Never have I passed five hours in a theater so filled with thrills.
Editor's note · Context
Watterson reflects on a particularly thrilling experience at the theater.
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I strolled down to the river and sat myself upon the brink, almost despairing—nigh heartbroken—when I began to feel an irresistible fascination about the swift-flowing stream.
In my early life—as it were, my salad days —I aspired to becoming what old Simon Cameron called “one of those damned literary fellows” and Thomas Carlyle less profanely described as “a leeterary celeebrity.” But some malign fate always sat…
If you carry him off a prisoner he will be exchanged back into the fighting line, and we make nothing by it.
There did seem something both audacious and grotesque in this ruthless Yankee poking in among the revered antiquities of Britain, so that the beef-eating British themselves could not restrain their laughter.





