A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain (sneezy the snowman read aloud .TXT) 📖

Sandy was worn out with nursing; so I made up my mind to turn out and go a cruise alone, leaving her at the nunnery to rest up. My idea was to disguise myself as a freeman of peasant degree and wander through the country a week or two on foot.  This would give me a chance to eat and lodge with the lowliest and poorest class of free citizens on equal terms.  There was no other way to inform myself perfectly of their everyday life and the operation of the laws upon it.  If I went among them as a gentleman, there would be restraints and conventionalities which would shut me out from their private joys and troubles, and I should get no further than the outside shell.

One morning I was out on a long walk to get up muscle for my trip, and had climbed the ridge which bordered the northern extremity of the valley, when I came upon an artificial opening in the face of a low precipice, and recognized it by its location as a hermitage which had often been pointed out to me from a distance as the den of a hermit of high renown for dirt and austerity.  I knew he had lately been offered a situation in the Great Sahara, where lions and sandflies made the hermit-life peculiarly attractive and difficult, and had gone to Africa to take possession, so I thought I would look in and see how the atmosphere of this den agreed with its reputation.

My surprise was great:  the place was newly swept and scoured. Then there was another surprise.  Back in the gloom of the cavern I heard the clink of a little bell, and then this exclamation:

“Hello Central!  Is this you, Camelot?—Behold, thou mayst glad thy heart an thou hast faith to believe the wonderful when that it cometh in unexpected guise and maketh itself manifest in impossible places—here standeth in the flesh his mightiness The Boss, and with thine own ears shall ye hear him speak!”

Now what a radical reversal of things this was; what a jumbling together of extravagant incongruities; what a fantastic conjunction of opposites and irreconcilables—the home of the bogus miracle become the home of a real one, the den of a mediaeval hermit turned into a telephone office!

The telephone clerk stepped into the light, and I recognized one of my young fellows.  I said:

“How long has this office been established here, Ulfius?”

“But since midnight, fair Sir Boss, an it please you.  We saw many lights in the valley, and so judged it well to make a station, for that where so many lights be needs must they indicate a town of goodly size.”

“Quite right.  It isn’t a town in the customary sense, but it’s a good stand, anyway.  Do you know where you are?”

“Of that I have had no time to make inquiry; for whenas my comradeship moved hence upon their labors, leaving me in charge, I got me to needed rest, purposing to inquire when I waked, and report the place’s name to Camelot for record.”

“Well, this is the Valley of Holiness.”

It didn’t take; I mean, he didn’t start at the name, as I had supposed he would.  He merely said:

“I will so report it.”

“Why, the surrounding regions are filled with the noise of late wonders that have happened here!  You didn’t hear of them?”

“Ah, ye will remember we move by night, and avoid speech with all. We learn naught but that we get by the telephone from Camelot.”

“Why they know all about this thing.  Haven’t they told you anything about the great miracle of the restoration of a holy fountain?”

“Oh, that ?  Indeed yes.  But the name of this valley doth woundily differ from the name of that one; indeed to differ wider were not pos—”

“What was that name, then?”

“The Valley of Hellishness.”

“That explains it.  Confound a telephone, anyway.  It is the very demon for conveying similarities of sound that are miracles of divergence from similarity of sense.  But no matter, you know the name of the place now.  Call up Camelot.”

He did it, and had Clarence sent for.  It was good to hear my boy’s voice again.  It was like being home.  After some affectionate interchanges, and some account of my late illness, I said:

“What is new?”

“The king and queen and many of the court do start even in this hour, to go to your valley to pay pious homage to the waters ye have restored, and cleanse themselves of sin, and see the place where the infernal spirit spouted true hell-flames to the clouds—an ye listen sharply ye may hear me wink and hear me likewise smile a smile, sith ’twas I that made selection of those flames from out our stock and sent them by your order.”

“Does the king know the way to this place?”

“The king?—no, nor to any other in his realms, mayhap; but the lads that holp you with your miracle will be his guide and lead the way, and appoint the places for rests at noons and sleeps at night.”

“This will bring them here—when?”

“Mid-afternoon, or later, the third day.”

“Anything else in the way of news?”

“The king hath begun the raising of the standing army ye suggested to him; one regiment is complete and officered.”

“The mischief!  I wanted a main hand in that myself.  There is only one body of men in the kingdom that are fitted to officer a regular army.”

“Yes—and now ye will marvel to know there’s not so much as one West Pointer in that regiment.”

“What are you talking about?  Are you in earnest?”

“It is truly as I have