Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 32 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 32: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil*, a Victorian penny dreadful. The text depicts a farewell scene in which Mrs. Anderson prepares a man named Ishmael for a journey, providing him with a militia coat and warning him of redcoats and smallpox. Young people have written letters sealed with wax and keepsakes for someone named Troupe. The passage ends with Tom, restless during a Bible reading, stealing away to hunt an owl outside, where someone unexpectedly touches his shoulder.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
16 Tom ANDERSON, DareE-DEVIL since the boy sent her back to Virginia. Dilsey will bring you the saddle-bags.”” She held out her hand. “lake care of yourself, Ishmael. Beware of the redcoats and the smallpox! And find my boy for me!” “Dat I will, Miss Sa’ah; dat I will, ma’am. Lessen de British gits me ergin. Gord knows I done had nuff er dem British trenches. En’ I ainh gwine tell no lie on Gord!” and Ishmael made his obeisance, and withdrew. Mrs. Anderson observed that it was going to be very cold. Ishmael should be warmly clad for such a journey. And Dilsey was sent to a certain closet for “the Major’s old militia coat.’’ She delivered the garment to her mis- tress with a remonstrant look. ‘Your master will never wear the coat again, Dilsey. All that red-and-blue is entirely too much like the Hessian uniform. Make one of the house-boys take it down to the quarters —”’ “T?ll take it, madam. I want to see Ish before he starts. And here are some letters for Troupe.” The young folks had consulted, written, blistered their fingers with sealing-wax, and bound up with each letter a keepsake which was as the apple of the giver’s eye. Dare’s big blotch of wax was sealed with a motto: “Who opens this, must have a kiss.” “ Troupe’s so fond of poetry, you know, Tom?” _ There was no more talk. The butler, having snuffed the tapers, had withdrawn with elaborate caution. Mrs. Anderson was opening the Bible. As she was in the midst of one of the bloodthirstiest of the Psalms, Tom heard an owl in a near-by tree. With the moon shining “like a house afire”’ a fellow ought to be able to knock that hooter out of the highest pine on the place. He tried to sit still, but “a spirit in his feet”’ prevailed. Unpercetved, he stole from the room. ‘Taking his rifle from the deer-antlers in the hall, he was out of doors. “Where the deuce zs he?”’ The boy faced about and scanned the comb of the roof, the cornices of the two big columns. A touch fell upon his shoulder. He wheeled upon the ghost-footed intruder. CONNIE KOOKS (E() m