The Portland daily press., 1875-02-27
Long and Short.

ute, as porter-apparently the porter of the
station-kindly explained to me, although l
was already informed OF the fact, thanks TO
INV own unaided power of observation. had
arrived in time only to hear the loud ringing
of the bell, the parting scream OF the engine,
and the grinding and groaning of the train as
it passed out of the station, -slowly at first
and painfully, with much asthmatic painting
then more and more rapidly, as though it had
drawn long breath, and made up its mind
for very quick run indeed,-there being no
other course open to it. A frantic whirlin1g
in the air of colored lights, final scream in
the distance, and then it was completely
gone,-the red lamp behind it, which had
been glaring upon me after malign and
bloodshed fashion, quickly fading and dim
ming into mere spark, and at last dying out
and disappearing altogether.
1t was more vexatious, that the dog-cart in
which had been borne to the station had
vanished. The driver had failed to appre-
ciate nv position. He was drowsy, had no.
ticed, and, no doubt, anxious to get home
again and to bed. / had been staying,
should mention, at Rose Hall, the country
seat, in Yorkshire, of my old friend Richard
Roe, and was journeying back towards
London. It was late at night, very dark,
and rather cold. There would be no other
train for some hours. was left stranded at
a lonely country station, with very undecided
views as to how l should dispose of myself
and of the measure Of time that had, like an
inconvenient liability, suddenly developed
upon me.
L handed over my luggage to the charge OF
the porter, and then, acting upon his advice,
quilted the station. He spoke of it disparag-
ingly as place where DO drink could be OBJ
tained--in search of Railway Hotel, which
he described as being in.the immediate neigh
borhood. 1 found it with little difficulty; a
new building-in appearance something be-
tween an ordinary public house and what
auctioneers call ga villa residence" 1t smell
strongly of size and paint, and varnish;a po-
tent flavor of damp mortar pervaded 1t very
completely. However, it afforded me refuge
and shelter, advantages by no means to be
moderated, in view of the special circum-
stances of the case.
entered the coffee-room-a lofty chamber
with map like damp-stains upon its plain I'M
pointed walls, very barely furnished, and fee
bly, lighted by single jet of gas issuing from
an ugly rectangular arrangement OF piping
suspended near the ceiling. | rang the bell
and ordered some hot brandy-and-water. l
did not really need refreshment of any kind.
still less of that particular kind, for l had
lately Quilted Roe's hospitable table; but
ssthe good of the house" had to be considered.
Moreover feeling of depression was fast COM
ing over me. ~.
The room being very clouded with tobacco
smoke, did not at first perceive that man,
a stranger, was sitting in an obscure corner,
reading, or affecting to read, newspaper
widely-extended before him, the while he
smoked furiously. took out my cigar-case.
1t seemed to be one of those occasions when
IL bebooyes man to smoke as matter OF
self-defense.
raised my hand to obtain light from the
gas Just above me. I failed to reach it. l
was not tall enough.
sAllow me,' said the man behind the
newspaper.
Thereupon long arm was stetched forth.
In moment he handed me flaming spill.
NY surprise was so great that was unable
lust at first to avoid myself of his polite atteE-
ton. He had but half risen from his seat
with a sort of uncoiling action. 1t was clear
to me that he was of most prodigious stature.
ga giantv' exclaimed rather more alb
ruptly than politely.
afraid so. The fact can hardly be disguised.
must admit that am a giant" And he
hid himself again behind his newspaper. And
now felt assured that he was not really
reading it, for I could see that he held it up
side down.
No doubt his head was rather small in pro-
portion to his stature. Giants heads are
usually small I think. And it was not an
impressive head. 1t was indeed a rather
weak, sheepish-looking head, with a vacant
facial expression, soping forehead, retreating
mouth and chin, and blank watery blue eyes.
He was not giant to inspire terror. He was
more likely TO enlist sympathy and pity. He
wore the depressed, cowed air of neekness
maltreated, and humility outraged. He
seemed to me, if must say so, a giant who
L 10 To a
man, with small fluffy whiskers, and a color
less downy beard. He had blushed violently
in speaking to me.
felt curious concerning him. 1t was SO
strange, meeting so monstrous creature, at
that hour of the night, in that lonely York
shire Railway Inn. There was something al
together very quaint, as fancied, attending
upon the circumstances of our encounter.
ga dark night" observed presently, by
way of saying something.
81 am glad it's dark" he said. His voice
was of agreeable tone, though it might lack
force and firmness somewhat. Darkness
suits me best. If ever you should chance to
become an object of exhibition" he added,
after pause, you'll understand the advan-
tage of darkness. Does it raip, might ask ?''
told him that although it did not actually
rain then, thought it threatened to be rainy
before long. --4 H.v
II hope it won't rain," he said, "for I've a
long way to 60 and in my case. you know, an
umbrella isn't of much use, I mean as re-
CARDS ones legs"
must always be remote from the shelter OF
his umbrella.
He sighed heavily. He put the newspaper
from him, and leaning his elbows upon the
table, rested his head upon his hands. He
had ceased to smoke. An empty tumbler
TODD before him. He sighed again, and then
awned. He looked very weary and woe
,gone. 1t even seemed to me that there
ere tears in his eyes.
Il must be going soon, suppose" he said
Ta while.
entreated him to remain, if but for
lie longer. 1 explained to him the acct
.nt that detained me, until the next train
or London should stop at the adjoining sta
ton. / plainly stated that he much inter-
ested me. / begged permission to have his
glass reflled. He smiled, biushed a bright
rose color, and consented.
81 am happy to meet you," he said, timid-
ly, but pleasantly. '1ndeed, l don't mind
saying it's comfort to meet any one who
does not want to pinch me to see if Pm real
I'm sure you're not one th at would wish to
stick pins in my calves, to make sure that Pm
not walking on stills hidden inside my trou-
sers. But that's way the British public has,
sir. sometimes to a most inconvenient extent.
may say that I've suffered very much from
the inquisitive and the incredulous nature of
the British public"
"And do you feel bound to endure such
treatS;ant2 Are you never tempted to use
YOUR giants strength UNANIMOUSLY like gl-
ant %
.sShakespearep I undeistand the ailus!on.
But you see, sir, Pm an Object Oh exhlDitlon.
In that capacity have to undergo puDhclty,
and all it brings with it, Punches here' anu
pokes there, and, as Pve stated, pins run IN
TO my calves. And then there's the question
of remuneration. / must not make myself
too cheap, 1 can't afford to exhibit gratis.
Yet it's trying work. do assure you, living
cooped up in van. It's trying, even to
dwarfs, and fat ladies, and albinos, and boa
constructors, but to party of my size, it's,
may say, crushing. Whatever you may be,
sir, or in whatever position OF life you may
find Yourself, never wish to be giant. Take
my word for it, it's trying state OF things,
and giants are subjected to more inconven-
fences than people in general have any idea
of. Air and exercise / must have, and SO L
walk at night, from village, or from fair to
fair, race-course to race-course, as the case
may be, hoping that may be observed as
little as possible. For, you know, when folks
have seen you outside of your caravan for
nothing, they can't be persuaded to pay mon
ey to see you inside of it. That's human
nature, suppose But, as said before, it's
a irving life, sir. Don't wish to be giant,