Dariel: A Romance of SurreyBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
Dariel: A Romance of Surrey
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Surrey (England) -- Fiction
However, I was not to be persuaded; and when the day came, there were
guns enough without mine, and far too many, as it seemed to me, for a
free beat and small enclosure. Luckily there was no covert-shooting yet;
but one or two of the dogs had most narrow escapes, and I was obliged to
interfere sometimes, and declare that I would walk them all back to
kennel, unless the men tried to be more careful. One dog was my own, a
very handsome lemon-and-white setter-bitch, who dropped to shot almost
before you could see the smoke; and yet somebody put a shot through her
ear, though I did not find it out till afterwards, or home she would
have gone, whatever they might think at losing the best of the bunch, as
one might say.
For there were six guns, sometimes close together,--a dangerous affair
for a country like that, even when every man knows his neighbour, and
each is an experienced and careful shot; most Cockneyfied too, for the
look of the thing; and I had a great mind to keep away from them. But
Stoneman would not hear of that; he had invited Lord Melladew, so he
said, purely as a compliment to me, and how could I refuse to come with
him? To this I could make no reply, being taken up with my own affairs
to such a degree that I was not at home concerning other people's
doings. The young Earl of Melladew was staying at the "Bell,"--which
used to be called the "Cranleigh Arms," until we went down in the
world,--and there he had his valet, and artistic outfit, and all his
large ideas, in the long room with the magnificent view, where our
tenant used to dry his onions. Now I am the very last to say a word
against people who have gone up in life, by merits which have been
denied to us. The first peer had proved himself a fine man of business,
and made an exemplary fortune by lucrative Army-contracts during the
Crimean war. If he compressed some dead cows in his hay, and compelled
his old sheep-dogs to serve their time still by posthumous fidelity in
the form of mutton,--as war correspondents on very short commons were
ungrateful enough at that time to aver,--all those and greater errors he
had redeemed by having a grandson as unlike him as possible.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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