Japhet in search of a father

Front matter

I

I

4*7*

Chapter II

LIKE ALL TYROS, I FIND THE RUDIMENTS OF LEARNING EXTREMELV DIFFICULT AND LABORIOUS, BUT ADVANCE SO RAPIDLY THAT I CAN DO WITHOUT MY MASTER.

A TALL, fresh-coloured, but hectic looking young man, stood behind the counter, making up prescriptions, and a dirty lad, about thirteen years old, was standing near with his basket tc deliver the medicines to the several addresses, as soon as they were ready. The young man behind the counter, whose name wfts Brookes, was within eighteen months of serving his time, when his friends intended to establish him on his own account, and this was the reason which induced Mr. Cophagus to take me, that I might learn the business, and supply his place when he left. Mr. Brookes was a very quiet, amiable person, kind to me and the other boy who carried out the medicines, and \vho had been taken by Mr. Cophagus, for his food and raiment. The porter told Mr. Brookes who I was, and left me. “ Be you think that you will like to be an apothecary ?” said Mr Brookes to me with a benevolent smile.

JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.

“ 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 havVt got through your rudiviaTis

“ Hold your tongue, Timothy,” said Mr. Brookes. That you are not very fond of the rudiments, as Mr. Cophagus calls them, is very clear. Now walk off as fast as you can with these medicines, sir — 14, Spring Street ; 16, Cleaver Street, as before ; and then to John Street, 55, Mrs. Smith’s. Bo 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 summon dusses, horez, diez, cockly hairy. I mean to set up for myself one of these days.”

I’ll knock you down one of these days, Mr. Tunothy, if you stay so long as you do, looking at the print shops ; tliat you may depend upon.”

“ I keep up all my learning that way,” replied Timothy, walking off with his load, turning his head round and laughing at me, as he quitted the shop. Mr. Brookes smiled, but said nothing.

As Timothy went out, in came Mr. Cophagus. “Heh ! Japhet — I see,” said he, putting up his cane, “ nothing to do — bad — must work — um — and so on. Mr. Brookes — boy learn rudiments — good — and so on.” Hereupon Mr. Cophagus took his cane from his nose, pointed to the large ii’on mortar, and then walked away into the back parlour. Mr. Brookes understood his master, if I did not. He wiped out the mortar, threw in some drugs, and, showing me how to use the pestle, left me to my work. In half an hour I discovered why it was that Timothy had such an objection to what Mr. Cophagus facetiously termed the rudiments of the profession. It was dreadful hard work for a boy ; the perspiration ran down me in streams, and I could hardly lift my arms. When Mr. Cophagus passed through the shop and looked at me, as I continued to thump away with the heavy iron pestle, “ Good,” —

JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER.

IS said he, “by-aiid-by — M.D. — and so on.” I thought it was a very rough road to such preferment, and I stopped to take a little breath. “By-the-bye — Japhet — Christian name — and so on — sirname — heh !” • •

“ 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 bpen named after the celebrated personage whose signature it bore. “ Newland 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 — urn — very comfortable — and so on,” replied Mr. Cophagus, leaving the shop.

I resumed my thumping occupation, when Timothy returned with his empty bhsket. He laughed when he saw me at work. “Well, how do you like the rudimans ? — and so on — heh ?” said he, mimicking 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 those 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 ])ranclium, is there, Mr. Brookes ?”

“No, Tim ; hut ;post prandium, you’ll ^05/ 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 take this opportunity of introducing Mr. Timothy more particularly, as he- will play a very conspicuous part in this narrative. Tkn othy was short in stature for his age, but very strongly built. He had an oval face, with a very dark complexion, grey eyes

JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.

flashing 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 perceptible 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 company, 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,” rej^lied 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 was 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 physic a snipe. AV^hat’s your other name, Japhet ?”

“ Newland.”

“ Newland — now you shall have mine in exchange : Timotny Oldmixon 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 pumpmaker 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 pajpa, as I called the pump, all day long. Few sons worked their father more, or disliked him so much j and now, Japhet, you see, from habit, I’m pumping you.”

“You’ll soon pump dry, then, for I’ve very little to tell you,” replied I ; “ but, tell me, what sort of a person is our master ?”

JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.

He^s just what you see him, never alters, hardly ever out of humour, and when he is he is just as odd as ever. He very often threatens me, but I have never had a blow yet, although Mr. Brookes has complained once or twice.”

“ But surely Mr. Brookes is not cross.”

“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 play. It's very true ; but I can't give up ‘peg in the ring' on that account. But then I only get a box of the ear from Mr. Brookes, and that goes for nothing. Mr. Cophagus shakes his stick, and says, ‘ Bad boy — big stick — urn — 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 canw 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 mouthful I took I sank in hen estimation, till I was nearly at the zero, where Timothy had long been for the same offence ; but Mr. Cophagus 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 supplied me witli good clotlies, but

JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.

never gave me any pocket-money, and Timothy and I ofter, lamented that we had not even a half-penny 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 np the pills, but he weighed out tlie quantities in the prescriptions : 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 sitting behind the counter, Timothy, sitting on it, and swinging his legs to and fro, both lamenting that we had no pocket money, Timothy said, “Japhet, IVe been puzzling my brains how we can get some money, and IVe hit it at last ; let you and I turn doctors ; we wonT send all the people away who come when Mr. Brookes is out, but we’ll physic them ourselves.”

I jumped at the idea, and he had hardly proposed it, when an old woman came in, and addressing Timothy, said, “ That she wanted spmethiug 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. Newlaud, who is behind the counter — he understands what is good for every body’s complaints.”

“Bless his handsome face — and so young too! Why, be you a good 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 nfeasures, and putting in a little green, a little blue, and a little white liquid from the medicine bottles generally used by >[r. Brookes, filled it up with water, poured

JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.

the mixture into the vial, corked and labelled it, hauslua statim sumendns, 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 ?”

“ Peary me, no I Latin I and do you understand Latin ! what a nice clever boy !”

“I should not be a good doctor if I did not,” replied I “ On second thoughts, I consider 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.

“ Peary 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, putting down the money, and wishing me a good morning as she left the shop.

“ Bravo I” cried Timothy, rubbing his hands ; it’s halves, Japhet, is it not ?”

Yes,” I replied ; “ but first we must be honest, and not cheat Mr. Cophagus ; the vial is sold, you know, for one penny, and I suppose the stuff 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 theprofessionP

“ 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

JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER.

out and changed the sixpence ; we then each had our three-pence halfpenny, 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 1 BEGIN TO

PUZZLE MY HEAD WITH A PROBLEM, OF ALL OTHERS MOST DIF- FICULT 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 poisonous. Mr. Brookes, pleased with my continual enquiries, 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.B. one of these days — ride in his coach, — um, and so on.” Nevertheless, at my second attempt, I made an awkward mistake, which very near 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 jpoor man^s plaster. By the powers, it will be a poor man’s plaster when it belongs to me ; 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 ray back, and which is a hinder to my mounting up the ladder ; so as it’s Saturday night, and I’ve just got the money. I’ll buy the plaster first, and then try what a little whisky inside will do ;

the devil’s in it if it won’t- be driven out of me between the two.”

We had not that plaster in the shop,, but we had blister plaster, 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 plasters were sold at a shilling each, when spread on paper, so I asked him eighteen-pence, that we might pocket the extra sixpence.

“ By the powers, one would think that you had made a mistake, and handed me the rich man’s plaster instead of the poor one’s. It’s less whisky I’ll have to drink, any how ; but here’s the money, and the top of the morning to yc, seeing as how it’s jist getting late.”

Timothy and I laughed as we divided the sixpence. It appeared that after taking his allowance of whisky, the poor fellow fixed the plaster on his back when 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 counter. Timothy perceived him before he saw us, and pulling me behind the large mortar, we contrived to make our escape into the back parlour, the door of which we held ajar to hear what would take place.

“ Murder and turf I” cried the man ; “ but that was the devil’s own plaster 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 laying in bed for a whole week, and losing my days’ work.”

“ I really do not recollect supplying you with a plaster, my good man,” replied Mr. Brookes.

“ Then, by the piper that played before Moses, if you don’t recollect 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. Brookea

You have made a mistake.”

JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.

“ Devil a bit of mistake, except in selling me the plaster 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’h’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. Pottykary.”

When the Irishman had departed, we made our appearance.

Japhet, did you sell a plaster to an Irishman ?”

“ Yes — don’t you recollect, last Saturday ? and I gave you the shilling.”

** Very true ; but what did he ask for ?”

“ He asked for a plaster, 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 you 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 affair 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 of 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 per haps 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 boy, 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 selfsufficiency, which does 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 docs 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 interminable as unintelligible ; and the look of solemn sagacity with which I poured out the contents of one vial into the other, would have well become the king’s physician, when he watched the “lord’s anointed” in articulc 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, halfguinea’s worth of fashionable trash, but a good, honest, heavylooking, wisdom-implying book, horribly stuffed 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 the 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 gumboil. Such were my personal qualifications at the time that I was raised to the important office of dispenser of, I may gay, life and death.

It will not surprise the reader when I tell him that 1 was much noticed 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 parwitage. 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 cherish 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 (ivery day the want became more pressing, and I found myself continually repeating the question, “ WAo is father ?”