in the plumpness of their persons.
It was at this moment that I conceived and executed the bold plan which
forms the subject of this paper, and from which all learned communities
may be informed that, for originality of thought and ability in the
execution, no adventurer can compare to a British marine.
The most beautiful maiden at Oporto was a Spanish girl called Carolina.
She was the daughter of the alcade of Ponte Vedra in Galicia, who had
fled some time before, from the retributive justice of the law, which
he himself had so long administered; he had died months before the
present period, leaving Carolina exposed to all the privations of a
besieged town, and to the temptations of a profligate and military
court. I never saw a more lovely creature: her eyes were as dark
as night, and her cheeks glowed with a warmth unknown in the cold
complexions of the north. Her person was faultless; her feet and her
hands were small: one could span her waist; and she walked with that
combination of majesty and grace which a Spanish woman can alone
assume. Poor Carolina was as good as she was beautiful; and though the
emperor, and his hopeful brother-in-law, and all the gay cavaliers
of the camp, were ready to throw themselves at her feet, she behaved
with a discretion which won her the good opinion of the whole army,
not to speak of the fleet, where such remarkable virtue could be fully
estimated. I among the rest of the inflammable multitude had been
struck with the magic charms of the angelic Carolina, and devoted
every moment of the occasional leave of absence which I procured, to
promenading up and down before her window, in the hope of catching a
glance of her beautiful eyes, and of attracting her regard to my own
beloved person. I was as much in love with her as a marine could be,
and my hopeless passion became so well known that it was a standing
joke at the mess-table, and our wicked wag of a commodore, who I
fancied was a little caught himself, never failed to inquire if I had
taken my usual walk, and met with the same good fortune.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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