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Updated: June 22, 2025
In an evil moment, temper getting the better of Sloper's judgment, he loaded one of his pieces with stones, and the gun was so well aimed that on Joe Westlake looking aloft he beheld his beautiful flag of a fathom and a half in holes. For some moments the old man-of-wars man stood staring up at his wounded flag, idle with wrath and astonishment.
"Even admitting I attach an undue importance to Miss Sloper's fortune," he went on, "would not that be in itself an assurance that I should take much care of it?" "That you should take too much care would be quite as bad as that you should take too little. Catherine might suffer as much by your economy as by your extravagance." "I think you are very unjust!"
Sloper's eyes were bloodshot, and his countenance haggard. He looked inconceivably grimy and forlorn, and Bob Robins felt sorry for the little creature till he recollected on a sudden the man's reason for letting off his cannons. Tuck took the helm, and old Joe with a solemn countenance and slow gait rolled forward to where the apparatus was stationed.
His language shocked his father before he was twelve, and by that age, what with touting for parcels at the station and selling the Bun Hill Weekly Express, he was making three shillings a week, or more, and spending it on Chips, Comic Cuts, Ally Sloper's Half-holiday, cigarettes, and all the concomitants of a life of pleasure and enlightenment.
Nevertheless, in the carriage, as they drove home, she was as quiet as if fatigue had been her portion. Dr. Sloper's manner of addressing his sister Lavinia had a good deal of resemblance to the tone he had adopted towards Catherine. "Who was the young man that was making love to you?" he presently asked. "Oh, my good brother!" murmured Mrs. Penniman, in deprecation. "He seemed uncommonly tender.
Blew the top of his head off. Good boy, too just been given his stripe. Oh, Smithson! tell the Engineer officer about that pump. Confound! I've shaved a mosquito bite!" The cook a veteran of many years looked at the placidly smoking Sapper and cleared his throat. On any subject he was an artist; on pumps and the deficiencies of Ally Sloper's Cavalry as the A.S.C. is vulgarly known he was a genius.
I thought Mick Donovan would have died of laughing on hearing the cockatoo speak so funnily, his mirth being so contagious that we all followed suit; and, what with the screeching and screaming of the other birds, which seemed to take `Ally Sloper's' cry for a signal and chimed in, you never heard such a row in your life.
When Sloper and his friends had dined, and the bottle had circled until, like quicksilver in the eye of a hurricane, the contents had sunk out of sight, the party went on to the lawn to fire off the guns there in completion of the triumphant celebration of the ever-memorable anniversary of Sloper's release.
He had not drunk much of it when the big seaman rose hurriedly and staggered between the two tables. In doing so, he accidentally knocked the pot out of the youth's hand, and sent the contents into Mr Sloper's face and down into his bosom, to the immense amusement of the company. That man of peace accepted the baptism meekly, but Miles sprang up in sudden anger.
In Sloper's time steamers were few; the water of the river teemed with sailing craft of every description; they tacked across from bank to bank as they staggered to their destination against the wind. Sloper, sitting at his open window on a fine day, would be able to count twenty different types of rigs in almost as many minutes.
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