Mr. and Mrs. Jericho, arm-and-arm and in closest communion of soul, for some half-hour longer hung about the ground. The young ladies with Candituft and Hodmadod loitered where they would; too well occupied to break, by word or motion, upon the privacy of man and wife. Jericho listened very complacently1 to the magnificent designs of his helpmate. She had made her mind up that he should fill the world. She could never die happy if he did not fill it. Jogtrot Hall, for one country sent to begin with, was indispensable to his greatness. “I am assured, love, by Mizzlemist”—began Mrs. Jericho—
“Humph! Where is he? You said it was an engagement. To be sure. He was to meet us here,” interrupted Jericho, tetchily.
“The engagement was provisional; it was, indeed, love; and he may come yet. Well, Solomon, the Doctor tells me that the[Pg 109] whole estate may be had for thirty thousand pounds,” and Mrs. Jericho at the moment looked as artless, as innocent, as though she had said thirty thousand pence. There are people who make even a million a very small matter, merely by the condescending3 way of speaking of it. Mrs. Jericho had the art in perfection. “Only thirty thousand”—
“Only thirty thousand!” cried Jericho,—“Do you know where the money comes from?”
“Why, where should it come from,” said the wife, with a sparkling smile, and tapping Jericho’s cheek,—“where, but from where it grows?”
Jericho’s jaw4 fell. Had his wife discovered his secret? “And where,” he asked grimly,—“where is that?”
“Why, my dear, in our mine, of course. Did you not say ’twas inexhaustible? and, to be sure, I asked no further. Besides, I’ve a great faith in nature; nature’s a pattern maid-of-all-work, and does best when least meddled5 with. So you’ll buy the estate? You must: your position in Parliament requires it. All statesmen love the country.”
“Mr. Pitt lived at Wimbledon,” said Jericho, willing to be won.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Jericho. And in a very few minutes the member for Toadsham consented to live at Marigolds; and to become the squire6 and patron of the village. Yet as he promised, he winced7; for he thought of his wasting bank. Such was his life; urged by the devil expense upon one hand, and plucked by the devil remorse8 on the other. Never mind. He had a way to win back all. He would stop the waste; and once again grow plump and fat: though he was never better; never stronger. Still, people wondered to see him wither9. Moreover, they looked oddly at him; and he had heard them drop strange, mystic words. Only twice more; only twice would he draw upon his bosom10 bank.
Mrs. Jericho, as she turned with her lord to meet her daughters, in the prettiest manner twitched11 a slip of laurel from a shrub12, and waved it over Jericho’s head. “I have[Pg 110] conquered”—said Mrs. Jericho—“here is the lord for life of Jogtrot Hall.”
“And take away those dreadful peacocks?” cried Agatha, “They make one shiver.”
“Magna Charta House would be a good name,” said Hodmadod; “that is, when I say Magna Charta, I mean Runnymede Cottage. Of course, my dear sir, you’ll ask all Parliament, lords and commons, to the house-warming?”
“Couldn’t we make it a fancy ball, and have ’em in historical dresses?” cried Agatha, jumping up and down, tipsy with happiness.
Candituft, with a sudden, serious look, took Jericho aside. “It has just struck me,” he said, “and I must out with it, though it is abrupt14.” He then took Jericho by the right hand, squeezed it, looked tenderly in his face, and with a voice of emotion, like one compelled to suggest a sharp surgical15 operation, asked—“How should you like to be made a baronet?”
Jericho twitched his shoulders; drew himself up; and put his hand in his bosom. “I have not the least ambition of the kind. But it might please my wife. Title is a straw that tickles16 women; so, for the sake of Mrs. Jericho, I might not resist.”
Candituft looked relieved. It was plain a leaden weight of doubt was removed from his soul. He smiled, and again squeezed Jericho’s hand, saying as he squeezed—“Good creature! Bless you!”
Mr. Jericho returned to the party; and again and again he was hailed by all as the lord of the domain17. “Hurrah!” cried the impulsive18 Agatha, jumping up, and hitching19 a wreath of honeysuckle about the head of Jericho, “hurrah for the king of Marigolds!” The next moment Jericho stepped under an apple-tree; and the next, a shower of apples fell bouncing about him.
“The devil!” cried Jericho, running; and the ladies screamed.
“May it please your majesty20,” said a voice from the apple-tree, and immediately Basil Pennibacker’s earnest face stared down [Pg 111]through the boughs—“may it please your majesty, when a king is crowned, it is always customary to let fall a shower of golden pippins.”
“Why, Basil, my love—you strange boy!—how came you in that tree?” cried Mrs. Jericho.
“Wonderful escape, my anxious madam, but calm your fears. You’ll not believe my story. Never mind; in this world truth can wait: she’s used to it,” and in another moment Basil descended21 from the tree.
“Why, you were not here a few minutes ago, Basil,” said Monica: “how did you get into the tree?”
“The fact is,” said Basil, “I went up in a balloon, had a quarrel, and dropt my company. Quite in luck to fall among you, wasn’t I? Now the hard truth is, I came here on business.”
“My dear sir,” cried Basil, “I never see you that I don’t wish I was a bulrush, to do nothing but bow. May I say one word, my revered23 sir?” and Basil turned to Jericho, who coldly assented24, walking apart. “Now, sir, did you receive my letter?”
“I did,” said Jericho.
“And you did not answer it? Because, don’t let me blame the postman,” said Basil.
“I did not answer it, young man,” cried Jericho with his best emphasis. “Where nothing is to be said, I take it, silence is the best reply. In a word, I will not advance a single farthing.”
“Not to assist your old friend Carraways?” cried Basil.
“To be sure; friendship in ill-luck turns to mere acquaintance. The wine of life—as I’ve heard it called—goes into vinegar; and folks that hugged the bottle, shirk the cruet.”
“I have nothing more to say, young man,” said Jericho, turning from Basil.
“Well, I’m not sorry for it,” answered Basil waspishly, “for the sample I have had, doesn’t encourage me to go on.” Basil[Pg 112] strove to dash aside his anger, and returned gaily25 to the party. “And so you’ve taken the Lodge26, eh?”
“Then, of course you’ll want your jewels,” said Basil, wickedly. “The butcher brought ’em back, I hope?”
“The butcher! What do you mean?” cried Agatha. “Butcher!”
“There, girls—never mind him,” cried Mrs. Jericho.
“I sent ’em back by the butcher.” A mode of conveyance28 hitherto disguised to the young ladies. “I met him coming to the house, and on second thoughts I”—
“You foolish boy,” cried Mrs. Jericho, anxious to set aside the subject; “come and tell me what really brought you here. Who could have expected you!”
“Live here! why none of you will ever be able to sleep for the ghosts,” cried Basil.
“Ghosts!” exclaimed the ladies.
“Yes: the ghosts of the feasts you’ve had at the cost of good old Carraways. At twelve o’clock every night”—
“Now, don’t be foolish, Basil,” exclaimed Monica.
“At twelve o’clock at night every saucepan will be haunted: every mug, every tankard, every goblet31, and every custard-cup will go banging, clanging, ringing, tinkling32, with the ghosts of the dinners and the suppers you’ve had in this house. You won’t air your bed of nights, that there sha’n’t be a red-hot ghost in the warming-pan.”
“Then, I fear, Basil, we may not count upon you as a visitor, unless indeed you defy apparitions33?” said Mrs. Jericho.
“No, my dear madam, I shall never rent a spare bed here, I assure you. Moreover, pray don’t summon me to King Jericho’s banquet, for I shall be sure to have other business. By the[Pg 113] way, as you’ve entered upon your dominion34, permit me”—said Basil, taking off his hat and approaching his father-in-law—“permit me, your majesty, to give you seizin of it.”
“What does the boy mean?” cried Mrs. Jericho. “Seizin!”
“Quite right, my dear madam. Seizin’s the word. You’ve no notion of the amount of law I know. In another fortnight I’m called, and then—upon my life when I think of some people, they fire me with ambition. They do. I’ll get upon the bench, if it’s only to hang ’em.”
“Not you, my dear sir,” said Candituft—“you don’t know your own heart. We do.”
“I haven’t your charity; I wish I had: only a little—you’ve too much. You waste it. ’Pon my life, you are so good, you’d pour rose-water over a toad,” and Basil leered at the Man-Tamer. Then, stooping, Basil picked up an apple, and holding it between his finger and thumb, with ceremonious gravity addressed the ireful Man of Money.—“Permit me, sir, in this little apple to give you seizin of the land. And, sir, this little apple is wondrously35 appropriate to the interesting occasion. It is golden, and smiling, and like yourself.”
“Beautiful, Basil! and so true,” said Agatha.
“During your many visits, you were here when this apple was a blossom. No doubt of it, gorgeous sir, that when this apple was a pretty pink and white flower, you were here, rosy36, and light, and glad; and looking full of pleasant promise to jolly old Carraways. Times are changed, sir; you’re very rich: the blossom’s grown into fruit. A flower you were, and”—and Basil threw the apple up, catching37 it—“and a golden pippin you are. Therefore, sir, take the apple as seizin; ’tis so like you. Oh, very like! See, a golden promise”—Basil bit the apple in half—“a sour and bitter inside; and to make the thing complete—look, sir—a maggot at the heart.” And Basil dropt the fruit with the sentence.
There was general consternation38 at the boldness, the wickedness (as Candituft whispered) of the simile39. Mrs. Jericho, with all the fears of woman, moved between her husband and Basil.[Pg 114] The young man bowed to his mother, turned upon his heel, and went his way. There was a dead pause. At length, Mr. Jericho solemnly proclaimed to his wife: “Mrs. Jericho, I will no longer encourage that viper40. Either you give up your son, or give up me.” Mrs. Jericho made no answer; it was not a genial41 moment for reply. She silently placed her arm in Jericho’s, and led the way to the carriage. They would make a little circuit of the country, ere they returned to town.
A very few words will account for the sudden appearance of Basil in the apple-tree. Bob Topps, the old serving-man of Carraways—we may say old, for he had grown from mere childhood to the maturity42 of seven-and-twenty in the Squire’s house—had, within the past week, married Jenny White, honoured, it may be remembered, in a former page, by the praise of Sir Arthur Hodmadod. Mrs. Topps had removed with her husband to London, where Bob had started as an independent cabman, driving his own vehicle—certainly, the very neatest on the stand; for the which neatness there was this reason: the cab had been the property of Carraways: one of the chattels43 of the Hall, knocked down, dispersed44 by the hammer—at times more terrible, more crushing, more causeful of blood and tears than the hammer of Thor—the hammer of the broker45. Topps with his savings46 bought the carriage. “It might fall into worse hands,” he said. “Now, he felt almost a love for it, for the sake of them as had ridden in it.” Again; he said “he shouldn’t like to go into any other service. A cabman’s life was, after all, an independent thing. He could sit upon his box, and—beholden to nobody—could see how the world wagged about him.” True it is that Mrs. Topps had a first objection to the brass47 badge, an objection that had more than its inherent force, for it was made in the honeymoon48. Still, as it was the honeymoon, she the more readily smiled and, as Bob said, “listened to reason.” “I tell you what, Jenny,” said Bob, “the noblest sight on earth is a man talking reason, and his wife sitting at the fireside listening to him.” Everybody wore a badge of some sort, ran the philosophy of Bob. Brass or gold, the thing was the same, it was only[Pg 115] the metal that was different. Whereupon Mrs. Topps was thoroughly49 convinced, and we verily believe was rather proud of her husband’s badge than otherwise.
A very natural incident had thrown Basil and Bob together. The night before, Basil had supped some three miles from his chambers50. Bob by chance was hailed, and drove young Pennibacker to his student’s home. “What have I to pay?” asked Basil. “Why, sir,” said the neophyte51, “I hope you won’t think eighteenpence too much.” “What!” cried Basil, in thrilling surprise. “Well, then, sir, say sixteenpence,” said the shrinking cabman. Basil, laying hold of the man’s collar and crying—“A vehicular phenomenon! I must have a portrait of you,” pulled him under a lamp; and thereupon took place what Basil called a tremendous recognition. In few words, Bob told of his marriage, and his prospects52; and moreover, that he was going to Marigolds the next day. He was going to drive his wife there—he had borrowed a cab, and lent his own for the day; for he hoped he knew himself better than to take what had been Squire Carraways’ to the village. Miss Bessy wanted a few trifles that Jenny knew best about; and Jenny herself had not brought all her things from Marigolds: indeed, she seemed as if there would be no end to her moving; it seemed as if the things grew she had left behind her. In few words, Basil made an appointment with Bob for the journey. “I should like to see the Hall once more myself,” said Basil, “and I should like to go quietly; so I tell you what. I’ll take the cab for the day; and out of my abounding53 generosity54 shall be happy to present Mrs. Topps with a lift.” “You’re very kind, sir,” said Bob, delighted. “She can ride on the box close aside me.” And Basil came, a visitor to the Hall. When he learned that his family were there, in the idleness of his high spirits, he mounted a tree in the hope of a joke; and, such as the joke was in the apple-shower, he had it. Mrs. Topps very soon despatched her errand at the Hall, where poor Mrs. Blanket duly wept over her as “one she had nursed from a baby, and one who was going back, a wife, to London.”
Basil, we must observe, did not, as he had appointed, arrive at[Pg 116] the village in the cab of Topps. In the morning he somehow thought horseback would be a more fitting, a more expeditious55 mode of transit56. Mrs. Topps herself was very soon reconciled to the new arrangement. She could not but reflect that she would then have all the inside of the vehicle for a few of the things she had left behind. As the Jerichos drove through the village, they looked curiously57 at a London cab at a cottage-door, with baskets, and shrubs58, and flowers in pots standing59 about it; and with “that young woman that wore the silver bee” kissing a score of children one after the other, duly setting aside every child when finished. It was, indeed, a very busy, a very exciting afternoon in Marigolds, when Mrs. Topps returned, just for an hour or two, from London. She brought an importance with her, that the people could not but feel, though they could not explain. She had seen all the sights of London; and she was stared at as though some of their glory hung still about her. There was Westminster Abbey, St. Paul’s, the Queen’s Palace, the Waxwork60, and all the playhouses in some odd way mixed up with Jenny Topps. (It would be hard for some of us to look at a man fresh from the Chinese court, and not think of long almond eyes, white clay faces, pigtails, and peacocks’ feathers.) Jenny had, from babyhood, been a favourite with all the village. She was so good-natured, so cheerful, and what was an especial virtue61, in the words of a female eulogist, “she never seemed to think nothing of her good looks.” Clever Jenny! Twenty times had she been asked how she liked London, and how she liked her husband? Whether she was as happy as when at home—and whether—and here the querists hugely laughed—and whether she would not like to come back again. To all these inquiries62 Jenny with a sweet gravity—for they were grave questions to her—made due reply. “She had no notion, though she had been there twice before, that there had been such a place as London in this world; and she never thought anybody could be so happy as she was, out of London.” And then she dwelt upon a fear that did now and then possess her. It was, that her husband would some day quite lose himself—it was so hard for him in his business to learn the ways of town.
[Pg 117]
Basil, in a dull, dreamy mood, turned his horse towards London. He had seen the Hall for the last time. Had taken, as he then believed, a long farewell of its new possessors. In his indignation at the selfishness of Jericho, he felt a new strength in himself. He felt a spirit of independence. He would not owe the benefit of another shilling to such a man, upon whom fortune seemed to have fallen like a disease, withering63 and corrupting64 him. And there was a mystery in the means of the man, so suddenly rich, that, he was sure of it, would burst in some terrible catastrophe65. Of course, Basil had no suspicion of the supernatural source of Jericho’s wealth: the young man’s imagination was insufficient66 to such a thought; again, even in the days of Jericho, the foolish old faith in fairy-works, and compacts with the devil, ensuring ready profit for future perdition,—was dead and scorned. If men came by strange modes to sudden, mysterious wealth, it could not be by conjuration; but by dull, prosaic67 craft. The wizard’s circle was of no more avail; the devil no longer rose in the infernal ring to barter68 wealth for souls. Nothing was left but the mere hocus-pocus of unromantic knavery69. Hence, in the conviction of Basil, father-in-law Jericho had juggled70 with the dark spirits of fraud to possess himself of sudden substance. There could be no doubt of the horrid truth; and the wasted, and wasting condition of the rich man, proclaimed the ravages71 of his conscience; of the worm in his brain he could not kill. And then Basil suddenly thought of Jericho’s ghastly look, as the apple fell at his foot. And the next thought imparted to the young man a vigour72 of mind, a hopefulness of heart, he had hitherto unknown. As he rode on, the cloud cleared away. He had seemed to himself shut in, narrowed, dwarfed73, whilst depending upon the aid of another. And now in his very contempt for the man—so strangely, so monstrously74 rich—the future stretched brightly before him. He would stand up, and fight the world in his own strength, and take no condescending help from any man. Armed and assured by this blithe75 determination, Basil, some ten miles still from home, and the evening closing in, spurred his horse.[Pg 118] It would not be too late even that very evening—at least he would not suffer himself to think so—to call upon Bessy’s father. Yes: he would at once put his new faith in practice; he would not sleep without taking the first—and that the most important, most anxious step,—in the bright, open path that he would hereafter journey.
“Hey, hallo! Why, Basil—Mr. Pennibacker,” cried Doctor Mizzlemist, leaning far out of the first-floor window of the Silver Lion, the glad half-way house twixt Marigolds and London. “Hallo! Why so fast? If you knew what was in the cellar, you’d draw bridle76, I take it.”
“That he would; humph?” cried Colonel Bones; who had joined Mizzlemist; both, it appeared upon evidence, then and there in the Silver Lion, enjoying what the Doctor in his meekness78 was wont79 to call his glass of wine and his nut.
“You haven’t seen anything of Mr. Jericho and the ladies?” asked Mizzlemist. “They must have gone the other road; and so we’ve missed. Very provoking; but we’re trying to comfort ourselves. Won’t you join us?”
“So you had an appointment with my honoured father, eh, Doctor?” asked Basil.
“Why, that is, rather an appointment. Not exactly a fixed80 thing, but come in; you haven’t dined,” said Mizzlemist. After a minute’s thought Basil turned about, and dismounted at the door. Instantly he stood in the best room of the Silver Lion, with both his hands pressed and shaken by Mizzlemist. “I suppose you’ve been to the Hall, eh? Been to pick out your own corner, I take it? Noble fabric81, my dear young sir. Noble fabric! The very look of it is an honour to the hospitality of the country! Wasn’t I saying as much, Colonel? A palace for the king of good fellows?”
“What do I know of palaces?” cried Bones. “A beggar like me! I only wish you’d let me keep quiet in my own corner cupboard. With my own mutton chop and my pint82 of small ale,” and Bones poured out the wine, looked at it with an unctuous83 tremor84 of the lip, and threw it off.
[Pg 119]
“But you’ve not dined,” cried Mizzlemist to Basil. “What will you have? Country fare, you know.”
“Nothing. The fact is, I picked a bit with the gypsies; always dine with the gypsies when I come into the country; always,” said Basil with a laugh.
“With gypsies! Bless me—can’t be true—I mean, very odd company, Mr. Pennibacker. Very,” and Mizzlemist rubbed his hands, looking doubtfully askaunce at Basil.
“Most polite people on earth,” cried Basil. “And for poultry86, I assure you, quite by themselves. True, upon my life; I can eat nobody’s ducks but the gypsies’. Ha, sir! Gypsy life is the real life, sir. Nothing to do with parchment, Doctor.”
“Why, no, young gentleman,” said Mizzlemist with dignity, “save, perhaps, when they go sheep-stealing.”
“No house-rent; no taxes; no rates; no infernal respectability,” cried Basil, bent87 upon his humour.
“Ha! ha! very good. Beggars all. Humph?” cried Bones. “Capital state, when people have no respectability. Ugh! it eats a beggar like me out of house and home.”
“Well, I didn’t imagine that, Colonel,” said Basil. “I thought you always put out your respectability to board on other people.”
“Capital! Very good! The fact is, my dear young sir—come, take a glass of wine—people won’t let me alone. They will carry me about with them; no doubt, to show their humility88. I tell them I’m a beggar: what then? they will have the pauper89 with them—they will. Here’s the Doctor—would drag me out to-day, to come and look at old Carraways’ Lodge”—and again Bones emptied his glass.
“Of course,” said Mizzlemist: “if your friends didn’t look after you, Colonel, you’d never stir. You’d take no exercise. You’d sit in that arm-chair of yours till the sexton came for you. And the fact is”—and the Doctor archly smiled—“we’re not going to lose you in that way. No: it’s our duty as fellow-creatures and Christians90 to take care of you, and we will do it;” and Mizzlemist’s kindly91 emphasis almost brought the tears into his eyes. “Poor lone77 creature! You never knew what it was[Pg 120] to have the tenderness of a wife. You haven’t a dear soul, growing all the kinder and tenderer for age, haunting your fireside; and so we must take care of you—and we will, old fellow.”
“All too good, much too good to a beggar,” cried Bones, with his fore-finger scratching the nape of his neck.
“Come, sir, take a glass of wine,” and Mizzlemist urged Basil. Then dropping back in his chair, he gazed at the young gentleman in all the fulness of after-dinner admiration92. “Ha, sir! it is something delightful93—nay, very delightful, indeed, only to look at you.”
“Indeed,” cried Basil, “glad to hear it. Easy way of getting a living. Shilling a-head for grown fools, six-pence for children. Come sir, down with your money.”
“In your connection with Mr. Jericho, you have a grand field before you,” said the unoffended Mizzlemist.
“Humph! Can you tell me if the field’s in crop? And what it is?” asked Basil.
“Whatever you like, sir. I am afraid, Mr. Pennibacker”—and Mizzlemist became very serious—“I am afraid you do not sufficiently94 estimate the position of Mr. Jericho. See what he has done already. Is he not in Parliament? Is he not in the very highest society? Next Tuesday—yes, absolutely next Tuesday—he dines with the Duke St. George, at Red Dragon House; and with his inestimable lady and daughters will, at once, be dipped in the Pactolean vortex—if I’ve not forgot my Christchurch classics—in the Pactolean vortex of fashionable existence.”
“Well, and what will Mr. Jericho pay? What, for self, wife and daughters?” asked Basil, “what will be the price of admission to the Red Dragon mahogany?”
“Price, Mr. Pennibacker!” cried Mizzlemist.
“Price. Why, you can’t tell; neither can Jericho himself. More than that, I’ve my doubts, if even the Duke of St. George has made up his mind to the exact sum to be borrowed of the Man of Money. It must be for a loan, or do folks think money, like the measles95, catching? The Duke St. George, of Red Dragon House! Why, he’s a very river of royal blood. From the[Pg 121] heptarchy downwards96, there’s been a prince or a princess, or a royal bishop97, or something of the sort, cut into the stream—and he contains in himself the very best blood, laid on from twenty crowned houses. And to think that he should shake hands with Jericho—that he should invite such a piece of clay—why it must be for the gilding98.”
“My dear young gentleman,” said Mizzlemist, with a gravity almost affectionate, “disabuse your mind of such vulgar cant99. Be above it, sir. Don’t think that money can do anything and everything—it can’t. There must be inward worth. The gold candlestick—if I may be so bold as to use a figure—the gold candlestick may be prized I grant; but its magnificence is only subservient100 to its use; the gold is very well: but after all, it is the light we look to.” And Mizzlemist believed he had clenched101 the question.
“Yes,” said Basil; “so that the candlestick has gold enough, I take it, it may burn anything—mutton fat’s as good as wax.”
“I say again, don’t think it. Mr. Jericho, independent of his wealth, is a man of talent. I assure you”—now Mizzlemist was never more serious—“I assure you, I forget them, but some of his admirable bits of wit are now going about. I forget them, but I pledge myself, they are allowed to be very brilliant.”
“All’s one for that,” and Basil emptied his glass.
“But as I was observing, Mr. Pennibacker, you have all the world before you,” said Mizzlemist.
“I quite feel that, sir, in the new profession that within this half-hour I have determined102 to adopt.”
“Why, sir, when you go to the bar”—began Mizzlemist.
“No, I’ve abandoned the thought. The bar’s too full. Bench can’t be lengthened103 to hold a thousandth part of us: and mustn’t sit in each other’s laps. So many, nine-tenths must die like spiders with nothing to spin. I thought of the army. But that’s going, sir; going, soon to be gone. Bless you, laurels104 are fast sinking from the camp to the kitchen. In a very little while, sir, and the cook will rob Cæsar of his wreath to flavour a custard.”
[Pg 122]
“Ha! ha! very good. Wait a little though,—humph?” cried Colonel Bones.
“Don’t try, then, sir,” said Basil, “’twill only strain your intellect. Therefore, as I see all the usual avenues shut up—‘no thoroughfare’ writ105 over ’em—I shall strike out a road for myself. Meet a want, or make a want, that’s the motto, sir, for a new business?”
“Well, there really is something in that,” said Mizzlemist.
“Now, I intend to meet a want—a very craving106 want,” said Basil. “And with such benevolent107 determination, I purpose to start in life as a Comic Undertaker.”
“Good, devilish good!” and Bones rubbed his hands; and Mizzlemist stared.
“It will be my lasting108 reputation,” said Basil, “to meet the grand desire of the age. For do you not perceive, sir, the great tendency of our time is to sink the serious, and to save the droll109? Folks who have an eagle in their coat-of-arms begin to be ashamed of it, and paint it out for the laughing goose. In a very little while and we shall put a horse-collar round about the world, expressly for all the world to grin through it.”
“You know best, Mr. Basil,” said Mizzlemist, “but surely ’twill be a great stop to business.”
“Now, in pursuit of the comic,” said Basil, “I think we might very successfully carry fun into the churchyard. A man of true humour, sir, and such a man every morning when I rise I am in the habit of considering—himself may put a capital joke into an epitaph, and get a broad grin from a skeleton. I think I see my board and card—‘Basil Pennibacker, the Original Comic Undertaker. Funerals acted in the happiest vein110 of humour. Mutes of every drollery111.’ I think that will do, sir.”
“It will never be permitted, sir; never,” said the literal Mizzlemist. “The legislature, sir, will not permit it. I like a joke, sir; I think I may say I like a joke, but when the ashes of”—
[Pg 123]
“What! Eh? Why here comes Mr. Jericho, pelting112 along. Humph?” cried Colonel Bones, who had run to the window.
“Then I’m off,” said Basil, and instantly he ran down to the door, jumped in his saddle, and was speedily far away in a cloud of dust.
Mizzlemist approached the window. Jericho’s equipage came rattling113 down the hill, Hodmadod and Candituft galloping114 a little in advance. The carriage pulled up at the door of the Silver Lion. Mizzlemist had descended, and approached Mr. Jericho. “I am very sorry, sir, that I should have missed you,” said the Doctor. “I brought out the Colonel for a ride, and thought we should all meet at the Lodge. I thought you’d have stopt”—
“I don’t stop, Doctor Mizzlemist,” said Jericho coldly, whilst Mizzlemist stept back in astonishment—“I don’t stop for anybody. Who are you, sir—whom do you take me for?” bellowed115 Jericho, whilst Mizzlemist stared, and his jaw fell in mute wonder. Here, Colonel Bones, benevolently116 thought he might come to the rescue of his friend. Whereupon bending his iron face into a very severe smile, he began—
“I do assure you, Jericho, that”—
“Jericho!” exclaimed the Man of Money, with an oath that passed upon the Colonel a very hot and very summary sentence, “Who asked you to speak? A toad-eater! A bone-picking pauper! Drive on!” and Jericho sank back like an exhausted117 savage118; the coach and cavaliers flew forward, and Mizzlemist confounded, groped his way back to the Colonel, whom he found seated, foaming119 at the mouth, and violently cutting the air about him with a knife he had taken from the table, inarticulately spluttering—“Toad-eater! Majesty’s officer! Bone-picker! Blood—blood—blood!”
After a time, Mizzlemist took the knife from the Colonel, and entreated120 him to be calm. He was immediately obedient. He filled a bumper121, glanced at his friend, and in a soft but very decided122 voice, as though making himself a solemn promise of some especial treat, said—“I’ll have his blood, sir, his blood.”
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收听单词发音
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1
complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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2
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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3
condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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4
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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5
meddled
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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7
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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9
wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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10
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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11
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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12
shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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13
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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14
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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15
surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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16
tickles
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| （使）发痒( tickle的第三人称单数 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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17
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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18
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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19
hitching
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| 搭乘； （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的现在分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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20
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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21
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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22
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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23
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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24
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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26
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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27
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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28
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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29
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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30
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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31
goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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32
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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33
apparitions
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| n.特异景象( apparition的名词复数 )；幽灵；鬼；（特异景象等的）出现 | |
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34
dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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35
wondrously
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| adv.惊奇地，非常，极其 | |
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36
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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37
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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38
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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39
simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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40
viper
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| n.毒蛇；危险的人 | |
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41
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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42
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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43
chattels
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| n.动产，奴隶( chattel的名词复数 ) | |
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44
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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45
broker
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| n.中间人，经纪人；v.作为中间人来安排 | |
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46
savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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47
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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48
honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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49
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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50
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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51
neophyte
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| n.新信徒；开始者 | |
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52
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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53
abounding
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| adj.丰富的，大量的v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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54
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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55
expeditious
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| adj.迅速的，敏捷的 | |
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56
transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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57
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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58
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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59
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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60
waxwork
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| n.蜡像 | |
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61
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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62
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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63
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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64
corrupting
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的现在分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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65
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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66
insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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67
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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68
barter
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| n.物物交换，以货易货，实物交易 | |
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69
knavery
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| n.恶行，欺诈的行为 | |
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70
juggled
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| v.歪曲( juggle的过去式和过去分词 )；耍弄；有效地组织；尽力同时应付（两个或两个以上的重要工作或活动） | |
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71
ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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72
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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73
dwarfed
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| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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74
monstrously
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75
blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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76
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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77
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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78
meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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79
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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80
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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81
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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82
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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83
unctuous
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| adj.油腔滑调的，大胆的 | |
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84
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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85
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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86
poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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87
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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88
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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89
pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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90
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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91
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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92
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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93
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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94
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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95
measles
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| n.麻疹，风疹，包虫病，痧子 | |
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96
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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97
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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98
gilding
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| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
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99
cant
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| n.斜穿，黑话，猛扔 | |
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100
subservient
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| adj.卑屈的，阿谀的 | |
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101
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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103
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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104
laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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105
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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106
craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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107
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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108
lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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109
droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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110
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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111
drollery
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| n.开玩笑，说笑话；滑稽可笑的图画（或故事、小戏等） | |
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112
pelting
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| 微不足道的，无价值的，盛怒的 | |
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113
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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114
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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115
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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116
benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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117
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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118
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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119
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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120
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
bumper
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| n.(汽车上的)保险杠；adj.特大的，丰盛的 | |
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122
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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