Japhet In Search Of A Father Part 1 - Frederick Marryat (best summer reads of all time .txt) 📗

Was Of A Noble,  If

Not Princely Birth,  And Frame Reasons For Concealment. At Others--But It

Part 1 Chapter 3 Pg 18

Is Useless To Repeat The Absurdities And Castle Buildings Which Were

Generated In My Brain From Mystery. My Airy Fabrics Would At Last

Disappear,  And Leave Me In all The Misery Of Doubt And Abandoned Hope.

Mr Cophagus,  When The Question Was Sometimes Put To Him,  Would Say,

"Good Boy--Very Good Boy--Don'T Want A Father." But He Was Wrong,  I Did

Want A Father; And Every Day The Want Became More Pressing,  And I Found

Myself Continually Repeating The Question,  "_Who Is My Father?_"

 

 

Part 1 Chapter 4 Pg 19

     Very Much Puzzled With A New Patient,  Nevertheless Take My Degree

     At Fifteen As An M.D.; And What Is Still More Acceptable,  I Pocket

     The Fees.

 

 

 

 

The Departure Of Mr Brookes,  Of Course,  Rendered Me More Able To Follow

Up With Timothy My Little Professional Attempts To Procure Pocket-Money;

But Independent Of These Pillages By The Aid Of Pills,  And Making Drafts

Upon Our Master'S Legitimate Profits,  By The Assistance Of Draughts From

His Shop,  Accident Shortly Enabled Me To Raise The Ways And Means In a

More Rapid Manner. But Of This Directly.

 

In The Meantime I Was Fast Gaining Knowledge; Every Evening I Read

Surgical And Medical Books,  Put Into My Hands By Mr Cophagus,  Who

Explained Whenever I Applied To Him,  And I Soon Obtained A Very Fair

Smattering Of My Profession. He Also Taught Me How To Bleed,  By Making

Me,  In The First Instance,  Puncture Very Scientifically,  All The Larger

Veins Of A Cabbage-Leaf,  Until Well Satisfied With The Delicacy Of My

Hand,  And The Precision Of My Eye,  He Wound Up His Instructions By

Permitting Me To Breathe A Vein In His Own Arm.

 

"Well," Said Timothy,  When He First Saw Me Practising,  "I Have Often

Heard It Said,  There'S No Getting Blood Out Of A Turnip; But It Seems

There Is More Chance With A Cabbage. I Tell You What,  Japhet,  You May

Try Your Hand Upon Me As Much As You Please,  For Two-Pence A Go."

 

I Consented To This Arrangement,  And By Dint Of Practising On Timothy

Over And Over Again,  I Became Quite Perfect. I Should Here Observe,  That

My Anxiety Relative To My Birth Increased Every Day,  And That In One Of

The Books Lent Me By Mr Cophagus,  There Was A Dissertation Upon The

Human Frame,  Sympathies,  Antipathies,  And Also On Those Features And

Peculiarities Most Likely To Descend From One Generation To Another. It

Was There Asserted,  That The _Nose_ Was The Facial Feature Most Likely

To Be Transmitted From Father To Son. As I Before Have Mentioned,  My

Nose Was Rather Aquiline; And After I Had Read This Book,  It Was

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Surprising With What Eagerness I Examined The Faces Of Those Whom I Met;

And If I Saw A Nose Upon Any Man'S Face,  At All Resembling My Own,  I

Immediately Would Wonder And Surmise Whether That Person Could Be My

Father. The Constant Dwelling Upon The Subject At Last Created A Species

Of Monomania,  And A Hundred Times A Day I Would Mutter To Myself,  _"Who

Is My Father?"_ Indeed,  The Very Bells,  When They Rung A Peal,  Seemed,

As In The Case Of Whittington,  To Chime The Question,  And At Last I

Talked So Much On The Subject To Timothy,  Who Was My _Fidus Achates,_

And Bosom Friend,  That I Really Believe,  Partial As He Was To Me,  He

Wished My Father At The Devil.

 

Our Shop Was Well Appointed With All That Glare And Glitter With Which

We Decorate The "_House Of Call_" Of Disease And Death. Being Situated

In Such A Thoroughfare,  Passengers Would Stop To Look In,  And

Ragged-Vested,  And In Other Garments Still More Ragged,  Little Boys

Would Stand To Stare At The Variety Of Colours,  And The 'Pottecary

Gentleman,  Your Humble Servant,  Who Presided Over So Many

Labelled-In-Gold Phalanxes Which Decorated The Sides Of The Shop.

 

Among Those Who Always Stopped And Gazed As She Passed By,  Which Was

Generally Three Or Four Times A Day,  Was A Well-Dressed Female,

Apparently About Forty Years Of Age,  Straight As An Arrow,  With An

Elasticity Of Step,  And A Decision In Her Manner Of Walking,  Which Was

Almost Masculine,  Although Her Form,  Notwithstanding That It Was Tall

And Thin,  Was Extremely Feminine And Graceful. Sometimes She Would Fix

Her Eyes Upon Me,  And There Was A Wildness In Her Looks,  Which Certainly

Gave A Painful Impression,  And At The Same Time So Fascinated Me,  That

When I Met Her Gaze,  The Paper Which Contained The Powder Remained

Unfolded,  And The Arm Which Was Pouring Out The Liquid Suspended.

 

She Was Often Remarked By Timothy,  As Well As Me; And We Further

Observed,  That Her Step Was Not Equal Throughout The Day. In Her Latter

Peregrinations,  Towards The Evening,  Her Gait Was More Vigorous,  But

Unequal,  At The Same Time That Her Gaze Was More Stedfast. She Usually

Passed The Shop For The Last Time Each Day,  About Five O'Clock In The

Afternoon.

 

One Evening,  After We Had Watched Her Past,  As We Supposed,  To Return No

More Till The Ensuing Morning,  For This Peeping In,  On Her Part,  Had

Become An Expected Occurrence,  And Afforded Much Amusement To Timothy,

Who Designated Her As The "Mad Woman," To Our Great Surprise,  And To The

Alarm Of Timothy,  Who Sprang Over The Counter,  And Took A Position By My

Side,  She Walked Into The Shop. Her Eye Appeared Wild,  As Usual,  But I

Could Not Make Out That It Was Insanity. I Recovered My

Self-Possession,  And Desired Timothy To Hand The Lady A Chair,  Begging

To Know In What Way I Could Be Useful. Timothy Walked Round By The End

Of The Counter,  Pushed A Chair Near To Her,  And Then Made A Hasty

Retreat To His Former Position. She Declined The Chair With A Motion Of

Her Hand,  In Which There Was Much Dignity,  As Well As Grace,  And Placing

Upon The Counter Her Hands,  Which Were Small And Beautifully White,  She

Part 1 Chapter 4 Pg 21

Bent Forwards Towards Me,  And Said,  In a Sweet,  Low Voice,  Which

Actually Startled Me By Its Depth Of Melody,  "I Am Very Ill."

 

My Astonishment Increased. Why,  I Know Not,  Because The Exceptions Are

Certainly As Many As The General Rule,  We Always Form An Estimate Of The

Voice Before We Hear It,  From The Outward Appearance Of The Speaker; And

When I Looked Up In Her Face,  Which Was Now Exposed To The Glare Of The

Argand Lamp,  And Witnessed The Cadaverous,  Pale,  Chalky Expression On

It,  And The Crow'S Feet Near The Eyes,  And Wrinkles On Her Forehead,  I

Should Have Sooner Expected To Have Heard A Burst Of Heavenly Symphony

From A Thunder-Cloud,  Than Such Music As Issued From Her Parted Lips.

 

"Good Heavens,  Madam!" Said I Eagerly And Respectfully,  "Allow Me To

Send For Mr Cophagus."

 

"By No Means," Replied She. "I Come To You. I Am Aware," Continued She

In An Undertone,  "That You Dispense Medicines,  Give Advice,  And Receive

Money Yourself."

 

I Felt Very Much Agitated,  And The Blush Of Detection Mounted Up To My

Forehead. Timothy,  Who Heard What She Said,  Showed His Uneasiness In a

Variety Of Grotesque Ways. He Drew Up His Legs Alternately,  As If He

Were Dancing On Hot Plates; He Slapped His Pockets,  Grinned,  Clenched

His Fists,  Ground His Teeth,  And Bit His Lips Till He Made The Blood

Come. At Last He Sidled Up To Me,  "She Has Been Peeping And Screwing

Those Eyes Of Her'S Into This Shop For Something. It'S All Up With Both

Of Us,  Unless You Can Buy Her Off."

 

"I Have,  Madam," Said I,  At Last,  "Ventured To Prescribe In Some Trivial

Cases,  And,  As You Say,  Received Money When My Master Is Not Here; But I

Am Entrusted With The Till."

 

"I Know--I Know--You Need Not Fear Me. You Are Too Modest. What I Would

Request Is,  That You Would Prescribe For Me,  As I Have No Great Opinion

Of Your Master'S Talents."

 

"If You Wish It,  Madam," Said I,  Bowing Respectfully.

 

"You Have Camphor Julep Ready Made Up,  Have You Not?"

 

"Yes,  Madam," Replied I.

 

"Then Do Me The Favour To Send The Boy With A Bottle To My House

Directly." I Handed Down The Bottle,  She Paid For It,  And Putting It

Into Timothy'S Hands,  Desired Him To Take It To The Direction Which She

Gave Him. Timothy Put On His Hat,  Cocked His Eye At Me,  And Left Us

Alone.

 

"What Is Your Name?" Said She,  In The Same Melodious Voice.

 

"Japhet Newland,  Madam," Replied I.

Part 1 Chapter 4 Pg 22

 

"Japhet--It Is A Good,  A Scriptural Name," Said The Lady,  Musirg In Half

Soliloquy. "Newland--That Sounds Of Mammon."

 

"This Mystery Is Unravelled," Thought I,  And I Was Right In My

Conjectures. "She Is Some