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twg_000012583500 | hunters remounted their steeds, and, with feelings of gratitude to God for having delivered them alike from savage foes and from the destructive power of the whirlwind, resumed their journey towards the Mustang Valley. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. ANXIOUS FEARS FOLLOWED BY A JOYFUL SURPRISE--SAFE HOME AT LAST, AND HAPPY HEARTS.... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583501 | which we have given an account in the last chapter, old Mrs Varley was seated beside her own chimney corner in the little cottage by the lake, gazing at the glowing logs with the earnest expression of one whose thoughts were far away. Her kind face was paler than usual, and her hands rested idly on her knee, grasping t... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583502 | knitting wires to which was attached a half-finished stocking. On a stool near to her sat young Marston, the lad to whom, on the day of the shooting match, Dick Varley had given his old rifle. The boy had an anxious look about him, as he lifted his eyes from time to time to the widow's face. "Did ye say, | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583503 | my boy, that they were _all_ killed?" inquired Mrs Varley, awaking from her reverie with a deep sigh. "Every one," replied Marston. "Jim Scraggs, who brought the news, said they wos all lyin' dead with their scalps off. They wos a party o' white men." Mrs Varley sighed again, and her face assumed an expression of anxio... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583504 | thought of her son Dick being exposed to a similar fate. Mrs Varley was not given to nervous fears; but as she listened to the boy's recital of the slaughter of a party of white men, news of which had just reached the valley, her heart sank, and she prayed inwardly to Him who is the husband of the widow | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583505 | that her dear one might be protected from the ruthless hand of the savage. After a short pause, during which young Marston fidgeted about and looked concerned, as if he had something to say which he would fain leave unsaid, Mrs Varley continued:-- "Was it far off where the bloody deed was done?" "Yes; three weeks off, ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583506 | Jim Scraggs said that he found a knife that looked like the one wot belonged to--to--" the lad hesitated. "To whom, my boy? Why don't ye go on?" "To your son Dick." The widow's hands dropped by her side, and she would have fallen had not Marston caught her. "O mother dear, don't take on like that!" he cried, smoothing | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583507 | down the widow's hair as her head rested on his breast. For some time Mrs Varley suffered the boy to fondle her in silence, while her breast laboured with anxious dread. "Tell me all," she said at last, recovering a little. "Did Jim see-- Dick?" "No," answered the boy. "He looked at all the bodies, but did not find his... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583508 | so he sent me over here to tell ye that p'raps he's escaped." Mrs Varley breathed more freely, and earnestly thanked God; but her fears soon returned when she thought of his being a prisoner, and recalled the tales of terrible cruelty often related of the savages. While she was still engaged in closely questioning the ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583509 | entered the cottage, and endeavoured in a gruff sort of way to re-assure the widow. "Ye see, mistress," he said, "Dick is a oncommon tough customer, an' if he could only git fifty yards start, there's not a Injun in the west as could git hold o' him agin; so don't be takin' on." "But what if he's bin taken | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583510 | prisoner?" said the widow. "Ay, that's jest wot I've comed about. Ye see it's not onlikely he's bin took; so about thirty o' the lads o' the valley are ready jest now to start away and give the red riptiles chase, an' I come to tell ye; so keep up heart, mistress." With this parting word of comfort, Jim withdrew, | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583511 | and Marston soon followed, leaving the widow to weep and pray in solitude. Meanwhile an animated scene was going on near the block-house. Here thirty of the young hunters of the Mustang Valley were assembled, actively engaged in supplying themselves with powder and lead, and tightening their girths, preparatory to sett... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583512 | the white men, while hundreds of boys and girls, and not a few matrons, crowded round and listened to the conversation, and to the deep threats of vengeance that were uttered ever and anon by the younger men. Major Hope, too, was among them. The worthy major, unable to restrain his roving propensities, determined to re... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583513 | had arrived only two days before. Backwoodsmen's preparations are usually of the shortest and simplest. In a few minutes the cavalcade was ready, and away they went towards the prairies, with the bold major at their head. But their journey was destined to come to an abrupt and unexpected close. A couple of hours' gallo... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583514 | of one of those open plains which sometimes break up the woodland near the verge of the great prairies. It stretched out like a green lake towards the horizon, on which, just as the band of horsemen reached it, the sun was descending in a blaze of glory. With a shout of enthusiasm, several of the younger members of the | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583515 | party sprang forward into the plain at a gallop; but the shout was mingled with one of a different tone from the older men. "Hist!--hallo!--hold on, ye cat-a-mounts! There's Injuns ahead!" The whole band came to a sudden halt at this cry, and watched eagerly, and for some time in silence, the motions of a small party o... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583516 | were seen in the far distance, like black specks on the golden sky. "They come this way, I think," said Major Hope, after gazing steadfastly at them for some minutes. Several of the old hands signified their assent to this suggestion by a grunt, although to unaccustomed eyes the objects in question looked more like cro... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583517 | motion was for some time scarcely perceptible. "I sees pack-horses among them," cried young Marston in an excited tone; "an' there's three riders; but there's somethin' else, only wot it be I can't tell." "Ye've sharp eyes, younker," remarked one of the men, "an' I do b'lieve yer right." Presently the horsemen approach... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583518 | of guessing as to who they could be. It was evident that the strangers observed the cavalcade of white men, and regarded them as friends, for they did not check the headlong speed at which they approached. In a few minutes they were clearly made out to be a party of three horsemen driving pack-horses before them, and _... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583519 | some of the hunters guessed was a buffalo calf. Young Marston guessed too, but his guess was different. Moreover, it was uttered with a yell that would have done credit to the fiercest of all the savages. "Crusoe!" he shouted, while at the same moment he brought his whip heavily down on the flank of his little horse, a... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583520 | over the prairie like an arrow. One of the approaching horsemen was far ahead of his comrades, and seemed as if encircled with the flying and voluminous mane of his magnificent horse. "Hah! ho!" gasped Marston in a low tone to himself, as he flew along. "Crusoe! I'd know ye, dog, among a thousand! A buffalo calf! Ha! g... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583521 | with ye!" This last part of the remark was addressed to his horse, and was followed by a whack that increased the pace considerably. The space between two such riders was soon devoured. "Hallo! Dick,--Dick Varley!" "Eh! why, Marston, my boy!" The friends reined up so suddenly, that one might have fancied they had met l... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583522 | in the shock of mortal conflict. "Is't yerself, Dick Varley?" Dick held out his hand, and his eyes glistened, but he could not find words. Marston seized it, and pushing his horse close up, vaulted nimbly off and alighted on Charlie's back behind his friend. "Off ye go, Dick! I'll take ye to yer mother." Without reply,... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583523 | reins, and in another minute was in the midst of the hunters. To the numberless questions that were put to him he only waited to shout aloud, "We're all safe! They'll tell ye all about it," he added, pointing to his comrades, who were now close at hand; and then, dashing onward, made straight for home, with little Mars... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583524 | to his waist like a monkey. Charlie was fresh, and so was Crusoe; so you may be sure it was not long before they all drew up opposite the door of the widow's cottage. Before Dick could dismount, Marston had slipped off, and was already in the kitchen. "Here's Dick, mother!" The boy was an orphan, and loved the widow | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583525 | so much that he had come at last to call her mother. Before another word could be uttered, Dick Varley was in the room. Marston immediately stepped out, and softly shut the door. Reader, we shall not open it! Having shut the door, as we have said, Marston ran down to the edge of the lake, and yelled with delight--usual... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583526 | terminating each paroxysm with the Indian war-whoop, with which he was well acquainted. Then he danced, and then he sat down on a rock, and became suddenly aware that there were other hearts there, close beside him, as glad as his own. Another mother of the Mustang Valley was rejoicing over a long-lost son. Crusoe and ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583527 | scampering round each other in a manner that evinced powerfully the strength of their mutual affection. Talk of holding converse! Every hair on Crusoe's body, every motion of his limbs, was eloquent with silent language. He gazed into his mother's mild eyes as if he would read her inmost soul (supposing that she had on... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583528 | every possible angle, and cocked his ears to every conceivable elevation, and rubbed his nose against Fan's, and barked softly, in every imaginable degree of modulation, and varied these proceedings by bounding away at full speed over the rocks of the beach, and in among the bushes and out again, but always circling ro... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583529 | in view! It was a sight worth seeing, and young Marston sat down on a rock, deliberately and enthusiastically, to gloat over it. But perhaps the most remarkable part of it has not yet been referred to. There was yet another heart there that was glad--exceeding glad--that day. It was a little one too, but it was big for... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583530 | body that held it. Grumps was there, and all that Grumps did was to sit on his haunches and stare at Fan and Crusoe, and wag his tail as well as he could in so awkward a position! Grumps was evidently bewildered with delight, and had lost nearly all power to express it. Crusoe's conduct towards him, too, was not | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583531 | calculated to clear his faculties. Every time he chanced to pass near Grumps in his elephantine gambols, he gave him a passing touch with his nose, which always knocked him head over heels; whereat Grumps invariably got up quickly and wagged his tail with additional energy. Before the feelings of those canine friends w... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583532 | into a state of comparative exhaustion. Then young Marston called Crusoe to him, and Crusoe, obedient to the voice of friendship, went. "Are you happy, my dog?" "You're a stupid fellow to ask such a question; however, it's an amiable one. Yes, I am." "What do _you_ want, ye small bundle o' hair?" This was addressed to ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583533 | forward innocently, and sat down to listen to the conversation. On being thus sternly questioned, the little dog put down its ears flat, and hung its head, looking up at the same time with a deprecatory look as if to say, "Oh, dear! I beg pardon; I--I only want to sit near Crusoe, please, but if you wish it I'll | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583534 | go away, sad and lonely, with my tail _very_ much between my legs--indeed I will, only say the word, but--but I'd _rather_ stay if I might." "Poor bundle!" said Marston, patting its head, "you can stay then. Hooray! Crusoe, are you happy, I say? Does your heart bound in you like a cannon ball that wants to find its way | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583535 | out and can't--eh?" Crusoe put his snout against Marston's cheek, and, in the excess of his joy, the lad threw his arms round the dog's neck and hugged it vigorously, a piece of impulsive affection which that noble animal bore with characteristic meekness, and which Grumps regarded with idiotic satisfaction. CHAPTER TW... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583536 | COME OUT STRONG--THE CLOSING SCENE. The day of Dick's arrival with his companions was a great day in the annals of the Mustang Valley, and Major Hope resolved to celebrate it by an impromptu festival at the old block-house; for many hearts in the valley had been made glad that day, and he knew full well that, under suc... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583537 | some safety-valve must be devised for the escape of overflowing excitement. A messenger was sent round to invite the population to assemble without delay in front of the block-house. With backwoods-like celerity the summons was obeyed; men, women, and children hurried towards the central point wondering, yet more than ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583538 | They were not long in doubt. The first sight that presented itself as they came trooping up the slope in front of the log hut, was an ox roasting whole before a gigantic bonfire. Tables were being extemporised on the broad level plot in front of the gate. Other fires there were, of smaller dimensions, on which sundry s... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583539 | were placed, and various joints of wild horse, bear, and venison roasted, and sent forth a savoury odour as well as a pleasant hissing noise. The inhabitants of the block-house were self-taught brewers, and the result of their recent labours now stood displayed in a row of goodly casks of beer--the only beverage with w... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583540 | regions were wont to regale themselves. The whole scene--as the cooks moved actively about upon the lawn, and children romped round the fires, and settlers came flocking through the forests--might have recalled the revelry of merry England in the olden time, though the costumes of the far west were, perhaps, somewhat d... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583541 | all the band assembled there on that day of rejoicing required to ask what it was all about. Had any one been in doubt for a moment, a glance at the centre of the crowd assembled round the gate of the western fortress would have quickly enlightened him; for there stood Dick Varley, and his mild-looking mother, and his ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583542 | dog, Crusoe. There, too, stood Joe Blunt, like a bronzed warrior returned from the fight, turning from one to another as question poured in upon question almost too rapidly to permit of a reply. There, too, stood Henri, making enthusiastic speeches to whoever chose to listen to him,--now glaring at the crowd, with clen... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583543 | told of how Joe and he had been tied hand and foot, and lashed to poles and buried in leaves, and threatened with a slow death by torture,--at other times bursting into a hilarious laugh as he held forth on the predicament of Mahtawa when that wily chief was treed by Crusoe in the prairie. Young Marston was there too, | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583544 | hanging about Dick, whom he loved as a brother and regarded as a perfect hero. Grumps, too, was there, and Fan. Do you think, reader, that Grumps looked at any one but Crusoe? If you do you are mistaken. Grumps on that day became a regular, an incorrigible, utter, and perfect nuisance to everybody--not excepting himsel... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583545 | a dog of one idea, and that idea was Crusoe. Out of that great idea there grew one little secondary idea, and that idea was, that the only joy on earth worth mentioning was to sit on his haunches, exactly six inches from Crusoe's nose, and gaze steadfastly into his face. Wherever Crusoe went Grumps went. If Crusoe stop... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583546 | was down before him in an instant. If Crusoe bounded away, which, in the exuberance of his spirits, he often did, Grumps was after him like a bundle of mad hair. He was in everybody's way--in Crusoe's way, and being, so to speak, "beside himself," was also in his own way. If people trod upon him accidentally, which the... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583547 | did, Grumps uttered a solitary heart-rending yell, proportioned in intensity to the excruciating nature of the torture he endured, then instantly resumed his position and his fascinated stare. Crusoe generally held his head up, and gazed over his little friend at what was going on around him, but if for a moment he per... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583548 | countenance of Grumps, that creature's tail became suddenly imbued with an amount of wriggling vitality that seemed to threaten its separation from the body. It was really quite interesting to watch this unblushing, and disinterested, and utterly reckless display of affection on the part of Grumps, and the amiable way ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583549 | with it, advisedly, because it must have been a very great inconvenience to him, seeing that if he attempted to move, his satellite moved in front of him, so that his only way of escaping, temporarily, was by jumping over Grumps's head. Grumps was everywhere all day. Nobody, almost, escaped trampling on part of him. He... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583550 | everything, and against everything. He knocked himself, singed himself, and scalded himself, and in fact forgot himself altogether; and when, late that night, Crusoe went with Dick into his mother's cottage, and the door was shut, Grumps stretched his ruffled, battered, ill-used, and dishevelled little body down on the... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583551 | lay in humble contentment all night, for he knew that Crusoe was there. Of course such an occasion could not pass without a shooting match. Rifles were brought out after the feast was over, just before the sun went down into its bed on the western prairies, and "the nail" was soon surrounded by bullets, tipped by Joe B... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583552 | Jim Scraggs, and, of course, driven home by Dick Varley, whose silver rifle had now become, in its owner's hand, a never-failing weapon. Races, too, were started, and here again Dick stood pre-eminent, and when night spread her dark mantle over the scene, the two best fiddlers in the settlement were placed on empty bee... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583553 | light of the monster fires, while others listened to Joe Blunt as he recounted their adventures on the prairies and among the Rocky Mountains. There were sweethearts, and wives, and lovers at the feast, but we question whether any heart there was so full of love, and admiration, and gratitude as that of the Widow Varle... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583554 | son Dick, throughout that merry evening. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Years rolled by, and the Mustang Valley prospered. Missionaries went there, and a little church was built, and to the blessings of a fertile land were added the far greater blessings of Christian light and ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583555 | the Indians. Deeply and long she mourned, and it required all Dick's efforts and those of the pastor of the settlement to comfort her. But from the first the widow's heart was sustained by the loving hand that dealt the blow, and when time blunted the keen edge of her feelings, her face became as sweet and mild, though... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583556 | so lightsome, as before. Joe Blunt and Henri became leading men in the councils of the Mustang Valley, but Dick Varley preferred the woods, although, as long as his mother lived, he hovered round her cottage--going off sometimes for a day, sometimes for a week, but never longer. After her head was laid in the dust, Dic... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583557 | the woods with Crusoe and Charlie the wild horse as his only companions, and his mother's Bible in the breast of his hunting shirt. And soon Dick, the bold hunter, and his dog Crusoe, became renowned in the frontier settlements from the banks of the Yellow Stone River to the Gulf of Mexico. Many a grizzly bear did the ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583558 | "silver rifle" lay low, and many a wild exciting chase and adventure did Dick go through, but during his occasional visits to the Mustang Valley, he was wont to say to Joe Blunt and Henri--with whom he always sojourned--that "nothin' he ever felt or saw came up to his first grand dash over the Western Prairies into the... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583559 | the Rocky Mountains." And in saying this, with enthusiasm in his eye and voice, Dick invariably appealed to, and received a ready affirmative glance from, his early companion, and his faithful loving friend--the dog Crusoe. THE END. End of Project Gutenberg's The Dog Crusoe and his Master, by R.M. Ballantyne | 50 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583560 | Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England Dusty Diamonds Cut and Polished, by R.M. Ballantyne. First published ________________________________________________________________________ As so often with Ballantyne there are two concurrent stories in this book. In one of these we meet two little stray and homeless boys i... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583561 | trained up and sent to Canada to live as part of a farmer's family there. The other story concerns the mother of one of the boys, with too many children, a drink-habit, and a wife-beating and criminal husband: plainly there's not much going for her, but her eldest daughter manages to bring life together for the family.... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583562 | on his release from jail, deserts his wife, which is no bad thing; the wife takes the Blue Ribbon and gives up drinking; a couple of well-to-do gentlemen take an interest in the family; and finally they all emigrate to Canada and live happily ever after. Of course, it is a little more complicated than that, with a burg... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583563 | in as well as a smattering of do-good-ers and do-bad-ers. But for those with an interest in the street-life of the nineteenth century this will be a very interesting book for you. A Note about the Author. Robert Michael Ballantyne was born in and died in . He was educated at the Edinburgh Academy, and in he became a cl... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583564 | with the Hudson Bay Company, working at the Red River Settlement in Northern Canada until , arriving back in Edinburgh in . The letters he had written home were very amusing in their description of backwoods life, and his family publishing connections suggested that he should construct a book based on these letters. Th... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583565 | written over the next decade, "The Young Fur Traders", "Ungava", "The Hudson Bay Company", and were based on his experiences with the H.B.C. In this period he also wrote "The Coral island" and "Martin Rattler", both of these taking place in places never visited by Ballantyne. Having been chided for small mistakes he ma... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583566 | to visit the places he wrote about. With these books he became known as a great master of literature intended for teenagers. He researched the Cornish Mines, the London Fire Brigade, the Postal Service, the Railways, the laying down of submarine telegraph cables, the construction of light-houses, the light-ship service... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583567 | fleet, ballooning, deep-sea diving, Algiers, and many more, experiencing the lives of the men and women in these settings by living with them for weeks and months at a time, and he lived as they lived. He was a very true-to-life author, depicting the often squalid scenes he encountered with great care and attention to ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583568 | forward eagerly to his next books, and through the 1860s and 1870s there was a flow of books from his pen, sometimes four in a year, all very good reading. The rate of production diminished in the last ten or fifteen years of his life, but the quality never failed. He published over ninety books under his own name, and | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583569 | a few books for very young children under the pseudonym "Comus". For today's taste his books are perhaps a little too religious, and what we would nowadays call "pi". In part that was the way people wrote in those days, but more important was the fact that in his days at the Red River Settlement, in the wilds of Canada... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583570 | he had been a little dissolute, and he did not want his young readers to be unmindful of how they ought to behave, as he felt he had been. Some of his books were quite short, little over pages. These books formed a series intended for the children of poorer parents, having less pocket-money. These books are particularl... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583571 | researched, because he wanted that readership to get the very best possible for their money. They were published as six series, three books in each series. Re-created as an e-Text by Nick Hodson, September . ________________________________________________________________________ DUSTY DIAMONDS CUT AND POLISHED, BY R.M... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583572 | ponies--those shaggy, chubby, innocent-looking little creatures--for which the world is indebted, we suppose, to Shetland. Well, once on a time, one of the most innocent-looking, chubbiest, and shaggiest of Shetland ponies--a dark brown one--stood at the door of a mansion in the west-end of London. It was attached to a... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583573 | We do not mean, of course, that the pony was affectionately attached to it. No; the attachment was involuntary and unavoidable, by reason of a brand-new yellow leather harness with brass buckles. It objected to the attachment, obviously, for it sidled this way, and straddled that way, and whisked its enormous little ta... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583574 | stamped its ridiculously small feet; and champed its miniature bit, as if it had been a war-horse of the largest size, fit to carry a Wallace, a Bruce, or a Richard of the Lion-heart, into the midst of raging battle. And no wonder; for many months had not elapsed since that brown creature had kicked up its little heels... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583575 | twirled its tail, and shaken its shaggy mane in all the wild exuberance of early youth and unfettered freedom on the heather hills of its native island. In the four-wheeled basket sat a little girl whom it is useless to describe as beautiful. She was far beyond that! Her delicate colour, her little straight nose, her s... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583576 | of a mouth, her enormous blue eyes, and floods of yellow hair--pooh! these are not worth mentioning in the same sentence with her expression. It was that which carried all before it, and swept up the adoration of man-and-woman-kind as with the besom of fascination. She was the only child of Sir Richard Brandon. Sir Ric... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583577 | a widower. He was knighted, not because of personal merit, but because he had been mayor of some place, sometime or other, when some one connected with royalty had something important to do with it! Little Diana was all that this knight and widower had on earth to care for, except, of course, his horses and dogs, and g... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583578 | club, and food. He was very particular as to his food. Not that he was an epicure, or a gourmand, or luxurious, or a hard drinker, or anything of that sort--by no means. He could rough it, (so he said), as well as any man, and put up with whatever chanced to be going, but, when there was no occasion | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583579 | for roughing it, he did like to see things well cooked and nicely served; and wine, you know, was not worth drinking--positively nauseous--if it was not of the best. Sir Richard was a poor man--a very poor man. He had only five thousand a year--a mere pittance; and he managed this sum in such a peculiar way that he nev... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583580 | had anything wherewith to help a struggling friend, or to give to the poor, or to assist the various religious and charitable institutions by which he was surrounded; while at certain intervals in the year he experienced exasperating difficulty in meeting the demands of those torments to society, the tradespeople--peop... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583581 | willing to supply the nobility and gentry with food and clothing gratuitously! Moreover, Sir Richard never by any chance laid anything by. Standing by the pony's head, and making tender efforts to restrain his waywardness, stood a boy--a street boy--a city Arab. To a Londoner any description of this boy would be superf... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583582 | for the benefit of the world at large, that the class to which he belonged embodies within its pale the quintessence of rollicking mischief, and the sublimate of consummate insolence. This remarkable boy was afflicted with a species of dance--not that of Saint Vitus, but a sort of double-shuffle, with a stamp of the ri... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583583 | he was prone to indulge, consciously and unconsciously, at all times, and the tendency to which he sometimes found it difficult to resist. He was beginning to hum the sharply-defined air to which he was in the habit of performing this dance, when little Diana said, in a silvery voice quite in keeping with her beauty-- ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583584 | boy; I'm quite sure that he cannot bear restraint." It may be remarked here that little Di was probably a good judge on that point, being herself nearly incapable of bearing restraint. "I'd better not, miss," replied the boy with profound respect in tone and manner, for he had yet to be paid for the job; "he seems rait... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583585 | an' might take a fancy to bolt, you know." "Let his head go, I say!" returned Miss Diana with a flashing of the blue eyes, and a pursing of the rosebud mouth that proved her to be one of Adam's race after all. "Vell, now, don't you think," rejoined the boy, in an expostulating tone, "that it would be as | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583586 | veil to vait for the guv'nor before givin' 'im 'is 'ead?" "Do as I bid you, sir!" said Di, drawing herself up like an empress. Still the street boy held the pony's head, and it is probable that he would have come off the victor in this controversy, had not Diana's dignified action given to the reins which she held | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583587 | a jerk. The brown pony, deeming this full permission to go on, went off with a bound that overturned the boy, and caused the fore-wheel to strike him on the leg as it passed. Springing up with the intention of giving chase to the runaway, the little fellow again fell, with a sharp cry of pain, for his leg was | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583588 | broken. At the same moment Sir Richard Brandon issued from the door of his mansion leisurely, and with an air of calm serenity, pulling on his gloves. It was one of the knight's maxims that, under all circumstances, a gentleman should maintain an appearance of imperturbable serenity. When, however, he suddenly beheld t... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583589 | up in her wickerwork chariot, holding on to the brown pony like an Amazon warrior of ancient times, his maxim somehow evaporated. His serenity vanished. So did his hat as he bounded from beneath it, and left it far behind in his mad and hopeless career after the runaway. A policeman, coming up just as Sir Richard disap... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583590 | the assistance of the street boy. "Not much hurt, youngster," he said kindly, as he observed that the boy was very pale, and seemed to be struggling hard to repress his feelings. "Vell, p'raps I is an' p'raps I ain't, Bobby," replied the boy with an unsuccessful attempt at a smile, for he felt safe to chaff or insult h... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583591 | foe in the circumstances, "but vether hurt or not it vont much matter to you, vill it?" He fainted as he spoke, and the look of half-humorous impudence, as well as that of pain, gave place to an expression of infantine repose. The policeman was so struck by the unusual sight of a street boy looking innocent and unconsc... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583592 | he stooped and raised him quite tenderly in his arms. "You'd better carry him in here," said Sir Richard Brandon's butler, who had come out. "I saw it 'appen, and suspect he must be a good deal damaged." Sir Richard's footman backing the invitation, the boy was carried into the house accordingly, laid on the housemaid'... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583593 | by the cook, while the policeman went out to look after the runaways. "Oh! what ever shall we do?" exclaimed the cook, as the boy showed symptoms of returning consciousness. "Send for the doctor," suggested the housemaid. "No," said the butler, "send for a cab, and 'ave the boy sent home. I fear that master will blame ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583594 | way to my feelin's, and won't thank me for bringin' 'im in here. You know he is rather averse to the lower orders. Besides, the poor boy will be better attended to at 'ome, no doubt. I dare say you'd like to go 'ome, wouldn't you?" he said, observing that the boy was looking at him with a rather curious | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583595 | expression. "I dessay I should, if I could," he answered, with a mingled glance of mischief and pain, "but if you'll undertake to carry me, old cock, I'll be 'appy to go." "I'll send you in a cab, my poor boy," returned the butler, "and git a cabman as I'm acquainted with to take care of you." "All right! go | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583596 | a'ead, ye cripples," returned the boy, as the cook approached him with a cup of warm soup. "Oh! ain't it prime!" he said, opening his eyes very wide indeed, and smacking his lips. "I think I'll go in for a smashed pin every day o' my life for a drop o' that stuff. Surely it must be wot they drinks | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583597 | in 'eaven! Have 'ee got much more o' the same on 'and?" "Never mind, but you drink away while you've got the chance," replied the amiable cook; "there's the cab coming, so you've no time to lose." "Vell, I _am_ sorry I ain't able to 'old more, an' my pockets wont 'old it neither, bein' the wuss for wear. Thankee, | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583598 | missus." He managed, by a strong effort, to dispose of a little more soup before the cab drew up. "Where do you live?" asked the butler, as he placed the boy carefully in the bottom of the cab with his unkempt head resting on a hassock, which he gave him to understand was a parting gift from the housemaid. "Vere | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583599 | do I live?" he repeated. "Vy, mostly in the streets; my last 'ome was a sugar barrel, the one before was a donkey-cart, but I do sometimes condescend to wisit my parents in their mansion 'ouse in Vitechapel." "And what is your name? Sir Richard may wish to inquire for you-- perhaps." "May he? Oh! I'm sorry I ain't got | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
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