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 он, поднося мне свой открытый портсигар.
– Спасибо, – быстро ответил я, – я не курю во время этого путешествия.
– Не бойтесь, – ответил он, – это просто аргумент. Одна из этих сигар лишила бы вас здоровья на целую неделю.
Я согласился.
– Очень хорошо, – продолжал он. – Как вы знаете, я курю их целый день и наслаждаюсь ими. Почему? Поскольку такова моя привычка. Много лет назад, когда я был молодым, я курил очень дорогие гаванские сигары. Мне было необходимо покупать более дешёвый табак. Я жил в Бельгии, и один показал мне эти сигары. Я не знаю, из чего они сделаны – вероятно, листья капусты, вымоченные в помете; поначалу они показались мне на вкус такими, но они были дёшевы и обошлись мне в один пенни за три штуки. Я решил полюбить их и начал курить по одной в день. Это была ужасная работа, допускаю, но, как я сказал себе, ничто не могло быть хуже, чем гаванские сигары в самом начале. Уже к концу первого месяца я мог думать о них без отвращения, а к концу