the days of my life-第5章

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he　new　Rectory　and　there　saw　working　in　the　garden　a　tall；　thin　old　man；　who　reminded　me　strangely　of　one　whom　I　remembered　over　thirty　years　before。
“Is　your　name　Quatermain？”　I　asked。
He　answered　that　it　was。　Further　inquiry　revealed　the　fact　that　he　was　a　younger　brother　of　my　old　friend；　whom　I　was　able　to　describe　to　him　so　accurately　that　he　exclaimed　in　delight：
“That’s　him！　Why；　you　do　bring　him　back　from　the　dead；　and　he　gone　so　long　no　one　don’t　think　of　him　no　more。”
To　this　Garsington　period　of　my　childhood　I　find　some　allusions　in　letters　received　from　the　wife　of　my　tutor；　Mrs。　Graham。　Like　so　many　ladies’　epistles　they　are　undated；　but　I　gather　from　internal　evidence　that　they　were　written　in　the　year　1886；　a　quarter　of　a　century　ago。　I　quote　only　those　passages　which　give　Mrs。　Graham’s　recollections　of　me　as　I　appeared　to　her　in　or　about　the　year　1866。　She　says；　talking　of　one　of　my　books；　“I　could　scarcely　realize　that　the　little　quiet　gentle　boy　who　used　to　drive　with　me　about　the　Garsington　lanes　could　have　written　such　a　very　clever　book。”　In　this　letter　she　adds　an　amusing　passage：　“I　was　told　the　other　day　that　you　had　never　been　abroad　yourself　but　had　married　a　Zulu　lady　and　got　all　your　information　from　her。”
I　suppose　it　was　before　I　went　to　Mr。　Graham’s　that　we　all　migrated　abroad　for　a　certain　period。　Probably　this　was　in　order　that　we　might　economise；　though　what　economy　my　father　can　have　found　in　dragging　a　tumultuous　family　about　the　Continent　I　cannot　conceive。　Or　perhaps　I　used　to　join　them　during　the　holidays。
One　of　the　places　in　which　we　settled　temporarily　was　Dunkirk；　where　we　used　to　have　lively　times。　Several　of　my　elder　brothers；　particularly　Jack　and　Andrew；　and　I；　together　with　some　other　English　boys；　among　whom　were　the　sons　of　the　late　Professor　Andrew　Crosse；　the　scientist；　formed　ourselves　into　a　band　and　fought　the　French　boys　of　a　neighbouring　lycee。　These　youths　outnumbered　us　by　far；　but　what　we　lacked　in　numbers　we　made　up　for　by　the　ferocity　of　our　attack。　One　of　our　stratagems　was　to　stretch　a　rope　across　the　street；　over　which　the　little　Frenchmen；　as　they　gambolled　joyously　out　of　school；　tripped　and　tumbled。　Then；　from　some　neighbouring　court　where　we　lay　in　wait；　we　raised　our　British　war…cry　and　fell　upon　them。　How　those　battles　raged！　To　this　day　I　can　hear　the　yells　of　“Cochons　d’Anglais！”　and　the　answering　shouts　of　“Yah！　Froggie；　allez　a　votre　maman！”　as　we　hit　and　kicked　and　wallowed　in　the　mire。
At　last　I　think　the　police　interfered　on　the　plaints　of　parents；　and　we　were　deprived　of　this　particular　joy。
Another　foreign　adventure　that　I　remember；　though　I　must　have　been　much　older　then；　took　place　at　Treport。　There　had　been　a　great　gale；　and　notices　were　put　up　forbidding　anyone　to　bathe　because　of　the　dangerous　current　which　set　in　during　and　after　such　storms。　Needless　to　say；　I　found　in　these　notices　a　distinct　incentive　to　disobedience。　Was　a　British　boy　to　be　deterred　from　bathing　by　French　notices？　Never！　So　I　took　my　younger　brother　Arthur；　and　going　some　way　up　the　beach；　where　I　thought　we　should　not　be　observed；　we　undressed　and　plunged　into　the　breakers。　I　had　the　sense；　I　recollect；　to　tell　him　not　to　get　out　of　his　depth；　but　for　my　part　I　swam　through　or　over　the　enormous　waves　and　disported　myself　beyond　them。　When　I　tried　to　return；　however；　I　found　myself　in　difficulties。　The　current　was　taking　me　out　to　sea。　Oh！　what　a　fight　was　that　—　had　I　not　been　a　good　swimmer　I　could　not　have　lived　through　it。
I　set　out　for　the　shore　husbanding　my　strength　and　got　among　the　huge　rollers；　fighting　my　way　inch　by　inch　against　the　tide　or　undertow。　I　went　under　once　and　struggled　up　again。　I　went　under　a　second　time；　and；　rising；　once　more　faced　that　dreadful　undertow。　I　was　nearly　done；　and　seemed　to　make　no　progress　at　all。　My　brother　Arthur　was　within　hailing　distance　of　me；　and　I　thought　of　calling　to　him。　Then　—　for　my　mind　kept　quite　clear　all　this　time　—　I　reflected　that　as　there　was　no　one　within　sight　to　whom　he　could　go　or　shout　for　assistance；　he　would　certainly　try　to　help　me　himself；　with　the　result　that　we　should　both　be　drowned。　So　I　held　my　tongue　and　fought　on。　Just　as　everything　was　ing　to　an　end　—　for　the　breakers　broke　over　me　continually　—　my　foot　struck　upon　something；　I　suppose　it　was　a　point　of　rock；　and　on　this　something　I　rested　a　while。　Then；　waiting　a　favourable　opportunity；　I　made　a　last　desperate　effort　and　struggled　to　the　shore；　where　I　fell　down　exhausted。
As　I　lay　there　panting；　some　coastguards；　or　whatever　they　are　called；　who　had　observed　what　was　happening　through　their　spy…glasses；　arrived　at　a　run　and　very　properly　expressed　their　views　in　the　most　strenuous　language。　Recovering　myself　at　length　I　sat　up　and　said　in　my　best　or　worst　French：
“Si　je　noye；　qu’est　ce　que　cela　vous　fait？”
The　answer；　that　even　then　struck　me　as　very　appropriate；　was　to　the　effect　that　my　individual　fate　did　not　matter　twopence　to　them；　but　“how　about　the　reputation　of　Treport　as　a　bathing…place？”
I　do　not　recollect　that　I　dilated　upon　this　little　adventure　to　my　relatives；　and　I　am　not　sure　that　even　my　brother；　who　was　four　years　younger　than　myself；　ever　realised　how　serious　had　been　the　crisis。
I　suppose　that　it　must　have　been　earlier　than　this　—　for　as　to　all　these　youthful　experiences　my　memory　is　hazy　—　that　we　stayed　for　a　while　at　Coblentz。　I　remember　being　taken　on　a　trip　up　the　Rhine　that　I　might　study　the　scenery；　and　retiring　to　the　cabin　to　read　a　story…book。　Missing　me；　my　father　descended　and　dragged　me　out　by　the　scruff　of　the　neck；　exclaiming　loudly；　to　the　vast　amusement　of　the　other　passengers：
“I　have　paid　five　thalers　for　you　to　improve　your　mind　by　absorbing　the　beauties　of　nature；　and　absorb　them　you　shall！”
Of　Coblentz　I　recall　little　except　the　different　colours　of　the　waters　of　the　Moselle　and　the　Rhine。　What　remains　fixed　in　my　memory；　however；　is　the　scene　of　our　departure　thence　by　boat。　In　those　days　my　father　wore　some　false　teeth；　and；　when　the　steamer　was　about　to　start；　it　was　discovered　that　these　teeth　were　still　reposing　in　a　glass　upon　his　dressing…table　a　mile　or　more　away。
A　tumult　followed　and　in　the　end　Hocking；　my　mother’s　maid；　whom　I　have　already　mentioned；　was　despatched　to　fetch　them　in　spite　of　the　remonstrances　of　the　captain。　Off　she　went　like　a　racehorse；　and　then　ensued　a　most　exciting　time。　The　captain　shouted　and　rang　his　bell；　the　steam　whistle　blew；　and　my　father　shouted　also；　much　more　loudly　than　the　captain；　whilst　I　and　the　remainder　of　the　family　giggled　in　the　background。　A　crisis　supervened。　The　captain　would　wait　no　longer　and　ordered　the　sailors　to　cast　off。　My　father　in　manding　tones　ordered　them　to　do　nothing　of　the　sort。　The　steam　whistle　sent　up　one　continual　scream。　At　last　the　ropes　were　loosed；　when　suddenly　bounding　down　the　street　that　led　to　the　quay；　her　dress　well　above　her　knees　and　waving　the　false　teeth　in　her　hand；　appeared　Hocking。　Then　the　captain　and　my　father　congratulated　each　other　with　a　courtly　flourish；　the　latter　arranged　the　false　teeth　in　their　proper　home；　the　boat　started　and　peace　reigned　for　a　little　while。
I　think　that　it　was　at　Cologne　that　we　had　a　supper　party；　a　considerable　affair　—　for　wherever　we　went　there　seemed　to　be　a　large　number　of　people　whom　we　knew。　Among　them　was　an　aunt　of　mine；　Mrs。　Fowle；　my　father’s　sister；　who　is　still　living　today　at　a　great　age；　although　her　husband；　the　Rev。　Mr。　Fowle；　who　was　then　with　her；　has　long　been　dead。　To　her　I　am　indebted　for　the　following　story　of　which　personally　I　have　no　recollection。　It　appears　that　when　the　preliminary　party　or　whatever　it　may　have　been　was　over；　and　at　the　appointed　time　the　pany　trooped　in　to　supper；　they　were　astonished　to　find　a　single　small　boy；　to　wit　myself；　seated　at　the　end　of　the　table　and　just　finishing　an　excellent　meal。
“Rider；”　said　my　father　in　tones　of　thunder；　“what　are　you　doing　here？　Explain；　sir！　Explain！”
“Please；　father；”　I　answered　in　a　mild　voice；　“I　knew　that　when　you　all　came　in　there　would　be　no　room　for　me；　so　I　had　my　supper　first。”
My　uncle　Fowle　was　a　very　humorous　man；　and　the　followi