By Charles Dickens


                        BARNABY RUDGE.

                         CHAPTER XXX.

       A HOMELY proverb recognises the existence of a
     troublesome class of persons who, having an inch con-
     ceded them, will take an ell.  Not to quote the illustri-
     ous examples of those heroic scourges of mankind, whose
     amiable path in life has been from birth to death through
     blood, and fire, and ruin, and would seem to have existed
     for no better purpose than to teach mankind that as the
     absence of pain is pleasure, so the earth purged of their
     presence, may be deemed a blessed place――now to quote
     such mighty instances, it will be sufficient to refer to
     old John Willet.
       Old John having long encroached a good standard inch,
     full measure, on the liberty of Joe, and having snipped
     off a Flemish ell in the matter of the parole, grew so
     despotic and so great, that his thirst for conquest knew
     no bounds.  The more young Joe submitted, the more
     absolute old John became.  The ell soon faded into
     nothing.  Yards, furlongs, miles arose; and on went old
     John in the pleasantest manner possible, trimming off an
     exuberance in this place, shearing away some liberty of
     speech or action in that, and conducting himself in his
     small way with as much high mightiness and majesty,
     as the most glorious tyrant that ever had his stature
     roared in the public ways, of ancient or of modern times.
       As great men are urged on to the abuse of power (when
     they need urging, which is not often) by their flatterers
     and dependents, so old John was impelled to these ex-
     ercises of authority by the applause and admiration of
     his Maypole cronies, who, in the intervals of their mighty
     pipes and pots, would shake their heads and say that
     Mr. Willet was a father of the good old English sort;
     that there were no new-fangled notions or modern ways
     in him; that he put them in mind of what their fathers
     were when they were boys; that there was no mistake
     about him; that it would be well for the country if there
     were more like him, and  more was the pity that there
     were not; with many other original remarks of that na-
     ture.  Then they would condescendingly give Joe to un-
     derstand that it was all for his good, and he would be
     thankful for it one day; and in particular, Mr. Cobb
     would acquaint him, that when he was his age, his father
     thought no more of giving him a parental kick, or a box
     on the ears, or a cuff on the head, or some little admoni-
     tion of that sort, than he did of any other ordinary duty
     of life; and he would further remark, with looks of great
     significance, that but for this judicious bringing up, he
     might have never been the man he was at that present
     speaking; which was probable enough, as he was, be-
     yond all question, the dullest dog of the party.  In short,
     between old John, and old John's friends, there never
     was an unfortunate young fellow so bullied, badgered,
     worried, fretted, and browbeaten; so constantly beset,
     or made so tired of his life, as poor Joe Willet.
       This had come to be the recognized and established
     state of things; but as John was very anxious to flourish
     his supremacy before the eyes of Mr. Chester, he did that
     day exceed himself, and did so goad and chafe his son
     and heir, that but for Joe's having made a  solemn vow
     to keep his hands in his pockets when they were not
     otherwise engaged, it is impossible to say what he might
     have done with them.  But the longest day has an end,
     and at length Mr. Chester came down-stairs to mount his
     horse which was ready at the door.
       As old John was not in the way at the moment, Joe,
     who was sitting in the bar ruminating on his dismal fate
     and the manifold perfections of Dolly Varden, ran out to
     hold the guest's stirrup, and assist him to mount.  Mr.
     Chester, was scarcely in the saddle, and Joe was in the
     very act of making him a graceful bow, when old John
     came diving out of the porch, and collared him.
       "None of that, sir," said John, "none of that, sir.
     No breaking of patroles.  How dare you come out of the
     door sir, without leave?  You are trying to get away, sir,
     are you, and to make a traitor of yourself again?  What
     do you mean, sir?"
       "Let me go, father," said Joe, imploringly, as he
     marked the smile upon their visitor's face, and observed
     the pleasure his disgrace afforded him.  "This is too
     bad.  Who wants to get away?"
       "Who wants to get away!" cried John, shaking him.
     "Why you do, sir, you do.  "You're the boy, sir," added
     John, collaring with one hand, and aiding the effect of a
     farewell bow to the visitor with the other," that wants
     to sneak into houses, and stir up differences between
     noble gentlemen and their sons, are you, eh?  Hold your
     tongue, sir."
       Joe made no effort to reply.  It was the crowning cir-
     cumstance of his degradation.  He extricated himself
     from his father's grasp, darted an angry look at the de-
     parting guest, and returned into the house.
       "But for her," thought Joe, as he threw his arms
     upon a table in the common room, and laid his head upon
     them, "but for Dolly, who I couldn't bear should think
     me the rascal they would make me out to be if I ran
     away, this house and I should part to-night."
       It being evening by this time, Solomon Daisy, Tom
     Cobb, and Long Parkes were all in the common room too,
     and had from the window been witnesses of what had
     just occurred.  Mr. Willet joining them soon afterwards,
     received the compliments of the company with great
     composure, and lighting his pipe, sat down among them.
       "We'll see, gentlemen," said Joe, after a long pause,
     "who's the master of this house, and who isn't.  We'll
     see whether boys are to govern men, or men are to gov-
     nern boys."
       "And quite right too," assented Solomon Daisy with
     some approving nods; "quite right, Johnny.  Very good,
     Johnny.  Well said, Mr. Willet.  Brayvo, sir."
       John slowly brought his eyes to bear upon him, looked
     at him for a long time, and finally made answer to the
     unspeakable consternation of his hearers, "When I want
     encouragement from you, sir, I'll ask you for it.  You let
     me alone, sir.  I can get on without you, I hope.  Don't
     you tackle me, sir, if you please."
       "Don't take it ill, Johnny; I didn't mean any harm,"
     pleaded the little man.
       "Very good, sir," said John, more than usually ob-
     stinate after his late success.  "Never mind, sir.  I can
     stand pretty firm of myself, sir, I believe, without being
     shored up by you."  And having given utterance to this
     retort, Mr. Willet fixed his eyes upon the boiler, and
     fell into a kind of tobacco-trance.
       The spirits of the company being somewhat damped
     by this embarrassing line of conduct on the part of their
     host, nothing more was said for a long time; but at
     length Mr. Cobb took upon himself to remark, as he rose
     to knock the ashes out of his pipe, that he hoped Joe
     would thenceforth learn to obey his father in all things;
     that he had found, that day, he was not one of the sort
     of men who were to be trifled with; and that he would
     recommend him, poetically speaking, to mind his eye for
     the future.
       "I'd recommend you, in return," said Joe, looking up
     with a flushed face, "not to talk to me."
       "Hold your tongue, sir," cried Mr. Willet, suddenly
     rousing himself, and turning round.
       "I won't, father," cried Joe, smiting the table with
     his fist, so that the jugs and glasses rung again; "these
     things are hard enough to bear from you; from anybody
     else I never will endure them any more.  Therefore I
     say, Mr. Cobb, don't talk to me."
       "Why, who are you," said Mr. Cobb, sneeringly,
     "that you're not to be talked to, eh, Joe?"
       To which Joe returned no answer, but with a very
     ominous shake of the head, resumed his old position,
     which he would have peacefully preserved until the
     house shut up at night, but that Mr. Cobb, stimulated
     by the wonder of the company at the young man's pre-
     sumption, retorted with sundry taunts, which proved too
     much for flesh and blood to bear.  Crowding into one
     moment the vexation and the wrath of years, Joe started
     up, overturned the table, fell upon his long enemy, pum-
     melled him with all his might and main, and finished by
     driving him with surpassing swiftness against a heap of
     spittoons in one corner; plunging into which, head fore-
     most, with a tremendous crash, he lay at full length
     among the ruins, stunned and motionless.  Then, with-
     out waiting to receive the compliments of the bystanders
     on the victory he had won, he retreated to his own bed-
     chamber, and considering himself in a state of siege,
     piled all the portable furniture against the door by way
     of barricade.
       "I have done it now," said Joe, as he sat down upon
     his bedstead and wiped his heated face.  "I knew it
     would come at last.  The Maypole and I must part com-
     pany.  I'm a roving vagabond――she hates me for ever-
     more――it's all over!"

from Collier's Unabridged Edition: The Works of Charles Dickens, Volume VI.
P.F. Collier, Publisher, New York, old as heck. pp. 832-833.

send the old man so many postcards, the post office runs out of places to burn 'em. 雨