E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
Boys and Girls from Thackeray
By Kate Dickinson Sweetser
Pictures by GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS
1907
William Makepeace Thackeray—the name is dear to all lovers of classicfiction, who have wandered in enchanted lands, following the fortunes ofColonel Newcome, Becky Sharp, Henry Esmond, and a host of other familiarcharacters created by the great novelist.
To an unusual degree, Thackeray dwells on the childhood and youth of thecharacters he depicts, lingering fondly and in details over the pranksand pastimes, the school and college days of his heroes and heroines, asthough he wished to call especial attention to the interest of thatportion of their career.
That Thackeray has so emphasised his sketches of juvenile life, warrantsthe presentation of those sketches in this volume and as completestories, without the adult intrigue and plot with which they aresurrounded in the novels from which they are taken. The object in sopresenting them is twofold: namely, to create an interest in Thackeray'swork among young readers to whom he has heretofore been unknown, and toform a companion volume to those already given such a heartywelcome—Boys and Girls from Dickens and George Eliot.
BOYS AND GIRLS from THACKERAY
[Illustration: HENRY ESMOND AND THE CASTLEWOODS.]
When Francis, fourth Viscount Castlewood, came to his title, and,presently after, to take possession of his house of Castlewood, CountyHants, in the year 1691, almost the only tenant of the place besides thedomestics was a lad of twelve years of age, of whom no one seemed to takeany note until my Lady Viscountess lighted upon him, going over the housewith the housekeeper on the day of her arrival. The boy was in the roomknown as the book-room, or yellow gallery, where the portraits of thefamily used to hang.
The new and fair lady of Castlewood found the sad, lonely little occupantof this gallery busy over his great book, which he laid down when he wasaware that a stranger was at hand. And, knowing who that person must be,the lad stood up and bowed before her, performing a shy obeisance to themistress of his house.
She stretched out her hand—indeed, when was it that that hand would notstretch out to do an act of kindness, or to protect grief andill-fortune? "And this is our kinsman, I believe," she said; "and what isyour name, kinsman?"
"My name is Henry Esmond," said the lad, looking up at her in a sort ofdelight and wonder, for she appeared the most charming object he had everlooked on. Her golden hair was shining in the gold of the sun; hercomplexion was of a dazzling bloom; her lips smiling and her eyes beamingwith a kindness which made Harry Esmond's heart to beat with surprise.
"His name is Henry Esmond, sure eno