UC-NRLF
B 3 325 tiDS
y^v
T^-^
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
GIFT OF
Theo K. Crook
i4\jy^ — -
JAPHET,
IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
BY CAPTAIN ^lARRYAT,
AUTHOR OF " PETER SIMPLE," " JACOB FAITHFUL," &c.
PARIS,
BAUDRY'S EUROPEAN LIBRARY,
HUE DU COQ, NEAR THE LOUVRE.
SOLD ALSO BY AMYOT, RUE DE LAPAIX; TRIJCHY, BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS
THEOPHILE BARROIS, JUN., RUE RICHELIEU; LJBRAIRIE DES ETRANGERS,
RLE NEUVE-?AJ:^T-ALGUSri\ ; AND IIEIDELOFF AND CAMl'E,
RUE VIVIENNE.
1836.
LOAN STACK
Add to Lib.
GIFT
^7
CONTENTS,
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER Vn.
Looking out for business not exactly minding your own l)usiness — The loss
of the scales occasions the loss of place to Timothy and me, who when
weighed in other scales were found wanting — We luindle off with our
bundles on. ,......••••
page
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. .•..•..••• 1
CHAPTER n.
Like all Tjtos, 1 find the rudiments of learning extremely difficult and
laborious but advance so rapidly that I can do without my Master. • G
CHAPTER m.
I perform a wonderful cure upon St John Long's principle, having little
or no principle of my own — I begin to puzzle my head with a problem,
of all others most difficult to solve. .....•• ^ ^
ClUPTER IV.
\'ery much puzzled with a new Patient, nevertheless take my degree at
fifteen as an 3L D.; and, what is still more acceptable, 1 pocket the fees. l'>
CHAPTER V.
My vanity receives a desperate wound, but my heart remains unscathed
— An anomaly in woman, one who despises beauty.
CHAPTER VL
My prescriptions very effective and palata1)le, but I lose my patient—The
feud equal to that of the Montagues and the Capulets— Results different
— Mercutio comes off unhurt
•2'.i
•2S
CHAPTER VIIL
We take a coach, but the driver does not like his fare and hits us foul
— We change our mode of travelling upon the principle of slow and sure,
and fall in with a very learned man. . . . , . . ^
Kj 4 J:
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IX.
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. ......... '30
CHAPTER X.
In which the reader is introduced to several new acquaintances, and all
connected with them, except birth and parentage, which appears to be
the one thing wanting throughout the whole of this work. ... 41
CHAPTER XI.
Whatever may be the opinion of the reader, he cannot assert thai we are
no conjurers — We suit our wares to our customers, and our profits are
considerable. • 46
CHAPTER Xn.
It is very easy to humbug those who are so eager to be humbugged as people
are in this world of humbug — We show ourselves excessively disin-
terested, which astonishes every body. . . . . . . 51
CHAPTER XIII. .
The seed having been carefully sown, we now reap a golden harvest — We
tell every body what they knew before, and we are looked upon as most
marvellous by most marvellous fools. ...... 50
CHAPTER XIV.
In which Melchior talks very much like an astrologer, and Tim and I return
to our old trade of making up innocent prescriptions. .... 61
CHAPTER XV.
In which Timothy makes a grand speech, quite as true as those delivered
from the hustings — Melchior, like the candidate, states his preten.sions
for public favour, and the public, as usual, swallow the bait. . . G 1
CHAPTER XVI.
Important news, but not communicated — A dissolution of partnership takes
place. ............ 70
CHAPTER XVII.
A Cabinet Council — I resolve to set up as a gentleman, having as legitimate
pretensions to the rank of one as many others. . . . . . "Jo
CHAPTER XVIII.
I receive a letter from my uncle by which I naturally expect to find out who
is my father — Like other outcasts, I am warned by a dream. . . SO
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XIX.
Ill
Page
All important chai)ter — I make some important acquaintances, obtain some
important papers which I am importunate to read through. . . . 84
CHAPTER XX.
I oi>en an account with ray bankers, draw largely upon credulity, and am
prosperous without a checJc 87
CHAPTER XXI,
I come out under a first-rate chaperon, and at once am established into the
regions of fashion— ^Prove that T am deserving of ray promotion. . . 01
CHAPTER XXII.
The real Simon Pure proves the worse of the two— I am found guilty,
but not condemned ; convicted, yet convince ; and after having behaved
the very contrary to, prove that I am, a gentleman. .... 95
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Major prevents the landlord from imposing on me, but I gain nothing
, by his interference— For economical reasons I agree to live with him that
Le may live on me. . . lOG
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Major teaches me how to play Whist, so as never to lose, which is by
playing against each other, and into each other's hands. . . . 101
CHAPTER XXV.
We fund our winnings, and consider to refund, a work of superero-
gation — In looking after my father, I obey the old adage, " Follow your
nose." lo;
CHAPTER XXVI.
In following my nose, I narrowly escaped lieing nosed by a Beak. , . Ill
CILAPTER XXVII.
A Chapter of 3IistakeR — No benefit of Clergj — I attack a Bishop, and am
Itraten off — The Major hedges upon the filly stakes. . . . . Ill
CHAPTER XXVIII.
I am over head and ears in trouble about a lady's ear-rings; commit myself
sadly, and am very nearly committed. . . . . . . 118
CHAPTER XXIX.
I borrow money upon ray estate, and upon very favourable terras. . , 121
IV . CONTENTS.
Pnge
CHAPTER XXX.
The Major is very fortunate and very unfortunate — He receives a large sum
in gold and one ounce of lead. . , . . . . . 124
CHAPTER XXXI.
The Major pays the only debt of consequence he ever did pay, and I find
myself a man of property. .... . , . , 128
CHAPTER XXXII.
A chapter full of i^rality, which ends in a Jew refusing upwards of
1,000/., proving tire Millennium to be nearly at hand, ... 131
CHAPTER XXXin.
I decide upon honesty as the best policy, and, what is more strange, receive
/e^rJ advice upon this important point. . . . . , . I'J-l
CHAPTER XXXIV.
1 attempt to profit by intelligence I receive, and throw a lady into hysterics. 137
CHAPTER XXXV.
I repair the damage, and make things worse — Plot and counter-plot — Tini
gains a watch by setting watch upon his tongue. . . . . 111.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
I fall very much in love with honesty, because I find that it is well received
in the world — and to prove ray honesty, inform the whole world that
honest I have never been. • , . . .. . . 115
CHAPTER XXXVII.
I try back to recover the lost scent, and discover to my astonishment, that
I have been transported for forgery. . ...... 149
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Mischief brewing — Timothy and I set our wits to work, and he resumes
his old profession of a gipsy. ... ... .152
CHAPTER XXXLX.
I set off on a wild goose chase — and fall in with an old friend. . . . l.iG
CHAPTER XL.
I deny ray master. . . . ....... IGO
CHAPTER XLI.
I turn lawvcr. «....,»...- ini
CONTENTS. V
Page
CHAPTER XLII.
I affront an Irish gentleman and make a handsome apology, which is ac-
^ , 168
cepted. . • . • • • •
CHAPTER XLin.
I am not content with minding my own business, but must have a hand in
that of others, by ^hich means 1 put my foot in it l"* 1
CHAPTER XLIV.
No hopes of rising next morning alive, as a last chance— I get into bed. . 175
CHAPTER XLV.
Petticoat interest prevails, and I escape ; but* I put my head into the lion's
1 . . . . • 17S
den. . . . • •
CHAPTER XLVI.
Under ground, but not yet dead and biu-ied—The prospect any thing but
pleasant. ...•••••••'
CHAPTER XLVII.
A friend in need is a friend in deed— The tables are turned and so is the
tey— The issue in deep tragedy. . ^^'*
CHAPTER XLVIIl.
is full of perilous adventures, and in which, the reader may be assured,
there is much more than meets the eye 1^'
CHAPTER XLIX.
Another investigation relative to a child which, in the same way as the
former one, ends by the Lady going off in a fit 1^-
CHAPTER L.
In which, if the reader does not sympathize with the parties, he had better
shut the book. .....•••••
CHAPTER LI.
1 return to the gay world, but am not well received; I am qliite disgusted
with it. and honesty, and every thing else.
CHAPTER LII.
19H
A new character appears, but not a very amiable one ; but I attach myself to
him, as drowning men catch at straws "^^^
CHAPTER LIII.
I becoiue principal instead of second in a duel; and risk my own and an-
vi CONTENTS.
Pagr
Other's life, my own and others' happiness and peace of mind, because I
have been punished as I deserved. ....... 206
CHAPTER LIV.
This is a strange world ; I am cut by a man of no character, because he is
fjarful that 1 should injure his character. ...... 208
CHAPTER LV.
1 cut my new acquaintance, but his company, even in so short a time,
proves my ruin — Notwithstanding I part w ith all my property, I retain my
honesty. . ... . . . . , » . . 212
CHAPTER. LVI.
I resolve to begin theworld again, and to seek my fortune in the next path
— I take leave of -all my old friends 217
CHAPTER LVII.
IMy new career is not very prosperous at its commencement— I am robbed,
and accused of being a robber— I bind up wounds, and am accused of
having inflicted them — I get into a horse-pond, and out of it into gaol. . 222
CHAPTER LVIII.
Worse and worse— If out of gaol, it will be to go out of the world— I am
resolved to take ray secret with me. ...... 2-2.>
CHAPTER L!X.
By the committing of magisterial mistakes, I am personally and penally
c.'jnimitted — I prepare for my trial by calling in the assistance of the
tailor and the perfumer — I am resolved to die like a gentleman. . . 229
CHAPTER LX.
I am condemned to be hung by the neck until I am dead, and to go out
of the world without finding out who is my father — Afterwards my in-
nocence is made manifest, and I am turned adrift a maniac in the high
road. 233
CHAPTER LXI.
When at the lowest spoke of Fortune's wheel, one is sure to rise as it turns
round — I recover my senses and find myself amongst Frktids. . . 237
CHAPTER LXn.
1 fall in love with religion when preached by one who has the form of an
CHAPTER LXin.
241
Pride and love at issue — the latter is victorious — 1 tui ii Quaker and re-
roraracnce my old profession. .... .... 214
CONTENTS. vn
Pase
CHAPTER LXIV. ^
I prosper in every way, and become reconciled to my situation. . . '248
CHAPTER LXV.
A variety of the Quaker tribe— who had a curious disintegration of mind
and body. .... . . .... . 257
CHAPTER LXVI.
1 fall in with Tiraotliy. . . . *- . i . ... 255
CHAPTER LXVn.
Timothy commences his narrative of his search after Japhet. . . • "250
CHAPTER LXVHI.
Timothy finishes his narrative ^O'J
CHAPTER LXIX.
I am unsettled by unexpected intelligence, and again yearn after the world of
fashion. , . . • 2(i7
CHAPTER LXX.
I return to London, and meet with Mr. Masterton 271
CHAPTER LXXI.
In which I am let into more particulars relative to my father's history. . 276
CHAPTER LXXH.
I am a little jealous, and, like the immortal William Bottom, inclined to
enact more parts than one. — With a big effort my hankering after bigamy
is mastered by Mr. Masterton — and by ray own good sense. . . 281
CHAPTER LXXHI.
Contains much learned argument upon broad-brims and garments of gray
—I get the best of it— The one great wish of my life is granted — I meet
my father, and a cold reception, very indicative of much after-heat. . 287
CHAPTER LXXIV.
Father and I grow warm ia our argument— Obliged to give him a little
schooling to show my affection — Takes it at last very kindly, and very
dutifully owns himself a fool . . • 294
CHAPTER LXXV.
Father still dutifully submissive at home — Abroad, I am splitting a straw
in arguments with Susannah about straw bonnets — The rest of the Chapter
contains coquetry, courting, and costumes 301
viii CONTENTS.
Pa?e
•^ CFLIPTER tXXM.
I renew old ties of friendship, and seek new ones of love — Obliged to
take my father to task once more — He receives his lesson with proper
obedience. , . . • . . , . . . . . '300
CHAPTER LXXVn.
Treats of apologies, and love, coming from church — We finesse with the
nabob to win me a wife — I am successful in my suit, yet the lawyer is still
to play the cards to enable me to win the game. . . . , . 311
CHAPTER LXXVni.
The Bengal tiger taken in the toils, which promise a speedy end to mine —
I kindly permit my father to insist upon the marriage that I have set my
heart upon. ....<..... . 317
CHAPTER LXXIX.
Poor Cophagus finds an end to his adventures by the means of a mad bull ;
I, of mine, by matrimony — Father is prettily behaved, and my Quaker
wife the most fashionably dressed lady in town — verily ! hum !. . . 322
JAPHET,
IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
CHAPTER I.
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. AVell, 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 re-
cover these facts, which have been swept away inio oblivion by the
1
2 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
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 some-"
bodies— 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
swang open the gate, and the basket swang 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 Ihe 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 w^oman.
" 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
courtvard.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. ^
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 hus-
band, and they finished their nap without any fiirtli(.*r 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 Newland, 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 gen-
tlemen, 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 in-
structed 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 esta-
blishment, 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 me-
chanic, by the influence of the governors, added to the fifty pound:^
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.
4 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
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 present-
ing 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, w^ho 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 blue-bottle 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 wo
had all the patent medicines in the known world, even to the '' all-
sufficient medicine for mankind" of ^Ir. Enouy; having which, I won-
dered, 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 ffoor was let ; the
others were appropriated to the housekeeper, and to those who formed
the estabhshment. 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 consi-
derable protuberance before him, which he was in the habit of patting
with his left hand very complacenlly ; but although stout in his body,
his legs were mere spindles,, so that, in his appearance, he reminded
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 5
you of some bird of tlie 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 ol
locomotion. He was dressed in a black coat and waistcoat, while
cravat and hish 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 grjld lop 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 raor^ so.
He spoke, as some birds tly, in jerks, intermixing his words, for he
never completed a whole sentence, with mti—zim—and ending it with
"soon," leaving his hearers to supply the context from the hea<]s 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 Japbet."
"Japhet," repUed 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 soon. Bring him up— rudiments
—spatula— write labels — um— M. D. one of these days— make a man
Oihim— and so on,' said this strange personage, walking round and
round me with his cane to his nose, and scrutinizing my person with
his twinkling eyes. I was dismissed after this examination and ap-
proval, and the next day, dressed in a plain suit of clothes, was deli-
vered by the porter at the shop of Mr. Phineas Cophagus, who was
not at home when I arrived.
JAPHET, !>. SEARCH OF A FATHER.
CHAPTER II.
Like all Tyros, 1 find the rudiments of learning extremely diflBcult and laborious
hut advance so rapidly that I can do without my Master.
A TALL, fresh-coloured, but hectic lookiog young maa, 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. Gopha-
gus 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 bene-
volent smile.
" Yes ; I do not see why I should not," replied I.
"Stop a moment," said the lad who was waiting with the basket,
looking 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
\-ery clear. Now walk otT as fast as you can with these medicines,
sir—lA, 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. 1 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! Japhel— 1
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHElt. 7
see," said he, pulling up his cane, " nolhing lo 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
lo 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 Ti-
mothy had such an objection to what Mr. Cophagus facetiously termed
ihe rudiments of the profession. It was dreadful hard work for a boy ;
the perspiration ran down me in stream.s, 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-by — M. D. — and so on." I thought it was a
very rough road lo such preferment, and I stopped to take a little breath.
"By-the-by — Japhet — Christian name — and so on — sirname — hehl"
"Mr. Cophagus wishes to know your other name, " said Mr. Brookes,
interpreting.
I have omitted to acquaint the reader that sirnames, as well as
Christian names, are always given to the children at the Foundling,
and in consequence of the bank note found in my basket, I had been
named after the celebrated personage whose signature it bore. ' ' New-
land is my other name, sir," replied I.
"Newland— heh ! — very good name — every body likes to see that
name — and have plenty of them in his pockets too — um — very comfort-
able — and so on," replied Mr. Cophagus, leaving the shop.
I resumed my thumping occupation, when Timothy returned with
his empty basket. He laughed when he saw^ me at work . "Well,
how do you like the rudimans? — and so on — heh?" said he, mimick-
ing Mr. Cophagus.
''Not overmuch," replied I, wiping my face.
' ' That was my job before you came. I have been more than a year,
and never have got out of these rudimans yet, and I suppose I never
shall."
Mr. Brookes, perceiving that I was tired, desired me to leave off, an
order which I gladly obeyed, and I took my seat in a corner of the
shop.
" There," said Timothy, laying down his basket ; " no more work
for me hanty prandium, is there, Mr. Brookes?"
" No, Tim ; but post prandium, you'll post off again."
Dinner being ready, and Mr. Cophagus having returned, he and Mr
Brookes went into the back parlour, leaving Timothy and me in the
shop to announce customers. And I shall lake this opportunity of in-
troducing Mr. Timothy more particularly, as he will play a very
8 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
conspicuous part in this narrative. Timothy was short in stature for
his age, but very strongly built. He had an oval face, with a very
dark complexion, gray eyes flashlBg from under their long eyelashes,
and eyebrows nearly meeting each other. He was marked with the
small pox, not so much as to disfigure him, but still it was very per-
ceptible when near to him. His countenance was always lighted up
with merriment ; there was such a happy, devil-may-care expression in
his face, that you liked him the first minute that you were in his com-
pany, and I was intimate with him immediately.
"I say, Japhet," said he, "where did you come from ? "
"The Foundling," replied I.
" Then you have no friends or relations."
If I have, I do not know where to find them," replied I, very
gravely.
"Pooh! don't be grave upon it. I hav'n't any either. I was
brought up by the parish, in the workhouse. I was found at the door
of a gentleman's house, who sent me to the overseers — I w^as about a
year old then. They call me a foundling, but I don't care what they
call me, so long as they don't call me too late for dinner. Father and
mother, whoever they were, when they run away from me, didn't run
away with my appetite. I wonder how long master means to play with
his knife and fork. As for Mr. Brookes, what he eats wouldn't physie
a snipe. What's your other name, Japhet?"
"Newland."
' * Newland— now you shall have mine in exchange : Timothy Old-
mixon at your service. They christened me after the workhouse pump,
which had ' Timothy Oldmixon fecit' on it ; and the overseers thought
it as good a name to give me as any other; so I was christened after
the pump maker with some of the pump water. As soon as I was big
enough, they employed me to pump all the water for the use of the
workhouse. I worked at my papa, as I called the pump, all day long.
Few sons worked their father more, or disliked him so much : and now,
Japhet, you see, from habit, I'm pumping you."
" You'll soon pump dry, then, for I've very httle to tell you," replied
I , " but, tell me, what sort of a person is our master?"
"He's just what you see him, never alters, hardly ever out of hu-
mour, and when he is, he is just as odd as ever. He very often threat-
ens me, but I have never had a blow yet, although Mr. Brookes has
complained once or twice."
" But surely Mr. Brookes is not cross V
" No, he is a very good gentleman ; but sometimes I carry on my
rigs a little too far, I must say that. For, as Mr. Brookes says, people
may die for want of the medicines, because I put down my basket to
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 9
play. It's verv true; but I can't give up 'peg in the ring' on that
account. But then I only got a box of the ear from Mr. Brookes, and
that goes for nothing. Mr. Cophagus shakes his stick, and says,
* Bad boy— big stick— «m— won't forget— next time— and so on,' "
continued Timothy, laughing; " and it is so on, to the end of the
chapter. "
" By this time Mr. Cophagus and his assistant had finished their
dinner, and came into the shop. The former looked at me, put his
stick to his nose, "Little boys— always hungry— um— like good
dinner— roast beef— Yorkshire pudding— and so on," and he pointed
with the stick to the back parlour. Timothy and I understood him
very well this time : we went into the parlour, when the housekeeper
sat down with us and helped us. She was a terribly cross, little old
woman, but as honest as she was cross, which is all that I shall say in
her favour. Timothy was no favourite, because he had such a good
appetite ; and it appeared that I was not very likely to stand well in
her good opinion, for I also ate a great deal, and every extra mouth-
ful i took I sank in her estimation, till I was nearly at the zero,
where Timothy had long been for the same offence ; but Mr. Co-
phagus would not allow her to stint him, saying, " Little boys must
eat — or won't grow — and so on."
I soon found out that we were not only well fed, but in every
other point well treated, and I was very comfortable and happy. Mr.
Brookes instructed me in the art of labelling and tying up, and in a
very short time I was very expert; and as Timothy predicted, the
rudiments were once more handed over to him. Mr. Cophagus sup-
plied me with good clothes, but never gave me any pocket-money,
and Timothy and I often lamented that we had not even a halfpenny
to spend.
Before I had been many months in the shop, Mr. Brookes was
able to leave when any exigence required his immediate attendance.
I made up the pills, but he weighed out the quantities in the prescrip-
tions ; if, therefore, any one came in for medicines, I desired them to
wait the return of Mr. Brookes, who would be in very soon. One
day, when Mr, Brookes was out, and I was silting behind the coun-
ter, Timothy sitting on it, and swinging his legs to and fro, both
lamenting that we had no pocket-money, Timothy said, " Japhet,
I've been puzzling my brains how we can get some money, and I've
hit it at last ; let you and I turn doctors ; we won't send all the people
away who come when Mr. Brookes is out, but we'll physic them our-
selves."
I jumped at the idea, and he had hardly proposed it, when an old
10 JAFilET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
woman came in, and addressing Timothy, said, " That she wanted
something for her poor grandchild's sore throat."
" I don't mix up the medicines, ma'am," replied Timothy ; ' ' you
must apply to that gentleman, Mr. Newland, who is behind the coun-
ter — he understands what is good for every body's complaints."
" Bless his handsome face — and so young too ! Why, be you a
doctor, sir ?"
" I should hope so," replied I ; " what is it you require — a lotion,
or an embrocation ?"
" I don't understand those hard words, but I want some doctor's
stuff.
*' Very well, my good woman, I know what is proper," replied I,
assuming an important air. " Here, Timothy, wash out this vial
very clean."
*' Yes, sir," replied Timothy, very respectfully.
I took one of the measures, and putting in a little green, a little
blue, and a little white liquid from the medicine bottles generally
used by Mr. Brookes, fdled it up with water, poured the mixture into
the vial, corked, and labelled it, haustus statim sumejidus, and
handed it over the counter to the old woman.
" Is the poor child to take it, or is it to rub outside?" inquired the
old woman.
" The directions are on the label ; but you don't read Latin ?"
''Deary me, no! Latin! and do you understand Latin? what a
nice clever boy !"
" I should not be a good doctor if I did not," replied L On se-
cond thoughts, I considered it advisable and safer, that the application
should be external, so I translated the label to her — Haustus, rub
it in — statim, on the throat — sumendus, with the palm of the
hand."
" Deary me ! and does it mean all that ? How much have I to
pay, sir ?"
" Embrocation is a very dear medicine, my good woman ; it ought
to be eighteen-pence, but as you are a poor woman, I shall only charge
you nine-pence."
" I'm sure I thank you kindly," replied the old woman, put-
ting down the money, and wishing me a good morning as she left the
shop.
" Bravo !" cried Timothy, rubbing his hands ; "its halves, Japhet,
is it not?"
" Yes," I replied ; " but first we must be honest, and not cheat Mr.
Gophagus ; the vial is sold, you know% for one penny^and I suppose
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 11
the stuiT I have taken is not worth a penny more. Now, if we put
aside two-pence for Mr. Cophagus, we don't cheat him, or steal his
property ; the other seven-pence is of course our own— being the
profits of the profession ."
" But how shall we account for receiving the two-pence?" said
Timothy.
" Selling two vials instead of one : they are never reckoned, you
know."
" That will do capitally," cried Timothy; "and now for halves.'"
But this could not be managed until Timothy had run out and
changed the six-pence; we then each had our three-pence half-
penny, and for once in our lives could say that we had money in our
pockets.
CHAPTER III.
I perform a wonderful cure upon St. John Long's principle, having little or no
principle of my own— I begin to puzzle my head with a problem, of all others
most difficult to solve.
The success of our first attempt encouraged us to proceed ; but
afraid that I might do some mischief, I asked of Mr. Brookes the
nature and qualities of the various medicines, as he was mixing the
prescriptions, that I might avoid taking any of those which were poi-
sonous. Mr. Brookes, pleased with my continual inquiries, gave
me all the information I could desire, and thus I gained, not only a
great deal of information, but also a great deal of credit with Mr.
Cophagus, to whom Mr. Brookes had made known my diligence
and thirst for knowledge.
«« Good— very good," said Mr. Cophagus ;" fine boy— learns his
business— M. D. one of these days— ride in his coach— um, and so
on." Nevertheless, at my second attempt, I made an awkward mis-
take, which very nearly led to detection. An Irish labourer, more
than half tipsy, came in one evening, and asked whether we had such
a thing as was called A poor man's plaister. By the powers, it
will be a poor man's plaister when it belongs to me ; but they tell me
that it is a sure and sartain cure for the thumbago, as they call it,
which I've at the small of my back, and which is a hinder to my
mounting up the ladder; so as it's Saturday night, and I've just got
^^ JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
the money, I'll buy the plaister first, and then try what a little whis-
key inside will do; the devil's in it if it won't be driven out of me
between the two."
We had not that plaister in the shop, but we had blister plaister,
and Timothy, handing one to me, I proffered it to him. " And what
may you be after asking for this same?" inquired he.
The blister plaisters were sold at a shilling each, when spread on
paper, so I asked him eighteen -pence, that we might pocket the extra
six-pence.
*' By the powers, one would think that you had made a mistake,
and handed me the rich man's plaister instead of the poor one's. It's
less whiskey I'll have to drink, any how; but here's the money, and
the top of the morning to ye, seeing as how it's jist getting late."
Timothy and I laughed as we divided the six-pence. It appeared
that after taking his allowance of whiskey, the poor fellow fixed the
plaister on his back wlien he went to bed, and the next morning found
himself in a condition not to be envied. It was a week before we saw
him again, and much to the horror of Timothy and myself, he walked
into the shop when Mr. Brookes was employed behind the coun-
ter. Timothy perceived him before he saw us, and pulling me behind
the large mortar, we contrived to make our escape into the back par-
lour, the door of which we held ajar to hear what would take place.
" Murder and turf!" cried the man, " but that was the devil's own
plaister that you gave me here for my back, and it left me as raw as
a turnip, taking every bit of my skin off me entirely, forebye my lying
in bed for a whole w^eek, and losing my day's work."
" I really do not recollect supplying you with a plaister, my good
man," replied Mr. Brookes.
" Then by the piper that played before Moses, if you don't recol-
lect it, I've an idea that I shall never forget it. Sure enough, it cured
me, but wasn't I quite kilt before I was cured '?"
" It must have been some other shop," observed Mr, Brookes.
•' You have made a mistake."
"Devil a bit of a mistake, except in selling me the plaister. Didn't
I get it of a lad in this same shop ? "
** Nobody sells things out of this shop without my knowledge."
The Irishman was puzzled — he looked round the shop. "Well,
then, if this a'n't the shop, it was own sister to it."
" Timothy," called Mr. Brookes.
" And sure enough there was a Timothy in the other shop, for I
heard the boy call the other by the name ; however, it's no matter, if
it took off the skin, it also took away the thumbago, so the morning to
you, Mr. Pottykarry,"
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 13
When the Irishman departed, we made our appearance. " Japhet,
did you sell a plaisler to an Irishman ? "
"Yes — don't you recollect, last Saturday? and I gave you the
sliilling."
" Very true ; but what did he ask for?"
*' He asked for a plaister, but he was very tipsy. I showed him a
blister, and he took it ; " and then I looked at Timothy and laughed.
" You must not play such tricks," said Mr. Brookes, " I see what
Aou have been about — it was a joke to you, but not to him."
Mr. Brookes, who imagined we had sold it to the Irishman out of
fun, then gave us a very severe lecture, and threatened to acquaint Mr.
Cophagus if ever we played such tricks again. Thus the afTair blew
over, and it made me very careful ; and, as every day I knew more
about medicines, I was soon able to mix them, so as to be of service to
those who applied, and before eighteen months had expired, I was
trusted with the mixing up all the prescriptions. At the end of that
period Mr. Brookes left us, and I took the whole of his department
upon myself, giving great satisfaction to Mr. Cophagus.
And now that I have announced my promotion, it will perhaps be
as well that I give the reader some idea of my personal appearance,
upon which I have hitherto been silent. I was thin, between fifteen
and sixteen years old, very tall for my age, and of my figure I had no
reason to be ashamed ; a large beaming eye, with a slightly aquiline
nose, a high forehead, fair in complexion, but with very dark hair. I
was always what may be termed a remarkably clean-looking bov, from
the peculiarity of my skin and complexion; my teeth were small, but
were transparent, and I had a very deep dimple in my chin. Like all
embryo apothecaries, I carried in my appearance, if not the look of
wisdom, most certainly that of self-suiTiciency, which docs equally
well with the world in general. My forehead was smooth, and very
white, and my dark locks were combed back systematically, and with
a regularity that said, as plainly as hair could do, " The owner of this
does every thing by prescription, measurement, and rule." With my
long fingers I folded up the little packets, with an air as thoughtful and
imposing as that of a minister who has just presented a protocol as in-
terminable as unintelligible : and the look of solemn sagacitv with
which I poured out the contents of one vial into the other, ^^ould have
well become the king's physician, when he watched the "Lord's anoint-
ed " in arficulo mortis.
As I followed up my saturnine avocation, I generally had an open
book on the counter beside me ; not a marble-covered dirty volume,
from the Minerva press, or a half-bound, half-guinea's worth of
fashionable trash, but a good, honest, heavy-looking, wisdom-implying
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
f
book, horribly stufTed with epithet of drug; a book in which Latin
words were redundant, and here and there were to be observed the
crabbed characters of Greek. Altogether, with my book and my look,
I cut such a truly medical appearance, that even (he most guarded
would not have hesitated to allow me the sole conduct of a whitlow,
from inflammation to suppuration, and from suppuration to cure, or
have refused to have confided to me the entire suppression of a gum-
boil. Such were my personal qualifications at the time that I was
raised to the important office of dispenser of, I may say, life and
death.
It will not surprise the reader when I tell him that I was much no-
ticed by those who came to consult, or talk with, Mr. Cophagus. " A
very fine looking lad that, Mr. Cophagus," an acquaintance would say.
** Where did you get him — who is his father? "
"Father! " Mr. Cophagus would reply, when they had gained the
back parlour, but I could overhear him, "father, um — can't tell —
love — concealment — child born — foundling hospital — put out — and
so on."
This was constantly occurring, and the constant occurrence made
me often reflect upon my condition, which otherwise I might, from
the happy and even tenor of my life, have forgotten. When I retired
to my bed, I would revolve in my mind all that I had gained from the
governors of the hospital relative to myself. — The paper found in the
basket had been given to me. I was born in wedlock — at least, so said
that paper. The sum left with me also proved that my parents could
not, at my birth, have been paupers. The very peculiar circumstances
attending my case, only made me more anxious to know my pa-
rentage. I was now old enough to be aware of the value of birth, and
I was also just entering the age of romance, and many were the strange
and absurd reveries in which I indulged. At one time I would che-
rish the idea that I was of a noble, if not princely birth, and frame
reasons for concealment. At others — but it is useless to repeat the
absurdities and castle buildings which were generated in my brain from
mystery. My airy fabrics would at last disappear, and leave me in
all the misery of doubt and abandoned hope. Mr. Cophagus, when
the question was sometimes put to him, would say, " Good boy — very
good boy — don't want a father." But he was wrong, I did want a
father ; and every day the want became more pressing, and I found
myself continually repeating the question, " fFho is my father? "
JAPHET, IX SEAKCIl OF A FATHER. 15
CHAPTER IV.
Very much puzzled with a new Patient, nevertheless take my degree at fifteen as
an M. D. ; and what is still more acceptable, I pocket the fees.
The departure of Mr. Brookes, of course, rendered me more able to
follow up with Timothy my little professional attempts to procure
pocket-money ; but independent of these pillages by the aid of pills,
and making drafts upon our master's legitimate profits, by the assist-
ance of draughts from his shop, accident shortly enabled me to raise
the ways and means in a more rapid manner. But of this directly.
In the mean time I w as fast gaining knowledge ; every evening I read
surgical and medical books, put into my hands by Mr. Cophagus, who
explained whenever I applied to him, and I soon obtained a very fair
smattering of my profession. He also taught me how to bleed, by
making me, in the first instance, puncture very scientifically all the
larger veins of a cabbage-leaf, until, well satisfied with the delicacy of
my hand, and the precision of my eye, he wound up his instructions
by permitting me to breathe a vein in his own arm.
" Well," said Timothy, when he first saw me practising, " I have
often heard it said, there's no getting blood out of a turnip ; but it
seems there is more chance with a cabbage. I tell you what, Japhef,
you may try your hand upon me as much as you please, for two-pence
a go."
I consented to this arrangement, and by dint of practising on
Timothy over and over again, I became quite perfect. I should here
observe, that my anxiety relative to my birth increased every day, and
that in one of the books lent me by Mr. Cophagus, there was a disser-
tation upon the human frame, sympathies, antipathies, and also on
those features and peculiarities most likely to descend from one gene-
ration to another. It was there asserted, that the nose was the facial
feature most likely to be transmitted from father to son. As I before
have mentioned, my nose was rather aquiline; and after I had read
this book, it was surprising with what eagerness I examined the faces
of those whom I met ; and if I saw a nose upon any man's face, at all
resembling my own, I immediately would wonder and surmise whether
that person could be my father. The constant dwelling upon the sub-
ject at last created a species of monomania, and a hundred times a-day
10 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
I would mutter to myself, "Who is my father? " indeed, the very
bells, when they rung a peal, seemed, as in the case of Whittington.
to chime the question, and at last I talked so much on the subject to
Timothy, who was my Fidus Achates, and bosom friend, that I really
believe, partial as he was to me, he wished my father at the devil.
Our shop was well appointed with all that glare and glitter with
which we decorate the *' house of call" of disease and death. Being
situated in such a thoroughfare, passengers would stop to look in, and
ragged-vested, and in other garments still more ragged, little boys
would stand to stare at the variety of colours, and the 'pottecary gen-
tleman, your humble servant, who presided over so many labelled-in-
gold phalanxes which decorated the sides of the shop.
Among those who always stopped and gazed as she passed by, which
was generally three or four times a day, was a well-dressed female,
apparently about forty years of age, straight as an arrow, with an
elasticity of step, and a decision in her manner of walking, which was
almost masculine, although her form, notwithstanding that it was tall
and thin, was extremely feminine and graceful. Sometimes she would
fix her eyes upon me, and there was a wildness in her looks, which
certainly gave a painful impression, and at the same time so fascinated
me, that when I met her gaze, the paper which contained the powder
remained unfolded, and the arm which was pouring out the liquid
suspended.
She was often remarked by Timothy, as well as me; and we further
observed, that her step was not equal throughout the day. In her
latter peregrinations, towards the evening, her gait was more vigorous,
but unequal, at the same time that her gaze was more stedfast. She
usually passed the shop for the last lime each day, about five o'clock
in the afternoon.
One evening, after we had watched her past, as we supposed, to
return no more till the ensuing morning, for this peeping in, on her
part, had become an expected occurrence, and afforded much amuse-
ment to Timothy, who designated her as the " mad woman," to our
great surprise, and to the alarm of Timothy, who sprang over the
counter, and took a position by my side, she walked into the shop.
Her eye appeared wild, as usual, but I could not make out that it was
insanity. I recovered my self-possession, and desired Timothy to
hand the lady a chair, begging to know in what way I could be use-
ful. Timothy walked round by the end of the counter, pushed a
chair near to her, and then made a hasty retreat to his former position.
She declined the chair with a motion of her hand, in which there was
much dignity, as well as grace, and placing upon the counter her hands,
which were small and beautifully white, she bent forwards towards
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. IT
nie, and said in a sweel, low voice, which actually startled me by its
depth of melody, " I am very ill."
My astonishment increased. Why, I know not, because the excep-
tions are certainly as many as the general rule, we always form an
estimate of the voice before we hear it, from the outward appearance
of the speaker; and when I looked up in her face, which was now ex-
posed to the glare of the argand lamp, and witnessed the cadaverous,
pale, chalky expression on it, and the crow's feet near the eyes, and
wrinkles on her forehead, I should have sooner expected to have heard
a burst of heavenly symphony from a thunder-cloud, than such mi^ic
as issued from her parted lips.
" Good heavens, madam ! " said I eagerly and respectfully, "allow
me to send for Mr. Cophagus."
"By no means," replied she. "I come to you. I am aware," con-
tinued she in an undertone, " that you dispense medicines, give advice,
and receive money yourself."
I felt very much agitated, and the blush of detection mounted up to
my forehead. Timothy, who heard what she said, showed his uneasi-
ness in a variety of grotesque ways. He drew up his legs alternately,
as if he were dancing on hot plates; he slapped his pockets, grinned,
clenched his fists, ground his teeth, and bit his lips till he made the
blood come. At last he sidled up to me, " She has been peeping and
screwing those eyes of her's into this shop for something. It's all up
with both of us, unless you can buy her off."
" I have, madam," said I, at last, "ventured to prescribe in some
trivial cases, and, as you say, receive money when my master is not
here; but I am entrusted with the till."
■'I know — I know^ — vou need not fear me. You are too modest.
What I would request is, that you wouM prescribe for me, as I have no
great opinion of your master's talents."
" If you wish it, madam," said I, bowing respectfully.
' ' You have camphor julep ready made up, have you not? "
"Yes, madam," replied I.
"Then do me the favour to send the boy with a bottle to my house
directly." I handed down the bottle, she paid for it, and putting it into
Timothy's hands, desired him to take it to the direction which she gave
him. Timothy put on his hat, cocked his eye at me, and left us
alone.
" What is your name? " said she, in the same melodious voice.
" Japhet ^'ewland, madam," replied I.
" Japhet— il is a good, a scriptural name," said the lady, musing in
half soliloquy. " TS'ewland — that sounds of mammon."
" This mystery is unravelled, ' thought I, and I was right in my con-
2
18 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
jectures. " She is some fanatical metbodist;" but I looked at her
attain, and her dress disclaimed the idea, for in it there was much taste
displayed.
"Who gave you that name?" said she, after a pause.
The question was simple enough, but it stirred up a host of annoy-
ing recollections; but not wishing to make a confidant of her, I gently
replied, as I used to do in the Foundling Hospital on Sunday morn-
ing — " My godfathers and godmothers in my baptism, ma'am."
"My dear sir, I am very ill," said she, after a pause, " will you feel
iii^ pulse?"
I touched a wrist and looked at a hand that was worthy of being ad-
mired. What a pity, thought I, that she should be old, ugly, and half
crazy !
" Do you not think that this pulse of mine exhibits considerable
nervous excitement ? I reckoned it this morning, it was at a hundred
and twenty."
"It certainly beats quick," replied I, "but perhaps the camphor
julep may prove beneficial."
"I thank you for your advice, Mr. Newland," said she, laying
down a guinea, "and if I am not better, I will call again, or send for
you. Good night."
She walked out*of the shop, leaving me in no small astonishment.
What could she mean? I was lost in reverie, when Timothy returned .
The guinea remained on the counter.
" I met her going home," said he. " Bless me — a guinea — why,
Japhet! " I recounted all that had passed. " Well, then, it has turned
out well for us instead of ill, as I expected."
The us reminded me that we shared profits on these occasions, and I
offered Timothy his half; but* Tim, with all his espieglerie was not
selfish, and he stoutly refused to take his share. He dubbed me an
M.D., and said I had beat Mr. Cophagus already, for he had never
taken a physician's fee.
" I cannot understand it, Timothy," said I, after a few minutes'
thought.
"lean," replied Timothy. " She has looked in at the window
until she has fallen in love with your handsome face ; that's it, depend
upon it." As I could find no other cause, and Tim's opinion was backed
by my own vanity, I imagined that such must be the case. ' ' Yes, 'tis
so," continued Timothy, "as the saying is, there's money bid for
you."
' ' I wish that it had not been by so ill-favoured a person, at all evenls.
Tim," replied I; " I cannot return her affection."
" Nevermind that, so lona as vou don't return the monev."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 19
The next evening she maije her appearance, bought, as before, a
bottle of camphor julep — sent Timothy home with it, and asking my
advice, paid me another guinea.
" Really, madam," said I, putting it back towards her, " I am not
entitled to it."
" Yes, you are," replied sTie. " I know you have no friends, and
I also know that you deserve them. You must purchase books, you
must study, or you never will be a great man." She then sat down,
entered into conversation, and I was struck with the fire and vigour
of the remarks, which were uttered in such a melodious tone.
Her visits, during a month, were frequent, and every time did she
press upon me a fee. Although not in love with her person, I cer-
tainly felt very grateful, and moreover was charmed with the supe-
riority of her mind. We were now on the most friendly and confid-
ing terms. One evening she said to me, " Japhet, we have now been
friends some time. Can 1 trust you?"
" With your hfe, if it were necessary," replied I.
" I believe it," said she. " Then can you leave the shop and come
to me to-morrow evening?"
" Yes, if you will send your maid for me, saying that you are not
well."
" I will, at eight o'clock. Farewell, then, till to-morrow."
CHAPTER V.
My vanity receives a desperate wound, but my heart remains unscathed — An
anomaly in woman, one who despises beauty.
The next evening I left Timothy in charge, and repaired to her
house; it was very respectable in outward appearance, as- well as its
furniture. I was not, however, shown up into the first floor, but into
the room below."
" Miss Judd will come directly, sir," said a tall, meagre, puritani-
cal looking, maid, shutting the door upon me. In a few minutes,
during which my pulse beat quick (for I could not but expect some
disclosure ; whether it was to be one of love or murder, I hardly knew
which). Miss Aramathea Judd, for such was her christian name, made
her appearance, and sitting down on the sofa, requested me to take a
seat bv her.
•20 japhet; in search of a father
" Mr. Newland,"said she, " I wish to — and I think I can entrust you
with a secret most important to me. Why I am obUged to do it, you
will perfectly comprehend when you have heard my story. Tell me,
are you attached to me ?"
This was a home question to a forward lad of sixteen. I took her
by the hand, and when I looked dowif on it, I felt as if I was. I
looked up into her face, and felt that I was not. And, as I now was
close to her, I perceived that she must have some aromatic drug in
her -mouth, as it smelt strongly — this gave me the supposition that the
breath which drew such melodious tones, was not equally sweet, and
I felt a certain increased degree of disgust.
" I am very grateful, Miss Judd, " replied I ; '' I hope I shall prove
that I am attached when you confide in me."
" Swear then, by all that's sacred, you will not reveal what I do
confide."
" By all that's sacred, I will not, ' replied I, kissing her hand with
more fervour than I expected from myself.
" Do me then the favour to excuse me one minute." She left the
room, and in a very short time, there returned, in the same dress, and,
in everv other point the same person, but with a young and lively
face of not more, apparently, than twenty-two or twenty-three years
old. I started as if I had seen an apparition. "Yes," said she,
smiling, " you now see Aramathea Judd without disguise; and you
are the first who has seen that face for more than two years. Before
I proceed further, again I say, may I trust you — swear!"
" I do swear," replied I, and took her hand for the book, which
this time I kissed with pleasure, over and over again. Like a young
jackass as I was, I still retained her hand, throwing as much persua-
sion as I posbibly could in my eyes. In fact, I did enough to have
softened the hearts of three bonnet-makers. I began to feel most
dreadfully in love, and thought of marriage, and making my fortune,
and I don't know what ; but all this was put an end to by one simple
short sentence, delivered in a very decided but soft voice, " Japhet,
don't be silly."
I was crushed, and all my hopes crushed with me. I dropped her
hand, and sat like a fool.
" And now hear me. I am, as you must have already found out,
an impostor ; that is, I am ^^hat is called a religious adventuress — a
new term, T grant, and perhaps only applicable to a very few. 3Iv
aunt was considered, by a certain sect, to be a great prophetess, which,
I hardly need tell you, was all nonsense ; nevertheless, there are hun-
dreds who believed in her, and do so now. Brought up with my aunt,
I soon found out what fools and dupes may be made of mankind by
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 2h
taking advantage of their credulity. She had her religious inspirations,
her trances, and her convulsions, and I was always behind the scenes:
she confided in me, and I may say that I was her only confidant. You
cannot, therefore, wonder at my practising that deceit to which I have
been brought up from almost my infancy. In person I am the exact
counterpart of what my aunt was at my age, equally so in figure, although
my figure is now disguised to resemble that of a woman of her age. I
often had dressed myself in my aunt's clothes, put on her cap and front,
and then the resemblance was very striking. My aunt fell sick and died,
but she promised the disciples that she would re-appear to them, and
they believed her. I did not. She was buried, and by many her
return was anxiously expected. It occurred to me about a week after-
wards, that I might contrive to deceive them. I dressed in my aunt's
clothes, I painted and disguised my face as you have seen, and the de-
ception was complete, even to myself, as I surveyed my countenance
in the glass. I boldly set olT in the evening to the tabernacle, which
I knew they still frequented — came into the midst of them, and they
fell down and worshipped me as a prophetess risen from the dead ; de-
ceived, indeed, by my appearance, but still more deceived by their
own credulity. For two years I have been omnipotent with them; but
ti]ere is one difficulty which shakes the faith of the new converts, and
new^ converts I must have, Japhet, as the old ones die, or I should not
be able to fee my physician. It is this : by habit I can almost throw
myself into a stupor or a convulsion, but to do that elTeclually, to be
able to Ct^rry on the deception for so long a time, and to undergo the
severe fatigue attending such violent exertion, it is necessary that I
have recourse to stimulants — do you understand ?"
" I do," replied I ; " I have more Ihah once thought you under the
influence of them towards the evening. I'm afraid thai you take
U3ore than is good for your health."
" Not more than I require for what I have to undergo, to keep up
!he faith of my disciples : but there are many who waver, some who
doubt, and I find that my movements are watched. I cannot trust the
woman in this house. I think she is a spy set upon me, but 1 cannot
remove her, as this house, and all which it contains, are not mine,
i)ut belong to the disciples in general. There is another woman, not
far off, who is my rival ; she calls me an impostor, and says that she
is the true prophetess, and that I am not one. This will be rather
rhfiicult for her to prove," continued she, with a mocking smile.
' Beset as I am, I require your assistance, for you must be aware
ihat it is rather discreditable to a prophetess, who has risen from the
liead, to be seen all day at tiie gin-shop; yet without stimulants now,
I could not exist."
22 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
" And how can I assist you?'"
' ' By sending me, as medicine, that which I dare no longer procure
in any other way, and keeping the secret which I have imparted."
" I will do both with pleasure; but yet," said I, "is it not a pity, a
thousand pities, that one so young — and if you will allow me to add,
so lovely, should give herself up to ardent spirits? Why," continued
I, taking her small white hand, " why should you carry on the decep-
tion ; why sacrifice your health, and I may say your happiness "
What more I might have said I know not, probably it might have been
an offer of marriage, but she cut me short.
" Why does every body sacrifice their health, their happiness, their
all, but for ambition and the love of power? It is true, as long as this
little beauty lasts, I might be courted as a woman, but never should I
be worshipped as— I may say— a god. No, no, there is something too
delightful in that adoration, something too pleasant in witnessing a
crowd of fools stare, and men of three times my age, .falling down and
kissing the hem of my garment. This is, indeed, adoration ! the
delight arising from it is so great, that all other passions are crushed
by it — it absorbs all other feelings, and has closed my heart even against
love, Japhet. I could not, I would not debase myself, sink so low in
my own estimation, as to allow so paltry a passion to have dominion
over me; and, indeed, now that I am so wedded to stimulants, even
if I were no longer a prophetess, it never could."
"But is not intoxication one of the most debasing of all habits?"
" I grant you, in itself, but with me and in my situation it is
different. I fall to rise again, and higher. I cannot be what I am
without I simulate— I cannot simulate without stimulants, therefore it
is but a means to a great and 'glorious ambition."
I had more conversation with her before I left, but nothing appeared
to move her resolution, and I left her lamenting, in the first place,
that she had abjured love, because, notwithstanding the orris root,
which she kept in her mouth to take away the smell of the spirits, I
found myself very much taken with such beauty of person, combined
with so much vigour of mind; and in the second, that one so young
should carry on a system of deceit and self-destruction. When I rose
to go Away, she put five guineas in my hand, to enable me to purchase
what she required. " Add to this one small favour," said I, " Ara-
mathea — allow me a kiss."
"A kiss," replied she, with scorn ; "no, Japhet, look upon me, for
t is the last time you will behold my youth ; look upon me as a sepul-
chre, fair without, but unsavory and rottenness within. Let me do you
a greater kindness, let me awaken your dormant energies, and plant
that ambition in your soul, which may lead to all that is great and
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 23
good — a belter path and more worthy of a man than the one which I
have partly chosen, and partly destiny has decided for me. Look upoii
me as your friend ; although, perhaps, you truly say, no friend unto
myself. Farewell — remember that to-morrow you will send the
medicine which I require."
I left her, and returned home : it was late. I went to bed, and
having disclosed as much to Timothy as I could safely venture to do,
I fell fast asleep, but her figure and her voice haunted me in my dreams.
Atone time, she appeared before me in her painted, enamelled face,
and then the mask fell olT, and I fell at her feet to worship her extreme
beauty; then her beauty would vanish, and she would appear an
image of loathsomeness and deformity, and I felt suffocated with the
atmosphere impregnated with the smell of liquor. I would wake and
compose myself again, glad to be rid of the horrid dream, but again
would she appear, with a hydra's tail, like Sin in Milton's Paradise
Lost, wind herself round me, her beautiful face gradually changing
into that of a skeleton, I cried out with terror, and awcke to sleep no
more, and effectually cured by my dream of the penchant which I felt
towards Miss Araraathea Judd.
CHAPTER VI.
My prescriptions very effective and palatable, but I lose my patient— The feud equal
to that of the Montagues and the Capulets — Results different — Mercutio comes
off unhurt.
The next day I sent Timothy to purchase some highly rectified white
brandy, which I coloured witha blue tincture, and added to it a small
proportion of the essence of cinnamon, to disguise the smell ; a dozen
large vials, carefully tied up and sealed, were despatched to her abode.
She now seldom called, unless it was early in the morning; I made
repeated visits to her house to receive money, but no longer to make
love. One day I requested permission to be present at their meeting,
and to this she gave immediate consent; indeed we were on the most
intimate terms, and when she perceived that I no longer attempted to
play the fool, I was permitted to remain for hours with her in conver-
sation. She had, as she told me she intended, re-enamelled and
painted her face, but knowing what beauty was concealed underneath,
I no longer felt any disgust
24 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
Timothy was very much pleased at his share of this arrangement,
ias he seldom brought her the medicine without pocketing haif-a-
crown.
For two or three months every thing went on very satisfactorily ;
but one evening, Timothy, who had been sent with the basket of
vials for Miss Judd's assistance, returned in great consternation, in-
forming me that the house was empty. He had inquired of the neigh-
bours, and from the accounts given, which were very contradictory,
it appeared that the rival prophetess had marched up at the head of her
proselytes the evening before, had obtained entrance, and that a des-
perate contention had been the result. That the police had been
called in, and all parties had been lodged in the watch-house ; that the
whole? affair was being investigated by the magistrates, and that it was
said that Miss Judd and all her coadjutors would be sent to the Peni-
tentiary. This was quite enough to frighten two boys like us ; for
days afterwards we trembled when people came into the shop, ex-
pecting to be summoned and imprisoned. Gradually, however, our
fears were dismissed, but I never from that time heard any thing more
of 3Iiss Aramalhea Judd.
After this affair, I adhered steadily to my business, and profiting by
the advice given me by that young person, improved rapidly in my
profession, as well as in general knowledge ; but my thoughts, as
usual, were upon one subject — my parentage, and the mystery hang-
ing over it. My eternal reveries became at last so painful, that I had
recourse to reading to drive them away, and subscribing to a good
circulating library, I was seldom without a book in my hand. By
this time I had been nearly two years and a half with Mr. Cophagus,
when an adventure occurred which I must attempt to describe with all
the dignity with which it ought to be invested.
This is a world of ambition, competition, and rivalry. Nation ri-
vals nation, and flies to arms, cutting the throats of a few thousands on
each side till one finds that it has the worst of it. Man rivals man,
and hence detraction, duels, and individual death. Woman rivals
woman, and hence loss of reputation and position in high, and loss of
hair, and fighting with pattens in low, life. Are we then to be sur-
prised that this universal passion, undeterred by the smell of drugs and
poisonous compounds, should enter into apothecaries' shops? But
two streets — two very short streets from our own — was situated the
single-fronted shop of Mr. Ebenezer Pleggit. Thank heaven, it was
only single-fronted ; there, at least, w^e had the ascendancy over them.
Upon other points, our advantages were more equally balanced. Mr.
Pleggit had two large coloured bottles in his windows more than wo
had ; but then we had two horses, and ho had onlv one. He tied over
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATIIEIL 25
the corks of his bottles with red-coloured paper ; we covered up the
lips of our vials with delicate blue. It certainly was the case— for
though an enemy, ril do him justice— that, after Mr. Brookes had left
us, Mr. Pleggit had»lwo shopmen, and Mr. Cophagus only one; but
then that one was Mr. Japhet Newland ; besides, one of his assistants
had only one eye, and the other squinted horribly, so if we measured
bv eves, I think the advantage was actually on our side; and, as far as
ornament went, most decidedly; for who would not prefer putting on
his chimney-piece one handsome, elegant vase, than two damaged,
ill-looking pieces of crockery ? Mr. Pleggit had certainly a- gilt mor-
tar and pestle over his door, which Mr. Cophagus had omitted when
he furnished his shop ; but then the mortar had a great crack down
the middle, and the pestle had lost its knob. And let me ask those
who have been accustomed to handle it, what is a pestle without a
knob? On the whole, I think, with the advantage of having two
fronts, like Janus, we certainly had the best of the comparison ; but
I shall leave the impartial to decide.
All I can say is, that the feuds of the rival houses were most hitler
— the hate intense — the mutual scorn unmeasurable. Did Mr. c^be-
nezer Pleggit meet Mr. Phineas Cophagus in the street, the former
immediately began to spit as if he had swallowed some of his own vile
adulterated drugs; and in rejoinder, Mr. Cophagus immediately raised
the cane from his nose high above his forehead in so threatening an
attitude as almost to warrant the other swearing the peace against him,
muttering, "Ugly puppy — knows nothing — urn — patients die — and
so on."
It may be well supposed that this spirit of enmity extended through
the lower branches of the rival houses — the assistants and I were at
deadly fe;jd ; and this feud was even more deadly between the boys
who carried out the medicines, and whose baskets might, in some
measure, have been looked upon as the rival ensigns of the parties, they
themselves occupying thg dangerous and honourable post of standard
bearers.
Timothy, although the kindest-hearted fellow in the world, was as
good a hater as Dr. Johnson himself could have wished to meet with ;
and when sometimes his basket was not so well filled as usual, he
would fill up with empty bottles below, rather than that the credit of
of the house should be suspected, and his deficiencies create a smile of
scorn in the mouth of his red-haired antagonist, when they happened
to meet going their rounds. As yet, no actual collision had taken place
between either the principals or the subordinates of the hostile fac-
tions ; but it was fated that this state of quiescence should no longer
remain.
26 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
Homer has sung the badles of gods, demigods, and heroes; Milton
the strife of angels. Swift has been great in his Battle of the Books ;
but I am not aware that the battle of the vials has yet been sung;
and it requires a greater genius than was to be found in those who por-
trayed the conflicts of heroes demigods, gods, angels, or books, to do
adequate justice to the mortal strife which took place between the
lotions, potions, draughts, pills, and embrocations. I must tell the
story as w^ell as I can, leaving it as an outline for a future epic.
Burning with all the hate which infuriated the breasts of the two
houses of Capulet and Montague, hate each day increasing from years
of " biting thumbs" at each other, and yet no excuse presenting itself
for an affray, Timothy Oldmixon, — for on such an occasion it would be
a sin to omit his whole designation — Timothy Oldmixon, I say, burning
with hate and eager with haste, turning a corner of the street with his
basket well filled with medicines hanging on his left arm, encountered,
equally eager in his haste, and equally burning in his hate, the red-
haired Mercury of Mr. Ebenezer Pleggit. Great was the concussion
of the opposing baskets, dire was the crash of many of the vials, and
dreadful was the mingled odour of the abominations which escaped,
and poured through the wicker interstices. Two ladies from Billings-
gate, who were near, indulging their rhetorical powers, stopped short.
Two torn cats, who were on an adjacent roof, just fixing their eyes
of enmity, and about to fix their claws, turned their eyes to the scene
below. Two political antagonists stopped their noisy arguments. Two
dustmen ceased to ring their bells ; and two little urchins, eating
cherries from the crowns of their hats lost sight of their fruit, and stood
aghast with fear. They met, and met with such violence, that they
each rebounded many paces ; but like stalwart knights, each kept his
basket and his feet. A few seconds to recover breath ; one withering,
fiery look from Timothy, returned by his antagonist, one flash of the me-
mory in each to tell them that they each had the la on their side, and
' ' Take that ! ' ' was roared by Timothy, planting a well-directed blow with
his dexter and dexterous hand upon the sinister and sinisterous eye of
his opponent. ' ' Take that !" continued he , as his adversary reeled back ;
"take that, and be d d to you, for running against a gentleman."
He of the rubicund hair had retreated, because so violent was the
blow he could not help so doing, and we all must yield to fate. But
it was not from fear. Seizing a vile potation that was labelled " to be
taken immediately," and hurling it with demoniacal force right on the
chops of the courageous Timothy, " Take that! " cried he with a ran-
corous yell. This missile, well directed as the spears of Homer's
heroes, came full upon the bridge of Timothy's nose, and the fragile
glass shivering, inflicted divers wounds upon his physiognomy, and at
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 'il
Ihesame lime poured forth a dark burnt-sienna-coloured balsam, to heal
them, giving pain unutterable. Timothy, disdaining to lament the
agojiy of his wounds, followed the example of his antagonist, and hastily
seizing a similar botile of much larger dimensions, thro\v it with such
force that it split betw^een the eyes of his opponent. Thus with these
dreadful weapons did they commence the mortal strife.
The lovers of good order, or at least of fair play , gathered round the
combatants, forming an almost impregnable ring, yet of sufficient di-
mensions to avoid the missiles. Go it, red-head!" ''Bravo! white
apron !" resounded on every side. Draughts now^ met draughts in their
passage through the circumambient air, and exploded like shells over a
besieged town. Bolusses were fired with the precision of cannon shot,
pill-boxes were thrown with such force that they burst like grape and
canister, while acids and alkalies hissed, as they neutralized each other's
power, with all the venom of expiring snakes. " Bravo! white apron!"
" Red-head for ever!" resounded on every side as the conflict conti-
nued with unabated vigour. The ammunition was fast expending on
both sides, when Mr. Ebenezer Pleggit, hearing the noise, and perhaps
smelling his own drugs, was so unfortunately rash and so unwisely
foolhardy, as to break through the sacred ring, advancing from behind
with uplifted cane to fell the redoubtable Timothy, when a mixture of
his own, hurled by his own red-haired champion, caught him in his
open mouth, breaking against his only two remaining front teeth, ex-
tracting them as the discharged liquid ran down his throat, and turn-
ing him as sick as a dog. He fell, was taken away on a shutter, and it
was some days before he was again to be seen in his shop, dispensing
those medicines which, on this fatal occasion, he would but too gladly
have dispensed with.
Reader, have you not elsewhere read in the mortal fray between
knights, when the casque has been beaten olT, the shield lost, and the
sword shivered, how they have resorted to closer and more deadly
strife with their daggers raised on high? Thus it was with Timothy :
his means had failed, and disdaining any longer to wage a distant com-
bat, he closed vigorously with his panting enemy, overthrew him in
the first struggle, seizing from his basket the only weapons which re-
mained, one single vial, and one single box of pills. As he sat upon
his prostrate foe, first he forced the box of pills into his gasping mouth,
and then with the lower end of the vial he drove it down his throat, as
a gunner rams home the wad and shot into a thirty-two pound car-
ronade. Choked with the box, the fallen knight held up his hands for
quarter; but Timothy continued until the end of the vial, breaking
out the top and bottom of the pasteboard receptacle, forty-and-eight of
antibilious pills rolled in haste down Red-head's throat. Timothy
2S JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
then seized liis basket, and amid the sbouls of triumph, walked away.
His fallen-crested adversary coughed up the remnants of the paste-
board, once more breathed, and was led disconsolate to the neighbour-
ing pump; while Timothy regained our shop with his blushing ho-
nours thick upon him.
ViUt I must drop the vein heroical. Mr. Cophagus, who was at
home when Timothy returned, was at first very much inclined to be
wroth at the loss of so much medicine; but when he heard the story,
and the finale, he was so pleased at Tim's double victory over Mr.
Plcggii and his messenger, that he actually put his hand in, his pocket,
and pulled out half-a-crown.
Mr. Pieggit, on the contrary, was any thing but pleased ; he went to
a lawyer, and commenced an action for assault and battery, and all the
nciglibourhood did nothing but talk about the afTray which had taken
place, and the action at law which it was said would take place in the
ensuing term.
But with the exception of this fracas, which ended in the action not
holding good, whereby the animosity was increased, I have little to
recount during the remainder of the time I served under Mr. Copha-
gus. I had been more than three years with him when my confine-
ment became insupportable. I had but one idea, which performed an
everlasting cycle in my brain — Who was my father? And I should
have abandoned the profession to search the v^orid in the hope of find-
ing my progenitor, had it not been that I was without the means.
Latterly, I had hoarded up all I could collect ; but the sum was small,
much too small for the proposed expedition. I became melancholy,
indifTerent to the business, and slovenly in my appearance, when a
circumstance occurred which put an end to my further dispensing me-
dicines, and left me a free ascnl.
CHAPTER Ml.
Looking out for Ijusiuess not exactly minding your own business — The loss oi' the
scales occasions the loss of place to Timothy and me, who when weighed in other
scales were found wanting — We bundle olTwith our bundles on.
It happened one market-day that there was an overdriven, infuriated
beast, which was making sad havoc. Crowds of people were running
past our shop in one direction, and Ihe cries <^f " Mad bull !" wore
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A lATHER. 29
re-echoed in every qiiarter. Mr. Cuphagus, who was in the shop,
and to whom, as I have before observed, a mad bull was a source ol
great profit, very naturally looked out of the shop to ascertain whether
the animal was near to us. In most other countries, when people
hear of any danger, they generally avoid it by increasing their distance ;
but in England, it is too often the case, that they are so fond of indulg-
ing their curiosity, that they run to the danger. Mr. Cophagus, who
perceived the people running one way, naturally supposed, not being
aware of the extreme proximity of the animal, that the people were
running to see what was the matter, and turned his eyes in that di-
rection, walking out on the pavement that he might have a fairer view.
He was just observing, " Can't say — fear — um — rascal Pleggit — close
to him — get all the custom — wounds — contusions — and" when
the animal came suddenly round the corner upon Mr. Copha-
gus, who had his eyes the other way, and before he could escape,
tossed him through his own shop windows, and landed him on the
counter. Not satisfied wilh this, the beast followed him into the shop.
Timothy and I pulled Mr. Cophagus over towards us, and he dropped
inside the counter, where we also crouched, frightened out of our wits.
To our great horror the bull made one or two attempts to leap the
counter ; but not succeeding, and being now attacked by the dogs and
butcher boys, he charged at them through the door, carrying away
our best scales on his horns as a trophy, as he galloped out of the shop
in pursuit of his persecutors. When the shouts and halloes were at
some little distance, Timothy and I raised our heads and looked round
us ; and perceiving that all was safe, we proceeded to help Mr. Co-
phagus, who remained on the floor bleeding, and in a state of insen-
sibility. We carried him into the back parlour and laid him on the
sofa. I desired Timotliy to run for surgical aid as fast as he could,
while I opened a vein; and in a few minutes he returned with our op-
ponent, Mr. Ebenezer Pleggit. We stripped Mr. Cophagus, and pro-
ceeded to examine him. " Bad case this — very bad case, indeed, Mr.
N'ewiand — dislocation of the os humeri — severe contusion on the os
fronlis — and I'm very much afraid there is some intercostal injury.
Very sorry, very sorry, indeed, for my brother Cophagus." But Mr.
Pleggit did not appear to be sorry ; on the contrary, he appeared to
perform his surgical duties with the greatest glee.
We reduced the dislocation, and then carried Mr. Cophagus up to
his bed. In an hour he was sensible, and Mr. Pleggit took his depar-
ture, shaking hands with Mr. Cophagus, and wishing him joy of his
providential escape. " Bad job, Japhet," said Mr. Cophagus to
me.
" Yerv bad indeed, sir : but it misht have been worse."
30 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER,
"Worse — um — no, nothing worse — not possible."
' ' Why, sir, you might have been killed."
" Pooh! didn't mean that — mean Pleggit — rascal— um — kill me if
he can — sha'n't though — soon get rid of him — and so on."
' ' Vou will not require his further attendance now that your shoul-
der is reduced. I can very well attend upon you."
" Very true, Japhet — but won't go — sure of that — damned rascal —
quite pleased — I saw it — um — eyes twinkled — smile checked — and so
on."
That evening Mr. Pleggit called in as Mr. Cophagus said that he
would, and the latter showed a good deal of impatience ; but Mr.
Pleggit repeated his visits over and over again, and I observed that
Mr. Cophagus no longer made any objection ; on the contrary, seemed
anxious for his coming, and still more so, after he was convalescent,
and able to sit at his table. But the mystery was soon divulged. 1 1
appeared that Mr. Cophagus, although he was very glad that other
people should suffer from mad bulls, and come to be cured, viewed the
case in a very different light when the bull thought proper to loss him,
and having now realized a comfortable independence, he had resolved
to retire from business, and from a site attended with so much dan-
ger. A hint of this escaping him when Mr. Pleggitwas attending him
on the third day after his accident, the latter, who knew the value of
the locale, also hinted that if Mr. Cophagus was inclined so to do, that
he would be most happy to enter into an arrangement with him.
Self-interest will not only change friendship into enmity, in this ras-
cally world, but also turn enmity into friendship. All Mr. Pleggit's
enormities, and all Mr. Cophagus's shameful conduct, were mutually
forgotten. In less than ten minutes it was ' My dear Mr, Pleggit.
and so on," and " My dear brother Cophagus r
In three weeks every thing had been arranged between them, and
the shop, fixtures, stock in trade, and good will, were all the property
of our ancient antagonist. But although Mr. Pleggit could shake
hands with Mr. Cophagus for his fixtures and good vjill, yet as
Timothy and I were not included in the good ivill, neither were we
included among {ha fixtures, and Mr. Cophagus could not, of course,
interfere with Mr. Pleggit's private arrangements. He did all he could
do in the way of recommendation, but Mr. Pleggit had not forgotten
mv occasional impertinences or the battle of the bottles. I really
believe that his ill will against Timothy was one reason for purchasing
the good will of Mr. Cophagus, and we were very gently told by
Mr. Pleggit that he would have no occasion for our services.
Mr. Cophagus offered to procure me another situation as soon as he
could, and at the sam.e time presented me with twenty guineas, as a
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER :^1
proof of his regard and appreciation of my conduct— but this sum put
in my hand decided me: I thanked him, and told him I had other
views at present, but hoped lie would let me know where I might find
him hereafter, as I should be glad to see him again. He told me he
would leave his address for me at the Foundling Hospital, and shaking
me heartily by the hand, we parted. Timothy was then summoned.
Mr. Cophagus gave him five guineas, and wished him good for-
tune.
" And DOW, Japhet, what are you about to do ? " said Timothy, as
he descended into the shop.
"To do," replied I; " I am about to leave you, which is the
only thing I am sorry for. I am going, Timothy, in search of my
father."
"Well," replied Timothy, " 1 feel as you do, Japhet, that it will be
hard to part; and there is another thing on my mind— which is, I am
very sorry that the bull did not break the rudimans (pointing to the
iron mortar and pestle) ; had he had but half the spite I have against it,
he would not have left a piece as big as a thimble. I've a great mind
to have a smack at it before I go."
"You will only injure Mr. Cophagus, for themortar will not then
be paid for."
" Very true; and as he has just given me five guineas, I will refrain
from my just indignation. But now, Japhet, let me speak to you.
I don't know how you feel, but I feel as if I could not part with you.
I do not want to go in search of my father particularly. They say it's
a wise child that knows its own father — but as there can be no doubt of
my other parent — if I can only hit upon her, I have a strong inclina-
tion to go in search of my mother, and if you like my company, why
I will go with you — always, my dear Japhet,' continued Tim.
" keeping in my mind the great difference between a person who has
been feed as an M. D., and a lad who only carries out his prescrip-
tions."
" Do you really mean to say, Tim, that you will go with me?"
" Yes, to the end of the world, Japhet, as your companion, your
V friend, and your servant, if you require it. I love you, Japhet, and I
will serve you faithfully."
" My dear Tim, I am delighted ; now I am really happy : we will
have but one purse, and but one interest ; if I find good fortune, you
shall share it."
" And if you meet with ill luck, I will share that too — so the affair
is settled— and as here come Mr. Pleggit's assistants with only one pair
of eyes between them, the sooner we pack up the better. '
In half an hour all was readv; a bundle each, contained our ward-
•32 JAPHEI, IN SEAKCH OP A FATHER.
robes. Wc (iesceuded from our attic, walked proudly through the
shop without making any observation, or taking any notice of our
successors; ail the notice taken was by Timothy, who turned round
and shook his fist at his old enemies, the iron mortar and pestle ; and
there we were, standing on the pavement, with the wide world before
us, and quite undecided which way we should go.
" Is it to be east, west, north, or south, Japhet?" said Timothy.
" The wise men came from the east," replied I.
"Then they must have travelled west," said Tim; "let us show
our wisdom by doing the same."
" Agreed."
Passing by a small shop, we purchased two good sticks, as de-
fenders, as well as to hang our bundles on — and off we set upon our
pilgrimage.
CHAPTER VIII.
We take a coach, but the driver does not like his fare and hits us foul — We
change our mode of travelling upon the principle of slow and sure, and fall in
with a very learned man.
I BELIEVE it to be a very general custom, when people set off upon a
journey, to reckon up their means — that is, to count the money which
they may have in their pockets. At all events, this was done by Ti-
mothy and me, and I found that my stock amounted to twenty-two
pounds eighteen shillings, and Timothy's to the five guineas presented
by Mr. Cophagus, and three halfpence which were in the corner of his
waistcoat pocket — sum total, twenty- eight pounds three shillings and
three halfpence ; a very handsome sum, as we thought, with which to
commence oUr peregrinations, and, as I observed to Timothy, sufficient
to last us for a considerable time, if husbanded with care.
" Yes," replied he, " but we must husband our legs also, Japhet,
or we shall soon be tired, and very soon wear out our shoes. I vote
we take a hackney coach."
"Take a hackney coach, Tim! we musn"t think of it; we cannot
afford such a luxury ; you can't be tired yet, we are now only just clear
of Hyde Park Corner."
"Still I think we had better take a coach, Japhet, and here is one
comins. I alwavs do take one when I carrv out medicines, to make
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 33
up for the lime I lose looking al the shops, and playing peg in the
ring."
I now understood what Timothy meant, which was, to get behind
and have a ride for nothing. I consented to this arrangement, and we
got up behind one which was already well filled inside. " The only
difference between an inside and outside passenger in a hackney coach,
is that one pays, and the other does not," said I, to Timothy, as we
rolled along at the act of parliament speed of four miles per hour.
"That depends upon circumstances : if we are found out, in all
probability we shall not only have our ride, but be paid into the bar-
gain."
"With the coachman's whip, I presume?"
" Exactly." And Timothy had hardly time to ge*t the word out of
his mouth, when flac, flac, came the whip across our eyes— a little
envious wretch, with his shirt hanging out of his trousers, having called
out, Cut behind.' >'ot wishing to have our faces, or our behinds cut
any more, we hastily descended, and reached the footpath, after having
gained about three miles on the road before we were discovered.
" That wasn't a bad lift, Japhet, and as for the whip I never mind
that with corduroys. And now, Japhet, I'll tell you something; we
must get into a wagon, if we can find one going down the road, as soon
as it is dark."
" But that will cost money, Tim."
"It's economy, I tell you; for a shilling, if you bargain, you may
ride the whole night, and if we stop at a public-house to sleep, we shall
have to pay for our beds, as well as be obliged to order something to
eat, and pay dearer for it than if we buy what we want at cooks' shops."
" There is sense in what you say, Timothy; we will look out for a
wagon."
" Oh ! it's no use now — wagons are like black beetles, not oniy in
shape but in habits, they only travel by night — at least most of them do.
We are now coming into long dirty Brentford, and I don't know how
you feel, Japhet, but I find that walking wonderfully increases the ap-
petite — that's another reason why you should not walk when you can
ride — for nothing."
" Well, I'm rather hungry myself; and dear me, how very good that
piece of roast pork looks in that window !"
" I agree with you — let's go in and make a bargain I '
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, were we purchased our bread,
and then taking up a position on a bench outside a public-house, called
'6
•34 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
for a pot of beer, and pulling our provisions down before us, made a
liearty, and, whal made us more enjoy il, an independent meal. Hav-
ing 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 Ihe bundles.
" Noa," replied the wagoner, " there be nobody but a mighty clever
policary or doctor, I can't tell which ; but he wear an uncommon queer
hat, and he talk all sort of doctor stud — and there be his odd man and
his odd bov ; 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, Ti-
mothy and I entered into conversation, soito 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 quos 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 no-
velty 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 replied,
" 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. ' Hauslus hord somni sumendnm,
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 35
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 know-
ledge of the Greek?"
" No, I pretend not to Greek."
" It is a pity that thou hast it not, for thou wouldst delight to com-
mune with the ancients. Esculapius hath these words — As/io/der —
offmotton — accapon — pasti — vemson,' — which I will translate for thee
' We often find what we seek, ^Yhen 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, (hat I had been
brought up as asurgeon 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, 3Iars, Bacchus, Apollo, Virorum,' — many parts of the
globe to traverse, ' Ut Cato, Firgilius ,Jluviorum, utTibris, 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, w here the voice of man
is heard not. . ' Focito vocitas vocitavi,' bending for months towards
the earth. ' As in presently' suffering with the cold — ' frico quod
fricui daf,' as Eusebius halh it. Soon shall I be borne away by the
howding winds tow-ards 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 pil-
lulcB ducB post prandium: Travel is, indeed, a most delightful occu-
pation, and I would like to run over the whole w^orld."
" And I would like to follow you," interrupted Timoihy. " I sus-
pect w^e 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 summen-
dush,' which means, ' there are ups and downs in this world.' "
3*
S6 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
" Hah!" exclaimed our companion. *' He, also, has the rudi-
ments."
*• 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 nomina-
tive, numero et persona.' Tell me, 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 Curlius says, ' Custos, hos,fur, atque sacerdos.' Sleep was
made for all-^my friends, good-night."
CHAPTER IX.
ii» 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 en-
gagement.
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 cadave-
rous, with large goggling eyes, high cheekbones, 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."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. :n
*' 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 outhishandkerchief,iflherag deserved theappellation. "There,''
said he, " I told you I put it in that pocket — I always do."
'* And prav 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-wilted crea-
ture, 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,
rufllesand frill. His eyes were brilliant, but the remainder of his face
it was difficult to decypher, 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.
'^'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," rephed 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 slulTed the end of it into Jumbo's mouth. " >ow Jumbo
will think he has got something to eat. I always wake him that way,"
observed the fool, grinning at us.
:i8 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
It certainly, as miglit be expected, did waken Jumbo, who uncoiled
himself, rubbed his eyes, stared atthetilt 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 w^agon
having remained about an hour, the driver gave us notice of his de-
parture ; but the doctor was no where to be found. After a little delay,
the w^agoner drove off, cursing him for a hilh, and vowing that he'd
never have any more to do with a "iarned 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 w^as dressed much in the same
way as the fool, in an old spangled jacket, and dirty white trowsers.
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 blundle 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.
" Hell! 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 T 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 really could not satisfy him on that point, as it was
dark when we passed.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 39
"Very true — I had forgotten that, " replied he. '-However, the
barleys look well ; but perhaps you don't understand farming? '
I replied in the negative, and the conversation was kept up for two or
three hours, in the course of which I mentioned the quack doctor, and
his strange departure.
" That is the fellow who cured so many people at ," replied
he; and the conversation then turned upon his profession and mode of
life, which Timothy and I agreed must be very amusing. " We
shall meet him again, I dare say," replied the man. "Would you
know him'?'"
" I think so, indeed, ' replied Timothy, laughing.
'• Yes, and so you would think that you would know a guinea from
a halfpenny, if I put it into your hands," replied the man. " I do not
wish to lay a bet, and win your money ; but I tell you, that I will put
either the one or the other into each of your hands, and if you hold it
fast for one minute, and shut your eyes during that time, you will not
be able to tell me which it is that you have in it."
" That I am sure I would/' replied Tim ; and I made the same
assertion.
" Well, I was taken in that way at a fair, and lost ten shillings by
the wager; now, we'll try whether you can tell or not." He took ou t
some money from his pocket, which he selected without our seeing it,
put a coin into the hand of each of us, closing our fists over it, ** and
now," said he, " keep your eyes shut for a minute."
We did so, and a second or tw'o afterwards we heard a voice which
we instantly recognised. '* Nay, but it was wrong to leave me on the
way side thus, having agreed to pay the sum demanded. At my age
one walketh not without fatigue, ' E.rcipeiida iamen qucedam sunt
tirbium,' as Philostratus says, meaning, 'that old limbs lose their ac-
tivity, and seek the help of a crutch.' "
There's the doctor," cried Timothy, with his eyes still shut.
" \ow open your eyes," said the man, "and tell me, before you
open your hand, what there is in it."
" A halfpenny in mine," said Tim.
" A guin^ in mine," replied I.
We opened our hands, and they were empty.
" Where the devil is it?" exclaimed I, looking at Tim.
" And where the devil's the doctor?" replied he looking round.
"The money is in the doctor's pocket," replied the man, smihng
" Then where is the doctor's pocket ?"
"Here," replied he, slapping his pocket, and looking significantly
at us. "I thought you were certain of knowing him again. About
as certain as vou were of telling the money in your hand."
40 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
He then, to our astonishment, imitated the doctor's voice, and quoted
prosody, syntax, and Latin. Timothy and I were still in astonishment,
when he continued, " If I had not found out that you were in want of
employ, and further, that your services would be useful to me, I should
not have made this discovery. Do you now think that you know
enough to enter into my service? It is light work, and not bad pay;
and now you may choose."
" I trust," said I, "that there is no dishonesty?"
"None that you need practise, if you are so scrupulous; perhaps
your scruples may some day be removed. I make the most of my
wares — every merchant does the same. I practise upon the folly of
mankind — it is on that, that wise men hve."
Timothy gave me a push, and nodded his head for me to give my
consent. I reflected a few seconds, and at last I extended my hand.
"I consent," replied I, " with the reservation I have made."
" You will not repent," said he;; '* and I will take your companion,
not that I want him particularly, but I do want you. The fact is, I
want a lad of gentlemanly address, and handsome appearance — w ith
the very knowledge you possess— and now we will say no more for the
present. By-the-by, was that real Latin of yours?"
"No," replied I, laughing ; " you quoted the grammar, and I re-
])lied with medical prescriptions. One was as good as the other?"
"Quite — nay, better ; for the school-boys may find me out, but nol
you. But now observe, when we come to the next cross road, we must
get down — at least, I expect so; but w^e shall know in a minute."
In about the time he mentioned, a dark, gipsy-looking man looked
into the wagon, and spoke to our acquaintance in an unknown lan-
guage. He replied in the same, and the man disappeared. We con-
tinued our route for about a quarter of an hour, w hen he got out, asked
us to follow him, and speaking a few words to the fool, which I did not
hear, left him and the boy in the wagon. \\^e paid our fare, took
possession of our bundles, and followed our new companion for.a few
minutes on the cross road, when he stopped, and said, "I must now
leave you, to prepare for your reception into our fraternity; continue
straight on this road until you arrive at a lime-kiln, and \yait there till
I come."
He sprang over a stile, and took a direction verging at an angle froni
road, forced his way through a hedge, and disappeared from our
" Upon my word, Timothy," said I, " I hardly know what to
to this. Have we done right in trusting to this man, who, I am
raid, is a great rogue? I do not much like mixing with these gipsy
people, for such I am sure he belongs to."
"I really do not see how we can do better ," replied Timothy.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 41
' ' The world is all before us, and we must force our own way through
it. As for his being a quack doctor, I see no great harm in that.
People put their faith in nostrums more than they do in regular medi-
cines; and it is well known that quack medicines, as they call them,
cure as often as others, merely for that very reason."
"Yerv true, Timothy; the mind once at ease, the body soon reco-
vers, and faith, even in quack medicines, will often make people whole;
but do you think that he does no more than impose upon people in that
wa^■?"
" He may, or he may not ; at all events, we need do no more, I sup-
pose."
"I am not sure of that; however, we shall see. He says we may
be useful to him, and I suppose we shall be, or he would not have en-
cased us — we shall soon find out.'
^
CHAPTER X.
In \^hich the reader is introduced to several new acquaintances, and ail connected
with them, except birth and parentage, which appears to be the one thing wanting
throughout the whole of this work.
By this time we hod arrived at the lime-kiln to which we had been
directed, and we sat down on our bundles, chatting for about five mi-
nutes, when our new acquaintance made his appearance, with some-
thing in his hand, tied up in a handkerchief.
" You may as well put your coats into your bundles, and put on
these frocks,'" said he, "you will appear belter among us, and be bet-
ter received, for there is a gathering now, and some of them are queer
customers. However, you have nothing to fear ; when once you are
with my wife and me, you are quite safe ; her little finger would pro-
tect you from five hundred."
"Your wife I who, then, is she?" inquired I, as I put my head
through the smock frock.
" She is a great personage among the gipsies. She is, by descent,
one of the heads of the tribe, and none dare to disobey her."
. "And you — are you a gipsy?'
"Xo, and yes. By birth I am not, but by choice, and marriage, I
am admitted; but I was not born under a hedge, I can assure you, al-^
42 JAPHET, tN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
{hough I very often pass a night there now — that is, when I am do-
raeslic; but do not think that you are to remain long here; we shall
leave in a few days, and may not meet the tribe again for months, al-
though you may see my own family occasionally. I did not ask vou
to join me to pass a gipsy's life — no, no, we must be stirring and ac-
tive. Come, we are now close to them. Do not speak as you pass the
huts, until you have entered mine. Then you may do as you please."
We turned short round, passed through a gap in the hedge, and
found ourselves on a small retired piece of common, which \^as
studded with about twenty or thirty low gipsy huts. The fires were
alight and provisions apparently cooking. We passed by nine or ten,
and obeyed pur guide's injunctions, to keep silence. At last we
stopped, and perceived ourselves to be standing by the fool, who was
dressed like us, in a smock frock, and Mr. Jumbo, who was very busy
making the pot boil, blowing at the sticks underneath till he was black
in the face. Several of the men passed near us, and examined us with
no very pleasant expression of countenance ; and we were not sorry to
see our conductor, who had gone into the hut, return, followed bv a
woman, to whom he was speaking in the language of the tribe.
"Nattee bids you welcome," said he, as sl^ approached.
i\ever in my life will the remembrance of the first appearance of
Nattee, and the efTect it had upon me, be erased from my memory.
She was tall, too tall, had it not been for the perfect symmetry of her
form. Her face of a clear olive, and oval in shape; her eyes jetty
black; nose straight, and beautifully formed ; mouth small, thin lips,
with a sligiit curl of disdain, and pearly teeth. 1 never beheld a
woman of so commanding a presence. Her feet were bare, but very
small, as well as her hands. On her fingers she wore many rings, of
a curious old setting, and a piece of gold hung on her forehead, where
the hair was parted. She looked at us, touched her high forehead
with the ends of her fingers, and waving her hand gracefully, said, in a
soft voice, " You are welcome," and then turned to her husband, speak-
ing to him in her own language, until by degrees they separated from
us in earnest conversation.
She returned to us after a short time, without her husband, and said,
in a voice, the notes of which were indeed soft, but the delivery of the
words was most determined ; ** I have said that you are welcome ; sit
down, therefore, and share with us — fear nothing, you have no cause
to fear. Be faithful, then, while you serve him, and when you would
quit us, say so, and receive your feave to depart; but if you attempt to
desert us without permission, then we shall suspect that you are our
enemies, and treat you accordingly. There is your lodging while here,'
continued she, pointing to another hut. *' There is but one child willi
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 43
you, this boy (pointing to Jumbo), who can lay at your ieel. And
now join us as friends. Fiela, where are you "? "
A soft voice answered from the tent of Natlee, and soon afterwards
came out a httle girl, of about eleven years old. The appearance of
this child was a new source of interest. She was a little fairy figure,
with a skin as while as the driven snow — light auburn hair, and large
blue eyes ; her dress was scanty, and showed a large portion of her
taper legs. She hastened to Nattee, and folding her arms across her
breast, stood still, saying meekly, " I am here."
" Know these as friends, Fleta. Send that lazy Num this was
Philotas, the fool), for more wood, and see that Jumbo tends the
fire."
Nattee smiled, and left us. I observed she went to where forty or
fifty of the tribe were assembled, in earnest discourse. She took her
seat with them, and marked deference was paid to her. In the mean
time Jumbo had blown up a brisk fire ; we were employed by Fleta in
shredding vegetables, Avhich she threw into the boiling kettle. Num
appeared with more fuel, and at last there was nothing more to do.
Fleta sat down by us,, and parting her long hair, which had fallen over
her eyes, looked us both in the face.
Who gave you that name, Fleta?" inquired I.
" They gave it me," replied she.
' ' And who are they "? "
" Nattee, and Melchior, her husband."
" But you are not their daughter ? "
" No, I am not — that is, I believe not."
The little girl stopped short, as if assured that she had said too much,
cast her eyes down on the ground, and folded her arms, so that her
hands rested on each opposite shoulder.
Timothy whispered to me, "She must have been stolen, depend
upon it."
" Silence," said I.
The little girl overheard him, and looking at him, put her finger
across her mouth, looking to where Num and Jumbo were silting. I
felt an interest for this child before I had been an hour in her company ;
she was so graceful, so feminine, so mournful in the expression of her
countenance. That she was under restraint was evident; but still she
did not appear to be actuated by fear. Nattee was very kind to her,
and the child did not seem to be more reserved towards her than to
others; her mournful, pensive look, was perhaps inherent to her
nature. It was not until long after our first acquaintance that I ever
saw a smile upon her features. Shortly alter this little conversation,
Nattee returned, walking with all the grace and dignity of a queen
44 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
Her husband, or Melchior, as I shall in future call him, soon joined us,
and we sat down to our repast, which was excellent. It was composed
of almost every thing; sometimes I found myself busy with the wing
of a fowl, at another the leg of a rabbit — then a piece of mutton, or
other flesh and fowl, which I could hardly distinguish. To these were
added every sort of vegetable, among which potatoes predominated,
forming a sort of stew, which an epicure might have praised. I had a
long conversation with Melchior in the evening, and, not to weary the
reader, I shall now proceed to state all that I then and subsequently
gathered from him and others, relative to the parties with whom we
were associating.
Melchior would not state who and what he was previous to his
having joined the fraternity of gipsies : that he was not of humble
birth, and that he had, when young, quitted his friends out of love for
Nattee, or from some other causes not to be revealed, he led me to
surmise. He had been many years in company with the tribe, and
although, as one received into it, he did not stand so high in rank and
estimation as his wife, still, from his marriage with Xattee, and his
own peculiar qualifications and dexterity, he was almost as absolute as
she was.
Melchior and Nattee were supposed to be the most wealthy of all
the gipsies, and, at the same time, they were the most liberal of their
wealth. Melchior, it appeared, gained money in three different
characters ; as a quack doctor, the character in which we first saw
him ; secondly, as a juggler, in which art he was most expert ; and
thirdly, as a fortune-teller, and ivise man.
TSattee, as I before mentioned, was of very high rank, or caste, in
her tribe. At her first espousal of Melchior she had lost much of her
influence, as it was considered a degradation ; but she was then very
young, and must have been most beautiful. The talents of Melchior,
and her own spirit, however, soon enabled lier to regain, and even add
still more to, her power and consideration among the tribe ; and it
was incredible to what extent, with the means which she possessed,
this power was augmented .
Melchior had no cbildren by his marriage, and, as far as I could
judge from the few words which would escape from the lips of Nattee,
she did not wish for any, as the race would not be considered pure.
The subdivision of the tribe which followed Nattee, consisted of about
forty, men, women, and children. These were ruled by her during
the absence of her husband, who alternately assumed different charac-
ters, as suited his purpose ; but in whatever town Melchior might
happen to be, Nattee and her tribe were never far off, and always en--
ramped within communication.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 45
I ventured to question Melchior about the little Fleta ; and he stated
that she was the child of a soldier's wife, who had been brought to
bed, and died a few hours afterwards ; that, at the time, she was on
her way to join her husband, and had been taken ill on the road — had
been assisted by >'attee and her companions, as far as they were able
— had been buried by them, and that the child had been reared in the
camp. .
In time the little girl became very intimate, and very partial to me.
I questioned her as to her birth, telling her what Melchior had staled ;
for a long while she would not answer ; the poor child had learned
caution even at that early age ; but after we were more intimate, she
said, that what Melchior had stated was?20^ true. She could recollect
very well living in a great house, with every thing very fine about her ;
still it appeared as if it were a dream. She recollected two white
ponies — and a lady who was her mamma — and a mulberry-tree,
where she stained her frock : sometimes other things came to her
memory, and then she forgot them again. From this it was evident
that she had been stolen, and was probably of good parentage : cer-
tainly, if elegance and symmetry of person and form could prove blood,
it never was more marked than in this interesting child. Her abode
with the gipsies, and their peculiar mode of life and manners, had ren-
dered her astonishingly precocious in intellect ; but of education she
had none, except what was instilled into her by Melchior, whom she
always accompanied when he assumed his character as a jugder.
She then danced on the slack wire, at the same time performins several
feats in balancing, throwing of oranges, etc. When Melchior was
under other disguise?, she remained in the" camp with ^Vattee.
Of Num, or Philotas, as Melchior thought proper to call him, I
have already spoken. He was a half-witted idiot, picked up in one of
Melchior's excursions, and as he stated to me, so did it prove to be the
fact, that when on the stage, and questioned as a fool, his natural folly,
and idiotical vacancy of countenance, were applauded by the spectators
as admirably assumed. Even at the alehouses and taverns where we
slopped, every one imagined that all his folly was pretence, and looked
upon him as a very clever fellow. There never was, perhaps, such
a lachrymose countenance as this poor lad's, and this added still more
to the mirth of others, being also considered as put on for the occasion.
Stephen Kemble played FalstafT without stuiTing — Num played the fool
without any etTort or preparation. Jumbo was also " picked up;'
this was not done by Melchior, who stated, that any body might have
him who claimed him; he tumbled with the fool upon the stage, and
he also ate pudding to amuse the spectators — the only part of the per-
formance which was suited to Jumbo's taste, for he was a terrible little
16 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
glutton, and never lost any opportunity of eating, as well as of sleep-
ing.
And now, having described all our new companions, I must narrate
what passed between Melchior and me, the day after our joining the
camp. He first ran through his various professions, pointing out to
me that as juggler he required a confederate, in .which capacity I
might be very useful, as he would soon instruct me in all his tricks.
As a quack doctor he wanted the services of both Tim and myself in
mixing up, making pills, etc. , and also in assisting him in persuading the
public of his great skill. As a fortune-teller, I should also be of great
service, as he would explain to me hereafter. In short, he wanted a
person of good personal appearance and education, in whom he might
confide in every way. As to Tim, he might be made useful if he
chose, in various ways; amongst others, he wished him to learn
tumbling and playing the fool, when, at times, the fool was required
to give a shrewd answer on any point on which he would wish the
public to be made acquainted. I agreed to my own part of the per-
formance, and then had some conversation with Timothy, who imme-
diately consented to do his best in what was allotted as his share. Thus
was the matter quickly arranged, Melchior observing, that he had said
nothing about remuneration, as I should find that trusting to him was
far preferable to stipulated wages.
CHAPTER XL
Whatever may be the opinion of the reader, he cannot assert that we are no con-
jurers — We suit our wares to our customers, and our profits are considerable.
We had been three days in the camp when the gathering was brok-
en up, each gang taking their own way. What the meeting was
about I could not exactly discover; one occasion of it was to make
arrangements relative to the different counties in which the subdivi-
sions were to sojourn during the next year, so that they might know
where to communicate w ith each other, and, at the same time, not in-
terfere by being too near ; but there were many other points discussed,
of which, as a stranger, I was kept in ignorance. Melchior answered
all my qucslions with apparent candour, but his habitual deceit was
such, that whether he told the truUi or not was impossible to be ascer-
tained bv his countenance.
JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 47
When Ihe gathering dispersed we packed up, and located ourselves
about two miles from the common, on the borders of a forest of oak
and ash. Our food was chieily game, for we had some excellent poa-
chers among us; and as for fish, it appeared to be at their command ;
there was not a pond or a pit but they could tell in a moment if it
were tenanted, and if tenanted, in half an hour every fish would be
floating on the top of the water, by the throwing in of some intoxicat-
ing sort of berry ; other articles of food occasionally were found in the
caldron ; indeed, it was impossible to fare better than we did, or at less
expense.
Our tents were generally pitched not far from a pool of water, and
to avoid any unpleasant search, which sometimes would take place,
every thing liable to detection was sunk under the water until it was
required for cooking; once in the pot, it was considered as safe. But
with the foraging; Timothy and I had nothing to do ; we participated
in the eating, without asking any questions as to how it was procured.
My lime was chiefly spent in company with Melchior, who initiated
me into all the mysteries of cups and balls— juggling of every descrip-
tion — feats with cards, and made me acquainted with all his apparatus
for prepared tricks. Yor hours and hours was I employed by his di-
rections in what is called " making the pass" with a pack of cards, as
almost all tricks on cards depend upon your dexterity in this manoeu-
vre. In about a month I was considered as a very fair adept ; in the
mean time, Timothy had to undergo his career of gymnastics, and was
to be seen all day tumbling and re-tumbling, until he could tumble on
his feet again. Light and active, he soon became a very dexterous per-
former, and could throw a somerset either backwards or forwards,
walk on his hands, eat fire, pull out ribbons, and do fifty other tricks
to amuse a gaping audience. Jumbo also was worked hard, to bring
down his fat, and never was allowed his dinner until he had given sa-
tisfaction to Melchior. Even little Feta had to practise occasionally,
as we w'ere preparing for an expedition. Melchior, who appeared
determined to create an effect, left us for three days, and returned with
not only dresses for Timothy and me, but also new dresses for the rest
of the company; and shortly afterwards, bidding farewell to Natlee and
the rest of the gipsies, we all set out— that is, Melchior, I, Timothy,
Fleta, INum, and Jumbo. Late in the evening we arrived at the little
town of , and took up our quarters at a public-house, with the
landlord of which Melchior had already made arrangements.
"Well, Timothy," said I, as soon as we were in bed, "how do
you like our new life and prospects?"
" I like it better than Mr. Cophagus's rudimans, and carrying out
48 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
physic, at all events. But how does your dignity like turning Merry
Andrew, Japhet?" ,
" To tell you the truth, I do not dislike it. There is a wildness and
a devil-may-care feeling connected with it which is grateful to me at
present. How long it may last I cannot tell; hut for a year or two il
appears to me that we may be every happy. At all events, we shall
see the world, and have more than one profession to fall back upon."
" That is true ; but there is one thing that annoys me, Japhet, which
is, we may have difTiculty in leaving these people when we wish. Be-
sides, you forget that you are losing sight of the principal object you
had in view, that is, of ' finding out your father.' "
" I certainly never expect to find him among the gipsies," replied
I, ' * for children are at a premium with them. They steal from others,
and are not very likely therefore to leave them at the Foundling. But
I do not know whether I have not as good a chance in our present em-
ployment as in any other. I have often been thinking that, as for-
tune-tellers, we may get hold of many strange secrets; however, we
shall see. Melchior says, that he intends to appear in that character
as soon as he has made a harvest in his present one."
" What do you think of JMelchior, now that you have been so much
with him?"
" I think him an unprincipled man, but still with many good qua-
lities. He appears to have a pleasure in deceit, and to have waged
war with the world in general. Still he is generous, and, to a certain
degree, confiding; kind in his disposition, and apparently a very good
husband. There is something on his mind which weighs him down
occasionally, and checks him in the height of his mirth. It comes
over him like a dark cloud over a bright summer sun, and he is all
gloom for a few minutes. I do not think that he would now commit
any great crime ; but I have a suspicion that he has done something
which is a constant cause of remorse."
" You are a very good judge of character, Japhet. But what a
dear little child is that Fleta ! She may exclaim with you— Who is
my father?"
"Yes, we are both in much the same predicament, and that it is
which I believe has so much increased my attachment to her. We are
brother and sister in misfortune, and a sister she ever shall be to me,
if such is the will of Heaven. But we must rise early to-morrow,
Tim; so good-night."
*' Yes, to-morrow it will be juggle and tumble — eat fire — um —
and so on, as Mr. Cophagus would have said; so good-night,
Japhet."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OP A FATHER. 49
The next morning we arrayed ourselves in our new habiliments ;
mine were silk stockings, shoes, and white kerseymere kneed breeches,
a blue silk waistcoat loaded with tinsel, and a short jacket to correspond
of blue velvet, a sash round my waist, a hat and a plume of feathers.
Timothy declared I looked very handsome, and as the glass said the
same as plain as it could speak, I believed him. Timothy's dress was
a pair of wide Turkish trousers and red jacket, with spangles. The
others were much the same. Fleta was attired in small, white satin,
Turkish trousers, blue muslin and silver embroidered frock, worked
sandals, and her hair braided and plaited in long tails behind, and she
looked like a little sylph. Melchior's dress was precisely the same as
mine, and a more respectable company was seldom seen. Some musi-
cians had been hired, and handbills were .now circulated all over the
town, stating that Signer Eugenio Yelotti, with his company, would
have the honour of performing before the nobility and gentry. The
bill contained the fare which was to be provided, and intimated the
hour of the performance, and the prices to be paid for the seats. The
perfomance was to take place in a very large room attached to the inn,
which, previous to the decadence of the town, had been used as an
assembly-room. A platform was erected on the outside, on which
were placed the musicians, and where we all occasionally made our
appearance in our splendid dresses to attract the wonder of the people.
There we strutted up and down, all but poor little Fleta, who appeared
to shrink at the display, from intuitive modesty. When the music
ceased, a smart parley between Melchior and me, and Philotas and Timo-
thy, as the two fools, w^ould take place; and Melchior declared, after
performance was over, that we conducted ourselves to admiration.
**Pray, Mr. Philotas, do me the favour to tell me how many
people you think are now present?" said Melchior to Num, in an im-
perative voice.
" I don't know," said Num, looking up with his idiotical, melan-
choly face.
'' Ha ! ha! ha !" roared the crowd at Num's stupid answer.
*' The fellow's a fool!" said Melchior, to the gaping audience.
" Well, then, if he can't tell, perhaps you may, Mr. Dionysius,"
said I, addressing Tim.
" How many, sir ? Do you want to know exactly and directly?"
"Yes, sir, immediately."
** Without counting, sir?"
** Yes, sir, without counting."
" Well then, sir, I will tell, and make no mistake; there's exactly
as many again as half."
" Ha ! ha ! ha !" from the crowd.
4
50 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
'* That won't do, sir. How many may be the half?"
" How many may be the half? Do you know yourself, sir ?'
" Yes, sir, to be sure I do."
" Then there's no occasion for me to tell you."
-Ha! ha! ha!"
"Well then, sir," continued Melchior toPhilotas, " perhaps you'll
tell how many ladies and gentlemen we may expect to honour us
with their company to-night."
" How many, sir?"
" Yes, sir, how many?"
" I'm sure I don't know," said Num, after a pause.
*' Positively you are the greatest fool I ever me^ with," said Mel-
chior.
"Well, he does act the fool as natural as life," observed the crowd.
" What a stupid face he does put on !"
" Perhaps you will be able to answer that question, Mr. Diony-
sius," said I to Tim.
" Yes, sir, I know exactly.'
" Well, sir, let's hear."
' ' In the first place, all the pretty women will come, and all the
ugly ones stay away ; and as for the men, all those who have got any
money will be certain to come; those who hav'n't, poor devils, must
stay outside."
" Suppose, sir, you make a bow to the ladies."
" A very low one, sir?"
" Yes, very low indeed."
Tim bent his body to the ground, and threw a somerset forward.
*' There, sir ; I bowed so low, that I came up on the other side."
" Ha ! ha ! capital !" from the crowd.
" I've got a round turn in my back, sir," continued Tim, rubbing
himself. " Hadn't I better take it out again?"
" By all means."
Tim threw a somerset backwards. '* There, sir, all's right now.
One good turn deserves another. Now I'll be off."
** Where are you goin^to, sir?"
" Going sir! Why, I left my lollipop in the tinder-box, and I'm
going to fetch it."
"Ha! ha! ha!"
Strike up, music!" and Master Jumbo commenced tumbling.
Such was the elegant wit with which we amused and attracted the
audience. Perhaps, had we been more refined, we should not have
been so successful.
That evening we had the room as full as it could hold. Signer Ye-
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 51
loUi alias Melchior astonished Ihem. Tlie cards appeared to obey
his commands — rings were discovered in lady's shoes — watches were
beat to a powder and made whole — canary birds flew out of eggs. The
audience were delighted. The entertainment closed with Fleta's
performance on the slack wire ; and certainly never was there any
thing more beautiful and graceful. Balanced on the wire in a con-
tinual^ waving motion, her eyes fixed upon a point to enable her to
maintain her position, she performed several feats, such as the playing
with five oranges, balancing sword?, etc. Her extreme beauty — her
very picturesque and becoming dress — her mournful expression and
downcast eyes — her gentle manner, appeared to win the hearts of the
audience ; and when she was assisted off from her perilous situation
by Melchior and me, and made her graceful courtesy, the plaudits
were unanimous.
When the company dispersed I went to her, intending to praise her,
but I found her in tears. -' What is the matter, my dear Fleta?"
" nothing I don't say I have been crying — but I cannot bear it —
so many people looking at n-.e. Don't say a word to Melchior — 1
won't cry anymore."
CHAPTER XII.
It is very easy to humbug those who are so eager to be humbugged as people are
in this world of humbug— We show ourselves excessively disinterested, which
astonishes every body.
I KISSED and consoled her; she threw her arm round my neck, and
remained there with her face hid for some. time. We then joined the
others at supper. Melchior was much pleased with our success, and
highly praised the conduct of Timothy and myself, which he pronounc-
ed was, for the first attempt, far beyond his expectations.
We continued to astonish all the good people of for five days,
when we discovered the indubitable fact, that there was no more money
to be extracted from iheir pockets, upon which we resumed our usual
clothes and smock frocks, and with our bundles in our hands, set off
for another market town, about fifteen miles distant. There we were
equally successful, and Melchior was delighted with our having
proved such a powerful acquisition to his troop: but not to dwell too
long upon one subject, I shall inform the reader that, after a trip of six
J I
52 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
weeks, during which we were very well received, we once more re-
turned to the camp, which had located within five miles of our last
scene of action. Every one was content— we were all glad to get back
and rest from our labours. Melchior was pleased with his profits, poor
little Fleta overjoyed to be once more in the seclusion of her tent, and
Natlee very glad to hear of our good fortune, and to see her husband.
Timothy and I had already proved ourselves so useful, that Melchior
treated us with the greatest friendship and confidence— and he made us
a present out of the gains, for our exertions; to me he gave ten, and to
Timothy five, pounds.
"There, Japhet, had you hired yourself I should not have paid you
more than seven shillings per week, finding you in food ; but you must
acknowledge that for six weeks that is not bad pay. However, your
earnings will depend upon our success, and I rather think that we
shall make a much better thing of it when next we start, which will be
in about a fortnight ; but we have som.e arrangements to make. Has
Timothy a good memory ?"
"I think he has."
' * That is well. I told you before that we are to try the ' Wise Man,'
—but first we must have Nattee in play. To-morrow we will start
for ," mentioning a small quiet town about four miles off.
We did so, early the next morning, and arrived about noon, pitching
our tents on the common, not far from the town ; but in this instance
we left all the rest of our gang behind. Melchior's own party and his
two tents were all that were brought by the donkeys.
Melchior and I, dressed as countrymen, went into the town at dusk,
and entered a respectable sort of inn, taking our seats at one of the
tables in the tap-room, and, as we had already planned, after we had
called for beer, commenced a conversation in the hearing of the others
who were sitting drinking and smoking.
"Well, I never will believe it— it's all cheat and trickery," said
Melchior, " and they only dp it to pick your pocket. Tell your fortune,
indeed ! I suppose she promised you a rich wife and half-a-dozen
children."
"No, she did not," replied I, " for I am too young to marry ; but
she told me what I know has happened."
"Well, what was that?"
" Why, she told me that my mother had married again, and turned
me out of doors to work for my bread."
"But she might have heard that."
" How^ could she? No, that's not possible ; but she told me I had a
mole on my knee, which was a sign of luck. Now how could she
know that?"
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER, 53
Well, I grant that was odd— and pray what else did she promise
vou
• • Why, she said, that I should meet with my dearest friend to-night.
Now that does puzzle me, for I have but one in the world, and he is
a long way off."
"Well* if you do meet your friend, then I'll believe her ; but if not,
it has been all guess work ; and pray what did you pay for all this —
was it a shiUing, or did she pick your pocket ? "
' ' Thai's w hat puzzles me, — she refused to take any thing. I offered
it again and again, and she said, ' No ; that she would have no money
— that her gift was not to be sold.
'•' Well, that is odd. Do you hear what- this young man says," said
Melchior, addressing the others, who had swallowed every word.
' ' Yes, " replied one ; ' ' but who is this person ? "
" The queen of the gipsies, I am told. I never saw such a wonder-
ful woman in all my life — her eye goes right through you. I met
her on the common, and, as she passed, she dropped a handker-
chief, i ran back to give it her, and then she thanked me, and said,
' Open your hand and let me see the palm. Here are great lines, and
you will be fortunate ;' and then she told me a great deal more, and
bid God bless me."
" Then if sh€ said that, she cannot have dealings with [he devil,"
observed Melchior.
" Very odd — very strange — lake no money — queen of the gipsies,"
was echoed from all sides."
The landlady and the bar-maid listened with wonder, when who
should come in, as previously agreed, but Timothy. I pretended not
to see him, but he came up to me, seizing me by the hand, and shak-
ing it with apparent delight, and crying, " Wilson, have you forgot
Smith ?"
'• Smith !' cried I, looking earnestly in his face, " Why so it is.
How came you here"?""
" I left Dublin three days ago," replied he, " but how I came here
into this house, is one of the strangest things that ever occurred. I
was walking over the common, when a tall handsome woman looked
at me, and said, ' Young man, if you will go into the third publie-
house you pass, you will meet an old friend, who expects you.' I
thought she was laughing at me, but as it mattered very little in which
house I passed the night. I thought, for the fun of the thing, I might
as well take her advice.'
'' How slrangp 1 ' cried Melchior, " and she told hmi the same—
that is, he would meet a friend.'
54 JAPHET, IN SBARCll OF A FATHER
"Strange — very strange — wonderful — astonishing!" was echoed
from all quarters, and the fame of the gipsy was already established.
Timothy and I sat down together, conversing as old friends, and
Melchior went about from one to the other, narrating the wonderful
occurrence till past midnight, when we all three took beds at the inn,
as if we were travellers.
The report which we had circulated that evening induced many peo-
pie to go out to see Nattee, who appeared to take no notice of them ;
and when asked to tell fortunes, waved them away with her hand.
But, although this plan of Melchior's was, for the first two or three
days, very expedient, yet, as it was not intended to last, Timothy,
who remained with me at the inn, became very intimate with the bar-
maidj and obtained from her most of the particulars of her life. I,
also, from repeated conversations with the landlady, received informa-
tion very important, relative to herself and many of the families in the
town, but as the employment of Nattee was for an ulterior object, we
contented ourselves with gaining all the information we could before
we proceeded further. After we had been there a week, and the fame
of the gipsy woman had been marvellously increased— many things
having been asserted of her which were indeed truly improbable —
Melchior agreed that Timothy should persuade the bar-maid to try if
the gipsy woman would tell her fortune : the girl, with some trepida-
tion, agreed, but at ihe same time, expecting to be refused, consented
to walk with him over the common. Timothy advised her to pretend
to pick up a six-pence when near to Nattee, and ask her if it did not
belong to her,- and the bar-maid acted upon his suggestions, having
just before that quitted the arm of Timothy, who had conducted her.
'* Did you drop a six-pence ? I have picked up one," said the girl,
trembling with fear as she addressed Nattee.
"Child," replied Nattee, who was prepared, "I have neither
dropped a six-pence nor have you found one — but never mind that, I
know that which you wish, and I know who you are. Now what
would you with me? Is it to inquire whether the landlord and land-
lady of the Golden Lion intend to keep you in their service f
" No," replied the girl, frightened at what she heard; " not to in-
quire that, but to ask what my fortune will be ?"
"Open your palm, pretty maid, and I will tell you. Hah ! I see
that you were born in the West— your father is dead — your mother is
in service — and let me see, — you have a brother at sea — now in the
West Indies."
At this intelligence, all of which, as may be supposed, had been
gathered by us, the poor girl was so frightened that she fell down in a
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 55
swoon, and Timolhy carried her off. When she was taken home lo'
the inn, she was so ill that she was put into bed, and what she did say
was so incoherent, that, added to Timothy's narrative, the astonish-
ment of the landlady and others was beyond all bounds. I tried very
hard to bring the landlady, but she would not consent ; and now Nat-
tee was pestered by people of higher condition, who wished to hear
what she would say. Here Nattee's powers were brought into play.
She would not refuse to see them, but would not give answers till she
had asked questions, and, as from us she had gleaned much general
information, so by making this knowledge appear in her questions to
them, she made them believe she knew more. If a young person
came to her, she would immediately ask the name — of that name she
had all the references acquired from us, as to family and connexions.
Bearing upon them, she would ask a few- more, and then give them an
abrupt dismissal.
This behaviour was put up with from one of her commanding pre-
sence, who refused money, and treated those who accosted her, as if
she was their superior. Many came again and again, telling her
all they knew, and acquainting her with every transaction of their
life, to induce her to prophesy, for such, she informed them, was the
surest way to call the spirit upon her. By these means we obtained
the secret' history of the major part, that is, the wealthier part of the
[own of ; and although the predictions of JSattee were seldom
given, yet when uiven. they were given with such perfect and appa-
rent knowledge of the parties, that when she left, which she did about
six weeks after her first appearance, the whole town rang with accounts
of her wonderful powers.
It will appear strange that Melchior would not permit Nattee to
reap a harvest, which might have been great ; but the fact was. that
he only allowed the seed to be sown that a greater harvest might be
gathered hereafter. Nattee disappeared, the gipsies' tent was no
longer on the common, and the grass, which had been beaten down
into a road by the feet of the frequent applicants to her, was again per-
mitted to spring up. We also took our departure, and rejoined the
camp with >'attee, where we remained for a fortnight, to permit the
remembrance of her to subside a little— knowing that the appetite nn as
alive, and would not be satisfied until it was appeased.
After that time, Melchior, Timothy, and i, again set off lor the
town of , and stopping at a superior inn in another part of the
iown, dressed as travellers, that is, people who go about the country
for orders from the manufacturers, ordered our beds and supper in the
coffee-room. The conversation was soon turned upon the wonder-
ful powers of Nattee. the gipsv "Nonsense/" said Melchior '' she
56 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
'knows nothing. I have heard of her. But there is a man coming
this way (should he happen to pass through this town) who will sur-
prise and frighten you. No one knows who he is. He is named the
Great Aristodemus. He knows the past, the present, and the future.
He never looks at people's hands — he only looks you in the face, and
woe be to them who tell him a lie. Otherwise he is good-tempered
and obliging, and will tell what will come to pass, and his predictions
never have been known to fail. They say that he is hundreds of years
old, and his hair is white as silver." At this information many ex-
pressed their doubts, and many others vaunted the powers of the
gipsy. Melchior replied, " that all he knew was, that for the sum of
two guineas paid down, he had told him of a legacy left him of six
hundred pounds, which otherwise he would never have known of or
received." All the town of being quite alive for fortune-telling,
this new report gained wind, and after a week's sojourn, Melchio^
thought that the attempt should be made.
CHAPTER XHI.
Tlie seed having been carefully sown, we now reap a golden harvest — We tell every
body what they knew before, and we are looked upon as most marvellous by
most marvellous fools.
We accordingly packed up, and departed to another market town.
Timothy, dressed in a sombre suit of black, very much like an under-
taker, was provided with a horse, with the following directions : to
proceed leisurely until he was within half a mile of the town of ,
and then to gallop in as fast as he could, stop at the best inn in the
place, and order apartments for the Great Aristodemus, who might be
expected in half an hour. Every thing in this world depends upon
appearances, that is, w^hen you intend to gull it ; and as every one in
the town had heard of the Great Aristodemus, so every one was anxious
to know something about him, and Timothy was pestered with all
manner of questions ; but he declared that he was only his courier, and
could only tell what other people said ; but then what other people said,
by Timothy's account, was very marvellous indeed. Timothy had
hardly time to secure the best rooms in the hotel, when Melchior,
dressed in a long flowing silk gown, with a wig of long white hair, a
square cap, and two or three gold chains hanging from his neck,
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 57
certainly most admirably disguised, and attended by me in the dress
of a German student, a wig of long brown locks hanging down my
shoulders, made our appearance in a post-chaise and four, and drove
up to the door of the inn, at a pace which shook every house in the
street, and occasioned every window to be tenanted with one or more
heads to ascertain the cause of this unusual occurrence, — for it was not
a very great town, although once of importance; but the manufactures
had been removed, and it was occupied by those who had become
independent by their own exertions, or by those of their forefathers.
The door of the chaise was opened by the obsequious Timothy, who
pushed away the ostlers and waiters, as if unworthy to approach his
master, and the Great Aristodemus made his appearance. As he
ascended the steps of the door, his passage was for a moment barred by
one whose profession Melchior well knew. "Stand aside, exciseman !'"
said he, in a commanding voice. "No one crosses my path with
impunity." Astonished at hearing his profession thus mentioned, the
exciseman, who was the greatest bully in the town, slipped on one side
with consternation, and all those present lifted up their eyes and hands
with astonishment. The Great Aristodemus gained his room, and
shut his door ; and I went out to pay for the chaise and order supper,
while Timothy and the porters were busy with our luggage, which
was very considerable.
" My master will not see any one," said I to the landlord ; "he
quits this town to-morrow, if the letters arrive which he expects by the
post; therefore, pray get rid of this crowd, and let him be quiet, for he
is very tired, having travelled one hundred and fifty miles since the
dawn of day."
When Tim and I had performed this duly, we joined Melchior in
his room, leaving the news to be circulated. " This promises well,"
observed Melchior ; "up to the present we have expended much time
and money ; now we must see if we cannot recover it tenfold. Japhet,
you must take an opportunity of going out again after supper, and
make inquiries of the landlord what poor people they have in the town,
as I am very generous, and like to relieve them ; you may observe,
that all the money offered to me for practising my art, I give away to
the poor, having no occasion for it." This I did, and we then sat
down to supper, and having unpacked our baggage, went to bed.
after locking the door of the room, and taking out the key.
The next morning we had every thing in readiness, and as the
letters, as the reader may suppose, did not arrive by the post, we were
obliged to remain, and the landlord ventured to hint to me, that several
people were anxious to consult my master. I replied, that I would
>peak to hmi, but it was necessary to caution those who came, that
5S JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHEIl.
ihey must either offer gold — or nothing at all. I brought his consent
to see one or two, but no more. Now, although we had various
apparatus to use when required, it was thought that the effect would
be greater, if, in the first instance, every thing was simple. Melchior,
therefore, remained sitting at the table, which was covered with a
black cloth, worked with curious devices, and a book of hieroglyphics
bi-fore him, and an ivory wand, tipped with gold, lying by the book.
Timothy standing at the door, with a short Roman sword buckled
round his belt, and I, in a respectful attitude, behind the Great Aristo-
demus.
The first person who was admitted was the lady of the mayor of the
town ; nothing could be more fortunate, as we had every informalioR
relative to her and her spouse, for people in high places are always
talked of. Aristodemus waved his hand, and I brought forward a chair
in silence, and motioned that she should be seated. Aristodemus look-
ed her in her face, and then turned over several leaves, until he fixed
upon a page, which he considered attentively. " Mayoress of ,
what wouldst thou with me?'
She started, and lurned pale. " I would ask "
" I know ; thou wouldst ask many things, perhaps, had I lime to
listen. Amongst others thou wouldst ask if there is any chance of thy
giving an heir to thy husband. Is it not so?"
•• Yes, it is,' replied the lady, fetching her breath.
'•' So do I perceive by this book ; but let me put one question to thee.
Wouldst thou have blessings showered on thee, yet do no good? Thou
art wealthy — yet what dost thou and thy husband do with these
riches? Are ye liberal? No. Give, and it shall be given. I have
said."
Aristodemus waved his hand, and the lady rose to withdraw. A
guinea was in her fingers, and her purse in her hand ; she took out
four more, and added them to the other, and laid them on the table.
" 'Tis well, lady; charity shall plead for thee. Artolphe, let that
money be distributed among the poor."
I bowed in silence, and the lady retired.
" Who will say that 1 do no good," observed Melchior, smiling, as
soon as she was gone. " Her avarice and that of her husband are as
notorious as their anxiety for children. Now, if I persuade them to
be liberal, I do service."
" But you have given her hopes.''
" I have, and the very hope will do more to lurllier their wishes
than any thing else. It is despair which too often prevents those who
have no children, from having any. How often do you see a couple,
WrK>, after years waiting for children, have at last civen up thet|Lhoj>e
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
:)'.»
and resigned themselves lo the dispensations of Providence, and then,
when their anxiety has subsided, have obtained a family? Japhet, I
am a shrewd observer of human nature."
" That I believe," replied I; "but I do not believe your last remark
lo be correct — but Timothy raps at the door."
Another lady entered the room, and then started back, as if she
would retreat, so surprised was she at the appearance of the Great
Arislodemus ; but as Timothy had turned the key, her escape was im-
possible. She was unknown to us, which was rather awkward ; but
Melchior raised his eyes from his book, and waved his hand as before,
that she should be seated. With some trepidation she stated, that she
was a widow, whose dependence was upon an only son now at sea ; that
she had not heard of bim for a long while, and was afraid that some
accident had happened; that' she was in the greatest distress—'* and,"
continued she, " I have nothing to offer but this ring. Can you tell
me if he is yet alive?" cried she, bursting into tears; " but if you have
not the art you prelend lo, do not rob a poor, friendless creature, but
let me depart!"
" >yhen did you receive your last teller from him?" said Melchior.
" It is now seven months— dated from Bahia," replied she, pulling
il out of her reticule, and covering her face wilh her handkerchief.
Melchior caught the address, and then turned the letter over on the
other side, as il lay on the table. " Mrs. Watson," said he.
'* Heavens! do yon know my name?" cried the woman.
" Mrs. Watson, 1 do not require to read your son's letter — 1 know
lis contents." He then turned over his book, and studied for a few
seconds. " Your son is alive."
"Thank God!" cried she, clasping her hands, and dropping her
reticule.
"But you must hot expect his return too soon — he is well em-
ployed."
" Oh! 1 care not- he is alive— he is alive! God bless you— God
bless yon !"
Melchior made a sign to me, pointing to the five guineas and the
reticule ; and I contrived lo slip them into her reticule, while she
sobbed in her handkerchief.
" Enough, madam ; you must go, for olhers require my aid."
The poor woman rose, and offered the ring.
" Nay, nay, I want not thy money; I lake from ihe rich, that I
may distribute to the poor— but not from the widow in affliction.
Open Ihy bag." The widow took up her bag, and opened il. Mel-
chior dropped in Ihe ring, taking his wand from Ihe table, waved it.
60 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
and touched the bag. "As thou art honest, so may thy present
wants be reUeved. Seek, and thou shalt find."
The widow left the room with tears of gratitude ; and I must say,
that I was affected with the same. When she had gone, I observed to
Melchior, that up to the present he had toiled for nothing.
"Very true, Japhet ; but depend upon it, if I assisted that poor
woman from no other feelings than interested motives, I did well ; but
I tell thee candidly, I did it from compassion. We are odd mixtures
of good and evil. I wage war with fools and knaves, but not with
all the world. I gave that money freely — she required it ; and it may
be put as a set-off against my usual system of fraud, or it may not —
at all events, I pleased myself."
'* But you told her that her son was alive."
"Very true, and he may be dead ; but is it not well to comfort her
— even for a short time, to relieve that suspense which is worse than
the actual knowledge of his death? Sufficient for the day is the evil
thereof. "
It would almost have appeared that this good action of Melchior
met with its reward, for the astonishment of the widow at finding the
gold in her reticule — her narrative of what passed, and her assertion,
(which she firmly believed to be true,) that she had never left her re-
ticule out of her hand, and that Melchior had only touched it with his
wand, raised his reputation to that degree, that nothing else was talked
about throughout the town, and, to crown all, the next day's post
brought her a letter and remittances from her son ; and the grateful
woman returned, and laid ten guineas on the black cloth, showering
a thousand blessings upon Melchior, and almost worshipped him as a
supernatural being. This was a most fortunate occurrence, and, as
Melchior prophesied, the harvest did now commence. In four days
we had received upwards of 200/., and we then thought it time that
we should depart. The letters arrived, which were expected, and
when we set off in a chaise and four, the crowd to see us was so great,
that it was with difficulty we could pass through it.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. Gl
CHAPTER XIV.
In which Melchior talks very much like an astrologer, and Tim and I return to our
old trade of making up innocent prescriptions.
We had taken our horses for the next town ; but as soon as we were
fairly on the road, I slopped the boys, and told them that the Great
Aristodemus intended to observe the planets and stars that night, and
that they were to proceed to a common which I mentioned. The post-
boys, who were well aware of his fame, and as fully persuaded of it as
every body else, drove to the common; we descended, took off the
luggage, and received directions from Melchior in their presence about
the instruments, to which the boys listened with open mouths and won-
derment. I paid them well, and told them they might return, which
they appeared very glad to do. They reported what had occurred, and
this simple method of regaining our camp, added to the astonishment of
of the good town of, . ^Yhen they were out of sight we resumed
our usual clothes, packed all up, carried away most of our effects, and
hid the others in the furze to be sent for the next night, not being more
than two miles from the camp. Wo soon arrived, and were joyfully
received by Fleta and Nattee.
As we walked across the common, I observed to Melchior, " I won-
der if these stars have any influence upon mortals, as it was formerly
supposed?"
" Most assuredly they have," rejoined Melchior. " I cannot read
them, but I firmly believe in them."
I made the above remark, as I had often thought that such was Mel-
chior's idea.
"Yes," continued he, " every man has his destiny — such must be
the case. It is known beforehand what is to happen to us by an om-
niscient Being, and being known, what is it but destiny which cannot
be changed? It is/ate,' continued he, surveying the stars with his
hand raised up, "and that fate is as surely written there as the sun
shines upon us ; but the great book is sealed, because it would not add
to our happiness."
" If, then, all is destiny, or fate, what inducement is there to do well
or ill ?" replied I. " We may commit all acts of evil, and say, that as
it was predestined, we could not help it. Besides, would it be just that
62 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
the Omniscient Being should punish us for those crimes wliich we
cannot prevent, and which are allotted to us by destiny?"
" Japhet, you argue well; but you are in error, because, like most
of those of the Christian church , you understand not the sacred writings,
nor did I until I knew my wife. Her creed is, I believe, correct ;
and what is more, adds weight to the truths of the Bible."
"I thought that gipsies had no religion."
*' You are not the only one who supposes so. It is true that the
majority of the tribe are held by the higher castes as serfs, and are not
instructed ; but with — if I may use the expression — the aristocracy of
them it is very different, and their creed I have adopted."
'* I should wish to hear their creed," replied I.
" Hear it, then. Original sin commenced in heaven — when the an-
gels rebelled against their God — not on earth."
" I will grant that sin originated first in heaven."
' ' Do you think that a great, a good God, ever created any being for
its destruction and eternal misery, much less an angel? Did he not
foresee their rebellion?'
" I grant it."
''This world was not peopled with the image of God until after the
fall of the angels : it had its living beings, its monsters perhaps, but
not a race of men with eternal souls. But it was peopled, as we see it
now is, to enable the legions of angels who fell to return to Iheir former
happy state — as a pilgrimage by which they might obtain their pardons,
and resume their seats in heaven. Not a child is born, but the soul of
some fallen cherub enters into the body to work out its salvation.
Many do, many do not, and then they have their task to recommence
anew ; for the spirit once created is immortal, and cannot be destroyed ;
and the Almighty is all goodness, and would ever pardon."
" Then you suppose there is no such thing as eternal punishment?"
' ' Eternal I— no. Punishment there is, but not eternal. When the
legions of angels fell, some were not so perverse as others : they soon
re-obtained their seats, even when, as children, having passed through
the Slight ordeal, they have been summoned back to heaven ; but others
who, from their infancy, show how bad were their natures, have many
pilgrimages to perform before they can be purified. This is, in itself,
a punishment. What other punishment they incur between their pil-
grimages we know not ; but this is certain, that no one was created to
be punished eternally."
"But all this is but assertion," replied I; '' where are your proofs?"
" In the Bible ; some day or other I will show them to you ; but now
we are at the camp, and I am anxious to embrace Nattee."
I thought for some time upon lliis singular creed ; one, in itself, not
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. oti
militating against religion, but at the same time I coiilcl not call to mind
any passages by ^vhich it could be supjiorted. Still the idea \vas beau-
tiful, and I dwelt upon it with pleasure. I have before observed, and
indeed the reader must have gathered from my narrative, that Melchior
was no common personage. Every day did I become more partial to
him, and more pleased with our erratic life. What scruples I had at
first, gradually wore away; the time passed quickly, and although I
would occasionally call to mind the original object of my setting forth,
I would satisfv mvself by the reflection, that there was yet sufficient
time. Little Fleta was now my constant companion w hen in the camp,
and I amused myself with teaching her to write and read.
" Japhet," said Timothy to me one day as we were cutting hazel
broach wood in the forest, "1 don't see that you get on very fast in
your search after your father."'
"No, Tim, I do not : but I am gaining a knowledge of the world
which w ill be very useful to me when I recommence the search ; and
what is more, I am saving a great deal of money to enable me to pro-"
secute it."
"What did Melchior give you after we left?"
"Twenty guineas, which, with what I had before, make more than
fifty."
"And he gave me ten, which makes twenty, with what I had be-
fore. Seventy pounds is a large sum."
' ' Yes, but soon spent, Tim. We must work a little longer. Be-
sides, I cannot leave that little girl— she was never intended for a rope-
dancer. '
" I am glad to hear you say that, Japhet. for I feel as you do— she
shall share our fortunes."
" A glorious prospect truly," replied I, laughing ; "' but never mind,
it would be better than her remaining here. But how are we to
manage that?"
"Ayel that's the rub; but there is time enough to think about it
when we intend to quit our present occupation."
"Well, I understand from Melchior that we are to start in a few
days?"
"What is it to be, Japhet?"
" Oh! we shall be at home— we are to cure all diseases under the
sun. To-morrow we commence making pills, so we may think our-
selves with Mr. Cophagus again."
"Well, I do think we shall have some fun; but I hope Melchior
won't make me take my ow n pills to prove their good qualities— that
will be no joke.'"
64 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
' ' no, Num is kept on purpose for that. What else is the fool good
for?"
The next week was employed as we anticipated. Boxes of pills of
every size, neatly labelled, bottles of various mixtures, chiefly stimu-
lants, were corked and packed up. Powders of any thing were put
in papers; but, at all events, there was nothing hurtful in them. All
was ready, and accompanied by Num (Jumbo and Fleta being left at
home) , we set off, Melchior assuming the dress in which we had first
met in the w^agon, and altering his appearance so completely, that he
would have been taken for at least sixty years old. We now travelled
on foot with our dresses in bundles, each carrying his own, except
Num, who was loaded like a pack-horse, and made sore lamentations :
** Can't you carry some of this?"
" No, " replied I, " it is your own luggage ; every one must carry his
own."
"Well, I never felt my spangled dress so heavy before. Where
^re we going?"
"Only a little w^ay," replied Timothy, "and then you will have
nothing more to do."
" I don't know that. When master puts on that dress, I have to
swallow little things till I'm sick."
" It's all good for your health. Num."
" I'm very well, I thank's," replied the poor fellow ; "but I'm very
hot and very tired."
CHAPTER XV.
in which Thnothy makes a grand speech, quite as true as those delivered from the
hustings — Melchior, like the candidate, states his pretensions for public favour,
and the public , as usual, svvallow the bait.
Fortunately for poor Num, we were not far from the market town at
which we intended to open our campaign, which we did the next morn-
ing, by Num and Timothy sallying forth, the former with a large
trumpet ip his hand, and the latter riding on a donkey . On their arrival
at the market-place, Num commenced blowing it with all his might,
while Timothy, in his spangled dress, as soon as they had collected a
crowd, stood upon his saddle, and harangued the people as follows :—
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 65
" Gentlemen and ladies — I have the honour to announce to you the
arrival in this town of the celebrated Doctor Appallacheosmocomme-
lico, who has travelled farther than the sun and faster than a comet.
He hath visited every part of the globe. He has smoked the calumet
with the Indians of North America — he has hunted with the Araucas in
the South — galloped on wild horses over the plains of Mexico, and
rubbed noses with the Esquimaux. He hath used the chopsticks with
the Chinese, swung the Cherok pooga with the Hindoos, and put a new-
nose on the Great Cham of Tartary. He hath visited and been re-
ceived in every court of Europe : danced on the ice of the Neva with
the Russians — led the mazurka with the Poles — waltzed with the
Germans — tarantulated with the Italians — fandangoed with the Spanish
— and quadrilled with the French. He hath explored every mine in
the universe, walked through every town on the Continent, examined
every mountain in the world, ascended Mont Blanc, walked down the
Andes, and run up the Pyrennees. He has been into every volcano in
the globe, and descending by Vesuvius has been thrown up by Strom-
boli. He has lived more than a thousand years, and is still in the
flower of his youlh. He has had one hundred and forty sets of teeth one
after another, and expects a new set next Christmas. His whole life
has been spent in the service of mankind, and in doing good to his
fellow-creatures; and having the experience of more than a thousand
years, he cures more than a thousand diseases. Gentlemen, the won-
derful doctor will present himself before you this evening, and will
then tell you what his remedies are good for, so that you may pick
and choose according to your several complaints. Ladies, the wonderful
doctor can greatly assist you : he has secrets by which you may have
a family if you should so wish — philters to make husbands constant,
and salve to make them blind — cosmetics to remove pimples and restore
to youth and beauty, and powders to keep children from squalling.
Sound the trumpet, Philotas; sound, and let every body know that the
wonderful Doctor Appallacheosmocommetico has vouchsafed to stop
here and confer his blessings upon the inhabitants of this town."
Hereupon Num again blew the trumpet till he was black in the face ;
and Timothy, dropping on his donkey, rode away to other parts of the
town, where he repeated his. grandiloquent announcement, followed,
as may be supposed, by a numerous cortege of little ragged boys.
Aboutfour o'clock in the afternoon, Melchior made his appearance in
the market-place, attended by me, dressed as a German student,
Timothy and Num in their costumes. A stage had been already pre-
pared, and the populace had crowded round it more with the intention
of laughing than of making purchases. The various packets were
opened and arranged in front of the platform. I standing on one side
00 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
of Melchior, Timolhy on the other, and Num with his trumpet,
holding on by one of Ihe scafTold poles at the corner.
" Sound the trumpet, Philotas," said Melchior, taking off his three-
cornered hat, and making a low bow to the audience, at every blast.
'' Pray, Mr. Fool, do you know why you sound the trumpet?"
"I'm sure I don't know," replied Num, opening his goggle eyes.
"Do you know, Mr. Dionysius?"
" Yes, sir, I can guess."
" Explain, then, to the gentlemen and ladies who have honoured
us with their presence."
"Because, sir, trumpets are always sounded before great conque-
rors."
" Very true, sir ; but how am I a great conqueror ?"
" You have conquered death, sir ; and he's a very rum customer to
have to deal with."
' ' Dionysius, you have answered well, and shall have some bullock's
liver for your supper— don't forget to remind me, in case I forget it."
"No, that I w^on't, sir," replied Timolhy, rubbing his stomach, as
if delighted with the idea.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said Melchior to the audience, who
were on the broad grin, " I see your mouths are all open, and are
waiting for the pills ; but be not too impatient — 1 cannot part with my
medicines unless you have diseases which require their aid ; and I
should, indeed, be a sorry doctor, if I prescribed without knowing
your complaints. Est neutrale genus signans rem nou animatam,
says Herodotus, which in English means, what is one man's meat is
another man's poison ; and further, he adds, Ut jecur, ut onus, put
ut occiput, which is as much as to say, that what agrees w ith one tem-
perament will be injurious to another. Caution, therefore, becomes
verv necessary in the use of medicine; and my reputation depends
upon my not permitting any one to take what is not good for him.
And now, my very dear friends, I will first beg you to observe the
peculiar qualities of the contents of this little phial. You observe, that
there is not more than sixty drops in it, yet will these sixty drops add
ten years to a man's life— for it will cure him of almost as many dis-
eases. In the first place, are any of you troubled with the ascites,
or dropsy, which, as the celebrated Galen hath declared, may be di-
vided into three parts, the ascites, the anasarca, and the tympa-
nites. The diagnostics of this disease are, swelling of the abdomen
or stomach, difficulty of breathing, want of appetite, and a teazing
cough. I say, have any of you this disease? None. Then I thank
Heaven that you are not so afflicted.
" The next disease it is good for, is {\\e peripneumonia, or inflam-
JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. liV
Hialion on thu lungs — the diagnostics or symptoms of which arc, a
small pulse, swelling of the eyes, and redness of the face. Say, have
any of you these symptoms — if so, you have the disease. No one. I
thank Heaven that you are none of you so afflicted .
" It is also a sovereign remedy for the diarrlma, the diagnostics of
which are, faintness, frequent gripings, rumbling in the bowels, cold
sweats, and spasm."
Here one man came forward and complained of frequent gripings — ?
another of rumbling in the bowels, and two or three more of cold
sweats.
" It is well. 0, I thank Heaven, that I am here to administer to
you myself! for what says Hippocrates? Relativum cum antece-
dente concordat, which means, that remedies quickly applied, kill the
disease in its birth. Here, my friends, take it — take it — pay me only
one shilling, and be thankful. When you go to rest, fail not to olTer
up your prayers. It is also a sovereign remedy for the dreadful chi-
ragra or gout. I cured the whole corporation of city aldermen last
week, by their taking three bottles each, and they presented me with
the freedom of the city of London, in a gold box, which I am sorry
that I have forgotten to bring with me. Now the chiragra may be
divided into several varieties. Gonagra, when it attacks the knees —
chiragra, if in the hands — onagra, if in the elbow — omagra, if in the
shoulder, and lumlago, if in the back. All these are varieties of gout,
and for all these the contents of this little bottle is a sovereign remedy ;
and, observe, it w ill keep for ever. Twenty years hence, w^hen afflict-
ed in your old age — and the time will come, my good people — you
may take down this little phial from the shelf, and bless the hour in
which you spent your shilling , for as Eusebius declares, ' Vei'hum
personate concordat cum nominaiivo,' which is as much as to say,
the active will grow old, and suffer from pains in their limbs. Who,
then, has pains in his limbs, or lumbago? Who, indeed, can say that
he will not have them ?"
After this appeal, the number of those who had pains in their limbs,
or who wished to provide against such a disease, proved so great, that
all our phials were disposed of, and the doctor was obliged to promise
that in a few davs he would have some more of this invaluable medi-
cine ready.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I shall nowofTer to your notice a valuable
plaister, the elTecls of which are miraculous. Dionysius, come hither,
you have (ell the benelit of this plaister; tell your case to those who are
present, and mind you tell the truth."
Hereupon Timothy stepped forward. "Ladies and gentlemen,
upon my honour^ about three weeks back I fell olT the scaffold, broke
G8 JAPHET, iN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
my back bone into tbree pieces, and was carried off to a surgeon, who
looked at me, and told the people to take measure for my coffin. The
great doctor was not there at the lime, haying been sent for to consult
with the king's physicians upon the queen's case of Cophagus, or in-
termitting mortification of the great toe; but fortunately, just as they
were putting me into a shell, my master came back, and immediately
applying his sovereign plaister to my back, in five days I was able to
sit up, and in ten days I returned to my duty."
'• Are you quite well now, Dionysius?"
"Quite well, Sir, and my back is like whalebone."
"Tryit. '
Hereupon Dionysius threw two somersets forward, two backward,
walked across the stage on his hands, and tumbled in every direction.
"You see, gentlemen, I'm quite well now, and what I have said, I
assure you, on my honour, to be a fact."
" I hope you'll allow that to be a very pretty cure," said the doctor,
appealing to the audience ; and I hardly need say, that for sprains,
bruises, contusions, wrenches, and dislocations, this plaister is infal-
lible; and I will surprise you more by telling you, that I can sell it
for eight-pence a sheet."
The plaister went off rapidly, and was soon expended. The doctor
went on describing his other valuable articles, and when he came tohis
cosmetics, etc., for women, we could not hand them out fast enough.
"And now," said the doctor, "I must bid you farewell for the
evening."
"I'm glad of that, ' said Timothy, "for now I mean to sell my own
medicine."
"Your medicine, Mr. Dionysius! what do you mean by that?"
"Mean, Sir; I mean to say that I've got a powder of my own con-
triving, which is a sovereign remedy."
"Remedy, Sir, for what?"
" Why, it's a powder to kill fleas, and what's more, it's just as in-
fallible as your own."
"Have you, indeed; and pray, Sir, how did you hit upon the in-
vention?"
" Sir, I discovered it in my sleep by accident; but 1 have proved
it audi will say, if properly administered, it is quite as infallible as
any of yours. Ladies and gentlemen, I pledge you my honour that it
will have the effect desired, and all I ask is sixpence a powder."
"But how is it to be used, Sir?"
<*Xjsed— whv, like all other powders; but I won't give the direc-
tions till I have"^sold some ; promising, however, if my method does not
succeed, to return the money."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 60
"Well, that is fair, Mr. Dionysius; and I will take care that you
keep your bargain . Will any body purchase the fool's powder for kill-
ing fleas."
"Yes, I will," replied a man on the broad grin, " here's six-pence.
Now, then, fool, how am I to use it"? "
"Use it," said Timothy, putting the six-pence in his poc ket; '' I'll
explain to you. You must first catch the flea, hold him so tight be-
tween the fore finger and thumb as to force him to open his mouth ;
when his mouth is open, you must put a very littleof this powder into
it, and it will kill him directly."
"Why, when I have the flea as tight as you state, I may as wel
kill him myself."
" Yery true, so you may, if you prefer it ; but if you do not, you
may use this powder, which upon my honour is infallible."
This occasioned a great deal of mirth among the bystanders. Ti-
mothy kept his six-pence, and our exhibition for this day ended, very
much to the satisfaction of Melchior, who declared he had taken more
than ever he had done before in a whole week. Indeed, the whole
sum amounted to 17/. 10s., all taken in shillings and six-pences, for ar-
ticles hardly worth the odd shillings in the account; so we sat down to
supper with anticipations of a good harvest, and so it proved. We stayed
four days at this town, and then proceeded onwards, when the like
success attended us, Timothy and I being obliged to sit up nearly the
w hole night to label and roll up pills, and mix medicines, w hich we did
in a very scientific manner. Nor was it always that Melchior presided;
he would very often tell his audience that business required his at-
tendance elsewhere, to visit the sick, and that he left the explanation
of his medicines and their properties to his pupil, who w as far advanced
in knowledge. With my prepossessing appearance, I made a great
effect, more especially among the ladies, and Timothy exerted himself
so much when with me, that we never failed to bring home to Melchior
a great addition to his earnings — so much so, that at last he only showed
himself, pretended that he was so importuned to visit sick persons,
that he could stay no longer, and then leave us, after the first half
hour, to carry on the business for him. After six weeks of uninter-
rupted success, we returned to the camp, which, as usual, was not very
far off.
70 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
CHAPTER XVI.
}iTipoi'tant news, but not coramuuicated — A dissolution of partnership takes placc-
Melchiobs profits had been much more than he anticipated, and
he was very liberal to Timothy and myself; indeed, he looked upon me
as his right hand, and became more intimate and attached everyday.
We were, of course, delighted to return to the camp, after our excursion.
There was so much continued bustle and excitement in our peculiar
profession, that a little quiet was delightful ; and I never felt more happy
than when Fleta threw herself into my arms, and Nattee came forward
with her usual dignity and grace, but with more than usual conde-
scendence and kindness, bidding me welcome /^ome. Home — alas!
it was never meant for my home, or poor Fletas — and that 1 felt. It
was our sojourn for a lime, and no more.
We had been more than a year exercising our talents in this lucra-
tive manner, when one day, as I was sitting at the entrance to the
tent, with a book in my hand, out of which Fleta was reading to me, a
gipsy not belongiug to our gang made his appearance. He was covered
with dust, and the dew drops hanging on his dark forehead, proved
that he had travelled fast. - He addressed Nattee, who was standing by,
in their own language, which I did not understand ; but I perceived that
he asked for Melchior. After an exchange of a few sentences, Nattee
expressed astonishment and alarm, put her hands over her face, and re-
moved them as quickly, as if derogatory in her to show emotion, and
then remained in deep thought. Perceiving Melchior approaching,
the gipsy hastened to him, and they were soon in animated conver-
sation. In ten minutes it was over : the gipsy went to the running brook,
washed his face, took a large draught of water, and then hastened
away and was soon out of sight.
Melchior, who had watched the departure of the gipsy, slowly ap-
proached us. I observed him and Nattee, as they met, as I was certain
that something important had taken place. Melchior fixed his eyes
upon Nattee — she looked at him mournfully — folded her arms, and
made a slight bow as if in submission, and in a low voice, quoted from
the Scriptures, "Whither thou goest, I will go — thy people shall be my
people; and thy God my God." He then walked away with her : they
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. Il
sni down apart, and w.ere in earnest conversation for more than an
hour.
" Japhet," said Melchior to me, after he had quilted his wife,
' ' what I am about to tell you will surprise you. 1 have trusted you with
a\\ I dare trust any one, but there are some secrets in every man's life
which had better be reserved for himself and her who is bound to him
by solemn ties. We must now part. In a few days this camp will be
broken up, and these people will join some other division of the tribe.
For me, you will see me no more. Ask me not to explain, for I can-
not."
" And Nattee,"said I.
" Will follow my fortunes, whatever they may be — you will see
lier no more. "
" For myself I care not, Melchior ; the world is before me, and
remain with the gipsies without you I will not : but answer me one
(juesiion — what is to become of little Fleta? Is she to remain with the
tribe, to which she does not belong, or does she go with you '7"
Melchior hesitated. " I hardly can answer, but what consequence
«\in the welfare of a soldier's brat be to you'?"
"Allowing her to be what you assert, Melchior, I am devotedly
attached to that child, and could not bear that she should remain here.
I am sure that you deceived me in what you stated, for the child re-
members, and has told me, anecdotes of her infancy, which proves
that she is of no mean family, and that she has been stolen from her
friends."
" Indeed, is her memory so good?" replied Melchior, firmly clos-
ing his teeth, ' To ?saltee or to me she has never hinted so much. '
" That is very probable ; but a stolen child she is, Melchior, and she
must not remain here."
" Must not."
"Yes; must not, Melchior ; when you quit the tribe, you will no
longer have any power, nor can you have any interest about her. She
shall then choose — if she will come with me, I will take her, and
nothing shall prevent me ; and in. so doing, I do you no injustice, nor
do I swerve in my fidelity."
" How do you know that? I may have my secret reasons against
It."
" Surely yon can have no interest in a soldiers brat, Melchior?"
Melchior appeared confused and annoyed. " She is no soldier's
brat; I acknowledge, Japhet, that the child was stolen ; but you must
not, therefore, imply that the child was stolen by me or by my
wife."
" I never accused you, or thought you capable of it ; and that is the
72 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
reason why I am now surprised at the interest you take in her. If
she prefers to go with you, I have no more to say ; but if not, I claim
her ; and if she consents, will resist your interference."
*' Japhet," replied Melchior after a pause, " we must not quarrel
now that we are about to part. I will give you an answer in half an
hour."
Melchior returned to Nattee, and recommenced a conversation with
her, while I hastened to Fleta.
"Fleta, do you know that the camp is to be broken up, and
Melchior and Nattee leave it together?"
** Indeed!" replied she with surprise. " Then what is to become
of you and Timothy?"
** We must of course seek our fortunes where we can."
"And of me?" continued she, looking me earnestly in the face
with her large blue eyes. "Am I to say here?" continued she,
with alarm in her countenance.
" Not if you do not wish it, Fleta : as long as I can support you I
will — that is, if you would like to live with me in preference to
Melchior."
" If I would like, Japhet ; you must know I would like — who has
been so kind to me 8S you? Don't leave me, Japhet."
'" I will not, Fleta; but on condition that you promise to be guided
by me, and to do all I wish."
" To do what you wish is the greatest pleasure that I have, Japhet
— so I may safely promise that. What has happened?"
" That I do not know more than yourself; but Melchior tells me
that he and Nattee quit the gipsy tents for ever."
Fleta looked round to ascertain if any one was near us, and then in a
low tone said, " I understand their language, Japhet, that is, a great
deal of it, although. they do not think so, and I overheard what the
gipsy said in part, although he was at some distance. He asked for
Melchior; and when Nattee wanted to know what he wanted, he an-
swered that, ' ?ie was dead ;' then Nattee covered up her face. I could
not hear all the rest, but there was something about a horse."
He was dead. Had then Melchior committed murder, and was
obliged to fly the country? This appeared to me to be the most pro-
bable, when I collected the facts in my possession ; and yet I could not
believe it, for except that system of deceit necessary to carry on his
various professions, I never found any thing in I^Ielchior's conduct
which could be considered as criminal. On the contrary, he was kind,
generous, and upright in his private dealings, and in many points
proved that he had a good heart. He was a riddle of inconsistency, it
was certain ; professionally he would cheat any body, and disregard
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 73
ail trulh and honesty ; but, in his private character, he was scrupu-
lously honest, and, with the exception of the assertion relative to
Fleta's birth and parentage, he had never told me a lie, that I could
discover. I was summing up all these reflections in my mind, when
Melchior again came up to me, and desiring the little girl to go away,
he said, " Japhet, I have resolved to grant your request with respect
to Fleta, but it must be on conditions."
'' Let me hear them."'
"First, then, Japhet, as you always have been honest and confiding
with me, tell me now what are your intentions. Do you mean to fol-
low up the profession which you learnt under me, or what do you
intend to do?"
" Honestly, then, Melchior, I do not intend to follow up that pro-
fession, unless driven to it by necessity. I intend to seek my father."
" And if driven to it by necessity, do you intend that Fleta shall aid
you by her acquirements? In short, do you mean to take her with
you as a speculation, to make the most of her, to let her sink, when she
arrives at the age of woman, into vice and misery?"
*' I wonder at your asking me that question, Melchior ; it is the
first act of injustice I have received at your hands. No; if obliged to
follow up the profession, I will not allow Fleta so to do. I would
sooner that she were in her grave. It is to rescue her from that very
vice and misery, to take her out of a society in which she never ought
to have been placed, that I take her with me."
** And this upon your honour?"
" Yes, upon my honour. I love her as my sister, and cannot help
indulging in the hope, that in seeking my father, I may chance to
stumble upon her's."
Melchior bit his lips. " There is another promise I must exact
from you, Japhet, which is, that to a direction which I will give you,
every six months you will inclose an address where you may be heard
of, and also intelligence as to Fleta's welfare and health."
" To that I give my cheerful promise : but, Melchior, you
appear to have taken, all at once, a strange interest in this little
girl."
" I wish you now to think that I do take an interest in her, provided
you seek not to inquire the why and the wherefore. Will you accept
of funds for her maintenance ?"
" Not without necessity compels me ; and then I should be glad
to find, when I can no longer help her, that you are still her
friend."
" Recoiled, (hat you will always find what is requisite by writing to
■'I .UPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
the address which I shall give you before we part. That point is now
seilled, and on the whole I think the arrangement is good."
Timothy had been absent during the events of the morning— when
lie returned, I communicated to him what had passed, and was about
to take place.
" ^yell, Japhet, I don't know — I do not dislike our present life, yet
I am not sorry to change it; but what are we to do?"
"That remains to be considered; we have a good slock of
money, fortunately, and we must husband it till we find what can be
done."
We took our suppers all together for the last time, Melchior telling
us that he had determined to set otTthc next day. TSattee looked very
melancholy, but resigned ; on the contrary, little Fleta was so overjoyed,
that her face, generally so mournful, was illuminated with smiles
whenever our eyes met. It was delightful to see her so happy. The
whole of the people in the camp had retired, and Melchior was busy
making his arrangements in the tent. I did not feel inclined to sleep ;
I was thinking and revolving in my mind my prospects for the future ;
sitting, or rather lying down, for I was leaning on my elbow, at a
short distance from the tents. The night was dark but clear, and the
stars were brilliant. I had been watching them, and I thought upon
Melchior's ideas of destiny, and dwelling on the futile wish that I
could read mine, when I perceived the approach of Nattec.
"Japhet," said she, "you are to take the little girl with you, 1
find — will you be careful of her? for it would be on my conscience if
she w^ere left to the mercy of the world. She departs rejoicing, let not
lier joy end in tears. I depart sorrowing. I leave my people, my
kin, my habits, and customs, my influence, all — but it must be so, it
is my destiny. She is a good child, Japhet — promise me that you will
be a friend to her — and give her this to wear in remembrance of me,
hut not yet — not till we are gone ." She hesitated. " Japhet,
do not let ^lelchior see it in your possession; he may not like me
having given it away." I took the piece of paper containing the
present, and having promised all she required, " This is the last — yes
— the very last time that I may behold this scene," continued Xattee,
surveying tiie common, the tents, and the animals browsing. " Be it
so ; Japhet, good night, may you prosper !" She then turned
away and entered her tent ; and soon afterwards I followed her
example.
The next day, Melchior was all ready. AVhat he had packed up
was contained in two small bundles. He addressed the people be-
longing to the gang, in their own language. Nattee did the same, and
.TAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 75
J he whole of ihem kissed her hand. The tents, furniture, and the
,^reatest part of his other properly, -svere distributed among them.
Jumbo and Num were made over to two of the principal men. Ti-
mothy, Fleta, and I were also ready, and intended to quit at the same
lime as Melchior and his wife.
'• Japhet," said Melchior, '' there is yet some money due to you for
our last excursion — (this was true,) — here it is — you and Timothy
keep but one purse, I am aware. Good-bye, and may you prosper ! "
We shook hands with Nattee and Melchior. Fleta went up to the
former, and crossing her arms, bent her head. Nattee kissed the
child, and led her to Melchior. He stooped down, kissed her on the
forehead, and I perceived a sign of strongly surpressed emotion as he
did so. Our intended routes lay in a different direction, and when
both parties had arrived to either verge of the common, we waved our
hands as a last farewell, and resumed our paths again. Fleta burst
into tears as she turned away from her former guardians.
CHAPTER XVn.
A Cabinet Council — I resolve to set up as a gentleman, having as legitimate pre-
tensions to the rank of one as many others.
I LED the little sobbing girl by the hand, and we proceeded for some
time in silence. It was not until we gained the high road that Timothy
interrupted my reverie, by observing, " Japhet, have you at all made
up your mind what you shall do?"
''I have been reflecting, Timothy. We have lost a great deal of
time. The original intention with which I left London has been almost
forgotten ; but it must be so no longer. I now have resolved that as
soon as I have placed this poor little girl in safety, that I will prosecute
my search, and never be diverted from it."
" I cannot agree with you that we have lost lime, Taphet? we had
very little money when we started upon our expedition, and now wo
have sufficient to enable you to prosecute your plans for a long time.
The question is, in what direction? We quilled London, and travelled
west, in imitation, as we thought, of Ihe wise men. With all de-
ference, in my opinion, it was hke iwofooU!'
" I have been thinking upon that poinl also, Tim, and I agree wilh
70 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
you. I expect, from several causes, which you know as well as I do,
to find my father among the higher classes of society ; and the path
we took when we started has led us into the very lowest. It appears
to me that we cannot do better than retrace our steps. We have the
means now to appear as gentlemen, and to mix in good company ; and
London is the very best place for us to repair to."
" That is precisely my opinion, Japhet, with one single exception,
which I will mention to you ; but first tell me, have you calculated
what our joint purses may amount to ? It must be a very considerable
sum."
I had not examined the packet in which was the money which
Melchior had given me at parting. I now opened it, and found, to
my surprise, that there were Bank notes to the amount of one hundred
pounds. I felt that he had given me this large sum that it might assist
me in Fleta's expenses. "With this sum," said I, " I cannot have
much less than two hundred and fifty pounds."
"And I have more than sixty," said Timothy. Really, the pro-
fession was not unprofitable."
" No," replied I, laughing; "but recollect, Tim, that we had no
outlay. The public provided us with food, our lodging cost us nothing.
We have had no taxes to pay ; and at the same time have taxed folly
and credulity to a great extent."
" That's true, Japhet ; and although I am glad to have the money,
I am not sorry that we have abandoned the profession."
•' Nor am I, Tim ; if you please, we will forget it altogether. But
tell me, what was the exception you were about to make ?"
* * Simply this. Although upwards of three hundred pounds may be
a great deal of money, yet, if we are to support the character and ap-
pearance of gentlemen, it will not last for ever. For instance, we
must have our valets. What an expense that will be ! Our clothes too
— we shall soon lose our rank and station in society, without we obtain
a situation under government."
■' We must make it last as long as we can, Timothy ; and trust to
good fortune to assist us."
" That's all very well, Japhet; but I had rather trust to our own
prudence. Now hear what I have to say. You will be as much as-
sisted by a trusti/ valet as by any other means. I shall, as a gentleman,
be only an expense and an incumbrance; but as a valet I shall be
able to play into your hands, at the same time more than one half the
expense will be avoided. With your leave, therefore, I will take my
proper situation, put on your livery, and thereby make myself of the
greatest use."
JAPHET, IN SE.AJICH OF A FATHER. 77
I could not help acknowledging the advantages to be derived (rom
this proposal of Timothy's ; but I did not like to accept it.
" It is very kind of you, Timothy," replied I ; " but I can only look
uponyou as a friend and an equal."
" There you are right and are wrong in the same breath. You are
right in looking upon me as a friend, Japhet ; and you would be still
more right in allowing me to prove my friendship as I propose ; but
YOU are wrong in looking upon me as an equal, for I am not so either in
personal appearance, education, or any thing else. We are both found-
lings, it is true ; but you were christened after Abraham >'ewland, and
I after the workhouse pump. You were a gentleman foundhng, pre-
senting yourself with a fifty pound note, and good clothes. I made my
appearance in rags and misery. If you find your parents, you will
rise in the world ; if I find mine, I shall, in all probability, have no
reason to be proud of them. I therefore must insist upon having my
own choice in the part I am to play in the drama, and I will prove
lo you that it is my right to choose. You forget that, when we started,
your object wae to search after your father, and I told you mine should
be to look after my mother. You have selected high life as the ex-
pected sphere in which he is to be found, and I select low life as that
in which I am most likely to discover the object of my search. So
you perceive," continued Tim, laughing, ''that we must arrange so
aslo suit the views of both without parting company. Do you hunt
among bag-wigs, amber-headed canes, silks and satins — I will burrow
among tags and tassels, dimity and mob caps ; and probably we shall
both succeed in the object of our search. I leave you to hunt in the
drawing-rooms, while I ferret in the kitchen. You may throw your-
self on a sofa and exclaim— 'Who is my father?' while I will sit in
the cook's lap, and ask her if she may happen to be my mother."
This sally of Timothys made even Fleta laugh; and after a little
more remonstrance, I consented that he should perform the part of
my valet. Indeed, the more I reflected upon it, the greater appeared
the advantages which might accrue from the arrangement. By the
time that this point had been settled, we had arrived at the town to
which we directed our steps, and took up our quarters at an inn of
moderate pretensions, but of very great external cleanliness. My first
object was to find out some fitting asylum for little Fleta. The land-
lady was a buxom, good-tempered young woman, and I gave the
httle girl into her charge, while Timothy and I went out on a survey.
I had made up my mind to put her to some good, but not very expen-
sive, school, if such were to be found in the vicinity. I should have
preferred taking her with me to London, but I was aware how much more
expensive it would be to provide for h-^r there : and as. the distance
7S JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
from the metropolis was but twenty miles, I could easily run down to
see her occasionally. I desired the little girl to call me her brother,
as such I intended to be to her in future, and not to answer every
question they might put to her. There was, however, little occasion
for this caution, for Fleta was, as I before observed, very unlike
children in general. I then went out with Timothy to look for a
tailor, that I might order our clothes, as w hat we had on were not
either of the very best taste, or in the very best condition. We walked
up the main street, and soon fell in w ith a tailor's shop^ over which
was written in large letters — "Feodor Shneider, Tailor to his Royal
Highness the Prince of Darmstadt."
"Will that do, Japhet?" said Timothy, pointing to the announce-
ment.
"Why yes," replied I •, "but how the deuce the Prince of Darms-
tadt should have employed a man in a small country town as his tailor,
is to me rather a puzzle."
"Perhaps he made his clothes when he was in Germany," replied
Tim.
"Perhaps he did; but, however, he shall have the honour of
making mine."
We entered the shop, and I ordered a suit of the most fashionable
clothes, choosing my colours, and being very minute in my direction s
to the foreman, who measured me ; but as I was leaving the shop, the
master, judging by my appearance, which was certainly not exactly
that of a gentleman, ventured to observe that it was customary with
gentlemen, whom Ihey had not the honour of knowing, to leave a de-
posit. Although the very proposal was an attack upon my gentility,
I made no reply; but pulling out a handful of guineas, laid down two
on the counter and walked away, that I might find another shop at
Avhich we might order the livery of Timothy ; but this Avas only as a re-
connoitre, as I did not intend to order his liveries until I could appear
in my own clothes, which were promised on the afternoon of the next
day. There were, however, several other articles to be purchased,
such as a trunk, portmanteau, hat, gloves, etc., all which we procured,
and then went back to the inn. On my return I ordered dinner. Flela
was certainly clad in her best frock, but bad was the best ; and the
landlady, who could extract little from the child, could not imagine
who we could be. I had, however, allowed her to see more than
sufficient money to warrant our expensc^s ; and so far her scruples were,
although her curiosity was not, removed.
That evening I had a long conversation with Fleta. I told her that
we were to part, that she must go to school, and that I would very often
come down to see her. At first she was inconsolable at the idea ; but
JAI>HET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 70
I reasoned with her, and the gentle, intelligent creature acknow-
ledged that it was right. The next day my clothes came home, and
I dressed myself. "NYithout flattery, Japhet," said Timothy, "you
do look very much like a gentleman." Fleta smiled, and said the same.
I thought so too, but said nothing. Putting on my hat and gloves, and
accompanied by Timothy, I descended to go out and order Tim liveries,
as well as a fit-out lor Fleta.
After I was out in the street, I discovered that I had left my
handkerchief, and returned to fetch it. The landlady, seeing a gentle-
man about to enter the inn, made a very low courlsy, and it was not
until I looked hard at her that she recognized me. Then I was satis-
fied; it was an involuntary tribute to my appearance, worth all the
flattering assertions in the world. We now proceeded to the other
tailors in the main street. I entered the shop with a flourishing, im-
portant air, and was received with many bows. " I wish," said 1, ",to
have a suit of Uvery made for this young man, who is about to enter
into my service. 1 cannot lake him up to town this figure." The
livery was chosen, and as I expressed my wish to be ofl" the next even-
ing, it was promised to be ready by an hour appointed.
1 then went to a milliner's, aed desired that she would call at the
inn to fit out a little girl for school, whose wardrobe had been left be-
hind bv mistake. On the fourth day all was ready. I had made in-
quiries, and had found out a very respectable school, kept by a widow
lady. I asked for references, which were given, and I was satisfied.
The terms were low — twenty pounds per annum. I paid the first
half-year in advance, and lodged fifty guineas more in the hands of a
banker, taking a receipt for it, and giving directions that it was to be
paid to the schoolmistress as it became due. I took this precaution,
that should I be in poverty myself, at all events Fleta might be pro-
vided in clotlies and schooling for three years at least. The poor child
wept bitterly at the separation, and I could with difficulty detach her
little arms from my neck, and I felt when I left her as if I had parted
with the only valuable object to me on earth.
All was now ready; but Timothy did not, as yet, assume his new
clothes. It would have appeared strange that one who sat at my table
should afterwards put on my livery ; and as, in a small town, there is
always plenty of scandal, for Fleta's sake, if for no other reason, it
was deferred until our arrival in London. Wishing the landlady
good-by, who I really believed would have given up her bill to have
known who we could possibly be, we got on the outside of the stage-
coach, and in the evening arrived at the metropolis. I have been
particular in describing all tl;csc little circmnstances, as it proves how
so JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
very awkward it is to jump, without observation, from one station in
society to another.
CHAPTER XYIII.
I receive a letter from my uncle by which I naturally expect to find out who is my
father — Like other outcasts, I am warned by a dream.
But I have omitted to mention a circumstance of great importance,
which occurred at the inn the night before I placed Fleta at the board-
ing-school. In looking over my portmanteau, I perceived the pre-
sent of Nattee to Fleta, which I had quite forgotten. I took it to Fleta,
and told her from whom it came. On opening the paper, it proved
to contain a long chain of round coral and gold beads, strung alter-
nately ; the gold beads were not so large as the coral, but still the num-
ber of them, and the purity of the melal, made Ihem of considerable
value. Fleta passed the beads through her fingers, and then threw it
round her neck, and sat in deep thought for some minutes. " Japhet,"
said she at last, " I have seen this — I have worn this before — I recol-
lect that I have; it rushes into my memory as an old friend, and I
think that before morning it will bring to my mind something that
I shall recollect about it."
"Try all you can, Fleta, and let me know to-morrow."
" It's no use trying; if I try, I never can recollect any thing. I
must wear it to-night, and then I shall have something come into my
mind all of a sudden ; or perhaps I may dream something. Good
night."
It immediately occurred to me that it was most probable that the
chain had been on Fleta's neck at the time that she was stolen from
her parents, and might prove the means of her being identified. It
was no common chain — apparently had been wrought by people in a
state of semi-refinement. There was too little show for its value— >
too much sterling gold for the simple effect produced ; and I very
much doubted whether another Hke it could be found.
The next m^orning Fleta was too much affected at parting with me,
to enter into much conversation. I asked whether she had recollected
any thing, and she replied, " No; that she had cried all night at the
thoughls of our separation." I cautioned her to be very careful of
JAPHET. IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. SI
tlie chain, and I gave the same caution to the schoolmistress ; and after
I had left the town, I regretted that I had not taken it away, and de-
posited it in some place of security. I resolved to do so when I next
saw Flela ; in the mean time, she would be able, perhaps, by asso-
ciation, to call up some passage of her infancy connected with it.
I had inquired of a gentleman who sat near me on the coach, which
was the best hotel for a young man of fashion. He recommended the
Piazza, in Covent Garden, and to that we accordingly repaired. I se-
lected handsome apartments, and ordered a light supper. Wlien the
table was laid, Timothy made his appearance, in his livery, and cut a
very smart, dashing figure. I dismissed the waiter, and as soon as
we were alon^, I burst into a fit of laughter. "Really, Timothy,
this is a good farce ; come, sit down, and help me to finish this bottle
of wine."
"No, sir," replied Timothy; " with yourperrhission, I prefer doing
as the rest of my fraternity. You only leave the bottle on the side-
board, and I will steal as much as I want; but as for sitting down,
that will be making too free., and if we were seen, would be, more-
over, very dangerous. We must both keep up our characters. They
have been plying me with all manner of questions below, as to who
you w^ere — your name, etc. I resolved that I would give you a lift in
the world, and 1 stated that you had just arrived from making a grand
tour — which is not a fib, after all — and as for your name, I said that
you were at peresent iyicog."
" But why did you make me incog')"
" Because it may suit you so to be ; and it certainly is the truth, for
you don't know your real name. "
We were here interrupted by the waiter bringing in a letter upon a
salver. ' ' Here is a letter addressed to ' I, or J . N. , on his relurn from
his tour,' sir," said he ; "I presume it is for you?"
" You may leave it," said I, with nonchalance.
The waiter laid the letter on the table, and retired.
" How very odd, Timothy — this letter cannot be for me; and yet
they are my initials. It is as much like a J as an I. Depend upon it
it is some fellow who has just gained this intelligence below, and has
written to ask for a subscription to his charity list, imagining that 1 am
Hush of money, and liberal."
'' I suppose so," replied Tim; "however, you may just as well see
what he says."
" But if I open it he will expect something. I had belter refuse it.'
" no, leave that to me ; I know how to put people ofT."
" After all, it is a fine thing to be a gentleman, and be petitioned.'
8-2 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
I broke open the seal, and found that the letter contained an inclo--
sure addressed to another person. The letter was as follows : —
" My dear Nephew, — [' Bravo, sir,' said Timothy; ' you've found
an uncle already — you'll soon find a father.') From the great uncer-
tainty of the post, I have not ventured to do more than hint at what
has come to light during this last year ; but as it is necessary that you
should be acquainted with the whole transaction, and as you had not
decided when you last wrote, whether you would prosecute your in-
tended three months' trip to Sicily, or return from Milan, you may
probably arrive when I am out of town ; I therefore enclose you a letter
to Mr. Maslerton, directing him to surrender to you a sealed packet,
lodged in his hands, containing all the particulars, the letters which
bear upon them, and what has been proposed to avoid exposure ; which
you may peruse at your leisure, should you arrive before my return
to town. There is no doubt but that the afTair may be hushed up,
and we trust that you will see the prudence of the measure ; as, once
known, it willbe very discreditable to the family escutcheon. ('I al-
ways had an idea you were of good family,' interrupted Tim.) I wish
vou had followed my advice, and had not returned; but as you were
positive on that point, I beg you will now consider the propriety of
remaining incognito, as reports are already abroad, and your sudden
return will cause a great deal of surmise. Your long absence at the
Gottingen University, and your subsequent completion of your grand
tour, will have effaced all remembrance of your person, and you can
easily be passed off as a particular friend of mine, and I can introduce
you every where as such. Take, then, any name you may please, pro-
vided it be not Smith or Brown, or such vulgarisms ; and on the receipt
of this letter, write a note, and send it to my house in Portman Square,
just saying, ' so and so m arrived." This will prevent the servants
from obtaining any information by their prying curiosity, and as I have
directed all mv letters to be forwarded to my seat in Worcestershire, I
shall come up immediately that I receive it, and by your putting the
name which you mean to assume, I shall know whom to ask for when
1 call at the hotel .
^ " Your affectionate Uncle,
" WlXDERMEAR."
" One thing is very clear, Timothy," said I, laying the letter on
the table, " that it cannot be intended for me."
" How do you know, sir, that this lord is not your uncle? At all
events vou must do as he bids you."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 8'.J
" What — go for the papers! most certainly t shall not."
" Then how in the name of fortune do you expect to find your fa-
ther, when you will not take advantage of such an opportunity of get-
ting into society ? It is by getting possession of other people's secrets,
that you will worm out your own."
" But it is dishonest, Timothy.'
"A letter is addressed to you, in which you have certain directions;
you break the seal with confidence, and you read what you find is pos-
sibly not for you ; but, depend upon it, Japhet, that a secret obtained
is one of the surest roads to promotion. Recollect your position ; cut
off from the world, you have to re-unite yourself with it, to recover
your footing, and create an interest. You have not those' who love
you to help you — you must not scruple to oblain your object by fear.''
" That is a melancholy truth, Tim," replied I; "and I believe I
must put my strict morality in my pocket."
" Do, sir, pray, until you can afford to be moral ; it's a very expen-
sive virtue that ; a deficiency of it made you an outcast from the world ;
you must not scruple at a slight deficiency on your own part, to regain
your position."
There was so much shrewdness, so much of the wisdom of the ser-
pent in the remarks of Timothy, that, added to my ardent desire to dis-
cover my father, which since my quitting the gipsy camp had returned
upon me with two- fold force, my scruples were overcome, and I re-
solved that I would not lose such an opportunity. Still I hesitated, and
went up into my room, that I might reflect upon what I should do.
I went to bed, revolving the matter in my mind, and turning over
from one position to the other, at one time deciding that I would not
take advantage of the mistake, at another quite as resolved that I would
not throw away such an opening for the prosecution of my search : at
last I fell into an uneasy slumber, and had a strange dream. I thought
that I w^as standing upon an isolated rock, with the waters raging around
me; the tide was rising, and at last the waves were roaring at my feet.
I was in a state of agony, and expected that, in a short time, I should
be swallowed up. The main land w^as not far off, and I perceived
well-dressed people in crowds, who were enjoying themselves, feasting,
dancing, and laughing in merry peals. I held out my hands — I shouted
to them — they saw, and heard me, but heeded me not. My horror at
being swept away by the tide was dreadful. I shrieked as the water
rose. At last I perceived something unroll itself from the main land,
and gradually advancing to the island, formed a bridge by which 1
could walk over and be saved. I was about to hasten over, when
"Private, and no thorough-fare" appeared at the end nearest me, in
large letters of fire. I started back with amazement, and would not,
6*
84 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
dared not pass them. When all of a sudden, a figure in while ap-
peared by my side, and said to me, pointing to the bridge, " Self-pre-
servation is the first law of nature."
I looked at the person who addressed me; gradually the figure be-
came darker and darker, until it changed to Mr. Gophagus, with his
stick up to his nose. " Japhet, all nonsense — very good bridge — um
— walk over — find father — and so on." I dashed over the bridge,
which appeared to float on the water, and to be composed of paper,
gained the other side, and was received with shouts of congratulation,
and the embraces of the crowd. I perceived an elderly gentleman
come forward ; I knew it was my father, and I threw myself into
his arms. • I awoke, and found myself rolling on the floor, em-
bracing the bolster with all my might. Such was the vivid im-
pression of this dream, that I could not turn my thoughts away
from it, and at last I considered that it was a divine interposition. All
my scruples vanished, and before the day had dawned, I determined
that I would follow the advice of Timothy. An enthusiast is easily
led to believe what he wishes, and he mistakes his own feelings for
warnings ; the dreams arising from his daily contemplations for the in-
terference of Heaven. He thinks himself armed by supernatural as-
sistance, and warranted by the Almighty to pursue his course, even if
that course should be contrary to the Almighty's precepts. Thus was
I led away by my own imaginings, and thus was my monoinania in-
creased to an impetus which forced before it all consideration of what
was right or wrong.
CHAPTER XIX.
An important chapter — I make some important acquaintances, obtain some important
papers which I am importunate to read through.
The next morning I told my dream to Timothy, who laughed very
heartily at my idea of the finger of Providence. At last, perceiving
that I was angry with him, he pretended to be convinced. When I
had finished my breakfast, I sent to inquire the number in the square
of Lord Windermear's town house, and wrote the following simple
note to his lordship. ''Japhet Newland has arrived from his tour at
the Piazza, Covent Garden." This was confided to Timothy, and I
then set ofY with the other letter to Mr. Masterton, which was address-
ed to Lincoln's Inn. By reading the addresses of the several legal
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 85
gentlemen, I found out that Mr. Masterton was located on the first
floor. I rang the bell, which had the efTect of " Open, Sesame," as
the door appeared to swing to admit me without any assistance. I en-
tered an ante-room, and from thence found myself in the presence ot
Mr. Masterton— a little old man, with spectacles on his nose, sitting
at a table covered with papers. He ofTered me a chair, and I presented
the letter.
''I see that I am addressing Mr. Neville," said he, after he had
perused the letter. " I congratulate you on your return. You may
not, perhaps, remember me?"
'* Indeed, sir, I cannot say that I do, exactly."
** I could not expect it, my dear sir, you have been so long away.
You have very much improved in person, I must say ; yet still, I re-
collect your features as a mere boy. Without compliment, I had no
idea that you would ever have made so handsome a man." I bowed
to the compliment. ' * Have you heard from your uncle ?"
"I had a few lines from Lord Windermear, enclosing your letter."
*' Heis well, I hope?"
"Quite well, I believe."
Mr. Masterton then rose, went to an iron safe, and brought out a
packet of papers, which he put into my hands. * ' You will read these
with interest, Mr. Neville. I am a party to the whole transaction,
and must venture to advise you not to appear in England under your
own name, until all is settled. Your uncle, I perceive, has begged
the same."
" And I have assented, sir. 1 have taken a name instead of my real
one."
"May I ask what it is?"
"I call myself Mr. Japhet Newland."
" Well, it is singular, but perhaps as good as any other. I will
take it down, in case I have to write to you. Your address is "
" Piazza — Covent Garden."
Mr. Masterton took my name and address, I took the papers, an(J
then we both took leave of one another, with many expressions of plea-
sure and good-will.
I relumed to the hotel, where I found Timothy waiting for me,
with impatience. " Japhet," said he, "Lord Windermear has not
vet left town. I have seen him, for I was called back after I left the
house, by the footman, who ran after me— he will be here immedi-
ately."
"Indeed," replied L "Pray wliat sort of person is he. and what
did he say to you?"
" He sent for me in the dining-parlour, where he was at breakfast,
86 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
asked when you arrived, whether you were well, and how long I had
been in your service. I replied that I had not been more than two
days, and had just put on my liveries. He then desired me to tell Mr.
Xewland that he would call upon him in about two hours. Then, mv
lord," replied I, " I had better go and tell him to get out of bed.' '
" The lazy dog !" said he, "nearly one o'clock, and not out of bed ;
well , go then, and get him dressed as fast as you can."
Shortly afterwards a handsome carriage with greys drew up to the
door. His lordship sent in his footman, to ask whether Mr. Newland
was at home. The reply of the waiter was, that there was a young
gentleman who had been there two or three days, who had come from
making a tour, and his name did begin with an iV. " That will do,
James; let down the steps." His lordship alighted, was ushered up
stairs, and into my room. There we stood, staring at each other.
" Lord Windermear, I believe," §aid I, extending my hand.
" You have recognised me first, John," said he, taking my hand,
and looking earnestly in my face. " Good heavens! is it possible that
an awkward boy should have grown up into so handsome a fellow? I
shall be proud of my nephew. Did you remember me when I en-
tered the room?"
"To tell the truth, my lord, I did not; but expectingyou, I took it
for granted that it must be you."
" iS'ine years make a great difference, John; — but I forget, I must
now call you Japhet. Have you been reading the Bible lately, that
you fixed upon that strange name ?"
"No, my lord; but this hotel is such a Noah's ark, that it's no
wonder I thought of it."
" You're an undutiful dog, not to ask after your mother, sir."
' ' I was about "
" I see — I see," interrupted his lordship; " but recollect, John,
that she still is your mother. By-the-bve, have vou read the papers
yet?"
" No, sir," replied I, "there they are, pointing to them on the side
table. 1 really do not hke to break the seals."
" That they will not contain pleasant intelligence, I admit," replied
his lordship ; "but until you have read them, I do not wish to con-
verse with you on the subject, therefore," said he, taking up the packet,
and breaking the seals, " I must now insist that you employ this fore-
noon in reading them through. You will dine with me at seven, and
then we will talk the matter over."
"Certainly, sir, if you wish it, I will read them."
'' I must insist upon it, John; and am rather surprised at your
objecting, when they concern you so particularly."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 87
"^ I shall obey your orders, sir."
"Well, then, my boy, I shall wish you good morning, that you
may complete your task before you come to dinner. To-morrow, if
you wish it — but recollect, I never press young men on these points,
as I am aware that they sometimes feel a restraint — if you wish it, I
say, you may bring your portmanteaus, and take up your quarters
with me. By-the-bye," continued his lordship, taking hold of my
coat, " who made this ?"
"The tailor to his Serene Highness the Prince of Darmstadt had
that honour, my lord," replied I.
" Humph! I thought they fitted better in Germany ; it's not quite
the thing — we must consult Stulz, for with that figure and face, the
coat ought to be quite correct. Adieu, my dear fellow, till seven."
His lordship shook hands with me, and I was left alone. Timothy
came in as soon as his lordship's carriage h^d driven off. "Well,
sir," said he, " was your uncle glad to see you?"
" Yes," replied I ; "and look, he has broken open the seals, and
has insisted upon my reading the papers."
" It would be veryundutiful in you to refuse, so I had better leave
you to your task," said Timothy, smiling, as he quitted the room.
CHAPTER XX.
I open an account with ray bankers, draw largely upon credulity, and am prospe-
rous without a check.
I SAT down and took up the papers. I was immediately and
strangely interested in all that I read. A secret! — it was, indeed, a
secret, involving the honour and reputation of the most distinguished
families. One that, if known, the trumpet of scandal would have
blazoned forth to the disgrace of the aristocracy. It would have occa-
sioned bitter tears to some, gratified the petty malice of many, satisfied
the revenge of the vindictive, and bowed with shame the innocent as
well as the guilty. It is not necessary, nor, indeed, would I, on any
account, state anymore. I finished the last paper, and then fell into
a reverie. This is, indeed, a secret, thought I ; one that I would J
never had possessed. In a despotic country my life would be sacrificed
to the fatal knowledge — here, thank God, my life as well as my liberty
are safe.
H8 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
The contents of the papers told me all that was necessary to enable
me tosupport the character which I had assumed. The reason why
the party, whom I was supposed to be, was intrusted with it, was that
he was in a direct line, eventually heir, and the question was whether
he would waive his claim with the others, and allow death to bury
crime in oblivion. I felt that were I in his position I should so do — and
therefore was prepared to give an answer to his lordship. I sealed up
the papers, dressed myself, and went to dinner; and after the cloth was
removed, Lord Windermear, first rising and turning the key in the
door, said to me, in a low voice, ' ' You have read the papers, and what
those, nearly as much interested as you are in this lamentable business,
have decided upon. Tell me, what is your opinion ?"
"My opinion, my lord, is, that I wish I had never known what has
come to light this day — that it will be most advisable never to recur to
the subject, and that the«proposals made are, in my opinion, most judi-
cious, and should be acted upon."
" That is well," replied his lordship ; "then all are agreed, and I
am proud to find you possessed of such honour and good feeling. We
now drop the subject for ever. Are you inclined to leave town with
me, or what do you intend to do?"
" I prefer remaining in town, if your lordship will introduce me to
some of the families of your acquaintance Of course I know no one
now."
" Very true ; I will introduce you, as agreed, as Mr. Newland. It
may be as well that you do not know any of our relations, whom I
have made to suppose, that you are still abroad — and it would be
awkward, when you take your right name by-and-by . Do you mean
to see your mother ?' '
"Impossible, my lord, at present; by-and-by I hope to be able."
" Perhaps it's all for the best. I will now write one note to Major
Carbonnell, introducing you as my particular friend, and requesting
that he will make London agreeable. He knows every body, and will
take you every where."
* * When does your lordship start for the country ?"
*' To-morrow ; so we may as well part to-night. By-the-by, you
have credit at Drummond's, in the name of Newland, for a thousand
pounds ; the longer you make it last you the better."
His lordship gave me the letter of introduction. I returned to him
the sealed packet, shook hands with him, and took my departure.
"Well, sir," said Timothy, rubbing his hands, as he stood before
me, " what is the news ; for I am dying to hear it — and what is this
secret?"
"With regard to the secret, Tim, a secret it must remain. I dare
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 89
not tell it even to you." Timothy looked rather grave at this reply.
"No, Timothy, as a man of honour, I cannot." My conscience smote
me when I made use of the term ; for, as a man of honour, I had no
business to be in possession of it. " My dear Timothy, I have done
wrong already, do not ask me todo worse."
'' I will not, Japhet ; but only tell me what has passed, and what
you intend todo?"
" That I will, Timothy, with pleasure;" and I then stated all that
had passed between his lordship and me. " And now, you observe,
Timothy, I have gained what I desired, an introduction into the best
society."
''And the means of keeping up your appearance," echoed Ti-
mothy, rubbing his hands. " A thousand pounds will last a long
while. "
" It will last a very long while, Tim, for I never will touch it ; it
would be swindling."
" So it would," replied Tim, his countenance falling ; " well, I
never thought of that."
'' I have thought of much more, Tim ; recollect I must, in a very
short time, be exposed to Lord Windermear, for the real Mr. Neville
will soon come home."
" Good heavens! what will become of us2" replied Timothy, with
alarm in his countenance.
" Nothing can hurt you, Tim, the anger will be all upon me ; but I
am prepared to face it, and I would face twice as much for the distant
hope of finding my father. Whatever Lord Windermear may feel in-
clined to do, he can do nothing ; and my possession of the secret will
ensure even more than my safety ; it will afford me his protection, if
I demand it."
" I hope it may prove so," replied Timothy, "but I feel a little
frightened."
" I do not; to-morrow I shall give my letter of introduction, and
then I will prosecute my search. So how, my dear Tim, good
night."
The next morning, I lost no time in presenting ray letter of intro-
duction to Major Carbonnell. He lived in apartments on the first floor
in St. James's Street, and I found him at breakfast, in a silk dressing
gown. I had made up my mind that a little independence always car-
ries with it an air of fashion. When I entered, therefore, I looked at
him with a knowing air, and dropping the letter down on the table
before him, said, " There's something for you to read, Major; and.
in the meantime, I'll refresh myself on this chair; ' suiting the action
to the word, I threw myself on a chair, amusing myself with tap-
1)0 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
ping the sides of my boots with a small cane which I carried in my
hand.
Major Carbonnell, upon whom I cast a furtive eye more than once
during the time that he was reading the letter, was a person of about
thirty-five years of age, well-looking, but disfigured by the size
of his whiskers, w^hich advanced to the corners of his mouth, and
met under his throat. He was tall and well made, and with an air of
fashion about him that was undeniable. His linen was beautifully clean
and carefully arranged, and he had as many rings on his fingers,
and, when he was dressed, chains and trinkets, as ever were put on
by a lady.
** My dear sir, allow me the honour of making at once your most
intimate acquaintance,"" said he, rising from his chair, and offering his
hand, as soon as he had perused the letter. " Any friend of Lord
AVindermear's would be welcome, but when he brings such an extra
recommendation in his own appearance, he becomes doubly so."
''Major Carbonnell," replied L " I have seen you but two mi-
nutes, and I have taken a particular fancy to you, in which I, no doubt,
have proved my discrimination. Of course, you know that I have just
returned from making a tour? "
*' So I understand from his lordship's letter. Mr. Newland, my
time is at your service. Where are you staying ?"
" At the Piazza."
"Very good; I will dine with you to-day ; order some mul-
ligatawny, they are famous for it. After dinner we will go to the
theatre."
I was rather surprised at his cool manner of asking himself to dine
w ith me and ordering my dinner ; but a moment's reflection made me
feel what sort of person I had to deal with.
" Major, I take that as almost an affront. You will dine with me
to-day ! I beg to state that you must dine with me every day that we
are not invited elsewhere ; and what's more, sir, I shall be most se-
riously displeased, if you do' not order the dinner every time that you
do dine with me, and ask whoever you may think worthy of putting
their legs under our table. Let's have no doing things by halves,
Major ; I know you now as well as if we had been intimate for ten
years."
The Major seized me by the hand. " My dear >'ewland, I only
wish we had known one another ten years, as you say — the loss has
been mine ; but now — you have breakfasted, I presume?"
" Yes ; having nothing to do, and not knowing a soul after my long
absence, 1 advanced my breakfast about two hours, that I might find
vou at home ; and now I'm at vour service.
JAPHET. IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 91
•Say rather I am at yours. I presume you will walk. In ten
minutes I shall be ready. Either take up the paper, or whistle an air
or two, or any thing else you like, just to kill ten minutes— and I shall
be at vour command. "
CHAPTER XXI.
I come out urnlep a first-rate chaperon, and at once am established into the regions
of fashion — Prove that I am deserving of my promotion.
"I BEG your pardon. Xewland," said the major, returning from his
dressin2-room. resplendent with chains and bijouterie ; •• but I must
have your Christian name."
'' It's rather a strange one, " replied I ; *' it is Japhet.
" Japhet I by the immortal powers. Id bring an action against my
godfathers and godmothers; you ought to recover heavy damages."
" Then I presume you would not have the name/' replied I. with a
knowing look, ' "' for a clear ten thousand a year. *'
•'Whew : that alters the case— it's astonishing how well any name
looks in large gold letters. Well, as the old gentleman, whoever he
might have been, made you compensation, you must forgive and for-
get. Xow where shall we go"? "
"With your permission, as I came to town m these clothes, made
by a German tailori— Darmstadts tailor by-the-by— but still if tailor to
a prince, not the prince of tailors — I would wish you to take me to
your own : your dress appears very correct.
"You show your judgment. Xewland, it is correct; Stulz will be
delighted to have your name on his books, and to do justice to that fi-
gure. Allans done/'
We sauntered up St. James's Street, and before I had arrived al
Stulzs, I had' been introduced to at least twenty of the young men
about town. The major was most particular in his directions about
the clothes, all of which he ordered ; and as I knew that he was well
acquainted with the fashion, I gave him carte blanche. When we
left the shop, he said, " Now. my dear Xewland, I have given you a
proof of friendship, which no other man in England has had. \our
dress will be the yie plus ultra. There are little secrets only know;n
to the initiated, and Stulz is aware that this time I am in earnest. I am
often asked to do the same for others, and I pretend so to do; but a
9'^ JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
wink from mc is sufficient, and Slulz dares not dress Ihem. Don't
you want some bijouterie? or have you any at home?"
" I may as well have a few trifles," replied I.
We entered a celebrated jeweller's, and he selected for me to the
amount of about forty pounds. " That will do — never buy much ; for
it is necessary to change every three months at least. What is the
price of this chain?"
*' It is only fifteen guineas, major."
" Well, I shall take it ; but recollect," continued the major ; " I tell
you honestly, I never shall pay you."
The jeweller smiled, bowed, and laughed; the major threw the chain
round his neck, and we quitted the shop.
"At all events, major, they appear not to believe your word in that
shop."
*' My dear fellow, that's their own fault, not mine. I tell them ho-
nestly I never will pay them ; and you may depend upon it, I intend
most sacredly to keep my word. I never do pay any body, for the
best of all possible reasons, I have no money; but then I do them a
service — I make them fashionable, and they know it."
** What debts do you pay, then, major? "
*' Let me think — that requires consideration. Oh ! I pay my wash-
er-woman."
** Don't you pay your debts of honour?"
" Debts of honour ! why I'll tell you the truth ; for I know that we
shall hunt in couples. If I win, I take the money : but if I lose — why
then I forget to pay ; and I always tell them so before I set down to the
table. If they won't believe me, it's not my fault. But what's the
hour? Come, I must make a few calls, and will introduce you."
W^e sauntered on to Grosvenor Square, knocked, and were admitted
into a large, elegantly-furnished mansion. The footman announced
us — " My dear Lady Maelstrom, allow me the honour of introducing
to you my very particular friend, Mr. Newiand, consigned to my charge
by my Lord Windermear during his absence. He has just arrived
from the Continent, where he has been making the grand tour."
Her ladyship honoured me with a smile. " By-lhe-by, major,
that reminds me — do me the favour to come to the window. Excuse us
one moment, Mr. Newiand."
The major and Lady Maelstrom walked to the window, and exchanged
a few sentences, and then returned. Her ladyship holding up her
finger, and saying to him as they came towards me, " Promise me now
that you won't forget."
" Your ladyship's slightest wishes are to me imperative commands,"
replied the major, with a graceful bow.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 93
In a quarter of an hour, during which the conversation was ani-
mated, we rose to take our leave, when her ladyship came up to me, and
otTering her hand, said, •' Mr. Newland, the friendship of Lord Win-
dermear, and the introduction of Major Carbonnell, are more than
suflficient to induce me to put your name down on my visiting list. I
trust I shall see a great deal of you, and that we shall be great
friends."
I bowed to this handsome announcement, and we retired. As soon
as we were out in the square, the major observed, " You saw her take
me on one side — it was to/?wwp. She has no daughters, but about
hfty nieces, and match-making is her delight. I told her that I would
stake my honour upon your possessing ten thousand a year: how much
more I could not say. I was not far wTong, was I? "
I laughed. " What I may be worth, major, I really cannot say;
but I trust that the event w ill prove that you are not far wrong. Sav
no more, my dear fellow."
•' I understand — you are not yet of age — of course, have not yet
come into possession of your fortune."
" That is exactly the case, major. I am now but little more than
nineteen."
"You look older; but there is no getiing over baptismal registries
with the executors. >'ewland, you must content yourself for the two
next years in playing Moses, and only peep at the promised land."
We made two or three more calls, and then returned to St. James's
Street. ' ' Where shall we go now^? By-the-by, don't you want to go
to your banker's?"
" I will just stroll down with you. and see if they have paid any
money in," replied I, carelessly.
We called at Drummond's, and I asked them if there was any money
paid in to the credit of Mr. Newland.
"Yes, sir, " replied one of the' clerks: "there is one thousand
pounds paid in yesterday."
" Yery good," replied I.
** How much do you wish to draw for?" inquired the major.
" I don't want any," replied I. "I have more money than I ought
to have in my desk at this moment."
"Well, then, let us go and order dinner ; or perhaps you would like
to stroll about a little more ; if so, I will go and order the dinner.
Here's Harcourt, that's lucky. Harcourt, my dear fellow, know
Mr. Rowland, my very particular friend. I must leave you now;
take his arm, Harcourt, for half an hour, and then join us at dinner at
the Piazza."
Mr. Harcourt was an elegant young man of about five-and-twentv.
i)4 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
Equally pleased wilh each other's externals, we were soon familiar :
he was witty, sarcastic, and well-bred. After half an hour's conver-
sation, he asked me what I thought of the major. I looked him in the
face and smiled. " That look tells me that you will not be his dupe,
otherwise I had w arned you : he is a strange character ; but if you
have money enough to afford to keep him, you cannot do better, as he
is acquainted with, and received by, everybody. His connexions are
good ; and he once had a very handsome fortune, but it was soon run
out, and he was obliged to sell his commission in the Guards. Now
he lives upon the world ; which, as Shakspeare says, is his oyster ; and
he has wit and sharpness enough to open it. Moreover, he has some
chance of falling into a peerage ; that prospect, and his amusing qua-
lities, added to his being the most fashionable man about town, keeps
his head above water. I believe Lord Windermear, who is his cousin,
very often helps him."
" It was Lord Windermear who introduced me to him," observed L
" Then he will not venture to play any tricks upon you, further
than eating your dinners, borrowing your money, and forgetting to
pay it."
" You must acknowledge," said I, " he always tells you beforehand
that he never will pay you."
" And that is the only point in w^hich he adheres to his word," re-
plied Harcourt, laughing; "but, tell me, am I to be ^om guest to-
day?"
" If you will do me that honour."
" I assure you I am delighted to come, as I shall have a further
opportunity of cultivating your acquaintance."
" Then we had better bend our steps towards the hotel, for it is
late," replied I ; and we did so accordingly.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
CHAPTER XXII.
The real Simon Pure proves the worse of the two— I am found guilty, hut not
condemned : convicted, yet convince; and after having behaved the very contrary
to, prove that I am. a gentleman.
On our arrival, we found the table spread, champagne in ice under
the sideboard, and apparently every thing prepared for a sumptuous
dinner, the major on the sofa giving directions to the waiter, and
Timothy looking all astonishment.
'• Major," said I, " I cannot tell you how much I am obliged to vou
for your kindness in taking all this trouble off my hands, that I might
follow up the agreeable introduction you have given me to Mr. Har-
court."
" My dear Xewland, say no more; you will, I dare say, do the
same thing for me if I require it, when I give a dinner. iHarcourt
caught my eye, as if to say, " You may safely promise that.") But,
Newland, do you know that the nephew of Lord Windermear has just
arrived ? Did you meet abroad ?"
" No," replied I, somewhat confused ; but I soon recovered myself.
As for Tim, he bolted out of the room. "What sort of a person
is he?"
" That you may judge for yourself, my dear fellow, for I asked
him to join us, I must say, more out of compliment to Lord Winder-
mear than any thing else ; for I am afraid that, even I could never
make a gentleman of him. But take Harcourt with you to your room,
and by the time you have washed your hands, I will have dinner on
the table. I took the liberty of desiring your valet to show me in
about ten minutes ago. Hes a shrewd fellow that of yours — where
did you pick him up?'
'' By mere accident," replied I ; " come, Mr. Harcourt."
On our return, we found the real Simon Pure, Mr. Estcourt, sitting
with the major, who introduced us, and dinner being served, we sat
down to table.
Mr. Estcourt was a young man, about my own age, but not so tall
by two or three inches. His features were prominent, but harsh;
and when I saw him, I was not at all surprised at Lord Windermear's
90 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
expressions of satisfaction, when he supposed that I was his nephew.
His countenance was dogged and sullen, and he spoke little; he ap-
peared to place an immense value upon birth, and hardly deigned to
listen, except the aristocracy w^ere the subject of discourse. I treated
him with marked deference, that I might form an acquaintance, and
found before we parted that night, that I had succeeded. Our dinner
was excellent, and we were all, except Mr. Eslcourt, in high good
humour. We sat late — too late to go to the theatre, and promising
to meet the next day at noon, Harcourt and the Major took their
leave.
"Mr. Estcourt had indulged rather loo much, and, after their de-
parture, became communicative. I plied the bottle, and we sat up
for more than an hour; he talked of nothing but his family and his
expectations. I took this opportunity of discovering what his feelings
were likely to be when he was made acquainted with the important
secret which was in my possession. I put a case somewhat similar,
and asked him whether in such circumstances he would waive his
right for a time, to save the honour of his family.
'* No, by G — d !" replied he, " I never would. What! give up
even for a day my right — conceal my true rank for the sake of rela-
tives? — never — nothing would induce me."
I was satisfied, and then casually asked him if he had written to
Lord Windermear to inform him of his arrival.
"No," replied he ; "I shall write to-morrow." He soon after re-
tired to his own apartment, and I rang for Timothy.
" Good heavens, sir!" cried Timothy, " what is all this — and what
are you about? I am frightened out of my wits. Why, sir, our
money will not last two months."
*' I do not expect it will last much longer, Tim; but it cannot be
helped. Into society I must get — and to do so — must pay for it."
" But, sir, putting the expense aside, what are we to do about this
Mr. Estcourt? All must be found out."
" I intend that it shall be found out, Tim," replied I ; " but not
yet. He will write to his uncle to-morrow ; you must obtain the
letter, for it must not go. I must first have time to establish myself,
and then Lord Windermear may find out his error as soon as he
pleases."
" Upon my honour, Japhet, you appear to be afraid of nothing."
" I fear nothing, Tim, when I am following up the object of my
wishes. I will allow no obstacles to stand in my way, in my search
after my father'
" Really, you seem to be quite mad on that point, Japhet."
JAPHET. IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 97
"Perhaps I may be, Tim," replied I, thoughtfully. "At all events,
let us go to bed now, and I will tell you to-morrow morning, all the
events of this day."
Mr. Estcourt wrote his letter, which Tim very officiously ofTered
to put into the post, instead of which we put it between the bars of
the grate.
I must now pass over about three weeks, during which I became
very intimate wuth the Major and Mr. Harcourt, and was introduced
by them to the clubs, and almost every person of fashion. The idea
of my wealth, and my very handsome person and figure, ensured me a
warm reception, and I soon became one of the stars of the day. Dur-
ing this time, I also gained the entire conGdence of Mr. Estcourt,
who put letter after letter into the hands of Timothy, who of course put
them into the usual place. I pacified him as long as I could, by ex-
pressing my opinion, that his lordship was on a visit to some friends in
the neighbourhood of his seat ; but at last, he would remain in town no
longer. You may go now, thought I, I feel quite safe.
It was about five days after his departure, as I was sauntering, arm
in arm with the major, who generally dined with me about five days
in the week, that I perceived the carriage of Lord Windermear, with
his lordship in it. He saw us, and pulling his check-string, alighted,
and coming up to us, with the colour mounting to his forehead with
emotion, returned the salute of the major and me.
' ' Major," said he, " you will excuse me, but I am anxious to hav
some conversation with Mr. >'ewland ; perhaps," continued his lordship,
addressing me, "you will do me the favour to lake a seat in my
carriage !"
Fully prepared, I lost none of my self-possession, but, thanking
his lordship, I bowed to him, and stepped in. His lordship followed,
and, saying to the footman. "Home — drive fast," fell back in the
carriage, and never uttered one word until we had arrived, and had en-
tered the dining-parlour. He then took a few steps up and down, be-
fore he said, "Mr. Newland, or whatever your name maybe, I per-
ceive that you consider the possession of an important secret to be
your safeguard. To state my opinion of your conduct is needless ; who
you are, and what you are, I know not ; but, continued he, no longer
controlling his anger ; " you certainly can have no pretensions to the
character of a gentleman. "
" Perhaps your lordship," replied I calmly, " will inform me upon
what you may ground your inference."
" Did you not, in the first place, open a letter addressed to ano-
ther?"
" My lord, I opened a letter brought to me with the initials of my
9S JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
name, and at the time I opened it I fully believed that it was intended
for me."
"We \Yill grant that, sir ; but after you had opened it you must
have known that it was for some other person."
'* I will not deny that, my lord."
" ISotwilhstanding which, you apply to my lawyer, representing
yourself as another person, to obtain sealed papers."
*' I did, ray lord ; but allow me to say, that I never should have
done so, had I not been warned by a dream."
" By a dream?"
*' Yes, m.y lord. I had determined not to go for them, when in a
dream I was ordered so to do."
" Paltry excuse! and then you break private seals."
** Nay, my lord, although I did go for the papers, I could not, even
with the idea of supernatural interposition, make up my mind to break
the seals. If your lordship will recollect, it was you who broke the
seals, and insisted upon my reading the papers."
"Yes, sir, under your false name."
" It is the name by which I go at present, although I acknowledge
it is false; but that is not my fault— I have no other at present."
" It is very true, sir, that in all I have now mentioned, the law
will not reach you; but recollect, that by assuming another person's
name
" I never did, my lord," interrupted I.
"Well, I may say, by inducing me to believe that you were my
nephew, you have obtained money under false pretences ; and for that
I now have you in my power."
" My lord, I never asked you for the money ; you yourself paid it
into the banker's hands to my credit, and to my own name. I appeal
to you now, whether, if you so deceived yourself, the law can reach
me?"
"Mr. Newland, I will say, that much as I regret what has passed,
I regret more than all the rest, that one so young, so prepossessing, so
candid in appearance, should prove such an adept in deceit. Thinking
vou were my nephew, my heart warmed towards you, and I must
confess, that since I have seen my real nephew, the mortification has
been very great."
" My lord, I thank you; but allow me to observe, that I am no
swindler. Your thousand pounds you will find safe in the bank, for
penury would not have induced me to touch it. But now that your
lordship appears more cool, will you do me the favour to listen to me ?
When you have heard my life up to the present, and my motives for
what I have done, you will then decide how far I am to blame."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 99
His lordship look a chair, and motioned to me to lake another. I
narrated what had occurred when I was left at the Foundling, and
gave him a succinct account of my adventures subsequently — my
determination to find my father — the dream which induced me to go
for the papers — and all that the reader has already been acquainted
with. His lordship evidently perceived the monomania which con-
trolled me, and heard me w ith great attention.
"You certainly, Mr. Newland, do not stand so low in my opinion
as you did before this explanation, and I must make allowances for the
excitement under which I perceive you to labour on one subject; but
now, sir, allow me to put one question, and I beg that you will answer
candidly. What price do you demand for your secrecy on this impor-
tant subject?"
" My lord !" replied I, rising with dignity; "this is the greatest
affront you have put upon me yet ; still I will name the price by which
I will solemnly bind myself, by all my future hopes of finding mv
father in this world, and of finding an eternal Father in the next, and
that price, my lord, is a return of your good opinion."
His lordship also rose, and walked up and down the room with
much agitation in his manner. "What am I to make of you, ^Ir
Xewland ? '
" My lord, if I were a swindler, I should have taken your money-
if I had wished to avail myself of the secret, I might have escaped with
all the documents, and made my own terms. I am, my lord, nothing
more than an abandoned child, trying all he can to find his father."
My feelings overpowered me, and I burst into tears. As soon as I
could recover myself, I addressed his lordship, who had been watching
me in silence, and not without emotion. " I have one thing more to
say to you, my lord." I then mentioned the conversation between
Mr. Estcourt and myself, and pointed out the propriety of not making
him a party to the important secret.
His lordship allowed me to proceed without interruption, and after
a few moments' thought, said, "I believe that you are right, Mr. New-
land ; and I now begin to think that it was better that this secret should
have been entrusted to you than to him. You have now conferred
an obligation on me, and may command me. I believe you to be
iionest, but a little mad, and I beg your pardon for the pain which I
have occasioned you."
" My lord, I am more than satisfied."
"Can I be of any assistance to you, Mr. Newland ?"
" H, my lord, you could at all assist me, or direct me in my
search '"
"There I am afraid I can be of little use ; but I will give you the
100 JAPHET, IN SEARCH 01 A FATHER,
means of prosecuting yonr search, and in so doing, I am doing but an
aet of justice, for in introducing you to Major Carbonncll, 1 am aware
thai I must have very much increased your expenses. It was an er-
ror which must be repaired, and therefore, Mr. Newland, I beg you
>viil consider the money at the bank as yours, and make use of it to
enable you to obtain your ardent wish."
''My lord "
''I will not be denied, Mr. Newiand ; and if you feel any delicacy
on the subject, you may take it as a loan, to be repaid when you find
it convenient. Do not, for a moment, consider that it is given to you
because you possess an important secret, for I will trust entirely to your
honour on that score."
"Indeed, my lord," replied I, *' your kindness overwhelms me, and
I feel as if, in you, I had already almost found a father. Excuse me,
my lord, but did your lordship ever — ever "
" I know what you would say, my poor fellow : no, I never did. I
never w^as blessed with children. Had I been, I should not have felt
that I was disgraced by having one resembling you. Allow me to en-
treat you, Mr. Newiand, that you do not suffer the mystery of your
birth to weigh so heavily on your mind : and now I wish you good
morning, and if you think I can be useful to you, I beg that you will
not fail to let me know."
" May Heaven pour down blessings on your head," replied I, kiss-
ing respectfully his lordship's hand ; " and may my father, when I
find him, be as like unto you as |)ossible." I made my obeisance, and
quitted the house.
CHAPTER XXni.
The Major prevents the landlord from imposing on me, bnt I gain nothing by his
interference — For economical reasons I agree to live ^ith him that he may live
on me.
I RETURKED to the hotel, for my mind had been much agitated, and
I wished for quiet, and the friendship of Timothy. As soon as I ar-
rived, I told him all that had passed.
"Indeed," replied Timolhy, "things do now wear a pleasant as-
pect; for I am afraid, that without that thousand, we could not have
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 101
carried on for a forliiiglil lonjier. The bill liere is very heavy, and I'm
sure the landlord wishes to see the colour of his money."
" How much do you think we have left? It is high lime, Timothy,
that wc now make up our accounts, and arrange some plans for the fu-
ture," replied I. " I have paid the jeweller and the tailor, by the ad-
vice of the major, who says, that you should always pay your Jirst biHs
as soon as possible, and all your subsequent bills as late as possible ;
and if put oii sine die, so much the better. In fact, I owe very little
now, but the bill here; I will send for it to-night."
Here we were interrupted by the entrance of the landlord. "
Mr. Wallace, you are the very person I wished to see ; let me have
my bill, if you please."
"It's not of the least consequence, sir,' replied Ife ; "but if you
wish it, I have posted down to yesterday," and the landlord left the
room.
"You were both of one mind, at all events," said Timothy, laugh-
ing; "for he had the bill in his hand, and concealed it the moment
you asked for it."
" In about ten minutes the landlord reappeared, and presenting the
bill upon a salver, made his bow and retired. I looked it over, it
amounted to 104/., which, for little more than three weeks, vsas pretty
well. Timothy shrugged up his shoulders, while I ran over the items.
"I do not see that there is any thing to complain of, Tim," observed
I, when I came to the bottom of it; "but I do see that living here, with
the major keeping me an open house, will never do. Let us see how-
much money we have left."
Tim brought the dressing-case in which our cash was deposited, and
Ave found, that after paying the waiters, and a few small bills not yet
liquidated, our whole stock was reduced to fifty shillings.
"Merciful Heaven! what an escape," cried Timothy ; "if il had not
been for this new supply, what should we have done?"
"Very badly, Timothy; but the money is well spent, after all. I
have now entrance into the first circles. I can do without Major Cai-
bonnell ; at all events, I shall quit this hotel, and take furnished apart-
ments, and five at the clubs. I know how^ to put him off."
I laid the money on the salver, and desired Timothy to ring for the
landlord, when who should come up but the major and Harcourt.
' Why, Newldnd ! what are you going to do wilh Ihat money ?" said
I lie major.
" I am paying my bill, major. "
" Paying your bill, indeed; let us see— lOA/. () ljii.s is a confound-
ed impo>itiun. Vou mustn't pay liiis." At this moment the landlord
entered. "Mr. Wallace," faid thp Major, my friend Mr. Newland
102 .TAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
was about, as you may sec, (o pay you the whole of your demautl ;
but allow me to observe, that being my very particular friend, and the
Piazza having been particularly recommended by me, I do think that
your charges are somewhat exorbitant. I shall certainly advise Mr.
Newland to leave the house to-morrow, if you are not more reason-
able."
" Allow me to observe, major, that my reason for sending for my
bill, was to pay it before I went into the country, which I must do
to-morrow, for a few days."
" Then I shall certainly recommend Mr. Newland not to come here
when he returns, Mr. Wallace, for I hold myself, to a certain degree,
after the many dinners we have ordered here, and of which I have par-
taken, as I may* say, particeps criminiSj or in other words, as having
been a party to this extortion. Indeed, Mr. Wallace, some reduction
must be made, or you will greatly hurt the credit of your house."
Mr. Wallace declared, that really he had made nothing but the usual
charges, that he would look over the bill again, and see what he could
do.
''My dear Newland," said the major, " I have ordered your dinners,
allow me to settle your bill. Now, Mr. Wallace, suppose we take off
one-third?"
' ' One-third, Major Carbonell ! I should be a loser. "
" I am not exactly of your opinion; but let me see — now take your
choice. Take off 20/., or you lose my patronage, and that of all my
friends. Yes or no?"
The landlord, with some expostulation, at last consented : he re-
ceipted the bill, and leaving 20/. of the money on the salver, made
his bow, and retired.
" Rather fortunate that I slipped in, my dear Newland ; now there
are 20/. saved. By-the-by, I'm short of cash. You've no objection
to let me have this? I shall never pay you, you know."
" I do know jounever will pay me, major ; nevertheless, as I should
have paid it to the landlord had you not interfered, I will lend it to
you."
" You are a good fellow, Newland," said the major, pocketing the
money. " If I had borrowed it, and you had thought you would
have had it repaid, I should not have thanked you; but as you lend it
me with your eyes open, it is nothing more than a very delicate man-
ner of obliging me, and I tell you candidly, that I will not forget it.
So you really are off to-morrow?"
"Yes," replied I, "I must go, for I find that I am not to make
ducks and drakes of my money, until I come into possession of my
properly."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 103
' ' I see, my dear fellow. Execulors are the very devil ; they have
no feeling. Never mind ; there's a way of getting to windward of (hem .
I dine with Harcourt, and he has come to ask you to join us.'
" With pleasure.'
'• I shall expect you at seven, Newland," said Harcourt, as he quil-
ted the room with the major.
"Dear me, sir, how could you let that gentleman walk off with
your money ? " cried Timothy. " I was just rubbing my hands with
the idea that we were "20/. better off than we thought, and away if
went, like smoke."
" And will never come back again, Tim ; but never mind that, it is
important that I make a friend of him, and his friendship is only to be
bought. I shall have value received. And now, Tim, we must pack
up, for I leave this to-morrow morning. I shall go down to ,
and see little Fleta."
I dined with Harcourt. The major was rather curious to know
what it was which appeared to flurry Lord Windermear, and what had
passed between us. I told him that his lordship was displeased on
money matters, but that all was right, only that I must be more care-
ful for the future. " Indeed, major, I think I shall take lodgings. I
shall be more comfortable, and belter able to receive. my friends."
Harcourt agreed with me, that it was a much better plan, when the
major observed, "Why, Newland, I have a room quila at your ser-
vice ; suppose you come and live with me?"
" I am afraid I shall not save by that," replied I, laughing, " for
you will not pay your share of the bills."
"No, upon my honour I will not; so I give you fair warning; but
as I always dine with you when I do not dine elsewhere, it will be a
saving to you — for you will save your lodgiiigs. Newland ; and you
know the house is my own, and I let off the rest of it ; so as far as that
bill is concerned, you will be safe."
" Make the best bargain you can, Newland," said Harcourt : " ac-
cept his offer, for depend upon it, it will be a saving in the end."
*' It certainly deserves consideration," replied I ; " and the major's
company must be allowed to have its due weight in the scale ; if Car-
bonnell will promise to be a little more economical "
" I will, my dear fellow — I will act as your steward, and m.ake
your money last as long as I can, for my own sake, as well as yours.
Is it a bargain? I have plenty of room for your servant, and if he
will assist me a little, I will discharge my own." I then consented to.
the arran^emen.t.
104 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Major teaches me how to play Whist, so as never to lose, which is by playing
against each other, and into each other's hands.
The next day I went to the banker's, drew out 150/., and set off
with Timothy for . Fleta threw herself into my arms, and sobbed
with joy. When I told her Timothy was outside, and wished to see
her, she asked why he did not come in ; and, to show how much she
had been accustomed to see, without making remarks, when he made
his appearance in his livery, she did not, by her countenance, express
the least surprise, nor, indeed, did she put any questions to me on the
subject. The lady who kept the school praised her very much for
docility and attention, and shortly after left the room. Fleta then took
the chain from around her neck into her hand, and told me that she
did recollect son^elhing about it, which was, that the lady whom she
remembered, wore a long pair of ear-rings, of the same make and ma-
terials. She could not, however, call to mind any thing else. I re-
mained with the little girl for three hours, and then returned to
London — taking my luggage from the hotel, and installed myself into
the apartments of Major Carbonnell.
The major adhered to his promise ; we certainly lived w^ell, for he
could not live othervise; but in every other point, he was very careful
not to add to expense. The season was now over, and every body of
consequence quitted the metropolis. To remain in town would be to
lose caste, and we had a conference where we should proceed.
" Newland," said the major, "you have created a sensation this
season, which has done great honour to my patronage ; but I trust, next
spring, that I shall see you form a good alliance ; for believe me, out
of the many heartless beings we have mingled with, there are still not
only daughters, but mothers, who are not influenced by base and sordid
views."
" Why, Carbonell, T never heard you venture upon so long a moral
speech before."
"True, Newland, and it may be a long while before I do so again ;
the world is my oyster, which I must open, that I may live ; but re-
collect, I am only trying to recover my own. which the world ha-^
swindled me out of. There was a time when I was even more disin-
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 105
tercsted, more confiding, and more innocent than you were wlien I
lirsl took you in hand. I suffered, and was ruined by my good qua-
lities; and I now live and do well by having discarded Ihem. We
must fight the world with its own weapons ; but still, as I said before,
there is some good in it, some pure ore amongst the dross ; and it is
possible to find high rank and large fortune, and at the same lime an
innocent mind. If you do marry, I will try hard but you shall possess
both ; not that fortune can be of much consequence to you."
" Depend upon il. Carbonnell, I never will marry without for-
tune."
" I did not know that 1 had schooled you so well ; be it so — it is but
fair that you should expect it ; audit shall be an item in the match, if
I have any thing to do with it.'"
" But why are you so anxious that I should marry, Carbonnell ?"
" Because I think you will, in all probability, avoid the gaming-
table, which I should have taken you to myself had you been in pos-
session of your fortune when I first knew you, and have had my share
of your plucking ; but now I do know you, I have that affection for
you that I think it better you should not lose your all : for observe,
Newland, my share of your spoliation would not be more than what I
have, and may still receive, from you ; and if you marry and settle
down, there will always be a good house and a good table for me, as
long as I find favour with your wife ; and, at all events, a friend in
need, that I feel convinced of. So now you have my reasons ; some
smack of the disinterestedness of former days, others of my present
w'orldliness ; you may believe which you please." And the major
laughed as he finished his speech.
" Carbonnell," replied I, " I will believe that the better feelings
predominate — that the world has made you what you are ; and that
had you not been ruined by the world, you would have been disin-
terested and generous ; even now, your real nature often gains the
ascendency, and I am sure that in all that you have done, which is
not defensible, your poverty, and not your will, has consented. Now,
blunted by habit and time, the suggestions of conscience do not often
give you any uneasiness."
" You are very right, my dear fellow," replied the major ; " and
in having a better opinion of me than the world in general, you do me,
I trust, no more than justice. I will not squander ^/ow?* fortune, when
you come to it, if I can help it ; and you'll allow that's a very hand-
some promise on my part. "
" I'll defy you to squander my fortune," replied I, laughing.
'' Nay, don't defy me, Newland, for if you do, you 11 j»ut me on my
mellle. Above all. don't lav me a bet, for that will be still more dan-
106 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
gcTOUS. We have only spent about four hundred of the thousand since
we have Hved together, which I consider highly economical. What
do you say, shall we go to Cheltenham.? You will find plenty of
Irish girls, looking out for husbands, who will give you a warm re-
ception."
" I hate your fortune and establishment hunters," replied I.
•' I grant that they are looking out for a good match, so are all the
world*; hut let me do them justice. Although, if you proposed, in three
days they would accept you; yet once married, they make the very
best wives in the world. But recollect we must go somewhere ; and I
think Cheltenham is as good a place as any other. I do not mean for
a wife, but — it will suit my own views."
This last observation decided me, and in a few days we were at
Cheltenham ; and having made our appearance at the rooms, were
soon in the vortex of society. " Newland," said Carbonnell, " I dare
say you find time hang rather heavy in this monotonous place."
" ^'ot at all," replied I; " what with dining out, dancing, and pro-
menading, I do very well."
'* But we must do better. Tell me, are you a good band at whist?"
" Not by any means. Indeed, I hardly know the game."
" It is a fashionable and necessary accomplishment. I must make
you master of it, and our mornings shall be dedicated to the work."
"Agreed," replied I; and from that day, every morning after
breakfast till four o'clock, the major and I were shut up, playing two
dummies under his instruction. Adept as he was, I very soon learnt
all the finesse and beauty of the game.
" You will do now, Newland," said the major one morning, tossing
the cards away. "Recollect, if you are asked to play, and I have
agreed, do not refuse; but we must always play against each other."
' ' I don't see what we shall gain by that," replied I ; " for if I win,
you'll lose."
" Never do you mind that: only follow my injunctions, and play as
high as they choose. We only stay here three weeks longer, and must
make the most of our time."
I confess I was quite puzzled at what might be the major's inten-
tions ; but that night we sauntered into the club. Not having made
our appearance before, we were considered as new hands by those who
did not know the major, and were immediately requested to make up
a game. " Upon my word, gentlemen, in the first place, I play very
badly," replied the major ; " and in the next," continued he, laugh-
ing, " if I lose, I never shall pay you, for I'm cleaned out."
The way in which the major said this only excited a smile ; he was
not believed, and I was also requested to take a hand. " I'll not play
.lAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
lOT
with the major, " observed I, " for he plays badly, and has bad luck
into the bargain ; I might as well lay my money down on the
table."
This was agreed to by the other parties, and we sat down. The
hrst rubber ofshorl whik was won by the major and his partner ; with
the bets it amounted to eighteen pounds. I pulled out my purse to pay
the major; but he refused, saying, "No, ^ewland, pay my partner ;
and with you, sir," said he, addressing my partner, " I will allow the
debt to remain until we rise from the table. Newland, we are not
going to let you off yet, I can tell you."
I paid my eighteen pounds, and we recommenced. Although his
partner did not perhaps observe it, for he was but an indifferent player,
or if he did observe it, had the politeness not to say any thing, the ma-
jor now played very badly. He lost three rubbers one after another,
and, with bets and' stakes, they amounted to one' hundred and forty
pounds. At the end of the lastVubberhe threw up the cards, exclaim-
ing against his luck, and declaring that he would play no more. ''How
are we now, sir ?" said he to my partner.
"You owed me, I think, eighteen pounds."
' ' H^hteen from one hundred and forty, leaves one hundred and
Iwenty-two pounds, which I now owe you. You must, I'm airaid,
allow me to be your debtor," continued the major, in a most insinuat-
ing manner. " I did not come here with the intention of playing.
I presume I shall find you here to-morrow-night.
The gentleman bowed, and appeared quite satisfied. Major Car-
bonnell's partner paid me one hundred and forty pounds, which I put
in my pocket-book, and we quitted the club.
CHAPTEll XXV.
and consider to rermid, a work of supererogation— In
looking after my father, I obey the ohl adage, " Follow your nose."
As soon as we were in the street, I commenced an inquiry as to
the major's motives : " Not one word, my dear fellow, until we
are at home," replied he. As soon as we arrived, he threw himself in
a chair, and crossing his legs, commenced : " You observe, Newland,
that I am verv careful that vou shotild do nothing to injure your cha-
108 .TAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHEll
racter. As for my own, all llie honesly in tlu' world will not redeem
il; nolhing but a peerage will ever set me right again in this world,
and a coronet will cover a multitude of sins. I have thought it my
duty to add something to our finances, and intend to add very consi-
derably to them before we leave Cheltenham. You have won one
hundred and twenty-eight pounds."
" Yes," replied I ; " but you have lost it."
" Granted ; but, as in most cases, I never mean to pay my losses,
you see that it must be a winning speculation as long as we play against
each other."
*' I perceive," replied I ; " but am not I a confederate?"
"■ No; you paid when you lost, and took your money when you
won. Leave me to settle my own debts of honour."
" But you will meet him again to-morrow night."
" Yes, and I willtell you why. I never thought it possible that we
could have met two such bad players at the club. We must now play
against them, and we must win in the long run : by which means I
shall pay off the debt I owe him, and you will win and pocket money."
"Ah," replied I, "if you mean to allow him a chance for his
money, I have no objection — that will be all fair." #
" Depend upon it, Newland, when I know that people play as badly
as they do, I will not refuse them ; but when we sit down with others,
it mwst be as it was before — we must [)lay against each other, and I
shall owe the money. I told the fellow that I never would pay him."
" Yes; but he thought you were only joking."
" That is his fault — I was in earnest. T could not have managed
this had it not been that you are known to be a young man of ten thou-
sand pounds per annum, and supposed to be my dupe. I tell you so
candidly; and now good night."
I turned the affair over in my mind as I undressed — it was not
honest — but I paid when I lost, and I only look the money when I
won, — still I did not like it ; but the bank notes caught my eye as they
lay on the table, and 1 was satisfied. Alas ! how easy are scru-
ples removed when we want money ! How many are there who,
when in a slate of prosperity and affluence, when not tried by temp-
tation, would have blushed at the bare idea of a dishonest action, have
raised and held up their hands in abhorrence when they have heard
that others have been found guilty ; and yet, wlien in adversity, have
themselves committed tlie very acts which before they so loudly con-
demned I How many of the other sex, who have expressed their in-
dignation and contempt at those who have fallen, when tempted, have
fallen themselves ! Let us therefore be charitable ; none of us can tell
to what we mav be reduced by rircumstaRce? ; and when we acknow-
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
100
ledse llial Ihe error is great, le( us feel sorrow and pity rather than
indlgnalion and pray that we also may not be " led into tempta-
tion.'
As asreed upon, the next evening we repaired to the club, and found
the two gentlemen ready to receive us. This time the major refused
to play unless it was with me, as I had such good fortune, and no dif-
ficulty was made by our opponents. We sat down and played till four
uclock in the morning. At first, notwithstanding our good play, for-
tune favoured our adversaries; but the luck soon changed, and the
result of the evening was, that the major had a balance in his favour
of forty pounds, and I rose a winner of one hundred and seventy-one
pounds, so that in two nights we had won three hundred and forty-two
pounds. For nearly three weeks this continued, the major not paying
when not convenient, and we quitted Cheltenham with about eight hun-
dred pounds in our pockets ; the major having paid about one hundred
and twenty pounds to dilTerent people who frequented the club; but
thev were' Irishmen, who were not to be trifled with. I proposed to
the' major that we should pay those debts, as there slill would be a
large surplus: he rephed, " Give me the money." 1 did so. "Now,"
coutinHcdhe, " so far your scruples are removed, as you will have been
strictly honest ; but, my dear fellow, if you knew how many debts of
this sort are due to me, of which I never did touch one farthing, you
would feel as I do— that it is excessively foolish to part with money. 1
have them all booked here, and may some day pay when conve-
nient; but, at present, most decidedly it is not so." The major put
the notes into his pocket, and the conversation was dropped.
The nextmoniing we had ordered our horses, when Timothy came
up tome, and made a sign, as we were at breakfast, for me to come
out. I followed him.
" Oh ! sir, I could not help telling you, but there is a gentleman with—'
" With what ?" replied I, hastily.
" With your nose, sir, exactly— and in other respects very like you
— just about the age vour father should be."
- Where is he^Timolhy ?" replied, I, all my feelings in ' search of
mv father,' rushing into my mind.
'"Down below, sir, about to set ofY in a postchaise and four, now
waiting at the door."
I ran down with my breakfast napkin in my hand, and hastened
to the portico of the hotel— he was in his carriage, and the porter was
then shutting the door. I looked at him. lie was, as Timothy said,
very like melndeed, the nose exact. I was breathless, and I continued
gaze.
All right," cried the ostler.
no JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
" I beg your pardon, sir, ,"saidl, addressing the gentleman
in Ihe carriage, who perceiving a napkin in my hand, probably look
me for one of Ihe waiters, for he replied very abruptly, ' I have re-
membered you ;' and pulling up the glass, away whirled the chariot,
the nave of the hind wheel striking me a blow on the thigh which
numbed it so, that it was with difficulty 1 could limp up to our apart-
ments, when I threw myself on the sofa in a state of madness and
despair.
"Good heavens, ?>ewland, what is the matter?' cried the major.
''Matter," replied I, faintly. " I have seen my father."
" Your father, TSewland? you must be mad. He was dead before
vou could recollect him — at least so you told me. How then, even
if it were his ghost, could you have recognized him ?"
The majors remarks reminded me of the imprudence I had been
guilty of.
" Major," replied I, " I believe I am very absurd; but he was so
like me, and I have so often longed after my father, so long wished to
see him face to face — that — that I'm a great fool, that's the fact. "
"You must go to the next world, my good fellow, to meet him face
to face, that's clear; and I presume, upon a little consideration, you
will feel inclined to postpone your journey. Very often in your sleep I
have heard you talk about your father, and vrondered why you should
think so much about him. '
"I cannot help it, ' replied I. '-From my earliest days my father
has ever been in my thoughts."
" I can only say, that very few sons are half so dutiful to their fa-
thers' memories — but finish your breakfast, and then we start for
London.'
I complied with his request as well as I could, and we were soon
on our road. I fell into a reverie — my object was to again find out
this person, and I quietly directed Timothy to ascertain from the post-
boys the directions he gave at the last stage. The major perceiving
me not inclined to talk, made but few observations; one, however,
struck me. " \\'indermear," said he, " I recollect one day, when I
was praising you, said carelessly, ' that you were a fine young man,
but a little teie montee upon one point.' I see now it must have
been upon this." I made no reply, but it certainly was a strange
circumstance that the major never had any suspicions on this point —
yet he certainly never had. We had once or twice talked over my
afi'airs. I had led him to suppose that my father and mother died in
my infancy, and that I should have had a large fortune when T came
of age ; but this had been entirely by indirect replies, not by positive
assertions : the fact was, that the major, who was an adept in all de-
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. Ill
ceit, never had an idea that lie could have been deceived by one so
young, so prepossessing, and apparently so ingenuous as myself. He
had, in fact, deceived himself. His ideas of my fortime arose entirely
from my asking him, whether he would have refused the name of
Japhet for ten thousand pounds per annum. Lord Windcrmear, after
having introduced me, did not consider it at all necessary to acquaint
the major with my real history, as it was imparled to him in con-
fidence. He allowed matters to take their course, and me to work
my own way in the world. Thus do the most cunning overreach
themselves, and with their eyes open to any deceit on the part of others,
prove quite blind when they deceive themselves.
Timothy could not obtain any intelligence from the people of the inn
at the last stage, except that the chariot had proceeded to London.
We arrived late at night, and, much exhausted, I was glad to go to
bed. \
CHAPTER XXVL
In following my nose, I narrowly escaped being nosed by a Beak.
And as I lay in my bed, thinking that I was now nearly twenty
years old, and had not yet made any discovery, my heart sank within
me. My monomania returned with redoubled force, and I resolved
to renew my search with vigour. So I told Timothy the next morn-
ing, when he came into my room, but from him I received little con-
solation ; he advised me to look out for a good match in a rich wife,
and leave time to develop the mystery of my birth ; pointing out the
little chance I ever had of success.
Town was not full, the season had hardly commenced, and we had
few invitations or visits to distract my thoughts from their object. ]\Iy
leg became so painful, that for a week I was on the sofa, Timothy
every day going out to ascertain if he could find the person w^hom we
had seen resembling me, and every evening returning without success.
I became melancholy and nervous. Carbonnell could not imagine
what was the matter with me. At last I was able to walk, and I sal-
lied forth, perambulating, or rather running through street after street,
looking into every carriage, so as to occasion surprise to the occu-
pants who believed me mad ; my dress and person were disordered.
112 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
for I liad becomo indifTerent to il, and Timolhy liimself believed tbat I
was going out of my senses.
At last, after we had been iii town about five weeks, I saw the very
object of my search, seated in a carriage, of a dark brown colour, arms
painted in shades, so as not to be distinguishable but at a near ap-
proach; his hat was olT, and he sat upright and formally. "That is
he!" ejaculated I, and away I ran after the carriage. "It is the
nose," cried I, as I ran down the street, knocking every one to the
right and left. I lost my hat, but fearful of losing sight of the carriage,
I hastened on, when I heard a cry of "Stop him, stop him!" "Stop
him," cried I, also, referring to the gentleman in black in the car-
riage.
'.* That won't do," cried a man, seizing me by the collar ; " I know
a trick worth two of that. "
"Let me go," roared I, struggling ; but he only held me the faster.
I tussled with the man until my coat and shirt were torn, but in vain ;
the crowd now assembled, and I was fast. The fact was, that a pick-
pocket had been exercising his vocation at the time that I was running
past, and from my haste, and loss of my hat, I was supposed to be the
criminal. The police took charge of me — I pleaded innocence in vain,
and I was dragged before the magistrate," at Marlborough Street. My
appearance, the disorder of my dress, my coat and shirt in ribbons,
with no iiat, were certainly not at all in my favour, when I made my
appearance, led in by two Bow Street officers.
"Whom have we here ?" inquired the magistrate.
"A pickpocket, sir," replied they.
"Ahl oneof the swell mob," replied he. "Are there any witnesses?"
"Yes, sir," replied a young man, coming forward. " I was walking
up Bond Street, when I felt a tug at my pocket, and when I turned
round, this chap was running away."
" Can you swear to his person ?"
There were plenty to swear that I was the person who ran away.
"Now, sir, have you any thing to offer in your defence?" said the
magistrate.
"Yes, sir," replied I ; "I certainly was running down the street; and
it may be, for all I know or care, that this person's pocket may have
been picked — but I did not pick it. I am a gentleman."
"All your fraternity lay claim to gentility," replied the magistrate;
' perhaps you will state why you were running down the street."
" I was running after a carriage, sir, that I might speak to the per-
son inside of it."
"Pray who was the person inside?"
" 1 do not know, sir."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 1 Ilj
"' Why should you run after a person you do not know?"
' ' It was because of his nose."
" His wo^e?" replied the magistrate angrily. "Do you think to tritle
with me, sir? You shall now follow your own nose to prison. Make
out his committal."
"As you please, sir," replied I ; "but still I have told you the truth ;
if you will allow any one to take a note, I will soon prove my respec-
tability. I ask it in common justice."
"Be it so," replied the magistrate ; "let him sit down within the
bar till the answer comes."
In less than an hour, my note to Major Carbonnell was answered by
his appearance in person, followed by Timothy. Carbonnell walked
up to the magistrate, while Timothy asked the olTicers in an angry
tone, what they had been doing to his master. This rather startled
them, but both they and the magistrate were much surprised when the
major asserted that I was his most particular friend, Mr. Newland,
who possessed ten thousand pounds per annum, and who was as well
known in fashionable society, as any young man of fortune about town.
The magistrate explained what had passed, and asked the major if I was
not a little deranged ; but the major, who perceived what was the cause
of my strange behaviour, told him that somebody had insulted me, and
that I was very anxious to lay hold of the person, who had avoided
me, and who must have been in that carriage.
"lam afraid, that after your explanation, Major Carbonnell, I must,
as a magistrate, bind over your friend, Mr. Newland, to keep the
peace."
To this I consented, the major and. Timothy being taken as recog-
nizances, and then I was permitted to depart. The major sent for a
hackney coach, and when we were going home he pointed out to me
the folly of my conduct, and received my promise to be more careful
for the future. Thus did this affair end, and for a short time I was
more careful in my appearance, and not so very anxious to look into
carriages; still, however, the idea haunted me, and I was often very
melancholy. It was about a month afterwards, that 1 was sauntering
w ilh the major, who now considered me to be insane upon that point,
and who would seldom allow me to go out without him, when I again
perceived the same carriage, with the gentleman inside as before.
"There he is, major," cried I.
" There is who?" replied he.
" The man so like my father."
" What, in that carriage? that is the Bishop of E , my good
ft^llow. What a strange idea you have in your head, Newland ; it al-
8
114 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHEK.
most amounis to madness. Do not be staring in that way — come
along."
Still my head was turned quite round, looking at the carriage after it
had passed, till it was out of sight ; but I knew who the party was, and
for the time I was satisfied, as I determined to find out his address, and
call upon him. I narrated to Timothy what had occurred, and re-
ferring to the Red Book, I looked out the bishop's town address, and
the next day, after breakfast, having arranged my toilet with the utmost
precision, I made an excuse to the major, and set off to Portland Place.
CHAPTER XXVII.
AChapterof Mistakes— No benefit of Clergy— 1 attack a BisTiop, and am beaten olT—
The Major hedges upon the filly stakes.
My hand trembled as I knocked at the door. I sent in my card,
requesting the honour of an audience with his lordship. After waiting
a lew minutes in an ante-room, T was ushered in. " My lord," said
I, in a flurried manner, " will you allow me to have a few minutes
conversation with you alone?"
" This gentleman is my secretary, sir, but if you wish it, certainly ;
lor although he is my confidant, I have no right to insist that he shall
be yours. Mr. Temple, will you oblige me by going up stairs for a
little while."
The secretary quitted the room, the bishop pointed to a chair, and I
sal down. I looked him earnestly in the face— the nose was exact, and
I imagined that even in the other features I could distinguish a resem-
blance. I was satisfied that I had at last gained the object of my search.
" I believe, sir," observed I, " that you will acknowledge, that in the
heat and impetuosity of youth, we often rush into hasty and improvi-
dent connexions."
I paused, with my eyes' fixed upon his. " Very true, my young
sir; and when we do we are ashamed, and repent of them afterwards,"
replied the bishop, rather astonished.
♦' I grant that, sir," replied I ;" but at the same time, we must feel
that we must abide by the results, however unpleasant."
♦' When we do wrong, Mr. Newland," replied the bishop, first
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 11.-)
looking at my card, and then upon me, '' we find that we are not only
to be punished in the next world, but suffer for it also in this. I trust
you have no reason for such suffering ?' '
" Unfortunately, the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children,
and, in that view, T may say that I have suffered."
" My dear sir," replied the bishop, " I trust you will excuse me,
when I say, that my time is rather valuable ; if you have any thin^ of
importance to communicate — any thing upon which you would ask my
advice — for assistance you do not appear to require, do me the favour
to proceed at once to the point."
" I will, sir, be as concise as the matter will admit of. Allow me,
then, to ask you a few questions, and I trust to your honour, and the
dignity of your profession, for a candid answer. Did you not marpy a
young woman early in Ufe ? and were you not very much pressed in
your circumstances ?"
The bishop stared. " Really, Mr. Newland, it is a strange question,
and I cannot im.agine to what it may lead, but still I will answer it. I
did marry early in life, and I was, at that time, not in very afiliieiit
circumstances."
" You had a child by that marriage — your eldest born— a boy ?"
" That is also true, Mr. Newland," replied the bishop, gravely.
" How long is it since you have seen him f
" It is many years," replied the bishop, putting his handkerchief up
to his eyes.
" Answer me, now, sir; — did you not desert him?"
" No, no ! ' replied the bishop. " It is strange that you should ap-
pear to know so much about the matter, Mr. Newland, as you could
have hardly been born. I was poor then — very poor; but although I
could ill afford it, he had fifty pounds from me."
" But, sir," rephed I, much agitated ; " why have you not reclaimed
him ?"
" I would have reclaimed him, Mr. Newland — but what could I do
— he was not to be reclaimed; and now — he is lost for ever."
" Surely, sir, in your present affluence, you must wish to see him
again?"
" He died, and I trust he has gone to heaven," replied the bishop,
covering up his face.
* ' No, sir," replied I, throwing myself on my knees before him, " he
did not die, here he is at your feet, to ask your blessing."
The bishop sprang from his chair. " What does this mean, sir?'
said he with astonishment. " You my son I"
" Yes, reverend father — your son; who, with fifty pounds you
left "
no JAPHET, L\ SEARCH OF A FATHER.
" On the top of the Porstmouth coach!"
" No, sir, in Ihe basket."
" My son! sir, — impossible; he died in the hospital.'
" No, sir, he has come out of the hospital," replied I ; *' and as you
peFceive, safe and well."
" Either, sir, this must be some strange mistake, or you must be
trifling with me," replied his lordship ; *' for, sir, I was at his death-
bed, and followed him to his grave."
" Are you sure of that, sir?" replied I, starling up with amazement.
" I wish that I was not, sir — for I am now childless; but pray, sir,
who and what are you, who know so much of my former life, and who
would have thus imposed upon me?"
" Imposed upon you, sir!" replied I, perceiving that I was in error,
" Alas! I would do no such thing. Who am I? I am a young man
who is in search of his father. Your face, and especially yournose, so
resembled mine, that I made sure that I had succeeded. Pity me, sir
— pity me," continued I, covering up my face with my hands.
The bishop, perceiving that there was little of the impostor in my ap-
pearance, and that I was much affected, allowed a short time for me
lo recover myself, and then entered into an explanation. When a
curate, he had had an only son, very wild, who would go to sea in
spite of his remonstrances.
He saw him depart by the Portsmouth coach, and gave him the sum
mentioned. His son received a mortal wound in action, and was sent
to the Plymouth hospital, where he died. I then entered into my ex-
planation in a few concise sentences, and with a heart beating with dis-
appointment, took my leave. The bishop shook hands with me 'as I
quitted the room, and wished me better success at my next appli-
cation.
I went home almost in despair. Timothy consoled me as well as
he could, and advised me to go as much as possible into society, as the
most likely chance of obtaining my wish ; not that he considered there
was any chance, but he thought that amusement would restore me to
my usual spirits. " I will go and visit little Fleta," replied I, " for a
few days; the sight of her will do me more good than any thing else."
And the next day I set off for the town of , where I found the dear
little girl, much grown, and much improved. I remained with her
for a week, walking with her in the country, amusing her, and amused
myself with our conversation. At the close of the week I bade her
farewell, and returned to the major's lodgings.
I was astonished to find him in deep mourning. " My dear Car-
bonnell," said I, inquiringly, " I hope no severe loss?"
" Nay, mv dear Newland, I should be a hypocrite if I said so; far
JAPHET. IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 11 T
there never was a more merry mourner, and thal's llie Irulli ofil. Mr.
M , who. you know, slood between me and the peerage, has been
drowned in the Rhone ; I now liave a squeak for it. His wife has one
daughter, and is enceinte. Should the child prove a boy, I am done
for ; but if a girl, I must then come in to the barony, and fifteen thou-
sand pounds per annum. However, I've hedged pretty handsomely. '
" How do you mean?"
" Why they say that when a woman commences with girls, she ge-
nerally goes on, and the odds are two to one that Mrs. M has a
girl. I have taken the odds at the clubs to the amount of fifteen thou-
sand pounds ; so if it be a girl, I shall have to pay that out of my fifteen
thousand pounds per annum, as soon as 1 fall into it; if it be a boy,
and I am tloored, I shall pocket thirty thousand pounds by way of con-
solation for the disappointment They are all good men."
"Yes, but they know you never pay."
'' They know I never do now, because I have no money ; but they
know I will pay if I come into the estate ; and so I will, most honour-
ably,' besides a few more thousands that I have in my book."
"I congratulate you, with all my heart, major. How old is the
present Lord B ? "
" I have just been examining the peerage — he is sixty-two; but he
is very fresh and hearty, and may live a long while yet. By-the-by,
Xewland, I committed a great error last night at the club. I jdayed
pretty high, and lost a great deal of money."
" That is unfortunate.'
'■' That was not the error; I actually paid all my losings, Newland,
and it has reduced the stock amazingly. I lost seven hundred and
fifty pounds. I know I ought not to have paid away your money, but the
fact was, as I was hedging, it would not do not to have paid, as I could
not have made up my book as I wished. It is, however, only waiting a
few weeks, till Mrs. M decides my fate, and then, either one way
or the other, I shall have money enough. If your people won't give
you any more till you are of age, why we must send to a little friend
of mine, that's all, and you shall borrow for both of us."
" Borrow I " replied I, not much liking the idea; " they will never
lend me money."
** Won't they?" replied the major; " no fear of that. Your signa-
ture, and ray introduction, will be quite sufficient. "
*' We had better try to do without it, major; I do not much like
It."
"Well, if we can, we will ; but I have not fifty pounds left in my
desk ; how much have you?"
" About twenty," replied I, in despair at this intelligence; "but I
118 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
think there is a small sum left at the banker's; I will go and see." 1
took up my hat and set off, to ascertain what funds we might have in
store.
CHAPTER XXVIIl.
I am over head and ears in trouble about a lady's ear-rings; commit myself sadly,
and am very nearly committed.
i MUST say, that I was much annoyed at this intelligence. The
money-lenders would not be satisfied unless they knew where my es-
tates were, and had examined the will at Doctors' Commons; then all
would be exposed to the major, and I should be considered by him as
an impostor. I walked down Pall Mall in a very unhappy mood, so
deep in thought, that I ran against a lady, who was stepping out of her
carriage at a fashionable shop. She turned round, and I was making
my best apologies to a very handsome woman, when her ear-rings
caught my attention. They were of alternate coral and gold, and the
fac-simile in make to the chain given by Natte to Fleta. During my
last visit, I had often had the chain in my hand, and particularly marked
the workmanship. To make more sure, I followed into the shop,
and stood behind her, carefully examining them, as she looked over a
quantity of laces. There could be no doubt. I waited till the lady
rose to go away, and then addressed the shopman, asking the lady's
name. He did not know — she was a stranger ; but perhaps Mr. H ,
the master, did, and he went back so answer the question. Mr. H
being at that moment busy, the man stayed so long, that I heard the
carriage drive off. Fearful of losing sight of the lady, I took to my
heels, and ran out of the shop. My sudden flight from the counter,
covered with lace, made them imagine that I had stolen some, and
they cried out, " Stop thief," as loud as they could, springing over the
counter, and pursuing me sis I pursued the carriage, which was driven
at a rapid pace.
A man perceiving me running, and others, without their hats, fol-
lowing, with the cries of " Stop thief," put out his leg, and I fell on the
pavement, the blood rushing in torrents from my nose. I was seized,
roughly handled, and again handed over to the police, who carried me
before the same magistrate in Marlborough Street.
" What is this? " demanded the magistrate.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. U'J
* ' A shoplifter, your worship. "
= 'I am Dot, sir," replied I; " you know me well enough, I am
Mr. TS'ewland."
"Mr. Newland!" replied the magistrate, suspiciously; "this is
strange, a second time to appear before me upon such a charge."
" And just as innocent as before, sir."
" You'll excuse me, sir, but I must have my suspicions this lime.
Where is the evidence?"
The people of the shop then came forward, and stated what had oc-
curred. " Let him be searched," said the magistrate.
I was searched, but nothing was found upon me. "Are you satis-
fied now, sir?" inquired I.
" By no means. Let the people go back and look over their laces,
and see if any are missing; in the mean time I shall detain you, for it
is very easy to get rid of a small article, such as lace, when you are
caught."
The men went away, and I wrote a note to Major Carbonell, re-
questing his attendance. He arrived at the same time as the shopman,
and I told him what had happened. The shopman declared that the
stock was not correct ; as far as they could judge, there were two
pieces of lace missing.
" If so, I did not take them," replied L
" Upon my honour, Mr. B ," said the major, to the magistrate,
" it is very hard for a gentleman to be treated in this manner. This
is the second time that I have been sent for to vouch for his respecta-
bility."
"Very true, sir," replied the magistrate; "but allow me to ask
Mr. Newland, as he calls himself, what induced him to follow a lady
into the shop ? "
"Her ear-rings," replied L
" Her ear-rings! why, sir, the last time you were brought before
me, you said it was after a gentleman's nose — now it appears you were
attracted by a lady's ears ; and pray, sir, what induced you to run out
of the shop?"
"Because I wanted particularly to inquire about her ear-rings,
sir."
"I cannot understand these paltry excuses; there are, it appears,
two pieces of lace missing. I must remand you for further examina-
tion, sir; and you also, sir," said the magistrate, to Major Carbonnell ;
" for if he is a swindler, you must be an accomplice."
"Sir," replied Major Carbonnell, sneeringly, " you are certainly
a very good judge of a gentleman, when you happen by accident to be
120 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
in his company. Willi your leave, I will send a note to another con-
federate."
The major then w rote a note to Lord Windermear, which he des-
patched by Timothy, who, hearing I was in trouble, had accompa-
nied the major. And while he was away, the major and I sat down,
he giving himself all manner of airs, much to the annoyance of the
magistrate, who at last threatened to commit him immediately.
" You'll repent this," replied the major, who perceived Lord Win-
dermear coming in.
'' You shall repent it, sir, by God," cried the magistrate, in a greal
passion.
" Put five shillings in the box forswearing, Mr. B . You fine
other people," said the major. " Here is my other confederate, Lord
Windermear."
" Carbonnell," said Lord Windermear, " what is all this?"
" Nothing, my lord, except that our friend Newland is taken up for
shoplifting, because he thought proper to run after a pretty woman's
carriage ; and I am accused by his worship of being his confederate.
I could forgive his suspicions of Mr. Newland in that plight ; but as for
his taking me for one of the swell mob, it proves a great deficiency of
judgment ; perhaps he will commit your lordship also, as he may not
he aware that your lordship's person is above caption."
" I can assure you, sir," said Lord Windermear, proudly, "that
this is mv relative. Major Carbonnell, and the other is my friend, Mr.
Newland. I will bail them for any sum you please. '
The magistrate felt astonished and annoyed, for, after all, he had
only done his duty. Before he could reply, a man came from the shop
to say that the laces had been found all right. Lord Windermear then
took me aside, and I narrated what had happened. He recollected the
story of Fleta in my narrative of my life, and felt that I was right in
trying to find out w^ho the lady w^as. The magistrate now apologized
lor the detention, but explained to his lordship how I had before made
my appearance upon another charge, and with a low bow we were
dismissed.
''My dear Mr. Newland," said his lordship, " I trust that this will
be a warning to you, not to run after other people's noses and ear-
rings ; at the same time, I will certainly keep a look out for those verv
ear-rings myself. Major, I wish you a good morning."
His lordship then shook us both by the hand, and saying that he
should be glad to see more of me than he latterly had done, stepped into
his carriage and drove off.
"What the devil did his lordship mean about ear-rings, Newland?"
Inquired the major.
.TAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 121
*' 1 loid him thai 1 was examining the lady's ear-rings, as very re-
markable," replied I.
" You appear to be able to deceive every body but me, my good
fellow. I know that you were examining the lady herself. " I left the
major in his error, by making no reply.
CHAPTER XXIX.
I borrow money upon my estate, and upon very favourable terms
When I came down to breakfast the next morning, the major said-
' ' My dear Newland, I have taken the liberty of requesting a very old
friend of mine to come and meet you this morning. I will not disguise
from you that it is Emmanuel, the money-lender. Money you must
have until my affairs are decided, one way or the other; and, in this
instance, I will most faithfully repay the sum borrowed, as soon as I
receive the amount of my bets, or am certain of succeeding to the title,
which is one and the same thing."
I bit my lips, for I was not a little annoyed; but what could be done?
I must have either confessed my real situation to the major, or have
appeared to raise scruples, which, as the supposed heir to a large for-
tune, would have appeared to him to be very frivolous. I thought it
better to let the affair take its chance. ">yell," replied I, "if it must
be, it must be : but it shall be on my own terms."
'• Nay," observed the major, " there is no fear but that he will con-
sent, and without any trouble."
After a moment's reflection, I went up stairs and rang for Timothy.
" Tim," said I, " hear me ; I now make you a solemn promise, on my
honour as a gentleman, that I will never borrow money upon interest,
and until you release me from it, I shall adhere to my word."
" Very well, sir," replied Timothy; " I guess your reason for so
doing, and I expect you w ill keep your word. Is that all '? "
"Yes ; now you may take up the urn."
We had finished our breakfast, when Timothy announced Mr. Em-
manuel, who followed him into the room. "Well, old cent per cent,
how are you?" said the major. "Allow me to introduce my most par-
ticular friend, Mr. Newland."
' Auh! Master Major, " replied the descendant of Abraham, a little
122 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
puny creature, hent double with infirmity, and carrying one hand
behind his back, as if to counterbalance the projection of his head and
shoulders. You vash please to call me shent per shent. I vish I vash
able to make de monies pay that. Mr. Newland, can I be of any little
shervicelo you?"
" Sit down, sit down, Emmanuel. You have my warrant for Mr.
Newland's respectability, and the sooner we get over the business the
better."
" Auh, Mr. Major, it ish true, you was recommend many good —
no, not always good — customers to me, and I was very much obliged.
A^atcan I do for your handsome young friend! De young gentlemen
always vant money ; and it is de youth which is de time forde pleasure
and enjoyment."
" He wants a thousand pounds, Emmanuel."
' * Dat is a large sum — one tousand pounds ! he does not vant any
more ? "
"No," replied I, " that will be sufficient."
**Well, den, I have demonish in my pocket. I will just beg de
young gentleman to sign a little memorandum, dat I may von day re-
ceive my monish."
" But what is that to be?" interrupted I.
" It will be to promise to pay me my monish and only fifteen per
shent, when you come into your own."
** That will not do," replied I ; "I have pledged my solemn word
of honour, that I will not borrow money on interest."
" And you have given the pledge, but you did not swear upon de
book?"
''No, but my word has been given, and that is enough ; if I would
forfeit my word with those to whom I have given it, I would also
forfeit my word with you. My keeping my promise, ought to be a
pledge to you that I will keep my promise to you."
" Dat is veil said — very veil said ; but den we must manage some
oder way. Suppose — let me shee — -how old are you, my young
sir?"
"Past twenty."
"Auh, dat is a very pleasant age, dat twenty. Veil, den, you
shall shign a ieetle bit of paper, that you pay me 2,000/. ven you
come into your properties, on condition dat I pay now one thousand.
Dat 's very fair — ish it not, Mr. Major ? "
" Rather too hard, Emmanuel."
" But de rishque — de rishque, Mr. Major."
" I will not agree to those terms," replied I ; "you must take your
money away, Mr. Emmanuel."
JAPHET, i.N SEARCH OF A FATHEll. \%2
" Veil, den— vat vill you pay me?"
"I will sign an agreement to pay you 1,500/. for the thousand, if
you please; if that will not suit you, I will try elsewhere."
" Dat is very bad bargain. How old, you shay?"
" Twenty."
*' Veil, Tshuppose I must oblige you, and my very goot friend, de
major."
Mr. Emmanuel drew out his spectacles, pen, and inkhorn, filled up
a bond, and handed it to me to sign. I read it carefully over, and
signed it ; he then paid down the money, and took his leave.
It may appear strange to the reader that the money was obtained so
easily, but he must remember that the major was considered a person
who universally attached himself to young men of large fortune ; he
had already been the means of throwing many profitable speculations
into the hands of Emmanuel, and the latter put implicit confidence in
him. The money-lenders also are always on the look-out for young
men with large fortunes, and have their names registered. Emma-
nuel had long expected me to come to him, and although it was his in-
tention to have examined more particularly, and not to have had the
money prepared, yet my refusal to sign the bond, bearing interest, and
my disputing the terms of the second proposal, blinded him completely,
and put him off his usual guard .
" Upon my word, Newland, you obtained better terms than I could
have expected from the old Hunks."
" Much better than I expected also, major," rephed I ; ''but now.
how much of the money would you like to have? "
" My dear fellow, this is very handsome of you ; but, I thank
Heaven, I shall be soon able to repay it ; but what pleases me, Newland,
is your perfect confidence in one, whom the rest of the world would
not trust with a shilling. I will accept your offer as freely as it is
made, and take 500/., just to make a show for the few weeks that I
am in suspense, and then you will find, that with all my faults, I am
not deficient in gratitude." I divided the money with the major, and
he shortly afterwards went out.
"Well, sir," said Timothy, entering, full of curiosity, " what have
you done ? "
' ' I have borrowed a thousand to pay fifteen hundred when I come
into my property."
" You are safe, then. Excellent, and the Jew will be bit."
"No, Timothy, I intend to repay it as soon as I can."
" I should like to know when that will be."
"So should I, Tim, for it must depend upon my finding out my pa-
i24 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
rentage. ' Heigho, thought I, when shall 1 ever find out who is my
father ?
Chapter xxx.
The major is very fortunate and very unfortunate — He receives a large sum in gold
and one ounce of lead.
I DBEssED and went out, met Harcourt, dined with him, and on my
return the major had not com.e home. It was then past midnight, and
feeling little inclination to sleep, I remained in the drawing-room,
waiting for his arrival. About three o'clock he came in, Hushed in the
face, and apparently in high good humour.
"Newland," said he, throwing his pocket-book on the table, "just
open that, and then you will open your eyes."
I obeyed him, and to my surprise took out a bundle of bank-notes;
I counted up their value, and they amounted to 3,500/.
"You have been fortunate, indeed."
" Yes," replied the major ; "knowing that in a short time I shall
be certain of cash, one way or the other, 1 had resolved to try my
luck with the 500/. I went to the hazard table, and threw in seven-
teen times — hedged upon the deuce ace, and threw out with it — voild.
They won't catch me there again in a hurry — luck like that only comers
once in a man's life ; but, Japhet, there is a little drawback to all this.
I shall require your kind attendance in two or three hours."
"Why, what's the matter?"
" Merely an affair of honour. I was insulted by a vagabond, and
we meet at six o'clock."
"A vagabond — but surely, Carbonnell, you will not conde-
scend
" My dear fellow, although as great a vagabond as there is on the
face of the earth, yet he is a peer of the realm, and his title warrants
the meeting — but, after all, what is it? "
' ' I trust it will be nothing, Carbonnell, but still it may prove other-
wise."
"Granted ; and what then, my dear Newland ? we all owe Heaven
a death, and if I am floored, why then I shall no longer be anxious
about title or fortune."
JAPllET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 125
'-' It's a bad way of setlling a dispute," replied I, gravely.
" There is no other, Newlaiid. How would society be held in check
i( it were not for duelling ? We should all be a set of bears living in a
hear-garden. I presume you have never been out ?"
'' Never," replied T, " and had hoped that I never 'Should have."
"Then you must have better fortune, or better temper, than most
others, if you pass through life without an affair of this kind on your
hands. I mean as principal, not as second. But, my dear fellow,
I must give you a little advice, relative to your behaviour as a second :
for I'm very particular on these occasions, and like that things should
he done very correctly. It will never do, my dear Newland, that you
appear on the ground with that melancholy face. I do not mean that
you should laugh or even smile, that would be equally out of charac-
ter, but you should show yourself perfectly calm and indifferent. In
your behaviour towards the other second, you must be most scrupu-
lously polite, but, at the same time, never give up a point of dispute, in
which my interest may be concerned. Even in your walk be slow,
and move, as much as the ground w ill allow you, as if you were in a
drawing-room. Never remain silent ; offer even trivial remarks,
rather than appear distrait. There is one point of great importance
— I refer to choosing the ground, in which, perhaps, you will require
my unperceived assistance. Any decided line behind me would be
very advantageous to my adversarv, such as the trunk of a tree, post,
etc. ; even an elevated light or dark ground behind me is unadvisable.
Choose, if you can, a broken light, as it affects the correctness of the
aim ; but as you will not probably be able to manage this satisfactorily,
I will assist you. AVhen on the ground, after having divided the sun
fairly between us, I will walk about unconcernedly, and when I per-
ceive a judicious spot, I will take a pinch of snuff and use ray handker-
chief, turning at the same time in the direction in which I wish my ad-
versary to be placed. Take your cue from that, and with all suavity
of manner, insist as much as you can upon our being so placed.
That must be left to your own persuasive power. I believe I
have now slated all that is necessary, and I must prepare my instru-
ments."
The major then went into his own room, and I never fell more ner-
vous or more unhinged than after this conversation. I had a melan-
choly foreboding — but that I believe every one has, when he, for the
first time, has to assist at a mortal rencontre. I was in a deep musing
when he returned w ilh his pistols and all the necessary apparatus ; and
w hen the major pointed out to me, and made me once or twice practise
the setting of the hair triggers, which is the duty of the second, an
involuntary shuddercame over me.
12« JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
" Why, Newland, what is the matter with you ? I thought that
you had more nerve."
" I probably should show more, Carbonnell, were I the principal
instead of the second, but I cannot bear the reflection that some acci-
dent should happen to you. You are the only one with whom I have
been on terms of friendship, and the idea of losing you, is very, very
painful."
" >'ewland, you really quite unman me, and you may now see a mi-
racle," continued Carbonnell, as he pressed his hand to his eye, *' the
moisture of a tear on the cheek of a London roue, a man of the world,
who has long lived for himself and for this world only. It never
would be credited if asserted. Newland, there was a time when I was
like yourself — the world took advantage of my ingenuousness and in-
experience ; my good feelings were the cause of my ruin, and then,
by degrees, I became as callous and as hardened as the world itself.
Mv dear fellow, I thought all affection, all sentiment, dried up within
me, but it is not the case. You have made me feel that I have still a
heart, and that I can love you. But this is all romance, and not fitted
for the present time. It is now five o'clock, let us be on the ground
early — it will give us an advantage."
" I do not much like speaking to you on the subject, Carbonnell ;
but is there nothing you might wish done in case of accident? "
" Nothing— why yes. I may as well. Give me a sheet of paper."
The major sat down and wrote for a few minutes. " Now, send Ti-
mothy and another here. Timothy, and you, sir, see me sign this
paper, and put my seal to it. I deliver this as my act and deed. Put
your names as witnesses." They complied with his request ; and then
the major desired Timothy to call a hackney-coach. "Newland,"
said the major, putting the paper, folded up, in my pocket, along with
the bank notes, " take care of this for me till we come back."
" The coach is at the door, sir," said Timothy, looking at me, as if
to say, " What can all this be about?"
"You may come with us and see," said the major, observing Tim"s
countenance, " and put that case into the coach.' Tim, who knew
that it was the major's case of pistols, appeared still more alarmed, and
stood still without obeying the order. " Never mind, Tim, your
master is not the one w ho is to use them," said the major, patting him
on the shoulder.
Timothy, relieved by this intelligence, went down stairs with
the pistols ; we followed him. Tim mounted on the box, and we drove
to Chalk Farm. " Shall the coach wait ? " inquired Timothy.
'-' Yes, bv all means," replied I, in a low voice. We arrived at the
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 12t
usual ground, where disputes of this kind were generally settled ; and
the major took a survey of it with great composure.
" Now observe, Japhet," said he, "if you can contrive ; but
here they are. I will give you the notice agreed upon." The peer,
whose title was Lord Tineholme, now came up with his second, whom
he introduced to me as Mr. Osborn. " Mr. Newland," replied the
major, saluting Mr. Osborn in return. We both took off our hats,
bowed, and then proceeded to our duty. I must do my adversary's
second the justice to say, that his politeness was fully equal to mine.
There was no mention, on either side, of explanations and retractions
— the insult was too gross, and the character of his lordship, as well
as that of Major Carbonnell, was too well know n. Twelve paces were
proposed by Mr. Osborn, and agreed to by me — the pistols of Major
Carbonnell were gained by drawing lots — we had nothing more to do
but to place our principals. The major took out his snuff-box, look a
pinch, and blew his nose, turning towards a copse of beech trees.
"With your permission, I will mark out the ground, Mr. Osborn,"
said I, walking up to the m.ajor, and intending to pace twelve paces
in the direction towards which he faced.
"Allow me to observe that I think a little more in this direction,
would be more fair for both parties," said Mr. Osborn.
" Itw^ouldso, my dearsir,"rephed I, " but, submitting to your supe-
rior judgment, perhaps it may not have struck you that my principal
will have rather too much of the sun. I am incapable of taking any
advantage, but I should not do my duty, if I did not see every justice
done to the major, who has confided tome in this unpleasant affair. I put
it to you, sir, as a gentleman and man of honour, whether I am claiming
too much?" A little amicable altercation took place on this point,
but finding that I would not yield, and that at every reply I was more
and more polite and bland in my deportment, Mr. Osborn gave up the
point. I walked the twelve paces, and Mr. Osborn placed his prin-
cipal. T observed that Lord Tineholm did not appear pleased; he
expostulated with him, but it was then too late. The pistols had been
already loaded— the choice was given to his lordship, and Major Car-
bonnell received the other from my hand, ^vhich actually trembled,
while his was firm. I requested Mr. Osborn to drop the handkerchief,
as I could not make up my mind to give a signal which might be fatal
to the major. They fired— Lord Tineholme fell immediately— the
major remained on his feet for a second or two, and then sank down
on the ground. I hastened up to him. ' ' Where are you hurt?"
The major put his hand to his hip—" I am hit hard, Newland, but
not so hard as he is. Run and see."
J -28 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
I left the major, and went up to where Lord Tineholme lay, his
head raised on the knee of his second.
*' It is all over with him, Mr. Newland, the ball has passed through
his brain "
CHAPTER XXXI.
The Major pays the only debt of consequence he ever did pay, and F find myself
a man of property.
I HASTENED back to the major, to examine his w^ound, and, with the
assistance of Timothy, I stripped him sufficiently to ascertain tliat the
ball had entered his hip, and probing the wound with my finger, if
appeared that it had glanced off in the direction of the intestines ; the
suffusion of blood was very trifling, which alarmed me stifl more.
" Could you bear removal, major, in the coach?"
" I cannot tell, but we must try ; the sooner I am home the better,
Japhet," replied he faintly.
"With the assistance of Timothy, I put him into the hackney-
coach, and we drove off, after I had taken off my hat and made my
obeisance to Mr. Osborn, an effort of politeness which I certainly should
have neglected, had I not been reminded of it by my principal. We
set off, and the major bore his journey very w efi, making no com-
plaint ; but, on our arrival, he fainted as we lifted him out. As soon
he was on the bed, I despatched Timothy for a surgeon. On his ar-
rival, he examined the wound, and shook his head. Taking me into
the next room, he declared his opinion, that the ball had passed into
the intestines, which were severed, and that there was no hope. I sat
down and covered my face — the tears rolled down and trickled
through my fingers — it was the first heavy blow I had yet received.
Without kindred or connexions, I felt that I was about to lose one
who was dear to me. To another, not in my situation, it might have
only produced a temporary grief at the loss of a friend ; but to me,
who was almost alone in the world, the loss was heavy in the ex-
treme. Whom had I to fly to for solace? — there were Timothy and
Fleta — one who performed the duty of a servant to me, and a child.
I felt that they were not sufficient, and my heart was chilled.
The surgeon, had, in the meantime, returned to the major, and
dressed the wound. The major, who had recovered from his weakness,
asked him his candid opinion. " We must hope for the best, sir," re-
plied the surgeon.
JAPHET. IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. V29
'That is to say, thero is no hope, " replied the major; "and I
feel that you are right. How long do you think that I may live?"
" If the wound does not take a favourable turn, about forty-eight
hours, sir," replied the surgeon ; ' ' but we must hope for a more for-
tunate issue."
" In a death-bed case you medical men are like lawyers," replied
the major, "there is no getting a straightforward answer from vou.
Where is iMr. Newland?"
"Here I am, Carbonnell," said I, taking his hand.
" My dear fellow, I know it is all over with me, and you, of course,
know it as well as I do. Do not think that it is a source of much re-
gret to me to leave this rascally world — indeed it is not ; but I do feel
sorry, very sorry, to leave you. The doctor tells me I shall live forty-
eight hours ; but I have an idea that I shall not live so many minutes.
I feel my strength gradually failing me. Depend upon it, my dear
Xewland, there is an internal hemorrhage. My dear fellow, I shall
not be able to speak soon. I have left you my executor and sole heir.
I wish there was more for you — it will last you, however, till you
come of age. That was a lucky hit last night, but a very unluckv one
this morning. Bury me like a gentleman.'
" My dear Carbonnell," said I, " would you not like to see some-
body — a clergyman?"
''Newland, excuse me. I do not refuse it out of disrespect, or be-
cause I do not believe in the tenets of Christianity ; but I cannot believe
that my repentance at this late hour can be of any avail. If I have not
been sorry for the life I»have lived — if I have not had my moments of
remorse — if I have not promised to amend, and mtended to have so done.
and I trust I have — what avails my repentance now ? No, no, Japhet,
as I have sown, so must I reap, and trust to the mercy of Heaven. God
only knows all our hearts, and I would fain believe that I may find more
favour in the eyes of the Almighty, than I have in this world from those
who but we must not judge. Give me to drink, Japhet — I am
sinking fast. God bless you, my dear fellow."
The major sank on his pillow, after he had moistened his lips, and
spoke no more. >yith his hand clasped in mine he graduallvsank, and
in a quarter of an hour his eyes were fixed, and all was over. He was
right in his conjectures — an artery had been divided, and he had bled
to death. The surgeon came again just before he was dead, for I had
sent for him. " It is better as it is," said he to me. " Had he not
bled to death, he would have suffered forty-eight hours of extreme
agony from the mortification which must have ensued. He closed the
major's eyes and took his leave, and I hastened into the drawing-room
9
130 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
and sent for Timothy, with whom I sate in a long conversalion on this
unfortunate occurrence, and my future prospects.
My grief for the death of the major was sincere ; much may indeed
be ascribed to habit, from our long residence and companionship ; but
more to the knowledge that the major, with all his faults, had redeem-
ing qualities, and that the world had driven him to become what he
had been. I had the further conviction, that he was attached to me,
and, in my situation, any thing like affection was most precious. His
funeral was handsome, without being ostentatious, and I paid every
demand upon him which I knew to be just — many, indeed, that were
not sent in, from a supposition that any claim made would be useless. His
debts were not much above '2001., and these debts had never been ex-
pected to be liquidated by those who had given him credit. The paper
he had written, and had been witnessed by Timothy and another, was
a short will, in which he left me his sole heir and executor. The
whole of his property consisted of his house in St. Jamess Street, the
contents of his pocket-book entrusted to my care, and his personal ef-
fects, which, especially in bijouterie, were valuable. The house was
worth about A, 000/., as he had told me. In his pocket-book were
notes to the amount of 3,500/. , and his other efTects might be valued at
AOO./ With all his debts and funeral expenses liquidated, and with my
own money, I found myself in possession of about 8,000/., — a sum
which never could have been credited, for it was generally supposed
that he died worth less than nothing, having lived for along while upon
a capital of a similar value.
*' I cannot but say," observed Timothy, "t)ut that this is very for-
tunate. Had the major not persuaded you to borrow money, he never
would have won so large a sum. Had he lived, he would have squan-
dered it away ; but just in the nick of time he is killed, and makes you
his heir."
" There is truth in your observation, Timothy: but now you must
go to Mr. Emmanuel, that I may pay him off. I will repay the 1000/.
lent me by Lord Windermear into his banker's, and then I must exe-
cute one part of the poor major's will. He left his diamond solitaire
as a memento to his lordship. Bring it to me, and I will call and pre-
sent it.
JAPHET, TN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 131
CHAPTER XXXII.
A chapter full of morality, which ends in a Jew refusing upwards of 1,000/.
proving the Millennium to be nearly at hand.
This conversation took place the day after the funeral, and attired in
deep mourning, I called upon his lordship, and was admitted. His
lordship had sent his carriage to attend the funeral, and was also in
mourning when he received me. I executed my commission, and af-
ter a long conversation with his lordship, in which I confided to him
the contents of the will, and the amount of properly of the decased, I
rose to take my leave.
" Excuse me, Mr. Newland, " said he, " but what do you now pro-
pose to do ? I confess I feel a strong inlerest about you, and had wished
that you had come to me oftener without an invitation. I perceive that
you never will. Have you no intention of following up any pursuit?"
** Yes, my lord, I intend to search after my father ; and I trust that,
by husbanding my unexpected resources, I shall now be able."
" You have the credit, in the fashionable world, of possessing a large
fortune."
" That is not my fault, my lord : it is through Major Carbonnell's
mistake that the world is deceived. Still I must acknowledge myself
so far participator, that I have never contradicted the report."
"Meaning, I presume, by some good match, to reap the advantage
of the supposition."
" Not so, my lord, I assure you. People may deceive themselves,
but I will not deceive them."
"Nor undeceive them, Mr. Newland?"
" Undeceive them I will not ; nay, if I did make the attempt, I should
not be believed. They never would believe it possible that I could
have lived so long with your relative, without having had a large supply
of money. They might believe that I had run through my money,
but not that I never had any."
" There is a knowledge of the world in that remark," replied his
lordship ; "but I interrupted you, so proceed."
"I mean to observe, my lord, and you, by your knowledge of my
previous history, can best judge how far I am warranted in saying so ;
that I have as vet steered the middle course between that which is dis-
1311 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
honest and honest. If the world deceives itself, you would say that,
in strict honesty, I ought to undeceive it. So I would, my lord, if it
were not for my peculiar situation ; but at the same time I never will,
if possible, be guilty of direct deceit; that is to say, I would not take
advantage of my supposed wealth, to marry a young person of large for-
tune. I would slate myself a beggar, and gain her affections as a beg-
gar. A woman can have little confidence in a man who deceives her
before marriage."
"Your secret will always be safe with me, Mr. Newland ; you have
a right to demand it. I am glad to hear the sentiments which you
have expressed ; they are not founded, perhaps, upon the strictest code
of morality ; but there are many who profess more who do not act up
to so much. Still, I wish you would think in what way I may be able
to serve you, for your life at present is useless and unprofitable, and
may tend to warp still more, ideas which are not quite so strict as they
ought to be,"
" My lord, I have but one object in allowing the world to continue in
their error relative to my means, which is, that it procures for me an
entrance into that society in which I have a moral conviction that I
*hall find my father. I have but one pursuit, one end to attain, which
is, to succeed in that search. I return you a thousand thanks for your
kind expressions and good will ; but I cannot, at present, avail myself
of them. I beg your lordship's pardon, but did you ever meet the lady
with the ear-rings ?"
Lord Windermear smiled. "Really, Mr. New.land, you are a very
strange person ; not content with finding out your own parents, you
must also be searching after other people's ; not that I do not com-
mend your conduct in this instance ; but I'm afraid, in running after
shadows, you are too indifferent to the substance."
"Ah, my lord I it is very well for you to argue, who have had a
father and mother, and never felt the want of them ; but if you knew
how my heart yearns after my parents, you would not be surprised at
m.y perseverance,"
" I am surprised at nothing in this world, Mr. Newland ; every one
pursues happiness in his own way ; your happiness appears to be centred
in one feeling, and you are only acting as the world does in general ;
but recollect that the search after happiness ends in disappointment."
" I grant it but too often does, my lord; but there is pleasure in
the chase," replied I.
"Well, go, and may you prosper. Alllcansay isthis, Mr. Newland;
do not have that false pride not to apply to me when you need assis-
tance. Recollect, it is much belter to be under an obligation, if such
you will consider it, than to do that which is wrong ; and that it is a
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 133
very false pride which would blush to accept a favour, and yet not
blush to do what it ought to be ashamed of. Promise me, Mr, Newland,
that upon any reverse or exigence, you will apply to me."
•' I candidly acknowledge to your lordship, that I w^ould rather be
under an obligation to any one but you ; and I trust you will clearly
appreciate my feelings. I have taken the liberty of refunding the one
thousand pounds you were so kind as to place at my disposal as a loan.
At the same time I will promise, that, if at any time I should require
your assistance, I will again request leave to become your debtor." I
rose again to depart.
'' Farewell, Newland ; when I thought you ha(t behaved ill, and I
offered to better you, you only demanded my good opinion ; you have
it, and have it so firmly, that it will not easily be shaken." His lord-
ship then shook hands with me, and I took my leave.
On my return, I found Emmanuel, the money-lender, who had
accompanied Timothy, fancying that I was in want of more assistance,
and but too willing to give it. His surprise was very great when I
told him that I wished tore pay the money I had borrowed.
"Veil, dis is very strange ! I have lent my monish a tousand times,
and never once they did offer it me back. Veil, I will take it, sar."
"But how much must I give you, Mr. Emmanuel, for ten days'
loan?"
*' How moch — vy you remember, you will give de bond money — de
fifteen hundred."
" What! five hundred pounds interest for ten days, Mr. Em-
manuel; no, no, that's rather too bad. I will, if you please, pay you
back eleven hundred pounds, and that I think is very handsome."
"I don't want my monish, my good sar. I lend you one tousand
pounds on de condition that you pay me fifteen hundred when you come
into your properties, which will be in very short time. You send for
me, and tell me you vish to pay back de monish directly ; I never
refuse monish — if you wish to pay, I will take, but I will not takevoo
farding less dan de monish on de bond."
" Very well, Mr. Emmanuel, just as you please ; I offer you your
money back, in presence of my servant, and one hundred pounds for
the loan of it for ten days. Refuse it if you choose, but I earnestly
recommend you to take it."
" I will not have de monish, sar ; dh is de child's play," replied
the Jew. " I must have my fifteen hundred— all in goot time, sar
—I am in no hurry — I vish you a very good morning, Mr. Newland.
Ven you vish for more monish to borrow, I shall be happy to pay my
respects." So saying, the Jew walked out of the room, with his arm
behind his back as usual.
134 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
CHAPTER XXXIll.
I decide upon honesty as the best policy, and what is more strange, receive leyal
advice upon this important point.
Timothy and I *>urst into laughter. " Really, Timothy," ob-
served I, *'it appears that very little art is necessary to deceive the
world, for in every instance they will deceive themselves. The Jew
is off my conscience, at all events, and now he never will be paid,
until "
"Until when, Japhet?"
" Until I find out my father," replied I.
''Every thing is put off till that time arrives, I observe, ' said Ti-
mothy. " Other people will soon be as interested in the search as
yourself."
**I wish they were ; unfortunately it is a secret, which cannot be
divulged."
A ring at the bell called Timothy down stairs ; he returned with a
letter, it was from Lord Windermear, and ran as follows :—
" My dear Newland,
" I have been thinking about you ever since you left me this morn-
ing, and as you appear resolved to prosecute your search, it has oc-
curred to me that you should go about it in a more systematic way.
I do not mean to say that what I now propose will prove of any ad-
vantage to you, but still it may, as you will have a very old and very
clever head to advise with. \ refer to Mr. Masterton," my legal ad-
viser, from whom you had the papers which led to our first acquaint-
ance. He is aware that you were [I beg your pardon) an impostor,
as he has since seen Mr. Estcourt. The letter enclosed is for him, and
with that in your hand you may face him boldly, and I have no doubt
but that he will assist you all in his power, and put you to no expense.
Narrate your whole history to him, and then you will hear what he
may propose. He has many secrets, much more important than
yours. Wishing you every success that your perseverance deserves,
'' Believe me,
''Yours very truly,
"WlKDERMEAR,
JAPHET, IN SEARCH Or A FATHER. 135
"I believe the advice to be good," said I, after reading the letter.
"I am myself at fault, and hardly know how to proceed. 1 think I
will go at once to the old gentleman, Timothy."
"It can do no harm, if it does no good. Two heads are better
than one," replied Timothy. "Some secrets are too well kept, and
deserting a child is one of those which is confided but to few."
" By-the-by, Timothy, here have I been, more than so many years
out of the Foundling Hospital, and have never yet inquired if any one
has ever been to reclaim me."
" Very true; and I think Ml step myself to the workhouse, at St.
Bridget's, and ask whether any one has asked about me," replied Ti-
mothy, with a grin.
" There is another thing that I have neglected," observed I, " which
is, to inquire at the address in Coleman Street, if there is any letter
from Melchior."
" 1 have often thought of him, " replied Timothy. " I wonder who
he can be— there is another mystery there. I wonder whether we
shall ever fall in with him again — and Xallee, too?"
•' There's no saving, Timothy. I wonder ^^ here that poor fool. Phi-
lotas, and our friend Jumbo, are now !"
The remembrance of the two last personages made us both burst ou t
a laughing.
" Timothy, I've been reflecting that my intimacy with poor Carbon-
nell has rather hindered than assisted me in my search. He found me
with a good appearance, and he has moulded me into a gentleman, so
far as manners and appearance are concerned: but the constant vort^
in which I have been whirled in his company, has prevented me from
doing any thing. His melancholy death has perhaps been fortunate
for me. It has left me more independent in circumstances, and more
free. I must now really set to in earnest."
" I beg your pardon, Japhet, but did not you say the same when
we first set off on our travels, and yet remain more than a year with
the gipsies? Did not you make the same resolution when we arrived
in town, with our pockets full of money, and yet, once into fashiona-
ble society, think but little, and occasionally, of it? Xow you make
the same resolution, and how long will you keep it?"
" Nay, Timothy, that remark is hardly fair; you know that the
subject is ever in my thoughts.'
" In your thoughts, I grant, very frequently ; but you have still been
led away from the search.'
' ' I grant it, but I presume that arises from not knowing how to pro-
ceed. I have a skein to unravel, and cannot find out an end to com-
mence with."
136 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
•' I always thought people commenced with the beginning," rephed
Tim, laughing.
" At all events, I will now try back, and face the old lawyer. Do
you call at Coleman Street, Tim, and at St. Bridget's also, if you
please."
" As for St. Bridget's, I'm in no particular hurry about my mother;
if I stumble upon her I may pick her up, but I never make diligent
search after what, in every probability, will not be worth the find-
ing."
Leaving Timothy to go his way, I walked to the house at Lincoln's
Inn, which I had before entered upon the memorable occasion of the
papers of Estcourt. As before, I rang the bell, the door swang open,
and I was once more in the presence of Mr. Masterton.
" I have a letter, sir," said I, bowing, and presenting the letter
from Lord Windermear.
The old gentleman peered at me through his spectacles. '* Why!
we have met before — bless me — why you're the rogue that "
"You are perfectly right, sir, " interrupted L " I am the rogue who
presented the letter from Lord Windermear, and who presents you
with another from the same person ; do me the favour to read it, while
I take a chair."
" Upon my soul — you impudent — handsome dog, I must say — great
pity — come for money, I suppose. Well, it's a sad world," muttered
the lawyer as he broke open the letter of Lord Windermear.
I made no reply, but watched his countenance, which changed to that
of an expression of surprise. " Had his lordship sent me a request to
have you hanged if possible," said Mr. Masterton, " I should have felt
no surprise, but in this letter he praises you, and desires me to render
you all the service in my power. I can't understand it. "
" No, sir; but if you have leisure to listen to me, you will then find
that, in this world, we may be deceived by appearances."
" Well, and so I was, when I first saw you ; I never could have be-
lieved you to be — but never mind."
** Perhaps, sir, in an hour or two you will again alter your opinion.
Are you at leisure, or will you make an appointment for some future
day?"
" Mr. Newland, I am not at leisure — I never was more busy ; and if
you had come on any legal business, I should have put you off for three
or four days, at least; but my curiosity is so raised, that I am deter-
mined that I will indulge it at the expense of my interest. I will turn
the key, and then you will oblige me by unravelling, what, at present,
is to me as curious as it is wholly incomprehensible."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 137
CHAPTER XXXIV.
I attempt to profit by intelligence I receive, and throw a lady into hysterics.
In about three hours I had narrated the history of my life, up to the
very day, almost as much detailed as it has been to the reader. " And
now, Mr. Masterton," said I, as I wound up my narrative, ** do you
think that I deserve the title of rogue, which you applied to me when I
came in?"
" Upon my word, Mr. Newland, I hardly know what to say ; but I
like to tell the truth. To say that you have been quite honest, would
not be correct — a rogue, to a certain degree, you have been, but you
have been the rogue of circumstances. I can only say this, that there
are greater rogues than you, whose characters are unblemished in the
world — that most people in your peculiar situation would have been
much greater rogues; and lastly, that rogue or not rogue, I have great
pleasure in taking you by the hand, and will do all I possibly can to
serve you — and that for your own sake. Your search after your parents
I consider almost tantamount to a wild-goose chase ; but still, as your
happiness depends upon it, I suppose it must be carried on; but you
must allow me time for reflection. I will consider what may be the
most judicious method of proceeding. Can you dine tete-d-tete with
me here on Friday, and we then will talk over the matter ?"
' * On Friday, sir ; I am afraid that I am engaged to Lady Maelstrom ;
but that is of no consequence — I will write an excuse to her ladyship."
" Lady Maelstrom! how very odd that you should bring up her
name after our conversation."
" Why so, my dear sir?"
" Why!" replied Mr. Masterton, chuckhng; " because — recollect,
jt is a secret, Mr. Newland — I remember some twenty years ago, when
she was a girl of eighteen, before she married, she hadahttley&M.yj?a»,
and I was called in about a settlement, for the maintenance of the
child."
" Is it possible, sir?" replied I, anxiously.
'* Yes, she was violently attached to a young officer, without money,
but of good family; some say it was a private marriage, others, that he
was a — rascal. It was all hushed up, but he was obliged by the friends,
before he left for the West Indies, to sign a deed of maintenance, and
*^ JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
I was the party called in. I never heard any more about it. The of-
ficer's name was Warrender; he died of the yellow fever, I believe,
and after his death she married Lord Maelstrom."
" He is dead, then?" replied I, mournfully.
" Well, that cannot afTect you, my good fellow. On Friday, then,
at six o'clock precisely. Good afternoon, Mr Newland."
I shook hands with the old gentleman, and returned .home, but my
brain whirled with the fear of a confirmation, of that which Mr. Mas-
terton had so carelessly conveyed. Any thing like a possibility, imme-
diately was sw^elled to a certainty in my imagination, so ardent and
heated on the one subject ; and as soon as I regained my room, I threw
myself on the sofa, and fell into a deep reverie. I tried to approximate
the features of Lady Maelstrom to mine, but all the ingenuity in the
world could not effect that; but still, I might be like my father— but
my father was dead, and that threw a chill over the whole glowing
picture which 1 had, as usual, conjured up ; besides, it was asserted that
I w as born in wedlock, and there was a doubt relative to the marriage
of her ladyship.
After a long cogitation, I jumped up, seized my ha(, and set otl' for
Grosvenor Square, determining to ask a private interview willi her
ladyship, and at once end my harassing doubts and surmises. I think
there could not be a greater proof of my madness than my venturing to
attack a lady of forty upon the irregularities of her youth, and to ques-
tion her upon a subject which had been confided but to two or three,
and she imagined had been long forgotten : but this never struck me ;
all considerations were levelled in my ardent pursuit. I walked
through the street at a rapid pace, the crow d passed by me as shadows,
I neither saw nor distinguished them ; I was deep in reverie as to the
best way of breaking the subject to her ladyship, for, notvi^ithstanding
my monomania, I perceived it to be a point of great delicacy. After
having overturned about twenty people in my mad career, 1 arrived at
the door and knocked. My heart beat almost as hard against my ribs
with excitement.
* * Is her ladyship at home ?"
" Yes, sir."
I was ushered into the drawing-room, and found her sitting with two
of her nieces, the Misses Fairfax.
" Mr. Newland, you have been quite a stranger," said her ladyship,
as I walked up to her and made my obeisance. I did intend to scold
you well; but I suppose that sad affair of poor Major Carbonell's has
been a heavy blow to you — you were so intimate — lived together, I
believe, did you not? However, you have not so much cause to regret,
for he was not a very proper companion for young men like you : to
MPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 139
lell you the truth, I consider it as a fortunate circumstance that he was
removed, for he would, by degrees, have led you into all manner of
mischief, and have persuaded you to squander your fortune. I did at
one time think of giving you a hint, but it was a delicate point. Now
that he is gone, I tell you very candidly that you have had an escape.
A young man like you, Mr. Newland, who could command an alliance
into the highest, yes, the very highest families — and let me tell you,
Mr. ^*ewland, that there is nothing like connexion— money is of no
consequence to you, but connexion, Mr. ?sewland, is what you should
look for — connexion with some high family, and then you will do well.
I should like to see you settled— well settled, I mean, Mr. ISewland.
Now that you are rid of the major, who has ruined many young men
in his lime, I trust you will seriously think of setthng down into a
married man. Cecilia, my dear, show your tambour Vvork to Mr.
Newland, and ask him his opinion. Is it not beautiful, Mr. Newland ?' '
" Extremely beautiful, indeed, ma'am," replied I, glad at last that
her ladyship allowed me to speak a word.
" Emma, my dear, you look pale, you must go out into the air.
Go, children, put your bonnets on and take a turn in the garden;
when the carriage comes round, I will send for you."
The young ladies quitted the room. "Nice innocent girls, Mr.
Newland; but you are not partial to blondes, I believe?"
"Indeed, Lady Maelstrom, I infinitely prefer the blonde to the bru-
nette."
" That proves your taste, Mr. Newland. The Fairfaxes are of a
very old family — Saxon, Mr. Newland. Fair-fax is Saxon for light
hair. Is it not remarkable that they should be blondes to this day?
Pure blood, Mr. Newland. You, of course, have heard of General Fair-
fax, in the time of Cromwell. He was their direct ancestor — an ex-
cellent family and highly connected, Mr. Newland. You are aware
that they are my nieces. My sister married Mr. Fairfax.'
I paid the Misses Fairfax the compliments which I thought they
really deserved, for they were very pretty amiable girls, and required
no pufTmg on the part of her ladyship; and then I commenced.
"Your ladyship has expressed such kind wishes towards me, that I
cannot be sufficiently grateful; but, perhaps, your ladyship may think
me romantic, I am resolved never to marry, except for love."
' ' A very excellent resolve, Mr. Newland ; there are few young men
who care about love now-a-days, but I consider that love is a great
security for happiness in the wedded state."
" True, madam, and what can be more delightful than a lirst at-
tachment ? I appeal to your ladyship, was not your first attachment
140 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
the most delightful— are not the reminiscences most lasting— do yon
not, even now, call to mind those halcyon days when love was all and
€very thing?"
'^My days of romance are long past, Mr. Newland," replied her
ladyship ; "indeed I never had much romance in my composition. I
married Lord Maelstrom for the connexion, and I loved him pretty
well, that is, soberly, Mr. Newland. I mean, I loved him quite enough
to marry him, and to obey my parents, that is all."
"But, my dear Lady Maelstrom, I did not refer to your marriage
with his lordship ; I referred to your first love."
*' My first love, Mr. Newland ; pray what do you mean ?" replied
her ladyship, looking very hard at me.
"Your ladyship need not be ashamed of it. Our hearts are not in
our own keeping, nor can we always control our passions. I have but
to mention the name of Warrender."
"Warrender!" shrieked her ladyship. "Pray, Mr. Newland,"
continued her ladyship, recovering herself, " who gave you that piece
of information?"
My dear Lady Maelstrom, pray do not be displeased with me, but I
am very particularly interested in this affair. Your love for Mr. War-
render, long before your marriage, is well known to me ; and it is to
that love, to which I referred, when I asked you if it was not most de-
lightful."
"Well, Mr. Newland, "greplied her ladyship, " how you have ob-
tained the knowledge I know not, but there was, I acknowledge, a
trifling flirtation with Edward Warrender and me — but I was young,
very young at that time."
''I grant it; and do not, for a moment, imagine that I intend to
blame your ladyship ; but, as I before said, madam, I am much inte-
rested in the business."
"What interest you can have with a little flirtation of mine, which
look place before you were born, I cannot imagine, Mr. Newland."
" It is because it took 'place before I was born, that I feel so much
interest."
" I cannot understand you, Mr. Newland, and I think we had better
change the subject."
" Excuse me,'madam, but I must request to continue it a little longer.
Is Mr. Warrender dead, or not? Did he die in the West Indies? "
" You appear to be very curious on this subject, Mr. Newland; I
hardly can tell. Yes, now I recollect, he did die of the yellow fever,
I think — but I have quite forgotten all about it — and I shall answer
no more questions ; if you were not a favourite of mine, Mr. Newland,
I should say that you were very impertinent."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 141
" Then, your ladyship, I will put hut one more question, and that
one I must put, with your permission."
'•I should think, after what I have said, Mr. Newland, that you
might drop the subject."
" I will, your ladyship, immediately; but, pardon me, the ques-
tion "
■ ' Well, Mr. Newland ? "
" Do not be angry with me "
" Well? " exclaimed her ladyship, who appeared alarmed.
"Nothing but the most important and imperative reasons could in-
duce me to ask the question;" (her ladyship gasped for breath, and
could not speak) I stammered, but at last I brought it out. "What
has become of— of—of the sweet pledge of your love, Lady Mael-
strom ? "
Her ladyship coloured up with rage, raised up her clenched hand,
and then fell back in violent hysterics.
CHAPTER XXXV.
I repair the damage, and make things worse — Plot and counter-plot — Tim gains a
watch by setting watch upon his tongue.
I HVPDLy knew how to act — if I called the servants, my interview
would be at an end, and I was resolved to find out the truth — for the
same reason, I did not like to ring for water. Some vases with flowers
were on the table ; I took out the flowers, and threw^ the water in her
face, but they had been in the water some time, and had discoloured
it green. Her ladyship's dress was a high silk gown, of a bright slate
colour, and was immediately spoiled ; but this was no time to stand
upon trifles. I seized hold of a glass bottle, fancying, in my hurry, it
was eau de Cologne, or some essence, and poured a little into her
mouth ; unfortunately, it was a bottle of marking ink, which her lady-
ship, who was very economical, had on the table in disguise. I per-
ceived my error, and had recourse to another vase of flowers, pouring
a large quantity of the green water down her throat. Whether the
unusual remedies had an effect, or not, I cannot tell, but her lady-
ship gradually revived, and, as she leant back on the sofa, sobbing,
every now and then, convulsively, I poured into her ear a thousand
apologies, until I thought she was composed enough to listen to me.
1 12 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
" Your ladyship's maternal feelings," said I.
" It's all a calumny ! a base lie, sir! " shrieked she.
' ' Nay, nay, why be ashamed of a youthful passion ; why deny
what was in itself creditable to your unsophisticated mind. Does not
your heart, even now, yearn to embrace your son — will not you bless
me, if I bring him to your feet — will not you bless your son, and re-
ceive him with delight?"
" It was a girl," screamed her ladyship, forgetting herself, and again
falling into hysterics.
" A girl ! " replied I, "then I have lost my time, and it is no use
my remaining here."
Mortified at the intelligence which overthrew my hopes and castle
buildings, I seized my hat, descended the stairs, and quitted the house;
in my hurry and confusion quite forgetting to call the servants to her
ladyship's assistance. Fortunately, I perceived the Misses Fairfax
close to the iron railing of the garden. I crossed the road, wished
them good-bye, and told them that I thought Lady Maelstrom looked
very ill, and they had better go in to her. I then threw myself into
the first hackney-coach, and drove home. I found Timothy had ar-
rived before me, and I narrated all that had passed.
"You will never be able to go there again," observed Timothy,
" and depend upon it, she will be your enemy through life. I wish
you had not said any thing to her."
"What is done cannot be undone ; but recollect, that if she can talk,
I can talk also."
"Will she not be afraid? "
" Yes, openly, she will; and open attacks can be parried."
" Yery true."
" But it will be as well to pacify her, if I can. I will write to her."
I sat down and wrote as follows : —
" My dear Lady Maelstrom ,
" I am so astonished and alarmed at the situation I put you in, by
my impertinence and folly, that I hardly know how to apologize. The
fact is, that looking over some of my father's old letters, I found many
from Warrender, in which he spoke of an affair with a young lady,
and I read the name as your maiden name, and also discovered where
the offspring was to be found. On re-examination, for your inno-
cence was too evident at our meeting to admit of a doubt, I find that
the name, although something like yours, is spelt very differently,
and that I must have been led into an unpardonable error. What can
I say, except that I throw myself on your mercy? I dare not appear
before you again. I leave town to-morrow, but if you can pardon my
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 143
folly and impertinence, and allow me lo pay my respects when Lon-
don is full again, and time shall have softened down your just anger,
write me one line to that efTect, and you will relieve the burdened
conscience of
" Vour's most truly,
"J. Newland."
" There, Tim," said I, as T finished reading it over, " take that as
a sop to the old Cerberus. She may think it prudent, as I have
talked of letters, to believe me and make friends. I will not trust her,
nevertheless. "
Tim went away, and very soon returned with an answer.
>
•' Vou are a foolish mad-cap, and I ought to shut my doors against
you; you have half killed me — spoilt my gown, and I am obliged to
keep my bed. Remember, in future, to be sure of the right name
before you make an assertion. As for forgiving you, I shall think of
it, and when you return to town, you may call and receive my sentence.
Cecilia was quite frightened, poor dear girl ; what a dear 'alTectionate
child she is ! — she is a treasure to me, and I don't think I ever could
part with her. She sends her regards.
" Yours,
" C. 3Iaelstrom."
" Come, Timothy, at all events this is better than I expected — but
now ril tell you what I propose to do. Harcourt was with me yester-
day, and he wishes me to go down with him to . There will be
the assizes, and the county ball, and a great deal of gaiety, and I have
an idea that it is just as well to beat the country as the town. I dine
with Mr. Masterton on Friday. On Saturday I will go down and see
Fleta, and on Tuesday or Wednesday I will start with Harcourt to his
father's, where he has promised me a hearty welcome. \yas there
any thing at Coleman-Street? "
"Yes, sir; Mr. Iving said that he had just received a letter from
your correspondent, and that he wished to know if the little girl was
well ; I told him that she was. Mr. Iving laid the letter down on the
desk, and I read the post-mark, Dublin."
"Dublin," replied I. " I should like to find out who Melchior is—
and so I will as soon as I can."
" Well, sir, I have not finished my story. Mr. Iving said, * My cor-
respondent wishes to know whether the education of the little girl is
attended to?' ' Yes, ' replied I, ' it is." ' Is she at school?' 'Yes,
144 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
she has been at school ever since we have been in London.' * Where i*
she at school? ' inquired he. Now, sir, as I never was asked that ques-
tion by him before, I did not know whether I ought to give an answer;
so I replied, ' that I did not know.' 'You know whether she is in
London or not, do you not?' ' How should I ? ' replied I, 'master
had put her to school before I put on his liveries.' * Does he never go
to see her?' inquired he. ' I suppose so,' said L ' Then you really
know nothing about it? — then look you, my lad, I am anxious to find
out where she is at school, and the name of the people, and if you will
find out the direction for me, it will be money in your pocket, that's
all.' 'Urn,' replied I, 'but how much?' 'Why, more than you
think for, my man, it will be a ten-pound note.' ' That alters the case,'
replied I ; ' now I think again, I have an idea that I do remember
seeing her address on a letter my master wrote to her.' ' Ay,' replied
Mr. Iving, 'it's astonishing how money sharpens the memory. I'll
keep to my bargain; give me the address, and here's the ten-pound
note.' ' I'm afraid that my master will be angry,' said I, as if I did
not much like to tell him. ' Your master will never know any thing
about it, and you may serve a long time before he gives you a ten-
pound note above your wages.' ' That's very true,' said I, ' sarvice is
no inheritance. Well, then, give me the money, and I'll write it
down.' "
" And did you give it?" interrupted I.
' ' Stop a moment, sir, and you shall hear. I wrote down the address
of that large school at Kensington, which we pass when we goto Mr.
Aubrey White's."
" What that tremendous large board with yellow letters — Mrs Let —
what is it?"
" Mrs. Lipscombe's seminary — I always read the board every time
I go up and down. I gave him the address, Miss Johnson, at Mrs.
Lipscombe's seminary, Kensington. Well — and here's the ten-pound
note, sir, which I have fairly earned."
" Fairly earned, Tim?"
" Yes, fairly earned ; for it's all fair to cheat those who would cheat
you."
" I cannot altogether agree with you on that point, Tim, but it cer-
tainly is no more than they deserve ; but this is matter for reflection.
Why should Melchior wish to find out her address without my know-
ledge? — depend upon it, there is something wrong."
" That's what I said to myself coming home; and I made up my
mind, that, for some reason or another, he wishes to regain possession
of her."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 145
" I enlortain the same idea, Timothy, and I am glad you have
lisappointed him. I will take care thai they shall not find her owl,
now that I am upon my guard."
" But, sir, I wish to draw one good moral from this circumstance ;
which is, that if you had heen served hy any common footman, your
interest would, in all probability, have been sacrificed to the ten-pound
note; and that not only in this instance, but in many others, I did a
very wise thing in taking my present situation."
'* I am but too well aware of that, Tim, my dear fellow," said I,
extending my hand, " and depend upon it, that if I rise, you do. You
know me well enough by this time."
" Yes, I do, Japhet, and had rather serve you than the first nobleman
in the land. I'm going to purchase a watch with tliis ten-pound note,
and I never shall look at it without remembering the advantage of
keeping a watch over my tongue."
CHAPTER XXX\ I.
1 fall very much in love with honesty, because I find that it is well received in the
world — and to prove my honesty, inform the whole world that honest I have
never been.
I PROVED the will of Major Carbonnell, in which there was no diffi-
culty; and then I sat down to consider in what way I might best hus-
band my resources. The house was in good repair, and well furnished .
At the time that I lived with the major, we had our drawing-room, and
his bed-room, and another room equally large, used as his dressing-
room, on the first fioor. The second floor was appropriated to me,
and the sitting-room was used as a dining-room when we dined at
home, which was but seldom. The basement was let as a shop, at one
hundred pounds per annum, but we had a private door for entrance,
and the kitchens and attics. I resolved to retain only the first-floor,
and lei the remainder of the house ; and I very soon got a tenant at
sixty pounds per annum. The attics were appropriated to Timothy
and the servants belonging to the lodger.
After having disposed of what was of no service to me, I found that,
deducting the thousand pounds paid into the banker's, for Lord Win-
10
1 hi JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
dermear, I had a liUle above three thousand pounds in ready moni^y,
and what to do with this I could not well decide. I applied to Mr.
Masterton, stating the exact amount of my finances, on the day that I
dined with him, and he replied, " You have two good tenants, bringing
you in one hundred and sixty pounds per annum — if this money -is put
out on mortgage, I can procure you five per cent., which will be one
hundred and fifty pounds per annum. Now, the question is, do you
think that you can \i\p, upon three hundred and ten pounds per annum ?
You have no rent to pay, and I should think that, as you are not at
any great expense for a servant, you might, with economy, do very
well. Recollect, that if your money is lent on mortgage, you will not
be able to obtain it at a moment's warning. So reflect well before you
decide."
I consulted with Timothy, and agreed to lend the money, reserving
about two hundred pounds to go on with, until I should receive my
rents and interest. On the Friday I went to dine with Mr. Masterton,
and narrated what had passed between me and Lady Maelstrom. He
was very much diverted, and laughed immoderately. "Upon my
faith, Mr. Newland, but you have a singular species of madness; you
first attack Lord Windermear, then a bishop, and, to crown all, you
attack a dowager peeress. I must acknowledge, that if you do not find
out your parents, it will not be for want of inquiry. Altogether, you
are a most singular character ; your history is most singular, and your
good fortune is equally so. You have made more friends before you
have come to age, than most people do in their whole lives. You
commence the world with nothing, and here you are, with almost a
competence — have paid off a loan of one thousand pounds, which was
not required— and are moving in the best society. Now the only
drawback I perceive in all this is, that you are in society under false
colours, having made people suppose that you are possessed of a large
fortune."
" It was not exactly my assertion, sir."
" No, I grant, not exactly ; but you have been a party to it, and I
cannot allow that there is any difference. Now, do you mean to allow
this supposition to remain uncontradicted?"
" I hardly know what to say, sir; if I were to state that I have
nothing but a bare competence, it will be only injurious to the memory
of Major Carbonnell. All the world will suppose that he has ruined
me, and that T had the fortune ; whereas, on the contrary, it is to him
that 1 am indebted for my present favourable position."
" That may be very true, Mr. Newland ; but if I am to consider you
as my protege, and I may add, the protege of Lord Windermear, I
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 14t
^nust make you quite honest — I will bo no parly lo fraud in anysliape.
Are you prepared lo resign your borrowed plumes, and appear before
Ihe world as you really are?"
"There is but one inducement, sir, for me lowish that the world
may still deceive themselves. I may be thrown out of society, and
lose the opportunity of discovering my parents."
" And T^ray, Mr. Newland, which do you think is more likely to
tend to the discovery, a general knowledge that you are a foundling
in search of your parents, or your present method, of taxing every
body upon suspicion. If your parents wish to reclaim you, they
will then have their eyes directed towards you, from your position
being known; and I will add, there are few parents who will not
be proud of you as a son. You will have the patronage of Lord
Windermear, which will always secure you a posilion in societv, and
the good wishes of all ; although, I grant, that such worldly people as
Lady Maelstrom may strike your name off their porter's list. You
will, moreover, have the satisfaction of knowing that the friends which
you make have not been made under false colours and appearances,
and a still further satisfaction, arising from a good conscience."
" I am convinced, sir, and I thank you for your advice. I will now
be guided by you in every thing."
" Give me your hand, my good lad : I now will be your friend to
the utmost of my power."
" I only wish, sir," replied 1, much affected, " that you were also
my father."
" Thank you for the wish, as it implies that you have a good opinion
of me. What do you mean to do ? '
" I have promised my friend, Mr. Ilarcourl, lo go down with him
lo his father's."
-\Yell?"
" And before I go I will undeceive him."
*' You art right; you will then find whether he is a friend to you
or to your supposed ten thousand pounds per annum. I have been
reflecting, and I am not aware that any thing else can be done at pre-
sent than acknowledging to the world who you really are, which is
more likely to tend to the discovery of your parents than any other
means ; but at the same time I shall not be idle. All we law yers have
among us strange secrets, and among my fraternity, to whom i shall
speak openly, I think it possible that something maybe found out
which may serve as a clue. Do not be annoyed at being cut by
many, when your history is known ; those who cut you are those
whose acquaintance and friendship are not worth having; it will un-
14S JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
mask your flatterers from your friends, and you will not repent of
your having been honest; in the end, it is the best policy, even in a
worldly point of view. Come to me as often as you please ; I am
always at home to you, and always your friend."
Such was the result of my dinner with Mr. Masterton, which I nar-
rated to Timothy as soon as I returned home. "Well, Japhet, I
think you have found a real friend in Mr. Masterton, and I am glad
that you have decided upon following his advice. As for me, I am
not under false colours. I am in my right situation, and wish no
more."
In pursuance of my promise to Mr. Masterton, I called upon Har-
court the next morning, and after stating my intention to go down for
a day or two into the country to see a little girl who was under my
care, I said to him, " Harcourt, as long as we were only town ac-
quaintances, mixing in society, and under no peculiar obligation to
each other, I did not think it worth while to undeceive you on a point
in which Major Carbonnell was deceived himself, and has deceived
others; but now that you haveofl'ered to introduce me into the bosom
of your family, I cannot allow you to remain in error. It is generally
supposed that I am about to enter into a large property when I come
of age; now, so far from that being the case, I have nothing in the
world but a bare competence, and the friendship of Lord Winder-
mear. In fact, I am a deserted child, ignorant of my parents, and
most anxious to discover them, as I have every reason to suppose that
I am of no mean birth. I tell you this candidly, and unless you re-
new the invitation, shall consider that it has not been given."
Harcourt remained a short time without answering. " You really
have astonished me, Newland ; but," continued he, extending his hand,
*' I admire — I respect you, and I feel that I shall like you better.
With ten thousand pounds a-year you were above me — now we are
but equals. I, as a younger brother, have but a bare competence, as
well as you ; and as for parents, for the benefit I now derive from
them, I might as well have none. ]Sot but my father is a worthy,
fine old gentleman, but the estates are entailed ; he is obliged to keep
up his position in society, andhe has a large family to provide for, and
he can do no more. You have indeed an uncommon moral courage
to have made this confession. Do you wish it to be kept a secret?"
" On the contrary, I wish the truth to be known."
"I am glad that you say so, as I have mentioned you as a young
man of large fortune to my father ; but I feel convinced, when I tell
him this conversation, he will be much more pleased in taking you by
the hand, than if you were to come down and propose to one of my
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 14i)
sisters. I repeat the invitation with double tlie pleasure that I gave it
at first."
" I thank you, Harcourt," replied I ; " some day I will tell you
more. I must not expect, however, that every body will prove them-
selves as noble in ideas as yourself."
** Perhaps not, but never mind that. On Friday next, then, we
start."
'' Asreed." I shook hands and left him.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
i try back to recover the lost scent, and discover to my astonishment, that I hava
been transported for forgery.
The behaviour of Harcourt was certainly a good encouragement,
and had I been wavering in my promise to Mr. Masterton, would have
encouraged me to proceed. I returned home with a light heart and a
pleasing satisfaction, from the conviction that I had done right. The
next morning I set off for , and, as it was a long while since I
had seen Fleta, our meeting was a source of delight on both sides. I
found her very much grown and improved. She was approaching
her fifteenth year, as nearly as we could guess — of course her exact
age was a mystery. Her mind was equally expanded. Her mistress
praised her docility and application, and w^ished to know whether I
intended that she should be taught music and drawing, for both of
which she had shown a decided taste. To this I immediately con-
sented, and Fleta hung on my shoulder and embraced me for the in-
dulgence. She was now fast approaching to womanhood, and my feel-
ings towards her were more intense than ever. I took the chain of
coral and gold beads from her neck, telling her that I must put it into
a secure place, as much depended upon them. She was curious to
know why, but I would not enter into the subject at that time. One
caution I gave her, in case, by any chance, her retreat should be dis-
covered by the companions of Melchior, which was, that, without I
myself came, she was on no account to leave the school, even if a letter
from me was produced, requesting her to come, unless that letter was
delivered by Timothy. I gave the same directious to her mistress,
Ijo japhet, in search of a father.
paid up her schooling and expenses, and then left her, promising not in
be so long before I saw her again. On my return to town I deposited
the necklace with Mr. Masterton, who locked it up carefully in his
iron safe.
On the Friday, as agreed, Harcourt and I, accompanied by Timothy
and Harcourt's servant, started on the outside of the coach, as younger
brothers usually convey themselves, for his father's seat in shire,
and arrived there in time for dinner. I was kindly received by oJJ
Mr. Harcourt and his family, consisting of his wife and three amiable
and beautiful girls. But on the second day, during which interval
I presume Harcourt had an opportunity of undeceiving his father, I
was delighted to perceive that the old gentleman's warmth of beha-
viour towards me was increased. I remained there for a fortnig!il,
and never was so happy. I was soon on the most intimate terms wilij
the whole family, and was treated as if I belonged to it. Yet when i
went to bed every night, 1 became more and more melancholy. I
felt what a delight il must be to have parents, sisters, and friends— the
bosom of a family to retire into, to share with it your pleasures and
your pains ; and the tears often ran down my cheeks, and moistened
my pillow, when I had, not an hour before, been the happiest of the
happy, and the gayest of the gay. In a family party, there is nothing
so amusing as any little talent out of the general way, and my per-
formances and tricks on cards, etc., in which Melchior had made me
such an adept, were now brought forward as a source of innocent gra-
tification. When I quitted, I had a general and hearty welcome lo
the house from the parents ; and the eyes of the amiable girls, as well
as mine, were not exactly dry, as we bade each other farewell.
" You told your father, Harcourt, did you not? "
" Yes, and the whole of them, Japhet ; and you must acknowledge,
that in their estimation you did not suffer. My father is pleased wilh
our intimacy, and advises me to cultivate it. To prove to you that I
am anxious so to do, I have a proposal to make. I know your house
as well as you do, and that you have reserved only the first floor for
yourself ; but there are two good rooms on the first floor, and you can
dispense with a dressing-room. Suppose we club together. It will
be a saving to us both, as poor Carbonnell said, when he took you in."
" With all my heart : I am delighted with the proposal."
Harcourt then stated what it was his intention to offer for his share
of the apartment; the other expenses to be divided, and his servant
dismissed. I hardly need say, that we did not disagree, and before [
had been a week in town, we were living together. My interview
with Mr. Masterton, and subsequent events, had made me forget to
call on the governors of the Foundling Hospital, to ascertain whether
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 151
there had been any inquiries after me. On my reliirn to town I went
there, and finding that there was a meeting to be held on the next day,
I presented myself. I was introdaced into the room where they were
assembled.
*' You wish to speak with the governors of the Hospital, I under-
stand," said the presiding governor.
"Yes, sir," replied I ; "I iiave come to ask whether an inquiry has
boen made after one of the inmates of this charity, of the name of Japhet
Nev.land."
" Japhet Newland I"
" If you recollect, sir, he was bound to an apothecary of the name
of Cophagus, in consequence of some money which was left with him
as an infant, inclosed in a letter, in which it was said that he would be
reclaimed if circumstances permitted."
"I recollect it perfectly well — it is now about six years back. I
think there was some inquiry, was there not, Mr. G ?'
"I think that there was, about a year and a half ago ; but we will
send for the secretary, and refer to the minutes."
My heart beat quick, and the perspiration bedewed my forehead,
when I heard this intelligence. At last, my emotion was so great,
that I felt faint. " You are ill, sir," said one of the gentlemen; "quick
— a glass of water."
The attendant brought a glass of water, which I drank, and reco-
vered myself. " You appear to be much interested in this young man's
welfare."
"I am, sir," replied I ; •' no one can be more so."
The secretary now made his appearance with the register, and after
turning over the leaves, read as follows: " August the 16th , a
gentleman came to inquire after an infant left here, of the name of
Japhet, with whom money had been deposited — Japhet, christened by
order of the governors, Japhet Newiand — referred to the shop of Mr.
Cophagus, Smithfield Market. He returned the next day, saying that
Mr. Cophagus had retired from business— that the parties in the shop
knew nothing for certain, but believed that the said Japhet New-
land had been transported for life for forgery, about ayear before."
•' Good heavens ! what an infamous assertion !" exclaimed I, clasp-
ing my hands.
" On reference back to the calendar, we observed that one J. New-
land was transported for such an ofTence. Ouery "?"
'' It must have been, some other person ; but this has arisen from
the vindictive feeling of those two scoundrels who served under Pleg-
?it." cried I.
152 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
*' How can you possibly tell, sir?" mildly observed one of ll»e
governors.
" How can I tell, sir !" replied I, starting from my chair. *' Why,
I am Japhet Newland myself, sir."
** You, sir," replied the governor, surveying my fashionable ex-
terior, my chain, 'and bijouterie.
•* Yes, sir, I am the Japhet Newland brought up in this asylum, and
who was apprenticed to Mr. Cophagus."
* ' Probably, then, sir," replied the president, " you are the Mr. New-
land whose name appears at all the fashionable parties in high life?"
" I believe that I am the same person, sir."
**I wish you joy upon your success in the world, sir. It would
not appear that it can be very important to you to discover your pa-
rents."
*'Sir," replied I, "you have never known what it is to feel the
want of parents and friends. Fortunate as you may consider me to be
— and I acknowledge I have every reason to be grateful for my unex-
pected rise in life — I would, at this moment, give up all that I am
worth, resume my Foundling dress, and be turned out a beggar, if I
could but discover the authors of my existence." — I then bowed low to
the governors, and quilted the room.
CHAPTER XXXVIH.
Mischief brewing — Timothy and I set our wits to work, and he resumes his old
profession of a gipsy.
I HASTENED homc wilh feelings too painful to be described. I had a
soreness at my heart, an oppression on my spirits, which weighed me
down. I had but one wish — that I was dead. I had already imparted
to Harcourt the history of my life, and when I came in, I threw my-
self upon the sofa in despair, and relieved my agonized heart wilh a
flood of tears. As soon as I could compose myself, I stated what had
occurred.
"My dear Newland, although it has been an unfortunate occurrence
in itself, I do not see that you have so much cause to grieve, for you
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 153
have Ihis salisfaclion, that it appears there has been a wish to reclaim
you."
'Yes," repUed I, "I grant that, but have they not been told, and
have they not believed, that I have been ignominiously punished for a
capital crime? Will they ever seek me more?"
"Probably not ; you must now seek them. What I should recom-
mend is, that you repair to-morrow to the apothecary's shop, and in-
terrogate relative to the person who called to make inquiries after you.
If you will allow me, I will go with you.''
"And be insulted by those malignant scoundrels?"'
"They dare not insult you. As an apothecary's apprentice they
would, but as a gentleman they will quail ; and if they do not, their
master will most certainly be civil, and give you all the information
which he can. We may as well, however, not do things by halves ; I
will borrow my aunt's carriage for the morning, and we will go in
style."
"I think 1 will call this evening upon Mr. Masterton. and ask his
advice."
"Ask him to accompany us, Newland, and he will frighten them
with libel, and defamation of character.'"
"I called upon Mr. Masterton, that evening and told my story. "It
is indeed very provoking, Newland ; but keep your courage up, I will
20 with you to-morrow, and will see what we can make of it. At
what time do you propose to start?"
" Will it suit you. sir. if we call at one o'clock? '
" Yes, so good night, my boy, for I have something here which I
must contrive to get through before that time."
Harcourt had procured the carriage, and we picked up Mr. Mas-
terton at the hour agreed, and proceeded to Smithtield. When we
drove up to the door of Mr. Pleggits shop, the assistants at first ima-
gined that it was a mistake ; few handsome carriages are to be seen
stopping in this quarter of the metropolis. We descended and en-
tered the shop, Mr. Masterton inquiring if Mr. Pleggit was at home.
The shopmen, who had not recognised me, bowed to the ground in
their awkward way; and one ran to call Mr. Pleggit, who was up
stairs. Mr. Pleggit descended, and we walked into the back parlour
Mr. Masterton then told him the object of our calling, and requested
to know why the gentleman, who had inquired after me, had been
sent away with the infamous fabrication that I had been transported
for forgery. Mr. Pleggit protested innocence — recollected, however,
that a person had called — would make every inquiry of his shopmen.
The head man was called in and interrogated — at first he appeared to
make a joke of it,, but when threatened by Mr, Masterton, became
*54 JAPHET, ixN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
humble — acknowledged that they had said that I was transported, for
Ihey had rend it in the newspapers — was sorry for the mistake; said
that the gentleman was a very tall person, very well dressed, very
much of a gentleman — could not recollect his exact dress — was a
large built man, with a stern face — but seemed very much agitated
when he heard that I had been transported. Called twice, Mr. Pleg-
git was not in at first — left his name — thinks the name was put down
on the day book — when he called a second time, Mr. Pleggit was at
home, and referred him to them, not knowing what had become of me.
The other shopman was examined, and his evidence proved similar to
that of the first. The day-book was sent for, and the day in August
referred to ; there was a name written down on the side of the
page, which the shopman said he had no doubt, indeed he could almost
swear, was the gentleman's name, as there was no other name put down
on that day. The name, as taken down, was Derhennon. This was
all the information we could obtain, and we then quitted the shop, and
drove otf without there being any recognition of me on the part of Mr.
Pleggit and his assistants.
"I never heard that name before/' observed Harcourt to Mr.
Masterton.
"It is, in all probability, De Benyon," replied the lawyer; "we
must make allowances for their ignorance. At all events, this is a sort
of clue to follow up. The De Benyons are Irish."
"Then I will set otf for Ireland to-morrow morning, sir," said I.
"You will do no such thing," replied the lawyer: " but you will
call upon me to-morrow evening, and perhaps I may have something
to say to you."
I did not fail to attend Mr. Masterton, who stated that he had made
every inquiry relative to the De Benyons : as he had said, they were
an Irish family of the highest rank, and holding the peerage of De
Beauvoir; but that he had written to his agent in Dublin, giving him
directions to obtain for him every possible information in his power
relative to all the individuals composing it. Till this had been re-
ceived, all that I could do was to remain quiet. I then narrated to
him the behaviour of the agent, Mr. Iving, to Timothy. " There is
some mystery there, most assuredly," observed Mr. Masterton ; " when
do you go again to ?"
I replied, that it was not my intention to go there for some time,
unless he would wish to see the little girl.
"I do, Newland. I think I must take her under my protection as
well as you. We will go down to-morrow. Sunday is the only day
I can spare ; but it must be put down as a work of charily."
The next day we went down to . Fleta was surprised to see
.lAPHliT, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 155
me SO soon, and Mr. jJasterton was much si ruck with the elegance and
classical features of my little protegee. He asked her many questions,
and with his legal tact, contrived to draw from her many little points
relative to her infant days, which she had, till he put his probing
questions, quite forgotten. As we returned to town, he observed,
"You are right, Japhet, that is no child of humble origin. Her very
appearance contradicts it; but we have, I think, a chance of discover-
ing who she is — a better one, I'm afraid, than at present we have for
your identilicalion. But never mind, let us trust to perseverance."
For three weeks I continued to live with Harcourt, but I did not go
out much. Such was the state of my affairs, when Timothy came to
my room one morning, and said, " I do not know whether you have
observed it, sir; but there is a man constantly lurking about here,
watching the house, I believe. I think, but still I'm not quite sure,
that I have seen his face before; but where! cannot recollect."
"Indeed, what sort of a person may he be?"
"He is a very dark man, stout, and well made; and is dressed in a
sort of half-sailor, half-gentleman's dress, such as you see put on by
those who belong to the Funny Clubs on the river ; but he is not at all
a gentleman himself — quite the contrary. It is now about a week that
I have seen him, every day; and I have watched him, and perceive
that he generally follows you as soon as you go out."
"Well," replied I, " we must find out what he wants — if we can.
Point him out to me; I will soon see if he is tracing my steps."
Timothy pointed him out to me after breakfast ; I could not recollect
the face, and yet it appeared that I had seen it before. I went out,
and after passing half a dozen streets, I turned round and perceived
that the man was dodging mo. I took no notice, but being resolved
to try him again, I walked to the White Horse Cellar, and took a seat
inside a Brentford coach about to start. On my arrival at Brentford I
got out, and perceived that the man was on the roof. Of a sudden it
flashed on my memory — it v. as the gipsy who had come to the camp
w ith the communication to Melchior, which induced him to quit it. I
recollected him — and i;is kneeling down by the stream and washing
his face. The mystery v;as solved — Melchior had employed him to
find out the residence of Fleta. In all probability they had applied to
the false address given by Timothy, and in consequence were trying,
by watching my motions, to find out the true one. " Vou shall be
deceived, at all events," thought I, as I walked on through Brentford
until I came to a ladies' seminary. I rang the bell, and was admitted,
stating my wish to know the terms of the school for a young lady, and
contrived to make as long a stay as I could, promising to call again, if
the relatives of the young lady were as satisfied as I professed to be.
1.^0 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
On my quitting the house, I perceived that my gipsy attendant was not
far off. I took the first stage back, and returned to my lodgings. Wiien
I had told all that had occurred to Timothy, he replied, "I think, sir,
that if you could replace me for a week or two, I could now be of great
service. He does not know me, and if I w^ere to darken my face, and
put on a proper dress, I think I should have no difficulty in passing
myself off as one ot the tribe, knowing their slang, and having been so
much with them."
** But what good do you anticipate, Timothy?"
"My object is to find out where he puts up, and to take the same
quarters — make his acquaintance, and find out who Melchior is, and
where he lives. My knowledge of him and Nattee may perhaps
assist me."
"You must be careful, then, Timothy; for he may know sufficient
of our history to suspect you."
" Let me alone, sir. Do you like my proposal ?"
"Yes, I do; you may commence your arrangements immediately."
CHAPTER XXXIX.
I set off on a wild goose chase — and fall in with an old friend.
The next morning Timothy had procured me another vaict, and
throwing off his liveries, made his appearance in the evening, sending
up to say a man wished to speak to me. He was dressed in highlow
boots, worsted stockings, greasy leather small clothes, a shag waist-
coat, and a blue frock overall. His face was stained of a dark olive,
and when he was ushered in, Harcourt, who was sitting at table with
me, had not the slightest recognition of him. As Harcourt knew all
my secrets, I had confided this; I had not told him what Timothy's
intentions were, as I wished to ascertain whether his disguise was com-
plete. I had merely said I had given Timothy leave for a few days.
" Perhaps you may wish me away for a short time," said Harcourt,
looking at Tim.
'^ Not at all, my dear Harcourt, why should I? There's nobody
here but you and Timothy."
''Timothy! excellent— upon my word, I never should have known
him."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 157
*' He is going forth on his adventures. "
"And if you please, sir, I will lose no lime. It is now dark, and I
know where the gipsy hangs out."
" Success attend you then ; but be careful, Tim. You had better
write to me, instead of calling.'
" I had the same idea; and now I wish you a good evening."
When Timothy quitted the room, I explained our intentions to
Harcourt. '-Yours is a strange adventurous sort of life, Newland ;
you are constantly plotted against, and plotting in your turn — mines
and counter-mines. I have an idea that you will turn out some
grand personage after all ; for if not, why should there be all this
trouble about you?"
" The trouble, in the present case, is all about Fleta ; who must,
by your argument, turn out some grand personage."
"Well, perhaps she may. I should like to see that little girl,
Newland."
" That cannot be just now, for reasons you well know ; but some
other time it will give me great pleasure."
On the second day after Tim's departure, I received a letter from
him by the twopenny post. He had made the acquaintance of the
gipsy, but had not extracted any information, being as yet afraid to
venture any questions. He further stated that his new companion
had no objection to a glass or two, and that he had no doubt but
that if he could contrive to make him tipsy, in a few days he would
have some important intelligence to communicate. I was in a state of
great mental agitation during this time. I went to Mr. Masterton,
and narrated to him all that had passed. He was surprised and
amused, and desired me not to fail to let him have the earliest intel-
ligence of what came to light. He had not received any answer as yet
from his agent in Dublin.
It was not until eight days afterwards that I received further com-
munication from Timothy ; and I was in a state of great impatience,
combined with anxiety, lest any accident should have happened. His
communication was important. He w^as on the most intimate footing
with the man, who had proposed that he should assist him to carry
oiTa httle girl, who was at a school at Brentford. They had been
consulting how this should be done, and Timothy had proposed forging
a letter, desiring her to come up to town, and his carrying it as a livery
servant. The man had also other plans, one of which was to obtain
an entrance into the house by making acquaintance w ith the servants ;
another, by calling to his aid some of the women of his fraternity to
tell fortunes : nothinc; was as vet decided, but that he was resolved
13^ .lAPHET, IN SKAllCII ()F A FATHER.
to obtain possession of the liUle girl, even if he were obliged to rcsor{
to force. In either case Timothy was engaged to assist.
When I read this, I more than congratulated myself upon the man's
being on the wrong scent, and that Timothy had hit upon his scheme.
Timothy continued" : — that they had indulged in very deep potations
last night, and that the man had not scrupled to say that he was em-
ployed by a person of large fortune, who paid well, and whom it might
not be advisable to refuse, as he had great power. After some diffi-
culty, he asked Timothy if he had ever heard the name of Melchior in
his tribe. Timothy replied that he had, and that at the gathering he
had seen him and his wife. Timothy at one time thought that the man
was about to reveal every thing, but of a sudden he stopped short,
and gave evasive answers. To a question put by Timothy, as to where
they were to take the child if they obtained 4)ossession of her, the
man had replied, that she would go over the water. Such were
the contents of the letter, and I eagerly awaited a further communi-
cation.
The next day I called at Longs Hotel upon a gentleman with whom
I was upon intimate terms. After remaining a short time with him,
I was leaving the hotel, when I was attracted by some trunks in the
entrance hall. I started when I read the address of — " A. De Benyon,
Esq., to be left at F 1 Hotel, Dublin." I asked the waiter who
was by, whether Mr. De Benyon had left the hotel. He replied that
he had left it in his own carriage that morning, and having more lug-
gage than he could lake with him, had desired these trunks to be for-
warded by the coach. I had by that time resumed my serenity. I
took out a memorandum-book, wrote down the address on the trunks,
saying that I was sorry not to have seen Mr. De Benyon, and that I
would write to him.
But if I composed myself before the waiter, how did my heart throb
as I hastily passed through Bond Street to my home ! I had made up
my mind, upon what very slight grounds the reader must be aware,
that this Mr. De Benyon either must be my father, or, if not, was
able to tell me who was. Had not Mr. Masterton said that there was a
clue — had he not written to Dublin? The case was to my excited
imagination as clear as the noon-day, and before I arrived at home, I
had made up my mind in what manner I should proceed. It was then
about four o'clock, I hastily packed up my portmanteau — look with
me all my ready money, about sixty pounds, and sent the servant to
secure a place in the mail to Holyhead. He returned, staling that
there was a seat taken for me. I waited till half-past five to see Har-
court, but he did not come home. I then wrote him a short note,
JAPliET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 150
teliing him where 1 was going, and promising to write as soon as 1
arrived.
" Ireland is lo be (he ground ot my future adventures, my dear
Harcourt. Call upon Mr. Masterton, and tell him what I have done,
which he surely will approve. Open Timothy's letters, and let me
have their contents. I leave you to arrange and act for me in every
respect until I return. In the mean time, believe me,
' ' Ever yours,
"J. >'ewland."
I gave the letter to the valet, and calling a coach drove to the office,
and in less than five minutes afterwards was rolling away to Holyhead,
felicitating myself upon my promptitude and decision, little imagining
to what the step I had taken was to lead.
It was a very dark night in November when I started on my ex-
pedition. There were three other passengers in the mail, none of
whom had yet spoken a word, although we had made several miles of
our journey. Muftled up in my cloak, I indulged in my ow^n reveries
as usual, building up castles which toppled over one after another as I
built and rebuilt again. At last one of the passengers blew his nose,
as if to give warning that he was about to speak; and then inquired
of the gentleman next him if he had seen the evening newspapers. The
other replied in the negative.. " It would appear that Ireland is not in
a very quiet state, sir," observed the first.
" Did you ever read the history of Ireland? " inquired the other.
"Not very particularly."
"Then, sir, if you were to take that trouble, you will find that Ire-
land, since it was first peopled, never has been in a quiet state, nor
perhaps ever will. It is a species of human vulcano— always either
smoking, burning, or breaking out into eruptions and fire."
" Very true, sir,'" replied the other. "I am told the White Boys
are mustering in large numbers, and that some of the districts are
quite impassable."
" Sir, if you had travelled much in Ireland, you would. have found
out that many of the districts are quite impassable, without the impedi-
ment of the ^yhite Boys."
"\ou have been a great deal in Ireland, then, sir," replied the
other.
"^es, sir," said the other with a consequential air, " I believe I
may venture to say that I am in charge of some of the most considerable
properties in Ireland."
IGO JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
"Lawyer — agent — five per cent. — and so on," muttered the third
party, who sale by me, and had not yet spoken.
There was no mistaking him — it was my former master, Mr. Co-
phagus ; and I cannot say that I was very w^ell pleased at this intima-
tion of his presence, as I took it for granted that he would recognise
me as soon as it was daylight. The conversation* continued, without
any remarks being made upon this inlerruption on fhe part of Mr.
Cophagus. The agent, it appeared, had been called to London on
business, and was returning. The other was a professor of music
bound to Dublin on speculation. What called Mr. Cophagus in that
direction I could not comprehend ; but I thought I would try and find
out. I therefore, while the two others were engaged in conversation,
addressed him in a low tone of voice. " Can you tell me, sir, if the
College at Dublin is considered good for the instruction of surgical
pupils?"
"Country good, at all events plenty of practice — broken heads —
and so on."
' ' Have you ever been in Ireland, sir ? "
* ' Ireland ! — never — don't wish to go — must go — old women will die
— executor — botheration — and so on."
" I hope she has left you a good legacy, sir," replied I.
"Legacy — humph — can't tell — silver tea-pot — suit of black, and
so on. Long journey — won't pay — can't be helped — old women
always troublesome alive or dead — bury her, come back — and soon."
CHAPTER XL.
I deny ray master.
Although Mr. Cophagus was very communicative in his own way,
he had no curiosity with regard to others, and the conversation drop-
ped. The other two had also asked all the questions which they
wished, and we all, as if by one agreement, fell back in our seats, and
shut our eyes, to court sleep. I was the only one who wooed it in
■vain. Day broke, my companions were all in repose, and I discon-
tinued my reveries, and examined their physiognomies. Mr. Cophagus
was the first to whom I directed my attention. He was much the
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. I'W
•same in face as when 1 had left him, but considerably thinner in per-
son. His head was covered with a white nighl-cap, and he snored
with emphasis. The professor of music was a very small man, w ilh
mustachios ; his mouth was wide open, and one would have thought
that he was in the full execution of a bravura. The third person, who
had slated himself to be an agent, was a heavy, full-faced, coarse-
looking personage, with his hat over his eyes, and his head bent down
on his chest, and I observed that he had a small packet in one of hi^
hands, with his fore-finger twisted through the string. I should not
have taken further notice, had not the name of T. Iving, in the corner
of the side on which was the direction, attracted my attention. It
was the name of Melchior's London correspondent, who had attempted
to bribe Timothy. This induced me to look down and read the di-
rection of the packet, and I clearly deciphered. Sir Henry De Clare,
Bart. Mount Castle, Connemara. I took out my tablets, and wrote
down the address. I certainly had no reason for so doing, except that
nothing should be neglected, as there was no saying what might turn
out. I had hardly replaced my tablets when the party awoke, made a
sort of snatch at ihe packet, as if recollecting it, and wishing to ascer-
tain if it were safe, looked at it, took off his hat, let down the window,
and then looked round upon the other parlies.
" Fine morning, sir," said he to me, perceiving that I was the only
person awake.
" Very," replied I, "very fine; but I had rather be walking over
the mountains of Connemara, than be shut up in this close and confined
conveyance."
"Hah I you know Connemara, then ? I'm going there; perhaps you
are also bound to that part of the country? but you are not Irish.'
**I was not born or bred in Ireland, certainly," replied I.
*' So I should say. Irish blood in your veins, I presume."
*' I believe such to be the case," replied I, with a smile, implying
certainty.
" Do you know Sir Henry de Clare ?'*
*' Sir Henry de Clare — of Mount Castle — is he not ?"
" The same ; I am going over to him. I am agent for his estates,
among others. A very remarkable man. Have you ever seen his
wife f
-' Ireally cannot tell," replied I; " let me call to mind."
I had some how or another formed an idea, that Sir Henry de Clare
and Melchior might be one and the same person ; nothing was too absurd
or improbable for my imagination, and I had now means of bringing
home my suspicions. ** I think," continued I, "I recollect her — that
l«-2 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
is, she is a very tall, handsome woman, dark eyes and complexion.
''The very same,'' replied he/'
My heart bounded at the information ; it certainly was not any c\w
to my own parentage, but it was an object of my solicitude, and con
necled with the welfare of Fleta. '*IfI recollect right," observed I
' ' there are some curious passages in the life of Sir Henry?"
"Nothing very particular," observed the agent, looking out of tin
window.
" I thought that he had disappeared for some lime. "
"Disappeared ! he certainly did not live in Ireland, because he ha(
quarrelled with his brother. Relived in England until his brother')
death."
* * How did his brother die, sir ?"
" Killed by a fall when hunting," replied the agent. " He wa«
attempting to clear a stone wall, the horse fell back on him, and dislo-
cated his spine, I was on the spot when the accident happened."
I recollected the imperfect communication of Fleta, who had hearc
the gipsy say that "he was dead ;" and also the word horse made use
of, and I now felt convinced that I had found out Melchior. " Sii
Henry, if I recollect right, has no family," observed I.
" No ; and I am afraid there is but little chance."
" Had the late baronet, his elder brother, any family ?"
' ' What, Sir William ? No ; or Sir Henry would not have come
into the title."
" He might have had daughters," replied I.
" Very true ; now I think of it, there was a girl, who died when
young."
" Is the widow of Sir William. alive ?"
•• Yes ; and a very fine woman she is ; but she has left Ireland since
her husband's death."
I did not venture to ask any more questions. Our conversation had
roused Mr. Cophagus and the other passenger ; and as I had reflected
how I should behave in case of recognition, I wished to be prepared for
him. " You have had a good nap, sir," said I, turning to him.
•* Nap — yes — coach nap, bad — head sore — and so on. Why — bless
me — Japhet — Japhet New — yes — it is."
'• Do you speak to me, sir ? " inquired I, with a quiet air.
" Speak to you — yes — bad memory — hip ! quite forgot— old master
— shop in Smithfield — mad bull — and so on."
" Really, sir," replied I, " I am afraid you mistake me for some
other person."
Mr. Cophagus looked very hard at me, and perceiving that there
.lAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A I-ATHER. IfiS
was uo alteralion in my countenance, exclaimed, "Very odd — same
nose — same face — same age too — very odd — like as two pills — beg
pardon — made a mistake — and so on."
Satisfied with the discomjjture of Mr. Cophagus, I turned round,
when I perceived the Irish agent, with whom I had been in conver-
sation, eyeing me most attentively. As I said before, he was a hard-
fealured man, and his small grey eye was now fixed upon me, as if it
would have pierced me through, I felt confused for a moment, as the
scrutiny was unexpected from that quarter ; but a few moments re-
flection told me, that if Sir Henry de Clare and ^lelchior were the same
person, and this man his agent, in all probability he had not been sent
to Ensland f.^r nothing; that if he was in search of Fleta, he must
have heard of my name, and perhaps something of my history. " I
appear to have a great likeness to many people," observed I, to the
agent, smiling. " It was but the other day I was slopped in Bond
Street as a Mr. Rawlinson."
" >'otavery common face either, sir," observed the agent; "if
once seen not easily forgotten, nor easily mistaken for another."
" ' Still such appears to be the case, " replied I, carelessly.
y\e now stopped to lake refreshment. I had risen from Ihe table,
and was going into the passage, when I perceived the agent looking
over the way-bill with the guard. As soon as he perceived me, he
walked out in front of the inn. Before the guard had put up the bill,
I requested to look at it, wishing to ascertain if I had been booked in
my own name. It was so. The four names were, Newland, Co-
phagus, Ballzi, M'Dermott. I was much annoyed at this circum-
stance. M'Dermolt was, of course, the name of the agent ; and that
was all the information I received in return for my own exposure,
which I now considered certain ; I determined, however, to put a
good face on the matter, and when we returned to the coach, again en-
tered into conversation with Mr. M'Dermott, but I found him parti-
cularly guarded in his replies whenever I spoke about Sir Henry or his
family, and I could not obtain any further information. Mr. Cophagus
could not keep his eyes off me — he peered into my face — then he
would fall back in the coach. " Odd — very odd — must be — no — says
not — um." In about another half hour, he would repeat his exami-
nation, and mutter to himself. At last, as if tormented with his
doubts, he exclaimed, '' Beg pardon— but — you have a name?"
" Yes," replied I, " I have a name."
•' Well, then — not ashamed. What is it?"
" My name, sir," replied I, "is Newland;" for I had resolved to
acknowledge to my name, and fall back upon a new line of defence
11 "
164 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
* ' Thought so — don't know me — don't recollect shop — Mr. Brookes 's
— Tim — rudiments — and so on."
" I have not the least objection to tell you my name; but I am
afraid you hare the advantage in your recollection of me. Where
may I have had the honour of meeting you?"
" Meeting— what, quite forgot— Smithfield?"
** And pray, sir, where may Smithfield be?"
" Very odd — can't comprehend — same name, same face — don't re-
collect me — don't recollect Smithfield?"
** It may be very odd, sir; but, as I am very well known in Lon-
don, at the west end, perhaps we have met there. Lord Windermear's,
perhaps— Lady Maelstrom's" — and I continued mentioning about a
dozen of the most fashionable names. "At all events, you appear to
have the advantage of me; but I trust you will excuse my want of me-
mory, as my acquaintance is very extensive."
" I see — quite a mistake — same name, not same person — beg par-
don, sir — apologies^ — and so on," replied the apothecary, drawing in a
long sigh.
CHAPTER XLL
I turn lawyer.
I WATCHED the countenance of the agent, who appeared at last to be
salisBed that there had been some mistake ; at least he became more
communicative, and as I no longer put any questions to him relative
to Sir Henry, we had a long conversation. I spoke to him about
the De Benyons, making every inquiry that I could think of. He in-
formed me that the deceased earl, thfe father of the present, had many
sons, who were some of them married, and that the family was ex-
tensive. He appeared to know them all, the professions which they had
been broughtupto, and their careers in life. I treasured up his inform-
ation, and, as soon as I had an opportunity, wrote down allwhich he had
told me. On our arrival at Holyhead, the weather was very boiste-
rous, and the packet was to depart immediately. Mr. M'Dermott
stated his intentions to go over, but Mr. Cophagus and the professor
declined, and, anxious as I was to proceed, I did not wish to be any
longer in company with the agent, and, therefore, also declined going
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 163
on board. Mr. M'Dermott called for a glass of brandy and water,
drank it off in haste, and then, followed by the porter, with his lug-
gage, went down to embark.
As soon as he was gone, I burst into a fit of laughter. " Wei!,
Mr. Cophagus, acknowledge that it is possible to persuade a man out
of his senses. You knew^ me, and you were perfectly right in asserting
that I was Japhet, yet did I persuade you at last that you were mis-
taken. But I will explain to you why I did so."
" All right," said the apothecary, taking my proffered hand, "thought
so — no mistake — handsome fellow — so you are — Japhet Newland — my
apprentice — and so on."
'* Yes, sir," repHed I, laughing, " I am Japhet Newland." (I turned
round, hearing a noise, the door had been opened, and Mr. M'Der-
mott had just stepped in ; he had returned for an umbrella, which he
had forgotten; he looked at me, at Mr. Cophagus, who still held my
hand in his, turned short round, said nothing, and w^alked out.)
*' This is unfortunate," observed I, "my reason for not avowing
myself, was to deceive that very person, and now I have made the
avowal to his face; however, it cannot be helped."
I sat down with my old master, and as I knew that I could confide
in hini, gave him an outline of my life, and stated my present inten-
tions.
" I see, Japhet, I see— done mischief — sorry for it — can't be
lielp'd — do all I can — um — what's to be done ? — be your friend--al-
ways like you — help all I can — and so on."
" But what would you advise, sir?"
" Advice — bad as physic — nobody takes it— Ireland — wild place —
no law — better go back — leave all to me — find out — and so on."
This advice I certainly could not consent to follow.
We argued the matter over for some time, and then it was agreed
that w^e should proceed together. I was informed by Mr. Cophagus
that he had retired with a very handsome fortune, and was living in
the country, about ten miles from the metropolis ; that he had been
summoned to attend the funeral of a maiden aunt in Dublin, who had
left him executor and residuary legatee, but that he knew nothing of
her circumstances. He was still a bachelor, and amused himself in
giving advice and medicines gratis to the poor people of the village in
which he resided, there being no resident practitioner within some
distance. He liked the country very much, but there was one objection
to it— the cattle. He had not forgotten the mad bull. At a very late
hour we retired to our beds : the next morning the weather had mo-
derated, and, on the arrival of the mail we embarked, and had a very
IM JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
good passage over. On my arrival at Dublin, I direcledmy steps to the
F Hotel, as the best place to make inquiries relative to Mr. De
Benyon. Mr. Cophagus also put up at the same hotel, and we agreed
to share a sitting-room.
" Waiter," said I, *' do you know a Mr. De Benyon?"
** Yes, sir," replied he; " there is one of the De Benyons at the
hotel at this moment."
'* Is he a married man?"
**Yes — with a large family."
** What is his Christian name?"
" 1 really cannot tell, sir; but I'll find out lor you by to-morrow
morning."
'* When does he leave ?"
** To-morrow, I believe."
*' Do you know where he goes?"
* ' Yes, sir, to his own seat. "
The waiter left the room. " W^on't do, Japhet," said Cophagus.
'• Large family — don't want more — hard times, and so on."
" TSo, ' replied I, "it does not exactly answer; but I may from him
obtain further intelligence."
" Won't do, Japhet — try another way — large family — want all un-
cle's money — um — never tell — good night."
This remark of Mr. Cophagus gave me an idea, upon which I pro-
ceeded the next morning. I sent in my card, requesting the honour
of speaking to Mr. De Benyon, stating that I had come over to Ireland
on business of importance, but that, as I must be back if possible by
term time, it wouW perhaps save much expense and trouble. The
waiter took in the message. *' Back by term time — it must be some
legal gentleman. Show him up," said Mr. De Benyon.
I walked in with a business-like air. " Mr. De Benyon, I believe?"
" Yes, sir; will you do me the favour to take a chair?"
I seated myself, and drew out my memorandum book. " My object^
Mr. De Benyon, in troubling you, is to ascertain a few particulars
relative to your family, which we cannot so easily find out in England.
There is a property which it is supposed may be claimed by one of the
De Benyons, but which we cannot ascertain until we have a little
search into the genealogical tree."
" Is the property large?" inquired Mr. De Benyon.
" Not very large," rephed I ; "but still a very handsome property,
I am told." The reader may surmise that property referred to was
my own pretty self. "May I ask you a few particulars relative to
the present earl and his brothers ?"
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 167
**Most certainly, sir, " replied Mr. DeBenyon ; "any information I
can give you will be at your service. The Earl has four brothers. The
eldest Maurice/'
" Is he married?"
" Yes, and has two children. The next is William."
" Is he married?"
"No; nor has he ever been. Heisageneral in the army. The
third is myself, Henry."
•' You are married, I believe, sir?"
"Yes, with a large family." ^
* ' May I request you will proceed, sir ?"
" Arthur is the fourth brother. He is lately married, and has two
children."
"Sir, I feel much obliged to you ; it is a curious and intricate afTair.
As I am here, I may as well ask one question, although not of great
consequence. The earl is married, I perceive, by the peerage, but 1
do not find that he has any children."
" On the contrary, he has two — and prospects of more. May I now
request the particulars connected with this property ?"
" The exact particulars, sir, I cannot well tell you, as I am not ac-
quainted with them myself; but the property in question, I rather
think, depends upon a name. May I venture to ask the names of all
your children?"
Mr. De Benyon gave me a list seriatim, which I put down with
great gravity,
" Of course, there is no doubt of your second brother not being
married. I believe we ought to have a certificate. Do you know his
address?"
" He has been in the East Indies for many years. He returned
home on furlough, and has now just sailed again for Calcutta."
" That is unfortunate ; we must forward a letter through the India
Board. May I also be favoured with your address, as in all probability
it may be advisable ?"
Mr. De Benyon gave me his address. I rose, promised to give him
all the particulars as soon as they were known to me, bowed, and
made my exit. To one who was in his sober senses, there certainly was
not any important information gained ; but to me, it was evident that
the Mr. De Benyon who was a general in the army was to be interro-
gated, and I had almost made up my mind to set off for Calcutta.
165» JAPllET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER,
CHAPTER ALII.
I affront an Irish gentleman and make a handsome apology, \\hich is accepted.
Before I had gained my own room, I informed Mr. Cophagus, who
had just returned from a visit to his maiden aunt's house, of what had
passed.
" Can't see any thing in it, Japhet — wild goose chase — who told
you ? — oh ! Pleggit's men — sad liars — De Benyon not name, depend
upon it — all stuff, and so on."
And when I reflected, I could but acknowledge that the worthy apo-
thecary might be right, and that I was running after shadows ; but
this was only in my occasional fits of despondency. I soon rallied, and
was as sanguine as ever. Undecided how to proceed, and annoyed by
what Cophagus had said, I quitted the hotel, to walk out, in no very
^ood humour. As I w^ent out, I perceived the agent M'Dermott speak-
ing to the people in the bar, and the sight of him reminded me of
what, for a moment, I had forgotten ; which was, to ascertain whe-
ter Melchior and Sir Henry de Clare were one and the same person.
As I passed a crossing, a man in tattered habiliments, who was sweep-
ing it, asked for alms, but being in no very charitable humour I
walked on. He followed me, pestering me so much, that I gave him
a tap with the cane in ray hand, saying to him, •' Be off, you scoun-
drel."
"Oh! very well. Be off. is it you mane? By the blood of the
Rourkes but you'll answer for that same, any how."
I passed on, and having perambulated the city of Dublin for some
time, returned to the hotel. A few minutes afterwards, I was told by
the waiter that a Mr. O'Donaghan wished to speak to me. ''I have
not the honour of his acquaintance," replied I, " but you may show
him up."
Mr. O'Donaghan entered, a tall, thick-whiskered personage, in a
shabby-genteel dress, evidently not made for him, 'a pair of while
cotton gloves, and a small stick. "I believe that I have the honour
of spaking to the gentleman who crossed over the street about two
hours ago?"
" t'pon my word, e^ir, " replied I, " that is so uncertain a dehni-
JAPHET, IN SEAilCH OF A FATHER. 10i>
{ion, that 1 can hardly pretend to say whether I am the person you
mean ; indeed, from not having the pleasure of any one's acquaintance
in Dublin, I rather think there must be some mistake."
" The devil a bit of a mistake, at all at all ; for there's the little bil
of a cane with which you paid my friend, Mr.O'Kourke, the com-
pliment over his shoulders."
" I am really quite mystified, sir, and do not understand yau; will
you favour me with an explanation?"
" With all the pleasure in life, for then we shall come to a right
understanding. You were crossing the street, and a gentleman, a
particular friend of mine, with a broom which he carries for his own
amusement, did himself the honour to address you, whereupon of that
same little stick of yours, you did him the honour to give him a slight
taste."
" What do you mean? do you refer to the sw^eeper, who was so im-
portunate when I crossed over the road? "
" Then, by the powers, you've just hit it, as you did him. That's
my particular friend, Thaddeus O'Rourke, gentleman."
" Gentleman !" exclaimed I.
'* And with as good and as true Milesian blood as any in Ireland.
If you think, sir, that because my friend, just for his own amuse-
ment, thinks proper to put on the worst of his clothes and carry a
broom, just by way of exercise, to prevent his becoming too lusty, he
is therefore to be struck like a hound, it's a slight mistake, that's all ;
and here, sir, is his card, and you will oblige me by mentioning any
friend of yours with whom I may settle all the little points necessary
before the meeting of two gentlemen."
I could hardly refrain from laughing at this Irish gentleman and
his friend, but I thought it advisable to retain my countenance. ' ' My
dear sir," replied I, "it grieves me to the heart that I should have
committed such an error, in not perceiving the gentility of your
friend ; had I not been so careless, I certainly should have requested
him to do me the honour to accept a shilling, instead of having offered
him the insult. I hope jt is not now too late ? "
" By the powers, I'm not one of those harum-scarum sort, who
would make up a fight when there's no occasion for it, and as your
'haviour is that of a gentleman, I think it will perhaps be better to
shake hands upon it, and forget it altogether. Suppose now, we'll
consider that it was all a mistake ? You give the shilling, as you in-
tended to do, I'll swear, only you were in so great a hurry— and then,
perhaps, you'll not object to throw in another shilling for that same
tap with the cane, just to wipe off the insult, as it were, as we do our
sins, when we fork out the money, and receive absolution from the
n» JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
padre ; and then, perhaps, you will not think it loo much if I charge
another shilHng for ray lime and trouble, for carrying a message be-
tween two gentlemen."
" On the contrary, Mr. O'Donaghan, I think all your demands are
reasonable. Here is the money."
Mr. O'Donaghan took the three shiUings. '* Then, sir, and many
thanks to you, I'll wish you a good evening, and Mr. O'Rourke shall
know from me that you have absolution for the whole, and that you
have offered every satisfaction which one gentleman could expect from
another." So saying, Mr. O'Donaghan put his hat on with a firm
cock, pulled on his gloves, manoeuvred his stick, and, with a flourish-
ing bow, took his departure.
I had hardly dismissed this gentleman, and was laughing to myself
at the ridiculous occurrence, when Mr. Cophagus returned, first
putting his cane up to his nose with an arch look, and then laying it
down on the table and rubbing his hands. '' Good— w^arm old lady.
No — dead and cold — but left some thousands — only one legacy — old
Tom cat — physic him to-morrow — soon die, and so on."
On a more full explanation, I found that the old lady had left about
nine thousand pounds in the funds and bank securities, all of which,
with the exception of twenty pounds per annum, to a favourite cat,
was left to Mr. Cophagus. I congratulated him upon this accession
of fortune. He stated that the lease of the house and the furniture
were still to be disposed of, and that afterwards he should have nothing
more to do ; but he wished me very much to assist him in rummaging
over the various cabinets belonging to the old lady, and which were
full of secret drawers; that in one cabinet alone he had found upwards
of fifty pounds in various gold coins, and that if not well examined,
they would probably be sold with many articles of consequence re-
maining in them.
As my only object in Ireland was to find out Sir Henry de Clare,
and identify him, (but, really, why I could not have said, as it would
have proved nothing after all,) I willingly consented to devote a day
to assist Mr. Cophagus in his examination. The next morning after
breakfast, we went together to the house of the old lady, whose name
had been Maitland, as Mr. Cophagus informed me. Her furniture
was of the most ancient description, and in every room in the house
there was an or-molu, or Japan cabinet : some of them were very hand-
some, decorated with pillars and silver ornaments. I can hardly re-
count the variety of articles, which, in all probability, had been
amassed during the whole of the old lady's life, commencing with her
years of childhood, and ending with the day of her death. There
i»i'ere antique ornaments, some of considerable value, miniatures, fans,
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER ni
eluis, notes, of which the ink, from lime, had turned to a light red ;
packages of letters of her various correspondents in her days of hope
and anticipation, down to those of solitude and age. We looked over
some of them, but they appeared to both of us to be sacred, and they
were, after a slight examination, committed to the flames.
After we had examined all the apparent receptacles in tiiese cabi-
nets, we took them up between us, and shook them, and in most
cases found out that there were secret drawers containing other trea-
sures. There was one packet of letters which caught my eye, it was
from a Miss De Benyon. I seized it immediately, and showed the
inscription to Mr. Cophagus. "Pooh — nothing at ail — her mother
was a De Benyon."
" Have you any objection to my looking at these letters'? "
**No — read — nothing in them."
I laid them on one side, and we proceeded in our search, when Mr.
Cophagus took up a sealed packet. ** Heh ! what's this — De Benyon
again? Japhet, look here."
I took the packet ; it was sealed, and tied with red tape. " Papers
belonging to Lieutenant William de Benyon, to be relurned to him at
my decease." " Alice Maitland, with great care," was written at the
bottom of the envelope.
" This is it, my dear sir," cried I, jumping up and embracing Mr.
Cophagus; ** these are the papers which 1 require. May I keep
them?"
'* Mad — quite mad — go to Bedlam — strait waistcoat — head shaved,
and soon."
CHAPTER XLIII.
I am not content with minding my own business, but must have a hand in that of
others, by which means I put my fool in it.
He then, after his own fashion, told me, that as executor he must
retain those papers; pointed out to me the little probability there was
of their containing any information relative to my birth, even allow-
ing that a person of the name of De Benyon did call at the Foundling
to ask for me, which was only a supposition ; and, finally, overthrew
all the hopes which had been, for so many days, buoying me up.
H'-i JAPHliT, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
Wlien he had finished, I threw myself upon the sofa in despair, ainJ
wished, at the moment, that I had never been born. Still hope agam
rose uppermost, and I would have given all I possessed to have been
able to break open the seals of that packet, and have read the contents.
At one moment I was so frantic, that I was debating whether I should
not take them from Mr. Cophagus by force, and run off with them.
At last I rose, and commenced reading the letters which I had put
aside, but there w^as nothing in them but the tritling communications
of two young women, who mentioned what was amusing to them,
but uninteresting to those who were not acquainted with the parties.
When we had finished, Mr. Cophagus collected all together, and
putting them into a box, we returned in a coach to the hotel. The
next day Mr. Cophagus had completed all his arrangements, and the
day following had determined to return to England. I walked with
him down to the vessel, and w^atched it for an hour after it had sailed,
for it bore away a packet of papers, which I could not help imagining
were to discover the secret which I was so eager in pursuit of. A
night's sleep made me more rational, and I now resolved to ascertain
where Sir Henry de Clare, or Melchior, as I felt certain he must be,
was to be found. I sent for the waiter, and asked him if he could in-
form me. He immediately replied in the affirmative, and gave his
address. Mount Castle, Connemara, asking me when I intended to set
out. It did not strike me till afterwards, that it was singular that he
should be so well acquainted with the address, and that he should
have produced a card with it written upon it; or, moreover, that he
should know that it was my intention to go there. I took the address,
and desired that I might have horses ready very early the next morn-
ing. I then sat down and wrote a letter to Harcourt, informing him
of my proceedings, also one to Mr. Masterton much more explicit ;
lastly to Timothy, to the care of Harcourt, requesting him to let me
Ivnow what had occurred between him and the gipsies. After dinner,
I packed up ready for my journey, and having settled my bill, I was
not sorry to retire to my bed.
At daylight I was, as I requested, called by the waiter, and taking
with me only a very small portmanteau, having left the rest of my
effects in the charge of the people who kept the hotel, I set off in a
post-chaise on my expedition. I was soon clear of the city, and on a
fine smooth road, and, as I threw myself back in the corner of the
chaise, I could not help asking myself the question— what was the
purport of my journey? As the reader will perceive, I was wholly
governed by impulses, and never allow^ed reason or common sense to
stand in the way of my feelings. "What have I to do?" replied I to
myself; " to find out if Melchior and Sir Henry de Clare be not one
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. I73
and Ihe same person. And what then? What then? — why then I
may find out something relative to Fleta's parentage. Nay, but is that
Hkely — if, as you suppose, Melchior is Sir Henry de Glare — if, as you
suppose, it is he who is now trying to find out and carry off Fleta — is
it probable that you will gain any information from him? I have an
idea that Fleta is the little girl said to have died, who was the child
of his elder brother. Why so? What interest could Melchior have
in stealing his own niece? That I cannot tell. Why did Nattee give
me the necklace? I cannot tell; she would hardly betray her hus-
band. At all events, there is a mystery, and it can only be unravelled
by being pulled at; and I may learn something by meeting Melchior,
whereas, T shall learn nothing by remaining quiet." This last idea
satisfied me, and for many hours I remained in a train of deep thought,
only checked by paying for the horses at the end of every stage.
It was now past twelve o'clock, when I found that it was necessary
to change the chaise at every post. The country also, as well as the
roads, had changed much for the worse. Cultivation was not so great,
the roads were mountainous, and civilization generally disappeared.
It was nearly dark when I arrived at the last post, from whence I was
to take horses to Mount Castle. As usual, the chaise also was to be
changed ; and I could not help observing that each change was from
bad to worse. Rope harness was used, and the vehicles themselves
were of the most crazy condition. Still I had travelled very fairly, for
an Irish postillion knows how to make an Irish horse go a very fair
pace. I descended from the chaise, and ordered another out imme-
diately. To this there was no reply, except, "Wait, your honour;
step in a moment, and rest from your fatigue a little." Presuming this
was merely to give them time to get ready, I walked into the room of
the inn, which indeed was very little better than a hovel, and sat down
by the turf fire in company with some others, whom I could hardly
distinguish for smoke. I paid the chaise and postillion, and soon after-
w^ards heard it drive off, on its way back. After a few minutes I in-
quired if the chaise was getting ready.
"Is it the chaise your honour means?" said the landlady.
** Yes," replied I, " a chaise on to Mount Castle."
"Then I am sorry that your honour must wait a little; for our
chaise, and the only one which we have, is gone to the castle, and wont
be back till long after the moon is up. What will your honour please
to lake?"
"Not back till moonlight," replied I ; " why did you not say so?
and I would have gone on with the other."
"Is it with the other you mane, your honour? Then if Teddy
DriscoU could make his horses go one step farther than our door, may
MX JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
I never have a soul lo be saved. Will your honour please to sit in the
little room? Kathleen shall light a fire."
Vexed as I was with the idea of passing the night in this horrid place,
there was no help for it; so I took up ray portmanteau and followed
the landlady to a small room, if it deserved the appellation, which had
been built after the cottage, and a door broken through the wall into
it. Ceiling there was none, it had only lean-to rafters, with tiles over
head. I took a seat on the only stool that was in the room, and leant
my elbow on the table in no very pleasant humour, when I heard the
girl say, "And why don't you let him go on to the castle? Sure the
chaise is in the yard, and the horses are in the stable."
"There's orders 'gainst it, Kathleen," replied the landlady. " Mr.
M'Dermott was here this blessed day, and who can deny him?"
" Who is he, then ?" replied the girl.
"An attorney with a warrant against Sir Henry; and, moreover,
they say that he's coming to 'strain upon the cattle of Jerry O'Toole
for the tithes."
"He's a bould young chap, at all events," replied the girl, " lo
come here all by himself."
"Oh ! but it's not till to-morrow morning, and then we'll have the
troops here to assist him."
"And does Jerry O'Toole know of this?"
"Sure enough he does; and I hope there'll be no murder committed
in my house this blessed night. But what can a poor widow do when
M'Dermott holds up his finger? Now, go light the fire, Kathleen, and
see if the poor young man wants any thing; it's a burning pity that he
shouldn't have something to comfort him before his misfortunes fall
upon him."
Kathleen made no reply. The horror that I felt at this discourse
may easily be imagined. That it was intended that I should meet
with foul play was certain, and I knew very well that, in such a de-
solate part of the country, the murder of an individual, totally un-
known, would hardly be noticed. That I had been held up to the
resentment of the inhabitants as a tithe collector and an attorney with
a warrant, w as quite sufficient, I felt conscious, to induce them to make
away with me. How to undeceive them was the ditTicultv.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 175
CHAPTER XLIV.
No hopes of rising next morning alive, as a last chance — I get into bed.
Kathleen came in with fuel to light the fire, and looking rather
hard at me, passed by, and was soon biisy blowing up the turf. She
was a very handsome dark-eyed girl, about nineteen years of age,
stout and well made. "What is your name?" said I.
"Kathleen, at your service, sir."
"Listen to me, Kathleen," said I, in a low voice. "You are a
woman, and all women are kind-hearted. I have overheard all that
passed between your mistress and you, and that M'Dermolt has slated
that I am a tithe collector and an attorney, with a warrant. I am no
such thing. I am a gentleman who wish to speak to Sir Henry de
Clare on a business which he does not like to be spoken to about; and
to show you what I say is the truth, it is about the daughter of his elder
brother, who was killed when hunting, and who is supposed to be dead.
I am the only evidence to the contrary ; and, therefore, he and M'Der-
molt have spread this report that I may come to harm."
"Is she alive, then?" replied Kathleen, looking up to me with
wonder.
"Yes; and I will not tell Sir Henry where she is, and that is the
reason of their enmity."
"But I saw her body,"' replied the girl in a low voice, standing up,
and coming close to me.
"It was not her's, depend upon it," replied I, hardly knowing what
to answer to this assertion.
"At all events, it was dressed in her clothes; but it was so long
before it was discovered, that we could make nothing of the features.
\Yell, I knew the poor little thing, for my mother nursed her. I was
myself brought up at the castle, and lived there till after Sir William
was killed; then we were all sent away."
"Kathleen 1 Kathleen 1" cried the landlady.
"Call for every thing you can think of, one after another," whispered
Kathleen, leaving the room.
" 1 cannot make the peat burn, " said she to the landlady, after she
had quitted the little room ; "and the gentleman wants some whiskey."
"Go out then, and get some from the middle of the stack, Kathleen,
176 JAPHET, FN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
and be quick; we have others to attend besides the tithe proctor.
There's the O'Tooles all come in, and your own Corny in with them."
"My Corny, indeed !" replied Kathleen ; "he's not quite so sure
of that."
In a short time Kathleen returned, and brought some dry peat and
a measure of whiskey. "If what you say is true," said Kathleen, "and
sure enough you're no Irish, and very young for a tithe proctor, who
must grow old before he can be such a villain, you are in no very
pleasant way. The O'Tooles are here, and I've an idea they mean no
good ; for they sit with all their heads together, whispering to each
other, and all their shillelaghs by their sides."
" Tell me, Kathleen, was the daughter of Sir William a fair-haired,
blue-eyed girl ?"
" To be sure she was," replied Kathleen, " and like a little moun-
tain fairy."
"Now, Kathleen, tell me if you recollect if the little girl or her
mother ever wore a necklace of red beads mixed with gold."
"Yes, that my lady did ; and it was on the child's neck when it
was lost, and when the body was found, it was not with it. Well I
recollect that, for my mother said the child must have been drowned
or murdered for the sake of the gold beads. '
"Then you have proved all I wished, Kathleen; and now I tell
you that this little girl is alive, and that I can produce the necklace
which was lost with her; and more, that she was taken away by Sir
Henry himself."
"Merciful Jesus !" replied Kathleen ; "the dear little child that we
cried over so much."
" But now, Kathleen, I have told you this, to prove to you that I
am not what M'Dermott has asserted, no doubt, with the intention
that my brains shall be knocked out this night."
"And so they will, sure enough," replied Kathleen, " if you do not
escape."
"But how am I to escape? and will you assist me?" And I laid
down on the table ten guineas from my purse. " Take that, Kathleen,
and it will help you and Corny. Now will you assist me?"
' ' It's Corny that will be the first to knock your brains out," replied
Kathleen, " unless I can stop him. I must go now, and I'll see what
can be done."
Kathleen would have departed without touching the gold ; but I
caught her by the wrist, collected it, and put it into her hand. "That's
not like a tithe proctor, at all events," replied Kathleen; "but my
heart aches, and my head swims, and what's to be done I know not."
So saying, Kathleen quitted the room.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 177
Well, thought I, after she had left the room, at all events, I
have not been on a \vrong scent this time. Kathleen has proved to
me that Fleta is the daughter of the late Sir William; and if I escape
this snare, Melchior shall do her justice. Pleased with my having so
identified Melchior and Fleta, I fell into a train of thought, and for the
first lime forgot my perilous situation ; but I was roused from my me-
ditations by an exclamation from Kathleen. ''Xo, no, Corny, nor
any of ye—not now — and mother and me to witness it — it shall not
be. Corny, hear me, as sure as blood's drawn, and we up to see it,
so sure does Corny O'Toole never touch this hand of mine." A pause,
and whispering followed, and again all appeared to be quiet. I un-
strapped my portmanteau, took out my pistols, which were loaded, re-
primed them, and remained quiet, determined to sell my life as dearly
as possible.
It was more than half an hour before Kathleen returned ; she looked
pale and agitated. " Keep quiet, and do not think of resistance," said
she, " it is useless. I have told my mother all, and she believes you,
and will risk her life to save him who has watched over the little girl
whom she nursed; but keep quiet, we shall soon have them all out of
the house. Corny dare not disobey me, and he will persuade the
others."
She then went out again, and did not return for nearly an hour,
when she was accompanied by her mother. •' Kathleen has told me
all, young sir," said she, "and do what we can, we will; but we
hardly know what to do. To go to the castle would be madness."
*' Yes," replied I ; '• but cannot you give me one of your horses to
return the way I came?"
•'That was our intention; but I find that the OTooles have taken
them all out of the stable to prevent me; and the house is watched.
They will come at midnight and attack us, that I fully expect, and how
to conceal you, puzzles my poor head."
" If they come, we can but persuade them that he has escaped." re-
plied Kathleen; " they will no longer watch the house, and he will
then have .some chance."
"There is but one chance, " replied the mother, who look Kathleen
aside, and whispered to her. Kathleen coloured to the forehead, and
made no reply. ' ' If your mother bids you, Kathleen, there can be no
harm."
' ' Yes; but if Corny was "
" He dare not," replied the mother ; " and now put this light out,
and do you get into bed, sir, with your clothes on. ' They led me to a
small bed-room, a miserable atTair ; but in that part of the country con-
sidered respectable. " Lie down there," said the mother, "and wait
12
ns JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
till we call you." They took the light away, and left me to my sell
and my own reflections, which were anything but pleasant. I lay
awake, it might be for two hours, when I heard the sound of feet, and
then a whispering under the window, and shortly afterwards a loud
knocking at the door, which they were attempting to burst open.
Every moment I expected that it would yield to the violence which was
made us of, when the mother came down half-dressed, with a hght in
her hand, hastened to me, and desired me to follow her. . I did so,
and before she left my room, she threw the window wide open. She
led me up a sort of half-stairs, half-ladder, to a small room, where I
found Kathleen sitting up in her bed, and half-dressed. '' m.othor !
mother!" cried Kathleen.
"I bid ye do it, child," replied the mother, desiring me to creep
into her daughter's bed, and cover myself up on the side next the
wall.
"Let me put on more clothes, mother."
"No, no, if you do, they will suspect, and will not hesitate to
search. Your m.other bids you."
The poor girl was burning with shame and confusion.
" Nay," replied I, "if Kathleen does not wish it, I will not buy my
safety at the expense of her feelings."
"Yes, yes," replied Kathleen, " I don't mind now ; those words of
yours are sufficient. Come in, quick ''
CHAPTER XLV.
Petticoat interest prevails, and I escape ; but I put my head into the lion's den.
There was no time for apology, and stepping over Kathleen, I bu-
ried myself under the clothes by her side. The mother then hastened
down stairs, and arrived at the door just as they had succeeded in forc-
ing it open, when in pounced a dozen men armed, with their faces
blackened. " Holy Jesus ! what it is that you want?" screamed the
landlady.
' ' The blood of the tithe proctor, and that's what we'll have, " replied
the O'Tooles.
' ' Not in my house — not in my house ! ' ' cried she. * ' Take him away,
at all events ; promise me to take him away."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 179
" So we will, honey darlint ; we'll take him out of your sicht, and
out of your hearing too ; only show us where he may be."
"He's sleeping," replied the mother, pointing to the door of the
bed-room, where I had been lying down.
The party took the light from her hand, and went into the room,
^here they perceived the bed empty and the window open. " Devil
a bit of a proctor here any how," cried one of them, "and the window
open. He's off — hurrah! my lads, he can't be far."
"By the powers ! it's just my opinion, Mrs. M'Shane," replied the
elder O'Toole, "that he's not quite so far off; so with your lave, or
by your lave, or without your lave, we'll just have a look over the
premises."'
"0! and welcome, Mister Jerry O'Toole, if you think I'm the
woman to hide a proctor, look everywhere just as you please."
The party, headed by Jerry O'Toole, who had taken the light out of
Mrs. M'Shane's hand, now ascended the ladder to the upper storv, and
as I lay by Kathleen, I felt that she trembled with fear. After examin-
ing every nook and cranny they could think of, they came to Mrs.
M'Shane's room, "01 go in — go in and look, Mr. O'Toole ; it's a verv
likely thing to insinuate that I should have a tithe proctor in mv bed.
Search, pray," and Mrs. M'Shane led the way into her own room.
Every part had been examined, except the small sleeping room of
Kathleen; and the party paused before the door. "We must search,"
observed O'Toole doggedly.
"Search my daughter's! very well, search if you please; it's a fine
story you'll have to tell, how six great men palled a poor girl out of
her bed to look for a tithe proctor. It will be a credit to vou anv how ;
and you, Corny O'Toole, you'll stand well in her good graces, when
you come to talk about the wedding day; and your wife that is to be,
pulled out of her bed by a dozen men. What will ye say to Kath-
leen, when you affront her by supposing that a maiden girl has a tithe
proctor in bed with her ? D'ye think that ye'U ever have the mother's
consent or blessmg?''
" >'o one goes into Kathleen's room," cried Corny O'Toole. roused
by the sarcasms of Mrs. M'Shane.
" Yes, Corny," replied Mrs. M'Shane, " it's not for a woman like
me to be suspected, at all events; so you, and you only, shall go into
the room, if that will content ye, Mr. Jerry O'Toole."
" Yes!" replied the party, and Mrs. M'Shane opened the door.
Kathleen rose up on her elbow, holding the bed-clothes up to her
throat, and looking at them, as they entered, said, " Corny 1 Corny I
this to me?"
Corny never thought of looking for any body, his eyes were rivetted
12*
ISU JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
upon his sweetheart. *' Murder, Kathleen, is it my fault? Jerry will
have it."
" Are you satisfied, Corny?" said Mrs. M'Shane.
" Sure enough I was satisfied before I came in that Kathleen would
not have any one in her bed-room," replied Corny.
" Then good night, Corny, and it's to-morrow that I'll talk with ye,"
replied Kathleen.
Mrs. M'Shane then walked out of the room, expecting Corny to fol-
low ; but he could not restrain himself, and he came to the bed-side.
Fearful that if he put his arms round her, he would feel me, Kathleen,
raised herself, and allowed him to embrace her. Fortunately the light
was not in the room, or I should have been discovered, as in so doing
she threw the clothes off my head and shoulders. She then pushed
back Corny from her, and he left the room, shutting the door after him.
The party descended the ladder, and as soon as Kathleen perceived thai
they were all down, she sprang out of bed and ran into her mother's
room. Soon after I heard them depart. Mrs. M'Shane made fast the
door, and came up stairs. She first went to her own room, where poor
Kathleen was crying bitterly from shame and excitement. I had got
up when she came into Kathleen's room for her clothes, and, in about
five minutes, they returned together. I was sitting on the side of the
bed when they came in : the poor girl coloured up when our eyes met.
" Kathleen," said I, " you have, in all probability, saved my life,
and I cannot express my thanks. 1 am only sorry that your modesty
has been put to so severe a trial."
•' If Corny was to find it out," replied Kathleen, sobbing again.
" How could I do such a thing 1"
" Your mother bid you," replied Mrs. M'Shane, " and that is suffi-
cient."
" Cut what must you think of me, sir?" continued Kathleen.
" I think that you have behaved most nobly. You have saved an
innocent man at the risk of your reputation, and the loss of your lover.
It is not now that I can prove my gratitude."
" Yes, yes, promise me by all that's sacred, that you'll never mention
it. Surely you would not ruin one who has tried to serve you."
" I promise you that, and I hope to perform a great deal more,"
replied I. " But now, Mrs. M'Shane, what is to be done? Remain
here I cannot."
" No ; you must leave, and that very soon. Wait about ten minutes
more, and then they will give up their search and go home. The road
to E " (the post I had lately come from) " is the best you can
take ; and you must travel as fast as you can, for there is no safety for
YouJiere."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. ISl
" I am convinced that rascal M'Dermott will not leave me 111! he has
rid himself of me." I then took out my purse, in which I still had
nearly twenty guineas. I took ten of them, " Mrs. M'Shatie, I must
leave you in charge of my portmanteau, which you may forward by
and by, when you hear of my safety. If I should not be so fortunate,
the money is better in your hands than in the hands of those who will
murder me. Kathleen, God bless you ! you are a good girl, and Corny
O'Toole will be a happy man if he knows your value."
I then wished Kathleen good by, and she allowed me to kiss her
without any resistance ; but the tears were coursing down her cheeks
as I left the room with her mother. Mrs. M' Shane looked carefully
out of the windows holding the light to ascertain if there was any body
near, and, satisfied with her scrutiny, she then opened the door, and
calling down the saints to protect me, shook hands with me, and I
quilted the house. It was a dark cloudy night, and when I first went
out, I was obliged to grope, for I could distinguish nothing. I walked
along with a pistol loaded in each hand, and gained, as I thought the
high road to E , but I made a sad mistake ; and puzzled by the
utter darkness and turnings, I took, on the contrary, the road to Mount
Castle. As soon as I Mas clear of the houses and the enclosure, there
was more light, and I could distinguish the road. I had proceeded
about four or five miles, when I heard the sound of horses' hoofs, and
shortly afterwards two men rode by me. I inquired if that was the
way to E . A pause ensued, and a whisper. '• All's right!" re-
plied a deep voice. I continued my way, glad to find that I had not
mistaken it, and cogitating as to what must be the purpose of two nfien
being out at such an hour. About ten minutes afterwards, I thought I
again heard the sound of horses' feet, and it then occurred to me that
they must be highwaymen, who had returned to rob me. I cocked
my pistols, determined to sell my life as dearly as I could, and awaited
their coming up with anxiety ; but th€y appeared to keep at the same
distance, as the sound did not increase. After half an hour I came to
two roads, and was undecided which to lake. I stopped and listened —
the steps of the horses were no longer to be heard. [ looked round me
to ascertain if I could recognise any object so as to decide me, but I
could not. I took the road to the left, and proceeded, until I arrived at
a brook which crossed ihe road. There was no bridge, and it was toe
dark to perceive the stepping stones. I had just waded about half way
across, when I received a blow on the head from behind, which
staggered me. I turned round, but before I could see my assailant,
a second blow laid me senseless in the water.
18-2 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
CHAPTER XLVI.
Under ground, Imt not yet dead and buried — The prospect any thing i)ut pleasant.
Whe>- my recollection returned, I found myself in the dark, but
\vhere, I knew not. My head ached, and my brain reeled. I sat up
for a moment to collect my senses, but the effort was too painful, I fell
back, and rem.ained in a state of half stupor. Gradually I recovered,
and again sat up. I perceived that I had been lying on a bed of straw,
composed of two or three trusses apparently. I felt with my extended
arms on each side of me, but touched nothing. I opened my eyes,
which I had closed again, and tried to pierce through the obscurity,
but in vain — all was dark as Erebus. I then rose on my feet, and ex-
tiending my hands before me, walked five or six steps on one side, till I
was clear of the straw, and came to a wall. I followed the wall about
twenty feet, and then touched wood ; groping about, I found it was a
door. I then made the circuit of the walls, and discovered that the
other side was built with bins for wine, which were empty, and I then
found myself again at the straw upon which I had been laid. It was
in a cellar no longer used — but where ! Again I lay down upon the
straw, and; as it may be imagined, my reflections were any thing but
pleasing. " Was I in the power of M'Dermolt or Melchior?" I fell
convinced that I was ; but my head was too painful for long thought, and
after half an hour's reflection, I gave way to a sullen state of half-
dreaming, half-stupor, in which the forms of M'Dermott, Kathleen,
Melchior, and Fleta, passed in succession before me. How long I re-
mained in this second species of trance 1 cannot say, but I was roused
by the light of a candle, which flashed in my eyes. I started up, and
beheld Melchior in his gipsy's dress, just as when I had taken leave
of him.
"It is to you, then, that I am indebted for this treatment?" re-
plied I.
" No; not to me," replied Melchior. "I do not command here:
but I knew you when they brought you in insensible, and being em-
ployed in the castle.. I have taken upon myself the ofTice of your
gaoler, that I might, if possible, serve you. '
I felt, I knew this to he false, but a moments reflcclion told me
that it was better at present to temporize.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 1S3
^' Who then does the castle belong to, Melchior?"
*' To Sir Henry de Clare."
• ' And what can be his object in treating me thus?'
" That I can tell you, because I am a party concerned. Vou re-
member the little girl, Flela, who left the gipsy camp vvith you-^she
is now somewhere under your care?"
■' Well, I grant it ; but I was answerable only to you about her.
" Very true, but I was answerable to Sir Henry ; and when 1 could
only say that she was well, he was not satisfied, for family reasons
now make him very anxious that she should return to him ; and indeed,
It will be for her advantage, as she will in all probability be his heir,
for he has satisfactorily proved that she is a near relative."
" Grant all that, Melchior; but why did not Sir Henry de Clare
write to me on the subject, and state his wishes, and his right to de-
mand his relative? and why does he treat me in this way? Another
question — how is it that he has recognised me to be the party who has
charge of the little girl? Answer me those questions, Melchior, and
then I may talk over the matter."
•' I will answer the last question first. He knew your name fronv
me, and it so happened, that a friend of his met you in the coach
as you were coming to Ireland : the same person also saw you
at the post-house, and gave information. Sir Henry, who is a
violent man, and here has almost regal sway, determined to detain
you till you surrendered up the child. You recollect, that you refused
to tell his agent, the person whose address I gave you, where she wa*
to be found, and. vexed at this, he has taken the law into his own
hands."
■' For which he shall smart, one of these days," replied I, "if there
1? law in this country,"
•• There is a law in England, but very little, and none that will
harm Sir Henry in this part of the country. No officer would ven-
ture within five miles of the castle, I can assure you; for he knows
very well that it would cost him his life; and Sir Henry never quits it
from one year's end to the other. You are in his power, and all that
he requires is information where the child may be found, and an order
for her being delivered to him. You cannot object to this, as he is her
nearest relative. If vou comply, I do not doubt but Sir Henry will
make you full amends for this harsh treatment, and prove a sincere
friend ever afterwards."
'■ It requires consideration," repliedl; '"atpresent, I am too much
hurt to talk. "
" I was afraid so," replied Melchior," " that was one reason why I
obtained leave to speak to you Wait a moment."
184 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
" Melchior then put the candle down on the ground, went out, and
turned the key. I found, on looking round, that I was right in my
conjectures. I was in a cellar, which, apparently, had long been in
disuse. Melchior soon returned, followed by an old crone, who car-
ried a basket and a can of water. She washed the blood off my head,
put some salve upon the wounds, and bound them up. She then went
away, leaving the basket.
' ' There is something to eat and drink in that basket," observed Mel-
chior; " but I think, Japhet, you will agree with me, that it will be
better to yield to the wishes of Sir Henry, and not remain in this horrid
hole."
"Very true, Melchior," replied I; "but allow me to ask you a
question or two. How came you here? where is Nattee, and how is
it, that after leaving the camp, I find you so reduced in circumstances,
as to be serving such a man as Sir Henry de Clare?"
" A few words will explain that," replied he. " In my early days
I was wild, and I am, to tell you the truth, in the power of this man;
nay, I will tell you honestly, my life is in his power ; he ordered me
to come, and I dare not disobey him — and he retains me here."
"And Nattee?"
" Is quite well, and with me, but not very happy in her present si-
tuation ; but he is a dangerous, violent, implacable man, and I dare
not disobey him. I advise you, as a friend, to consent to his wishes."
" That requires some deliberation,' replied I, " and I am not one
of those who are to be driven. My feelings towards Sir Henry, after
this treatment, are not the most amicable ; besides, how am I to know
that Flela is his relative ?"
"Well, I can say no more, Japhet. I wish you well out of his
hands."
" You have the power to help me, if that is the case," said I.
" I dare not."
" Then you are not the Melchior that you used to be," replied I.
" We must submit to fate. I must not stay longer; you will find
all that you want in the basket, and more candles, if you do not hke
being in the dark. I do not think I shall be permitted to come again,
till to-morrow."
Melchior then went out, locked the door after him, and I was left
to my meditations.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 185
CHAPTEK XLMI.
A friend in need is a friend in deed — The tables are turned and so is the key —
The issue in deep tragedy.
Was it possible that that ^hich Melchior said was true'? A little re-
tleclion told me that it was all false, and that he was himself Sir Henry
de Clare. I was in his power, and what might be the result? He might
detain me, but he dare not murder me. Dare not ! My heart sank
when I considered where I was, and how easy would it be for him to
despatch me, if so inclined, without any one ever being aware of my
late. I lighted a whole candle, that I might not find myself in the
dark when I rose, and, exhausted in body and, mind, was soon fast
asleep. I must have slept many hours, for when I awoke I was in
darkness — the candle had burnt out. I groped for the basket, and
examined the contents with my hands, and found a tinder-box. I
struck a light, and then feehng hungry and weak, refreshed myself
with the eatables it contained, which were excellent, as well as the
wine. I had replaced the remainder, when the key again turned in
the door, and Melchior made his appearance.
"How do you feel, Japhet, to-day?"
•' To-day !" replied I ; •• day and night are the same to me."
"That is your own fault," replied he. '• Have you considered what
I proposed to you yesterday ?"
"Yes," replied I ; "and I will agree to this. Let Sir Henry give
me my liberty, come over to England, prove his relationship to Fleta,
and I will give her up. What can he ask for more?"
" He will hardly consent to that," replied Melchior; "for, once in
England, you will take a warrant out against him."
"No; on my honour I will not, Melchior."
"He will not trust to that.'"
"Then he must judge of others by himself," replied I.
"Have you no other terms to propose," replied Melchior.
"None."
"Then I will carry your message, and give you his answer to-
morrow."
Melchior then brought in another basket, and took away the former,
and did not make his appearance till the next day. I now had re-
186 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
covered my strength, and determined to lake some decided measure,
but how to act I knew not. I reflected all night, and the next morn-
ing ( that is, according to my supposition ) I attacked the basket. Whe-
ther it was that ennui or weakness occasioned it, I cannot tell, but
either way, I drank too much wine, and was ready for any daring deed,
when Melchior again opened the door.
**Sir Henry will not accept of your terms. I thought not," said
Melchior, "I am sorry — very sorry."
"Melchior," replied I, starting up; '' let us have no more of this
duplicity. I am not quite so ignorant as you suppose. I know who
Fleta is, and who you are."
"Indeed," replied Melchior ; "perhaps you will explain?"
"I will. You, Melchior, are Sir Henry de Clare; you succeeded
to your estates by the death of your elder brother, from a fall when
hunting."
Melchior appeared astonished.
* ' Indeed ! " replied he ; " pray go on. You have made a gentleman
of me."
" No ; rather a scoundrel."
" As you please ; now will you make a lady of Fleta ? '
"Yes, I will. She is your niece." Melchior started back. "Your
agent, M'Dermott, who was sent over to find outFleta's abode, met
me in the coach, and he has tracked me here, and risked my life, by
telling the people that I was a tithe proctor."
"Your information is very important," replied Melchior. "You
will find some difliculty to prove all you say."
"Not the least," replied I, flushed with anger and with wine, " I
have proof positive. I have seen her mother, and I can identify the
child by the necklace which v/ason her neck when you stole her."
" Necklace !" cried Melchior.
" Yes, the necklace put into my hands by your own wife when we
parted."
"Damn her !" replied Melchior.
" Do not damn her ; damn yourself for your villany, and its being
brought to light. Have I said enough, or shall I tell you more?"
" Pray tell me more."
" No, I will not, for I must commit others, and that will not do,"
replied I ; for I felt I had already said too much.
" You have committed yourself, at all events," replied Melchior ;
"and now I tell you, thatuntil — nevermind," and Melchior hastened
away.
The door was again locked, and I was once more alone,
I had time to reflect upon my imprudence, The countenance o(
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 1S7
Melchior, when he left me, was Ihat of a demon. Something told me
to prepare for death ; and I was not wrong. The next day Melchior
came not, nor the next ; my provisions were all gone. I had nothing
but a little wine and water left. The idea struck me, that I was to
die of starvation. Was there no means of escape? ?>one ; I had no
weapon, no tool, not even a knife. I had expended all my candles.
At last, it occurred to me, that, although I wasin a cellar, my voice might
be heard, and I resolved, as a last effort, to attempt it. I went to the
door of the cellar, and shouted at the top of my lungs, " Murder —
murder !" I shouted again and again as loud as I could, until I was
exhausted. As it afterwards appeared, this plan did prevent my being
starved to death, for such was Melchior's villanous intention. About
an hour afterwards I repeated my cries of " Murder — murder !" and
they were heard by the household, who stated to Melchior, that there
was some one shouting murder in the vaults below. That night, and
all the next day, I repeated my cries occasionally. I was now quite
exhausted, I had been nearly two days without food, and my wine
and water had all been drunk. I sat down w ith a parched mouth and
healed brain, waiting till I could sufficiently recover my voice to repeat
my cries, when I heard footsteps approaching. The key was again
turned in the door, and a light appeared, carried by one of two men
armed with larse sledse hammers.
" It is then all over with me," cried I : '• and I never shall find out
who is my father. Come on, murderers, and do your work. Do it
quickly."
The two men advanced without speaking a word ; the foremost, who
carried the lantern, laid it down at his feet, and raised his hammer
with both hands, when the other behind him raised his weapon — and
the foremost fell dead at his feet.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
Is full of perilous adventures, and in which, the reader may be assured, there is
much more than meets the eye.
" J'lLENCE, ' said a voice that I well knew, although his face was
completely disguised. It was Timothy 1 " Silence, Japhet," again
whispered Timothy; '• ihere is yet much danger, but I will save you,
188 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHEK.
or die. Take llie hammer. Melchior is waiting outside." Timothy
-put the lantern in the bin, so as to render it more dark and led me
towards the door, whispering, **when he comes in, we will secure
him."
Melchior soon made his appearance, and as he entered the cellar,
" Is it all right ? " said he, going up to Timothy, and passing me.
With one blow I felled him to the ground, and he lay insensible.
*' That will do," replied Timothy ; " now we must be off."
"Not till he takes my place," replied I, as I shut the door, and
locked it. ' ' Now he may learn- what it is to starve to death."
I then followed Timothy, by a passage which led outside of the castle,
through which he and hiscompanion had been admitted. " Our horses
are close by," said Timothy; "for we stipulated upon leaving the
country after it was done."
It was just dark when we were safe out of the castle. We mounted
our horses, and set off with all speed. We followed the high road to
the post town to which I had been conveyed, and determined to pull
up at Mrs. M'Shane's, for I was so exhausted that I could go no fur-
ther. This was a measure which required precaution, and as there
was moonlight, I turned off the road before I entered the town, or
village, as it ought to have been called, so that we dismounted at the
back of Mrs. M'Shane's house. I went to the window of the bed-roonj
where I had lain down, and tapped gently, again and again, and no
answer. At last, Kathleen made her appearance.
" Can I come in, Kathleen?" said I ; " I am almost dead with
fatigue and exhaustion ."
" Yes," replied she, * ' I will open the back-door; there is no one here
to-night — it is too early for them."
lentered, followed by Timothy, and, as I stepped over the threshold,
I fainted. As soon as I recovered, Mrs. M'Shane led me up stairs
into her room for security, and I was soon able to take the refreshment
I so much required. I stated what had passed to Mrs. M'Shane and
Kathleen, who were much shocked at the account.
"You had better«vvait til! it is late, before you go on," said Mrs.
M'Shane, it will be more safe ; it is now nine o'clock, and the people
will all be moving till eleven. I will give your horses some corn, and
when you are five miles from here, you may consider yourselves as
safe. Holy saints I what an escape."
The advice was too good not to be followed, and I was so exhausted,
that 1 was glad that prudence was on the side of repose. I lay down
on Mrs. M'Shane's bed, while Timothy watched over me.^ I had a
short slumber, and then was awakened by the good landlady, who
told me thai it was time for us to quit. Kathleen then rame up to me..
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 1«9
and said, " I would ask a favour of you, sir, and I hope you will not
refuse it. '
"Kathleen, you may ask any thing of me, and depend upon it, I
will not refuse it, if I can grant it."
" Then, sir," replied the good girl, " you know how- I overcame
my feelings to serve you ; will you overcome yours for me ? I cannot
hear the idea that any one, bad as he may he, of the family who have
reared me, should perish in so miserable a manner ; and I cannot bear
that any man, bad as he is, even if I did not feel obliged to him, should
die so full of guilt, and without absolution. Will you let me have the
key, that Sir Henry de Clare may be released after you are safe and
away? I know he does not deserve any kindness from you ; but it is
a horrid death, and a horrid thing to die so loaded with crime."
" Kathleen," replied I, " I will keep my word with you. Here
is the key ; take it up to-morrow morning, and give it to Lady de Clare?
tell her Japhet Newland sent it."
" I will, and God bless you, sir."
" Good bye, sir,'" said ^[rs. M'Shane, "you have no time to
lose."
" God bless you, sir," said Kathleen, who now put her arms round
me and kissed me. We mounted our horses and set off.
We pressed our horses, or rather ponies, for they were very small,
till we had gained about six miles, when we considered that we were,
comparatively speaking, safe, and then drew up, to allow them to
recover their wind. I was very much exhausted myself, and hardly
spoke one word until we arrived at the next post town, when we
found everybody in bed. We contrived, however, to knock them up,
and Timothy having seen that our horses were put into the stable,
we lay down till the next morning upon a bed which happened to be
unoccupied. Sorry as were the accom,modations, I never slept so
soundly, and woke quite refreshed. The next morning I slated my
intention of posting to Dublin, and asked Tim what we should do
with the horses.
" They belong to the castle," replied he.
" Then in God's name, let the castle have them, for I wish for no-
thing from that horrid place."
We stated to the landlord that the horses were to be sent back, and
that the man who took them would be paid for his trouble ; and then it
occurred to me, that it would be a good opportunity of writing to Mel-
chior, a/^'a^ Sir Henry. I do not know why, but certainly my ani-
mosity against him had subsided, and I did not think of taking legal
measures against him. I thought it, however, right to frighten him .
I WTote, therefore, as follows: —
100 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
** Sir Henry, I send you back your horses with thanks, as they liavo
enabled Timothy and me to escape from your chitches. Your reputa-
tion and your life now are in my power, and I will have ample revenge.
The fact of your intending murder, will be fully proved by my friend
Timothy, who was employed by you in disguise, and accompanied
your gipsy. You cannot escape the sentence of the law. Prepare
yourself, then, for the worst, as it is not my intention that you shall
escape the disgraceful punishment due to your crimes.
''Yours, Japhet Newland."
Having sealed this, and given it to the lad who was to return with
the horses, we finished our breakfast, and took a postchaisc on for
Dublin, where we ajrived late in the evening. During our journey I
requested Timothy to narrate what had passed, and by what fortunate
chance he had been able to come so opportunely to my rescue.
"If you recollect, Japhet," replied Timothy, "you had received
one or two letters from me relative to the movements of the gipsy,
and stating his intention to carry off the little girl from the boarding-
school. My last letter, in which I had informed you that he had suc-
ceeded in gaining an entrance into the ladies' school at Brentford,
could not have reached you, as I found by your note that you had set
off the same evening. The gipsy, whom I only knew by the name of
Will, inquired of me the name by which the little girl was known,
and my answer was, Smith; as I took it for granted that, in a large
seminary, there must be one, if riot more, of that name. Acting upon
this, he made inquiries of the maid servant to whom he paid his ad-
dresses, and made very handsome presents, if there was a Miss Smilli
in the school ; she replied, that there were two, one a young lady of
sixteen, and the other about twelve years old. Of course the one se-
lected was the younger. Will had seen me in my livery, and his plan
was to obtain a similar one, hire a chariot, and go down to Brentford,
with a request that Miss Smith might be sent up with him immediately,
as you were so ill that you were not expected to live ; but previous to
his taking this step, he wrote to Melchior, requesting his orders as to
proceed when he had obtained the child. The answer from Melchior
arrived. By this time, he had discovered that you were in Ireland,
and intended to visit him ; perhaps he had you in confinement, for I
do not know how long you were there, but the answer desired Will
to come over immediately, as there would be in all probability work for
him, that would be well paid for. He had now become so intimate with
me, that he disguised nothing : he showed me the letter, and I
asked him what it meant; he replied that there was somebody to put
out of the way, that was clear. It immediately struck me, that you
JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 191
must be the person, if sucli was Ihe case, and I volunteered to go with
him, to Avhich, after some difticulty, he consented. We travelled
outside the mail, and in four days we arrived at the castle. Will went
up to Melchior, who told him what it was that he required. NVill
consented, and then stated he had another hand with him, which
might be necessary, vouching for my doing any thing that was re-
quired. Melchior sent for me, and I certainly was afraid that he
would discover me, but my disguise was too good. I had prepared
for it still further, by wearing a wig of light hair; he asked me some
questions, and I replied in a surly, dogged tone, which satisfied him.
The reward was two hundred pounds, to be shared between us; and,
as it was considered advisable that we should not be seen after the
affair was over, by the people about the place, we had the horses
provided for us. The rest you well know. I was willing to make
sure that it w as you before I struck the scoundrel, and the first glimpse
from the lantern, and your voice, convinced me. Thank God, Ja-
phet, but I have been of some use to you, at all events.'"
" My dear Tim, you have, indeed, and you know me too well to
Ihink I shall ever forget it; but now I must first ascertain where the
will of the late Sir William is to be found. We can read it for a shil-
ling, and then I may discover what are the grounds of Melchior's con-
duct; for, tome, it is still inexplicable.'
"Are wills made in Ireland registered here, or at Doctor's Com-
mons in London?" *
" In Dublin, I should imagine."
" But on my arrival at Dublin I felt so ill, that I was obliged to re-
tire to bed, and before morning I was in a violent fever. Medical as-
sistance was sent for, and I was nursed by Timothy with the greatest
care; but it was ten days before I could quit my bed. For the first
time, I was sitting in an easy chair by the fire, when Timothy came in
with the little portmanteau I had left in the care of Mrs. M'Shane.
" Open it, Timothy," said I, " and see if there be any thing in the
w^ay of a note from them. Timothy opened the portmanteau, and pro-
duced one, which was lying on the top. It was from Kathleen-, and
as follows : — .
"Dear Sir, They say there is terrible work at the castle, and that
Sir Henry has blown out his brains, or cut his throat, I don't knoN^
which. Mr. M'Dermott passed in a great hurry, but said nothing lo
any body here. I will send you word of what has taken place as soon
as I can. The morning after you went away, I walked up to the castle
and gave the key to the lady, who appeared in a great fright at Sir Henry
li)i JAPHET, IN SEARCH OK A FATHER.
not having been seen for so long a while. They wished to detain me
after they had found him in the cellar with the dead man, but after
two hours I was desired to go away, and hold my tongue. It was
after the horses went back that Sir Henry is said to have destroyed
himself. I went up to the castle, but M'Dermott had given orders for
no one to be let in on any account.
" Yours, Kathleen M 'Shane."
" This is news, indeed,'" said I, lianding the letter to Timothy. " It
must have been my threatening letter which has driven him to this
mad act."
"Very likely," replied Timothy; " but it was the best thing the
scoundrel could do, after all."
" The letter was not, however, written with that intention. I
wished to frighten him, and have justice done to little Fleta — poor
child ! how glad I shall be to see her !"
CHAPTER XLIX.
Another invesligalion relative to a child which, in the same way as the former one,
ends by the Lady going off in a fit.
The next day the newspapers contained a paragraph, in which Sir
Henry de Clare was slated to have committed suicide. No reason
could be assigned for this rash act, was the winding up of the intel-
ligence. I also received another letter from Kathleen M'Shlane, con-
firming the previous accounts ; her mother had been sent for to assist
in laying out the body. There was now no further doubt, and as soon
as I could venture out, I hastened to the proper office, where I read
the will of the late Sir Wilham. It was very short, merely disposing
of his personal property to his wife, and a few legacies ; for, as I dis-
covered, only a small portion of the estates were entailed with the
title, and the remainder was not only to the heirs male, but the eldest
female, should there be no male heir, with the proviso, that should
she marry, the husband was to take upon himself the name of l)e
Clare. Here, then, was the mystery explained, and why Melchior
had stolen away his brother's child. Satisfied with my discovery, I
determined to leave for Endand immediatelv, find out the dowager
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 101
Lady de Clare, and put the whole case into the hands of Mr, Master-
ton. Fortunately, Timothy had money with him sufficient to pay all
expenses, and take us to London, or I should have been obliged to
wait for remittances, as mine was all expended before I arrived at
Dublin. We arrived safe, and I immediately proceeded to my house,
where I found Harcourt, who had been in great anxiety about me.
The next morning I went to my old legal friend, to whom I communi-
cated all that had happened.
''Well done, IVewland," replied he, " after I had finished. I'll bet
ten to one that you find out your father. Your life already would not
make a bad novel. If you continue your hair-breadth adventures in
this way, it will be quite interesting."
Although satisfied in my own mind that I had discovered Fleta's
parentage, and anxious to impart the joyful intelligence, I resolved not
to see her until every thing should be satisfactorily arranged. The re-
sidence of the dowager Lady de Clare was soon discovered by Mr,
Masterton ; it was at Richmond, and thither he and I proceeded. We
were ushered into the drawing-room, and, to my delight, upon her
entrance, I perceived that it was the same beautiful person in whose
ears I had seen the coral and gold ear-rings matching the necklace
belonging to Fleta. I considered it better to allow Mr. Masterton to
break the subject.
"You are, madam, the widow of the late Sir William de Clare."
The lady bowed. ' ' You will excuse me, madam, but I have most im-
portant reason for asking you a few questions, which otherwise may-
appear to be intrusive. Are you aware of the death of his brother
Sir Henry de Clare?'
'' Indeed I was not," replied she. ' ' I seldom look at a paper, and
I have long ceased to correspond with any one in Ireland, May I ask
you what occasioned his death?"
'* He fell by his own hands, madam."
Lady de Clare covered up her face, " God forgive him !" said she,
in a low voice,
"Lady de Clare, upon what terms were your husband and the late
Sir Henry ? It is important to know."
" Not on the very best, sir. Indeed, latterly, for years, they never
met or spoke : we did not know what had become of him,"
' ' Were there any grounds for ill-will ?"
" Many, sir, on the part of the elder brother; but none on that of
Sir Henry, who was treated with every kindness, until he " Lady
de Clare stopped "until he behaved very ill to him,"
As we afterwards discovered, Henry de Clare had squandered away
the small portion left him by his father, and had ever after that been
13
191 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
liberally supplied by his eldest brother, until he had attempted to se-
duce Lady de Clare, upon which he w as dismissed for ever.
"And now, madam, I must revert to a painful subject. You had
a daughter by your marriage ?"
"Yes," rephed the lady, with a deep sigh.
"How did you lose her? Pray do not think I am creating this
distress on your part without strong reasons."
"She was playing in the garden, and the nurse, who thought it
rather cold, ran in for a minute to get a handkerchief to tie round her
neck. When the nurse returned, the child had disappeared." Lady
de Clare put her handkerchief up to her eyes.
" Where did you find her afterwards?"
« ' It was not until three weeks afterwards that her body was found in
a pond about a quarter of a mile off."
"Did the nurse not seek her when she discovered that she was not
in the garden ?"
"She did, and immediately ran in that direction. It is quite
strange that the child could have got so far without the nurse perceiv-
ing her."
"How long is it ago?"
" It is now nine years."
" And the age of the child at the time?"
"About six years old."
" I think, Newland, you may now speak to Lady de Clare."
" Lady de Clare, have you not a pair of ear-rings of coral and gold o\
very remarkable workmanship?"
" I have, sir," replied she, with surprise.
" Had you not a necklace of the same? and if so, will you do me the
favour to examine this ?" I presented the necklace.
" Merciful heaven !" cried Lady de Clare, " it is the very necklace!
it was on my poor Cecilia when she w^as drowned, and it was nol
found with the body. How came it into your possession, sir? At ont
time," continued Lady de Glare, weeping, " I thought that it was pos-
sible that the temptation of the necklace, which has a great deal o
gold in it, must, as it was not found on her corpse, have been an in-
ducement for the gipsies, who were in the neighbourhood, to drown her:
but Sir William would not believe it, rather supposing that in hei
struggles in the water she must have broken it, and that it had thui
been detached from her neck. Is it to return this unfortunate nccklact
that you have come here?"
"No, madam, not altogether. Had you two white ])onies at the
time?"
"Yes, sir.'
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 195
' ' Was llierc a mulberry tree in the garden ?"
" Yes, sir," replied the astonished lady.
''Will you do me the favour to describe the appearance of your
child as she was, at the time that you lost her?"
" She was — but all mothers are partial, and perhaps I may also bo
so — a very fair, lovely little girl."
" With light hair, I presume?"
" Yes, sir. But why these questions? Surely you cannot ask them
for nothing," continued she hurriedly. "Tell me, sir, why all these
questions?"
Mr. Masterton replied, " Because, madam, we have some hopes
that you have been deceived, and that it is possible that your daugh-
ter was not drowned."
Lady de Clare, breathless and her mouth open, fixed her eyes upon
Mr. Masterton, and exclaimed, *'Not drowned! my God! my
head !" and then she fell back insensible.
" I have been too precipitate," said Mr. Masterton, going to her
assistance ; "but joy does not kill. Ring for some water, Japhet."
CHAPTER L.
In which, if the reader does not sympathize with the parties, he had better shut
the book.
In a few minutes Lady de Clare was sufficiently recovered to hear
the outline of our history ; and as soon as it was over, she insisted upon
immediately going with us to the school where Fleta was domiciled
as she could ascertain, by several marks known but to a nurse or mo-
ther, if more evidence was required, whether Fleta was her child or
not. To allow her to remain in such a state of anxiety was impossi-
ble; Mr. Masterton agreed, and we posted to , where we arrived
in the evening. * ' Now, gentlemen, leave me but one minute with the
child, and when I ring the bell, you may enter." Lady de Clare was
in so nervous and agitated a state, that she could not walk into the
parlour without assistance. We led her to a chair, and in a minute
Fleta was called down. Perceiving me in the passage, she ran to me.
"Stop, my dear Fleta, there is a lady in the parlour, who wishes to
see you."
13»
196 .TAPIIET, IN SEARCH 0F> A FATHER.
" Alady, Japhet?"
" Yes, my dear, go in."
Fleta obeyed, and in a minute we heard a scream, and Fleta hastily
opened the door, ''Quick! quick! the lady has fallen down."
We ran in, and found Lady de Clare on the floor, and it was some
time before she returned to her senses. As soon as she did, she fell
down on her knees, holding up her hands as in prayer, and then
stretched her arms out to Fleta. " My child! my long-lost child!
it is it is, indeed !" A flood of tears poured forth on Fleta's neck re-
lieved her, and we then left them together; old Masterlon observing,
as we took our seats in the back parlour, " By G , Japhet, you
deserve to find your own father!"
In about an hour Lady de Glare requested to see us. Fleta rushed
into my arms and sobbed, while her mother apologized to Mr. Mas-
terton for the delay and excusable neglect towards him. " Mr. New-
land, madam, is the person to whom you are indebted for your present
happiness. I will now, if you please, take my leave, and will call
upon you to-morrow,"
" I will not detain you , Mr. Masterton; but Mr. Newland will, I
trust, come home with Cecilia and me ; I have much to ask of him."
T consented, and Mr. Masterton went back to town; I went to the
principal hotel to order a chaise and horses, while Fleta packed up her
wardrobe.
In half an hour we set off, and it was midnight before we arrived at
Richmond. During my journey I narrated to Lady de Clare every
particular of our meeting with Fleta. We were all glad to go to bed,
and the kind manner in which Lady de Clare wished me good night,
with " God bless you, Mr. Newland!" brought the tears into my eyes.
I breakfasted alone the next morning, Lady de Clare and her daughter
remaining up stairs. It was nearly twelve o'clock when they made
their appearance, both so apparently happy, that I could not help think-
ing, "When shall I have such pleasure — when shall I find out who
is my father?" My brow was clouded as the thought entered my mind,
when Lady de Clare requested that I would inform her who it was to
whom she and her daughter were under such eternal obligations. I
had then to relate my own eventful history, most of which was as new
to Cecilia (as she now must be called) as it was to her mother. I had
just terminated the escape from the castle, when Mr. Masterton 's car-
riage drove up to the door. As soon as he had bowed to Lady de Clare,
he said to me, " Japhet, here is a letter directed to you, to my care,
from Ireland, which I have brought for you."
" It is from Kathleen M' Shane, sir," replied I, and requesting leave,
I broke the seal. It contained another. I read Kathleen's, and then
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 197
hastily opened the other. It was from Natlee. or Lady H. do Clare,
and ran as follows ; —
'• Japhet >'e\vla>'d —
Fieta is the daughter of Sir William de Clare. Dearly has my husband
paid for his act of folly and wickedness, and to which you must know
I never was a party.
'• Yours,
">'attee/'
The letter from Kathleen added more strange information. Lady
de Clare, after the funeral of her husband, had sent for the steward,
made every necessary arrangement, discharged the servants, and then
had herself disappeared, no one knew^ whither; but it was reported
that somebody very much resembling her had been seen travelling
south in company w ith a gang of gipsies. I handed both letters over to
Lady de Clare and Mr. Masterton.
''Poor Lady de Clare!' observed the mother,
" Nattee will never leave her tribe, "observed Cecilia quietly.
" You are right, my dear," replied I. "She will be happier with
her tribe, where she commands as a queen, than ever she was at the
castle."
Mr. Masterton then entered into a detail with Lady de Clare as to
what steps ought immediately to be taken, as the heirs-at-law would
otherwise give some trouble ; and having obtained her acquiescence,
it was time to withdraw. "Mr. Newland. I trust you will consider
us as your warmest friends. I am so much in your debt, that I never
can repay you ; but I am also in your debt in a pecuniary way — that,
at least, you must permit me to refund."
''When I require it, Lady de Clare, I will accept it. Do not, pray,
vex me by the proposition. I have not much happiness as it is, al-
though I am rejoiced at yours and that of your daughter."
"Come. Lady de Clare, I must not allow you toteaze my protege,
you do not know how sensitive he is. We will now take our leave,"
" You will come soon," said Ceciha, looking anxiously at me.
"Y^'ouhave your mother, Ceciha," rephed I; "what can you wish
for more"? I am a — nobody — without a parent."
Cecilia burst into tears; I embraced her. and Mr. Masterton and I
ieft the room.
198 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
CHAPTER LI.
I return to the gay world, but am not well received ; I am quite disgusted with ji,
and honesty, and every thing else.
How straoge, now that I had succeeded in the next dearest object of
my wishes, after ascertaining my own parentage, that 1 should liave felt
so miserable ; but it was the fact, and I cannot deny it. I could hardly
answer Mr. Masterton during our journey to town ; and when I threw
myself on the sofa in my own room, I felt as if I was desolate and de-
serted. I did not repine at Cecilia's happiness; so far from it, I would
have sacrificed my life for her ; but she was a creature of my own — one
of the objects in this world to which I was endeared — one that had been
dependent on me and loved me. Now that she was restored to her
parent, she rose above me, and I was left still more desolate. I do not
know that I ever passed a week of such misery as the one which follow-
ed a denouement productive of so much happiness to others, and which
had been sought with so much eagerness, and at so much risk, by myself.
It was no feeling of envy, God knows ; but it appeared to me as if every
one in the world was to be made happy except myself. But I had
more to bear up against.
When I had quitted for Ireland, it was still supposed that I was a
young man of large fortune — the truth had not been told. I had ac-
ceded to Mr. Masterton s suggestions, that I was no longer to appear
under false colours, and had requested Harcourt, to whom I made
known my real condition, tiiat he would every where state the truth.
News like this flies like wildfire ; there were too many whom, perhaps,
when under the patronage of Major Carbonnell, and the universal rap-
ture from my supposed wealth, I had treated with hauteur, were glad
to receive the intelligence, and spread it far and wide. My imposition, as
they pleased to term it, was the theme of every party, and many were
the indignant remarks of the dowagers who had so often indirectly
proposed to me their daughters ; and if there was any one more virulent
than the rest, I hardly need say that it was Lady Maelstrom, who
nearly killed her job-horses in driving about from one acquaintance to
another, to represent my unheard-of atrocity in presuming to deceive
my betters. Harcourt, who had agreed to live with me — Harcourt,
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 199
who had praised my magnanimily in making the disclosure — even
Harcourt fell ofT; and about a fortnight afler 1 had arrived in town,
told me that not finding the lodgings so convenient as his former abode,
he intended to return to it. He took a friendly leave ; but I perceived
(hat if we happened to meet in the streets, he often contrived to be
looking another way ; and at last, a slight recognition was all that I
received. Satisfied that it was intended, I no longer noticed him ; he
followed but the example of others. So great was the outcry raised
by those who had hoped to have secured me as a good match, that anv
young man of fashion who was seen with me, had, by many, his name
erased from their visiting lists. This decided my fate, and I was
alone. For some time I bore up proudly ; I returned a glance of de-
fiance, but this could not last. The treatment of others received a
slight check from the kindness of Lord Windermear, who repeatedly
asked me to his table ; but I perceived that even there, although sutTored
as a protege of his lordship, any thing more than common civility was
studiously avoided, in order that no intimacy might result. Mr. Mas-
terton, upon whom I occasionally called, saw that 1 was unwell and
unhappy. He encouraged me ; but, alas ! a man must be more than
mortal, who, with fine feelings, can endure the scorn of the world.
Timothy, poor fellow, who witnessed more of my unhappy slate of
mind than any body else, offered in vain his consolation. "And this,"
thought I, "is the reward of virtue and honesty. Truly, virtue is its
own reward, for it obtains no other. As long a$ I was under false co-
lours, allowing the world to deceive themselves, I was courted and flat-
tered. Now^ that I have thrown off the mask, and put on the raiment
of truth, I am a despised, miserable being. Yes; but is not this my
own fault? Did I not, by my own deception, bring all this upon my-
self ? Whether unmasked by others, or by myself, is it not equally
true that I have been playing false, and am now punished for it? What
do the world care for your having returned to truth? You have of-
fended by deceiving them, and that is an offence which your repentance
will not extenuate." It was but too true, I had brought it all on my-
self, and this refiection increased my misery. For my dishonesty, I
had been justly and severely punished : whether I was ever to be re-
warded for my subsequent honesty still remained to be proved ; but I
knew very well that most people would have written off such a reward
as a bad debt.
Once I consulted with Mr. Masterton as to the chance of there being
any information relative to my birth in the packet left in the charge of
Mr. Cophagus. " I have been thinking over it, my dear Newland,"
said he, "and 1 wish I could give you any hopes, but 1 cannot. Hav-
ing succeeded with regard to your little protege, you are now so san-
200 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
guine with respect to yourself, that a trifle light as air is magnified, as
the poet says, * ' into confirmation strong as holy writ . " Now, consider,
somebody calls at the Foundling to ask after you — which I acknowledge
to be a satisfactory point — his name is taken down by an illiterate brute,
as Derbennon ; but how you can decide upon the real name, and as-
sume it is De Benyon, is really more than I can imagine, allowing every
scope to fancy. It is in the first instance, therefore, you are at fault,
as there are many other names which may have been given by the
party who called ; nay, more, is it at all certain that the party, in a case
like this, would give his real name? Let us follow it up. Allowing
the name to have been De Benyon, you discover that one brother is
not married, and that there are some papers belonging to him in the
possession of an old woman who dies ; and upon these slight grounds
what w^ould you attempt to establish ? that because that person was
known not to have married, therefore lie was married (for you are
stated to have been born in wedlock) : and because there is a packet of
papers belonging to him in the possession of another party, that this
packet of papers must refer to you. Do you not perceive how you
are led away by your excited feelings on the subject ?"
I could not deny that Mr. Masterton's arguments had demolished
the whole fabric which I had built up. ** You are right, sir," replied
I mournfully. ' ' I w ish I were dead."
*' Never speak in that way, Mr. Newland, before me," replied the
old lawyer in an angry tone, "without you wish to forfeit my good
opinion."
*' I beg your pardon, sir; but 1 am most miserable. I am avoided
by all w ho know me — thrown out of all society — I have not a parent
pr a relative. Isolated being as I am, what have I to live for?"
''My dear fellow, you are not twenty-three years of age," replied
Mr. Masterlon, "and you have made two sincere friends, both power-
ful in their own way. I mean Lord Windermear and myself; and
you have had the pleasure of making others happy. Believe me, that
is much to have accomplished at so early an age. You have much to
live for — live to gain more friends — live to gain reputation — live to do
good — to be grateful for the benefits you have received, and to be
humble when chastened by Providence. You have yet to learn where,
and only where, true happiness is to be found. Since you are so
much out of spirits, go down to Lady de Clare's, see her happiness,
and that of her little girl ; and then, when you reflect that it was your
own work, you will hardly say that you have lived in vain." I was
too much overpowered to speak. After a pause, Mr. Masterton con-
tinued, "When did vou see them last?"
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 201
"I have never seen them, sir, since I was with you at their meet-
ing."
*' What! have you not called— now nearly two months? Japhel,
you are wrong ; they will be hurt at your neglect and want of kindness.
Have you written or heard from them ?"
"I have received one or two pressing invitations, sir; but I have
not been in a state of mind to avail myself of their politeness."
"Politeness! you are wrong— all wrong, Japhet. Your mind is
cankered, or you never would have used that term. I thought you
were composed of better materials ; but it appears, that although you
can sail with a fair wind, you cannot buffet against an adverse gale.
Because you are no longer fooled and flattered by the interested and
the designing, like many others, you have quarrelled with the world.
Is it not so?"
''Perhaps you are right, sir."
"I know that I am right, and that you are wrong. Now I shall be
seriously displeased if you do not go down and see Lady de Clare and
her daughter, as soon as you can."
" I will obey your orders, sir."
"My wishes, Japhet, not my orders. Let me see you when you
return. You must no longer be idle. Consider, that you are about
to recommence your career in life ; that hitherto you have pursued the
WTong path, from which you have nobly returned. You must prepare
for exertions, and learn to trust to God and a good conscience. Lord
Windermear and I had a long conversation relative to you yesterday
evening ; and when you come back, I will detail to you what are our
views respecting your future advantage."
CHAPTER LH.
A new character appears, but not a very amiable one ; but I attach myself to him, as
drowning men catch at straws.
I TOOK my leave, more composed in mind, and the next day I went
down to Lady de Clare's. I was kindly received, more than kindly,
I was affectionately and parentally received by the mother, and by Ce-
cilia as a dear brother; but they perceived my melancholy, and when
they had upbraided me for my long neglect, they entpiired (he cause.
202 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
As I had already made Lady de Clare acquainted ^vilh my previous
history, I had no secrets; in fact, it was a consolation to confide my
griefs to them . Lord Windermear was too much above me — Mr. Mas-
terton was too matter-of-fact — Timothy was too inferior — and they
were all men ; but the kind soothing of a woman was peculiarly grate-
ful, and after a sojourn of three days, I took my leave, with my
mind much less depressed than when I arrived.
On my return, I called upon Mr. Masterton, who stated to me that
Lord Windermear was anxious to serve me, and that he would exert
Jiis interest in any way which might be most congenial to my feelings ;
that he would procure me a commission in the army, or a writership
to India; or, if I preferred it, I might study the law under the auspices
of Mr. Masterton. If none of these propositions suited me, I might
state what would be preferred, and that, as far as his interest and pe-
cuniary assistance could avail, I might depend upon it. " So now,
Japhet, you may go home and reflect seriously upon these offers ; and
when you have made up your mind what course you will steer, you
have only to let me know,"
I returned my thanks to Mr. Masterton, and begged that he would
convey my grateful acknowledgments to his lordship. As I walked
home, I met a Captain Atkinson, a man of very doubtful character:,
whom, by the advice of Carbonnell, I had always kept at a distance.
He had lost a large fortune by gambling, and having been pigeoned,
had, as is usual, ended by becoming a rook. He was a fashionable,
well-looking-man,' of good family, suffered in society, for he had found
out that it was necessary to hold his position by main force. He was a
noted duellist, had killed his three or four men, and a cut direct from
any person was, with him, sufficient grounds for sending a friend.
Every body was civil to him, because no one wished to quarrel
with him.
" My dear ?>Ir. Newland," said he, offering his hand, " I am de-
lighted to see you ; I have heard at the clubs of your misfortune, and
there were some free remarks made by some, t have great pleasure in
saying that I put an immediate stop to them, by telling them that, if
they were repeated in my presence, I should consider it as a personal
quarrel."
Three months before, had I met Captain Atkinson, I should have
returned his bow with studied politeness, and have left him ; but how
changed were my feelings ! I took his hand, and shook it warmly.
" My dear sir," replied I, *' I am very much obliged for your kind
and considerate conduct ; there are more who are inclined to calumniate
than to defend. '
" And ahvavs will be in this world. Mr. Newland ; but 1 have a fci-
JAPllET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 203
low feeling. I recollect how I was received and flattered when 1 was
introduced as a young man of fortune, and how I was deserted and
neglected when I was cleaned out. I know now tvhy they are so civil
to me, and I value their civility at just as much as it is worth, >> ill
you accept mV arm : — I am going your way."
I could not refuse ; but I coloured when I took it, for I felt that J
was not adding to my reputation by being seen in his company ; and
still I felt, that although not adding to my reputation, I was less likely
to receive insult, and that the same cause which induced them to bo
civil to him, would perhaps operate when they found me allied with
him. " Be it so," thought I, " I will, if possible, extort politeness."
We were strolling down Bond Street, when we met a young man,
well known in the fasliionable circles, who had dropped my acquaint-
ance, after having been formerly most pressing to obtain it. Atkinson
faced him. *' Good morning, Mr. Oxberry."
" Good morning, Captain Atkinson," replied Mr. Oxberry.
" I thought you knew my friend Mr. TS'ewland?" observed Atkin-
son, rather fiercely.
** Oh! really— i quite— I beg pardon. Good morning, Mr. Ntw-
land; you have been long absent. I did not see you at Lady Mael-
strom's last night."
" No," replied I, carelessly, '* nor will you ever. When you next
see her ladyship, ask her, with m,y compliments, whether she has
had another fainting fit."
" I shall certainly have great pleasure in carrying your message,
Mr. Newland — good morning."
*• That fool," observed Atkinson, "will now run all over town, and
you will see the consequence."
We met one or two others, and to them Atkinson put the same
question, " I thought you knew my friend, Mr. Newland?" At last,
just as we arrived at my own house in St. James's Street, who should
we meet but Harcourt. Harcourt immediately perceived me, and
bowed low as he passed on, so that his bow would have served for
both; but Atkinson stopped. " I must beg your pardon, Harcourt,
for detaining you a moment, but what are the odds upon the Yestris
colt for the Derby ?"
"Upon my word. Captain Atkinson, I was told, but I have for-
gotten."
" Your memory appears bad, for you have also forgotten your old
friend, Mr. Newland."
*' I beg your pardon, Mr. Newland."
"There is no occasion to beg my pardon, Mr. Harcourt," inter-
rupted I; "for I tell you plainly, that I despise you too much to ever
201 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
wish to be acquainted with you. You will oblige me, sir, by never
presuming to touch your hat, or otherwise notice me."
Harcourt coloured, and started back. " Such language, Mr. New-
land "
" Is what you deserve; ask your own conscience. Leave us, sir ;"
and I walked on with Captain Atkinson.
" You have done well, Xewland," observed Atkhison ; "he cannot
submit to that language, for he knows that I have heard it. A meet-
ing you will of course have no objection to. It w ill be of immense ad-
vantage to you."
" None whatever," replied I; " for if there is any one man who
deserves to be punished for his conduct lowards me, it is Harcourt.
Will you come up, Captain Atkinson ; and, if not belter engaged, take
a quiet dinner and a bottle of wine with me?"
Our conversation during dinner was desultory, but after the first
bottle, Atkinson became communicative, and his history not only
made me feel better inclined towards him, but afforded me another
instance, as well as Carbonnell's, how often it is that those who would
have done well, are first plundered, and then driven to desperation
by the heartlessness of the world. The cases, however, had this dif-
ference, that Carbonnell had always contrived to keep his reputation
above water, while that of Atkinson was gone, and never to be re-es-
tablished. We had just finished our wine when a note was brought
from Harcourt, informing me that he should send a friend the next
morning for an explanation of my conduct. I handed it over to At-
kinson. "My dear sir, I am at your service," replied he, " without
you have any body among your acquaintances whom you may
prefer."
'' Thank you," replied I , " Captain Atkinson ; it cannot be in bet-
ter hands."
"That is settled, then ; and now where shall we go?"
" Wherever you please."
" Then I shall try if I can win a little money to-night ; if you come
you need not play — you can look on. It will serve to divert your
thoughts, at all events."
I felt so anxious to avoid reflection, that I immediately accepted his
offer, and, in a few minutes, we were in the well-lighted room, and
in front of the rouge et noir table, covered with gold and bank notes.
Atkinson did not commence his play immediately, but pricked the
chances on a card as they ran. After half an hour he laid down his
stakes, and was fortunate. I could no longer withstand the tempta-
tion, and I l)acked him; in less than an hour we both had won consi-
derablv.
JAPRET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 205
" That is enough/' said he to me, sweeping up his money ; "we
must not try the sUppery dame too long/'
I followed his example, and shortly afterwards we quitted the house.
" I will walk home with you, Newland; never, if you can help it,
especially if you have been a winner, leave a gaming-house alone."
Going home, I asked Atkinson if he would come up; he did so, and
then we examined our winnings. " I know mine," replied he, " within
twenty pounds, for I always leave ofT at a certain point. I have three
hundred pounds, and something more."
He had won three hundred and twenty-five pounds. I had won
ninety pounds. As we sate over a glass of brandy and water, I in-
quired whether he was always fortunate. " No, of course I am not,"
replied Atkinson ; " but on the whole, in the course of the year I am
a winner of sufficient to support myself."
*' Is there any rule by which people are guided who play? I ob-
served many of those who were seated, pricking the chances with
great care, and then staking their money at intervals.*'
" Rotige et noir, I believe to be the fairest of all games," replied
Atkinson; " but where there is a per centage invariably in favour of
the bank, although one may win and another lose, still the profits must
be in favour of the bank. If a man were to play all the year round,
he would lose the national debt in the end. As for martingales, and
all those calculations, which you observed them so busy with, they
are ail useless. I have tried every thing, and there is only one chance
of success, but then you must not be a gambler."
"■ Not a gambler?"
" No ; you must not be carried away by the excitement of the game,
or you will infallibly lose. You must have a strength of mind which
few have, or you will be soon cleaned out."
*' But you say that you win on the whole; have you no rule to
guide you?"
" Yes, I have; strange as the chances are, I have been so accus-
tomed to them, that I generally put down my stake right; when I am
once in a run of luck, I have a method of my own, but what it is I can-
not tell; only this I know, that if I depart from it, I always lose my
money. But that is what you may call good luck, or what you please
— it is not a rule."
''Where, then, are your rules ?"
** Simply these two. The first it is not difficult to adhere to : I make
a rule never to lose but a certain sum if I am unlucky when I com-
mence—say twenty stakes, whatever may be the amount of the stake
that you play. This rule is easily adhered to, by not taking more mo-
ney with you ; and I am not one of those to whom the croupier or
•200 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
porters will lend money. The second rule is Ihe most difTicult, and
decides whether you are a gambler or not. I make a rule always to
leave off, when I have won a certain sum — or even before, if the
chances of my game fluctuate. There is the difficulty ; it appears
very foolish not to follow up luck, but the fact is, fortune is so capri-
cious, that if you trust her more than an hour, she will desert you.
This is my mode of play, and with me it answers; but it does not
follow that it would answer with another. But it is very late, or
rather, very early — I wish you a good night."
CHAPTER Lin.
J become principal instead of second in a duel, and risk ray own and another's life,
my own and others' happiness and peace of mind, because I have been punished
as I deserved.
After Captain Atkinson had left me, I stated to Timothy what had
passed. " And do you think you will have to fight a duel, sir?" cried
Timothy with alarm.
" There is no doubt of it," rephed I.
"You never will find your father, sir, if you go on this way," said
Timothy, as if to divert my attention from such a purpose.
" Not in this world, perhaps, Tim ; perhaps I may be sent the right
road by a bullet, and find him in the next."
"Do you think your father, if dead, has gone to heaven ?"
" I hope so, Timothy."
" Then what chance have you of meeting him, if you go out of the
world attempting the life of your old friend?"
" That is what you call a poser, my dear Timothy, but I cannot
help myself ; this I can safely say, that I have no animosity against
Mr. Harcourt — at least, not sufficient to have any wish to lake away
his life."
"Well, that's sometliing, to be sure; but do you know, Japhet,
I'm not quite sure you hit the right road when you set up for a gen-
tleman."
" No, Timothy, no man can be in the right road who deceives; I
have been all wrong , and I am afraid I am going from worse to worse ;
but I cannot moralize, I must go to sleep, and forget every thing if
I can."
JAPHET. IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 207
The next morning, about eleven oclock, a Mr. Cof grave called
upon me on the part of Harcourt. I referred him to Captain Atkin-
son, and he bowed and quitted the room. Captain Atkinson soon call-
ed ; he had remained at home expecting the message, and had made
every arrangement with the second. He staid with me the whole
day; the majors pistols were examined and approved of : we dined,
drank freelv, and he afterwards proposed that I should accompany
him to one of the hells, as they are called. This I refused, as I had
some arrangements to make; and as soon as he was gone, I sent for
Timothy.
'= Tim,'' said I, '• if 1 should be unlucky to-morrow, you are mv
executor and residuary legatee. My will was made when in Dublin,
and is in the charge of Mr. Cophagus."
" Japhet, I hope you will allow me one favour, which is to go to
the ground with you. I had rather be there than remain here in sus-
pense."
" Of course, my dear fellow, if you wish it, "replied I; " but I must
go to bed, as I am to be called at four o"clock^ — so lets have no sen-
timentalizing or sermonizing. Good night, God bless you."
I was, at that time, in a state of mind which made me reckless of
life or of consequences; stung by the treatment which I received, mad
with the world"s contumely, I was desperate. True it was, as Mr. ?Jas-
terton said, I had not courage to bufTet against an adverse gale. Timo-
thy did not go to bed, and at four o'clock was at my side. 1 rose, dress-
ed myself with the greatest care, and was soon joined by Captain At-
kinson. We then set of! in a hackney-coach to the same spot to which
I had, but a few months before, driven with poor Carbonnell. His
memory and his death came like a cloud over my mind, but it was
but for a moment. I cared little for life. Harcourt and his second
were on the ground a few minutes before us. Each party saluted po-
litelv, and the seconds proceeded to business. We fired, and Harcourt
fell, with a bullet above his knee. I went up to him, and he extended
his hand. " Newland, " said he, "I have deserved this. I was a
coward, in the first place, to desert you as I did — and a coward, in the
second, to fire at a man whom I had injured. Gentlemen," continued
he, appealing to the seconds, "recollect, I, before you, acquit Mr.
rsewland of all blame, and desire, if any further accident should hap-
pen to me, that my relations will take no steps whatever against
him."
Harcourt was very paie, and bleeding last, ^^'itllout any answer I ex-
amined the wound, and found, by the colour of the blood, and its
gushing, that an artery had been divided. My professional knowledge
saved his life. I compressed the artery, while I gave directions to the
50=% JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
others. A hankerchief was tied light round his thigh, above the wound
a round stone selected, and placed under the handkerchief, in the
femoral groove, and the ramrod of one of the pistols then made use of
as a winch, until the whole acted as a tourniquet. I removed my
thumbs, found that the hemorrhage was stopped, and then directed
that he should be taken home on a door, and surgical assistance imme-
diately sent for.
" You appear to understand these things, sir,'" said Mr. Cotgrave.
" Tell me, is there any danger?"
" He must suffer amputation," replied I, in a low voice, so that
Harcourt could not hear me. " Pray watch the tourniquet carefully
as he is taken home, for should it slip it will be fatal."
I then bowed to Mr. Cotgrave, and, followed by Captain Atkinson,
stepped into the hackney-coach and drove home. '*' I will leave you
now, Newland," said Captain Atkinson ; " it is necessary that I talk
this matter over, so that it is properly explained."
I thanked Captain Atkinson for his services, and was left alone ; for
I had sent Timothy to ascertain if Harcourt had arrived safe at his
lodgings. iSever did I feel more miserable ; my anxiety for Harcourt
was^ indescribable ; true, he had not treated me well, but I thought of
his venerable father, who pressed my hand so warmly when I left his
hospitable roof — of his lovely sisters, and the kindness and affection
which they had shown towards me, and our extreme intimacy. I
thought of the pain which the intelligence would give them, and their
indignation towards me, when their brother first made his appearance
at his father's house, mutilated ; and were he to die — good God ! I was
maddened at the idea. I had now undone the little good I had been
able to do. If I had made Fleta and her mother happy, had I not
plunged another family into misery?
CHAPTER LIV.
This is a stranj^e world; I am cut by a man of no character, because lie is fearful
that 1 should injure his character.
TiMoinv returned, and brought me consolation— the bleeding had
not re-commenced, and Harcourt was in tolerable spirits. An eminent
surgeon had been sent for. " Go again, my dear Timothy, and as you
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. -iuj
are inlimale with Harcourt's servant, you will be able to find out what
they arc about."
Timolliy departed, and was absent about an hour, during which I lav
on the sofa, and groaned with anguish. When he returned, I knew
by his face that his intelligence was favourable.
" All's right," cried Timothy; " no amputation after all. It was
only one of the smaller arteries which was severed, and they have taken
it up."
I sprang up from the sofa and embraced Timothy, so happy was I
w ith the intelligence, and then I sat down again, and cried like a child.
At last I became more composed. I had asked Captain Atkinson to
dine with me, and was very glad when he came. He confirmed
Timothy's report, and I was so overjoyed, that I sat late at dinner,
drinking very freely, and when he again proposed that we should go
to the rouge et noir table, I did not refuse — -on the contrary, flushed
with wine, I was anxious to go, and took all the money that I had w ith
me. On our arrival Atkinson played, but finding that he was not for-
tunate, he very soon left off. As I had followed his game, I also had
lost considerably, and he entreated me not to play any more — but /
was a gamester, it appeared, and would not pay attention to him, and
did not quit the table until I had lost every shilling in my pocket. I
left the house in no very good humour, and Atkinson, who had waited
for me, accompanied me home.
'^ Psewland," said he, "I don't know what you may think of me
—you may have heard that I'm a roue, etc., etc. , etc. , but this I always
do, which, is, caution those who are gamesters from their hearts. I
have watched you to-night, and I tell you, that you \^ ill be ruined if
you continue to frequent that table. You have no command over your-
self. I do not know what your means may be, but this I do know,
that if you were a Croesus, you would be a beggar. I cared 'nothing
for you while you were the Mr. Newland, the admired, and leader of
the fashion, but I fell for you when I heard that you were scouted from
society, merely because it was found out that you were not so rich as
you were supposed to be. I had a fellow feeling, as I told you. I did
not make your acquaintance to win your money — I can win as much
as I wish from the scoundrels who keep the tables, or from those who
would not scruple to plunder others ; and I now entreat you not to rec-
tum to that place— and am sorry, very sorry, that ever I took you there.
To me, the excitement is nothing — to you, it is overpowering. You
are a gamester, or rather, you have it in your disposition. Take there-
fore, the advice of a friend, if I may so call myself, and do not go
there again. I hope you are not seriously inconvenienced by what
you have lost to-night."
14
210 JAPHET, IN SEARCH Ol^ A FATHER.
*' ^'ot the least," replied I. " It was ready money. I thank yon
for your advice, and will follow it. I have heen a fool to-night, ami
one folly is sufficient."
Atkinson then left me. I had lost about two hundred and fif(y
pounds, which included my winnings of the night before. I was an-
noyed at it, but I thought of Harcourt'g safety, and felt indifferent.
The reader may recollect, that I had three thousand pounds, which
Mr. Masterton had offered to put out at mortgage for me, but until he
could find an opportunity, by his advice I had bought stock in the three
per cents. Since that time he had not succeeded, as mortgages in ge-
neral are for larger sums, and it had therefore remained. My rents
were not yet due, and I was obliged to have recourse to this money.
1 therefore went into the city, and ordered the broker to sell out twd
hundred pounds, intending to replace it as soon as I could — for I wouh]
not have liked that Mr. Masterton should have known that I had los:
money by gambling. When I returned from the city, I found Captain
Atkinson in my apartments, waiting for me.
" Harcourt is doing well, and you are not doing badly. I have le'
all the world know that you intend to call out whoever presumes to treal
you with indifference."
** The devil you have ! but that is a threat which may easier be made
than followed up by deeds."
" Shoot two or three more," replied Atkinson, coolly, " and then
depend upon it, you'll have it all your own way. As it is, I acknow-
ledge there has been some show of resistance, and they talk ofmakinc
a resolution not to meet you, on the score of your being an impostor.'
** And a very plausible reason, too," replied I ; "nor do I think 1
have any right — I am sure I have no intention of doing as you propose
Surely, people have aright to choose their acquaintance, and to cut me
if they think I have done wrong. I am afraid, Captain Atkinson, yoi
have mistaken me ; I have punished Harcourt for his conduct toward,
nie — he deserved punishment. I had claims on him ; but I have no
upon the hundreds, whom, when in the zenith of my popularity,
myself, perhaps, was not over courteous to. I cannot run the miicl
which you propose, nor do I consider that I shall help my character b^
so doing. I may become notorious, but certainly, I shall not obtaif
that species of notoriety which will be of service to me. No, no;
have done too much, I may say, already; and, although not so muc'
to blame as the world imagines, yet my own conscience tells me, tha
by allowing it to suppose that I was what I was not, I have, to say thi
least, been a party fo the fraud, and must take the consequence. M;
situation now is very unpleasant, and I ought to retire, and, if possible
re-appear with real claims upon the public favour. I have still friends
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER ill
thank God I and influenlial friends. I am ofTercd a writership in In-
dia — a commission in the army — or lo study the law. Will you favour
me with your opinion ?"
*' You pay me a compliment by asking my advice. A writership
in India is fourteen years' transportation, returning with plenty to live
on, but no health to enjoy it. In the army you might do well, and
moreover, as an officer in the army, none dare refuse to go out with
you. At the same time, under your peculiar circumstances, I think if
you were in a crack regiment you would, in all probability, have to
fight one half the mess, and be put in Coventry by the other. You
must then exchange on half-pay, and your commission would be a great
help to you. As for the law — I'd sooner see a brother of mine in his
coffin. There, you have my opinion."
" Not a very encouraging one, at all events," replied T, laughing;
" but there is much truth in your observations. To India I will not
go, as it will interfere with the great object of my existence."
" And pray, if it be no secret, may I ask what that is?"
" To find out who is my father.''
Captain Atkinson looked very hard at me. " I more than once, '"
said he, "have thought you a little cracked, but now I perceive you
are mad — downright mad: don't be angry; I couldn't help saying so,
and if you wish me lo give you satisfaction, I shall most unwillingly
oblige you."
" No, no, Atkinson, I believe you are not very far wrong, and I
forgive you ; — but to proceed. The army, as you say, will give me a
position in society, from my profession being that of a gentleman ; but,
as I do not wish to take the advantage which you have suggested from,
the position, I shrink from putting myself into one which may lead to
much mortification. As for the law, although I do not exactly agree
with you in your abhorrence of the profession, yet I must say, that I
do not like the idea. I have been rendered unfit for it by my life up
to the present. But I am permitted to select any other."
" Without wishing to pry into your affairs, have you sufficient to
live upon?"
"Yes, in a moderate way; about a younger brother's portion,
which will just keep me in gloves, cigars, and eau de cologne."
" Then take my advice and be nothing. The only difference I can
see between a gentleman and any body else, is that one is idle and the
other works hard. One is a useless, and the other a useful, member
of society. Such is the absurdity of the opinions of the world."
"Yes, I agree with you, and would prefer being a gentleman in
that respect, and do nothing, if they would admit me in every other ;
but that they will not do. I am in an unfortunate [losition. '
14 "
•212 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATllEH.
"And will be until your feelings become blunted as mine hav^
been," replied Atkinson. " Had you acquiesced in my proposal, you
would have done better. As it is, 1 can be of no use to you, nay,
without intending an affront, I do not know if we ought to be seen
together, for your decision not io fight your way is rather awkward,
as I cannot back one with my support who will not do credit to it. Do
not be angry at what I say ; you are your own master, and have a
right to decide for yourself. — If you think yourself not so wholly lost
as to be able eventually to recover yourself by other means, I do not
blame you, as I know it is only from an error in judgment, and not
from want of courage."
" At present I am, I acknowledge, lost, Captain Atkinson; but if I
succeed m finding my father — "
" Good morning, Newland, good morning," replied he, hastily. " 1
see how it is ; of course we shall be civil to each other when we meet,
for I wish you well, but we must not be seen together, or you may in-
jure my character."
** Injure yowr character. Captain Atkinson?"
"Yes, Mr. Newland, injure my character. I do not mean to say
but that there are characters more respectable, but I have a charac-
ter which suits me, and it has the merit of consistency. As you are
not prepared, as the Americans say, to go the whole hog, we will part
good friends, and if I have said any thing to annoy you, I beg your
pardon."
*' Good bye, then. Captain Atkinson; for the kindness you have
shown me I am grateful." He shook my hand, and walked out of
the room. " And for having thus broken up our acquaintance, more
grateful still," thought I, as he went down stairs.
CHAPTER LV
1 cut my new acquaintance, but his company, even in so short a time, proves ray
ruin — Notwithstanding J part with all my property, I retain my honesty.
In the mean time, the particulars of the duel had found their way
into the papers, with various comments, but none of them very flatter-
ing to me, and I received a note from Mr. Masterton, who, deceived by
the representations of that class of people who cater for newspapers;
JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 213
and who are but too glad to pull, if Ihey possibly can, every one to
their own level, strongly animadverted upon my conduct, and pointed
out the folly of it ; adding, that Lord Windcrmear wholly coincided
with him in opinion, and had desired him to express his displeasure.
He concluded by observing, "I consider this to be the most serious
false step which you have hitherto made. Because you have been a
parly to deceiving the public, and because one individual, who had
no objection to be intimate with a young man of fashion, station, and
affluence, does not wish to continue the acquaintance with one of
unknown birth and no fortune, you consider yourself justified in taking
his life. Upon this principle, all society is at an end, all distinctions
levelled, and the rule of the gladiator will only be overthrown by the
stiletto of the assassin."
I was but ill prepared to receive this letter. I had been deeply think-
ing upon the kind offers of Lord Windermear, and had felt that they
would interfere with the prhnum 7nobile of my existence, and I was
reflecting by what means I could evade thceir kind intentions, and be
at liberty to follow my own inclinations, when this note arrived. To
me it appeared to be the height of injustice. I had been arraigned and
found guilty upon an ex parte statement. I forgot, at the time, that it
was my duty to have immediately proceeded to Mr. Masterton, and have
fully explained the facts of the case ; and that, by not having so done, I
left the natural impression that I had no defence to ofTer. I forgot all
this, still I was myself to blame — I only saw that the letter in itself
was unkind and unjust — and my feelings were those of resentment.
What right have Lord Windermear and Mr. Masterton thus to school
and to insult me? The right of obligation conferred. But is not Lord
Windermear under obligation to me ? Have 1 not preserved his secret '^
Yes ; but how did I obtain possession of it ? By so doing, \ was only
making reparation for an act of treachery. Well, then, at all events,
I have a right to be independent of them, if I please— any one has a
right to assert his independence if he chooses. Their otlers of service
only would shackle me, if I accepted of their assistance. T will have
none of them. Such were my reflections ; and the reader must perceive
that I was influenced by a state of morbid irritability — a sense of aban-
donment which prostrated me. I felt that I was an isolated being
without a tie in the whole world. I determined to spurn the world
as it had spurned me. To Timothy 1 would hardly speak a word. I
lay with an aching head, aching from increased circulation. I was mad,
or nearly so. I opened the case of pistols, and thought of suicide —
reflection alone restrained me. I could not abandon the search after
my father.
Feverish and impatient I wished to walk out. but I dared not mee*
2U JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
the public eye. I waited till dark, and then I sallied forth, hardly
knowing where I went. I passed the gaming-house — I did pass it, but
I returned and lost every shilling ; not, however, till the fluctuations
of the game had persuaded me, that had I had riiore money to carry it
on, I should have won.
I w^ent to bed, but not to sleep ; I thought of how I had been caressed
and admired, when I was supposed to be rich. Of what use then was
the money I possessed? Little or none. I made up my mind that 1
would either gain a fortune, or lose that wdiich I had. Tlie next
morning I went into the city, and sold out all the remaining stock.
To Timothy I had not communicated my intentions. I studiously
avoided speaking to him ; he felt hurt at my conduct, I perceived, but
I w^as afraid of his advice and expostulation.
At night-fall I returned to the hell — played with various success :
at one time was a winner of three times my capital, and I ended at
last with my pockets being empty. I was indifTerent when it was all
gone, although in the highest state of excitement while the chances
w^re turning up.
The next day I went to a house agent, and stated my wish to seH
my house, for I was resolved to try fortune to the last. The agent
undertook to find a ready purchaser, and I begged an advance, which
he made, and continued to make, until he had advanced nearly half the
value. He then found a purchaser (himself, as I believe) at two-thirds
of its value. I did not hesitate; I had lost every advance, one after
another, and was anxious to retrieve my fortune or be a beggar. I
signed the conveyance and received the balance, fifteen hundred and
fifty pounds, and returned to the apartments, no longer mine, about
an hour before dinner. I called Timothy, and ascertaining the amount
of bills due, gave him fifty pounds, which left him about fifteen pounds
as a residue. I then sat down to my solitary meal, but just as I com-
menced I heard a dispute in the passage.
"What is that, Timothy?" cried I, for I was nervous to a degree.
" It's that fellow^ Emmanuel, sir, who says that he will come up."
" Yesh, I vill go up, sar."
" Let him come, Timothy," replied L Accordingly Mr. Emmanuel
ascended. What do you w^ant with me ?" said I, looking with contempt
at the miserable creature who entered as before, with his body bent
double, and his hand lying over his back
"I vash a little out of breath, Mr. Newdand — I vash come to say
dat de monish is very scarce — dat I vill accept your offer, and vill
take de hundred pounds and my tousand which I have lent you. Yon
too mush gentleman not to help a poor old man, ven he ish in distress."
" J^alhcr say, Mr. Emmanuel, that you have heard that I have not
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 215
Jen thousand pounds per annum, and that you are afraid Ihal you have
lost your money."
" Loshe my monish ! — no — loshe my tousand pound! Did you
not say, dat you would pay it back to me, and give me hundred pounds
iormy trouble; dat vash delast arrangement.
' ' Ves, but you refused to take it, so it is not my fault. You must now
slick to the first, which is to receive fifteen hundred pounds when I
come into my fortune."
"Your fortune! but you have no fortune."
" I am afraid not; and recollect, Mr. Emmanuel, that I never told
vou that I had." *
"Will you pay me my monish, Mr. Rowland, or will you go to
,)rison T
"You can't put me in prison for an agreement," replied I.
" IS'o ; but I can prosecute you for a swindler."
"No, you confounded old rascal, you cannot; try, and do your
worst," cried I, enraged at the word swindler.
"Yell, Mr. Newland, if you have not de ten tousand a year, you
have de house and de monish ; you vill not cheat a poor man like me."
" I have sold my house."
"You have sold de house — den you have neither de house or de
monish. Oh ! my monish, my monish ! Sare, Mr. Newland, you
are one d d rascal ;" and the old wretch's frame quivered with
emotion; his hand behind his back shaking as much as the other,
which, in his rage, he shook in my face.
Enraged myself at being called such an opprobrious term, I opened
ihe door, twisted him round, and applying my foot to a nameless part,
he flew out and fell down the stairs, at the turning of which he lay,
.groaning in pain =
' ' Mine Got, mine Got, I am murdered !" cried he. ' ' Fader Abra-
liam, receive me." My rage was appeased, and I turned pale at the
idea of having killed the poor wretch. With the assistance of Timo-
thy, whom I summoned, we dragged the old man up stairs, and
placed him in a chair, and found that he was not very much hurt. A
glass of wine was given to him, and then, as soon as he could speak, his
ruling parsion broke out again. " Mishter Newland — ah, Mish-ler
New-land, cannot you give me my monisli— cannot you give me de
tousand pound, without de interest? you are very welcome to de in-'
terest. 1 only lend it to oblige you."
" How can you expect a d d rascal to do any such thing?'
replied I.
' ' D d rascal ! Ah ! it vash I who vash a rascal, and vash a fool
U) say the word. Mishter Newland , you vash a gentleman, you vill pay
•210 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATilEH.
me my monish. I have de agreement in my pocket, all ready to give
up."
" If I have not the money, how can I pay you'?'
" Fader Abraham, if you have not de monish — you must have some
monish ; den you will pay me a part. How much vill you pay me !"
"Will you take five hundred pounds, and return the agreement?"
" Five hundred pounds — ^lose half — oh! Mr. Newland — it was all
lent in monish, not in goods ; you will not make me lose so much as
dal?"
" Fm not sure that I will give you five hundred pounds; your bond
is not worth two-pence, and you know it."
"Your honour, Mishter Newland, is worth more dan ten tousand
pounds : but if you have not de monish, den you shall pay me de five
hundred pounds which you offer, and I will give up de paper."
' ' I never offered five hundred pounds. "
" Not offer ; but you mention de sum, dat quite enough."
" Well then, for five hundred pounds, you will give up the paper f
"Yes ; I vash content to loshe all de rest, to please you."
I went to my desk, and took out five hundred pounds in notes.
"Now, there is the money, which you may put your hands on when
you give up the agreement." The old man pulled out the agreement
and laid it on the table, catching up the notes. I looked at the paper
to see if it was all right, and then tore it up= Emmanuel put the notes,
with a heavy sigh, into his inside coat pocket, and prepared to depart.
"Now, Mr. EmmanueU I will show that I have a little more honour
than you think for. This is all the money I have in the world," said
I, taking out of my desk the remaining thousand pounds, "and half
of it I give to you, to pay you the whole money which you lent me.
Here is five hundred pounds more, and now we are quits."
The eyes of the old man were fixed upon me in astonishment, and
from my face they glanced upon the notes; he could, to use a common
expression, neither believe his eyes nor his ears. At last he took the
money, again unbuttoned and pulled out his pocket-book, and with a
trembling hand slowed them away as before.
"You vash a very odd gentleman, Mishter Newland," said he;
' you kick me down stairs, and — but dat is noting."
-Good bye, Mr. Emmanuel." said I, "and let me eat my dinner/'
.lAPIlET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 2J7
CHAPTER LVI.
i resolve to begin the world again, and to seek my fortune in tiie next path — 1 lake
leave of all ray old friends.
The Jew retired, and I commenced my meal, when the door again
slowly opened, and Mr. Emmanuel crawled up lo me.
" Mishlcr Newland, I vash beg your pardon, but vill you not pay me
de interest of de monish?"
I started up from my chair, with my rattan in my hand. " Begone,
you old thief," cried I ; and iiardly w^ere the words out of my mouth,
before Mr. Emmanuel travelled out of the room, and I never saw him
afterwards. I was pleased with myself for having done this act of ho-
nesty, and for the first lime for a long while, I ate my dinner w ith some
zest. After I had finished, I took a twenty pound note, and laid it in
my desk, the remainder of the five hundred pounds I put in my pocket,
to try my last chance. In an hour I quitted the hell pennyless. When
I returned home I had composed myself a little after the dreadful ex-
citement which I had been under. I felt a calm, and a degree of ne-
gative happiness. I knew my fate— there was no more suspense. I sat
down lo reflect upon what I should do. I was to commence the world
again — to sink down at once into obscurity — into poverty — and I felt
happy. I had severed the link between myself and my former condi-
tion — I was again a beggar, but I was independent — and I resolved so
to be. T spoke kindly to Timothy, went to bed, and having arranged
in my own mind how I should act, I fell sound asleep.
I never slept better, or awoke more refreshed. The next morning I
packed up my portmanteau, taking with me only the most necessary
articles; all the details of the toilet, further than cleanliness was con-
cerned, I abjured. When Timothy came in, I told him that I was going
down to Lady de Clare's, which I intended to do. Poor Timothy was
overjoyed at the change in my manner, little thinking that he was so
soon to lose me — for, reader, I had made up my mind that I would try
my fortunes alone ; and, painful as I felt would be the parting with so
valued a friend, I was determined that 1 would no longer have even his
assistance or company. I was determined to forget all that had passed
and commence the word anew I sat down while Timothv went out
218 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
to take a place in the Richmond coach, and wrote to him the following
letter :—
"My dear Timothy,
"Do not think that 1 undervalue your friendship, or shall ever forget
your regard for me, when I tell you that we shall probably never meet
again. Should fortune favour me, I trust we shall — but of that there
is little prospect. I have lost almost every thing: my money is all
gone, my house is sold, and all is gambled away. I leave you, with
only my clothes in my portmanteau and twenty pounds. For your-
self, there is the furniture, which you must sell, as well as every other
article left behind. It is all yours, and I hope you will find means to
establish yourself in some way. God bless you — and believe me always
and gratefully yours,
"Japuet Nlwland."
This letter I reserved to put in the post when I quitted Richmond.
My next letter was to Mr. Masterton.
" Sir,
"Your note I received, and I am afraid that, unwittingly, you have
been the occasion of my present condition. That I did not deserve
the language addressed to me, you may satisfy yourself by applying to
Mr. Harcourl. Driven to desperation, I have lost all I had in the
world, by adding gaming to my many follies. I now am about to seek
my fortune, and prosecute my search after my father. You will, there-
lore, return my most sincere acknowledgments to Lord Windermear,.
for his kind offers and intentions, and assure him that my feelings towards
him will always be those of gratitude and respect. For yourself, ac-
cept my w^armest thanks for the friendly advice and kind interest which
you have shown in my welfare, and believe me, when I say, that my
earnest prayers shall be ofTered up for your happiness. If you can, in
any way, assist my poor friend, Timothy, who will, I have no doubt
call upon you in his distress, you will confer an additional favour on
" Y^ours, ever gratefully,
" Japhet Newland."
1 sealed this letter, and when Timothy returned, I told him that I
wished him, after my departure, to take it to Mr. Masterton's, and not
wait for an answ^er. I then, as I had an hour to spare, before the coach
started, entered into a conversation with Timothy. I pointed out to
him the unfortunate condition in which I found myself, and my deter-
mination to quit the metropolis.
JAPHET, IN SE.U1CI1 OF A FATHER. «1*>
Timothy agreed with me. "I have seen you so unhappy of iale—
I may say, so miserable— that I have neither eaten nor slept. Indeed,
Japhet, I liave laid in bed and wept, for my happiness depends upon
yours. Go where you will, I am ready to follow and to serve you,
and as long as I see you comfortable, I care for nothing else."
These words of Timothy almost shook my resolution, and I was near
telling him all; but when I recollected, I refrained. "My dear Ti-
m.olhy," said I, "in this world we must expect to meet with a chequer-
ed existence ; we may laugh at one time, but we must cry at others.
I owe mv life to you, and I never shall forget you, wherever I may
be."
" No," replied Timothy, "you are not likely to forget one who is
hardly an hour out of your sjght."
"Very true, Timothy; but circumstances may occur which may
separate us."
"I cannot imagine such circumstances, nor do I believe, that bad as
things may turn out, that they will ever be so bad as that. You have
your money and your house; if you leave London, you will be able to
add to your income by letting your own apartments furnished, so we
never shall want ; and we may be very happy running about the world ,
seeking what we wish to find."
My heart smote me when Timothy said this, for I felt, by his devo-
tion and fidelity, he had almost the same claim to the property I pos-
sessed, as myself. He had been my partner, playing the inferior game,
for the mutual benefit. " But the fime may come, Timothy, when we
may find ourselves without money, as we were when we first com-
menced our career, and shared three-pence halfpenny each, by selling
the old woman the embrocation."
" Well, sir, and let it come. I should be sorry for you, but not for
myself, for then Tim would be of more importance, and more useful,
than as valet with little or nothing to do."
I mentally exclaimed, ' I have, I think I have, been a fool, a great
fool, but the die is cast. I will sow in sorrow, and may I reap a har-
vest in joy. I feel,' thought I, (and I did feel,) ' I feel a dehghtful
conviction, that we shall meet again, and all this misery of parting will
be but a subject of future garrulity.' "Yes, Tim," said I in a lond
voice, " all is right."
"All's right, sir; I never thought any thing v*as wrong, except your
annoyance at people not paying you the attention which they used to do
when they supposed you a man of fortune."
" Very true; and Tim, recollect that if Mr. Masterton speaks to you
about me, which he may after I am gone to Richmond, you tell him
that before I left I paid (hat old scoundrel Emmanuel every farthing
220 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
that I had borrowed of him, and you know, (and in fact so does Mr.
Masterton,) how it was borrowed."
" Well, sir, I will, if he does talk to me, but he seldom says much
to me."
" But he may, perhaps, Tim ; and I wish him to know that I have
paid every debt I owe in the world."
** One would think that you were going to the East Indies, instead
of to Richmond, by the way you talk."
"No, Tim; I was ofTered a situation in the East Indies, and I re-
fused it; but Mr. Masterlon and I have not been on good terms lately,
and I wish him to know that I am out of debt. You know, for I told
you all that passed between Emmanuel and myself, how he accepted
iive hundred pounds, and I paid him the thousand ; and I wish Mr.
Masterlon should know it too, and he will then be belter pleased with
me."
"Never fear, sir," said Tim, "lean tell the v\hole story with
nourishes."
" No, Tim, nothing but the truth ; but it is lime I should go. Fare-
well, ray dear fellow. May God bless you and preserve you." And,
overcome by my feelings, I dropped my face on Timothy's shoulder,
and wept.
"What is the matter? W^hat do you mean,Japhet? Mr. New-
land — pray, sir, what is the matter?"
" Timothy — it is nothing," replied I, recovering myself, " but I
have been ill; nervous lately, as you well know, and even leaving
Ihe last and only friend I have, I may say for a few days, annoys and
overcomes me."
" Oh! sir — dear Japhet, do let us leave this house, and sell your
furniture, and be off."
" I mean that it shall be so, Tim. God bless you, and farewell." I
went down stairs, the hackney-coach was at the door. Timothy put
in my portmanteau, and mounted the box. I wept bitterlyo My
readers may despise me, but they ought not : let them be in my situa-
tion, and feel that they have one sincere faithful friend, and then they
will know the bitterness of parting. I recovered myself before I ar-
rived at the coach, and shaking hands with Timothy, 1 lost sight of
him ; for how long, the reader will find out in the sequel of my
adventures.
I arrived at Lady de Clare's, and hardly need say that I was wefl
received. They expressed their delight at my so soon coming again,
and made a hundred inquiries — but I was unhappy and melancholy,
jiot at my prospc els, for in my infatuation I rejoiced at my anticipated
beggary— but I wished to communicate with Fleta, for so I still cail
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 2n
lier. Flela had known my history, for she had been present when I
had related it to her mother, up to the lime that I arrived iii London ;
further than that she knew little. I was determined that before I
quitted she should know all. I dared not trust the last part to her
when I was present, but I resolved that I would do it in writing.
Lady de Clare made no difficulty whatever of leaving me with Fleta.
She was now a beautiful creature, of between fifteen and sixteen, burst-
ing into womanhood, and lovely as the bud of the moss-rose; and she
was precocious beyond her years in intellect. I staid there three
days, and had frequent opportunities of conversing with her; I told
her that I wished her to be acquainted with my whole life, and
interrogated her as to what she knew : I carefully filled up the
chasms, until I brought it down to the time at which I placed her in
the arms of her mother. "And now, Fleta," said I, "you have
much more to learn — you will learn that much at my departure. I
have dedicated hours every night in writing it out; and, as you will
find, have analyzed my feelings, and have pointed out to you where I
have been wrong. I have done it for my amusement, as it may be of
service even to a female."
On the third day I took my leave, and requesting the pony chaise
of Lady de Clare, to take me over to , that I might catch the first
coach that went westward, for I did not care which ; I put into Fletas
hands the packet which I had written, containing all that had passed,
and I bid her farewell.
" Lady de Clare, may you be happy," said I. " Fleta — Cecilia, I
should say, may God bless and preserve you, and sometimes think of
your sincere friend, Japhet Newland."
" Really, Mr. Newland," said Lady de Clare, " one would think
^e were never to see you again."
"I hope that will not be the case, Lady de Clare, for I know nobody
to whom I am more devoted."
" Then, sir, recollect we are to see you very soon."
I pressed her ladyship's hand, and left the house. Thus did I com-
mence my second pilgrimage.
222 JAFHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
CHAPTER LVII.
My new career is not very prosperous at its commencement — I am robbed, anil
accused of being a robber— I bind up wounds, and aril accused of having inflicted
them — I get into a horse-pond, and out of it into gaol.
T HAD proceeded half a mile from the house, when I desired the ser-
vant lo turn into a cross-road so as to gain Brentford ; and, so soon as
I arrived, the distance being only four miles, I ordered him lo stop
at a public-house, saying that I would wait till the coach should pass by.
I then gave him half-a-crown, and ordered him to go home. I went
into the inn with my portmanteau, and was shown into a small back
parlour ; there I remained about half an hour reflecting upon the best
plan that I could adopt.
Leaving the ale that I had called for untasted, I paid for it, and,
with the portmanteau on my shoulder, I walked away until I arrived
at an old clothes'-shop. I told the Jew who kept it, that I required
some clothes, and also wanted to dispose of my own portmanteau and
all my effects. I had a great rogue to deal with; but after much
chaffering, for I now felt the value of money, I purchased from him two
pair of corduroy trowsers, two waistcoats, four common shirts, four
pairs of stockings, a smock frock, a pair of high-lows, and a common
hat. For these I gave up all my portmanteau, with the exception of
six silk liandkerchiefs, and received fifty shillings, when I ought to
have received, at least, ten pounds ; but I could not well help myself,
and 1 submitted to the extortion. I dressed myself in my more humble
garments, securing my money in the pocket of my trowsers unob-
served by the Jew, made up a bundle of the rest, and procured a stick
from the Jew to carry it on, however not without paying him three-
pence for it, he observing that the stick " vash not in de bargain."
Thus attired, I had the appearance of a countryman well to do, and I
set off through the long dirty main street of Brentford, quite undecided
and indifferent as to the direction I should' take. I walked about a
mile, Avhen I thought that it was better to come to some decision pre-
vious to my going farther; and perceiving a bench in front of a public-
house, I went to it and sat down. I looked around, and it imme-
diately came to my recollection that I was sitting on the very bench
on which Timothy and I had stopped to eat our meal of pork, at our
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 223
first outset upon our travels. Yes, it was the very same ! Here sat
I, and there sat Timothy, two heedless hoys, with the paper containing
the meat, the loaf of bread, and the pot of beer between us. Poor
Timothy ! I conjured up his unhappiness when he had received my
note acquainting him with our future separation. I remembered his
fidelity, his courage in defence, and his preservation of my life in
Ireland, and a tear or two colirsed down my cheek.
I remained some lime in a deep reverie, during which the various
circumstances and adventures of my life were passed in a rapid pano-
rama before me. I felt that I had litlle to plead in my own favour,
much to condemn — that I had passed a life of fraud and deceit. I
also could not forget that when I had returned to honesty, I had been
scouted by the world. " And here I am," thought I, "once more
with the world before me ; and it is just that I should commence again,
for I started in a wrong path. At least, now I can satisfactorily assert
that T am deceiving nobody, and can deservedly receive no contumely.
I am Japhet Newland, and not in disguise." I felt happy with this
retlection, and made a determination, whatever my future lot might
be, that, at least, I would pursue the path of honesty. I then began
to reflect upon another point, which was, whilher I should bend my
steps, and what I should do to gain my livelihood.
Alas ! that was a subject of no little difficulty to me. A person who
has been brought up to a profession naturally reverts to that profession
— but to what had I been brought up? As an apothecary — (rue; but
I well knew the difficulty of obtaining employment in what is termed a
liberal profession, without interest or recommendation ; neilher did I
wish for close confinement, as the very idea was irksome. As a
mountebank, a juggler, a quack doctor — I spurned the ^ery idea. It
was a system of fraud and deceit. Wliat then could I do? I could
not dig, to beg I was ashamed. I must trust lo the chapter of acci-
dents, and considering tiow helpless I was, such trust was but a broken
reed. At all events, I had a sufficient sum of money, upwards of twenty
pounds, to exist upon with economy for some time.
I was interrupted by a voice calling out, " Ililloa! my lad, come
and hold this horse a moment." I looked up and perceived a person
on horseback looking at me. " Do you hear, or are you stupid?"
cried the man. My first feeling was to knock him down for his im-
pertinence, but my bundle lying beside, reminded me of my situation
and appearance, and I rose and walked towards the horse. The gen-
tleman, for such he was in appearance, dismounted, and throwing the
rein on the horse's neck, told me to stand by him for half a minute.
He went into a respectable-looking house opposite the inn, and re-
mained nearly half an hour, during which 1 was becoming very impa-
224 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
tient, and kept an anxious eye upon my bundle, which lay on the
seat. At last he came out, and mounting his horse looked in my face
with some degree of surprise. '* Why, what are you ?" said he, as
he pulled out a sixpence, and tendered it to me.
I was again nearly forgetting myself, affronted at the idea of sixpence
being offered to me; but I recovered myself, saying, as I took it, "A
poor labouring man, sir."
''What, with those hands?" said he, looking at them as I look the
money; and then looking at my face, he continued, " I think we have
met before, my lad — I cannot be sure ; you know best — I am a Bow
Street magistrate."
In a moment, I remembered that he was the very magistrate before
whom I had twice made my appearance. I coloured deeply, and made
no reply.
"Well, my lad, I'm not on my bench now, and this sixpence you
have earned honestly. I trust you will continue in the right path.
Be careful — I have sharp eyes." So saying, he rode off.
I never felt more mortified. It was evident that he considered me as
one who was acting a part for unworthy purposes; perhaps one of the
swell mob or a flash pickpocket rusticating until some hue and cry was
over. *' Well, well," thought I, as I look up a lump of dirt and rubbed
over my then white hands, "it is my fate lo be believed when I
deceive, and to be mistrusted when I am acting honestly ; ' and I re-
turned to the bench for my bundle, which — was gone. I stared with
astonishment. " Is it possible?' thought I. " How dishonest people
are I Well, I will not carry another for the present. They might as
well have left me my stick.*' So thinking, and without any great
degree of annoyance at the loss, I turned from the bench and walked
away, I knew not whither. It was now getting dark, but I quite
forgot that it was necessary to look out for a lodging ; the fact is, that I
had been completely upset by the observations of the magistrate, and the
theft of my bundle ; and, in a sort of brown study, from which I was
occasionally recalled for a moment by stumbling over various obstruc-
tions, I continued my walk on the pathway until I was two or three
miles away from Brentford. I was within a mile of Hounslow% when
I was roused by the groans of some person, and it being now dark, I
looked round, trying to catch by the ear the direction in which to offer
my assistance. They proceeded from the other side of a hedge, and I
crawled through, where I found a man lying on the ground, covered
with blood about the head, and breathing heavily. I untied his neck-
cloth, and, as well as I could, examined his condition. I bound his
handkerchief round his head, and perceiving that the position in which
he was lying was very unfavourable, his head and shoulders being much
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. oij
lower than his body, 1 was dragging the body round so as to raise* those
parts, wlien I heard footsteps and voices. Shortly after, four people
burst through the hedge and surrounded me.
•' That is him, I'll swear to it,' cried an immense stout man, seizing
me ; '' that is the other fellow who attacked me, and ran away. He
has come to get oil his accomplice, and now we've just nicked them
both."
'' You are very much mistaken," replied I, " and you have no need
to hold me so tight. I heard the man groan, and 1 came to his assis-
tance."
" That gammon won't do," replied one of them, who was a consta-
ble; " you'll come along with us, and we may as well put on the dar-
bies," continued he, producing a pair of handculTs.
Indignant at the insult, I suddenly broke from him who held me,
and darting at the constable, knocked him down, and then took to mv
lieels across the ploughed field. The whole four pursued, but I rather
gained upon them, and was in hopes to make my escape. I ran for a
gap I i>erceived in the hedge, and sprang over it, without minding the
old adage, of "look before you leap;" for, when on the other side, I
found myself in a deep and stagnant pit of water and mud. I sank
over head, and with diiTiculty extricated myself from the mud at the
bottom, and when at the surface I w as equally embarrassed with the
weeds at the top, among which I floundered. In the mean time my
pursuers, warned by the loud splash, had paused when they came to
the hedge, and perceiving my situation, were at the brink of the pit
watching for my coming out. All resistance was useless. I was
numbed with cold and exhausted by my struggles, and when I gained
Ihe bank I surrendered at discretion.
CHAPTER LVin
Worse and worse — If out of gaol, it will be to go out of the world^ — I am resolved
to take ray secret ^^•kh me.
The handcuffs were now put on without resistance on my part, and
I was led away to Hounslow by the two constables, while the others
returned to secure the wounded man. On my arrival I was thrust into
the clink, or lock-up house, as the magistrates would not meet that
15
^^■>^) JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
evening, and there I was left to my reflections., Previously, however,
to this, T was searched, and my money, amounting, as I before stated,
to upwards of twenty pounds, taken from me by the constables, and
what I had quite forgotten, a diamond solitaire ring, which I had in-
tended to have left with my other bijouterie for Timothy, but in my
hurry, when I left London, I had allowed to remain upon my finger.
The gaol was a square building, with two unglazed windows secured
with thick iron bars, and the rain having beat in, it was more like a
pound for cattle, for it was not even paved, and the ground was three
or four inches deep in mud. There was no seat in it, and there I was
the whole of the night walking up and down shivering in my wet
clothes, in a state of mind almost bordering upon insanity. Reflect upon
what was likely to happen, I could not. I only ran over the past. I
remembered what I had been, and felt cruelly the situation I then was
in. Had I deserved it ? I thought not. " Oh ! father — father!" ex-
claimed I, bitterly, " see to what your son is brought — handcufled as a
felon! God have mercy on my brain, fori feel that it is wandering.
Father, father — alas, I have none ! — had you left me at the asylum,
without any clue, or hopes of a clue, to my hereafter being reclaimed,
it would have been a kindness ; [ should then have been happy and
contented in some obscure situation ; but you raised hopes only to
prostrate them — and imaginings which have led to my destruction.
Sacred is the duty of a parent, and heavy must be the account of those
who desert their children, and are required by Heaven to render up an
account of the important trust. Couldst thou, oh I father, but now
behold thy son! God Almighty ! but I will not curse you, father!
No, no" and I burst into tears, as I leant against the damp walls of
the prison.
The day at last broke, and the sun rose, and poured his beaming rays
through the barred windows. I looked at myself, and was shocked at
my appearance; my smock-frock was covered with black mud, my
clothes were equally disfigured. I had lost my hat when in the water,
and I felt the dry mud cracking on my cheeks. I put my hands up to
my head, and I pulled a quantity of duck-w^eed out of my matted and
tangled hair. I thought of the appearance I should make when sum-
moned before the magistrates, and how much it would go against me.
" Good God!" thought I, " who, of all the world of fashion — who,
of all those who once caught my salutation so eagerly — who, of all
those worldly-minded girls, who smiled upon me but one short twelve
months since, would imagine, or believe, that Japhet >'ewland couid
ever have sunk so low — and how has he so fallen? Alas ! because he
would be honest, and had strength of mind enough to adhere to his
resolution. Well, well, God's will be done: I care not for life; but
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 227
slill an ignominious death — to go out of the world like a dog, and thai
too without finding out who is my father." And I put my fettered
hands up and pressed my burning brow, and remained in a sort oC
apathetic sullen mood, until I was startled by the opening of the door,
and the appearance of the constables. They led me out among a crowd,
through which, with difficulty, they could force their way, and fol-
lowed by the majority of the population of Hounslow, who made their
complimentary remarks upon ihe footpad, I was brought before the
magistrates. The large stout man was then called up to give his evi-
dence, and deposed as follows : —
"That he was walking to Hounslow from Brentford, whither he
had been to purchase some clothes, when he was accosted by two fel-
lows in smock-frocks, one of whom carried a bundle in his left hand.
They asked him what o'clock it was ; and he took out his watch to tell
them, when he received a blow from the one with the bundle ^this one,
sir, said he, pointing to me ,on the back of his head; at the same time
the other (the wounded man who was now in custody) snatched his
w^atch. — That at the time he had purchased his clothes at Brentford,
he had also bought a bag of shot, fourteen pounds weight, which he had,
for the convenience of carrying, tied up with the clothes in the bundle,
and perceiving that he was about to be robbed, he had swung his bundle
round his head, and with the weight of the shot, had knocked down
the man who had snatched at his watch. FTe then turned to the other
(me), who backed from him, and struck at him with his stick. ;The
stick was here produced, and when I cast my eye on it, I was hor-
rified to perceive that it was the very stick which I had bought of the
Jew, for three-pence, to carry my bundle on). He had closed in with
me, and was wresting the stick out of my hand, wh^n the other man,
who had recovered his legs, again attacked him with another stick.
In the scuffle he had obtained my stick, and I had wrested from him
his bundle, with which, as soon as he had knocked down my partner,
I ran off. That he beat my partner until he was insensible, and then
found that I had left my own bundle, which in the affray I had thrown
on one side. He then made the best of his way to Hounslow to give
the information. His return and finding me with the other man is al-
ready known to the readers.
The next evidence who came forward was Ihe Jew, from whom I
had bought the clothes and sold my own. He narrated all that had
occurred, and swore to the clothes in the bundle left by the footpad, and
to the slick which he had sold to me. The constable then produced
the money found about my person and the diamond solitaire ring, stal-
ing my attempt to escape when I was seized. The magistrate then asked
15 •
228 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
me whether I had any thing to say in my defence, cautioning me not
to commit myself.
I rephed, that I was innocent ; that it was true that I had sold my
own clothes, and had purchased those of the Jew, as well as the slick :
that I had been asked to hold the horse of a gentleman when sitting on
a bench opposite a public-house, and that some one had stolen my bundle
and my stick. That I had walked on towards Hounslow, and, in
assisting a fellow creature, whom I certainly had considered as having
been attacked by others, I had merely yielded to the common feelings
of humanity — that I was seized when performing that duty, and should
willingly have accompanied them to the magistrate's, had not they at-
tempted" to put on handcuffs, at which my feelings were roused, and I
knocked the constable down, 3ind made my attempt to escape,
'* Certainly, a very ingenious defence," observed one of the magis-
trates ; "pray where !" At this moment the door opened, and in
came the very gentleman, the magistrate at Bow-street, whose horse !
had held. ' ' Good morning, Mr. Norman, you have just come in time
to render us your assistance. We have a very deep hand to deal with
here, or else a very injured person, I cannot tell which. Do us the favour
to look over these informations and the defence of the prisoner, previous
to our asking him any more questions."
The Bow-street magistrate complied, and then turned to me, but I
was so disguised with mud, that he could not recognise me.
" You are the gentleman, sir, who asked me to hold your horse,"
said I. "I call you to witness, that that part of my assertion is true."
" I do now recollect that you are the person," rephed he, " and you
may recollect the observation I made, relative to your hands, when you
stated that you were a poor countryman." «
"I do, sir, perfectly," replied I.
" Perhaps then you will inform us by what means a diamond-ring
and twenty pounds in money came into your possession ?"
" Honestly, sir," replied I
"Will you slate, as you are a poor countryman, with whom you
worked last— what parish you belong to— and whom you can bring for-
ward in proof of good character?"
" I certainly shall not answer those questions," replied I ; " if I chose,
I might so do, and satisfactorily."
" What is your name ?"
' ' I cannot answer that question either, sir," replied I.
''I told you yesterday that we had met before ; was it not at Bow-
street?"
" I am surprised at your asking a question, sir, from the bench, to
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 229
which, if I answered, the reply might atYect me considerahly. I am hero
in a false position , and cannot well help myself. I have no friends that
I choose to call, for I should blush that they should see me in such a
state, and under such imputations."'
"Your relations, young man, would certainly not be backward.
Who is your father?"
" My father!" exclaimed I, raising up my hands and eyes. " My
father ! Merciful God I — if he could only see me here — sec to what
he has reduced his unhappy son, ' and I covered my face, and sobbed
convulsively.
CHAPTER LIX.
By the commiUing ol magisterial mistakes, I am personally and penally committed
— I prepare for my trial by calling in the assistance of the tailor and the per-
" It is indeed a pity, a great pity," observed one of the magistrates,
" such a fine young man, and evidently, by his demeanour and lan-
guage, well brought up; but I believe," said he, turning to the others,
** we have but one course ; what say you, Mr. Norman?"
'* I am afraid that my opinion coincides with yours, and that the grand
jury will not hesitate to find a bill, as the case stands at present. Let
us, however, ask the witness Armstrong one question. Do you posi-
tively sw ear to this young man being one of the persons who attacked
you?"
" It was not very light at the time, sir, and both the men had their
faces smutted; but it was a person just his size, and dressed in the same
way, as near as I can recollect."
" You cannot, therefore, sw^ear to his identity?"
"No, sir ; but to the best of my knowledge and behef, he is the
man."
" Take that evidence down as important," said Mr. Norman, " it
will assist him at his trial."
The evidence was taken down, and thenmycommitment to the county
gaol was made out. 1 was placed in a cart, between two constables,
and driven off. On my arrival I was put into a cell, and ray money
returned to me, but the ring was detained, that it might be advertised.
230 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
At last I was freed from the manacles, and when the prison dress was
brought to me to put on, in lieu of my own clothes, I requested leave
from the gaoler to wash myself, which was granted ; and strange to say,
so unaccustomed had I been to such a state of filth, that I felt a degree
of happiness, as I returned from the pump in the prison-yard, and I
put on the prison dress almost with pleasure ; for degrading as it was,
at all events, it was new and clean. I then returned to my cell and
was left to my meditations.
Now that my examination and committal were over, I became
much more composed, and was able to reflect coolly. I perceived the
great danger of my situation — how strong the evidence was against me
— and how little chance I had of escape. As for sending to Lord Win-
dermear, Mr. Masterton, or those who formerly were acquainted with
me, my pride forbade it — I would sooner have perished on the scaf-
fold. Besides, their evidence as to my former situation in life, al-
though it w ould perhaps satisfactorily account for my possession of the
money and the ring, and for my disposing of my portmanteau — all strong
presumptive evidence against me — would not destroy the evidence
brought forward as to the robbery, which appeared to be so very con-
clusive to the bench of magistrates. My only chance appeared to be in
the footpad, who had not escaped, acknowledging that I was not his
accomplice, and I felt how much I was interested in his recovery, as
well as in his candour. The assizes I knew were near at hand, and I
anxiously awaited the return of the gaoler, to make a few inquiries
At night he looked through the small square cut out of the top of the
door of the cell, for it was his duty to go his rounds and ascertain if all
his prisoners w^ere safe. I then asked him if I might be allowed to
make a few purchases, such as pens, ink, and paper, etc. As I was
not committed to prison in punishment, but on suspicion, this was
not denied, allhough it would have been to those who w^ere condemned
to imprisonment and hard labour for their offences; and he volunteered
to procure them for me the next morning. I then wished him a good
night, and threw myself on my mattress. Worn out with fatigue
and distress of mind, I slept soundly, without dreaming, until day-
light the next morning. As I awoke, and my scattered senses were re-
turning, I had a confused idea that there was something which weigh-
ed heavily on my mind, which sleep had banished from my memory,
" What is it?" thought I ; and as I opened my eyes, so did I remem-
ber that I, Japhet Newland, who but two nights before was pressing
the dow n of luxury in the same habitation as lady De Clare and her
lovely child, was now on a mattress in the cell of a prison, under a
charge which threatened me wilh an ignominious death. I rose, and
sat on the bed, for 1 had not thrown off mv clothes. My first thoughts
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FVTHKR. 2:^1
were direcled to Timothy. Should I write to him? ^'o, no! why
shuiild I make him miserable? If I was to suffer, it should be under
an assumed name. But what name? Here I was interrupted by
tiie gaoler, who opened the door, and desired me to roll up my mat-
tress and bed-clothes, that they might, as was the custom, be taken
out of the cell during the day.
My first inquiry was, if the man who had been so much hurt was
in the gaol.
" You mean your 'complice," replied the gaoler. " Yes, he is
here, and has recovered his senses. The doctor says he w ill do very
well."
" Has he made any confession?" inquired I.
The gaoler made no reply.
*' I ask that question," continued I, " because if he acknowledges
who was his accomplice, I shall be set at liberty."
'* Very likely," replied the man, sarcastically; " the fact is, there
is no occasion for king's evidence in this case, or you might get off by
crossing the water; so you must trust to your luck. The grand jury
meet to-day, and I will let you know whether a true bill is found
against you or not."
" What is the name of the other man !" inquired I.
" >Vell, you are a good un to put a face upon a matter, I will say.
You would almost persuade me, with that innocent look of yours,
that you know nothing about the business."
" Nor do I," replied I.
** You will be fortunate if you can prove as much, that's all. '
*' Still, you have not answered my question, what is the other
man's name?"
" Well," replied the gaoler, laughing, '-' since you are determined
I shall tell you, I will. It must be news to you, with a vengeance.
His name is Bill Ogle, alias Swamping Bill. I suppose you never
heard that name before?"
" I certainly never did," replied I.
" Perhaps you do not know your own name? Yet I can tell it you^
for Bill Ogle has blown upon you so far."
" Indeed," replied I ; and what name has he given to me?"
" Why, to do him justice, it wasn't until he saw a copy of the de-
positions before the magistrates, and heard how you were nabbed in
trying to help him off, that he did tell it; and then he said, ' Well,
Phill Maddox always was a true un, and I'm mortal sorry that he's in
for'l, by looking a'ter me.' Now do you know your own name?
' I certainly do not," replied I
23-2 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
'^ Well, did you ever hear of one who went by Ihc name of Phil!
Maddox?"
" I never did," rephed I; " and I am glad that Ogle has disclosed
so much."
" Well, I never before met with a man who didn't know his own
name, or had the face to say so, and expect to be believed ; but never
mind, you are right to be cautious, with the halter looking you in the
face."
**K) God ! God !' exclaimed I, throwing myself on the bedstead,,
and covering up my face, " give me strength to bear even that, if so
it must be."
The gaoler looked at me for a time. " I don't know what to make
of him — he puzzles me quite, certainly. Yet it's no mistake."
" It is a mistake,'" replied I, rising; "but whether the mistake
will be found out until too late, is another point. However, it is of
little consequence. What have I to live for, — unless to find out who
is my father?'
" Find out your father! what's in the v/ind now? well, it beats my
comprehension altogether. But did not you say you wished me to
get you something?"
" Yes," replied I ; and 1 gave him some money, with directions to
purchase me implements for writing, some scented wax, a tooth-brush,
and tooth-powder, eau de Cologne, hair-brush and comb, razors, small
looking-glass, and various implements for my toilet.
*' This is a rum world," said the man, repeating what I asked for,
a si put two guineas in his hand. "I've purchased many a article for
a prisoner, but never heard of such rattletraps afore: however, that be
all the same. You will have them, though what ho de Colum is I
can't tell, nor dang me if I shall recollect — not poison, be it, for that is
not allowed in the prison?"
" No, no," replied I, indulging in momentary mirth at the idea ;
' ' you may inquire, and you will find that it's only taken by ladies
who are troubled with the vapours."
"Now I should ha' thought that you'd have spent your money in
the cookshop, which is so much more natural. However, we all have
our fancies;" so saying, he quilted the eel!, and locked the door.
.lAPHET. IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 233
CHAPTER LX.
I am contleraned to be hung by the neck until I am dead, and to go out of the
world without finding out who is my father— Afterwards my Innocence is made
manifest, and I am turned adrift a maniac in the high road.
It may appear strange to the reader that I sent for the above-men-
tioned articles, but habit is second nature, and although two days be-
fore, when I set out on my pilgrimage, I had resolved to discard these
superfluities, yet now in my distress I felt as if they would comfort
me. That evening, after rectifying a few mistakes on the part of the
good-tempered gaoler, by writing dow n what I wanted on the paper
which he had procured me, I obtained all that I required.
The next morning, he informed me thai the grand jury had found a
true bill against me, and that on the Saturday next, the assizes would
be held. He also brought me the list of trials, and I found that mine
would be one of the last, and would not probably come on until
Monday or Tuesday. I requested him to send for a good tailor, as I
wished to be dressed in a proper manner, previous to appearing in
court. As a prisoner is allowed to go into court in his own clothes
instead of the gaol dress, this was consented to, and when the man
came, I was very particular in my directions, so much so, that it
surprised him. He also procured me the other articles I required to
complete my dress, and on Saturday night I had them all ready, for
1 was resolved that I would at least die as a gentleman .
Sunday passed away, not as it ought to have passed, certainly. I
attended prayers, but my thoughts were elsewhere — how, indeed,
could it be otherwise? Who can control his thoughts? He may
attempt so to do, but the attempt is all that can be made. He cannot
command them. I heard nothing, my mind was in a state of gyra-
tion, whirling round from one thing to the other, until I was giddy
from intensity of feeling.
On Monday morning the gaoler came and asked me whether I
would have legal advice. I replied in the negative. " You will be
called about twelve o clock. I liear," continued he; " it is now ten,
and there is only one more trial before yours, about the stealing of
four geese and half a dozen fowls."
•^31 .T:\PHET, FxN SEARCH OF A FATHER,
" Good God !" thought I, " and am I mixed up with such deeds as
Jiiese?" I dressed myself with the utmost care and precision, and never
was more successful. My clothes were black, and fitted well. About
one o'clock I was summoned by the gaoler, and led between him and
another to the court-house, and placed in the dock. At first my eyes
swam, and I could distinguish nothing, but gradually I recovered. I
looked round, for I had called up my courage. My eyes wandered
from the judge to the row of legal gentlemen below him ; from them
to the well-dressed ladies who sat in the gallery above ; behind me I
did not look. I had seen enough, and my cheeks burnt with shame.
At last I looked at my fellow culprit, who stood beside me, and his
eyes at the same time met mine. He was dressed in the gaol clothes
of pepper and salt coarse cloth. He was a rough, vulgar, brutal looking
man, but his eye was brilliant, his complexion was dark, and his face
was covered with whiskers. "Good heavens," thought 1, "who
will ever imagine or credit that we have been associates?"
The man stared at me, bit his lip, and smiled with contempt, but
made no further remark. The indictment having been read, the clerk
of the court cried out, "You, Benjamin Ogle, having heard the
charge, say, guilty or not guilty?"
" Not guilty," replied the man, to my astonishment.
" You, Philip Maddox, guilty or not guilty?"
I did not answer.
" Prisoner," observ-ed the judge in a mild voice, " you must
answer, guilty or not guilty. It is merely a form."
" My lord," replied I, " my name is not Philip Maddox. '
" That is the name given in the indictment by the evidence of your
fellow prisoner," observed the judge; "your real name we cannot
pretend to know . It is sufficient that you answer to the question of
whether you, the prisoner, are guilty or not guilty."
" Not guilty, my lord, most certainly," replied I, placing ray hand
to my heart, and bowing to him.
The trial proceeded ; Armstrong was the principal evidence. To
my person he would not swear. The Jew proved my selling my
clothes, purchasing those found in the bundle, and the stick, of which
Armstrong possessed himself. The clothes I had on at the time of
my capture were produced in court. As for Ogle, his case was de-
cisive. We were then called upon for our defence. Ogle's was very
short. " He had been accustomed to fits all his life — was walking to
Hounslow% and liad fallen dow n in a fit. It must have been somebody
else who had committed the robbery and had made off, and he had
been picked up in a mistake." This defence appeared to make nc»
.lAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 235
Other impression than ridicule, and indignation at the barefaced asser-
tion. I was then called on for mine.
" My lord, " said I, " I have no defence to make except that which
I asserted before the magistrates, that I was performing an act of
charity towards a fellow-creature, and was, through that, supposed to
be an accomplice. Arraigned before so many upon a charge, at the
bare accusation of which my blood revolts, I cannot and will not allow
those who might prove what my life has been, and the circumstances
which induced me to take up the disguise in which I was taken, to
appear in my behalf. I am unfortunate, but not guilty. One only
chance appears to be open to me, which is, in the candour of the
party who now stands by me. If he will say to the court that he
ever saw me before, I will submit without murmur to my sentence."
"I'm sorry that you've put that question, my boy," replied the
man, " for I have seen you before ; and the wretch chuckled with re-
pressed laughter.
I was so astonished, so thunderstruck with this assertion, that I held
down my head, and made no reply. The judge then summed up the
evidence to the jury, pointing out to Ihem, that of Ogle's guilt there
could be no doubt, and of mine, he was sorry to say, but little. Still
they must bear in mind that the w ilness Armstrong could not swear to
my person. The jury, without leaving the box, consulted together a
short time, and brought in a verdict of guilty against Benjamin Ogle
and Pliilip Maddox. I heard no more — the judge sentenced us both to
execution : he lamented that so young and prepossessing a person as
myself should be about to suffer for such an otfence : he pointed out
the necessity of condign punishment, and gave us no hopes of pardon
or clemency. But I heard him not — I did not fall, but I was in a state
of stupor. At last, he wound up his sentence by praying us to prepare
ourselves for the awful change, by an appeal to that heavenly Father
*' Father 1" exclaimed I, in a voice which electrified the court,
"did you say my father? God ! where is he ?" and I fell down in
a fit. The handkerchiefs of the ladies were applied to their faces, the
whole court were moved, for I had, by my appearance, excited con-
siderable interest, and the judge, with a faltering, subdued voice, de-
sired that the prisoners might be removed.
"Stop one minute, my good fellow," said Ogle, to the gaoler, while
others were taking me out of court. "My lord, I've something rather
important to say. Why I did not say it before, you shall hear. You
are a judge, to condemn llie guilty, and release the innocent. We are
told that there is no trial like an Englisli jury, but this I say, that
many a man is hung for what he never has been guilty of. You ha\e
condemned that [)oor young man to death. 1 could have prevented it
■^3« JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
if I had chosen to speak before, but 1 would not, that I might prove
how little there is of justice. He had nothing to do with the robbery
— Phill Maddox was the man, and he is not Philip Maddox. He said
that he never saw me before, nor do I believe that he ever did. As
sure as I shall hang, he is innocent."
" It was but now, that when appealed to by him, you stated that
you had seen him before."
" So I did, and I told the truth— I had seen him before. I saw him
go to hold the gentleman's horse, but he did not see me. I stole his
bundle and his stick, which he left on the bench, and that's how they
were found in our possession. Xow you have the truth, and you may
either acknowledge that there is little justice, by eating your own
words, and letting him free, or you may hang bim, rather than acknow-
ledge that you are wrong. At all events, his blood will now be on
your hands, and not mine. If Phill Maddox had not turned tail, like
a coward, I should not have been here ; so I tell truth to save him
who was doing me a kind act, and to let him swing who left me in the
lurch."
The judge desired that this statement might be taken down, that
further inquiry might be made, intimating to the jury, that I should be
respited for the present ; but of all this I was ignorant. As there was
no placing confidence in the assertions of such a man as Ogle, it was
considered necessary that he should repeat his assertions at the last
hour of his existence, and the gaoler was ordered not to state Avhat had
passed to me, as he might excite false hopes.
When I recovered from my fit, I found myself in the gaoler's parlour,
an das soon as I was able to walk, I was locked up in a condemned
cell. The execution had been ordered to take place on the Thursday,
and I had two days to prepare. In the meantime, the greatest interest
had been excited with regard to me. My whole appearance so evi-
dently belied the charge, that every one was in my favour. Ogle was
requestioned, and immediately gave a clue for the apprehension of
Maddox, who, he said, he hoped would swing by his side.
The gaoler came to me the next day, saying, that some of the ma-
gistrates wished to speak with me ; but as I had made up my mind
not to reveal my former life, my only reply was, " That I begged
they would allow me to have my last moments to myself." I recol-
lected Melchior's idea of destiny, and imagined that he w-as right, " It
was my destiny," thought I : and I remained in a state of stupor. The
fact was, that I was very ill, my head was heavy, my brain was on
fire, and the throbbing of my heart could have been perceived without
touching my breast.
I remained on the mattress all dav, and all the next night, with my
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 2;J7
lace buried in the clothes 1 I was loo ill to raise my head. On
Wednesday morning I felt myself gently pushed on the shoulder by
some one ; 1 opened my eyes ; it was a clergyman. I turned away
my head, and remained as before. I was then in a violent fever. He
spoke for some time : occasionally I heard a word, and then relapsed
into a state of mental imbecihty. He sighed, and went away.
Thursday came, and the hour of death,— but time was by me un-
heeded, as well as eternity. In the meantime Maddox had been
taken, and the contents of Armstrong's bundle found in his possession ;
and when he discovered that (3gle had been evidence against him, he
confessed to the robbery.
Whether it was on Thursday or Friday 1 knew not then, but I was
lifted olTthe bed, and taken before somebody — something passed, but
the fever had mounted u^ to my head, and I was in a state of stupid
delirium. Strange to say, they did not perceive my condition, but
ascribed it all to abject fear of death. I was led away— I had made no
answer — but I was free.
CHAPTER LXI.
VV hen at the lowest spoke of Fortune's wheel, one is sure to rise as it turns round
— I recover my senses and find myself amongst Friends.
1 THINK some people shook me by the hand, and others shouted as
1 walked in the open air, but I recollect no more. I afterwards was
informed that I had been reprieved, that 1 had been sent for, and a long
exhortation delivered to me, for it was considered that my life must
have been one of error, or I shoidd have applied to my friends, and
have given my name. My not answering was attributed to shame and
confusion — my glassy eye had not been noticed — my tottering step
when led in by the gaolers attributed to other causes ; and the magis-
trates shook their heads as I was led out of their presence. The gaoler
had asked me several times where I intended to go. At last, I had
told him, to seek my father, and darting away from him, I had run like
a madman down the street. Of course he had no longer any power
over me : but he muttered, as I fled from him, " I've a notion he'll
soon be locked up again, poor fellow ! it's turned his brain for certain."
As I tottered along, my unsteady step naturally attracted the atten-
•238 JAPHET. IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
lion of the passers by ; but they attributed it to intoxication. Tlius was
I allowed to wander away in a state of madness, and before night I was
far from the town. What passed, and whither I had bent my steps,
I cannot tell. All I know is, that after running like a maniac, seizing
every body by the arm that I met, staring at them with wild and flash-
ing eyes ; and sometimes in a solemn voice, at others in a loud, threaten-
ing tone, startling them with the interrogatory, " Are you my father?"
and then darting away, or sobbing like a child, as the humour took me,
I had crossed the country, and three days afterwards I was picked up
at the door of a house in the town of Reading, exhausted with fatigue
and exposure, and nearly dead. When I recovered, I found myself
in bed, my head shaved, my arm bound up, after repeated bleedings,
and a female figure sitting by me.
** God in heaven I where am I?" exclaimed I faintly.
*' Thou hast called ofte-n upon thy earthly father during the time of
thy illness, friend," replied a soft voice. " It rejoiceth me much (o
hear thee call upon thy Father which is in heaven. Be comforted, thou
art in the hands of those who will be mindful of thee. OfTer up thy
thanks in one short prayer for thy return to reason, and then sink again
into repose, for thou must need it much."
I opened my eyes wide, and perceived that a young person in a
Quaker's dress was sitting by the bed working w ilh her needle ; an
open Bible was on a little table before her. I perceived also a cup, and
parched with thirst, I merely said, " Give me to drink." She arose, and
put a tea-spoon to my lips ; but I raised my hand, took the cup from her.
and emptied it. how delightful was that draught ! I sank down on
my pillow, for even that slight exertion had overpowered me, and
muttering, " God, I thank thee 1" I was immediately in a sound sleep,
from which I did not awake for many hours. When I did, it was not
daylight. A lamp was on the table, and an old man in a Quaker's dress
was snoring very comfortably in the arm-chair. I felt quite refreshed
with my long sleep, and was now able to recall what had passed. I
remembered the condemned cell, and the mattress upon which I lay,
but all after was in a state of confusion. Here and there a fact or sup-
position was strong in my memory; but the intervals between were
total blanks. I was, at all events, free, that I felt convinced of, and
that I was in the hands of the sect who denominate Ihemselves Quakers :
but where was I'? and how did I come here? I remained thinking on
the past, and wondering, until the day broke, and with the daylight
roused up my watchful attendant. He yawned, stretched his arms,
and rising from the chair, came to the side of my bed. I looked him
in the face. " Hast thou slept well, friend?" said he.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 23'J
" I have slept as much as I wish, and would not disturb you," re-
plied I, " for I wanted nothing."'
" Peradventure I did sleep," replied the man; " watching long
agreelh not with the flesh, although the spirit is most willing. Requirest
thou any thing?"
*' Yes," replied I, " I wish to know where I am?
" Verily, thou art in the town of Reading in Berkshire, and in the
liouse of Pheneas Cophagus."
" Cophagus!" exclaimed I ; " Mr, Cophagus, the surgeon and apo-
thecary'?"
" Pheneas Cophagus is his name ; he hath been admitted into ciir
sect, and hath married a daughter of our persuasion. He hath attended
thee in thy fever and thy frenzy, without calling in the aid of the phy-
sician, therefore do I believe that he must be the man of whom thou
speakest ; yet doth he not follow up the healing art for the lucre of gain."
" And the young person who was at my bedside, is she his wife?"
" ^'ay, friend, she is half-sister to the wife of Pheneas Cophagus by
a second marriage, and a maiden, who was named Susannah Temple
at the baptismal font; but I will go to Pheneas Cophagus and acquaint
him of your waking, for such were his directions."
The man then quitted the room, leaving me quite astonished with
the information he had imparted. Cophagus turned Quaker! and at-
tending me in the town of Reading. In a short time Mr. Cophagus
himself entered in his dressing-gown . ' ' Japhet ! " said he, seizing my
hand with eagerness, and then, as if recollecting, he checked himself,
and commenced in a slow tone, " Japhet Xewland — truly glad am 1
— hum — verily do I rejoice — you, Ephraim — get out of the room —
and so on."
" Yea, I will depart, since it is thy bidding," replied the man, quit-
ting the room.
Mr. Cophagus then greeted me in his usual way — told me that he had
found me insensible at the door of a house a little way off, and had im-
mediately recognised me. He had brought me to his own home, but
without much hope of my recovery. He then begged to know by what
strange chance I had been found in such a desolate condition. I re-
plied, *' that although I was able to listen, I did not feel myself equal
to the exertion of telling so long a story, and that I should infinitely
prefer that be should narrate to me what had passed since we had parted
at Dublin, and how it was that I now found that he had joined the sect
of Quakers."
" Peradventure — long word that — um — queer people — very good —
and so on," commenced Mr. Cophagus ; but as the reader will not un-
•ilO JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
dersland his phraseology quite so well as I die], [ shall give Mr. Co-
phagus's history in my own version.
Mr. Cophagus had returned to the small town at which he resided,
and, on his arrival, he had been called upon by a gentleman who was
of the Society of Friends, requesting that he would prescribe for a niece
of his, who W'as on a visit at his house, and had been taken danger-
ously ill. Cophagus, with his usual kindness of heart, immediately
consented, and found that Mr. Temple's report was true. For six
weeks he attended the young Quakeress, and recovered her from an
imminent and painful disease, in which she showed such fortitude and
resignation, and such unconquerable good temper, that when Mr. Co-
phagus returned to his bachelor's establishment, he could not help re-
flecting upon what an invaluable wife she would make, and how much
more cheerful his house would be with such a domestic partner.
In short, Mr. Cophagus fell in love, and like all elderly gentlemen
who have so long bottled up their atTeclions, he became most despe-
rately enamoured ; and if he loved Miss Judith Temple when he wit-
nessed her patience and resignation under suffering, how much more
did he love her when he found that she was playful, merry, and cheer-
ful, without being boisterous, when restored to her health. Mr. Co-
phagus's attentions could not be misunderstood. He told her uncle
that he had thought seriously of wedding cake — white favours — mar-
riage — family — and so on ; and to the young lady he had put his cane
up to his nose and prescribed, " A dose of matrimony — to be taken
immediately.' To Mr. Cophagus there was no objection raised by the
lady, who was not in her teens, or by the uncle, who had always res-
pected him as a worthy man, and a good Christian; but to marry one
who was not of her persuasion, was not to be thought of. Her friends
would not consent to it. Mr. Cophagus was therefore dismissed, with
a full assurance that the only objection which offered was, that he was
not of their society.
Mr. Cophagus walked home discomforted, He sat down on his easy
chair, and found it excessively uneasy — he sat down to his solitary meal
and found that his company was unbearable — he went to bed, but found
that it was impossible to go to sleep. The next morning, therefore,
Mr. Cophagus returned to Mr. Temple and stated his wish to be made
acquainted with the difference between the tenets of the Quaker per-
suasion and those of the Established Church. Mr. Temple gave him an
outline, which appeared to Mr. Cophagus to be very satisfactory', and
then referred him to his niece for fuller particulars. When a man
enters into an argument with a full desire to be convinced, and with his
future happiness perhaps depending upon that conyiclion ; and when,
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 2AI
fiirlher, Ihose arguments are brought forward by one of the prettiesl
voices, and backed by the sweetest of smiles, it is not to be wondered
at his soon becoming a proselyte. Thus it was with Mr. Cophagus,
who, in a week, discovered that the peace, humility, and good-will,
upon which the Quaker tenets are founded ^ere much more congenial
to the true spirit of the Christian revelation than the Athanasian Creed,
to be sung or said in our Established Churches; and with this con-
viction, Mr. Cophagus requested admission into the fraternity, and
shortly after his admission, it was thought advisable by the Friends
that his faith should be confirmed and strengthened by his espousal of
Miss Judith Temple, with whom, at her request — and he could refuse
her nothing — he had repaired to the town of Reading, in which her
relations all resided ; and Pheneas Cophagus, of the Society of Friends,
declared himself to be as happy as a man could be. " Good people,
Japhet—um— honest people, Japhet— don't fight— little stifT— spirit
moves — and so on," said Mr Cophagus, as he concluded his narrative,
and then shaking me by the hand, retired to shave and dress.
CHAPTER LXIl.
\ fall in love with religion when preached by one who has the form ot aa ant;ei
In half an hour afterwards Ephraim came in with a draught, which I
was desired to take by Mr. Cophagus, and then to try and sleep. This
was good advice, and I followed it. I awoke after a long, refreshing,
sleep, and found Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus sitting in the room, she at
work and he occupied with a book. When I opened my eyes, and
perceived a female, I looked to ascertain if it was the young person
whom Ephraim had stated to be Susannah Temple; not that I recol-
lected her features exactly, but I did the contour of her person. Mrs
Cophagus was taller, and I had a fair scrutiny of her before they per-
ceived that I was awake. Her face was very pleasing, features small
and regular. She appeared to be about thirty years of age, and was
studiously neat and clean in her person. Her Quaker^s dress was not
without some little departure from the strict fashion and form, sufficient
to assist, without deviating from, its simplicity. If I might use the
term, it was a little coquettish, and evinced that the wearer, had she
10
242 JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
not belonged to that sect, would have shown great laste in the adorn-
mentof her person.
Mr. Cophagus, although he did not think so himself, as I afterward-^
found out, was certainly much improved by his change of costume.
His spindle-shanks, which, as I have before observed, were peculiarly
at variance with his little *bicular, orange-shaped slomach, were now
concealed in loose trowsers, which took off from the protuberance of
the latter, and added dignity to the former, blending the two together,
so that his roundness became fine by degrees, and beautifully less as il
descended. Altogether, the Quaker dress added very much to the
substantiability of his appearance, and was a manifest improTement,
especially when he wore his broad-brimmed hat. Having satisfied my
curiosity, I moved the curtain so as to attract their attention, and Co-
phagus came to my bedside, and felt my pulse. " Good — very good —
all right — little broth — throw in bark — on his legs — well as ever — an.l
so on."
** I am indeed much better this afternoon," replied I ; " indeed, so
well, that I feel as if T could get up."
•* Pooh : — tumble down — never do — lie abed — get strong — wife —
Mrs. Cophagus — Japhet — old friend."
Mrs. Cophagus had risen from her chair, and come towards the bed,
when her husband introduced her in his own fashion. '' I am afraid
that I have been a great trouble, madam," said I.
*' Japhet Newland, we have done but our duty, even if thou wert
not, as it appears that thou art, a friend of my husband . Consider me,
therefore, as thy sister, and I will regard thee as brother; and if thou
wouldst wish it, thou shall sojourn with us, for so hath my husband
communicated his wishes unto me.
I thanked her for her kind expressions, and took the fair hand which
was offered in such amity. Cophagus then asked me if I was well
enough to inform him of what had passed since our last meeting, and
telling me that his wife knew my whole history, and that I might speak
before her, he took his seat by the side of the bed ; his wife also drew
her chair nearer, and I commenced the narrative of what had passed
since we parted in Ireland. When I had finished, Mr. Cophagus
commenced as usual, " Urn— very odd— lose money— bad— grow
honest— good— run away from friends— bad— not hung— good-
brain fever— bad— come here— good— stay with us— quite comfor-
table — and so on."
Thou hast suffered much, friend Japhet," said Mrs. Cophagus, wip-
ing her eyes ; "and I would almost venture to say, hast been chas-
tised too severely, were it not that those whom He loveth, He chas-
liseth. Still thou art saved, and now out of danger; peradventure
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 213
iiioii \\\\l now quit a vain world, and be content to live with us; nay,
as thou hast the example of thy former master, it may perhaps please
the Lord to advise thee to become one of us, and to join us as a Friend.
My husband was persuaded to the right path by me," continued she,
looking fondly at him ; " who knoweth but some of our maidens may
also persuade thee to eschew a vain, unrighteous world, and follow thy
Redeemer in humility V
" A'ery true — um — very true," observed Cophagus, putting more
Quakerism than usual in his style, and drawing out his ums to treble
their usual length; " Happy life — Japhet — um — all at peace — quiet
amusements — think about it — um — no hurry — never swear — by-and-
by — heh ! — spirit may move — um — not now — talk about it — get well
— set up shop — and so on."
I was tired with talking so much, and having taken some nourish-
ment, again fell asleep. When I awoke in the evening, friend Co-
phagus and his wife were not in the room ; but Susannah Temple,
whom I had first seen, and of whom I had made inquiry of Ephraim ,
who was Cophagus's servant. She was sitting close to the light and
reading, and long did I continue to gaze upon her, fearful of interrupt-
ing her. She was the most beautiful specimen of clear and transparent
white that T ever had beheld — her complexion was unrivalled — her
eyes were large, but I could not ascertain their colour, as they were
cast down upon her book, and hid by her long fringed eyelashes — her
eyebrows arched and regular, as if drawn by a pair of compasses, and
their soft hair in beautiful contrast with her snowy forehead — her hair
was auburn, but mostly concealed within her cap — her nose was very
straight, but not very large, and her mouth was perfection. She ap-
peared to be between seventeen and eighteen years old, as far as I could
ascertain ; her figure was symmetrically perfect. Dressed as she was in
the modest, simple garb worn by the females of the Society of Friends,
she gave an idea of neatness, cleanliness, and propriety, upon which 1
could have gazed for ever. She was, indeed, most beautiful. I felt
her beauty, her purity, and I could have worshipped her as an angel.
While I still had my eyes fixed upon her exquisite features, she closed
her book, and rising from her chair, came to the side of the bed. That
she might not be startled at the idea of my having been watching her,
I closed my eyes, and pretended to slumber. She resumed her seal,
and then I changed my position and spoke, " Is any one there?"
" Yes, friend Newland, what is it that thou requirest? ' said she,
advancing. " Wouldst thou see Cophagus or Ephraim? T will sum-
mon them.'
" 110," replied I ; •' why should I disturb them from their amuse-
10 »
244 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
mentsor employments? I have slept a long while, and I would like
to read a little, I think, if my eyes are not too weak."
" Thou must not read, but I may read unto thee," replied Susan-
nah. " Tell me, what is it that thou wouldest have me read? I
have no vain books; but surely thou Ihinkest not of them, after thy
escape from death."
" I care not what is read, provided that you read to me," re-
plied I.
'' Nay, but thou shouldest care ; and be not wroth if I say to thee,
that there is but one book to which thou shouldest now listen. Thou
liast been saved from deadly peril — thou hast been rescued from the
jaws of death. Art thou not thankful? And to whom is gratitude
most due, but to thy heavenly Father, who hath been pleased to
spare thee ?"
" You are right,'* replied I ; " then I pray you to read to me from
the Bible."
Susannah made no reply, but resumed her seal, and selecting those
chapters most appropriate to my situation, read them in a beautiful
and impressive tone.
CHAPTER LXlil.
Priile and love at issue — ^thc ialter is victorious — I turn Quaker and recommence
my old profession.
If the reader will recall my narrative to his recollection, he must
observe, that religion had had hitherto but little of my thoughts. I had
lived the life of most who live in this world ; perhaps not quite so cor-
rect in morals as many people, for my code of morality was suited to
circumstances; as to religion, I had none. I had lived in the world,
and for the world. I had certainly been well instructed in the tenets of
our faith when T was at the Asylum, but there, as in most other
schools, it is made irksome, as a task, and is looked upon with almost
a feeling of aversion. No proper religious sentiments are, or can be,
inculcated to a large number of scholars; it is the parent alone who
can instil, by precept and example, that true sense of religion, which
may serve as a guide through life. I had not read the Bible from the
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHEH 215
tinie ihdt I quilled the Foundling Hospital. It was new to me, aral
wlien I now heard read, by that beautiful creature, passages equally
beautiful, and so applicable to my situation, weakened with disease,
and humbled in adversity, I was moved, even unto tears.
Susannah closed the book and came to the bedside. I thanked her:
she perceived my emotion, and n\ hen I held out my hand she did not
refuse hers. I kissed it, and it was immediately withdrawn, and shi>
left the room. Shortly afterwards Ephraim made his appearance.
Cophagus and his wife also came that evening, but I saw no more of
Susannali Temple until the following day, when*! again reciuesled hci
to read to me.
I will not detain the reader by an account of my reco\ery. In
three weeks I was able to leave the room; during that lime, I had be-
come very mtimate with the whole family, and was troalod as if I be-
longed to it. During my illness I had certainly shown more sense of
religion than I had ever done before, but I do not mean to say that 1
was really religious. I liked to hear the Bible read by Susannah, and
1 liked lo talk with her upon religious subjects; but had Susannah
been an ugly old woman, I very much doubt if I should have been so
allenlive. It was her extreme beauty — her modesty and fervour, whicli
so became her, which enchanted me. I felt the beauty of religion,
but it was through an earthly object; it was beautiful in her. She
looked an angel, and 1 listened to her precepls as delivered by one.
Slill, whatever may be the cause by which a person's attention can bo
directed to so important a subject, so generally neglected, whcllier by
fear of death, or by love towards an earthly object, the advantages are
the same; and although very far from what I ought to have been, i
certainly was, through my admiration of her, a better man.
As soon as I was on the sofa wrapped up in one of the dressing-
gowns of Mr. Cophagus, he told me that the clothes in which I had
been picked up were all in tatters, and asked me whether I would like
to have others made according to the usual fashion, or like those with
whom I should, he trusted, in future reside. I had already debated
this matter in my mind. Return to the world 1 had resolved not to
do; to follow up the object of my search appeared to me only lo in-
volve me in diflicullies; and what were the intentions of Cophagus with
regard to me, I knew not. I was hesitating, for I knew not what
answer lo give, when I perceived the pensive, deep blue eye of Su-
:jannah fixed upon me, watching attentively, if not eagerly, for my
response.
It decided the point. " If," replied I, ' ycu do not think that I
should disgrace you, I should wish to wear the dress of the SocHcly o[
Friends, although not yet one of your body."'
r.i^ JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
'* But soon to be; I trust," replied Mrs. Cophagus.
"Alas!" replied I, "lam an outcast;" and I looked at Susannah
Temple.
" Not so, Japhel Newland," replied she, mildly; "I am pleased
that thou hast of thy own accord rejected vain attire. I trust that thou
>vilt not find that thou art without friends."
" While I am with you," replied I, addressing myself to them ah,
" I consider it my duty to conform to your manners in everyway,
but by-and-by, when I resume my search "
"And why shouldst Ihou resume a search which must prove una-
vailing, and but leads thee into error and misfortune? lam but young,
Japhet Newland, and not perhaps so able to advise, yet doth it appear
to me, that the search can only be availing when made by those who
left thee. When they wish for you, they will seek thee, but thy seek-
ing them is vain and fruitless."
" But," replied I, "recollect that inquiries have already been made
at the Foundling, and those who inquired have been sent away dis-
appointed — they will inquire no more."
"And is a parent's love so trifling, that one disappointment will
drive him from seeking of his child? No, no, Japhet; if thou art
yearned for, thou will be found, and fresh inquiries will be made; but
Ihy search is unavailing, and already hast thou lost much time."
"True, Susannah, thy advice is good," replied Mrs. Cophagus;
" in following a shadow Japhet hath much neglected the substance ; it
is time that thoH shouldst settle thyself, and earn thy livelihood."
" And do thy duty in that path of life to which it hath pleased God to
call thee," continued Susannah, who with Mrs. Cophagus walked out
of the room.
Cophagus then took up the conversation, and pointing out the use-
iessness of my roving about, and the propriety of my settling in life,
proposed that I should lake an apothecary's shop, for which he would
furnish the means, and that he could ensure me the custom of the
whole Society of Friends in Reading, which was very large, as there
was not one of the sect in that line of business. " Become one of us,
Japhet — good business — marry by-and-by — happy life — little children
— and so on." I thought of Susannah, and was silent. Cophagus then
said, I had better reflect upon his offer, and make up my determina-
tion. If that did not suit me, he would still give me all the assistance
in his power.
I did reflect long before I could make up my mind. I was still
worldly inclined ; still my fancy would revel in the idea of finding out
my father in high life, and, as once more appearing as a star of fashion,
4)f returning with interest the conlumelv I had lately received, and
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 247
r-e-assuming as a right that position in society which I had held under
false colours.
I could not bear the idea of sinking at once into a tradesman, and
probably ending my days in obscurity. Pride was still my ruUng
passion. Such were my first impulses, and then I looked upon the
other side of the picture. I was without the means necessary to sup-
port myself; I could not return to high life without I discovered my
parents in the first place, and in ihe second, found them to be such as
my warm imagination had depicted. I had no chance of finding them.
I had already been long seeking in vain. I had been twice taken up
lo Bow Street — nearly lost my life in Ireland — had been sentenced to
death — had been insane, and recovered by a miracle ; and all in pro-
b<'cuting this useless search. All this had much contributed to cure
me of the monomania. I agreed with Susannah that the search must
be made by the other parties, and not by me. I recalled the treat-
ment I had received from the world — the contempt with which I had
been treated — the heartlessness of high life, and the little chance of my
ever again being admitted into fashionable society.
I placed all this in juxtaposition with the kindness of those with
\\hom I now resided — what they had done already for me, and what
they now offered, which was to make me independent by my own
exertions. I weighed all in my mind; was still undecided, for my
pride still carried its weight: when I thought of the pure, beautiful
Susannah Temple, and — my decision was made. I would not lose
the substance by running after shadows.
That evening, with many thanks, I accepted the kind offers of Mr.
Cophagus, and expressed my determination of entering into the Society
(j[ Friends.
"Thou hast chosen wisely," said Mrs. Cophagus, extending her
hand to me, " and it is with pleasure that we shall receive thee."
'* I welcome thee, Japhet Newland," said Susannah, also offering
her hand, '* and I trust that thou wilt find more happiness among those
N\ith whom thou art about to sojourn, than in the world of vanity and
deceit, in which thou hast hitherto played thy part. No longer seek an
earthly father, who hath deserted thee, but a heavenly Father, who
vvill not desert thee in thy afflictions."
" You shall direct me into the right path, Susannah," replied I.
" I am loo young lo be a guide, Japhet," replied she, smiling ; "but
not too young, I hope, to be a friend."
The next day my clothes came home, and I put them on. I looked
at myself in the glass, and was any thing but pleased ; but as my head
was shaved, it was of little consequence what 1 NNore ; so 1 consoled
myself. Mr Cophagui sent for a barber and ordered mc a wig. which
^•ii^ JAPHET, IN SEARC^H OF A FATHER.
was to be ready in a few days; when it was ready I put in on, and
altogethe rdid not dislike my appearance. I flattered myself that if I
was a Quaker, at all events I was a very good-looking, and a very
smart one; and when, a day or two afterwards, a reunion of friend's
look place at Mr. Cophagus's house to introduce me to them, I per-
ceived, with much satisfaction, that there was no young man who
could compete with me. After this, I was much more reconciled lo
my transformation.
CHAPTER LXIV.
I prosper in every way, and become reconciled to ray situalioii.
Mr. Cophagcs was not idle. In a few weeks he had rented a
shop for me, and furnished it much better than his own in Smilhficld ;
the upper part of the house was let ofl", as I was to reside with the fa-
mily. When it was ready, I went over it with him, and was satisfied ;
all I wished for was Timothy as an assistant, but that wish was unavail-
ing, as I knew not where to find him.
That evening I observed to Mr. Cophagus, that I did not much like
putting my name over the shop. The fact was, that my pride forbade
it, and I could not bear the idea, that Japhet Newland, at whose knock
every aristocratic door had flown open, should appear in gold letters
above a shop-window. "There are many reasons against it," ob-
served I. "One is, that it is not my real name — I should like to take
the name of Cophagus; another is, that the name, being so well
known, may attract those who formerly knew me, and I should not
wish that they should come in and mock me ; another is "
'* Japhet Newland," interrupted Susannah, with more severity than
lever had seen in her sw^eet countenance, " do not trouble thyself
with giving thy reasons, seeing thou hast given every reason but the
right one, which is, that thy pride revolts at it."
" I was about to observe," replied I, "that it was a name that
sounded of mammon, and not fitting for one of our persuasion. But,
Susannah, you have accused me of pride, and I will now raise no
further objections. Japhet Newland it shall be, and let us speak no
more upon the subject."
" If I have wronged thee, Japhet, much do I crave thy forgive-
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHEE^- •^^'>
ness," replied Susannah. "But it is God alone who knoweth the
secrets of our hearts. I \Yas presumptuous, and you must par-
don me."
"Susannah, it is I >vho ought to plead for pardon ; you know me
belter than I know myself. It was pride, and nothing but pride-
but you have cured me."
" Truly have I hopes of thee now, Japhet," replied Susannah, smil-
ing. "Those who confess their faults will soon amend them; yet I
do think there is some reason in thy observation, for who knowclh,
but meeting with thy former associates, thou mayst not be templed
into falling away? Thou mayst spell thy name as thou listest ; and,
peradvenlure, it would be better to disguise it."
So agreed Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus, and I therefore had it written
Gnow-hnd ; and having engaged a person of the society, strongly re-
commended to me, as an assistant, I took possession of my shop, and
was very soon busy in making up prescriptions, and dispensing my
medicines in all quarters of the good town of Reading.
And I was happy. I had enjoyment during the day ; my profession
was, at all events, liberal. I was dressed and lived as a gentleman,
or rather I should say respectably. I was earning my own livelihood.
I was a useful mernber of society, and when I retired home to meals,
and late at night, I found, that if Cophagus and his wife had retired,
Susannah Temple always waited up, and remained with me a few mi-
nutes. I had never been in love until I had fallen in with this per-
fect creature ; but my love for her was not the love of the world ; I
could not so depreciate her— I loved her as a superior being — I loved
her with fear and trembling. I felt that she was too pure, too holy,
too good for a vain worldly creature like myself. I felt as if my des-
tiny depended upon her and her fiat ; that if she favoured me, my hap-
piness in this world and in the next were secured ; that if she rejected
me, I was cast away for ever. Such was my feeling for Susannah
Temple, who, perfect as she was, was still a woman, and perceived
her power over me ; but unlike the many of her sex, exerted that power
only to lead to what was right. Insensibly almost, my pride was
quelled, and I became humble and religiously inclined. Even the
peculiarities of the sect, their meeting at their places of worship, their
drawling, and their quaint manner of talking, became no longer a
subject of dislike. I found out causes and good reasons for every
thing which before appeared strange — sermons in stones, and good in
every thing. Months passed away — my business prospered — I had
nearly repaid the money advanced by Mr. Cophagus. I was in heart
and soul a Quaker, and I entered into the fraternity with a feeling
that I could act up to what I had promised. I was happy, quite
2i>0 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
happy, and yet I had never received from Susannah Temple any
further than the proofs of sincere friendship. But I had much of her
society, and we were now very, very intimate. I found out what
warm, what devoted feehngs were concealed under her modest, quiet
exterior — how well her mind was stored, and how right was that mind.
Often when I talked over past events, did I listen to her remarks,
all tending to one point, morality and virtue; often did I receive from
her at first a severe, but latterly a kind rebuke, when my discourse was
light and frivolous ; but when I talked of merry subjects which were in-
nocent, what could be more joyous or more exhilarating than her laugh
— what more intoxicating than her sweet smile, when she approved
of my sentiments ! and when animated by the subject, what could be
more musical or more impassioned than her bursts of eloquence, which
were invariably followed by a deep blush, when she recollected how
she had been carried away by excitement?
There Avas one point upon which I congratulated myself, which was,
that she had received two or three unexceptionable offers of marriage
during the six months that I had been in her company, and refused
Ihem. At the end of that period, thanks to the assistance I received
from the Friends, I had paid Mr. Cophagus all the money which
he had advanced, and found myself in possession ofa flourishing business,
and independent. I then requested that 1 might be allowed to pay an
annual stipend for my board and lodging, commencing from the time
1 first came to his house. Mr. Cophagus said I was right — the terms
were easily arranged, and I was independent.
Still my advances with Susannah were slow, but if slow", they were
sure. One day I observed to her, how happy Mr. Cophagus appeared
to be as a married man ; her reply was, " He is, Japhet ; he has worked
hard for his independence, and he now is reaping the fruits of his in-
<iustry." That is as much as to say that I must do the same, thought
I, and that I have no business to propose for a wife, until I am certain
that I am able to provide for her. I have as yet laid up nothing, and
an income is not a capital. I felt that whether a party interested o?
not, she was right, and I redoubled my diligence.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 251
CHAPTER LXV.
A variety of the Quaker tribe— who had a curious disintegratiou of mind and body
I WIS not yet weaned from the world, but I was fast advancing to
that state, when a very sraart young Quaker came on a visit to Reading.
He was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus, and was soon, as might
be expected, an admirer of Susannah, but he received no encourage-
ment. He was an idle person, and passed much of his time sitting
in my shop, and talking with me, and being much less reserved and
unguarded than the generality of the young men of the sect, I gradually
became intimate with him. One day when my assistant was out he
said tome, " Friend Gnow-land, tell me candidly, hast thou ever seen
my face before T'
" Not that I can recollect, friend Talbot?"
^' Then my recollection is better than yours, and now having ob-
tained thy friendship as one of the society, I will remind thee of our
former acquaintance. When thou wert Mr. N-e-w-land, walking
about town with Major Carbonnel, I was Lieutenant Talbot, of the
Dragoon Guards."
I was dumb with astonishment, and I stared him in the face.
''Yes," continued he, bursting into laughter, "such is the fact.
Vou have thought, perhaps, that you were the only man of fashion
who had ever been transformed into a Quaker; now you behold ano-
ther, so no longer imagine yourself the Phosnix of your tribe."
**I do certainly recollect that name," replied I; "but although, as
you must be acquainted with my history, it is very easy to conceive why
I have joined the society, yet, upon what grounds you can have so done,
is to me inexplicable."
**Newland, it certainly does require explanation ; it has been, 1
assert, my misfortune, and not my fault. Not that I am not happy.
On the contrary, I feel that I am now in my proper situation. I ought
to have been born of Quaker parents— at all events, I was born a Quaker
in disposition ; but I will come to-morrow early, and then, if you will
give your man something to do out of the way, I will tell you my
history. I know that you will keep my secret."
The next morning he came, and as soon as we were alone he im-
parted to me whal follows
252 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
"I recollect well, Newland, when you were one of Ihc leaders ol
fashion, I was then in the Dragoon Guards, and although not very inti-
mate with you, had the honour of a recognition when we met at parties.
I cannot help laughing, upon my soul, when I look at us both now :
but never mind. I was of course a great deal with my regiment, and
at the club. My father, as you may not perhaps be aware, was highly
connected, and all the family have been brought up in the army ; the
question of profession has never been mooted by us, and every Talbot
has turned out a soldier as naturally as a young duck takes to the water.
Well, I entered the army, admired my uniform, and was admired by
the young ladies. Before I repeived my lieutenant's commission, my
father, the old gentleman, died, and left me a younger brother's fortune
of four hundred per annum ; but, as my uncle said, ' It was quite enough
for a Talbot, who w^ould push himself forward in his profession, as
the Talbots had ever done before him. I soon found out that my in-
come was not sufficient to enable me to continue in the Guards, and
my uncle was very anxious that I should exchange into a regiment on
service. I therefore, by purchase, obtained a company in the 2Srd,
ordered out to reduce the French colonies in the West Indies, and I
sailed with all the expectation of covejing myself with as much glory
as the Talbots had done from time immemorial. We landed, and
in a short time the bullets and grape were flying in all directions, and
then I discovered, what I declare never for a moment came into my
head before, to w;t — that I had mistaken my profession."
*' How do you mean, Talbot?"
** Mean ! why, that I was deficient in a certain qualification, which
never was before denied to a Talbot — courage."
"And you never knew that before?"
'* Never, upon my honour; my mind was always full of courage.
In my mind's eye I built castles of feats of bravery, which should
eclipse all the Talbots, from him who burnt Joan of Arc, down to the
present day. I assure you, that surprised as other people were, no one
was more surprised than myself. Our regiment was ordered to ad-
vance, and I hdjon my company ; the bullets flew like hail. I tried to
go on, but I could not ; at last, notwithstanding all my endeavours to the
contrary, 1 fairly look to my heels, I was met by the commanding
officer — in fact, I ran right against him. He ordered me back, and I
returned to my regiment, not feeling at all afraid. Again I was in the
fire, again I resisted the impulse, but it was of no use, and at last,
just before the assault took place, I ran away as if the devil was after
me. Wasn't it odd ?"
" Very odd, indeed," replied I, laughing.
•' Yes, but you do not exactly understand why it was odd, You
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHtlR. a:)^
know whal philosophers tell you about volition ; and Ihal llic body is
governed by the mind, consequently obeys it; now you see, in my
case, it was exactly reversed. I tell you that it is a fact, that in mind
I am as brave as any man in existence ; but I had a cowardly carcass,
and what is still worse, it proved the master of my mind, and ran away
with it. I had no mind to run away; on the contrary, I wished to
have been of the forlorn hope, and had volunteered, but was refused.
Surely, if I had not courage I should have avoided such a post of
danger. Is it not so?"
" It certainly appears strange, that you should volunteer for the
forlorn hope, and then run away."
' • That's just what I say. I have the soul of the Talbots, but a body
which don't belong to the family, and too powerful for the soul."
" So it appears. Well, goon."
" It was go off, instead of going on. I tried again that day to mount
the breach, and as the fire was over, I succeeded ; but there was a mark
against me, and it was intimated that I should have an opportunity of
redeeming my character."
''Well?"
" There was a fort to be stormed the next day, and I requested to
lead my company in advance. Surely that was no proof of want of
courage^ Permission was granted. We were warmly received, and
I felt that my legs refused to advance ; so what did I do — I tied my
sash round my thigh, and telling the men that I was wounded, re-
quested they would carry me to the attack. Surely that was courage? "
" Most undoubtedly so. It was like a Talbot."
" We were at the foot of the breach ; when the shot flew about mo,
I kicked and wrestled so, that the two men who carried me were
obliged to let me go, and my rascally body was at liberty. I say un-
fortunately, for only conceive, if they carried me wounded up the
breach, what an heroic act it would have been considered on my pari;
but fate decided it otherwise. If I had lain still when they dropped
me, I should have done well, but I was anxious to get up the breach,
that is, my mind was so bent ; but as soon as I got on my legs, confound
them if they didn't run away with me, and then I was found half a mile
from the fort with a pretended wound. That was enough ; I had a
hint that the sooner I went home the better. On account of the fa-
mily I was permitted to sell out, and I then walked the streets as a
private gentleman, but no one would speak to me. I argued the point
with several, but they were obstinate, and would not be convinced ;
they said that it was no use talking about being brave, if I ran away.
" They were not philosophers, Talbot."
' No ; they could not comprehend how the mind and the hodv
'^54 JAPHET. IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
could be at variance. It was no use arguing — they would have it thai
the movements of the body depended upon the mind, and that I had
made a mistake — and that I w^as a coward in soul as well as body."
" Well, what did you do ?"
' ' Oh, I did nothing ! I had a great mind to knock them down, but
as I knew my body would not assist me, I thought it better to leave it
alone. However, they taunted me so, by calling me fighting Tom,
that my uncle shut his door upon me as a disgrace to the family,
saying, he wished the first bullet had laid me dead — very kind of him ;
at last my patience was worn out, and I looked about to find whether
there were not some people who did not consider courage as a sine
qua non. I found that the Quakers' tenets were against fighting, and
therefore courage could not be necessary ; so I have joined them, and
I find that, if not a good soldier, I am, at all events, a very respectable
Quaker ; and now you have the whole of my story — and tell me if you
are of my opinion."
" Whv, really it's a very difficult point to decide. I never heard
such a case of disintegration before. I must think upon it."
'' Of course, you will not say a word about it, Newland."
" Never fear, I will keep your secret, Talbot. How long have you
worn the dress?"
" Oh, more than a year. By-the-bye, what a nice yowr^ person
that Susannah Temple is. I've a great mind to propose for her."
*• But you must first ascertain what your body says to it, Talbot,"
replied I, sternly. " I allow no one to interfere with me, Quaker
or not."
'' My dear fellow, I beg your pardon, I shall think no more about
her," said Talbot, rising up, as he observed that I looked very fierce.
" I wish you a good morning ; I leave Beading to-morrow. I will call
on vou, and say good-bye, if I can ;" and I saw no more of Friend
Talbot, whose mind was all courage, but whose body was so renegade.
JAPUKT. IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 255
CHAPTER LXVI.
I fall in with Timothy.
About a monlh afler this, I heard a sailor with one leg. and a hand-
ful of ballads, singing in a most lachrymal tone,
" Why, what's that to you if my eyes I'm a w iping ?
A tear is a pleasure, d'ye see, in its way" —
"Bless your honour, shy a copper to Poor Jack, who's lost his leg
in the sarvice. Thanky, your honour," and he continued,
•' It's nonsense for trifles, I own, to be piping.
But they who can't pity — why I pities they.
Says the captain, says he ; I shall never forget it,
Of courage, you know, boys, the true from the sham."
" Back your maintopsail, your worship, for half a minute, and just
assist a poor dismantled craft, who has been riddled in the wars. — -
' 'Tis a furious lion.' Long life to your honour — 'In battle so let
it;'
" 'Tis a furious lion, in battle so let it;
But duty appeased — but duty appeased —
"Buy a song, young woman, to sing to your sweetheart, while you
sit on his knee in the dog-watch —
" But duty appeased 'tis the heart of a lamb."
I believe there are few people who do not take a strong interest in
the English sailor, particularly in one who has been maimed in the
defence of his country. I always have, and as I heard the poor dis-
abled fellow bawling out his ditty, certainly not with a very remarkable
voice or execution, I pulled out the drawer behind the counter, and
took out some halfpence to give him. When I caught his eye I beck-
oned to him, and he entered the shop. ' ' Here, my good fellow, " said
I, " although a man of peace myself, yet I feel for those who suffer in
the wars ;" and I put the money to him.
"May your honour never know a banyan day," replied the sailor ;
" and a sickly season for you, into the bargain. "
•>5G JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
" Nay, friend, that is not a kind wish to others," rephcd I.
The sailor fixed his eyes earnesliy upon me, as if in astonishment,
for, until I had answered, he had not looked at me particularly.
" What are you looking at ?' said I.
"Good heavens !" exclaimed he. "It is — yet it cannot be I"
" Cannot be ! what, friend ?"
He ran out of the door, and read the name over the shop, and then
came in, and sank upon a chair outside of the counter. *' Japhet —
I have found you at last !" exclaimed he, faintly.
' ' Good heaven I who are you T'
He threw off his hat, with false ringlets fastened to the inside of it,
and I beheld Timothy. In a moment J sprang over the counter, and
was in his arms. " Is it possible," e^laimed I, after a short silence
on both sides, " that I find you, Timothy, a disabled sailor ■?'
" Is it possible, Japhet," replied Timothy, " that I find you a broad-
brimmed Quaker ?"
"Even so, Timothy. I am really and truly one,"
"Then you are less disguised than I am," replied Timothy, kicking
off his wooden leg, and letting down his own which had been tied up
to his thigh, and concealed in his wide blue trowsers. . " I am no
more a sailor than you are, Japhet, and since you left me have never
yet seen the salt water, which I talk and sing so much about."
" Then thou hast been deceiving, Timothy, which I regret much."
"Now I do perceive that you are a Quaker," replied Tim ; "but
do not blame rne until you have heard my story. Thank God, I have
found you at last. But tell me, Japhet, you will not send me away —
will you ? If your dress is changed, your heart is not. Pray answer
me, before I say any thing more. You know I can be useful here."
" Indeed, Timothy, I have often wished for you since I have been
here, and it will be your own fault if I part with you. You shall assist
me in the shop ; but you must dress like me."
" Dress like you ! have I not always dressed like you ? When we
started from Cophagus's were we not dressed much alike? did w^e not
wear spangled jackets together ? did I not wear your livery, and belong
to you? Til put on any thing, Japhet— but we must not part again."
" My dear Timothy, I trust we shall not ; but I expect my assistant
here soon, and do not wish that he should see you in that garb. Go
(0 a small public-house at the farther end of this street, and when you
see me pass, come out to me, and we will walk out into the country,
and consult together."
'I have put up at a small house not far off, and have some clothes
Ihere ; I will alter my dress and meet you. God bless you Japhet. "
Timothy then picked up his ballads, which w^ere scattered on thr
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 057
i\jOT, put up his leg, and pulling on his wooden slump, haslened away,
after once more silently pressing my hand.
In half an hour my assistant returned, and I desired him to remain
in the shop, as I was going out on business. I then walked to the ap-
pointed rendezvous, and was soon joined by Tim, who had discarded
his sailor's disguise, and was in what is called a shabby genteel sort of
dress. After the first renewed greeting, I requested Tim to let me
know what had occurred to him since our separation.
"You cannot imagine, Japhet, what my feelings were when I found,
by your note, that you had left me. I had perceived how unhappy
you had been for a long while, and I was equally distressed, although
I knew not the cause. I had no idea until I got your letter, that vou
had lost all your money ; and I felt it more unkind of you to leave me
then, than if you had been comfortable and independent. As for
looking after you, that I knew would be useless; and I immediately
went to Mr. Masterton, to take his advice as to how I should proceed.
Mr. Masterton had received your letter, and appeared to be very much
annoyed. ' Very foolish boy,' said he, ' but there is nothing that can
be done now. He is mad, and that is all that can be said in his excuse.
You must do as he tells you, I suppose, and try the best for yourself.
I will help you in any way that I can, my poor fellow,' said he, 'so
dont'tcry.' I went back to the house and collected together your papers,
which I sealed up. I knew that th^ house was to be given up in a few
days. I sold the furniture, and made the best I couldof the remainder
of your wardrobe, and other things of value that you had left. Indeed,
every thing, with the exception of the dressing-case and pistols, which
had belonged to Major Carbonnell, and I thought you might perhaps
some day like to have them."
"How very kind of you, Timothy, to think of me in that way? I
shall indeed be glad ; but no— what have I to do with pistols or silver
dressing-cases now ? I must not have them, but still I thank vou all
the same."
• ' The furniture and every thing else fetched ABQl, after all expenses
were paid.*'
"I am glad of it, Timothy, for your sake ; but I am sorry, judging
by your present plight, that it appears to have done you but little good."
" Because I did not make use of it, Japhet. What could I do with
all that money ? I took it to Mr. Masterton, with all vour papers, and
the dressing-case and pistols :— he has it now, ready for you when vou
ask for it. He was very kind to me, and offered to do any thing' for
me ; but I resolved to go in search of you. I had more money in my
pocket when you went away than I generally have, and with the sur-
plus of what you left for the bills, I had twelve or fourteen pounds. So
17
258 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
I wished Mr. Masterton good-bye, and have ever since been on my ad-
ventures in search of my master."
"Not master, Timothy, say rather of your friend."
"Well, of both if you please, Japhet ; and very pretty adventures I
have had, I assure you, and some very hair-breadth escapes."
"I think, when we compare notes, mine will be found most eventful,
Timothy ; but we can talk of them, and compare notes another time
At present, whom do you think I am residing with ?"
'* A Quaker, I presume."
' • You have guessed right so far : but who do you think t hat Quaker
•is?"
"There I'm at fault."
•*Mr. Cophagus."
At this intelligence Timothy gave a leap in the air, turned round on
his heel, and tumbled on the grass in a fit of immoderate laughter.
"Cophagus 1 — a Quaker!" cried he at last. " Oh ! I long to see
him. Snuffle, Snuffle — broad brims — wide skirts — and so on. Ca-
pital!"
"It is very true, Timothy, but you must not mock at the persua-
sion."
*' Idid not intend it, Japhet, but there is something to me so ridicu-
lous in the idea. But," continued Timothy, "is it not still stranger,
that, after having separated so mafly years, we should all meet again —
and that I should find Mr. Cophagus — an apothecary's shop — you
dispensing medicines — and I — as I hope to be — carrying them about as
I did before. Well, I will row in the same boat, and I will be a
Quaker as well as you both."
"Well, we will now return, and I will take you to Mr- Cophagus,
who will, I am sure, be glad to see you."
" First, Japhet, let me have some Quaker's clothes — I should prefer
it."
'•You shall have a suit of mine, Timothy, since you wish it ; but
recollect it is not at all necessary, nor indeed will it be permitted that you
enter into the sect without preparatory examination as to your fitness
for admission."
I then went to the shop, and sending out the assistant, walked home
and took out a worn suit of clothes, with which I hastened to Timothy,
He put them on in the shop, and then walking behind the counter, said,
* ' This is my place, and here I shall remain as long as you do. "
* ' I hope so, Timothy ; as for the one who is with me at present, I
can easily procure him other employment, and he will not be sorry to
go, for he isa married man, and does not like the confinement."
'* 1 have some money," said Timothy, taking out of his old clothes
JAPHET. IN' SEARCH OF A FATHER. -Jh^
a dirly rag, and producing nearly twenty pounds. ' ' I am well off, you
see."
" You are, indeed," replied I.
" Yes, there is nothing like being a sailor with one leg, singing
ballads. Do you know, Japhet, that sometimes I have taken more
than a pound a day since I have shammed the sailor ?"
" Not very honestly, Tim."
•'Perhaps not, Japhet ; but it is very strange, and yet very true,
that when honest I could make nothing, and when I deceived, I have
done very well."
CHAPTER LXVII.
Timothy commences his narrative of his search after Japhet.
i cotLD not help calling to mind that the same consequences as
Timothy related in the last chapter had. occurred to me during my
eventful career ; but I had long considered that there was no excuse
for dishonesty, and that, in the end, it would only lead to exposure
and disgrace. I went home early in the evening to introduce Ti-
mothy to Mr. Cophagus, who received him with great kindness, and
agreed immediately that he ought to be with me in the shop. Timo-
thy paid his respects to the ladies, and then went down with Ephraim,
who took him under his protection. In a few days, he was as esta-
blished with us as if he had been living with us for months. I had
some trouble, at first, in checking his vivacity and turn for ridicule;
but that was gradually effected, and I found him not only a great ac-
quisition, but, as he always was, a cheerful and affectionate companion.
I had, during the first days of our meeting, recounted my adventures,
and made many inquiries of Timothy relative to my few friends. He
told me that from Mr. Masterton he had learnt that Lady de Clare and
Fleta had called upon him very much afflicted with the contents of
my letter — that Lord Windermear also had been very much vexed and
annoyed — that Mr. Masterton had advised him to obtain another situa-
tion as valet, which he had refused, and, at the same time told him his
intention of searching for me. He had promised Mr. Masterton to
let him know if he found me, and then bade him farewell.
" I used to lie in bed, Japhet," continued Timothy, "and think
17"
'260 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
upon the best method of proceeding. At last, I agreed to myself, that
to look for you as you looked after your father, would be a wild-goose
chase, and that my money would soon begone; so I reflected whether
I might not take up some roving trade which would support me, and, at
the same time, enable me to proceed from place to place. What do
you think was my first speculation ? Why, I saw a man with a dog
harnessed in a little cart, crying dog's meat and cat's meat, and I said to
myself, 'Now there's the very thing — there's a profession — I can travel
and earn my livelihood.' I entered into conversation with him, as he
slopped at a low public-house, treating him to a pot of beer ; and
having gained all I wanted as to the mysteries of the profession, I called
for another pot, and proposed that I should purchase his whole concern,
down to his knife and apron. The fellow agreed, and after a good
deal of bargaining, I paid him three guineas for the set out or set itp^
which you please. He asked me whether I meant to hawk in London
or not, and I told him no, that I should travel the country. He ad-
vised the western road, as there were more populous towns inyit. Well,
we had another pot to clench the bargain, and I paid down' the money
and took possession, quite delighted with my new occupation. Away
I went to Brentford, selling a bit here and there by the way, and at
last arrived at the very bench where we had sat down together and
eaten our meal."
*'It is strange that I did the same, and a very unlucky bench it
proved to me."
*' So it did to me, as you shall hear. I had taken up my quarters at
that inn, and for three days had done very well in Brentford. On the
third evening I had just come back, it was nearly dusk, and I took
my seat on the bench, thinking of you. My dog, rather tired, was
lying down before the cart, when all of a sudden I heard a sharp
whistle. The dog sprang on his legs immediately, and ran off several
yards before I could prevent him. The whistle was repeated, and
away went the dog and cart like lightning. I ran as fast as I could,
but could not overtake him ; and I perceived that his old master w as
running a-head of the dog as hard as he could, and this was the reason
why the dog was off. Still I should, I think, have overtaken him, but
an old woman coming out of a door with a saucepan to pour the hot
water into the gutter, I knocked her down, and tumbled right over her
into a cellar without steps. There I was, and before I could climb out
again, man, dog, cart, cat's meat and dog's meat had all vanished, and
I have never seen them since. The rascal got clear off, and I was a
bankrupt. So much for my first set up in business."
"You forgot to purchase the goodwill when you made your bargain,
Timothv, for the stock in trade."
JAPIIET, in search of a father 261
"Very true, Japhet. However, after receiving a very fair share
of abuse from the old woman, and a plaisler of hot greens in my face
— for she went supperless to bed, rather than not have her revenge — I
walked back to the inn, and sat down in the tap. The two men next to
me were hawkers ; one carried a large pack of dimities and calicoes,
and the other a box full of combs, needles, tapes, scissors, knives,
and mock-gold trinkets. I entered into conversation with them, and,
as I again stood treat, I soon was very intimate. They told me what
their profits were, and how they contrived to get on, and I thought, for
a rambling life, it was by no means an unpleasant one ; so, having
obtained all the inforrafation I required, I went back to town, took out
a hawker's license, for which I paid two guineas, and purchasing at a
shop, to which they gave me a direction, a pretty fair quantity of
articles in the tape and scissor line, ofT I set once more on my travels.
I look the north road this time, and picked up a very comfortable sub-
sistence, selling my goods for a few halfpence here, and a few half-
pence there, at the cottages as I passed by ; but I soon found out, that
without a newspaper, I was not a confirmed hawker, and the more
radical the newspaper the better. A newspaper will pay half the expenses
of a hawker, if he can read. At every house, particularly every small
hedge ale-house, he is received, and placed in the best corner of the
chimney, and has his board and lodging, with the exception of what he
drinks, gratis, if he will pull out the newspaper and read it to those
around him who cannot read, particularly if he can explain what is
unintelligible. Now I became a great politician, and moreover, a
great radical, for such were the politics of all the lower classes. I
lived well, slept well, and sold my wares very fast. I did not take
more than three shillings in the day, yet, as two out of the three were
dear profit, I did pretty well. However, a little accident happened
Mhich obliged me to change my profession, or at least, the nature of
the articles which I dealt in."
"What was that?"
*' A mere trifle. I had arrived late at a small ale-house, had put
up my pack, which was in a painted deal box, on the table in the tap-
room, and was very busy, after reading a paragraph in the newspaper,
making a One speech, which I always found was received with great
applause, and many shakes of the hand, as a prime good fellow — a
speech about community of rights, agrarian division, and the propriety
of an equal distribution of properly, proving that, as we were all born
alike, no one had a right to have more properly than his neighbour.
The people had all gathered round me, applauding violently, when I
thought I might as well look after my pack, which had been for some
time hidden from my sight by the crowd, when, to my mortification,
26i JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
I found out that my earnest assertions on the propriety of community af
property had had such an influence upon some of my listeners, that they
had walked off with my pack and its contents. Unfortunately, I had
deposited in my boxes all my money, considering it safer there than
in my pockets, and had nothing left but about seventeen shillings in
silver, which I had received within the last three days. Every one
was very sorry, but no one knew any thing about it ; and when I
challenged the landlord as answerable, he called me a radical black-
guard, and turned me out of the door."
" If you had looked a little more after your own property, and in-
terfered less with that of other people, you would have done better^
Tim," observed I, laughing.
** Very true ; but, at all events, I have never been a radical since,"
replied Tim. " But to go on, I walked off to the nearest town, and
I commenced in a more humble way. I purchased a basket, and
then, with the remainder of my money, I bought the commonest
crockery ware, such as basins, jugs, mugs, and putting them on my
head, off I went again upon my new speculation. I wandered about
with crockery, but it was hard work. I could not reap the profits
which I did as hawker and pedlar. I averaged, however, from seven
to nine shillings a week, and that was about sufficient for my support.
I went down into as many kitchens as would have sufficed to have
found a dozen mothers, supposing mine to be a cook ; but I did not see
any one who was at all like me. Sometimes a cook replaced a basin
she had broken, by giving me as much meat as had cost her mistress
five shillings, and thus avoided a scolding, for an article wiiich was
worth only two-pence. At other times, a cottager would give me a
lodging, and would consider himself rewarded with a mug that only
cost me one penny. I was more than three months employed carrying
crockery in every direction, and never, during the whole time, broke
one article, until one day, as I passed through Eton, there was a regular
smash of the whole concern."
" Indeed! how was that?"
" I met about a dozen of the Eton boys, and they proposed a
cockshy, as they called it ; that is, I was to place my articles on the
top of a post, and they were to throw stones at them at a certain distance,
paying me a certain sum for each throw. Well, this I thought a very
good bargain, so I put up a mug (worth one penny) at one penny a
throw. It was knocked down at the second shot, so it was just as well
to put the full price upon them at once, they were such remarkable
good aimers at any thing. Each boy had a stick, upon which I notched
off their throws, and how much they would have to pay when all was
over. One article after another was put on the post until my baskei
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 263
was empty, and then I wanted to settle with them ; but as soon as I
taJked about that, they all burst out into a loud laugh, and took to their
heels. I chased them, but one might as well have chased eels. If
I got hold of one, the others pulled me behind until he escaped, and at
last they were all off, and I had nothing left."
" Not your basket?"
" No, not even that ; for while I was busy after some that ran one
way, the others kicked my basket before them like a foot-ball, until it
was fairly out of sight. I had only eight-pence in my pocket, so you ,
perceive, Japhet, how I was going down in the world."
" You were indeed, Tim."
CHAPTER LXVin.
Timothy finishes his narrative.
"WEtL, I walked away, cursing all the Eton boys and all their
tutors, who did not teach them honesty as well as Latin and Greek, and
put up at a very humble sort of abode, where they sold small beer, and
gave beds at two-pence per night, and I may add, with plenty of fleas
in the bargain. There I fell in with some ballad singers and mumpers,
who were making very merry, and who asked me what was the matter.
I told them how I had been treated, and they laughed at me, but gave
me some supper, so I forgave them. An old man, who governed the
party, then asked me whether I had any money. I produced my
enormous capital of eight-pence. 'Quite enough if you are clever,'
said he ; 'quite enough — many a man with half that sum has ended
in rolling in his carriage. A man with thousands has only the ad-
vance of you a few years. You will pay for your lodging and then
spend this sixpence in matches, and hawk them about the town. If
you are lucky, it will be a shilling by to-morrow night. Besides, you
go down into areas, and sometimes enter a kitchen, when the cook is
above stairs. There are plenty of things to be picked up.' * But I am
not dishonest,' said I. 'Well, then, every man to his liking ; only if
you were, you would ride in your own coach the sooner.' 'And sup-
pose I should lose all this, or none would buy my matches, what
then?' replied I, 'I shall starve.' 'Starve — no, no — no one starves
in this country ; all you have to do is to get into gaol — committed for
264 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
a month — you will live better perhaps than you ever did before. I
have been in every gaol in England, and I know the good ones, for
even in gaols there is a great difference. Now the one in this town is
one of the best in all England, and I patronizes it during the winter.'
I was much amused with the discourse of this mumper, who appeared
to be one of the merriest old vagabonds in England. I took his ad-
vice, bought six penny worth of matches, and commenced my new
vagrant speculation.
" The first day I picked up three-pence, for one quarter of my stock,
and returned to the same place where I had slept the night before, but
the fraternity had quitted on an expedition. I spent my two pence in
bread and cheese, and paid one penny for my lodging, and again I
started the next morning, but I was very unsuccessful ; nobody ap-
peared to want matches that day, and after walking from seven o'clock
in the morning, to past seven in the evening, without selling one
farthing's worth, I sat down at the porch of a chapel, quite tired and
worn out. At last I fell asleep, and how do you think I was awoke?
By a strong sense of suffocation, and up I sprang, coughing, and nearly
choked, surrounded with smoke. Some mischievous boys perceiving
that I was fast asleep, had set fire to my matches, as I held them in
my hand between my legs, and I did not wake until my fingers were
severely burnt. There was an end of my speculation in matches, be-
cause there was an end of all my capital."
" My poor Timothy, I really feel for you."
" Not at all, my dear Japhet; I never, in all my distress, was sen-
tenced to execution — my miseries were trifles, to be laughed at. How-
ever, I felt very miserable at the time, and walked off, thinking about
the propriety of getting into gaol as soon as I could, for the beggar
had strongly recommended it. I was at the outskirts of the town,
when I perceived two men tussling with one another, and I walked
towards them. ' I says,' says one, w^ho appeared to be a constable;
* you must come along with I. Don't you see that ere board ? All
wagrants shall be taken up, and dealt with according to la.' ' Now
may the devil hold you in his claws, you old psalm-singing thief —
an't I a sailor — and an't I a wagrant by profession, and all according to
law?' ' That won't do,' says the other; 'I commands you in the
king's name, to let me take you to prison, and I commands you also,
young 3ian,' says he— for I had walked up to them—' I commands
you, as a lawful subject, to assist me.' 'What will you give the poor
fellow for his trouble?' said the sailor. ' It's his duty, as a lawful
subject, and I'll give him nothing ; but I'll put him in prison if he don't. '
' Tken you old rhinoceros, I'll give him five shillings if he'll help
me. and so now he may take his choice.' At all events, thought I,
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 2G5
this will turn out lucky one way or the other ; but I will support the
man who is most generous ; so I went up to the constable, who was a
burley sort of a fellow, and tripped up his heels, and down he came on
the back of his head. You know my old trick, Japhet?"
"Yes ; I never knew you fail at that."
•' * Well,' the sailor says to me, * I've a notion you've damaged his
upper works, so let us start off, and clap on all sail for the next town.
I know where to drop an anchor. Come along with me, and as long
as I've a shot in the locker, d — n me if I won't share it with one who
has proved a friend in need.' The constable did not come to his senses ;
he was very much stunned, but we loosened his neckcloth, and left
him there, and started off as fast as we could. My new companion,
who had a wooden leg, stopped by a gate, and clambered over it. * We
must lose no time,' said he ; ' and I may just as well have the benefit
of both legs.' So saying, he took off his wooden stump, and let down
his real leg, which was fixed up just as you saw mine. I made no
comments, but off we set, and at a good round pace gained a village
about five miles distant. ' Here we will put up for the night; but they
w ill look for us to-morrow at day-light, or a little after, therefore we
must be starting early. I know the law-beggars well ; they won't turn
out afore sunrise. He stopped at a paltry ale-house, where we were
admitted, and soon were busy with a much belter supper than I had
ever imagined they could have produced ; but my new friend ordered
right and left, with a tone of authority, and every body in the house
appeared at his beck and command. After a couple of glasses of grog,
we retired to our beds.
" The next morning we started before break of day, on our road to
another town, where my companion said the constables would never
lake the trouble to come after him. On our way he questioned me as
to my mode of getting my livelihood, and I narrated how unfortunate
I had been. * One good turn deserves another,' replied the sailor ;
* and now I'll set you up in trade. Can you sing? Have you any thing
of a voice?' *I can't say that I have,' replied I. 'I don't mean
whether you can sing in tune, or have a good voice, that's no conse-
quence ; all I want to know is, have you a good loud one?' ' Loud
enough, if that's all.' ' That's all that's requisite ; so long as you can
make yourself heard — you may then howl like a jackall, or bellow
like a mad buffalo, no matter which — as many pay us for to get rid of
us, as out of charity ; and so long as the money comes, what's the
odds ? Why, I once knew an old chap, who could only play one tune
on the clarionet, and that tune out of all tune, who made his fortune
in six or seven streets, for every one gave him money, and told him
to go away. When he found out that, he came every morning as
256 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
regular as clock-work. Now there was one of the streets which was*
chiefly occupied by music sellers and Italian singers — for them fo-
reigners always herd together — and this tune, * which the old cow
died of,' as the saying is, used to be their horror, and out came the
half-pence to send him away. There was a sort of club also in that
street, of larking sort of young men, and when they perceived that the
others gave the old man money to get rid of his squeaking, they sent
him out money, with orders to stay and play to them ; so then the others
sent out more for him to go away, and between the two, the old fellow
brought home more money than all the cadgers and mumpers in the
district. Now if you have a loud voice, I can provide you with all the
rest.' — ' Do you gain your livelihood by that?' — 'To be sure I do;
and I can tell you, that of all the trades going, there is none equal to it.
You see, my hearty, I have been on board of a man-of-war — not that
I'm a sailor, or was ever bred lo the sea — but I was shipped as a
landsman, and did duty in the waist and afterguard. I know little or
nothing of my duty as a seaman, nor was it required in the station I
was in, so I never learnt, although I was four years on board ; all I
learnt was the lingo and slang — and that you must contrive lo learn
from me. I bolted, and made my way good to Lunnun, but I should
soon have been picked up and put on board the Tender again, if I
hadn't got this wooden stump made, which I now carry in my hand.
I had plenty of songs, and I commenced my profession, and a real
good un it is, I can tell you. Why, do you know, that a'ter a good vic-
tory, I have sometimes picked up as much as two pounds a-day, for
weeks running ; as it is, I averages from fifteen shillings to a pound.
Now, as you helped me away from that land shark, who would soon
have found out that I had two legs, and have put me into limbo as an
impostor, I will teach you to arn your livelihood after my fashion.
You shall work with me until you are fit to start alone, and then
there's plenty of room in England for both of us ; but mind, never
tell any one what you pick up, or every mumper in the island will put
on a suit of sailor's clothes, and the thing will be blown upon.' Of
course, this was too good an offer to be rejected, and I joyfully ac-
ceded. At first, I worked with him as having only one arm, the other
being tied down to my side, and my jacket sleeve hanging loose and
empty, and we roared away right and left, so as to bring down a
shower of coppers wherever we went. In about three weeks my
friend thought I was able to start by myself, and giving me half of
the ballads, and five shilllings to start with, I shook hands and parted
with, next to you, the best friend that I certainly ever had. Ever
since I have been crossing the country in every direction, with plenty
of money in my pocket, and always with one eye looking sharp out
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATilER. -267
for you. My beautiful voice fortunately attracted your attention, and
here I am, and at an end of my history ; but if ever I am away from
you, and in distress again, depend upon it I shall take to my wooden
leg and ballads for my support."
Such were the adventures of Timothy, who was metamorphosed
into a precise Quaker. ''I do not like the idea of your taking up a
svstem of deceit, Timothy. It may so happen — for who knows what
mav occur ? — that you may again be thrown upon your own resources.
Now, would it not be better that you should obtain a more intimate
knowledge of the profession which we are now in, which is liberal,
and equally profitable? By attention and study you will be able to dis-
pense medicines and make up prescriptions as w ell as myself, and who
knows but that some day you may be the owner of a shop like this?"
" Verily, verily, thy words do savour of much wisdom, "replied Tim,
in a grave voice ; "and I will even so follow thy advice.'"
CHAPTER LXIX.
i am uusetiieJ l)y uiiexpecied intelligence, aud again yearn after the uorid of fashion.
I K5EW that he w as mocking me in this reply, but I paid no attention
to that ; I was satisfied that he consented. I now made him assist me,
and under my directions he made up the prescriptions. I explained
to him the nature of every medicine ; and I made him read many books
of physic and surgery. In short, after two or three months, I could
trust to Timothy as well as if I were in the shop myself ; and having
an errand boy, I had much more leisure, and I left him in charge
after dinner. The business prospered, and I was laying up money.
My leisure time, I hardly need say, was spent with Mr.Cophagus and
his family, and my attachment to Susannah Temple increased every
day. Indeed, both Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus considered that it was to
be a match, and often joked with me when Susannah was not pre-
sent. With respect to Susannah, I could not perceive that I was farther
advanced in her affections than after I had known her two months. She
was always kind and considerate, evidently interested in my welfare,
always checking in me any thing like levity — frank and confiding in
her opinions — and charitable to all, as I thought, except to me. But
I made no advance that I could perceive. The fact was, that I dared
2G8 JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
not speak to her as I might have done to another who was not so perfect
And yet she smiled, as I thought, more kindly when I returned than
at other limes, and never appeared to be tired of my conipany. If I
did sometimes mention the marriage of another, or attentions paid
which would, in all probability, end in marriage, it would create no
confusion or blushing on her part ; she would talk over that subject as
composedly as any other. I was puzzled, and I had been a year and
nine months constantly in her company, and had never dared to tell
her that I loved her. But one day Mr. Cophagus brought up the sub-
ject when we were alone. He commenced by staling how happy he
had been as a married man, that he had given up all h(>pes of a family,
and thai he should like to see Susannah Temple, his sister-in-law, well
married, that he might leave his property to her children ; and then he
put the very pertinent question — "Japhet — verily — thou hast done
well — good business — money coming in fast — settle, Japhet — marry —
have children — and so on. Susannah — nice girl^-good wife — pop
question — all right — sly puss — won't say no — um — what d'ye say ?
— and so on." I replied thati was very much attached to Susannah,
but that I was afraid that the attachment was not mutual, and there-
fore hesitated to propose. Cophagus then said that he would make
his wife sound his sister, and let me know the result.
This was in the morning just before I was about to walk over to
the shop, and I left the house in a state of anxiety and suspense. When
I arrived at the shop, I found Tim there as usual ; but the colour in his
face was heightened as he said to me, " Read this, Japhet," and handed
to me the " Reading Mercury." I read an advertisement as follows : —
"If Japhet Newland, who was left at the Foundling Asylum, and
was afterwards for some time in London, will call at No. 16, Throg-
morlon Court, Minories, he will hear of something very much to his
advantage, and will discover that of w hich he has been so long in
search. Should this reach his eye, he is requested to write imme-
diately to the above address, with full particulars of his situation.
Should any one who reads this be able to give any information relative
lo the said J. N., he will be liberally rewarded."
I sank down on the chair. " Merciful Heaven ! this can be no
mistake — 'he will discover the object of his search.' Timothy, my
dear Timothy, I have at last found out my father."
" So I should imagine, my dear Japhet," replied Timothy, "and
1 trust it will not prove a disappointment."
" They never would be so cruel, Timothy," replied I.
" But still it is evident that Mr, Maslerlon is concerned m it, ob-
served Timothy.
Why so !" inquired I
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 2(.0
" How olhorwise should it appear in the Reading newspaper ? Ht-
iniisl have examined the post-mark of my letter."
The explain this, I must remind the reader that Timothy had promised
to write to Mr. Masterton when he found me ; and he requested my per-
mission shortly after we had met again. I consented to his keepini;
liis word, but restricted him to saying any more than " that he had
found me, and that I was well and happy. ' There was no address in
the letter as a clue to Mr. Masterton as to where I m.ight be, and it
could only have been from the post-mark that he could have formed
any idea. Timothy's surmise was therefore very probable ; but I would
not believe that Mr. Masterton would consent to the insertion of that
portion of the advertisement, if there was no foundation for it.
" What will you do, Japhet?"
'• Do," replied I, recovering from my reverie, for the information
had again roused up all my dormant feelings — "Do," replied 1,
•' why, 1 shall set oil for town this very morning."
• In that dress, Japhet'?"
•' 1 suppose I must," replied I, " for I have no time to procure an-
other ;" and all my former ideas of fashion and appearance were roused,
and in full activity — my pride recovered its ascendency.
•• Well,' replied Timothy, " I hope you will tind your father all
that you could wish."
" I'm sure of it, Tim — I'm sure of it," replied I; " you must run
and take a place in the first coach."
" But you are not going without seeing Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus, and
Miss Temple,' continued Tim, laying an emphasis upon the latter
name.
" Of course not," replied I, colouring deeply. " I will go at once.
Give me the newspaper, Tim."
I took the newspaper, and hastened to the house of Mr. Cophagus
I found them all three silting in the breakfast parlour, Mr. Cophagus.
as usual, reading, with his spectacles on his nose, and the ladies at work.
" What is the matter, friend Japhet?" exclaimed Mr. Cophagus, as
I burst into the room, my countenance lighted up with excitement.
" Read that, sirl" said I, to Mr. Cophagus. Mr. Cophagus read it.
" Hum — bad news — lose Japhet — man of fashion — and so on," said
Cophagus, pointing out the paragraph to his wife, as he handed over
the paper.
In the mean time I watched the countenance of Susannali — a slight
emotion, but instantly checked, was visible at ^Ir. Cophagus's remark.
She then remained quiet until her sister, who had read the paragraph,
handed the paper to her. " I give thee joy, Japhet, at the prospect of
finding out thy parent," said Mrs. Cophagus. " I trust thou wilt find
270 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
in him one who is to be esteemed as a man. When deparlosl
thou?"
*' Immediately," replied I.
" I cannot blame thee — the ties of nature are ever powerful. I trust
that thou wilt write to us, and that we soon shall see thee return."
" Yes, yes," said Cophagus, " see father — shake hands — come back
— heh ! — seltle here — and so on."
" I sliall not be altogether my own master, perhaps," observed I.
" If my father desires that I remain wilh him, must not I obey? But
I know nothing at present. You shall hear from me. Timothy can
take my place in the " I could not bear the idea of the word shop.
,and I stopped. Susannah, for the first time, looked me earnestly in
the face, but she said nothing. Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus, who probably
had been talking over the subject of our conversation, and thought this
a good opportunity to allow me to have an eclaircissement with Su-
sannah, left the room, saying they would look after my portmanteau and
linen. " Susannah," said I, " you do not appear to rejoice with me.'
" Japhet Newland, I will rejoice at every thing that may tend to thy
happiness, believe me ; but I do not feel assured but that this trial may
prove too great, and that thou mayst fall away. Indeed, I perceive
even now that thou art excited with new ideas, and visions of pride."
'• If I am wrong, forgive me. Susannah, you must know that the
whole object of my existence has been to find my father; and now that
I have every reason to suppose that my wish is obtained, can you be
surprised, or can you blame me, that I long to be pressed in his arms?"
" Nay, Japhet, for that filial feeling I do commend thee ; but ask thy
own heart, is that the only feeling which now exciteth thee? Dost thou
not expect to find thy father one high in rank and power? Dost thou
not anticipate to join once more the world which thou hast quitted, yet
still hast sighed for ? Dost thou not already feel contempt for thy honest
profession : — nay, more, dost thou not only long to cast off the plain
attire, and not only the attire, but the sect which in thy adversity
thou didst embrace the tenets of? Ask thy own heart, and reply if thou
wilt, but I press thee not so to do ; for the truth w^ould be painful, and
a lie thou knowest, I do utterly abhor."
I felt that Susannah spoke the truth, and I would not deny it. I sat
down by her. " Susannah," said I, " it is not very easy to change at
once. I have mixed for years in the world, with you I have not yet
lived two. I will not deny but that the feelings you have expressed
have risen in my heart, but I will try to repress them , at least, for your
sake, Susannah, I would try to repress them, for I value your opinion
more than that of the whole world. You have the power lo do with
me as you please : — will you exert that power?"
JAPHET, IN SEARCn OF A FATHER. 271
' Japhet," replied Susannah. '' The failh which is not built upon
a more solid foundation than to win the favour of an erring being like
myself is but weak; that power over thee which thou expectest will fix
Ihee in the right path, may soon be lost, and what is then to direct
thee? If no purer motives than earthly afTection are to be thy stay,
most surelv thou wilt fall. But no more of this ; thou hast a duly to per-
form, which is to go to thy earlhly^lher, and seek his blessing. Nay,
more, I would that thou shouldst once more enter into the world, there
thou mayest decide. Shouldst thou return to us, thy friends will re-
joice, and not one of them will be more joyful than Susannah Temple.
Fare thee well, Japhet, maysl thou prove superior to temptation. I will
pray for thee— earnestly I will pray for thee, Japhet," continued Su-
sannah, with a quivering of her lips and broken voice, and she left the
room.
CHAPTER LXX.
I return to London, and meet v.ith Mr, Masterton.
I WEST upstairs, and foundthat all was ready, and Itook leave of Mr,
and Mrs. Cophagus, both of whom expressed their hopes that I would
not leave them for ever. *' Oh, no," replied I, "I should indeed be
base, if I did." I left them, and with Ephraim following with my port-
manteau, I quilted the house. I had gone about twenty yards, when
I recollected that I had left on the table the newspaper wilhthe adver-
tisement containing the direction whom to apply to, and desiring Ephraim
to proceed, I returned. When I entered the parlour, Susannah Temple
was resting her face in her hands and weeping. The opening of the
door made her start up; she perceived that it was I, and she turned
away. " I beg your pardon, I left the newspaper," said I, stammering.
I was about to throw myself at her feet, declare my sincere afTection,
and give up all idea of finding my father until we were married, when
she, without saying a word, passed quickly by me and hastened out of
the room. " She loves me then," thought I ; " thank God :— I will
not go yet, I will speak to her first." I sat down, quite overpowered
with contending feelings. The paper was in my hand, the paragraph
was again read, I thought but of my father, and I left the house.
In half an hour I had shaken hands with Timothy and quitted the
town of Reading. How I arrived in London that is to say, what
272 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
passed, or what we passed, I know not ; my mind was in such a state of
excitement. I hardly know how to express the state that I was in. It
was a sort of mental whirling which blinded me — round and round —
froni my father and the expected meeting, then to Susannah, my depar-
ture, and her tears — castle building of every description. After the
coach stopped, there I remained fixed on the top of it, not aware that
we were in London until the coa^fiman asked me whether the spirit
did not move me to get down. I recollected myself, and calling a
hackney-coach, gave orders to be driven to the Piazza, Covent Garden.
"Piazza, Common Garden," said the waterman, "why that ban't
an 'otel for the like o' you, master. They'll torment you to death, them
young chaps."
I had forgotten that I was dressed as a Quaker. ' ' Tell the coachman
to stop at the first cloth warehouse where they have ready-made cloaks,*
said I. The man did so ; I went out and purchased a roquelaure, which
enveloped my whole person. I then stopped at a halter's, and pur-
chased a hat according to the mode. " Now drive to the Piazza," said
I, entering the coach. I know not why, but I was resolved to goto
that hotel. It was the one I had staid at when I first arrived in Lon-
don, and I wished to see it again. When the hackney coach stopped,
I asked the waiter who came out whether he had apartments, and an-
swering me in the afiirmative, I followed him, and was shown into the
same rooms I had previously occupied. " These will do," said I, "now
let me have something to eat, and send for a good tailor." The waiter
offered to remove my cloak, but I refused, saying that I was cold. He
left the room, and I threw myself on the sofa, running overall the
scenes which had passed in that room with Carbonnell, Harcourt, and
others. My thoughts were broken in upon by the arrival of the tailor.
" Stop a moment," said I, " and let him come in when I ring." So
ashamed was I of my Quaker's dress, that I threw off my coat and waist-
coat, and put on my cloak again before I rang the bell for the tailor to
come up. " Mr. ," said I, " I must have a suit of clothes ready
by to-morrow at ten o'clock."
"Impossible, sir."
" Impossible!" said I, " and you pretend to be a fashionable tailor.
Leave the room."
At this peremptory behaviour the tailor imagined that I must be
somebody.
* ' I will do my possible, sir, and if I can only get home in time to stop
the workmen, I think it may be managed. Of course, you are aware
of the expense of night work. '
" I am only aware of this, that if I give an order I am accustomed to
have it obeyed; I learnt that from my poor friend, Major Carbonnell."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 07:?
The tailor bowed low; there was ma^ in the name, although the
rnan was dead.
'' Here have I been masquerading in a Quaker's dress, to please a
puritanical young lady, and I am obliged to be off without any other
clothes in my portmanteau ; so take my measure, and I expect the clothes
at ten precisely/" So saying, I threw off my roquelaure, and desired
him to proceed. This accomplished, the tradesman look his leave.
•Sborlly afterwards, the door opened, and as I lay wrapped up in my
cloak on the sofa, in came the landlord and two waiters, each bearing
a dish of my supper. I wished them at the devil ; but I was still more
surprised when the landlord made a low bow, saying, '•' Happy to see
you returned, Mr. Newland; you've been away some time — another
grand lour, I presume.'
" Yes, Mr. , I have had a few adventures since I was last here,"
replied I, carelessly, " but I am not very well. Yon may leave the
supper, and if I feel inclined. I will take a little by-and-by, — no one
need wait."
The landlord and waiter bowed and went out of the room, I turned
the key of the door, put on my Quaker's coat, and made a hearty sup-
per, for I had had nothing since breakfast. When I had finished, I re-
turned to the sofa, and I could not help analyzing my own conduct .
" Alas, " thought I, " Susannah, how rightly did you judge me! I am
not away from you more than eighteen hours, and here I am ashamed
of the dress which I have so long worn, and been satisfied with, in vour
society. Truly did you say that I was full of pride, and would joylullv
re-enter the world of vanity and vexation. " And I thought of Susannah .
and her tears after my supposed departure, and I felt angry and an-
noyed at my want of strength of mind and my worldly feelings.
I retired early to bed. and did not wake until late the next morning.
AYhen I rang the bell, the chambermaid brought in my clothes from
ihe tailor's : I dressed, and I will not deny that I was pleased with the
alteration. After breakfast I ordered a coach, and drove to No. 1(3,
Throgmorton Court, Minories. The house was dirty outside, and Ihe
windows had not been cleaned apparently for years, and it was wilh
fome difficulty when I went in that I could decypher a tall, haggard-
looking man seated at the desk.
" Your pleasure, sir?'" said he.
* ' Am I speaking to the principal ?" replied I.
'* Yes, sir, my name isChaitfield. '
" I come to you, sir, relative to an advertisement which appeared
in the papers. I refer to this," continued I, putting the newspaper
!own on the desk, and pointing to theadveilisement.
274 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
"Oh, yes, very true : ca^ou give us any information'?**
" Yes, sir, I can, and the most satisfactory."
'* Then, sir, I am sorry that you have had so much trouble, but
you must call at Lincoln's Inn upon a lawyer of the name of Maslerton :
the whole affair is now in his hands."
"Can you, sir, inform me who is the party that is inquiring after
this young man?"
"Why, yes ; it is a General De Benyon, who has lately returned
from the East Indies."
"Good God? is it possible!" thought I ; " how strange that my
own wild fancy should have settled upon him as my father I"
I hurried away ; threw myself into the hackney-coach, and desired
the man to drive to Lincoln's Inn. I hastened up to Mr. Masterton's
rooms: he was fortunately at home, although he stood at the table
with his hat and his great coat on, ready to go out.
"My dear sir, have you forgotten me ?" said I, in a voice choked
with emotion, taking his hand and squeezing it with rapture.
" By heavens ! you are determined that I shall not forget you for
some minutes, at least," exclaimed he, wringing his hand with pain. '
"Who the devil are you?"
Mr. Masterton could not see without his spectacles, and my subdued
voice he had not recognized. He pulled them out, as I made no reply,
and fixing them across his nose — "Hah I why yes — it is Japhet, is it
not?"
"It is, indeed, sir," said I, again offering my hand, which he
shook warmly.
" Not quite so hard, my dear fellow, this time," said the old lawyer;
"I acknowledge your vigour, and that is sufficient. I am very glad
to see you, Japhet, I am indeed — you — you scamp — you ungrateful
fellow. Sit down — sit down — first help me off with my great coat :
I presume the advertisement has brought you into existence again.
Well, it's all true ; and you have at last found your father, or, rather,
he has found you. And what's more strange, you hit upon the right
person ; that is strange — very strange indeed."
"Where is he, sir ?" interrupted I, " where is he — take me to him."
"No, rather be excused," replied Mr. Masterton, " for he is gone
to Ireland ; so you must wait."
"Wait, sir, oh no ! — I must follow him."
" That will only do harm ; for he is rather a queer sort of an old
gentleman, and although he acknowledges that he left you as Japhet
and has searched for you, yet he is so afraid of somebody else's brat
being put upon him, thai he insists upon most undeniable proofs.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 275
Now, we cannot trace you from the hospital unless we can fjnd lljat
follow Cophagus, and we have made every search after him, and no
one can lell where he is."
" But I left him but yesterday morning, sir," replied I.
'* Good — very good ; we must send for him, or go to him ; besides,
lie has the packet intrusted to the care of Miss Mailland, to whom he
was executor, which proves the marriage of your father. Very strange
— ^very strange indeed, that you should have hit upon it as you did —
almost supernatural. However, all right now, my dear boy, and I
congratulate you. Your father is a verv strange person : he has lived
like a despot among slaves all his life, and will not be thwarted, I can
tell you. If you say a word in contradiction, hell disinherit you : —
terrible old tiger, I must say. If it had not been for your sake, I should
have done with him long ago. He seems to think the world ought to
be at his feet. Depend upon it. Japhct, there is no hurry about seeing
him ; and see him you shall not. until we have every proof of your
identity ready to produce to him. 1 ho[)eyou have the bump of vene-
ration strong, Japhet, and plenty of Glial duty, or you will be kicked
out of the house in a week. D — n me, if he didn't call me an old
thief of a lawyer.'"
"Indeed, sir,'' replied I, laughing; ''I must apologize to you for
my fathers conduct."
" >'ever mind, Japhet ; I dont care about a trifle : but why don't
you ask after your friends'?"
'* I have longed so to do, sir,'' replied I. " Lord Windermear — "
" Is quite well, and will be most happy to see you."
" Lady de Clare, and her daughter "
" Lady de Clare has entered into society again, and her daughter,
as you call her — yourFleta, aUas Cecilia de Clare — is the belle of the
metropolis. But now, sir, as I have answered all your interrogatxjries,
and satisfied you upon the most essential points will you favour me
with a narrative of your adventures, for adventures I am sure you
must have had,) since you ran away from us all, in that ungrateful
manner."
"Most certainly, sir, I will ; and, as you say, I have had adventure?.
But it really will be a long story."
" Then we 11 dine here, and pass the evening together — so that s
settled."
IS
27r. . JAPHET, [N SEARCH OF A FATHER
CHAPTER LXXl.
In which I am let into more particulars relative to ray father's history.
I DISMISSED the coach, while Mr. Masterton gave his orders for din-
ner, and we then liirned the key of the door to avoid intrusion, and \
commenced. It was nearly dinner-lime before I had finished my
story.
"Well, you really appear to be born for getting into scrapes, and
getting out of them again in a miraculous way," observed Mr. Master-
Ion. " Your life would make a novel."
" It would indeed, sir," replied I. "1 only hope, like all novels,
it will wind up well."
"So do I; but dinner's ready, Japhet, and alter dinner we'll talk
the matter over again, for there are some points upon which I require
some explanation. '
We sat down to dinner, and when we had finished, and the table
iiad been cleared, we drew to the fire, with our bottle of wine. Mr.
Masterton stirred the fire, called for his slippers, and then crossing his
legs over the fender, resumed the subject.
'' Japhet, I consider it most fortunate that we have rnet, previous }>
your introduction to your father. You have so far to congratulate your-
self, that your family is undeniably good, there being, as you know,
an Irish peerage in it; of which, however, you have no chance, as the
present earl has a numerous offspring. You are also fortunate as far
as money is concerned, as I have every reason to believe that your fa-
ther is a very rich man, and, of course, you are his only child; but I
must now prepare you to meet with a very different person than per-
haps the fond anticipations of youth may have led you to expect. Your
father has no paternal feelings that I can discover; he has wealth, and
he wishes to leave it — he has therefore sought you out. But he is des-
potic, violent, and absurd; the least opposition to his will makes him
furious, and I am sorry to add, that I am afraid that he is very mean.
He suffered severely when young from poverty, and his own father
was almost as authoritative and unforgiving as himself. And now I
will state how it was that you were left at the Asylum when an infanl.
Vour grandfather had procured for your father a commission in the
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 217
army, and soon afterwards procured him a lieutenancy. He ordered
him to marrv a voung lady of large fortune, whom he had never seen,
and sent for him for that purpose. I understand that she was very
beautiful, and, had your father seen her. it is probable he would have
made no objection, but he very foolishly sent a peremptory refusal, for
v.hich he was dismissed for ever. In a short time afterwards your fa-
ther fell in love with a young lady of great personal attractions, and
supposed to possess a large fortune. To deceive her, he pretended to
be the heir to the earldom, and, after a hasly courtship, they ran off,
and were married. When they compared notes, which they soon did.
it was discovered that, on his side, he had nothing but the pay of a su-
baltern, and on hers, that she had not one shilling. Your father stormed,
ind called his wife an impostor; she recriminated, and the second
uiorning after the marriage was passed in tears on her side, and oaths,
curses, and revilings on his. The lady, however, appeared the more
sensible party of the two. Their marriage was not known, she had
run away on a pretence to visit a relative, and it was actually supposed
in the county town where she resided, that such was the case. ' Why
should we quarrel in this way ? " observed she. ' You, Edmund, wished
to marry a fortune, and not me — I may plead guilty to the same
dupiicilv. We have made a mistake : but it is not too late. It is sup-
posed that I am on a visit to , and that you are on furlough for
a few days. Did you confide your secret to any of your brother offi-
cers?' ' Not one," muttered your father. ' Well, then, let us part as
if nothing had happened, and nobody will be the wiser. We are
e(iually interested in keeping the secret. Is it agreed?— Your father
immediately consented. He accompanied your mother to the house at
. where she was expected, and she framed a story for her delay.
bv having met such a very polite young man. Your father returned
to his regiment, and thus did they, like two privateers, who, when they
meet and ensage, as soon as they find out their mistake, hoist their
colours, and sheer otT by mutual consent."
"leant say much for my mothers allection or delicacy,'" ob-
served I.
" The less you say the better, Japhet— however , that is your fa-
ther's story. And now to proceed. It appears that, about two months
afterwards, your father received a letter from your mother, acquainting
him that their short intercourse had been productive of certain results,
and requesting that he would take the necessary steps to provide for
the child, and avoid exposure, or that she would be obliged to confess
her marriage. By what means they contrived to avoid exposure until
the period of her confinement, I know not, but your father stales that
the child was born in a house in London, and. by agreement, was in-
278 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
stantly put into his hands ; that he, with the consent of his wife, left you
at the door of the Asylum, with the paper and the bank note, from
which you received tiie name of Newiand. At the time, he had no idea
of reclaiming you himself, but the mother had ; for heartless as she ap-
pears to have been, yet a mother must feel for her child. Your father's
regiment was then ordered out to the East Indies, and he was rapidly
promoted for his gallantry and good conduct during the war in the
Mysore territory. Once only has he returned home on furlough, and
then he did make inquiries after you ; not, it appears wilh a view of
finding you out on his own account, but from a promise which he made
your mother."
'' My mother 1 what, have they met since?"
" Yes; your mother went out to India on speculation, passing ofT as
a single girl, and was very well married there, I was going to say;
however, she committed a very splendid bigamy."
*' Good heavens! how totally destitute of principle!"
" Your father asserts that your mother was a free-thinker, Japhet;
her father had m.ade her one : without religion a woman has no stay.
Your father was in the up country during the time that your mother
arrived, and was married to one of the council of Calcutta. Your fa-
ther says that they met at a ball at Government House. She was still
a very handsome w^oman, and much admired. When your father
recognised her, and was told that she w as lately married to the ho-
nourable Mr. , he was quite electrified, and would have quitted
the room ; but she had perceived him, and walking up to him with the
greatest coolness, claimed him as an old acquaintance in England, and
afterwards they often met, but she never adverted to what had passed
between them, until the time for his departure to England on leave,
and she then sent for him, and begged that he would make some in-
quiries aher you, Japhet. He did so, and you know the result. On
his return to India he found that your mother had been carried ofTby
the prevailing pestilence. At that period your father was not rich,
but he was then appointed to the chief command in the Carnatic, and
reaped a golden harvest in return for his success and bravery. It ap-
pears, as far as I could obtain it from him, that as long as your mother
was alive, he felt no interest about you, but her death, and the subse-
quent wealth which poured upon him, have now induced him to find
out an heir, to wfiom it may be bequeathed.
" Such, Japhet, are the outlines of your father's history ; and I must
poiqt out that he has no feelings of afTection for you at present. The
conduct of your mother is ever before him ; and if it were not that ho
wishes an heir, I should almost say that his feelings are those of dis-
like. You may create an interest in his heart, it is true : and he may
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. .'27!)
be gratified by your personal appearance ; but you will have a very dif-
ficult task, as you will have to submit to his caprices and fancies,
and I am afraid that, to a high spirit like yours, they will be almost
unbearable. "
" Really, sir, I begin to feel that the fondest anticipations are sel-
dom realized, and almost to wish that' I had not been sought for by
mv father. I was happy and contented, and now I do not see any
chance of having to congratulate myself on the change."
' ' On one or two points I also wish to question you. It appears that
you have entered into the sect'denominated Quakers. Tell me candid-
ly, do you subscribe heartily and sincerely to their doctrines? And
I was going to add, is it your intention to remain with them? I per-
ceive much difiiculty in all this."
" The tenets of the sect I certainly do believe to be more in accor-
dance w ith the Christian religion than any other ; and I have no hesi-
tation in asserting, from my knowledge of those who belong to that
sect, that they, generally speaking, lead better lives. There are some
points connected with their worship, which, at first, I considered
ridiculous : the feeling has, however, worn off. As to their quaint
manner of speaking, that has been grossly exaggerated. Their dress
is a part of their religion,"
" Who so, Japhet?"
" I can reply to you in the words of Susannah Temple, when I
made the same interrogatory. You think the peculiarity of our dress
is an outward form which is not required. It was put on to separate
us from others, and as a proof of our sincerity ; but still, the discard-
ing of the dress is a proof of sincerity. We consider, that to admire
the person is vain, and our creed is humility. It is therefore an
outward and visible sign, that we would act up to those tenets which
we profess. It is not all who wear the dress who are Quakers in
heart or conduct ; but we know that when it is put aside, the tenets
of our persuasion are at the same time renounced, therefore do we
consider it essential. I do not mean to say but that the heart may be
as pure, and the faith continue as stedfast without such signs outwardly,
but it is a part of our creed, and we must not choose, but either re-
ject all or none.' "
•' Very well argued by the little Quakeress ; and now, Japhet, I
should like to put another question to you. Are you very much at-
tached to this young puritan?"
" I will not deny but that I am. I love her sincerely."
"Does your love carry you so far, that you would, for her sake,
continue a Quaker, and marry her?"
' ' I have asked myself that question at least a hundred times during
2«0^ JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
the last twenty-four hours, and I cannot decide. If she would dress
as others do, and allow me to do the same, I would marry her to-
morrow; whether I shall ever make up my mind to adhere to the
persuasion, and live and die a Quaker for her sake, is quite another
matter — but I am afraid not — I am too worldly-minded. The fact is,
I am in a very awkward position with respect to her. I have never
acknowledged my affection, or asked for a return; but she knows I
love Irer, and I know that she loves me."
" Like all vain boys, you flatter yousself."
" I leave you to judge, sir," replied* I, repeating to him our ^d^rl-
mg tete-d-tete, and howl had returned, and found her in tears.
" All that certainly is very corroborative evidence ; but tell me,
Japhet, do you think she loves you well enough to abandon all for
your sake?"
" No, nor ever will, sir; she is too high-principled, too high-minded.
She might suffer greatly, but she never would swerve from what she
thought was right."
" She must be a fine character, .laphet ; but you will be in a di-
lemma : indeed, it appears to me, that your troubles are now com-
mencing instead of ending, and that you would have been much hap-
pier where you were, than you will be by being again brought out
into the world. Your prospect is not over cheerful. You have an
awkward father to deal with : you will be under a strong check, I've a
notion ; and I am afraid you will find that, notv/ithstanding you will
be once more received into society, all is' vanity and vexation of spirit."
" I am afraid you are right, sir," replied I, " but, at all events, it
will be something gained, to be acknowledged to the world by a father
of good family, whatever else I may have to submit to. I have been
the sport of fortune all my life, and probably she has not yet done
playing with me; but it is late, and I will now wish you good night."
" Good-night, Japhet ; if I have any intelligence 1 will let you
know. Lady de Clare's address is No. 13, Park Street. You will,
of course, go there as soon as you can."
" I will, sir, after I have -\^'ritten my letters to my friends at
Reading. '
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 281
CHAPTER LXXII.
I am a little jealous, and, like the immortal William Bottom, inclined to enact more
parts than one.— With a big effort my hankering after bigamy is mastered by JMr.
Alasterton — and by my own good sense.
I RETURNED liome to retlect upon what Mr. ^lastertoQ had told me,
and I must say that I was not very w^ell pleased with his various in-
formation. His account of my mother, although she was no more,
distressed me, and, from the character which he gave of my father, I
felt convinced that my happiness would not be at all increased by my
having finally attained' the long desired object of my wishes. Strange
to say, I had no sooner discovered my father, but I wished that he had
never turned up; and when I compared the peaceful and happy slate
of existence which I had lately enjoyed, with the prospects of what I
had in future to submit to, I bitterly repented that the advertisement
had been seen by Timothy : still, on one point, I was peculiarly anxious,
w ithout hardly daring to anatomize my feelings ; it was relative to
GeciUa de Clare, and what Mr. Masterton had mentioned in the course
of our conversation. The next morning I wrote to Timothy and to
Mr. Cophagus, giving them a short detail of what I had been informed
by Mr. Masterton, and expressmg a wish, which I then really did feeL
that I had never been summoned away from them.
Having finished my letters, I set off to Park Street, to call upon
Lady de Clare and Cecilia. It was rather early, but the footman who
opened the door recognised me, and I was admitted upon his own
responsibility. It was now more than eighteen months since I had
quitted their house at Richmond, and I was very anxious to know what
reception I might have. I followed the servant up stairs, and when he
opened the door walked in, as my name was announced.
Lady de Clare rose in haste, so did Cecilia, and so did a third per-
son, whom I had not expected to have met — Harcourt. " Mr. New-
land," exclaimed Lady de Clare, "this is indeed unexpected." Ce-
cilia also came forward, blushing to the forehead. Harcourt held
back, as if waiting for the advances to be made on my side. On the
whole, I never felt more awkwardly, and I belief e my feelings were
reciprocated by the whole party. I was evidently de trop.
282 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
" Do you know Mr. Harcourl? " at last said Lady de Clare.
" If it is the Mr. Harcourt I once knew," replied I, " I certainly
do."
" Believe me it is the same, Newland," said Harcourt, coming to
me and offering his hand, which I took with pleasure.
'* It is a long while since we met," observed Cecilia, who felt it ne-
cessary to say something, but, at the same time, did not like to enter
upon my affairs before Harcourt.
" It is, Miss de Clare," replied I, for I was not exactly pleased aJ
my reception ; " but I have been fortunate since I had the pleasure of
seeing you last."
Cecilia and her mother looked earnestly, as much as to say, in
what? — but did not like to ask the question.
"There is no one present who is not well acquainted with my
history," observed I, " that is, until the time that I left you and Lady
de Clare, and I have no wish to create mystery; I have at last dis-
covered my father."
"I hope we are to congratulate vou, Mr. Newland," said Lady de
Clare.
"As far as respectability and family are concerned, I certainly have
no reason to be ashamed," replied I. "He is the brother of an earl,
and a general in the army. His name I will not mention until I have
seen him, and I am formally and openly acknowledged. I have also
the advantage of being an only son, and if I am not disinherited, heir
to considerable property," continued I, smiling sarcastically. " Per-
haps I may now be belter received than I have been as Japhet Newland
the Foundling : but. Lady de Clare, I am afraid that I have
intruded unseasonably, and will now take my leave. Good morning;"
and without waiting for a reply, I made a hasty retreat, and gained the
door.
Flushed with indignation, I had nearly gained the bottom of the
stairs, when I heard a light footstep behind me, and my arm was
caught by Cecilia de Clare. I turned round, and she looked me re-
proachfully in the face, as the tear stood in her eye.
" What have we done, Japhet, that you should treat us in this man-
ner?" said she, with emotion.
"Miss de Clare," replied I, "I have no reproaches to make. I
perceived that my presence was not welcome, and I would no further
intrude."
" Are you then so proud, now that you have found out that you are
well born, Japhet?"
" I am much too proud to intrude where I am not wished for. Miss
de Clare. As Japhet Newland, I came here to see the Flela of former
JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. -28:1
days. When I assume my real name, I shall always be most happy
of an inlroduction to the daughter of Lady de Clare."
"Oh! how changed," exclaimed she, fixing her large blue eyes
upon me.
"Prosperity changes us all, Miss de Clare. I wish you a very
good morning ; " and I turned away, and crossed the hall to the
door.
As I went out I could not help looking back, and I perceived that
Cecilia's handkerchief was held to her eyes, as she slowly mounted the
stairs. I walked home to the Piazza in no very pleasant humour. I
was angry and disgusted at the coolness of my reception. I thought
myself ill used, and treated with ingratitude. "So much for the
world, " said I, as I sat down in my apartment, and spun my
hat on the table. " She has been out two seasons, and is no longer
the same person. Yet how lovely she has grown! But why
this change— and why was Harcourt there? Could he have pre-
judiced them against me? Very possibly. ' AYhile these ideas
were running in my mind, and I was making comparisons between
Cecilia de Clare and Susannah Temple— not much in favour of the
former— and looking forward prospectively to the meeting with my
father, the doubts as to my reception in society colouring every thing
with the most sombre tints, the door opened, and in walked Harcourt,
announced by the waiter.
"A chair for Mr. Harcourt," said I, to the waiter, with forma-
lity.
''Newland," said Harcourt, '"I come for two reasons: in the
first place, I am commissioned by the ladies, to assure you
" I beg your pardon, Mr. Harcourt, for interrupting you, but I
require no ambassador from the ladies in question. They may make
you their confidant if they please, but I am not at all inclined to do the
same. Explanation, after what I witnessed and felt this morning, is
quite unnecessary. I surrender all claims upon either Lady de Clare
or her daughter, if I ever was so fool-hardy as to imagine that I had
any. The first reason of your visit it is therefore useless to proceed
with. May I ask the other reason which has procured me this
honour '?"
"I hardly know, Mr. Newland," replied Harcourt, .colouring
deeply, "whether, after whgt you have now said, I ought to proceed
with the second — it related to myself."
" I am all attention, Mr. Harcourt," replied I, bowing politely.
"It was to say, Mr. Newland, that I should have taken the earliest
opportunity after my recovery, had you not disappeared so strangely.
28* JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
to have expressed my sorrow for my conduct towards you, and to have
acknowledged that I had been deservedly punished : more perhaps by
my own feelings of remorse, than by the dangerous wound I had re-
ceived by your hand. I take even this opportunity, although not ap-
parently a favourable one, of expressing what i consider itmy duty,
as a gentleman who has wronged another, to express. I certainly was
going to add more, but there is so little chance of its being well re-
ceived, that I had better defer it to some future opportunity. The time
may come, and I certainly trust it will come, when I may be allowed
to prove to you that I am not deserving of the coolness with which I
am now received. Mr. Newland, with every wish for your happiness,
I will now lake my leave ; but I must say, it is with painful sentiments,
as I feel that the result of this interview will be the cause of great dis-
tress to those who are bound to you, not only by gratitude, but sincere
regard."
Harcourt then bowed, and quitted the room. " It's all very well,"
muttered I, "but I know the world, and am not to be soothed down
by a few fine words. I trust that they will be sorrv for their conduct,
but see me again inside their doors they will not," and I sat down,
trying to feel satisfied with myself— but I was not ; I felt that I had
acted harshly, to say no more. I ought to have listened to an expla-
nation sent by Cecilia and her mother, after her coming down stairs to
expostulate. They were under great obligations to me, and by my
quick resentment, I rendered the obligations more onerous. It was
unkind of me — and I wished that Harcourt had not left the room. As
for his conduct, I tried to find fault with it, but could not. It was
gentlemanly and feeling. The fact was, I was in a very bad humour,
and could not, at the time, discover the reason, which was neither
more nor less than that I was more jealous of finding Harcourt so in-
timate at Lady de Clare's, than I was at the unpalatable reception
which I had met with. The waiter came in, and brought me a note
from Mr. Master ton.
" I have this morning received a summons from your father, who
returned, it appears, two days ago, and is now at the Adelphi Hotel.
I am sorry to say, that stepping out of his carriage when travelling, he
missed his footing, and has snapped his tendon Achilles. He is laid up
on a couch, and as you may suppose, his amiability is not increased by
the accident, and the pain attending it. As he has requested me to bring
forward immediate evidence as to your identity, and the presence of
Mr. Cophagus is necessary, I propose that we start for Reading to-
morrow at nine o'clock I have a curiosity to go down there, and
.TAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. :JS5
having a leisure day or Iwo, it will be a relaxation. I wish to see my
old acqnainlanco, Timothy, and your shop. Answer by bearer.
"J. Masterton."
I wrote a lew lines, informing Mr. Maslerton that I would be wilii
him at the appointed hour, and then sat down to my solitary meai.
How different from when I was last at this hotel ! Now I knew no-
body. I had to regain my fooling in society, and that could only be
accomplished by being acknowledged by my father; and, as soon as
that was done, I would call upon Lord AVindermear, who would
quickly effect what I desired. The next morning I was ready at nine
o'clock, and set off with post horses, with Mr. Masterton, in his own
carriage. I told him what had occurred the day before, and how
disgusted I was at my reception.
" Upon my word, Japhet,.! think you are wrong," replied the old
gentleman ; ' * and if you had not told me of your affection for Miss
Temple, to see whom, by-the-by, I confess to be one of the chief
motives of my going down with you, I should almost suppose that you
were blinded by jealousy. Does it not occur to you, that, if Mr.
Harcourt was admitted to the ladies at such an early hour, there is
preference shown him in that quarter? And now I recollect that i
heard something about it. Harcourt's elder brother died, and hes
come into the property, and I heard somebody say that he would in all
probability succeed in gaining the handsomest girl in London, with a
large fortune — that it was said to be a match. Now, if such be the
case, and you broke in upon a quiet reunion between two young people
about to be united, almost without announcement, and so unexpectedly,
after a lapse of so long a lime, surely you cannot be surprised at there
being a degree of confusion and restraint — more especially after what
had passed between Harcourt and you. . Depend upon it, that was the
cause of it. Had Lady de Clare and her daughter been alone, your
reception would have been very different; indeed, Cecilia's following
you down stairs, proves that it was not from coolness towards you ;
and Harcourt calling upon you, and the conversation which took place,
is another proof that you have been mistaken."
" I never viewed it in that light, certainly, sir," observed L '• i
merely perceived that I was considered intrusive, and finding in (he
company one who had treated me ill, and had been my antagonist in
the field, I naturally supposed that he had prejudiced them against
me. I hope I may be wrong ; but I have seen so much of the world,
young as I am, that I have become very suspicious.'
"Then discard suspicion as fast as you can, it will only make you
unhappy, and not prevent your being deceived. If you are suspicious,
280 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
you will have the constant fear of deception hanging over you, which
poisons existence."
After these remarks I remained silent for some time : I was analyz-
ing my own feelings, and I felt that I had acted in a very absurd
manner. The fact was, that one of my castle buildings had been,
that I was to marry Fleta as soon as I had found my own father, and
this it was which had actuated me, almost without my knowing it. I
felt jealous of Harcourt, and that, without being in love with Miss de
Clare, but actually passionately fond of another person ; I felt as if I
could have married her without loving her, and that I could give up
Susannah Temple, whom I did love, rather than that a being whom I
considered as almost of my own creation, should herself presume to
fall in love, or that another should dare to love her, until I had made
up my mind whether I should take her myself : and this after so long
an absence, and their having given up all hopes of ever seeing me
again. The reader may smile at the absurdity, still more at the sel-
fishness of this feeling; so did I, when I had reflected upon it, and I
despised myself for my vanity and folly.
"What are you thinking of, Japhet?" observed Mr. Maslerton,
tired with my long abstraction.
"That I have been making a most egregious fool of myself, sir,"
replied I, " with respGct to the De Clares."
"I did not say so, Japhet; but to tell you the truth, I thought
something very like it. Now tell me, were you not jealous at finding
her in company with Harcourt?"
" Exactly so, sir."
"I'll tell Susannah Temple when I see her, that she may form
some idea of your constancy," rephed Mr. Masterton, smiHng.
" Why, what a dog in the manger you must be — you can't marry
them both. Still, under the .circumstances, I can analyze the feeling
— it is natural, but all that is natural is not always creditable to hu-
man nature. Let us talk a little about Susannah, and then all these
vagaries will be dispersed. How old is she?"
Mr. Masterton plied me with so many questions relative to Su-
sannah, that her image alone soon fdled my mind, and I recovered
my spirits. " I don't know what she will say, at my being in this
dress, sir," observed I. " Had I not better change it on my ar-
rival ?"
" By no means ; I'll fight your battle — I know her character pretty
well, thanks to your raving about her."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 28'
CHAPTER LXXIII.
Contains much learned argument upon broad-brims and garments of grey — I get
the best of it — The one great wish of my life is granted — I meet my father, and
a cold reception, very indicative of much after-heat.
We arrived in good lime at Reading, and, as soiif as we alighled at
the inn, we ordered dinner, and then walked down to the shop, where
we found Timothy very busy tying down and labelHng. He was
delighted to see Mr. Masterton, and perceiving that I had laid aside
the Quaker's dress, made no scruple of indulging in his humour,
making a long face, and thee-in^ and f/tow-ing Mr. Masterton in a
very absurd manner. We desired him to go to Mr. Cophagus, and
beg that he would allow me to bring Mr. Masterton to drink tea, and
afterwards to call at the inn and give us the answer. We then re-
turned to our dinner.
" Whether they will ever make a Quaker of you, Japhet, I am very
doubtful," observed Mr. Masterton, as we walked back; " but as for
making one of that fellow Timothy, Til defy them."
"He laughs at every thing," replied I : *' and views every thing
in a ridiculous light — at all events, they never will make him serious."
In the evening, we adjourned to the house of Mr. Cophagus,
having received a message of welcome. I entered the room first,
Susannah came forward to welcome me, and then drew back, when
she perceived the alteration in my apparel, colouring deeply. I passed
her, and took the hand of Mrs. Cophagus and her husband, and then
introduced Mr. Masterton.
" We hardly knew thee, Japhet," mildly observed Mrs. Cophagus.
" I did not think that outward garments would disguise me from my
friends," replied I ; " but so itappearelh, for your sister hath not even
greeted me in welcome."
"I greet thee in all kindness, and all sincerity, Japhet Newland,"
replied Susannah, holding out her hand. ''Yet did I not imagine that,
in so short a time, thou wouldst have dimissed the apparel of our per-
suasion, neither do I fmd it seemly."
"Miss Temple," interposed Mr. Masterton, "it is to oblige those
who are his sincere friends, that Mr. Newland has laid aside his dress.
I quarrel with no creed — every one has a riglil to choose for himself.
288 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
and Mr. Newland has perhaps not chosen badly, in embracing your
tenets. Let him continue stedfast in them. But, fair young lad v.
there is no creed which is perfect, and, even in yours, we find imper-
fection. Our religion preaches humility, and therefore we do object
to his wearing the garb of pride/'
' ' Of pride, say est thou ? hath he not rather put off the garb of humi-
lity, and now appeareth in the garb of pride?'
" Not so, young madam : when we dress as all the world dress, we
wear not the garb of pride : but when we put on a dress ditferent from
others, that distinguishes us from others, then we show our pride, and
the worst of pride, for it is the hypocritical pride which apes humility.
It is the Pharisee ^f the Scriptures, who preaches in high places, and
sounds forth his charity to the poor ; not the humility of the Publican,
who says, ' Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner.' Your apparel of pre-
tended humility is the garb of pride, and for that reason have we insisted
that he discards it, when with us. His tenets we interfere not with.
There can be no religion in dress; and that must indeed be weak in
itself, which requires dress for its support."
Susannah was astonished at this new feature of the case, so aptly put
by the old lawyer. Mrs. Cophagus looked at her husband, and Co-
phagus pinched my arm, evidently agreeing with him. ^Yhen Mr.
Masterton had finished speaking, Susannah waited a few seconds, and
then replied, " It becomes not one so young and weak as I am, to
argue with thee, who art so much my senior. I cannot cavil at
opinions which, if not correct, at least are founded on the holy writings :
but I have been otherwise instructed."
" Then let us drop the argument, Miss Susannah, and let me tell
vou, that Japhet wished to resume his Quaker's dress, and I would not
permit him. If there is any blame, it is to be laid to me ; and it's no
fuse being angry with an old man like myself."
" I have no right to be angry with any one," replied Susannah.
"But you were angry with me, Susannah," interrupted I.
" I cannot say that it was anger, 'Japhet Newland : I hardly know
what the feeling might have been ; but I was wrong, and I must request
thy forgiveness ; and Susannah held out her hand.
" Now you must forgive me too, Miss Temple," said old Masterton,
and Susannah laughed against her wishes.
The conversation then became general, Mr. Masterton explained to
Mr. Cophagus what he required of him, and ]\rr. Cophagus imme-
diately acceded. It was arranged that he should go lo town by the mail
the next day. Mr. Masterton talked a great deal about my father, and
gave his character in its true light, as he considered it would be advan-
tageous to me so to do. He then entered into conversation upon a
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 2S'J
variety of topics, and was certainly very amusing. Susannah laughed
very heartily before the evening was over, and Mr. Masterlon refired
to the hotel, for I had resolved to sleep in my own bed.
I ^yalked home with Mr. Masterton ; I then returned to the house,
and found them all in the parlour. Mrs. Cophagus was expressing her
delight at the amusement she had received, when I entered with a
grave face. " I wish that I had not left you," said I to Mrs. Copha-
gus; " I am afraid to meet my father ; he will exact the most implicit
obedience. What am I to do? Must not I obey him ?"
"In all things lawful," replied Susannah, "most certainly, Ja-
phet."
" In all things lawful, Susannah I now tell me, in the very case of
my apparel : Mr. Masterton says, that he never will permit me to
wear the dress. What am I to do?"
" Thou hast thy religion and thy Bible for thy guide, Japhet."
" I have ; and in the Bible I find written on tablets of stone by the
prophet of God, " Honour thy father and thy mother; ' there is a
positive commandment : but I find no commandment to wear this or
that dress. Wliat think you ?" continued I, appealing to Ihem all.
"I should bid thee honour thy father, .laphet," replied Mrs. Co-
phagus, " and you, Susannah "
" I shall bid thee goodnight, Japhet."
At this reply we all laughed, and I perceived there was a smile on
Susannah's face as she walked away. Mrs. Cophagus followed her,
laughing as she went, and Cophagus and I were alone.
" Well, Japhet — see old gentleman — kiss — shake hands — and bless-
ing — and so on."
"Yes, sir," replied I, " but if he treats me ill, I shall probably
come down here again. I am afraid that Susannah is not very well
pleased with me."
" Pooh, nonsense — wife knows all — die for you — Japhet, do as you
please — dress yourself — dress her — any dress — no dress like Eve —
sly puss — won't lose you — all right — and so on."
I pressed Mr. Cophagus to tell me all he knew, and I found from
him that his wife had questioned Susannah soon after my departure ;
had found her w eeping, and that she had gained from her the avowal
of her ardent affection for me. This was all I wanted, and I wished
him good night, and went to bed happy. I had an interview with
Susannah Temple before I left the next morning, and, although I never
mentioned love, had every reason to be satisfied. She was kind and
affectionate ; spoke to me in her usual serious manner, warned me
against the world, acknowledged that I should have great difficulties to
surmount, and even made much allowance for my peculiar situation.
19
290 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
She dared not advise, but she would pray for me. There was a grealei'
show of interest and confidence towards me than I had ever yet received
from her : when I parted from her I said, " Dear Susannah, whatever
change may take place in my fortunes or in my dress, believe me, my
heart shall not be changed, and I shall ever adhere to those principles
which have been instilled into me since I have been in your company."
This was a phrase which admitted of a double meaning, and she
replied, *' I should wish to see thee perfect, Japhet; but there is no
perfection now on earth; be therefore as perfect as you can."'
*' God bless you, Susannah."
" May the blessing of the Lord be on you always, Japhet," replied
she.
I put my arm round her waist, and slightly pressed her to my bosom.
She gently disengaged herself, and her large eyes glistened with tears
as she left the room. In a quarter of an hour 1 was with Mr. Mas-
terton on the road to London.
" Japhet," said the old gentleman, " I will say that you have been
very wise in your choice, and that your little Quaker is a most lovely
creature : I am in love with her myself, and 1 think that she is far su-
perior in personal attractions to CeciHa de Clare."
" Indeed, sir!"
" Yes, indeed ; her face is more classical, and her complexion is un-
rivalled ; as far as my present knowledge and experience go, she is aii
emblem of purity."
" Her mind, sir, is as pure as her person."
" I believe it ; she has a strong mind, and will think for herself."
"There, sir, is, I am afraid, the difficulty ; she will not yield a point
in which she thinks she is right, not even for her love for me."
" I agree with you that she will not, and I admire her for it ; but,
Japhet, she will yield to conviction, and, depend upon it, she will
abandon the outward observances of her persuasion. Did you observe
w hat a spoke 1 put in your wheel last night, when I stated that outward
forms were pride. Leave that to work, and I'll answer for the conse-
quences : she will not long wear that Quaker's dress. How beautiful
she would be if she dressed like other people ! I think I see her now
entering a ball-room."
*' But what occasions you to think she will abandon her persuasion ?"
" I do not say that she will abandon it, nor do I wish her to do it,
nor do I wish you to do it, Japhet. There is much beauty and much
perfection in the Quaker's creed. All that requires to be abandoned
are the dress and the ceremonies of the meetings, which are both ab-
surdities. Recollect, that Miss Temple has been brought up as a
Quaker; she has, from the exclusiveness of the sect, known no othei
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. -iiU
hjvm of worship, and never liearJ any opposition lo that which has
been inculcated ; but let her once or twice enter the Established Church,
hear its beautiful ritual, and listen lo a sound preacher. Let her be
persuaded to do that, which cannot be asking her to do wrong, and
then let her think and act for herself, and my word for it, when she
draws the comparison between what she has then heard, and the non-
sense occasionally uttered in the Quaker's conventicle, by those who
fancy themselves inspired, she will herself feel that, although the tenets
of her persuasion may be more in accordance with true Christianity
than those of other sects, the outward forms and observances are im-
perfect. I trust to her own good sense."
" You make me very happy by saying so."
'' Well, that is my opinion of her, and if she proves me to be cor-
rect, hang me if I don't think I shall adopt her."
•' What do you think of Mrs. Cophagus, sir"? "
" I think she is no more a Quaker in her heart than I am. She is
a lively, merry, kind-hearted creature, and would have no objection
to appe.^r in feathers and diamonds to-morrow."
" Well, sir, lean tell you that Mr. Cophagus still sighs after his
blue cotton-net pantaloons and Hessian boots.''
'*More fool he! but, however, I am glad of it, for it gives me an
idea which I shall work upon by-and-bye ; at present we have this
eventful meeting between you and your father to occupy us.'"
We arrived in town in time for dinner, which Mr. Masterton had
ordered at his chambers. As the old gentleman was rather tired
with his two days' travelling, I wished him good night at an early
hour.
"Recollect, Japhet, we are to be at the Adelphi hotel to-morrow at
one o'clock — come in time."
I called upon Mr. Masterton at the time appointed on the ensuing
day, and we drove to the hotel in which my father had located him^
self. On our arrival, we were ushered into a room on the ground
floor, where we found Mr. Cophagus and two of the governors of the
Foundling Hospital.
" Really, Mr. Masterton,' said one of the latter gentlemen, " one
would think that we were about to have an audience with a sovereign
prince, and, instead of conferring favours, were about to receive them.
My time is precious ; I ought to have been in the city this half
hour, and here is this old nabob keeping us waiting as if we were peti-
tioners. "
Mr. Masterton laughed and said, " Let us all go up stairs, and not
waitlo be sent for."
19*
292 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
He called one o[ Ihe wallers, and desired him to announce Iheni (o
General De Benyon. They then followed the waiter, leaving me alone.
I must say, that I was a little agitated ; I heard the door open above,
and then an angry growl like that of a wild beast ; the door closed
again, and all was quiet. " And this,'"' thought I, "is the result of
all my fond anticipations, of my ardent wishes, of my enthusiastic
search. Instead of expressing anxiety to receive his son, he liligiously
requires proofs, and more proofs, when he has received every satis-
factory proof already. They say his temper is violent beyond control,
and that submission irritates instead of appeasing him : what then if 1
resent ? T have heard that people of that description are to be belter met
with their own weapons : — suppose I try it ; — but no, I have no right ;
I will however be firm, and keep my temper under every circum-
stance : I will show him, at least, that his son has the spirit and the
feelings of a gentleman."
As these thoughts passed in my mind the door opened, and Mr. Mas-
terlon requested me to follow him. I obeyed with a palpitating heart,
and when I had gained the landing-place up stairs, Mr. Masterlon took
my hand and led me into the presence of my long-soughl-for and much-
dreaded parent. I may as well describe him and the whole tableau.
The room was long and narrow, and, at the farther end, was a large
sofa, on which was seated my father with his injured leg reposing on it,
his crutches propped against the wall. On each side of him were two
large poles and stands, each with a magnificent macaw. Next to the
macaws were two native servants, arrayed in their muslin dresses,
with their arms folded. A hooka was in advance of the table before
the sofa: it was magnificently wrought in silver, and the snake passed
under the table, so that the tube was within my honoured father's reach.
On one side of the room sat the two governors of the Foundling Hos-
pital, on the other was seated Mr. Cophagus in his Quaker's dress ; the
empty chair next to him had been occupied by ]\Ir. Masterton. I
looked at my father : he was a man of great size, apparently six feet
three or four inches, and stout in proportion without being burthened
with fat : he was gaunt, broad shouldered, and muscular, and I think,
must have weighed seventeen or eighteen stone. His head was in pro-
portion to his body and very large ; so were all his features upon the
same grand scale. His complexion was of a brownish-yellow, and his
hair of a snowy white. He wore his whiskers very large and joined
together under the throat, and these, which were also white, from the
circle which they formed round his face, and contrasting with the
colour of his skin, gave his tout ense7?ible much more the appearance of
a royal Bengal tiger than a gentleman. General De Benyon saw Mr.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 293
Maslerloii leading me forward to within a pace or two of the table
before the general. — " Allow me the pleasure of introducing your son,
Japhet." ,
There was no hand extended to welcome me. My father fixed his
proud grey eyes upon me for a moment, and then turned to the go-
vernors of the hospital.
" Is this the person, gentlemen, whom you received as an infant
and brought up as Japhet TSewland?
The governors declared I w as the same person ; that they had
bound me to Mr. Cophagus, and had seen me more than once since I
quitted the Asylum.
" Is this the Japhet Newland whom you received from these gen-
tlemen and brought up to your business?"
" Yea, and verily — [ do affirm the same — smart lad — good boy, and
soon. "
" I will not take a Quaker's affirmation — will you take your oath,
sir?"
"Yes," replied Cophagus, forgetting his Quakership; " take oath
—bring Bible — kiss book, and so on."
" You then, as a Quaker, have no objection to swear to the identity
of this person ?"
" Sw^ear," cried Cophagus, " yes, swear — swear now — not Japhet!
— I'm damned — go to hell, and so on."
The other parties present could not help laughing at this explosion
from Cophagus, neither could I. Mr. Masterton then asked the ge-
neral if he required any more proofs.
"No," replied the general discourteously; and speaking in Hindos-
tanee to his attendants, they walked to the door and opened it. The
hint was taken, Mr. Masterton saying to the others in an ironical tone,
" After so long a separation, gentlemen, it must be natural that the
general should wish to be left alone, that he may give vent to his pa-
ternal feelings. '
Z\}i JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHE.
CHAPTER LXXIV.
Father aud 1 grow warm iu our argument — Obliged to give him a little schooling
to show mv affection — Takes it at last very kindly, and very 'iutifully owns him-
self a fool.
Ih the mean time, I was left standing in the middle of the room; the
gentlemen departed, and the two native servants resumed their stations
on each side of the sofa. I felt humiliated and indignant, but waited in
silence ; at last, my honoured parent, who had eyed me for some time,
commenced.
" If you think, young man, to win my favour by your good looks,
you are very much mistaken : you are too like your mother, whose
memory is any thing but agreeable.'"
The blood mounted to my forehead at this cruel observation; I
folded my arms and looked my father steadfastly in the face, but made
no reply. The choler of the gentleman was raised.
" It appears that I have found a most dutiful son."
I was about to make an angry answer, when I recollected myself,
and I courteously replied, " My dear general, depend upon it that your
son will always be ready to pay duty to w hom duly is due ; but excuse
me, in the agitation of this meeting you have forgotten those little at-
tentions which courtesy demands; with your permission I will take a
chair, and then we may converse more at our ease. I hope your leg
IS better."
I said this with the blandest voice and the most studied politeness,
and drawing a chair towards the table, I took my seat ; as I expected,
it put my honoured father in a tremendous rage.
''If this is a specimen, sir, of your duty and respect, sir, I hope
to see no more of them. To whom your duty is due, sir !— and pray
to whom is it due, sir, if not to the author of your existence '?" cried
the general, striking the table before him with his enormous fist, so as
to make the ink fly out of the stand some inches high and bespatter the
papers near it.
"My dear father, you are perfectly correct : duly, as you say, is
due to the author of our existence. If I recollect riaht, the com-
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 295
mandment says, 'Honour your father and your mother;' but at the
same lime, if I may venture to offer an observation, are there not such
ihings as reciprocal duties — some which are even more paramount in
a father than the mere begetting of a son?"
"What do you mean, sir, by these insolent remarks?" interrupted
my father.
" Excuse me, my dear father, I may be wrong; but if so, I will bow
to your superior judgement ; but it does appear to me, that the mere
iianging me in a basket at the gate of the Foundling Hospital , and leaving
me a bank-note of fifty pounds to educate and maintain me until the
age of twenty-four, are not exactly all the duties incumbent upon a
parent. If you think that they are, I am afraid that the world, as
well as myself, will be of a different opinion. ?Vot that I intend to
make any complaint, as I feel assured that now circumstances have
put it in your power, it is your intention to make me amends for leav-
ing me so long in a state of destitution, and wholly dependent upon
my own resources."
"You do, do you, sir?* Well, now, I'll tell you my resolution,
which is — there is the door — go out, and never let me see your face
again."
'* My dear father, as I am convinced this is only a little pleasantry
on your part, or perhaps a mere trial whether I am possessed of the
spirit and determination of a De Benyon, I shall, of course, please you
by not complying with your humorous request."
" Won't you, by G — d I" roared my father ; then turning to his two
native servants, he spoke to them in Hindostanee. They immediately
walked to the door, threw it wide open, and then coming back to me,
were about to take me by the arms. I certainly felt my blood boil,
l)ut I recollected how necessary it was to keep my temper. I rose
from my chair, and advancing to the side of the sofa, I said.
' ' My dear father, as I perceive that you do not require your crutches
at this moment, you will not perhaps object to my taking one. These
foreign scoundrels must not be permitted to insult you through the
person of your only son."
" Turn him out," roared my father.
The natives advanced, but I whirled the crutch round my head,
and in a moment they were both prostrate. As soon as they gained
their feet, I attacked Ihem again, until they made their escape out of
the room ; I then shut the door and turned the key.
" Thank you, my dear sir," said I, returning the crutch to where
it was before. "Many thanks for thus permitting me to chastise
the insolence of these black scoundrels, whom, I take it for granted,
20() JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
you will immediately discharge;" and I again took my seat in the
chair, bringing it closer to him.
The rage of the general was now beyond all bounds ; the white foam
was spluttered out of his mouth, as he in \ain endeavoured to find
words. Once he actually rose from the sofa, to take the law in his own
hands, but the effort seriously injured his leg, and he threw himself
down in pain and disappointment.
" My dear father, I am afraid that, in your anxiety to help me, you
have hurt your leg again," said I, in a soothing voice.
" Sirrah, sirrah," exclaimed he at last ; " if you think that this will
do, you are very much mistaken. You don't know me. You may
turn out a couple of cowardly blacks, but now^ I'll show you that I am
not to be played with. I discard you for ever — I disinherit — I disac-
knowledge you. You may take your choice, either to quit this room,
or be put into the hands of the police."
" The police, my dear sir ! What can the police do ? I may call in
the police for the assault just committed by your servants, and have
them up to Bow Street, but you cannot charge me with an assault."
"But I will, by G — d, sir, true or not true."
"Indeed you would not, my dear father. A De Benyon would
never be guilty of a lie. Besides, if you were to call in the police :—
I wish to argue this matter coolly, because I ascribe your present little
burst of ill-humour to your sufferings from your unfortunate acci-
dent. Allowing then, my dear father, that you were to charge me with
an assault, I should immediately be under the necessity of charging you
also, and then we must both go to Bow Street together. Were you ever
at Bow Street, general ?" The general made no reply, and I proceeded.
' ' Besides, my dear sir, only imagine how very awkward it wo uld be
when the magistrate put you on your oath, and asked you to make your
charge. What would you be obliged to declare? That you had married
when young, and finding that your wife had no fortune, had deserted
herthe second day after your marriage. Thatyou.an officer in the army,
and the Honourable Captain De Benyon, had hung up your child "at
the gates of the Foundling Hospital— that you had again met your wife,
married to another, and had been an accompHce in concealing her ca-
pital offence of bigamy, and had had meetings with her, although she
belonged to another. I say meetings, for you did meet her, to receive
her directions about me. I am charitable "and suspect nothing— others
will not be so. Then, after her death, you come home, and inquire
about your son. His identity is establislied,— and when then?
not only you do not take him by the hand, in common civility,
I might say, but you first try to turn him out of the house, and to
.lAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 297
give him in charge of the pohce ; and then you will have to stale
for what. Perhaps you will answer me that question, for I really do
not know."
By this time, my honoured father's wrath had, to a certain degree,
subsided; he heard all I had to say, and he felt how very ridiculous
would have been his intended proceedings, and, as his wrath subsided,
so did his pain increase ; he had seriously injured his leg, and it was
swelling rapidly— the bandages tightened in consequence, and he was
sulleringunder the acutest pain. "Oh, oh," groaned he.
*' My dear father, can I assist you? "
"Ring the bell, sir."
" There is no occasion to summon assistance while I am here, my
dear general. lean attend you professionally, and if you will allow
me, will soon relieve your pain. Your leg has swollen from exertion,
and the bandages must be loosened."
He made no reply, but his features were distorted with extreme
pain. I went to him, and proceeded to unloose the bandages, which
gave him considerable relief . I then replaced them, secundum artem,
and with great tenderness, and go.ing to the sideboard, took the lotion
which was standing there with the other bottles, and wetted the ban-
dages. In a few minutes he was quite relieved. ' ' Perhaps, sir," said
I, "you had better try to sleep a little. I will take a book, and shall
have great pleasure in watching by your side."
Exhausted with pain and violence, the general made no reply ; he
fell back on the sofa, and, in a short time, he snored most comfort-
ably. " I have conquered you, ' thought I, as I watched him as he
lay asleep. " If I have not yet, I will, that I am resolved." I walked
gently to the door, unlocked it, and opening it without waking him,
ordered some broth to be brought up immediately, saying that the ge-
neral was asleep, and that I would wait for it outside. I accomplished
this little manoeuvre, and reclosed the door without waking my father,
and then I took my seat in the chair, and resumed my book, having
placed the broth on the side of the fire-grate to keep it warm. In about
an hour he^woke, and looked around him.
" Do you want any thing, my dearest father?" inquired I.
The general appeared undecided as to whether to recommence
hostilities, but at last he said, "I wish the attendance of my servants,
sir."
' ' The attendance of a servant can never be equal to that of your own
son, general," replied I, going to the fire, and taking the basin of broth,
which I replaced upon the tray containing the et ceteras on a napkin.
" I expected you would require your broth, and I have had it ready
for you."
298 JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
"It was what I did recjuire, sir, I must acknowledge,' replied my
father, and without further remark he finished the broth.
I removed the tray, and then went for the lotion, and again wetted
the bandages on his legs. " Is there any thing else I can do for you,
sir?" said I. .
** Nothing — I am very comfortable."
" Then, sir," replied I, " I will now take my leave. You have de-
sired me to quit your presence for e^^er ; and you attempted force. 1
resisted that, because I would not allow you to have the painful re-
membrance that you had injured one who had strong claims upon you,
and had never injured you. I resented it also, because I wished to
prove to you that I was a De Benyon, and had spirit to resist an in-
sult. But, general, if you imagine that I have come here with a de-
termination of forcing myself upon you, you are much mistaken. I
am too proud, and happily am independent by my own exertions, so
as not to require your assistance. Had you received me kindly, be-
lieve me, you would have found a grateful and affectionate heart to
have met that kindness. You would have found a son, whose sole
object through life has been to discover a father, after whom he has
yearned, who would have been delighted to have administered to his
wants, to have yielded to his wishes, to have soothed him in his pain,
and to have watched him in his sickness. Deserted as I have been for
so many years, I trust that I have not disgraced you, General De
Benyon; and if ever I have done wrong, it has been from a wish to
discover you. I can appeal to Lord Windermear for the truth of that
assertion. Allow me to say, that it is a very severe trial — an ordeal
which few pass through with safety — to be thrown as I have been upon
the world, with no friend, no parent to assist or to advise me, to have
to bear up against the contingency of being of unacknowledged and
perhaps disgraceful birth. It is harder still, when I expected to find my
dearest wishes realized, that without any other cause than that of my
features resembling those of my mother, I am to be again cast away.
One thing. General De Benyon, I request, and I trust it will not be
denied, which is, that I may assume the name which I am entitled to.
I pledge you that I never will disgrace it. And now, sir, asking and
expecting no more, I take my leave, and you may be assured, that
neither poverty, privation, nor affliction of any kind, will ever induce
me to again intrude into your presence. General De Benyon, farewell
for ever."
I made my father a profound bow, and was quitting the room.
"Stop, sir," said the general. "Stop one moment, if you
please."
I obeyed.
.lAPIIEr, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 299
" Why did you put mc oul of temper? Answer me Ihal."
" Allow me lo observe, sir, that I did not put you out of temper;
and what is more, that I never lost my own temper during the insult
and injury which I so undeservedly and unexpectedly have received.'^
" But that very keeping your temper made me more angry, sir."
* ' That is very possible ; but surely I was not lo blame. The great-
est proof of a perfect gentleman is, that he is able to command his
temper, and I wished you to acknowledge that I was not without such
pretensions."
" That is as much as to say that your father is no gentleman; and
tliis, I presume, is a specimen of your fdial duty," replied the gene-
ral, warmly.
"Far from it, sir; there are many gentlemen who, unfortunately,
cannot command their tempers, and are more to be pitied than blamed
for it; but, sir, when such happens to be the case, they invariably
redeem their error, and amply so, by expressing their sorrow, and of-
fering an apology."
" That is as much as to say, that you expect me to apologize to
you."
" Allow me, sir, to ask you, did you ever know a De Benyon submil
to an insult?" •
" No, sir, I trust not."
" Then, sir, those whose feelings of pride will not allow them to
submit lo an insult ought never to insult others. If, in the warmth of
the moment, they have done so, that pride should immediately in-
duce them to offer an apology, not only due to the party, but to their
own characters. There is no disgrace in making an apology when we
are in error, but there is a great disgrace in withholding such an act of
common justice and reparation."
" I presume I am to infer from all this, that you expect an apology
from me ?"
" General De Benyon, as far as I am concerned, that is now of little
importance ; we part, and shall probably never meet again : if you
think that it would make you feel more comfortable, I am willing to
receive it."
" I must suppose by that observation, that you fully expect it ; and
otherwise will not stay?"
" I never had a thought of slaying, general ; you have told me that
you have disinherited and discarded me for ever : no one with the feel-
ings of a man would ever think of remaining after such a declaration."
*' Upon what terms, then, sir, am I to understand that you wiH
consent to remain with me, and forget all that has passed?"
300 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
"My terms are simple, general; you must say that you retract
\vhat you have said, and are very sorry for having insuUed'me. "
" And without I do that, you will never come here again?"
"Most decidedly not, sir. I shall always wish you well, pray for
your happiness, be sorry at your death, and attend your funeral as
chief mourner, although you disinherit me. That is my duty, in re-
turn for my having taken your name, and your having acknowledged
that I am your son ; but live with you, or even see you occasionally,
I will not, after what has passed this day, without you make me an
apology."
" I was not aware that it was necessary for a father to apologize to
his son."
" If you wrong a stranger, you offer an apology ; how much more
is it due to a near relation ?"
" But a parent has claims upon his own son, sir, for which he is
bound to tender his duty. "
" I grant it, in the ordinary course of things in this life; but,
General De Benyon, what claims have you as a parent upon me? A
son in most cases is indebted to his parents for their care and attention
in infancy — his education — his religious instruction — his choice of a
profession, and his advancement in life, by their exertions and interest;
and w hen Ihey are called away, he has a reasonable expectation of
their leaving him a portion of their substance. They have a heavy
debt of gratitude to pay for what they have received, and they are fur-
ther checked by the hopes of what they may hereafter receive. Up
to this time, sir, I have not received the first, and this day I am told
that I need not expect the last. Allow me to ask you, General De
Benyon, upon what grounds you claim from me a filial duty? Cer-
tainly not for benefits received, or for benefits in expectation; but I
feel that I am intruding, and therefore, sir, once more, with every
wish for your happiness, I take my leave."
I went out, and had half closed the door after me, when the general
cried out, " Stop — don't go — Japhet— my son — I was in a passion —
I beg your pardon— don't mind what I said— I'm a passionate old
fool."
As he uttered this in broken sentences, I returned to him. He held
out his hand. ' ' Forgive me, boy — forgive your father." I knell down
and kissed his hand; he drew me towards him, and I wept upon his
bosom.
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 301
CHAPTER L\\\.
Fatlier still dutifully submissive at home— Abroad, I am splitting a straw in ar-
guments with Susannah about straw bonnets — The rest of the Chapter contains
coquetry, courting, and costumes.
It was some time before we were suiTicienlly composed to enter
into conversation, and tlien I tried my utmost to please him. Still
there was naturally a restraint on both sides, but I was so particular
and devoted in my attentions, so careful of giving offence, that when
he complained of weariness, and a wish to retire, he stipulated that
I should be with him to breakfast on the next morning.
I hastened to Mr. Masterton, although it was late, to communicate
to him all that had passed; he heard me with great interest. '.' Ja-
phet,"said he, " you have done well— it is the proudest day of your
life. You have completely mastered him. The royal Bengal tiger
is tamed. I wish you joy, my dear fellow. iS'ow I trust that all will
be well. But keep your own counsel, do not let this be known at
Reading. Let them still imagine that your father is as passionate as
ever, which he will be, by-the-by, with everybody else. You have
still to follow up your success, and leave me to help you in other mat-
ters."
I returned home to the Piazza, and, thankful to Heaven for the
events of the day, I soon fell fast asleep, and dreamt of Susannah Tem-
ple. The next morning I was early at the Adelphi Hotel ; my father had
not yet risen, but the native servants who passed in and out, attend-
ing upon him, and who took care to give me a wide berth, had in-
formed him that ' ' Burra Saib's" son was come, and he sent for me. His
leg was very painful and uncomfortable, and the surgeon had not yet
made his appearance. I arranged it as before, and he then dressed,
and came out to breakfast. I had said nothing before the servants, but
as soon as he was comfortable on the sofa, I took his hand, and kissed
it, saying, " Good morning, my dear father ; I hope you do not re-
pent of your kindness to me yesterday."
"No, no; God bless you, boy. I've been thinking of you all
night."
" Alls right, " thought I ; " and I trust to be able to keep it so."
302 .lAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
I shall pass over a fortnight, during which I was in constant alien-
dance upon my father. At limes he would fly out in a most violent
manner, but I invariably kept my temper, and when it was all over,
would laugh at him, generally repeating and acting all which he had
said and done during his paroxysm. I found this rather dangerous
ground at first, but by degrees he became used to it, and it was won-
derful how it acted as a check upon him . He would not at first believe
but that I exaggerated, when the picture Avas held up to his view and
he was again calm. My father was not naturally a bad tempered man,
but having been living among a servile race, and holding high command
in the army, he had gradually acquired a habit of authority and an
impatience of contradiction which was unbearable to all around. Those
who were high-spirited and sensitive shunned him ; the servile and the
base continued with him for their own interests, but trembled at his
wrath. I had during this time narrated to my father the events of my
life, and, I am happy to say, had, by attention and kindness, joined
with firmness and good temper, acquired a dominion over him. I
had at his request removed to the hotel, and lived with him alto-
gether. His leg was rapidly arriving to a state of convalescence, and
he now talked of taking a house and setting up his establshment in
London. I had seen but little of Mr. Masterton during this time, as
I had remained in-doors in attendance upon the general. I had
written once to Mr. Cophagus, stating how I was occupied, but saying
nothing about our reconciliation. One morning, Mr. Masterton called
upon us, and after a little conversation with the general, he told me
that he had persuaded Mr. Cophagus and his wife to leave Reading
and come to London, and that Susannah Temple was to come with
them.
" On a visit'?" inquired I.
" No, not on a visit. I have seen Cophagus, and he is determined
to cut the Quakers, and reside in London altogether."
" What! does he intend to return to the pomps and vanities of this
wicked world ?"
" Yes, I believe so, and his wife will join him. She has no objec-
tion to decorate her pretty person. *'
" 1 never thought that she had — but Susannah Temple "
' ' When Susannah is away from her friends, when she finds that her
sister and brother-in-law no longer wear the dress, and when she is
constantly in your company, to all wKich please to add the effect I
trust of my serious admonitions, she will soon do as others do, or she
is no woman. This is all my plan, and leave it lo me — only play your
part by seeing as much of her as you can."
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OP A FATHER 30J
" Vou npcd nol fear that," replied 1.
" Does your father know of your allachmonl •'' inquired Mr. Mas-
!erton.
"No, I passed her over without mentioning her name, " replied 1.
' It is too soon yet to talk to him about my marrying ; in fact, tlie pro-
posal must, if possible, come from him. Could not you manage
ihat?"
"Yes, I will if I can ; but, as you say, wait awhile. Here is their
address — you must call to-morrow, if you can ; and do you think you
ean dine with me on Thursday'?"
" Yes, if the general continues improving; if not, I will send you
word."
The next day 1 complained of a head-ache, and said, that I would
walk out until dinner-lime. I hastened lo the address given me by
Mr. Masterton, and found that Mr. Cophagus and his wife were out,
but Susannah remained at home. After ,our first questions, I inquired
of her how she liked London.
" I am almost afraid to say, Japhet, at least to you : you would only
laugh at me."
' ' Not so, Susannah ; I never laugh when I know people are sincere."
"It appears to me, then, to be a vanity fair."
"That there is more vanity in London than in any other city, I
grant," replied I ; " but recollect, that there are more people and more
wealth. I do not think that there is more in proportion than in other
towns in England, and if there is more vanity, Susannah, recollect also
that there is more industry, more talent, and I should hope a greater
proportion of good and honest people among its multitudes ; there is
also, unfortunately, more misery and more crime."
"I believe you are right, Japhet. Are you aware that Mr. Co-
phagiis has put off his plain attire ?"
" If it grieves you, Susannah, it grieves me also ; but I presume he
finds it necessary not to be so remarkable."
" For him, I could find some excuse; but what will you sav, Ja=
phel, when I tell you that my own sister, born and bred up to our
tenets, hath also much deviated from the dress of the females of our
sect?"
" In what hath she made an alteration ?"
" She has a bonnet of plaited straw with ribbons."
" Of what colour are the ribbons ?"
" Nay, of the same as her dress — of grey.'"
"Your bonnet, Susannah, is of grey silk ; I do not see that there is
vanity in descending to straw, which is a more homely commodity
But what reason has she given ?"
:10\ JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
" That her husband wills it, as he does not hke ,to walk, out with
her in her Quaker's dress."
" Is it not her duty to obey her husband, even as I obey my father,
Susannah ? — but I am not ashamed to walk out with you in your dress ;
so if you have no objection, let me show you a part of this great city."
Susannah consented : we had often walked together in the town of
Reading : she was evidently pleased at what I said. I soon escoried
her to Oxford Street, from thence down Bond Street, and through all
the most frequented parts of the metropolis. The dress naturally drew
upon her the casual glance of the passengers, but her extreme beauty
turned the glance to an ardent gaze, and long before we had finished
our intended walk, Susannah requested that I would go home. She
was not only annoyed but almost alarmed at the constant and reiterated
scrutiny which she underwent, ascribing it to her dress, and not to her
lovely person. As soon as we returned, I sat down with her.
"So I understand that Mr. Cophagus intends to reside altogether
in London."
" I have not heard so ; I understood that it was business which called
him hither for a few weeks. I trust not, for I shall be unhappy
here."
"May I ask why ?"
"The people are rude — it is not agreeable to walk out."
"Recollect, my dear Susannah, that those of your sect are not so
plentiful in London as elsewere, and if you wear a dress so different
from other people, you must expect that curiosity will be excited.
You cannot blame them — it is you w ho make yourself conspicuous, al-
most saying to the people by your garment, " Come, and look at me."
I have been reflecting upon what Mr. Masterton said to you at Read-
ing, and I do not know^ whether he was net right in calling it a garb of
pride instead of a garb of humility."
"If I thought so, Japhet, even I would throw it off," replied Su-
sannah.
"It certainly is not pleasant that every one should think that you
walk out on purpose to be stared at, yet such is the ill-natured con-
struction of the world, and they will never believe otherwise. It is
possible, I should think, to dress with equal simplicity and neatness,
to avoid gay colours, and yet to dress so as not to excite observation."
" I hardly know what to say, but that you all appear against me, and
that sometimes I feel that I am too presumptuous in thus judging for
myself."
" I am not against you, Susannah ; I know you will do what you
think is right, and I shall respect you for that, even if I disagree with
vou ; but I must sav, that if my wife were to dress in such a way as to
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 805
attract the public gaze, I should feel loo jealous to approve of it. I
do not, therefore, blame Mr. Cophagus for inducing his pretty wHe to
make some alteration in her attire, neither do I blame but I commend
her for obeying the wishes of her husband. Her beauty is his, and not
common property."
Susannah did not reply ; she appeared very thoughtful.
*' You disagree with me, Susannah," said I, after a pause; " I am
sorry for it."
" I cannot say that I do, Japhel; I have learnt a lesson this day,
and, in future, I must think more humbly of myself, and be more
ruled by the opinions and judgment of others."
Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus tlien came in. Cophagus had resumed his
medical coat and waistcoat, but not his pantaloons or Hessians : his
wife, who had a very good taste in dress, would not allow him. She
was in her gray silk down, but wore a large handsome shawl, which
covered all but the skirts ; on her head she had a Leghorn bonnet and
certainly looked very pretty. As usual, she was all good-humour and
smiles. I told them that we had been walking out, and that Susannah
had been much annoyed by the staring of the people.
"Always so," said Cophagus, "never mind — girls like it feel
pleased — and so on."
"You wrong me much, brother Cophagus," replied Susannah, " it
pained me exceedingly."
' ' All very well to say so — know better — sly puss — will wear dress
— people say, pretty Quaker — and so on."
Susannah hastily left the room after this attack, and I told them
what had passed.
' ' Mrs. Cophagus," said I, " order a bonnet and shawl like vours for
her, without telling her, and perhaps you will persuade her to put
them on."
Mrs. Cophagus thought the idea excellent, and promised to procure
them. Susannah not making her re-appearance, I took leave, and ar-
rived at the hotel in good time for dinner.
" Japhet," said the general to me as we were at table, " you have
mentioned Lord Windermear very often, have you called upon him
lately?"
" No, sir, it is now two years and more since I have seen him.
When I was summoned to town to meet you, I was too much agitated
to think of anything else, and since that I have had too much pleasure
in jiiur company."
" Say, rather, my good boy, that you have nursed me so carefully
that you have neglected your friends and your health. Take my car-
riage to-morrow, and call upon him, and after that, you had better
20
;»00 JAPHET, in search OF A FATHER.
drive about a liUle, for you have been looking pale lliese last few days.
I hope to gel out myself in a short lime, and then we will liave plenty
of amusement together in setting up our establishment"
CHAPTER LXXVI.
I renew old ties of friendship, and seek new ones of love— Obliged to take my
father to task once more — He receives his lesson with proper obedience.
I TOOK the carriage the next day, and drove to Lord Windermear's.
He was at home, and I gave my name to Ihe servant as Mr. De Ben-
yon. It was the first time that I had made use of my own name. His
lordship was alone when I entered. He bowed, as if not recognising
me, and waved his hand to a chair.
" My lord, I have given my true name, and you treat me as a per-
fect stranger. I will mention my former name, and I trust you w ill
honour me with a recognition. I was Japhet Newland."
" My dear Mr. Newland, you must accept my apology ; but it is so
lung since we met, and I did not expect to see you again."
*' I thought, my lord, that Mr. Maslerton had informed you of what
had taken place."
** No; I have just come from a visit to my sisters in Westmoreland^
and have received no letters from him."
" I have, my lord, at last succeeded in finding out the object of my
mad search, as you were truly pleased to call il, in the Honourable
General De Benyon, lately arrived from the East Indies."
** Where his services are well known," added his lordship. "Mr.
De Benyon, I congratulate you with all my heart. When you refused
my offers of assistance, and left us all in that mad way, I certainly
despaired of ever seeing you again. I am glad that you re-appear
under such fortunate auspices. Has your father any family ? "
"None, my lord, but myself; and my mother died in the East
Indies."
*' Then, I presume, from what I know at the Board of Controul,
that you may noiu safely be introduced as a young gentleman ofjirge
fortune; allow me at least to assist your father in placing you in youi
proper sphere in society. Where is your father ? "
" At present, my lord, he is staying at the Adelphi Hotel, confined
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 307
lo his room by an accident, but I trust that, in a few days, he will bi^
able lo come out."
*' Will you offer my congratulations to him, and tell him, that if ho
will allow me, I will have the honour of paying my respects to him.
Will you dine with me on Monday next?"
I returned my thanks, accepted the invitation, and took my leave,
his lordship saying, as he shook hands \sith me, " You don't know
how happy this intelligence has made me. I trust that your father and
I shall be good friends."
When I returned to the carriage, as my father had desired me to
lake an airing, I thought I might as well have a companion, so I di-
rected them to drive to Mr. Cophagus's, The servant knocked, and I
went in as soon as the door was opened. Susannah and Mrs. Co-
phagus were sitting in the room.
" Susannah," said I, "I know you do not like to walk out, so 1
thought, perhaps, you would have no objection to take an airing in the
carriage; mv father has lent it to me, Will you come? — it will do
you good."
" It is very kind of you, Japhet, to think of me ; but '
" But what? " replied Mrs. Cophagus. " Surely thou wilt not re-
fuse, Susannah. It would savour much of ingratitude on thy part."
" I will not then be ungrateful," replied Susannah, leaving the room;
and in a short time she returned in a Leghorn bonnet and shawl like
her sister's. " Do not I prove that I am not ungrateful, Japhet, since
to do credit to thy carriage, I am content to depart from the rules of
our persuasion? " said Susannah, smiling.
" I feel the kindness and the sacriGce you are making to please me,
Susannah," replied I ; " but let us lose no time."
I handed her down lo the carriage, and we drove to the Park. It
was a beautiful day, and the Park was filled with pedestrians as well as
carriages. Susannah was much astonished, as well as pleased . ' ' Now,
Susannah," said I, "if you were to call this Vanity Fair, you would
not be far wrong; but still, recollect that even all this is productive of
much good. Reflect how many industrious people find employment
and provision for their families by the building of these gay vehicles,
their painting and ornamenting. How many arc employed at the loom,
and at the needle, in making these gay dresses. This vanity is Ibc
cause of wealth not being hoarded, but finding its way through various
channels, so as to produce comfort and happiness to thousands."
•' Your observations are just, Japhet, but you have lived in the world,
and seen much of it. I am as one just burst from an egg-shell, all
amazement. I have been livins in a little world of my own though^^^
•20 ■*
308 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
surrounded by a mist of ignorance, and not being able to penetrate
farther, have considered myself wise when I was not."
" My dear Susannah, this is a chequered world, but not a very bad
one — there is in it much of good as well as evil. The sect to which
you belong avoid it — they know it not — and they are unjust towards
it. During the time that I lived at Reading, I will candidly slate to you
that I met with many who called themselves of ihe persuasion, who
were wholly unworthy of it, but they made up in outward appearance
and hypocrisy, what they wanted in their conduct to their fellow-
creatures. Believe me, Susannah, there are pious and good, charitable
and humane, conscientious and strictly honourable people among those
who new pass before your view in such gay procession; but society
requires that the rich should spend their money in superfluities, that
the poor may be supported. Be not deceived, therefore, in future, by
the outward garments, which avail nothing. "
** You have induced me much to alter my opinions already Japhel;
so has that pleasant friend of thine, Mr. Masterton, who has twice
called since we have been in London : but is it not time that we should
return?"
" It is indeed later than I thought it was, Susannah," replied I, look-
mg at my watch, " and I am afraid that my father will be impatient
for my return. I will order them to drive home."
As we drove along, leaning against the back of the carriage, my hand
happened to touch that of Susannah, which lay beside her on the
cushion, I could not resist taking it in mine, and it was not withdrawn.
What my thoughts were, the reader may imagine : Susannah's I cannot
acquaint him with; but in that position we remained in silence until
the carriage stopped at Cophagus's door, I handed Susannah out of
the carriage, and went up stairs for a few moments. Mrs. Cophagus
and her husband were out.
" Susannah, this is very kind of you, and I return you my thanks.
I never fi^lt more happy than when seated with you in that carriage."
" I have received both amusement and inslruclion, Japhet, and
ought to thank you. Do you know what passed in my mind at one
time?"
"No— tell me."
** When I first knew you, and you came among us, I was, as it
were, the guide, a presumptuous one perhaps to you, and you listened
to me — now it is reversed — now that we are removed and in the world,
it is you that are the guide, and it is I who listen and obey."
** Because, Susannah, when we first met I was much in error, and
had thought too little of serious things, and you were fit to be my
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 30«
guide : now we are mixing in the world, with which I am better ac-
quainted than yourself. You then corrected me, when I was wrong :
I now point out to you where you are not rightly informed : but Su-
sannah, what you have learnt of me is as nouglit compared with the
valuable precepts which I gained from your lips — precepis which, I
trust, no collision with the world will ever make me forget."
"Oh! I love to hear you say that: I was fearful that the world
would spoil you, Japhet; but it will not — will it?"
" >'ot so long as I have you still with me, Susannah : but if I am
obliged to mix again with the world, tell me, Susannah, will you reject
me? — will you desert me? — will you return to your own people and
leave me so exposed? Susannah, dearest, you must know how long,
how dearly I have loved you : — you know that, if I had not been
sent for and obliged to obey the message, I would have lived and died
content with you. Will you not listen to me now, or do you reject
me?"
I put my arm round her waist, her head fell upon my shoulder, and
she burst into tears. " Speak, dearest, this suspense is torture to me,"
continued I.
" I do love you, Japhet," replied she at last, looking fondly at me
through her tears; " but I know not whether this earthly love may
not have weakened my affection towards Heaven. If so, may God
pardon me, for I cannot help it."
After this avowal, for a few minutes, which appeared seconds, we
were in each other's arms, when Susannah disengaged herself.
'* Dearest Japhet, thy father will be much displeased."
" I cannot help it," replied I, '* I shall submit to his displeasure."
" Xay, but, Japhet, why risk thy father's wrath?"
'* Well, then," replied I, attempting to reach her lips, " I will go."
'• Nay, nay — indeed, Japhet, you exact loo much — it is not seemly,"
" Then I won't go."
" Recollect about thy father."
" It is you who detain me, Susannah."
" I must not injure thee with thy father, Japhet, it were no proof of
my affection — but, indeed, you are self-willed."
" God bless you, Susannah," said I, as I gained the contested point,
and hastened to the carriage.
My father was a little out of humour when I returned, and ques-
tioned me rather sharply as to where I had been. I half pacified him
by delivering Lord Windermears polite message; but he continued
his interrogations, and although I had pointed out to him that a De
Benyon would never be guilty of an untruth, I am afraid I told some
half dozen on this occasion ; but I consoled mvself with the reflection.
310 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
lliat, in the code of honour of a fashionable man, lie is bound, il ne-
cessary, lo lell falsehoods where a lady is concerned ; so I said I had
driven through the streets looking at the houses, and had twice stopped
and had gone in to examine them. My father supposed that I had been
looking out for a house for him, and was satisfied. Fortunately they
were job horses ; had they been his own I should have been in a severe
scrape. Horses are the only part of an establishment which the gentle-
men have any consideration for, and on which ladies have no mercy.
I had promised the next day to dine with Mr. Masterton. My father
had taken a great aversion to this old gentleman until I had narrated
the events of my life, in which he had played such a conspicuous
and friendly part. Then, to do my father justice, his heart warmed
towards him.
" My dear Sir, I have promised to dine out to-day."
"With whom, Japhet ? " .
"Why, sir, to tell you the truth, with that 'old thief of a
lawyer.' "
" I am very much shocked at your using such an expression to-
wards one who has been such a sincere friend, Japhet; and you will
oblige me, sir, by not doing so again in my presence."
*' I really beg your pardon, general," replied I, " but I thought to
please you."
** Please me ! what do you think of me ? please me, sir, by showing
yourself ungrateful? — I am ashamed of you, sir."
"My dear father, I borrowed the expression from you. You
called Mr. Masterton ' an old thief of a lawyer ' to his face : he com-
plained to me of the language before I had the pleasure of meeting
you. I feel, and always shall feel, the highest respect, love, and
gratitude towards him. Have I your permission lo go?"
"Yes, Japhet," replied my father, looking very grave, "and do
me the favour to apologize for me to ?>Ir. Masterton for my having
used such an expression in ray unfortunate warmth of temper — I am
ashamed of myself. ''
" My dearest father, no man need be ashamed who is so ready
to make honourable reparation : — we are all a little out of temper at
times."
" You have been a kind friend to me, Japhet, as well as a good son,'
replied my father, with some emotion. "Don't forget the apology at
all events : I shall be unhappy until it be made. '
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATUliR 311
CHAPTER LXXVII.
it oatb ol apologies, and love comiug liom church — \\c thicsr^c with the luiiiob to
whi me a wile — I am successful in ray suit, yet the lawyer is still to play the cards
to enable me to win the game.
I ARRIVED at Mr. Maslerlon's, and walked inlo his room, wliciv
whom should I find in company with him but Ilarcourt.
" Japhet, I'm glad to see you : allow me to introduce you to Mr
Harcourt— Mr. De Benyon, " and the old gentleman grinned mali-
ciously, but I was not to be taken aback.
"Harcourt," said I, extending my hand, "I have to apologise to
you for a rude reception and for unjust suspicions, but I was vexed at
the time — if you will admit that as an excuse."
" My dear Japhet," replied Harcourt, taking my hand and shaking
it warmly, " I have to apologise to you for much more unworthy be-
haviour, and it will be a great relief to my mind if you will once more
enrol me in the list of your friends."
" And now, Mr. Maslerton," said I, "as apologies appear to he the
order of the day, I britig you one from the general, who has re-
quested me to make one to you for having called you an old thief of a
lawyer, of which he was totally ignorant until I reminded him of it
to-day."
Harcourt burst into a laugh .
"Well, Japhet, you may tell your old tiger, that 1 did not feel
particularly affronted, as I took his expression professionally and
not personally, and if he meant it in that sense, he was not far
wrong. Japhet, to-morrow is Sunday; do you go to meeting or to
church? "
" I believe, sir, that I shall go to church."
"Well, then, come with me :— be here at half-past two— we will
go to evening service at St. James's."
. "I have received many invitations, but I never yet received an m-
vitation to go to church, ' replied I.
" You will hear an extra lesson of the day— a portion of Susannah
and the Elders."
1 look the equivoque, ^^hicil was incomprehensible to Harcourl ;
I hardlv need sav. that the latter and I were on the best terms When.
312 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
we separated, Harcourt requested leave to call upon me the uext morn-
ing, and Mr. Masterton said that he should also pay his respects to the
tiger, as he invariably called my most honoured parent.
Harcourt was with me very soon after breakfast, and after 1 had
introduced him to my " Governor," we retired to talk without inter-
ruption.
" I have much to say to you, De Benyon," commenced Harcourt ;
" first let me tell you, that after I rose from my bed, and discovered
that you had disappeared, I resolved, if possible, to find you out and
induce you to come back. Timothy, who looked very sly at me,
would tell me nothing, but that the last that was heard of you was at
Lady de Clare's, at Richmond. Having no other clew, I went down
there, introduced myself, and as they will tell you, candidly ac-
knowledged that I had treated you ill. I then requested that they
would give me any clew by which you might be found, for I had an
opportunity of otlering to you a situation which was at my father's dis-
posal, and which any gentleman might have accepted, allhough it was
not very lucrative."
*' It was very kind of you, Harcourt."
"Do not say that, I beg. It was thus that I formed an acquaintance
with Lady de Clare and her daughter, whose early history, as Fleta,
I had obtained from you, but who, I little imagined to be the lillle girl
that you had so generously protected ; for it was not until after I had
deserted you, that you had discovered her parentage. The extreme
interest relative to you evinced by both the mother and the daughter
surprised me. They had heard of my name from you, but not of our
quarrel. They urged me, and thanked me for proposing, to follow
you and find you out : I did make every attempt. I went to Brentford,
inquired at all the public-houses, and of all the coachmen who went
down the road, but could obtain no information, except that at one
public-house, a gentleman stopped with a portmanteau, and soon af-
terwards went away with it on his shoulders. I returned to Richmond
with the tidings of my ill success about a week after I had first called
there. Cecilia was much affected and cried very bitterly. I could not
help asking Lady de Clare why she took such a strong interest in your
fortunes.' ' Who ought,' replied Cecilia, ' if his poor Fleta does not?'
' Good Heavens ! Miss de Clare, are you the little Fleta whom he
found with the gipsies, and talked to me so much about?' ' Did you
not know it?' said Lady de Clare. I then explained to her all that
had latterly passed between us, and they in return communicated your
events and dangers in Ireland. Thus was an intimacy formed, and
ever since I have been constantly welcome at their house. I did not,
however, abandon my inquiries for many months, when I thought it
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER SlIT
WHs
useless, and I had to console poor Cecilia, Avho constantly mourned'
for yon. And now, Japhet, I must make my story short : I could not
he'lp admiring a young person who showed so much attachment and
gratitude, joined to such personal attractions; but she was an heiress
and I was a younger brother. Still Lady de Clare insisted upon my
coming to the house, and I was undecided how to act, when the unfor-
tunate death of my elder brother put me in a situation to aspire to her
hand. After that my visits were more frequent, and I was tacitly re-
ceived as a suitor by Lady de Clare, and had no reason to complain of
the treatment I received from Cecilia. Such was the position of affairs
until the day on which you broke in upon us so unexpectedly, and at
the very moment that you came in, I had, with the sanction of her
mother,' made an offer to Cecilia, and was anxiously awaiting an
answer from her own dear lips. Can you therefore be surprised,
Japhet, at there being a degree of constraint on all sides at the inter-
ruption occasioned by ^he presence of one who had long been considered
lost to us? Or that a young person just deciding upon the most im-
portant step of her life should feel confused and agitated at the entrance
of a third party, however dear he might be to her as a brother and be-
nefactor?"
"I am perfectly satisfied, Harcourt," replied I: ''■ and I will go
there, and make my peace as soon as I can."
" Indeed, Japhet*, if you knew the distress of Cecilia you would pity
and love her more than ever. Her mother is also much annoyed. As
soon as you were gone, they desired me to hasten after you and bring
you back. Cecilia had not yet given her answer: I requested it
before my departure, but, I presume, to stimulate me, she declared
that she would give me no answer, until I re-appeared with you. This
is now three weeks ago, and I have not dared to go there. I have been
trying all I can to see you again since you repulsed me at the Piazza,
but without success, until I went to Mr. Masterton, and begged him
to procure me an interview. I thank God it has succeeded.*'
" >ye!l, Harcourt, you shall see Cecilia to-morrow morning, if you
please."
"Japhet, what obligations I am under to you! Had it not been for
you I never should have known Cecilia ; and more, were it not for
your kindness, I might perhaps lose her for ever."
" TSot so, Harcourt; it was your own good feeling prompted you o
find me out, which introduced you to Cecilia, and I wish ^ou joy with
all my heart. This is a strange world— who would have imagined
that in little Flela I was picking up a wife for a man whose life I nearly
took away? I will ask my governor for his carriage to-morrow, and
will call and take you up at your lodgings at two o'clock, if that hour
311 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
will suit you. I will tell you all Ihat has passed since I absconded,
when w'e are al Lady de Clare's; Jiie slory will do for all. '
Ilarcourt then took his leave, and I returned to my father, wit*li
whom I found Lord VVindermear.
' ' De Benyon, 1 am happy to see you again," said his lordship. ' ' I
have just been giving a very good character of you to the general ; I
hope you will continue to deserve it. "
'' I hope so too, my lord ; I should be ungrateful, indeed, if 1 did
not, after my father's kindness to me."
Mr. Masterton was then introduced : Lord Windermear shook hands
with him, and after a short conversation took his leave,
" Japhet," said Mr. Masterton aside, " I havea little business with
your father; get out of the room any way you think best.'
" There are but two ways, my dear sir," replied I, " the door or the
windows : with your permission, I will select the former, as most agree-
able :" so saying, I went to my own room. What passed between the
general and Mr. Masterton I did not know until afterwards, but Ihey
were closeted upwards of an hour, when I was sent for by Mr. Masterton .
'' Japhet, you said you would go with m.e to hear the new preacher ;
we have no time to lose : so, general, I shall take my leave and run
away with your son."
I followed Mr. Masterton into his carriage, and we drove to the lodg-
ing of Mr. Cophagus. Susannah was all ready, and Mr. Masterton
went up stairs and brought her down. A blush and a sweet smile
illumined her features when she perceived me stowed away in the corner
of the chariot. We drove ofT, and som.ehow or another our hands
again met and did not separate until we arrived at the church door
Susannah had the same dress on as when she had accompanied me in
my father's carriage. I went through the responses with her, reading
out of the same book, and I never felt more inclined to be devout, for
I was happy, and grateful to Heaven for my happiness. When the
service was over, we were about to enter the carriage, when who should
accost us but Ilarcourt.
' ' You are surprised to see me here," said he to Mr. Masterton, ' ' but
I thought there must be something very attractive, that you should
make an appointment with Japhet to go to this church, and as I am
very fond of a good sermon, I determined to come and hear it.
Harcourt's ironical look told mc all he would say.
" Well," replied Mr. Masterton, " 1 hope you have been edified —
now get out of the way, and let us get into the carriage. "
"To-morrow at two, Pe Benyon," said Harcourt, taking another
peep at Susannah.
. ",Yc3, punctually/ replied I, as the carriage drove ofT
JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATllEU. 315
' ' Ami now, my dear child, said Mr. Maslcrlon lo Susannah, as the
carriage rolled along, " tell me, have you been disappointed, or do you
agree with me ? Vou have atlended a meeting of your own persuasion
this morning— you have now, for the first time, listened to the ritual
of the Established Church. To which do you give the preference?"
" I will not deny, sir, that I think, in deparUng from the forms ol
worship, those of my persuasion did not do wisely. I would not ven-
ture thus much to say, but you support me in my judgment."
"You have answered like a good, sensible girl, and have proved
that you can think for yourself ; but observe, my child, I have persuaded
you for once, and once only, to enter our place of worship, that you
might compare and judge for yourself: it now remains for you to de-
ride as you please."
'• I would that some better qualified would decide for me," replied
Susannah, gravely.
"Your husband, Susannah," whispered I, " must take that respon-
sibility upon himself. Is he not the proper person?"'
Susannah slightly pressed my hand, which held hers, and said nothing,
As soon as we had conveyed her home, Mr. Masterton offered to do me
the same kindness, which I accepted.
" Now, Japhet, I dare say that you would like to know what it v>a5
I had so particular to say to the old general this mornins."
'' Of course I would, sir, if it concerned me."
" It did concern you, for we had not been two minutes in conver-
sation, before you were brought on the tapis; he spoke of you witli
tears in his eyes — of what a comfort you had been to him, and how
happy you had made him ; and that he could not bear you lo be away
from'hi'm for half ^n hour. • On that hint I spake,' and observed, that
he must not expeci you to continue in retirement long, neither must
he blame you, that when he had set up his establishment, you would
be as great a favourite as you were before, and be unable, without giv.
ing offence, to refuse the numerous invitations which you would receive,
In short, that it was nothing but right you should resume your position
in society, and it was bis duty to submit to it. The old governor did
not appear to like my observations, and said he expected otherwise from
you. I replied, ' that it was impossible to change our natures, and
the other sex would naturally have attractions which you would not
be able to resist, and that they would occupy a large portion of your
time. The only way to ensure his company, my dear sir, is lo marr\
him tea steady, amiable young woman, who, not having been thrown
into the vortex of fashion, will find pleasure in domestic life. Then
her husband will become ciually domestic, and you will be all very
happy together.' Your father agreed with me. an<l appeared very
316 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
anxious that it should take place. I then very carefully introduced
Miss Temple, saying, that I knew you had a slight partiality in that
quarter, highly commending her beauty, prudence, etc. I slated, that
feeling an interest about you, I had gone down into the country where
she resided, and had made her acquaintance, and had been much pleased
with her ; that since she had come up to town with her relations, I had
seen a great deal, and had formed so high an opinion, and so strong an
attachment to her, and had felt so convinced that she was the very person
who would make you happy and domestic, that havingno family myself,
I had some idea of adoptingher. At all events, that if she married you, I
was determined to give her something very handsome on the day of the
wedding."
*' But, my dear sir, why should you not have said that Susannah
Temple was left an orphan at seven years old, and her fortune has ac-
cumulated ever since? it is by no means despicable, I understand, from
Mr. Cophagus ; and moreover, Mr. Cophagus intends to leave her all
his property."
'' I am very glad to hear it, Japhet, and will not fail to communi-
cate all this to your father ; but there is no reason why I may not do
as I please with my own money — and I love that girl dearly. By-tbe-
by, have you ever said any thing to her."
" yes, sir! we are pledged to each other ?"
"That's all right; I thought so, when I saw your fingers hooked
together in the carriage. But now, Japhet, I should recommend a
little indifYerence — not exactly opposition, when your father proposes
the subject to you. It will make him more anxious, and when you
consent, more obliged to you. I have promised to call upon him to-
morrow, on that and other business, and you had better be out of the way . "
" I shall be out of the way, sir; I mean to go with Harcourt tc
Lady de Clare's. I shall ask for the carriage."
" He will certainly lend it to you, as he wishes to get rid of you ;
but here we are. God bless you, my boy."
CHAPTER LXXVHI.
The Bengal tiger taken in the toils, which promise a speedy en J to mine — I kindly
permit my father to insist upon the marriage that I have set my heart upon.
I FOUND my father, who had now completely recovered from his
accident, walking up and down the room in a brown study. He did
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 317
not speak to me until after dinner, when he commenced with asking
some questions relative to Cecilia de Glare. I replied, " that I in-
tended, if he did not want the carriage, to call there to-morrow with
Mr. Harcourt."
" Is she very handsome?" inquired he.
*• Very much so, sir. I do not think I ever saw a handsomer young
person. Yes, I do recollect one."
" Who was that?"
•* A young lady with whom I was slightly acquainted, when living
in the country."
" I have been thinking, my dear boy, that with the competence
which you will have, it is right that you should marry early ; in so
doing you will oblige your father, who is anxious to see his grand-
children before he dies. My health is not very good."
I could not help smiling at this pathetic toucli of the old governor's,
who, if one could judge from appearances, was as strong as a lion,
and likely to last almost as long as his dutiful son. Moreover, his
appetite was enormous, and he invariably finished his bottle every
day. I did not therefore feel any serious alarm as to hishcalih, but
I nevertheless replied, " Matrimony is a subject upon which I have
never thought," — (a hem ! a DeBenyon never tells an untruth 1) " I
am very young yet, and am too happy to remain witli you."
" But, my dear boy, I propose that you shall remain with me —
we will all live together. I do not intend that we shall part. I really
wish, Japhet, you would think seriously of it.''
" My dear father, allow me to observe, that at present I am not in a
situation to support a wife, and I should be sorry to be a tax upon you,
at your age; you require many comforts and luxuries, and I presume
that you live up to your income."
"Then, my dear fellow, you are under a great mistake. I can lay
down one hundred thousand pounds on the day of your marriage, with
any lady whom I approve of, and still not spend half my remaining in-
come."
"That, sir," replied I, " certainly removes one difficulty, at the
same time that it proves what a generous and indulgent falher I am
blessed with ; but, sir, with such a fortune, I have a right to expect that
the lady will also bring a handsome addition. Miss De Clare is en-
gaged, I believe, to Mr. Harcourt, or I might have made strong inte-
rest in that quarter."
"Something, my dear boy; but a moderate fortune now-a-days is
all that we expect with wives, and the best wives are those who are not
born to loo much wealth; still she should bring something ; but, tell
318 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
mc, Japhel, who is thai young lady whom you Ihouglit handsomer
than Miss Dc Clare?"
''A Miss Temple, sir. "
■' Temple — it is a very good name. I think girls brought up in the
country make the best wives."
" They do, sir, most certainly ; they are more domestic, and make
(heir husbands more content and happy at home."
" Well, my dear boy, I have mentioned the subject, and wish you
would think of it. You will please me much."
" My dear father, I shall be most happy to obey in every thing else,
but in so serious a point as uniting myself for life, I think you must
allow that a little discretionary power should be given to a son. All I
can say is this, show me a young person who is eligible, and if I find
that I can love her, I will not refuse to obey your wishes."
"Well, sir, do as you please," replied my father, very angrily, "but
I think, sir, wiien I desire you to fall in love, it is your duty to obey.'
"Suppose I was to fall in love with a person you did not like, would
you allow me to marry her?"
"Most certainly not, sir."
"Then, sir, is it reasonable to expect me to marrv without beins in
love?"
"I did not marry for love, sir."
"No," replied I, forgetting myself a little ; "and a pretty mess you
made of it."
" I did," rejoined my father in a rage, "by begetting an undutiful,
good-for-noihing, graceless, insolent, ungrateful son."
"My dear father, I was not aware that I had a brother.
"I mean you, sir."
" To prove to you how unjust you are, sir, and how Htlle I deserve
what you have called me, T now promise you to marry as soon as you
wish."
" Thank you, my boy, that's kind of you ; but 1 will say that you
are a comfort and a treasure to me, and I bless the day that brought
you to my arms. Well, then, look about you."
''No, sir, I leave it all to you ; select the party, and I am willing to
obey you."
"My dear boy! Weil, then, I'll talk the matter oveV with Mr.
Masterton to-morrow-," and the general shook me warmly by the
hand.
The next day I picked up Harcourt, and proceeded to Park Street
A note from Harcourt had informed them of our intended visit, and
other visitors had been denied. "All has been explained, Cecilia/
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 319
said I, aflcr Iho first greeting. "I was very wrong, and very
foolish."
"And made me very miserable. 1 little thought that you, Japhet,
would have made me cry so much ; but I forgive you for it, as I would
a thousand times as much more. Now sit down and tell us all that has
happened since you left us."
"Not yet, my dear Cecilia. You, as well as I, owe a reparation to
poor Harcourt, whom, I think, you have treated cruelly.- You were
about to answer a question of vital moment when I broke in upon you ,
and you have since kept him in a state of cruel suspense for more
than three weeks, refusing him an answer until he brought me into your
presence. An hour of such suspense must be dreadful, and before we
sit down, I wish every one should feel comfortable and happy."
** It was not altogether to stimulate Mr. Harcourt to bring you back,
which induced me to refuse to answer his question, Japhet. I consi-
dered that your return had rendered it necessary that it should be de-
ferred until I saw you. I have not forgotten, Japhet, and never forget,
what I was when you rescued me ; and when I think what I might
have been had you not saved me, I shudder at the bare idea. I liavc
not forgotten how you risked, and nearly lost your life in Ireland for
my sake — neither has my mother. We are indebted to you for all our
present happiness, and I am eternally indebted to you for rescuing me
from ignorance, poverty, and, perhaps vice. You have been more,
much more than a father to me — more, much more than a brother.
I am, as it were, a creature of your own fashioning, and I owe to you
that which I never can repay. When, then, you returned so unex-
pectedly, Japhet, I felt that you had a paramount right in my disposal,
and I was glad that I had not replied to Mr. Harcourt, as I wished first
for your sanction emd approval. I know all that has passed between
you, but I know not your real feelings towards Mr. Harcourt; he
acknowledges that he treated you very ill, and it was his sincere re-
pentance of having so done, and his praise of you, which first won my
favour. And now, Japhet, if you have still animosity against Mr
Harcourt — if you "
**Stop, my dear Fleta, I will answer all your questions at once."
I took Harcourt's hand, and placed it in her's. " May God bless you
both, and may you be happy ! "
Cecilia threw her arms round me and wept ; so did every body else,
I believe. It was lucky for Harcourt that I was in love with Susannah
Temple. As soon as Cecilia had recovered a little, I kissed her, and
passed her over to her right owner, who led her to the sofa. Lady de
Clare and I went out of the room on important business, and did not
return for a quarter of an hour. When we returned. Cecilia went to
S^ JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
her mother and embraced her, while Harcourt silently squeezed my
hand. We then all sat down, and I gave them an account of all that
had passed during my second excursion — how I had nearly been hanged
—how I had gone mad — how I had turned Quaker and apothecary —
which they all agreed, with what had happened to me before, made up
a very eventful history.
"And, Japhet, if it be a fair question about one so fair, was that
Miss Temple who was at church with you yesterday?"
*'Itwas."
" Then, Cecilia, if ever she appears in the same circle, except in my
eyes, your beauty will stand in some danger of being eclipsed."
"How can you say, except in your eyes, Mr. Harcourt," replied
Cecilia, " the very observation proves that it is eclipsed in your eyes,
whatever it may be in those of others. Now, as a punishment, I have
agreat mind to order you away again, until you bring her face to face,
that I may judge myself.'
" If I am again banished," replied Harcourt, " I shall have a second
time to appeal to De Benyon to be able to come back again. He can
produce her, I have no doubt."
"And perhaps may, some of these days, Cecilia."
'•'Oh! do, Japhet. I will love her so."
"You must wait a little first. I am not quite so far advanced as
you and Harcourt. I have not received the consent of all parlies, as
you have to-day. But I must now leave you, Harcourt; I presume
you will dine here. I must dine w ith my governor."
On my return, I found that the table was laid for three, and that the
general had asked Mr. Masterton, from which I augured well. Mas-
terton could not speak to me when he arrived, but he gave me a wink
and a smile, and I was satisfied. " Japhet," said my father, "you have
no engagement to-morrow, I hope, because I shall call at Mr. Master-
ton's on business, and wish you to accompany me."
I replied, ''that I should be most happy," and the conversation
became general.
I accompanied my father the next day to Lincoln's Inn, and when
w^e went up, we found Mr. Masterton at the table, with Mr. Cophagus
and Susannah siting apart near the window. "The plot thickens,"
thought I. The fact was, as I was afterwards told by Mr. Masterton,
he had prevailed upon Cophagus to pretend business, and to bring Su-
sannah with him, and appointed them a quarter of an hour before our
time. This he had arranged, that the general might see Miss Temple,
as if by accident ; and also allow me, who, my father supposed, w^as not
aware of Miss Temple being in town, to meet with her. What a deal
of humbug there is in this world ! Nothing but plot and counterplot t
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 321
I shook hands with Cophagus, who, I perceived, had, notwithstanding
his w ife's veto, put on his bUie cotton net pantaloons and Hessian boots,
and he appeared to be so tight in both, that he could hardly move. As
far as I could judg(?, his legs had not improved since I had last seen
them in this his favourite dress.
" Mr. De Benyon, I believe that you have met Miss Temple before,"
said Mr. Masterton, winking at me. ** In Berkshire, was it not? Miss
Temple, allow me to introduce General De Benyon."
I went up to Susannah, who coloured and trembled at the sight of my
father, as I expressed my hope that she had been well since we last
met. She perceived that there was some planned scheme, and was so
puzzled that she said nothing. My father then spoke to her, and after
a short time, took a chair and sealed himself close to her. I never
knew her make herself so agreeable. He asked her where she was
slaying, and when he heard that it was with Mr. Cophagus, he said
that he should have the pleasure of calling upon Mr. Cophagus, and
thank him for his kind information relative to me. Shortly afterwards
Cophagus took his leave, and Susannah rose to accompany him, when
my father, hearing that they had walked, insisted upon pulling Miss
Temple down in his carriage. So that Mr. Cophagus had to walk
home one wav, and I the other.
CH.VPTER LXXIX.
Poor Cophagus finds an end to his adventures by the means of a mad bull; I of
mine, by matrimony— Father is prettily behaved, and my Quaker wife the most
fashionably dressed lady in town — verily ! hum !
Alas ! little did Mr. Cophagus know how fatal to him would be the
light cotton nets when he put them on that day. He had proceeded, as
it appears, about two-thirds of his way home, (he lived in Welbeck
Street,) when he perceived a rush from up a street leading into Oxford
Street. He looked to ascertain the cause, when to his horror he per-
ceived—what to him was the greatest of all horrors— a mad bull . If any
thing could make Mr. Cophagus run, it was a sight like that, and he
did run ; but he could not run fast in his cotton nets and light Hessians,
which crippled him altogether. As if out of pure spite, the bull singled
him out from at least one hundred, who exerted their agility, and again
was poor Mr. Cophagus tossed far behind the animal, fortunately break-
21
322 JAPHETj IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
ing his fall by tumbling on a large dog who was in full chase. Thr
dog, w'ho was unable to crawl from beneath the unfortunate Cophagus.
was still in a condition to bite, which he did most furfously ; and the
butcher, who had an affection for his dog, when he perceived its con-
dition, also vented his fury upon poor Cophagus, by saluting him with
several blows on his head with his cudgel. What between the bull,
the dog, and the butcher, poor Mr. Cophagus was taken into a shop in
a very deplorable condition. After some time he recovered, and was
able to name his residence, when he was taken home.
It was late in the evening when I received a note from Susannah, in-
forming me of that unfortunate accident. My falher had just finislied
a long story about filial duty, country girls, good wives, etc., and had
wound up by saying, that he and Mr. Masterton both considered that
Miss Temple would be a very eligible match, and that as I had requested
him to select, he had selected her accordingly. I had just proved how
truly dutiful I was, by promising to do all I could to love her, and to
fulfil his wishes, when the note w as put in my hands. I read it, stated
its contents to my father, and, with his permission, immediately jumped
into a hackney coach, and drove to Welbeck Street.
On my arrival I found poor Mrs. Cophagus in a state of syncope,
and Susannah attending her. I sent for the surgeon who had been
called in, and then went up to Mr. Cophagus. He was much better
than T expected — calm, and quite sensible. His wounds had been
dressed by the surgeon, but he did not appear to be aware of the ex-
tent of the injury he had received. When the surgeon came I ques-
tioned him. He informed me although much hurt, he did not consider
that there was any danger to be apprehended ; there were no bones
broken ; the only fear that he had w as, that there might be some in-
ternal injury; but at present that could not be ascertained, I thanked
him, and consoled Mrs. Cophagus with this information. I then re-
turned to her husband, who shook his head, and muttered, as I put my
ear down to hear him. " Thought so — come to London — full of mad
bulls — tossed — die — and so on."
" no !" replied I, "the surgeon says that there is no danger. You
will be up in a week — but now you must keep very quiet. I will send
Mrs. Cophagus to you."
I went out, and finding her composed, I desired her to go to her hus-
band, who wished to see her, and I was left alone with Susannah. I
told her all that had passed, and after two delightful hours had escaped,
I returned home to the hotel. My father had waited up for some time,
and finding that I did not return, had retired. When I met him the
next morning I mentioned what the surgeon had said, but slated that,
in my opinion, there was great cause for alarm in a man of Mr. Co-
JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 3-2ii
j^hagus s advanced age. My falher agreed with me, but could not help
pointing out what a good opportunity this would afTord for my paying
my attentions to Miss Temple, as it was natural that I should be inte-
rested about so old a friend as Mr. Cophagus. My filial duty inclined
me to reply, that I should certainly avail myself of such a favourable
opportunity.
My adventures are now drawing to a close. I must pass over three
months, during which my father had taken and furnished a house in
Grosvenor Square ; and I, whenever I could spare time, had, under the
auspices of Lord Windermear, again been introduced into the world as
Mr. De Benyon. I found that the new name was considered highly
respectable, my father's hall tables were loaded with cards, and I even
received two dinner invitations from Lady Maelstrom, who told me
how her dear nieces had w ondered what had become of me, and that
they were afraid that Louisa would have fallen into a decline. And
during these three months Cecilia and Susannah had been introduced,
and had become as inseparable as most young ladies are, who have a
lover a-piece, and no cause for jealousy. Mr. Cophagus had so far
recovered as to be able to go down into the country, vowing, much to
the chagrin of his wife, that he never would put his foot in London
again. He asked me whether I knew any place where there were no
mad bulls, and I took some trouble to find out, but I could not ; for
even if he went to the Xorlh Pole, although there were no bulls, yet
there were bull bisons and musk bulls, which were even more savage.
Upon which he declared that this was not a world to live in, and to
prove that he was sincere in his opinion, poor fellow% about three
months after his retirement into the country, he died from a general
decay, arising from the shock produced on his system. But before
these three months had passed, it had been finally arranged that Har-
court and I w ere to be united on the same day ; and having renewed
my acquaintance w ith the good bishop, whom I had taxed with being
my father, he united us both to our respective partners. My father
made over to me the sum which he had mentioned. Mr. Masterton
gave Susannah ten thousand pounds, and her own fortune amounted
to as much more, with the reversion of Mr. Cophagus's property at the
decease of his widow. Timothy came up to the wedding, and I formally
put him in the possession of my shop and stock in trade, and he has
now a flourishing business. Although he has not yet found his mother,
he has found a very pretty wife, which he says does quite as well, if
not belter.
Let it not be supposed that I forgot the good services of Kathleen —
who w as soon after married to Corny. A small farm on Fleta's estate
was appropriated to them, at so low a rent, that in a few years they
•21*
321 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
were able to purchase the properly, and Corny, from a levelh^r, as
soon as he was comfortable, became one of the Government's firmest
supporters.
I am now Hving in the same house with my father, who is very
happy, and behaves pretty well. He is seldom in a passion more
than twice a-week, which we consider as miraculous. Now that I
am writing this, he has, his two grandchildren on his knees. Mrs. Co-
phagus has married a captain in the Life Guards, and as far as fashion
and dress are concerned, may be said to be *' going the whole hog."
And now, as I have no doubt that my readers will be curious to know
whether my lovely w ife adheres to her primitive style of dress, I shall
only repeat a conversation of yesterday night, as she came down ar-
rayed for a splendid ball given by Mrs. Harcourt de Clare.
" Tell menow, DeBenyon," said she, "is not this a pretty dress?"
" Yes, my dear," replied I, looking at her charming face and figure
with all the admiration usual in the honeymoon, *' it is indeed ; but do
you not think, Susan," said I, putting the tip of my white glove upon
her snowy shoulder, " that it is cut down a little too low ?"
" Too low, dc Benyon ! why it's not half so low as Mrs. Harcourt
De Clare or Lady C- wear their dresses."
" Well, my dear, I did not assert that it was. I only asked."
"■ Well, then, if you only asked for information, De Benyon, I will
tell you that it is not too low, and I think you will acknowledge that
on this point my opinion ought to be decisive ; for if I have no other
merit, I have at least the merit of being the best-dressed woman in
London."
'* Verily thou persuadest me, Susannah," replied L
" Now, De Benyon, hold your tongue."
Like a well-disciplined husband, I bowed, and said no more. And
now, having no more to say, I shall also make my bow to my readers,
and bid them farewell.
THE END.
J %