Newton Forster | Page 7

it lives, she will halve
her milk between it and our little Tommy."
Forster remained another half-hour, until he had ascertained that the
child had taken the breast and had fallen asleep. Congratulating himself
at having been the means of saving even one little life out of the many

which, in all probability, had been swallowed up, he called to the dog,
who had remained passive by the fire, and rose up to return home; but
the dog retreated to the door of the cottage into which he had seen the
infant carried, and all attempts to coax him away were fruitless.
Forster summoned Robertson, to whom he gave some further directions,
and then returned to his home, where, on his arrival, his old
housekeeper, who had never been awakened from her sound nap until
roused by his knocking at the door, scolded him not a little for being
out in such tempestuous weather, and a great deal more for having
obliged her to sit up and watch all night until his return.
Chapter III
"Creation smiles around; on every spray The warbling birds exalt their
evening lay; Blithe skipping o'er yon hill, the fleecy train Join the deep
chorus of the lowing plain: The glassy ocean, hush'd, forgets to roar,
But trembling, murmurs on the sandy shore." FALCONER.
Forster was soon fast asleep after his night of exertion: his dreams were
confused and wild; but I seldom trouble people about dreams, which
are as naught. When Reason descends from her throne, and seeks a
transitory respite from her labour, Fancy usurps the vacant seat, and in
pretended majesty, would fain exert her sister's various powers. These
she enacts to the best of her ability, and with about the same success as
attends a monkey when he attempts the several operations connected
with the mystery of shaving:--and thus ends a very short and conclusive
dissertation upon dreams.
But, to use a nautical phrase, we must "heave-to" in our narrative
awhile, as it is necessary that we should enter a little more into the
previous history of Edward Forster; which we can now do without
interruption, as the parties we have introduced to the reader are all
asleep.
The father of Edward Forster was a clergyman, who, notwithstanding
he could reckon up some twenty or thirty first, second, and third
cousins with high-sounding titles, officiated as curate in a district not

far from that part of the country where Forster at present was located.
He was one of the bees of the Church, who are constantly toiling, while
the drones are eating up the honey. He preached three sermons, and
read three services, at three different stations every Sunday throughout
the year; while he christened, married, and buried a population
extending over some thousands of square acres, for the scanty stipend
of one hundred per annum. Soon after he was in possession of his
curacy, he married a young woman, who brought him beauty and
modesty as her dower, and subsequently pledges of mutual love ad lib.
But He that giveth, taketh away; and out of nearly a score of these
interesting but expensive presents to her husband, only three, all of the
masculine gender, arrived at years of maturity. John (or Jock as he
usually was called), who was the eldest, was despatched to London,
where he studied the law under a relation; who, perceiving that Mrs
Forster's annual presentation of the living was not followed up by any
presentation to the living, kindly took charge of and received him into
his own house.
Jock was a hard-headed fellow, studied with great diligence, and
retained what he read, although he did not read fast; but that which he
lost in speed he made up by perseverance, and had now, entirely by his
own exertions, risen to considerable eminence in his profession; but he
had been severed from his family in early days, and had never been
able to return to them. He heard, indeed, of the birth of sundry brothers
and sisters; of their deaths; and lastly, of the demise of his parents,--the
only communication which affected him; for he loved his father and
mother, and was anticipating the period when he might possess the
means of rendering them more comfortable.
But all this had long passed away. He was now a bachelor past fifty,
bearish and uncouth in his appearance, and ungracious in his
deportment. Secluded in his chambers, poring over the dry
technicalities of his profession, he had divided the moral world into two
parts--honest and dishonest, lawful and unlawful. All other feelings and
affections, if he had them, were buried, and had never been raised to
the surface. At the time we speak of, he continued his laborious, yet
lucrative, profession, toiling in his harness like a horse in