Library / Literature & Fiction

Simon the Jester

by William John Locke

Pages
about 357
Category
Literature & Fiction
Language
English
Reading time
6.5 h at 250 wpm
Start readingThe whole book, as cards or one word at a time. 3.6 h at 450 wpm in Read mode.

From the opening

I met Renniker the other day at the club. He is a man who knows everything--from the method of trimming a puppy's tail for a dog-show, without being disqualified, to the innermost workings of the mind of every European potentate. If I want information on any subject under heaven I ask Renniker.

“Can you tell me,” said I, “the most God-forsaken spot in England?”

Renniker, being in a flippant mood, mentioned a fashionable watering-place on the South Coast. I pleaded the seriousness of my question.

“What I want,” said I, “is a place compared to which Golgotha, Aceldama, the Dead Sea, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and the Bowery would be leafy bowers of uninterrupted delight.”

“Then Murglebed-on-Sea is what you're looking for,” said Renniker. “Are you going there at once?”

“It's November,” said he, “and a villainous November at that; so you'll see Murglebed-on-Sea in the fine flower of its desolation.”

“Rogers,” said I, “I am going to the seaside. I heard that Murglebed is a nice quiet little spot. You will go down and inspect it for me and bring back a report.”

He went blithe and light-hearted, though he thought me insane; he returned with the air of a serving-man who, expecting to find a well-equipped pantry, had wandered into a charnel house.

“It's an awful place, sir. It's sixteen miles from a railway station. The shore is a mud flat. There's no hotel, and the inhabitants are like cannibals.”

Rogers started at me. His loose mouth quivered like that of a child preparing to cry.

“We are not going to try,” I retorted. “I'm going by myself.”

His face brightened. Almost cheerfully he assured me that I should find nothing to eat in Murglebed.

“You can amuse yourself,” said I, “by sending me down a daily hamper of provisions.”

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