Penelope : $b or, Love's labour lost. A novel. Volume 1 (of 3)Scargill, William Pitt
General
Penelope : $b or, Love's labour lost. A novel. Volume 1 (of 3)
Scargill, William Pitt
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Before this speech was finished, Mr Primrose was fast asleep; but
short is the sleep in a coach that travels by night. The coach stopped
and woke our foreigner from a frightful dream. We do not wish to
terrify our readers, but we must relate the dream in consequence of
its singularity. He dreamed then, that he was in the island of Laputa,
and that having provoked the indignation of some of the learned
professors by expressing a doubt as to the practicability of some of
their schemes, he was sentenced to be buried alive under a pyramid of
encyclopedias. Just as the cruel people were putting the sentence into
execution, he woke and found his coat-collar almost in his mouth, and
heard the word ‘ology’ from the lips of his fellow traveller. He was
very glad to find that matters were no worse.
CHAPTER XV.
Few indeed are the adventures now to be met with in travelling by a
stage coach, and few also, comparatively speaking, the accidents. But
our travellers were destined to meet both with accident and adventure.
The coach, as our observant readers have noticed, must necessarily have
travelled all night. The nights in December are long and dark; and
not unfrequently, during the long cold silence of a December night,
there gently falls upon the dank surface of the earth a protecting
and embellishing fleece of flaky snow. And the morning snow as yet
untrodden has a brilliant and even cheerful look beneath a blue and
brightly frosty sky; and when a wide expanse of country variegated with
venerably-aged trees, and new enclosures and old open meadow lands, and
adorned with here and there a mansion surrounded with its appurtenances
of larch, pine, and poplar, and divided into unequal but gracefully
undulating sections by means of a quiet stream--when a scene like this
bursts upon the morning eye of a winter traveller, and shows itself
set off and adorned with a mantle of virgin snow, it is indeed a sight
well worth looking at. Mr Primrose had not seen snow for sixteen years,
and the very sight of it warmed his heart; for it was so much like
home. It was one of those natural peculiarities which distinguished
the land of his birth from the land of his exile. He expressed to his
fellow traveller the delight which he felt at the sight. Mr Kipperson
coincided with him that the view was fine, and proposed that, as they
were both well clad, and as the scenery was very magnificent, they
should by way of a little variety seat themselves on the outside of
the coach. The proposal was readily embraced, and they mounted the roof.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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