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An essay by Stephen Leacock |
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The Call Of The Carburettor, or, Mr. Blinks And His Friends |
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Title: The Call Of The Carburettor, or, Mr. Blinks And His Friends Author: Stephen Leacock [More Titles by Leacock] EXPLANATORY NOTE. "I WILL DIE RATHER THAN DANCE." Isn't she splendid! Hear the audience applaud! Flick--it's changed--it's Madeline's room again--that's the landlady --doesn't she look hard, eh? What's this--Flick! "IF YOU CANNOT PAY, YOU MUST LEAVE TO-NIGHT." Flick, flick--it's Madeline--she's out in the street--it's snowing--she's sat down on a doorstep--say, see her face, isn't if pathetic? There! They've put her face all by itself on the screen. See her eyes move! Flick, flick! Who's this? Where is it? Oh, yes, I get it--it's John--at a police station--he's questioning them--how grave they look, eh? Flick, flick! "HAVE YOU SEEN A GIRL IN NEW YORK?" I guess that's what he asks them, eh? Flick, flick-- "NO, WE HAVE NOT." Too bad--flick--it's changed again--it's Madeline on the doorstep--she's fallen asleep--oh, say, look at that man coming near to her on tiptoes, and peeking at her--why, it's Edward, it's the Roo--but he doesn't waken her--what does it mean? What's he after? Flick, flick-- Hullo--what's this?--it's night--what's this huge dark thing all steel, with great ropes against the sky--it's Brooklyn Bridge--at midnight--there's a woman on it! It's Madeline--see! see! She's going to jump--stop her! Stop her! Flick, flick-- Hullo! she didn't jump after all--there she is again on the doorstep--asleep--how could she jump over Brooklyn Bridge and still be asleep? I don't catch on--or, oh, yes, I do--she dreamed it--I see now, that's a great scheme, eh?--shows her dream-- The picture's changed--what's this place--a saloon, I guess--yes, there's the bartender, mixing drinks--men talking at little tables--aren't they a tough-looking lot?--see, that one's got a revolver--why, it's Edward the Roo--talking with two men--he's giving them money--what's this?-- "GIVE US A HUNDRED APIECE AND WE'LL DO IT." It's in the street again--Edward and one of the two toughs --they've got little black masks on--they're sneaking up to Madeline where she sleeps--they've got a big motor drawn up beside them--look, they've grabbed hold of Madeline--they're lifting her into the motor--help! Stop! Aren't there any police?--yes, yes, there's a man who sees it--by Gee! It's John, John Holdfast--grab them, John--pshaw! they've jumped into the motor, they're off! Where is it now?--oh, yes--it's the police station again --that's John, he's telling them about it--he's all out of breath--look, that head man, the big fellow, he's giving orders-- "INSPECTOR FORDYCE, TAKE YOUR BIGGEST CAR AND TEN MEN. IF YOU OVERTAKE THEM, SHOOT AND SHOOT TO KILL." Hoorah! Isn't it great--hurry! don't lose a minute--see them all buckling on revolvers--get at it, boys, get at it! Don't lose a second-- Look, look--it's a motor--full speed down the street--look at the houses fly past--it's the motor with the thugs--there it goes round the corner--it's getting smaller, it's getting smaller, but look, here comes another--my! it's just flying--it's full of police--there's John in front--Flick! Now it's the first motor--it's going over a bridge--it's heading for the country--say, isn't that car just flying --Flick, flick! It's the second motor--it's crossing the bridge too--hurry, boys, make it go!--Flick, flick! Out in the country--a country road--early daylight--see the wind in the trees! Notice the branches waving? Isn't it natural?--whiz! Biff! There goes the motor--biff! There goes the other one--right after it--hoorah! The open road again--the first motor flying along! Hullo, what's wrong? It's slackened, it stops--hoorah! it's broken down--there's Madeline inside--there's Edward the Roo! Say! isn't he pale and desperate! Hoorah! the police! the police! all ten of them in their big car--see them jumping out--see them pile into the thugs! Down with them! paste their heads off! Shoot them! Kill them! isn't it great--isn't it educative--that's the Roo--Edward--with John at his throat! Choke him, John! Throttle him! Hullo, it's changed--they're in the big motor--that's the Roo with the handcuffs on him. That's Madeline--she's unbound and she's talking; say, isn't she just real pretty when she smiles? "YES, JOHN, I HAVE LEARNED THAT I WAS WRONG TO PUT MY ART BEFORE YOUR LOVE. I WILL MARRY YOU AS SOON AS YOU LIKE." Flick, flick! What pretty music! Ding! Dong! Ding! Dong! Isn't it soft and sweet!--like wedding bells. Oh, I see, the man in the orchestra's doing it with a little triangle and a stick--it's a little church up in the country--see all the people lined up--oh! there's Madeline! in a long white veil--isn't she just sweet!--and John-- Flick, flack, flick, flack. "BULGARIAN TROOPS ON THE MARCH." What! Isn't it over? Do they all go to Bulgaria? I don't seem to understand. Anyway, I guess it's all right to go now. Other people are going. "First get a motor in your own eye and then you will overlook more easily the motor in your brother's eye."--Somewhere in the Bible. "By all means let's have a reception," said Mrs. Blinks. "It's the quickest and nicest way to meet our old friends again after all these years. And goodness knows this house is big enough for it"--she gave a glance as she spoke round the big reception-room of the Blinkses' residence--"and these servants seem to understand things so perfectly it's no trouble to us to give anything. Only don't let's ask a whole lot of chattering young people that we don't know; let's have the older people, the ones that can talk about something really worth while." "That's just what I say," answered Mr. Blinks--he was a small man with insignificance written all over him--"let me listen to people talk; that's what I like. I'm not much on the social side myself, but I do enjoy hearing good talk. That's what I liked so much over in England. All them--all those people that we used to meet talked so well. And in France those ladies that run saloons on Sunday afternoons--" "Sallongs," corrected Mrs. Blinks. "It's sounded like it was a G." She picked up a pencil and paper. "Well, then," she said, as she began to write down names, "we'll ask Judge Ponderus--" "Sure!" assented Mr. Blinks, rubbing his hands. "He's a fine talker, if he'll come!" "They'll all come," said his wife, "to a house as big as this; and we'll ask the Rev. Dr. Domb and his wife--or, no, he's Archdeacon Domb now, I hear--and he'll invite Bishop Sollem, so they can talk together." "That'll be good," said Mr. Blinks. "I remember years and years ago hearing them two--those two, talking about religion, all about the soul and the body. Man! It was deep. It was clean beyond me. That's what I like to listen to." "And Professor Potofax from the college," went on Mrs. Blinks. "You remember, the big stout one." "I know," said her husband. "And his daughter, she's musical, and Mrs. Buncomtalk, she's a great light on woman suffrage, and Miss Scragg and Mr. Underdone--they both write poetry, so they can talk about that." "It'll be a great treat to listen to them all," said Mr. Blinks. A week later, on the day of the Blinkses' reception, there was a string of motors three deep along a line of a hundred yards in front of the house. Inside the reception rooms were filled. Mr. Blinks, insignificant even in his own house, moved to and fro among his guests. Archdeacon Domb and Dean Sollem were standing side by side with their heads gravely lowered, as they talked, over the cups of tea that they held in their hands. Mr. Blinks edged towards them. "This'll be something pretty good," he murmured to himself as he got within reach of their conversation. "What do you do about your body?" the Archdeacon was asking in his deep, solemn tones. "Practically nothing," said the Bishop. "A little rub of shellac now and then, but practically nothing." "You wash it, of course?" asked Dr. Domb. "Only now and again, but far less than you would think. I really take very little thought for my body." "Ah," said Dr. Domb reflectively, "I went all over mine last summer with linseed oil." "But didn't you find," said the Bishop, "that it got into your pipes and choked your feed?" "It did," said Dr. Domb, munching a bit of toast as he spoke. "In fact, I have had a lot of trouble with my feed ever since." "Try flushing your pipes out with hot steam," said the Bishop. Mr. Blinks had listened in something like dismay. "Motor-cars!" he murmured. "Who'd have thought it?" But at this moment a genial, hearty-looking person came pushing towards him with a cheery greeting. "I'm afraid I'm rather late, Blinks," he said. "Delayed in court, eh. Judge?" said Blinks as he shook hands. "No, blew out a plug!" said the Judge. "Stalled me right up." "Blew out a plug!" exclaimed Dr. Domb and the Bishop, deeply interested at once. "A cracked insulator, I think," said the Judge. "Possibly," said the Archdeacon very gravely, "the terminal nuts of your dry battery were loose." Mr. Blinks moved slowly away. "Dear me!" he mused, "how changed they are." It was a relief to him to edge his way quietly into another group of guests where he felt certain that the talk would be of quite another kind. Professor Potofax and Miss Scragg and a number of others were evidently talking about books. "A beautiful book," the professor was saying. "One of the best things, to my mind at any rate, that has appeared for years. There's a chapter on the silencing of exhaust gas which is simply marvellous." "Is it illustrated?" questioned one of the ladies. "Splendidly," said the professor. "Among other things there are sectional views of check valves and flexible roller bearings--" "Ah, do tell me about the flexible bearings," murmured Miss Scragg. Mr. Blinks moved on. Wherever he went among his guests, they all seemed stricken with the same mania. He caught their conversation in little scraps. "I ran her up to forty with the greatest of ease, then threw in my high speed and got seventy out of her without any trouble."--"No, I simply used a socket wrench, it answers perfectly."--"Yes, a solution of calcium chloride is very good, but of course the hydrochloric acid in it has a powerful effect on the metal." "Dear me," mused Mr. Blinks, "are they all mad?" Meantime, around his wife, who stood receiving in state at one end of the room, the guests surged to and fro. "So charmed to see you again," exclaimed one. "You've been in Europe a long time, haven't you? Oh, mostly in the south of England? Are the roads good? Last year my husband and I went all through Shakespeare's country. It's just delightful. They sprinkle it so thoroughly. And Stratford-on-Avon itself is just a treat. It's all oiled, every bit of it, except the little road by Shakespeare's house; but we didn't go along that. Then later we went up to the lake district: but it's not so good: they don't oil it." She floated away, to give place to another lady. "In France every summer?" she exclaimed. "Oh, how perfectly lovely. Don't you think the French cars simply divine? My husband thinks the French body is far better modelled than ours. He saw ever so many of them. He thought of bringing one over with him, but it costs such a lot to keep them in good order." "The theatres?" said another lady. "How you must have enjoyed them. I just love the theatres. Last week my husband and I were at the Palatial--it's moving pictures--where they have that film with the motor collision running. It's just wonderful. You see the motors going at full speed, and then smash right into one another--and all the people killed--it's really fine." "Have they all gone insane?" said Mr. Blinks to his wife after the guests had gone. "Dreadful, isn't it?" she assented. "I never was so bored in my life." "Why, they talk of nothing else but their motor-cars!" said Blinks. "We've got to get a car, I suppose, living at this distance from the town, but I'm hanged if I intend to go clean crazy over it like these people." And the guests as they went home talked of the Blinkses. "I fear," said Dr. Domb to Judge Ponderus, "that Blinks has hardly profited by his time in Europe as much as he ought to have. He seems to have observed nothing. I was asking him about the new Italian touring car that they are using so much in Rome. He said he had never noticed it. And he was there a month!" "Is it possible?" said the Judge. "Where were his eyes?" All of which showed that Mr. and Mrs. Blinks were in danger of losing their friends for ever. But it so happened that about three weeks later Blinks came home to his residence in an obvious state of excitement. His face was flushed and he had on a silly little round cap with a glazed peak. "Why, Clarence," cried his wife, "whatever is the matter?" "Matter!" he exclaimed. "There isn't anything the matter! I bought a car this morning, that's all. Say, it's a beauty, a regular peach, four thousand with ten off. I ran it clean round the shed alone first time. The chauffeur says he never saw anybody get on to the hang of it so quick. Get on your hat and come right down to the garage. I've got a man waiting there to teach you to run it. Hurry up!" Within a week or two after that one might see the Blinkses any morning, in fact every morning, out in their car! "Good morning, Judge!" calls Blinks gaily as he passes, "how's that carburettor acting?--Good morning. Archdeacon, is that plug trouble of yours all right again?--Hullo, Professor, let me pick you up and ride you up to the college; oh, it's no trouble. What do you think of the bearings of this car? Aren't they just dandy?" And so Mr. Blinks has got all his friends back again. After all, the great thing about being crazy is to be all crazy together. [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |