text_original: It seemed an endless pilgrimage, a nightmare dream of dark night and wintry day, made hideous by the ceaseless throb of the engine, the perpetual odour of sulphur and smoke. She reached Trelasco somehow, and sank exhausted in Tabitha's arms.
text_transcription: IT SEEMED AN ENDLESS PILGRIMAGE A NIGHTMARE DREAM OF DARK NIGHT AND WINTRY DAY MADE HIDEOUS BY THE CEASELESS THROB OF THE ENGINE THE PERPETUAL ODOUR OF SULPHUR AND SMOKE SHE REACHED TRELASCO SOMEHOW AND SANK EXHAUSTED IN TABITHA'S ARMS
phonemes: ɪt sˈiːmd ɐn ˈɛndləs pˈɪlɡɹɪmɪdʒ, ɐ nˈaɪtmɛɹ dɹˈiːm ʌv dˈɑːɹk nˈaɪt ænd wˈɪntɹi dˈeɪ, mˌeɪd hˈɪdiəs baɪ ðə sˈiːsləs θɹˈɑːb ʌvðɪ ˈɛndʒɪn, ðə pɚpˈɛtʃuːəl ˈoʊdɚɹ ʌv sˈʌlfɚ ænd smˈoʊk. ʃiː ɹˈiːtʃt tɹɛlˈæskoʊ sˈʌmhaʊ, ænd sˈæŋk ɛɡzˈɔːstᵻd ɪn tæbˈɪθəz ˈɑːɹmz.