Who can read this narrative of the ignorance and effrontery, nurtured by the Established Church and obtruded on passengers at sea, without a sense of patriotic humiliation that it is continued every Sunday in every ship? It is thought dangerous to be wrecked and not to have taken part in this pitiable exhibition.
CHAPTER XXXV. ADVENTURES IN THE STREETS
Were I persuaded, as many are, that each person is a subject of Providential care, I might count myself as one of the well-favoured. I should do so, did it not demand unseemly egotism to believe the Supreme Master of all the worlds of the Universe gave a portion of His eternal time to personally guide my unimportant footsteps, or snatch me from harm, which might befall me on doing my duty, or when I inadvertently, negligently, or ignorantly put myself in the way of disaster. Whatever may be the explanation, I have oft been saved in jeopardy.
The first specific deliverance occurred when I was a young man, in the Baskeville Mill, Birmingham. Working at a button lathe, the kerchief round my neck was caught by the "chock," and I saw myself drawn swiftly to it. To avert being strangled, I held back my neck with what force I could. All would have been in vain had not a friendly Irishman, who was grinding spectacle glasses in an adjoining room, come to my assistance, by which I escaped decapitation without benefit of the clergy, or the merciful swiftness of the guillotine.
In days when the cheap train ran very early in the morning, I set out before daylight from Exeter, where I had been lecturing. At the station at which the train stopped for an hour or two, as was the custom in days before the repeal of the tax on third-class passengers, we were in what Omar Khayyam called the "false dawn of morning." The train did not properly draw up to the platform, and when I stepped out I had a considerable fall, which sprained my ankle and went near breaking my neck.
On my arrival in Boston, 1879, I was invited by a newspaper friend, whom I had brought with me into the city, to join a party of pressmen who were to assemble next morning at Parker House, to report upon the test ascent of a new elevator. It happened that Mr. Wendell Phillips visited me early at Adam's House, before I was up. He sat familiarly on the bedrail, and proposed to drive me round the city and show me the historic glories of Boston, which being proud to accept, I sent an apology for my absence to the elevator party at Parker House. That morning the elevator broke down, and out of five pressmen who went into it only four were rescued—more or less in a state of pulp. One was killed. But for Mr. Phillips's fortunate visit I should have been among them.
In Kansas City, in the same year (1879), I was taken by my transatlantic friend, Mr. James Charlton, to see a sugar bakery, concerning which I was curious. The day was hot enough to singe the beard of Satan, and I was glad to retreat into the bakery, which, however, I found still hotter, and I left, intending to return at a cooler hour next morning. At the time I was to arrive I heard that the whole building had fallen in. Some were killed and many injured. This was the City of Kansas, of which the mayor once said: "He wished the people would let some one die a natural death, that a stranger might know how healthy the city was. Accidents, duels, and shootings prevented cases of longevity occurring."
Another occasion when misadventure took place, when we—my daughter, Mrs. Marsh, and I—were crossing the Tesuque Valley, below Santa Fe, the party occupied three carriages; road, there was none, and the horses knew it, and when they came to a difficulty—either a ravine or hill—the driver would give the horses the rein, when they spread themselves out with good sagacity, and descended or ascended with success. One pair of horses broke the spring of their carriage, making matters unpleasant to the occupants; another pair broke the shaft, which, cutting them, made them mad, and they ran away. The carriage in which I was remained sound, and I had the pleasure for once of watching the misfortunes of my friends.
The river was low, the sand was soft, and the distance through the Tesuque River was considerable, and we calculated that no horses were mad enough to continue their efforts to run through it, and we were rewarded by seeing them alter their minds in the midst of it, and continue their journey in a sensible manner.