mudfog+-第4部分

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some　three　hundred　years　old；　or　thereabouts。



'Twigger；　you　villain！'　said　Nicholas　Tulrumble；　quite　forgetting

his　dignity；　'go　back。'



'Never；'　said　Ned。　　'I'm　a　miserable　wretch。　　I'll　never　leave

you。'



The　by…standers　of　course　received　this　declaration　with

acclamations　of　'That's　right；　Ned；　don't！'



'I　don't　intend　it；'　said　Ned；　with　all　the　obstinacy　of　a　very

tipsy　man。　　'I'm　very　unhappy。　　I'm　the　wretched　father　of　an

unfortunate　family；　but　I　am　very　faithful；　sir。　　I'll　never　leave

you。'　　Having　reiterated　this　obliging　promise；　Ned　proceeded　in

broken　words　to　harangue　the　crowd　upon　the　number　of　years　he　had

lived　in　Mudfog；　the　excessive　respectability　of　his　character；　and

other　topics　of　the　like　nature。



'Here！　will　anybody　lead　him　away？'　said　Nicholas：　　'if　they'll

call　on　me　afterwards；　I'll　reward　them　well。'



Two　or　three　men　stepped　forward；　with　the　view　of　bearing　Ned　off；

when　the　secretary　interposed。



'Take　care！　take　care！'　said　Mr。　Jennings。　　'I　beg　your　pardon；

sir；　but　they'd　better　not　go　too　near　him；　because；　if　he　falls

over；　he'll　certainly　crush　somebody。'



At　this　hint　the　crowd　retired　on　all　sides　to　a　very　respectful

distance；　and　left　Ned；　like　the　Duke　of　Devonshire；　in　a　little

circle　of　his　own。



'But；　Mr。　Jennings；'　said　Nicholas　Tulrumble；　'he'll　be

suffocated。'



'I'm　very　sorry　for　it；　sir；'　replied　Mr。　Jennings；　'but　nobody　can

get　that　armour　off；　without　his　own　assistance。　　I'm　quite　certain

of　it　from　the　way　he　put　it　on。'



Here　Ned　wept　dolefully；　and　shook　his　helmeted　head；　in　a　manner

that　might　have　touched　a　heart　of　stone；　but　the　crowd　had　not

hearts　of　stone；　and　they　laughed　heartily。



'Dear　me；　Mr。　Jennings；'　said　Nicholas；　turning　pale　at　the

possibility　of　Ned's　being　smothered　in　his　antique　costume　…　'Dear

me；　Mr。　Jennings；　can　nothing　be　done　with　him？'



'Nothing　at　all；'　replied　Ned；　'nothing　at　all。　　Gentlemen；　I'm　an

unhappy　wretch。　　I'm　a　body；　gentlemen；　in　a　brass　coffin。'　　At

this　poetical　idea　of　his　own　conjuring　up；　Ned　cried　so　much　that

the　people　began　to　get　sympathetic；　and　to　ask　what　Nicholas

Tulrumble　meant　by　putting　a　man　into　such　a　machine　as　that；　and

one　individual　in　a　hairy　waistcoat　like　the　top　of　a　trunk；　who

had　previously　expressed　his　opinion　that　if　Ned　hadn't　been　a　poor

man；　Nicholas　wouldn't　have　dared　do　it；　hinted　at　the　propriety　of

breaking　the　four…wheel　chaise；　or　Nicholas's　head；　or　both；　which

last　compound　proposition　the　crowd　seemed　to　consider　a　very　good

notion。



It　was　not　acted　upon；　however；　for　it　had　hardly　been　broached；

when　Ned　Twigger's　wife　made　her　appearance　abruptly　in　the　little

circle　before　noticed；　and　Ned　no　sooner　caught　a　glimpse　of　her

face　and　form；　than　from　the　mere　force　of　habit　he　set　off　towards

his　home　just　as　fast　as　his　legs　could　carry　him；　and　that　was　not

very　quick　in　the　present　instance　either；　for；　however　ready　they

might　have　been　to　carry　HIM；　they　couldn't　get　on　very　well　under

the　brass　armour。　　So；　Mrs。　Twigger　had　plenty　of　time　to　denounce

Nicholas　Tulrumble　to　his　face：　　to　express　her　opinion　that　he　was

a　decided　monster；　and　to　intimate　that；　if　her　ill…used　husband

sustained　any　personal　damage　from　the　brass　armour；　she　would　have

the　law　of　Nicholas　Tulrumble　for　manslaughter。　　When　she　had　said

all　this　with　due　vehemence；　she　posted　after　Ned；　who　was　dragging

himself　along　as　best　he　could；　and　deploring　his　unhappiness　in

most　dismal　tones。



What　a　wailing　and　screaming　Ned's　children　raised　when　he　got　home

at　last！　　Mrs。　Twigger　tried　to　undo　the　armour；　first　in　one

place；　and　then　in　another；　but　she　couldn't　manage　it；　so　she

tumbled　Ned　into　bed；　helmet；　armour；　gauntlets；　and　all。　　Such　a

creaking　as　the　bedstead　made；　under　Ned's　weight　in　his　new　suit！

It　didn't　break　down　though；　and　there　Ned　lay；　like　the　anonymous

vessel　in　the　Bay　of　Biscay；　till　next　day；　drinking　barley…water；

and　looking　miserable：　　and　every　time　he　groaned；　his　good　lady

said　it　served　him　right；　which　was　all　the　consolation　Ned　Twigger

got。



Nicholas　Tulrumble　and　the　gorgeous　procession　went　on　together　to

the　town…hall；　amid　the　hisses　and　groans　of　all　the　spectators；

who　had　suddenly　taken　it　into　their　heads　to　consider　poor　Ned　a

martyr。　　Nicholas　was　formally　installed　in　his　new　office；　in

acknowledgment　of　which　ceremony　he　delivered　himself　of　a　speech；

composed　by　the　secretary；　which　was　very　long；　and　no　doubt　very

good；　only　the　noise　of　the　people　outside　prevented　anybody　from

hearing　it；　but　Nicholas　Tulrumble　himself。　　After　which；　the

procession　got　back　to　Mudfog　Hall　any　how　it　could；　and　Nicholas

and　the　corporation　sat　down　to　dinner。



But　the　dinner　was　flat；　and　Nicholas　was　disappointed。　　They　were

such　dull　sleepy　old　fellows；　that　corporation。　　Nicholas　made

quite　as　long　speeches　as　the　Lord　Mayor　of　London　had　done；　nay；

he　said　the　very　same　things　that　the　Lord　Mayor　of　London　had

said；　and　the　deuce　a　cheer　the　corporation　gave　him。　　There　was

only　one　man　in　the　party　who　was　thoroughly　awake；　and　he　was

insolent；　and　called　him　Nick。　　Nick！　　What　would　be　the

consequence；　thought　Nicholas；　of　anybody　presuming　to　call　the

Lord　Mayor　of　London　'Nick！'　　He　should　like　to　know　what　the

sword…bearer　would　say　to　that；　or　the　recorder；　or　the　toast…

master；　or　any　other　of　the　great　officers　of　the　city。　　They'd

nick　him。



But　these　were　not　the　worst　of　Nicholas　Tulrumble's　doings。　　If

they　had　been；　he　might　have　remained　a　Mayor　to　this　day；　and　have

talked　till　he　lost　his　voice。　　He　contracted　a　relish　for

statistics；　and　got　philosophical；　and　the　statistics　and　the

philosophy　together；　led　him　into　an　act　which　increased　his

unpopularity　and　hastened　his　downfall。



At　the　very　end　of　the　Mudfog　High…street；　and　abutting　on　the

river…side；　stands　the　Jolly　Boatmen；　an　old…fashioned　low…roofed；

bay…windowed　house；　with　a　bar；　kitchen；　and　tap…room　all　in　one；

and　a　large　fireplace　with　a　kettle　to　correspond；　round　which　the

working　men　have　congregated　time　out　of　mind　on　a　winter's　night；

refreshed　by　draughts　of　good　strong　beer；　and　cheered　by　the

sounds　of　a　fiddle　and　tambourine：　　the　Jolly　Boatmen　having　been

duly　licensed　by　the　Mayor　and　corporation；　to　scrape　the　fiddle

and　thumb　the　tambourine　from　time；　whereof　the　memory　of　the

oldest　inhabitants　goeth　not　to　the　contrary。　　Now　Nicholas

Tulrumble　had　been　reading　pamphlets　on　crime；　and　parliamentary

reports；　…　or　had　made　the　secretary　read　them　to　him；　which　is　the

same　thing　in　effect；　…　and　he　at　once　perceived　that　this　fiddle

and　tambourine　must　have　done　more　to　demoralize　Mudfog；　than　any

other　operating　causes　that　ingenuity　could　imagine。　　So　he　read　up

for　the　subject；　and　determined　to　come　out　on　the　corporation　with

a　burst；　the　very　next　time　the　licence　was　applied　for。



The　licensing　day　came；　and　the　red…faced　landlord　of　the　Jolly

Boatmen　walked　into　the　town…hall；　looking　as　jolly　as　need　be；

having　actually　put　on　an　extra　fiddle　for　that　night；　to

commemorate　the　anniversary　of　the　Jolly　Boatmen's　music　licence。

It　was　applied　for　in　due　form；　and　was　just　about　to　be　granted　as

a　matter　of　course；　when　up　rose　Nicholas　Tulrumble；　and　drowned

the　astonished　corporation　in　a　torrent　of　eloquence。　　He　descanted

in　glowing　terms　upon　the　increasing　depravity　of　his　native　town

of　Mudfog；　and　the　excesses　committed　by　its　population。　　Then；　he

related　how　shocked　he　had　been；　to　see　barrels　of　beer　sliding

down　into　the　cellar　of　the　Jolly　Boatmen　week　after　week；　and　how

he　had　sat　at　a　window　opposite　the　Jolly　Boatmen　for　two　days

together；　to　count　the　people　who　went　in　for　beer　between　the

hours　of　twelve　and　one　o'clock　alone　…　which；　by…the…bye；　was　the

time　at　which　the　great　majority　of　the　Mudfog　people　dined。　　Then；

he　went　on　to　state；　how　the　number　of　people　who　came　out　with

beer…jugs；　averaged　twenty…one　in　five　minutes；　which；　being

multiplied　by　twelve；　gave　two　hundred　and　fifty…two　people　with

beer…jugs　in　an　hour；　and　multiplied　again　by　fifteen　（the　number

of　hours　during　which　the　house　was　open　daily）　yielded　three

thousand　seven　hundred　and　eighty　people　with　beer…jugs　per　day；　or

twenty…six　thousand　four　hundred　and　sixty　people　with　beer…jugs；

per　week。　　Then　he　proceeded　to　show　that　a　tambourine　and　moral

degradation　were　synonymous　terms；　and　a　fiddle　and　vicious

propensities　wholly　inseparable。　　All　these　arguments　he

strengthened　and　demonstrated　by　frequent　references　to　a　large

book　with　a　blue　cover；　and　sundry　quotations　from　the　Middlesex

magistrates；　and　in　the　end；　the　corporation；　who　were　posed　with

the　figures；　and　sleepy　with　the　speech；　and　sadly　in　want　of

dinner　into　the　bargain；　yielded　the　palm　to　Nicholas　Tulrumble；

and　refused　the　music　licence　to　the　Jolly　Boatmen。



But　although　Nicholas　triumphed；　his　triumph　was　short。　　He　carried

on　the　war　against　beer…jugs　and　fiddles；　forgetting　the　time　when

he　was　glad　to　drink　out　of　the　one；　and　to　dance　to　the　other；

till　the　people　hated；　and　his　old　friends　shunned　him。　　He　grew

tired　of　the　lonely　magnificence　of　Mudfog　Hall；　and　his　heart

yearned　towards　the　Lighterman's　Arms。　　He　wished　he　had　never　set

up　as　a　public　man；　and　sighed　for　the　good　old　times　of　the　coal…

shop；　and　the　chimney　corner。



At　length　old　Nicholas；　being　thoroughly　miserable；　took　heart　of

grace；　paid　the　secretary　a　quarter's　wages　in　advance；　and　packed

him　off　to　London　by　the　next　coach。　　Having　taken　this　step；　he

put　his　hat　on　his　head；　and　his　pride　in　his　pocket；　and　walked

down　to　the　old　room　at　the　Lighterman's　Arms。　　There　were　only　two

of　the　old　fellows　there；　and　they　looked　coldly　on　Nicholas　as　he

proffered　his　hand。



'A