id="Page_15" class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[Pg 15]"/> small-pox, and whether it was ignorance, or superstition, or a combination of both, I do not know, but it was considered best, to let your children catch the small-pox from those who were suffering most violently. Accordingly I was taken to the house where the boy lay dying, and there I was partly undressed and placed in the cradle by the side of the boy, and I was to stay there until I got warm and comfortable. As far as my own thoughts went in the matter I thought it very good fun, especially as when I was ill I should be out of the way of the stick at any rate. But while I was thinking over these matters, who should stalk into the room but old Nanny Holland. Nanny was a sort of oracle in the village, besides being a kind of quack doctor, and what with her superior cunning, and evil temper, always excited more or less with gin, she held most of the poor women under her thumb, and when she approached the cradle where we were lying, I thought she looked more evil than usual. She looked at the cradle, then at the boy's mother, and said, "Why don't you let the cheil (child) die? He can't die shut up in an infernal crile like this." And thereupon she dragged me out, and put me down, by no means lightly, upon the floor; she then tore away the foot of the cradle, so that the boy's feet could extend further down, and he was a corpse directly.

It appears from Nanny's theory, that although the child was in the agony of death, and with the last pang upon him, yet the vital spark could not part from him, until his crib was lengthened sufficiently to allow his feet to stretch downward without hindrance. I have sometimes thought that perhaps old Nanny was more than half right in her theory.

Now, I cannot tell whether the virus of the boy's small-pox was too far spent, or whether I was an extraordinarily healthy subject, or whether perhaps old Nanny frightened me, but certain it is, I did not catch the small-pox. Therefore there was but one alternative, and that was, that I must be inoculated, or, as the villagers expressed, it "knockle-headed." As soon as I discovered this I really began to quake with fear, and to wonder why I was born. Not that I feared the operation itself, as I had seen it performed on others, but I dreadfully feared the doctor who would perform upon me. I had not long to wait before my suspicions and fears were brought to a climax, for my mother took me off to Nanny Holland.

Nanny soon began to see about "knockle-heading" the children, and when she turned to me first, and I saw her coming towards me, with her surgical knife, my hair stood on end with fright. Where she obtained the virus from I do not know, but she clawed hold of my arm, and stabbed a stocking needle through the skin, and lifting the skin upwards at the same time with a razor in her hand, cut a piece, about the size of a threepenny bit, three parts off, a bit of the skin being left in the way of a hinge; then with the point of an old knife, she plastered some matter into the wound, just as you might see a painter stopping a hole in a board with putty; then she replaced the slice of skin with the following caution, "Now, youngster, if you scratch that off, I'll kill thee." My little sister was put through the same process, and Louisa Gard, a little chubby happy cherub of about four years of age, and a constant playmate of ours, was also operated upon.

In due course old Nanny's "matter" began to work. My sister was very ill with small-pox, and so also was little Louisa. As for myself, I had it very slightly, in fact no one but my mother knew that I had the malady upon me. My sister got well in time, but of course the small-pox left its marks severely upon her. Poor little Louisa never rallied; or if she got over the small-pox, she had croup, which was too much for her, and she crossed over into the Land of Beulah.

Louisa and my sister and myself had attended the Sunday school, for there was no week-day school. I asked mother if Louisa would come back, and she said "No, but if you are a good boy, you will someday go where she is gone." Then I would go out and look up at the stars, and wonder if I should see Louisa flitting about from star to star, but my mother said, "No, you will not see her there, but you will meet her again at the last day; and if you grow up to be a good man, you will hear the Great Judge say, 'Come, ye blessed of my Father, and inherit the Kingdom prepared for you, from the foundation of the world.'" This and other passages of Scripture my mother taught me before I was really able to pronounce the words after her. All this was my religious instruction, besides what I learnt in the Sunday school.

CHAPTER II

CHILDHOOD'S DAYS

IN 1834 the curate-in-charge and his sister left our parish, and moved into Berkshire. Before the curate left he came to say good-bye to us. He also brought us some very useful things, which were most acceptable, for I know my mother had to struggle hard against wind and tide, as one might say, to keep us six great rollicking boys tidy, and how she did it as well as she did, with the scanty materials at her command, I really cannot conceive; but I do know that she many times went without food, so that we might have our fill.

The curate looked at my sister's seamed face, then patted the baby, and said, "Surely, Mrs. Langdon, you do not want so lovely a child to be disfigured with small-pox, do you?"

"What can I do to avoid it?" asked my mother. "We have always been taught by our clergy that all these evil things are the 'Lord's' will, so who can hinder it?"

"God's will!" answered the curate. "Have you not heard what everybody is talking about, I mean vaccination and cow-pox? Vaccination is a process by which matter from a cow is inserted into your child's arm, and in the course of a few days the child will have what is called cow-pox; it is exceedingly mild, and the child will not suffer much, and if properly carried out, it is a sure preventive of small-pox."

"Dear, me," said my mother, "I wish I had known this sooner. I would gladly have had all my children vaccinated."

"I am very glad to hear you say so," replied the curate, "but it was only accidentally that I mentioned it to you. I have spoken to several people about it, and I have found them so thoroughly prejudiced on the subject that I have found it prudent to hold my tongue. Go to Martock to Dr. Stuckey, and I know he will vaccinate the baby free of charge, and as I am leaving the village to-morrow I am very sorry that I shall not be able to know the result of the operation."

My father had in the meantime come home to dinner, and had heard the latter part of the conversation, and he said, "I will take care you know the result, sir. When it is all over I will write and send you a letter, and let you know all about it, and my wife and myself are truly grateful to you for mentioning it."

I have only to add that my father did write the letter to tell the good parson all about the baby having been vaccinated, and he had to pay one shilling and tenpence for that letter to be posted, besides having to walk several miles to the office.

Here I must say a few words in reference to Nanny Holland, and how it was that such an old shrew should be able to hold such power over nearly all the housewives of the village. In her younger days Nanny had the reputation of being exceedingly skilful in midwifery. Moreover Nanny had been known more than once to set a broken leg, or arm, when the doctor was too busy, or, which was often the case, too drunk to attend. Nanny was always ready to assist her neighbours in cases of sickness. She