Japhet, in Search of a Father | Page 5

supply his place when he left.
Mr Brookes was a very quiet, amiable person, kind to me and the other
boy who carried out the medicines, and who had been taken by Mr
Cophagus, for his food and raiment. The porter told Mr Brookes who I
was, and left me. "Do you think that you will like to be an apothecary?"
said Mr Brookes to me, with a benevolent smile.
"Yes; I do not see why I should not," replied I.
"Stop a moment," said the lad who was waiting with the basket, lookly
archly at me, "you hav'n't got through your rudimans yet."
"Hold your tongue, Timothy," said Mr Brookes. "That you are not very
fond of the rudiments, as Mr Cophagus calls them, is very clear. Now
walk off as fast as you can with these medicines, sir--14, Spring Street;
16, Cleaver Street, as before; and then to John Street, 55, Mrs Smith's.
Do you understand?"
"To be sure I do--can't I read? I reads all the directions, and all your
Latin stuff into the bargain--all your summen dusses, horez, dìez,
cockly hairy. I mean to set up for myself one of these days."
"I'll knock you down one of these days, Mr Timothy, if you stay so
long as you do, looking at the print shops; that you may depend upon."
"I keep up all my learning that way," replied Timothy, walking off with
his load, turning his head round and laughing at me, as he quitted the
shop. Mr Brookes smiled, but said nothing.
As Timothy went out, in came Mr Cophagus. "Heh! Japhet--I see," said
he, putting up his cane, "nothing to do--bad--must work--um--and so on.

Mr Brookes--boy learn rudiments--good--and so on." Hereupon Mr
Cophagus took his cane from his nose, pointed to the large iron mortar,
and then walked away into the back parlour. Mr Brookes understood
his master, if I did not. He wiped out the mortar, threw in some drugs,
and, showing me how to use the pestle, left me to my work. In half an
hour I discovered why it was that Timothy had such an objection to
what Mr Cophagus facetiously termed the rudiments of the profession.
It was dreadful hard work for a boy; the perspiration ran down me in
streams, and I could hardly lift my arms. When Mr Cophagus passed
through the shop and looked at me, as I continued to thump away with
the heavy iron pestle. "Good,"--said he, "by-and-bye--M.D.--and so
on." I thought it was a very rough road to such preferment, and I
stopped to take a little breath. "By-the-by--Japhet--Christian name--and
so on--sirname--heh!"
"Mr Cophagus wishes to know your other name," said Mr Brookes,
interpreting.
I have omitted to acquaint the reader that sirnames as well as Christian
names, are always given to the children at the Foundling, and in
consequence of the bank note found in my basket, I had been named
after the celebrated personage whose signature it bore. "Newland is my
other name, sir," replied I.
"Newland--heh!--very good name--every body likes to see that
name--and have plenty of them in his pockets too--um--very
comfortable--and so on," replied Mr Cophagus, leaving the shop.
I resumed my thumping occupation, when Timothy returned with his
empty basket. He laughed when he saw me at work. "Well, how do you
like the rudimans?--and so on--heh?" said he, mimicking Mr Cophagus.
"Not overmuch," replied I, wiping my face.
"That was my job before you came. I have been more than a year, and
never have got out of those rudimans yet, and I suppose I never shall."
Mr Brookes, perceiving that I was tired, desired me to leave off, an

order which I gladly obeyed, and I took my seat in a corner of the shop.
"There," said Timothy, laying down his basket; "no more work for me
_hanty prandium,_ is there, Mr Brookes?"
"No, Tim; but _post prandium,_ you'll post off again."
Dinner being ready, and Mr Cophagus having returned, he and Mr
Brookes went into the back parlour, leaving Timothy and me in the
shop to announce customers. And I shall take this opportunity of
introducing Mr Timothy more particularly, as he will play a very
conspicuous part in this narrative. Timothy was short in stature for his
age, but very strongly built. He had an oval face, with a very dark
complexion, grey eyes flashing from under their long eyelashes, and
eyebrows nearly meeting each other. He was marked with the
small-pox, not so much as to disfigure him, but still it was very
perceptible when near to him. His countenance was always lighted up
with merriment; there was such a happy, devil-may-care expression in
his face, that you liked him the first minute that you were in his
company, and I was intimate with