Kissing the Rod: A Novel. (Vol. 1 of 3)Yates, Edmund
General
Kissing the Rod: A Novel. (Vol. 1 of 3)
Yates, Edmund
England -- Fiction
The summer sun, bright, warm, and cheering, only just past the zenith
of his annual glory, illumined the Temple Gardens; still further
withering the turf, which had been worn by the promenaders of the
season into a very bald and ragged state; gladdening the hearts of
country-bred nursemaids with reminiscences of their earlier days, when
their virgin hearts were yet untouched by the charms of deceivers in
military or police uniforms; loved and cherished by the
valetudinarians, poor and old, to whom this city garden was the
nearest imitation of God's country which they were able to afford, and
who, secluded during the winter in Strand side-street lodging-houses,
ventured thither for their daily meed of light and air; glancing
merrily on the turbid Thames; and even throwing enlivening glances
into the topmost story of the house in Crown-Office Row, which Robert
Streightley had visited one memorable night, and wherein one of its
joint tenants now sat hard at work.
And indeed, let him come when he might, in his spring weakness, in his
summer glory, in his autumn grandeur, in the feeble struggles which he
made during winter, the sun would never have found Charles Yeldham in
any other condition. Work was his life, his idol. As a very young man,
when he first quitted Oxford, he had prayed to be successful in the
profession which he had chosen, and which he had gone into heart and
soul. He had vowed that if his labours were only rewarded with
success, there should be scarcely any end to them; and now, when he
had no rival as a conveyancing barrister among his coevals and very
few superiors among his seniors, he still kept grinding on. Not
intended by nature for such slavery, as you can tell in one glance at
his _physique_, at his broad chest, long sinewy arms and legs, and big
white hands; not destitute of an appreciation of fun, as you can see
in his bright blue eyes, his large happy mouth, and the deep dimples
of his cheeks; what would be generally called a "jolly man," with
thick brown curling hair, and a clear skin, and a great hearty laugh,
breaking out whenever it had the chance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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