A. T. Quiller-Couch

“ I loos'd my hold: 'twas Matt. Soames. “Your pardon,” whisper'd I; “but why have you left your post?”
“Black Sampson is watchin', so I took the freedom—ugh! my poor wind-pipe!—to——”
He broke off to catch me by the sleeve and pull me down behind the bush. About twelve paces ahead I heard a door softly open'd and saw a shaft of light flung across the path between the glist'ning laurels. As the ray touch'd the outer wall, I mark'd a small postern gate there, standing open.
Cowering lower, we waited while a man might count fifty. ”

“ He squeez'd a frosty tear from his one eye, and led us to a large bare hall, hung round with portraits; where was a table spread with a plenty of victuals, and horn-handled knives and forks laid beside plates of pewter; and at the table a man in black, eating. ”

“ The devil's i' the hearse, for sure!”
“Now, Simmy,” the one-ey'd gaffer expostulated, “thou dostn' think the smoky King is a-took in, same as they poor folks upstairs? Tee-hee! Lord, what a trick!—to come for Master Tingcomb, an' find—aw dear!—aw, bless my old ribs, what a thing is humour!”
“Shut up!” grunted the minister. The end of the coffin was tilted up into the hearse. “Push, old varmint!” ”

“ A sorry day,—a day of sobs an' tears an' afflicted blowings of the nose—when the grasshopper is a burden an' the mourners go about seeking whom they may devour the funeral meats. Y' are welcome, gentlemen.”
'Twas the voice of my one-eyed friend, as he undid the bolts; and now he stood in the gateway with a prodigious black sash across his canary livery, so long that the ends of it swept the flagstones.
“Is Master Tingcomb within?” I helped Delia to dismount, and gave our two horses to a stable boy that stood shuffling some paces off. ”

“ As eleven o'clock sounded, therefore, I tapp'd on Billy's wall; and finding that Matt. Soames was keeping watch (as we had agreed upon) , slipt off my boots. Our rooms were on the first floor, over a straw-yard; and the distance to the ground an easy drop for a man. ”

“ Push, push!”
“Oh, my inwards!” groans poor Matt, under his breath, into whom the chest was squeezing sorely.
“Right at last!” says the minister. “Now, Simmy, nay lad, hand the reins an' jump up. There's room, an' you'll be wanted.”
The door was clapp'd-to, the three rogues climb'd upon the seat in front: and we started.
I hope I may never be call'd to pass such another half-hour as that which follow'd. As soon as the wheels left turf for the hard road, 'twas jolt, jolt all the way ”