Cranford | Page 6

as her forte. Many a copy of many a letter have I seen
written and corrected on the slate, before she "seized the half- hour just
previous to post-time to assure" her friends of this or of that; and Dr
Johnson was, as she said, her model in these compositions. She drew
herself up with dignity, and only replied to Captain Brown's last remark
by saying, with marked emphasis on every syllable, "I prefer Dr
Johnson to Mr Boz."
It is said--I won't vouch for the fact--that Captain Brown was heard to
say, sotto voce, "D-n Dr Johnson!" If he did, he was penitent afterwards,
as he showed by going to stand near Miss Jenkyns' arm-chair, and
endeavouring to beguile her into conversation on some more pleasing
subject. But she was inexorable. The next day she made the remark I
have mentioned about Miss Jessie's dimples.

CHAPTER II
--THE CAPTAIN

It was impossible to live a month at Cranford and not know the daily
habits of each resident; and long before my visit was ended I knew
much concerning the whole Brown trio. There was nothing new to be
discovered respecting their poverty; for they had spoken simply and
openly about that from the very first. They made no mystery of the
necessity for their being economical. All that remained to be discovered
was the Captain's infinite kindness of heart, and the various modes in
which, unconsciously to himself, he manifested it. Some little
anecdotes were talked about for some time after they occurred. As we
did not read much, and as all the ladies were pretty well suited with
servants, there was a dearth of subjects for conversation. We therefore
discussed the circumstance of the Captain taking a poor old woman's

dinner out of her hands one very slippery Sunday. He had met her
returning from the bakehouse as he came from church, and noticed her
precarious footing; and, with the grave dignity with which he did
everything, he relieved her of her burden, and steered along the street
by her side, carrying her baked mutton and potatoes safely home. This
was thought very eccentric; and it was rather expected that he would
pay a round of calls, on the Monday morning, to explain and apologise
to the Cranford sense of propriety: but he did no such thing: and then it
was decided that he was ashamed, and was keeping out of sight. In a
kindly pity for him, we began to say, "After all, the Sunday morning's
occurrence showed great goodness of heart," and it was resolved that he
should be comforted on his next appearance amongst us; but, lo! he
came down upon us, untouched by any sense of shame, speaking loud
and bass as ever, his head thrown back, his wig as jaunty and
well-curled as usual, and we were obliged to conclude he had forgotten
all about Sunday.
Miss Pole and Miss Jessie Brown had set up a kind of intimacy on the
strength of the Shetland wool and the new knitting stitches; so it
happened that when I went to visit Miss Pole I saw more of the Browns
than I had done while staying with Miss Jenkyns, who had never got
over what she called Captain Brown's disparaging remarks upon Dr
Johnson as a writer of light and agreeable fiction. I found that Miss
Brown was seriously ill of some lingering, incurable complaint, the
pain occasioned by which gave the uneasy expression to her face that I
had taken for unmitigated crossness. Cross, too, she was at times, when
the nervous irritability occasioned by her disease became past
endurance. Miss Jessie bore with her at these times, even more
patiently than she did with the bitter self-upbraidings by which they
were invariably succeeded. Miss Brown used to accuse herself, not
merely of hasty and irritable temper, but also of being the cause why
her father and sister were obliged to pinch, in order to allow her the
small luxuries which were necessaries in her condition. She would so
fain have made sacrifices for them, and have lightened their cares, that
the original generosity of her disposition added acerbity to her temper.
All this was borne by Miss Jessie and her father with more than
placidity--with absolute tenderness. I forgave Miss Jessie her singing
out of tune, and her juvenility of dress, when I saw her at home. I came

to perceive that Captain Brown's dark Brutus wig and padded coat (alas!
too often threadbare) were remnants of the military smartness of his
youth, which he now wore unconsciously. He was a man of infinite
resources, gained in his barrack experience. As he confessed, no one
could black his boots to please him except himself; but, indeed, he was
not above saving the little