IN WHICH THE ADVENTURES IN THE WAGGON ARE CONTINUED, AND WE BECOME MORE
PUZZLED WITH OUR NEW COMPANIONS--WE LEAVE OFF TALKING LATIN, AND ENTER
INTO AN ENGAGEMENT.
Timothy and I took his advice, and were soon fast asleep.
I was awakened the next morning by feeling a hand in my trowser'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 cadaverous, with large
goggling eyes, high cheek bones, 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."
"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 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, smiling.
"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 you were of telling the money in your hand."
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 live."
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--with 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 replied with
medical prescriptions. One was as good as the other."
"Quite--nay, better; for the school-boys may find me out, but not you.
But now observe, when we come to the next cross-road, we must get down--
at least, I expect so; but we shall know in a minute."
In about the time he mentioned, a dark, gipsy-looking man looked into
the waggon, and spoke to our acquaintance in an unknown language. He
replied in the same, and the man disappeared. We continued our route
for about a quarter of an hour, when 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 waggon. We 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 wait there till I come."
He sprang over a stile, and took a direction verging at an angle from
the road, forced his way through a hedge, and disappeared from our
sight. "Upon my word, Timothy," said I, "I hardly know what to say to
this. Have we done right in trusting to this man, who, I am afraid, 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. "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 medicines; and it
is well known that quack medicines, as they call them, cure as often as
others, merely for that very reason."
"Very true, Timothy; the mind once at ease, the body soon recovers, 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 way?"
"He may, or he may not; at all events, we need do no more, I suppose."
"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 engaged us--we
shall soon find out."