sounded from an approaching train, the station bell rang close to their
ears, and a gruff voice above them shouted, “Train for Whackbury,
Flogland, Dunbrown, Sillybilly, and Blundertown.” Not that it sounded
like this, for it was spoken precisely as on all railways at home, and
sounded just
“Train frwabryflugglindenbrunnsilblunblurtun.”
[Sidenote: EYE READY.]
[Illustration]
But that matters as little on fairy railroads as elsewhere. When the boys
looked up they saw that the voice came from a policeman, about as tall as
a three-storey house, and no thicker than a Maypole, standing with his
arms sticking straight out, and who had an extra eye to safety, blazing
red, both in front and at the back of his head. Just as they looked up,
one arm flopped down to a slant, and an eye winked funnily from red
to green, so that he was a caution to look at. The train now appeared
dashing out of the tunnel (golden and bright no longer), going so fast
that the boys thought it must pass the station, and were horrified when
they saw the porters busily throwing down a quantity of black things like
two-foot-long tadpoles on to the rails, and then, a little further on, a
big, round, black ball.
[Sidenote: STOP THESE BUFFERS.]
“What’s that for?” said Jaques.
“Well, them’s stops. We goes about as fast as thought, so we checks and
pulls our trains up the same way as they do trains of thought, with
commas and colons.”
And sure enough the train, after crashing through the commas, came to a
stand just as two funny little buffers, whose heads stuck out in front of
the engine, seemed on the point of being black-balled by the full stop.
It is true that the commas seemed not to be placed with any care, but
just dropped down on the lines anyhow; still in this the system varied
in no way from the mode in which commas are scattered about the lines of
other great works as well as railways. In fact it seems to be the rule,
that commas come as they like; and if they come upside down they can
bring any amount of material to one work from another—a new proof that
one of the greatest powers of the age is commars.
[Sidenote: A BLOWING UP.]
As the train came to a standstill, the policeman’s eye winked suddenly
back from green to red, and his arm flew up again, while he shouted—
“Smash’ll, smash’ll, smash’ll.”
“Change furcrotnchipucklgublboranquklin;”
by which he meant, “Change for Crowtown, Cheepcackle, Gobbleboro’, and
Quackland.”
The boys’ attention was called to the engine, by the station-master
coming up in a rage to the driver, and stamping his foot on the ground,
shouting, “Here’s the ninth day this week that you have come in
punctually, when you know that it is against the rules. You must have a
blowing up.”
“All right, sir,” said the driver, meekly; and mounting the engine, he
quietly took his seat upon the safety-valve.
[Sidenote: ANOTHER.]
The boys, who had bought a little steam-engine with the savings of
pocket-money carefully hoarded for many months, knew something of the
danger of this proceeding from the printed directions sent with their
engine, and Norval cried out, “Oh, don’t do that, or there will be a
burst!”
[Illustration]
“All right, little un,” said the driver, “it’ll get me hup in the world.”
As he spoke he was shot into the air as high as the tall policeman’s
head, and the boys shut their eyes in horror, thinking he must be killed.
But on opening them again, to their surprise they saw him at his post,
quietly buttering a piece of bread with wheel-grease, and taking a drink
out of the engine’s oil-can.
“Are you not hurt?” asked Jaques, anxiously.
“Yes, ’urt in my feelin’s. It’s wery ’ard hafter getting so ’igh to have
to come down to this agin; but we must take things has they comes or
goes, has the man said when ’is ’ead flew hoff on bein’ axed to do so.”
[Sidenote: A POT-BOILER.]
[Illustration]
The engine did not appear to be more damaged than the driver by the
explosion, and on looking at it, the boys were surprised to see that its
boiler was shaped like a porridge-pot, with an immense porridge-stick
stirring it by steam. There was a tender behind, which kept the engine
up; for, as the driver said, in answer to one of the boys, “We keeps ’im
coaled to keep ’im ot. My hengine begins to ’eat up when ’ee’s swallered
two tons. In fact it’s with this coal ’ere that ’is bile is riz.”[2]
“And what have you got in the pot?” asked Ranulf.
[Sidenote: JUGGED ’ARE.]
The driver, who had just taken another pull at the oil-can, so long
and full that the fireman had to beg him to leave some for the wheels,
replied, “Don’t ye ax souperfluous questions.” But the fireman, picking
up a big spoon like a warming-pan, plunged it into the pot, and held it
down to Ranulf, saying, “There, you’ll find that ’ere souperfine stuff.”
“It ain’t ’are soup at all,” said the driver; “what are yer talkin’
about?”
“That’s just as well,” said Norval, “because one can’t live on air, of
course.”
“I dunno that,” said the driver; “jugged ’are’s wery good stuff for
dinner.”
“Oh, but,” said Jaques, gravely, “if we got nothing but a jug of air for
dinner we would be just full of wind.”
He thought to himself, just as he said this, that perhaps this was the
right thing for a driver of a puff-puff, as they called railway-engines
in the nursery, but he did not like to say so.
[Sidenote: TICKETS FOR SOUP.]
After Ranulf had tasted the soup, Norval and Jaques had some, just as the
porter came along the train calling out, “All tickets for soup ready,
please; tickets reade-e-e-e. All tickets for soup ready, please.”
“But we haven’t got any tickets,” said Ranulf.
“Then,” said the porter, “where’s your fare?”
“Well, we had fairy fare a little ago.”
“But I mean railway fare,” said the porter.
“Oh,” said Norval, “we’ve just had it too, and first-class fare it was;
at least it was fair fare.”
“All right,” said the porter; “but any boy who travels without his fare,
or his ticket for soup, will be breeched for breach of the company’s
pie-laws, remember that.”
[Sidenote: STOUT PORTER.]
He tried to look very fierce as he said this; but as his body looked
like a barrel, with three big X’s upon it, and his head was a large
pewter-pot, the boys could not help laughing, which Norval excused by
saying, “I beg your pardon, but you do look so dumpy.”
“In coorse I does,” said he. “Porters no good that bean’t stout, you
know.”
“Oh, but you’re so stout!” said Jaques.
[Illustration]
“No, I ain’t So’s stout,” said he; “I’m Dublin stout.”
[Sidenote: TURKEY CHANGING.]
“If you’re doubling stout,” said Norval, “that’s as stout as can be,
isn’t it?”
“No, it ain’t. I’m more than that already. Don’t you know treble X when
you see him?”
“Oh yes, I know now,” said Jaques. “I’ve heard papa say that X is an
unknown quantity; and you’re three times him, are you?”
[Sidenote: FOWL LANGUAGE.]
The porter was off by this time at the door of a carriage, looking at
tickets, so he gave no answer; and the boys’ attention was called off by
the passengers that were changing for Crowtown, Cheepcackle, Gobbleboro’,
and Quackland coming along the platform to cross the line. First came
Sir T. Urkey, of Gobbleboro’ Hall, in a white hat, a red handkerchief
sticking out from below it, a brown coat, and tight leggings. Next
followed Mr Shanty Cleary, his wife Henny, and half-a-dozen little cheeps
of the old block following. Mr Shanty Cleary’s head presented a most
combical appearance, and all the young Clearys of the male gender took
after their father in this respect. Last came M. U. S. Covy Drayck,
Esq., the tails of whose coat curled up in a very funny way, and who
carried his head very high, as if the whole country belonged to him,
although he was rather bandy-legged and very flat-footed. He seemed
altogether inclined to play the swell; and as they passed the boys,
bobbed his head to one of the Miss Clearys, and said, “Oh you little
duck!”
“Duck yourself,” said Mrs Cleary, with a most indignant sweep of her
head; “my daughter’s no duck, Mr Imperence.” Mr Shanty Cleary himself
stepped forward, with his head as high as he could; and looking as cocky
as possible, was just opening his mouth to say something severe, when Sir
T. Urkey turned back and said, “What’s the matter?”
“He’s giving my chick cheek,” said old Cleary.
“He’s trying to crow over me,” said Mr Covy Drayck.
“Come, Drayck, don’t be a goose,” said Sir T., “and behave yourself.
You’re no chicken now, you know.”
[Sidenote: IMPUDENT QUACKERY.]
“Who asked you to interfere?” said the other, throwing back his neck as
far as it would go, and waddling up to Sir T. in a most defiant manner.
Sir T. got purple in the face, and swelled out under his brown coat with
rage, his red handkerchief slipping loose, and a long end of it hanging
over his nose, nearly to his waist. He rushed at Mr Drayck, with his
coat-flaps trailing on the ground, and tried to speak, but nothing came
out except a gub-gubba-gubble-gubble-gubble. Mrs Cleary, seeing there
would be a fight, screamed out, “Police! police!” as loud as she could.
The tall policeman gave a horrible wink, showing the white of his eye, at
which signal two other constables seized the ill-behaved Mr Drayck by the
neck, and began to drag him to the engine.
[Illustration]
[Sidenote: POTTED.]
“What do you mean, you rascals?” said Mr Drayck.
“Means to pot you for breach of the pie-laws.”
“Where’s your warrant?” said Mr Drayck.
“Our pots is all Warrens,” said a constable, as they chucked him in.
“There,” said he, “you can commit breach of the peas in there if you
like; they won’t split on you, for they’re all split already.”
“Take your seats,” shouted the guard (who had a whistle instead of a
nose, and a big turnip fastened to his belt to tell the time by), as he
ran up to the boys, “and mind you don’t get in right side first.”
“Why?” said Jaques.
“Because if you gits in right side afore, you’re sure to be left behind.”
The boys went along the platform to look for a carriage. The first they
came to had a crown of a hat nailed on its side, and below in large
letters—
[Sidenote: EXHASPIRATING.]
[Illustration: ’ERE V.R. AGAIN.]
Looking in they saw a king in a long robe, standing before a number of
square holes (over each of which there was a letter of the alphabet),
with an armful of letters, which he was cramming into the different
holes. The H’s seemed to be very troublesome, for they were constantly
getting dropped, and those that he managed to force into their place the
boys saw slyly slipping out, and gliding into the holes of the vowels, so
that, struggle as he might, he could not get them right. Once he caught
an H with a corner of an I, just as it was trying to get in beside the
O’s.
“Oh ho!” said he, “is that what you’re after?” seizing him firmly. But
the H was determined, if he could not be where he ought not, that he
would be dropped; and as the king held on tightly to him, over they both
rolled together, the king tripping on his long robes, and coming down
in a most undignified position. The H’s that were on the ground could
do nothing, but those that had got in beside the vowels shouted with
laughter.
[Sidenote: A DROP SCENE.]
“Ha, ha, ha!” came from A pigeon-hole.
“Hee, hee, hee!” from E.
“Ho, ho, ho!” from O.
Those that had got in beside the I’s laughed in a Hi key. The H’s that
were in the U pigeon-hole alone remained silent, as they could only have
called out Heu, which, as it means alas! they were not in the Humour to
use.
The king made no attempt to rise, and looked as if he was much the worse
of the drop he had had, and in great need of a Pick-me-up; so Norval put
his foot on the step to get in and help him, but the king, observing his
intention, waved his hand and said majestically—
“ROYAL MALE.
NO ADMITTANCE.”
It was evident, however, that he was in great distress, for he called out
“Oh!” several times, only the boys could not understand why he put other
letters before it, so that it sounded like, “g. p. oh! g. p. oh! g. p.
oh!”
“Get out of the way,” said a voice behind them; and a gorgeous officer,
but who, strangely enough, wore canvas bags, and the orders on whose
breast were money-orders, stepped in beside the Royal Male.
“Who’s that?” asked Jaques.
[Sidenote: WIFE-BEATING.]
“That’s General Pustoffus; we calls him G. P. O. for short; it’s him as
looks after the Royal Male. He’s a queer sorter chap he is, the Royal
Male. He takes up ’is ’ole time a pullin’ letters out of bags, and
shoving ’em into ’oles; and when’s he’s tired o’ that, he takes them out
of ’oles and shoves ’em into bags. And, besides that, there’s never a
letter he gets that he doesn’t give the Queen’s ’ead a bang.”
“What a shame!” said Ranulf.
“Ay, it be a shame,” said the guard. “If you or me was to lick our wife
we’d get six months; but this ’ere Royal Male, he doesn’t mind ’er ’ead
gettin’ licked and stuck fast in a corner, and ’ee’s always a stamping on
it, and making her face all black. And I’m sure a patienter lady never
was, for though her ’ead’s being bumped all day, she never says a word.
He don’t hold the Queen’s ’ead worth more nor a penny to a hounce, he
don’t. But come on, or the train will be hoff.”
[Sidenote: PUFFY PIGGY.]
The next was the smoking-carriage, and the smoke was pushing out so hard
at the door, that the moment the handle was turned it flew open, so that
it took the united efforts of the guard and porter to get it shut again,
the cloud coming out as thick as gutta percha. Norval looked through the
window, and saw a pig puffing away at an enormous cigar.
“What a bore! It’s no use trying to go in there,” said he.
“I thought papa said smoking was a bad habit,” said Ranulf.
“Well,” said the porter, “ain’t ’ee trying to cure hisself?”
[Sidenote: SAMPLING.]
“I’d ha’ thought,” said the guard, “that amount of smoking would ha’
cured him already.”
[Illustration]
The pig, hearing the talk, opened the window and handed out a slice of
himself on a plate, saying, as he did so, “There, you see yourselves I am
not half cured yet, so don’t bother me any more. What can’t be cured must
be endured.” He gave such a puff of smoke as he said this, that Ranulf
sneezed a loud “H-a-a-a-m.”
[Sidenote: A FALSE START.]
“No, I am not ham,” said the pig.
“Bacon, then,” said Jaques.
“So I do mean to bake on,” said the pig, “in the smoke here, and when I
am ham I’ll let you know; so don’t take it for grunted till I tell you.”
He shut the window again.
“Why can’t he talk correct, and say ‘When I ham ’am’?” said the guard,
as, the pig closed the window.
The next carriage was empty; and no wonder—for it was the
sleeping-carriage, and was snoring so loud that even the wooden sleepers
below wouldn’t stay quiet, and were anything but chary of their raillery.
When Jaques looked in it only spoke in its sleep, and said, “Are we far
from Wakefield yet?”
“Very far, I should think,” replied Jaques.
They all laughed at this; and unfortunately the guard, in laughing, let
his whistle-nose go off.
[Sidenote: STEAD IS THE CURE.]
This made the driver start the train; just as the pig opened the window
of the smoking-carriage again, and handed out another slice, saying, “A
rasher individual than this pig would have made his eggsit as a cure at
once, but you see I’m no’[3] a ham yet; steady’s the word for a perfect
cure.”
This long speech gave time for a tremendous cloud of smoke to escape, so
that the train got out of the station under cover of it, before the guard
or the porter knew that it was off.
“’Ere’s a go!” said the porter.
“It’s more like there’s a go,” replied Norval.
“Yes, there’s a go, and here’s a stay,” said the guard. “We must get on
somehow. What shall we do?”
“Ax old Sammy Fore, ’ee’s your man,” said the porter, pointing to the
signal policeman.
“Vy, vot could ’ee do?”
“’Ee? ’ee’s the very man for movin’ people on, yer knows; ’ee’l be hable
to run yer in to the train yet.”
[Sidenote: POLICEMAN XPRESS.]
They all hurried across to the policeman, and begged him to take them on.
“Do you see anything green in my eye?” said he.
“Sometimes,” said Jaques, “when you wink.”
“Then you won’t this time,” said he. “Don’t you know that I’m a fixed
signal? If I were to leave here, I shouldn’t be found when I was wanted.”
“Just like other policemen,” said the guard, “so that wouldn’t make no
difference. Come, don’t be a fool; take us on.”
“Couldn’t we go by special train?” said Norval, who was by way of being
very knowing about railways.
“Special train be blowed!” said the guard; “let’s go by special
constable. We’ll soon hovertake the train by p’liceman Xpress.”
“No, you shan’t,” said the policeman; “I sticks to my beat.”
[Sidenote: COOKS FOLLOWERS.]
“If you sticks so hard, you’ll grow to the spot,” said the guard, sulkily.
“Then I’ll be a beetroot,” said the policeman.
“So you are, with your red and green.”
The policeman seemed determined not to help them, when the guard at last
said, in desperation, “If anything happens to that ’ere train, it’ll be a
pretty kettle of fish, for there’s a Cooke’s excursion in it.”
“Cooks and fish!” shouted the policeman; “why didn’t you say so before?
If there’s cooks in the train, I’m your man. Come on; cooks without
followers is no good; let’s after ’em at once.”
So saying, he whipped up Jaques and Ranulf under one arm, and Norval
under the other, and bidding the guard hold on by his coat-tails, started
off after the train. His long legs went over the ground at a tremendous
pace, and as they flew by, the people in the houses rushed out to behold
the sight of a policeman running, for they are generally slow enough, as
everybody knows. One old ploughman scratched his head as they sped past,
and muttered, “A’ve offen ’eard as how p’licemen’s never in an ’urry, but
that un goes like an ’urricane, he do.”
“Yes,” said another old man, “police rates are as slow as they’re heavy
generally.”
[Sidenote: VAN DRIVING.]
When they had gone several miles in as many seconds, the policeman caught
sight of the train, and rushed on faster than ever. But suddenly he gave
a terrible yell of pain; and no wonder—for he had bumped his shin against
a bridge crossing the line, which he had not noticed, as he was watching
the train. He staggered, blundered on a few strides of 300 yards each,
and at last fell heavily forward, and his head went bang through the van
of the train, which had come to a standstill, driving it all the way to
the next station, which was about half a mile off. When the policeman
fell, the little fellows ran great risk of coming to smash; but at the
back of the train there happened to be two obliging buffers, who, as the
shock of the fall made the policeman’s arms fly up, caught the boys,
and with the aid of one or two back springs, brought them safely to the
ground.
“Thou’st roon thyself in this time, lad,” said the guard; “it be looky
for oi that I warn’t in the van, or there ’ud a been two brakes in it
instead of one.”
[Sidenote: MOVE ON, THERE!]
The policeman vouchsafed no reply, but gathered himself up with a most
dignified air. One of his red eyes looked rather the worse for his
tumble; but being a glass one, it did not matter much, as it could be
easily replaced. He stuck his arms straight out once more, and said,
majestically, “Move on, there!”
The guard being anxious to get to the train, needed no further urging,
but set off with the boys for the station. After a little, he got so out
of breath that his nose was beginning to whistle again, and he had to
hold it for the rest of the way, lest it should cause the train to start
off without them once more.
[Sidenote: SLOW-PACED PROCEEDINGS.]
The boys, going forward to get into a carriage, found the people all
jammed up by large pieces of pasteboard, like the advertising placards
carried by two men in the streets, which turned out to be tickets. They
could not be got out at the doors without a great deal of bending and
squeezing and struggling, which tore and broke them; and as the officials
insisted on carefully pasting up each ticket as it was got out, the
collecting promised to be a very long affair.
“Why are the tickets so big?” said Jaques to the station-master, who had
used up a paste-pot as large as a drum. They had a paste-pump in the
station that was kept constantly going, like a battery.
“Well, you see, my little man,” said he, “people were always losing the
small tickets, so we thought they would take care of big ones; and we
have not had any mistakes since.”
“But doesn’t it take a long time?” said Norval.
“Well, ye-e-e-ss. We generally take about three hours and a half to get
things square,—I mean the tickets, for they makes a sad hash of them
getting them out; but then things is square when we’ve done, you see, and
that’s the great point.”
[Sidenote: CLOSE QUARTERS.]
Norval, who was beginning mathematics, wondered how a point could be
great, and how a square could be a point; but he did not like to trouble
the station-master, as he was so busy with the tickets, which, when they
were all mended and collected, made a pile that blocked up half of the
station.
A number of Sillybilly people came to the station to get into the train
for Blundertown. It was already so full that the boys were obliged to
squeeze themselves up in corners, till Ranulf called out, “Oh, I can’t
bre-e-eathe!” and Norval had to take him on his knee. When the Sillybilly
people came up, the guard ran along the train, calling out, “Plenty of
room! plenty of room! Every one sit on his own knee, and there’s plenty
of room!”
The passengers got very angry at this, and shouted out all sorts of cross
replies to the guard.
[Sidenote: GENERAL JAM.]
“There’s no need to do that,” said one.
“It’s not an easy position,” said another.
“There’s no necessity for it,” bawled a fourth.
“It’s packing us like negroes,” said a fifth.
[Illustration]
“It’s the _ne plus ultra_ of mismanagement,” said a sixth.
Those who tried to do it always found that they got on somebody else’s
knee instead of on their own, which, as it turned out, came to much the
same thing, as the moment anybody rose to try to sit down on his own
knee, a Sillybillier popped down on his seat.
[Sidenote: WISIBLY SWELLIN’.]
There was no need for hurry, as the train was only 22 hours and 49
minutes behind time; so, after everybody had with great difficulty got
in, and they were packed so tight that the sides of the carriages were
bulging out, the station-bell rang for 19 minutes, to show that the train
was going to start. Then the guard unscrewed his whistle-nose, wiped it
carefully with his pocket-handkerchief, and screwed it on again. It so
happened that he fastened it with the wrong end out; and when he blew, he
only whistled into himself, so that the driver could not hear; and he had
to get the station-master to give him a slap on the back with one of the
big tickets, to make the whistling that had stuck in him come out. The
train then started, but as there was a bridge just beyond the station,
and the carriages were so swelled, it had to be stopped again till the
porters had roped the carriages like trunks, to press the sides in and
let them pass.
[Sidenote: FREE AND EASY.]
The process made things so tight, that several persons called out, “Oh
dear!” At this the porters only laughed, and said, “Dear? it’s the
cheapest thing you get in twenty-four hours—you get it for nothing.”
The train having at last got fairly started, a big fat man, with a jolly
broad face, who seemed to get happier and happier the closer the squeeze
became, said in a wheezy voice—
“I move that we have a Free-and-Easy.”
“Move! that’s a good one,” said a voice from a corner. “Proposing to move
is all very well, but how will you get it done in a squash like this?”
“Well,” said the jolly man, “there’s nothing like trying.”
“No; except trying circumstances, like ours just now.”
“We must have a chairman,” said the jolly gentleman.
“Here’s what you want,” said Norval; “I saw him getting in.”
[Sidenote: PERE LA CHAISE.]
Everybody looked towards Norval, but in the crowd they could see nothing
but a broad, flat, smiling face.
“Why he more than another?” cried several.
“Well, if you could see him, you would know,” answered Norval.
[Illustration]
Instantly there was a shout—“Clear off, and let us look at him.”
Tightly as they were squeezed, they notwithstanding made a tremendous
push back from the man beside Norval, till the ropes round the carriage
creaked again. Sure enough, there he was—a chair beyond all doubt,
looking as inviting as possible.
“He’s just what we want for a Free-and-Easy,” said one, “for he’s an
easy-chair!”
[Sidenote: SUPPORTING THE CHAIR.]
“Come along, be our chair, old boy,” said another.
“All right,” said he; “but remember, if I agree to act, I won’t be sat
upon by anybody else; everybody must support the chair.”
“All right; we will, we will!” was heard from every side; and those next
him whipped him up on their shoulders—from which elevation he grinned a
great broad smile.
Everything seemed likely to go right, when a grumpy individual, whom
the crush to clear the chair had flattened up against the side of the
carriage, till he looked like half of himself, said in slow tones, as if
he had only breath for a letter at a time—
“I b-eg-g to mo-o-ve a cou-nt-er mo-shn.” Such sighs went from him as he
spoke, that it was no wonder he was much reduced in bulk. His words were
received with jeers of derision on all sides.
“Counter-motion!” said one; “how can you get a movement out of
shop-fixtures?”
[Sidenote: PRESSED TO WITHDRAW.]
“I wa-s a cou-nt-er-jum-per onc-ce, bu-t I a-ad-mit I’m a fi-xt-ure n-ow;
bu-t th-at’s be-cau-se th-is is a pa-ack-d meet-t-ing.”
Nobody felt able to deny that the meeting was packed, so there was a
dead silence. The chairman, however, with admirable tact, took up his
adversary on his own ground, and said—
“We don’t want any of your pax, so just hold your peace.”
“If you don’t,” said somebody, “we’ll turn you out.”
“Th-ere w-ill be ro-om to tu-rn the-n; I w-ish yo-u wo-uld do it no-w,
fo-r I fe-el tu-rn-ing di-zzy.”
“Turning dizzy! really now, you must be a clever party if you can do
that,” said one.
“You had better withdraw your motion,” said the chairman, blandly;
“everybody seems against you.”
“Ev-er-y-bo-dy-’s pr-ess-ing a-gai-nst me, if th-at’s wh-at y-ou mea-n.”
“Well, then, we’ll admit that you do it under pressure,” said the
chairman, cheerily; “we will press you a little more if you wish, but I
should think it was a case of _jam satis_.”
[Sidenote: SINGING SMALL.]
“_Sic, sic_; I fee-l ve-ry so-so,” said the grumpy man; “go-t a s-ing-ing
in my ea-rs.”
“It’s more than we have,” said the chairman; “but for you we would have
had it long ago—you’ve kept all the harmony from us; but now for a song.
Who’ll sing?”
Nobody seemed to like to be first, and there was silence for a minute,
when, to the astonishment of everybody, himself included, Ranulf’s little
voice was heard saying, “I will.”
[Sidenote: NURSERY RHYMING.]
[Sidenote: HIP, HIP, HIP.]
“Bravo, new edition of the Little Songster! sing away!”[4]
1.
We are three jolly boys, you see,
Hurrah! hurrah!
We are three jolly boys, you see,
Hurrah! hurrah!
Norval and Jaques and Ranny—that’s me—
As lively as so many crickets are we,
And we wish you all a jolly good health, we do!
And we wish you all a jolly good health, we do!
2.
The fairy told us to be good,
Hurrah! hurrah!
The fairy told us to be good,
Hurrah! hurrah!
To be cheery and bright, not sulky or rude—
We nodded our noddles, and said we would;
And we mean to try, oh, ever so hard, we do!
And we mean to try, oh, ever so hard, we do!
3.
She said we never should tell a lie,
Hurrah! hurrah!
She said we never should tell a lie,
Hurrah! hurrah!
So we’ll rather go without pudding or pie,
If it can’t be got without telling a lie,
For we mean to hold on tight to truth, we do!
For we mean to hold on tight to truth, we do!
4.
She bid us keep our temper, too,
Hurrah! hurrah!
She bid us keep our temper, too,
Hurrah! hurrah!
So we shall try to put on the screw,
To keep it down whatever we do,
For we mean to be jolly, whatever turns up, we do!
For we mean to be jolly, whatever turns up, we do!
5.
In fact, we’ll follow her advice,
Hurrah! hurrah!
In fact, we’ll follow her advice,
Hurrah! hurrah!
To keep ever free from folly and vice,
And to choose the ways that are noble and nice,
Brave, true gentle men, whatever we say or do!
Brave, true gentle men, whatever we say or do!
6.
Fail we must, but we’ll try again,
Hurrah! hurrah!
Fail we must, but we’ll try again,
Hurrah! hurrah!
For we know, if we work with might and main
And a trusting heart, we’ll not strive in vain;
So we mean to hold on, true to the end, we do!
So we mean to hold on, true to the end, we do!
There was great cheering, and cries, “Bravo, little un!” when Ranulf
finished, and the chairman said—
[Sidenote: COMPANY ADVICES.]
“The fairy gave you very good advice, so never forget it. Beware of bad
surroundings. Life’s like a railway journey—a great deal depends upon
your company not being too fast, and your having a good carriage, and
good couplings. If you maintain a manly upright carriage, and don’t
couple yourselves by bad ties, keeping truth and modesty for your
safety—chains, you’ll get on well enough; but if your life carriage gets
shaky, and your connections loose, and you get bad buffers about you, you
will be apt to come to grief.”
The boys listened attentively as the chairman spoke, and it is to be
hoped that neither they, nor any other boys who read this, will forget
what he said.
In the meantime, the people seemed not to be able to get Ranulf’s tune
out of their heads, and began to find their own words to carry it on.
From one corner came—
[Sidenote: A MEDLEY.]
“A spoon of wood is the thing at night,
Hurrah! hurrah!
A spoon of wood is the thing at night,
Hurrah! hurrah!
Just swallow it dry, it will clear your sight,
To see an invisible green so bright!
Oh! we’re all jolly tight on our way to Blundertown!
Oh! we’re all jolly tight on our way to Blundertown!”
“Stuff and nonsense!” said another, and then he went off himself:—
“Spoon-meat may be good enough for thee,
Hurrah! hurrah!
Spoon-meat may be good enough for thee,
Hurrah! hurrah!
But there’s nought like a plank of a hare-soup tree,
Or fresh-roasted ices to make you see
Saw your way through a milestone of brick, you see;
Saw your way through a milestone of brick, you see.”
“Shut up!” cried some one from the back of the carriage—“for
“Milestones aren’t good looks at all,
Hurrah! hurrah!
Milestones aren’t good looks at all,
Hurrah! hurrah!
It’s easy to see through a stone mile’s squall,
If your eyes are sour and your temper tol-
Erably like a lump of chalk, you see;
Erably like a lump of chalk, you see.”
This seemed to drive a man who had been sitting quiet almost frantic with
excitement, and off he went—
“Chalk and stones, and spoons and trees,
Hurrah! hurrah!
Chalk and stones, and spoons and trees,
Hurrah! hurrah!
If your eyes aren’t made from a skim-milk cheese,
What on earth is the good of talking of these?
For you can’t whey what you are talking about, you see;
For you can’t whey what you are talking about, you see.”
[Sidenote: A MORAL.]
“Last verse, and moral,” said the chairman, with great gravity—
“Such noble thoughts improve the mind,
Hurrah! hurrah!
Such noble thoughts improve the mind,
Hurrah! hurrah!
They belong to the true philosophical kind,
And the moral is plain to be seen by the blind;
For it just is this—that a vile un is fiddle-de-dee;
For it just is this—that a vile un is fiddle-de-dee.”
[Sidenote: HEADS AND TAILS.]
When the noise was at its height, Norval said to the chairman, “It seems
to get greater nonsense at every verse.”
“To she bure it does,” said he; “you are etting ginto Blunderland, and
hings don’t thappen there as dey tho in pother laces.”
“Yes, indeed,” said an old gentleman; “look out at the floor and you will
hear with your own toes what cruel of a place this is.”
[Sidenote: AGES OF MAN.]
[Illustration]
Neither he nor the chairman could help speaking thus, being in
Blunderland; but Norval guessed that the old gentleman meant he was to
look and see what kind of a place the train had got into, so turned and
gazed out at the window. The first thing he saw was a man riding with
his face to the horse’s tail, holding the reins like the tiller-ropes
of a boat, which was rather difficult, as he had top-boots on his hands.
A little further on came an old man who had a string tied to his leg,
the other end of which was held by a pig in a poke-bonnet and a stylish
shawl. Next he saw a very old man with short trousers and a pinafore, a
satchel over his shoulders, and a slate hanging at his side, at whom a
boy not older than himself, in a green coat with brass buttons, and a
white hat, carrying a gold-headed cane, was looking through an eye-glass.
Jaques had joined Norval, and suddenly called out, “What are they doing
in that field?”
[Illustration]
“Oh,” said the chairman, “they are tigging the durnips.”
What they were really doing was emptying carts of large stones on the
field.
[Sidenote: SHAKERS.]
“Seeding sow for flint-soup,” said another.
“Flint-soup would be hard fare, I think,” said Jaques; “and besides, how
can soup grow?”
“Doesn’t it grow cold sometimes?” said the chairman.
Poor Jaques was quite dumbfoundered. He was sure there was some nonsense
about it, but he couldn’t make it out. However, there was no time for
more discussion, as the train began to move very strangely, going along
with a series of jumps that shook everybody.
“Treasant plavelling now,” said the chairman, smiling sweetly, as the
train gave a bump that nearly shook his head off.
“What does it mean?” said Norval.
“Blunderingshire lines are all thade mat way,” said the chairman; “it’s a
strittle lange at first, but it will get used to you.”
Bump, bump, bump went the train.
“Oh,” said Norval, “I hope there won’t be an accident!”
“Accident!” said the old gentleman, “what an absurd idea to get into
anybody’s backbone! That would be just the same as common pailways.”
“What’s a pailway?” said Ranulf.
“Down the hill, the same as Jack and Jill, I suppose,” said Norval.
[Sidenote: A LA GLACE.]
At this point the train went crash through the end of the station—which
was all filled in with glass down to the ground—sending the pieces flying
in every direction. Nobody seemed to care the least for this; and as the
boys looked surprised, the chairman said, “We don’t go in for class with
gare here as they do on French lines. What’s the use of glass being so
seasily mashed if you don’t break it?”
“It’s a gery vood arrangement, because it pets leople know there’s a
train coming,” said one gentleman.
“Yes, and she’s an ice arrangement, for she bakes the station warm,” said
the old gentleman; “fills him with shivers, you know.”
[Sidenote: TAKE NO NOTICE.]
The boys were getting completely puzzled, but there was no time for
explanation, as the train stopped almost immediately, and everybody made
a rush to get out. You never saw anything so funny as the station was.
The big advertisements on the sides were either upside down or had their
fronts to the wall. Only a few boards were hung right, and these were as
follows:—
ANY OF THE COMPANY’S SERVANTS
RECEIVING FEES OR GRATUITIES, WILL
HAVE THE AMOUNT DOUBLED
ON APPLYING AT THE
IMPROPER DEPARTMENT.