Katerfelto: A Story of ExmoorWhyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
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Katerfelto: A Story of Exmoor
Whyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
Exmoor (England) -- Fiction
"Both!" answered the Parson. "A man had as well be in the Fleet prison,
as the coffee-room of a Covent-garden hotel! I seem to pay hard money
for every breath I draw, and not to breathe freely after all! I'm an
early stirrer, Doctor! man and boy, winter and summer I've been used to
see the sun rise. Ah! you can breathe in my country like a grampus, if
you choose. Well, I come down to break my fast at a reasonable hour, and
not a creature is afoot in the whole house but the cat and me. Presently
steals in a slipshod drawer, unbraced, uncombed, unwashed, and scarce
half-awake. The varlet fetches a toast and tankard, may be, with a
knotch from the musty end of a chine that the rats have gnawned in the
night. I fling it at his head; I cuff him soundly; I kick him round the
room in my stocking-feet, for the other knave will not have cleaned my
boots till noon. Presently I drink my beer, and forgive him; but to make
peace with the rogue costs me a crown. At last I get my coat and hat
brushed, band fitted, boots blacked, and sally forth into the streets.
They're full, Doctor, a man can scarce turn himself round; yet do I feel
so lonely, that if I was a woman or a child, I should sit down and cry.
"I might ride through Exmoor half a summer's day and never set eyes on a
human face, but the curlew seems to know me as he flits by, with a quiet
call of greeting and a wave of his wide brown wing--the red hinds,
leading their calves along the ridges, look kindly over their shoulders,
and turn their handsome heads to gaze after me, till they disappear.
Why, the very breeze, whispering among the rushes, has been pilfering in
my own garden, not so many miles away. You know no more than a blind man
what morning means till you've seen the sun rise in North Devon! I wish
I was back there now. I _will_ be back there next week if I'm alive!"
"But surely, Doctor," observed Katerfelto, with a covert smile, "a man
of your presence finds no difficulty in making acquaintances and even
friends. The Londoners are not an inhospitable people, and are said to
be exceedingly kind to a stranger if he has but money in his pockets."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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