Japhet in Search of a Father. Фредерик Марриет

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СКАЧАТЬ handkerchief,” replied the young man. “I always keeps it in my breeches’ pocket.”

      “But not in your neighbour’s, I presume?”

      “My neighbour’s!” replied he, with a vacant stare. “Well, so it is, I see now—I thought it was my own.”

      I released his hand; he immediately put it into his own pocket, and drew out his handkerchief, if the rag deserved the appellation.

      “There,” said he, “I told you I put it in that pocket—I always do.”

      “And pray who are you?” said I, as I looked at his dress, which was a pair of loose white Turkish trowsers, and an old spangled jacket.

      “Me! why, I’m the fool.”

      “More knave than fool, I expect,” replied I, still much puzzled with his strange appearance and dress.

      “Nay, there you mistake,” said the voice of last night. “He is not only a fool by profession, but one by nature. It is a half-witted creature, who serves me when I would attract the people. Strange, in this world, that wisdom may cry in the streets without being noticed, yet folly will always command a crowd.”

      During this address I turned my eyes upon the speaker. He was an elderly-looking person, with white hair, dressed in a suit of black, ruffles and frill. His eyes were brilliant, but the remainder of his face it was difficult to decipher, as it was evidently painted, and the night’s jumbling in the waggon had so smeared it, that it appeared of almost every colour in the rainbow. On one side of him lay a large three-cornered cocked hat, on the other, a little lump of a boy, rolled up in the straw like a marmot, and still sound asleep. Timothy looked at me, and when he caught my eye, burst out into a laugh.

      “You laugh at my appearance, I presume,” said the old man, mildly.

      “I do in truth,” replied Timothy. “I never saw one like you before, and I dare say never shall again.”

      “That is possible; yet probably if you meet me again you would not know me.”

      “Among a hundred thousand,” replied Timothy, with increased mirth.

      “We shall see, perhaps,” replied the quack doctor, for such the reader must have already ascertained to be his profession; “but the waggon has stopped, and the driver will bait his horses. If inclined to eat, now is your time. Come, Jumbo, get up; Philotas, waken him, and follow me.”

      Philotas, for so was the fool styled by his master, twisted up some straw, and stuffed the end of it into Jumbo’s mouth. “Now Jumbo will think he has got something to eat. I always wake him that way,” observed the fool, grinning at us.

      It certainly, as might be expected, did waken Jumbo, who uncoiled himself, rubbed his eyes, stared at the tilt of the waggon, 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 waggon having remained about an hour, the driver gave as notice of his departure; but the doctor was nowhere to be found. After a little delay, the waggoner drove off, cursing him for a bilk, and vowing that he’d never have any more to do with a “lamed man.” In the mean time Timothy and I had taken our seats in the waggon, in company with the fool, and Master Jumbo. We commenced a conversation with the former, and soon found out, as the doctor had asserted, that he really was an idiot, so much so that it was painful to converse with him. As for the latter, he had coiled himself away to take a little more sleep. I forgot to mention, that the boy was dressed much in the same way as the fool, in an old spangled jacket, and dirty white 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 waggoner.

      The waggon did not stop, but in a moment or two the new passenger climbed in. He was dressed in a clean smock frock, neatly worked up the front, leather gaiters, and stout shoes; a bundle and a stick were in his hand. He smiled as he looked round upon the company, and showed a beautiful set of teeth. His face was dark, and sun-burnt, but very handsome, and his eyes as black as coals, and as brilliant as gas. “Heh! player folk—I’ve a notion,” said he, as he sat down, looking at the doctor’s attendants, and laughing at us. “Have you come far, gentlemen?” continued he.

      “From London,” was my reply.

      “How do the crops look up above, for down here the turnips seem to have failed altogether? Dry seasons won’t do for turnips.”

      I replied that I really could not satisfy him on that point, as it was dark when we passed.

      “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 out 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 two 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, ‘Excipenda tamen quaedam sunt urbium,’ as Philostratus says, meaning, ‘That old limbs lose their activity, and seek the help of a crutch.’”

      “There’s the doctor,” cried Timothy, with his eyes still shut.

      “Now 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 guinea in mine,” replied I.

      We opened our hands, and they were empty.

      “Where the devil is it?” exclaimed СКАЧАТЬ