Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in SolitudeBidwell, Austin
General
Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
Bidwell, Austin
Bank fraud -- England; Bank of England; Bidwell, Austin; Criminals -- Biography
"It was now 2 o'clock p.m., the rain had ceased, and starting out, I
walked along a main street until I saw a sign 'cabs to let.' I went into
the house and was shown into an inner room, where the proprietress sat
crooning over a turf fire. She motioned me to a seat beside her, and
when I told her I wished for a conveyance to take me to Cahir, a place
eight miles distant, she asked me several questions, among others, how
long I wished to be gone, and if I were not an American. To all of which
I replied to the following effect: That I was going to visit some
friends who were officers stationed in the fort at Cahir; and as to her
mistaking me for an American, the ancestors of the 'Yankees' went from
about Norfolk County, England, to America, of course, taking the accent
with them, and I being from the former place, (Norfolk) of course had
the same accent.
"This explanation appeared to satisfy the old lady, and she became quite
confidential; and, anxious to remove from my mind any trace of offense
at her unusual questioning, she drew closer to me and said:
"I can see that you are all right; but the fact is that the captain of
police sent an order that I should notify him at once in case any
stranger wished to hire a vehicle, especially if I thought him an
American. But I do not care for the curs; they are nothing but a parcel
of spies and informers in the pay of the English Government; so even if
you were the one they are looking for they will wait a long time for me
to inform them, and you shall have my best horse and a good driver.'
"I heartily thanked the good old Irish lady--for I have found true
ladies and gentlemen among the poor and humble, as well as the wealthy,
especially in Ireland--and in a few minutes I was bowling gayly along
toward Cahir.
"This is a small, ancient, walled garrison town, the nearest railway
station being at Clonmel. This miniature city has been the scene of many
a heart-stirring event in the distant past. Here Cromwell was for a time
held at bay, and his fanatical hordes made their Celtic opponents pay in
blood for their patriotic and desperate defense of their homes and
firesides.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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