My Brother Jack (Volume 1); Or, the Story of What-D'Ye-Call 'Em, Tr. by L. Ford. Or, the Story of What-D'Ye-Call 'Em, Tr. by L. Ford (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1877. Excerpt: ... Sarlande is a small town in the Cevennes, lying in the bottom of a narrow valley, the hills rising like a wall all round it. In sunshine it is an oven, and when the wind blows from the mountains it is an ice-house. The evening I arrived, the cold wind had been blowing all day, and, although it was spring-time, the cold, as I drove into the town on the top of the coach, pierced me to the bone. The streets were dark and deserted. A few people were lounging about, waiting for the coach as it drew up before the dimly-lighted office. I climbed down from my perch, and asked the way at once to the college; I wanted to begin my work without a moment's delay. The college was not far from the Place d'Armcs, where we had stopped. The man who carried my portmanteau led me through two or three silent streets, and stopped at a large building, which looked as if everything about it had been dead for years. "Here we are," said he, lifting the great ponderous knocker, which gave a heavy, hollow sound; the door opened of itself, and we went in. All was dark. The man put my portmanteau down on the floor; I paid him, and he hurried away. The great door closed heavily after him. In a few minutes a sleepy porter made his appearance, carrying a lantern in his hand. "A new pupil?" said he, with a drowsy air. He took me for a pupil I drew myself up, and said, --"I am not a pupil at all. Show me in to the principal." The porter stared, and then asked me to wait a moment in his lodge. The principal was in chapel with the boys, and as soon as that was over I should be shown to his rooms. Supper was just over in the lodge. A gay young fellow, with a straw-coloured moustache, was sipping a glass of brandy; beside him was a little, thin, sickly-looking woman, as yellow as a Seville ora...