Japhet In Search Of A Father Part 1 by Frederick Marryat (unputdownable books TXT) 📕

In The _Metropolitan Magazine_,  Where This Novel Originally Appeared

(Sep. 1834-Jan. 1836),  Marryat Prepared His Readers For Its Reception In

The Following Words:--

"And Having Now Completed 'Jacob Faithful,' We Trust To The Satisfaction

Of Our Readers,  We Will Make A Few Remarks. We Commenced Writing On Our

Own Profession,  And Having Completed Four Tales,  Novels,  Or Whatever You

May Please To Call Them" (Viz.,  Frank Mildmay,  The King'S Own,  Newton

Forster,  Peter Simple),  "In 'Jacob Faithful' We Quitted The _Salt_ Water

For The _Fresh_. From The Wherry We Shall Now Step On Shore,  And In Our

Next Number We Shall Introduce To Our Readers 'The Adventures Of

_Japhet_,  In Search Of His Father.'"

The Promise Was Faithfully Kept,  And Japhet,  With All His Varied

Experience,  Never Went To Sea. There Were Indeed Few Companies On Land

To Which He Did Not Penetrate. Reared In a Foundling Hospital,  And

Apprenticed To A Smithfield Apothecary,  His Good Looks,  Impulsive

Self-Confidence,  And Unbounded Talent For Lying,  Carried Him With Eclat

Through The Professions Of Quack Doctor,  Juggler,  And Mountebank,

Gentleman About Town,  Tramp,  And Quaker: To Emerge Triumphantly At Last

As The Only Son Of A Wealthy Anglo-Indian General,  Or "Bengal Tiger," As

His Friends Preferred To Call Him.

Japhet'S "Adventures," Of Course,  Are Shared By A Faithful Friend And

Ally,  Timothy Oldmixon,  The Sancho To His Quixote,  Originally An Orphan

Pauper Like Himself,  Composed Of Two Qualities--Fun And Affection. He

Encounters Villains,  Lawyers,  Kind-Hearted Peers,  "Rooks" And "Pigeons,"

Gipsies,  Leaders Of Fashion,  Fair Maidens--Enough And To Spare. In a

Word,  Marryat Here Makes Use Of Well-Worn Material,  And Uses It Well. He

Has Constructed A Tale Of Private Adventure On The Old Familiar Lines,

In Which The Local Colour--Acquired From Other Books--Is Admirably Laid

On,  And The Interest Sustained To The End. The Story Is Well Told,

Enlivened By Humour,  And Very Respectably Constructed.

The Reader Will Find _Japhet_ Thoroughly Exciting,  And Will Have No

Difficulty In believing That,  While It Was Running In The Pages Of The

_Metropolitan_,  "An American Vessel Meeting An English One In The Broad

Atlantic,  Instead Of A Demand For Water Or Supplies,  Ran Up The Question

To Her Mast-Head,  'Has Japhet Found His Father Yet?'"

_Japhet,  In Search Of A Father_,  Is Here Re-Printed,  With A Few

Corrections,  From The First Edition In 3 Vols. Saunders & Otley,  1836.

On Page 360 A Few Words,  Enclosed In Square Brackets,  Have Been

Inserted From The Magazine Version,  As The Abbreviated Sentence,  Always

Hitherto Reproduced From The First Edition,  Is Unintelligible.

R.B.J.

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

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.

"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