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Updated: May 18, 2025
Everybody knows that the world is supported by the shoulders of Atlas; and that Atlas stands on a rail-fence; and that the rail-fence is built on a turtle's back. Now, the turtle has to stand on something; and that is a board-walk made of men like old Jerome. I do not know whether immortality shall accrue to man; but if not so, I would like to know when men like old Jerome get what is due them?
There's a regular forest outside now." Bamboo was delighted when he saw the turtle's glee at escaping. "Be careful," he cried, "not to let the tablet fall hard enough to break it." Even as he spoke, the awkward beast waddled through the door. The upper end of the monument struck against the wall, toppled off, and fell with a great crash to the floor. Bamboo shivered with fear.
"Take care " said Timothy Turtle sternly "take care that you never make such a mistake again." "Don't do that!" Fatty Coon suddenly cried. "Don't do what?" was Mr. Turtle's testy reply. "Don't pull on my leg!" Fatty Coon pleaded. "You'll have me in the water in another moment, and I'll get wet, and my mother won't like it a bit." But Timothy Turtle paid no heed to Fatty Coon's objections.
Thus the two most patient, stubborn living things in all the world were left alone together the turtle and Tom Slade. Tom sat on a rock and the turtle sat on the ground. Tom did not budge. Neither did the turtle. The turtle was facing up toward the camp and away from the lake. Tom rested his chin in his hands, studying the initials on the turtle's shell.
Finally, however, the last-named lady leaned past Mrs. Bean and touched Mrs. Turtle's silken knee, volunteering, "Your sister Hetty likes the water, I know. You remember them days, Mis' Tuttle, when we all went bathin' together down to old Chadwick's Harbor, afore they built the new wharf?" Mrs. Tinneray continued reminiscently.
But we could not get near enough; she was lifted high upon the sand, the tide was going out, and we drew twenty-three feet. We did her great harm, but we were not disabling her. An hour passed and the sun drew on to setting. The Roanoke turned and went back under the guns of Old Point, but the Saint Lawrence remained to thunder at the turtle's iron shell.
The "ninth part of a man" would seize the sleeve at the wrist with both hands, give a good jerk and an emphatic there! But when Thornton Rush was ordered to lift his arm naturally, the wrist protruded like a turtle's neck. "He must be made of gutta percha," soliloquized the discomfited tailor, giving him up as an incorrigible non-fit.
The Turtle's regular practice hour was the half hour before rising bugle in the morning. Tired with her long paddle that day Hinpoha fell asleep as soon as she touched the pillow, and was much startled to hear the loud blast of a bugle in the midst of a delightful dream. "What's the matter?" she asked sleepily, sitting up and looking around her in bewilderment.
"What a luxurious picture you draw, Captain Trevalyon," said Vaura gayly, "and what an epicure! you dwell with such pleasure upon each dish, your livers, your " "Pardonnez," answered Trevalyon, laughing; "not mine, the turtle's" and continuing with mock gravity, "I never expect mine to be dressed at Voisin's." "Horrible! a too warm anticipation of torment," cried Vaura.
I stooped, and putting my hand into the opening, found it was full of eggs; I had broken two or three, which I tasted, and thought very good. From the colour, form, and taste, I knew them to be turtle's eggs; there were at least sixty, so I had no more care about food.
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