Martin Rattler, R. M. Ballantyne [e book reader android txt] 📗

Aunt Dorothy Grumbit did not die! Her gentle spirit had nearly fled; but Martin's return and Martin's tender nursing brought her round, and she gradually regained all her former strength and vigour. Yes, to the unutterable joy of Martin, to the inexpressible delight of Mr. Arthur Jollyboy and Barney, and to the surprise and complete discomfiture of the young doctor who shook his head and said "There is no hope," Aunt Dorothy Grumbit recovered? and was brought back in health and in triumph to her old cottage at Ashford!

Moreover, she was arrayed again in the old bed-curtain chintz with the flowers as big as saucers, and the old high-crowned cap. A white kitten was got, too, so like the one that used to be Martin's playmate, that no one could discover a hair of difference. So remarkable was this, that Martin made inquiry, and found that it was actually the grand-daughter of the old kitten, which was still alive and well; so he brought it back too, and formally installed it in the cottage along with its grandchild.

There was a great house-warming on the night of the day in which Aunt Dorothy Grumbit was brought back. Mr. Arthur Jollyboy was there—of course; and the vicar was there; and the pursy doctor who used to call Martin "a scamp;" and the school-master; and last, though not least, Barney O'Flannagan was there. And they all had tea, during which dear Aunt Dorothy smiled sweetly on everybody and said nothing,—and, indeed, did nothing, except that once or twice she put additional sugar and cream into Martin's cup when he was not looking, and stroked one of his hands continually. After tea Martin related his adventures in Brazil, and Barney helped him; and these two talked more that night than any one could have believed it possible for human beings to do, without the aid of steam lungs! And the doctor listened, and the vicar and school-master questioned, and old Mr. Jollyboy roared and laughed till he became purple in the face—particularly at the sallies of Barney. As for old Aunt Dorothy Grumbit, she listened when Martin spoke. When Martin was silent she became stone deaf!

In the course of time Mr. Jollyboy made Martin his head clerk; and then, becoming impatient, he made him his partner off-hand. Then he made Barney O'Flannagan an overseer in the warehouses; and when the duties of the day were over, the versatile Irishman became his confidential servant, and went to sup and sleep at the Old Hulk; which, he used to remark, was quite a natural and proper and decidedly comfortable place to come to an anchor in.

Martin became the stay and comfort of his aunt in her old age; and the joy which he was the means of giving to her heart was like a deep and placid river which never ceases to flow. Ah! there is a rich blessing in store for those who tenderly nurse and comfort the aged, when called upon to do so; and assuredly there is a sharp thorn prepared for those who neglect this sacred duty. Martin read the Bible to her night and morning; and she did nothing but watch for him at the window while he was out. As Martin afterwards became an active member of the benevolent societies with which his partner was connected, he learned from sweet experience that "it is more blessed to give than to receive," and that "it is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting." Dear young reader, do not imagine that we plead in favour of moroseness or gloom. Laugh if you will, and feast if you will, and remember, too, that "a merry heart is a continual feast;" but we pray you not to forget that God himself has said that a visit to the house of mourning is better than a visit to the house of feasting: and, strange to say, it is productive of greater joy; for to do good is better than to get good, as surely as sympathy is better than selfishness.

Martin visited the poor and read the Bible to them; and in watering others he was himself watered, for he found the "Pearl of Great Price," even Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the world.

Business prospered in the hands of Martin Rattler, too, and he became a man of substance. Naturally, too, he became a man of great importance in the town of Bilton. The quantity of work that Martin and Mr. Jollyboy and Barney used to get through was quite marvellous; and the number of engagements they had during the course of a day was quite bewildering.

In the existence of all men, who are not born to unmitigated misery, there are times and seasons of peculiar enjoyment. The happiest hour of all the twenty-four to Martin Rattler was the hour of seven in the evening; for then it was that he found himself seated before the blazing fire in the parlour of the Old Hulk, to which Aunt Dorothy Grumbit had consented to be removed, and in which she was now a fixture. Then it was that old Mr. Jollyboy beamed with benevolence, until the old lady sometimes thought the fire was going to melt him; then it was that the tea-kettle sang on the hob like a canary; and then it was that Barney bustled about the room preparing the evening meal, and talking all the time with the most perfect freedom to any one who chose to listen to him. Yes, seven p.m. was Martin's great hour, and Aunt Dorothy's great hour, and old Mr. Jollyboy's great hour, and Barney's too; for each knew that the labours of the day were done, and that the front door was locked for the night, and that a great talk was brewing. They had a tremendous talk every night, sometimes on one subject, sometimes on another; but the subject of all others that they talked oftenest about was their travels. And many a time and oft, when the winter storms howled round the Old Hulk, Barney was invited to draw in his chair, and Martin and he plunged again vigorously into the great old forests of South America, and spoke so feelingly about them that Aunt Dorothy and Mr. Jollyboy almost fancied themselves transported into the midst of tropical scenes, and felt as if they were surrounded by parrots, and monkeys, and jaguars, and alligators, and anacondas, and all the wonderful birds, beasts, reptiles, and fishes, that inhabit the woods and waters of Brazil.

End of Project Gutenberg's Martin Rattler, by Robert Michael Ballantyne