A GREAT EMERGENCY AND OTHER TALES.
by
JULIANA HORATIA EWING
London:
Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge,
Northumberland Avenue, W.C.
Brighton: 129, North Street.
New York: E. & J. B. Young & Co.
[Published under the direction of the General Literature Committee.]
DEDICATED TO
JOHN,
LORD BISHOP OF FREDERICTON,
AND TO HIS DEAR WIFE
MARGARET,
IN PLEASANT AND GRATEFUL MEMORY OF
NEW BRUNSWICK,
BY J.H.E.
CONTENTS.
A GREAT EMERGENCY.
I. Rupert's Lectures—The Old Yellow Leather Book
II. Henrietta—A Family Chronicle—The School Mimic—My First Fight
III. School Cricket—Lemon-Kali—The Boys' Bridge—An Unexpected Emergency
IV. A Doubtful Blessing—A Family Failing—Old Battles—The
Canal-Carrier's Home
V. The Navy Captain—Seven Parrots in a Fuchsia Tree—The Harbour Lion
and the Silver Chain—The Legless Giants—Down Below—Johnson's Wharf
VI. S. Philip and S. James—The Monkey-Barge and the Dog—War, Plague,
and Fire—The Dulness of Everyday Life
VII. We Resolve to Run Away—Scruples—Baby Cecil—I Prepare—I Run Away
VIII. We Go on Board—The Pie—An Explosion-Mr. Rowe the Barge-Master—The
_White Lion_—Two Letters—We Doubt Mr. Rowe's Good Faith
IX. A Coasting Voyage—Musk Island—Linnet Flash—Mr. Rowe an Old Tar—The
Dog-Fancier at Home
X. Locks—We Think of Going on the Tramp—Pyebridge—We Set Sail
XI. Mr. Rowe on Barge-Women—The River—Nine Elms—A Mysterious
Noise—Rough Quarters—A Cheap Supper—John's Berth—We Make Our Escape—Out
into the World
XII. Emergencies and Policemen—Fenchurch Street Station—Third Class to
Custom House—A Ship Forest
XIII. A Dirty Street—A Bad Boy—Shipping and Merchandise—We Stowaway on
Board the 'Atalanta'—A Salt Tear
XIV. A Glow on the Horizon—A Fantastic Peal—What I Saw when the Roof
Fell In
XV. Henrietta's Diary—A Great Emergency
XVI. Mr. Rowe on the Subject—Our Cousin—Weston Gets Into Print—The
Harbour's Mouth—What Lies Beyond
A VERY ILL-TEMPERED FAMILY.
I. A Family Failing
II. Ill-Tempered People and Their Friends—Narrow Escapes—The
Hatchet-Quarrel
III. Warnings—My Aunt Isobel—Mr. Rampant's Temper, and His Conscience
IV. Cases of Conscience—Ethics of Ill-Temper
V. Celestial Fire—I Choose a Text
VI. Theatrical Properties—I Prepare a Play—Philip Begins to Prepare the
Scenery—A New Friend
VII. A Quarrel—Bobby is Willing—Exit Philip
VIII. I Hear from Philip—A New Part Wanted—I Lose My Temper—We All Lose
Our Tempers
IX. Self-Reproach—Family Discomfort—Out on the Marsh—Victory
* * * * *
OUR FIELD
* * * * *
MADAM LIBERALITY.
PART I
PART II
A GREAT EMERGENCY.
CHAPTER I.
RUPERT'S LECTURES—THE OLD YELLOW LEATHER BOOK.
We were very happy—I, Rupert, Henrietta, and Baby Cecil. The only
thing we found fault with in our lives was that there were so few
events in them.
It was particularly provoking, because we were so well prepared for
events—any events. Rupert prepared us. He had found a fat old book in
the garret, bound in yellow leather, at the end of which were
"Directions how to act with presence of mind in any emergency;" and he
gave lectures out of this in the kitchen garden.
Rupert was twelve years old. He was the eldest. Then came Henrietta,
then I, and last of all Baby Cecil, who was only four. The day I was
nine years old, Rupert came into the nursery, holding up his handsome
head with the dignified air which became him so well, that I had more
than once tried to put it on myself before the nursery looking-glass,
and said to me, "You are quite old enough now, Charlie, to learn what
to do whatever happens; so every half-holiday, when I am not playing
cricket, I'll teach you presence of mind near the cucumber frame, if
you're punctual. I've put up a bench."
I thanked him warmly, and the next day he put his head into the
nursery at three o'clock in the afternoon, and said—"The lecture."
I jumped up, and so did Henrietta.
"It's not for girls," said Rupert; "women are not expected to do
things when there's danger."
"_We_ take care of _them_" said I, wondering if my mouth looked like
Rupert's when I spoke, and whether my manner impressed Henrietta as
much as his impressed me. She sat down again and only said, "I stayed
in all Friday afternoon, and worked in bed on Saturday morning to
finish your net."
"Come along," said Rupert. "You know I'm very much obliged to you for
the net; it's a splendid one."
"I'll bring a camp-stool if there's not room on the bench," said
Henrietta cheerfully.
"People never take camp-stools to lectures," said Rupert, and when we
got to the cucumber frame we found that the old plank, which he had
raised on inverted flower-pots, would have held a much larger audience
than he had invited. Opposite to it was a rhubarb-pot, with the round
top of a barrel resting on it. On this stood a glass of water. A
delightful idea thrilled through me, suggested by an imperfect
remembrance of a lecture on chemistry which I had attended.
"Will there be experiments?" I whispered.
"I think not," Henrietta replied. "There are glasses of water at the
missionary meetings, and there are no experiments."
Meanwhile Rupert had been turning over the leaves of the yellow
leather book. To say the truth, I think he was rather nervous; but if
we have a virtue among us it is that of courage; and after dropping
the book twice, and drinking all the water at a draught, he found his
place, and began.
"_How to act in an emergency_."
"What's an emergency?" I asked. I was very proud of being taught by
Rupert, and anxious to understand everything as we went along.
"You shouldn't interrupt," said Rupert, frowning. I am inclined now to
think that he could not answer my question off-hand; for though he
looked cross then, after referring to the book he answered me: "It's a
fire, or drowning, or an apoplectic fit, or anything of that sort."
After which explanation, he hurried on. If what he said next came out
of his own head, or whether he had learned it by heart, I never knew.
"There is no stronger sign of good-breeding than presence of mind in
an—"
"—apoplectic fit," I suggested. I was giving the keenest attention,
and Rupert had hesitated, the wind having blown over a leaf too many
of the yellow leather book.
"An _emergency_," he shouted, when he had found his place. "Now we'll
have one each time. The one for to-day is—How to act in a case of
drowning."
To speak the strict truth, I would rather not have thought about
drowning. I had my own private horror over a neighbouring mill-dam,
and I had once been very much frightened by a spring-tide at the sea;
but cowardice is not an indulgence for one of my race, so I screwed up
my lips and pricked my ears to learn my duty in the unpleasant
emergency of drowning.
"It doesn't mean being drowned yourself," Rupert continued, "but what
to do when another person has been drowned."
The emergency was undoubtedly easier, and I gave a cheerful attention
as Rupert began to question us.
"Supposing a man had been drowned in the canal, and was brought
ashore, and you were the only people there, what would you do with
him?"
I was completely nonplussed. "I felt quite sure I could do nothing
with him, he would be so heavy; but I felt equally certain that this
was not the answer which Rupert expected, so I left the question to
Henrietta's readier wit. She knitted her thick eyebrows for some
minutes, partly with perplexity, and partly because of the sunshine
reflected from the cucumber frame, and then said,
"We should bury him in a vault; Charlie and I _couldn't_ dig a grave
deep enough."
I admired Henrietta's foresight, but Rupert was furious.
"How _silly_ you are!" he exclaimed, knocking over the top of the
rhubarb-pot table and the empty glass in his wrath. "Of course I don't
mean a dead man. I mean what would you do to bring a partly drowned
man to life again?"
"That wasn't what you _said_," cried Henrietta, tossing her head.
"I let you come to my lecture," grumbled Rupert bitterly, as he
stooped to set his table right, "and this is the way you behave!"
"I'm very sorry, Rupert dear!" said Henrietta. "Indeed, I only mean to
do my best, and I do like your lecture so very much!"
"So do I," I cried, "very, very much!" And by a simultaneous impulse
Henrietta and I both clapped our hands vehemently. This restored
Rupert's self-complacency, and he bowed and continued the lecture.
From this we learned that the drowned man should be turned over on his
face to let the canal water run out of his mouth and ears, and that
his wet clothes should be got off, and he should be made dry and warm
as quickly as possible, and placed in a comfortable position, with the
head and shoulders slightly raised. All this seemed quite feasible to
us. Henrietta had dressed and undressed lots of dolls, and I pictured
myself filling a hot-water bottle at the kitchen boiler with an air of
responsibility that should scare all lighter-minded folk. But the
directions for "restoring breathing" troubled our sincere desire to
learn; and this even though Henrietta practised for weeks afterwards
upon me. I represented the drowned man, and she drew my arms above my
head for "_inspiration_," and counted "one, two;" and doubled them and
drove them back for "_expiration_;" but it tickled, and I laughed, and
we could not feel at all sure that it would have made the drowned man
breathe again.
Meanwhile Rupert went on with the course of lectures, and taught us
how to behave in the event of a fire in the house, an epidemic in the
neighbourhood, a bite from a mad dog, a chase by a mad bull, broken
limbs, runaway horses, a chimney on fire, or a young lady burning to
death. The lectures were not only delightful in themselves, but they
furnished us with a whole set of new games, for Henrietta and I
zealously practised every emergency as far as the nature of things
would allow. Covering our faces with wet cloths to keep off the smoke,
we crept on our hands and knees to rescue a fancy cripple from an
imaginary burning house, because of the current of air which Rupert
told us was to be found near the floor. We fastened Baby Cecil's left
leg to his right by pocket-handkerchiefs at the ankle, and above and
below the knee, pretending that it was broken, and must be kept steady
till we could convey him to the doctor. But for some unexplained
reason Baby Cecil took offence at this game, and I do not think he
could have howled and roared louder under the worst of real compound
fractures. We had done it so skilfully, that we were greatly disgusted
by his unaccommodating spirit, and his obstinate refusal to be put
into the litter we had made out of Henrietta's stilts and a railway
rug. We put the Scotch terrier in instead; but when one end of the
litter gave way and he fell out, we were not sorry that the emergency
was a fancy one, and that no broken limbs were really dependent upon
our well-meant efforts.
There was one thing about Rupert's lectures which disappointed me. His
emergencies were all things that happened in the daytime. Now I should
not have liked the others to know that I was ever afraid of anything;
but, really and truly, I was sometimes a little frightened—not of
breaking my leg, or a house on fire, or an apoplectic fit, or anything
of that sort, but—of things in the dark. Every half-holiday I hoped
there would be something about what to do with robbers or ghosts, but
there never was. I do not think there can have been any emergencies of
that kind in the yellow leather book.
On the whole, I fancy Rupert found us satisfactory pupils, for he
never did give up the lectures in a huff, though he sometimes
threatened to do so, when I asked stupid questions, or Henrietta
argued a point.