Chinese -- England -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Epistolary fiction; Humorous stories
pale, blood-thirsty foreigners as an unusually large execution is
with us), and as a consequence the former is little reputed save among
maidens, the feeble, and those of timorous instincts.
Thus positioned, regarding a knowledge of their outside amusements, it
has always been one of the most prominent ambitions of this person’s
strategy to avoid being drawn into any encounter. At the same time,
the thought that the maidens of the household here (of whom there are
several, all so attractively proportioned that to compare them in a
spirit of definite preference would be distastefully presumptuous to
this person,) should regard me as one lacking in a sufficient display
of violence was not fragrant to my sense of refinement; so that when
Sir Philip, a little time after our arrival, related to me that on the
following day he and a chosen band were to be engaged in the match of a
cricket game against adversaries from the village, and asked whether I
cared to bear a part in the strife, I grasped the muscles of the upper
part of my left arm with my right hand--as I had frequently seen the
hardy and virile do when the subject of their powers had been raised
questioningly--and replied that I had long concealed an insatiable wish
to take such a part at a point where the conflict would be the most
revengefully contested.
Being thus inflexibly committed it became very necessary to arrange a
well-timed intervention (whether in the nature of bodily disorder, fire,
or demoniacal upheaval, a warning omen, or the death of some of our
chief antagonists), but before doing so I was desirous of understanding
how this contest, which had hitherto remained outside my experience, was
waged.
There is here one of benevolent rotundity in whose authority lie the
cavernous stores beneath the house and the vessels of gold and silver;
of menial rank admittedly, yet exacting a seemly deference from all
by the rich urbanity of his voice and the dignity of his massive
proportions. In the affable condescension of his tone, and the
discriminating encouragement of his attitude towards me on all
occasions, I have read a sympathetic concern over my welfare. Him I now
approached, and taking him aside, I first questioned him flatteringly
about his age and the extent of his yearly recompense, and then casually
inquired what in his language he would describe the nature of a cricket
to be.
“A cricket?” repeated the obliging person readily; “a cricket, sir, is a
hinsect. Something, I take it, after the manner of a grass-’opper.”
“Truly,” I agreed. “It is aptly likened. And, to continue the simile, a
game cricket--?”
“A game cricket?” he replied; “well, sir, naturally a game one would be
more gamier than the others, wouldn’t it?”
“The inference is unflinching,” I admitted, and after successfully
luring away his mind from any significance in the inquiry by asking him
whether the gift of a lacquered coffin or an embroidered shroud would be
the more regarded on parting, I left him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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