"I found patches of scurvy grass, known as useful in preventing scurvy." (from Sackett's Land, by Louis L'Amour)
Scurvy grass (sometimes called spoonwort) is a genus of herbs that are rich in vitamin C. What limes did for British sailors, scurvy grass evidently did for some landlubbers.
Taking a sight upon a tree, I marked the place for memory, but in the morning, when there was light enough, I carved a name on a slab and placed it there. I knew not the day of his birth, but gave that of his death. His name, too, I placed there, although the place a man leaves is in the hearts of those he leaves behind, and in his work, not upon a slab.
(from Sackett's Land, by Louis L'Amour)
I would not sit waiting for some vague tomorrow, nor for something to happen. One could wait a lifetime, and find nothing at the end of the waiting. I would begin here, I would make something happen.
(from Sackett's Land, by Louis L'Amour)
I remembered then that my father had once told of a man who devoted much of his life to wandering about compiling notes for a history of England. He had walked the cart roads and lanes, roamed along the seashore, and explored many ruins left unnoticed before his time. My father had traveled with him a time or two for a few days. His name, I recalled, was John Leland. (from Sackett's Land, by Louis L'Amour)
Anyone who is at all acquainted with the history of Baptists in America knows the name John Leland, whose influence played a large part in the insertion of the Bill of Rights into our constitution. The John Leland (1503-1552) whom L'Amour mentions in this book was a real person, also. He has been described as "the father of English local history and bibliography." He served as the tutor to the son of the 2nd Duke of Norfolk.
In 1533, Leland apparently was granted a commission by the King, which authorized him to examine and use the libraries of all religious houses in England. He spent years compiling lists of important volumes and taking measures to encourage their preservation.
Roads were mere cart tracks or trails, wandering by the easiest routes through the forests and across the land. All were infested with thieves and highwaymen.
These things my father had told me. There were scattered farms, a few great estates. A few old Roman roads were still in use. New roads were often knee-deep in mud.
Waterways would offer the easiest route across country, but any travel was a hardship. Most who travel understood why the word "travel" had once been "travail."
(from Sackett's Land, by Louis L'Amour)
"We will lie quiet and fish for a few days," I told Jublain. "Then off for London."
"London? Are you daft, man? That is where Genester will be, and where he is strongest."
"It is a vast city," I said complacently. "Folk say more than one hundred thousand people live there. How could I be found among so many?"
"You are a child," Jublain said angrily. "It is too small a place in which to hide from hate."
(from Sackett's Land, by Louis L'Amour)
There was a goodly chance none of those who had witnessed my deed had seen me before, or my village. Yet if such there was, once I reached the fens I was lost to them.
For the fens were a vast area of low-lying ground, of shallow lakes and winding waterways, impassable swamps with here and there limestone outcroppings that created small islands, often with clumps of birch or ancient oaks.
(from Sackett's Land, by Louis L'Amour)
