CHAPTER III.

Here we three are seated round the open window--after dinner--familiar

as in the old happy time--and my mother is talking low, that she may not

disturb my father, who seems in thought--

Cr-cr-crrr-cr-cr! I feel it--I have it. Where! What! Where! Knock

it down; brush it off! For Heaven's sake, see to it! Crrrr-crrrrr--

there--here--in my hair--in my sleeve--in my ear--cr-cr.

I say solemnly, and on the word of a Christian, that as I sat down to

begin this chapter, being somewhat in a brown study, the pen insensibly

slipped from my hand, and leaning back in my chair, I fell to gazing in

the fire. It is the end of June, and a remarkably cold evening, even

for that time of year. And while I was so gazing I felt something

crawling just by the nape of the neck, ma'am. Instinctively and

mechanically, and still musing, I put my hand there, and drew forth

What? That what it is which perplexes me. It was a thing--a dark

thing--a much bigger thing than I had expected. And the sight took me

so by surprise that I gave my hand a violent shake, and the thing went--

where I know not. The what and the where are the knotty points in the

whole question! No sooner had it gone than I was seized with repentance

not to have examined it more closely; not to have ascertained what the

creature was. It might have been an earwig,--a very large, motherly

earwig; an earwig far gone in that way in which earwigs wish to be who

love their lords. I have a profound horror of earwigs; I firmly believe

that they do get into the ear. That is a subject on which it is useless

to argue with me upon philosophical grounds. I have a vivid

recollection of a story told me by Mrs. Primmins,--how a lady for many

years suffered under the most excruciating headaches; how, as the

tombstones say, "physicians were in vain;" how she died; and how her

head was opened, and how such a nest of earwigs, ma'am, such a nest!

Earwigs are the prolifickest things, and so fond of their offspring!

They sit on their eggs like hens, and the young, as soon as they are

born, creep under them for protection,--quite touchingly! Imagine such

an establishment domesticated at one's tympanum!

But the creature was certainly larger than an earwig. It might have

been one of that genus in the family of Forficulidce called Labidoura,--

monsters whose antennae have thirty joints! There is a species of this

creature in England--but to the great grief of naturalists, and to the

great honor of Providence, very rarely found--infinitely larger than the

common earwig, or Forfaculida auriculana. Could it have been an early

hornet? It had certainly a black head and great feelers. I have a

greater horror of hornets, if possible, than I have of earwigs. Two

hornets will kill a man, and three a carriage-horse sixteen hands high.

However, the creature was gone. Yes, but where? Where had I so rashly

thrown it? It might have got into a fold of my dressing-gown or into my

slippers, or, in short, anywhere, in the various recesses for earwigs

and hornets which a gentleman's habiliments afford. I satisfy myself at

last as far as I can, seeing that I am not alone in the room, that it is

not upon me. I look upon the carpet, the rug, the chair under the

fender. It is non inventus. I barbarously hope it is frizzing behind

that great black coal in the grate. I pluck up courage; I prudently

remove to the other end of the room. I take up my pen, I begin my

chapter,--very nicely, too, I think upon the whole. I am just getting

into my subject, when--cr-cr-er-cr-er--crawl--crawl--crawl--creep--

creep--creep. Exactly, my dear ma'am, in the same place it was before!

Oh, by the Powers! I forgot all my scientific regrets at not having

scrutinized its genus before, whether Forfaculida or Labidoura. I made

a desperate lunge with both hands,--something between thrust and cut,

ma'am. The beast is gone. Yes, but, again, where? I say that where is

a very horrible question. Having come twice, in spite of all my

precautions--and exactly on the same spot, too--it shows a confirmed

disposition to habituate itself to its quarters, to effect a parochial

settlement upon me; there is something awful and preternatural in it. I

assure you that there is not a part of me that has not gone cr-cr-cr!--

that has not crept, crawled, and forficulated ever since; and I put it

to you what sort of a chapter I can make after such a--My good little

girl, will you just take the candle and look carefully under the table?

that's a dear! Yes, my love, very black indeed, with two horns, and

inclined to be corpulent. Gentlemen and ladies who have cultivated an

acquaintance with the Phcenician language are aware that Beelzebub,

examined etymologically and entomologically, is nothing more nor less

than Baalzebub, "the Jupiter-fly," an emblem of the Destroying Attribute,

which attribute, indeed, is found in all the insect tribes more or less.

Wherefore, as--Mr. Payne Knight, in his "Inquiry into Symbolical

Languages," hath observed, the Egyptian priests shaved their whole

bodies, even to their eyebrows, lest unaware they should harbor any of

the minor Zebubs of the great Baal. If I were the least bit more

persuaded that that black cr-cr were about me still, and that the

sacrifice of my eyebrows would deprive him of shelter, by the souls of

the Ptolemies I would,--and I will too! Icing the bell, my little dear!

John, my--my cigar-box! There is not a cr in the world that can abide

the fumes of the havana! Pshaw! sir, I am not the only man who lets his

first thoughts upon cold steel end, like this chapter, in--Pff--pff--

pff!

The Caxtons: A Family Picture — Volume 07 · 第 3 / 9 章