Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 67, No. 411, January 1850Various
History
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 67, No. 411, January 1850
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
Well, gentlemen, said "my friend," "I also will relate an incident,
connected with that dreadful day. But, first of all, I must show
you something. What, would you say, is the value of that, doctor?"
He produced a very handsome diamond ring. "Worth fifty dollars at
least," said the doctor, holding it to the lamp. "I say, _worth_ it;
that is, in the trade. Would sell, in Bond Street, for more than
double that price, as they'd set it in London." The doctor, I should
mention, was the son of a fashionable watchmaker--bore the sobriquet
of Tick.
"Well," continued my friend, "how do you think I became possessed of
that ring? Just after the town was carried, I watched a lull in the
firing from the castle, and went in over the breach. Only one or two
round-shot fell, as I was climbing up. Met there an English sailor,
a man-of-war's man, coming along in high good humour, perhaps a
little the worse for liquor. He was shouting, laughing, holding up
his two hands, as if he wanted me to look at them. The fellow had
been plundering; plundering a jeweller's shop. "Now I'm dressed out
for a ball," said he, "all for one like a Spanish lady." What d'ye
think he had done? All his fingers, both hands, were covered down
to the tips with splendid rings, rings set with precious stones,
as thick as curtain-rods. Brilliants, rubies, emeralds, amethysts,
he had stuck them on, one after the other, till there was no room
left. Told him I'd buy them: offered him a dollar for the lot; two
dollars; five dollars. 'Avast,' said he, 'I'm a gentleman. Don't
want none of your dumps, messmate. Shouldn't mind giving you one,
though, for good luck. Here, take this big un.' It was a great
ugly Brazilian topaz. 'No, no,' said I; 'give me this little one.'
He gave it me; I thanked him; and he walked away, laughing and
shouting.--Worth fifty dollars, you say. Is it though, doctor? For
forty-five down, you shall have it."
The doctor made no reply; and, for a few seconds, there was a dead
silence. "Come, Mr Pagador senior," said he; "I've got three gunshot
wounds, an ague, and a dysentery.--Must see them all, before I go to
bed. Please to proceed."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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