The Astonishing History of Troy Town | Page 9

Limpenny's observations were cut short by a terrible
occurrence.
She had taken stock of the Honourable Frederic, and pronounced him
"aristocratic-looking"; of the Honourable Mrs. Frederic's
travelling-dress, and decided it to be Cumeelfo; she had counted the
boxes twice, and made them seven each time; she was about to count
the buttons on the liveried youth, when--
To this day she sinks her voice as she narrates it. She saw--the
unseemliness, the monstrous indelicacy of it!--she saw--the nightcap
and shoulders of Admiral Buzza craning out of the next-door window!
What happened next? Whether she actually fainted, or merely kept her
eyes shut, she cannot clearly remember. But for weeks afterwards, as
she declares, the sight of a man caused her to "turn all colours."
It was significant, this nightcap of Admiral Buzza--as the ram's horn to
Jericho, the Mother Carey's chicken to the doomed ship. It announced,
even as it struck, the first blow at the old morality of Troy.
CHAPTER IV.

OF CERTAIN LEPERS; AND TWO BROTHERS, WHO, BEING
MUCH ALIKE, LOVED THEIR SISTER, AND RECOMMENDED
THE USE OF GLOBES.
I must here clear myself on a point which has no doubt caused the
reader some indignation. "We remarked," he or she will say, "that,
some chapters back, the Admiral described Troy as a 'beautiful little
town.' Why, then, have we had no description of it, no digressions on
scenery, no word-painting?"
To this I answer--Dear sir, or madam, no one who has known Troy was
ever yet capable of describing it. If you doubt me, visit the town and
see for yourself. I will for the moment suppose you to do so. What
happens?
On the first day you take a boat and row about the harbour. "Scenery!"
you exclaim, "why, what could you have more? Here is a lovely
harbour flanked by bold hills to right and left; here are the ruined
castles, witnesses of the great days when Troy sent ships to carry the
English army to Agincourt; here axe grey houses huddled at the water's
edge, hoary, battered walls and quay-doors coated with ooze and green
weed. Such is Troy, and on the further shore quaint Penpoodle faces it,
where a silver creek, dividing, runs up to Lanbeg; further up, the
harbour melts into a river where the old ferry-boat plies to and from the
foot of a tiny village straggling up the hill; further yet, and the jetties
mingle with the steep woods beside the roads, where the vessels lie
thickest; ships of all builds and of all nations, from the trim Canadian
timber-ship to the corpulent Billy-boy. Why, the very heart of the
picturesque is here. What more can you want?"
On the second day you will see all this from the harbour again, or
perhaps you will cross the ferry and climb the King's Walk on the
opposite bank; you will see it all, but with a change. It is more lovely,
but not the same.
On the third day you will cast about in your mind to explain this; and
so in time you will come to find that it is the spirit of Troy that plays
this trick upon you. For you will have learnt to love the place, and love,

as you know, dear sir or madam, is apt to affect the eyesight.
The eyes of Mr. Fogo, as Caleb pulled sturdily up with the tide, were
passing through the first of these stages.
"This," he said at length, reflectively, "is one of the loveliest spots I
have looked upon."
Caleb, in whom humanity and Trojanity were nicely compounded,
flushed a bright copper-colour with pleasure.
"'Tes reckoned a tidy spot," he answered modestly, "by them as cares
for voos an' such-like."
"There, now," he went on, after a pause, and turning round, "yonder's
Kit's House, wi' Kit's Cottage, next door. You can't see the house so
plain, 'cos 'tes behind the trees. But there 'tes, right enough."
"Is the cottage uninhabited, too?"
"Both on 'em. Ha'nted they do say. By the way, I niver axed 'ee whether
you minded ghostes?"
"Ghosts?"
"Iss, ghostes. This 'ere place was a Lazarus one time, where they kept
leppards."
"Leopards? How very singular!" murmured Mr. Fogo.
"Ay, leppards as white as snow, as the sayin' goes."
"Oh, I see," said Mr. Fogo, suddenly enlightened. "You mean that this
was a Lazar-house."
"That's so--a Lazarus. The leppards used to live there together, and
when they died, they was berried at dead o' night down at thicky spit
you sees yonder. No one had dealin's wi' 'em nor went nigh 'em, 'cept
that they was allowed to make ropes. 'Tesn' so many years that the

rope-walk was moved down to th' harbour mouth."
Caleb stopped rowing, and leant forward on his paddles.
"These 'ere leppards in time got