The Irish Sketch-Book

Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book The Irish Sketch-Book by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh, Library of Alexandria
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: Mr. M. A. Titmarsh ISBN: 9781613102831
Publisher: Library of Alexandria Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
ISBN: 9781613102831
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English
A Summer Day in Dublin, or there and thereabouts THE coach that brings the passenger by wood and mountain, by brawling waterfall and gloomy plain, by the lonely lake of Festiniog and across the swinging world's wonder of a Menai Bridge, through dismal Anglesea to dismal Holyhead--the Birmingham mail manages matters so cleverly, that after 10 hours' ride the traveller is thrust incontinently on board the packet and the steward says there's no use in providing dinner on board, because the passage is so short. That is true: but why not give us half an hour on shore? Ten hours spent on a coach-box render the dinner question one of extreme importance; and as the packet reaches Kingstown at midnight, when all the world is asleep, the inn-larders locked up, and the cook in bed; and as the mail is not landed until five in the morning (at which hour the passengers are considerately awakened by great stamping and shouting overhead), might not "Lord Lowther" give us one little half hour? Even the steward agreed that it was a useless and atrocious tyranny; and, indeed, after a little demur, produced a half-dozen of fried eggs, a feeble makeshift for a dinner. Our passage across from the Head was made in a rain so pouring and steady, that sea and coast were entirely hidden from us, and one could see very little beyond the glowing tip of the cigar which remained alight nobly in spite of the weather. Then the gallant exertions of that fiery spirit were over forever, and burning bravely to the end it had breathed its last in doing its master service, all became black and cheerless around; the passengers had dropped off one by one, preferring to be dry and ill below rather than wet and squeamish above; even the mate, with his gold-laced cap (who is so astonishingly like Mr. Charles Dickens that he might pass for that gentle man)--even the mate said he would go to his cabin and turn in. So there remained nothing for it but to do as all the world had done
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
A Summer Day in Dublin, or there and thereabouts THE coach that brings the passenger by wood and mountain, by brawling waterfall and gloomy plain, by the lonely lake of Festiniog and across the swinging world's wonder of a Menai Bridge, through dismal Anglesea to dismal Holyhead--the Birmingham mail manages matters so cleverly, that after 10 hours' ride the traveller is thrust incontinently on board the packet and the steward says there's no use in providing dinner on board, because the passage is so short. That is true: but why not give us half an hour on shore? Ten hours spent on a coach-box render the dinner question one of extreme importance; and as the packet reaches Kingstown at midnight, when all the world is asleep, the inn-larders locked up, and the cook in bed; and as the mail is not landed until five in the morning (at which hour the passengers are considerately awakened by great stamping and shouting overhead), might not "Lord Lowther" give us one little half hour? Even the steward agreed that it was a useless and atrocious tyranny; and, indeed, after a little demur, produced a half-dozen of fried eggs, a feeble makeshift for a dinner. Our passage across from the Head was made in a rain so pouring and steady, that sea and coast were entirely hidden from us, and one could see very little beyond the glowing tip of the cigar which remained alight nobly in spite of the weather. Then the gallant exertions of that fiery spirit were over forever, and burning bravely to the end it had breathed its last in doing its master service, all became black and cheerless around; the passengers had dropped off one by one, preferring to be dry and ill below rather than wet and squeamish above; even the mate, with his gold-laced cap (who is so astonishingly like Mr. Charles Dickens that he might pass for that gentle man)--even the mate said he would go to his cabin and turn in. So there remained nothing for it but to do as all the world had done

More books from Library of Alexandria

Cover of the book The Father and Daughter: A Tale in Prose by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book In Touch with Nature: Tales and Sketches from the Life by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book On Foreign Service, Or, The Santa Cruz Revolution by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book Torchy and Vee by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book The Aspirations of Jean Servien and The Well of Saint Clare by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book The Chaldaean Oracles Attributed To Zoroaster by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book La maniere d'amolir les os, et de faire cuire: toutes sortes de viandes en fort peu de temps & à peu de frais by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book Eating in Two or Three Languages by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book At Abdul Ali's Grave and Other Stories by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book The Sword of Islam by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book First Person Paramount by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book Coffee in the Gourd by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book The Blockheads by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book Alcohol: A Dangerous and Unnecessary Medicine, How and Why, What Medical Writers Say by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Cover of the book The Manchester Rebels of the Fatal '45 by Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
We use our own "cookies" and third party cookies to improve services and to see statistical information. By using this website, you agree to our Privacy Policy