It announced, even as it struck, the first blow at the old morality
of Troy.
CHAPTER IV.
OF CERTAIN LEPERS; AND TWO BROTHERS, WHO, BEING MUCH ALIKE, LOVED
THEIR SISTER, AND RECOMMENDED THE USE OF GLOBES.
I must here clear myself on a point which has no doubt caused the
reader some indignation. "We remarked," he or she will say, "that,
some chapters back, the Admiral described Troy as a 'beautiful little
town.' Why, then, have we had no description of it, no digressions
on scenery, no word-painting?"
To this I answer--Dear sir, or madam, no one who has known Troy was
ever yet capable of describing it. If you doubt me, visit the town
and see for yourself. I will for the moment suppose you to do so.
What happens?
On the first day you take a boat and row about the harbour.
"Scenery!" you exclaim, "why, what could you have more? Here is a
lovely harbour flanked by bold hills to right and left; here are the
ruined castles, witnesses of the great days when Troy sent ships to
carry the English army to Agincourt; here axe grey houses huddled at
the water's edge, hoary, battered walls and quay-doors coated with
ooze and green weed. Such is Troy, and on the further shore quaint
Penpoodle faces it, where a silver creek, dividing, runs up to
Lanbeg; further up, the harbour melts into a river where the old
ferry-boat plies to and from the foot of a tiny village straggling up
the hill; further yet, and the jetties mingle with the steep woods
beside the roads, where the vessels lie thickest; ships of all builds
and of all nations, from the trim Canadian timber-ship to the
corpulent Billy-boy.
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