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'We shall stay on t'other side of the hill a fortnight, he continued; 'and, as you are fond of lil-writing, you may employ yourself profitably whilst there. You can write the lil of him whose dock gallops down that hill every night, even as the living man was wont to do long ago. 'Who was he? I demanded. 'Jemmy Abershaw, said Mr.
Father will be in a precious stew." "Better luck next time, Tom," replied I; "it's all owing to that turf-and-bog rascal. I wish we had him here." "Why, what would you do with him?" "Take down old Abershaw, and hang him up in his place, as sure as my name's Jacob."
He said that no man could desire more jolly or entertaining companions over a glass of "summut;" but that upon the road it was anything but desirable to meet them; there they were terrible, cursing and swearing, and thrusting the muzzles of their pistols into people's mouths; and at this part of his locution the old man winked, and said, in a somewhat lower voice, that upon the whole they were right in doing so, and that when a person had once made up his mind to become a highwayman, his best policy was to go the whole hog, fearing nothing, but making everybody afraid of him; that people never thought of resisting a savage-faced, foul-mouthed highwayman, and if he were taken, were afraid to bear witness against him, lest he should get off and cut their throats some time or other upon the roads; whereas people would resist being robbed by a sneaking, pale-visaged rascal, and would swear bodily against him on the first opportunity, adding, that Abershaw and Ferguson, two most awful fellows, had enjoyed a long career, whereas two disbanded officers of the army, who wished to rob a coach like gentlemen, had begged the passengers' pardon, and talked of hard necessity, had been set upon by the passengers themselves, amongst whom were three women, pulled from their horses, conducted to Maidstone, and hanged with as little pity as such contemptible fellows deserved.
Give me a highwayman and I was full to the brim; a Jacobite would do, but the highwayman was my favourite dish. I can still hear that merry clatter of the hoofs along the moonlit lane; night and the coming of day are still related in my mind with the doings of John Rann or Jerry Abershaw; and the words "postchaise," the "great North road," "ostler," and "nag" still sound in my ears like poetry.
Give me a highwayman and I was full to the brim; a Jacobite would do, but the highwayman was my favourite dish. I can still hear that merry clatter of the hoofs along the moonlit lane; night and the coming of day are still related in my mind with the doings of John Rann or Jerry Abershaw; and the words "post-chaise," the "great North Road," "ostler," and "nag" still sound in my ears like poetry.
When he was looking for a subject for his pen he rejected Harry Simms and Jemmy Abershaw because both, though bold and extraordinary men, were "merely highwaymen." On the other hand, when he has known a "bad man" he cannot content himself with mere disapproval. Take, for example, his friends the murderers, Haggart and Thurtell.
"Why, after that fight, when you pointed to the bloody mark in the cloud, whilst he you wot of was galloping in the barouche to the old town, amidst the rain-cataracts, the thunder, and flame of heaven." "I have some kind of remembrance of it, brother." "Then, again, I heard you say that the dook of Abershaw rode every night on horseback down the wooded hill."
"You are a good fellow, Jacob," said Tom; "but I say, do you recollect Wimbledon Common?" "What then?" replied I. "Only Jerry Abershaw, that's all." "Do not be afraid, Tom, it is honestly mine." "But how did you get it, Jacob," said old Tom.
'So Richard Turpin, Tom King, and Jerry Abershaw have handed down to fame the names of those on whom they committed their most impudent robberies? said Nicholas. 'I don't know anything about that, sir, answered the literary gentleman. 'Shakespeare dramatised stories which had previously appeared in print, it is true, observed Nicholas. 'Meaning Bill, sir? said the literary gentleman.
Petulengro, and consulting him. Moreover, my pride revolted at the idea of being beholden to Mr. Petulengro for the materials of the history. No, I would not write the history of Abershaw. Whose then—Harry Simms? Alas, the life of Harry Simms had been already much better written by himself than I could hope to do it; and, after all, Harry Simms, like Jemmy Abershaw, was merely a robber.
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