The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas Upmore, bart., M.P., formerly known as "Tommy Upmore"Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas Upmore, bart., M.P., formerly known as "Tommy Upmore"
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Great Britain -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Fiction; Satire
"No," he replied, "you must use no tool; but only follow my directions.
Why, what is the matter with your wrist--the right one?"
"Nothing, but a trifle of a pinch," I said; "I can use it as well as
ever, I assure you."
"Very well; then watch me, but don't speak loud. There is no danger now,
as you truly observe; or else I would have kept you outside, my Tommy.
But you see that, to secure our object without fracture, I have yet to
dig out a good bit of the shale--for it scarcely deserves to be called
rock. And when that is done, there may be some little risk, because we
cannot get any shores behind it. From what you have seen with me, you
know at once, that the object before us is no _pelvis_, as Sir Roland
insists upon calling it. All that part was easily secured; but I saw
indications of continuance; and following them up, discovered
these,--which are very grand joints of the _vertebræ_. The weight will
be very considerable, and we must try to preserve the articulations,
which might be injured, if we got it out piece-meal. All you have to do
is, to support the lower end, without jerking it, lest it should drop
from the jarring; while I release the upper part. Then with a good heft,
out we get it, with this felt under it, to prevent abrasion. Barnes
keeps his eyes on the cliff outside, and will call us at once, if the
crack grows larger. Ah! you fit exactly, as I said you would; with your
foot in that nick, what can be better?"
Without a word, I watched his skilful work, as he followed with his tool
every curve of nature's bold carving, now brought out into high relief;
until he had the other part (bedded obliquely into the rock-wall) almost
as free as mine was. Then he inserted one side of the felt, under the
mighty back-bones of the monster, and saying--"Now both hands, my clever
Tommy!" with the leverage of a bigger tool, which he caught up from the
floor, gradually brought out the reluctant mass.
When the whole of it lay on the edge of the niche, (which he had
lengthened, to allow for the jut) and was ready to come out, being all
detached, he passed a piece of rope along it upon either side, taking
advantage of the knuckles of the bones (such as I have often sucked, in
ox-tail soup) and making fast at either end, to hold it altogether. Then
he rubbed his nose, and looked at me, with a very sweet chuckle; and I
feared that he would knock his bare head against the roof; for he had
scarcely had a chance of standing upright, all the time, except just
where there was a sort of pudding-basin in the shale stuff.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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