Year: 1872

sides being made oil fine hard woods


into which you can't drive even pin


At last you have an inspiration. You


stand up on the edge of your bed, and


grasping the belt of your dress firmly


in each hand, boldly thrust one arm out


above the curtain, and hook the belt


over the curtain-rOd. Il swings safely


You sink back triumphant and ex-


hausted; come down on your travelling


bag, and upset it; the cork comes out of


the hartshorn bottle, and the harts-


horn runs into the borax. (Of course,
you can't cross the Alkali Desert with


out good supply of counter-alkalis).


By the time you have saved the remain


der of these, and propped the travelling


bag up again, you are frightfuIly


cramped from sitting so long cross


legged. So You lie out straight a few


minutes to rest. Then you get up again


more cautiously than before, on the


edge of the bed, and hook and pin few


more garments around the curtain-rod.


just asyou are hooking on the last one,


and feeling quite elated, the car gives


sudden jerk, and out you go, head fore


most into the aisle, into the very arms


of the English gentleman Being an


English gentleman, he would look the


other way if he could; but how can he?


He must hold you up! You don'tknow
ljust how you Chamber back. Nothing


seems very clear to you for some min


utes, except the English gentleman's


face, which is indelibly stamped on our


brain.


You don't sit up for the next five or
six minutes, nor make a sound. Then
you reflect that the night is really to be
ten hours long, and that there are hair
pins and hair. There is no need of
greater explicitness.


The feeblest Imagination can supply
details and dilemmas. You sit up again
and soon became absorbed in necessary
transactions. You glance up to the left


Horrors upon horrors! The cupboard
door has suddenly swung off its hinges.
That is, the flank piece of the curtain,
which is intended to turn corner at
the head of the bed, and shut you off
from your neighbor in the next section,
being not wide enough, and having no
sort of contrivancs to fasten it to the
wooden partition, has slid along on the
rod, and left you just as much exposed
to the eyes of all passers-by as if your
cupboard had no door at all. You drop
l-well--all you have in your hands,
sieze the curtain and hold it in place |
with your thumb and finger, while you
grope for q pin to pin it with. Pin it, |
indeed! To what? Ihave before men,
toned that the cupboard is of panels of
highly polished hard wood and silver
plating. The cars are called "silver"
and "palace" for this reason. At last
you pin it to the upper edge of your
pillow. That seems insecure; especially
so, taking into account the fact that you
are restless sleeper. But it is the only
thing to be done. Having done this,
you look down at the foot of the bed,
and find similar yawning aperture
there. pin this flank curtain 10
the blanket, and pin the blanket to the
mattress. You do all these things, get
ting about on your knees, with the car
shaking and rocking violently over an
unusually rough bit of road. When the
flap is firmly pinned at the head and
the foot, you lean back against the mid
die of the back of your cupboard, to
rest. The glass door outside your little
lamps very hot. You burn your elbow
on it, and invOluntarily scream.


"What is the matter, ma'am?" says
the friendly conductor, who happens to
be passing. You start up. That's you
would if you could; but you can't, be-
cause you are sitting cross-legged, and
have the cramp besides. But it is too
late. The cupboard door is split in the
middle, and there are the conductors
sympathizing eyes looking directly up
on you. 1t is evidently impossible to
have the curtains made tight at the
head and foot of your shelf without
their parting in the middle. They are
too scant. At this despair sets in. How
ever, you unpin the flap at the foot of
the bed, repin it so as to leave only
small crack, through which you hope
your neighbor will be too busy to look.
Then you pin the two curtains together
firmly in the middle, all the way up and
down. Then you lie down, with your
head on your traveling-bag, and resolve
to do no more till the cars stop. You
fall asleep from exhaustion. When you
awake, darkness reigns; heavy and
poisonous air fills your cupboard; the
car is dashing on through the night
faster than ever. Timidly You unpin
the curtains, and peep out. The narrow
aisle is curtained from one end to the
other; boots are set out at irregular in
tervals; snores rise in hideous chorus
about you; everybody has gone to bed,
nobody has opened his window, and
most of the ventilators are shut. With
all the haste you can make, you try to
open the window at the foot Of your
bed. Alas! while the day lasted You
neglected to learn the trick of the fas-
tening; now the night has come, in
which no man can undo a car window.
You take the skin off your fingers; you
brmse your knuckles; you wrench your
shoulder and back with superhuman
strains-all the time sitting cross-legged
At last, just as you have made up your
mind to follow the illustriOus precedent
of Mrs. Kemble's elbow, you hit the
spring by accident, and, in your exul-
tation, push the window wide open. A
fierce and Icy blast sweeps in, and your
mouth is filled with cinders In second.
This will never do. Now, how to get
the window partly down. This takes
longer than it took to get it up; butyou
finally succeeded. By this time you are
so exhausted that absolute Indifference
to all things except rest seizes you. You
slip in between the sheets, and shut
your eyes. AS you doze off, you have
vague impression that you hear some
thing tumble of the foot of the bed in
to the aisle. You hope it is your boots,
and not your traveling-bag, with the
bottles in it; but you would not get up
again to see-no, not If the whole car
load of passengers were to be walked up