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Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow-Part13_Jerome K.Jerome(1859-1927)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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cold, or hot, or lukewarm, or anything else about them.



Foolish people--when I say "foolish people" in this contemptuous way I

mean people who entertain different opinions to mine. If there is one



person I do despise more than another, it is the man who does not

think exactly the same on all topics as I do--foolish people, I say,



then, who have never experienced much of either, will tell you that

mental distress is far more agonizing than bodily. Romantic and



touching theory! so comforting to the love-sick young sprig who looks

down patronizingly at some poor devil with a white starved face and



thinks to himself, "Ah, how happy you are compared with me!"--so

soothing to fat old gentlemen who cackle about the superiority of



poverty over riches. But it is all nonsense--all cant. An aching

head soon makes one forget an aching heart. A broken finger will



drive away all recollections of an empty chair. And when a man feels

really hungry he does not feel anything else.



We sleek, well-fed folk can hardly realize what feeling hungry is

like. We know what it is to have no appetite and not to care for the



dainty victuals placed before us, but we do not understand what it

means to sicken for food--to die for bread while others waste it--to



gaze with famished eyes upon coarse fare steaming behind dingy

windows, longing for a pen'orth of pea pudding and not having the



penny to buy it--to feel that a crust would be delicious and that a

bone would be a banquet.



Hunger is a luxury to us, a piquant, flavor-giving sauce. It is well

worth while to get hungry and thirsty merely to discover how much



gratification can be obtained from eating and drinking. If you wish

to thoroughly enjoy your dinner, take a thirty-mile country walk after



breakfast and don't touch anything till you get back. How your eyes

will glisten at sight of the white table-cloth and steaming dishes



then! With what a sigh of content you will put down the empty beer

tankard and take up your knife and fork! And how comfortable you feel



afterward as you push back your chair, light a cigar, and beam round

upon everybody.



Make sure, however, when adopting this plan, that the good dinner is

really to be had at the end, or the disappointment is trying. I



remember once a friend and I--dear old Joe, it was. Ah! how we lose

one another in life's mist. It must be eight years since I last saw



Joseph Taboys. How pleasant it would be to meet his jovial face

again, to clasp his strong hand, and to hear his cheery laugh once



more! He owes me 14 shillings, too. Well, we were on a holiday

together, and one morning we had breakfast early and started for a



tremendous long walk. We had ordered a duck for dinner over night.

We said, "Get a big one, because we shall come home awfully hungry;"



and as we were going out our landlady came up in great spirits. She

said, "I have got you gentlemen a duck, if you like. If you get



through that you'll do well;" and she held up a bird about the size of

a door-mat. We chuckled at the sight and said we would try. We said



it with self-conscious pride, like men who know their own power. Then

we started.



We lost our way, of course. I always do in the country, and it does

make me so wild, because it is no use asking direction of any of the



people you meet. One might as well inquire of a lodging-house slavey

the way to make beds as expect a country bumpkin to know the road to



the next village. You have to shout the question about three times

before the sound of your voice penetrates his skull. At the third



time he slowly raises his head and stares blankly at you. You yell it

at him then for a fourth time, and he repeats it after you. He



ponders while you count a couple of hundred, after which, speaking at

the rate of three words a minute, he fancies you "couldn't do better



than--" Here he catches sight of another idiot coming down the road

and bawls out to him the particulars, requesting his advice. The two



then argue the case for a quarter of an hour or so, and finally agree

that you had better go straight down the lane, round to the right and



cross by the third stile, and keep to the left by old Jimmy Milcher's

cow-shed, and across the seven-acre field, and through the gate by



Squire Grubbin's hay-stack, keeping the bridle-path for awhile till

you come opposite the hill where the windmill used to be--but it's



gone now--and round to the right, leaving Stiggin's plantation behind

you; and you say "Thank you" and go away with a splitting headache,






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