us, the wheel
of Ixion; the pleasure of shearing that domestic animal who (according
to the experience of a very ancient observer of nature) produces more
cry than wool; the perambulation of that Irishman's model bog, where
you slip two steps backward for one forward, and must, therefore, in
order to progress at all, turn your face homeward, and progress as
a pig does into a steamer, by going the opposite way? Were you ever
condemned to spin ropes of sand to all eternity, like Tregeagle the
wrecker; or to extract the cube roots of a million or two of hopeless
surds, like the mad mathematician; or last, and worst of all, to work
the Nuisances Removal Act? Then you can enter, as a man and a brother,
into the sorrows of Tom Thurnall, in the months of June and July,
1854.

He had made up his mind, for certain good reasons of his own, that the
cholera ought to visit Aberalva in the course of the summer; and, of
course, tried his best to persuade people to get ready for their ugly
visitor: but in vain. The cholera come there? Why, it never had come
yet, which signified, when he inquired a little more closely, that
there had been only one or two doubtful cases in 1837, and five or six
in 1849. In vain he answered, "Very well; and is not that a proof that
the causes of cholera are increasing here? If you had one case the
first time, and five times as many the next, by the same rule you will
have five times as many more if it comes this summer."

"Nonsense! Aberalva was the healthiest town on the coast."

"Well but," would Tom say, "in the census before last, you had a
population of 1300 in 112 houses, and that was close packing enough,
in all conscience: and in the last census I find you had a population
of over 1400, which must have increased since; and there are eight or
nine old houses in the town pulled down, or turned into stores; so you
are more closely packed than ever. And mind, it may seem no very great
difference; but it is the last drop that fills the cup."

What had that to do with cholera? And more than one gave him to
understand that he must be either a very silly or a very impertinent
person, to go poking into how many houses there were in the town, and
how many people lived in each. Tardrew, the steward, indeed, said
openly, that Mr. Thurnall was making disturbance enough in people's
property up at Pentremochyn, without bothering himself with Aberalva
too. He had no opinion of people who had a finger in ever