"I'm sure," replied Miss Becky,
pertly, "I meant no ill; but if Rachel Pringle can write about
nothing but this Captain Sabre, she might as well let it alone, and
her letter canna be worth the hearing." "Upon that," said the
clergyman, "we can form a judgment when we have heard it, and I beg
that Miss Isabella may proceed,"--which she did accordingly.
LETTER XIV
Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod--LONDON.
My Dear Bell--I take up my pen with a feeling of disappointment such
as I never felt before. Yesterday was the day appointed for the
funeral of the good old king, and it was agreed that we should go to
Windsor, to pour the tribute of our tears upon the royal hearse.
Captain Sabre promised to go with us, as he is well acquainted with
the town, and the interesting objects around the Castle, so dear to
chivalry, and embalmed by the genius of Shakespeare and many a minor
bard, and I promised myself a day of unclouded felicity--but the
captain was ordered to be on duty,--and the crowd was so rude and
riotous, that I had no enjoyment whatever; but, pining with chagrin
at the little respect paid by the rabble to the virtues of the
departed monarch, I would fainly have retired into some solemn and
sequestered grove, and breathed my sorrows to the listening waste.
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