eying the Line through a transparent medium composed of your head
and body? I should hope not.

You should see our Bandolining Room at Mugby Junction. It's led to by
the door behind the counter, which you'll notice usually stands ajar, and
it's the room where Our Missis and our young ladies Bandolines their
hair. You should see 'em at it, betwixt trains, Bandolining away, as if
they was anointing themselves for the combat. When you're telegraphed,
you should see their noses all a-going up with scorn, as if it was a part
of the working of the same Cooke and Wheatstone electrical machinery. You
should hear Our Missis give the word, "Here comes the Beast to be Fed!"
and then you should see 'em indignantly skipping across the Line, from
the Up to the Down, or Wicer Warsaw, and begin to pitch the stale pastry
into the plates, and chuck the sawdust sangwiches under the glass covers,
and get out the--ha, ha, ha!--the sherry,--O my eye, my eye!--for your
Refreshment.

It's only in the Isle of the Brave and Land of the Free (by which, of
course, I mean to say Britannia) that Refreshmenting is so effective, so
'olesome, so constitutional a check upon the public. There was a
Foreigner, which having politely, with his hat off, beseeched our young
ladies and Our Missis for "a leetel gloss host prarndee," and having had
the Line surveyed through him by all and no other acknowledgment, was a-
proceeding at last to help himself, as seems to be the custom in his own
country, when Our Missis, with her hair almost a-coming un-Bandolined
with rage, and her eyes omitting sparks, flew at him, cotched the
decanter out of his hand, and said, "Put it down! I won't allow that!"
The foreigner turned pale, stepped back with his arms stretched out in
front of him, his hands clasped, and his shoulders riz, and exclaimed:
"Ah! Is it possible, this! That these disdaineous females and this
ferocious old woman are placed here by the administration, not only to
empoison the voyagers, but to affront them! Great Heaven! How arrives
it? The English people. Or is he then a slave? Or idiot?" Another
time, a merry, wideawake American gent had tried the sawdust and spit it
out, and had tried the Sherry and spit that out, and had tried in vain to
sustain exhausted natur upon Butter-Scotch, and had been rather extra
Bandolined and Line-surveyed through, when, as the bell was ringing and
he paid Our Missis, he says, very loud and good-tempered: "I t