Journeys Through Bookland Volume Vi Part 53

"To be sure--of course! I knew you were jesting. Now, uncle, all that Kate and myself wish at present, is that you would oblige us--as regards the _time_--you know, uncle--in short, when will it be most convenient for yourself that the wedding shall--shall come off, you know?"

"Come off, you scoundrel! what do you mean by that?--Better wait till it goes on."

"Ha! ha! ha!--he! he! he!--oh, that's good--oh, that's capital--such a wit! But all we want, just now, you know, uncle, is that you should indicate the time precisely."

"Ah!--precisely?"

"Yes, uncle--that is, if it would be quite agreeable to yourself."

"Wouldn't it answer, Bobby, if I were to leave it at random--sometime within a year or so, for example?--_must_ I say precisely?"

"_If_ you please, uncle--precisely."

"Well, then, Bobby, my boy--you're a fine fellow, aren't you?--since you _will_ have the exact time, I'll--why, I'll oblige you for once."

"Dear uncle!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WELL, THEN, BOBBY, MY BOY"]

"Hush, sir!" (drowning my voice)--"I'll oblige you for once. You shall have my consent--and the _plum_, we mustn't forget the plum--let me see!

When shall it be? To-day's Sunday--isn't it! Well, then, you shall be married precisely--_precisely_, now mind!--_when three Sundays come together in a week_! Do you hear me, sir! What are you gaping at? I say, you shall have Kate and her plum when three Sundays come together in a week--but not _till_ then--you young scapegrace--not _till_ then, if I die for it. You know me--_I'm a man of my word_--_now be off_!" Here he grinned at me viciously, and I rushed from the room in despair.

A very "fine old English gentleman" was my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, but, unlike him of the song, he had his weak points. He was a little, pursy, pompous, pa.s.sionate, semi-circular somebody, with a red nose, a thick skull, a long purse, and a strong sense of his own consequence. With the best heart in the world, he contrived, through a predominate whim of contradiction, to earn for himself, among those who only knew him superficially, the character of a curmudgeon. Like many excellent people, he seemed possessed with a spirit of tantalization, which might easily, at a casual glance, be mistaken for malevolence. To every request, a positive "No!" was his immediate answer; but in the end--in the long, long end--there were exceedingly few requests which he refused. Against all attacks upon his purse he made the most st.u.r.dy defence; but the amount extorted from him at last, was generally in direct ratio with the length of the siege and the stubbornness of the resistance. In charity, no one gave more liberally, or with a worse grace.

For the fine arts, especially for the belles-lettres, he entertained a profound contempt. Thus my own inkling for the Muses had excited his entire displeasure. He a.s.sured me one day, when I asked him for a new copy of Horace, that the translation of "_Poeta nascitur, non fit_"[456-1] was "a nasty poet for nothing fit"--a remark which I took in high dudgeon. His repugnance to the "humanities" had, also, much increased of late, by an accidental bias in favor of what he supposed to be natural science. Somebody had accosted him in the street, mistaking him for a no less personage than Doctor Dubble L. Dee, the lecturer upon quack physics. This set him off at a tangent; and just at the epoch of this story, my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, was accessible and pacific only upon the points which happened to chime in with the hobby he was riding.

I had lived with the old gentleman all my life. My parents in dying had bequeathed me to him as a rich legacy. I believe the old villain loved me as his own child--nearly if not quite as well as he loved Kate--but it was a dog's existence that he led me after all. From my first year until my fifth, he obliged me with very regular floggings. From five to fifteen, he threatened me, hourly, with the House of Correction. From fifteen to twenty not a day pa.s.sed in which he did not promise to cut me off with a s.h.i.+lling. I was a sad dog it is true, but then it was a part of my nature--a point of my faith.

In Kate, however, I had a firm friend, and I knew it. She was a good girl, and told me very sweetly that I might have her (plum and all) whenever I could badger my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, into the necessary consent. Poor girl! she was barely fifteen, and without this consent her little amount in the funds was not come-at-able until five immeasurable summers had "dragged their slow length along." What then to do? In vain we besieged the old gentleman with importunities. It would have stirred the indignation of Job himself to see how much like an old mouser he behaved to us two little mice. In his heart he wished for nothing more ardently than our union. He had made up his mind to this all along. In fact he would have given ten thousand pounds from his own pocket (Kate's plum was _her own_) if he could have invented anything like an excuse for complying with our very natural wishes. But then we had been so imprudent as to broach the matter ourselves. Not to oppose it under the circ.u.mstances, I sincerely believe, was not in his power.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "IN KATE, HOWEVER, I HAD A FIRM FRIEND"]

My granduncle was, after his own fas.h.i.+on, a man of his word, no doubt.

The spirit of his vows he made no scruple of setting at naught, but the letter was a bond inviolable. Now it was this peculiarity in his disposition of which Kate's ingenuity enabled us one fine day, not long after our interview in the drawing-room, to take a very unexpected advantage.

It happened then--so the Fates ordered it--that among the naval acquaintances of my betrothed were two gentlemen who had just set foot upon the sh.o.r.es of England, after a year's absence, each, in foreign travel. In company with these gentlemen, Kate and I, preconcertedly, paid uncle Rumgudgeon a visit on the afternoon of Sunday, October the tenth--just three weeks after the memorable decision which had so cruelly defeated our hopes. For about half an hour the conversation ran upon ordinary topics; but at last we contrived, quite naturally, to give it the following turn:

_Capt. Pratt._ "Well, I have been absent just one year. Just one year to-day, as I live--let me see! yes!--this is October the tenth. You remember, Mr. Rumgudgeon, I called this day year, to bid you good-bye.

And by the way, it does seem something like a coincidence, does it not--that our friend, Captain Smitherton, has been absent exactly a year also, a year to-day?"

_Smitherton._ "Yes! just one year to a fraction. You will remember, Mr.

Rumgudgeon, that I called with Captain Pratt on this very day last year, to pay my parting respects."

_Uncle._ "Yes, yes, yes--I remember it very well--very queer indeed!

Both of you gone just one year. A very strange coincidence indeed! Just what Doctor Dubble L. Dee would denominate an extraordinary concurrence of events. Doctor Dub--"

_Kate_ (_interrupting_). "To be sure papa, it _is_ something strange; but then Captain Pratt and Captain Smitherton didn't go altogether the same route, and that makes a difference you know."

_Uncle._ "I don't know any such thing, you hussy! How should I? I think it only makes the matter more remarkable. Doctor Dubble L. Dee--"

_Kate._ "Why, papa, Captain Pratt went round Cape Horn, and Captain Smitherton doubled the Cape of Good Hope."

_Uncle._ "Precisely! the one went east and the other went west, you jade, and they have both gone quite round the world. By the bye, Doctor Dub--"

_Myself_ (_hurriedly_). "Captain Pratt, you must come and spend the evening with us to-morrow--you and Smitherton--you can tell us all about your voyage, and we'll have a game of whist, and--"

_Pratt._ "Whist, my dear fellow--you forget. To-morrow will be Sunday.

Some other evening--"

_Kate._ "Oh, no, fie!--Robert's not _quite_ so bad as that. _To-day's_ Sunday."

_Uncle._ "To be sure--to be sure."

_Pratt._ "I beg both your pardons--but I can't be so much mistaken. I know to-morrow's Sunday, because--"

_Smitherton_ (_much surprised_). "What _are_ you all thinking about?

Wasn't _yesterday_ Sunday, I should like to know?"

_All._ "Yesterday, indeed! you _are_ out!"

_Uncle._ "To-day's Sunday, I say--don't I know?"

_Pratt._ "Oh, no!--to-morrow's Sunday."

_Smitherton._ "You are _all_ mad--every one of you. I am as positive that yesterday was Sunday as I am that I sit upon this chair."

_Kate_ (_jumping up eagerly_). "I see it--I see it all. Papa, this is a judgment upon you, about--about you know what. Let me alone, and I'll explain it all in a minute. It's a very simple thing, indeed. Captain Smitherton says that yesterday was Sunday: so it was; he is right.

Cousin Bobby, and papa and I, say that to-day is Sunday: so it is, we are right. Captain Pratt maintains that to-morrow will be Sunday: so it will, he is right, too. The fact is, we are all right, and thus _three Sundays have come together in a week_."

_Smitherton_ (_after a pause_). "By the bye, Pratt, Kate has us completely. What fools we two are! Mr. Rumgudgeon, the matter stands thus: the earth, you know, is twenty-four thousand miles in circ.u.mference. Now this globe turns upon its own axis--revolves--spins around--these twenty-four thousand miles of extent, going from west to east, in precisely twenty-four hours. Do you understand, Mr.

Rumgudgeon?"

_Uncle._ "To be sure--to be sure. Doctor Dub--"

_Smitherton_ (_drowning his voice_). "Well sir, that is at the rate of one thousand miles per hour. Now, suppose that I sail from this position a thousand miles east. Of course I antic.i.p.ate the rising of the sun here at London by just one hour. I see the sun rise one hour before you do.

Proceeding, in the same direction, yet another thousand miles, I antic.i.p.ate the rising by two hours--another thousand, and I antic.i.p.ate it by three hours, and so on, until I go entirely round the globe, and back to this spot, when having gone twenty-four thousand miles east, I antic.i.p.ate the rising of the London sun by no less than twenty-four hours; that is to say, I am a day _in advance_ of your time. Understand, eh?"

_Uncle._ "But Dubble L. Dee--"

_Smitherton_ (_speaking very loud_). "Captain Pratt, on the contrary, when he had sailed a thousand miles west of this position, was an hour, and when he had sailed twenty-four thousand miles west was twenty-four hours, or one day, _behind_ the time at London. Thus, with me, yesterday was Sunday--thus with you, to-day is Sunday--and thus with Pratt, to-morrow will be Sunday. And what is more, Mr. Rumgudgeon, it is positively clear that that we are _all right_; for there can be no philosophical reason a.s.signed why the idea of one of us should have preference over that of the other."

_Uncle._ "My eyes!--well, Kate--well Bobby!--this _is_ a judgment upon me as you say. But I am a man of my word--_mark that_! You shall have her, my boy (plum and all), when you please. Done up, by Jove! Three Sundays in a row! I'll go and take Dubble L. Dee's opinion upon _that_."

FOOTNOTES:

[456-1] A poet is born, not made.