He. Lang Andrew

He - Lang Andrew


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think the critics will call the motive rather thin?' I demurred.

      'Thin, to rescue my ancestress from a curse!' said Leonora.

      'There's just one other thing,' she mused. 'Shall we take a low comedy character this time, or not?'

      'Let's take Ustâni,' I proposed, 'he can double the part with that of the Faithful Black! A great saving in hotel bills and railway fares.'

      CHAPTER IV.

      THE EQUIPMENT

      After it had been decided that we should start in search of 'He who had been mummified alive,' the next step seemed to be to go. But Leonora demurred to this.

      'We must have our things,' she said; 'what do you think we should take?'

      'Scissors,' I replied; and I regret to say that at first she misinterpreted the phrase.

      Leonora is a powerful as well as a pretty girl, and when the bear fight that ensued was over my rooms were a little mixed.

      This suggested mixed biscuits, that invaluable refreshment of the traveller, and from one thing to another we soon made up a complete list of our needs.

      The scissors, and skates, and the soap we procured at the Church and State stores,11 but not, of course, the revolvers. The revolvers we got of the genuine Government pattern, because both Leonora and I are dreadfully afraid of fire-arms, and we knew that these, anyhow, would not 'go off.' The jam we got, of course, at the official cartridge emporium, same which we did not shoot the Arabs. The Gladstone bag and the Bryant & May's matches we procured direct from the makers, resisting the piteous appeals of itinerant vendors. Some life-belts we laid in, and, as will presently be seen, we could have made no more judicious purchase.

      As, from information received on a mummy case, we were travelling in search of a mummy, of course we laid in a case of Mumm, which was often a source of gaiety in our darkest hours. The wine was procured, as I would advise every African traveller to do, from Messrs. – .12

      Being acquainted with the deleterious effects of a malarious tropical atmosphere, we secured a pair of overalls, advertised as sovran for 'all-overishness,' the dreaded curse of an African climate. These we got at the celebrated emporium of Messrs. – .13

      Our preparations being now exhaustively completed, Leonora and I returned to Oxford, packed our things, and consulted as to the route which we should adopt.

      CHAPTER V.

      DOWN THE DARK RIVER

      Down the Dark River, the mystic Isis, so Leonora had decided, we sped: Ustâni plying the long pole of the dhow, or native flat-bottomed boat, while we took it in turns to keep him up to his work by flicking him with a tandem-whip.

      The moon went slowly down, and it occurred to Leonora to remark that we were 'going down' too, an unusual thing so early in term. Like some sweet bride into her chamber the moon departed, and the quivering footsteps of the Don14 shook the planets from their places, to the consternation of the Savilian Professor of Astronomy, who, as in duty bound, was contemplating these revolutionary performances from the observatory in the Parks. A number of moral ideas occurred to Leonora and myself, but out of regard for Ustâni's feelings we denied them expression. I began, indeed, to utter a few appropriate sentiments, but the poor Boshman exclaimed, 'You floggee, floggee, Missy, or preachee, preachee, but no both floggee and preachee – ' in a tone that would have disarmed a Bampton lecturer.

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      1

      A literary friend to whom I have shown your MS. says a weendigo is Ojibbeway for a cannibal. And why do you shoot poor Moo Cows? – Publisher.

      Mere slip of the pen. Meant a Cow Moose. Literary gent no sportsman. – Ed.

      All right. – Publisher.

1

A literary friend to whom I have shown your MS. says a weendigo is Ojibbeway for a cannibal. And why do you shoot poor Moo Cows? – Publisher.

Mere slip of the pen. Meant a Cow Moose. Literary gent no sportsman. – Ed.

All right. – Publisher.

2

I say, you know, keep clear of improbabilities! No one was ever old enough to have been Proctor twice. – Publisher.

That's all you know about it. Why, I shall bring in a character old enough to have been Proctor a thousand times. – Ed.

3

Is this bonâ fide? – Publisher.

All right, see She (p. 145), Ayesha's elegant pun on Holly. It's always done – pun, I mean. – Ed.

4

Don't you think it would stand being cut a little? – Publisher.

We shall see. – Ed.

5

There is just one thing that puzzles me. Polly and Leonora have gone, no man knows where, and, taking everything into consideration, it may be a good two thousand years before they come back.

Ought I not, then, to invest, in my own name, the princely cheque of the Intelligent Publishers? – Ed.

6

I may as well say at once that I will not be responsible for Polly's style. Sometimes it is flat, they tell me, and sometimes it is flamboyant, whatever they may mean. It is never the least like what one would expect an elderly lady don (or Donna), to write. – Ed.

7

See The Mark of Cain [Arrowsmith], an excellent shillingsworth. – Ed.

Is this not 'log rolling'? – Publisher.

8

Don't you think this bit is a little dull? The public don't care about dead languages. – Publisher.

Story can't possibly get on without it, as you'll see. You must have something of this sort in a romance. Look at Poe's cypher in the Gold Beetle, and the chart in Treasure Island, and the Portuguee's scroll in King Solomon's Mines. – Ed.

9

Is not this a little steep? – Publisher.

No; it is in all the Irish histories. See Lady Wilde's Ancient Legends of Ireland, if you don't believe me. – Ed.

10

From the use of the word daric I conjecture that Leonora's ancestress lived under the Persian Empire. There or thereabout. – M. M.

11

Won't the critics say you are advertising the stores? And the tradesmen won't like it. – Publisher.

Where would the stern reality of the story be (see Spectator), and the contrast with the later goings on, if you didn't give names? – Ed.

12

Messrs. Who? Printers in a hurry. – Publisher.

Suppressed the name. Messrs. – gave an impolite response


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<p>11</p>

Won't the critics say you are advertising the stores? And the tradesmen won't like it. – Publisher.

Where would the stern reality of the story be (see Spectator), and the contrast with the later goings on, if you didn't give names? – Ed.

<p>12</p>

Messrs. Who? Printers in a hurry. – Publisher.

Suppressed the name. Messrs. – gave an impolite response to our suggestions as to mutual arrangements. – Ed.

<p>13</p>

Name suppressed. When eligible opportunity for advertisement as a substitute for a cheque was hinted at, Messrs. – brusquely replied, in the low Essex patois, 'Wadyermean?'

<p>14</p>

Do you mean the Dawn? – Publisher.

Every Oxford man knows what I mean. – Ed.