目录
Content
Chapter_1
Chapter_2
Chapter_3
Chapter_4
Chapter_5
Chapter_6
Chapter_7
Chapter_8
Chapter_9
Chapter_10
Chapter_11
Chapter_12
Chapter_13
Chapter_1
Three Men In A BoatPlease note: This Forgotten Futures e-text has been scanned
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THREE MEN IN A BOAT
(TO SAY NOTHING OF THE DOG)
Jerome K. Jerome
AUTHOR OF
"IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW"
"STAGE LAND", ETC.
Illustrations by A. Frederics
1889
Chapters
I. -- II. -- III. -- IV. -- V. -- VI. -- VII. -- VIII. -- IX. -- X. -- XI. --
XII. -- XIII. -- XIV. -- XV. -- XVI. -- XVII. -- XVIII. -- XIX.
PUBLISHER'S ADVERTISEMENT.
IT may not, perhaps, be out of place in this new edition of Three Men in a
Boat to place before its readers the enormous hold it has upon the reading
public in Great Britain and her colonies. Originally published in August,
1889, it has been year after year reprinted, until there has been produced the
large number of 202,000 copies. Adding to this the 5,000 of the present
edition, a total is reached of 207,000 copies. It is remarkable that during
this period there has been only one edition, and this published at the price
of 3s. 6d.; the publisher ventures to believe this is unprecedented. It is not
as though, as is too often the case with an ordinary novel, an enormous sale
took place during a few months and then ceased, inasmuch as in the present
case there has been, and still is, a constant and steady sale year after year.
The present opportunity has been taken to re-set in new type the letterpress,
and to re-engrave (from the originals) the whole of the drawings. The
publisher trusts that Three Men in a Boat, appealing as it does so much to
human nature both in its pathos and its humour, will still continue its
pleasant voyage, and find new friends in every home in the land which gave it
birth.
BRISTOL, March, 1909.
AUTHOR'S ADVERTISEMENT.
My Publisher suggests my adding a few lines to his. To refuse to do so, under
the circumstances, might appear surly. The world has been very kind to this
book. Mr. Arrowsmith speaks only of its sales in Great Britain. In Chicago, I
was assured by an enterprising pirate now retired, that the sales throughout
the United States had exceeded a million; and although, in consequence of its
having been published before the Copyright Convention, this has brought me no
material advantage, the fame and popularity it has won for me among the
American public is an asset not to be despised. It has been translated into, I
think, every European language except Arabian, also into some of those of
Asia. It has brought me many thousands of letters from young folk, from old
folk; from well folk, from sick folk; from merry folk, from sad folk. They
have come to me from all parts of the world, from men and women of all
countries. Had these letters been the only result I should feel glad and proud
that I had written the book. I retain a few blackened pages of one copy sent
me by a young colonial officer from South Africa. They were taken from the
knapsack of a dead comrade found on Spion Kop. So much for testimonials. It
remains only to explain the merits justifying such an extraordinary success. I
am quite unable to do so. I have written books that have appeared to me more
clever, books that have appeared to me more humorous. But it is as the author
of Three Men in a Boat (to say nothing of the Dog) that the public persists in
remembering me. Certain writers used to suggest that it was the vulgarity of
the book, its entire absence of humour, that accounted for its success with
the people; but one feels by this time that such suggestion does not solve the
riddle. Bad art may succeed for a time and with a limited public; it does not
go on extending its circle throughout twenty years. I have come to the
conclusion that, be the explanation what it mav, I can take credit to myself
for having written this book. That is, if I did write it. For really I hardly
remember doing so. I remember only feeling very young and absurdly pleased
with myself for reasons that concern only myself. It was summer time, and
London is so beautiful in summer. It lay beneath my window a fairy city veiled
in golden mist, for I worked in a room high up above the chimney-pots; and at
night the lights shone far beneath me, so that I looked down as into an
Aladdin's cave of jewels. It was during those summer months I wrote this book;
it seemed the only thing to do.
PREFACE.
The chief beauty of this book lies not, so much in its literary style, or in
the extent and usefulness of the information it conveys, as in its simple
truthfulness. Its pages form the record of events that really happened. All
that has been done is to colour them; and, for this, no extra charge has been
made. George and Harris and Montmorency are not Poetic ideals, but things of
flesh and blood - especially George, who weighs about twelve stone. Other
works may excel this in depth of thought and knowledge of human nature : other
books may rival it in originality and size; but, for hopeless and incurable
veracity, nothing yet discovered can surpass it. This, more than all its other
charms, will, it is felt, make the volume precious in the eye of the earnest
reader ; and will lend additional weight to the lesson that the story teaches.
LONDON, August, 1889
CHAPTER I.
Three Invalids. - Sufferings of George and Harris. - A victim to one hundred
and seven fatal maladies. - Useful prescriptions. - Cure for liver complaint
in children. - We agree that we are overworked, and need rest. - A week on the
rolling deep? - George suggests the river. - Montmorency lodges an objection.
- Original motion carried by majority of three to one.
HERE were fou