Shifting Winds | Page 3

man's hat and trousers on--no, none whatever.
Before dismissing myself, descriptively at least, (for, being an honorary
agent of the Shipwrecked Fishermen and Mariners' Society, and an
actor in some of the scenes which I am about to describe, I cannot
conveniently dismiss myself altogether); before dismissing myself, I say,
it may be as well to explain that my strong-minded wife, in concert with
a number of variously-minded women, (all more or less strong), and a
good many weak and otherwise minded men, have come to form their
opinion of me in consequence of my holding rather strongly a few
opinions of my own--to the effect that there are a good many wrong
things in this world, (admittedly wrong things); a good many muddles;
a good many glaring and outrageous abuses and shameful things the
continuance of which reflects discredit on the nation, and the wiping
out or putting right of which ought, by all means, to be set about
earnestly and at once.
Now, curiously enough, it is the idea conveyed in the last two words--at
once--which sticks in the throats of my strong-minded opponents! They
agree with me as to the existence of the evils, they honestly deplore
them, but they charge me with mental imbecility when I suggest that
things should be put right at once. They counsel delay, and when the
dispute reaches a certain stage they smile at me with contempt, or pity,
or they storm, according to individual temperament, and usually wind
up with a rasping reiteration of their original opinions, highly
peppered and salted, and an assurance that I have been born at least a
century before my time.
If the men of the next century are destined to do good, "as their hands
find opportunity," without previous delay until thousands of
opportunities are lost and gone for ever; if those who put their hands to
a piece of work shall carry it out with vigour in their ownlifetime; if
those who counsel delay shall mean due time for full consideration by

themselves, and shall not mean an extended procrastination which
shall free themselves from worry, and leave their work to be handed
down as a legacy to their children, who shall likewise hand it down to
their children, and so on ad infinitum until "delay" shall become a
synonym for death and destruction to tens of thousands of better men
than themselves,--if this shall be the sentiment and practice of the men
of next century, then I confess that my sympathies are with them, and I
really suspect that I must have got into the wrong century by mistake.
But as the position is irremediable now, I suppose I must, in an
imbecile sort of fashion, go on my way rejoicing--if I can-- sorrowing if
I cannot rejoice.
Mrs Bingley having more than once threatened to scratch my face
when I have ventured to express the last sentiment, it may be perhaps
as well to change the subject and return to Billy Gaff, the charming
child, alias the Bu'ster.
Billy deserves to be somewhat particularly introduced, because,
besides being an actor in this tale, he was a boy of strong character. If
I were to sum him up and reduce the total to a concentrated essence,
the result would be a sentence to the following effect:--Billy Gaff had a
will of his own! Perhaps I should say a very strong will of his own. For
instance, he, on several different occasions, willed to screw off the
spout of the family tea-pot, a pewter one, and, having willed to do it, he
did it. Again he willed, more than once, to smash a pane of glass in the
solitary window of the family mansion, and he did smash a pane of
glass in that window; nay, more, in consequence of being heartily
whacked for the deed, he immediately willed to smash, andsmashed, a
second pane, and was proceeding to will and smash a third when he
was caught up by his mother, beaten almost into the condition of a
mummy, and thrust under the clothes of the family bed, which
immediately creaked as if with convulsions, and tossed its blankets
about in apparent agony.
On the present occasion the Bu'ster had awakened out of a sound sleep
to the conviction that he was hungry. Observing the loaf on the table,
he immediately willed to have a second supper, and arising, donned his

father's pea-jacket, in order to enjoy the meal more thoroughly.
It was the sudden removal of the said loaf by his mother to an
unreachable shelf that induced the youthful Billy to stand in the middle
of the room and howl, as already described.
He was still engaged in emulating the storm, and Mrs Gaff, utterly
indifferent to him, had cast another glance