fume
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| n.(usu pl.)(浓烈或难闻的)烟，气，汽 | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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haphazard
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| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
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qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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precluded
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| v.阻止( preclude的过去式和过去分词 )；排除；妨碍；使…行不通 | |
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asperity
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| n.粗鲁，艰苦 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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armistice
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| n.休战，停战协定 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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concussion
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| n.脑震荡；震动 | |
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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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wanly
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| adv.虚弱地；苍白地，无血色地 | |
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negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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humiliate
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| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
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hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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