The Journal of a Disappointed Man by W.N.P. Barbellion

Author:W.N.P. Barbellion [Barbellion, W.N.P.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Illness, Poverty, Biography & Autobiography, Classics, Childhood, History
ISBN: 9781478269595
Publisher: Penguin UK
Published: 1919-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

June 3.

We have made a little nest in the wood and I lead her into it by the hand over the briars and undergrowth as if conducting her to the grand piano on a concert platform. I kissed her …

Then in a second we switch back to ordinary conversation. In an ordinary conversational voice I ask the trees, the birds, the sky.

‘What’s become of all the gold?’

‘What’s become of Waring?’

‘What is Love? ’Tis not hereafter.’

‘Where are the snows of yesteryear?’

‘Who killed Cock Robin?’

‘Who’s who?’

And so on thro’ all the great interrogatives that I could think of till she stopped my mouth with a kiss and we both laughed.

‘Miss Penderkins,’ I say. ‘Miss Penderlet, Miss Pender-au-lait, Miss Pender-filings.’

‘What do I mean?’ she cries. ‘What’s the point of the names? Why take my name in vain? Why? What? How?’

She does not know that clever young men sometimes trade on their reputation among simpler folk by pretending that meaningless remarks conceal some subtlety or cynicism, some little Attic snap.

I have been teaching her to distinguish the songs of different birds and often we sit a long while in the Cathedral Wood while I say, ‘What’s that?’ and ‘What’s that?’ and she tells me. It is delightful to watch her dear serious face as she listens … This evening I gave a viva voce examination as per below:

‘What does the Yellow Hammer say?’

‘What colour are the Hedge Sparrow’s eggs?’

‘Describe the Nightjar’s voice.’

‘How many eggs does it lay?’

‘Oh! you never told me about the Nightjar,’ she cried outraged.

‘No: it’s a difficult question put in for candidates taking honours.’

Then we rambled on into Tomfoolery. ‘Describe the call-note of a motor omnibus.’ ‘Why does the chicken cross the road?’ and ‘What’s that?’ – when a railway engine whistled in the distance.

Measure by this our happiness!

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