And not to take too much credit to myself in this matter, I must confess
that when we were come to the turn in the road where the moor begins,
and whence you see the last of the yard, and the ricks and the poultry
round them and can (by knowing the place) obtain a glance of the kitchen
window under the walnut-tree, it went so hard with me just here that I
even made pretence of a stone in ancient Smiler's shoe, to dismount, and
to bend my head awhile. Then, knowing that those I had left behind would
be watching to see the last of me, and might have false hopes of my
coming back, I mounted again with all possible courage, and rode after
Jeremy Stickles.
[Illustration: 197.jpg Jeremy kept me in jokes]
Jeremy, seeing how much I was down, did his best to keep me up with
jokes, and tales, and light discourse, until, before we had ridden a
league, I began to long to see the things he was describing. The air,
the weather, and the thoughts of going to a wondrous place, added to
the fine company--at least so Jeremy said it was--of a man who knew all
London, made me feel that I should be ungracious not to laugh a little.
And being very simple then I laughed no more a little, but something
quite considerable (though free from consideration) at the strange
things Master Stickles told me, and his strange way of telling them.
And so we became very excellent friends, for he was much pleased with my
laughing.
Not wishing to thrust myself more forward than need be in this
narrative, I have scarcely thought it becoming or right to speak of my
own adornments. But now, what with the brave clothes I had on, and the
better ones still that were packed up in the bag behind the saddle,
it is almost beyond me to forbear saying that I must have looked very
pleasing. And many a time I wished, going along, that Lorna could only
be here and there, watching behind a furze-bush, looking at me, and
wondering how much my clothes had cost. For mother would have no
stint in the matter, but had assembled at our house, immediately upon
knowledge of what was to be about London, every man known to be a good
stitcher upon our side of Exmoor. And for three days they had
worked their best, without stint of beer or cider, according to the
constitution of each. The result, so they all declared, was such as to
create admiration, and defy competition in London. And to me it seemed
that they were quite right; though Jeremy Stickles turned up his nose,
and feigned to be deaf in the business.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account