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Updated: June 9, 2025
I’ll drown him in the sludge in the toad-pond over the hedge.’ ‘So we will,’ said the man, ‘drown him anon in the mud!’ ‘Drown me, will you?’ said I; ‘I should like to see you! What’s all this about? Was it because I saw you with your hands full of straw plait, and my mother there—’ ‘Yes,’ said the woman; ‘what was I about?’ Myself. How should I know? Making bad money, perhaps!
A soft sludge as it came noiselessly to rest beneath the glazed chintz awnings of the Butterfly Center station. A faint scent of chypre from Petticoat's cigarette as he alit. From his private train, which had slithered across the intervening spaces and slid into its moorings as butter slides from a hot plate. It is September, cool, green and well-sprinkled.
To be continually sucking in plant sludge was a low grubby business at the best. Besides, he was now furnished with a respectable pair of jaws, not to mention the rudiments of teeth. Daphne was his first victim. Daphne sounds somehow floral, but this Daphne was equipped with one eye and several pairs of legs, and practised abrupt jumpy flights through the water.
I rather fancy that the wide spaces of Northumberland Avenue have displaced it; but, in any case, the route we took led us towards the river, the smell of which comes back to my nostrils at the moment at which I write, with a queer mingled suggestion of sludge, and sunlight, and sewage. In that backyard I was put to a sort of mild ordeal by question. Was I married? Was I an apprentice?
Throwing thus His sense out, like an ant-eater's long tongue, Soft, innocent, warm, moist, impassible, And when 'twas crusted o'er with creatures slick, Their juice enriched his palate. "Could not Sludge!"
"Sludge" did not interest Lewisham, it was not at all his idea of a medium, but he read and re-read "The Statue and the Bust." It had the profoundest effect upon him. He went to sleep he used to read his literature in bed because it was warmer there, and over literature nowadays it did not matter as it did with science if one dozed a little with these lines stimulating his emotion:
The whole essence of Browning's method is involved in this matter, and the whole essence of Browning's method is so vitally misunderstood that to say that "Mr. Sludge the Medium" is something like a defence of spiritualism will bear on the face of it the appearance of the most empty and perverse of paradoxes. But so, when we have comprehended Browning's spirit, the fact will be found to be.
The sludge was treated in fancy amalgamators, especially in one with a pan and revolving arms, probably evolved out of the inner consciousness of some gentleman in Paris. The result was discharging upwards of 1,500 lbs. of mercury into the valley below. A little amalgam was obtained, and proved that the rock does contain gold a fact perfectly well known for centuries to the natives.
The girl bit her lip but her eyes did not leave Vane's face. "He died, still lying in the wet chalky sludge, still grinning, and thanking the stretcher bearers who had carried him." He paused for a moment his mind back in the Land over the Water. "There are thousands like him," he went on thoughtfully, "and over there, you see, nothing much matters.
Cowardly, cunning, insolent, greedy, effeminately sensual, playing upon the vanity of his patrons, playing upon their vulgar sentimentality, playing upon their vulgar pietisms and their vulgar materialism, Sludge after all is less the wronger than the wronged. Who made him what he is?
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