Friends, though divided: A Tale of the Civil WarHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
Friends, though divided: A Tale of the Civil War
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Juvenile fiction
Harry muttered something about pressing business. But in his sudden
surprise he had not time to think of assuming either the nasal drone or
the scriptural words peculiar to these black-coated gentry. Struck by
his tone, the sergeant sprang forward and seized his bridle.
"Whom have we here?" he said; "a lad masquerading in the dress of a
preacher. This must be explained, young sir."
"Sergeant," Harry said, "I doubt not that thou art a good fellow, and
not one to get a lad in a scrape. I am the son of a London citizen; but
he and my mother are at present greatly more occupied with the state of
their souls than with the carrying on of their carnal business. Being
young, the constant offering up of prayers and exhortations has vexed me
almost to desperation, and yesterday, while the good preacher who
attends then was in the midst of the third hour of his discourse I stole
downstairs, and borrowing his hat and cloak, together with his horse,
determined to set out to join my uncle, who is a farmer down in
Gloucestershire, and where in sooth the companionship of his
daughters--girls of my own age--suits my disposition greatly better than
that of the excellent men with whom my father consorts."
The soldiers laughed, and the sergeant, who was not at heart a bad
fellow, said:
"I fear, my young sir, that your disposition is a godless one, and that
it would have been far better for you to have remained under the
ministration of the good man whose hat you are wearing than to have
sought the society of your pretty cousins. However, I do not know but
that in the unregenerate days of my own youth I might not have attempted
an escapade like yours. I trust," he continued, "you are not tainted
with the evil doctrines of the adherents of King Charles."
"In truth," Harry said, "I worry not my head with politics. I hear so
much of them that I am fairly sick of the subject, and have not yet
decided whether the Commons is composed of an assembly of men directly
inspired with power for the regeneration of mankind, or whether King
Charles be a demon in human shape. Methinks that when I grow old enough
to bear arms it will be time enough for me to make up my mind against
whom to use them. At present, a clothyard is the stick to which I am
most accustomed, and as plows and harrows are greatly more in accord
with my disposition, I hope that for a long time I shall not see the
interior of a shop again; and I trust that the quarrels which have
brought such trouble into this realm, and have well-nigh made my father
and mother distraught, will at least favor my sojourn in the country,
for I am sure that my father will not venture to traverse England for
the sake of bringing me back again."
"I am not sure," the sergeant said, "that my duty would not be to
arrest you and to send you back to London. But as, in truth, I have no
instructions to hinder travelers, I must even let you go."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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