the days of my life-第3部分

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I　recovered　and　went　home。　Here　my　eldest　sister　Ella；　noticing　my　bruised　and　dazed　condition；　cross…examined　me　until　I　told　her　the　truth。　An　interview　followed　between　my　father　and　the　master　of　the　school；　which　resulted　in　a　dismissal　of　the　usher　and　my　departure。　Afterwards　I　met　that　usher　in　the　Park　somewhere　near　the　Row；　and　so　great　was　my　fear　of　him　that　I　never　stopped　running　till　I　reached　the　Marble　Arch。
After　this　my　father　sent　me　to　a　second　day　school　where　the　pupils　were　supposed　to　receive　a　sound　business　education。
Then　came　the　examination　that　I　have　mentioned　at　the　hands　of　my　brother…inlaw。　As　a　result　I　was　despatched　to　the　Rev。　Mr。　Graham；　who　took　in　two　or　three　small　boys　（at　that　time　I　must　have　been　nine　or　ten　years　of　age）　at　Garsington　Rectory　near　Oxford。
The　Rectory；　long　ago　pulled　down；　was　a　low　grey　house　that　once　had　served　as　a　place　of　refuge　in　time　of　plague　for　the　Fellows　of　one　of　the　Oxford　colleges。　Twice；　if　not　three　times；　in　the　course　of　my　after　life　I　have　revisited　this　spot；　the　last　occasion　being　about　two　years　ago。　Except　that　the　Rectory　has　been　rebuilt　the　place　remains　just　the　same。　There　is　the　old　seventeenth…century　dovecote　and　the　shell　of　the　ancient　pollard　elm；　in　the　hollow　trunk　of　which　I　used　to　play　with　a　child　of　my　own　age；　Mrs。　Graham’s　little　sister　Blanche；　who　was　as　fair　in　colouring　as　one　of　her　name　should　be。　I　believe　that　she　has　now　been　dead　many　years。
Quite　near　to　the　Rectory　and　not　far　from　the　pretty　church；　through　the　chancel　door　of　which　once　I　saw　a　donkey　thrust　its　head　and　burst　into　violent　brays　in　the　midst　of　Mr。　Graham’s　sermon；　stood　a　farm…house。　The　farmer；　a　long；　lank　man　who　wore　a　smart　frock；　was　very　kind　to　me　—　I　found　his　grave　in　the　churchyard　when　last　I　was　there。　He　e　that　I　used　in　“King　Solomon’s　Mines”　and　other　books　in　after　years。　After　looking　at　this　farm　and　the　tree　nearby　which　bore　walnuts　bigger　and　finer　than　any　that　grow　nowadays；　I　went　to　the　new　Rectory　and　there　saw　working　in　the　garden　a　tall；　thin　old　man；　who　reminded　me　strangely　of　one　whom　I　remembered　over　thirty　years　before。
“Is　your　name　Quatermain？”　I　asked。
He　answered　that　it　was。　Further　inquiry　revealed　the　fact　that　he　was　a　younger　brother　of　my　old　friend；　whom　I　was　able　to　describe　to　him　so　accurately　that　he　exclaimed　in　delight：
“That’s　him！　Why；　you　do　bring　him　back　from　the　dead；　and　he　gone　so　long　no　one　don’t　think　of　him　no　more。”
To　this　Garsington　period　of　my　childhood　I　find　some　allusions　in　letters　received　from　the　wife　of　my　tutor；　Mrs。　Graham。　Like　so　many　ladies’　epistles　they　are　undated；　but　I　gather　from　internal　evidence　that　they　were　written　in　the　year　1886；　a　quarter　of　a　century　ago。　I　quote　only　those　passages　which　give　Mrs。　Graham’s　recollections　of　me　as　I　appeared　to　her　in　or　about　the　year　1866。　She　says；　talking　of　one　of　my　books；　“I　could　scarcely　realize　that　the　little　quiet　gentle　boy　who　used　to　drive　with　me　about　the　Garsington　lanes　could　have　written　such　a　very　clever　book。”　In　this　letter　she　adds　an　amusing　passage：　“I　was　told　the　other　day　that　you　had　never　been　abroad　yourself　but　had　married　a　Zulu　lady　and　got　all　your　information　from　her。”
I　suppose　it　was　before　I　went　to　Mr。　Graham’s　that　we　all　migrated　abroad　for　a　certain　period。　Probably　this　was　in　order　that　we　might　economise；　though　what　economy　my　father　can　have　found　in　dragging　a　tumultuous　family　about　the　Continent　I　cannot　conceive。　Or　perhaps　I　used　to　join　them　during　the　holidays。
One　of　the　places　in　which　we　settled　temporarily　was　Dunkirk；　where　we　used　to　have　lively　times。　Several　of　my　elder　brothers；　particularly　Jack　and　Andrew；　and　I；　together　with　some　other　English　boys；　among　whom　were　the　sons　of　the　late　Professor　Andrew　Crosse；　the　scientist；　formed　ourselves　into　a　band　and　fought　the　French　boys　of　a　neighbouring　lycee。　These　youths　outnumbered　us　by　far；　but　what　we　lacked　in　numbers　we　made　up　for　by　the　ferocity　of　our　attack。　One　of　our　stratagems　was　to　stretch　a　rope　across　the　street；　over　which　the　little　Frenchmen；　as　they　gambolled　joyously　out　of　school；　tripped　and　tumbled。　Then；　from　some　neighbouring　court　where　we　lay　in　wait；　we　raised　our　British　war…cry　and　fell　upon　them。　How　those　battles　raged！　To　this　day　I　can　hear　the　yells　of　“Cochons　d’Anglais！”　and　the　answering　shouts　of　“Yah！　Froggie；　allez　a　votre　maman！”　as　we　hit　and　kicked　and　wallowed　in　the　mire。
At　last　I　think　the　police　interfered　on　the　plaints　of　parents；　and　we　were　deprived　of　this　particular　joy。
Another　foreign　adventure　that　I　remember；　though　I　must　have　been　much　older　then；　took　place　at　Treport。　There　had　been　a　great　gale；　and　notices　were　put　up　forbidding　anyone　to　bathe　because　of　the　dangerous　current　which　set　in　during　and　after　such　storms。　Needless　to　say；　I　found　in　these　notices　a　distinct　incentive　to　disobedience。　Was　a　British　boy　to　be　deterred　from　bathing　by　French　notices？　Never！　So　I　took　my　younger　brother　Arthur；　and　going　some　way　up　the　beach；　where　I　thought　we　should　not　be　observed；　we　undressed　and　plunged　into　the　breakers。　I　had　the　sense；　I　recollect；　to　tell　him　not　to　get　out　of　his　depth；　but　for　my　part　I　swam　through　or　over　the　enormous　waves　and　disported　myself　beyond　them。　When　I　tried　to　return；　however；　I　found　myself　in　difficulties。　The　current　was　taking　me　out　to　sea。　Oh！　what　a　fight　was　that　—　had　I　not　been　a　good　swimmer　I　could　not　have　lived　through　it。
I　set　out　for　the　shore　husbanding　my　strength　and　got　among　the　huge　rollers；　fighting　my　way　inch　by　inch　against　the　tide　or　undertow。　I　went　under　once　and　struggled　up　again。　I　went　under　a　second　time；　and；　rising；　once　more　faced　that　dreadful　undertow。　I　was　nearly　done；　and　seemed　to　make　no　progress　at　all。　My　brother　Arthur　was　within　hailing　distance　of　me；　and　I　thought　of　calling　to　him。　Then　—　for　my　mind　kept　quite　clear　all　this　time　—　I　reflected　that　as　there　was　no　one　within　sight　to　whom　he　could　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　acted　more　closely　upon　the　advice　which　it　conveys！
Chapter　2　YOUTH
Bradenham　Hall　—　Let　to　Nelson’s　sister　—　Mr。　W。　M。　R。　Haggard；　father　of　H。　R。　H。　—　Chairman　of　Quarter　Sessions　—　His　factotum　Samuel　Adcock　—　Rows　at　Bradenham　—　Their　ical　side　—　Mrs。　W。　M。　R。　Haggard　—　Her　beautiful　character　and　poetic　nature　—　Entrance　examination　for　Army　—　Floored　in　Euclid　—　Hunting　and　shooting　at　Bradenham　—　Ipswich　Grammar　School　—　Fight　with　big　boy　—　Dr。　Holden；　head　master　—　Left　Ipswich　to　cram　for　F。O。　at　Scoones’　—　Life　in　London　—　Spiritualist　seances　—　First　love　affair　—　Left　Scoones’　for　Natal　on　Sir　Henry　Bulwer’s　staff。
Bradenham　Hall；　in　West　Norfolk；　is　a　beautifully　situated　and　fortable　red…brick　house　surrounded　by　woods。　It　was　built　about　a　hundred　and　fifty　years　ago；　and　my　family　have　resided　there　for　four　generations。　The　only　noteworthy　piece　of　history　connected　with　the　house　is　that　it　was　hired　by　Mr。　Bolton；　the　husband　of　Nelson’s　sister；　who　on　more　than　one　occasion　asked　Lady　Hamilton　there　to　stay　with　them。　When　I　was　a　young　fellow；　I　knew　an　old　man　in　the　village　called　Canham　who　at　that　time　was　page　boy　at　the　Hall。　He　remembered　Lady　Hamilton　well；　and　when　I　asked　him　to　describe　her；　said　“She　waur　a　rare　fine　opstanding　＇here　followed　an　outspoken　and　opprobrious　term＇；　she　waur！”
I　may　add　that　in　my　youth　the　glory　of　her　ladyship’s　dresses　was　still　remembered　in　the　village。　After　the　battle　of　Trafalgar；　Nelson’s　personal　belongings　seem　to　have　been　sent　from　the　Victory　to　Bradenham。　At　any　rate　old　Canham　told　me　that　it　was　his　duty　to　hang　out　certain　of　the　Admiral’s　garments　to　air　upon　the　lavender　bushes　in　the　kitchen　garden。　A　piece　of　furniture　from　his　cabin　now　stands　in　the　room　that　Lady　Hamilton　occupied。　Honoria；　Canham　described　as　“a　pale　little　slip　of　a　thing。”
Notwithstanding　his　somewhat　frequent　excursions　abroad　and　certain　years　that　we　spent　at　Leamington　and　in　London　when　economy　was　the　order　of　the　day；　my　father　passed　most　of　his　life　at　Bradenham；　to　which　he　was　devotedly　attached。　He　was　a　barrister；　but　I　do　not　think　that　he　practised　to　any　great　extent；　probably　because　he　had　no　need　to　do　so。　Still　I　have　heard　several　amusing　stories　（they　may　be　apocryphal）　concerning　his　appearance　as　an　advocate。　One　of　these　I　remember；　the　others　have　escaped　me。　He　was　prosecuting　a　man　for　stealing　twelve　hogs；　and　in　addressing　the　jury　did　his　best　to　bring　home　to　them　the　enormity　of　the　defendant’s　crime。
“Gentleman　of　the　Jury；”　he　said；　“think　what　this　man　has　done。　He　stole　not　one　hog　but　twelve　hogs；　and　not　only　twelve　hogs　but　twelve　fat　hogs；　exactly　the　same　number；　Gentleman　of　the　Jury；　as　I　see　in　the　box　before　me！”
The　story　adds　that　the　defendant　y　father　turned　his　legal　lore　to　some　practical　use；　for　he　became　a　Chairman　of　Quarter　Sessions　for　Norfolk；　an　office　which　he　held　till　his　death　over　forty　years　later。　He　used　to　conduct　the　proceedings　with　great　dignity；　t