09 Not George Washington

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Not George Washington, by P. G. Wodehouse #23 in our series by P. G. Wodehouse

Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.

This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the header without written permission.

Please read the “legal small print,” and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.

**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****

Title: Not George Washington An Autobiographical Novel

Author: P. G. Wodehouse

Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7230] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on March 29, 2003]

Edition: 10

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOT GEORGE WASHINGTON ***

Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

NOT GEORGE WASHINGTON An Autobiographical Novel

by P. G. Wodehouse and Herbert Westbrook

1907

CONTENTS

Miss Margaret Goodwin’s Narrative“>PART ONE

Miss Margaret Goodwin’s Narrative

1. James Arrives 2. James Sets Out 3. A Harmless Deception

James Orlebar Cloyster’s Narrative“>PART TWO

James Orlebar Cloyster’s Narrative

1. The Invasion of Bohemia 2. I Evacuate Bohemia 3. The Orb 4. Julian Eversleigh 5. The Column 6. New Year’s Eve 7. I Meet Mr. Thomas Blake 8. I Meet the Rev. John Hatton 9. Julian Learns My Secret 10. Tom Blake Again 11. Julian’s Idea 12. The First Ghost 13. The Second Ghost 14. The Third Ghost 15. Eva Eversleigh 16. I Tell Julian

Sidney Price’s Narrative

17. A Ghostly Gathering 18. One in the Eye 19. In the Soup 20. Norah Wins Home

Julian Eversleigh’s Narrative

21. The Transposition of Sentiment 22. A Chat with James 23. In a Hansom

Narrative Resumed by James Orlebar Cloyster

24. A Rift in the Clouds 25. Briggs to the Rescue 26. My Triumph

PART ONE

Miss Margaret Goodwin’s Narrative

CHAPTER 1

JAMES ARRIVES

I am Margaret Goodwin. A week from today I shall be Mrs. James Orlebar Cloyster.

It is just three years since I first met James. We made each other’s acquaintance at half-past seven on the morning of the 28th of July in the middle of Fermain Bay, about fifty yards from the shore.

Fermain Bay is in Guernsey. My home had been with my mother for many years at St. Martin’s in that island. There we two lived our uneventful lives until fate brought one whom, when first I set my eyes on him, I knew I loved.

Perhaps it is indiscreet of me to write that down. But what does it matter? It is for no one’s reading but my own. James, my fiance, is not peeping slyly over my shoulder as I write. On the contrary, my door is locked, and James is, I believe, in the smoking-room of his hotel at St. Peter’s Port.

At that time it had become my habit to begin my day by rising before breakfast and taking a swim in Fermain Bay, which lies across the road in front of our cottage. The practice—I have since abandoned it—was good for the complexion, and generally healthy. I had kept it up, moreover, because I had somehow cherished an unreasonable but persistent presentiment that some day Somebody (James, as it turned out) would cross the pathway of my maiden existence. I told myself that I must be ready for him. It would never do for him to arrive, and find no one to meet him.

On the 28th of July I started off as usual. I wore a short tweed skirt, brown stockings—my ankles were, and are, good—a calico blouse, and a red tam-o’-shanter. Ponto barked at my heels. In one hand I carried my blue twill bathing-gown. In the other a miniature alpenstock. The sun had risen sufficiently to scatter the slight mist of the summer morning, and a few flecked clouds were edged with a slender frame of red gold.

Leisurely, and with my presentiment strong upon me, I descended the steep cliffside to the cave on the left of the bay, where, guarded by the faithful Ponto, I was accustomed to disrobe; and soon afterwards I came out, my dark hair over my shoulders and blue twill over a portion of the rest of me, to climb out to the point of the projecting rocks, so that I might dive gracefully and safely into the still blue water.

I was a good swimmer. I reached the ridge on the opposite side of the bay without fatigue, not changing from a