A HEAVY SLEEPER.
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.