Foxholme Hall And other Tales

William Henry Giles Kingston

2020년 9월 · Library of Alexandria

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We had our choice given us whether we would spend our Christmas holidays with our most kind and estimable old relative, our motherÕs cousin, Miss Gillespie, in Russell-square, and go to the theatre and panoramas, and other highly edifying entertainments, or at Foxholme, in the New Forest, with our great uncle, Sir Hugh Worsley. ÒFoxholme for ever, I should think indeed!Ó exclaimed my brother Jack, making a face which was not complimentary to Cousin Barbara. ÒBut she is a good kind old soul, if she wasnÕt so pokerish and prim; and that was a dead-alive fortnight we spent with her two winters ago. I say Foxholme for ever.Ó
ÒFoxholme for ever,Ó I repeated. ÒOf course there couldnÕt be the thinnest slice of a shadow of doubt about the matter. ThereÕll be Cousin Peter, and Julia, and Tom and Ned Oxenberry, and Sam Barnby, and Ponto, and Hector, and Beauty, and Polly; and thereÕll be hunting, and shooting, and skating, if thereÕs a frostÑand of course there will be a frostÑand, oh, it will be such jolly fun!Ó
A few weeks after this we were bowling along the road to Southampton on the top of the old Telegraph, driven by TaylorÑas fine a specimen of a Jehu as ever took whip in handÑwith four white horsesÑa team of which he was justly proud. I see him now before me, his fine tall figure, truly Roman nose, and eagle eye, looking as fit to command an army as to drive a coach, with his white great-coat buttoned well up to his gay-coloured handkerchief, a flower of some sort decking his breast, a broad-brimmed beaver of white or grey, and a whip which looked as if it had just come from the makerÕs handsÑindeed, everything about him was polished, from the crown of his hat to his well-fitting boots; and I believe that no accident ever happened to the coach he drove.