The International Monthly, Volume 4, No. 4, November 1, 1851Various
History
The International Monthly, Volume 4, No. 4, November 1, 1851
Various
Art, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- History -- Periodicals
It is impossible to run after any thing without feeling some of the
eagerness of the fox-hound, and it is not to be denied that Mr. Atkinson
shared in some degree in the impetuous spirit of the chase with the groom.
He said nothing about it, indeed; but he made his spurs mark his horse's
sides, and on they went up the opposite slope at a quicker pace than ever.
From the top was a very considerable descent into the bottom of the valley,
in which Hartwell is situated; but the moon had not yet risen high enough
to illuminate more than half the scene, and darkness, doubly dark, seemed
to have gathered over the low grounds beneath the eyes of the two horsemen.
Mr. Atkinson thought he perceived some large object below, moving on
towards Hartwell; but he could not be sure of it till he had descended some
way down the hill, when the carriage of Mrs. Hazleton, mounting a little
rise into the moonlight, became plainly visible to the eye. The groom took
off his cap and waved it, saying, "Tally ho!" but neither he nor his
companion paused in their rapid course, but went thundering down at the
risk of their necks, and of their horses' knees. The carriage moved slowly;
the pursuers went very fast: and at the end of about four minutes they had
reached and passed the two mounted men-servants, who, as customary in those
days, rode behind the vehicle. Robberies on the highway were by no means
uncommon; so that it was the custom for the attendants upon a carriage to
travel armed, and Mrs. Hazleton's two men instantly laid their hands upon
the holsters of their pistols, when those too rapid riders passed them at
such a furious pace. Mr. Atkinson, however, was not a man to be easily
frightened from anything he undertook, and wheeling his horse sharply when
in a little advance of the coachman, he exclaimed, "In the King's name I
command you to stop. I am James Atkinson, high constable of Hartwell. You
know me, sir; and I command you in the King's name to stop!"
"Why, Master Atkinson, what is all this about?" cried the coachman. "There
is nobody but Mrs. Hazleton here. Don't you know the carriage?"
"Quite well," replied Mr. Atkinson; "but you hear what I say, and will
disobey at your peril. John, ride round to the other side, while I speak to
the lady here."
Now Mrs. Hazleton had heard the whole of this conversation, and had there
been sufficient light, Mr. Atkinson, whose eye was turned towards where she
sat, would have seen her turn deadly pale. It might naturally be supposed
that in any ordinary circumstances she would have directed her first
attention to the side from which the sounds proceeded; but so far from that
being the case, she instantly put her hand in her pocket, and was almost in
the act of throwing something into the road, when John the groom presented
himself at the window, and she stopped suddenly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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