Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-01-12
THE MATTER OF SLEEP

There is a man in this town who firmly
believes that all of the smaller affairs Of
life are regulated by a certain impish in
fiuence.
In mild exploitation of this theory, he
cites his own experience-and 1t is the ex-
perience of many other men-in the matter
of sleep.
On week day mornings. when he is sum-
moned to rise and take up the burden of
life, he longs to go right on sleeping. To
him the light knocking on his door that
summons him to consciousness Is the
pounding of 10000 hoofed and horned flends
against a warped door Of Gehenna- When,
at this execrable moment. he becomes
aware that the precious boon of sleep has
been withdrawn from him for the time, ne
yields to the inevitable with feeling OF
indescrbable anguish. He Is swept by
languor that seems to him. in that early
dimness of his consciousness. to have been
produced by poppy or mandragora or some
other droWsy strip of the east. II Is a
delicious languor, he reflects in the warmth
of his bed. as well worth being cherlshed
as the thirst of one who has been rescued
by a camel caravan after four Waterless
DAYS in q desert simeon. Thinking II over
in a dreamy sort Of way. he says to him.
self that were he worth $S.OOO,OUo, ne
would willingly, eagerly, SURRENDER d.
least four millions of that amount coulo
side and go right slumbering until the
hour of high noon. His drowsness seems
to him to be a Jewel which the act OF
enforced awakening skaters INTO lv,ouV
ing through the spaces at the bottom Oh
the shades is hateful to him. -,
..If | could only stay right here until l
got ready to get up" ne mumples 10 MN,
my Job! Right now I have hold OF the
most precious thing in life-the ability
to sleep. What's the job to this! Ihere
are jobs and jobs. But the fun OF pull
overmatches all jobs. 1 think III Just let
the old job go to the deuce. and roll over
on the other side, and
And right at this stage OF II dlsclpine
and the habit of life take hold OF him.
He fights the languor and sits up. ne
knows that he has got to get up. He
joggles his head, rubs his eyes, growls a
bit to hmself-and gets up. AS ne dresses,
thinks of the rich chaps who can stay In
bed as long as ever they please and ne
laughs dreary laugh when he recalls the
words of certain preachifying multi-mll-
lionaires who ever harp upon the theme
that riches do not constitute happiness.
This is the way it goes on week day
mornings.
Of holidays 1t Is very different.
When this man makes ready Tor PED
on the night preceding a Sunday or hoii-
day he gives utterance to sort OF mental
gloatfulness.
oh" he gloats. addressing his bed, I'm
not going to do one solitary, single thing to
you, I'm not going to do one thing except
to burrow a hole right in the middle of you
and bend your Stats until they look like
ready to hold me for hull long time,
Mister Bed. I'm going to sleep for about
two thousand years. Signor Bedinski. I'm
going to make Rip Van Wrinkle look like
q Mo fy hat only lives for twenty min
utes and Is wide awake I'll of that time.
I've only been fooling with you all Of
these years Herr Bedheim. I've never
taken real, sure-enough, honest-Injun
wallop at you. But I'm going to get hunk
with you now. You're going to hold up the
215 pounds Of me until the cows come
home. and until they're fed. and then. after
that. till they reach the abbatoir out Pack
ingtown way.
The ear pounding that I am going to
perform, beginning In about two minutes,
as soon as I can find my Internal pajamas,
will make you wish that you had been
manufactured into almost any old article
of furniture except a blooming bed. Just
watch Little Snoozerino, the boss of all
the Seven Sleepers, Will you, and see what
happens? Nobody can pound me awake
tomorrow, and I'm not going to partake Of
any food tomorrow. I'm going to sleep until
shutdown tomorrow, and then Pm going to
sit up in bed for about seven seconds, stake
you to the merry boot and then go right
Mister Bed! You're going to get yours!"
Then he pulls down the shades so that
not even splinter of light can possibly
enter the room the following morning, and.
to cnch that, he closes the inside blinds
and down wipes all Of the Stats thereof.
Then he tumbles into bed, still gloating
over the way he Is going to fool EN- with
reference to that sleep thing on the fol-
lowing day.
And then, just as sure 'as the yellow
moon gets full once a month, he awakens
f~lIA ,;,,er do holt
day morning along toward or o'clock
No noise or other prodding circumstance
awakens him. He awakens because he's all
through sleeping. He looks at his watch. It
it ten minutes of 6, say. And yet he feels
as wide awake as briar bird singing
a lilac bough. There isn't two cents worth
Of slumber in his whole carcass. His arms
and legs are twitching with the desire to
get up and start something" Bed feels
like a bore to him He knows that 1t Is
impossible hour to get up on Sunday
or holiday morning, but he knows per-
fectly well that there will be no chance
for him to get to sleep again, even If he
does lie back and try to compose himself
He knows that in such a case he will only
toss around feverishly and nervously, and
end by hopping out of bed after about ten
minutes Of this. anyhow. And, besides, he
is MORALLY hungry. He is never, by any
chance, hungry for his breakfast on week
day mornings, but he is wretchedly hungry
on Sunday and holiday mornings, when
house till o'clock.
And So the bed being worse than
straitjacket to him. he has to get up. He
looks out of the window at the gray world.
He bankers for coffee There isn't sound
in the boarding house. Even the cook
Ia snt arrived. He understanding he
never does before breakfast. except on
Sundays and holidays. when he has to
get up eary-and the smoking makes him
feel mean and uncomfortable Then he
sneaks down to the front door and gets
his newspapers out of the vestbule. He
looks the papers over, and hates every
body and everything he reads about.
Breakfast-a whole lot of food and steam
ing coffee-that's what he wants. What
the dickens do these IDIOTS mean by Sleep
ing their fool lives away? Why don't they
get up and start something's" It's deuce
of a note when a man has to wait until
the middle of the day to get something to
eat blamed if 1t isn't. And thus he sits
around his room, waiting for breakfast and
too disconsoate even to shave, until the
house gradually awakens to life, and after
a period that seems to him like about nine
years he hears the breakfast bell, and he
goes down and gets his breakfast
The man declares that this Is the way
the sleep thing has been breaking for him
for about twenty years. and so the wonder
need not be great that he SO firmly believes
the minor affairs of life to be regulated by
ia.