img Rodney Stone  /  Chapter 8 THE BRIGHTON ROAD. | 36.36%
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Chapter 8 THE BRIGHTON ROAD.

Word Count: 3693    |    Released on: 29/11/2017

one of those ants of which I have read, who are so accustomed to be fed by smaller ants that when they are left to themselves they die of hunger. It

finished breakfast; "I can't afford to be beat. Loo

re, and there is a crowd round it. Ye

r tand

at th

all have such a drive a

s long brown driving-gauntlets and

for me, Coppinger. You know him and understand him. Let him have his warm milk and cura?oa the s

landlord. I saw the struggle upon my uncle

ssible. Can you do anything on a yard of tin? Well, if you can't, we'll leave the trumpet. Buckle that g

e's Court, and officers from Hove, all in a buzz of excitement; for Sir John Lade and my uncle were two

le. "He doesn't show before midday. Ah, Jack, good morning! Your

his rough, weather-beaten face, might have taken his seat with a line of professionals upon any ale-house bench without any one being able to pick him out as one of the wealthiest landowners in England. It was an age of eccentricity, but he had carried his peculiarities to a length which surprised even the out-and-outers by marrying the sweetheart of

us before Westminster with a quarte

hundred that we pass

chman's style, and away he went, taking the curve out of the square in a workmanlike fashion that fetched a cheer f

ose of the most unconcerned spectator. He was keenly on the alert, however, and it seemed to me that the stroke of the clock and the thong of his whip fell together-not in a blow, but in a sharp snap over the leader, which sent us flying with a jingle and a rattle upon our f

ough Friar's Oak and across St. John's Common without more than catching a glimpse of the yellow cottage which contained all that I loved best. Never have I travelled at such a pace, and never have I felt such a sense of exhilaration fr

bit, for I cannot afford to break the hearts of my cattle. They have the right blood in them, and they would gallop unti

r, but though I could see for a mile, or perhaps a q

all these hills they'll be spent

four to t

Cuckfield Place, where the towers are, yonder. Get your weight right forward on the splashboard now that we are

ssed the Royal Brighton stage, which had left at half-past seven, dragging heavily up the slope, and its passengers, toiling along through the dust behind, gave us a cheer as we whirled by. At Hand C

drive,

little

riving on the

s that

ry young man one might learn to handle his twenty yards of tape here as well as elsewhere. There's not much really good waggoning now south

n now a driver might do something on the road. With every turn I peered ahead, looking for our opponents, but my uncle seemed to concern himself very

you want to put a little life into a coach, see that you get your thong on to the one that needs it, and don't let it fly round after you've hit. I've see

blue river was drawing itself slowly along, passing under a bridge in front of us. Beyond was a young fir planta

rham Bridge, and we've done it in two hours and fourteen minutes. The Prince drove to Carlton House with a three tandem in four hours

s, cottages went dancing by. We heard the folks shouting from the fields, under the impression that we were a runaway. Faster and faster yet they raced, the hoofs rattling like castanets, the yellow manes flying, the wheels buzzing, and every joi

"We've time in hand now, and a little water at the Red L

gone

ng h

s cart at the corner of the High Street, and was out o' s

s. It was a sight to see how my uncle threaded his way amongst them all. Through the market-place we dashed amidst the shouting of men, the screaming of women, and the scuttlin

, and through it we had a shadowy peep of the backs of our

e must pass them. Hark forrard, my beauti

er. It was but a stone, wedged between frog and shoe in the off fore-foot, but it was a minute or two before we

he touched the mares up, for he had but cracked the whip over their heads before.

and hoarse, and their beautiful coats were matted with moisture. At the

o?" cried my uncle. "Can you ma

ith carts and waggons coming from Croydon to Redhill

es round into a side road which struck to the right out of that whic

mselves out gallantly, and the distance between us began slowly to decrease. I found that I could see the black band upon Sir John's whi

ht that he could make better time by getting out of the way of the market carts. But we

bruptly as if it had bumped down the first three steps of some gigantic stairs. An instant later we had reached the same spot, and there was the r

e, why should I? Now, my darlings, one good spurt

ip in front of us, and the shrill voice of Lady Lade as she screamed to the horses. My uncle was very quiet, but when I glanced up at him I saw that his lips were set and his eyes shining, with just a little flush upon each pale cheek. There was no need to urge on the mares, for they were already flying at a p

" said my un

! Fan 'em!" sh

and lashed

houted. "There's a damnatio

e was not six inches to spare in the breadth of the road, and every instant I expected to feel the jar of a locking wheel

e. The road narrowed down at the point, so that it was obvious that the two carriages abreast could no

my uncle. "You mus

!" he

her ladyship. "Fan 'em,

nd left at the mares, who, maddened by the unaccustomed pain, hurled themselves on in a frenzy. Down we thundered together, all shouting, I believe, at the top of our voices in the madness of the moment; but still we were drawing steadily away,

e cried. "Jam the-be

ch of the black leader which caught our wheel, but the forequarter, which had not weight enough to turn us from our course. I saw a red wet seam gape suddenly through the black ha

oulder. "I could not have believed that Sir John Lade would have been guilty of such a trick as pulling

the lady

cleared, and h

ixteen-string Jack about the trick. Well, it is only messages of another kind that I send to a lady, s

illas closed up thicker and thicker, until their shoulders met, and we were driving between a double line of houses with garish shops at the corners, and such a stream of traffic as I had never seen, roaring down the centre. Then suddenly we were on a

ow do, your Grace? How do? That's the Duke of Norfolk-the stout man in blue upon the swish-tailed mare. Now we are in Whitehall

ondon was merely a wilderness of houses, but I was astonished now t

e barouche, with the sharp-featured man peeping out of the window. That's Pitt, going down to the House. We are coming into Pall Mall now, and this great building on the left is Carlton House, the Prince's Palace. There's St. James's, the big, dingy place with the clock, and t

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