登陆注册
14818900000036

第36章

Mr. Chainmail did not wait to be asked twice. In a few minutes the whole party, Miss Susan and Mr. Chainmail, Mr. and Mrs. Ap-Llymry, and progeny, were seated over a clean homespun table cloth, ornamented with fowls and bacon, a pyramid of potatoes, another of cabbage, which Ap-Llymry said "was poiled with the pacon, and as coot as marrow," a bowl of milk for the children, and an immense brown jug of foaming ale, with which Ap-Llymry seemed to delight in filling the horn of his new guest.

Shall we describe the spacious apartment, which was at once kitchen, hall, and dining-room,--the large dark rafters, the pendent bacon and onions, the strong old oaken furniture, the bright and trimly-arranged utensils? Shall we describe the cut of Ap-Llymry's coat, the colour and tie of his neckcloth, the number of buttons at his knees,--the structure of Mrs. Ap-Llymry's cap, having lappets over the ears, which were united under the chin, setting forth especially whether the bond of union were a pin or a ribbon? We shall leave this tempting field of interesting expatiation to those whose brains are high-pressure steam-engines for spinning prose by the furlong, to be trumpeted in paid-for paragraphs in the quack's corner of newspapers: modern literature having attained the honourable distinction of sharing, with blacking and Macassar oil, the space which used to be monopolised by razor-strops and the lottery; whereby that very enlightened community, the reading public, is tricked into the perusal of much exemplary nonsense; though the few who see through the trickery have no reason to complain, since as "good wine needs no bush," so, ex vi oppositi, these bushes of venal panegyric point out very clearly that the things they celebrate are not worth reading.

The party dined very comfortably in a corner most remote from the fire: and Mr. Chainmail very soon found his head swimming with two or three horns of ale, of a potency to which even he was unaccustomed. After dinner Ap-Llymry made him finish a bottle of mead, which he willingly accepted, both as an excuse to remain and as a drink of the dark ages, which he had no doubt was a genuine brewage from uncorrupted tradition.

In the meantime, as soon as the cloth was removed, the children had brought out Miss Susannah's harp. She began, without affectation, to play and sing to the children, as was her custom of an afternoon, first in their own language, and their national melodies, then in English; but she was soon interrupted by a general call of little voices for "Ouf! di giorno." She complied with the request, and sang the ballad from Paer's Camilla: "Un di carco il mulinaro." The children were very familiar with every syllable of this ballad, which had been often fully explained to them. They danced in a circle with the burden of every verse, shouting out the chorus with good articulation and joyous energy; and at the end of the second stanza, where the traveller has his nose pinched by his grandmother's ghost, every nose in the party was nipped by a pair of little fingers. Mr. Chainmail, who was not prepared for the process, came in for a very energetic tweak from a chubby girl that sprang suddenly on his knees for the purpose, and made the roof ring with her laughter.

So passed the time till evening, when Mr. Chainmail moved to depart. But it turned out on inquiry that he was some miles from his inn, that the way was intricate, and that he must not make any difficulty about accepting the farmer's hospitality till morning.

The evening set in with rain: the fire was found agreeable; they drew around it. The young lady made tea; and afterwards, from time to time, at Mr. Chainmail's special request, delighted his ear with passages of ancient music. Then came a supper of lake trout, fried on the spot, and thrown, smoking hot, from the pan to the plate.

Then came a brewage, which the farmer called his nightcap, of which he insisted on Mr. Chainmail's taking his full share. After which the gentleman remembered nothing till he awoke, the next morning, to the pleasant consciousness that he was under the same roof with one of the most fascinating creatures under the canopy of heaven.

同类推荐
热门推荐
  • 安然浅陌

    安然浅陌

    简安然,18岁的高三女孩,成绩优异,老师眼前的小红人,班级里的大红人。于陌,19岁的高三男孩,门门挂科,老师眼里的大麻烦,班级里的小魔王。情窦初开的年纪,懵懵懂懂的感觉,稀里糊涂的大脑,凄凄惨惨的故事。
  • 李相国论事集

    李相国论事集

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。
  • 期待是一种美好的感情

    期待是一种美好的感情

    期待是一种美好的感情,因为期待,生命多了存在的意义……因为有了期待,生活才会多姿多彩……
  • 重生:洪荒血魔

    重生:洪荒血魔

    她,第一杀手,却在一次任务中,因队友反目而意外殒落...她,异世重生,却为家中废柴,且六岁前记忆全无,在一次意外中唤醒了远古的记忆,揭露了真正的身世...她,在去往学院的路途中,救下遭遇追杀的他,并于他结伴同行...他与使命她会如何选择?是选择与他相伴?还是选择接受使命?
  • 风华天下:师尊在上

    风华天下:师尊在上

    在大雪纷飞的赤雪山,他们第一次相见。为了看自己母亲一眼,凤纤华拜了帝墨为师。三个响头一磕,“师傅在上!”凤纤华那稚嫩的声音竟让寒冷的赤雪山有了一丝暖意。帝墨带着只有年仅五岁的凤纤华回到家族看到了自己母亲那甚至没有尸骨的身体,被自己的国人叫为祸国妖女!“师傅,带我走,然后我们回来毁了这里可好?”“华儿说什么,便是什么。”在凤纤华十七岁时,一袭红衣站在尸体堆成的小山上,笑着说:“师傅,抱我。”帝墨看着满身戾气的她,想着哪流传三界的预言:红衣风华,覆灭人间......
  • 农门娇妻

    农门娇妻

    堂堂女硕士重生到一个没有电器网络的时代,置身于一个一贫如洗的家庭,原主的脑子竟还有些痴呆,莫名其妙而且还嫁了人。这不是最悲催的事情,悲催的是作为被收养的女儿,底下还有一堆拖油瓶,更重要的是,家中一贫如洗,吃了这顿没下顿,如今只能够拼一把了,没有十八般武艺,有得只是一双勤劳的手,一颗想发家致富的心……情节虚构,请勿模仿
  • 密迹力士大权神王经偈颂

    密迹力士大权神王经偈颂

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。
  • 满庭微风动花落

    满庭微风动花落

    寂寂宫墙,满庭芬芳。微风清拂,却落红无数。究是这微风残忍,还是怪这满庭芳菲,徒有争妍斗艳之心,却失了磐石之志?可笑浮生若梦,为欢又将几何?唯愿,岁岁年年常扈跸,长长久久乐升平。
  • 百兽至尊

    百兽至尊

    天下万物,有阴有阳,阴阳相合,乃为虚无,实实虚虚,虚虚实实,相合相离,轮轮回回,虚无尽头,轮回之眼,尽是混沌。看唐天悟阴阳,领虚无,参轮回,创混沌。
  • 换我心为你心

    换我心为你心

    从小内向被人欺负,后来下定决心改变自己,把胆子变大,就算害怕,也要在气势上毫无畏惧,升入高中,原本不起眼的她,在学校学习朋友恋爱三丰收,奈何美好总是短暂的,永夜抛人何处去?绝来音。怨孤衾。换我心,为你心,始知相忆深。