Second Thoughts of An Idle Fellow | Page 7

on the next occasion of your
calling at the Mayfields' the girls will be out, and Mrs. Mayfield, an
excellent lady, who has always taken a motherly interest in you, will
talk seriously to you and urge you to sign the pledge.

Thanks to your youth and constitution you shake off the pursuit at
Notting Hill; and, to avoid any chance of unpleasant contretemps on the
return journey, walk home to Bloomsbury by way of Camden Town
and Islington.
I abandoned sportive tendencies as the result of a vow made by myself
to Providence, during the early hours of a certain Sunday morning,
while clinging to the waterspout of an unpretentious house situate in a
side street off Soho. I put it to Providence as man to man. "Let me only
get out of this," I think were the muttered words I used, "and no more
'sport' for me." Providence closed on the offer, and did let me get out of
it. True, it was a complicated "get out," involving a broken skylight and
three gas globes, two hours in a coal cellar, and a sovereign to a potman
for the loan of an ulster; and when at last, secure in my chamber, I took
stock of myself--what was left of me,--I could not but reflect that
Providence might have done the job neater. Yet I experienced no desire
to escape the terms of the covenant; my inclining for the future was
towards a life of simplicity.
Accordingly, I cast about for a new character, and found one to suit me.
The German professor was becoming popular as a hero about this
period. He wore his hair long and was otherwise untidy, but he had "a
heart of steel," occasionally of gold. The majority of folks in the book,
judging him from his exterior together with his conversation--in broken
English, dealing chiefly with his dead mother and his little sister
Lisa,--dubbed him uninteresting, but then they did not know about the
heart. His chief possession was a lame dog which he had rescued from
a brutal mob; and when he was not talking broken English he was
nursing this dog.
But his speciality was stopping runaway horses, thereby saving the
heroine's life. This, combined with the broken English and the dog,
rendered him irresistible.
He seemed a peaceful, amiable sort of creature, and I decided to try him.
I could not of course be a German professor, but I could, and did, wear
my hair long in spite of much public advice to the contrary, voiced
chiefly by small boys. I endeavoured to obtain possession of a lame

dog, but failed. A one-eyed dealer in Seven Dials, to whom, as a last
resource, I applied, offered to lame one for me for an extra five
shillings, but this suggestion I declined. I came across an
uncanny-looking mongrel late one night. He was not lame, but he
seemed pretty sick; and, feeling I was not robbing anybody of anything
very valuable, I lured him home and nursed him. I fancy I must have
over-nursed him. He got so healthy in the end, there was no doing
anything with him. He was an ill-conditioned cur, and he was too old to
be taught. He became the curse of the neighbourhood. His idea of sport
was killing chickens and sneaking rabbits from outside poulterers'
shops. For recreation he killed cats and frightened small children by
yelping round their legs. There were times when I could have lamed
him myself, if only I could have got hold of him. I made nothing by
running that dog--nothing whatever. People, instead of admiring me for
nursing him back to life, called me a fool, and said that if I didn't drown
the brute they would. He spoilt my character utterly--I mean my
character at this period. It is difficult to pose as a young man with a
heart of gold, when discovered in the middle of the road throwing
stones at your own dog. And stones were the only things that would
reach and influence him.
I was also hampered by a scarcity in runaway horses. The horse of our
suburb was not that type of horse. Once and only once did an
opportunity offer itself for practice. It was a good opportunity,
inasmuch as he was not running away very greatly. Indeed, I doubt if
he knew himself that he was running away. It transpired afterwards that
it was a habit of his, after waiting for his driver outside the Rose and
Crown for what he considered to be a reasonable period, to trot home
on his own account. He passed me going about seven miles an hour,
with the reins dragging conveniently beside him. He was the very thing
for a beginner, and I prepared myself.