The Woeburn was running as well as ever, quite untouched by any frost, and stretched at its length, like a great black leech who puts out its head for suction. Gliding through great piles of snow, it looked sable as Cocytus, with long curls of white vapour hovering, where the cold air lay on it. The stars were beginning to sparkle now; and a young moon, gazing over Chancton Ring, avouched the calm depth of heaven.
Then Alice came forward, commending her soul to God in good Christian manner, and without a fear, or tear, or sigh, committed her body to the Death-bourne.
CHAPTER LXIX.
BOTTLER BEATS THE ELEMENTS.
It seems to be almost a settled point in the affairs of everybody (except, perhaps, Prince Bismarck) that nothing shall come to pass exactly according to arrangement. The best and noblest of mankind can do no more than plan discreetly, firmly act, and humbly wait the pleasure of a just, beneficent, and all-seeing Power.
For instance, Mr. Bottler had designed for at least three weeks to slay a large styful of fat pigs. But from day to day he had been forced to defer the operation. The frost was so intense that this good Azrael of the grunters had no faith in the efficacy of his ministrations. Not indeed as regarded his power to dismiss them to a happier world. In any kind of weather he could stick a pig; the knife they could not very well decline, when skilfully suggested; but they might, and very often did, break all the laws of hospitality, by sternly refusing to accept his salt. And the object of a pig’s creation is triple—(setting aside his head, and heels, and other small appurtenances)—fresh pork, pickled pork, and bacon; and the greatest of these three is bacon.
Now what was West Lorraine to do, and even the town of Steyning? Cart-loads of mutton came into the market, from the death in the snow of so many sheep; which (as the general public reasoned) must have made the meat beautifully white; and a great many labourers got a good feed, who had almost forgotten the taste of meat; and it did them good, and kept them warm. But the “best families” would not have this: they liked their mutton to have “interviewed” the butcher, in a constitutional manner; and not being sure how to prove this point, they would not look at any mutton at all, till lamb came out of snow-drift. This being so, what was now to be done? Many people said, “live on bread, and so on, red herrings, and ship-chandler’s stores, and whatever else the Lord may send.” Fifty good women came up through the snow to learn the Rector’s opinion; and all he could say was, “Boil down your bones.”
This produced such a desperate run upon the bank of poor Bonny, which really was a bank—of marrow bones, put by in the summer to season—that Jack was at work almost all the day long, and got thoroughly up to the tricks of the snow, and entirely learned how to travel it. Bonny’s poor hands were so chapped by the cold, that he slurred all the polish of the Rector’s boots; and Mr. Hales said that he had better grease them; which cut the boy deeper than any chap.
Superior people, however, could not think of relying upon Bonny’s bones; their money was ready, and they would pay for good meat what it was worth—and no more. Now a thoroughly honest man grows uneasy at the thought of getting more than he ought to get. It is pleasant to cheat the public; but the pleasure soaks down through the conscience, leaving tuberculous affection there, or bacteria; or at any rate some microscopic affliction. Bottler felt all these visitations; and in spite of all demand, he could not bring himself to do any more than treble the price of pig-meat.