PDF EPUB} He's a Perfect Little Gentleman - the Swine! by Ronald Frankau He's a Perfect Little Gentleman - the Swine! by Ronald Frankau
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Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} He's A Perfect little Gentleman - The Swine! by Ronald Frankau He's A Perfect little Gentleman - The Swine! by Ronald Frankau. Completing the CAPTCHA proves you are a human and gives you temporary access to the web property. What can I do to prevent this in the future? If you are on a personal connection, like at home, you can run an anti-virus scan on your device to make sure it is not infected with malware. If you are at an office or shared network, you can ask the network administrator to run a scan across the network looking for misconfigured or infected devices. Another way to prevent getting this page in the future is to use Privacy Pass. You may need to download version 2.0 now from the Chrome Web Store. Cloudflare Ray ID: 6612f7e8be044ddc • Your IP : 116.202.236.252 • Performance & security by Cloudflare. Ronald Frankau: Books. Oh,Dear,Dear!, Poems and Stories for Real Children(Hardback,1929) Ronald Frankau,Illustrated by Lola Onslow. Published by Frederick Warne and Co Ltd (1929) From: Codex Books (York, United Kingdom) About this Item: Hardcover. Condition: Good. Oh,Dear,Dear!, Poems and Stories for Real Children by Ronald Frankau,Illustrated by Lola Onslow, 1929, Published by Frederick Warne and Co. Ltd, Printed in Great Britain by Purnell and Sons, Hardback, has fading to covers and spine,there are a few white scorch marks from a mug to front cover, All pages appear present, Pages are yellowing, Pages are hand-cut, Seller Inventory # ABE-1618649378790. Crazy Omnibus. Frankau, Ronald. Published by Grayson And Grayson, UK (1933) From: Carnforth Bookshop (Carnforth, United Kingdom) About this Item: Hardcover. Condition: Fair. No Jacket. Orange cloth boards show some marks and display rubbing to the edges. Some foxing to end papers and a neat penned gift inscription but generally clean internally. Front hinge is cracked but binding is reasonable. Scans available. Buy with confidence from a genuine independent bookshop. Seller Inventory # 600820. He's a perfect little Gentleman - the Swine! Pictured by Laurie Tayler. Frankau, Ronald. About this Item: Soft cover. Condition: Good. London: Raphael Tuck & Sons o. J. [1940]. 16 pages with numerous (some full-page) illustrations by Laurie Tayler in the text. Original pictorial wrappers. - Covers soiled and marked with some creasing and a short tear to lower wrapper. - A good copy. Seller Inventory # BN0986-OG4. THE FAVOURITE WONDER BOOK. Lord Dunsany, A.A. Milne, Eleanor Farjeon, L.A.G. Strong, Karel Capek, Maurice Baring, A.P. Herbert, E. Nesbit, Geoffrey Dearmer, O. Henry, Ronald Frankau, Kenneth Grahame. Published by Odhams Books., London. About this Item: Hard Cover. Condition: Very Good. No date, but 1948. Colour frontis, 320 pages. Internally spotless. Cover spine faded. Seller Inventory # 023027. He's a Perfect Gentleman - the Swine! Frankau, Ronald. Published by Raphael Tuck and Sons (1940) About this Item: Softcover. Condition: Very Good. No Jacket. Type: Political Comment, WWII Hitler VERY GOOD/NO DUST JACKET. 16 p. Pamphlet bound with two staples, cover laminated cardboard. Text clean and unmarked. Illustrated by cartoons on every page, with verse accompanying. Small picture of Hitler on cover with large red shadow of pig behind him. Back cover shows map of Europe with large pig parachuting over it. Seller Inventory # 030720. Diversions. FRANKAU, Ronald. Published by Raphael Tuck & Sons Ltd, London. From: Roger Collicott Books (Widecombe in the Moor, DEVON, United Kingdom) About this Item: Condition: Very Good. First Edit. c1940s. 12 tipped-in mounted colour plates by Laurie Tayler. Original cloth backed printed boards, ribbon ties. Evocative ( saucy ) humorous prints illustrating life during the Second World War. Typographically a well produced work for the war period. Size: 4to. Book. Seller Inventory # 001548. Essay: The Perfect Gentleman. Lessons from childhood guide one man’s life and help him navigate the present moment. Share this: “Granddaddy was a perfect gentleman.” Nonie – my grandmother – rattled the cube in her scotch, which then jangled her gold charm bracelet. I was 8 years old, and the sound of the charms kept me rapt, like a terrier by dog whistle. “Oh, my, yes!” murmured Lucy Vermillion, clutching her pearl necklace. As she nodded her head, I noted the intractable immobility of her hairdo, a bright platinum bouffant, a “permanent wave,” she called it. “In the winter, he’d help you get up the icy steps and take your boots off for you …” Nonie’s voice trailed off (a slight dementia was the thief that repeatedly stole her train of thought). “That is exactly raaaaaht, Alice!” Lucy made no pretense of masking her east Missouri “Little Dixie” drawl. Now Lucy was re-striping her bright red lips, aiming at me. “Gimme that face!” She grabbed me by the ears and planted kisses on each cheek, leaving huge red smears that, in a mild panic, I quickly dabbed away with a cocktail napkin. We were in the lounge of the local country club. It was the wake or pre-wake luncheon or the post-rehearsal supper for the wake of my great- grandfather. Nonie, Lucy and I were waiting for the rest of the family to arrive, before sitting down at a table that ran the length of the club’s dining room. My great-grandfather was known by all living generations as “Granddaddy.” In his retirement, he had moved from Chicago back to his childhood home in Louisiana, Missouri, an apple-growing center just 20 miles downriver from Hannibal, on the Mississippi. Granddaddy’s father – familiar in the family lore as “Three Finger Jack” – had moved to Missouri from Ohio, after being discharged from the Union Army after the Civil War (and the unfortunate loss of two digits on his right hand). He owned a popular hardware store and was later elected postmaster. Granddaddy had married Ella Frier, who belonged to one of the town’s antebellum founding families. Granddaddy either “sold insurance to farmers during the Depression” or “invested early in Standard Oil” or perhaps both (I was never entirely straight on the story). Regardless, he apparently retired at 40 and devoted himself to fly-fishing and the maintenance of his extensive pocket-knife collection. Ella died before I was born, and Granddaddy’s regular female companion had always been this vivacious force of nature named Lucy Vermillion, who also quickly became Nonie’s best friend. “He really was THE perfect gentleman!” The women nodded in unison. “Nipper, go get me just a splash of water in this please, honey?” Nonie handed me her scotch glass. (Junior Fitz, the bartender and family friend, was happy to serve 8-year-olds.) As I returned with Nonie’s scotch, my parents, brother, sister, aunts, uncles and cousins piled in. An entourage of morose, aging, suited strangers and their more animated female escorts followed the family into the dining room. I was seated next to my father, who was seated across from Nonie. One of the local matrons approached the table to greet Nonie. My father instantly stood up. Nodding his head, Nonie introduced us to “Nonie Stark! You know, from the Starks!” (This always confused us. Mrs. Stark somehow had the same unlikely nickname as our grandmother.) Mrs. Stark departed to take her seat. My father sat down. Another biddy arrived at Nonie’s side, except her name actually was Biddy. “Biddy Pribe! You know, from across the street!” Again, my father stood, seating himself again on Mrs. Pribe’s exit. I looked at him, puzzled, mildly concerned by his behavior. First a strong waft of perfume, then, “Effie Buffum! You know, from the button company!” Again, my father rose to his feet, greeting Mrs. Buffum. I looked up at him. At this rate, he wasn’t going to get through his shrimp cocktail. “Why are you always standing up like that? Are you going to finish that shrimp?” Saying this, I looked up at him. He stood there as the swirl of Mrs. Buffum’s heavy floral essence gently decayed in the air. “I didn’t think you liked shrimp,” he said, again taking his seat. “A gentleman always stands when a lady approaches the table.” My father’s comment was not lost on Nonie and Lucy Vermillion. “Oh, that is right, Tuck! A gentleman always stands for a lady! Always! Listen to your father, Nip!” (Little more need be said regarding my family’s use of nicknames.) “Granddaddy always stood up, yes he did! Why, he would give you his seat, shove your chair in for you, and unfold your napkin! That man was a perfect gentleman!” I turned back to my father, “I like shrimp cocktail.” “Granddaddy was THE perfect gentleman!” Lucy proclaimed this rather too loudly and set the table to silence for a beat. “Remember when he dove into the pool to save Kitty?” Lucy then recounted the story of Granddaddy jumping into the country club pool, wearing his standard Brooks Brothers two-button suit, to rescue my infant cousin, who had somehow rolled into the deep end. Toward the arrival of dessert, there was another round of ladies at Nonie’s side. From across the table, Lucy locked me in a sidelong glance and gave her chin a tilt. Now, as my father rose to his feet, I joined him. I dutifully stood at the appearance of each new matron, as Nonie and Lucy clucked approvingly. Meanwhile my younger brother surveyed this from his seat with a smirk of amused disgust. (Precocious at 6, my brother had earlier committed the impertinence of telling Nonie he was an atheist. As Nonie said, he was now “in the doghouse.”) This was not the first nor certainly the last time the impeccable manners and habits of my great-grandfather were extolled.