Mr. Midshipman Easy. Фредерик Марриет

      “Nevertheless you have given us a practical illustration. Mrs. Easy, I am satisfied. Have you any questions to ask? But it is quite unnecessary.”

      “To be sure, I have, Mr. Easy. Pray, young woman, what is your name?”

      “Sarah, if you please, ma’am.”

      “How long have you been married?”

      “Married, ma’am?”

      “Yes, married.”

      “If you please, ma’am, I had a misfortune, ma’am,” replied the girl, casting down her eyes.

      “What, have you not been married?”

      “No, ma’am, not yet.”

      “Good heavens! Dr. Middleton, what can you mean by bringing this person here?” exclaimed Mrs. Easy. “Not a married woman, and she has a child!”

      “If you please, ma’am,” interrupted the young woman, dropping a curtsey, “it was a very little one.”

      “A very little one!” explained Mrs. Easy.

      “Yes, ma’am, very small indeed, and died soon after it was born.”

      “Oh, Dr. Middleton!—what could you mean, Dr. Middleton?”

      “My dear madam,” exclaimed the doctor, rising from his chair, “this is the only person that I could find suited to the wants of your child, and if you do not take her, I cannot answer for its life. It is true that a married woman might be procured; but married women who have a proper feeling will not desert their own children; and, as Mr. Easy asserts, and you appear to imagine, the temper and disposition of your child may be affected by the nourishment it receives, I think it more likely to be injured by the milk of a married woman who will desert her own child for the sake of gain. The misfortune which has happened to this young woman is not always a proof of a bad heart, but of strong attachment, and the overweening confidence of simplicity.”

      “You are correct, doctor,” replied Mr. Easy, “and her head proves that she is a modest young woman, with strong religious feeling, kindness of disposition, and every other requisite.”

      “The head may prove it all for what I know, Mr. Easy, but her conduct tells another tale.”

      “She is well fitted for the situation, ma’am,” continued the doctor.

      “And if you please, ma’am,” rejoined Sarah, “it was such a little one.”

      “Shall I try the baby, ma’am?” said the monthly nurse, who had listened in silence. “It is fretting so, poor thing, and has its dear little fist right down its throat.”

      Dr. Middleton gave the signal of assent, and in a few seconds Master John Easy was fixed to Sarah as tight as a leech.

      “Lord love it, how hungry it is—there, there, stop it a moment, it’s choking, poor thing!”

      Mrs. Easy, who was lying on her bed, rose up, and went to the child. Her first feeling was that of envy, that another should have such a pleasure which was denied to herself, the next that of delight, at the satisfaction expressed by the infant. In a few minutes the child fell back in a deep sleep. Mrs. Easy was satisfied; maternal feelings conquered all others, and Sarah was duly installed.

      To make short work of it, we have said that Jack Easy in six months was in shorts. He soon afterwards began to crawl and show his legs; indeed, so indecorously, that it was evident that he had imbibed no modesty with Sarah’s milk, neither did he appear to have gained veneration or benevolence, for he snatched at everything, squeezed the kitten to death, scratched his mother, and pulled his father by the hair; notwithstanding all which, both his father and mother and the whole household declared him to be the finest and sweetest child in the universe. But if we were to narrate all the wonderful events of Jack’s childhood from the time of his birth up to the age of seven years, as chronicled by Sarah, who continued his dry nurse after he had been weaned, it would take at least three volumes folio. Jack was brought up in the way that every only child usually is—that is, he was allowed to have his own way.

Chapter Four.

       Table of Contents

      In which the Doctor prescribes going to school as a remedy for a cut finger.

      “Have you no idea of putting the boy to school, Mr. Easy?” said Dr. Middleton, who had been summoned by a groom with his horse in a foam to attend immediately at Forest Hill, the name of Mr. Easy’s mansion, and who, upon his arrival, had found that Master Easy had cut his thumb. One would have thought that he had cut his head off by the agitation pervading the whole household—Mr. Easy walking up and down very uneasy, Mrs. Easy with great difficulty prevented from syncope, and all the maids bustling and passing round Mrs. Easy’s chair. Everybody appeared excited except Master Jack Easy himself, who, with a rag round his finger, and his pinafore spotted with blood, was playing at bob-cherry, and cared nothing about the matter.

      “Well, what’s the matter, my little man?” said Dr. Middleton, on entering, addressing himself to Jack, as the most sensible of the whole party.

      “Oh, Dr. Middleton,” interrupted Mrs. Easy, “he has cut his hand; I am sure that a nerve is divided, and then the lockjaw—”

      The doctor made no reply, but examined the finger: Jack Easy continued to play bob-cherry with his right hand.

      “Have you such a thing as a piece of sticking-plaster in the house, madam?” observed the doctor, after examination.

      “Oh, yes—run, Mary—run, Sarah!” In a few seconds the maids appeared, Sarah bringing the sticking-plaster, and Mary following with the scissors.

      “Make yourself quite easy, madam,” said Dr. Middleton, after he put on the plaster, “I will answer for no evil consequences.”

      “Had I not better take him upstairs, and let him lie down a little?” replied Mrs. Easy, slipping a guinea into the doctor’s hand.

      “It is not absolutely requisite, madam,” said the doctor; “but at all events he will be kept out of more mischief.”

      “Come, my dear, you hear what Dr. Middleton says.”

      “Yes, I heard,” replied Jack; “but I shan’t go.”

      “My dear Johnny—come, love—now do, my dear Johnny.”

      Johnny played bob-cherry, and made no answer.

      “Come, Master Johnny,” said Sarah.

      “Go away, Sarah,” said Johnny, with a back-hander.

      “Oh, fie, Master Johnny!” said Mary.

      “Johnny, my love,” said Mrs. Easy, in a coaxing tone, “come now—will you go?”

      “I’ll go in the garden and get some more cherries,” replied Master Johnny.

      “Come, then, love, we will go into the garden.” Master Johnny jumped off his chair, and took his mamma by the hand.

      “What a dear, good, obedient child it is!” exclaimed Mrs. Easy: “you may lead him with a thread.”

      “Yes, to pick cherries,” thought Dr. Middleton. Mrs. Easy, and Johnny, and Sarah, and Mary went into the garden, leaving Dr. Middleton alone with Mr. Easy, who had been silent during this scene. Now Dr. Middleton was a clever, sensible man, who had no wish to impose upon any one. As for his taking a guinea for putting on a piece of sticking-plaster, his conscience was very easy on that score. His time was equally valuable, whether he were employed for something or nothing; and, moreover, he attended the poor gratis. Constantly in the house, he had seen much of Mr. John Easy,