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the days of my life-第章

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ould go or shout for assistance; he would certainly try to help me himself; with the result that we should both be drowned。 So I held my tongue and fought on。 Just as everything was ing to an end — for the breakers broke over me continually — my foot struck upon something; I suppose it was a point of rock; and on this something I rested a while。 Then; waiting a favourable opportunity; I made a last desperate effort and struggled to the shore; where I fell down exhausted。
As I lay there panting; some coastguards; or whatever they are called; who had observed what was happening through their spy…glasses; arrived at a run and very properly expressed their views in the most strenuous language。 Recovering myself at length I sat up and said in my best or worst French:
“Si je noye; qu’est ce que cela vous fait?”
The answer; that even then struck me as very appropriate; was to the effect that my individual fate did not matter twopence to them; but “how about the reputation of Treport as a bathing…place?”
I do not recollect that I dilated upon this little adventure to my relatives; and I am not sure that even my brother; who was four years younger than myself; ever realised how serious had been the crisis。
I suppose that it must have been earlier than this — for as to all these youthful experiences my memory is hazy — that we stayed for a while at Coblentz。 I remember being taken on a trip up the Rhine that I might study the scenery; and retiring to the cabin to read a story…book。 Missing me; my father descended and dragged me out by the scruff of the neck; exclaiming loudly; to the vast amusement of the other passengers:
“I have paid five thalers for you to improve your mind by absorbing the beauties of nature; and absorb them you shall!”
Of Coblentz I recall little except the different colours of the waters of the Moselle and the Rhine。 What remains fixed in my memory; however; is the scene of our departure thence by boat。 In those days my father wore some false teeth; and; when the steamer was about to start; it was discovered that these teeth were still reposing in a glass upon his dressing…table a mile or more away。
A tumult followed and in the end Hocking; my mother’s maid; whom I have already mentioned; was despatched to fetch them in spite of the remonstrances of the captain。 Off she went like a racehorse; and then ensued a most exciting time。 The captain shouted and rang his bell; the steam whistle blew; and my father shouted also; much more loudly than the captain; whilst I and the remainder of the family giggled in the background。 A crisis supervened。 The captain would wait no longer and ordered the sailors to cast off。 My father in manding tones ordered them to do nothing of the sort。 The steam whistle sent up one continual scream。 At last the ropes were loosed; when suddenly bounding down the street that led to the quay; her dress well above her knees and waving the false teeth in her hand; appeared Hocking。 Then the captain and my father congratulated each other with a courtly flourish; the latter arranged the false teeth in their proper home; the boat started and peace reigned for a little while。
I think that it was at Cologne that we had a supper party; a considerable affair — for wherever we went there seemed to be a large number of people whom we knew。 Among them was an aunt of mine; Mrs。 Fowle; my father’s sister; who is still living today at a great age; although her husband; the Rev。 Mr。 Fowle; who was then with her; has long been dead。 To her I am indebted for the following story of which personally I have no recollection。 It appears that when the preliminary party or whatever it may have been was over; and at the appointed time the pany trooped in to supper; they were astonished to find a single small boy; to wit myself; seated at the end of the table and just finishing an excellent meal。
“Rider;” said my father in tones of thunder; “what are you doing here? Explain; sir! Explain!”
“Please; father;” I answered in a mild voice; “I knew that when you all came in there would be no room for me; so I had my supper first。”
My uncle Fowle was a very humorous man; and the following is an instance of his readiness。 While in France an excited Frenchman rushed up to him at a railway station ejaculating; “Mouton — Monsieur Moutain; n’est…ce pas?”
“Non;” replied my uncle quietly; “Poulet; moi — Poulet!”
When at last he was dying on a certain Christmas Eve; the servants were sent for and filed past his bed bidding him farewell。 When it came to the cook’s turn; that worthy person; losing her head in the solemnity of the moment; bobbed a curtsey and said in a cheerful voice:
“A merry Christmas to you; sir — I wish you a merry Christmas。”
It is reported that a twinkle of the old humour came into my uncle’s eye; and a faint smile flickered on his face。 The tale is of a sort that he would have delighted to tell。
One more story:
Somewhere about the year 1868; my brother Andrew and I were staying at Brinsop Rectory with my uncle and aunt Fowle。 He was a generous man; and; when we boys departed after such visits; used to present us with what he called an “honorarium;” or in other words a tip。 On this occasion; however; no “honorarium” was forthing; but in place of it he gave us a sealed envelope which we were strictly charged not to open until we reached a certain station on the line。 To this day I can see the pair of us fingering the envelope in the railway carriage in the happy certainty that Uncle Fowle had surpassed himself by presenting us with what the thin feel of the paper within assured us was a 5 pound note!
The station was reached at last and we tore open the envelope。 From it emerged a sheet of blue paper on which were inscribed two texts; those beginning with: “Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way?” and “Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth。” We stared at each other blankly; for the state of our finances was such that we had counted on that tip and did not quite appreciate this kind of holy joke。
Oddly enough this piece of blue paper has chanced to survive all the wanderings of my life; as I write I hold it in my hand。 Would that I had a
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