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Updated: May 23, 2025
Holmes on this occasion that the wild young Australians had been reduced to something like order by an admirable governess whom he had been the means of procuring for them: that in spite of all the overindulgence she had suffered from, Emily was proving a very tolerable scholar that she had good abilities and an excellent heart, though she did climb on his knee for comfits, and beg to be taken to Astley's.
About this time I was taken for the first time to a real play, and it was to that paradise of juvenile spectators, Astley's, where we saw a Highland horror called "Meg Murdoch, or the Mountain Hag," and a mythological after-piece called "Hyppolita, Queen of the Amazons," in which young ladies in very short and shining tunics, with burnished breastplates, helmets, spears, and shields, performed sundry warlike evolutions round her Majesty Hyppolita, who was mounted on a snow-white live charger: in the heat of action some of these fair warriors went so far as to die, which martial heroism left an impression on my imagination so deep and delightful as to have proved hitherto indelible.
No, no! As God is my witness, I loved her! Even when I was returning home from Mr. Astley's my suffering was genuine, and my self-reproach sincere. But presently I was to go through an exceedingly strange and ugly experience. I was proceeding to the General's rooms when I heard a door near me open, and a voice call me by name.
Another relic of the same period, the Cavalier General Sir Jacob Astley's buff-coat, with his belt and sword; the leather of the buff-coat, for I took it between my fingers, is about a quarter of an inch thick, of the same material as a wash-leather glove, and by no means smoothly dressed, though the sleeves are covered with silver-lace.
George strides through the streets with a massive kind of swagger and a grave- enough face. It is eight o'clock now, and the day is fast drawing in. He stops hard by Waterloo Bridge and reads a playbill, decides to go to Astley's Theatre.
"That is the great rider at Astley's; I have seen her there," Miss Bolton said, looking after Mademoiselle Caracoline; "and who is that old man? is it not the gentleman in the ring!" "That is Lord Viscount Colchicum, Miss Fanny," said Pen with an air of protection.
"That is the great rider at Astley's; I have seen her there," Miss Bolton said, looking after Mademoiselle Caracoline; "and who is that old man? is it not the gentleman in the ring?" "That is Lord Viscount Colchicum, Miss Fanny," said Pen, with an air of protection.
"I warrant you, Mr. Carvel," says he, "there are few young gentlemen not born among the elect that make the great friends you are blessed with." "I have been fortunate, Mr. Dix," I replied dryly. "Fortunate!" he cried; "good Lord, sir! I hear of you everywhere with Mr. Fox, and you have been to Astley's with my Lord March. And I have a draft from you at Ampthill." "Vastly well manoeuvred, Mr.
It has been sapiently remarked by some hornet of criticism, that "Shakspeare was a clever man;" but cleverer far must that champion stand forth who wars with any prospect of success upon seas; perhaps Xerxes might have thought of it or your Astley's brigand, who rushes sword in hand on an ocean of green baize.
In fact, WHEREVER we were in the Park, in the forest, or on the Shlangenberg one needed but to raise one's eyes and glance around to catch sight of at least a PORTION of Mr. Astley's frame sticking out whether on an adjacent path or behind a bush.
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