The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 225: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

208 REYNOLDS’ WORKS elimpse of the Thames as it winds its way past Greenhithe, then she loses sight of it again, but in a few minutes more she obtains a fuller view of the broad and ample flood as she passes over an eminence near Northfleet. Onward still, with an unrelaxing speed, the dark chestnut flies. Gravesend is reached, again she checks the noble animal in his career, but not a soul appears in the street, and in a few minutes more she dashes up to the front of the Dancing Bear. She looks at her watch; ‘tis four o’clock, and she is exultant. At the same moment tnat she springs from her steed the stable-door of the public-house is thrown open, and Israel Patch comes forth, leading another horse ready caparisoned. If not quite so elegant in its appearance as the dark chestnut, the relay-courser 1s but little inferior, and gives promise of no mean capacity for the work that is to be done. Few and rapid are the words which pass between Lady Bess and Israel Patch, and the moment her own steed is conducted into the stable, she bids him bring her forth a draught of ale, a command which he loses no time to obey. The Amazon drinks but a portion of the tankard’s foaming contents; then springing upon the fresh steed. away she flies again. ‘Twenty-nine miles hence to Boughton,’’ she exclaims aloud, ‘‘ and I must do the distance within a few minutes of two hours. Yes, it can be done, it shall be done,” she cries, with enhancing exultation, as she 1s now well assured of the capabilities and powers of the steed which she at present bestrides. The sun has risen, hight has broken with gradual step upon the earth, and breathed the breath of fe into the hitherto pulseless veins of slumber-iocked creation. The orb of day breaks out in glory upon the world, nature 1s wakening from her trance, but all the night-dews remain upon her breast, like sparkling gems on the bosom of an Oriental sultana aroused by the break of morning from the voluptuous cushions whereon she has reposed. The loveliness of the scene, the freshness of the morn, the gay carolling of the birds, the myriad tiny voices in which the insect world was speaking, all had the effect of elevating Lady Bess’s spirits to the highest point. Onward speeds the horse. By Heaven, she begins to think that its powers, its energies, its action are al! equal to those of her own gallant dark chestnut. Now she reins him in for a CONNIE NO KS (E(0)