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Their tongues, like Baron Munchausen's horn, seemed to run with an accumulated rapidity from the long embargo laid upon them. "Sacré gueux, bête, voleur," &c., were the current coin in which they repaid his despotism, and I was happy to find that his conduct in Spain was by all held in utter detestation and considered as the ground work of his ruin.
"Oh, werry well uncommon, I may say a thoroughbred, bang tail down to the hocks, by Phantom, out of Baron Munchausen's dam gave a hatful of money for him at Tatts'. five fives a deal of tin as times go. But he's a perfect 'oss, I assure you bright bay with four black legs, and never a white hair upon him. He's touched in the vind, but that's nothing I'm not a fox-hunter, you know, Mr.
Their liveliness and animal exuberance are as strong a contrast to the immoveable form into which they are swathed when infants, as the flutter of a butterfly is to its torpidity as a chrysalis; indeed a fanciful person might be apt to suppose, that on emerging from their bandages, they indemnify themselves for the previous constraint by a life of perpetual fidget, and that the same re-action takes place as in the case of Munchausen's horn, which played for half an hour of its own accord when unfrozen.
They found a vacant bench behind a skilfully arranged screen of palms, and Sidwell produced a cigar. "In listening to a tale or a confession," he explained, "one should always call in the aid of nicotine. I fancy Munchausen's listeners must have been smokers." The girl steadily inspected the dark mobile face, half concealed in the shadow. "You're making sport of me," she announced presently.
The ancient verger who took us about the edifice was obliged to show us everything, Euphemia being especially anxious to see the stall in the choir which had belonged to Charles Kingsley, and was much disturbed to find that under the seat the monks of the fifteenth century had carved the subject of one of Baron Munchausen's most improbable tales.
While still at Dolcoath, it is very probable that he put together the little pamphlet which appeared in London at the close of 1785, with the title "Baron Munchausen's Narrative of his Marvellous Travels and Campaigns in Russia," and having given his jeu d'esprit to the world, and possibly earned a few guineas by it, it is not likely that he gave much further thought to the matter.
Condemned by the learned, like some other masterpieces, as worthless, Munchausen's travels have obtained such a world-wide fame, that the story of their origin possesses a general and historic interest apart from whatever of obscurity or of curiosity it may have to recommend it. The work first appeared in London in the course of the year 1785.
The baby brother followed this advice, and sure enough two days afterwards he appeared triumphant in the nursery with the ship in his hands, saying: "He said I might choose, the ship or the picture-book." Now the picture-book was a coloured edition of Baron Munchausen's adventures; the boy who gave good advice had seen it and hankered for it.
This sometimes brought us up four or five apples at once, which hung on the blade like the flock of ducks that Baron Munchausen's musket pierced with the ramrod. We were all honest boys, yet not one, not even the sons of the heads of the institute, ever thought of blaming or checking the zest for this appropriation of other people's property.
"Still, I don't see," said I, somewhat jealously, perhaps, "how that makes him king-pin in golf circles. Where did he play?" "On imaginary links," said Boswell. "Poh!" I ejaculated. "Don't sneer," said Boswell. "You know yourself that the links you imagine are far better than any others." "What is Munchausen's strongest point?"
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