My friend's waggon,
with two horses and a load of hay, was passing over a level crossing
on his land, when the London express came into view slinging downhill
in all the majesty of triumphant speed, but far enough away to be
brought up in time, ignominiously and abruptly. The railway company
wrote my friend a letter of remonstrance suggestive of pains and
penalties, and telling him that his waggoner should have made sure of
the safety of crossing before attempting it--not an easy thing to do
at this particular place. My friend replied that his right of way
existed centuries before the railway was dreamed of, that the crossing
was a concession for the company's convenience, it had saved the
expense of a bridge, and that his hay was an urgent matter in view of
the weather; and that uninterrupted harvesting was of more importance
than the punctuality of their passengers.
I have sometimes passed through a remote village on a Sunday where the
obsequies of a pig were to be seen in full view from the road; these
were usually places where the church was in an adjoining
mother-parish, and of course there are times when, for reasons of
health or perhaps more correctly ill-health, it is impossible to defer
the ceremony. As a rule, I should imagine that greater privacy is
sought, at any rate so far as the public point of view is concerned.
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