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
"Tommy, keep your pecker up;" Jack Windsor hit me a slap on the back, to
impress this counsel, which would have taken all my breath away, if it
had not been gone already; "think of your dad, and all the money he is
making. Stick well up to them, that's the only ticket. Make them all
shake in their shoes, dear Tommy. They will send for me next. If you
frighten them well, you will give me pluck to go on with it."
This was all very nice, from his own point of view; but I heartily
wished that he had to go first, to show me the right way of doing it.
"Oh, Jack, you are so brave," I said, "if you would only come with me,
and make believe you had been sent for too, I should take it so very
kind of you!"
"Don't you wish you may catch it?" he replied, turning round, to be
ready for the path of retreat.
"Well, at any rate, come to the door," said I; "to know that you are
there, will be better than nothing."
"Oh bother, don't be such a funk," Jack answered; "why, Tommy, they
won't eat you." And he took good care that they should not eat him, by
bolting, as fast as his fat legs would go.
None of this tended to relieve my mind; but I tried to remember
Achilles, and Hector, and all the brave men I had been reading of; yet
in spite of them all, I took good care, so far as trembling hands
allowed, to leave the door behind me open. It was now in my power, after
fifteen years of growth, to go at such a pace with the wind behind
me--and any wind blowing from a scientific point would surely find
itself behind me--that if I could only get one yard's start, all the
science yet invented--with the Devil at the tail of it--might break its
wind without coming up with me. _Dat vires animus._ The whole of my
_animus_ was up and eager. I thought of all these wise men in our
clot-pit; and out of despair I plucked hope, and defiance.
The longest dining-table in our hall, which would take thirty boys, and
their plates, on each side, had been proved to be not half long enough
for the length of the papers necessary for the lantern jaws of science.
Accordingly, three long boards, upon which Dr. Rumbelow's Hermes had
cleaned our knives, had been brought from his out-house, and set up,
with green baize over them, to carry ink and papers. Our new master sat
at the end of this length, with a brace of Professors, on his right hand
and his left. To my innermost parts I recalled these four, and was
amazed to find that they knew not me. Principal Crankhead waved his
hand, for me to stand silent at the bottom of the table; and then they
all turned round, and stared at me, with the exception of Herr
Chocolous, who stood, with his chair pushed under the table, to assert
his upright principles. And he seemed to me to be labouring not to
laugh.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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