"Martain Rattler" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ballantyne R.M)

Martain Rattler
MARTIN RATTLER
or
A Boy's Adventures in the Forests of Brazil
by
R. M. Ballantyne
CHAPTER I
The hero and his only relation
MARTIN RATTLER was a very bad boy. At least his aunt, Mrs. Dorothy Grumbit, said
so; and certainly she ought to have known, if anybody should, for Martin lived
with her, and was, as she herself expressed it, "the bane of her existence, the
very torment of her life." No doubt of it whatever, according to Aunt Dorothy
Grumbit's showing, Martin Rattler was "a remarkably bad boy."
It is a curious fact, however, that although most of the people in the village
of Ashford seemed to agree with Mrs. Grumbit in her opinion of Martin, there
were very few of them who did not smile cheerfully on the child when they met
him, and say "Good-day, lad," as heartily as if they thought him the best boy in
the place. No one seemed to bear Martin Rattler ill-will, notwithstanding his
alleged badness. Men laughed when they said he was a bad boy, as if they did not
quite believe their own assertion. The vicar, an old white-headed man, with a
kind, hearty countenance, said that the child was full of mischief - full of
mischief; but he would improve as he grew older, he was quite certain of that.
And the vicar was a good judge, for he had five boys of his own, besides three
other boys, the sons of a distant relative, who boarded with him; and he had
lived forty years in a parish overflowing with boys, and he was particularly
fond of boys in general. Not so the doctor, a pursy little man with a terrific
frown, who hated boys, especially little ones, with a very powerful hatred. The
doctor said that Martin was a scamp.
And yet Martin had not the appearance of a scamp. He had fat rosy cheeks, a
round rosy mouth, a straight, delicately-formed nose, a firm, massive chin, and
a broad forehead. But the latter was seldom visible, owing to the thickly
clustering fair curls that over-hung it. When asleep, Martin's face was the
perfection of gentle innocence. But the instant he opened his dark-brown eyes, a
thousand dimples and wrinkles played over his visage, chiefly at the corners of
his mouth and round his eyes, as if the spirit of fun and the spirit of mischief
had got entire possession of the boy, and were determined to make the most of
him. When deeply interested in anything, Martin was as grave and serious as a
philosopher.
Aunt Dorothy Grumbit had a turned-up nose - a very much turned-up nose ; so much
so, indeed, that it presented a front view of the nostrils! It was an
aggravating nose, too, for the old lady's spectacles refused to rest on any part
of it except the extreme point. Mrs. Grumbit invariably placed them on the right
part of her nose, and they invariably slid down the curved slope until they were
brought up by the little hillock at the end. There they condescended to repose
in peace.
Mrs. Grumbit was mild and gentle, and little, and thin, and old-perhaps
seventy-five; but no one knew her age for certain, not even herself. She wore an
old-fashioned, high crowned cap, and a gown of bed curtain chintz, with flowers
on it the size of a saucer. It was a curious gown, and very cheap, for Mrs.
Grumbit was poor. No one knew the extent of her poverty any more than they did