Mr Midshipman Easy by Captain Frederick Marryat Page B

well.
    â€œDown below there, hold on now.”
    â€œNever fear,” cried Jack.
    Away went the winch, and once more Jack had an extended horizon to survey. As soon as he was at the top, the men hauled him over the bricks and laid him down upon the ground, for Jack’s strength had failed him.
    â€œDang it, if it bean’t that chap who was on my apple-tree,” cried the farmer—“howsomever, he must not die for stealing a few apples; lift him up, lads, and take him in—he is dead with cold—no wonder.”
    The farmer led the way, and the men carried Jack into the house, when the farmer gave him a glass of brandy; this restored Jack’s circulation, and in a short time he was all right again.
    After some previous conversation, in which Jack narrated all that had happened, “What may be your name?” inquired the farmer.
    â€œMy name is Easy,” replied Jack.
    â€œWhat! be you the son of Mr Easy, of Forest Hill?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDang it, he be my landlord, and a right good landlord too—why didn’t you say so when you were up in the apple-tree? You might have picked the whole orchard and welcome.”
    â€œMy dear sir,” replied Jack, who had taken a second glass of brandy, and was quite talkative again, “let this be a warning to you, and when a man proposes to argue the point, always, in future, listen. Had you waited, I would have proved to you most incontestibly that you had no more right to the apples than I had; but you would not listen to argument, and without discussion we can never arrive at truth. You send for your dog, who is ripped up by the bull—the bull breaks his leg in a saw-pit—the bee-hives are overturned, and you lose all your honey—your man John breaks his jaw— your maid Susan spoils all the bread—and why? because you would not allow me to argue the point.”
    â€œWell, Mr Easy, it be all true that all these mishaps have happened because I would not allow you to argue the point, perhaps, although, as I rent the orchard from your father, I cannot imagine how you could prove to me that the apples were not mine; but now, let’s take your side of the question, and I don’t see how you be much better off: you get up in a tree for a few apples, with plenty of money to buy them if you like—you are kept there by a dog—you are nearly gored by a bull—you are stung by the bees, and you tumble souse into a well, and are nearly killed a dozen times, and all for a few apples not worth twopence.”
    â€œAll very true, my good man,” replied Jack; “but you forget that I, as a philosopher, was defending the rights of man.”
    â€œWell, I never knew before that a lad who stole apples was called a philosopher—we calls it petty larceny in the indictments: and as for your rights of man, I cannot see how they can be defended by doing what’s wrong.”
    â€œYou do not comprehend the matter, farmer.”
    â€œNo, I don’t—and I be too old to learn, Master Easy. All I have to say is this, you are welcome to all the apples in the orchard if you please, and if you prefers, as it seems you do, to steal them, instead of asking for them, which I only can account for by the reason that they say, that ‘stolen fruit be sweetest,’ I’ve only to say that I shall give orders that you be not interfered with. My chaise be at the door, Master Easy, and the man will drive you to your father’s—make my compliments to him, and say, that I’m very sorry that you tumbled into our well.”
    As Jack was much more inclined for bed than argument, he wished the farmer good-night, and allowed himself to be driven home.
    The pain from the sting of the bees, now that his circulation had fully returned, was so great, that he was not sorry to find Dr Middleton taking his tea with his father and mother. Jack merely said that he had been so unfortunate as