The Blunders of a Bashful ManVictor, Metta Victoria Fuller
General
The Blunders of a Bashful Man
Victor, Metta Victoria Fuller
Humorous stories; Young men -- Fiction
They made themselves very agreeable on the way--so that I would think
no more of hanging myself, I suppose.
Only one more little incident occurred on the road. We met a tramp. He
was a roughly-dressed fellow, with a straw hat such as farmers wear,
whose broad brim nearly hid his face. He sauntered up impudently, and,
before we could pass him, he chucked Blue-Eyes under the chin. In
less than half a second he was flying backward over the rail fence,
although he was a tall fellow, more than my weight.
"Now," said I proudly to myself, "she will forget that unlucky circus
performance in the barn."
Imagine my sensations when she turned on me with the fire flashing out
of those soft blue eyes.
"What did you fling my brother over the fence for?"
That was what she asked me.
CHAPTER X.
HE CATCHES A TROUT AND PRESENTS IT TO A LADY.
"Some achieve greatness; some have greatness thrust upon them." I
think I have achieved greatness. Of one thing I am convinced: that it
is only necessary to do some one thing _well_--as well or better than
any one else--in order to acquire distinction. The thing I do really
well--better than any living human being--is to blunder. I defy
competition. There are champion tight-rope dancers, billiard players,
opera singers, swindlers, base-ballists, candidates for the
Presidency. I am the champion blunderer. You remember the man who
asked of another, "Who is that coarse, homely creature across the
room?" and received for answer, "That creature is my wife!" Well, I
_ought_ to have been that man, although in that case I did not happen
to be. My compliments always turn out to be left-handed ones; all my
remarks, all my efforts to please are but so many never-ending
_faux-pas_.
As a general seeks to retrieve one defeat by some act of unparalleled
bravery, so had I sought to wipe out from the memory of the lovely
pair whom I escorted, my shameful failure to hang myself, by gallantly
pitching over the fence the fellow who had made himself too familiar
with the fairer of the two; and, as a _matter of course_, he turned
out to be her favorite brother.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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