Japhet, In Search Of A Father Part 1, Frederick Marryat [best non fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

Part 1 Chapter 1 Pg 1

     Like Most Other Children,  Who Should Be My Godfather Is Decided By

     Mammon--So Precocious As To Make Some Noise In The World And Be

     Hung A Few Days After I Was Born--Cut Down In Time And Produce A

     Scene Of Bloodshed--My Early Propensities Fully Developed By The

     Choice Of My Profession

 

 

 

 

Those Who May Be Pleased To Honour These Pages With A Perusal,  Will Not

Be Detained With A Long Introductory History Of My Birth,  Parentage,  And

Education. The Very Title Implies That,  At This Period Of My Memoirs,  I

Was Ignorant Of The Two First; And It Will Be Necessary For The Due

Development Of My Narrative,  That I Allow Them To Remain In The Same

State Of Bliss; For In The Perusal Of A Tale,  As Well As In The

Pilgrimage Of Life,  Ignorance Of The Future May Truly Be Considered As

The Greatest Source Of Happiness. The Little That Was Known Of Me At

This Time I Will However Narrate As Concisely,  And As Correctly,  As I Am

Able. It Was On The--I Really Forget The Date,  And Must Rise From My

Chair,  Look For A Key,  Open A Closet,  And Then Open An Iron Safe To Hunt

Over A Pile Of Papers--It Will Detain You Too Long--It Will Be

Sufficient To Say That It Was On _A_ Night--But Whether The Night Was

Dark Or Moonlit,  Or Rainy Or Foggy,  Or Cloudy Or Fine,  Or Starlight,  I

Really Cannot Tell; But It Is Of No Very Great Consequence. Well,  It Was

On A Night About The Hour--There Again I'M Puzzled,  It Might Have Been

Ten,  Or Eleven,  Or Twelve,  Or Between Any Of These Hours; Nay It Might

Have Been Past Midnight,  And Far Advancing To The Morning,  For What I

Know To The Contrary. The Reader Must Excuse An Infant Of--There Again

I Am At A Nonplus; But We Will Assume Of Some Days Old--If,  When Wrapped

Up In Flannel And In a Covered Basket,  And,  Moreover,  Fast Asleep At The

Time,  He Does Not Exactly Observe The State Of The Weather,  And The Time

By The Church Clock. I Never Before Was Aware Of The Great Importance Of

Dates In Telling A Story; But It Is Now Too Late To Recover These Facts,

Which Have Been Swept Away Into Oblivion By The Broad Wing Of Time. I

Must Therefore Just Tell The Little I Do Know,  Trusting To The Reader'S

Good Nature,  And To Blanks. It Is As Follows:--That,  At The Hour--Of

The Night--The State Of The Weather Being Also--I,  An Infant Of A

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Certain Age--Was Suspended By Somebody Or Somebodies--At The Knocker

Of The Foundling Hospital. Having Made Me Fast,  The Said Somebody Or

Somebodies Rang A Peal Upon The Bell Which Made The Old Porter Start Up

In So Great A Hurry,  That,  With The Back Of His Hand He Hit His Better

Half A Blow On The Nose,  Occasioning A Great Suffusion Of Blood From

That Organ,  And A Still Greater Pouring Forth Of Invectives From The

Organ Immediately Below It.

 

All This Having Been Effected By The Said Peal On The Bell,  The Said

Somebody Or Somebodies Did Incontinently Take To Their Heels,  And

Disappear Long Before The Old Porter Could Pull His Legs Through His

Nether Garments And Obey The Rude Summons. At Last The Old Man Swung

Open The Gate,  And The Basket Swung Across His Nose; He Went In again

For A Knife And Cut Me Down,  For It Was Cruel To Hang A Baby Of A Few

Days Old; Carried Me Into The Lodge,  Lighted A Candle,  And Opened The

Basket. Thus Did I Metaphorically First Come To Light.

 

When He Opened The Basket I Opened My Eyes,  And Although I Did Not

Observe It,  The Old Woman Was Standing At The Table In Very Light

Attire,  Sponging Her Nose Over A Basin.

 

"Verily,  A Pretty Babe With Black Eyes!" Exclaimed The Old Man In a

Tremulous Voice.

 

"Black Eyes Indeed," Muttered The Old Woman. "I Shall Have Two

To-Morrow."

 

"Beautiful Black Eyes Indeed!" Continued The Old Man.

 

"Terrible Black Eyes,  For Sartain," Continued The Old Woman,  As She

Sponged Away.

 

"Poor Thing,  It Must Be Cold," Murmured The Old Porter.

 

"Warrant I Catch My Death A-Cold," Muttered The Wife.

 

"But,  Dear Me,  Here'S A Paper!" Exclaimed The Old Man.

 

"Vinegar And Brown Paper," Echoed The Old Woman.

 

"Addressed To The Governors Of The Hospital," Continued The Porter.

 

"Apply To The Dispenser Of The Hospital," Continued His Wife.

 

"And Sealed," Said He.

 

"Get It Healed," Said She.

 

"The Linen Is Good; It Must Be The Child Of No Poor People. Who

Knows?"--Soliloquised The Old Man.

 

"My Poor Nose!" Exclaimed The Old Woman.

 

"I Must Take It To The Nurses,  And The Letter I Will Give To-Morrow,"

Said The Old Porter,  Winding Up His Portion Of This Double Soliloquy,

And Tottering Away With The Basket And Your Humble Servant Across The

Courtyard.

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"There,  It Will Do Now," Said The Old Wife,  Wiping Her Face On A Towel,

And Regaining Her Bed,  In Which She Was Soon Joined By Her Husband,  And

They Finished Their Nap Without Any Further Interruption During That

Night.

 

The Next Morning I Was Reported And Examined,  And The Letter Addressed

To The Governors Was Opened And Read. It Was Laconic,  But Still,  As Most

Things Laconic Are,  Very Much To The Point.

 

"This Child Was Born In Wedlock--He Is To Be Named Japhet. When

Circumstances Permit,  He Will Be Reclaimed."

 

But There Was A Postscript By Abraham Newlands,  Esq.,  Promising To Pay

The Bearer,  On Demand,  The Sum Of Fifty Pounds. In Plainer Terms,  There

Was A Bank Note To That Amount Inclosed In The Letter. As In General,

The Parties Who Suspend Children In baskets,  Have Long Before Suspended

Cash Payments,  Or,  At All Events,  Forget To Suspend Them With The

Baskets,  My Arrival Created No Little Noise,  To Which I Added My Share,

Until I Obtained A Share Of The Breast Of A Young Woman,  Who,  Like

Charity,  Suckled Two Or Three Babies At One Time.

 

We Have Preparatory Schools All Over The Kingdom; For Young Gentlemen,

From Three To Five Years Of Age,  Under Ladies,  And From Four To Seven,

Under Either,  Or Both Sexes,  As It May Happen; But The Most Preparatory

Of All Preparatory Schools,  Is Certainly The Foundling Hospital,  Which

Takes In Its Pupils,  If They Are Sent,  From One To Three Days Old,  Or

Even Hours,  If The Parents Are In Such Extreme Anxiety About Their

Education. Here It Commences With Their Weaning,  When They Are

Instructed In The Mystery Of Devouring Pap; Next,  They Are Taught To

Walk--And As Soon As They Can Walk--To Sit Still; To Talk--And As Soon

As They Can Talk--To Hold Their Tongues; Thus Are They Instructed And

Passed On From One Part Of The Establishment To Another,  Until They

Finally Are Passed Out Of Its Gates,  To Get On In The World,  With The

Advantages Of Some Education,  And The Still Further Advantage Of Having

No Father Or Mother To Provide For,  Or Relatives To Pester Them With

Their Necessities. It Was So With Me: I Arrived At The Age Of Fourteen,

And Notwithstanding The Promise Contained In The Letter,  It Appeared

That Circumstances Did _Not_ Permit Of My Being Reclaimed. But I Had A

Great Advantage Over The Other Inmates Of The Hospital; The Fifty Pounds

Sent With Me Were Not Added To The Funds Of The Establishment,  But

Generously Employed For My Benefit By The Governors,  Who Were Pleased

With My Conduct,  And Thought Highly Of My Abilities. Instead Of Being

Bound 'Prentice To A Cordwainer Or Some Other Mechanic,  By The Influence

Of The Governors,  Added To The Fifty Pounds And Interest,  As A Premium,

I Was Taken By An Apothecary,  Who Engaged To Bring Me Up To The

Profession. And Now,  That I Am Out Of The Foundling,  We Must Not Travel

Quite So Fast.

 

The Practitioner Who Thus Took Me By The Hand Was A Mr Phineas Cophagus,

Whose House Was Most Conveniently Situated For Business,  One Side Of

The Shop Looking Upon Smithfield Market,  The Other Presenting A Surface

Of Glass To The Principal Street Leading Out Of The Same Market. It Was

A _Corner_ House,  But Not In a _Corner_. On Each Side Of The Shop Were

Two Gin Establishments,  And Next To Them Were Two Public-Houses And Then

Two Eating-Houses,  Frequented By Graziers,  Butchers,  And Drovers. Did

The Men Drink So Much As To Quarrel In Their Cups,  Who Was So Handy To

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Plaister Up The Broken Heads As Mr Cophagus? Did A Fat Grazier Eat

Himself Into An Apoplexy,  How Very Convenient Was The Ready Lancet Of Mr

Cophagus. Did A Bull Gore A Man,  Mr Cophagus Appeared With His Diachylon

And Lint. Did An Ox Frighten A Lady,  It Was In The Back Parlour Of Mr

Cophagus That She Was Recovered From Her Syncope. Market Days Were A

Sure Market To My Master; And If An Overdriven Beast Knocked Down

Others,  It Only Helped To Set Him On His Legs. Our Windows Suffered

Occasionally; But Whether It Were Broken Heads,  Or Broken Limbs,  Or

Broken Windows,  They Were Well Paid For. Every One Suffered But Mr

Phineas Cophagus,  Who Never Suffered A Patient To Escape Him. The Shop

Had The Usual Allowance Of Green,  Yellow,  And Blue Bottles; And In Hot

Weather,  From Our Vicinity,  We Were Visited By No Small Proportion Of

Bluebottle Flies. We Had A White Horse In One Window,  And A Brown Horse

In The Other,  To Announce To The Drovers That We Supplied

Horse-Medicines. And We Had All The Patent Medicines In The Known World,

Even To The "All-Sufficient Medicine For Mankind" Of Mr Enouy; Having

Which,  I Wondered,  On My First Arrival,  Why We Troubled Ourselves About

Any Others. The Shop Was Large,  And At The Back Part There Was A Most

Capacious Iron Mortar,  With A Pestle To Correspond. The First Floor Was

Tenanted By Mr Cophagus,  Who Was A Bachelor; The Second Floor Was Let;

The Others Were Appropriated To The Housekeeper,  And To Those Who Formed

The Establishment. In This Well-Situated Tenement,  Mr Cophagus Got On

Swimmingly. I Will Therefore,  For The Present,  Sink The