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THE INCREDIBLE HONEYMOON
THE INCREDIBLE HONEYMOON
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THE BEGINNING
TO understand this story you will have to believe in the Greater
Gods--Love and Youth, for example, and Adventure and Coincidence; also
in the trusting heart of woman and the deceitful spirit of man. You will
have to reconcile yourself to the fact that though daily you go to
London by the nine-seven, returning by the five-fifteen, and have your
accustomed meals at eight, one, and half-past six, there are those who
take neither trains nor meals regularly. That, while nothing on earth
ever happens to you, there really are on earth people to whom things do
happen. Nor is the possibility of such happenings wholly a matter of the
independent income--the income for which you do not work. It is a matter
of the individual soul. I knew a man whose parents had placed him in
that paralyzing sort of situation which is symbolized by the regular
trains and the regular meals. It was quite a nice situation for some
people, a situation, too, in which one was certain to "get on." But the
man I knew had other dreams. He chucked his job, one fine Saturday
morning in May, went for a long walk, met a tinker and bought his
outfit--a wheel on wheels, a sort of barrow with a grindstone on it, and
a pot for putting fire in dangling underneath. This he wheeled
profitably through rural districts--so profitably that he was presently
able to buy a donkey and a cart, and to sell kettles as well as mend
them. He has since bought a gipsy tent; with these impediments--or
helps--he travels through the pleasant country. Things are always
happening to him. He has found a buried treasure; frustrated a burglary;
once he rescued a lady in distress; and another time he killed a man.
The background to these dramatic incidents is always the pleasant
background of quiet road, blossoming hedgerows and orchards, corn-fields
and meadows and lanes. He says this is the way to live. I will write
down his story some day, but this is not it. I only bring him in to
illustrate my point, which is that adventures do happen--to the
adventurous.
TO understand this story you will have to believe in the Greater
Gods--Love and Youth, for example, and Adventure and Coincidence; also
in the trusting heart of woman and the deceitful spirit of man. You will
have to reconcile yourself to the fact that though daily you go to
London by the nine-seven, returning by the five-fifteen, and have your
accustomed meals at eight, one, and half-past six, there are those who
take neither trains nor meals regularly. That, while nothing on earth
ever happens to you, there really are on earth people to whom things do
happen. Nor is the possibility of such happenings wholly a matter of the
independent income--the income for which you do not work. It is a matter
of the individual soul. I knew a man whose parents had placed him in
that paralyzing sort of situation which is symbolized by the regular
trains and the regular meals. It was quite a nice situation for some
people, a situation, too, in which one was certain to "get on." But the
man I knew had other dreams. He chucked his job, one fine Saturday
morning in May, went for a long walk, met a tinker and bought his
outfit--a wheel on wheels, a sort of barrow with a grindstone on it, and
a pot for putting fire in dangling underneath. This he wheeled
profitably through rural districts--so profitably that he was presently
able to buy a donkey and a cart, and to sell kettles as well as mend
them. He has since bought a gipsy tent; with these impediments--or
helps--he travels through the pleasant country. Things are always
happening to him. He has found a buried treasure; frustrated a burglary;
once he rescued a lady in distress; and another time he killed a man.
The background to these dramatic incidents is always the pleasant
background of quiet road, blossoming hedgerows and orchards, corn-fields
and meadows and lanes. He says this is the way to live. I will write
down his story some day, but this is not it. I only bring him in to
illustrate my point, which is that adventures do happen--to the
adventurous.