A Prisoner in Fairyland (The Book That 'Uncle Paul' Wrote)

ar, and thou

ource divine i

anting joy in

us, G.

holiday. 'When I return, it will be time enough to take up the Scheme in earnest,' he said. For Minks had brought a sheaf of n

day yourself,' he added. 'Mrs. Minks might like to get to the sea, perhaps. There'll only be my letters to forward. I'll give you a little cheque.' And he explained briefly that he was going out to Bourcelles to enjoy a few days' rest before they attacked great proble

. He remembered how the two of them had tramped the Jura forests as boys. They had met in London at intervals since. He d

cure with a sheet, and tramped the mountains all night long. Do you remember? I've had my nose on the grindstone ever since, and you've worked hard too, judging by your name in publishers' lists. I hope your books are a

ve to your children in advance. Tell them I shall come out in the

d. Minks came to Charing Cross to see him off, t

kept repeating. 'You'll have a good crossing, I

general plan and send it to you as soon as I get a moment. You think over it too, will you, while I'm away. And enjoy yourself a

much, Mr. Rogers

nded to be one-third good wishes, one-third weather remark, and the last third Mrs. Mi

a railway terminus,' he added aloud. The man was ragged and unkempt to the last degree-a sort of tramp; and as he bought a ticket at the third-class wicket, just beyond, he kept looking up slyly at Minks and his

ou know.' The throng of people was considerable. This man looked like a dustman. He, too, was eagerly buying a ticket, bu

Minks. 'These stations are full of suspicious chara

the luggage, and when later he joined his chief at the carriage door h

ch an extraordinary couple too! Had there been hop-pickers about he could have understood it. They were almost figures of masquerade; for while one resembled more than anything else a chimne

e sack made a gesture with one hand, as though he scatt

ll, he resented these crowding, pushing folk. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Rogers,' he said, as though he had chosen a poor train for his honoured chief;

hear from me, you know, about the Scheme and-other things. Don't wait.' H

have patted him and told him what to eat and wear. But instead he raised his hat and smiled. The train moved slowly out, making a deep purring sound like flowing water. The platform had magically thinned. Officials stood lonely among the scattere

was already far beyond the reach of his voice. 'He must be an escaped lamplighter, or something,' he laughed good-naturedly, as he saw the long legs vanish down the platfo

recognised four figures seated comfortably inside. Their feet were on the cushions-disgracefully. They were talking together, heads forward, laughing, even-singing. And he could have sworn that they

ourse, I had forgotten. The Company runs third-class carriages o

loud of smoke and sparks behind it. It went out with a kind of rush

e in such intimate sympathy together-perhaps he was thinking of-of that kind of thing-

are things.' It had made a great impression on him. He had read about Ma

to Mrs. Minks and the children with this other thought-that he had possibly been overw

n reality he preferred his world sober, ordinary, logical. It was merely big-sound

poisons man

li

d occupied in his mind another one abruptly sprouted. The fir

s that rise in

t the world, a

decided that 'do' was better, truer than either. After that i

thought, '

, but he had to do something by way of protest, and the only alternative was to tell his wife about it, when she would look h

ity-a grand word that!-of national councils. He wrote frequent letters, thus, to the lesser weekly journals; these letters were sometimes printed; occasionally-oh, joy!-they were answered by others like himself, who referred to him as 'your esteemed correspondent.' As yet, however, his f

o send it after all, for the explanation of his 'odd' experience, he well knew, was hardly one that a newspaper office could supply,