Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 19th century -- Fiction; Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Fiction
I once made him almost frantic, by rubbing his handkerchief which always
laid by his side, and with which he was accustomed to wipe his face
every five minutes (for he was profuse in his perspiration), with what
is called cow-itch: not being aware of what was the cause, he wiped his
face more and more, until he was as red as a peony, and the itching
became intolerable.
On such occasions he never inquired who was the party, but called me and
Phil Mooney. I, on the other hand, never said a word in way of
expostulation. I took my flogging, which was as severe as he could give
it, as a matter of course, quite satisfied with the exchange.
As Walter Puddock had told me, and, as I have no doubt, the Eton boys
will confirm, after a certain quantity of flagellations, the skin
becomes so hard as to make the punishment almost a matter of
indifference and so I found it. So passed the time until the month of
November, when I was fully enabled to pay off my worthy pedagogue for
all that I was indebted to him.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
The boys had been saving up all their money to purchase fireworks for
the celebrated 5th of November--a day on which it was said that certain
persons, finding it impossible to reform the Lords and Commons, had
determined to get rid of them at once: why they have not been in similar
danger every year since the first attempt was made, I know not; certain
it is, that it is the only reform measure that can ever be effectual.
Guy Fawkes and his confederates, whether Popish or Protestant, from the
disregard of human life, certainly proved themselves the founders of a
party, still existing, whose motto is, "Measures and not Men."
But to proceed: Mr O'Gallagher had never before attempted to interfere
with the vested rights of urchins on that day; being, however, in a most
particular irascible humour, instead of a whole, he made it known that
there would only be a half, holiday, and we were consequently all called
in for morning lessons instead of carrying about, as we had intended,
the effigy of the only true reformer that ever existed in this country.
This made us all very sulky and discontented in the first place, and our
anxiety to get out of school was so great, that the lessons were not
very perfect in the second. The ferrule and rod were called out and
liberally administered; but what was our horror and dismay when Mr
O'Gallagher, about an hour before dinner, announced to us that all the
squibs and crackers, with which our pockets were crammed, were to be
given up immediately; and that, as we had not said our lessons well,
there would be no half-holiday, the whole school were in mute despair.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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