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Updated: June 11, 2025
They rode punchy Burma ponies, with string stirrups, red cloth saddles, and red bell-rope headstalls. Hicksey used to lend me six or eight of them when I asked him nippy little devils, keen as mustard. But they told their wives too much, and all my plans got known, till I learned to give false marching orders overnight, and take the men to quite a different village in the morning.
I'm always pumped out before I get half-way there, and quite done up before I get back. What's the good of going there?" "Beautiful place, Punchy, and the mountain air seems to come down with the water and fill you full of strength." "Does you perhaps, but it don't do me no good. Beautiful place indeed! Ugly great hole!" "'Tisn't; it's lovely.
A couple of pairs of tough buff gloves had been undergoing some pipe-claying operation under his hands; no man stepped out so spick and span, with a hat so nicely brushed, with a stiff cravat tied so neatly under a fat little red face, with a blue frock-coat so scrupulously fitted to a punchy little person, as Major British, about whom we have written these two pages.
That little punchy old man, with long grey hair and fat face, with a nose like a note of interrogation, is the next personage of importance. He ought to be called the sailing-master, for, although he goes on shore in France, off the English coast he never quits the vessel.
That little punchy old man, with long gray hair and fat face, with a nose like a note of interrogation, is the next personage of importance. He ought to be called the sailing-master, for, although he goes on shore in France, off the English coast he never quits the vessel.
"Si-lence!" exclaimed a sonorous voice, belonging to a punchy body, a tall wand, and a black bombasin gown; and immediately afterwards, "a friend of the prisoner's, my lord. Get into that box speak loud look at his lordship. Si-lence!" The individual who caused this little excitement, and who now ascended the witness's tribune, was a labouring man.
The wind would almost tear the roof off, and Punchy howled he thought he was dying, too, maybe. But it was he kept me from it quite. I never loved him so in all my life! Can is there a way you've got in, too, but is there a way out? I was hungry, I thought I would starve. Then I forgot that listening. And the lightning I was sure it had struck again and again. I waited to see the hay blaze up.
"Oh, I don't know sort of half-bred, long-shore chap looks something between a bumbailey and a bumboatman." "Well, you may show him down." The man, who shortly after entered the cabin, was a short, punchy little fellow, with a red waistcoat, knee-breeches, and a round jacket of green cloth.
Poor Widow Sprigg caught her breath and gasped it back again before her surprise allowed her to say: "There, there, deary, run along. Don't keep Moses waitin' a minute longer. He'll be terrible cross. Yes, you can take Punchy. I'd ruther you'd take him 'an not, for Sir Philip looks peakeder 'n ever to-day. The very sight o' that humbly dog 'pears to make him sick.
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