tell standing up, so let us sit down by the roadside, and you shall hear
all about it.'
Every one now seated themselves on the grass by the side of the road and
over a comforting cup of tea, speedily brewed by Boadicea, the long man
began his story:--
'My good aunt's full name was Galladia Glowmutton, and she was the only
daughter of that gallant general, Sir Francis Melville Glowmutton, who
distinguished himself so greatly in the defence of his country.
'It was my good fortune to spend my earliest days in this good
creature's company, she, noble soul that she was, having undertaken to
look after me when my poor father and mother disappeared in a sand-storm
many years before.
'The greater part of her life this good woman had devoted to brightening
the declining years of her well-loved father, whose arduous life, poor
man, had left him in his old age, truth to tell, rather a tiresome, and
sometimes a difficult, subject to get on with. However, thanks to her
devotion and patience, he led a tolerably happy life. In the course of
time the old warrior died and left the sorrowing lady well provided
for,--that is, over and beyond necessaries, with sufficient money to
keep up appearances, and even enough for her simple pleasures and
hobbies.
'For some months my good aunt could not fill the blank in her life left
by the loss of her father. So much kindness, however, could not be kept
back for long, and was bound in the course of time to find its object.
Always with a love for every feathered creature, she at last set about
gathering around her as complete a collection of them as she could
obtain. Soon she had in her aviaries the most marvellous assembly of
birds ever brought together even at the Zoo. There were specimens of the
Paraguay gull, Borneo parrots, Australian gheck ghees, the laughing
grete, Malay anchovy wren that only feeds upon anchovies (and very
amusing indeed it is, too, to watch them spearing the little fish with
their beaks and then trying to shake them off again), and the
golden-crested mussel hawk, that swoops down from an incredible height
and, snatching its prey from the rocks, again disappears in the sky.
Without wearying you with a long list, nearly every known bird was
represented in my aunt's collection, from the fierce saw-beaked stork of
Tuscaroca to the mild and pretty little Gossawary chick.
'Much as she prized every one of her pets, she loved most of all the
very rare and beautiful green-toed button crane of Baraboo. So fond was
she of the stately creature, and so careful of its every comfort, that
she employed a maid to wait on it alone, and a special cook to prepare
its meal of Peruvian yap beans, the delicious and tender kernels of
which the dainty creature was inordinately fond of,--and, indeed, they
were the only food upon which it throve.
'Now, with your permission, a few words about myself. Like my aunt I,
too, had birdish leanings, but unlike her in this, that instead of birds
I collected birds' eggs, of which I had a vast number of every
conceivable variety. Ashamed as I am to state it, little did my good
Aunt Galladia know how many of the valuable specimens in my collection
were taken from her aviaries. Nevertheless she viewed my specimens with
growing suspicion, until at last she implicitly forbade me to collect
any more. For a time I desisted, and merely contented myself with
gloating over my already vast collection, but in a little while
temptation became too strong for me and I resumed my pursuits.
'One afternoon about this time I had mounted a tall tree in the
Glowmutton Park, intent on obtaining the contents of a nest built in its
highest branches. For some time I was unable to approach the nest, but
at length, by dint of much perseverance, I just managed to reach my hand
over the top, and took therefrom three beautiful eggs, of a kind as yet
unrepresented in my collection. So occupied was I with my prize, that I
did not at first observe what was taking place beneath the tree. But on
beginning to descend, I saw to my horror immediately below me, my Aunt
Galladia and her pet crane seated at tea, with the crane's maid in
attendance.
[Illustration: I JUST MANAGED TO REACH THE EGGS]
'Needless to say I did not continue my descent, but climbed out to the
end of a branch, high over the group. I waited in dreadful suspense in
the hope that my aunt would not look up, and that they would soon finish
their meal and depart as quickly as they had arrived, but, alas! they
were in no hurry. I trembled now so much that I could hear the leaves
rustling on the branch, and whether it was that in my fear I loosened my
hold, or that the branch shook so under my trembling form, or whether
the sight of a beautiful plum cake, directly over which I was poised,
made me lose my nerve, I know not, but certain it is that I fell from my
position right on to the table. Both my aunt and the maid fainted at
once quite away, and the timid green-toed button crane of Baraboo was in
such a terrible flutter that in its excitement it snapped the slender
gold chain that held it and flew into the sky, where it was soon lost to
view. "Now I've done it," thought I, and, no doubt, should have run away
had I been able to move, but I was so bruised that I was compelled to
remain among the shattered remains of the table and tea things.
Presently the maid came to, and then my aunt, and nothing could exceed
her rage and grief at losing her valuable pet. They took me home between
them and put me to bed, and the severest punishment they could devise
was to take away from me my lovely collection of eggs. "Never,"
shrieked my wrathful aunt, "shall you have these again until you bring
back to me my beautiful crane."
[Illustration: I ANGLE THE AIR]
'After a while I recovered, but no one dared to speak to me, and I moped
about the house in solitary wretchedness without a single egg to
contemplate.
'At last I could bear it no longer, and one night I left the house
determined never to return again without the crane. I took with me an
old perambulator, in which I had been wheeled about as a child, and
in this I placed six of the delicious kernels of the Peruvian yap bean,
besides a hatchet and other things which I thought might be useful on my
journey. I slept in the forest and, on the following morning I cut down
the straightest tree I could find for my purpose, trimmed it to a fine
long pole, and on the very top of this I fastened a pin, bent to the
form of a fish-hook, which I now baited with one of the yap kernels.
[Illustration: I fell from my position]
[Illustration: I ERECTED MY POLE ON THE SANDS]
'"If anything will attract the bird, this will," thought I, having
fastened the foot of the pole to my perambulator. I now proceeded to
angle the air for the lost crane. Carefully following the direction I
had observed the bird to take when it broke away from its chain, I
travelled for weeks and weeks, without seeing any sign of it. In time,
without even a nibble, the first kernel was dissolved and worn away by
the wind and rain, and, in like manner the same fate overcame the
second, with which I baited my hook; then the third, then the fourth,
and then the fifth.
'Still keeping the same direction, by this time I had arrived at the
very edge of the world, beyond which there is nothing but sea and sky.
Believing that the poor creature had flown out over this lonely sea, and
hoping that it might return when it realised that there was no land
beyond, I determined to wait on the desolate shore.
'I now erected my pole on the sands, after once more baiting my hook,
this time with a piece of my last kernel, having taken the precaution of
cutting it into six pieces. I now waited patiently, week after week,
subsisting on the oysters, the starfish, and the edible crustaceans,
that wandered tamely about the shore. Months now passed by, and, one by
one, the five pieces of my last yap kernel had followed the other five
kernels with which I had set out from home. I am not easily beaten,
however, and though many months had passed by without my meeting with
any success, I would not give in, but husbanded my last piece of bait
with the greatest care. I cut a chip of wood from my angling pole, and
shaped it in the form of a kernel of the Peruvian yap bean. This I
rubbed well all over with the tiny piece of the real kernel that yet
remained to me, until it assumed somewhat the colour of the original
bean and, certainly, when applied to the tip of the tongue, it appeared
to partake, though very slightly, it is true, of the original flavour,
and with this I once more baited my hook.
[Illustration: ITS OLD STATELY SELF AGAIN]
'By this means I made my last piece of bean last for some years, for as
soon as the artificial bean had lost its flavour, I rubbed it up again
with the real one. But even this could not go on for ever, and, at last,
the true piece was worn right away; so, to preserve what little flavour
there yet remained of the true bean in the false bean, on which it had
been so often rubbed, I soaked it for six days in a large shell of
rain-water. In the meantime I cut another chip from my pole, and spent
nearly six days in carving out another artificial kernel. Before
baiting my hook with this, I dipped it into the fluid in which the old
wooden kernel was still soaking, whence it received a very very faint
suggestion of the original flavour, but so faint was this that it had to
be redipped three times a day. This went on for some time, until the
precious liquor began to run low, and I was compelled to dilute it still
further, in the proportion of about five drops to a mussel-shellful of
water, into which the wooden kernel was now dipped ten or twelve times a
day.
'Well, I had been at this game, I should say, getting on for twenty
years, and now resolved to have done with it, after risking all on one
throw. So I dropped my wooden kernel, all rotted and weather-beaten as
it was, into what little there remained over of the pure liquor, this
time without diluting it at all, and then let it stew all day in the
sun.
'In the evening the liquor was all evaporated, and the wooden bean
seemed to the taste as though it possibly might have been in the
vicinity of a real one some time before. On that evening, for the last
time, I baited my hook and slept soundly at the foot of the pole.
'I was awakened next morning by the wind that had arisen during the
night, and a great wrenching noise, as it tore my poor old angling-pole
from its place in the sand, and carried it out to sea.
'"That settles it once and for all," thought I, much relieved, "and I'm
off home," and I set about getting my things together. While I was thus
engaged, it occurred to me that the old pole might be useful for fires,
so I swam out for it. Already it had been blown some way out to sea,
and, as the tide was against me, it was only with a very great exertion
of strength that I gained at all upon it, and I was just about to give
it up when I beheld, fastened to the bent pin at the end of the pole,
the wretched crane. The sight lent me greater strength, and, after
incredible exertions, I reached the pole almost exhausted. We were now
too far from the shore to attempt to return, so I got astride the pole,
and immediately proceeded to unfasten the unhappy fowl from my bent pin.
At first I thought the poor thing dead, but I nursed it in my arms all
through the ensuing night, and, on the following morning, happening to
glance down its half-opened beak, I could just see that my wooden
imitation of the kernel of the Peruvian yap bean had become lodged in
its throat. This I at once removed, and, to my great joy, the dejected
fowl almost immediately opened its eyes. Soon it became its old stately
self again, though now I could see that the poor thing had aged very
considerably since it left home.
'Well, to cut a long story short, at length the gale ceased, and we
landed safely on the shore, much nearer to our home, and, after many
vicissitudes and adventures, of which I shall have great pleasure in
telling you at another time, we eventually arrived at Glowmutton
Castle.
'To my grief I learnt that my good aunt, Galladia, had died many years
before of old age, and that, true to her own good-nature, her last
commands were that if ever I should return with her dearly-loved fowl,
my collection of eggs was to be handed back to me, and in recompense for
all my privations and exertions to recover the bird, I was to have the
care of it and the comfort of its society as long as it lived. So, now
you see why I am so pleased with myself.'
The King and the whole army were charmed with the recital, and the long
man, whose many noble qualities had already endeared him to them, was
cordially invited to join the forces.
'It's all one to me, my cronies,' said the good-natured creature, and
they all trudged on.
[Illustration: tailpiece]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE DOCTOR]
[Illustration: headpiece]
THE DOCTOR
For many days they had now travelled without meeting with any adventure,
when one evening they saw coming towards them a bright young lad, who
was leading by the hand an exceedingly learned-looking old gentleman.
Their appearance was such as to arouse the King's curiosity to such a
degree that he asked the boy the time as he was passing, and then, when
all stood still in the road, he led the talk from one thing to another
until at last, emboldened by their friendliness, the King came to the
point, and asked the lad who he was and whence he had come.
The two strangers then sat down at the side of the road, and the lad
thus addressed the King:--
'You may not believe it, but I am the original Ptolemy Jenkinson, the
only and well-beloved nephew of that great and celebrated doctor,
Ebenezer Scrout, whom you now see at my side. When, a trembling orphan,
I was thrown upon an unfeeling world, he alone of my numerous uncles,
aunts, so-called friends and guardians, undertook to find me a
comfortable and even luxurious home, and so to educate me that I might
prove worthy of occupying the exalted position for which I am destined.
'Uncle Ebenezer was my mother's brother and, a true Scrout, he inherited
all his good qualities from my grandfather, Phelim Scrout, the
well-known turfcutter, from whom, by the way, I inherit most of
mine--but of these it does not become me to speak.
'Many people, jealous perhaps of his great fame, have ridiculed my
uncle's claim to be a member of this ancient family, but to set this
matter for ever at rest, I have here copied a few notes from the
Scroutean genealogical tree, preserved in the archives of the family.'
Ptolemy Jenkinson here took from his pocket and handed to Bill a sheet
of paper upon which the following notes were written in a clear bold
hand:--
MISTS OF THE PAST
PHELIM SCROUT = MOLLY?
(The well-known turfcutter) |
|
----------------------------------
| |
TOD SCROUT = MANDY M'GUIRE PEARL (died of
| megrims at an
| early age)
|
------------------------------------------------------
| | | | | |
LU EBENEZER MANDY CASSANDRA = WAT LIL
TOM JENKINSON
|
PTOLEMY
When these had been examined by the company, Ptolemy resumed his tale:--
'Uncle Eb, as I very soon learned to call him, was ever the victim of
his own generous heart. Continually adopting people, both old and young,
he was doomed to be taken advantage of by those to whom he was most
kind. How well can I remember, amongst many another ungrateful adopted
son, uncle, aunt or cousin, young Sigurd, the birthday-monger, who
entered the family about the same time as myself. It was he who secretly
wrote his name on each page of Uncle Eb's birthday-book and received a
present every day from the absent-minded old gentleman until he was
discovered writing his name twice on some pages and was straightway
disadopted.
[Illustration: FAR SOONER HAVE THE MUMPS]
'Not alone to his own family circle was the doctor's kindness
confined; it extended to all with whom he came in contact. Before
sending in his bills he always provided his patients with enough money
to pay them, and promptly returned the cash with the receipts, deducting
only one penny for the stamp in each case.
'Invariably most sympathetic with his suffering patients, he spent many
years of his noble life in studying how to make his medicines as
pleasant and sweet to the taste as the most delightful confections ever
placed upon the Lord Mayor's table, while his greatest endeavour was
always to make a period of sickness one also of pleasurable relaxation
for his patients.
'In time the children went mad with excitement, and jumped for very joy
on learning that they had contracted measles, and would far sooner, any
day, have the mumps than a birthday every week. And oh! what thrills of
joy would pass through their little frames on learning that they would
have to lie up for a bilious attack and be attended by the good-natured
Doctor Ebenezer Scrout, and treated with his delicious jalaps and
powders.
'Unfortunately, however, so pleasant was the treatment, that the
children in time were even tempted to make themselves ill on purpose, by
eating as many jam puffs as they could buy with their Saturday monies,
and soon nearly every child was down with a bad bilious attack, and all
the schools had to be closed.
'Even the grown-ups began to indulge in these jam puffs, buying them in
large quantities and falling ill one by one, much preferring to be
tucked up snugly in bed with a comfortable bilious attack and the
good-natured doctor in attendance, to ordinary good health and hard
work, with the many disappointments and trials of everyday life.
'First the Lord Mayor was taken bad--then the leader of the town band
and all his bandsmen. Now the shopmen began to feel queer, and one by
one the aldermen toddled to their beds. In time everybody was laid up,
and no one was left to do the work of the town. All the shops, theatres,
markets, and railway stations were closed, and the streets quite
deserted except for the doctor and the puff baker, each trying to undo
the work of the other.
'Hardly a sound could be heard in the streets except perhaps the clink
of a spoon against a bottle from a room above, as some patient prepared
his evening dose, or the shuffling footsteps of the old doctor as he
went his daily round, and sometimes the loud rat-tat of the puff baker
would awaken the echoes of the lonely streets as he called from door to
door for orders in the morning.
'Strange grasses and sweet-scented wild flowers began to grow in the
streets, and mushrooms and straggling carrots forced a way between the
crevices of the pavements. Sprays of wild spinach hung from the
lamp-posts, and the market-place became one waving jungle of broccoli.
The very sparrows, deprived of their daily crumbs, grew thin and nervy
with the green diet they were compelled to subsist upon. Croaking and
griding, instead of chirruping musically to their young as is their
wont, they so affected the good-hearted doctor that he could never pass
them without some cheering word, and never could he withstand the
beseeching look in their eyes. Within doors the prospect was hardly more
encouraging. Strong vegetable-marrows twined their branches and their
many tendrils round the table legs and the chairs; great turnips
stoutened and burst upon the stairs; spring onions bristled in the
corners of the Lord Mayor's dining-hall, while his grand piano was
completely hidden in the gorgeous festoons of mint that, unchecked, had
run a ragged riot about the place.
[Illustration: THE PUFF BAKER]
'At last, after two months of sickness, and despite every attention and
kindness on the part of the doctor, the patients began to weary of being
ill and kept to their beds for so long. The Lord Mayor was the first to
arise and, although very weak in the legs, he managed to crawl to the
top of the stairs, and looking down, beheld, to his dismay, the dreadful
state of ruin in which everything was involved. He called for his
servants as loudly as his weakness would allow him, and, obtaining no
reply, he scrambled down the stairs on his hands and knees, and
clamoured shrilly for a cut from the joint. As, of course, there was no
one to procure this for him nor, indeed, any joint from which to
procure a cut, he boiled himself an egg, and was able to survey the
scene more calmly.
[Illustration: TREATED WITH DELICIOUS JALAPS]
'Presently the aldermen crawled down one by one, then the shopmen, then
the bandsmen, and, finally, the rest of the inhabitants, disturbed by
the weeping and yells of those already arisen, struggled downstairs, and
in agony beheld the general devastation.
'Resolved not to touch another drop of the doctor's medicine, they
satisfied the cravings of their hunger, which now began to be felt, on
the wild marrows, turnips, and mushrooms that everywhere abounded, and
by degrees regained a little of their former vigour.
[Illustration: The Lord Mayor held a long council]
'The Lord Mayor and aldermen, already feeling a little more comfortable,
held a long council, at which it was decided that it would be less
expensive to burn the old town, and to build a new one on its site, than
to try and clear up the old one. It was also decided to arrest the
unfortunate doctor, whom they all now joined in accusing as the cause of
their trouble, and bring him to trial.
[Illustration: AS SOME PATIENT PREPARED HIS DOSE]
'In the course of time the town was rebuilt, and the doctor was the
first prisoner to stand on his trial at the new Town Hall.
'On the appointed day the Hall was crammed to its utmost, as at one time
the prisoner had been much loved and looked up to by his
fellow-townsmen.
'When the Lord Mayor arrived in state, between two Admirals of the
Fleet, and took his seat, the foreman of the jury awakened his
brother-jurors, who had been dozing off, and called for three cheers for
the Lord Mayor, in which everybody joined. The Lord Mayor made no reply,
except to frown severely at the foreman, and proceeded at once with the
business in hand. "Lock all the doors and bring in the prisoner," cried
he in a loud voice, after clearing his throat. The doors were instantly
locked, but some confusion arose when it was discovered that they could
not bring in the prisoner unless one were unlocked again. On this being
very politely pointed out to the Lord Mayor (who did not seem quite to
like being corrected), he altered his order, and cried out: "Bring in
the prisoner, and lock all the doors." Immediately the band struck up
the most martial music and the prisoner was brought in, tied tightly
with twine, sealed with red sealing-wax, and guarded by a squad of
infantry, who at once formed fours, and marked time for the rest of the
afternoon.
'When the music had ceased, and the general excitement caused by the
entrance of the prisoner had subsided, the Lord Mayor politely requested
him to take a seat, which he very gladly did, on being untied by the
policeman.
'Now, as every one knew that the doctor had really been the cause of all
the trouble, the only point to be decided at the trial was whether he
had done it intentionally or not, and the Lord Mayor addressed him
accordingly, asking him if he had anything to say upon the subject. The
doctor happened to be thinking of something else at the moment and,
moreover, had his head turned in another direction, watching a fly on
the window of the hall, so that he did not hear the question. The Lord
Mayor waited about a quarter of an hour for an answer, and receiving
none, he called, in an annoyed tone, for the witnesses for the
prosecution.
[Illustration: THE VERY SPARROWS GREW THIN]