Henry Brocken

hop of

GE HE

d at least lead me into lands inhabited, so turning my face to the West, that I might have light to survey as long as any gleamed

which the wood-road had led me. And glad I was to descry what seemed by the many lights shining from its wind

ned on me as sharply as if he supposed the elms above him were thick w

e so strange and guttural that I failed to understand a word. He shook his fingers in the air; pointed with the cudgel he carried under his arm now

d an uneasy smile on his white face-"Mishrush, Mishrush!" But whether by this he meant to convey to me his ha

lodging, supper-a tavern, an inn!" a

me. Indeed, he twisted his little head upon his shoulders to observe Ros

odd

cried p

bright-painted inn, on whose signboard a rising sun glimmered faintl

the song that rose beyond the window. "Fau'ow er Wur'!-Fau'ow er Wur'!" he cried delightedly again and again in my ear, eager apparently for my approval. So we stood, then, beneath the starless sky, listening to the rich choragi

w the

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r gre

lds her

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ust

w the

ught, o

nch, o

u must

shes

eat, an

et and

can bu

'er was

w the

. Into his charge, then, I surrendered Rosinante, and followed my in

n the entry of a stranger. They scrutinised me, not uncivilly, but closely,

intently to what, so far as I could gather, might be Houyhnhnmish or Double-Dutch. And then, as if to show me to my place forthwith, a

understood him aright. This person was still comely, though of uncertain age, wore cherry ribbons, smiled rather vacantly f

ate she carried at her girdle for the purpose. Indeed, the absence of two of her three chief senses had marvellously sharpened the remaining one. Her eyes were on all, vaguely dwelling, lightly gone, inscruta

hat removed beside a curtained window. And while I ate I watch

mouth water to admire. Here a fine gentleman toasting a simpering chambermaid. Above the chimney-piece a bloated old man in vineleaves that might be Silenus. And over against the door of the parlour what I took to be a picture

t to the last tittle quite of this world. They were, so to speak, more earthy, too definite, too true to the mould, like figures in a bleak, bright light viewed

any there, and as busy with his eyes and ears as I. His name, I learned presently, was Reverie; and

y mistrusted this place, and the company we were in, yet not for its mistress's sake, who was at least faithful to her instincts, candid to the candid, made no favourites, and, eventually, compelled order. He told me also that if friends he had, he deemed it wiser not to name them, since the least sibilant of the sound of the vo

little closer to Mr. Reverie's and, having scribbled my wan

tian, who was either dead or had inexplicably disappeared. Mr. Obstinate, I gathered, had taken as his right this Christian's "easy-chair"; a gent

e seemed little likely to obtain, seeing that an elderly uncle by marriage of Christian's, whose name was Office, was as eager and affable and fr

e be of any account? Christian despised money, professed to despise it. T

what but a silly lie? 'Twas all sour grapes-sour grapes. He had cunning enough for envy, and pride enough for shame; and at last there was naught but cunning left wher

re rare wealthy people, and they, so 'tis said, were his kinsmen. Truth is, for aught I know, C

eggar's hat!-his that used to bleat, 'Cast thy bread-cast thy bread upon the waters!' whensoever he spied Christian steppin

avely composing his hairless face. "Christian's was a character of beautif

uite distinguish, for at that moment a youth

ly. "Thou hast a pierc

eek the trut

y he seemed to believe in it. Was it not so, neigh

friend?" said Obstin

the Harps of Gold, and such like," said Pliable

feel the heat, and sat by the staircase door. "That's

a Mr. Dull's, so Reverie informed me), "if mebbe he be referring to one of his own,

all laughed cons

iable, a little hotly, "and that was Imagination? I shan't for

on Pliable. "Yes, yes," he said: "Flame, and si

the voice of Mistrust,

led Malice, un

s Imagination? Whither doth it conduct a man, but to beggary, infamy, and the mad-house? Look ye to i

my attention with his peculiar contortions-"talking of ashes, what of Lo

tremely amused, the tears st

le active eyes. But unfortunately, as I turned to enquire somewhat of Reverie, Liveloose suddenly paused in

and Mr. Obstinate rose very laboriously fro

ghbour Superstition yonder who will present a very fair account of that misguided young man.

f laughter gree

sir," explained the woman civilly en

dear!" cried a long-nosed woman

head as I was about to reply, so I changed my retor

ok with the roar of l