Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 112: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

JOSEPH WILMOT ; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. 99 hended it all, as I thus rode desperately along. If the defile were suddenly to terminate in a yawn- ing chasm, I must plunge into it: if it were crossed by a deep river, therein likewise must I fall: or if ifs extremity were abruptly barred by a wall of rock, against it must we both madly dash ourselves, I and my horse! Yet was it needful to dare all these dangers in this desperate attempt to escape. Soon did I hear the sounds of horses’ feet careering towards me from behind: but I urged my own animal forward—it was fleeter than those of the pursuers—and in a few minutes I no longer caught that clattering din coming from behind. A glimmering light appeared far ahead: I knew it was the opening of the defile; and as [I pro- ceeded, the walls of rock grew wider and wider apart—the overhanging crags and stunted shrubs ceased to form an arch above my head—the moon was shining—the end of the defile was reached— and I had to choose between two diverging paths. Swift as lightning did the thought occur to me that so far as I could possibly judge from my former experiences in the Apennines, the ban- ditti’s stronghold must be upon the right hand; and I therefore struck into a path which branched off upon the left. I continued my way without slackening speed: for I could now pursue it in comparative safety by aid of the moonlight. For full half-an-hour I thus galloped onward, and then drew in the bridle for a few minutes, to unfasten the cord from my ankles, and also to listen whe- ther any sounds were still coming from behind. But there were none—and I now felt as if I were indeed altogether in safety. I breathed .a prayer to heaven in thankfulness for the result of my desperate venture ; and I continued my way again with the utmost celerity of which the horse was capable. Another hour thus passed, during which time I reached not a single inhabited spot: no village nor hamlet—not even an isolated dwelling, occurred upon my route: I therefore knew that I was in the very wildest part of the Apennine mountains. I had no idea of which direction I ought to take in order to re-enter the Tuscan territory: I slackened the horse’s speed to a walking pace, and reflected what I should do. If I continued my way blindly, so to speak, it was equally probable that I should come within the precincts of Marco Uberti’s stronghold as that I should gain a place of complete security. I was almost inclined to think that it were better if I halted at once to pass the remainder of the night on that spot: but a second thought told me that I should be no wiser by daylight as to the proper route to be taken than I now was in the semi-obscurity of that hour. I therefore continued to advance—but at a gentle pace—until in another half-hour I beheld a light glimmering at a distance. Me- thought it was in the window of some dwelling :— perhaps some lonely shepherd’s cot? perhaps on the outskirt of a village ?—and thither I bent my way. As I drew nearer, the light seemed to be phining from the side of arock. Nearer I drew— and then it seemed to emanate from some con- cealed dwelling; for the door whence it shone, was evidently of a shapely form, and was not the mere rugged uneven mouth of a rude cave left as nature or accident had fashioned it. There was a gradual ascent thither. At length I reached the spot; and found, as I had more or less suspected, that it was a habitation hollowed out of the rock, having a regular doorway, and the door itself now standing wide open. T alighted from my horse; and advancing close up to the threshold, looked into the cave. It might be about sixteen feet square and six feet high. At a rude table in the middle a man was seated,—his eyes fixed upon a book which lay open before him, and which he was reading by the aid of a candle stuck into a lump of clay, which served as the candlestick. His elbow rested upon that table ; and his hand supporting his head, shaded his countenance in such a manner that I could not immediately perceive it. He was not dressed in the humble garb worn by the poor dweilers in those mountains: but he had on a loose dressing- gown and black pantaloons, with a sort of French travelling-cap upon his head. I stopped short af the entrance of the cave to survey this individual, who seemed like a modern anchorite in his lonely mountain-hermitage. Who could he possibly be that had thus retired from the busy haunts of men to bury himself in this wild and savage seclu- sion? Was he a criminal shrouding himself from the grasp of justice—or a cynic who had fled in disgust from the society of his fellow-creatures? Plunging my looks more intently into the cavern, I discerned objects leading me to believe that the stranger was not altogether an ascetic: for there was a goodly ham suspended to a hook—other articles of provision appeared upon a shelf—and sundry case-bottles, which assuredly were not meant to contain water only, were heaped in a basket in the corner. On the opposite side of the cave, @ mattress with suitable bedding was stretched upon a rudely constructed. bedstead; and there was a trunk, the lid of which being open, disclosed some articles of apparel together with a few books. | As well as I can now remember, I stood for three or four minutes at the mouth of this cave, contemplating its occupant and the details of his little habitation. During this interval his form made not the slightest movement: so that at length a species of superstitious terror began to creep coldly over me, as the fancy stole into my mind that it was no living being whom I beheld there, but a corpse that for some unknown pur- pose, or else in hideous mockery, had been thus propped up on the rude three-legged stool whereon he was placed. But this apprehension—if indeed to such an extreme the feeling had reached—was all in a moment relieved when the individual deliberately turned over the leaf of his hook; and as the light of the candle flickered upon the page, I saw that it was the Bible he was reading. But it was with his disengaged hand that he turned over the leaf,—the other still continuing to support his head, and also to veil his countenance. The form of the man was tall and lean, so far as I could judge, considering the posture in which he was seated and the looseness of the dressing-gown that enveloped him. Was he deaf that he had not heard the trampling of the horse’s feet as I had approached his habitation P or was he so pro- foundly absorbed in his pious studies at this late hour of the night, as to have all his senses and faculties concentrated therein ? ElO@QO S (c@)