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Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge), 1825-1900

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"


It was all over the village, in the time it takes to put a hat on, that
the British and the French fleets were hammer and tongs at it, within
the distance you may throw an apple off Springhaven headland.
Even the young women knew that this was quite impossible, because there
was no water there for a collier-brig to anchor; nevertheless, in the
hurry and scare, the thoughts of that new battery and Lord Nelson, and
above all in the fog, they believed it. So that there was scarcely any
room to stand, at the Watch-point, inside the Shag-rock; while in church
there was no one who could help being there, by force of holy office, or
example.
These latter were not in a devout frame of mind, and (but for the look
of it) would have done more good by joining the other congregation.
For the sound of cannon-shot came into their ears, like balls of
unadulterated pepper, and every report made them look at one another,
and whisper--"Ah! there goes some poor fellow's head." For the sacred
building was constructed so that the sounds outside of it had more power
than the good things offered in the inside.
However, as many, or as few, as did their duty, by joining the good
company of the minister, found themselves all the better for it, and
more fresh for a start than the runagates. Inasmuch as these latter had
nearly got enough of listening without seeing anything, while the steady
church-goers had refreshed the entire system by looking about without
listening.


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