Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 221 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 221: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful (page 203, titled "Charleston"). The text describes a street confrontation in which a young Royalist named Paris offers roses to a female Rebel and kisses her without consent. Her companion Tom attacks Paris in rage, and the two begin fighting with sword and dirk. At the moment of combat, a character named Rory intervenes, and Sir Æneas McIntosh arrives unnoticed from his carriage. The passage emphasizes melodramatic action, class conflict between Royalists and Rebels, and physical violence.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
CHARLESTON 203 and velvet, every gem and ruffle the mode of the minute. The Beauty of Charleston was almost face to face with nory and l’om, as the two young Royalists stepped into the street. For an instant the black-robed beauty con- fronted the gorgeous pair — like a disdainfuler Lady Jane Grey, whose sad-colored garments mocked the brilliance of her begemmed courtiers. ‘“Now or never, Paris,” jeered one, in a flippant under- tone. The young fellow called Paris stepped forward, bowed low, and extended a knot of roses. ‘ Will an unconquered Rebel wear the roses of a conquered Royalist?”’ Her eyes opened wide, her lips parted, and she tried to pass him. A sneering laugh from his companion sent the blood to the very roots of Paris’s powdered curls. - : “Fairest, coldest, coyest beauty!”” He caught her hand, and kissed her pouting lips. Her little gloved hand smote his face sharply. A roar of laughter from one man looking on; a cry of rage from another. “You hound!’’ And ‘Tom hurled himself on the offender with such violence that Paris sprawled backward upon the pavement. It was a crashing fall, but he found his wind and his legs with astonishing quickness. “Defend: yourself!”” — drawing his sword and gasping with rage. Tom parried the thrust with the Highland dirk: once! twice !— at a tremendous disadvantage. “T can’t do that again,” he told himself. He girded him- self for the worst. And at this tense instant Rory, with a bull-like rush, was between them. “Tak my sword, Tammie; an’ haud him to his wark!”’ PCaptain, Paris!" The young Royalist faced about, and saluted. Sir A‘neas McIntosh! Nobody had had time for him. He had stepped from his carriage quite unnoticed, while the rapier and the claymore were coming together. CORNICLIOO® SS (C©) im