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The Happy Warrior by A. S. M. Hutchinson - The Original Classic Edition
Finally available, a high quality book of the original classic edition.
This is a new and freshly published edition of this culturally important work, which is now, at last, again available to you.
Enjoy this classic work today. These selected paragraphs distill the contents and give you a quick look inside:
One leg was as good as another to the dog; yet it chanced upon the vicars (whose back was turned), enjoyed its bite, jerked from the devout but startled man an amazingly coarse expression, and hence arose alarums and excursions, a village set by the ears, family feuds, a budding betrothal crushed by parental strife (one party owning the dog and the other calling the vicar Father) and the genesis of a dead set against the vicars curate (who hit at the dog and struck the priest) that ended in the unfortunate young man having to leave the village.
...His fierce intention earned him at once, and earned him full, the thump upon his head that his mothers excitement and his own gloom had been conspiring to inflict ever since he entered the cottage; and he trudged his way back to Hillside viciously embittered against every point of an aching day: his mistress, her visitors, the approaching change in his life, his mother, the scullings.
...As a stone tossed down a hillside dislodges others and sets them rolling, themselves dislodging more till the first light pitch will gather to a rumble where was peace, the first stone cause to jump and shout many score that might have held their place long after the throwers idle hand was equal dust with the dust of their descent-so it is with the lightest action that the least of us may idly toss upon our small affairs.
...In one remote corner an Afridi tribesman shot a British officer: that was his movement in the meshes, and swift, swift, the chain of tugs set up thereby acted upon a morose page-boy in another remote corner, rendering him bone-tired through ushering the visitors come to congratulate those who had stepped into the dead mans shoes.
...In sheeting rain, behind a rock above a pass on the northwestern frontier of India, Multan Khan-Afridi, one-time sepoy, deserter from his regiment, scoundrel, first-class shot-snuggled his cheek against his stolen rifle, hesitated for a moment between the heads of three British officers, drew a line on one, pressed the trigger; and, while he chuckled over his success, himself pitched dead with a bullet through the incautious skull he had craned over the rock the better to enjoy the fruits of his skill.
Finally available, a high quality book of the original classic edition.
This is a new and freshly published edition of this culturally important work, which is now, at last, again available to you.
Enjoy this classic work today. These selected paragraphs distill the contents and give you a quick look inside:
One leg was as good as another to the dog; yet it chanced upon the vicars (whose back was turned), enjoyed its bite, jerked from the devout but startled man an amazingly coarse expression, and hence arose alarums and excursions, a village set by the ears, family feuds, a budding betrothal crushed by parental strife (one party owning the dog and the other calling the vicar Father) and the genesis of a dead set against the vicars curate (who hit at the dog and struck the priest) that ended in the unfortunate young man having to leave the village.
...His fierce intention earned him at once, and earned him full, the thump upon his head that his mothers excitement and his own gloom had been conspiring to inflict ever since he entered the cottage; and he trudged his way back to Hillside viciously embittered against every point of an aching day: his mistress, her visitors, the approaching change in his life, his mother, the scullings.
...As a stone tossed down a hillside dislodges others and sets them rolling, themselves dislodging more till the first light pitch will gather to a rumble where was peace, the first stone cause to jump and shout many score that might have held their place long after the throwers idle hand was equal dust with the dust of their descent-so it is with the lightest action that the least of us may idly toss upon our small affairs.
...In one remote corner an Afridi tribesman shot a British officer: that was his movement in the meshes, and swift, swift, the chain of tugs set up thereby acted upon a morose page-boy in another remote corner, rendering him bone-tired through ushering the visitors come to congratulate those who had stepped into the dead mans shoes.
...In sheeting rain, behind a rock above a pass on the northwestern frontier of India, Multan Khan-Afridi, one-time sepoy, deserter from his regiment, scoundrel, first-class shot-snuggled his cheek against his stolen rifle, hesitated for a moment between the heads of three British officers, drew a line on one, pressed the trigger; and, while he chuckled over his success, himself pitched dead with a bullet through the incautious skull he had craned over the rock the better to enjoy the fruits of his skill.
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