"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' thrain don't stop is at Mudville-be-th'-Cannery. Ye look into th' folder an' see ye'er town marked 'see note b.' Note b says: 'Thrains two to sixteen stop at Mudville on'y whin wrecked.' 'What is th' number iv this here cannon-ball express?' says ye to th' conductor man. 'Number twelve,' says he. 'How am I goin' to get off there?' says ye. 'How do ye usually get off a movin' thrain?' says he. 'Forward or backward?' says he. 'If ye'll go ahead to th' postal car an' get into a mail bag th' clerk may hang ye on th' hook as we pass. He's a good shot. He made three out iv tin last week,' he says.