NOCTURNE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXII, Issue 19133, 26 September 1925, Page 1 (Supplement)

NOCTURNE.

THE WORRIES OF A NIGHT.

BY GItAHAiI HAY.

I couldn t sleep.

I had been drowsing over a book, so decided to drink a cup of coffee and turn in early. Directly my head touched the pillow the gift of sleep left me. Ibe rame more and more wakeful; it seemed as though some valve of my brain had neen left ajar for every errant thought to drift through and run its course. For a while my lucidity was pleasant. I felt a peer to those clever prolific people who write books. Then as the droop of sleep overcame my body, and the wheels of thought revolved faster than ever in my brain, 1 grew restive, and began to lure sleep with accredited subterfuges. Of course the first thing to do was to count sheep. One, two, three, four, (ive, —sheep terribly clear and plain—six, seven, eight, nine—no chance of sleep this way—ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen — a black one—funny superstition that, wonder who started it—fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen—it's become a per verted superstition lately, lucky instead of—twenty-seven, twenty-eight—nonsense r'ally—-thirty-five, hirty-six, thirty seven—still you never know —fifty-six— fifty -fifty—um—um— Bolt upright wide awake' forgotten something, some thing important —whatever? —ah, fiftyseven. yes. Hang it all, who was the fool who started that sheep idea ?

Try lying on the other side —that's bet ter—they say it's bad for the heart —too congested, but doctors are ridiculous people, they say everything sooner or later, they even—hello! yes, 1 do seem to feel it beating a bit louder; yes, there it goes bang, bang, bang. I'm beginning to wonder if there's something a bit out of gear there since I had that touch of flu last year. It was trying to catch a tram that first day out that did it—must let my doctor look mo over to-morrow, only that means 10s 6d and neither of us a scrap the wiser—rogues, doctors —brigandage not dead, only sleeping wish I was—joke, but don't laugh, too wakening. That beating's getting louder—best turn back again, all sorts of hidden complications might set in—ah, that s quietened it, but, Great Scott! my feet are barethere's more in this than appears; I m being made the sport of Fate. Perhaps it's just as well, though—we 11 pretend 1 haven't been to bed at all» and start afresh. _ Charity, Twins and Coue.

Wondtr if 1 should have given that fcl low a couple of shillings that tapped me to-day—one hates to refuse, but why should he come to me, a chance acquaintance, when he has hundreds of old friends ?—still there may be some reason—the nobler course would have been to have -iven—he mav be actually hungry—oh, rotten, rotten, afraid I'm a bit of an outsider really. , ; There are difficulties and worries wherever you turn. There's poor old Bob rang up to night to say his wife had twins. How awful to fnid you vo suddenly got twins—yesterday nothing tonight twins. They're so spineless and lelly-like—when you were drying them the outside one woiild keep continually rolling off your knee back Into the bath, xou might use a footstool, but then the wet one would roll down against the dry one and it would take hours—bah! why should I worry about twins ?—it's sleep that 8 the question—sleep—it's most important that I' should get sleep. Why, to-morrow I've got to get up and have breakfast, and—and—l know there's all sorts of urgent things that don't just come to me in the middle of tho nignt. Try Coue. Every day in every way I get sleepier and sleepier each minute—there's a mixed metaphor there —every day, each minute—or a chesterdox —1 mean paranut—ha, a almost —or else jnst nonsense—can't decide—too late —try to remember it to-morrow —might do for Punch. Funny thing about Pnnch, my first impression has never left me. The first time I ever heard of Punch I read a joke where the smart-set girl said "When I want to go to sleep I read Punch," and for years my attitude to Punch has been one of veiled disrespect. To this day I can't feel quite sure whether it's correct to be amused by Punch. We're a lot of sheep really, we follow each-other—no, no, don't let me get back to that sheep idea, it's a failure.

A Tremendous Time. I say, this is getting serious, there's some trick I've lost. Here am I tossing feverishly about all night, and all round me are people calmly sleeping in their beds and not seeming to care. It was that cursed Chinaman at the laundry that upset me really. I'm certain it was half-a-crown 1 gave him, but always that infernal smile and "two shellen." 1 know I didn't have two shillings about me. How I know was because I was going in to buy a penny stamp at lunch-time, and when I found I only hnd half-a-crown I decided to put off writing for a day or two.

Wait a minute, though, I remember meeting Harry outsido tho hotel at five o'clock and —oh, no, I remember he paid for those. No, it's just, as 1 thought, that Chinaman took me down. That s the sort of thing that keeps you always grinding; why, I could have bought six stamps for that, or ridden to Synxrids Street four times and to St. Paul's once, or perhaps only to the fi of Vellcstev Street, or in three days' time I could have bought my lunch: and if I'd put it on a horse and it had paid £ls, that would have been—bah, why can't I stop working out these sums'

Here's another annoying thing happened: 1 was suddenly caifed npon to propose the toast of "The Ladies," and not a thing could I think of until the very moment it had gone past, when the perfect thing came bobbing up from nowhere, just too late. I should have said, in a dramatic voice with a rising inflection, " What I don't know about the ladies—(long impressive pause while everybody marvels at this braggartly tone—then with the falling inflection of finality), " Richard does! " and so called upon Richard to respond, he being a sly dog of some gallantry but even more discretion. It would have broken ip the gathering; but there, it's too late, and the chance will never recur.

My hat, I wish I could get off to sleep. It's a form of illness really. You know, to-morrow people will look at me quite calmly and treat me as if nothing out of the way had happened. They'll never realise the tremendous time I've been through.

There, it's getting daylight—that's the first milk cart rumbling. I'll get up and see if the Herai.d's come, it's a hit early but you never know. No, it hasn't—l knew it wouldn't—silly fool to go, but anvthing's better than lying down in that lumpy bed Better get back though, or I'll catch cold. I've got to wait an hour or two for that beastly paper. Bed's a bit warmer anyhow. Hang that milk man, why must he make such an infernal row ?—other people have got rights as well as him—selfish begpar—cover ove: my head and shrt, c t the sound—that'is better—another one along soon—get up in a minute of two— ....

" Now then, what are you lying in bed for a fine morning like this ' "Aren't yen Koing to work to-dpv ? " W 7 ith a' start I opened my eyes The sun was shining, neople wnlking nhont With a srnsc of premonition I looked at ruy watch. Ten pact eight. I'd overslept myself.