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Soyer's Culinary Campaign: Being Historical Reminiscences of the Late War.: With The Plain Art of Cookery for Military and Civil Institutions
by Soyer, Alexis · Page 25 of 593 · 207,454 words
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“What has happened that you are so late to-day?” said the landlord to the coachman. “Nothing particular, governor; only a trace broke, and we had to fetch another: besides, the roads are very slippery.” To the barmaid--“Give us a light, girl, and a go of keep-me-warm.” “Don’t believe him, sir,” exclaimed an old lady, who, upon the sudden stoppage when the trace broke, had a quarrel with the coachman. In opening the window violently, she broke it in twenty pieces; popping her head, half of which was covered with snow, out of the window--“He is a perfect brute,” said she; “he tried to upset us, and then would not move for above an hour at least--see the state I am in; is it not a great shame, a woman like me?” “Well, madam,” said the landlord, “why don’t you shut the window?” “What’s the use of pulling it up?--it’s broken in a thousand pieces, all through that nasty fellow!” “I can assure you, madam, he bears a very good character with the gentry about here.” The coachman, lighting his short pipe, and coming near them, said, “Don’t take notice of the old lady, she means no harm.” “Don’t I, though! I say again, before everybody, you are a brute and a villain!” “Go it, marm, go it,” said he, getting up. “It’s nothing new to me--my wife tells me that every day, which is partly the cause we have no family.” The favourite horse language of the coachman was again, heard--“Fly away to the assault like a set of Zouaves!” and in a few minutes nothing but a small black spot, resembling a fly crossing a sheet of paper, was seen running up the snow-covered hill which leads to the small village of Virginia Water. I speedily joined the worthy and well-known landlord of the “Wheatsheaf”--Mr. Jennings, and his cheerful wife and barmaid; all of whom gave me a hearty country welcome, shaking my hands and arms in every direction _ad libitum_, in anticipation, no doubt, of my remembering them for a few days at all events. At the close
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