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Page 64:-
[plenti]fully, making the dull oxen in their cages, with
heads depressed, and foam hanging from their mouths as their
red looks glanced fearfully at the surrounding terrors, seem
as though they had been drinking at half-frozen waters and
were hung with icicles. Through the same steam would be
caught glimpses of their fellow-travellers, the sheep,
getting their white kid faces together, away from the bars,
and stuffing the interstices with trembling wool. Also, down
among the wheels, of the man with the sledge-hammer, ringing
the axles of the fast night-train; against whom the oxen
have a misgiving that he is the man with the pole-axe who is
to come by-and-bye, and so the nearest of them try to get
back, and get a purchase for a thrust at him through the
bars. Suddenly, the bell would ring, the steam would stop
with one hiss and a yell, the chemists on the beanstalks
would be very busy, the avenging Furies would bestir
themselves, the fast night-train would melt from eye and
ear, the other trains going their ways more slowly would be
heard faintly rattling in the distance like old-fashioned
watches running down, the sauce-bottle and cheap music
retired from view, even the bedstead went to bed, and there
was no such visible thing as the Station to vex the cool
wind in its blowing, or perhaps the autumn lightning, as it
found out the iron rails.
The infection of the Station was this:- When it was in its
raving state, the Apprentices found it impossible to be
there, without labouring under the delusion that they were
in a hurry. To Mr. Goodchild, whose ideas of idleness were
so imperfect, this was no unpleasant hallucination, and
accordingly that gentleman went through great exertions in
yielding to it, and running up and down the platform,
jostling everybody, under the impression that he had a
highly important mission somewhere, and had not a moment to
lose. But, to Thomas Idle, this contagion was so very
unacceptable an incident of the situation, that he struck on
the fourth day, and requested to be moved.
"This place fills me with a dreadful sensation," said
Thomas, "of having something to do. Remove me, Francis."
"Where would you like to go next?" was the question of the
ever-engaging Goodchild.
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