The Scouring of the White Horse; Or, The Long Vacation Ramble of a London ClerkHughes, Thomas
General
The Scouring of the White Horse; Or, The Long Vacation Ramble of a London Clerk
Hughes, Thomas
White Horse, Vale of (England)
“Oh deary me, deary me, Master Gaarge, be that you?” I heard the old
woman call out; “now do’ee stop some o’ the chaps, and tell ’em to
help. I be nigh caddled to death wi’ this drattled old jackass--oh
dear, oh dear!”
“Why, Betty! what in the world are you after?” said a merry voice,
which I thought I had heard before; and, looking up, I saw the young
gentleman who had promised me the song.
“Oh, you see, Master Gaarge, I thought as I might turn a honest penny
if I could only win up to the pastime wi’ some nuts and brandy-balls.
So I loaned neighbour Tharne’s cart as he fetches coals from the canal
wi’, and his ass--and if ’twas Balaam’s ass hisself he couldn’t be no
wus--and here I be; and if it hadn’t a been for this kind gentleman”--
“Well, stop your talk, Betty, and take hold of his head,” said he,
jumping out of his dog-cart and giving the reins to the one who was
beside him. “Ah, good morning,” nodding to me, as he came to the back
of the cart, “now then, with a will! shove away!”
So we shoved the cart hard against the donkey’s legs. “Don’t pull,
Betty, let him have his head; just keep hold of the reins. Look out,
boy; stop him making for the ditch;” and away went Master Neddy
scrambling up hill, for he found that the cart was coming over his back
if he didn’t move on. Master George was as strong as a ballast heaver,
and the donkey seemed to find it out quick enough, for we were up the
hill in no time.
“Bless your kind heart, Master Gaarge!” almost sobbed the old woman; “I
be all straight now. Do’ee hev summat to suck now, or some nuts, and
this kind gentleman too; you allus wur fond o’ suck;” and she began
untying the neck of one of her sacks.
“Oh, Betty, you wicked old lone woman!” said he, “haven’t you made me
ill often enough with your nastinesses fifteen years ago?”
“Dwont’ee, now, call ’em names, Master Gaarge.”
“Good-bye, Betty, and make haste up to the Castle before all the small
boys are poisoned. I can give you a lift, Sir,” said he to me, “if
you’ll jump up behind.”
I thanked him, and got up behind, by the side of one of the other young
gentlemen, who I thought didn’t seem much to like having me there; and
I felt very pleased, as we bowled along the Ridgeway, passing all the
people who had been laughing at me and the donkey, that they should see
that I was in such good company, and should be up at the Castle before
any of them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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