Modern Literature: A Novel (Complete)
9781465675460
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
Soon after the end of the war that was concluded by the peace of 1763, two gentlemen belonging to a corps that had returned from the Havannah, leaving their regiment in the South of England, were journeying northwards to visit the place of their nativity. Neither had in the course of their campaigns acquired opulent fortunes; but they had both made such progress in the road to wealth, that without any reasonable charge of prodigality or imprudence, in revisiting their relations they could indulge in the comforts of a postchaise. Travelling not being then effected with the modern rapidity, they proposed in a week to reach the capital of Scotland. Having set out on their expedition, they on the third day arrived at the beautiful town of Doncaster, whence they intended, after an early dinner, to proceed two stages farther. As they were ordering their repast they descried, from the windows of their apartment, a gentleman entering the inn, in whom they recognised a regimental mess-mate, the comrade of their conviviality, and the partner of their dangers. The new comer, finding fellow travellers so dear to his heart, insisted these his friends should accompany him to his native village in the same county. He could not prevail on them to deviate so materially from their northern course: he, however, succeeded in arresting its progress for several hours. Dinner had been on the table at two; at three the postillion had announced that every thing within the compass of his office was ready, but found that his fare were disposed to continue longer in their present quarters. It was seven o’clock before the gentlemen, taking the most affectionate leave of their companion, though naturally strong and active, were assisted by the landlord to their seats in the vehicle. Their friend had not accompanied them to the carriage, being left above found asleep in an elbow chair. No road can be plainer than from Doncaster to Ferrybridge. The postillion was a sharp intelligent fellow, that had been three years in his present service, and had travelled that stage at least three hundred times in that period. It was a remarkably fine evening in the middle of July. Nothing, therefore, appeared more unlikely than that he should miss his way. It has been often said, that example is more powerful than precept.—Early in the afternoon the travellers had ordered their Automedon into their presence, and, perhaps, foreseeing the probability of their own condition, had strongly interrogated him concerning his disposition to sobriety; his answers to their questions contained many asseverations in favour of his own temperance.—While he pocketed half a crown, which was given as a retaining fee, for the faithful and careful exertion of his professional skill, and swallowed a large bumper of brandy to the gentlemen’s health, he had averred that even his enemies could not say he was predicted to liquor. In this declaration he might perhaps be correct, as the most competent witnesses were not his enemies but his friends. It would be a feeble gratitude which would confine itself to expressions of regard in the presence of the benefactor. The post-boy’s prayers and libations for the health and prosperity of the bountiful donors did not cease to flow in streams of ale as long as the half crown and consequential credit lasted. After these pious and benignant offerings he had mounted, and in this condition had taken the northern road. The horses, being less bereft of their senses than their rational companions, for several miles proceeded directly to the destined place. They had already made their way through the turnpikes, passed the delightful woods around Robin Hood’s well, with their leader snoaring on his seat, and arrived at Darrington, where a road branches off to the left.
