Mew V.
The Ogre. Blinks Goes Abroad into the World.
But it was fated that Blinks should not slumber long; he was soon awakened by the rattling of plates; or, to speak more poetically,
The deafening din of dindling delf,
The clinking clang of knife and fork,
As some poor wretch regaled himself
On early greens and roasted pork.
He gazed in the direction of the sound, which seemed to him like the noise of fifty bulls and a corresponding number of steam-hammers turned loose in a china-shop. The goggle-eyed ogre was feeding himself. His huge form was perched aloft on a wooden erection supported by four massive pillars. In one hand he held a large knife, bigger than Blinks’s body; in the other he grasped a mighty trident, and our hero gazed in mute and mewless astonishment, at the immense shovelfuls of mash, and the tremendous lumps of sodden flesh the gigantic monster made disappear down his maw, and the oceans of coloured water that went gurgling down his gullet. Then began Blinks to reason with himself and commune with his own thoughts, after the following fashion: “The world must be rid of such a monster, the Herculean labour must fall on him—Blinks. Would he flinch? No! Perish the thought! And then, had he better slay the ogre at once, and mingle his blood with his Irish stew, or wait until he had gorged himself.” The latter plan, after much deliberation, our young and hairy hero determined to adopt; for and because, no doubt, and to wit, in all probability after the ogre had eaten his fill, he would give a grunt like a satisfied mother-sow, give a grunt, tumble down in a corner, and sleep for a fortnight; and Blinks swore by every hair in his (Blinks’s) whiskers, he never again should wake in this world.
His mind being now fully made up, Blinks carefully washed his face, using up two spittles for that purpose. He had thought of having a bath; but then that would have taken time and ten spittles, and he was in a hurry, and deliberating had dried his mouth. He then lowered himself gently over the edge of the rug, and, for the first time in his life, stood alone in the world. Many and varied were the sensations that stole over his innocent mind, as he stood for a moment to gaze wonderingly, admiringly around him. The words of Byron came to his lips,
And now I’m in the world alone
And eating kitchen-fee,[5]
Why should I not the butter bone?
For the d——l a mouse I see.
“Now,” said Blinks, “I will go abroad upon the surface of the earth, and walk about to and fro like a roaring lion seeking whom I may devour.”
“My chee-ild! my chee-ild!” cried his fond and doating dam from the rug.
“Your grandmother!” answered the irreverent son.
“Stay, oh! stay,” exclaimed his sorrowing parent, catching a fly and swallowing it in her anguish. “Stay, my too sensitive chee-ild, and recline your little head on this here hairy bosom.”
“Which is much too hot to be happy,” said Blinks.
“Oh! stay with me,” continued Muffie. “Will you not be the prop of my declining years?”
“Never a prop,” quo’ Blinks.
“Then,” said the parent, “I myself abroad shall go.”
But Blinks was off, crying, “Not for Joe.”