Pellucid Heath. _Erica pellucida._
Dedicated to _St. Cyril_.
~December 23.~
_St. Servuius_, A. D. 590. _Ten Martyrs of Crete._ _St. Victoria_, A.
D. 250.
_A Trifling Mistake._
In December, 1822, the _Morning Chronicle_ states the following
whimsical circumstance to have taken place at the Black Swan inn, at
York:--
An honest son of Neptune travelling northwards, having put up there for
the night, desired the chambermaid to call him early the next morning,
as he wished to proceed on his journey by the coach; and added, “as I am
a very sound sleeper, you will most likely be obliged to come in and
shake me.” Accordingly he left his door unfastened, and soon fell
asleep. The next morning when he awoke, he found the sun was high, and
the coach must have left him some hours behind. Vexation was his first
feeling, the next was that of vengeance against the faithless Molly.
Accordingly he proceeded to inform himself of the time of day, that he
might tax her accurately with her omission, which was aggravated, in his
mind, by every additional hour that he had lost; but after groping for
some time under his pillow for his watch, it was not to be found! This
effectually roused him, and he launched at once out of bed, but no
sooner found himself on his feet, than he discovered that his clothes
had likewise vanished. It was now evident to him that he had been
robbed; however a little more rubbing of the eyes convinced him that he
must have been also _stolen himself_, as the room, bed, and furniture,
were all strange to him! Indeed, he was positive in his own mind, that
he had never beheld them before. It was equally clear to him that he had
gone to bed sober; so being completely puzzled, Jack sate himself down
on the bed to “make a calculation,” as he often had done at sea, in
order to discover, if possible, in what precise part of the globe he
just then happened to be, and how he came there. He had read of the
enchanted carpet, by which persons could be transported to the remotest
parts of the world in the twinkling of an eye; but he never had heard
that these fairy tricks had been played at or near York, to which place
he had now distinctly traced himself by his “_log_.” His next thought
was to “_take an observation_,” by looking out of the window, but he
could observe nothing but tops of houses. This view, however, rejoiced
his sight, for, thought he, I am still in a civilized country; this
place _may be York_, where, if my senses do not deceive me, I went to
bed last night, at all events I shall have justice done me. But the
enigma still remained unexplained, and poor Jack had no clothes to go in
quest of a solution. At last he spied a bell-rope, and giving it a
hearty tug, leaped into bed again to wait the issue, come who might. It
was no enchanter who answered this summons, but only poor Molly. “So
_you_ are there, are you? Pray why did you not call me at seven o’clock,
as I desired you?” “I did, sir, but you did not answer me.” “Then, why
did you not come in and shake me?” “I did come in, sir, but you were
gone.” “I tell you I have not been out of bed all night; you must have
gone to the wrong room.” “No, sir, I went to No. 22, the room that I put
you in last night; besides, there was your watch under the pillow, your
impression in the bed, and your clothes placed ready for putting on.”
“Then, where the devil _am_ I? and how came I here?” “You are a story
higher, sir; just over your own room.” Our hero was now satisfied that
he had been rambling over the house in his sleep, and had mistaken a
story in returning to his own room. He then recollected that this was a
trick to which he had been addicted when a boy, and he devised that the
fatigue of a long journey had probably chiefly contributed to revive his
old habit. The whole affair was now accounted for, and Molly proceeded
to fetch the clothes of the disenchanted knight, resolving within
herself never to trust her own door open again, lest it should be
entered accidentally by some sleep-walking traveller.
* * * * *