The Thorogood Family. Robert Michael Ballantyne

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      The Thorogood Family

      Chapter One

      This family was not only Thorogood but thorough-going. The father was a blacksmith, with five sons and one daughter, and he used to hammer truth into his children’s heads with as much vigour as he was wont to hammer the tough iron on his anvil; but he did it kindly. He was not a growly-wowly, cross-grained man, like some fathers we know of—not he. His broad, hairy face was like a sun, and his eyes darted sunbeams wherever they turned. The faces of his five sons were just like his own, except in regard to roughness and hair. Tom, and Dick, and Harry, and Bob, and Jim, were their names. Jim was the baby. Their ages were equally separated. If you began with Jim, who was three, you had only to say—four, five, six, seven—Tom being seven.

      These five boys were broad, and sturdy, like their father. Like him, also, they were fond of noise and hammering. They hammered the furniture of their father’s cottage, until all of it that was weak was smashed, and all that was strong became dreadfully dinted. They also hammered each other’s noses with their little fat fists, at times, but they soon grew too old and wise for that; they soon, also, left off hammering the heads of their sister’s dolls, which was a favourite amusement in their earlier days.

      The mention of dolls brings us to the sister. She was like her mother—little, soft, fair, and sweet-voiced; just as unlike her brothers in appearance as possible—except that she had their bright blue, blazing eyes. Her age was eight years.

      It was, truly, a sight to behold this family sit down to supper of an evening. The blacksmith would come in and seize little Jim in his brawny arms, and toss him up to the very beams of the ceiling, after which he would take little Molly on his knee, and fondle her, while “Old Moll,” as he sometimes called his wife, spread the cloth and loaded the table with good things.

      A cat, a kitten, and a terrier, lived together in that smith’s cottage on friendly terms. They romped with each other, and with the five boys, so that the noise used sometimes to be tremendous; but it was not an unpleasant noise, because there were no sounds of discontent or quarrelling in it. You see, the blacksmith and his wife trained that family well. It is wonderful what an amount of noise one can stand when it is good-humoured noise.

      Well, this blacksmith had a favourite maxim, which he was fond of impressing on his children. It was this— “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, doing it as if to the Lord, and not to men.” We need hardly say that he found something like this maxim in the Bible—a grand channel through which wisdom flows to man.

      Of course he had some trouble in teaching his little ones, just as other fathers have. One evening, when speaking about this favourite maxim, he was interrupted by a most awful yell under the table.

      “Why, what ever is the matter with the cat?” said the blacksmith in surprise.

      “It’s on’y me, fadder,” said little Jim; “I found hims tail, and I pulled it wid all my might!”

      “Ah, Jim!” said Mrs Thorogood, laughing, as she placed a huge plate of crumpets on the table, “it’s only when a thing is right we are to do it with our might. Pulling the cat’s tail is wrong.

      “Come now, supper’s ready.”

      “Capital poetry, Old Moll,” shouted the blacksmith, as he drew in his chair, “but not quite so good as the supper. Now, then—silence.”

      A blessing was asked with clasped hands and shut eyes. Then there was a sudden opening of the eyes and a tendency in little hands to grasp at the crumpets, buttered-toast, bacon, and beans, but good training told. Self-restraint was obvious in every trembling fist and glancing eye. Only curly-haired little Jim found the smell too much for him. He was about to risk reputation and everything, when a glance from his father quelled the rebellious spirit.

      “Come, Jim, fair-play. Let it go right round, like the sun,—beginning wi’ mother.”

      Then silence reigned for a time—a profound silence—while upwards of two hundred teeth went to work. Ere long most of the children were buttered to the eyes, and their rosy cheeks glistened like ripe apples. Soon the blacksmith drew a long breath and paused. Looking round with a benign smile he asked little Jim how he got along.

      “Fust rate,” said Jim.

      “How I wish,” said Dick, with a sad look at the toast, “that we might go on eatin’ for ever.”

      “Is it right, daddy,” asked Tom, during a pause, “to eat with all our might?”

      “Certainly, my boy, till you’ve had enough. After that it’s wrong to eat at all. ‘Enough’s as good as a feast,’ you know. Now, Old Moll, one more cup to wash it all down, and then we’ll go in for a confabulation round the fire.”

      Now, nothing rejoiced the hearts of that family so much as a confabulation round the fire on a winter night, or under the great elm in front of the forge on the village green in summer.

      The table was cleared as if by magic, for every member of the family helped. Soon, little Jim was sleeping as sound as a top in his crib, and Mrs Thorogood, with her knitting, joined the others at the fire, by the light of which the blacksmith made a little boat for Harry with a gully knife and a piece of stick.

      “It’s a stormy night,” said Mrs Thorogood, as a violent gust of wind came down the chimney and rattled the window-frames.

      “Ah, it was on just such a night that, my dear old father and mother were burnt out of house and home,” said the blacksmith; “well do I mind about it, for I was over ten years old at the time. We never found out what it was that set the house alight, but when it had once caught, it fetched way like lightning—the wind was so high. The first thing that woke me was sneezin’ wi’ the smoke. Then, I’d just opened my eyes when I saw the head of a ladder come crash through the window. It was the fire-escape. Father tried to save mother, but he was lame, and fell down half-choked. I tried to help him, but I was too young. Then a strapping fireman stepped in at the window, as cool as a cucumber, pitched us all into the escape, one after another; and so, through God’s mercy, we were saved. I’ve loved the firemen ever since. They are the boys to show you how to do things well; to do things with might and main, and no fuss, and to submit to discipline without a word.”

      “Oh, father!” cried Harry with blazing eyes, “I should dearly like to be a fireman, an’ go fightin’ the flames.”

      “And Dick?” asked Mrs Thorogood, “wouldn’t you like to be one, too?”

      “No, mother. It’s very grand, but I don’t like smoke. I’d rather be a lifeboat-man, to fight wi’ the storm, and save people from the roarin’ waves.”

      Tom glanced at one of his toy ships, and said he’d like to fight the battles of his country on the sea. Bob looked affectionately at a wooden sword and gun which stood in a corner, and thought he’d prefer to fight his battles on the land.

      “You’re all for fighting, I see,” chimed in soft-eyed Molly; “I wonder what little Jim would like to be, if he was awake.”

      “I know what battles I would like to see him fighting,” said Mrs Thorogood.

      “Why,” exclaimed the blacksmith in surprise, “I thought you hated fighting of all kinds?”

      “No, not all kinds. I should like to see little Jim fighting СКАЧАТЬ