The Journal of a Disappointed Man

The beauty of it is that the Editor adds a serious footnote, dissociating himself, and a Scarabee to whom I shewed the Work, read it with a clouded brow and then said: "I think it rather out of place in a paper of this sort." (Tableau.) October 12. Down with influenza. October 13. A Zeppelin raid last night. I am down with a temperature, but our little household remained quite calm, thank God. We heard guns going off, and I had a fit of trembling as I lay in bed. Many dead of heart failure owing to the excitement. October 14. Still in bed. No raid last night. There were two raids on Wednesday, one at 9.30, and another at midnight. The first time the caretaker of the flats came up very alarmed to say "Zeppelins about," so we put out the lights. Then at midnight when everyone else was asleep I heard a big voice shout up from the street: "Lights out there. They're about again." Lay still in bed and waited. Distant gunfire. October 17. Bad heart attack. October 18. Heart intermits. Every three or four minutes. M---- said that I ought to be getting used to it by now! Phew!! Very nervy and pusillanimous. Taking strychnine in strong doses. I hope dear E---- does not catch the 'flu. She swallows quinine with large hopes. October 19. Staying at R----. Had a ghastly journey down, changing trains twice at Clapham Junction and at Croydon, heart intermitting all the time in every position. Poor E---- with me. To-day surprised to find myself still alive.