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Updated: June 20, 2025
Cymon Tuggs discovered that the foot and ankle of Mrs. Captain Waters, were even more unexceptionable than he had at first supposed. Taking a donkey towards his ordinary place of residence, is a very different thing, and a feat much more easily to be accomplished, than taking him from it.
‘Walter, my dear,’ said the black-eyed young lady, after they had sat chatting with the Tuggses some half-hour. ‘Yes, my love,’ said the military gentleman. ‘Lord bless me, very!’ said the military gentleman. ‘It struck me, the moment I saw him,’ said the young lady, gazing intently, and with a melancholy air, on the scarlet countenance of Mr. Cymon Tuggs. Mr.
Tuggs attended to the grocery department; Mrs. Tuggs to the cheesemongery; and Miss Tuggs to her education. Mr. Simon Tuggs kept his father’s books, and his own counsel.
Cymon Tuggs behind it: pallid with apprehension, and blue with wanting to cough. ‘Aha!’ exclaimed the captain, furiously. ‘What do I see? Slaughter, your sabre!’ ‘Cymon!’ screamed the Tuggses. ‘Mercy!’ said Belinda. ‘Platonic!’ gasped Cymon. ‘Your sabre!’ roared the captain: ‘Slaughter—unhand me—the villain’s life!’ ‘Murder!’ screamed the Tuggses. ‘Hold him fast, sir!’ faintly articulated Cymon.
He paused at the door—he felt a Platonic pressure of his hand. ‘Good night,’ he said, hesitating. ‘Good night,’ sobbed the lady. Mr. Cymon Tuggs paused again. ‘Won’t you walk in, sir?’ said the servant. Mr. Tuggs hesitated. Oh, that hesitation! He did walk in. ‘Good night!’ said Mr. Cymon Tuggs again, when he reached the drawing-room.
Joseph Tuggs did not precisely understand what the grand tour was, or how such an article was manufactured, he replied, ‘Of course.’ Just as he said the word, there came tripping up, from her seat at the stern of the vessel, a young lady in a puce-coloured silk cloak, and boots of the same; with long black ringlets, large black eyes, brief petticoats, and unexceptionable ankles.
Simon Tuggs, his only son, and Miss Charlotte Tuggs’s only brother, was as differently formed in body, as he was differently constituted in mind, from the remainder of his family. There was that elongation in his thoughtful face, and that tendency to weakness in his interesting legs, which tell so forcibly of a great mind and romantic disposition.
But this prospect which lies before him of ambling across a field with death singing about his ears, is a thing which tears with clawing fingers at the tuggs and toggles of his imagination until his flesh revolts to the point where it refuses the dare. It is such a man that courts-martial and the world at large miscall by the hateful name of coward.
Cymon Tuggs, as he replied, ‘An angel of beauty!’ ‘Hallo!’ said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. ‘Hallo, Cymon, my boy, take care. Married lady, you know;’ and he winked one of his twinkling eyes knowingly. ‘Why,’ exclaimed Cymon, starting up with an ebullition of fury, as unexpected as alarming, ‘why am I to be reminded of that blight of my happiness, and ruin of my hopes?
Cymon, by an exertion of great personal strength, uprooted the chairs, and removed them further back. ‘Why, I’m blessed if there ain’t some ladies a-going in!’ exclaimed Mr. Joseph Tuggs, with intense astonishment. ‘Lor, pa!’ exclaimed Miss Charlotta. ‘There is, my dear,’ said Mr. Joseph Tuggs.
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