Dariel: A Romance of SurreyBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
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Dariel: A Romance of Surrey
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Surrey (England) -- Fiction
"Most likely. I will go and see about it by-and-by. Old Jacob will
always oblige me if he can. But you won't take away your sneezing trunk?
You owe it to your native parish first."
"My native parish must abide its time. In country places there is seldom
any outbreak of virulent diseases, until they set up a Local Board. I
shall leave a score of Hygioptarmic boxes in your charge. The rest are
meant for places where the authorities stir up the dregs of infection,
and set them in slow circulation. And the first thing a Local Board
always does is that."
I did not contradict him, for the subject was beyond me. And fond as I
was of him, and always much enlarged by his visits, and the stirring up
of my dull ideas, it so happened that I did not want him now, when so
many things had to be considered, in which none of his discoveries would
help me. In fact it seemed to me that he thought much more of his
hygienic boxes, than of his and my dear sister.
When he was gone in the old rattle-trap from _The Bell_, with his trunk
beneath his feet, my mother seemed inclined at first to think that no
one had made enough of him.
"All for the benefit of others!" she exclaimed, after searching the
distance for one last view of him, if, haply, the sun might come out for
the purpose of showing his hat above some envious hedge; "Does that poor
boy ever think of himself? What makes it the more remarkable is that
this age is becoming so selfish, so wedded to all the smaller principles
of action, so incapable of taking a large view of anything. But Harold,
my Harold"--no words of the requisite goodness and greatness occurred to
my dear mother, and so she resorted to her handkerchief. "It seems as if
we always must be parted. It is for the good of mankind, no doubt; but
it does seem hard, though no one except myself seems so to regard it. It
was five o'clock yesterday before he came. It is not yet half-past ten,
and to think of the rapidly-increasing distance--"
"I defy him to get more than five miles an hour out of that old screw,"
I said. "Not even with one of his Hygioptarmic boxes tied beneath the
old chap's tail. Why, you can hear his old scuffle still, mother."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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