Japhet in Search of a Father

Mr Pleggit, on the contrary, was anything but pleased; he went to a lawyer, and commenced an action for assault and battery, and all the neighbourhood did nothing but talk about the affray 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 Cophagus. I had been more than three years with him when my confinement 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 world in the hope of finding 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, indifferent to the business, and slovenly in my appearance, when a circumstance occurred which put an end to my further dispensing medicines, and left me a free agent.

Part 1—Chapter VII

Looking out for Business not exactly minding your own Business—The Loss of the Scales occasions the Loss of Place to Timothy and me, who when weighed in other Scales were found wanting—We bundle off with 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 the cries of “Mad bull!” were re-echoed in every quarter.

Mr Cophagus, who was in the shop, and to whom, as I have before observed, a mad bull was a source of 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 indulging 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 direction, 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 Cophagus, 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 with 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 hallooes 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 Cophagus, who remained on the floor bleeding, and in a state of insensibility. We carried him into the back parlour and laid him on the sofa. I desired Timothy to run for surgical aid as fast as he could, while I opened a vein; and in a few minutes he returned with our opponent, Mr Ebenezer Pleggit. We stripped Mr Cophagus, and proceeded to examine him. “Bad case this—very bad case, indeed, Mr Newland—dislocation of the os humeri—severe contusion on the os frontis—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 departure, shaking hands with Mr Cophagus, and wishing him joy of his providential escape. “Bad job, Japhet,” said Mr Cophagus to me. “Very bad, indeed; sir; but it might have been worse.”

“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—shan’t though—soon get rid of him—and so on.”

“You will not require his further attendance now that your shoulder 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 great 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. It 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 toss him, and having now realised a comfortable independence, he had resolved to retire from business, and from a site attended with so much danger. A hint of this escaping him when Mr Pleggit was 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 rascally 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.”

In three weeks everything 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 will, yet as Timothy and I were not included in the good will, neither were we included among the 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 my 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 same time presented me with twenty guineas, as a 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 he 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 fortune.

“And now, 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, “I 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 the mortar 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 inclination 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 fee’d as an M.D., and a lad who only carries out his prescriptions.”

“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 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 comes 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 ready; a bundle each, contained our wardrobes. We descended from our attic, walked proudly through the shop without making any observation, or taking any notice of our successors; all 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 defenders, as well as to hang our bundles on—and off we set upon our pilgrimage.

Part 1—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 Timothy 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 mustn’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 coming. I always do take one when I carry out medicines, to make up for the time I lose looking at 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 bargain.”

“With the coachman’s whip, I presume?”

“Exactly.” And Timothy had hardly time to get 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 trowsers, having called out Cut behind! Not 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 waggon, 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 waggon.”

“Oh! it’s no use now—waggons are like black beetles, not only 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 appetite—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!”

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, where we purchased our bread; and then taking up a position on a bench outside a public-house, called for a pot of beer, and putting our provisions down before us, made a hearty, and, what made us more enjoy it, an independent meal. Having 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 waggon 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 waggoner, 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 ye 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 the bundles.