Beggars on horseback; a riding tour in North Wales (1895) (14759658476)

Identifier: onhorsebabeggars00rossrich (find matches)
Title: Beggars on horseback; a riding tour in North Wales
Year: 1895 (1890s)
Authors: Ross, Martin, 1862-1915 Somerville, E. . (Edith none), 1858-1949
Subjects: Wales, North -- Description and travel
Publisher: Edinburgh, London : W. Blackwood and sons
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN



Text Appearing Before Image:
e sharp sting of a bell, and twoblack-caped cyclists were upon us from the open-ing of a by-road, like two humpbacked monstrositiesflying out of the book of Heraldry. The nextthing that I saw with any distinctness was themud squirming through my fingers as I clutchedthe surface of the road in an endeavour to get mylegs clear of the saddle ; and the next, as Tommyand I rose simultaneously to our feet, was MissOFlannigan and her Tom retiring to the horizonat the rate of twenty miles an hour. The cyclistswere also retiring, in the opposite direction, atabout sixty miles an hour. Had Tommy beenmore practised in the art of pivoting suddenly onhis hind-legs while trotting downhill, I shouldprobably have been following in Miss OFlanniganswake : as it was, an hysterical slip up had beenthe result, and a final wallowing in the mire. Myfurther impressions of the noble old Holyheadcoach-road may be summed up in the statementthat its mud is white and is mixed with size togive it adhesive quality.
Text Appearing After Image:
*. BEGGARS ON HORSEBACK. 151 By the time that I had emptied some of it frommy gloves, and rough-dried the saddle and Tommywith a wisp of grass, Miss OFlannigan had re-turned, minus the gingham, and with girlishlyfloating hair. Our subsequent entry into Bettwyswas mercifully cloaked by deluge, but it was diffi-cult to bear with dignity the successive eyes of awalking party, trudging in single file away from it—the same walking party on whom we had bestoweda scornful compassion as we met them in the air-less heat near Beddgelert. Even on such a day asthis the villas and lodging-houses of Bettwys couldlook nothing else but flawlessly clean and smart,with their clear grey-stone walls and white-frilledwindow curtains. Between them and the speedingriver (whose bridge and island were, even at aglance, familiar as the mainstay of many water-colour exhibitions) we huddled in downpour to thehotel of our choice ; not the Royal Oak, with itslegion of waiters and its private road to the rail-way