Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 220 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 220: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful titled "Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil" (page 202). The text depicts a scene in Charleston during what appears to be the American Revolution, where Scottish character Rory comments on Rebel women wearing black mourning clothes to avoid socializing with Royalists. The narrative then shifts to describe the approach of a beautiful young Rebel woman called "the Beauty o' Charleston" toward Lord Rawdon's mansion, where two vain young officers from his command wager money that they can make her acknowledge them.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
202 Tom ANpDERSON, Dare-DEvVIE Mayor o’ Lunnon, an’ his naygur!” “It’s some o’ The MclIntosh’s ’arf-breed kin.” This last was overheard by Rory. “It’s nae sic lee! Haud ye cockney tongue!” He finished an apple-turnover, wiped his fingers on the tops of his stockings, and filled his pockets with “scratch-throat,” the popular sugar candy of the period. “It is na the Rebel hooses only, but the Rebel lassies as weel, that hae black streamers an’ weepers draiglin’ frae °em. The high-headed dames an’ wenches wull tak nae pairt 1 the routs an’ balls an’ fine doin’s o’ the Royalists. ‘hey pit on funeral gairments; for all the warl’ as if a corpse waur streekit 1 ilka hoose 1 the toun!”’ The Virginian had heard that the patriot women of Charleston wore black in public; and now he noted a number of high-bred gentlewomen clad in mourning. “They do as did the nobility of old Rome when disaster befell the Roman arms.” “Look! wull ye? Yon’s ca’ed the Beauty o’ Chairleston, an’ she’s scornfu’ as the Queen o’ Spain.” No need to point out this beautiful Rebel. Who could turn a cold eye on this girlish princess? Her sable robes were a foil to sumptuous beauty. At this minute ensued one of those unlooked-for and apparently unimportant incidents which “lay hold on eternity.” They came up to Lord Rawdon’s quarters, a noble old mansion, set among orange trees. A sentinel paced the piazza. Another guarded the gate, which was set in a stone wall. From the other side of the wall, voices. “She’s coming!”’ “What of it? She won't look at us /” “Won't sher Wait and see.” ‘Pooh, she scorns a Royalist.” “She shall see me, and speak to me. Twenty pounds down, if she does n’t!”’ “Done!”’ And out of the gate came two of the gilded youth of Lord Rawdon’s command: handsome, vain, reckless, stick-at-nothing young fellows, resplendent in jewels, lace, ECOMMIELOOOKS.(6©) m