The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas Upmore, bart., M.P., formerly known as "Tommy Upmore"Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
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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
"I'm blowed if I'll do anything of the sort. Half a crown's worth of
coppers would be gone in no time. Keep behind the curtain, Sophy; or
back we all go to business to-morrow morning; and I heartily wish we had
never come away. At home, when I am hungry, I can get my dinner."
"Oh dear, he has spoiled his white ducks with tar, and _Grip_ is in a
dreadful mess of wet, and the sailors want to hoist him too, if he would
only let them! I see what it is--how stupid of me! Tommy has been flying
all over the sea, and _Grip_ has been swimming after him! Oh,
Bucephalus, how can you eat your dinner? Is this a proper time, for you
to be devouring dinner?"
"You are right enough there, Sophy;" answered father, "I ought to have
had it five hours ago. I call it tempting Providence with one's
constitution, to go so long after breakfast-time. I only hope, the
zanies won't come wanting to hoist me."
Alas, that the stronger of my parents should have shown such
incredulity! Did it follow that, inasmuch as he was heavy, all his
productions must draw the beam? If so, dead must drop all the wit of
Falstaff, and all the sweet humour of Thackeray. And how could my father
have made light sperm, or the soap, that he labelled "the froth of the
sea"? Such questions, however, come dangerously near to science, and its
vast analogies. Enough, that my father paid dear in the end, for all
this incredulity; as will be made manifest, further on; and sorry shall
I be to tell it.
My dear mother was already of opinion, that it was a crime upon any
one's part, even to attempt to explain my achievements, and downright
treason to deny them. When the beautiful Lady Twentifold--as people
called her for convenience, though her proper name was
_Towers-Twentifold_--came, when the public was tired of shouting, to
learn all that could with propriety be learned, of the origin of her
"great little wonder," few people verily would believe what my mother
was fanciful enough to do. The lady (to whom the hotel belonged, and all
the people there, in my opinion) sat down in the parlour downstairs,
with my hand in hers--for she had taken dear liking to me, because I
resembled a child she had lost--and she begged the landlady to go to my
mother, without any card or formality, and ask whether she might have
the pleasure of seeing, and telling her about her boy.
It is a very clumsy thing for me to find fault with the behaviour of my
parents, and I am not prepared to do so now. There may have been fifty
reasons, clear to people much wiser than myself; but certainly I was
amazed, and angry, when Mrs. Roaker came back to say, that the lady
from London was so fatigued, with the dreadful effects of her journey,
that she begged to thank her ladyship most warmly, for very great
kindness to her dear son; but felt quite unequal to an interview with
her.
"How many of you are there, Tommy?" Lady Twentifold asked, without my
knowing why. But she always went straight to the meaning of things.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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