the days of my life-第4部分

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It　seems　that　I　was　a　whimsical　child。　At　least　Hocking；　my　mother’s　maid；　a　handsome；　vigorous；　black…eyed；　raw…boned　Cornishwoman　who　spent　most　of　her　active　life　in　the　service　of　the　family；　informed　me　in　after　years　that　nothing　would　induce　me　to　go　to　sleep　unless　a　clean　napkin　in　a　certain　way　was　placed　under　my　head；　which　napkin　I　called　“an　ear。”　To　this　day　I　have　dim　recollections　of　crying　bitterly　until　this　“ear”　was　brought　to　me。　Also　I　was　stupid。　Indeed；　although　she　always　indignantly　denied　the　story　in　after　years；　I　remember　when　I　was　about　seven　my　dear　mother　declaring　that　I　was　as　heavy　as　lead　in　body　and　mind。
I　fear　that　I　was　more　or　less　of　a　dunderhead　at　lessons。　Even　my　letters　presented　difficulties　to　me；　and　I　well　recollect　a　few　years　later　being　put　through　an　examination　by　my　future　brother…inlaw；　the　Rev。　Charles　Maddison　Green；　with　the　object　of　ascertaining　what　amount　of　knowledge　I　had　acquired　at　a　day　school　in　London；　where　we　then　were　living　at　24　Leinster　Square。
The　results　of　this　examination　were　so　appalling　that　when　he　was　apprised　of　them　my　indignant　father　burst　into　the　room　where　I　sat　resigned　to　fate；　and；　in　a　voice　like　to　that　of　an　angry　bull；　roared　out　at　me　that　I　was　“only　fit　to　be　a　greengrocer。”　Even　then　I　wondered　why　this　affront　should　be　put　upon　a　useful　trade。　After　the　row　was　over　I　went　for　a　walk　with　my　brother　Andrew　who　was　two　years　older　than　myself　and　who；　it　appeared；　had　assisted　at　my　disfiture　from　behind　a　door。　Just　ain　street；　I　think　it　is　Westbourne　Grove　—　at　any　rate　in　those　days　Whiteley　had　a　single　little　shop　not　far　off　at　which　my　mother　used　to　deal　—　there　is；　or　was；　a　fruit　and　vegetable　store　with　no　glass　in　the　window。　My　brother　stood　contemplating　it　for　a　long　while。　At　last　he　said：
“I　say；　old　fellow；　when　you　bee　a　greengrocer；　I　hope　you’ll　let　me　have　oranges　cheap！”
To　this　day　I　have　never　quite　forgiven　Andrew　for　that　most　heartless　remark。
After　all　it　was　not　perhaps　strange　that　I　did　not　learn　much　at　these　London　day　schools　—　for　I　went　to　two　of　them。　The　first　I　left　suddenly。　It　was　managed　by　the　head　master　and　an　usher　whose　names　I　have　long　forgotten。　The　usher　was　a　lanky；　red…haired；　pale…faced　man　whom　we　all　hated　because　of　his　violent　temper　and　injustice。　On　one　occasion　when　his　back　was　turned　to　the　class　to　which　I　belonged；　that　I　presume　was　the　lowest；　I　amused　myself　and　my　panions　by　shaking　my　little　fists　at　him；　whereon　they　laughed。　The　usher　wheeled　round　and　asked　why　we　were　laughing；　when　some　mean　boy　piped　out：
“Please；　sir；　because　Haggard　is　shaking　his　fists　at　you。”
He　called　me　to　him　and　I　perceived　that　he　was　trembling　with　rage。
“You　young　brute！”　he　said。　“I’ll　see　you　in　your　grave　before　you　shake　your　fists　at　me　again。”
Then　he　doubled　his　own　and；　striking　me　first　on　one　side　of　the　head　and　then　on　the　other；　knocked　me　all　the　way　down　the　long　room　and　finally　over　a　chair　into　a　heap　of　slates　in　a　corner；　where　I　lay　a　while　almost　senseless。　I　recovered　and　went　home。　Here　my　eldest　sister　Ella；　noticing　my　bruised　and　dazed　condition；　cross…examined　me　until　I　told　her　the　truth。　An　interview　followed　between　my　father　and　the　master　of　the　school；　which　resulted　in　a　dismissal　of　the　usher　and　my　departure。　Afterwards　I　met　that　usher　in　the　Park　somewhere　near　the　Row；　and　so　great　was　my　fear　of　him　that　I　never　stopped　running　till　I　reached　the　Marble　Arch。
After　this　my　father　sent　me　to　a　second　day　school　where　the　pupils　were　supposed　to　receive　a　sound　business　education。
Then　came　the　examination　that　I　have　mentioned　at　the　hands　of　my　brother…inlaw。　As　a　result　I　was　despatched　to　the　Rev。　Mr。　Graham；　who　took　in　two　or　three　small　boys　（at　that　time　I　must　have　been　nine　or　ten　years　of　age）　at　Garsington　Rectory　near　Oxford。
The　Rectory；　long　ago　pulled　down；　was　a　low　grey　house　that　once　had　served　as　a　place　of　refuge　in　time　of　plague　for　the　Fellows　of　one　of　the　Oxford　colleges。　Twice；　if　not　three　times；　in　the　course　of　my　after　life　I　have　revisited　this　spot；　the　last　occasion　being　about　two　years　ago。　Except　that　the　Rectory　has　been　rebuilt　the　place　remains　just　the　same。　There　is　the　old　seventeenth…century　dovecote　and　the　shell　of　the　ancient　pollard　elm；　in　the　hollow　trunk　of　which　I　used　to　play　with　a　child　of　my　own　age；　Mrs。　Graham’s　little　sister　Blanche；　who　was　as　fair　in　colouring　as　one　of　her　name　should　be。　I　believe　that　she　has　now　been　dead　many　years。
Quite　near　to　the　Rectory　and　not　far　from　the　pretty　church；　through　the　chancel　door　of　which　once　I　saw　a　donkey　thrust　its　head　and　burst　into　violent　brays　in　the　midst　of　Mr。　Graham’s　sermon；　stood　a　farm…house。　The　farmer；　a　long；　lank　man　who　wore　a　smart　frock；　was　very　kind　to　me　—　I　found　his　grave　in　the　churchyard　when　last　I　was　there。　He　e　that　I　used　in　“King　Solomon’s　Mines”　and　other　books　in　after　years。　After　looking　at　this　farm　and　the　tree　nearby　which　bore　walnuts　bigger　and　finer　than　any　that　grow　nowadays；　I　went　to　the　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　certa