slave iv me vacation. I don't take a vacation whin a vacation
comes around an' knocks at th' dure an' dhrags me out to a summer
resort. If I did I'd wait a long time. I take it whiniver I feel like
it. Whiniver I have a moment to spare, whin ye're talkin' or business is
slack fr'm anny other reason, I throw a comb an' brush into a gripsack
an' hurry away to th' mountain or th' seashore. While ye think ye're
talkin' to me, at that very minyit I may be floatin' on me back in th'
Atlantic ocean or climbin' a mountain in Switzerland, yodellin' to
mesilf.

"Most iv me frinds take their vacations long afther they are overdue.
That's because they don't know how to take thim. They depind on
railroads an' steamers an' what th' boss has to say about it. Long
afther th' vacation will do thim no good, about th' fifteenth iv August,
they tear off for th' beauties iv nature. Nachrally they can't tear off
very far or they wudden't hear th' whistle whin it blew to call thim
back. F'r a week or two they spind their avenin's larnin' th' profissyon
iv baggageman, atin' off thrunks be day an sleepin' on thim be night.
Evenchooly th' time comes f'r thim to lave th' sthrife an' throuble iv
th' city that they're used to f'r th' sthrife an' throuble iv th'
counthry that they don't know how to handle. They catch th' two two f'r
Mudville-be-th'-Cannery, or they are just about to catch it whin they
remimber that they left their tickets, money an' little Abigail Ann
behind thim, an' they catch th' six forty-five which doesn't stop at
Mudville excipt on Choosdahs an' Fridahs in Lent, an' thin on'y on
signal. Fin'lly they're off. Th' dust an' worry iv th' city with its
sprinkled pavements an' its glowin' theaytres is left behind. Th' cool
counthry air blows into th' car laden with th' rich perfume iv dainty
food with which th' fireman is plyin' his ir'n horse. Th' thrain stops
occasion'lly. In fact ye might betther say that occasion'lly it don't
stop. A thrain that is goin' to anny iv th' penal colonies where most
men spind their vacations will stop at more places thin a boy on an
errand. Whiniver it sees a human habitation it will pause an' exchange a
few wurruds iv pleasant greetin'. It will stop at annything. It wud stop
at nawthin'.

"In this way ye get a good idee iv th' jography iv ye'er native land. Ye
make a ten minyit stay at bustlin' little villages that ye didn't know
were on th' map, an' ain't on anny map that ye buy. Th' on'y place th