The Humour and Pathos of Anglo-Indian Life: Extracts from his brother's note-book, made by Dr. TicklemoreMayer, J. E.
General
The Humour and Pathos of Anglo-Indian Life: Extracts from his brother's note-book, made by Dr. Ticklemore
Mayer, J. E.
British -- India; India -- Social life and customs
'But,' said Lady Jervois, 'in enforcing a confession of past misfortunes
from poor Dr. Ticklemore you seem to me, Captain Trevanion, to be wholly
oblivious of the charge you brought against him as incorrigible. You
were about to adduce something in support of this charge, if I mistake
not? Pray afford us the opportunity of judging of the value of this
support, and we can hear Dr. Ticklemore's confession afterwards. We, who
form the jury in this case, are not willing that the accused should be
borne down by clamour or many words, as I have been told sometimes
happens in other places.'
'You see, Lady Jervois,' returned Trevanion, 'I was interrupted in my
narrative by the accused himself, who claimed to be his own reporter in
this matter, which in courtesy I think we must allow him to be;
therefore I will only say, judging from his crushed hat and sandy, muddy
coat, that there had been a fall, and a closer connection with Mother
Earth than gentlemen generally like to indulge in when attired for a
ride on the Madras beach. Of how this came about, as he promises to
inform all present truly, I say nothing, but at the time, seeing him
under the influence of a little excitement, I did all I could to calm
and soothe him; I advised his taking a glass of brandy and soda-water,
which he did. I listened to his statement with a gravity which,
considering the details, was truly marvellous, even to myself, and
allowed him in silence to recover his equanimity by giving free scope to
all and sundry of his pious little wishes for the benefit of more than
one individual, but specially for that of a certain Mr. Jack Horseyman;
whom, it would seem, though an old schoolfellow, the Doctor devoted for
a long time to come to quarters which have so often been described with
such precision and minuteness as almost to induce suspicion of personal
acquaintance on the part of those who furnished the interesting details.
But, be this as it may, this _embarras des richesse_ entirely relieves
me from the necessity of description. I will merely indicate the
locality by remarking that I believe they don't want any coals there.
Having shown my sympathy by my silence, by the gravity of my
countenance, and by my attention as a listener, I endeavoured still
further to soothe the Doctor's feelings by telling him some of my own
mishaps in the hunting-field, and in particular, on the last occasion of
my putting in an appearance there, the narrow escape that myself and my
horse had, when both of us, in consequence of coming suddenly on a
sloping rock, the face of which (from the severe weather) was a sheet of
ice, slid down near a dozen yards, the horse, as it were, sitting on his
haunches and actually scraping his hocks. "Oh," observed the Doctor,
"that was nothing; merely a freak of Mr. Jack Frost, by which he
converted you both into a pair of slippers." Now I appeal to you, after
this, if his is not an inveterate form of a disease which, continually
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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