The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
I could not find it worth my while to quarrel with this ignorant man for
the sake of a foolish word or two, considering how morose he was, and
kept the keys of everything. For the moment, I could not help regretting
my wholesome chastisement of the boy Bang; for he would have told me at
least all he knew, if I could have taught him to take a good look. And
as for Ike, when I went and tried him, whether it was that he failed of
my meaning, or that he chose to pretend to do so (on account of my
having deposed him), or that he truly knew nothing at all--at any rate,
I got nothing from him. This was, indeed, a heavy trial. It is
acknowleged that we have such hearts, and strength of goodwill to the
universe, and power of entering into things, that not a Welshman of us
is there but yearns to know all that can be said about every one he has
ever seen, or heard, or even thought of. And this kind will, instead of
being at all repressed by discouragement, increases tenfold in
proportion as others manifest any unkind desire to keep themselves out
of the way of it. My certy, no low curiosity is this, but lofty
sympathy.
My grandfather nine generations back, Yorath the celebrated bard, begins
perhaps his most immortal ode to a gentleman who had given him a quart
of beer with this noble moral precept: "Lift up your eyes to the castle
gates and behold on how small a hinge they move! The iron is an inch and
a quarter thick, the gates are an hundred and fifty feet wide!" And
though the gates of my history are not quite so wide as that, they often
move on a hinge even less than an inch and a quarter in thickness;
though I must not be too sure, of course, as to the substance of Bang's
head. However, allow even two inches for it, and it seems but a very
trifling matter to tell as it did upon great adventures. The boy was as
sound as a boy need be in a couple of hours afterwards, except that he
had, or pretended to have, a kind of a buzzing in one ear; and I found
him so grateful for my correction, that I could not bear to urge his
head with inquiries for the moment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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