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
"Pooh!" cried father; "after all our experience, what could a country
bumpkin teach us? Ah, Mrs. Windsor, what things we could tell you, if
ladies' nerves were stronger! But, John, I've a great mind to take your
advice, and encourage the policy of our noble Government, in doing me a
good turn, as early as they can. We will get away before those
unprincipled Rads can serve their skulking summons. That Joe Cowl means
to get up to-morrow, after shamming to be dead for a fortnight,--a
Conservative sweep would have cured his cold, by stopping up a
chimney--and on Friday he goes for his summons, I hear. The Beak is a
Rad, and will let him have it. I shall trust you to keep it all dark
about us, and mum's the address of our luggage, and letters. But Friday
will find all the Upmore family stowed away happy, at Happystowe."
My father was ever a man of his word. He made his arrangements for
half-time boiling, and the completion of all contracts, and left money
enough for a fortnight's work, and then we set off in the soap-van; with
old _Jerry_ in the shafts, and a hamper of good things, and our best
clothes on, and _Grip_ sitting up in front, and the tilt hanging down,
as if by accident, over the third hoop from the back, so that nobody
could tell that we had got a bit of luggage. And we jogged along up the
Lane first towards Hampstead, so that all the neighbours thought we were
going for a pic-nic, as indeed we thoroughly deserved to do, and they
wished us a pleasant day and no rain; for they all had a kindly will to
us. But as soon as we had thanked them, and got them out of sight, what
did father do but turn old _Jerry_, and take the shortest cut to
Shoreditch?
At that time, London was not such a thorough rat-warren of railways as
it is now; and although I had travelled by steam before, it was new
enough to be delightful. We were going by a line, which was then
considered the most dangerous in Great Britain; and this made my mother
put her head out of the window, in her anxiety about me, and father,
whenever there was anything at all to see. We wanted to look out for
ourselves; but she declared that she understood things best; and there
was no chance of getting at the other window, because four people put a
cloth along their knees, and went on eating, for leagues, and hours. So
my father went to sleep, and I tried to get peeps (behind dear mother's
bonnet) of the far world flying by. With all my heart I longed to see
the sea, of which I had heard so many things, wonderful, terrible, and
enchanting. My mother had bought me a straw-hat, with a blue ribbon on
it, like a gallant sailor's; and she should have endeavoured, after
that, to show me the sea, if it ever came in sight. But nothing that I
could say--though I never stopped bothering, as she called it--would
keep her attention to that point; and I found out afterwards the reason
for it; she was not at all sure about knowing the sea, when she saw it,
and was afraid of making some mistake.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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