It happens, in numerous instances, that virtuous resolves are made
overnight with respect to early rising, which resolves, when put to the
test, are doomed only to be broken. Some years ago a clergyman, who had
occasion to visit the West of England on very important business, took up
his quarters, late at night, at a certain hotel adjacent to a railway,
with a view of starting by the early train on the following morning.
Previous to retiring to rest, he called the “boots” to him, told him that
he wished to be called for the early train, and said that it was of the
utmost importance that he should not oversleep himself. The reverend
gentleman at the same time confessed that he was a very heavy sleeper,
and as there would be probably the greatest difficulty in awakening him,
he (the “boots”) was to resort to any means he thought proper in order to
effect his object. And, further, that if the business were effectually
accomplished, the fee should be a liberal one. The preliminaries being
thus settled, the clergyman sought his couch, and “boots” left the room
with the air of a determined man. At a quarter to five on the following
morning, “boots” walked straight to “No. twenty-three,” and commenced a
vigorous rattling and hammering at the door, but the only answer he
received was “All right!” uttered in a very faint and drowsy tone. Five
minutes later, “boots” approached the door, placing his ear at the
keyhole, and detecting no other sound than a most unearthly snore, he
unceremoniously entered the room, and laying his brawny hands upon the
prostrate form of the sleeper, shook him violently and long. This attack
was replied to by a testy observation that he “knew all about it, and
there was not the least occasion to shake him so.” “Boots” thereupon
left the room, somewhat doubtingly, and only to return in a few minutes
afterwards and find the Rev. Mr. — as sound asleep as ever. This time
the clothes were stripped off, and a species of baptismal process was
adopted, familiarly known as “cold pig.” At this assault the enraged
gentleman sat bolt upright in bed, and with much other bitter remark,
denounced “boots” as a barbarous follow. An explanation was then come
to, and the drowsy man professed he understood it all, and was _about_ to
arise. But the gentleman who officiated at the — hotel, having had some
experience in these matters, placed no reliance upon the promise he had
just received, and shortly visited “No. twenty-three” again. There he
found that the occupant certainly had got up, but it was only to replace
the bedclothes and to lie down again. “Boots” now felt convinced that
this was one of those cases which required prompt and vigorous handling,
and without more ado, therefore, he again stripped off the upper
clothing, and seizing hold of the under sheet, he dragged its depository
bodily from off the bed. The sleeping man, sensible of the unusual
motion, and dreamily beholding a stalwart form bent over him, became
impressed with the idea that a personal attack was being made upon him,
probably with a view to robbery and murder. Under this conviction, he,
in his descent, grasped “boots” firmly by the throat, the result being
that both bodies thus came to the floor with a crash. Here the two
rolled about for some seconds in all the agonies of a death struggle,
until the unwonted noise and the cries of the assailants brought several
persons from all parts of the hotel, and they, seeing two men rolling
frantically about in each other’s arms, and with the hand of each
grasping the other’s throat, rushed in and separated them. An
explanation was of course soon given. The son of the church was
effectually awakened, he rewarded the “boots,” and went off by the train.
Fortune subsequently smiled upon “boots,” and in the course of time he
became proprietor of a first-rate hotel. In the interval the Rev. Mr. —
had risen from a humble curate to the grade of a dean. Having occasion
to visit the town of —, he put up at the house of the ex-boots. The two
men saw and recognized each other, and the affair of the early train
reverted to the mind of both. “It was a most fortunate circumstance,”
said the dean, “that I did not oversleep myself on that morning, for from
the memorable journey that followed, I date my advancement in the Church.
But,” he continued, with an expression that betokened some tender
recollection, “if I ever should require you to wake me for an early train
again, would you mind placing a mattress or feather-bed on the floor?”
—_The Railway Traveller’s Handy Book_.