The record-union., 1891-06-27

ought to be. After you crash against
| sharp angles and fall in unexpected
turns, this attempt is abandoned. In des-
| perate hope and courage you begin seal
| ing the ascents to upper mysteries. You
| are more successful here, for, by follow
/ ing the stair railing, you can at least for
! some little time proceed. You go pretty
high this way. Doubtful of where you
are, you return fight or two. Then
you move stealthily through dark,
stuffy ball. Like a sneak thief you try
! every door you find, listening with beat
ing heart for movements of vengeance
from supposititious occupants. Your
| strained hearing catches the sound of
! footsteps. You suddenly pounce upon
! him and hold him as remorselessiy as
ever "Goody Blake" was clutched by
Harry Gill" The man says, Lord
bless US !" but does not seem very fright
ened. He probably knows what it is to
! be frequently surprised in the dark by
! desperate people. You demand with
! suppressed emotion to be led TO your
room. Lord bless us, yes, certainly; but
| You do not loosen your grip upon the in
! trated the somewhere, and find yourself
IN room that must be your room be-
cause you recognize some features Of
your luggage when falling over it.
But there you are at last, and what q
room Shades Of past ages, how thy
kindly wraiths are insulted by what is
here in pretension, patching, mold and
! decay One fears to use a drawer lest the
furniture viii crumble in pieces and dol
! orous spirits be unlOoSed. The wash
stand is propped; the bowl is cracked; the
| towel is shredded as a politicians record
! on can only sit in safety on the floor
\ on tip the man you have caught out
OF all reason, and shiveringly ask for a
! light and q fire. Lord bless us, YES, GER
! tainly-as to light; but there must be a
consultation about the fire. He departs
and you stand there supported by hope
and compact, black atmosphere for a
good half hour. He never returns. An
other man does. This one brings one tiny
candle family limiting of light. and dis
| closing the extraordinary necessity for
! light. You suggest that you will need
more. He is appalled,. But you pledge
| your ability to pay for two, or even three
candles, if all are burned together That
may be admitted, but the innovation is too
much. You fee this new man. Lord
| bless us, yes, certainly; he will see. He
! goes away and never returns. You take
! your candle and make.a little trip around
| the echoing halls, but you find no one.
Then you return to your room, find the
! bell-cOrd, and enliyen the hosiery for q
! long time with dOleful tollings, janglings
/ and lmpetuOuS StaccatOS Of u remote but
! strengthened bell. By and by another
]
ness, and seems anxious to know if you
! have really rung. You endeavor to max e
! II clear that you have, and why you have:
and you fee him and say: MY good fell
| low ~ and, There's a man ~ and other
! friendly things. This one goes and stays,
like the rest. You begin on the bell
again, or thoroughly reckless and des-
| perate, rush to your door and yell; yell
| as one will yell when the limit of human
| patience is reached. In moment they
are all there; all the pack of prosecutors
| who first gave you welcome. You adj
! dress them in unmistakable language.
| They are surprised, panied, humihtated,
! at your extraordinary conduct. But by
a frank statement that unless n fire Of
Goals is put in your CRATE, you will utilize
the un]Olnted sections of furniture for
that purpose, and unless you are fur
nished enough candles you will make
pyre Of the inn itself for light with which
TO get out oft, you are eventually pro-
Vlded with what you Want-bY two or
three other people who have been lying
| in wait for this very denOuement; these
only submitting to accommodate YOU
after their palms have been crossed with
silver, like the bad Old witches of the
stOry-bOOkS.
In every other act or fact about the
British inn there is the same hopeless
stubbOrnness. Once within it you must
resign yourself, soul and body to inde-
scribable delay, inattention and every
conceivable affront and incivility. The
guest is a creature to be plucked, bullied
and pillaged. To these beings with
wooded heads and straw hearts, who do
not keep them but are kept by them
civility is unknown; comfort is un-
needed: innovation is treason; and dy-
Mantle turks IN all suggestion of I'M
provement.
1t would be captious and dishonest to
assert that there are no pleasant exceD-
tions; but any one who has travelled
much in England and Scotland knows
that the above picture is a true one of
nine-tenthS of those inns the average
wanderer finds in the average English
and Scottish town or village. Acquaint-
ance IN every place visited would no
doubt reduce ones percentage of misery.
Bnt as you are compelled to know it, in
passing rapidly from place to place, the
entire system is one OF grab-and-plucll.
The bar IS the British innkeeper's god.
He has no pride in his house and the en-
tertainment' he might give. your bill
for liquors is likely TO four or five times
exceed that for bed and board. you are
tolerated and even coddled. If you have
something to do besides guzzle, YOU NAV
as well understand first as last that you
are not wanted, viii not be decentlv
treated. In nine-tenthS of all British
inns there is not a public room-and they
are all VIGOROUSLY tiny and close-where
the fumes and smoke Of liquor and to-
bacco do not form a dense and awful
pillar Of cloud and fire by night and day
The inn is absolutely the bar annex
+ here.
But there is hope for the traveller in
| England and Scotland in two directions.
If one will make rule of patroniZing
only the temperate hotels, or of hunting
out the humblest and most insignificant
fg1f h2 4
rival, my word for it, a clean bed. fairly
comfortable room and the best attention
and service to be had in this country will
in nearly all cases be secured. The tenn
perance hotels Of our own country are, as
a rule, only tit places for self-mortifica-
ton or suicide. Here they are the only
places where one can secure any manner
of adequate entertainment.
In Wales, in the English lake district
in some portions of the sleepy old ham
lets of the English midland shires. and
in many of the characterful villages of
Scotland, you will come upon little hotels
that are half inn and half home. They
are struggling, one-story structures, with
sway-bacll, moss-cOvered roofs and huge
caves and chimneyS, and are nearly
always half-hidden beneath ivy, roses
and flowing vines. They are rich in that
sweet and unctious reminiScential life of
the old stage-coaching days; and, pro-
Vided with numberlesS hooks, crannies,
cupboards and delightful corners, arc
each a labyrinth OF quaintness and re-
pose. Personally, in my wayside tramp
ihgs, this sort of dreamful old Scottish
nest has been found the most delightful.
By the peat blaze of it's cavcrnouS fire.
place, in the presence OF scones white as
a doves wing, bacon crisp and brown, an
omelet as yellow rs a frost painted beech
leaf, jug of cream sweet as a nut-ker-
mel, fragrant brewing of tea in the