Peregrine's Progress

by Jeffery Farnol

Overview

Peregrine Vereker, in the eyes of his aunt Julia, who brought him up to the mature age of nineteen, was a polished young gentleman, an incipient artist and poet. In the opinion of his two uncles he was an ignorant mollycoddle, a ladylike nincompoop, unacquainted with manliness. Stung by their scorn, Peregrine ''ran away'' as many a lad before and since, to learn the world and prove his worth, and ran the gamut of happiness and misery, of fear and courage, of loneliness and love before he matched up to the requirements of his two uncles.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781530609352
Publisher:	CreateSpace Publishing
Publication date:	06/30/2016
Pages:	150
Product dimensions:	8.50(w) x 11.02(h) x 0.32(d)

About the Author

Jeffery Farnol was a British writer from 1907 until his death, known for writing more than 40 romance novels, some formulaic and set in the Georgian Era or English Regency period, and swashbucklers.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER HI WHEREIN THE READER SHALL FIND SOME DESCRIPTION OF AN EXTRAORDINARY TINKER I Went at a good, round pace, being determined to cover as much distance as possible ere dawn, since I felt assured that so soon as my indomitable aunt Julia discovered my departure she would immediately head a search party in quest of me; for which cogent reason I determined to abandon the high road as soon as possible and go by less frequented byways. A distant church clock chimed the hour and, pausing to hearken, I thrilled as I counted eleven, for, according to the laws which had ordered my life hitherto, at this so late hour I should have been blissfully asleep between lavender-scented sheets. Indeed my loved aunt abhorred the night air for me, under the delusion that I suffered from a delicate chest; yet here was I out upon the open road and eleven o'clock chiming in my ears. Thus as I strode on into the unknown I experienced an exhilarating sense of high adventure unknown till now. It was a night of brooding stillness and the moon, high-risen, touched the world about me with her magic, whereby things familiar became transformed into objects of wonder; tree and hedgerow took on shapes strange and fantastic; the road became a gleaming causeway whereon I walked, godlike, master of my destiny. Beyond meadow and cornfield to right and left gloomed woods, remote and full of mystery, in whose enchanted twilight elves and fairies might have danced or slender dryads peeped and sported. Thus walked I in an ecstasy, scanning with eager eyes the novel beauties around me, my mind full of the p.oetic imaginations conjured up by the magic of this midsummer night, so that I yearned to paint it, or set it tomusic, or write it into adequate words; and knowing this beyond me, I fell to repeating ...