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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

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

The University was represented
in force: eleven persons, including ourselves, Byfield the
aeronaut, and the tall lad, Forbes, whom I had met on the Sunday
morning, bedewed with tallow, at the 'Hunters' Rest.' I was
introduced; and we set off by way of Newhaven and the sea beach; at
first through pleasant country roads, and afterwards along a
succession of bays of a fairylike prettiness, to our destination--
Cramond on the Almond--a little hamlet on a little river, embowered
in woods, and looking forth over a great flat of quicksand to where
a little islet stood planted in the sea. It was miniature scenery,
but charming of its kind. The air of this good February afternoon
was bracing, but not cold. All the way my companions were
skylarking, jesting and making puns, and I felt as if a load had
been taken off my lungs and spirits, and skylarked with the best of
them.
Byfield I observed, because I had heard of him before, and seen his
advertisements, not at all because I was disposed to feel interest
in the man. He was dark and bilious and very silent; frigid in his
manners, but burning internally with a great fire of excitement;
and he was so good as to bestow a good deal of his company and
conversation (such as it was) upon myself, who was not in the least
grateful. If I had known how I was to be connected with him in the
immediate future, I might have taken more pains.


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