Three Men on the Bummel

y of him-His over anxiety-Night thoughts-The sort of work one does before breakfast-The good sheep and the bad-Disadvantages of being virtuous-Harris's new s

ck him up." Picking George up in the morning means picking him out of bed to begin with, and shaking him awake-in itself an exhausting effort with which to commence the day; helping hi

ou are startled out of your first sleep by what sounds like a rush of cavalry along the passage, just outside your door. Your half-awakened intelligence fluctuates between burglars, the Day of Judgment, and

ly some hard substance, a head one would say from th

r whatever it is, continues unchecked. You pause for a moment, with your head under the wardrobe, where you think you can see your slippers, to listen to a steady, monotonous thumping upon a distant door.

ay I g

e other voice, but

only wet, you know. Yes, ma, I'll tell 'em what you s

tself so as to be heard in a di

airs again. Pa says it i

every time the body is flung down upon the spring mattress, the bedstead, just above your head, makes a sort of jump; while every time the body succeeds in struggling out again, you are aware by the thud upon the floor. After a time the struggle wanes, or maybe the bed collapses; and you drift back into sleep. But the next moment, or what seems to be the next mo

t know you were awake. I

r," you rep

s. "He says everybody else in the house is liable to

instinct with the spirit of virtuous pride, ar

l this being u

ct is self-evident. "Pa's always very tired in the morning," the voice continues; "

l you can see from the bed is a confused tangle of waving arms and legs, suggestive of an intoxicated octopus trying to find bottom. Not a word is spoken; that seems to be the etiquette of the thing. If you are sleeping in your pyjamas, you spring from the bed, and only add to the confusion; if you are wearing a less showy garment, you stop where you are and shout commands, which are utterly unheeded. The simplest plan is to leave it to the eldest boy. He does get them out after a while, and closes the door upon them. It re-opens immediately, and one, generally Muriel, is s

rning," he say

ee, "are all right; othe

ption; a far-away look steals o

e morning," he says; "every

father ever invites an irritable man to come an

ontemplative mood, and

sts; "you wouldn't like to get up an

now, as things have turned out, it seems as good a

hildren, taught to be ever courteous to guests, felt it their duty to humour you. Mrs. Harris remarks at breakfast that at least you might have seen to it that the children were p

to let him teach them cycling tricks round the cucumber frames on Harris's new wheel. Even Mrs. Harris, ho

clock in the morning to play cricket on the croquet lawn, or to mimic the history of the early Church by shooting with a cross-bow at dolls tied to a tree; that as a matter of fact, left to your own initiative, you would have slept peacefully till roused in Christian fashion with a cup of tea at eight, they are firstly astonished, secondly apologetic, and thirdly

a long day, before him, and we ought to have diss

morning; that we had determined on. Indeed, George himself had suggested half-past four, but Harris and I had argued that five would be early enough as an average; that would e

s earlier than I had intended. I had said to

cious self, must be capable of counting the hours while we sleep. Unaided by clock or sun, or any other medium known to our five senses, it keeps watch through the darkness. At the exact moment it whispers "Time!" and we awake. The work of an old riverside fellow I once talked with called him to be out of bed each morning half an hour before high tide. He told me that never once had he overslept himself by a

im, I put on a pair of slippers and go downstairs to inspect the dining-room clock. What happens to a man when he wanders about the house in the middle of the night, clad in a dressing-gown and a pair of slippers, there is no need to recount; most men know by experience. Everything-especially everything with a sharp corner-takes a cowardly delight in hitting him. When you are wearing a pair of stout boots, things get out of your way; when you venture among furniture in woolwork

o Fenchurch Street Station. I went into my study; I thought I would put in an hour's writing. The early morning, before one has breakfasted, is not, I take it, a good season for literary effort. I wrote three paragraphs of a story, and then read them over to myself. Some unk

were browsing there, and they followed and took a keen interest in my practice. The one was a kindly, sympathetic old party. I do not think she

go-o-o-d

ased as if she ha

erous, disagreeable old thing, as disco

a matter of fact, some were really excellent strokes; but she did it ju

the bad sheep laughed-laughed distinctly and undoubtedly, a husky, vulgar laugh; and, while her friend

-o-d! Be-e-e-est sho-o-

he I had hit instead of the other one. It is eve

that I had not shaved. It vexes Ethelbertha my shaving quickly. She fears that to outsiders it may suggest a poor-spirited attempt at suicide, and that in consequence it

rod, which they will persist in using for cricket stumps; and I hate having to run for a train. Quarter of a mile from the station I overtook George and Harris; they were also running. In their case-so Harris informed me, jerkily, while we trotted side by s

we sat gasping in the carriage, there passed vividly before my mind the panorama of my Uncle Podger, as on two h

railway station was eight minutes'

uarter of an hour,

entlemen lived at Ealing in those days-I believe some live there still-and caught early trains to Town. They all started late; they all carried a

a fine morning to watch them pass, and cheer the most deserving. It was not a showy spectacle. They did not run well, they did not even run fast; but t

rmless betting would tak

the old gent in t

s, bar he don't roll over h

gical tastes upon a certain retired military neighbour of my uncle's,-a gentlema

ineness of the local police; and the editor would add spirited leaders upon the Decay of Courte

after breakfast would be to lose his newspaper. We always knew when Uncle Podger had lost anything, by the expression of astonished i

ng. I am quite incapable of finding it again for myself. In this respect I must b

he had convinced himself that whenever he lost a thing

here not a minute a

living surrounded by conjurers, who spirited

it in the garden?"

den for? I don't want a paper in the garde

put it in y

here at five minutes to nine looking for it if I had i

hat's this?" and hand him from

my things alone," he would g

and then glancing at it, he would pa

matter?" aun

ld answer, too hurt even to shout, t

e been a change. But it was always the day before yest

And then he would smile, not genially, but with the weariness that comes to

oses-!" He would not finish the sentenc

it was the custom of my Aunt Maria to have the

all next door, without taking a tender farewell of every

. In this way, five minutes at least would be taken up in everybody's looking for everybody else, which was just sufficient time to allow my uncle to find his umbrella and lose his hat. Then, at last, the group reassembled in the hall, the drawing-room clock would commence to strike nine. It possessed a cold, penetrating chime that always had the effect of confusing my uncle. In his exciteme

end my uncle rushing impetuously down to the gate, where he would recollect that he had with him neither his bag nor his umbrella. All the children that my aunt could not stop would charge after him, two of them struggling

xperiment into operation. Opening the book at the chapter entitled "At the Cab Rank

the steed," he sprang from his box, and returned to us a bow, that would have done credit to Mr. Turveydrop himself. Speaking a

he book. We called him "coachman," at which he again bowed to the pavement, and a

his heart, and said th

n the chapter, George asked

ngs. He said he never took money from distinguished strangers; he suggested a souvenir-a diam

ed the sort of place we wanted. It was one of those overfed shops that the moment their shutters are taken down in the morning disgorge their goods all round them. Boxes of boots stood piled on the pavement or in the gutter opposite. Boots hung in f

is hat, and sai

as a disagreeable man. He grunted something which might have

n recommended to your sh

is a most worthy gentleman; it will give me the

: "Don't know him;

y and gracefully into the immediate object of your coming, namely, your desire for boots, "cheap and good." This gross, material man cared, apparently, nothing for the niceties of retail dealing. It was necessary with such an one to come to business with brutal directness. George abandoned "Mr. X," and turning back to a previous p

mer and chisel, and looked at us. He spoke

I keep boots fo

d grow more angry as they proceed, their wron

hink I hang 'em about here to look at 'em? Ain't there enough of 'em? Where d'ye think you are-in an international exhibition of boots? What d'ye think these boots are-a historical

er of any real use. What we wanted was some English equivalent

nd. However, I will do George the credit to admit he chose the very

ps, you will have some more boo

in the centre of his boot-bedecked doorway addressing remarks to us. What

their purchase until our arrival in some foreign city, where the tradespeople are no doubt more inured to this sort of talk, or else more naturally amiable. On the s

heery, bright-eyed little man, and

"Have you any hats?" he did not get angry; he

asure broke over his genial countenance-"yes, now I come to think

se a cap, a travelling cap, but the essence of t

n's fa

, I could have found you the very thing. But a good cap-no; we don't keep them. But wait a minute," he continued,-on seeing the disappointment that spread over George's

forward, exten

that?" he asked. "Coul

e glass, and, choosing anothe

y well, but, tell me, do you

back and took a

plied, "I can't s

and addressed himself

e as elusive. It is there, but you can easily miss

ge that he had had sufficient fun

e don't want to lose

opinion, is twice as much as it is worth, is four-and-six. W

s, paid the man four-and-six in-silve

r five shillings. He made us another courtly bow, and

ost the game by two points to one; and George, who wa

es safe on the boat, and with the t