Once
started nothing could stop it--nothing ever did stop it, until it
found itself topsy turvy on its own occupant. That was the only
thing that ever sobered it.
I had called, and had been shown into the empty drawing-room. The
rocking-chair nodded invitingly at me. I never guessed it was an
amateur rocking-chair. I was young in those days, with faith in
human nature, and I imagined that, whatever else a man might attempt
without knowledge or experience, no one would be fool enough to
experiment upon a rocking-chair.
I threw myself into it lightly and carelessly. I immediately
noticed the ceiling. I made an instinctive movement forward. The
window and a momentary glimpse of the wooded hills beyond shot
upwards and disappeared. The carpet flashed across my eyes, and I
caught sight of my own boots vanishing beneath me at the rate of
about two hundred miles an hour. I made a convulsive effort to
recover them. I suppose I over-did it. I saw the whole of the room
at once, the four walls, the ceiling, and the floor at the same
moment. It was a sort of vision. I saw the cottage piano upside
down, and I again saw my own boots flash past me, this time over my
head, soles uppermost.
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