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Updated: May 6, 2025
Four days after the receipt of the Austrian news Corporal Tullidge ran into the miller's house to inform him that on the previous Monday, at eleven in the morning, the Pickle schooner, Lieutenant Lapenotiere, had arrived at Falmouth with despatches from the fleet; that the stage-coaches on the highway through Wessex to London were chalked with the words 'Great Victory! 'Glorious Triumph! and so on; and that all the country people were wild to know particulars.
Time and Nature had done what they could, and under their beneficent influences the arm had become a sort of anatomical rattle-box. People interested in Corp'el Tullidge were allowed to see his head and hear his arm. The corp'el gave these private views at any time, and was quite willing to show off, though the exhibition was apt to bore him a little.
'Who goes there? said Corporal Tullidge, shouldering a pike with his sound arm. 'O, 'tis neighbour Loveday! 'Did you get your signal to fire it from the east? said the miller hastily. 'No; from Abbotsea Beach. 'But you are not to go by a coast signal!
'Well, if the young woman don't want to see yer head, maybe she'd like to hear yer arm? continued Cripplestraw, earnest to please her. 'Hey? said the corporal. 'Your arm hurt too? cried Anne. 'Knocked to a pummy at the same time as my head, said Tullidge dispassionately. 'Rattle yer arm, corpel, and show her, said Cripplestraw.
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