Music Welcome to Snooze Cast, the podcast is on to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by Perfect Weather. Tonight, we'll read the opening to The Batagonia, a story written by Henry James and published in 1888. Like many of James' other stories, its origins were inspired by an anecdote relayed to him over the dinner table. It features a young woman on a long sea voyage going to meet the man to whom she has betrothed. This story also exemplifies two themes James is well known for, one being the contrasts between old and new worlds of America and England. The other is of the new type of woman, or the self-made girl, who pushes against the boundaries of social convention at a cost to herself.

Let's get cozy. Close your eyes.

Relax your body into the solveness of your bed. Now take a few deep breaths. the hell says where- The houses were dark in the August night and the perspective of Beacon Street with its double chain of lamps was a foreshore-end desert. club on the hill alone from its semi-cylindrical front, projected a glow upon the dusky vagueness of the common. And as I passed it, I heard in the hot stillness the click of a pair of billiard balls. As everyone was out of town, perhaps the servants, in the extravagance of their leisure were profaning the tables. The heat was insufferable, and I thought with the joy of the morrow of the deck of the steamer, the freshening breeze, the sense of getting out to sea, I was even glad of what I had learned in the afternoon at the office of the company. That at the eleventh hour, an old ship, with a lower standard of speed, had been put on in place of the vessel in which I had taken my passage. America was roasting. England might very well be stuffy, and a slow passage, which at that season of the year would probably also be a fine one, was a guarantee of ten or twelve days of fresh air. I strolled down the hill without meeting a creature, though I could see through the the paling of the common that their recreative expanse was peopled with dim forms. I remembered Mrs. Nettle Point's house. She lived in those days. They are not so distant. But there have been changes on the water side, a little way beyond the spot that which the public garden terminates. And I reflect it that like myself, she would be spending the night in Boston if it were true that, as had been mentioned to me a few days before, at Mount Desert, she was to embark on the Morrow for Liverpool. I presently saw this appearance confirmed by a light above her door and in two or three of her windows, and I determined to ask her for having nothing to do till bedtime. I had come out simply to pass an hour, leaving my hotel to the place of its gas and the perspiration of its borders. But it occurred to me that my old friend might very well know not of the substitution of the Patagonia for the Scandinavia so that it would be an act of consideration to prepare her mind. Besides, I could offer to help her to look after her in the morning. Lone women are grateful for support and taking ship for far countries. As I stood on her doorstep, I remembered that as she had a son, she might not after all be so long. Yet at the same time it was present to me that Jasper Nettle Point was not quite a young man to lean upon, having. as I at least supposed, a life of his own, and tastes and habits, which had long since drawn him away from the maternal side. If he did happen just now to be at home, my solicitude would of course seem officious. For in his many wanderings, I believed he had roamed all over the globe. He would certainly have learned how to manage. Nonetheless, I was very glad to show Mrs. Nettle Point, I thought of her. With my long absence, I had lost sight of her, but I had liked her a bold. She had been a close friend of my sisters, and I had in regard to her that sense which is pleasant to those who, in general, have grown strange or detached, the feeling that she at least knew all about me. I could trust her at any time to tell people what a respectable person I was. Perhaps I was conscious of how little I deserved this indulgence when it came over me that for years I had not communicated with her. The measure of this neglect was given by my vagueness of mind about her son. However, I really belonged nowadays to a different generation. I was more the old lady's contemporary than Jasper's. Mrs. Nell Point was at home. I found her in her back drawing room, where the wide windows opened upon the water. The room was dusky. It was too hot for lamps, and she sat slowly moving her fan, and looking out on the little arm of the sea, which is so pretty at night, reflecting the lights of Cambridge port and Charlestown. I suppose, to she was musing upon the loved ones she was to leave behind. Her married daughters, her grandchildren. But she struck a note more specifically Bostonian than she said to me, pointing with her fan to the back bay. I shall see nothing more charming than that over there, you know?

She made me feel very welcome, but her son had told her about the Patagonia, for which she was sorry, as this would mean a longer voyage. She was a poor creature on shipboard, and mainly confined to her cabin, even in weather extravagantly termed fine, as if any weather could be fine at sea. Ah, then your son's going with you. I asked. Here he comes. He will tell you for himself much better than I am able to do. Jasper Nettle point came into the room at that moment, dressed in white flannel and carrying a large van. Well, my dear, have you decided? His mother continued with some irony in her tone. He hasn't yet made up his mind, and We sail at 10 o'clock. What does it matter when my things are put up? Said the young man. There is no crowd at this moment. There will be cabins to spare. I'm waiting for a telegram. That will settle it. I just walked up to the club to see if it was come. They'll send it there because they think the house is closed. Not yet, but I shook a back in 20 minutes. Mercy, how you rush about in this temperature. His mother exclaimed, while I reflected that it was perhaps his billiard balls I had heard ten ten minutes before. I was sure he was fond of billiards. Rush? Not in the least. I take it uncommonly easy. Ah, I'm bound to say you do. Mrs. Nettle Point exclaimed. And consequently, I divined that there was a certain tension between the pair, and a want of consideration on the young man's part, arising perhaps from selfishness, his mother was nervous, in suspense, wanting to be at rest as to whether she should have his company on the voyage or be obliged to make it alone, but as he stood there smiling and slowly moving his fan, he struck me somehow as a person on whom this fact would not sit very heavily. He was of the type of those whom other people worry about, not of those who worry about other people. Tall and strong he had a handsome face with a round head and close curling hair. The whites of his eyes and the enamel of his teeth

under his brown mustache gleamed vaguely in the lights of the back bay. I made out that he was sunburnt as if he lived much in the open air. And that he looked intelligent, also slightly brutal, though not in a morose way. His brutality, if he had any, was bright and finished. I had to tell him who I was, but even then I saw that he failed to place me, and that my explanations gave me in his mind no great identity, or at any rate, no great importance. I foresaw that in dialogue he would sometimes make me feel very young and sometimes very old. He mentioned as if to show his mother that he might be safely be left to his own devices, that he had once started from London to Bombay at three quarters of an hour's notice. Yes, and it must have been pleasant for the people you were with. Oh, the people I was with, he rejoined, and his tone appeared to signify that such people would always have to come off as they could. He asked if there were no cold drinks in the house, no lemonade, no iced syrups, in such weather something of that sort ought always to be kept going. When his mother remarked that surely at the club they were going, he went on. Oh yes, I had various things there, but you know I have walked down the hill since. One should have something at either end. May I ring and see? He rang while Mrs. Nettle point observed that with the people they had in the house, an establishment reduced naturally at such a moment to its simplest expression. They were burning up candleins, and there were no luxuries. She would not answer for the service. The matter ended in the old ladies going out of the room in quest of syrup with the female domestic who had appeared in response to the bell and in whom Jasper's appeal aroused no visible intelligence. She remained away some time and I talked with her son, who was sociable, but delzletory, and kept moving about the room, always with his fan, as if he were impatient. Sometimes he seated himself for an instant on the window sill, and then I saw that he was in fact very good-looking. A fine, clean young athlete. He never told me on what special contingency his decision depended. He only alluded to an expected telegram, and I perceived that he was probably not addicted to copious explanations. His mother's absence was an indication that when it was a question of gratifying him, she had grown used to spare no pains. And I fancied her rummaging in some closed store-room, among old preserved pots, while the doll made servant held the candle. I know not whether this same vision was in his own eyes. At all events it did not prevent him from saying suddenly, as he looked at his watch, that I must excuse him as he had to go back to the club. He would return in half an hour or in less. He walked away and I sat there alone in the dark, dismantled.

In the deep silence that rests on American towns during the hot season, there was now and then a far cry, horse splash in the water, and at intervals the tinkel of the bells of the horse cars onars on the long bridge, slow in the suffocating night. Of this strange influence, have sweet, have sad, that abides and houses uninhabited, or about to become so, in places muffled and bereaved, where the unheated sofas and patient little tables seem to know that it is the eve of a journey. After a while I heard the sound of voices, of steps, the rustle of dresses, and I looked round, supposing these things to be the sign of the return of Mrs. Nettle Point and her handmaiden, bearing the refreshment prepared for her son. What I saw, however, was two other female forms.

Visitors just admitted, apparently, who were ushered into the room. They were not announced. The servant turned her back on them and rambled all over to our hostess. came forward in a wavering, tentative, unintroduced way. Partly, I could see, because the place was dark, and partly because their visit was in its nature experimental, a stretch of confidence. One of the ladies was stout, and the other was slim, and I perceived in a moment that one was talkative and the other silent. I made out further that one was elderly and the other young, and that the fact that they were so unlike did not prevent their being mother and daughter. Mrs. Nettle Point reappeared in a very few minutes, but the interval had suffice to establish a communication, really copious for the occasion. Between the strangers and the unknown gentlemen whom they found in possession, hat and stick and hand. This was not mind-doing for what had I to go upon. And still less was it the doing of the person whom I supposed and whom I indeed quickly and definitely learned to be the daughter? She spoke but once, when her companion informed me that she was going out to Europe the next day to be married. Then she said, Oh mother, protestingly, in a tone which struck me in the darkness as doubly strange, exciting my curiosity to see her face. It had taken her mother but a moment to come to that, and to other things besides, after I had explained that I myself was waiting for Mrs. Nuddle Point, who would doubtless soon come back. Well, she won't know me. I guess she hasn't ever heard much about me. The good lady said, but I have come from Mrs. Allen, and I guess that will make it all right. I presume you know Mrs. Allen. I was unacquainted with this influential person, but I ascended vaguely to the proposition. island's emissary was good-humored and familiar, but rather appealing than insistent. She remarked that if her friend had found time to come in the afternoon, she had so much to do, being just up for the day, that she couldn't be sure it would be all right. And somehow, even before she mentioned Mary Mac Avenue, they had come all the way from there. My imagination had associated her with that indefinite, social limbo, known to the properly constituted Boston Mind, as the south end, a nebulous region which condenses here and there into a pretty face, in which the daughters are an improvement on the mothers, and are sometimes acquainted with gentlemen resident in more distinguished districts of the New New England capital. Gentlemen whose wives and sisters in turn are not acquainted with them. When at last Mrs. Nettle Point came in, accompanied by candles, and by a tray laid in with glasses of colored fluid, which emitted a cool tinkling. I was in a position to officiate, as master of the ceremonies. To introduce Mrs. Mavis, and Miss Grace Mavis, to represent that Mrs. Allen had recommended them. Nay had urged them to come that way, formally and had been prevented only by the pressure of occupations so characteristic of her, especially when she was up from Madapoiset just for a few hours shopping, from herself calling in the course of the day to explain who they wore and what was the favor they had to ask of Mrs. Nettle Point. Good natured women understand each other even when divided by the line of topographical fashion. And our hostess had quickly mastered the main facts. Mrs. Allen's visit in the morning in Maramaque Avenue to talk of Mrs. Amber's great idea, the classes at the public school's invocation. She was interested with an equal charity to that of Mrs. Mavis, even in such weather, in those of the south end, for games and exercises and music, to keep the poor unoccupied children out of the south end for games and exercises and music to keep the poor

unoccupied children out of the streets. Then the revelation that it had suddenly been settled almost from one hour to the other that grace should sail for Liverpool, Mr. Porterfield at last being ready. He was taking a little holiday. His mother was with him. They had come over from Paris to see some of the celebrated old buildings in England. And he had telegraphed to say that if grace would start right off, they would just finish it up and be married. It often happened that when things had dragged on that way for years, they were all huddled up at the end. Of course, in such a case she, Mrs. Mavis, had had to fly round. Her daughter daughter's passage was taken, but it seemed too dreadful that she should make her journey all alone. The first time she had ever been at sea, without any companion or escort, she couldn't go. Mrs. Mavis was too sick. She hadn't even been able to get him off to the seaside. Well, Mrs. Nettle Point is going in that ship. Mrs. Allen had said, and she had represented that nothing was simpler than to put the girl in her charge.

When Mrs. Mavis had replied that that was all very well, but that she didn't know the lady, Mrs. Allen had declared that that didn't make a speck of difference. For Mrs. Nettle Point was kind enough for anything. It was easy enough to know her, if that was all the trouble. All Mrs. Mavis would have to do would be to go up to her the next morning when she took her daughter to the ship. She would see her there on the deck with her party and tell her what she wanted. Mrs. Nettle point had daughters herself and she would easily understand. Very likely she would even look after Grace a little on the other side. In such a situation, going out alone to the gentleman, she was engaged to, she would just help her to turn round before she was married. Mr. Porterfield seemed to think they wouldn't wait long, once she was there. They would have it right over at the American Cons. Mrs. Allen had said it would perhaps be better still to go and see Mrs. Nettle point beforehand that day, to tell her what they wanted. Then they wouldn't seem to spring it on her just as she was leaving. She herself, Mrs. Allen, would call and say a word for them if she could save ten minutes before catching her train. If she hadn't come, it was because she hadn't saved her ten minutes, but she had made them feel that they must come all the same. Mrs. Mavis liked that better, because on the ship in the morning there would be such a confusion. She didn't think her daughter would be any trouble. It was just to have someone to speak to her, and not Sally 4. I see. I am to act as a sort of bridesmaid and to give her away," said Mrs. Nettle point. She was in fact kind enough for anything, and she showed on this occasion that it was easy enough to know her. There is nothing more tiresome than complications at sea, but she accepted without a protest the burden of the young lady's dependence and allowed her, as Mrs. Mavis said, to hook herself on. She evidently had the habit of patience, and her reception of her visitor's story reminded me of fresh. I was reminded of it whenever I returned to my native land. But my dear compatriots are the people in the world who most freely take mutual accommodation for granted. They have always had to help themselves. And by an extension they can found helping each other with that. In no country are there fewer forms. It was doubtless, not singular, that the ladies from Maramaa Gavanu should not feel that they were important. What was striking was that Mrs. Nettle Point did not appear to suspect it. However, she wouldn't any case have thought it inhuman to show that. Though I could see that under the surface, she was amused at everything the lady from the south end took for granted. I know not whether the attitude of the younger visitor at it or not to the merit of her good nature. Mr. Porterfields intended took no part in her mother's appeal. Scarcely spoke, sat looking at the back bay and the lights on the long bridge. She declined to eliminate and the other mixtures which had Mrs. Nettle points request and offered her while her mother part took freely of everything and I reflected for I as freely consumed the reviving liquid that Mr. Jasper had better hurry back if he wished to profit by the

refreshment prepared for him.