Part 7

“But what are we to put down, and where are we to put them, whatever they may be?” said Norval.

“Didn’t I say your names (everybody visiting towers should put down their names)? and where would you think of putting names down but in a book, I should like to know?” said the little man.

“But where is the book?” said Jaques; “I don’t see any.”

“Oh, most ill-informed little boy! in the visitors’ book, to be sure.”

[Sidenote: WRITING UP THE BOOKS.]

“But where is it?”

“You know that best. Surely you know where your own book is?”

“But you said the visitors’ book.”

“Well, and are you not a visitor? so if you put it down in your book it will be in the visitor’s book, won’t it?”

This seemed to be nothing short of downright nonsense to the boys; but to please the little man, they took out their pocket-books, and gravely wrote their own names in them.

“Now, let me see,” said the little man, producing a pair of spectacles with eyes as big as saucers.

They held up their books, and the little man took a glance through his spectacles. The moment he saw the writing he gave a start of surprise and disgust, and nearly tumbled off his perch.

“Woe is me!” he exclaimed, wringing his hands. “Is this the effect of Education Acts and School Boards? Why, they are upside up, when I told you it was down they were to be.”

[Sidenote: ON THE KEY VIVE.]

“But they are down in the book,” said Norval.

“No,” said the little man, sorrowfully, “they are not even that. They are up at the very top of the page, all of them. Oh dear! it upsets me completely,” he added, as, bending down, he raised his legs in the air and stood upon his head.

“Ah, now,” he said, “it is all right! they are down now. You see if I were standing on ceremony I could not have let you pass, but standing on my head heals up the difficulty. It’s a pate-nt way of my own. Now you may pass on.”

“But the gate is not open,” said Jaques.

“Well, open it,” said the little man.

“But we have not got a key.”

“Well, then, if you have not got A key, try the key of B.”

Jaques looked puzzled, and said, “I don’t understand.”

[Sidenote: STACCATO PASSAGE.]

“There,” said the little man, pointing to a rope attached to the bolt of the gate—“you’re A flat; B E sharp now, and C what F-ect ten or a dozen treble G-erks applied altogether to the bar at the base there may have in the D-velopment of a passage.”

This speech made the boys look at one another, and laugh. “Well,” said the little man, “passages generally do open with a chord seem funny as it may; so just try.”

At this, Norval seized the rope, and, tugging it vigorously, the gate swung slowly on its hinges.

“Ah! what lovely opening bars!” cried the little man, beating time with one leg; “there never was a passage better done on the P an’ O.”

The remark may be made here, in passing, that a match against time with both legs is common, but to beat time with one leg! extraordinary feat!!! The passage must have been very legato, or it could not have been done.

When the gate was fully open, the boys all said, “Thank you.”

“Oh, never mind thanking me; it’s been a case of stuck-at-a passage long enough; get through it in treble quick time, and be happy.”

[Sidenote: THE TALK OF THE HOUSE.]

No second bidding was needed, and the little fellows, running through the gateway, found themselves in a courtyard in which stood a high tower, whose stones looked like transparent green glass, and the lines between them as if raspberry-jam had been used for lime.

After looking at it for a few moments, Jaques exclaimed, “I wonder what the tower is for?”

“Nothing at all at present, thank you; I’m not ’ungry,” replied a _forte_ voice, in somewhat stony accents.

“Why, it can speak,” cried Jaques, quite astonished.

“Of course I can. If ’ouses may talk, why should not I?”

“But houses don’t talk,” said Ranulf.

[Sidenote: BIGGARLY ARGUMENTS.]

“’Ouses don’t talk, don’t they? Ha, ha, ha!” shouted the tower, till its sides shook so that the boys were afraid it would tumble, and its tiers would have fallen, only they had not the cheek to run down. “Ha, ha, ha, ha! So you think ’ouses can’t talk. Now I’ve ’eard it said they talk too much. Look at the ’Ouse of Commons, and you’ll see that you never made a Biggar mistake; it seems to do nothing but talk.”

“Ah, but,” said Jaques, “that’s different; it’s not a great high stone thing, like you.”

“Not stone, and not ’igh! Is that all you know? Isn’t a glad stone always getting up in it, and ain’t the dizzy ’ights at the top? But I shan’t talk to you hany more.”

“Why not, please?” said Jaques, timidly.

“Why not! you are not a purpose, nor a heffect, nor a hend,—are you?”

“No,” said Jaques.

“Then I shan’t talk to you. When I talk I always talk to some purpose, or to some heffect, or to some hend. I like the last best. Give me some hend to talk to, and I’ll talk no hend.”

“Some end of what?” asked Norval; “is it the end of a stick, or a cigar, or what?”

“Oh, to the hend of time, or hanything. Make a hend of yourself, and you will see how I’ll talk to you then.”

[Sidenote: FORTITER.]

The boys did not quite see that to be the talk of a tower was a sufficient temptation to suicide, so remained silent.

“Well, I’m glad, at all hevents, you’ve made a bend of something; making a hend of speaking is better than making a hend of nothing. Now that you’ve made a hend, I can talk to it, if you will promise that the bend will attend to the hend, that the bend in view may in the bend be brought to a hend, and that——”

“Why,” said Norval, interrupting, “I beg your pardon, but you said you would talk no end, and it seems to me it is all end together.”

[Sidenote: REVIEWING EXTRAORDINARY.]

At this the tower completely forgot itself, indeed went off into a towering passion, and stormed away for ever so long. Some people may think that it is strange a tower should storm itself, instead of being stormed; but the fact was that its mortar being ill tempered, it exploded spontaneously. The way in which a tower flies into a passion is very difficult to describe, and it will not be attempted here. Suffice it to say, that of course it used its wings. Its rage was so great as to make it speechless, which, from the rubbish it had been talking on end before, was just as well, for though it kept on end, it did so silently. The boys began to walk round it, and on getting to the other side, they found a very low door, over which was a large placard:—

VISITORS WHO HAVE NO VIEWS OF THEIR OWN WILL FIND SOME AT THE TOP OF THIS TOWER.

_Those who change their views charged extra._

FRAMES OF MIND FOR THE VIEWS MAY BE HAD AT MODERATE PRICES.

ADMISSION FREE. ON WHOLEYDAYS HALF-PRICE.

N.B.—_Whatever goes in at the bottom must come out at the top._

By Order.

A. B. FEATER, _Custodier._

[Sidenote: MUST I, THOUGH?]

Now “must” is a word that people are constantly telling little boys not to use, but are just as constantly using themselves in speaking to them. Accordingly it is not very surprising that when boys see the word “must” painted up in large letters, they should feel inclined to resist. When Norval, and Jaques, and Ranulf saw “must go out at the top” on the placard, their bump of combativeness at once became irritated; and, after a short conference, they resolved they would go into the tower, and would not go out at the top. Norval’s idea was that there was some one inside to catch anybody that entered, and force him to the top, so he told Jaques and Ranulf that he would peep in, if they would be ready to pull him back should any one try to take hold of him. He then advanced cautiously, and put his head in at the door. The moment he did so, he called out—

“OH HOLD ME!”

[Sidenote: A NECKSCRESCENCE.]

The “oh” was very loud, but the “hold” sounded more distant, and the “me” was so far off as to be difficult to hear. Jaques and Ranulf held on stoutly to Norval’s legs, but found they could not haul him out, though pulling with all their might. While they were still struggling, Norval’s voice behind them said, “It’s no use, you had better let them go.” On looking round they were amazed to see Norval’s head upside down just at their backs, hanging by a long neck, not thicker than a sausage, from the top of the tower.

In ordinary circumstances this would have shocked them horribly, but then wonders began to come almost as matters of course, and Norval’s head drooping down like a ball at the end of a string had such an irresistibly comical appearance, that they both burst into a loud fit of laughter, in which Norval himself joined most heartily. But when they had enjoyed their laugh, and began to look matters and Norval in the face, the puzzle was what to do; for they saw that to resist going out at the top would be useless, and feared that if Norval’s legs were released, his body would go out at the top and be smashed. After thinking a little, Jaques asked Ranulf for his top-cord, proposing to tie it to Norval’s legs, and let him down quietly. “Oh, but,” said Ranulf, “the cord would never reach so far.”

[Sidenote: EXTENDED ARMS.]

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: THE MISSING BOX.]

[Sidenote: EXTENSION MOTIONS.]

[Sidenote: PULLING, BUT NO PULING.]

“Oh yes,” said Jaques; “don’t you see that whatever goes in at the bottom must come out at the top? so the string will get long if we hold it, just as Norval’s neck did.” This proved to be correct; for on tying the cord to Norval’s legs and letting them go, they flew up at once, and Jaques and Ranulf holding on prevented Norval tumbling over. But while Jaques was easing the cord down, by moving his hands forward, he thoughtlessly brought them within the doorway, when at once his arms flew up the tower, and Norval had in his turn to assist Ranulf to hold Jaques, whose hands shot out at the top of the tower, and hung down behind them as Norval’s head had done before. Norval and Ranulf began to get the cord ready to let Jaques down safely in his turn, but Jaques (mechanical again) relieved them from the trouble by making use of his long arms. He seized each of his heels firmly in one hand, and bidding the other boys let go, eased his body gently up the tower, out at the top, and down to the ground, and then drew his hands out. The sight of him, with his monstrous arms, produced another burst of laughter, which increased when Jaques, wanting to give Ranulf a box on the ear[6] for laughing, found that his hand, instead of touching him, flew into a rhododendron bush ever so far down the garden-walk. Although neither he nor his brother could shorten their drawn-out members to their original size, still these were so far elastic, that they could draw them in to about half their enormous length, and throw them out again as they pleased. After they had experimented a little with their unwieldy projections, making them perform all sorts of antics, so that the three screamed with laughter, Norval took it into his head that he would like to have a look into the tower; for on his previous journey through it, he had been so hurried that he saw nothing—in fact, had gone through like winking. He therefore raised his head, drawing in his long neck, till he and the tower looked like a gigantic pewter pot with its handle. On getting his nose to the edge, he at once exclaimed, “Oh, what a jolly smell!” This excited Ranulf’s curiosity, so he at once rushed to the door to have a sniff, and to make sure he was not caught as his brothers had been, he took care not to put even his hands in at the door. But unfortunately he forgot the slightly Roman tendency of his nose, which, as he tried to get a whiff of the scent, flew up the tower, nearly poking out Norval’s eye at the top, and ran down the outside to the ground. Ranulf, who did not like having his nose pulled in this fashion, was just going to cry, but remembering the fairy’s caution, exclaimed to himself, “Not if I knows it,” pulled out his handkerchief, and turning round gently did as boys usually do when they have had to gulp down a sob.

“Now, then, get on,” cried Jaques.

“But what shall I do?” said Ranulf.

[Sidenote: BRIDGING THE DIFFICULTY.]

“Do! follow your nose, to be sure. Why don’t you come down by your bridge?”

“What bridge?”

“Why, the bridge of your nose. I’ll hold it steady for you.”

[Sidenote: YOU BE BLOWED.]

Jaques accordingly seized Ranulf’s nose in his long arms, and giving it a hitch round the lightning-conductor at the top of the tower, held the end slanting, making it hang like the rope for the terrific ascents of tight-rope performers, and down this improvised bridge Ranulf slid successfully to the ground, after which Jaques removed the hitch from the lightning-conductor, and Ranulf, who had a taste for the sea, coiled his nose neatly upon the ground, like a hawser on board ship, and taking the coils in his hand, threw them over his shoulder. His brothers seeing this, stowed away their slack also, and had scarcely done so, when there was a tremendous flourish of trumpets, and a being that might have passed for a pantaloon, as he was clothed entirely in golden trouser-legs (the Blunderland substitute for coats of arms) entered the gate. In reality he was a herald, although you would not have guessed it, as he wore no ruff round his throat Behind him strode six stalwart trumpeters, each of whom, instead of blowing his own trumpet—as is too common nowadays—held his instrument to the mouth of his left-hand neighbour. There was an awkwardness about this arrangement, however, for the man at the right end of the line had no trumpet for his mouth, and the man at the other end had no mouth for his trumpet. But in Blunderland, difficulties which elsewhere would be thought insurmountable are soon overleapt. Accordingly, the sixth trumpet was managed thus: The moment the others were raised, trumpeter No. 1, who had no instrument, looked hard along the line, and called out, “No. 6, you be blowed!” and as obedience is the rule in Blunderland, as opposed to what occurs elsewhere, this command was quite enough to make trumpet No. 6 tootle-ootle away as loud as the rest.

[Sidenote: TRUMPERY OBSTRUCTION.]

It seemed to be the business of these trumpeters to make as much noise as they could whenever the unfortunate herald opened his lips to make his proclamation. The sort of thing that went on was this: The herald, having unrolled his paper, cleared his throat, of which there was much need; for if there was no ruff outside, that was more than could be said of the interior. If he had had colera he could not have been more nekroky.[7] Having given a hem, long enough to go round the skirt of a lady’s dress, even of modern proportions, he began to read—

“Roy——”

Instantly his thread was broken by tra ta ta, ti ta ta, tatata ta tum, tatatraratatata, from all the trumpets at once.

Another attempt to go on—

“—al.”

Tra ta t’t’t’a, t’t’a—tra ta ta ti ta ti tati ta tum ta tum ta, ta, ta.

[Sidenote: TRUMPET STOPS.]

[Sidenote: A BLOWING UP.]

When this had happened over and over again, the tra-ta-ta-ing getting louder and longer each time, the herald calmly sat down on the ground, laid aside his proclamation, produced from his pocket a gilt bladder, which he quietly proceeded to blow up till it was full of air, and fastened to the end of his baton by a string about a foot long. Having carefully tested its strength by giving it a few thumps on the ground, he rose, and recommenced reading his proclamation. Instantly behind him began once more the braying of trumpets; but before one tra-ta could escape, bang, b’ng, b’ng, b’ng, bang, bang came the bladder down upon the heads of the six trumpeters. This stopped five of the too-toos[8] coming from them, the whole six trumpeters being knocked out of time. But as there was nobody to take the blow for No. 6 trumpet, it was brazen enough to go on all by itself, as if it would be blowed if it would stop. The herald, however, evidently knew what he was about, for he ran to No. 6 trumpet and gave it such a blowing up, up its mouth, that nothing could get out for ever so long; indeed the air was too much for it, and it could not give it off even in parts; as for the bass, it could not get so low; treble X ecution was quite as impossible; the third part was ten or more notes beyond it; and the only remaining one was altogether so.

Having thus succeeded in obtaining silence, the herald proceeded to read his proclamation, and got through some lines before the trumpeters recovered sufficiently to commence their noise once more; when seeing them about to begin, he repeated the bang bang bang, bang bang, process with most excellent effect—and making about fifteen pauses to perform this operation, he managed to read the whole. In order not to try the reader’s patience, it is thought better to give it without the interrupting bangs—in fact, bang off.

[Sidenote: WHEREAS, ETC.]

By the King—

A Proclamation.

WHEREAS it is our will and desire to maintain a clear course, so that we may be kept placed in the races of the earth, and that our people may continue to have a handy capacity for all athletic sports, likewise to avert the risk of the mussels of our subjects getting limp at the end of our royal line by any shellfish a’baiting (after the barb’rous manner of the fishy policy of the Angles) of the care bestowed by it on generations yet unborn—

We have thought it would fit, with or without the advice of our Prating Council, and the Cakes of our Parliament, to appoint and declare, and we do hereby, by and with, or passing by and without the said advice, appoint and declare, that immediately, or even sooner, all who hear or do not hear of this proclamation, shall assemble without delay on a spot to be fixed by us at some future time, there to hold our annual games.

[Sidenote: ODD JOBS.]

And our will and pleasure further is, that prizes be awarded to those of our subjects who display the greatest skill in performing any of the following feats of agility and strength:—

I. Running up a bill with spears and ponds.

II. Taking a spring from a well in dancing pumps.

III. Carrying 6 Woolwich infants in an estimate.

IV. Handling a weighty argument, and hurling it at an adversary.

V. Knocking down a five-storey house by one blow of a hammer at the bidding of the purchaser.

VI. Carrying a measure with a Committee sitting upon it through two Houses.

VII. Keeping a gentleman in your eye when you have a stye in it already.

VIII. Carrying a crowded house along with you for three hours.

IX. Running a tremendous risk, and beating it.

X. Keeping time for the human race.

And such others as we may appoint.

GIVEN AT OUR COURT AT LUCKINGHAM ON THE 32ND OF APRIL 8177, IN THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH YEAR OF OUR REIGN.

[Sidenote: A BLOW FOR NO BLOW.]

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: STICKY.]

[Sidenote: AN EXTRA HAND.]

[Sidenote: HONOUR BRIGHT.]