The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Volume 2 — John Shaqi
The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Volume 2Lever, Charles
General
The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Volume 2
Lever, Charles
Fiction
"Be gorra, I'll do my endayvour," said the youth; at the same time
instant dashing in both spurs, we rattled down Nassau-street at a very
respectable pace for harriers. Street after street we passed, and at
last I perceived we had got clear of the city, and were leaving the long
line of lamp-lights behind us. The night was now pitch dark. I could
not see any thing whatever. The quick clattering of the wheels, the
sharp crack of the postillion's whip, or the still sharper tone of his
"gee hup," showed me we were going at a tremendous pace, had I not even
had the experience afforded by the frequent visits my head paid to the
roof of the chaise, so often as we bounded over a stone, or splashed
through a hollow. Dark and gloomy as it was, I constantly let down the
window, and with half my body protruded, endeavores to catch a glimpse of
the "Chase;" but nothing could I see. The rain now fell in actual
torrents; and a more miserable night it is impossible to conceive.
After about an hour so spent, he at last came to a check, so sudden and
unexpected on my part, that I was nearly precipitated, harlequin fashion,
through the front window. Perceiving that we no longer moved, and
suspecting that some part of our tackle had given way, I let down the
sash, and cried out--"Well now, my lad, any thing wrong?" My questions
was, however, unheard; and although, amid the steam arising from the wet
and smoking horses, I could perceive several figures indistinctly moving
about, I could not distinguish what they were doing, nor what they said.
A laugh I certainly did hear, and heartily cursed the unfeeling wretch,
as I supposed him to be, who was enjoying himself at my disappointment.
I again endeavoured to find out what had happened, and called out still
louder than before.
"We are at Ra'coole, your honor," said the boy, approaching the door of
the chaise, "and she's only beat us by hafe a mile."
"Who the devil is she?" said I.
"The mail, your honor, is always a female in Ireland."
"Then why do you stop now? You're not going to feed I suppose?"
"Of course not, your honor, it's little feeding troubles these bastes,
any how, but they tell me the road is so heavy we'll never take the
chaise over the next stage without leaders."
"Without leaders!" said I. "Pooh! my good fellow, no humbugging,
four horses for a light post-chaise and no luggage; come get up, and no
nonsense." At this moment a man approached the window with a lantern in
his hand, and so strongly represented the dreadful state of the roads
from the late rains--the length of the stage--the frequency of accidents
latterly from under-horsing, &c. &c. that I yielded, a reluctant assent,
and ordered out the leaders, comforting myself the while, that
considering the inside fare of the coach, I made such efforts to
overtake, was under a pound, and that time was no object to me, I
certainly was paying somewhat dearly for my character for resolution.
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