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
"Our coast-guard will be withdrawn, next week," the Professor assured
them, in his kind and solid way; and whether they misunderstood his
meaning, and believed the Preventive men to be in possession, or whether
they were glad of some good reason for withdrawal; at any rate they
withdrew as promptly, as every one of English race does now, when it
might prove troublesome to go on. Moreover, they showed a grand contempt
for us; which the mere act of running away exhibits. And in all
probability they were wise; for _Grip_ had struck back upon ancestral
qualities, as some few Englishmen do, even yet. By slow, and solid
holding of his own, he had thrashed all the Twentifold Tower dogs, every
one of whom was to have eaten him; and now he was living on whalebone,
and every muscle was as hard as wire. If mental analogy counts for
aught, against low physical resemblance, _Grip_ was far more akin to the
English race, than the present generation is.
The Professor was delighted with all these works; and, as soon as we had
finished, and packed up the results, he laid his hand upon my head. Upon
his own, he had a velvet cap; and the whole of his face was one sweet
smile.
"Tommy," he said, looking steadfastly at me, and swinging a little from
side to side, for he always stood with his head well back, and his heels
a trifle forward; "what a help you have been, my dear little Tommy--a
truly strongsiding champion! Now, before I go, to see your good works
stowed away in our dark recesses, tell me what I can do for you, to show
the gratitude of the nation." He was fond of talking in this style,
making small things great, and great things small.
"If you please, sir," I said, after thinking awhile, for I believed that
he could do anything; "I should be so glad, if you could stop me, from
having to go up in the air so."
Professor Megalow's bright smile changed into a smile of sadness. He
began to rub his well-established nose, in the fork of his finger and
thumb; and then he whistled, and put his hands into his trouser pockets.
"Oh yes, sir, you can, if you like;" I said, taking hold of one thumb,
which he had left out; "there is nothing of the things that can be done,
that you can't do, when you like, sir. I only want to be able to take
off this lead, that makes me blue all round, and to leave these heavy
things behind; and get to feel the ground under my feet go firm; as it
seems to do, with everybody else but me. I have longed so often to ask
you, sir; but I did not like, until you asked me. Oh, Sir
Megalo-micro-sauros, do try to help me, if I have helped you."
He had told me to call him "Micro-sauros" once, when I stuck fast with
his proper name,--"for our origin now is established, my Tommy; and yet,
we may modify our pedigrees. My proclivities show me to be devolved, in
a very degenerate, and underfed form, from the mighty race of Saurians."
And as cause, and effect, interlace each other, he spent his life, in
dissecting his ancestors.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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