The Wheels That Roll On Patent Axles Without Rattling; The
Body That Hangs So Well On Its Springs, Yielding To Every Motion, Yet
Proof Against Every Shock.
The ruddy faces gaping out of the windows;
sometimes of a portly old citizen, sometimes of a voluminous dowager,
and sometimes of a fine fresh hoyden, just from boarding school.
And
then the dickeys loaded with well-dressed servants, beef-fed and bluff;
looking down from their heights with contempt on all the world around;
profoundly ignorant of the country and the people, and devoutly certain
that every thing not English must be wrong.
Such was the carriage of Alderman Popkins, as it made its appearance at
Terracina. The courier who had preceded it, to order horses, and who
was a Neapolitan, had given a magnificent account of the riches and
greatness of his master, blundering with all an Italian's splendor of
imagination about the alderman's titles and dignities; the host had
added his usual share of exaggeration, so that by the time the alderman
drove up to the door, he was Milor - Magnifico - Principe - the Lord knows
what!
The alderman was advised to take an escort to Fondi and Itri, but he
refused. It was as much as a man's life was worth, he said, to stop him
on the king's highway; he would complain of it to the ambassador at
Naples; he would make a national affair of it. The principezza Popkins,
a fresh, motherly dame, seemed perfectly secure in the protection of
her husband, so omnipotent a man in the city. The signorini Popkins,
two fine bouncing girls, looked to their brother Tom, who had taken
lessons in boxing; and as to the dandy himself, he was sure no
scaramouch of an Italian robber would dare to meddle with an
Englishman. The landlord shrugged his shoulders and turned out the
palms of his hands with a true Italian grimace, and the carriage of
Milor Popkins rolled on.
They passed through several very suspicious places without any
molestation. The Misses Popkins, who were very romantic, and had learnt
to draw in water colors, were enchanted with the savage scenery around;
it was so like what they had read in Mrs. Radcliffe's romances, they
should like of all things to make sketches. At length, the carriage
arrived at a place where the road wound up a long hill. Mrs. Popkins
had sunk into a sleep; the young ladies were reading the last works of
Sir Walter Scott and Lord Byron, and the dandy was hectoring the
postilions from the coach box. The Alderman got out, as he said, to
stretch his legs up the hill. It was a long winding ascent, and obliged
him every now and then to stop and blow and wipe his forehead with many
a pish! and phew! being rather pursy and short of wind. As the
carriage, however, was far behind him, and toiling slowly under the
weight of so many well-stuffed trunks and well-stuffed travellers, he
had plenty of time to walk at leisure.
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