I WAS buying a canary in a birdshop when he first spoke1 to me and suggested that I should take a less highly coloured bird. ‘The colour is in the feeding,’ said he. ‘Unless you know how to feed ’em, it goes. Canaries are one of our hobbies.’
He passed out before I could thank him. He was a middle-aged2 man with grey hair and a short, dark beard, rather like a Sealyham terrier in silver spectacles. For some reason his face and his voice stayed in my mind so distinctly that, months later, when I jostled against him on a platform crowded with an Angling Club going to the Thames, I recognised, turned, and nodded.
‘I took your advice about the canary,’ I said.
‘Did you? Good!’ he replied heartily3 over the rod-case on his shoulder, and was parted from me by the crowd.
* * * *
A few years ago I turned into a tobacconist’s to have a badly stopped pipe cleaned out.
‘Well! Well! And how did the canary do?’ said the man behind the counter. We shook hands, and ‘What’s your name?’ we both asked together.
His name was Lewis Holroyd Burges, of ‘Burges and Son,’ as I might have seen above the door — but Son had been killed in Egypt. His hair was whiter than it had been, and the eyes were sunk a little.
‘Well! Well! To think,’ said he, ‘of one man in all these millions turning up in this curious way, when there’s so many who don’t turn up at all — eh?’ (It was then that he told me of Son Lewis’s death and why the boy had been christened Lewis.) ‘Yes. There’s not much left for middle-aged people just at present. Even one’s hobbies —— We used to fish together. And the same with canaries! We used to breed ’em for colour — deep orange was our speciality. That’s why I spoke to you, if you remember; but I’ve sold all my birds. Well! Well! And now we must locate your trouble.’
He bent4 over my erring5 pipe and dealt with it skilfully6 as a surgeon. A soldier came in, spoke in an undertone, received a reply, and went out.
‘Many of my clients are soldiers nowadays, and a number of ’em belong to the Craft,’ said Mr. Burges. ‘It breaks my heart to give them the tobaccos they ask for. On the other hand, not one man in five thousand has a tobacco-palate. Preference, yes. Palate, no. Here’s your pipe, again. It deserves better treatment than it’s had. There’s a procedure, a ritual, in all things. Any time you’re passing by again, I assure you, you will be welcome. I’ve one or two odds7 and ends that may interest you.’
I left the shop with the rarest of all feelings on me — the sensation which is only youth’s right — that I might have made a friend. A little distance from the door I was accosted8 by a wounded man who asked for ‘Burges’s.’ The place seemed to be known in the neighbourhood.
I found my way to it again, and often after that, but it was not till my third visit that I discovered Mr. Burges held a half interest in Ackerman and Pernit’s, the great cigar-importers, which had come to him through an uncle whose children now lived almost in the Cromwell Road, and said that the uncle had been on the Stock Exchange.
‘I’m a shopkeeper by instinct,’ said Mr. Burges. ‘I like the ritual of handling things. The shop has done me well. I like to do well by the shop.’
It had been established by his grandfather in 1827, but the fittings and appointments must have been at least half a century older. The brown and red tobacco — and snuff-jars, with Crowns, Garters, and names of forgotten mixtures in gold leaf; the polished ‘Oronoque’ tobacco-barrels on which favoured customers sat; the cherry-black mahogany counter, the delicately moulded shelves, the reeded cigar-cabinets, the German-silver-mounted scales, and the Dutch brass9 roll — and cake-cutter, were things to covet10.
‘They aren’t so bad,’ he admitted. ‘That large Bristol jar hasn’t any duplicate to my knowledge. Those eight snuff-jars on the third shelf — they’re Dollin’s ware11; he used to work for Wimble in Seventeen–Forty — are absolutely unique. Is there any one in the trade now could tell you what “Romano’s Hollande” was? Or “Scholten’s”? Here’s a snuff-mull of George the First’s time; and here’s a Louis Quinze — what am I talking of? Treize, Treize, of course — grater for making bran-snuff. They were regular tools of the shop in my grandfather’s day. And who on earth to leave ’em to outside the British Museum now, I can’t think!’
His pipes — I would this were a tale for virtuosi — his amazing collection of pipes was kept in the parlour, and this gave me the privilege of making his wife’s acquaintance. One morning, as I was looking covetously14 at a jacaranda-wood ‘cigarro’-not cigar-cabinet with silver lock-plates and drawer-knobs of Spanish work, a wounded Canadian came into the shop and disturbed our happy little committee.
‘Say,’ he began loudly, ‘are you the right place?’
‘Who sent you?’ Mr. Burges demanded.
‘A man from Messines. But that ain’t the point! I’ve got no certificates, nor papers nothin’, you understand. I left my Lodge15 owin’ ’em seventeen dollars back-dues. But this man at Messines told me it wouldn’t make any odds with you.’
‘It doesn’t,’ said Mr. Burges. ‘We meet to-night at 7 p.m.’
The man’s face fell a yard. ‘Hell!’ said he. ‘But I’m in hospital — I can’t get leaf.’
‘And Tuesdays and Fridays at 3 p.m.,’ Mr. Burges added promptly16. ‘You’ll have to be proved, of course.’
‘Guess I can get by that all right,’ was the cheery reply. ‘Toosday, then.’ He limped off, beaming.
‘Who might that be?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know any more than you do — except he must be a Brother. London’s full of Masons now. Well! Well! We must do what we can these days. If you’ll come to tea this evening, I’ll take you on to Lodge afterwards. It’s a Lodge of Instruction.’
‘Delighted. Which is your Lodge?’ I said, for up till then he had not given me its name.
‘“Faith and Works 5837”— the third Saturday of every month. Our Lodge of Instruction meets nominally17 every Thursday, but we sit oftener than that now because there are so many Visiting Brothers in town. ‘Here another customer entered, and I went away much interested in the range of Brother Burgess hobbies.
At tea-time he was dressed as for Church, and wore gold pince-nez in lieu of the silver spectacles. I blessed my stars that I had thought to change into decent clothes.
‘Yes, we owe that much to the Craft,’ he assented18. ‘All Ritual is fortifying19. Ritual’s a natural necessity for mankind. The more things are upset, the more they fly to it. I abhor20 slovenly21 Ritual anywhere. By the way, would you mind assisting at the examinations, if there are many Visiting Brothers to-night? You’ll find some of ’em very rusty22, but — it’s the Spirit, not the Letter, that giveth life. The question of Visiting Brethren is an important one. There are so many of them in London now, you see; and so few places where they can meet.’
‘You dear thing!’ said Mrs. Burges, and handed him his locked and initialed apron-case.
‘Our Lodge is only just round the corner,’ he went on. ‘You mustn’t be too critical of our appurtenances. The place was a garage once.’
As far as I could make out in the humiliating darkness, we wandered up a mews and into a courtyard. Mr. Burges piloted me, murmuring apologies for everything in advance.
‘You mustn’t expect —’ he was still saying when we stumbled up a porch and entered a carefully decorated ante-room hung round with Masonic prints. I noticed Peter Gilkes and Barton Wilson, fathers of ‘Emulation’ working, in the place of honour; Kneller’s Christopher Wren23; Dunkerley, with his own Fitz-George book-plate below and the bend sinister24 on the Royal Arms; Hogarth’s caricature of Wilkes, also his disreputable ‘Night’; and a beautifully framed set of Grand Masters, from Anthony Sayer down.
‘Are these another hobby of yours?’ I asked.
‘Not this time,’ Mr. Burges smiled. ‘We have to thank Brother Lemming for them.’ He introduced me to the senior partner of Lemming and Orton, whose little shop is hard to find, but whose words and cheques in the matter of prints are widely circulated.
‘The frames are the best part of ’em,’ said Brother Lemming after my compliments. ‘There are some more in the Lodge Room. Come and look. We’ve got the big Desaguliers there that nearly went to Iowa.’
I had never seen a Lodge Room better fitted. From mosaicked floor to appropriate ceiling, from curtain to pillar, implements25 to seats, seats to lights, and little carved music-loft26 at one end, every detail was perfect in particular kind and general design. I said what I thought of them all, many times over.
‘I told you I was a Ritualist,’ said Mr. Burges. ‘Look at those carved corn-sheaves and grapes on the back of these Wardens’ chairs. That’s the old tradition — before Masonic furnishers spoilt it. I picked up that pair in Stepney ten years ago — the same time I got the gavel.’ It was of ancient, yellowed ivory, cut all in one piece out of some tremendous tusk27. ‘That came from the Gold Coast,’ he said. ‘It belonged to a Military Lodge there in 1794. You can see the inscription28.’
‘If it’s a fair question,’ I began, ‘how much —’
‘It stood us,’ said Brother Lemming, his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, ‘an appreciable29 sum of money when we built it in 1906, even with what Brother Anstruther — he was our contractor30 — cheated himself out of. By the way, that ashlar there is pure Carrara, he tells me. I don’t understand marbles myself. Since then I expect we’ve put inoh, quite another little sum. Now we’ll go to the examination-room and take on the Brethren.’
He led me back, not to the ante-room, but a convenient chamber31 flanked with what looked like confessional-boxes (I found out later that that was what they had been, when first picked up for a song near Oswestry). A few men in uniform were waiting at the far end. ‘That’s only the head of the procession. The rest are in the ante-room,’ said an officer of the Lodge.
Brother Burges assigned me my discreet32 box, saying: ‘Don’t be surprised. They come all shapes.’
‘Shapes’ was not a bad description, for my first penitent33 was all head-bandages — escaped from an Officers’ Hospital, Pentonville way. He asked me in profane34 Scots how I expected a man with only six teeth and half a lower lip to speak to any purpose, so we compromised on the signs. The next — a New Zealander from Taranaki — reversed the process, for he was one-armed, and that in a sling35. I mistrusted an enormous Sergeant36–Major of Heavy Artillery37, who struck me as much too glib38, so I sent him on to Brother Lemming in the next box, who discovered he was a Past District Grand Officer. My last man nearly broke me down altogether. Everything seemed to have gone from him.
‘I don’t blame yer,’ he gulped39 at last. ‘I wouldn’t pass my own self on my answers, but I give yer my word that so far as I’ve had any religion, it’s been all the religion I’ve had. For God’s sake, let me sit in Lodge again, Brother!’
When the examinations were ended, a Lodge Officer came round with our aprons40 — no tinsel or silver-gilt confections, but heavily-corded silk with tassels41 and — where a man could prove he was entitled to them — levels, of decent plate. Some one in front of me tightened42 a belt on a stiffly silent person in civil clothes with dischargebadge. ‘‘Strewth! This is comfort again,’ I heard him say. The companion nodded. The man went on suddenly: ‘Here! What’re you doing? Leave off! You promised not to Chuck it!’ and dabbed43 at his companion’s streaming eyes.
‘Let him leak,’ said an Australian signaller. ‘Can’t you see how happy the beggar is?’
It appeared that the silent Brother was a ‘shell-shocker’ whom Brother Lemming had passed, on the guarantee of his friend and — what moved Lemming more — the threat that, were he refused, he would have fits from pure disappointment. So the ‘shocker’ went happily and silently among Brethren evidently accustomed to these displays.
We fell in, two by two, according to tradition, fifty of us at least, and were played into Lodge by what I thought was an harmonium, but which I discovered to be an organ of repute. It took time to settle us down, for ten or twelve were cripples and had to be helped into long or easy chairs. I sat between a one-footed R.A.M.C. Corporal and a Captain of Territorials44, who, he told me, had ‘had a brawl’ with a bomb, which had bent him in two directions. ‘But that’s first-class Bach the organist is giving us now,’ he said delightedly. ‘I’d like to know him. I used to be a piano-thumper of sorts.’
‘I’ll introduce you after Lodge,’ said one of the regular Brethren behind us — a plump, torpedo-bearded man, who turned out to be a doctor. ‘After all, there’s nobody to touch Bach, is there?’ Those two plunged45 at once into musical talk, which to outsiders is as fascinating as trigonometry.
Now a Lodge of Instruction is mainly a parade-ground for Ritual. It cannot initiate46 or confer degrees, but is limited to rehearsals47 and lectures. Worshipful Brother Burges, resplendent in Solomon’s Chair (I found out later where that, too, had been picked up), briefly48 told the Visiting Brethren how welcome they were and always would be, and asked them to vote what ceremony should be rendered for their instruction.
When the decision was announced he wanted to know whether any Visiting Brothers would take the duties of Lodge Officers. They protested bashfully that they were too rusty. ‘The very reason why,’ said Brother Surges, while the organ Bached softly. My musical Captain wriggled49 in his chair.
‘One moment, Worshipful Sir.’ The plump Doctor rose. ‘We have here a musician for whom place and opportunity are needed. Only,’ he went on colloquially50, ‘those organ-loft steps are a bit steep.’
‘How much,’ said Brother Burges with the solemnity of an initiation51, ‘does our Brother weigh?’
‘Very little over eight stone,’ said the Brother. ‘Weighed this morning, Worshipful Sir.’
The Past District Grand Officer, who was also a Battery-Sergeant-Major, waddled52 across, lifted the slight weight in his arms and bore it to the loft, where, the regular organist pumping, it played joyously53 as a soul caught up to Heaven by surprise.
When the visitors had been coaxed54 to supply the necessary officers, a ceremony was rehearsed. Brother Burges forbade the regular members to prompt. The visitors had to work entirely55 by themselves, but, on the Battery-Sergeant-Major taking a hand, he was ruled out as of too exalted56 rank. They floundered badly after that support was withdrawn57.
The one-footed R.A.M.C. on my right chuckled58.
‘D’you like it?’ said the Doctor to him.
‘Do I? It’s Heaven to me, sittin’ in Lodge again. It’s all comin’ back now, watching their mistakes. I haven’t much religion, but all I had I learnt in Lodge.’ Recognising me, he flushed a little as one does when one says a thing twice over in another’s hearing. ‘Yes, “veiled in all’gory and illustrated59 in symbols”— the Fatherhood of God, an’ the Brotherhood60 of Man; an’ what more in Hell do you want? . . . Look at ’em!’ He broke off giggling61. ‘See! See! They’ve tied the whole thing into knots. I could ha’ done it better myself — my one foot in France. Yes, I should think they ought to do it again!’
The new organist covered the little confusion that had arisen with what sounded like the wings of angels.
When the amateurs, rather red and hot, had finished, they demanded an exhibition-working of their bungled62 ceremony by Regular Brethren of the Lodge. Then I realised for the first time what word-and-gesture-perfect Ritual can be brought to mean. We all applauded, the one — footed Corporal most of all.
‘We are rather proud of our working, and this is an audience worth playing up to,’ the Doctor said.
Next the Master delivered a little lecture on the meanings of some pictured symbols and diagrams. His theme was a well-worn one, but his deep holding voice made it fresh.
‘Marvellous how these old copybook-headings persist,’ the Doctor said.
‘That’s all right!’ the one-footed man spoke cautiously out of the side of his mouth like a boy in form. ‘But they’re the kind o’ copybook-headin’s we shall find burnin’ round our bunks63 in Hell. Believe me-ee! I’ve broke enough of ’em to know. Now, hsh!’ He leaned forward, drinking it all in.
Presently Brother Burges touched on a point which had given rise to some diversity of Ritual. He asked for information. ‘Well, in Jamaica, Worshipful Sir,’ a Visiting Brother began, and explained how they worked that detail in his parts. Another and another joined in from different quarters of the Lodge (and the world), and when they were well warmed the Doctor sidled softly round the walls and, over our shoulders, passed us cigarettes.
‘A shocking innovation,’ he said, as he returned to the Captain-musician’s vacant seat on my left. ‘But men can’t really talk without tobacco, and we’re only a Lodge of Instruction.’
‘An’ I’ve learned more in one evenin’ here than ten years.’ The one-footed man turned round for an instant from a dark, sour-looking Yeoman in spurs who was laying down the law on Dutch Ritual. The blue haze64 and the talk increased, while the organ from the loft blessed us all.
‘But this is delightful,’ said I to the Doctor. ‘How did it all happen?’
‘Brother Burges started it. He used to talk to the men who dropped into his shop when the war began. He told us sleepy old chaps in Lodge that what men wanted more than anything else was Lodges65 where they could sit — just sit and be happy like we are now. He was right too. We’re learning things in the war. A man’s Lodge means more to him than people imagine. As our friend on your right said just now, very often Masonry66’s the only practical creed67 we’ve ever listened to since we were children. Platitudes68 or no platitudes, it squares with what everybody knows ought to be done.’ He sighed. ‘And if this war hasn’t brought home the Brotherhood of Man to us all, I’m — a Hun!’
‘How did you get your visitors?’ I went on.
‘Oh, I told a few fellows in hospital near here, at Burgess suggestion, that we had a Lodge of Instruction and they’d be welcome. And they came. And they told their friends. And they came! That was two years ago — and now we’ve Lodge of Instruction two nights a week, and a matinee nearly every Tuesday and Friday for the men who can’t get evening leave. Yes, it’s all very curious. I’d no notion what the Craft meant — and means — till this war.’
‘Nor I, till this evening,’ I replied.
‘Yet it’s quite natural if you think. Here’s London — all England — packed with the Craft from all over the world, and nowhere for them to go. Why, our weekly visiting attendance for the last four months averaged just under a hundred and forty. Divide by four — call it thirty-five Visiting Brethren a time. Our record’s seventy-one, but we have packed in as many as eighty-four at Banquets. You can see for yourself what a potty little hole we are!’
‘Banquets too!’ I cried. ‘It must cost like anything. May the Visiting Brethren —’
The Doctor — his name was Keede — laughed. ‘No, a Visiting Brother may not.’
‘But when a man has had an evening like this, he wants to —’
‘That’s what they all say. That makes our difficulty. They do exactly what you were going to suggest, and they’re offended if we don’t take it.’
‘Don’t you?’ I asked.
‘My dear man — what does it come to? They can’t all stay to Banquet. Say one hundred suppers a week — fifteen quid — sixty a month — seven hundred and twenty a year. How much are Lemming and Orton worth? And Ellis and McKnight — that long big man over yonder — the provision dealers69? How much d’you suppose could Burges write a cheque for and not feel?‘Tisn’t as if he had to save for any one now. I assure you we have no scruple70 in calling on the Visiting Brethren when we want anything. We couldn’t do the work otherwise. Have you noticed how the Lodge is kept — brass-work, jewels, furniture, and so on?’
‘I have indeed,’ I said. ‘It’s like a ship. You could eat your dinner off the floor.’
‘Well, come here on a bye-day and you’ll often find half-a-dozen Brethren, with eight legs between ’em, polishing and ronuking and sweeping71 everything they can get at. I cured a shell-shocker this spring by giving him our jewels to look after. He pretty well polished the numbers off ’em, but — it kept him from fighting Huns in his sleep. And when we need Masters to take our duties — two matinees a week is rather a tax — we’ve the choice of P.M.‘s from all over the world. The Dominions72 are much keener on Ritual than an average English Lodge. Besides that —— Oh, we’re going to adjourn73. Listen to the greetings. They’ll be interesting.’
The crack of the great gavel brought us to our feet, after some surging and plunging74 among the cripples. Then the Battery-Sergeant-Major, in a trained voice, delivered hearty75 and fraternal greetings to ‘Faith and Works’ from his tropical District and Lodge. The others followed, with out order, in every tone between a grunt76 and a squeak77. I heard ‘Hauraki,’ ‘Inyanga–Umbezi,’ ‘Aloha,’ ‘Southern Lights’ (from somewhere Punta Arenas78 way), ‘Lodge of Rough Ashlars’ (and that Newfoundland Naval79 Brother looked it), two or three Stars of something or other, half-a-dozen cardinal80 virtues81, variously arranged, hailing from Klondyke to Kalgoorlie, one Military Lodge on one of the fronts, thrown in with a severe Scots burr by my friend of the head-bandages, and the rest as mixed as the Empire itself. Just at the end there was a little stir. The silent Brother had begun to make noises; his companion tried to soothe82 him.
‘Let him be! Let him be!’ the Doctor called professionally. The man jerked and mouthed, and at last mumbled83 something unintelligible84 even to his friend, but a small dark P.M. pushed forward importantly.
‘It iss all right,’ he said. ‘He wants to say —’ he spat85 out some yard-long Welsh name, adding, ‘That means Pembroke Docks, Worshipful Sir. We haf good Masons in Wales, too.’ The silent man nodded approval.
‘Yes,’ said the Doctor, quite unmoved. ‘It happens that way sometimes. Hespere panta fereis, isn’t it? The Star brings ’em all home. I must get a note of that fellow’s case after Lodge. I saw you didn’t care for music,’ he went on, ‘but I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with a little more. It’s a paraphrase86 from Micah. Our organist arranged it. We sing it antiphonally, as a sort of dismissal.’
Even I could appreciate what followed. The singing seemed confined to half-a-dozen trained voices answering each other till the last line, when the full Lodge came in. I give it as I heard it:
‘We have showed thee, O Man.
?What is good.
What doth the Lord require of us?
Or Conscience’ self desire of us?
?But to do justly —
?But to love mercy.
And to walk humbly87 with our God.
?As every Mason should.’
Then we were played and sung out to the quaint13 tune88 of the ‘Entered Apprentices’ Song.’ I noticed that the regular Brethren of the Lodge did not begin to take off their regalia till the lines
‘Great Kings, Dukes, and Lords
Have laid down their swords.’
They moved into the ante-room, now set for the Banquet, on the verse
?‘Antiquity’s pride
?We have on our side.
Which maketh men just in their station.’
The Brother (a big-boned clergyman) that I found myself next to at table told me the custom was ‘a fond thing vainly invented’ on the strength of some old legend. He laid down that Masonry should be regarded as an ‘intellectual abstraction.’ An Officer of Engineers disagreed with him, and told us how in Flanders, a year before, some ten or twelve Brethren held Lodge in what was left of a Church. Save for the Emblems89 of Mortality and plenty of rough ashlars, there was no furniture.
‘I warrant you weren’t a bit the worse for that,’ said the Clergyman. ‘The idea should be enough without trappings.’
‘But it wasn’t,’ said the other. ‘We took a lot of trouble to make our regalia out of camouflage-stuff that we’d pinched, and we manufactured our jewels from old metal. I’ve got the set now. It kept us happy for weeks.’
‘Ye were absolutely irregular an’ unauthorised. Whaur was your Warrant?’ said the Brother from the Military Lodge. ‘Grand Lodge ought to take steps against —’
‘If Grand Lodge had any sense,’ a private three places up our table broke in, ‘it ‘ud warrant travelling Lodges at the front and attach first-class lecturers to ’em.’
‘Wad ye confer degrees promiscuously90?’ said the scandalised Scot.
‘Every time a man asked, of course. You’d have half the Army in.’
The speaker played with the idea for a little while, and proved that, on the lowest scale of fees, Grand Lodge would get huge revenues.
‘I believe,’ said the Engineer Officer thoughtfully, ‘I could design a complete travelling Lodge outfit91 under forty pounds weight.’
‘Ye’re wrong. I’ll prove it. We’ve tried ourselves,’ said the Military Lodge man; and they went at it together across the table, each with his own note-book.
The ‘Banquet’ was simplicity92 itself. Many of us ate in haste so as to get back to barracks or hospitals, but now and again a Brother came in from the outer darkness to fill a chair and empty a plate. These were Brethren who had been there before and needed no examination.
One man lurched in — helmet, Flanders mud, accoutrements and all — fresh from the leave-train.
‘‘Got two hours to wait for my train,’ he explained. ‘I remembered your night, though. My God, this is good!’
‘What is your train and from what station?’ said the Clergyman precisely93. ‘Very well. What will you have to eat?’
‘Anything. Everything. I’ve thrown up a month’s rations94 in the Channel.’
He stoked himself for ten minutes without a word. Then, without a word, his face fell forward. The Clergyman had him by one already limp arm and steered95 him to a couch, where ho dropped and snored. No one took the trouble to turn round.
‘Is that usual too?’ I asked.
‘Why not?’ said the Clergyman. ‘I’m on duty to-night to wake them for their trains. They do not respect the Cloth on those occasions.’ He turned his broad back on me and continued his discussion with a Brother from Aberdeen by way of Mitylene where, in the intervals96 of mine-sweeping, he had evolved a complete theory of the Revelation of St. John the Divine in the Island of Patmos.
I fell into the hands of a Sergeant–Instructor of Machine Guns — by profession a designer of ladies’ dresses. He told me that Englishwomen as a class ‘lose on their corsets what they make on their clothes,’ and that ‘Satan himself can’t save a woman who wears thirty-shilling corsets under a thirty-guinea costume.’ Here, to my grief, he was buttonholed by a zealous97 Lieutenant98 of his own branch, and became a Sergeant again all in one click.
I drifted back and forth99, studying the prints on the walls and the Masonic collection in the cases, while I listened to the inconceivable talk all round me. Little by little the company thinned, till at last there were only a dozen or so of us left. We gathered at the end of a table near the fire, the night-bird from Flanders trumpeting100 lustily into the hollow of his helmet, which some one had tipped over his face.
‘And how did it go with you?’ said the Doctor.
‘It was like a new world,’ I answered.
‘That’s what it is really.’ Brother Burges returned the gold pince-nez to their case and reshipped his silver spectacles. ‘Or that’s what it might be made with a little trouble. When I think of the possibilities of the Craft at this juncture101 I wonder —’ He stared into the fire.
‘I wonder, too,’ said the Sergeant–Major slowly, ‘but — on the whole — I’m inclined to agree with you. We could do much with Masonry.’
‘As an aid — as an aid — not as a substitute for Religion,’ the Clergyman snapped.
‘Oh, Lord! Can’t we give Religion a rest for a bit?’ the Doctor muttered. ‘It hasn’t done so — I beg your pardon all round.’
The Clergyman was bristling102. ‘Kamerad!’ the wise Sergeant–Major went on, both hands up. ‘Certainly not as a substitute for a creed, but as an average plan of life. What I’ve seen at the front makes me sure of it.’
Brother Burges came out of his muse12. ‘There ought to be a dozen — twenty — other Lodges in London every night; conferring degrees too, as well as instruction. Why shouldn’t the young men join? They practise what we’re always preaching. Well! Well! We must all do what we can. What’s the use of old Masons if they can’t give a little help along their own lines?’
‘Exactly,’ said the Sergeant–Major, turning on the Doctor. ‘And what’s the darn use of a Brother if he isn’t allowed to help?’
‘Have it your own way then,’ said the Doctor testily103. He had evidently been approached before. He took something the Sergeant–Major handed to him and pocketed it with a nod. ‘I was wrong,’ he said to me, ‘when I boasted of our independence. They get round us sometimes. This,’ he slapped his pocket, ‘will give a banquet on Tuesday. We don’t usually feed at matinees. It will be a surprise. By the way, try another sandwich. The ham are best.’ He pushed me a plate.
‘They are,’ I said. ‘I’ve only had five or six. I’ve been looking for them.’
‘‘Glad you like them,’ said Brother Lemming. ‘Fed him myself, cured him myself — at my little place in Berkshire. His name was Charlemagne. By the way, Doc, am I to keep another one for next month?’
‘Of course,’ said the Doctor with his mouth full. ‘A little fatter than this chap, please. And don’t forget your promise about the pickled nasturtiums. They’re appreciated.’ Brother Lemming nodded above the pipe he had lit as we began a second supper. Suddenly the Clergyman, after a glance at the clock, scooped104 up half-a-dozen sandwiches from under my nose, put them into an oiled paper bag, and advanced cautiously towards the sleeper105 on the couch.
‘They wake rough sometimes,’ said the Doctor. ‘Nerves, y’know.’ The Clergyman tip-toed directly behind the man’s head, and at arm’s length rapped on the dome106 of the helmet. The man woke in one vivid streak107, as the Clergyman stepped back, and grabbed for a rifle that was not there.
‘You’ve barely half an hour to catch your train.’ The Clergyman passed him the sandwiches. ‘Come along.’
‘You’re uncommonly108 kind and I’m very grateful,’ said the man, wriggling109 into his stiff straps110. He followed his guide into the darkness after saluting111.
‘Who’s that?’ said Lemming.
‘Can’t say,’ the Doctor returned indifferently. ‘He’s been here before. He’s evidently a P.M. of sorts.’
‘Well! Well!’ said Brother Burges, whose eyelids112 were drooping113. ‘We must all do what we can. Isn’t it almost time to lock up?’
‘I wonder,’ said I, as we helped each other into our coats, ‘what would happen if Grand Lodge knew about all this.’
‘About what?’ Lemming turned on me quickly.
‘A Lodge of Instruction open three nights and two afternoons a week — and running a lodging-house as well. It’s all very nice, but it doesn’t strike me somehow as regulation.’
‘The point hasn’t been raised yet,’ said Lemming. ‘We’ll settle it after the war. Meantime we shall go on.’
‘There ought to be scores of them,’ Brother Burges repeated as we went out of the door. ‘All London’s full of the Craft, and no places for them to meet in. Think of the possibilities of it! Think what could have been done by Masonry through Masonry for all the world. I hope I’m not censorious, but it sometimes crosses my mind that Grand Lodge may have thrown away its chance in the war almost as much as the Church has.’
‘Lucky for you the Padre is taking that chap to King’s Cross,’ said Brother Lemming, ‘or he’d be down your throat. What really troubles him is our legal position under Masonic Law. I think he’ll inform on us one of these days. Well, good night, all.’ The Doctor and Lemming turned off together.
‘Yes,’ said Brother Burges, slipping his arm into mine. ‘Almost as much as the Church has. But perhaps I’m too much of a Ritualist.’
I said nothing. I was speculating how soon I could steal a march on the Clergyman and inform against ‘Faith and Works No. 5837 E.C.’
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1
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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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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erring
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| 做错事的，错误的 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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covet
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| vt.垂涎；贪图(尤指属于他人的东西) | |
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ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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covetously
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| adv.妄想地，贪心地 | |
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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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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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nominally
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| 在名义上，表面地； 应名儿 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fortifying
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| 筑防御工事于( fortify的现在分词 )； 筑堡于； 增强； 强化（食品） | |
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abhor
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| v.憎恶；痛恨 | |
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slovenly
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| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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wren
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| n.鹪鹩；英国皇家海军女子服务队成员 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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tusk
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| n.獠牙，长牙，象牙 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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appreciable
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| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
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contractor
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| n.订约人，承包人，收缩肌 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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glib
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| adj.圆滑的，油嘴滑舌的 | |
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gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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aprons
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| 围裙( apron的名词复数 )； 停机坪，台口（舞台幕前的部份） | |
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tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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42
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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43
dabbed
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| （用某物）轻触( dab的过去式和过去分词 )； 轻而快地擦掉（或抹掉）； 快速擦拭； （用某物）轻而快地涂上（或点上）… | |
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44
territorials
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| n.（常大写）地方自卫队士兵( territorial的名词复数 ) | |
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45
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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46
initiate
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| vt.开始，创始，发动；启蒙，使入门；引入 | |
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47
rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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48
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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49
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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50
colloquially
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| adv.用白话，用通俗语 | |
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51
initiation
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| n.开始 | |
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52
waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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54
coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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55
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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56
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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57
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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58
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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60
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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61
giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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62
bungled
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| v.搞糟，完不成( bungle的过去式和过去分词 )；笨手笨脚地做；失败；完不成 | |
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63
bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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64
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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65
lodges
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| v.存放( lodge的第三人称单数 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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66
masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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67
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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68
platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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69
dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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70
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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71
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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72
dominions
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| 统治权( dominion的名词复数 )； 领土； 疆土； 版图 | |
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73
adjourn
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| v.（使）休会，（使）休庭 | |
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74
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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75
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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76
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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77
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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78
arenas
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| 表演场地( arena的名词复数 )； 竞技场； 活动或斗争的场所或场面； 圆形运动场 | |
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79
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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80
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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81
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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82
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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83
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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85
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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86
paraphrase
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| vt.将…释义，改写；n.释义，意义 | |
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87
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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88
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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emblems
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| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
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promiscuously
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| adv.杂乱地，混杂地 | |
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91
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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92
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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95
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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96
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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98
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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99
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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100
trumpeting
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| 大声说出或宣告（trumpet的现在分词形式） | |
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101
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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102
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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103
testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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104
scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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105
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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106
dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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107
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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108
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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109
wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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110
straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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111
saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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112
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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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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