TenaciousC
All American
6307 Posts
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got this random email today... from Jeannine Tysinger [jameswowen@fishlesscycling.com]:
(I won't be offended if TL!DNR... like I read the whole damn thing? Whatever)
| Quote : | | "Mexicans wonder what's to celebrate on bicentenary Igor Could Become Cat 5 Storm; Julia Follows After we had been on board some time Mr. David Sproat, the British Commissary of prisoners, came on board; all the prisoners were ordered aft; the roll was called and as each man passed him Mr. Sproat would ask, Are you a seaman? The answer was Landsman, landsman. There were ten landsmen to one answer of half seaman. When the roll was finished Mr. Sproat said to our sea officers, Gentlemen, how do you make out at sea, for the most part of you are landsmen? Mr. Sproat asked, And are not your vessels better manned than these. Our officers replied, Mr Sproat, we are the best manned out of the port of Philadelphia. Mr. Sproat shrugged his shoulders saying, I cannot see how you do it. We do not understand what John Van Dyke meant by his expression half seaman. It is probable that the sailors among the prisoners pretended to be soldiers in order to be exchanged. There was much more difficulty in exchanging sailors than soldiers, as we shall see. David Sproat was the British Commissary for Naval Prisoners alone. Clad in a lions shaggy hide, An ass spread terror far and wide, And, though himself a coward brute, Put all the world to scampering rout: But, by a piece of evil luck, A portion of an ear outstuck, Which soon reveald the error Of all the panic-terror.Old Martin did his office quick. Surprised were all who did not know the trick, To see that Martin,[28] at his will, Was driving lions to the mill! In France, the men are not a few Of whom this fable proves too true; Whose valour chiefly doth reside In coat they wear and horse they ride. Of fables judge not by their face; They give the simplest brute a teachers place. Bare precepts were inert and tedious things; The story gives them life and wings. But story for the storys sake Were sorry business for the wise; As if, for pill that one should take, You gave the sugary disguise. In the little fishermans cottage he had left, a fat old woman sat sobbing in the great chair made of barrel-staves, and a man, stooping, kissed her twice on the cheek--the first time in fifteen years.And then she both laughed and cried. Guida sat by the fire sewing, Biribi the dog at her feet. A little distance away, to the right of the chimney, lay Guilbert asleep. Twice she lowered the work to her lap to look at the child, the reflected light of the fire playing on his face. Stretching out her hand, she touched him, and then she smiled. Hers was an all-devouring love; the child was her whole life; her own present or future was as nothing; she was but fuel for the fire of his existence. A storm was raging outside. The sea roared in upon Plemont and Grosnez, battering the rocks in futile agony. A hoarse nor-easter ranged across the tigers head in helpless fury: a night of awe to inland folk, and of danger to seafarers. " |
 9/15/2010 7:18:18 PM
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