Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 222 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 222: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is a running prose page from the penny dreadful *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil*. It depicts a confrontation between a character named Paris (a Loyalist officer) and his colonel, Sir Æneas, who witnesses Paris behaving improperly with a young woman called "the Belle of Charleston." Sir Æneas reprimands Paris for conduct unbecoming an officer, threatening a whipping. The scene then shifts to redcoat officers discussing the incident on a piazza, gossiping about a wager Paris made, the girl who boxed his ears, and reciting romantic poetry. The text employs dialect spelling and racial slurs typical of period sensational fiction.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
204 Tom ANDERSON, Dare-DEVIL Paris was captain of a Loyalist troop; Sir Aineas was his colonel — as Tom learned thereafter. The little baronet came up briskly. “Put up your sword, thir.” Paris obeyed; saluted; and blurted out, thickly, “This black Highlander attacked me, Sir neas, —” “T witnethed the whole affair. You were guilty of con- duct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.” “Colonel McIntosh!” and Paris turned ashen. “A foolish gallantry,” he protested: “to win a wager!”’ “You detherve a horthewhipping, thir.” Sir A‘neas’s brutal candor was set off quaintly by his elegant lisp. “Yeth, thir: a horthewhipping!” On the piazza of Rawdon’s quarters a dozen redcoat officers. [hey came hurrying out to the street, hot-foot; but Paris shook them off. Choking with rage, he strode by them without speaking. “A fool and his honey are soon parted!” remarked a blistering humorist. There was a roar of laughter: “Gad! Sir Atneas did n’t mince matters.” “There goes a hundred pounds! Paris bet Trelawney that he’d take the girl in the hearse-curtains to Lady Savage’s ball to-night.” “Boxed his ears! — the little spitfire.” “See the Highlander juggle with that dirk? Neat, ’pon my soul.” ‘That prune-colored velvet coat’s done for. Pity! *T 1s an uncommonly pretty thing. He'll have to give it to the niggers. Poor Paris!” ‘Poor Paris, indeed!”’ retorted another. “I’d be willing to have my ears boxed, my back muddied, and my colonel as mad as a mad bull, for that kiss Paris snatched. The Belle of Charleston is the loveliest of her sex.” ‘You fellows did n’t hear Val Paris reciting, — “Go, lovely rose; Tell her that wastes her time on me That now, she knows When most I liken her to thee’ — and so on.” ECOMMIEOOOKS,(e©) m