Mr. Martin

“ Martin. Do you know Mr. Martin?"
The strange boy shook his head.
"I guess he doesn't live around here," he remarked. "I've lived here all my life; but there's nobody named Martin on this block. Where did you come from?"
"Offen the auto," explained Freddie. "We were riding on the auto with
Billy Martin and Nell, and our father and mother and Nan and Bert and——"
"Say, there are a lot of you!" ”

“ CHAPTER THE SIXTH MARTIN’S PASSENGER Martin spent all the next day in a fruitless search for work. Either no one wanted a boy, or the few that had places open would not engage a boy who had been dismissed for fighting.
In the evening, tired and dejected, Martin was walking homeward along the waterside. Glancing towards the stairs where he had seen Mr. Slocum embark on the foreigner’s boat, he noticed two small boys bending down over a boat that was moored to an iron ring. A third boy stood half-way up the stairs, evidently keeping watch. ”

“ Martin visited England, and remained abroad six months, where he did good service for the cause of freedom. On his return home he was warmly welcomed by his church and congregation. Soon after, he secured the freedom of his only sister and her two children, whom he settled at the west. In person, Mr. Martin is somewhat taller than the medium height; firm, dignified walk; not what would be termed handsome, but has a pleasing countenance; in race, half and half; eyes clear and bright; forehead well developed ”

“ Lupin, getting his sea-legs on aboard the Screw, travelling with old Tom Pinch on English roads, and burning stumps of trees in Eden, all at once.
But whenever Martin gave him drink or medicine, or tended him in any way, or came into the house returning from some drudgery without, the patient Mr. Tapley brightened up, and cried: "I'm jolly, sir: I'm jolly!"
Now, when Martin began to think of this, and to look at Mark as he lay there; never reproaching him by so much as an expression of regret; never murmuring; always striving to be manful and staunch ”

“ Some thirty yards ahead the lane made another sharp twist. When Martin reached the bend he was just in time to see, dimly in the fading light, one of the ’prentices being shoved by a man through the gateway of a warehouse yard. The barrow, Mr. Slocum, and the other ’prentice were already out of sight.
Martin recognised the voice of the lad who was being roughly used as that of Butler, and he dashed on at his topmost speed, shouting as he ran. For a moment he had no other thought than to save the lad who had been his fellow-'prentice from the hands of his assailant. ”

“ "You are a very warm friend to Mr. Martin; but, as I said before, are unjust to Harriet. Harriet's claims to marry well are not so contemptible as you represent them. She is not a clever girl, but she has better sense than you are aware of, and does not deserve to have her understanding spoken of so slightingly. ”

“ A man of genial manner and generous disposition, Martin was a close student of human nature. He proved his commonsense and catholicity of temper by admitting into partnership, in 1889, an able Bengali, (Sir) R. N. Mukherji, K.C.I.E., who shares with Martin's sons, Ernest and Harold, and Mr. C. W. Walsh the proprietorship of the firm. Martin, who was broken in health by severe toil in a tropical climate, spent much of his later life in Europe. He died at Binstead House, Isle of Wight, on 29 April 1906, and was buried in Ryde cemetery. A painting from a miniature is in the Calcutta office. ”

“ Martin murmured. George Hopton came and stood by him.
“Mr. Greatorex, to be sure,” answered Susan, “and a real kind gentleman. Brave too; ay, a man of bravery if ever there was one, and quick of his mind. He came riding up with this lad perched behind him, and the way he got off that horse—well, ’twas a wonderful spring for a man of his years. ‘Where’s Martin Leake?’ he sings out. ‘In the house,’ says I, ‘a-saving of the old gentleman on the first floor.’ ‘Isn’t there a man that could have done that?’ says he, scornful-like, looking round on the crowd. ”

“ Martin was careful to keep out of the angry man’s way, and wondered whether, when he received his week’s wages, he would be told to find another job. To his surprise Mr. Faryner seemed to have forgotten the matter that had upset him.
“Here you are, my lad,” he said, as he handed Martin his five shillings. “And you had better take two loaves home to-night instead of one; there are some over, and they’ll be too stale to sell by Monday.” ”

“ I 'd swear that when you did meet you understood each other thoroughly; agreed well,—ay, and what is more to the purpose, differed in the right places too.”
“I'm certain we did,” said Jack, smiling, “though I'm ungrateful enough to forget all about it.”
“Well,” said Martin, entering, “I have sent for another advocate to plead my cause. My daughter will tell you, sir, that she, at least, is not afraid to encounter the uncivilized glens beside the Orinoco. Come in, Kate. You tell me that you and Mr. Massingbred are old friends.” ”

“ The senses of a sleepless person are extraordinarily acute, and as the hours dragged on Martin became annoyed at the regular snores of Susan Gollop in the room beyond. Dick happened to be out on night duty again. For a long time the only other sounds Martin heard were the footsteps of Mr. Seymour as he went along the passage above and up the stairs to his room. ”

“ Glasgow looked at Slaney, at her old-fashioned habit, at her saddle, horned like the moon, at the mare’s tufted fetlocks and dingy curb-chain, and realized that Miss Morris’s most sincere admirers could not attribute to her the sacred quality of smartness. With Mr. Glasgow, as with most of his countrymen, smartness came next to cleanliness and considerably in advance of godliness. He had often ridden with Slaney, and the points he now uncomfortably noted had merely seemed an unimportant part of the background of a life whose charm depended on culture and not on fashion. ”

“ John Clare stayed a week in London, and during the whole of this time felt painfully uncomfortable in his threadbare suit of labourer's clothes, patched top and bottom, with leather baffles and gaiters to match. He fancied, when walking along the streets, that everybody was staring and laughing at his smock frock; and the sound of his heavy hob-nailed shoes startled him whenever he entered a house. What made things worse was, that Mr. Gilchrist wanted to draw him into many fine places and among high and wealthy people, for whose company Clare felt an instinctive dislike. ”

“ Mr. Cary, or, in point of fact, to his wife. Mrs. Gary, on getting the first poetical epistle, held it to be a declaration of lore, and, very properly, burnt the paper. But getting a second piece of poetry, somewhat mystic in expression, she showed it to her husband, who, being an elderly gentleman with a wig, got very excited over the matter. He took Clare aside on the instant, telling him, with much warmth, that it was not the custom at Chiswick to make love to other men's wives, and that, however much he admired his sonnets, he did not like his mode of distributing them. ”

“ Don’t you give him up to no one whatsoever. And keep a still tongue. Don’t go a-babbling.”
“And keep him out of Mr. Seymour’s sight,” said Martin.
“Why?” asked Susan in surprise.
“Because—I’ll tell you later on. It’s a long story, and Mr. Faryner will be in a rage with me if I don’t hurry back. I’m very late.”
“What you can’t help, make the best of,” said Gollop, as he went back into his bedroom to finish his interrupted toilet.
The baker was in an irritable mood when Martin reached the shop. He had had to find another messenger to carry the morning’s delivery of bread and pastries to Mr. ”

“ He even remonstrated about his friend's coldness in receiving gifts offered by real lovers and admirers of his genius. The chord thus struck reverberated freely, and Clare, after warmly shaking Mr. Gilchrist by the hand, returned home to his wife and parents, joyfully communicating the great news that he was now the owner of not less than four hundred and twenty pounds. They fancied it an inexhaustible store of wealth, and great, accordingly, was the joy within the little cottage. ”

“ Taylor. The great battle with the Bowles' family and the book-grinding windmills had made poor Mr. Gilchrist really and seriously ill. The doctors of Stamford shook their heads, talking of nervous affection, of change of air, and of rest from the cares of grocery and literature. With every succeeding day, the men of science got to look more and more mournful, until the patient felt as if he was going already through the process of being buried. ”

“ Even in the south-west of Ireland it is not usual to keep horses out quite so late in the year, but Mr. Fennessy, having begun his varied career as a travelling tinker, was not the man to be bound by convention. He had provided the mare with the society of a donkey and two sheep, and with the shelter of a filthy and ruinous cowshed. ”

“ Clare had not been many weeks at his little home, resting from his fatigue, and enjoying the caresses of his children, when he was visited by the Mr. Skrimshaw, of Market Deeping, who had attended him on a former occasion. This person, who called himself a doctor, had a notion that poets were always and naturally insane, and that the very fact of a man being given to write verses was decisive proof of his madness. Mr. Skrimshaw, therefore, had little trouble in consigning Clare to another lunatic asylum. ”

“ For two long burning hours did the Connemara filly circle in Ring 3, and during all that time not once did her owner’s ears hear the longed-for summons, “Hi! grey mare!” It seemed to her that every other horse in the ring was called in to the rails, “and she doesn’t look so very thin to-day!” said Fanny indignantly to Captain Spicer, who, with Mr. Gunning, had come to take her away for lunch.
“Oh, you’ll see, you’ll sell her on the last day; she’s getting fitter every minute,” responded Captain Spicer. “What would you take for her?” ”

“ With patrons in abundance, there was not one willing to advance the small sum of two hundred pounds, which, he said, would make him happy for life; with friends who praised his genius to the skies, there were none who thought it safe to entrust him with the means for purchasing independence otherwise than 'under trustees.' The patrons and friends admired the poet's genius, but they never forgot that he was a 'Northamptonshire peasant,' the son of a pauper. As such, even kind Mr. John Taylor thought proper to preach humility, and refer the 'Village Minstrel' to the Bible. ”

“ Nay, good wife, when thou hast thought it over, thou wilt see that far fouler shoals and straits lie up yonder, than in the free open sea that God Almighty made. Martin is a devout and godly man, who hath matins and evensong on board each day when the weather is not too foul, and looks well that there be no ill-doings in his ship; and if he have a berth for thy lad, it will be a better school for him than where two-thirds of the household are raging against one another, and the third ever striving to corrupt and outwit the rest. ”

“ There’s no one to do anything.”
“Well, there’s ourselves and little Taylour” (“little Taylour,” it may be explained, was Captain Carteret’s subaltern) , “that’s two banjoes and a bones anyhow; and Freddy Alexander, and there’s your dear friend Fanny Fitz—she’ll be home in a few days, and these two big Hamilton girls—”
“Oh, Lord!” ejaculated Captain Carteret.
“Oh, yes!” continued Mrs. Carteret, unheedingly, “and there’s Mr. Gunning; he’ll come if Fanny Fitz does.” ”

“ Never had Martin looked upon so strange a man! He was long and lean so that you could have counted his ribs, and he was stark naked, except for the hair of his head and face, which half covered him. His skin was of a yellowish brown colour, and the hair the colour of old dead grass; and it was coarse and tangled, falling over his shoulders and back and covering his forehead like a thatch, his big brown nose standing out beneath it like a beak. ”

“ Drink it, Roberts!—That I should measure my life in terms of one night! One night with Martin, with his [302] young face and old eyes. With his laughter and his understanding. What agony to be born one night and die the same! Better not to be born at all.... Why, Martin, did you swagger through the door with your flapping dungarees and proud head?... Angels dancing in the eyes that hold only devils now. Such insolence! A bright, beautiful distillation of evil. Martin—the god of selfishness, salt to the desire. A blinding picture that grows with absence. ”

“ He enjoyed his work at the bank, where his cordiality and adeptness, his alert, receptive mind, were laying for him a strong foundation for a successful career.
He called often at the home of Isabel Souders, listened to her playing, made one in an occasional game of cards, escorted her to musicals and dramas. He played and talked and laughed with her, but he soon discovered that he could not interest her in any serious matter. At the mention of his work, beyond the merest superficialities, she lifted her hands and said in laughing tones, “Please, Martin, don’t talk shop! Father never does. ”

“ Every day Martin grew more familiar with the sea, and loved it more, and it was his companion and playmate. He was bolder than the little restless sanderlings that ran and flitted before the advancing waves, and so never got their pretty white and grey plumage wet: often he would turn to meet the coming wave, and let it break round and rush past him, and then in a moment he would be standing knee-deep in the midst of a great sheet of dazzling white foam, until with a long hiss as it fled back, drawing the round pebbles with it, it would be gone, and he would laugh and shout with glee. ”