Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1858-07-17


strange hustle in the principal street. endcay-
or, for a moment, TO collect my faculties, and
my first impulse is to rush for my watch. That
faithful companion tells me that it is twenty
minutes to twelve in broad day, and the whole
truth dawns upon my mind. that ! have over
slept myself and missed the coach. Six frantic
pulls at the bcll-ropc and the boots" appears
to defend himself by stating that he called me
at the hour appointed, and that answered, and
he substantiatcs his statement by pointing to a
mug OF cold water, that was once warm, outside
my bedroom door. Complaint is useless, and
| have no alternative left but to spend the half
week in and about the village. Posting is out
of the question, as the village does not boast
single chaise, and there is no chance of mail
cart, or any other conveyance of an irregular
kind passing through the place. There is moth
ing left but to settle down fol three days and
three nights, and endcavor to take an interest
in things that are now hateful in my eyes, be-
cause forced upon me against my will. The
trout-stream that pleased me so much four and
twenty hours before is now, in imagination, as
black as a Manchester canal and the trout that
! caught with such industry, and devoured with
such ayidity, then, are now more rcpulsive
than the oily fried fish of Whtechapel. The
ancient markct-place (timc of the SaXons) that
] made such minute inquiries about the day be-
fore yesterday is now greater bore than Hicks
Hall, or the origin of the three balls of the Iom-
bards. The old church with the Pharos tower,
most venerable structures that are wonderfully
picturesque and totally uninhabitable- -crumb-
ling old temple. mixture of the cow-shed and
the early Norman styles of architecture whose
snuiiy brickwork is only kept together by the
ivy, and high hill, which shelters it from the
sharp winds | was mad the other day to take
photographs of it from every conceivable point
of view, but now | feel disposed to tilt against
it on horseback in the night and knock it down,
for the purpose of creating sensation. The
stable-boys, who idle about sucking straws the
whole day through, know that | have missed
the coach, and they impart their knowledge to
any one willing to receive it, until become
by-word and a joke in the village. After the
second day, got weak and imbecile; excited
even by such an event as the changing of horses
for the coach that passes through once a week
in the opposite direction to that in which wish
to go. At last my deliverance comes, and stay
up all night this time to receive it. think, if
all the places are taken, shall become a fit III
mate for an asylum of idiots.
Too late for coach under such circumstances
is bad enough, but imagine position infinite
ly worse.
am aiayorite comedian, the pride, the glory,
the support, of leading London theatre In
an unguardeG moment take a sudden fancy for
a country trip, and run down by rail about
twenty miles, and turn off for agood days walk
over the fields the lanes, and commons. In the
afternoon | return to the station calmly and
leisurely to catch a train that shall deposit me
in town about six in the evening. | enter the
little frail hut that serves for the station where
have to embark, and my eyes rests upon
broad-faccd clock, the hands of which are at a
pno IN | lnnl t,,J IL,
my eyes have not deceived me /; and the boy in
-r~-s' of tho place, in answer to my hasty ques-
London railway time, and that there is no train
for two hours. sink in horror upon the one
thin, hard, narrow. wooden seat in the place,
and a thousand wild schemes chase each other
with fearful rapidity through my troubled brain.
Solitary is the station as a witch's hut upon
heath, and nothing like conveyance is visible
on the line, except a navigator's wheelbarrow
turned upside down upon heap Of gravel
Ny eye follows the long. thin. taperlng lines of
rails in the direction of London, until they pierce
cump of trees, and vanish at that distant point
from my sight Can | run along the line, and
by that means reach my appointment even an
hour later than the proper time? How rcpuI-
sive everything about the country appears now,
the trees, the fields, and the golden sunset and
how hate the stiffness broken only by the cav
lll1 OF lHbSc uftutllul IuthN III lut uillollAllB
park, whose song would give worlds to eX-
change for the smoke and rattle of Fleet street.
Why did ever venture into the treacherous
precincts of the picturesque, when should have
been slipping my coffee, and reading my paper
in my dingy tavern? A roar and a puff of smoke
and the express train whirls by, that might have
carried me to my destination in half an hour, if
! could have summoned courage and physical
agility to have jumped upon the roofs of the
carriage as they passed under the bridge, tim
ing my leap like an acrobat in the circus.
But miss the golden opportunity, and am
again hopeless inmate of the solitary station,
looking vacantly at the clock which has now
reached the stroke OF seven.
There sit for the next two hours, while n
panorama of events at the theatre passed before
my mental vision. | hear the sharp click of the
prompter's bell, and the voice of the call-boy,
shouting 'overture, gentlemen" up the stair
case | see my aged dresser, who has been used
to punctual men. old actors, and slow makers
up, walking frantically about the room, wonder
ing where | can be, when have to go on in an
elaborate costume, in the middle of the first act
He taxes his memory to ascertain whether was
ever so late before, when the same piece was
being performed, and he determines that never
was.
Unable to bear his mental torture any longer,
he hobbies doYn to the hall-keepcr, and finds
that have not yet passed into the theatre
Then commences a consultation, and the intor-
nation is spread behind the curtain that Mr..
Sockskin has not arrived, although he has to go
on in the next scene. Prompter, actors call
boys, and manager, take the alarm, and the lat
ter dives to his room to prepare few hasty
words of apology. The moment arrives that
can be no longer delayed and the pale, nervous
manager goes on in Il comic dress, and, with the
most heart oken voice, and the most piteous
face, that contrast ludcrously with his gay and
facetious attire, tells the disappointed and in
dignont audience all he knows himself, namely
that Mr.. Sockskin is not in the theatre. The
curtain rings down amidst torrent of yels,
while another piece is being hastily put upon
the stage, and l am gnawing my finger-nails in
the enforced and unwelcome solitude of the rail
way station.
These are some of the phantasmas of procras-
tination and delay that morbidly regular man
like myself will occasionally call up before him
in his home of idleness. As there are many
men in the world who cannot be kept in the
path of temperance, unless awful examples o
the effects of intoxication are continuity parad
ed before their eyes, it may be that ! am un
consciously dull myself in the virtue of punctu.