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

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.'"

"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."

     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."

"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 The People. Strange In This World,

That Wisdom May Cry In The Streets Without Being Noticed,  Yet Folly Will

Always Command A Crowd."

During This Address I Turned My Eyes Upon The Speaker. He Was An

Elderly-Looking Person,  With White Hair,  Dressed In a Suit Of Black,

Ruffles And Frill. His Eyes Were Brilliant,  But The Remainder Of His

Face It Was Difficult To Decipher,  As It Was Evidently Painted,  And The

Night'S Jumbling In The Wagon Had So Smeared It,  That It Appeared Of

Almost Every Colour In The Rainbow. On One Side Of Him Lay A Large

Three-Cornered Cocked Hat,  On The Other,  A Little Lump Of A Boy,  Rolled

Up In The Straw Like A Marmot,  And Still Sound Asleep. Timothy Looked At

Me,  And When He Caught My Eye,  Burst Out Into A Laugh.

"You Laugh At My Appearance,  I Presume," Said The Old Man,  Mildly.

"I Do In Truth," Replied Timothy. "I Never Saw One Like You Before,  And

I Dare Say Never Shall Again."

"That Is Possible; Yet Probably If You Meet Me Again,  You Would Not Know

Me."

"Among A Hundred Thousand," Replied Timothy,  With Increased Mirth.

"We Shall See,  Perhaps," Replied The Quack Doctor,  For Such The Reader

Must Have Already Ascertained To Be His Profession; "But The Wagon Has

Stopped,  And The Driver Will Bait His Horses. If Inclined To Eat,  Now Is

Your Time. Come,  Jumbo,  Get Up; Philotas,  Waken Him,  And Follow Me."

Philotas,  For So Was The Fool Styled By His Master,  Twisted Up Some

Straw,  And Stuffed The End Of It Into Jumbo'S Mouth. "Now,  Jumbo Will

Think He Has Got Something To Eat. I Always Wake Him That Way," Observed

The Fool,  Grinning At Us.

It Certainly,  As Might Be Expected,  Did Waken Jumbo,  Who Uncoiled

Himself,  Rubbed His Eyes,  Stared At The Tilt Of The Wagon,  Then At Us,

And Without Saying A Word,  Rolled Himself Out After The Fool. Timothy

And I Followed. We Found The Doctor Bargaining For Some Bread And Bacon,

His Strange Appearance Exciting Much Amusement,  And Inducing The People

To Let Him Have A Better Bargain Than Perhaps Otherwise They Would Have

Done. He Gave A Part Of The Refreshment To The Boy And The Fool,  And

Walked Out Of The Tap-Room With His Own Share. Timothy And I Went To The

Pump,  And Had A Good Refreshing Wash,  And Then For A Shilling Were

Permitted To Make A Very Hearty Breakfast. The Wagon Having Remained

About An Hour,  The Driver Gave Us Notice Of His Departure; But The

Doctor Was No Where To Be Found. After A Little Delay,  The Wagoner Drove

Off,  Cursing Him For A _Bilk_,  And Vowing That He'D Never Have Any More

To Do With A "Lamed Man." In The Mean Time,  Timothy And I Had Taken Our

Seats In The Wagon,  In company With The Fool,  And Master Jumbo. We

Commenced A Conversation With The Former,  And Soon Found Out,  As The

Doctor Had Asserted,  That He Really Was An Idiot,  So Much So,  That It

Was Painful To Converse With Him. As For The Latter,  He Had Coiled

Himself Away To Take A Little More Sleep. I Forgot To Mention,  That The

Boy Was Dressed Much In The Same Way As The Fool,  In an Old Spangled

Jacket,  And Dirty White Trousers. For About An Hour Timothy And I

Conversed,  Remarking Upon The Strange Disappearance Of The Doctor,

Especially As He Had Given Us Hopes Of Employing Us; In accepting Which

Offer,  If Ever It Should Be Made,  We Had Not Made Up Our Minds,  When We

Were Interrupted With A Voice Crying Out,  "Hillo,  My Man,  Can You Give A

Chap A Lift As Far As Reading,  For A Shilling?"

"Ay,  Get Up,  And Welcome," Replied The Wagoner.

The Wagon Did Not Stop,  But In a Moment Or Two The New Passenger Climbed

In. He Was Dressed In a Clean Smock Frock,  Neatly Worked Up The Front,

Leather Gaiters,  And Stout Shoes; A Bundle And A Stick Were In His Hand.

He Smiled As He Looked Round Upon The Company,  And Showed A Beautiful

Set Of Teeth. His Face Was Dark,  And Sun-Burnt,  But Very Handsome,  And

His Eyes As Black As Coals,  And As Brilliant As Gas. "Heh! Player

Folk--I'Ve A Notion," Said He,  As He Sat Down,  Looking At The Doctor'S

Attendants,  And Laughing At Us. "Have You Come Far,  Gentlemen?"

Continued He.

"From London," Was My Reply.

"How Do The Crops Look Up Above,  For Down Here The Turnips Seem To Have

Failed Altogether? Dry Seasons Won'T Do For Turnips."

I Replied That I