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

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"

I shall enjoy my evening all the more for this."
And truly there seemed to be no reason why all the guests at that great
festival, save those who had speeches to make, should not enjoy their
evening thoroughly. Great preparations had been made, and goodly
presents contributed; plenty of serving-men would be there, and John
Prater (now growing white-headed and portly) was becoming so skilful a
caterer that if anything was suggested to him, he had always thought of
it long ago. The only grief was that the hour should be so late--five
o'clock, an unchristian time, as they said, for who could have manners
after starving so long?
There was some sense in this; but the unreasonable lateness of the hour
could not be helped, because the Lord-Lieutenant had to wait upon the
King at eight o'clock that morning. That he could do so, and yet be in
Springhaven by five, seemed almost impossible; for only ten years ago
the journey took two days. But the war seemed to make everything go
quicker, and it was no use to wonder at anything. Only if everything
else went quicker, why should dinner (the most important of them all)
come slower? And as yet there was nobody to answer this; though perhaps
there is no one to ask it now.
All things began very beautifully. The young ladies slipped in
unobserved, and the elder blessings of mankind came after, escorting
themselves with dignity. Then the heroes who had fought, and the
gallants who had not had the luck yet, but were eager for it, came
pleasantly clanking in, well girt to demolish ox and sheep, like Ajax,
in lack of loftier carnage.


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