Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 211 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 211: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Old Rory, Page 193 This is a page of running prose from what appears to be a Victorian penny dreadful serial. The text depicts a conversation between an old Scottish soldier named Rory and a young boy named Tom (apparently a kidnapped Rebel). Rory promises to help Tom and offers him shelter and food. The passage describes their growing companionship and shows Rory making arrangements to obtain venison for a dinner, while discussing the dangers of Charleston and Tom's need to avoid public notice. The dialect is heavily Scottish throughout.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Otp Rory 193 “Ye hae pluck, lad. There’s gude stuff in ye. Domned if there is na! I fishit ye oot o’ the harbor, an’ I’ll stan’ by ye.” And Tom thanked him in no unhandsome fashion. He added: “'lo-morrow, Major, if you will visit the prison- aa I will present to you Major Audley Anderson, my anther,” Having made up his mind to stand by the kidnapped boy — Rebel though he was — Old Rory enjoyed the situ- ation. He was a lonely man, without ties, and Tom’s com- panionship was full of solace and charm. The old soldier’s rugged nature softened to the sunniness of the Virginian. His Scotch blood leaped at the courage of the boy! Next morning Tom awoke refreshed in mind and body. Rory, in the best of spirits, was getting their breakfast of bacon and eggs. “Ye ken, laddie, Chairleston is grievously afflicted wi’ contentious fowk wha tak muckle satisfaction, richt now, i’ seeing ither fowk gang to the gallows. Ye maun be dis- creet. Do naething whilk will set fowk speerin’. Ye under- stan’.”” Tom promised to be cautious. “But they’d be more likely to send me to the ragman. Comfortable as it is, I can’t appear in public in my blankety-blank blanket!” “Let that flea stick to the wa’. I'll tak tent o’ a’ sic matters. I hae been claitherin’ aboot a haunch o’ venison, wi a stairvin’ Rebel—tut, tut!’’ — in prodigious embar- rassment, — “the mon’s politeeks maks a rump o’. venison nane the warse.”’ “Right you are, Major,” with a laugh of enjoyment. “ Aweel,”’ — still confused, — “I hae spoken to the man in the cookshop aboot roasting the meat — an’ when the haunch gangs to the cook I'll e’en bid Sir Aéneas to dinner. Ye maun ken, when I cam oop to Chairleston The McIn- tosh invited me to dine wi’ him at the ordinary. ‘We'll hae calf’s-head, Major,’ says he. ‘ Hout, tout!’ says I. ‘Calf’s- head, indeed! I gie calf’s-head to my niggers, Sir A‘neas!’ says I. ‘Deviled crabs, then,’ says he — mair an’ mair red CORNICLIOO® ‘Ss (EO) mn