The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Complete — John Shaqi
The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — CompleteLever, Charles
General
The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Complete
Lever, Charles
Fiction
If I turned for consolation to the back of the house, my eyes fell upon
the dirty yard of a dirty inn; the half-thatched cow-shed, where two
famished animals mourned their hard fate,—“chewing the cud of sweet and
bitter fancy;” the chaise, the yellow post-chaise, once the pride and
glory of the establishment, now stood reduced from its wheels, and
ignominiously degraded to a hen-house; on the grass-grown roof a cock
had taken his stand, with an air of protective patronage to the
feathered inhabitants beneath:
“To what base uses must we come at last.”
That chaise, which once had conveyed the blooming bride, all blushes
and tenderness, and the happy groom, on their honeymoon visit to
Ballybunion and its romantic caves, or to the gigantic cliffs and
sea-girt shores of Moher—or with more steady pace and becoming gravity
had borne along the “going judge of assize,”—was now become a lying-in
hospital for fowl, and a nursery for chickens. Fallen as I was myself
from my high estate, it afforded me a species of malicious satisfaction
to contemplate these sad reverses of fortune; and I verily believe—for
on such slight foundation our greatest resolves are built—that if the
rain had continued a week longer, I should have become a misanthropist
for life. I made many inquiries from my landlady as to the society of
the place, but the answers I received only led to greater despondence.
My predecessor here, it seemed, had been an officer of a veteran
battalion, with a wife, and that amount of children which is
algebraically expressed by an X (meaning an unknown quantity). He, good
man, in his two years’ sojourn here, had been much more solicitous
about his own affairs, than making acquaintance with his neighbours;
and at last, the few persons who had been in the habit of calling on
“the officer,” gave up the practice; and as there were no young ladies
to refresh Pa’s memory on the matter, they soon forgot completely that
such a person existed—and to this happy oblivion I, Harry Lorrequer,
succeeded, and was thus left without benefit of clergy to the tender
mercies of Mrs. Healy of the Burton arms.
As during the inundation which deluged the whole country around I was
unable to stir from the house, I enjoyed abundant opportunity of
cultivating the acquaintance of my hostess, and it is but fair that my
reader, who has journeyed so far with me, should have an introduction.
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account