Bildungsromans; Country life -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction; Siblings -- Fiction
This special danger had never even occurred to us. The thrill of it
accentuated the cosey homelike feeling of the cushions we nestled
into as we rolled homewards. The doctor beguiled the journey with
blood-curdling narratives of personal adventure in the tented field, he
having followed the profession of arms (so it seemed) in every quarter
of the globe. Time, the destroyer of all things beautiful, subsequently
revealed the baselessness of these legends; but what of that? There are
higher things than truth; and we were almost reconciled, by the time
we were dropped at our gate, to the fact that the battle had been
postponed.
THE FINDING OF THE PRINCESS.
It was the day I was promoted to a tooth-brush. The girls, irrespective
of age, had been thus distinguished some time before; why, we boys could
never rightly understand, except that it was part and parcel of a system
of studied favouritism on behalf of creatures both physically inferior
and (as was shown by a fondness for tale-bearing) of weaker mental
fibre. It was not that we yearned after these strange instruments in
themselves; Edward, indeed, applied his to the scrubbing-out of his
squirrel's cage, and for personal use, when a superior eye was grim
on him, borrowed Harold's or mine, indifferently; but the nimbus of
distinction that clung to them--that we coveted exceedingly. What more,
indeed, was there to ascend to, before the remote, but still possible,
razor and strop?
Perhaps the exaltation had mounted to my head; or nature and the perfect
morning joined to him at disaffection; anyhow, having breakfasted,
and triumphantly repeated the collect I had broken down in the last
Sunday--'twas one without rhythm or alliteration: a most objectionable
collect--having achieved thus much, the small natural man in me
rebelled, and I vowed, as I straddled and spat about the stable-yard in
feeble imitation of the coachman, that lessons might go to the Inventor
of them. It was only geography that morning, any way: and the practical
thing was worth any quantity of bookish theoretic; as for me, I was
going on my travels, and imports and exports, populations and capitals,
might very well wait while I explored the breathing, coloured world
outside.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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