Peter Simple and The Three Cutters, Vol. 1 | Page 9

His former tenant had indeed shown but little respect for the property.
Besides taking all he could out of the land without putting anything into
it, he fitted up the drawing-room of the manor (which in its brightest
days had been known in the village as the "Room of Thousand
Columns," from an effect produced by mirrors set in the panels of
folding doors, reflecting trellised pillars,) with rows of beds, which he
let out to tramps at twopence a night!
Of these latter years on the farm we can gather some distinctly pleasant
impressions. Marryat was evidently a good master at all times. He
delighted to arrange for festivities in the servants' hall, but he was also
very tolerant to poachers, and considered it his first duty to find work
for his men when times were bad. His model pigsties and cottages were
unpopular, but he loved his animals and understood them. The chief
merit of his lazy and somewhat asinine pony Dumpling consisted in his
talent for standing still. Upon this patient beast the captain would
occasionally sally forth to shoot, assisting his natural short-sightedness

by a curious "invention of his own;"--a plain piece of crystal
surrounded by a strip of whalebone, hanging in front of his right eye
from the brim of his "shocking bad hat." He was a careless dresser, but
scrupulously clean; no smoker, but very fond of snuff. He had a fancy
for pure white china which had to be procured from the Continent.
Cordial invitations from friends seldom drew him from his
self-imposed labours, and it appears that, in spite of his son's debts and
other domestic troubles, he led a fairly contented existence among his
dogs and his children. To the latter, though occasionally passionate, he
was "a most indulgent father and friend." He never locked anything
away from them, or shut them out of any room in the house. Though
severe on falsehood and cowardice, he was indifferent to mischief, and
one is certainly driven to pity for the governess who was summoned to
look after them. His methods in this connection were original. "He kept
a quantity of small articles for presents in his secretary; and at the
termination of each week the children and governess, armed with a
report of their general behaviour, were ushered with much solemnity
into the library to render up an account. Those who had behaved well
during the preceding seven days received a prize, because they had
been so good; and those who had behaved ill also received one, in
hopes that they would never be naughty again: the governess was also
presented with a gift, that her criticism on the justice of the transaction
might be disarmed." The father was not a strict disciplinarian, and it is
related that when a little one had made "a large rent in a new frock," for
which she expected punishment from her governess, and ran to him for
advice, he "took hold of the rent and tore off the whole lower part of
the skirt," saying, "Tell her I did it."
The sons were seldom at home, but in spite of a certain constitutional
wildness and lack of prudence, they were evidently a gallant couple,
delighting their father's heart. Frederick, the eldest, became a
distinguished officer, after conquering a strong propensity to practical
joking, and was much regretted in the service when wrecked at the age
of twenty-seven. He was last seen "upbraiding, in his jocular manner,
some people who were frightened, when a sea swept over the ship and
took him with it." Frank was entered upon the roll of the navy at the

tender age of three, and presented to the Port Admiral of Plymouth in
full costume. The officer patted him on the head, saying "Well, you're a
fine little fellow," to which the youngster replied, "and you're a fine old
cock, too."
He became a cultivated and bold traveller, beloved by his friends, and
not unknown to fame. He only survived his father a few years, and died
at the age of twenty-eight.
Marryat now began his charming series of stories for children, a work
to which he turned for a practical reason that sounds strangely from his
impulsive lips:--
"I have lately taken to a different style of writing, that is, for young
people. My former productions, like all novels, have had their day, and
for the present, at least, will sell no more; but it is not so with the
juveniles; they have an annual demand, and become a little income to
me; which I infinitely prefer to receiving any sum in a mass, which
very soon disappears somehow or other." Save for a little tendency to
preachment, these volumes, particularly Masterman Ready, and The
Children of the New Forest, are admirably