One Was An Englishman Named Captain Scott, Who Used To Visit Us
Occasionally For A Week's Shooting Or Fishing, For He Was A Great
Sportsman.
We were all extremely fond of him, for he was one of those
simple men that love and sympathize
With children; besides that, he
used to come to us from some distant wonderful place where sugar-plums
were made, and to our healthy appetites, unaccustomed to sweets of any
description, these things tasted like an angelic kind of food. He was
an immense man, with a great round face of a purplish-red colour, like
the sun setting in glory, and surrounded with a fringe of silvery-
white hair and whiskers, standing out like the petals round the disc
of a sunflower. It was always a great time when Captain Scott arrived,
and while he alighted from his horse we would surround him with loud
demonstrations of welcome, eager for the treasures which made his
pockets bulge out on all sides. When he went out gunning he always
remembered to shoot a hawk or some strangely-painted bird for us; it
was even better when he went fishing, for then he took us with him,
and while he stood motionless on the bank, rod in hand, looking, in
the light-blue suit he always wore, like a vast blue pillar crowned
with that broad red face, we romped on the sward, and revelled in the
dank fragrance of the earth and rushes.
I have not the faintest notion of who Captain Scott was, or of what he
was ever captain, or whether residence in a warm climate or hard
drinking had dyed his broad countenance with that deep magenta red,
nor of how and when he finished his earthly career; for when we moved
away the huge purple-faced strange-looking man dropped for ever out of
our lives; yet in my mind how beautiful his gigantic image looks!
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 18 of 355
Words from 5306 to 5629
of 98444
