Part 3

“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.]