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

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

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 Shop,  That My

Master May Rise In The Estimation Of The Reader,  When I Describe His

Person And His Qualifications.

Mr Phineas Cophagus Might Have Been About Forty-Five Years Of Age When I

First Had The Honour Of An Introduction To Him In The Receiving Room Of

The Foundling Hospital. He Was Of The Middle Height,  His Face Was Thin,

His Nose Very Much Hooked,  His Eyes Small And Peering,  With A

Good-Humoured Twinkle In Them,  His Mouth Large,  And Drawn Down At One

Corner. He Was Stout In His Body,  And Carried A Considerable

Protuberance Before Him,  Which He Was In The Habit Of Patting With His

Left Hand Very Complacently; But Although Stout In His Body,  His Legs

Were Mere Spindles,  So That,  In His Appearance,  He Reminded You Of Some

Bird Of The Crane Genus. Indeed,  I May Say,  That His Whole Figure Gave

You Just Such An Impression As An Orange Might Do,  Had It Taken To

Itself A Couple Of Pieces Of Tobacco Pipes As Vehicles Of Locomotion. He

Was Dressed In a Black Coat And Waistcoat,  White Cravat And High Collar

To His Shirt,  Blue Cotton Net Pantaloons And Hessian Boots,  Both Fitting

So Tight,  That It Appeared As If He Was Proud Of His Spindle Shanks. His

Hat Was Broad-Brimmed And Low,  And He Carried A Stout Black Cane With A

Gold Top In His Right Hand,  Almost Always Raising The Gold Top To His

Nose When He Spoke,  Just As We See Doctors Represented At A Consultation

In The Caricature Prints. But If His Figure Was Strange,  His Language

And Manners Were Still More So. He Spoke,  As Some Birds Fly,  In Jerks,

Intermixing His Words,  For He Never Completed A Whole Sentence,  With

_Um--Um--_And Ending It With "_So On,_" Leaving His Hearers To Supply

The Context From The Heads Of His Discourse. Almost Always In Motion,  He

Generally Changed His Position As Soon As He Had Finished Speaking,

Walking To Any Other Part Of The Room,  With His Cane To His Nose,  And

His Head Cocked On One Side,  With A Self-Sufficient Tiptoe Gait. When I

Was Ushered Into His Presence,  He Was Standing With Two Of The

Governors. "This Is The Lad," Said One Of Them,  "His Name Is _Japhet_."

"Japhet," Replied Mr Cophagus; "Um,  Scriptural--Shem,  Ham,  _Um_--And So

On. Boy Reads?"

"Very Well,  And Writes A Very Good Hand. He Is A Very Good Boy,  Mr

Cophagus."

"Read--Write--Spell--Good,  And _So On_. Bring Him

Up--Rudiments--Spatula--Write Labels--Um--M.D. One Of These Days--Make A

Man Of Him--And So On," Said This Strange Personage,  Walking Round And

Round Me With His Cane To His Nose,  And Scrutinising My Person With His

Twinkling Eyes. I Was Dismissed After This Examination And Approval,  And

The Next Day,  Dressed In a Plain Suit Of Clothes,  Was Delivered By The

Porter At The Shop Of Mr Phineas Cophagus,  Who Was Not At Home When I

Arrived.

     Like All Tyros,  I Find The Rudiments Of Learning Extremely

     Difficult And Laborious,  But Advance So Rapidly Than I Can Do

     Without My Master.

A Tall,  Fresh-Coloured,  But Hectic Looking Young Man,  Stood Behind The

Counter,  Making Up Prescriptions,  And A Dirty Lad,  About Thirteen Years

Old,  Was Standing Near With His Basket To Deliver The Medicines To The

Several Addresses,  As Soon As They Were Ready. The Young Man Behind The

Counter,  Whose Name Was Brookes,  Was Within Eighteen Months Of Serving

His Time,  When His Friends Intended To Establish Him On His Own Account,

And This Was The Reason Which Induced Mr Cophagus To Take Me,  That I

Might Learn The Business,  And Supply His Place When He Left. Mr Brookes

Was A Very Quiet,  Amiable Person,  Kind To Me And The Other Boy Who

Carried Out The Medicines,  And Who Had Been Taken By Mr Cophagus,  For

His Food And Raiment. The Porter Told Mr Brookes Who I Was,  And Left Me.

"Do You Think That You Will Like To Be An Apothecary?" Said Mr Brookes

To Me,  With A Benevolent Smile.

"Yes; I Do Not See Why I Should Not," Replied I.

"Stop A Moment," Said The Lad Who Was Waiting With The Basket,  Lookly

Archly At Me,  "You Hav'N'T Got Through Your _Rudimans_ Yet."

"Hold Your Tongue,  Timothy," Said Mr Brookes. "That You Are Not Very

Fond Of The Rudiments,  As Mr Cophagus Calls Them,  Is Very Clear. Now

Walk Off As Fast As You Can With These Medicines,  Sir--14,  Spring

Street; 16,  Cleaver Street,  As Before; And Then To John Street,  55,  Mrs

Smith'S. Do You Understand?"

"To Be Sure I Do--Can'T I Read? I Reads All The Directions,  And All Your

Latin Stuff Into The Bargain--All Your Summen Dusses,  Horez,  Diez,

Cockly Hairy. I Mean To Set Up For Myself One Of These Days."

"I'Ll Knock You Down One Of These Days,  Mr Timothy,  If You Stay So Long

As You Do,  Looking At The Print Shops; That You May Depend Upon."

"I Keep Up All My Learning That Way," Replied Timothy,  Walking Off With

His Load,  Turning His Head Round And Laughing At Me,  As He Quitted The

Shop. Mr Brookes Smiled,  But Said Nothing.

As Timothy Went Out,  In came Mr Cophagus. "Heh! Japhet--I See," Said He,

Putting Up His Cane,  "Nothing To Do--Bad--Must Work--Um--And So On. Mr

Brookes--Boy Learn Rudiments--Good--And So On." Hereupon Mr Cophagus

Took His Cane From His Nose,  Pointed To The Large Iron Mortar,  And Then

Walked Away Into The Back Parlour. Mr Brookes Understood His Master,  If

I Did Not. He Wiped Out The Mortar,  Threw In Some Drugs,  And,  Showing Me

How To Use The Pestle,  Left Me To My Work. In Half An Hour I Discovered

Why It Was That Timothy Had Such An Objection To What Mr Cophagus

Facetiously Termed The _Rudiments_ Of The Profession. It Was Dreadful

Hard Work For A Boy; The Perspiration Ran Down Me In Streams,  And I

Could Hardly Lift My Arms. When Mr Cophagus Passed Through The Shop And

Looked At Me,  As I Continued To Thump Away With The Heavy Iron Pestle.

"Good,"--Said He,  "By-And-Bye--M.D.--And So On." I Thought It Was A Very

Rough Road To Such Preferment,  And I Stopped To Take A Little Breath.

"By-The-By--Japhet--Christian Name--And So On--Sirname--Heh!"

"Mr Cophagus Wishes To Know Your Other Name," Said Mr Brookes,

Interpreting.