Mr. Nogo, the member for Mile End, was the parent
of this committee. He asserted that the matter
was one of such vital importance not only to the whole
metropolis, but to the country at large, that the
Government were bound in the first place to give a
large subsidy towards building the bridge, and afterwards
to pay a heavy annual sum towards the amount which
it would be necessary to raise by tolls. Mr.
Whip Vigil, on the other hand, declared on the part
of Government that the bridge was wholly unnecessary;
that if it were built it ought to be pulled down again;
and that not a stiver could be given out of the public
purse with such an object.
On this they joined issue. Mr. Nogo prayed for
a committee, and Mr. Vigil, having duly consulted
his higher brethren in the Government, conceded this
point. It may easily be conceived how high were
now the hopes both of Undy Scott and Alaric Tudor.
It was not at all necessary for them that the bridge
should ever be built; that, probably, was out of the
question; that, very likely, neither of them regarded
as a possibility. But if a committee of the House
of Commons could be got to say that it ought to be
built, they might safely calculate on selling out at
a large profit.
But who were to sit on the committee? That was
now the all-momentous question.
CHAPTER XXXII
THE PARLIAMENTARY COMMITTEE
There is a sport prevalent among the downs in Hampshire
to which, though not of a high degree, much interest
is attached. Men and boys, with social glee and
happy boyish shouts, congregate together on a hill-side,
at the mouth of a narrow hole, and proceed, with the
aid of a well-trained bull-dog, to draw a badger.
If the badger be at all commendable in his class this
is by no means an easy thing to do. He is a sturdy
animal, and well fortified with sharp and practised
teeth; his hide is of the toughest; his paws of the
strongest, and his dead power of resistance so great
as to give him more than an equal chance with the
bull-dog. The delighted sportsmen stand round
listening to the growls and snarls, the tearings,
gnawings, and bloody struggles of the combatants within.—’Well
done, badger!—Well done, bull-dog!—Draw
him, bulldog!—Bite him, badger!’ Each
has his friends, and the interest of the moment is
intense. The badger, it is true, has done no
harm. He has been doing as it was appointed for
him to do, poor badger, in that hole of his. But
then, why were badgers created but to be drawn?
Why, indeed, but to be drawn, or not to be drawn,
as the case may be? See! the bull-dog returns
minus an ear, with an eye hanging loose, his nether
lip torn off, and one paw bitten through and through.
Limping, dejected, beaten, glaring fearfully from his
one remaining eye, the dog comes out; and the badger
within rolls himself up with affected ease, hiding
his bloody wounds from the public eye.
Copyrights
The Three Clerks from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.