Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 58, Number 360, October 1845Various
Philosophy
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 58, Number 360, October 1845
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
The rooms are low, the passages are
dark, the bed-rooms dog-kennels, the stairs ladders, the court-yards
damp, the windows all turned the wrong way, and, in short, the
sixteenth century an excellent trimmer of popes and conqueror of
armadas, but a very bad architect.
In one of the court-yards was a flock of sheep nibbling at the grass
that had been trodden by the great marquis, as he walked down after
his noble defence, to deliver his sword to the Parliamentarian
Fairfax. Has Cattermole or Charles Landseer never thought of the brave
old cavalier, at the age of eighty-five, surrendering his ancestral
home,--surrounded by his sorrowing garrison, and bearing himself with
the true dignity of a heroic noble? Let them think of this, and send
us a proof print.
Leader of the sheep was the most beautiful ram that ever was seen
since Aries was made a star. All our common-place muttons at home sank
into insignificance at once. The children patted it, and fed it, and
kissed it,--and to all their endearments it answered in the most
bewitching manner. It followed them like a dog, and rubbed its head
against them, and it was soon very evident that the greatest beauty of
Ragland Castle, in certain eyes, was thickly cased in wool. The
ancient gardener told us it had once taken such a fancy to one of the
visitors, that it had followed her up a hundred and sixty steps to the
very top of the signal tower,--and the old lady was so pleased with
it, she wished to take it home with her, though she lived two or three
hundred miles off. And certainly if ever a pet of such a size was
allowable, it must have been the gentle creature before us. But all
things are deceitful--gentle-looking rams among the number,--for on
the discontinuance of our gifts, he waxed all of a sudden very wroth,
and favoured the youngest of the party with a butt, that made her not
know whether she was on her head or her heels--which is an
extraordinary specimen of ignorance, for she was exactly half-way
between both. So, converting our admiration of the golden fleece into
a kick, we raised the astonished victim of his anger, and after a
delightful stroll got into our gig again, and in due time arrived at
our comfortable home.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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