Colonel Quaritch, V.C.: A Tale of Country LifeHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
General
Colonel Quaritch, V.C.: A Tale of Country Life
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Country life -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction
Colonel Quaritch followed this drift till he came to the high road, and
then turned. A few minutes’ walk brought him to a drive opening out of
the main road on the left as he faced towards Boisingham. This drive,
which was some three hundred yards long, led up a rather sharp slope to
his own place, Honham Cottage, or Molehill, as the villagers called it,
a title calculated to give a keen impression of a neat spick and span
red brick villa with a slate roof. In fact, however, it was nothing of
the sort, being a building of the fifteenth century, as a glance at its
massive flint walls was sufficient to show. In ancient times there had
been a large Abbey at Boisingham, two miles away, which, the records
tell, suffered terribly from an outbreak of the plague in the fifteenth
century. After this the monks obtained ten acres of land, known as
Molehill, by grant from the de la Molle of the day, and so named either
on account of their resemblance to a molehill (of which more presently)
or after the family. On this elevated spot, which was supposed to be
peculiarly healthy, they built the little house now called Honham
Cottage, whereto to fly when next the plague should visit them.
And as they built it, so, with some slight additions, it had remained
to this day, for in those ages men did not skimp their flint, and oak,
and mortar. It was a beautiful little spot, situated upon the flat top
of a swelling hill, which comprised the ten acres of grazing ground
originally granted, and was, strange to say, still the most
magnificently-timbered piece of ground in the country side. For on the
ten acres of grass land there stood over fifty great oaks, some of them
pollards of the most enormous antiquity, and others which had, no
doubt, originally grown very close together, fine upstanding trees with
a wonderful length and girth of bole. This place, Colonel Quaritch’s
aunt, old Mrs. Massey, had bought nearly thirty years before when she
became a widow, and now, together with a modest income of two hundred a
year, it had passed to him under her will.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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