Night and Morning, Volume 1Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
Night and Morning, Volume 1
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction
Poverty began already to stare him in
the face, when the only friend who, having shared his prosperity,
remained true to his adverse fate,--a friend, fortunately for him, of
high connections and brilliant prospects--succeeded in obtaining for him
the humble living of A----. To this primitive spot the once jovial
roisterer cheerfully retired--contrived to live contented upon an income
somewhat less than he had formerly given to his groom--preached very
short sermons to a very scanty and ignorant congregation, some of whom
only understood Welsh--did good to the poor and sick in his own careless,
slovenly way--and, uncheered or unvexed by wife and children, he rose in
summer with the lark and in winter went to bed at nine precisely, to save
coals and candles. For the rest, he was the most skilful angler in the
whole county; and so willing to communicate the results of his experience
as to the most taking colour of the flies, and the most favoured haunts
of the trout--that he had given especial orders at the inn, that whenever
any strange gentleman came to fish, Mr. Caleb Price should be immediately
sent for. In this, to be sure, our worthy pastor had his usual
recompense. First, if the stranger were tolerably liberal, Mr. Price was
asked to dinner at the inn; and, secondly, if this failed, from the
poverty or the churlishness of the obliged party, Mr. Price still had an
opportunity to hear the last news--to talk about the Great World--in a
word, to exchange ideas, and perhaps to get an old newspaper, or an odd
number of a magazine.
Now, it so happened that one afternoon in October, when the periodical
excursions of the anglers, becoming gradually rarer and more rare, had
altogether ceased, Mr. Caleb Price was summoned from his parlour in which
he had been employed in the fabrication of a net for his cabbages, by a
little white-headed boy, who came to say there was a gentleman at the inn
who wished immediately to see him--a strange gentleman, who had never
been there before.
Mr. Price threw down his net, seized his hat, and, in less than five
minutes, he was in the best room of the little inn.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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