“Goodmorning，“andboltedlikearabbit。EventhenJeremynoticedthathehadpaintonhisfingers，andthattwoofhiswaistcoatbuttonswereunfastened。
　　Thendowninthehallwhatconfusiontherewas！Boxeshere，thereandeverywhere。Mother，Father，AuntAmy，UncleSamuel，and，mostinterestingofall，Barbaraandthenewnurse。ThenewnursewascalledMrs。Pateham，andshewasstout，red-cheeked，andsmiling。
　　ThebundleinwhitecalledBarbarawas，mosthappily，sleeping；butHamletbarkedatMrs。Pateham，andthatwokeBarbara，whobegantocry。ThenCollinscameinwithhiscoatoff，andthemusclesswellingonhisshoulders，andhandledtheboxesasthoughtheywerepaper，andthecook，andRose，andWilliam，thehandy-boy，andoldJordan，thegardener，andMrs。Preston，aladyfromtwodoorsdown，whosometimescameintohelp，allbegantobobandsmile，andFathersaid：“Now，mydear。Now，mydear，“andHamletwoundhimselfandhisleadroundeverythingthathecouldsee，andHelenfussedandsaid：“Now，Jeremy，“andMissJonessaid：“Now，children，“andlastofallCollinssaid：“Now，mum；now，sir，“andthentheyallwerebundledintothebus，withthecartandtheluggagecomingalongbehind。
　　Thedrivethroughthestreetswas，ofcourse，aslovelyasitcouldbe；notintheleastbecauseanyonecouldseeanything——thatwashinderedbythefactthatthewindowsofthebusweresooldthattheywerecrustedwithakindofglassymildew，andnoamountofrubbingonthewindow-panesprovidedonewithaview——butbecausetheinsideofthebuswasinevitablyconnectedwithadventure——
　　partlythroughitsmotion，partlythroughitsnoise，andpartlythroughitslovelysmell。Thesewere，ofcourse，Jeremy’sviews，anditcan’tdefinitelybeassertedthatallgrown-uppeoplesharedthem。ButwheneverJeremyhadriddeninthatbushehadalwaysbeenonhiswaytosomethingdelightful。Themotion，therefore，rejoicedhisheart，althoughtheviolenceofitwassuchthateveryonewasthrownagainsteveryoneelse，sothatUncleSamuelwassuddenlyhurledagainstthebonnetofMissJones，andHelenstruckAuntAmyinthechest，andJeremyhimselfdivedintohissisterBarbara。Astothesmell，itwasthatlovelywell-knownonethathasinitmiceandstraw，wetumbrellasandwhisky，goloshesandcandle-grease，dustandgreenpaint！Jeremylovedit，andsniffedonthisoccasionsooftenthatMissJonestoldhimtoblowhisnose。Astothenoise，whoistherewhodoesnotrememberthatrattleandclatter，thatsudden，deafeningreportasofthefiringofahundredfirearms，thesuddenpausewheneveryboltandbarandhingesighsandmoanslikethewindorastormysea，andthenthatsuddenscreamoftheclatteringwindows，whenitisasthoughafrenziedcook，havingreceivednoticetoleave，wasbreakingeveryscrapofchinainthekitchen？“Whodoesnotknowthatlastmaddenedroarasthevehiclestumblesacrossthelastpieceofcobbledroad——aroarthatdrowns，withasavageanddeterminedtriumph，allthoselastdirectionsnottoforgetthis，that，andtheother；allthoseinquiriesastowhetherthis，that，andtheotherhadbeenremembered？Cobblesaregonenow，andoldbusessleepindesertedcourts，andCollins，alas，isnot。Hisyoungestsonhasamotor-garage，andPolchesterhasasphalt——sictransitgloria，mundi。
　　Jeremy，clutchinghisgreenboxwithonehandandHamlet’sleadwiththeother，wasinanecstasyofhappiness。Thelouderthenoise，therockingmotion，thestrongerthesmell，thebetter。“Isn’titlovely？“hemurmuredtoMissJonesduringoneofthepauses。
　　ItmaybethatitwasatthismomentthatUncleSamuelfinallymadeuphismindaboutJeremy。Inspiteofhisdislike，evenhatredofchildren，hehadbeencomingslowly，duringthelasttwoyears，toanaffectionfor，andinterestin，hisnephewthatwassomethingquitenewtohiscynical，egoisticnature。IthadleaptintoactivityatChristmastime，thenhaddiedagain。Nowas，flungfirstintohissister’sbonyarms，thenontotheterrifiedspectaclesofhisnieceMary，hetriedtorecoverhimself，hewascaughtandheldbythatpictureofhissmallnephew，seated，solidandsquare，inhisbluesailorsuit，hisbarekneesswinging，hishandclutchinghispreciousboxwithanenergythatdefiedFateitselftotakeitfromhim，hismouthset，hiseyesstaring，radiantwithjoy，infrontofhim。
　　Onarrivalatthestationitwasfoundthattheoneo’clocktoLiskanewas“justaboutdue，“sothattherewasnotimetobelost。
　　Theyhadtorushalongunderthegreatirondome，passingbythemainline，disregardingthetempestuousexpressfromTruxethatdrewup，asitweredisdainfully，justastheypassed，andfindingthemodestsidelinetoLiskaneandSt。Lowe。HeretherewaseverykindofexcitementforJeremy。Anyonewhohasanykindofpassionforobservationmusthavediscoveredlongagothatasidelinehaseversomuchmorecharmandappealaboutitthanamainline。Amainlineisscornfulofthestationinwhoseheartitconsentsforamomenttolinger，itseyesarestaringforwardtowardsthevastcitieswhoareimpatientlyawaitingit；butasidelinehasitsveryhomehere。
　　Somuchgossippassesfromdaytodayaboveitsrailsandgossipthathasforitscircumferencefivegreenfields，acountryroad，andababblingbrook，thatitknowsallitspassengersbyheart。
　　Tothepeoplewhotravelonasideline，thetrainitselfisstillsomethingofawonder。Howmuchmorewasthattruethirtyyearsago。
　　Onthisespeciallinetherewereonlytwostations-LiskaneandSt。
　　Lowe，and，ofacertainty，thesestationswouldnotevennowbeinexistencewereitnotthatSt。Lowewasafishingcentreofverygreatimportance。ThelittledistrictthatcomprehendedSt。Lowe，GarthinRoselands，StoepinRoselands，Lucent-Polwint，Rafiel，andallthesmallerhamletsaroundthem，wasfedbythisline；but，evenso，thelittletrainwasnevercrowded。Touristsdidnot，andevennowdonot，gotoPolwintandSt。Lowebecause“theysmellsofishy，“nortoRafield“becauseit’stoofarfromtherailway，“nortotheRoselandvalleys“becausethere’snothingtoseethere。“，Maythesereasonsholdgoodformanyyearstocome！
　　Todaytherewerethreefarmersinbrownleggings，withpipes，andthickknottedwalking-sticks，twoorthreewomenwithbaskets，andachildorso，andanamiable，absent-mindedclergymaninablackclothsofadedthatitwasnowgreen，readingTheTimes，andshakinghisheadoveritashestumbledupanddowntheplatform。Oneofthefarmershadalarge，woollysheep-dog，who，ofcourse，excitedHamlettoafrenzy。Jeremy，therefore，hadhistimefullyoccupiedincheckingthis；buthehad，nevertheless，theopportunitytoobservehowoneofthefarmerspuffedthesmokeoutofhischeeksasthoughhewereanengine；howoneofthewomen，withabackasbroadasawall，hadredstockings；andhowtheclergymannearlyfellontotherailway-lineeverytimeheturnedround，andonlysavedhimselffromdisasterbyamiracle。Thetrainarrivingatlast，theyallclimbedintoit，andthenhadtowaitforahot，grillinghalf-
　　hourwhilsttheenginemadeupitsmindthatitwasworthitswhiletotakeallthetroubletostartoffagain。
　　“Anhourlate，uponmyword，“saidMr。Coleangrily，whenatlast，withasnoreandaheave，andagruntandascream，theystarted。
　　“It’sreallytoobad。Ishallhavetocomplain，“which，aseveryonepresentknew，hehadnottheslightestintentionofdoing。InJeremy’scarriagetherewerehisfather，hismother，UncleSamuel，himself，Mary，and，ofcourse，Hamlet。Hamlethadneverbeen，inatrainbefore，andhisterroratthewaythatthegroundquiveredunderhimwaspitifultosee。Helayfirstundertheseat，tryingtoholdhimselftightlytogether，then，whenthatfailed，hemadestartledfrenziedleapsontolapstheleadhadbeenremovedforthetime，finallyhecoweredupintothecornerbehindUncleSamuel，whoseemedtounderstandhiscaseandsympathisedwithit。
　　Wheneverthetrainstoppedwhich，beingaGlebeshiretrain，itdidcontinually，herecoveredatoncehissavoir-faire，assertedhisdignity，gazedthroughthewindowsatthefieldsandcowsasthoughheownedthemall，andbarkedwiththefriendlygreetingofcomradetocomradewheneverhesawanotherdog。
　　ThenextthingthatoccupiedJeremy’sattentionwaslunch。Manypeopledespisesandwichesandmilkoutofbeer-bottlesandbananasandseed-cake。Jeremy，ofcourse，didnot。Helovedanythingeatenoutofpaper，fromtheice-creamsoldbytheBarneymaninPolchesterSquareonlyoncedidhesecuresomedowntothefrillsthatthereareroundthetailofanyself-respectingham。ButthepaperonthisjourneytoRafield！Therewasnothingintheworldtotouchit。Inthefirstplaceyouspreadnewspaperonyourknees，thentherewaspaperunderthesandwicheschicken，andmorepaperunderthesandwichesbeef，andstillmoreunderthesandwichesegg；therewaspaperroundtheseed-cake，and，mostwonderfulofall，paperroundthejam-puffs。Jam-puffswithstrawberryjameatenintheodourofginger-beerandeggshells！Isitpossibleforlifeatitsverybesttoholdmore？Hekepthisjam-puffsolongashecould，untilatlastMr。Colesaid：“Now，myboy！Finishitup——
　　finishitup。Paperoutofthewindow-allneatandtidy；that’sright！“speakinginthatvoicewhichJeremyhated，becauseitwasused，soespecially，whencod-liveroilhadtobetaken。Heswallowedhispuffinagulp，andthengazedoutofthewindowlamentingitsdisappearance。
　　“Didyoulikeit？“whisperedMaryhoarsely。
　　“You’vegotsomejamonthesideofyournose，“saidJeremy。
　　Hewassittingnexttohisfather，whohadthecornerseat，andhenowdevotedallhisenergiestopreventhimselffromfallingasleepagainsthisfather’sleg。Buttheginger-beer，theglazedandshiningfieldsbeyondthewindow，thelittleblobsofsunlightthatdanceduponthefloorofthecarriage，thescentsoffoodandflowers，andthehotbreeze，thehumofthetrain，andthedancingofthetelegraphwires——allthesethingswereagainsthim。Hisheadbegantonodandthentojumpbackwithasuddenterriblespringasthoughanevildemonpulleditwitharopefrombehind，thecarriageswelledlikeaballoon，thendwindledintoathin，straightline。
　　Thestrangestthingshappenedtohisfriendsandrelations。Hismother，whowasreadingTheChurchFamilyNewspaper，developedtwofacesandanoselikeapost，andUncleSamuel，whohad，inharshreality，twochins，seemedtobeallfoldsandcreaseslikeaballoonwhenitisshiveringdownintocollapse。Jeremyfoughtwiththesefantasies；thelinesonthenewspaperdoubledandredoubled，vanishedandsprangtolifeagain。Hesaid：“Iwillnot，“and，instantly，hisheadonthesoftpartofhisfather’sthigh，wasasleep。
　　III
　　Inhisdreamshewasridingonacloudallpinkandgold，andbehindcamearowofshining，whitecloudsfluffylikebalesofwoolwrappedroundlightedlanterns。Hiscloudroseandfell，roseandfell，andavoicesaidinhisear：“Alliswell！Alliswell！Youcangoonlikethisforever。Therewillbejam-puffssoon，andice-
　　cream，andfish-cakes，andyoucangotoChinathiswaywheneveryoulike。“
　　Andhesaid：“Can’tItakeHamletwithme？“
　　Andthevoiceanswered：“Hamletiswithyoualready，“andthere，behold，wasHamletsittingonthepinkcloudwithastiffgoldcollarroundhisneck，wagginghistail。AndthenthevoiceshoutedsoloudlythatJeremyjumpedoffthepinkcloudinhisastonishment：
　　“Liskane！Liskane！Liskane！“andJeremyjumpedandfellandfell——
　　rightintohisfather’slap，withsomeonecryinginhisear：“Wakeup，Jeremy！We’rethere！We’rethere！“
　　Hisfirstthoughtwasforhisgreenbox，whichwas，hefound，safelyandsecurelyinhishand。ThenforHamlet，whowas，hesawwithhorror，alreadyupontheplatform，theleadtrailingbehindhimlikeaneglectedconscience，hisburningeyespiercinghishairinsearchofanotherdog，whomhesmeltbutcouldnotsee。
　　Jeremy，rushingoutofthetrain，seizedthelead，scoldedhisrecoveredproperty，whoworeanexpressionofinjuredandabandonedinnocence，andlookedabouthim。Yes，thiswasLiskane——wonderful，marvellous，magicalLiskane！TotheboredandcynicaladultLiskanemayeasilyappeartobeoneoftheugliest，mostdesertedstationsinthewholeofEurope，havingnothingoneithersideofitsavebarrengreyfieldsthatnevergrowgrassbutonlystonesandbottles，withitssingledecoration——aheavyironbridgethatcrossestherailsandleadsuptothehigherroadandthetownofLiskane。Uglyenough，buttoJeremy，onthissummerafternoon，thegatetoasureandcertainParadise。
　　Althoughhisfamilywerefussingaroundhim，Barbaracrying，Mr。
　　Colesaying：“Four，Five，Six……Butwhere’stheblackbox？Yourblackbox，Amy……Six，Seven……ButthereshouldbeEight……
　　Seven……“andMrs。Colesaying：“Andthere’smybrownbag。Thelittleonewiththeblackhandle，“andHelensaying。“OO，wasitadidums，thenNandy-Pandy，Nandy-Pandy……“andMissJones：“Now，Mary！Now，Jeremy！Now，Helen！“；althoughthiswasgoingonjustasitalwayshadgoneon，hiseyesweresearchingforthewagonette。
　　Ah，thereitwas！Hecouldjustseethetopofitbeyondtheironbridge，andJim，themanfromtheFarm，wouldbecomingdowntohelpwiththeboxes；yes，therehewascrossingthebridgenow，withhisredfaceandbroadshoulders，andthecaponthesideofhishead，justashealwaysworeit。Jeremyrecognisedhimwithastrange，littlechokingsensation。Itwas“cominghome“tohim，allthiswas-