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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

Some distance off, under the shelter
of a corner of the road and a clump of trees, I loaded Rowley with
the whole of our possessions, and watched him till he staggered in
safety into the doors of the Green Dragon, which was the sign of
the house. Thence I walked briskly into Aylesbury, rejoicing in my
freedom and the causeless good spirits that belong to a snowy
morning; though, to be sure, long before I had arrived the snow had
again ceased to fall, and the eaves of Aylesbury were smoking in
the level sun. There was an accumulation of gigs and chaises in
the yard, and a great bustle going forward in the coffee-room and
about the doors of the inn. At these evidences of so much travel
on the road I was seized with a misgiving lest it should be
impossible to get horses, and I should be detained in the
precarious neighbourhood of my cousin. Hungry as I was, I made my
way first of all to the postmaster, where he stood--a big,
athletic, horsey-looking man, blowing into a key in the corner of
the yard.
On my making my modest request, he awoke from his indifference into
what seemed passion.
'A po'-shay and 'osses!' he cried. 'Do I look as if I 'ad a po'-
shay and 'osses? Damn me, if I 'ave such a thing on the premises.
I don't MAKE 'osses and chaises--I 'IRE 'em. You might be God
Almighty!' said he; and instantly, as if he had observed me for the
first time, he broke off, and lowered his voice into the
confidential.


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