Frank Mildmay | Page 6

milk, suet pudding, and shoulders of mutton, are objects of my deep-rooted aversion. The conduct of the ushers, who were either tyrannical extortioners, or partakers in our crimes--the constant loss of our clothes by the dishonesty or carelessness of the servants--the purloining our silver spoons, sheets, and towels, when we went away, upon the plea of "custom"--the charges in the account for windows which I had never broken, and books which I had never received--the shameful difference between the annual cost promised by the master, and the sum actually charged, ought to have opened the eyes of my father.
I am aware how excellent many of these institutions are, and that there are few so bad as the one I was sent to. The history of my life will prove of what vital importance it is to ascertain the character of the master and mistress as to other points besides teaching Greek and Latin, before a child is intrusted--to their care. I ought to have observed, that during my stay at this school, I had made some proficiency in mathematics and algebra.
My father had procured for me a berth on board a fine frigate at Plymouth, and the interval between my nomination and joining was spent by my parents in giving advice to me, and directions to the several tradesmen respecting my equipment. The large chest, the sword, the cocked-hat, the half-boots, were all ordered in succession; and the arrival of each article, either of use or ornament, was anticipated by me with a degree of impatience which can only be compared to that of a ship's company arrived off Dennose from a three years' station in India, and who hope to be at anchor at Spithead before sunset. The circumstance of my going to sea affected my father in no other way than it interfered with his domestic comforts by the immoderate grief of my poor mother. In any other point of view my choice of profession was a source of no regret to him. I had an elder brother, who was intended to have the family estates, and who was then at Oxford, receiving an education suitable to his rank in life, and also learning how to spend his money like a gentleman. Younger brothers are, in such cases, just as well out of the way, particularly one of my turbulent disposition: a man-of-war, therefore, like another piece of timber, has its uses. My father paid all the bills with great philosophy, and made me a liberal allowance for my age.
The hour of departure drew near; my chest had been sent off by the Plymouth waggon, and a hackney-coach drew up to the door, to convey me to the White Horse Cellar. The letting down of the rattling steps completely overthrew the small remains of fortitude which my dearest mother had reserved for our separation, and she threw her arms around my neck in a frenzy of grief. I beheld her emotions with a countenance as unmoved as the figure-head of a ship; while she covered my stoic face with kisses, and washed it with her tears. I almost wondered what it all meant, and wished the scene was over.
My father helped me out of this dilemma; taking me firmly by the arm, he led me out of the room; my mother sank upon the sofa, and hid her face in her pocket-handkerchief. I walked as quickly to the coach as common decency would permit. My father looked at me, as if he would inquire of my very inward soul whether I really did possess human feelings? I felt the meaning of this, even in my then tender years; and such was my sense of propriety, that I mustered up a tear for each eye, which, I hope, answered the intended purpose. We say at sea, "When you have no decency sham a little;" and I verily believe I should have beheld my poor mother in her coffin with less regret than I could have foregone the gay and lovely scenes which I anticipated.
How amply has this want of feeling towards a tender parent been recalled to my mind, and severely punished, in the events of my vagrant life!
CHAPTER TWO.
Injuries may be atoned for and forgiven: but insults admit of no compensation. They degrade the mind in its own esteem, and force it to recover its level by revenge.
JUNIUS.
There are certain events in our lives poetically and beautifully described by Moore as "green spots in memory's waste." Such are the emotions arising from the attainment, after a long pursuit, of any darling object of love or ambition; and although possession and subsequent events may have proved to us that we had overrated our enjoyment, and experience have shown us "that all is vanity," still recollection dwells with pleasure upon