He had established his right to the corner, by imperceptible prescription8. He had never varied9 his ground an inch, but had in the beginning diffidently taken the corner upon which the side of the house gave. A howling corner in the winter time, a dusty corner in the summer time, an undesirable11 corner at the best of times. Shelterless fragments of straw and paper got up revolving12 storms there, when the main street was at peace; and the watercart, as if it were drunk or short-sighted, came blundering and jolting13 round it, making it muddy when all else was clean.
On the front of his sale-board hung a little placard, like a kettleholder, bearing the inscription14 in his own small text:
Errands gone
On with fi
Delity By
Ladies and Gentlemen
I remain
Your humble15 Servt:
Silas Wegg
He had not only settled it with himself in course of time, that he was errand-goer by appointment to the house at the corner (though he received such commissions not half a dozen times in a year, and then only as some servant’s deputy), but also that he was one of the house’s retainers and owed vassalage16 to it and was bound to leal and loyal interest in it. For this reason, he always spoke17 of it as ‘Our House,’ and, though his knowledge of its affairs was mostly speculative18 and all wrong, claimed to be in its confidence. On similar grounds he never beheld19 an inmate20 at any one of its windows but he touched his hat. Yet, he knew so little about the inmates21 that he gave them names of his own invention: as ‘Miss Elizabeth’, ‘Master George’, ‘Aunt Jane’, ‘Uncle Parker ‘— having no authority whatever for any such designations, but particularly the last — to which, as a natural consequence, he stuck with great obstinacy22.
Over the house itself, he exercised the same imaginary power as over its inhabitants and their affairs. He had never been in it, the length of a piece of fat black water-pipe which trailed itself over the area-door into a damp stone passage, and had rather the air of a leech23 on the house that had ‘taken’ wonderfully; but this was no impediment to his arranging it according to a plan of his own. It was a great dingy24 house with a quantity of dim side window and blank back premises25, and it cost his mind a world of trouble so to lay it out as to account for everything in its external appearance. But, this once done, was quite satisfactory, and he rested persuaded, that he knew his way about the house blindfold26: from the barred garrets in the high roof, to the two iron extinguishers before the main door — which seemed to request all lively visitors to have the kindness to put themselves out, before entering.
Assuredly, this stall of Silas Wegg’s was the hardest little stall of all the sterile27 little stalls in London. It gave you the face-ache to look at his apples, the stomach-ache to look at his oranges, the tooth-ache to look at his nuts. Of the latter commodity he had always a grim little heap, on which lay a little wooden measure which had no discernible inside, and was considered to represent the penn’orth appointed by Magna Charta. Whether from too much east wind or no — it was an easterly corner — the stall, the stock, and the keeper, were all as dry as the Desert. Wegg was a knotty29 man, and a close-grained, with a face carved out of very hard material, that had just as much play of expression as a watchman’s rattle30. When he laughed, certain jerks occurred in it, and the rattle sprung. Sooth to say, he was so wooden a man that he seemed to have taken his wooden leg naturally, and rather suggested to the fanciful observer, that he might be expected — if his development received no untimely check — to be completely set up with a pair of wooden legs in about six months.
Mr Wegg was an observant person, or, as he himself said, ‘took a powerful sight of notice’. He saluted31 all his regular passers-by every day, as he sat on his stool backed up by the lamp-post; and on the adaptable33 character of these salutes34 he greatly plumed35 himself. Thus, to the rector, he addressed a bow, compounded of lay deference36, and a slight touch of the shady preliminary meditation37 at church; to the doctor, a confidential38 bow, as to a gentleman whose acquaintance with his inside he begged respectfully to acknowledge; before the Quality he delighted to abase39 himself; and for Uncle Parker, who was in the army (at least, so he had settled it), he put his open hand to the side of his hat, in a military manner which that angry-eyed buttoned-up inflammatory-faced old gentleman appeared but imperfectly to appreciate.
The only article in which Silas dealt, that was not hard, was gingerbread. On a certain day, some wretched infant having purchased the damp gingerbread-horse (fearfully out of condition), and the adhesive40 bird-cage, which had been exposed for the day’s sale, he had taken a tin box from under his stool to produce a relay of those dreadful specimens41, and was going to look in at the lid, when he said to himself, pausing: ‘Oh! Here you are again!’
The words referred to a broad, round-shouldered, one-sided old fellow in mourning, coming comically ambling42 towards the corner, dressed in a pea over-coat, and carrying a large stick. He wore thick shoes, and thick leather gaiters, and thick gloves like a hedger’s. Both as to his dress and to himself, he was of an overlapping43 rhinoceros44 build, with folds in his cheeks, and his forehead, and his eyelids45, and his lips, and his ears; but with bright, eager, childishly-inquiring, grey eyes, under his ragged46 eyebrows47, and broad-brimmed hat. A very odd-looking old fellow altogether.
‘Here you are again,’ repeated Mr Wegg, musing48. ‘And what are you now? Are you in the Funns, or where are you? Have you lately come to settle in this neighbourhood, or do you own to another neighbourhood? Are you in independent circumstances, or is it wasting the motions of a bow on you? Come! I’ll speculate! I’ll invest a bow in you.’
Which Mr Wegg, having replaced his tin box, accordingly did, as he rose to bait his gingerbread-trap for some other devoted49 infant. The salute32 was acknowledged with:
‘Morning, sir! Morning! Morning!’
(’Calls me Sir!’ said Mr Wegg, to himself; ‘HE won’t answer. A bow gone!’)
‘Morning, morning, morning!’
‘Appears to be rather a ‘arty old cock, too,’ said Mr Wegg, as before; ‘Good morning to YOU, sir.’
‘Do you remember me, then?’ asked his new acquaintance, stopping in his amble50, one-sided, before the stall, and speaking in a pounding way, though with great good-humour.
‘I have noticed you go past our house, sir, several times in the course of the last week or so.’
‘Our house,’ repeated the other. ‘Meaning —?’
‘Yes,’ said Mr Wegg, nodding, as the other pointed28 the clumsy forefinger51 of his right glove at the corner house.
‘Oh! Now, what,’ pursued the old fellow, in an inquisitive52 manner, carrying his knotted stick in his left arm as if it were a baby, ‘what do they allow you now?’
‘It’s job work that I do for our house,’ returned Silas, drily, and with reticence53; ‘it’s not yet brought to an exact allowance.’
‘Oh! It’s not yet brought to an exact allowance? No! It’s not yet brought to an exact allowance. Oh! — Morning, morning, morning!’
‘Appears to be rather a cracked old cock,’ thought Silas, qualifying his former good opinion, as the other ambled54 off. But, in a moment he was back again with the question:
‘How did you get your wooden leg?’
Mr Wegg replied, (tartly to this personal inquiry), ‘In an accident.’
‘Do you like it?’
‘Well! I haven’t got to keep it warm,’ Mr Wegg made answer, in a sort of desperation occasioned by the singularity of the question.
‘He hasn’t,’ repeated the other to his knotted stick, as he gave it a hug; ‘he hasn’t got — ha! — ha! — to keep it warm! Did you ever hear of the name of Boffin?’
‘No,’ said Mr Wegg, who was growing restive55 under this examination. ‘I never did hear of the name of Boffin.’
‘Do you like it?’
‘Why, no,’ retorted Mr Wegg, again approaching desperation; ‘I can’t say I do.’
‘Why don’t you like it?’
‘I don’t know why I don’t,’ retorted Mr Wegg, approaching frenzy56, ‘but I don’t at all.’
‘Now, I’ll tell you something that’ll make you sorry for that,’ said the stranger, smiling. ‘My name’s Boffin.’
‘I can’t help it!’ returned Mr Wegg. Implying in his manner the offensive addition, ‘and if I could, I wouldn’t.’
‘But there’s another chance for you,’ said Mr Boffin, smiling still, ‘Do you like the name of Nicodemus? Think it over. Nick, or Noddy.’
‘It is not, sir,’ Mr Wegg rejoined, as he sat down on his stool, with an air of gentle resignation, combined with melancholy57 candour; it is not a name as I could wish any one that I had a respect for, to call ME by; but there may be persons that would not view it with the same objections. — I don’t know why,’ Mr Wegg added, anticipating another question.
‘Noddy Boffin,’ said that gentleman. ‘Noddy. That’s my name. Noddy — or Nick — Boffin. What’s your name?’
‘Silas Wegg. — I don’t,’ said Mr Wegg, bestirring himself to take the same precaution as before, ‘I don’t know why Silas, and I don’t know why Wegg.’
‘Now, Wegg,’ said Mr Boffin, hugging his stick closer, ‘I want to make a sort of offer to you. Do you remember when you first see me?’
The wooden Wegg looked at him with a meditative58 eye, and also with a softened59 air as descrying60 possibility of profit. ‘Let me think. I ain’t quite sure, and yet I generally take a powerful sight of notice, too. Was it on a Monday morning, when the butcher-boy had been to our house for orders, and bought a ballad3 of me, which, being unacquainted with the tune61, I run it over to him?’
‘Right, Wegg, right! But he bought more than one.’
‘Yes, to be sure, sir; he bought several; and wishing to lay out his money to the best, he took my opinion to guide his choice, and we went over the collection together. To be sure we did. Here was him as it might be, and here was myself as it might be, and there was you, Mr Boffin, as you identically are, with your self-same stick under your very same arm, and your very same back towards us. To — be — sure!’ added Mr Wegg, looking a little round Mr Boffin, to take him in the rear, and identify this last extraordinary coincidence, ‘your wery self-same back!’
‘What do you think I was doing, Wegg?’
‘I should judge, sir, that you might be glancing your eye down the street.’
‘No, Wegg. I was a listening.’
‘Was you, indeed?’ said Mr Wegg, dubiously62.
‘Not in a dishonourable way, Wegg, because you was singing to the butcher; and you wouldn’t sing secrets to a butcher in the street, you know.’
‘It never happened that I did so yet, to the best of my remembrance,’ said Mr Wegg, cautiously. ‘But I might do it. A man can’t say what he might wish to do some day or another.’ (This, not to release any little advantage he might derive63 from Mr Boffin’s avowal64.)
‘Well,’ repeated Boffin, ‘I was a listening to you and to him. And what do you — you haven’t got another stool, have you? I’m rather thick in my breath.’
‘I haven’t got another, but you’re welcome to this,’ said Wegg, resigning it. ‘It’s a treat to me to stand.’
‘Lard!’ exclaimed Mr Boffin, in a tone of great enjoyment65, as he settled himself down, still nursing his stick like a baby, ‘it’s a pleasant place, this! And then to be shut in on each side, with these ballads, like so many book-leaf blinkers! Why, its delightful66!’
‘If I am not mistaken, sir,’ Mr Wegg delicately hinted, resting a hand on his stall, and bending over the discursive67 Boffin, ‘you alluded68 to some offer or another that was in your mind?’
‘I’m coming to it! All right. I’m coming to it! I was going to say that when I listened that morning, I listened with hadmiration amounting to haw. I thought to myself, “Here’s a man with a wooden leg — a literary man with —”’
‘N— not exactly so, sir,’ said Mr Wegg.
‘Why, you know every one of these songs by name and by tune, and if you want to read or to sing any one on ‘em off straight, you’ve only to whip on your spectacles and do it!’ cried Mr Boffin. ‘I see you at it!’
‘Well, sir,’ returned Mr Wegg, with a conscious inclination69 of the head; ‘we’ll say literary, then.’
‘”A literary man — WITH a wooden leg — and all Print is open to him!” That’s what I thought to myself, that morning,’ pursued Mr Boffin, leaning forward to describe, uncramped by the clotheshorse, as large an arc as his right arm could make; ‘”all Print is open to him!” And it is, ain’t it?’
‘Why, truly, sir,’ Mr Wegg admitted, with modesty70; ‘I believe you couldn’t show me the piece of English print, that I wouldn’t be equal to collaring and throwing.’
‘On the spot?’ said Mr Boffin.
‘On the spot.’
‘I know’d it! Then consider this. Here am I, a man without a wooden leg, and yet all print is shut to me.’
‘Indeed, sir?’ Mr Wegg returned with increasing self-complacency. ‘Education neglected?’
‘Neg — lected!’ repeated Boffin, with emphasis. ‘That ain’t no word for it. I don’t mean to say but what if you showed me a B, I could so far give you change for it, as to answer Boffin.’
‘Come, come, sir,’ said Mr Wegg, throwing in a little encouragement, ‘that’s something, too.’
‘It’s something,’ answered Mr Boffin, ‘but I’ll take my oath it ain’t much.’
‘Perhaps it’s not as much as could be wished by an inquiring mind, sir,’ Mr Wegg admitted.
‘Now, look here. I’m retired71 from business. Me and Mrs Boffin — Henerietty Boffin — which her father’s name was Henery, and her mother’s name was Hetty, and so you get it — we live on a compittance, under the will of a diseased governor.’
‘Gentleman dead, sir?’
‘Man alive, don’t I tell you? A diseased governor? Now, it’s too late for me to begin shovelling72 and sifting73 at alphabeds and grammar-books. I’m getting to be a old bird, and I want to take it easy. But I want some reading — some fine bold reading, some splendid book in a gorging74 Lord-Mayor’s-Show of wollumes’ (probably meaning gorgeous, but misled by association of ideas); ‘as’ll reach right down your pint75 of view, and take time to go by you. How can I get that reading, Wegg? By,’ tapping him on the breast with the head of his thick stick, ‘paying a man truly qualified76 to do it, so much an hour (say twopence) to come and do it.’
‘Hem! Flattered, sir, I am sure,’ said Wegg, beginning to regard himself in quite a new light. ‘Hew! This is the offer you mentioned, sir?’
‘Yes. Do you like it?’
‘I am considering of it, Mr Boffin.’
‘I don’t,’ said Boffin, in a free-handed manner, ‘want to tie a literary man — WITH a wooden leg — down too tight. A halfpenny an hour shan’t part us. The hours are your own to choose, after you’ve done for the day with your house here. I live over Maiden77-Lane way — out Holloway direction — and you’ve only got to go East-and-by-North when you’ve finished here, and you’re there. Twopence halfpenny an hour,’ said Boffin, taking a piece of chalk from his pocket and getting off the stool to work the sum on the top of it in his own way; ‘two long’uns and a short’un — twopence halfpenny; two short’uns is a long’un and two two long’uns is four long’uns — making five long’uns; six nights a week at five long’uns a night,’ scoring them all down separately, ‘and you mount up to thirty long’uns. A round’un! Half a crown!’
Pointing to this result as a large and satisfactory one, Mr Boffin smeared78 it out with his moistened glove, and sat down on the remains79.
‘Half a crown,’ said Wegg, meditating80. ‘Yes. (It ain’t much, sir.) Half a crown.’
‘Per week, you know.’
‘Per week. Yes. As to the amount of strain upon the intellect now. Was you thinking at all of poetry?’ Mr Wegg inquired, musing.
‘Would it come dearer?’ Mr Boffin asked.
‘It would come dearer,’ Mr Wegg returned. ‘For when a person comes to grind off poetry night after night, it is but right he should expect to be paid for its weakening effect on his mind.’
‘To tell you the truth Wegg,’ said Boffin, ‘I wasn’t thinking of poetry, except in so fur as this:— If you was to happen now and then to feel yourself in the mind to tip me and Mrs Boffin one of your ballads, why then we should drop into poetry.’
‘I follow you, sir,’ said Wegg. ‘But not being a regular musical professional, I should be loath81 to engage myself for that; and therefore when I dropped into poetry, I should ask to be considered so fur, in the light of a friend.’
At this, Mr Boffin’s eyes sparkled, and he shook Silas earnestly by the hand: protesting that it was more than he could have asked, and that he took it very kindly83 indeed.
‘What do you think of the terms, Wegg?’ Mr Boffin then demanded, with unconcealed anxiety.
Silas, who had stimulated84 this anxiety by his hard reserve of manner, and who had begun to understand his man very well, replied with an air; as if he were saying something extraordinarily85 generous and great:
‘Mr Boffin, I never bargain.’
‘So I should have thought of you!’ said Mr Boffin, admiringly. ‘No, sir. I never did ‘aggle and I never will ‘aggle. Consequently I meet you at once, free and fair, with — Done, for double the money!’
Mr Boffin seemed a little unprepared for this conclusion, but assented86, with the remark, ‘You know better what it ought to be than I do, Wegg,’ and again shook hands with him upon it.
‘Could you begin to night, Wegg?’ he then demanded.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Mr Wegg, careful to leave all the eagerness to him. ‘I see no difficulty if you wish it. You are provided with the needful implement87 — a book, sir?’
‘Bought him at a sale,’ said Mr Boffin. ‘Eight wollumes. Red and gold. Purple ribbon in every wollume, to keep the place where you leave off. Do you know him?’
‘The book’s name, sir?’ inquired Silas.
‘I thought you might have know’d him without it,’ said Mr Boffin slightly disappointed. ‘His name is Decline-And-Fall-Off-The-Rooshan-Empire.’ (Mr Boffin went over these stones slowly and with much caution.)
‘Ay indeed!’ said Mr Wegg, nodding his head with an air of friendly recognition.
‘You know him, Wegg?’
‘I haven’t been not to say right slap through him, very lately,’ Mr Wegg made answer, ‘having been otherways employed, Mr Boffin. But know him? Old familiar declining and falling off the Rooshan? Rather, sir! Ever since I was not so high as your stick. Ever since my eldest88 brother left our cottage to enlist89 into the army. On which occasion, as the ballad that was made about it describes:
'Beside that cottage door, Mr Boffin,
A girl was on her knees;
She held aloft a snowy scarf, Sir,
Which (my eldest brother noticed) fluttered in the breeze.
She breathed a prayer for him, Mr Boffin;
A prayer he coold not hear.
And my eldest brother lean'd upon his sword, Mr Boffin,
And wiped away a tear.'
Much impressed by this family circumstance, and also by the friendly disposition90 of Mr Wegg, as exemplified in his so soon dropping into poetry, Mr Boffin again shook hands with that ligneous91 sharper, and besought92 him to name his hour. Mr Wegg named eight.
‘Where I live,’ said Mr Boffin, ‘is called The Bower93. Boffin’s Bower is the name Mrs Boffin christened it when we come into it as a property. If you should meet with anybody that don’t know it by that name (which hardly anybody does), when you’ve got nigh upon about a odd mile, or say and a quarter if you like, up Maiden Lane, Battle Bridge, ask for Harmony Jail, and you’ll be put right. I shall expect you, Wegg,’ said Mr Boffin, clapping him on the shoulder with the greatest enthusiasm, ‘most joyfully94. I shall have no peace or patience till you come. Print is now opening ahead of me. This night, a literary man — WITH a wooden leg —’ he bestowed95 an admiring look upon that decoration, as if it greatly enhanced the relish96 of Mr Wegg’s attainments97 —‘will begin to lead me a new life! My fist again, Wegg. Morning, morning, morning!’
Left alone at his stall as the other ambled off, Mr Wegg subsided98 into his screen, produced a small pocket-handkerchief of a penitentially-scrubbing character, and took himself by the nose with a thoughtful aspect. Also, while he still grasped that feature, he directed several thoughtful looks down the street, after the retiring figure of Mr Boffin. But, profound gravity sat enthroned on Wegg’s countenance99. For, while he considered within himself that this was an old fellow of rare simplicity100, that this was an opportunity to be improved, and that here might he money to be got beyond present calculation, still he compromised himself by no admission that his new engagement was at all out of his way, or involved the least element of the ridiculous. Mr Wegg would even have picked a handsome quarrel with any one who should have challenged his deep acquaintance with those aforesaid eight volumes of Decline and Fall. His gravity was unusual, portentous101, and immeasurable, not because he admitted any doubt of himself but because he perceived it necessary to forestall102 any doubt of himself in others. And herein he ranged with that very numerous class of impostors, who are quite as determined103 to keep up appearances to themselves, as to their neighbours.
A certain loftiness, likewise, took possession of Mr Wegg; a condescending104 sense of being in request as an official expounder105 of mysteries. It did not move him to commercial greatness, but rather to littleness, insomuch that if it had been within the possibilities of things for the wooden measure to hold fewer nuts than usual, it would have done so that day. But, when night came, and with her veiled eyes beheld him stumping106 towards Boffin’s Bower, he was elated too.
The Bower was as difficult to find, as Fair Rosamond’s without the clue. Mr Wegg, having reached the quarter indicated, inquired for the Bower half a dozen times without the least success, until he remembered to ask for Harmony Jail. This occasioned a quick change in the spirits of a hoarse107 gentleman and a donkey, whom he had much perplexed108.
‘Why, yer mean Old Harmon’s, do yer?’ said the hoarse gentleman, who was driving his donkey in a truck, with a carrot for a whip. ‘Why didn’t yer niver say so? Eddard and me is a goin’ by HIM! Jump in.’
Mr Wegg complied, and the hoarse gentleman invited his attention to the third person in company, thus;
‘Now, you look at Eddard’s ears. What was it as you named, agin? Whisper.’
Mr Wegg whispered, ‘Boffin’s Bower.’
‘Eddard! (keep yer hi on his ears) cut away to Boffin’s Bower!’
Edward, with his ears lying back, remained immoveable.
‘Eddard! (keep yer hi on his ears) cut away to Old Harmon’s.’ Edward instantly pricked109 up his ears to their utmost, and rattled110 off at such a pace that Mr Wegg’s conversation was jolted111 out of him in a most dislocated state.
‘Was-it-Ev-verajail?’ asked Mr Wegg, holding on.
‘Not a proper jail, wot you and me would get committed to,’ returned his escort; ‘they giv’ it the name, on accounts of Old Harmon living solitary112 there.’
‘And-why-did-they-callitharm-Ony?’ asked Wegg.
‘On accounts of his never agreeing with nobody. Like a speeches of chaff113. Harmon’s Jail; Harmony Jail. Working it round like.’
‘Doyouknow-Mist-Erboff-in?’ asked Wegg.
‘I should think so! Everybody do about here. Eddard knows him. (Keep yer hi on his ears.) Noddy Boffin, Eddard!’
The effect of the name was so very alarming, in respect of causing a temporary disappearance114 of Edward’s head, casting his hind115 hoofs116 in the air, greatly accelerating the pace and increasing the jolting, that Mr Wegg was fain to devote his attention exclusively to holding on, and to relinquish117 his desire of ascertaining118 whether this homage119 to Boffin was to be considered complimentary120 or the reverse.
Presently, Edward stopped at a gateway121, and Wegg discreetly122 lost no time in slipping out at the back of the truck. The moment he was landed, his late driver with a wave of the carrot, said ‘Supper, Eddard!’ and he, the hind hoofs, the truck, and Edward, all seemed to fly into the air together, in a kind of apotheosis123.
Pushing the gate, which stood ajar, Wegg looked into an enclosed space where certain tall dark mounds124 rose high against the sky, and where the pathway to the Bower was indicated, as the moonlight showed, between two lines of broken crockery set in ashes. A white figure advancing along this path, proved to be nothing more ghostly than Mr Boffin, easily attired126 for the pursuit of knowledge, in an undress garment of short white smock-frock. Having received his literary friend with great cordiality, he conducted him to the interior of the Bower and there presented him to Mrs Boffin:— a stout127 lady of a rubicund128 and cheerful aspect, dressed (to Mr Wegg’s consternation) in a low evening-dress of sable129 satin, and a large black velvet130 hat and feathers.
‘Mrs Boffin, Wegg,’ said Boffin, ‘is a highflyer at Fashion. And her make is such, that she does it credit. As to myself I ain’t yet as Fash’nable as I may come to be. Henerietty, old lady, this is the gentleman that’s a going to decline and fall off the Rooshan Empire.’
‘And I am sure I hope it’ll do you both good,’ said Mrs Boffin.
It was the queerest of rooms, fitted and furnished more like a luxurious131 amateur tap-room than anything else within the ken10 of Silas Wegg. There were two wooden settles by the fire, one on either side of it, with a corresponding table before each. On one of these tables, the eight volumes were ranged flat, in a row, like a galvanic battery; on the other, certain squat132 case-bottles of inviting133 appearance seemed to stand on tiptoe to exchange glances with Mr Wegg over a front row of tumblers and a basin of white sugar. On the hob, a kettle steamed; on the hearth134, a cat reposed135. Facing the fire between the settles, a sofa, a footstool, and a little table, formed a centrepiece devoted to Mrs Boffin. They were garish136 in taste and colour, but were expensive articles of drawing-room furniture that had a very odd look beside the settles and the flaring138 gaslight pendent from the ceiling. There was a flowery carpet on the floor; but, instead of reaching to the fireside, its glowing vegetation stopped short at Mrs Boffin’s footstool, and gave place to a region of sand and sawdust. Mr Wegg also noticed, with admiring eyes, that, while the flowery land displayed such hollow ornamentation as stuffed birds and waxen fruits under glassshades, there were, in the territory where vegetation ceased, compensatory shelves on which the best part of a large pie and likewise of a cold joint139 were plainly discernible among other solids. The room itself was large, though low; and the heavy frames of its old-fashioned windows, and the heavy beams in its crooked140 ceiling, seemed to indicate that it had once been a house of some mark standing141 alone in the country.
‘Do you like it, Wegg?’ asked Mr Boffin, in his pouncing142 manner.
‘I admire it greatly, sir,’ said Wegg. ‘Peculiar comfort at this fireside, sir.’
‘Do you understand it, Wegg?’
‘Why, in a general way, sir,’ Mr Wegg was beginning slowly and knowingly, with his head stuck on one side, as evasive people do begin, when the other cut him short:
‘You DON’T understand it, Wegg, and I’ll explain it. These arrangements is made by mutual143 consent between Mrs Boffin and me. Mrs Boffin, as I’ve mentioned, is a highflyer at Fashion; at present I’m not. I don’t go higher than comfort, and comfort of the sort that I’m equal to the enjoyment of. Well then. Where would be the good of Mrs Boffin and me quarrelling over it? We never did quarrel, before we come into Boffin’s Bower as a property; why quarrel when we HAVE come into Boffin’s Bower as a property? So Mrs Boffin, she keeps up her part of the room, in her way; I keep up my part of the room in mine. In consequence of which we have at once, Sociability144 (I should go melancholy mad without Mrs Boffin), Fashion, and Comfort. If I get by degrees to be a higherflyer at Fashion, then Mrs Boffin will by degrees come for’arder. If Mrs Boffin should ever be less of a dab145 at Fashion than she is at the present time, then Mrs Boffin’s carpet would go back’arder. If we should both continny as we are, why then HERE we are, and give us a kiss, old lady.’
Mrs Boffin who, perpetually smiling, had approached and drawn146 her plump arm through her lord’s, most willingly complied. Fashion, in the form of her black velvet hat and feathers, tried to prevent it; but got deservedly crushed in the endeavour.
‘So now, Wegg,’ said Mr Boffin, wiping his mouth with an air of much refreshment147, ‘you begin to know us as we are. This is a charming spot, is the Bower, but you must get to apprechiate it by degrees. It’s a spot to find out the merits of; little by little, and a new’un every day. There’s a serpentining148 walk up each of the mounds, that gives you the yard and neighbourhood changing every moment. When you get to the top, there’s a view of the neighbouring premises, not to be surpassed. The premises of Mrs Boffin’s late father (Canine Provision Trade), you look down into, as if they was your own. And the top of the High Mound125 is crowned with a lattice-work Arbour, in which, if you don’t read out loud many a book in the summer, ay, and as a friend, drop many a time into poetry too, it shan’t be my fault. Now, what’ll you read on?’
‘Thank you, sir,’ returned Wegg, as if there were nothing new in his reading at all. ‘I generally do it on gin and water.’
‘Keeps the organ moist, does it, Wegg?’ asked Mr Boffin, with innocent eagerness.
‘N-no, sir,’ replied Wegg, coolly, ‘I should hardly describe it so, sir. I should say, mellers it. Mellers it, is the word I should employ, Mr Boffin.’
His wooden conceit149 and craft kept exact pace with the delighted expectation of his victim. The visions rising before his mercenary mind, of the many ways in which this connexion was to be turned to account, never obscured the foremost idea natural to a dull overreaching man, that he must not make himself too cheap.
Mrs Boffin’s Fashion, as a less inexorable deity150 than the idol151 usually worshipped under that name, did not forbid her mixing for her literary guest, or asking if he found the result to his liking152. On his returning a gracious answer and taking his place at the literary settle, Mr Boffin began to compose himself as a listener, at the opposite settle, with exultant153 eyes.
‘Sorry to deprive you of a pipe, Wegg,’ he said, filling his own, ‘but you can’t do both together. Oh! and another thing I forgot to name! When you come in here of an evening, and look round you, and notice anything on a shelf that happens to catch your fancy, mention it.’
Wegg, who had been going to put on his spectacles, immediately laid them down, with the sprightly154 observation:
‘You read my thoughts, sir. DO my eyes deceive me, or is that object up there a — a pie? It can’t be a pie.’
‘Yes, it’s a pie, Wegg,’ replied Mr Boffin, with a glance of some little discomfiture155 at the Decline and Fall.
‘HAVE I lost my smell for fruits, or is it a apple pie, sir?’ asked Wegg.
‘It’s a veal156 and ham pie,’ said Mr Boffin.
‘Is it indeed, sir? And it would be hard, sir, to name the pie that is a better pie than a weal and hammer,’ said Mr Wegg, nodding his head emotionally.
‘Have some, Wegg?’
‘Thank you, Mr Boffin, I think I will, at your invitation. I wouldn’t at any other party’s, at the present juncture157; but at yours, sir! — And meaty jelly too, especially when a little salt, which is the case where there’s ham, is mellering to the organ, is very mellering to the organ.’ Mr Wegg did not say what organ, but spoke with a cheerful generality.
So, the pie was brought down, and the worthy158 Mr Boffin exercised his patience until Wegg, in the exercise of his knife and fork, had finished the dish: only profiting by the opportunity to inform Wegg that although it was not strictly159 Fashionable to keep the contents of a larder160 thus exposed to view, he (Mr Boffin) considered it hospitable161; for the reason, that instead of saying, in a comparatively unmeaning manner, to a visitor, ‘There are such and such edibles162 down stairs; will you have anything up?’ you took the bold practical course of saying, ‘Cast your eye along the shelves, and, if you see anything you like there, have it down.’
And now, Mr Wegg at length pushed away his plate and put on his spectacles, and Mr Boffin lighted his pipe and looked with beaming eyes into the opening world before him, and Mrs Boffin reclined in a fashionable manner on her sofa: as one who would be part of the audience if she found she could, and would go to sleep if she found she couldn’t.
‘Hem!’ began Wegg, ‘This, Mr Boffin and Lady, is the first chapter of the first wollume of the Decline and Fall off —’ here he looked hard at the book, and stopped.
‘What’s the matter, Wegg?’
‘Why, it comes into my mind, do you know, sir,’ said Wegg with an air of insinuating163 frankness (having first again looked hard at the book), ‘that you made a little mistake this morning, which I had meant to set you right in, only something put it out of my head. I think you said Rooshan Empire, sir?’
‘It is Rooshan; ain’t it, Wegg?’
‘No, sir. Roman. Roman.’
‘What’s the difference, Wegg?’
‘The difference, sir?’ Mr Wegg was faltering164 and in danger of breaking down, when a bright thought flashed upon him. ‘The difference, sir? There you place me in a difficulty, Mr Boffin. Suffice it to observe, that the difference is best postponed165 to some other occasion when Mrs Boffin does not honour us with her company. In Mrs Boffin’s presence, sir, we had better drop it.’
Mr Wegg thus came out of his disadvantage with quite a chivalrous166 air, and not only that, but by dint167 of repeating with a manly168 delicacy169, ‘In Mrs Boffin’s presence, sir, we had better drop it!’ turned the disadvantage on Boffin, who felt that he had committed himself in a very painful manner.
Then, Mr Wegg, in a dry unflinching way, entered on his task; going straight across country at everything that came before him; taking all the hard words, biographical and geographical170; getting rather shaken by Hadrian, Trajan, and the Antonines; stumbling at Polybius (pronounced Polly Beeious, and supposed by Mr Boffin to be a Roman virgin171, and by Mrs Boffin to be responsible for that necessity of dropping it); heavily unseated by Titus Antoninus Pius; up again and galloping172 smoothly173 with Augustus; finally, getting over the ground well with Commodus: who, under the appellation174 of Commodious175, was held by Mr Boffin to have been quite unworthy of his English origin, and ‘not to have acted up to his name’ in his government of the Roman people. With the death of this personage, Mr Wegg terminated his first reading; long before which consummation several total eclipses of Mrs Boffin’s candle behind her black velvet disc, would have been very alarming, but for being regularly accompanied by a potent176 smell of burnt pens when her feathers took fire, which acted as a restorative and woke her. Mr Wegg, having read on by rote82 and attached as few ideas as possible to the text, came out of the encounter fresh; but, Mr Boffin, who had soon laid down his unfinished pipe, and had ever since sat intently staring with his eyes and mind at the confounding enormities of the Romans, was so severely177 punished that he could hardly wish his literary friend Good-night, and articulate ‘Tomorrow.’
‘Commodious,’ gasped178 Mr Boffin, staring at the moon, after letting Wegg out at the gate and fastening it: ‘Commodious fights in that wild-beast-show, seven hundred and thirty-five times, in one character only! As if that wasn’t stunning179 enough, a hundred lions is turned into the same wild-beast-show all at once! As if that wasn’t stunning enough, Commodious, in another character, kills ‘em all off in a hundred goes! As if that wasn’t stunning enough, Vittle-us (and well named too) eats six millions’ worth, English money, in seven months! Wegg takes it easy, but uponmy-soul to a old bird like myself these are scarers. And even now that Commodious is strangled, I don’t see a way to our bettering ourselves.’ Mr Boffin added as he turned his pensive137 steps towards the Bower and shook his head, ‘I didn’t think this morning there was half so many Scarers in Print. But I’m in for it now!’
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1
stumped
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| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的过去式和过去分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
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2
strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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3
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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7
lettuce
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| n.莴苣；生菜 | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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9
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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12
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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13
jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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14
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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15
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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16
vassalage
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| n.家臣身份，隶属 | |
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17
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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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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19
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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20
inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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23
leech
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| n.水蛭，吸血鬼，榨取他人利益的人；vt.以水蛭吸血；vi.依附于别人 | |
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24
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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25
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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26
blindfold
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| vt.蒙住…的眼睛；adj.盲目的；adv.盲目地；n.蒙眼的绷带[布等]； 障眼物，蒙蔽人的事物 | |
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27
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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knotty
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| adj.有结的，多节的，多瘤的，棘手的 | |
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30
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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31
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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32
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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33
adaptable
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| adj.能适应的，适应性强的，可改编的 | |
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salutes
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| n.致敬，欢迎，敬礼( salute的名词复数 )v.欢迎，致敬( salute的第三人称单数 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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35
plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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37
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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38
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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39
abase
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| v.降低，贬抑 | |
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40
adhesive
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| n.粘合剂；adj.可粘着的，粘性的 | |
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41
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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42
ambling
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的现在分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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43
overlapping
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| adj./n.交迭（的） | |
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44
rhinoceros
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| n.犀牛 | |
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45
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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46
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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47
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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48
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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49
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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50
amble
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| vi.缓行，漫步 | |
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51
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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52
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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53
reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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54
ambled
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的过去式和过去分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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55
restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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56
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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57
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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58
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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59
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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60
descrying
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| v.被看到的，被发现的，被注意到的( descried的过去分词 ) | |
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61
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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62
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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63
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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64
avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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65
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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66
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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67
discursive
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| adj.离题的，无层次的 | |
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68
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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70
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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71
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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72
shovelling
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| v.铲子( shovel的现在分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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73
sifting
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| n.筛，过滤v.筛( sift的现在分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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74
gorging
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| v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的现在分词 )；作呕 | |
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75
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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76
qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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77
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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78
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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79
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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80
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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81
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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82
rote
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| n.死记硬背，生搬硬套 | |
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83
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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84
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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85
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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86
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
implement
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| n.(pl.)工具，器具；vt.实行，实施，执行 | |
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88
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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89
enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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90
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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91
ligneous
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| adj.木质的，木头的 | |
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92
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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93
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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94
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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95
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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97
attainments
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| 成就，造诣； 获得( attainment的名词复数 )； 达到； 造诣； 成就 | |
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98
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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99
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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100
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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101
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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102
forestall
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| vt.抢在…之前采取行动；预先阻止 | |
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103
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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104
condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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105
expounder
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| 陈述者，说明者 | |
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106
stumping
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| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的现在分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
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107
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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108
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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109
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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110
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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111
jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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113
chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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114
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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115
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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116
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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117
relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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118
ascertaining
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的现在分词 ) | |
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119
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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120
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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121
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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122
discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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123
apotheosis
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| n.神圣之理想；美化；颂扬 | |
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124
mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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125
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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126
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
rubicund
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| adj.(脸色)红润的 | |
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129
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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130
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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131
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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132
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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133
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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134
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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135
reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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136
garish
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| adj.华丽而俗气的，华而不实的 | |
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137
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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138
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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139
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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140
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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141
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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142
pouncing
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的现在分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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143
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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144
sociability
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| n.好交际，社交性，善于交际 | |
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145
dab
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| v.轻触，轻拍，轻涂；n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
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146
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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147
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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148
serpentining
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| v.像蛇般蜷曲的，蜿蜒的( serpentine的现在分词 ) | |
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149
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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150
deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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151
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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152
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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153
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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154
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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155
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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156
veal
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| n.小牛肉 | |
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157
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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158
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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159
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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160
larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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161
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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162
edibles
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| 可以吃的，可食用的( edible的名词复数 )； 食物 | |
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163
insinuating
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| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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164
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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165
postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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166
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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167
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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168
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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169
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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170
geographical
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| adj.地理的；地区(性)的 | |
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171
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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172
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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173
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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174
appellation
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| n.名称，称呼 | |
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175
commodious
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| adj.宽敞的；使用方便的 | |
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176
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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177
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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178
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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179
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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