The Romany Rye: a sequel to "Lavengro"Borrow, George
General
The Romany Rye: a sequel to "Lavengro"
Borrow, George
Adventure stories; England -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction
Francis Ardry remained at the inn during that day and the next, and then
departed to the dog and lion fight; I never saw him afterwards, and
merely heard of him once after a lapse of some years, and what I then
heard was not exactly what I could have wished to hear. He did not make
much of the advantages which he possessed, a pity, for how great were
those advantages,--person, intellect, eloquence, connection, riches! yet,
with all these advantages, one thing highly needful seems to have been
wanting in Francis. A desire, a craving, to perform something great and
good. Oh! what a vast deal may be done with intellect, courage, riches,
accompanied by the desire of doing something great and good! Why, a
person may carry the blessings of civilisation and religion to barbarous,
yet at the same time beautiful and romantic lands; and what a triumph
there is for him who does so! what a crown of glory! of far greater value
than those surrounding the brows of your mere conquerors. Yet who has
done so in these times? Not many; not three, not two, something seems to
have been always wanting; there is, however, one instance, in which the
various requisites have been united, and the crown, the most desirable in
the world--at least which I consider to be the most desirable--achieved,
and only one, that of Brooke of Borneo.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
MR. PLATITUDE AND THE MAN IN BLACK--THE POSTILLION'S ADVENTURES--THE LONE
HOUSE--A GOODLY ASSEMBLAGE.
It never rains, but it pours. I was destined to see at this inn more
acquaintances than one. On the day of Francis Ardry's departure, shortly
after he had taken leave of me, as I was standing in the corn-chamber at
a kind of writing-table or desk, fastened to the wall, with a book before
me, in which I was making out an account of the corn and hay lately
received and distributed, my friend the postillion came running in out of
breath. "Here they both are," he gasped out; "pray do come and look at
them!"
"Whom do you mean?" said I.
"Why, that red-haired Jack Priest, and that idiotic parson, Platitude;
they have just been set down by one of the coaches, and want a
post-chaise to go across the country in; and what do you think? I am to
have the driving of them. I have no time to lose, for I must get myself
ready; so do come and look at them."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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