i found the worthy old dominie in the school-room, seated at his elevated desk, the usher not present, and the boys making a din enough to have awaked a person from a trance. that he was in one of his deep reveries, and that the boys had taken advantage of it, was evident. “mr dobbs,” said i, walking close up to the desk, but the dominie answered not. i repeated his name in a louder voice.
“cosine of x plus ab minus z minus a half; such must be the result,” said the dominie talking to himself. “yet it doth not prove correct. i may be in error. let me revise my work,” and the dominie lifted up his desk to take out another piece of paper. when the desk lid was raised, i removed his work and held it behind me.
“but how is this?” exclaimed the dominie, and he looked everywhere for his previous calculations. “nay,” continued he, “it must have been the wind;” and then he cast his eyes about until they fixed upon me laughing at him. “eheu! what do my eyes perceive?—it is—yet it is not—yes, most truly it is, my son jacob. welcome, most welcome,” cried the old man, descending from his desk, and clasping me in his arms. “long is it since i have seen thee, my son, interea magnum sol circumvolvitur annum. long, yes long, have i yearned for thy return, fearful lest, nudus ignota arena, thou mightest, like another palinurus, have been cast away. thou art returned, and all is well; as the father said in the scripture: i have found my son which i had lost; but no prodigal thou, though i use the quotation as apt. now all is well; thou hast escaped the danger of the battle, the fire, and the wreck, and now thou mayest hang up thy wet garment as a votive offering; as horace hath it, uvida suspendisse potenti vestimenta maris deo.”
during the apostrophe of the dominie, the boys perceiving that he was no longer wrapped up in his algebra, had partly settled to their desks, and in their apparent attention to their lessons reminded me of the humming of bees before a hive on a summer’s day.
“boys,” cried the dominie, “nunc est ludendum; verily ye shall have a holiday; put up your books, and depart in peace.”
the books were hastily put up, in obedience to the command; the depart in peace was not so rigidly adhered to—they gave a loud shout, and in a few seconds the dominie and i stood alone in the school-room.
“come, jacob, let us adjourn to my sanctum; there may we commune without interruption. thou shalt tell me thine adventures, and i will communicate to thee what hath been made known to me relative to those with whom thou wert acquainted.”
“first let me beg you to give me something to eat, for i am not a little hungry,” interrupted i, as we gained the kitchen.
“verily shalt thou have all that we possess, jacob; yet now, i think, that will not be much, seeing that i and our worthy matron did pick the bones of a shoulder of mutton, this having been our fourth day of repast upon it. she is out, yet i will venture to intrude into the privacy of her cupboard, for thy sake. peradventure she may be wroth, yet will i risk her displeasure.” so saying, the old dominie opened the cupboard, and, one by one, handed to me the dishes with their contents. “here jacob are two hard dumplings from yesterday. canst thou relish cold, hard, dumplings?—but, stop, here is something more savoury—half of a cold cabbage, which was left this day. we will look again. here is meat—yes, it is meat; but now do i perceive it is a piece of lights reserved for the dinner of the cat to-morrow. i am fearful that we must not venture upon that, for the dame will be wroth.”
“pray put it back, sir; i would not interfere with puss on any account.”
“nay, then, jacob, i see naught else, unless there may be viands on the upper shelf. sir, here is bread, the staff of life, and also a fragment of cheese; and now, methinks, i discern something dark at the back of the shelf.” the dominie extended his hand, and immediately withdrew it, jumping from his chair, with a loud cry. he had put his fingers into a rat gin, set by the old woman for those intruders, and he held up his arm and stamped as he shouted out with the pain. i hastened to him, and pressing down the spring, released his fingers from the teeth, which, however, had drawn blood, as well as bruised him; fortunately, like most of the articles of their menage, the trap was a very old one, and he was not much hurt. the dominie thrust his fingers into his capacious mouth, and held them there some time without speaking. he began to feel a little ease, when in came the matron.
“why, what’s all this!” said she, in a querulous tone. “jacob here, and all my cupboard on the table. jacob, how dare you go to my cupboard?”
“it was the dominie, mrs bately, who looked there for something for me to eat, and he has been caught in a rat-trap.”
“serve him right; i have forbade him that cupboard. have i not, mr dobbs?”
“yea, and verily,” quoth the dominie, “and i do repent me that i took not thine advice, for look at my fingers;” and the dominie extended his lacerated digits.
“dear me! well i’d no idea that a rat-trap pinched so hard,” replied the old woman, whose wrath was appeased. “how it must hurt the poor things—i won’t set it again, but leave them all to the cat; he’ll kill them, if he only can get at them.” the old lady went to a drawer, unlocked it, brought out some fragments of rags, and a bottle of friar’s balsam, which she applied to the dominie’s hand, and then bound it up, scolding him the whole time. “how stupid of you, mr dobbs; you know that i was only out for a few minutes. why didn’t you wait—and why did you go to the cupboard? hav’n’t i always told you not to look into it? and now you see the consequences.”
“verily my hand burneth,” replied the dominie.
“i will go for cold water, and it will ease you. what a deal of trouble you do give, mr dobbs; you’re worse than a charity boy;” and the old lady departed to the pump.
“vinegar is a better thing, sir,” said i, “and there is a bottle in the cupboard, which i dare say is vinegar.” i went to the cupboard, and brought out the bottle, took out the cork and smelt it. “this is not vinegar, sir, it is hollands or gin.”
“then would i like a glass, jacob, for i feel a sickening faintness upon me; yet be quick, peradventure the old woman may return.”
“drink out of the bottle, sir,” said i, perceiving that the dominie looked very pale, “and i will give you notice of her approach.” the dominie put the bottle to his mouth, and was taking a sufficient draught, when the old woman returned by another door which was behind us; she had gone that way for a wash-basin. before we could perceive her, she came behind the dominie, snatched the bottle from his mouth with a jerk that threw a portion of the spirits in his eyes, and blinded him.
“that’s why you went to my cupboard, is it, mr dobbs?” cried she, in a passion. “that’s it, is it? i thought my bottle went very fast; seeing that i don’t take more than a tea-spoonful every night, for the wind which vexes me so much. i’ll set the rat-trap again, you may depend upon it; and now you may get somebody else to bind your fingers.”
“it was i who took it out, mrs bately; the dominie would have fainted with pain. it was very lucky that he has a housekeeper who is careful to have something of the kind in the house, or he might have been dead. you surely don’t begrudge a little of your medicine to recover mr dobbs?”
“peace, woman, peace,” said the dominie, who had gained courage by his potation. “peace, i say; i knew not that thou hadst in thy cupboard either a gin for my hand, or gin for my mouth; since i have been taken in the one, it is but fair that i should take in the other. in future both thy gins will not be interfered with by me. bring me the basin, that i may appease my angry wounds, and then hasten to procure some viands to appease the hunger of my son jacob; lastly, appease thine own wrath. pax. peace, i say;” and the old woman, who perceived that the dominie had asserted his right of dominion, went to obey his orders, grumbling till she was out of hearing. the application of the cold pump-water soon relieved the pain of the good old dominie, and with his hand remaining in the basin, we commenced a long conversation.
at first i narrated to him the events which had occurred during my service on board of the frigate. when i told him of my parting with tom, he observed, “verily do i remember that young tom, a jocund, pleasant, yet intrusive lad. yet do i wish him well, and am grieved that he should be so taken by that maiden mary. well may we say of her, as horace hath of pyrrha—‘quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa, perfusis liquidis urgit odoribus, grate, pyrrha, sub antro. cui flavam religas comam, simplex munditiis.’ i grieve at it, yea, grieve much. heu, quoties fidem mutatosque deos flebit! verily, jacob, i do prophesy that she will lead him into error, yea, perhaps into perdition.”
“i trust not, sir,” replied i; but the dominie made no answer. for half-an-hour he was in deep and serious thought, during which mrs bately entered, and spreading a cloth, brought in from the other room some rashers of bacon and eggs, upon which i made a hasty and hearty meal. the old matron’s temper was now smoothed, and she welcomed me kindly, and shortly after went out for a fresh basin of cold water for the dominie to bathe his hand. this roused him, and he recommenced the conversation.
“jacob, i have not yet congratulated thee upon thy accession to wealth; not that i do not sincerely rejoice in it, but because the pleasure of thy presence has made me unmindful of it. still, was it fortunate for thee that thou hadst raised up such a friend as mr turnbull; otherwise what would have been the result of thy boasted independence? thou wouldst probably have remained many years on board of a man-of-war, and have been killed, or have returned mutilated, to die unknown.”
“you were right, sir,” replied i; “my independence was nothing but pride; and i did bitterly repent, as you said i should do, even before i was pressed into the king’s service—but mr drummond never repeated his offers.”
“he never did, jacob; but as i have since been informed by him, although he was taken by surprise at thy being forced away to serve thy country, still he was not sure that you would accept them; and he, moreover, wished you fully to feel thine own folly. long before you had made friends with him, he had attested the will of mr turnbull, and was acquainted with the contents. yet, did he watch over thee, and had he thought that thy way of life had led thee into that which was wrong, he would have interfered to save thee; but he considered with shakespeare that ‘sweet were the uses of adversity,’ and that thou wouldst be more schooled by remaining some time under her unprepossessing frowns. he hath ever been thy friend.”
“i can believe it. i trust he is well, and his family.”
“they were well and prosperous, but a little while ago, jacob; yet i have seen but little of them since the death of mr turnbull. it will pain thee to hear that affliction at thy absence hastened his dissolution. i was at his death-bed, jacob; and i verily believe he was a good man, and will meet the reward of one; yet did he talk most strangely, and reminded me of that remnant of a man you call old tom. ‘it’s no use, old gentleman,’ said he, as he lay in his bed supported by pillows, for he had wasted away till he was but a skeleton, having broken a blood-vessel with his violent coughing—‘it’s no use pouring that doctor’s stuff down my throat; my anchor’s short stay a-peak, and in a few minutes i shall trip it, i trust for heaven, where i hope there are moorings laid down for me.’ ‘i would fain comprehend thee,’ replied i, ‘but thou speakest in parables.’ ‘i mean to say that death has driven his harpoon in up to the shank, and that i struggle in vain. i have run out all my line. i shall turn up in a few minutes—so give my love and blessing to jacob—he saved my life once—but now i’m gone.’ with these last words his spirit took its flight; and thus, jacob, did your benefactor breathe his last, invoking a blessing on your head.”
i remained silent for a few minutes, for i was much affected by the dominie’s description; he at length resumed the conversation.
“thou hast not yet seen the drummonds, jacob?”
“i have not,” i replied, “but i will call upon them tomorrow; but it is time that i should go, for i have to return to london.”
“thou needst not, jacob. thine own house is at hand.”
“my own house!”
“yes; by the will of mr turnbull, his wife has been left a handsome jointure, but, for reasons which he did not explain, the house and furniture are not left to her, but, as residuary legatee, belong to thee.”
“indeed!—then where is mrs turnbull?”
“at bath, where she hath taken up her residence. mr drummond, who hath acted in thy behalf, permitted her to take away such articles as she might wish, but they were but few, chiefly those little objects which filled up rather than adorned the drawing-room. the house is all ready for thy reception, and thou mayst take possession this evening.”
“but why did not mr turnbull leave it to his widow?”
“i cannot exactly say, but i think he did not wish her to remain in this place. he, therefore, left her 5000 pounds at her own disposal, to enable her to purchase and furnish another.”
i then took my leave of the dominie, and it being rather late, i resolved to walk to the house and sleep there.
