Vanity Fair William Makepeace Thackeray (portable ebook reader .txt) đ
- Author: William Makepeace Thackeray
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âLooking after his tithes, hangâun (only he used the same wicked word). Will brandy and water never kill him? Heâs as tough as old whatdyecallumâ âold Methusalem.â
Mr. Hodson laughed again. âThe young men is home from college. Theyâve whopped John Scroggins till heâs well nigh dead.â
âWhop my second keeper!â roared out Sir Pitt.
âHe was on the parsonâs ground, sir,â replied Mr. Hodson; and Sir Pitt in a fury swore that if he ever caught âem poaching on his ground, heâd transport âem, by the lord he would. However, he said, âIâve sold the presentation of the living, Hodson; none of that breed shall get it, I warântâ; and Mr. Hodson said he was quite right: and I have no doubt from this that the two brothers are at varianceâ âas brothers often are, and sisters too. Donât you remember the two Miss Scratchleys at Chiswick, how they used always to fight and quarrelâ âand Mary Box, how she was always thumping Louisa?
Presently, seeing two little boys gathering sticks in the wood, Mr. Hodson jumped out of the carriage, at Sir Pittâs order, and rushed upon them with his whip. âPitch into âem, Hodson,â roared the baronet; âflog their little souls out, and bring âem up to the house, the vagabonds; Iâll commit âem as sure as my nameâs Pitt.â And presently we heard Mr. Hodsonâs whip cracking on the shoulders of the poor little blubbering wretches, and Sir Pitt, seeing that the malefactors were in custody, drove on to the hall.
All the servants were ready to meet us, andâ ââ âŠ
Here, my dear, I was interrupted last night by a dreadful thumping at my door: and who do you think it was? Sir Pitt Crawley in his nightcap and dressing-gown, such a figure! As I shrank away from such a visitor, he came forward and seized my candle. âNo candles after eleven oâclock, Miss Becky,â said he. âGo to bed in the dark, you pretty little hussyâ (that is what he called me), âand unless you wish me to come for the candle every night, mind and be in bed at eleven.â And with this, he and Mr. Horrocks the butler went off laughing. You may be sure I shall not encourage any more of their visits. They let loose two immense bloodhounds at night, which all last night were yelling and howling at the moon. âI call the dog Gorer,â said Sir Pitt; âheâs killed a man that dog has, and is master of a bull, and the mother I used to call Flora; but now I calls her Aroarer, for sheâs too old to bite. Haw, haw!â
Before the house of Queenâs Crawley, which is an odious old-fashioned red brick mansion, with tall chimneys and gables of the style of Queen Bess, there is a terrace flanked by the family dove and serpent, and on which the great hall-door opens. And oh, my dear, the great hall I am sure is as big and as glum as the great hall in the dear castle of Udolpho. It has a large fireplace, in which we might put half Miss Pinkertonâs school, and the grate is big enough to roast an ox at the very least. Round the room hang I donât know how many generations of Crawleys, some with beards and ruffs, some with huge wigs and toes turned out, some dressed in long straight stays and gowns that look as stiff as towers, and some with long ringlets, and oh, my dear! scarcely any stays at all. At one end of the hall is the great staircase all in black oak, as dismal as may be, and on either side are tall doors with stagsâ heads over them, leading to the billiard-room and the library, and the great yellow saloon and the morning-rooms. I think there are at least twenty bedrooms on the first floor; one of them has the bed in which Queen Elizabeth slept; and I have been taken by my new pupils through all these fine apartments this morning. They are not rendered less gloomy, I promise you, by having the shutters always shut; and there is scarce one of the apartments, but when the light was let into it, I expected to see a ghost in the room. We have a schoolroom on the second floor, with my bedroom leading into it on one side, and that of the young ladies on the other. Then there are Mr. Pittâs apartmentsâ âMr. Crawley, he is calledâ âthe eldest son, and Mr. Rawdon Crawleyâs roomsâ âhe is an officer like somebody, and away with his regiment. There is no want of room I assure you. You might lodge all the people in Russell Square in the house, I think, and have space to spare.
Half an hour after our arrival, the great dinner-bell was rung, and I came down with my two pupils (they are very thin insignificant little chits of ten and eight years old). I came down in your dear muslin gown (about which that odious Mrs. Pinner was so rude, because you gave it me); for I am to be treated as one of the family, except on company days, when the young ladies and I are to dine upstairs.
Well, the great dinner-bell rang, and we all assembled in the little drawing-room where my Lady Crawley sits. She is the second Lady Crawley, and mother of the young ladies. She was an ironmongerâs daughter, and her marriage was thought a great match. She looks as if she had been handsome once, and her eyes are always weeping for the loss of her beauty. She is pale and meagre and high-shouldered, and has not a word to say for herself, evidently. Her stepson Mr. Crawley, was likewise in the room. He was in full dress, as pompous as an undertaker. He is pale, thin, ugly, silent; he has thin legs, no chest, hay-coloured whiskers, and straw-coloured hair. He is the very picture of his sainted mother over the mantelpieceâ âGriselda of the noble house of Binkie.
âThis is the new governess, Mr. Crawley,â said Lady
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