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

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"

But I hold the great Emperor's process signed for
that; and if you come to my cookery, you will say that I am capable
of enjoyment. Fighting I enjoy not, as hot men do, nor guzzling, nor
swigging, nor singing of songs; for all of which you have a talent, my
friend. But the triumph of quiet skill I like; and I love to turn the
balance on my enemies. Of these there are plenty, and among them all who
live in that fishy little hole down there."
Carne pointed contemptuously at Springhaven, that poor little village
in the valley. But the sun had just lifted his impartial face above the
last highland that baulked his contemplation of the home of so many and
great virtues; and in the brisk moisture of his early salute the village
in the vale looked lovely. For a silvery mist was flushed with rose,
like a bridal veil warmed by the blushes of the bride, and the curves of
the land, like a dewy palm leaf, shone and sank alternate.
"What a rare blaze they will make!" continued Carne, as the sunlight
glanced along the russet thatch, and the blue smoke arose from the
earliest chimney. "Every cottage there shall be a bonfire, because it
has cast off allegiance to me. The whole race of Darling will be at my
mercy--the pompous old Admiral, who refused to call on me till his idiot
of a son persuaded him--that wretched poetaster, who reduced me to the
ignominy of reading his own rubbish to him--and the haughty young woman
that worships a savage who has treated me with insult.


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