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Updated: June 22, 2025
"What are all these?" I could hear our friend say. "They are my logs," said I. "Your what?" "My private journals." "Oh, I see," said Aaron. "I will have a turn at them, with your permission. But what is this so carefully bound with red tape, and sealed, and marked let me see, 'Thomas Cringle, his log book." He looked at me.
Oh, make me laugh to hear white gentleman mark great fight in him memory by what him eat de day de news come; so, Massa Captain Cringle, me no quite sure weder Massa Wagtail will fight or no."
Free and easy this, thought I. "Yes, sir, Captain Cringle is here, but him no get up yet." "Oh, never mind, tell him not to hurry himself; but where is the table laid for breakfast?" "Here, sir," said Pegtop, as he showed him into the piazza.
In the darkest part of the piazza, there was the figure of a man in the attitude of a telescope levelled on its stand, with its head, as it were, counter sunk or morticed into the wooden partition. Tipsy as we both were, we stopped in great surprise. "D n it, Cringle," said the Don, his philosophy utterly at fault, "the trunk of a man without a head, how is this?"
"The Vice Admiral has got a hint from Sir , to kick that wild splice, young Cringle, about a bit. It seems he is a nephew of Old Blueblazes, and as he has taken a fancy to the lad, he has promised his mother that he will do his utmost to give him opportunities of being knocked on the head, for all of which the old lady has professed herself wonderfully indebted.
It opens out into an equally beautiful basin, St. Thomas-in-the-Vale, of which Michael Scott gives an admirable description in Tom Cringle. I should hardly select that steamy cup in the hills as a place of residence, but as a natural forcing-house and a sample of riotous vegetation, it is worth seeing.
"Mr Cringle," said the skipper, "do you mark that tree on the ridge of the mountain, that large tree in such conspicuous relief against the eastern sky?" "I do, Captain. But heaven help us! what necromancy is this! It seems to sink into the mountain top why, I only see the uppermost branches now.
Can't you cut your coat by me, man? Only observe the delicacy of mine." "The corby craw for instance," said I, laughing. "Ever at Biggleswade!" struck in Paul Gelid. "Ever at Biggleswade! Lord love you, Cringle, we have all been at Biggleswade.
All classes speak with a deuced brogue, and worship graven images; arrived at Cove to a large dinner and here follows a great deal of nonsense of the same kind. By the time it was half past ten o'clock, I was preparing to turn in, when the master at arms called down to me, "Mr Cringle, you are wanted in the gunroom."
I said something ill and hastily. Aaron was close beside me, sitting on a carronade slide, while the surgeon was dressing a pike wound in his neck. He looked up solemnly in my face, and then pointed to the blessed luminary, that was now sinking in the sea, and blazing up into the resplendent heavens "Cringle, for shame for shame your impatience is blasphemous.
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