Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1912-04-12
THE TRAVELLING CHlRPER.
Feels Like Keeping Still After Few
Commonplace Remarks.

Sometmes-in fact, all the time-E
am Of the opinion that the so-termed
taciturn and brusque Englishman has
the correct end of it.
If--on q train, for instance-you adj
dress an Englishman with whom YOU
are not acquainted G say you in a
general. not a specific way). dishing up
some chirp about the weather or the
train service, or anything of That sort.
why, the Englishman will promptly
paste his monocie on his eye, or DELHI
erately adjust his eye glasses. or else
just stare penetratingly and impaling
ly at You: and that will be about all.
Occasionally ne will yield to the point
of staring through you and saying in
a grating, suppressive tone: Eth,
what? ."
Which, also, will be about all. You're
squinched. You curl up. You've got to
curl up. You instantly sense the NOR
tifying feeling that you haven't con-
formed TO the custom OF the country,
which is not anything like a chirpful
country. You feel pretty sulky about
it, and when you get back To The
states" you eXude considerable imma-
terial material about the grumpiness
of the Englishman, his "inhospitality, =
his sullenness, his immersion in him
self, and SO on and so on; all of which
is perfectly true.
But if, by any future chance, you be-
come perforce q sort of roamer on
trains and boats and things up and
down and criss-cross over our own
bright land, and are bored to extinction
and even cremation by ohinful individ-
uals who are bound and determined to
talk at and to you, no matter whether
YOU want them to do the same or not,
until you are charred to a clinker. you
will sooner or later, | think. come to
the natural and inevitable conclusion
that the Englishman who won't let
himself be talked at and to by Strang-
ers is per- fectly kee-rect and right
just about forty ways from the ace.
Because, you see, there is no use in
the world denying the fact that as n
separate folk and people we Ameri-
cans sure are a chatter lot. We love
to say it. We insist upon saying it..
No matter whether there is nothing
whatever except = highly standardized
brand of brittle bran in our sayso We
are going to say it even ii we are per-
fectly aware that our saying it will be
the causes of our being blown to
fragments at the very next moment.
And we will talk u and at perfect
strangers, whether they like it or not,
whether they indicate, so thai child
of six could understand that they
don't want to talk none whatever and
are completely immersed in their own
private affairs.
Lately this present chronicler of
diminutive malt has been compelled By
the power of circumstances over which
lie mad no control to Go so much gall
Looping hither and yon, ON trains and
boats and things around certain Sec
tons of the United States that, in one
town, the joy--I should say the deliri-
um--of sleeping two nights running in
the same bed gave him such an acute
case of happy hysteria that he almost
had to send for the doctor, and no
doubt would have done that same had
he not known that the doctor would
only have made his condition a great
deal worse.
During all of this sad. mad pacing
around the land, got mine,' in addi-
other travelling persons, at the hands
| should say the mouths-of the CUFF
full cooks. Most OF it happened in the
smoking compartments of trains. / be-
came SO leary of the smoking compart-
ments of trains that i almost abandon
ed the vicious and degenerating habit
of smoking: nearly, that is. Frequent
ly, instead of going into the smoking
compartments, I'd stand out in the cold,
raw vestibule of the car, and there case
little hurried nicotine into myself
iand generally get myself ordered TO
quit that stuff by some train attache
or other, rather than take a chance
on nudging into the smoking eompart-
ment and there annexing unto my
diaphragm a few injurious fumes of
tobacco smoke.
j found myself becoming quite cagey