General Bounce; Or, The Lady and the LocustsWhyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
General
General Bounce; Or, The Lady and the Locusts
Whyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Now the General, when he first began to live alone, and to miss the
constant interchange of ideas which a military life encourages, had
acquired a habit of discoursing to himself on such subjects as were
most interesting to him at the time; so as he toddled merrily along,
much relieved by the bucolic blow-up, and admired his sturdy legs and
swung his short arms, all the way up the long gravel-walk towards the
house, his thoughts framed themselves into a string of disjointed
sentences, now muttered scarcely above a whisper, now spoken boldly
out in an audible tone, which would have led a stranger to suppose he
was carrying on a conversation with some one on the other side of the
screening Portugal laurels. “Thick-headed fellows, these
bumpkins,” soliloquised the General, “not like my old friends at
Fool-a-pore--could make them skip about to some purpose: there’s
nothing like a big stick for a nigger--never mind. I’m young enough to
begin again--man of iron--what an arm! what a leg! might have married
a dozen peeresses, and beauties by hundreds--didn’t though. Now,
there’s Blanche; I shall have fifty fellows all after her before
Christmas--sharp dogs if they think they can weather old
Bounce--Rummagee Bang couldn’t. By the by, I haven’t told Mrs. Delaval
that story yet--clever woman, and good judgment--admires my character,
I’ll bet a million--an officer’s daughter, too, and what a magnificent
figure she has--Bounce, you’re an old fool! As for Charlie, he shall
stay here all the winter; there’s mettle in that lad, and if I can’t
lick him into shape I’m a Dutchman. He’ll show ’em the way with the
hounds, and I’ll put him up to a thing or two, the young scamp.
Snaffles! Snaffles!!” roared the General, as he concluded his
monologue, and passed the stables on his way to the house, “don’t take
any of the horses out to-morrow till you get your orders. Do you
_hear_ me? man alive!” And by this time, having reached home, he
stumped off to dress for dinner, keeping up a running fire along the
passages, as he discovered here a hearth-broom, and there a
coal-scuttle, ready for him to break his shins over, and observed the
usual plate and tea-cup standing sentry at each of the ladies’ doors.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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