Japhet, In Search Of A Father Part 1, Frederick Marryat [best non fiction books of all time .txt] 📗
- Author: Frederick Marryat
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Of Roast Pork Looks In That Window!"
"I Agree With You--Let'S Go In and Make A Bargain!"
We Bought A Good Allowance For A Shilling, And After Sticking Out For A
Greater Proportion Of Mustard Than The Woman Said We Were Entitled To,
And Some Salt, We Wrapped It Up In a Piece Of Paper, And Continued Our
Course, Till We Arrived At A Baker'S, Where We Purchased Our Bread, And
Then Taking Up A Position On A Bench Outside A Public-House, Called For
A Pot Of Beer, And Putting Our Provisions Down Before Us, Made A Hearty,
And, What Made Us More Enjoy It, An Independent Meal. Having Finished
Our Pork And Our Porter, And Refreshed Ourselves, We Again Started And
Walked Till It Was Quite Dark, When We Felt So Tired That We Agreed To
Sit Down On Our Bundles And Wait For The First Wagon Which Passed. We
Soon Heard The Jingling Of Bells, And Shortly Afterwards Its Enormous
Towering Bulk Appeared Between Us And The Sky. We Went Up To The
Wagoner, Who Was Mounted On A Little Pony, And Asked Him If He Could
Give Two Poor Lads A Lift, And How Much He Would Charge Us For The Ride.
"How Much Can You Afford To Give, Measters? For There Be Others As Poor
As Ye." We Replied That We Could Give A Shilling. "Well, Then, Get Up In
God'S Name, And Ride As Long As You Will. Get In behind."
"Are There Many People In There Already?" Said I, As I Climbed Up, And
Timothy Handed Me The Bundles.
"Noa," Replied The Wagoner, "There Be Nobody But A Mighty Clever
Poticary Or Doctor, I Can'T Tell Which; But He Wear An Uncommon Queer
Hat, And He Talk All Sort Of Doctor Stuff--And There Be His Odd Man And
His Odd Boy; That Be All, And There Be Plenty Of Room, And Plenty O'
Clean _Stra_'."
After This Intimation We Climbed Up, And Gained A Situation In The Rear
Of The Wagon Under The Cloth. As The Wagoner Said, There Was Plenty Of
Room, And We Nestled Into The Straw Without Coming Into Contact With The
Other Travellers. Not Feeling Any Inclination To Sleep, Timothy And I
Entered Into Conversation, _Sotto Voce_, And Had Continued For More Than
Half An Hour, Supposing By Their Silence That The Other Occupants Of The
Wagon Were Asleep, When We Were Interrupted By A Voice Clear And
Sonorous As A Bell.
"It Would Appear That You Are Wanderers, Young Men, And Journey You Know
Not Whither. Birds Seek Their Nests When The Night Falls--Beasts Hasten
To Their Lairs--Man Bolts His Door. '_Propria Quae Maribus_,' As
Herodotus Hath It; Which, When Translated, Means, That 'Such Is The
Nature Of Mankind.' '_Tribuuntur Mascula Dicas_' 'Tell Me Your
Troubles,' As Homer Says."
I Was Very Much Surprised At This Address--My Knowledge Of The Language
Told Me Immediately That The Quotations Were Out Of The Latin Grammar,
And That All His Learning Was Pretence; Still There Was A Novelty Of
Style Which Amused Me, And At The Same Time Gave Me An Idea That The
Speaker Was An Uncommon Personage. I Gave Timothy A Nudge, And Then
Part 1 Chapter 8 Pg 37Replied,
"You Have Guessed Right, Most Learned Sir; We Are, As You Say, Wanderers
Seeking Our Fortunes, And Trust Yet To Find Them--Still We Have A Weary
Journey Before Us, '_Haustus Hora Somni Sumendum_,' As Aristotle Hath
It; Which I Need Not Translate To So Learned A Person As Yourself."
"Nay, Indeed, There Is No Occasion; Yet Am I Pleased To Meet With One
Who Hath Scholarship," Replied The Other. "Have You Also A Knowledge Of
The Greek?"
"No, I Pretend Not To Greek."
"It Is A Pity That Thou Hast It Not, For Thou Wouldst Delight To
Commune With The Ancients. Esculapius Hath These
Words--'A_Shol_Der--Offmotton--_Acca_Pon--Pasti--Venison,'--Which I Will
Translate For Thee--'We Often Find What We Seek, When We Least Expect
It.' May It Be So With You, My Friend. Where Have You Been Educated? And
What Has Been Your Profession?"
I Thought I Risked Little In Telling, So I Replied, That I Had Been
Brought Up As A Surgeon And Apothecary, And Had Been Educated At A
Foundation School.
"'Tis Well," Replied He; "You Have Then Commenced Your Studies In My
Glorious Profession; Still, Have You Much To Learn; Years Of Toil, Under
A Great Master, Can Only Enable You To Benefit Mankind As I Have Done,
And Years Of Hardship And Of Danger Must Be Added Thereunto, To Afford
You The Means. There Are Many Hidden Secrets. '_Ut Sunt Divorum, Mars,
Bacchus, Apollo, Virorum_,'--Many Parts Of The Globe To Traverse, '_Ut
Cato, Virgilius, Fluviorum, Ut Tibris, Orontes._' All These Have I
Visited, And Many More. Even Now Do I Journey To Obtain More Of My
Invaluable Medicine, Gathered On The Highest Andes, When The Moon Is In
Her Perigee. There I Shall Remain For Months Among The Clouds, Looking
Down Upon The Great Plain Of Mexico, Which Shall Appear No Larger Than
The Head Of A Pin, Where The Voice Of Man Is Heard Not. '_Vocito,
Vocitas Vocitavi_,' Bending For Months Towards The Earth. '_As In
Presenti_,' Suffering With The Cold--'_Frico Quod Fricui Dat_,' As
Eusebius Hath It. Soon Shall I Be Borne Away By The Howling Winds
Towards The New World, Where I Can Obtain More Of The Wonderful
Medicine, Which I May Say Never Yet Hath Failed Me, And Which Nothing
But Love Towards My Race Induces Me To Gather At Such Pains And Risk."
"Indeed, Sir," Replied I, Amused With His Imposition, "I Should Like To
Accompany You--For, As Josephus Says Most Truly, '_Capiat Pillulae Duae
Post Prandium_.' Travel Is, Indeed, A Most Delightful Occupation, And I
Would Like To Run Over The Whole World."
"And I Would Like To Follow You," Interrupted Timothy. "I Suspect We
Have Commenced Our _Grand Tour_ Already--Three Miles Behind A
Hackney-Coach--Ten On Foot, And About Two, I Should Think, In This
Wagon. But As Cophagus Says, _Cochlearija Crash Many Summendush_,' Which
Means, 'There Are Ups And Downs In This World.'"
Part 1 Chapter 8 Pg 38
"Hah!" Exclaimed Our Companion. "He, Also, Has The Rudiments."
"Nay, I Hope I'Ve Done With The _Rudimans_," Replied Timothy.
"Is He Your Follower?" Inquired The Man.
"That Very Much Depends Upon Who Walks First," Replied Timothy, "But
Whether Or No--We Hunt In couples."
"I Understand--You Are Companions. '_Concordat Cum Nominativo Numero Et
Persona_.' Tell Me, Can You Roll Pills, Can You Use The Pestle And The
Mortar, Handle The Scapula, And Mix Ingredients?"
I Replied That Of Course I Knew My Profession.
"Well, Then, As We Have Still Some Hours Of Night, Let Us Now Obtain
Some Rest. In The Morning, When The Sun Hath Introduced Us To Each
Other, I May Then Judge From Your Countenances Whether It Is Likely That
We May Be Better Acquainted. Night Is The Time For Repose, As Quintus
Curtius Says, '_Custos, Bos, Fur Atque Sacerdos_. Sleep Was Made For
All--My Friends, Good-Night."
Part 1 Chapter 9 Pg 39
In Which The Adventures In The Wagon Are Continued, And We Become
More Puzzled With Our New Companions--We Leave Off Talking Latin,
And Enter Into An Engagement.
Timothy And I Took His Advice, And Were Soon Fast Asleep. I Was Awakened
The Next Morning By Feeling A Hand In My Trouser'S Pocket. I Seized It,
And Held It Fast.
"Now Just Let Go My Hand, Will You?" Cried A Lachrymal Voice.
I Jumped Up--It Was Broad Daylight, And Looked At The Human Frame To
Which The Hand Was An Appendix. It Was A Very Spare, Awkwardly-Built
Form Of A Young Man, Apparently About Twenty Years Old, But Without The
Least Sign Of Manhood On His Chin. His Face Was Cadaverous, With Large
Goggling Eyes, High Cheek Bones, Hair Long And Ragged, Reminding Me Of A
Rat'S Nest, Thin Lips, And Ears Large Almost As An Elephant'S. A More
Woe-Begone Wretch In appearance I Never Beheld, And I Continued To Look
At Him With Surprise. He Repeated His Words With An Idiotical
Expression, "Just Let Go My Hand, Can'T You?"
"What Business Had Your Hand In My Pocket?" Replied I, Angrily.
"I Was Feeling For My Pocket-Handkerchief," Replied The Young Man. "I
Always Keeps It In My Breeches' Pocket."
Part 1 Chapter 9 Pg 40
"But Not In Your Neighbour'S, I Presume?"
"My Neighbour'S!" Replied He, With A Vacant Stare. "Well, So It Is, I
See Now--I Thought It Was My Own."
I Released His Hand; He Immediately Put It Into His Own Pocket, And Drew
Out His Handkerchief, If The Rag Deserved The Appellation. "There," Said
He, "I Told You I Put It In That Pocket--I Always Do."
"And Pray Who Are You?" Said I, As I Looked At His Dress, Which Was A
Pair Of Loose White Turkish Trousers, And An Old Spangled Jacket.
"Me! Why, I'M The Fool."
"More Knave Than Fool, I Expect," Replied I, Still Much Puzzled With His
Strange Appearance And Dress.
"Nay, There You Mistake," Said The Voice Of Last Night. "He Is Not Only
A Fool By Profession, But One By Nature. It Is A Half-Witted Creature,
Who Serves Me When I Would Attract
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