PROJECT ASHABI
African Stories. Limitless Worlds.
PROJECT ASHABI
African Stories. Limitless Worlds.
Project Gutenberg Archive
Complete unabridged public-domain literary work from the Project Gutenberg archive.
Project Ashabi is being built as the home of original African comics, webtoons, graphic novels, and fiction.
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The Recollections of Geoffrey Hamlyn
TO MY FATHER AND MOTHER THIS BOOK, THE FRUIT OF SO MANY WEARY YEARS OF SEPARATION, IS DEDICATED WITH THE DEEPEST LOVE AND REVERENCE
I INTRODUCTORY. II THE COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE OF JOHN THORNTON, CLERK, AND THE BIRTH OF SOME ONE WHO TAKES RATHER A CONSPICUOUS PART IN OUR STORY. III THE HISTORY OF (A CERTAIN FAMILY LIVING IN) EUROPE, FROM THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR TO THE PEACE OF 1818, CONTAINING FACTS HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED. IV SOME NEW FACES. V IN WHICH THE READER IS MADE ACCOMPLICE TO A MISPRISION OF FELONY. VI GEORGE HAWKER GOES TO THE FAIR--WRESTLES, BUT GETS THROWN ON HIS BACK, SHOOTS AT A MARK, BUT MISSES IT. VII MAJOR BUCKLEY GIVES HIS OPINION ON TROUT-FISHING, ON EMIGRATION, AND ON GEORGE HAWKER. VIII THE VICAR HEARS SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE. IX WHEN THE KYE CAME HAME. X IN WHICH WE SEE A GOOD DEAL OF MISCHIEF BREWING. XI IN WHICH THE VICAR PREACHES A FAREWELL SERMON. XII IN WHICH A VERY MUSCULAR CHRISTIAN INDEED, COMES ON THE STAGE. XIII THE DISCOVERY OF THE FORGERIES. XIV THE MAJOR'S VISIT TO THE "NAG'S-HEAD." XV THE BRIGHTON RACES, AND WHAT HAPPENED THEREAT. XVI THE END OF MARY'S EXPEDITION. XVII EXODUS. XVIII THE FIRST PUFF OF THE SOUTH WIND. XIX I HIRE A NEW HORSEBREAKER. XX A WARM CHRISTMAS DAY. XXI JIM STOCKBRIDGE BEGINS TO TAKE ANOTHER VIEW OF MATTERS. XXII SAM BUCKLEY'S EDUCATION. XXIII TOONARBIN. XXIV IN WHICH MARY HAWKER LOSES ONE OF HER OLDEST SWEETHEARTS. XXV IN WHICH THE NEW DEAN OF B---- MAKES HIS APPEARANCE, AND ASTONISHES THE MAJOR OUT OF HIS PROPRIETY. XXVI WHITE HEATHENS XXVII THE GOLDEN VINEYARD. XXVIII A GENTLEMAN FROM THE WARS. XXIX SAM MEETS WITH A RIVAL, AND HOW HE TREATED HIM. XXX HOW THE CHILD WAS LOST, AND HOW HE GOT FOUND AGAIN--WHAT CECIL SAID TO SAM WHEN THEY FOUND HIM--AND HOW IN CASTING LOTS, ALTHOUGH CECIL WON THE LOT, HE LOST THE PRIZE. XXXI HOW TOM TROUBRIDGE KEPT WATCH FOR THE FIRST TIME. XXXII WHICH IS THE LAST CHAPTER BUT ONE IN THE SECOND VOLUME. XXXIII IN WHICH JAMES BRENTWOOD AND SAMUEL BUCKLEY, ESQUIRES, COMBINE TO DISTURB THE REST OF CAPTAIN BRENTWOOD, R.A. AND SUCCEED IN DOING SO. XXXIV HOW THEY ALL WENT HUNTING FOR SEA ANEMONES AT CAPE CHATHAM--AND HOW THE DOCTOR GOT A TERRIBLE FRIGHT--AND HOW CAPTAIN BLOCKSTROP SHOWED THAT THERE WAS GOOD REASON FOR IT. XXXV A COUNCIL OF WAR. XXXVI AN EARTHQUAKE, A COLLIERY EXPLOSION, AND AN ADVENTURE. XXXVII IN WHICH GEORGE HAWKER SETTLES AN OLD SCORE WITH WILLIAM LEE, MOST HANDSOMELY, LEAVING, IN FACT, A LARGE BALANCE IN HIS OWN FAVOUR. XXXVIII HOW DR. MULHAUS GOT BUSHED IN THE RANGES, AND WHAT BEFEL HIM THERE. XXXIX THE LAST GLEAM BEFORE THE STORM. XL THE STORM BURSTS. XLI WIDDERIN SHOWS CLEARLY THAT HE IS WORTH ALL THE MONEY SAM GAVE FOR HIM. XLII THE FIGHT AMONG THE FERN-TREES. XLIII ACROSS THE SNOW. XLIV HOW MARY HAWKER HEARD THE NEWS. XLV IN WHICH THERE ARE SOME ASTONISHING REVELATIONS WITH REGARD TO DR. MULHAUS AND CAPTAIN DESBOROUGH. XLVI IN WHICH SAM MEETS WITH A SERIOUS ACCIDENT, AND GETS CRIPPLED FOR LIFE. XLVII HOW MARY HAWKER SAID "YES." XLVIII THE LATEST INTELLIGENCE.
Near the end of February 1857, I think about the 20th or so, though it don't much matter; I only know it was near the latter end of summer, burning hot, with the bushfires raging like volcanoes on the ranges, and the river reduced to a slender stream of water, almost lost upon the broad white flats of quartz shingle. It was the end of February, I said, when Major Buckley, Captain Brentwood (formerly of the Artillery), and I, Geoffry Hamlyn, sat together over our wine in the veranda at Baroona, gazing sleepily on the grey plains that rolled away east and north-east towards the sea.
We had sat silent for some time, too lazy to speak, almost to think. The beautiful flower-garden which lay before us, sloping towards the river, looked rather brown and sere, after the hot winds, although the orange-trees were still green enough, and vast clusters of purple grapes were ripening rapidly among the yellowing vine-leaves. On the whole, however, the garden was but a poor subject of contemplation for one who remembered it in all its full November beauty, and so my eye travelled away to the left, to a broad paddock of yellow grass which bounded the garden on that side, and there I watched an old horse feeding.
A very old horse indeed, a horse which seemed to have reached the utmost bounds of equine existence. And yet such a beautiful beast. Even as I looked some wild young colts were let out of the stockyard, and came galloping and whinnying towards him, and then it was a sight to see the old fellow as he trotted towards them, with his nose in the air, and his tail arched, throwing his legs out before him with the ease and grace of a four-year-old, and making me regret that he wasn't my property and ten years younger;--altogether, even then, one of the finest horses of his class I had ever seen, and suddenly a thought came over me, and I grew animated.
"Major Buckley," I said, "what horse is that?"
Arthur Conan Doyle
