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De la Mare, Walter, 1873-1956

"Henry Brocken His Travels and Adventures in the Rich, Strange, Scarce-Imaginable Regions of Romance"


We hastened on at the most pathetic of gallops. Nor seemed indeed the
beauteous lightning to regard at all that restless mote upon the
cirque of its entranced fairness. In an instantaneous silence I heard
a tiny beat of hoofs; in instantaneous gloom recognised almost with
astonishment my own shape bowed upon the saddle. It was a majestic
entry into a kingdom so far-famed.
The storm showed no abatement when at last I found shelter. From far
away I had espied in the immeasurable glare a country barn beneath
trees. Arrived there, I almost fell off my horse into as incongruous
and lighthearted a company as ever was seen.
In the midst of the floor of the barn, upon a heap of hay, sat a fool
in motley blowing with all his wind into a pipe. It was a cunning tune
he played too, rich and heady. And so seemed the company to find it,
dancers--some thirty or more--capering round him with all the abandon
heart can feel and heel can answer to. As for pose, he whose horse now
stood smoking beside my own first drew my attention--a smooth,
small-bearded, solemn man, a little beyond his prime.


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