Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 312 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 312: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Victorian Penny Dreadful Page Analysis This is a running prose page from Chapter XXX, titled "Colibri." The text describes the evening social gatherings of colonial planters and their acquaintances beneath coconut trees, where a young singer with a celebrated voice typically performs. The passage details the appearance of a copper-haired girl riding a London hunter horse, mentions a boy who has received a pony as a birthday gift, and notes the growing reputation of this boy's singing voice—with characters comparing him favorably to Charles Incledon (a famous cathedral chorister) and discussing Bishop Coleridge's intention to take him to London. The narrative emphasizes the anticipation and social excitement surrounding the mysterious young singer's appearances.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
CHAPTER XXX “COLIBRI” EvENING after evening the smart equipages of the planters — horses from London and coaches from Paris — drew up under the cocoanut trees. Evening after evening the sedan was set down near the street cistern where Tom was wont to stand and fill the ruddy twilight with his rich voice. And evening after evening, too, a girl wearing a London-made habit and riding a London hunter — a girl with “eyes like woodland violets, newly wet” and hair like spun copper— rode loiteringly under the crescent of palms. Sometimes De la Jonquiére was with her: or Dick Knatchbull: or maybe little Lord Harry — bestriding a notably pretty pony. Dick Knatchbull had one virtue, then; a memory for birthdays! “Tt was aw fly good of Cousin Dick to give him to me,” said the boy. “It’s a good pony — but I’d rather have had the American.” Which saying was served up with the walnuts and wine that night at the Governor-General’s dinner-table. The “dress circle’? under the trees were in their places for days in succession; no musician appeared. “Where is he?’’ they asked each other petulantly. ““Where’s the boy that sings?’’ And there was a defrauded note in these disappointed demands which amused De la Jonquiere. On one of these same days — the sun was down, the red west throwing tableau-lights from under a rain-cloud stretched along the horizon — the crowd of carriages and dawdling folk was waiting. “Lady Macartney says his voice is superior to Charles Incledon’s—the chorister-boy at Exeter Cathedral, you know, that everybody’s making such a fuss about.” “Bishop Coleridge says he intends to take him to London ECONMMICLOOOKSa6O© m