Book 4

Hermes: Ferryman, what do you say to settling up accounts? It will prevent any unpleasantness later on.

Charon: Very good. It does save trouble to get these things straight.

Hermes: One anchor, to your order, five shillings.

Charon: That is a lot of money.

Hermes: So help me Pluto, it is what I had to pay. One rowlock-strap, fourpence,

Charon: Five and four; put that down.

Hermes: Then there was a needle, for mending the sail; tenpence.

Charon: Down with it.

Hermes: Caulking-wax; nails; and cord for the brace. Two shillings the lot.

Charon: They were worth the money.

Hermes: That’s all; unless I have forgotten anything. When will you pay it?

Charon: I can’t just now, Hermes; we shall have a war or a plague presently, and then the passengers will come shoaling in, and I shall be able to make a little by jobbing the fares.

Hermes: So for the present I have nothing to do but sit down, and pray for the worst, as my only chance of getting paid?

Charon: There is nothing else for it;—very little business doing just now, as you see, owing to the peace.

Hermes: That is just as well, though it does keep me waiting for my money. After all, though, Charon, in old days men were men; you remember the state they used to come down in,—all blood and wounds generally. Nowadays, a man is poisoned by his slave or his wife; or gets dropsy from overfeeding; a pale, spiritless lot, nothing like-the men of old. Most of them seem to meet their end in some plot that has money for its object.

Charon: Ah; money is in great request.

Hermes: Yes; you can’t blame me if I am somewhat urgent for payment.

Francis George Fowler