set out from Jefferson City on October the fourth, and arrived in London on the seventeenth. He was ill during the whole trip. After several days in bed he announced his decision to go into the City to see to his business.
On the Thursday morning he got up at one o’clock. His wife told him she did not disturb him, because she thought that the sleep was good to him. He admitted that perhaps it was. He felt very well, and he got up and dressed himself. He said he did not like the idea of beginning his first day without a prayer, and his wife agreed with him. They assembled the servants and the children in the dining-room, and had family prayer at half-past one. After that he had breakfast and set off. He reached the City about three.
Everyone was surprised by his late arrival. He explained the circumstances to his partners and made appointments for the next day, which he planned to start from nine-thirty.
He remained at the office until late, and then went home. For dinner, usually the chief meal of the day, he could eat only a biscuit and some fruit. He was strangely uncomfortable all the evening. He said he supposed he missed his game of whist, and decided to look for a quiet, respectable club. At eleven he went to bed, but could not sleep. He tossed and turned, and turned and tossed, but grew only more and more energetic. A little after midnight he decided to go and wish the children good-night. The opening of the door awoke them, and he was glad. He wrapped them up in the blanket, sat on the edge of the bed, told them religious stories till one o’clock.
Then he kissed them, told them to be good and to go to sleep; and found himself painfully hungry. He went downstairs, where in the kitchen he made a meal of cold pie and cucumber.
He went to bed feeling more peaceful, but still could not sleep, so he lay thinking about his business affairs till five, when he fell asleep.
At one o’clock to the minute he awoke. His wife told him she had made everything to wake him earlier, but in vain. The man was irritated. If he had not been a very good man, I believe he would have sworn. The same repeated as on the Thursday, and again he reached the City at three.
This situation went on for a month. The man fought against himself, but was unable to change himself. Every afternoon at one he awoke. Every night at one he went down into the kitchen for food. Every morning at five he fell asleep.”
4. The end of the editor’s story
“He could not understand it, nobody could understand it. His business suffered, and his health grew worse. He seemed to be living upside down. His days didn’t have a beginning or end, only the middle. There was no time for exercise or rest. When he began to feel cheerful and sociable everybody was asleep.
‘What time is it now in New York?’ she asked.
‘New York,’ said her father, ‘let me see. It’s just ten now, and there’s a little over four and a half hours’ difference. Oh, about half-past five in the afternoon.’
‘Then in Jefferson,’ said the mother, ‘it is earlier, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ replied the girl, ‘Jefferson is nearly two degrees further west.’
‘Two degrees,’ said the father, ‘and there’s forty minutes to a degree. That would make it now, at the present moment in Jefferson—’
He jumped up with a cry:
‘I’ve got it!’ he shouted, ‘I see it.’
‘See what?’ asked his wife, alarmed.
‘It’s four o’clock in Jefferson, and just time for my ride. That’s what I want!’
There was no doubt about it. For five-and-twenty years he lived by clockwork. But it was by Jefferson clockwork, not London clockwork. He had changed his longitude, but not himself.
He examined the problem and decided that the only solution was for him to return to the order of his old life. He was too formed by habit to adapt himself to circumstances. Circumstances must adapt to him.
He changed his office hours from three till ten. At ten he mounted his horse and went for a canter in the Row, and on very dark nights he carried a lantern. News of it got abroad, and crowds would gather to see him ride past.
He dined at one o’clock in the morning, and after that went to his club. He tried to discover a quiet, respectable club where the members were willing to play whist till four in the morning, but failed and joined a small Soho club, where they taught him poker. The place was occasionally raided by the police, but thanks to his respectable appearance, he managed to escape.
At half-past four he returned home, and woke up the family for evening prayers. At five he went to bed and slept like a top. The only thing that really troubled him was loss of spiritual communion. At five o’clock on Sunday afternoons he felt he wanted to go to church, but had to do without it. At seven he ate his simple midday meal. At eleven he had tea and muffins, and at midnight he began to crave for hymns and sermons. At three he had a bread-and-cheese supper, and retired early at four a.m., feeling sad and unsatisfied.
He was a man of habit.”
We sat in silence.
My friend stood up, took half-a-sovereign from his pocket, put it on the table and went out.
Раб привычки
Джером К. Джером
1. Курение и выпивка
Нас было трое в курильне корабля: я, мой очень хороший друг и, в противоположном углу, застенчивый человек, как мы впоследствии узнали, издатель одной нью-йоркской воскресной газеты.
Мой друг и я говорили о привычках, хороших и плохих.
– После первых нескольких месяцев, – сказал мой друг, – быть святым столь же легко, как и грешником; это становится привычкой.
– Я знаю, – прервал я, – столь же легко рано утром выпрыгнуть из кровати, как и сказать «хорошо» и перевернуться, чтобы поспать ещё пять минут, если у вас есть к этому привычка. Не ругаться столь же легко, как и ругаться, если вам это привычно. Кусок хлеба с водой столь же восхитительны, как и шампанское, если вы привыкли к его вкусу. Это просто вопрос выбора и привыкания.
Он согласился со мной.
– А вот возьмите одну из моих сигар, – сказал
