THE SLEEPER WAKES

Evening Star, Issue 19841, 14 April 1928, Page 21

THE SLEEPER WAKES

' SEES DUNEDIN AFTER 31 YEARS fWritton by for the 1 Evening Star.’] To-day I have had the strangest experience of my life. I have seen and spoken to a man who has been asleep continuously for thirty-one years. “How ridiculous” you say. 1 “The thing is absurd. Utterly impossible! It’s just a variant of the old Rip Van .Winkle story.” I admit that your scepticism is not altogether unreasonable; but before dismissing my claim as absurd, I would ask you to read the following account of my experiences. If, after doing so, you are still incredulous, then you must be one of those persons, found in every community, commonly known as “Doubting Thamases.” Now listen!

To-day being Saturday, and therefore a half-holiday, 1 was walking along George street with the intention of visiting the Gardens. Just as I was passing the school I saw approaching mo a person whose appearance was most unusual. His.hair was so long that it nearly touched his shoulders His board was of great length also, and looked very uncared-for. On his head was an old-fashioned cap, with peaks to back and front and Haps to let down over the cars—a “ fore-aml-after,” 1 think it used to be called On his feet were the muddiest boots 1. have ever seen.

As ho came nearer 1 was struck with the troubled look on Ins face and bis nervous demeanor. Then something unexpected happened. The stranger stopped, seized my arm, and in a voice husky and trembling excitedly ex claimed: “Dick, Dick! Don’t you know me? ”

At first 1 thought the man crazy There was apparently, however, some method in his madness, since he had certainly spoken my name. “No, I do not,” I replied rather stiffly, for the passers-by were regarding ns rather curiously. “I’m Robinson — Jack Robinson. Don’t you remember me? Played football together—in same rowing club—went out biking together.” “Robinson! Robinson!” Then I remembered, and details of a strange episode flashed into my mind. Thirty years or so ago an acquaintance of this name had mysteriously disappeared without any apparent reason. Robinson’s disappearance, bad caused quite a sensation at the time. There was do doubt that this was the missing man. A' few pertinent questions put that beyond doubt. But whore bad he been, and what possessed him to return in this guise? _ To my inquiry be pointed to the hills and replied vaguely; “Up there 1 Uu there!” Then, just as wo had shaken hands, he astonished me further by starting back, looking very frightened, and exclaiming “What’s that? V hatever s that? ” .

lie wns pointing to an electric tram car going rumbling by. J thought first he was joking, and briclly explained. He muttered something about horse cars going along King street—strange to see such queer cars as these, and_ in George street north, too. The passing motor cars seemed to bewilder him equally. . , . “Something dreadhd seems to have happened to mo. Tell me,” ho whispered, “what’s to-dayP ” “Saturday,” I replied, and something prompted me to add the date of the month and the year. “ Nineteen twenty-eight! he gasped. “Then it’s thirty-one years since— — 0 Dick, Dick, don’t leave me,” he said imploringly. “I want to talk to vou. Those people 1 boarded with! Must have moved! Help me to got a place. Ho looked greatly relieved when i promised to give him all the assistance 1 could. Meanwhile he had been pulling a Dumber of coins out of his pocket, tho si Hit of which made me slightly dizzy. They were all gold, and amongst them were several half-sovereigns. He was greatly astonished when I asked it 1 might ho allowed to hold one in my hand. My interest in tVi 1 half-sover-eign was, however, more than equalled by his in the bank note tor ton shillings w'hirh I produced. Ho declared that ho had never seen a ten-shill nig note before. , , A few minutes later .Robinson seemed to receive a further surprise. This was when I stepped into a slot telephone box to inform those at home that I had met a friend and would not be back to tea. Where had he been? There was no difficulty in securing accommodation. I knew someone quite near who provided excellent board and residence. She looked rather suspiciously at my companion, but accepted my guarantee. 1 told her that he was wearing his hair long for a wager, and, being somewhat of a sport her-, self, she laughingly said “ All right. I do not propose to set down at length the extraordinary story which he subsequently told to me. it is my intention to forward a detailed account of Robinson’s experiences, Irora the time of his disappearance to his reappearance, to the president of tho Otago Institute and the local secretary of the British Medical Association, i have no doubt the matter will bo thoroughly investigated and that wo shall have an official pronouncement in due course. Meanwhile let these few particulars suffice. Robinson had left his house one Saturday afternoon in 1897 with the idea of tramping to tho top of Flagstaff. He was sure in was 1897, because in that year Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee took place. When he was nearing the summit rain commenced to tall, and Robinson took shelter in a small cave, taking with him a branch of a peculiar shrub ho had come across. While waiting he absentmindedly started to chew the glossy leaves, possibly swallowing some of the sweet juice. He remembers feeling verv drowsy; then he knew' no more until he woke up and found himself in the Rip Van Winkleian state 1 have described. Tho story seems preposterous, and possibly you will wonder why 1 give credence to it. But Robinson’s sincerity was apparent, and besides, if our country has produced such wonders as the tuatara, the giant kauri, the pink terraces and tho white terraces, and the moa, why should she not have something extraordinary still up her sleeve? Apart from a little stiffness and a feeling of being intensely grubby, which, of course, was only natural, Robinson said that he felt fit physically. Imagine his mental distress, however, on discovering how_ he had changed, and his consternation on returning to town and finding from me that he had been absent for thirty-one years! For hours we plied each other with questions, and he made innumerable inquiries regarding mutual friends. Kow, as I have already indicated, the unusual appearance of ray friend had attracted embarrassing attention in the street. He was diffident also at venturing forth in his present guise, and when, half jocularly, I suggested 1 might act as hairdresser he ‘jumped at the idea. Despite ray inexperience I succeeded fairly well in making him presentable. ,z Thank you/ 1 ’ he said, Satefully. “You have saved my feelts, also my pocket, a shilling.” “More likely two shillings” I said *-a remark which set us talking how { rices had soared in his absence. He as surprised when I told him, amongst #her things, that bread had. doubled.

in price and chops had risen from 4d to lOd. Meanwhile one of the small boys ot the establishment had been commissioned to clean his boots, and with his extremities tidied up Robinson gained confidence in himself, and suggested we should go “ up town ” to have a look round.

On the way from the boarding bouse to the main thoroughfare of the town we had one little experience worth mentioning. From one of the houses we passed came, quite loudly, the sound of an orchestra. Robinson became inquisitive. Now. 1 knew quite well what was happening. The orchestra from ono of the theatres was being relayed and broadcasted and reproduced on a loud speaker. 1 simply dared not tell about the wireless marvel just yet. Almost certainly he would have regarded me as a latter-day Baron Munchausen. So I prevaricated, and said that it was probably an improved phonograph—gramophones wo now call them. When a place is revisited after many years’ absence an element of pathos is always present. The case of Robinson certainly called for commiseration. When ho bad last trod George street he had been greeted continually by friends and acquaintances. Now lie was a stranger to all the people lie met. Ho mentioned this to me, and also remarked on the number of unfamiliar names over the shops. I was able to toll him regarding the former tenants—how this one had died, that ono had gone away, this ono had given np business. He conjured up 'memories of the past, and for the time being the street became for mo a place of many ghosts. By tins time Robinson had become more accustomed to the sight of horseless tramcars and horseless carriages, but ho found tho noise they made very trying. The thunderous roll of the cal's and tiie constant honking of the motors disturbed him greatly. Electricity, he admitted, provided a much better light than gas, hut more glaring. He complained of the petrol smells; and if you think Jig was inclined to bo ultra-sen-sitive you must remember that he had just descended from breathing the pure air of Flagstaff for thirty-one years. When wo reached the Octagon an exclamation from Robinson caused me to turn. Ho was gazing in tho direction of Upper Stuart street and blinking hard. Perhaps it was no wonder he received a surprise, for instead of tho old pro-cathedral he was looking at tho imposing facade of the now cathedral. Other changes were noticed—the splendid building of the Central Mission, for instance. Then we proceeded into Lower Stuart street, which 1 thought would illustrate further some of the big improvements that had taken piano in tho city during Robinson’s absence. Here he found that many sections, empty in his day, were now occupied by tall buildings. The blacksmith's shop at the corner of Moray place had disappeared. The engineering premises on the opposite side had gone. The timber yard at the corner of Cumberland street had vanished. “ Splendid 1” .ejaculated Robinson. I thought at first he was referring to the imposing structures about ns. 1 found him, however, admiring the bcautiliilly paved surface of the street. "Groatp' ho said. “Remember how wo used to get our boots so beastly muddy crossing the street in my day.” We wandered on. “Hullo!” he exclaimed a minute later. “ Where’s the old prison gone to? Surely that’s rot tho new gaol? If it is yon do do your prisoners proud.” As lie spoke ho pointed across tho way to the Law ■Courts, standing on tho site of tho old llat-laccd building that served so long as .11. M. Prison. I briefly explained, and then suggested that before wo turned back wo should go a step farther and visit the railway station. With visions of the long, low, onestory wooden structure that in his day had been tho station, Robinson was, of course, greatly impressed with the imposing-looking pilo to which 1 led nim. 1 happened to mention tho now road to Pcliehct Bay. “That reminds me,” he said. “I must go-for a swim at Logan’s Point baths and a row on the lake, just for old lime’s sake.” “ You’ll have to swim and row on dry land if you do.” X informed him. “That area was filled up years ago.” Then I told him about the Exhibition.

Ih'occcding along Princes street, Robinson’s attention was attracted by the poster advertisements of a picture theatre. I endeavored to explain tho nature of the entertainment and tho difference between it and a inagio lantern show. 1 informed him further that tho first moving picture 1 had seen was that of Queen Victoria in her diamond jubilee procession. But the flicker was awful. No, he had not seen it, and would be delighted to go to a picture show next week. “ Apparently there is nothing on at the City Hall to-night.” Seeing I looked puzzled, ho went on: “Harry’s not here. You know, tho old fellow in the red coat who rings the boll and calls out ‘City ’All, to-night 1’” I had to inform him that Harry had long sinco departed hence, and that the City Hall had undergone changes, becoming respectively a theatre, a garage, and now offices. “A garage! What’s a garage?” _ “A garage,” i replied, “is a kind of livery stable for tiioso horseless carriages wo have so continually to dodge.” We paused a few minutes at the Fountain. I really think this was tho happiest part of the day lor Robinson. The uniforms, tho music, and the singing of tho Salvation Army transported him back over the years, and made him feel that the past had not entirely run away from him.

At the old Post Office my companion received another surprise. Ho found the red brick building with which ho was so familiar in the process of demolition. When I told him that the Post Office had been housed in the Garrison Hall for manv years, ho inquired: “ What about the Volunteers?” It was a great shock to him to know they had been scrapped. He was interested, of course, in the Territorial system and the big Drill Hall at Kensington; hut I knew ho was wondering what had become of his old comrades in the Dunedin Highland Rifles. As to the two big wars that had taken place during his absence, _ T was purposely withholding information about them. I felt thav were too hig a subject to tackle just yet Leaving the hurly-burly of Princes street, wo turned Jacobs’s Corner into High street, and from a quieter viewpoint watched the crowd passing by, Robinson gazed silently for some minutes, and then inquired: “ Where nro all the women? I sec only girls. 'Perhaps,” ho continued, rather ironically, “it is one of your ‘improvements ’ that women should stay at home these days while their daughters promenade,” “I don’t understand.” I said, ‘Explain ” “Look there, now,” and he pointed to a middle-aged gentleman, accompanied bv a very youthful-looking ladv. “ And there’s a similar couple, and there’s another.- I don’t like it.” “ But.” said I, referring tothe couple last indicated, “that lady is not the daughter; she is the wife, t know them well. They live in our street. She’s the mother of six children.” “ But look at her short hair and short skirt, and the—the stockings. What’s that yon say? Just the fashion! Fashion'! fashion!” and he repeated tn* l word as if not quite comprehending. “ Dick.” he said after a pause, “ I feel queer, a bit upset. Let’s go over the way and have a drink.” “Thank you,” I said; “hut that’s impossible.” Robinson looked at rao reproachfully. “Dick, you haven’t joined the Blue Ribbon army, have you?” “No, it is not that,” I replied; “but the bars are now closed at 6 o’clock. You won’t be able to get a drink until Monday morning.” It would be absurd to say that this information was the sole cause of what

now transpired. But it felped. As you can imagine, the mental strain that Robinson had bceen enduring all that afternoon had been terrific. It probably was just the last straw of the load which caused his breakdown. He commenced to babble, saying something like “0 my country!” Then he swayed and staggered, and would have fallen had I not supported him. There was only one course to _ pursue. I put Robinson into a taxi, and telephoned home, briefly explaining the situation, and then drove him to my residence. As soon as wo had ensconced him in the spare room we called in a doctor. “Yes,” remarked that gentleman, after examining Robinson carefully, “your friend is certainly suffering from shock. Otherwise he is quite sound. What ho wants is rest and plenty of sleep. Yes, plenty of sleep,” ho repeated, as I looked doubtful. “And try to avoid, making any jarring noises.” Then he wont away. Two minutes later a burst of -noise came from the street, and made me feel quite alarmed on Robinson’s account. It resembled a great gurr-r-r----ing noise. I hastened to the window, and saw the doctor just moving away in his motor car. At first I was rather annoyed at the doctor’s inconsistency. Then I realised that in this year of grace, 1928, certain noises were inevitable. Happily Robinson had fallen asleep, and had not been disturbed. Poor old Robinson! I foresaw that in the process of bringing him up to date he would receive many shocks. I resolved to do my best, and in revealing a changed world to him to “go slow.”