|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 30
"How did he know what you were going to say?" queried Demosthenes.
"Don't know," replied Johnson. "Kind of mind-reader, I fancy," he added,
blushing a trifle. "But, Captain Holmes, what do you deduce from your
observation of the wake of the House-boat? If she's going to Paris, why
the change?"
"I have two theories," replied the detective.
"Which is always safe," said Le Coq.
"Always; it doubles your chances of success," acquiesced Holmes. "Anyhow,
it gives you a choice, which makes it more interesting. The change of her
course from Londonward to Parisward proves to me either that Kidd is not
satisfied with the extent of the revenge he has already taken, and wishes
to ruin you gentlemen financially by turning your wives, daughters, and
sisters loose on the Parisian shops, or that the pirates have themselves
been overthrown by the ladies, who have decided to prolong their cruise
and get some fun out of their misfortune."
"And where else than to Paris would any one in search of pleasure go?"
asked Bonaparte.
"I had more fun a few miles outside of Brussels," said Wellington, with a
sly wink at Washington.
"Oh, let up on that!" retorted Bonaparte. "It wasn't you beat me at
Waterloo. You couldn't have beaten me at a plain ordinary game of old-maid
with a stacked pack of cards, much less in the game of war, if you hadn't
had the elements with you."
"Tut!" snapped Wellington. "It was clear science laid you out, Boney."
"Taisey-voo!" shouted the irate Corsican. "Clear science be hanged! Wet
science was what did it. If it hadn't been for the rain, my little Duke, I
should have been in London within a week, my grenadiers would have been
camping in your Rue Peekadeely, and the Old Guard all over everywhere
else."
"You must have had a gay army, then," laughed C�sar. "What are French
soldiers made of, that they can't stand the wet--unshrunk linen or
flannel?"
"Bah!" observed Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders and walking a few paces
away. "You do not understand the French. The Frenchman is not a pell-mell
soldier like you Romans; he is the poet of arms; he does not go in for
glory at the expense of his dignity; style, form, is dearer to him than
honor, and he has no use for fighting in the wet and coming out of the
fight conspicuous as a victor with the curl out of his feathers and his
epaulets rusted with the damp. There is no glory in water. But if we had
had umbrellas and mackintoshes, as every Englishman who comes to the
Continent always has, and a bath-tub for everybody, then would your
Waterloo have been different again, and the great democracy of Europe with
a Bonaparte for emperor would have been founded for what the Americans
call the keeps; and as for your little Great Britain, ha! she would have
become the Blackwell's Island of the Greater France."
"You're almost as funny as _Punch_ isn't," drawled Wellington, with an
angry gesture at Bonaparte. "You weren't within telephoning distance of
victory all day. We simply played with you, my boy. It was a regular game
of golf for us. We let you keep up pretty close and win a few holes, but
on the home drive we had you beaten in one stroke. Go to, my dear
Bonaparte, and stop talking about the flood."
"It's a lucky thing for us that Noah wasn't a Frenchman, eh?" said
Frederick the Great. "How that rain would have fazed him if he had been!
The human race would have been wiped out."
"Oh, pshaw!" ejaculated Noah, deprecating the unseemliness of the quarrel,
and putting his arm affectionately about Bonaparte's shoulder. "When you
come down to that, I was French--as French as one could be in those
days--and these Gallic subjects of my friend here were, every one of 'em,
my lineal descendants, and their hatred of rain was inherited directly
from me, their ancestor."
"Are not we English as much your descendants?" queried Wellington, arching
his eyebrows.
"You are," said Noah, "but you take after Mrs. Noah more than after me.
Water never fazes a woman, and your delight in tubs is an essentially
feminine trait. The first thing Mrs. Noah carried aboard was a laundry
outfit, and then she went back for rugs and coats and all sorts of
hand-baggage. Gad, it makes me laugh to this day when I think of it! She
looked for all the world like an Englishman travelling on the Continent as
she walked up the gang-plank behind the elephants, each elephant with a
Gladstone bag in his trunk and a hat-box tied to his tail." Here the
venerable old weather-prophet winked at Munchausen, and the little quarrel
which had been imminent passed off in a general laugh.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|