Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. IX.—February, 1851.—Vol. II.Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. IX.—February, 1851.—Vol. II.
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
Then he wrestled and struggled, and strove to wrench his limbs from that
hateful bondage; for he heard steps approaching. And he began to picture
to himself the arrival of all the villagers from church, the sad gaze of
the Parson, the bent brow of the Squire, the idle, ill-suppressed titter
of all the boys, jealous of his unblotted character--character of which
the original whiteness could never, never be restored! He would always
be the boy who had sat in the Stocks! And the words uttered by the
Squire came back on his soul, like the voice of conscience in the ears
of some doomed Macbeth. "A sad disgrace Lenny--you'll never be in such a
quandary." "Quandary," the word was unfamiliar to him; it must mean
something awfully discreditable. The poor boy could have prayed for the
earth to swallow him.
CHAPTER VIII.
"Kettles and frying-pans! what has us here?" cried the tinker.
This time Mr. Sprott was without his donkey; for, it being Sunday, it is
to be presumed that the donkey was enjoying his Sabbath on the Common.
The tinker was in his Sunday's best, clean and smart, about to take his
lounge in the park.
Lenny Fairfield made no answer to the appeal.
"You in the wood, my baby! Well that's the last sight I should ha'
thought to see. But we all lives to larn," added the tinker,
sententiously. "Who gave you them leggins? Can't you speak, lad?"
"Nick Stirn."
"Nick Stirn! Ay, I'd ha' ta'en my davy on that: and cos vy?"
"'Cause I did as he told me, and fought a boy as was trespassing on
these very Stocks; and he beat me--but I don't care for that; and that
boy was a young gentleman, and going to visit the Squire; and so Nick
Stirn--" Lenny stopped short, choked by rage and humiliation.
"Augh," said the tinker, staring, "you fit with a young gentleman, did
you? Sorry to hear you confess that, my lad! Sit there, and be thankful
you ha' got off so cheap. 'Tis salt and battery to fit with your
betters, and a Lunnon justice o' peace would have given you two months
o' the treadmill. But vy should you fit cos he trespassed on the Stocks?
It ben't your natural side for fitting, I takes it."
Lenny murmured something not very distinguishable about serving the
Squire, and doing as he was bid.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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