Tracks Of A Rolling Stone by Henry J. Coke (free e reader txt) 📖
- Author: Henry J. Coke
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Bade 'George Ring The Bell,' Was As Perfect A Model Of
Deportment As The Great Mr. Turveydrop Himself. His Studied
Decorum Possibly Provoked The Playfulness Of The Young Puppy;
And Amongst Other Attempts To Disturb The Beau's Complacency,
Master Byng Ran A Pin Into The Calf Of That Gentleman's Leg,
And Then He Ran Away. A Few Days Later Mr. Brummell, Who Had
Carefully Dissembled His Wrath, Invited The Unwary Youth To
Breakfast, Telling Him That He Was Leaving Town, And Had A
Present Which His Young Friend Might Have, If He Chose To
Fetch It. The Boy Kept The Appointment, And The Beau His
Chapter 37 Pg 200Promise. After An Excellent Breakfast, Brummell Took A Whip
From His Cupboard, And Gave It To The Poodle In A Way The
Young Dog Was Not Likely To Forget.
The Happiest Of My Days Then, And Perhaps Of My Life, Were
Spent At Mr. Ellice's Highland Lodge, At Glenquoich. For
Sport Of All Kinds It Was And Is Difficult To Surpass. The
Hills Of The Deer Forest Are Amongst The Highest In Scotland;
The Scenery Of Its Lake And Glens, Especially The Descent To
Loch Hourne, Is Unequalled. Here Were To Be Met Many Of The
Most Notable Men And Women Of The Time. And As The House Was
Twenty Miles From The Nearest Post-Town, And That In Turn Two
Days From London, Visitors Ceased To Be Strangers Before They
Left. In The Eighteen Years During Which This Was My Autumn
Home, I Had The Good Fortune To Meet Numbers Of Distinguished
People Of Whom I Could Now Record Nothing Interesting But
Their Names. Still, It Is A Privilege To Have Known Such Men
As John Lawrence, Guizot, Thiers, Landseer, Merimee, Comte De
Flahault, Doyle, Lords Elgin And Dalhousie, Duc De Broglie,
Pelissier, Panizzi, Motley, Delane, Dufferin; And Of Gifted
Women, The Three Sheridans, Lady Seymour - The Queen Of
Beauty, Afterwards Duchess Of Somerset - Mrs. Norton, And
Lady Dufferin. Amongst Those Who Have A Retrospective
Interest Were Mr. And Lady Blanche Balfour, Parents Of Mr.
Arthur Balfour, Who Came There On Their Wedding Tour In 1843.
Mr. Arthur Balfour's Father Was Mrs. Ellice's First Cousin.
It Would Be Easy To Lengthen The List; But I Mention Only
Those Who Repeated Their Visits, And Who Fill Up My Mental
Picture Of The Place And Of The Life. Some Amongst Them
Impressed Me Quite As Much For Their Amiability - Their
Loveableness, I May Say - As For Their Renown; And Regard For
Them Increased With Coming Years. Panizzi Was One Of These.
Dufferin, Who Was Just My Age, Would Have Fascinated Anyone
With The Singular Courtesy Of His Manner. Dicky Doyle Was
Necessarily A Favourite With All Who Knew Him. He Was A
Frequent Inmate Of My House After I Married, And Was Engaged
To Dine With Me, Alas! Only Eight Days Before He Died.
Motley Was A Singularly Pleasant Fellow. My Friendship With
Him Began Over A Volume Of Sir W. Hamilton's Lectures. He
Asked What I Was Reading - I Handed Him The Book.
'A-H,' Said He, 'There's No Mental Gymnastic Like
Metaphysics.'
Many A Battle We Afterwards Had Over Them. When I Was At
Cannes In 1877 I Got A Message From Him One Day Saying He Was
Ill, And Asking Me To Come And See Him. He Did Not Say How
Ill, So I Put Off Going. Two Days After I Heard He Was Dead.
Merimee's Cynicism Rather Alarmed One. He Was A Capital
Caricaturist, Though, To Our Astonishment, He Assured Us He
Had Never Drawn, Or Used A Colour-Box, Till Late In Life. He
Had Now Learnt To Use It, In A Way That Did Not Invariably
Chapter 37 Pg 201Give Satisfaction. Landseer Always Struck Me As Sensitive
And Proud, A Diogenes-Tempered Individual Who Had Been Spoilt
By The Toadyism Of Great People. He Was Agreeable If Made
Much Of, Or Almost Equally So If Others Were Made Little Of.
But Of All Those Named, Surely John Lawrence Was The
Greatest. I Wish I Had Read His Life Before It Ended. Yet,
Without Knowing Anything More Of Him Than That He Was Chief
Commissioner Of The Punjab, Which Did Not Convey Much To My
Understanding, One Felt The Greatness Of The Man Beneath His
Calm Simplicity. One Day The Party Went Out For A Deer-
Drive; I Was Instructed To Place Sir John In The Pass Below
Mine. To My Disquietude He Wore A Black Overcoat. I Assured
Him That Not A Stag Would Come Within A Mile Of Us, Unless He
Covered Himself With A Grey Plaid, Or Hid Behind A Large Rock
There Was, Where I Assured Him He Would See Nothing.
'Have The Deer To Pass Me Before They Go On To You?' He
Asked.
'Certainly They Have,' Said I; 'I Shall Be Up There Above
You.'
'Well Then,' Was His Answer, 'I'll Get Behind The Rock - It
Will Be More Snug Out Of The Wind.'
One Might As Well Have Asked The Deer Not To See Him, As Try
To Persuade John Lawrence Not To Sacrifice Himself For
Others. That He Did So Here Was Certain, For The Deer Came
Within Fifty Yards Of Him, But He Never Fired A Shot.
Another Of The Indian Viceroys Was The Innocent Occasion Of
Great Discomfort To Me, Or Rather His Wife Was. Lady Elgin
Had Left Behind Her A Valuable Diamond Necklace. I Was Going
Back To My Private Tutor At Ely A Few Days After, And The
Necklace Was Entrusted To Me To Deliver To Its Owner On My
Way Through London. There Was No Railway Then Further North
Than Darlington, Except That Between Edinburgh And Glasgow.
When I Reached Edinburgh By Coach From Inverness, My
Portmanteau Was Not To Be Found. The Necklace Was In A
Despatch-Box In My Portmanteau; And By An Unlucky Oversight,
I Had Put My Purse Into My Despatch-Box. What Was To Be
Done? I Was A Lad Of Seventeen, In A Town Where I Did Not
Know A Soul, With Seven Or Eight Shillings At Most In My
Pocket. I Had To Break My Journey And To Stop Where I Was
Till I Could Get News Of The Necklace; This Alone Was Clear
To Me, For The Necklace Was The One Thing I Cared For.
At The Coach Office All The Comfort I Could Get Was That The
Lost Luggage Might Have Gone On To Glasgow; Or, What Was More
Probable, Might Have Gone Astray At Burntisland. It Might
Not Have Been Put On Board, Or It Might Not Have Been Taken
Off The Ferry-Steamer. This Could Not Be Known For Twenty-
Four Hours, As There Was No Boat To Or From Burntisland Till
Chapter 37 Pg 202The Morrow. I Decided To Try Glasgow. A Return Third-Class
Ticket Left Me Without A Copper. I Went, Found Nothing, Got
Back To Edinburgh At 10 P.M., Ravenously Hungry, Dead Tired,
And So Frightened About The Necklace That Food, Bed, Means Of
Continuing My Journey, Were As Mere Death Compared With
Irreparable Dishonour. What Would They All Think Of Me? How
Could I Prove That I Had Not Stolen The Diamonds? Would Lord
Elgin Accuse Me? How Could I Have Been Such An Idiot As To
Leave Them In My Portmanteau! Some Rascal Might Break It
Open, And Then, Goodbye To My Chance For Ever! Chance? What
Chance Was There Of Seeing That Luggage Again? There Were So
Many 'Mights.' I Couldn't Even Swear That I Had Seen It On
The Coach At Inverness. Oh Dear! Oh Dear! What Was To Be
Done? I Walked About The Streets; I Glanced Woefully At
Door-Steps, Whereon To Pass The Night; I Gazed Piteously
Through The Windows Of A Cheap Cook's Shop, Where Solid
Wedges Of Baked Pudding, That Would Have Stopped Digestion
For A Month, Were Advertised For A Penny A Block. How Rich
Should I Have Been If I Had Had A Penny In My Pocket! But I
Had To Turn Away In Despair.
At Last The Inspiration Came. I Remembered Hearing Mr.
Ellice Say That He Always Put Up At Douglas' Hotel When He
Stayed In Edinburgh. I Had Very Little Hope Of Success, But
I Was Too Miserable To Hesitate. It Was Very Late, And
Everybody Might Be Gone To Bed. I Rang The Bell. 'I Want To
See The Landlord.'
'Any Name?' The Porter Asked.
'No.' The Landlord Came, Fat, Amiable Looking. 'May I Speak
To You In Private?' He Showed The Way To An Unoccupied Room.
'I Think You Know Mr. Ellice?'
'Glenquoich, Do You Mean?'
'Yes.'
'Oh, Very Well - He Always Stays Here On His Way Through.'
'I Am His Step-Son; I Left Glenquoich Yesterday. I Have Lost
My Luggage, And Am Left Without Any Money. Will You Lend Me
Five Pounds?' I Believe If I Were In The Same Strait Now,
And Entered Any Strange Hotel In The United Kingdom At Half-
Past Ten At Night, And Asked The Landlord To Give Me Five
Pounds Upon A Similar Security, He Would Laugh In My Face, Or
Perhaps Give Me In Charge Of A Policeman.
My Host Of Douglas' Did Neither; But Opened Both His Heart
And His Pocket-Book, And With The Greatest Good Humour Handed
Me The Requested Sum. What Good People There Are In This
World, Which That Crusty Old Sir Peter Teazle Calls 'A D-D
Wicked One.' I Poured Out All My Trouble To The Generous
Man. He Ordered Me An Excellent Supper, And A Very Nice
Chapter 37 Pg 203Room. And On The Following Day, After Taking A Great Deal Of
Trouble, He Recovered My Lost Luggage And The Priceless
Treasure It Contained. It Was A Proud And Happy Moment When
I Returned His Loan, And Convinced Him, Of What He Did Not
Seem To Doubt, That I Was Positively Not A Swindler.
But The
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