Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 237 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 237: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Content Analysis This is running prose from page 219 of *My Lord Rawdon and the Runty Rebel*, a Victorian penny dreadful. The page contains a sung toast celebrating a "gallant girl" who opposed Tories, followed by a narrative scene in which a drawing-room falls silent after the performance. Sir Æneas, apparently angered or disturbed by the song's seditious sentiment, leaves abruptly. The prose then describes him pursuing a young man through the grounds at Marley, a fellow wearing faded military uniform who carries a guitar and quickens his pace upon seeing the baronet approach.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
My Lorp Rawpon AND THE Runty REBEL 219 Here’s a bumper to the gallant girl That smote the vandal Tory! Here’s honor! Here’s honor To loveliness and glory! Here’s a bumper to the gallant girl That smote the vandal Tory! “Our boys are fighting east and west; But our women do not linger! They take the diamond from the breast, The ruby from the finger: They send their darlings to the van Of honor and of glory, — They ’ve all the spirit of a man ~ ‘To smite the vandal Tory! Here’s honor! Here’s honor To loveliness and glory! Here’s a bumper to the gallant girl That smote the vandal Tory!” As the last sweet notes melted on the ear, there was tense silence in the drawing-room. Mrs. Elliott looked pale, and not a little disturbed. Sir A‘neas was black as a thunder-cloud. Colonel Lloyd seemed bored merely. The young lady was radiant. “What a voice! what a song!”’ Very softly she pushed open the French window, and went out on the moonlit colonnade. When she returned, a minute later, the baronet was preparing to be gone. “You may pick me up at the gate, Colonel,” he said to his companion. So, when the carriage drove away from the door, Sir A’neas was striding through the grounds. The avenue at Marley — by the way, that avenue of acacias has received historical mention — was not more than half a mile long, and before the end of it was reached, sir Aineas had overtaken the man he was looking for. He walked rapidly, swinging a guitar in his hand and whistling ‘The Hunters of Kentucky.” A boyish-looking young fel- low, this. But he was symmetry itself. And full of resili- ence. He wore a suit of faded regimentals. When he saw the Paris-bred baronet, he walked faster. GOMIGIOO Si