Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/384

 November 5,  1859.]

HOW I BECAME  A HERO.

373

HOW I BECAME  A HERO. By G.  P.

PART I.  THE  JOURNEY

Every one  was  gone  or  going  to  the  sea- side,  or to  the  north  of  Devon,  or  to  the  Malvern  Hills; that is,  every  one  not  already  gone,  or  determined to go,  to  the  Rhine  or  to  Germany,  or  to  the  last seat of  war. There were  people  having  money  in their  pockets  who  were  determined  to  sniff  the Thames no  longer  than  they  were  absolutely obliged; others  again  who,  having  suffered,  were taking flight,  seeking  safety  in  change  of  air,  and in change  of  scene,  forgetfulness.

Others again — were  they  many  or  few? I cannot tell — -just went  “for  a little  change.”  I am  of  that hist number. I present myself  as  a hero  with  but little of  a taste  for  wandering — contented  with  my own  country; not  worn-out  by  debates  and  com- mittees; not even  sick  of  the  Thames. Simply a lover  of  change,  and  of  change  requiring  only  a little, and  that  little  only  once  a year. Do you  say, “What a hero!” and  look  scornful? Have you settled that  I am  not  a hero  at  all? Let me remind  you  that  some  men  have  heroism  thrust upon them,  without  any  apparent  predestination in their  physiognomies.

Let me  tell  you,  for  your  encouragement,  how,

not being,  as  you  rightly  observe,  the  least  bit  of a hero  when  I started,  I became  one  during  my “little  change,”  and  hope  to  remain  a hero  for  the rest of  life.

I went from  a great  city  to  the  sea-side. I went with a portmanteau,  a carpet-bag,  a hat*box,  and an umbrella,  all  of  them  in  white-canvas  cases. I went a long  day’s  journey  by  rail. I stopped at the  Beachly  Station,  and  there  was  directed  into an omnibus  which,  after  an  hour’s  tiresome  jolt- ing, brought me  to  the  Beachly  Hotel. Myself, my portmanteau,  carpet-bag,  hat-case,  and  umbrella, with the  addition  of  three  newspapers,  a shilling railway-book, and  a Bradshaw,  collected  on  the journey, were  then  deposited  in  a fly,  and  at  half- past six  o’clock  on  a summer  evening  I was  sud- denly brought up  at  No.  7,  Bellevue  Terrace,  w here I was expected.

But my  journey  had  not  been  without  inci- dents. The carriage  in  wdiich  I had  set  out  was at that  time  vacant  of  all  persons  and  things  except myself and  my  belongings. Where it  first  stopped a change occurred. A man wrho  looked  of  no  par- ticular age, but  probably  numbering  years  between

No. 19.

VOL. I.