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Gough, George W.

"The Yeoman Adventurer"

No one who has yet
seen him has seen a bigger, though most of them have heard of one.
I lit my candles, got my pipe going, and drew my chair near the fire to
read and smoke. It was, however, early days yet for me to read for long.
Moreover, by habit I had picked up my Virgil, and it was as yet impossible
for me to feel the tips of my fingers in the teeth-marks without thinking
of the poor wretch who had made them. I could see in exactest detail his
dead body lying in the road and Swift Nicks beside it, pitching the bag of
guineas up and down in the air, and smiling gleefully and yet wistfully at
me. From that grim event, whether my mind travelled backwards or forwards,
it traversed scenes such as few men are privileged, or fated, to pass
through.
It was, again, too soon for me to realize the full effect of my
experiences on myself. I was not moody, as in the days aforetime. I
neither loathed my lot nor cursed my destiny. I had seen warfare and
bloodshed, I had had my heart wrung and my nerves racked, and now the
peaceful meadows winding along the river and stretching up to the purple
hills were dear to eyes from which the scales had fallen.


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