The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 107, September, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 107, September, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
our conductor's voice sounded out clear and peremptory, uttering
the timely reminder; we could hear the words of two French
_commis-voyageurs_, coming from the ditch-sunk diligence, making some
facetious remark, one to the other, about their present adventure being
very much like some of Alexandre Dumas's _Impressions de Voyage_; we
could hear the cries and calls of the men refastening the horses, and
preparing to push anew at the wheels; we could distinguish a domestic
party dismounting from the back portion of the other diligence,
consisting of a father and mother with their baby and the _bonne_; we
could see the little white cap covered up carefully with a handkerchief
by the young mother, while the father held an umbrella over their heads,
and conducted them to the counterpart portion of our diligence, where
the family took refuge during the fresh attempts to drag theirs forth.
Then there came a tap against our _coupe_ window, and an unmistakably
British accent was heard to say: "Anglais? Anglais?" Tap--tap--tap. "Any
English here?"
Velvet-cap let the window down, and answered in his cheerfullest tone,
"Yes."
This reply seemed to rejoice the heart of the inquirer, who immediately
rejoined, "Oh!--Well, I really wished to know if there were any one here
who could understand me. These fellows don't comprehend one word that I
say; and I can't speak one word of their jabber. Just listen to them!
What a confounded row they keep up! Parcel of stupid brutes! If I could
only have made myself understood, I could have told them how to get it
out in a minute. Confounded thing this, ain't it? Kept last night, too,
by something of the same kind of accident; and I couldn't get those
stupid fellows to make out what I meant, and give me my carpet-bag."
Polite condolences from Velvet-cap.
"I say, are these your Italian skies? Is Nice no better than this? By
George, I didn't come here for this, though!"
Assurances of the unusually bad weather this season from Velvet-cap.
"No, but just hark! what a confounded row and jabber those fellows keep
up."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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