Читать книгу The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 17, No. 472, January 22, 1831 - Various - Страница 3

COACH COMPANY

(For the Mirror.)

Returning (said my friend Mrs. S.) once upon a time, some fifty miles from a country visit, a few difficulties regarding my conveyance to town were at length decided by my taking a seat in the – Telegraph. A respectable-looking, middle-aged woman, in widow's mourning, was, I found, to be my companion for the whole way, whose urbanity and loquacity, combined, soon afforded me the important information that she was travelling over England, in order to take the advice of several of the faculty touching the case of "a poor cripple—a gentleman—a relation of hers." A gentleman! But scarcely had I taken another survey of the honest dame, in order to assure myself that she at least was not a member of the aristocracy of Great Britain, and thereby to instruct my judgment as to the actual rank of him whom she designated by so proud a title, when I was favoured with a long history of "the lady who lost her shawl, which I found—and she has visited me ever since." A lady!—and a lady, good, agreeable, and condescending, no doubt; but—the query occurred to my mind involuntarily—what kind of lady must she be who would "come oft'n to take a cup o' tea, or a sup o' sommat better, wi' me, in my poor little place?"

I confess, this voluntary information, not less than the tone and language in which it was delivered, prejudiced me so little in favour of my companion, that I took up pencil and paper, and was shortly wrapped in the most agreeable reverie. Briefly, I was in the exquisite Land of Faerie: I beheld the beautiful little people; their tiny feet twinkled in the dance; their small arms waved lightly and gently; and their perfect forms were miniature models of all loveliness and grace;—the rosy blush of affection tinted the delicate cheeks of the fair; their eyes gleamed, like the minute gems which cluster around the ice-plant;—and lo! a pair, as far different from these as is darkness from light, now peered into my face, and a voice, very unlike the blissful tones of the gay music of Faëry Land, exclaimed,

"Um 'fear'd you ar'n't well, mum, hey?"

"Thank you, I am perfectly well."

"Are you indeed? why you set up your eyes, and looked as pale and peekin like, as if you'd seen a sperrit."

"Did I? perhaps I was thinking; and naturally I am very pale."

"Oh well—um glad 'tis no wuss; but setting there as you do, with your back to the osses, 'tis the most foolishest thing in the wuld, for a sickly-like-looking cretur, as I may say yourself, to think on—du come o' this side."

I declined the good woman's proposition, alleging that riding backwards I always found the best preventive of illness from the motion of the vehicle.

"Now really," I exclaimed she, almost aghast with astonishment, "that is curous! But um fear'd you're faint, though you won't tell me so. Here," handing to me a large basket, well stored, I perceived, with provender, "take a happle, or a bun, or a sandwage, or a bit o' gingerbread—and a fine thing too it is for the stomach—or a pear, or a puff, or a chiscake;—I always take a cup of chocolate, and a slice of rich plum-cake, every morning after breakfast: 'tis peticklar wholesome, a gentleman of my acquaintance says; and this I know, I should be dead in no time if I didn't—so du take something."

I could not be so ill-natured as to reject all the offers made me by this benevolent, but uncouth gentlewoman