The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
She shook her curly pate as if each frizzle were a puzzle; and her sweet
white forehead seemed a mainsail full of memory; and then gay presence
was in her eyes, and all the play which I had stopped broke upon her
mind again.
"Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor," she began, with her beautiful fingers
crawling, like white carnelian compasses, up the well-made buttons of my
new smock-guernsey; for though I had begged my hot waistcoat off, I
never was lax of dress in her presence as I would be in Bunny's--or, in
short, with anybody except this little lady. I myself taught her that
"tinker, tailor," and had a right to have it done to me. And she
finished it off with such emphasis upon button No. 7, which happened to
be the last of them, "gentleman, ploughboy, fief," looking straight into
my eyes, and both of us laughing at the fine idea that I could possibly
be called a thief! But fearing to grow perhaps foolish about her, as she
did these charming things to me, I carried her up to bed with Bunny, and
sung them both away to sleep with a melancholy dirge of sea.
Into whatever state of life it may please God to call me--though I fear
there cannot be many more at this age of writing--it always will be, as
it always has been, my first principle and practice to do my very utmost
(which is far less than it was, since the doctor stopped my hornpipes)
to be pleasant and good company. And it is this leading motive which has
kept me from describing--as I might have done, to make you tingle and be
angry afterwards--the state of Sker House, and of Evan Thomas, and Moxy
his wife, and all their friends, about those five poor rabbiters. Also
other darkish matters, such as the plight of those obstinate black men
when they came ashore at last, three together, and sometimes four, as if
they had fought in the water. And, after all, what luck they had in
obtaining proper obsequies, inasmuch as, by order of Crowner Bowles, a
great hole in the sand was dug in a little sheltered valley, and kept
open till it was fairly thought that the sea must have finished with
them; and then, after being carefully searched for anything of value,
they were rolled in all together and kept down with stones, like the
parish mangle, and covered with a handsome mound of sand. And not only
this, but in spite of expense and the murmuring of the vestry, a board
well tarred (to show their colour) was set up in the midst of it, and
their number "35" chalked up; and so they were stopped of their mischief
awhile, after shamefully robbing their poor importer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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