按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
just put into short clothes； and can't exactly say whether the
house was for tools or hens）； and in that house to put our hands
into a sack which stood on a bench； a candle burning beside it。 I
put my hand into the sack。 My hand came out quite black。 I went
and joined the other boys in the schoolroom； and all their hands
were black too。
By reason of my tender age （and there are some critics who； I hope；
will be satisfied by my acknowledging that I am a hundred and
fifty…six next birthday） I could not understand what was the
meaning of this night excursionthis candle； this tool house； this
bag of soot。 I think we little boys were taken out of our sleep to
be brought to the ordeal。 We came； then； and showed our little
hands to the master； washed them or notmost probably； I should
say； notand so went bewildered back to bed。
Something had been stolen in the school that day； and Mr。 Wiseacre
having read in a book of an ingenious method of finding out a thief
by making him put his hand into a sack （which； if guilty； the rogue
would shirk from doing）； all we boys were subjected to the trial。
Goodness knows what the lost object was； or who stole it。 We all
had black hands to show the master。 And the thief； whoever he was；
was not Found Out that time。
I wonder if the rascal is alivean elderly scoundrel he must be by
this time； and a hoary old hypocrite； to whom an old schoolfellow
presents his kindest regardsparenthetically remarking what a
dreadful place that private school was； cold； chilblains； bad
dinners； not enough victuals； and caning awful！Are you alive
still； I say； you nameless villain； who escaped discovery on that
day of crime？ I hope you have escaped often since； old sinner。
Ah； what a lucky thing it is； for you and me； my man； that we are
NOT found out in all our peccadilloes； and that our backs can slip
away from the master and the cane！
Just consider what life would be； if every rogue was found out； and
flogged coram populo！ What a butchery； what an indecency； what an
endless swishing of the rod！ Don't cry out about my misanthropy。
My good friend Mealymouth； I will trouble you to tell me； do you go
to church？ When there； do you say； or do you not； that you are a
miserable sinner； and saying so do you believe or disbelieve it？
If you are a M。 S。； don't you deserve correction； and aren't you
grateful if you are to be let off？ I say again what a blessed
thing it is that we are not all found out！
Just picture to yourself everybody who does wrong being found out；
and punished accordingly。 Fancy all the boys in all the school
being whipped； and then the assistants； and then the headmaster
（Dr。 Badford let us call him）。 Fancy the provost marshal being
tied up； having previously superintended the correction of the
whole army。 After the young gentlemen have had their turn for the
faulty exercises； fancy Dr。 Lincolnsinn being taken up for certain
faults in HIS Essay and Review。 After the clergyman has cried his
peccavi； suppose we hoist up a bishop； and give him a couple of
dozen！ （I see my Lord Bishop of Double…Gloucester sitting in a
very uneasy posture on his right reverend bench。） After we have
cast off the bishop； what are we to say to the Minister who
appointed him？ My Lord Cinqwarden； it is painful to have to use
personal correction to a boy of your age； but really 。 。 。 Siste
tandem carnifex！ The butchery is too horrible。 The hand drops
powerless； appalled at the quantity of birch which it must cut and
brandish。 I am glad we are not all found out； I say again； and
protest； my dear brethren； against our having our deserts。
To fancy all men found out and punished is bad enough； but imagine
all the women found out in the distinguished social circle in which
you and I have the honor to move。 Is it not a mercy that a many of
these fair criminals remain unpunished and undiscovered！ There is
Mrs。 Longbow； who is forever practicing； and who shoots poisoned
arrows； too； when you meet her you don't call her liar； and charge
her with the wickedness she has done and is doing。 There is Mrs。
Painter； who passes for a most respectable woman； and a model in
society。 There is no use in saying what you really know regarding
her and her goings on。 There is Diana Hunterwhat a little
haughty prude it is； and yet WE know stories about her which are
not altogether edifying。 I say it is best for the sake of the
good； that the bad should not all be found out。 You don't want
your children to know the history of that lady in the next box； who
is so handsome； and whom they admire so。 Ah me； what would life be
if we were all found out and punished for all our faults？ Jack
Ketch would be in permanence； and then who would hang Jack Ketch？
They talk of murderers being pretty certainly found out。 Psha！ I
have heard an authority awfully competent vow and declare that
scores and hundreds of murders are committed； and nobody is the
wiser。 That terrible man mentioned one or two ways of committing
murder； which he maintained were quite common； and were scarcely
ever found out。 A man； for instance； comes home to his wife；
and 。 。 。 but I pauseI know that this Magazine has a very large
circulation。* Hundreds and hundreds of thousandswhy not say a
million of people at once？well； say a million； read it。 And
among these countless readers； I might be teaching some monster how
to make away with his wife without being found out； some fiend of a
woman how to destroy her dear husband。 I will NOT then tell this
easy and simple way of murder； as communicated to me by a most
respectable party in the confidence of private intercourse。
Suppose some gentle reader were to try this most simple and easy
receiptit seems to me almost infallibleand come to grief in
consequence； and be found out and hanged？ Should I ever pardon
myself for having been the means of doing injury to a single one of
our esteemed subscribers？ The prescription whereof I speakthat
is to say； whereof I DON'T speakshall be buried in this bosom。
No； I am a humane man。 I am not one of your Bluebeards to go and
say to my wife； 〃My dear！ I am going away for a few days to
Brighton。 Here are all the keys of the house。 You may open every
door and closet； except the one at the end of the oak room opposite
the fireplace； with the little bronze Shakespeare on the
mantelpiece （or what not）。〃 I don't say this to a womanunless；
to be sure； I want to get rid of herbecause； after such a
caution； I know she'll peep into the closet。 I say nothing about
the closet at all。 I keep the key in my pocket； and a being whom I
love； but who； as I know； has many weaknesses； out of harm's way。
You toss up your head； dear angel； drub on the ground with your
lovely little feet； on the table with your sweet rosy fingers； and
cry； 〃Oh； sneerer！ You don't know the depth of woman's feeling；
the lofty scorn of all deceit； the entire absence of mean curi