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ADVENTURES
OF
THE MERTON FAMILY.
CHAPTER I.
The Merton Family. Vicissitudes of Fortune. Plan of Emigration. London. The Zoological Gardens.

"INDEED, dear papa," said Tom Merton, "I believe the best plan would be for us all to go out to South America."

"Most assuredly we must go," said his sister Matilda; "Tom and I have thought over the matter, papa; and we decidedly pronounce this to he the wisest measure for our advantage."

"I second the resolution," cried out Jack. "Charley says there is capital shooting on the mountains ; besides, it would be rare fun to have a voyage. Fancy, girls, you see me looking down on you from the mast-head ; I know I shall turn out a regular sailor."

"I am quite sure, papa," added Mary, the youngest child, "that South America must be a pretty place, or cousin Charles would not like it, and the way to it will he easy, for Charley does not like any trouble."

Mr. Merton regarded his children with astonishment; he would never have dared to contemplate so bold a scheme himself; but now the possibility of accomplishing some such measure dawned on his mind, and, smiling at their earnestness, he promised to consider the plan.

Mr. Merton was an excellent scholar, an estimable man, respected and beloved in his own small circle ; he was no longer young, and yet he had never attained a higher rank than that of a country curate. In the small village of Winston, | | 12 in a mountainous district in the north of England, he had been born; there he had possessed a small estate, and there, since he left the university and married, he had continued to perform the duties of curate in a widely scattered parish; and, far from the world, had lived only for his books, his family, and his attached congregation.

Mr. Merton had married, as poor curates are wont to marry, a very pretty, very amiable, but undowered bride. Much older than his wife, he had yielded to her gentle nature, and indulged his Lucy as a father indulges a favorite child; till, though her sweet temper was unspoiled, her half-formed character was enfeebled, and her physical powers impaired; for the constant watchfulness of her tender husband had filled her mind with nervous fancies, and induced her to yield to indolent indulgence, till her health really suffered.

Mr. Merton had four children; Tom, who had proposed to his father the startling project of emigration, was fifteen years of age, and with his brother Jack, who was two years younger, had been for some years at one of the first grammar schools of the north of England, where they had attained a good knowledge of classics and modern languages,--where Tom had acquired a taste for natural history and science, and Jack had been the leader at cricket, foot-ball, and all gymnastic sports. The simple and inexpensive habits of Mr. Merton enabled him to lay aside the small income arising from his estate for the education of his suns, whom he ardently desired to send to the university, where he himself had acquired an honorable name.

The two daughters, aged fourteen and twelve, had been chiefly brought up by their maternal grandmother, an active widow, who lived on her own farm, and managed it skilfully and profitably. She sent her two grand-daughters to an excellent school, and spared no money in procuring for them the advantage of the best masters of the places but in the vacations she undertook herself to teach them all the useful arts of domestic economy, as practised in a large farm house. She was determined, she said, that the girls should be of more use in the world than their mother, her poor Lucy, who had first been spoiled by her own father, then married before she had learned to make a pudding, and, after all, been so indulged by her husband that she could now do nothing.

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The girls were amused with the idea of mamma ever being thought able to make a pudding; now, she usually was in bed till after the puddings were made, and only rose from it to make a feeble exertion to attend to her flowers, or her pet canary. When she felt better than usual, she would sometimes make clothes for the poor, reclining on the sofa as she worked, and amused by Mr. Merton reading to her. But all the children were fondly attached to her, she was so mild and gentle; and even Jack the boisterous, looked penitent if, after indulging in some noisy diversion, he remembered poor Mamma's headache. "I cannot bear to see her look so patient and pretty," said he, "and I know she never could scold me, much as I deserve it."

A cousin of Mr. Merton's who was with him at the university, and was one of his earliest friends, had entered into commerce, traded in South America, and finally married an heiress in Valparaiso, and settled there as a merchant. He had lost his wife a few years after their marriage, and Mr. Merton frequently heard from him afterwards, but his letters were melancholy; he spoke of his own approaching death, and be. sought his cousin to receive and superintend the education of his only son, whom, though he must inherit a large estate near Valparaiso, he wished to be brought up an Englishman. Still it was a great shock to Mr. Merton to receive a visit from a grave, severe looking elderly man, who announced himself as Mr. Buchanan, the uncle of the late Mrs. Villars, and who added that he was instructed to consign to Mr. Merton, Charles Villars, the orphan son of the said Mrs. Villars, and her husband the late Mr. Villars with the sum of £5,000, to be invested in the English funds, and applied, to the education and board of Charles Villars during his minority, he having now passed his tenth year, in such manner as Mr. Merton deemed just and expedient.

Then placing the handsome, pale, noble-looking boy in Mr. Merton's hands, giving him an inventory of his clothes, books and mys, and putting a crown-piece in the child's hand, with an injunction not to spend it, he took leave, saying that pressing business called him to Liverpool; leaving Mr. Merton in a state of great agitation and distress, with a child of ten years of age in his quiet rooms at Cambridge.

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"What in the world can I do with the boy here!" said Mr. Merton to his revered friend, the master of his college, Dr. Allan, who had made his usual evening call on him. "If he had been eighteen years of age, instead of ten, and had been grounded in the classics, I would gladly have carried him on, but this child, who is ripe in mischief, disturbs the course of my life, and fills me with unwonted terrors. His dog, the most unamiable of its kind, hunts cats into my rooms, growls at me if I attempt to caress him, eats my toast from the plate before me, and snaps at my legs, if I remonstrate. Unlike the canine race, the animal is cowardly, treacherous, and cruel. And the boy flings my cherished folios after the cats, and his boots at my bed-maker calling this respectable female "Old Hag!"

Dr. Allan laughed at his friend's distresses, and pointed out to him the simple plan of sending the boy to school. "To-morrow, Merton," said he, "send him to school. He will there have his wants attended to, his mind stored, his manners polished, and his faults corrected."

And much against his wish, the spoiled boy was sent off next day to a day school, where his nobler qualities were developed, his early failings subdued or corrected, and Mr. Merton was gratified with reports of his progress in learning.

The following year Dr. Allan accepted the valuable living of Winston, and persuaded Mr. Merton, as this parish was his native place, to leave the university and become his curate. But the parsonage of Winston was lonely, and the good curate soon introduced a young wife into it, and from that time Charles Villars spent his vacations at Winston; and even after he went to the university, where, with good talents, he had taken a very fair degree for a young man of wealth, Winston continued to be his home when he choose to visit the country. After leaving the university he made a continental tour, and on his return had apartments in town, with no decided pursuit; and though fond of society and a gay life, still seemed happiest in his long visits to his dear uncle, as he always called him, at Winston. But even if the mountain-home had his hours of dullness to the gay Charles Villars, it was very dear to all the Mertons, and it was only painful vicissitudes of fortune that could have induced them to desire to leave it.

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The old friend of Mr. Merton, the rector of the parish, Dr. Allen, had recently died suddenly, and the living was bestowed on one who knew not Mr. Merton, and who dispensed with his services for he should bring his own curate with him. At once Mr. Merton had to mourn the loss of his friend, and of his home. At once he found himself with a helpless wife, a large family, and a very small income, dependent on that small income for a subsistence. It might not have been difficult for Mr. Merton to obtain some other small curacy; but he wanted energy to seek a new patron, and shrunk from the idea of taking up his abode amidst new faces. In the midst of his distress, Mrs. Merton's mother died, and her son succeeded to the property, a sordid and morose man, with a large family. He instantly sent Matilda and Mary Merton to their father, saying the girls had already had too much of his mother's money spent on them, but they would get no more. With much murmuring, he reluctantly paid to Mr. Merton the small legacy his mother was enabled to leave to her helpless daughter, but Mr. Merton saw, that in his distress, he must not expect either advice or assistance from his brother-in-law.

It was at this time that Charles Villars came to take leave of his dear friends at Winston. He had been summoned to Valparaiso by Mr. Buchanan, his great uncle, who had brought him to England, and who now entreated him to visit him, to settle the long accounts of money matters, and to receive large arrears due to him. To Charles, so many years older than his own children, Mr. Merton told all his sorrows and difficulties. "Tell me, Charles, what shall I do? I feel like the unjust steward of the parable: 'I cannot dig, to beg I am ashamed.'"

"I have money enough for everybody, uncle," said Charles, "and you should all have come up to town and lived with me, but for this voyage. Not that I object to it for it will be something new, and the wild sports of South America are splendid besides, I am glad to leave town just now, for not a soul is to be seen there at this dull season. But I tell you what we can do: you can go with me, my dear uncle in fact, I believe you must go, or Uncle Buchanan will never believe I am the true Charles Villars he delivered to you. Besides, he writes to me that he has built a new church on his own haciendo, for his English laborers, and he orders a priest to | | 16 be sent out, as if he were ordering a bale of Manchester cotton."

Mr. Merton shook his head, and pointed to his family gathered round him; it was then that Tom, the philosopher of the family, suggested the plan of emigration in earnest.

"You need not consider the plan by dear uncle," said Charles; "depend on my judgment; it is the right thing. Buchanan town will be glad to welcome you; and I rejoice particularly in the prospect of having the boys with me on the tedious voyage out. I have been quite out of spirits at the thought of my imprisonment for months in a dirty ship, redolent of tar and all manner of foul odours; subjected to the unspeakable horror of a cabin dinner with unknown, vulgar adventurers, and no one to sympathize with me. Now, if you can go, I can tell all my distresses to my dear compassionate aunt; talk philosophy with you, learn practical navigation with the boys, and romp with the dear little girls. You must not send me out without you, uncle, for I can never fancy a home unless I have all this dear circle round me."

But it was many days, and after much reasoning and reflection, that Mr. Merton discovered, first, that the proposed scheme was possible; and, next, that it was desirable. At length he left all to Charles and Tom, and shut himself in his study, to mourn over the necessity of his banishment. With Mrs. Merton Charles had little difficulty; she wept bitterly, feeling oppressed by some great calamity, which she could neither comprehend nor bear to contemplate, but she had ever been accustomed to look on her beloved husband as infallible, and, as he agreed to the measure, she supposed it must be right. The only unusual exertion she made was to tell Nanny, her faithful old servant, that she must pack up her clothes, for they were going to leave their dear home.

"I reckoned as much. mistress," observed Nanny; "but how we are to get you shifted I can't see. Surelie, master never thinks to carry us far away?"

"Charles says it will be thousands of miles, Nanny," replied her mistress in a mournful voice, "and we must go in a ship, which I dread very much; but I told Mr. Merton that you must go with us, for what could I do without you?"

"That's the truest word you ever spoke, mistress," said Nanny, in a great state of irritation; "without me, indeed! | | 17 I'd like to see anybody try it. But this, I'll be bound, is just Master Charles at his tricks. Set off in a ship--a pack of nonsense' How is I to be gotton into a ship, let alone poor silly body like you!"

But Tom assured Nanny the thing was decided, and after much grumbling, she began her fussy preparations. "And if we are to go, master," said she, angrily, to poor Mr. Merton in his beseiged retreat, " please to say when for what with one fancy and another that Master Charles takes, everybody's times taken up; and we hav'n't washed these three weeks; and let us have all clean wi' us, for I cannot see how folks can wash aboard ship."

But Matilda, who was great in household matters, and exceedingly fond of rule and management, undertook to direct the distracted Nanny, who londly bemoaned her expatriation, but never for a moment considered she had the option of remaining. Finally when all was ready, she bent to her fate like a wind blown rush, and took leave of her intimates with the importance of a woman setting out on her travels. Tom's thoughtfulness and Matilda's management enabled them to select, arrange, and pack all things needful, without disturbing or annoying their abstracted father or feeble mother. A kind and honorable friend of Mr. Merton, who practised the law in the nearest town to Winston, undertook the sale of his furniture, and the management of his little estate, which, as the heritage of his family he was reluctant to sell. The family then took a sorrowful leave of the weeping people, and, under the experienced protection of Charles Villars, set out for London, where they were to continue with him till all was provided for their voyage.

Charles was well acquainted with several South American merchants, who directed him in what manner to fit out the family for their new home ; and they also introduced him to the captain of a vessel, comfortably fitted up, which was to sail in a few weeks to Valpiraiso, round Cape Horn.

By the sale of Mr. Merton's furniture a sum was realized which enabled him to fit out the whole family well ; and, by the advice of the friendly nerelmants, many useful articles of English manufacture were purchased, not being easily attainable at their propored destination. Their wardrobes were filled with light summer garments suitable to the climate; but | | 18 a warm winter dress was added for each, to be worn when they reached the colder regions during their voyage. Mr. Merton's books, with the addition of those of his children, filled one large chest, which Mr. Merton determined to have in his cabin, that he might guard with a jealous eye his most treasured possession. Finally, Mrs. Merton's legacy of £500 was invested in the English funds; the dividends, and the rents of the Winston property, were to be transmitted to Mr. Merton at Valparaiso.

Whilst all these preparations were going on, Charles Viilars, having first seen his young friends dressed with more attention to the reigning mode than they had cared for at Winston, pleased himself by gratifying their several tastes in seeing the wonders of London. Mr. Merton only desired to see Westminister Abbey and the church of the old Knight Templars and there he would have spent the whole period of his stay in London but his heart was touched when he found Nanny had seen nothing of the town, for the valet of Charles, a very fine gentleman, had declined the office of introducing the strikingly rustic figure of the Winston maiden to a London public. But Mr. Merton, regardless of Nanny's showy yellow gown and primitive black silk bonnet, led her through the streets, Jack undertaking to flank the party, for fear of mischief, and Charles and Tom following at a distance, lest, as Charles said, they should be mobbed by Nanny's followers. "I will buy her the smartest straw bonnet in Oxford street," added he, "if she will give me that extraordinary coal-scoop she crowns her head with. I will send it to Mrs. Keely; and that bonnet would be the greatest hit of the season."

The girls did not at all comprehend why Mrs. Keeley should have Nanny's bonnet but of one thing they are quite sure, that she would never exchange her highly-valued best bonnet for a straw bonnet, whatever the fashion of London might require.

"We are now in St. Paul's Church-yard, Nanny," said Jack, in his character of cicerone "and that is the great St. Paul's Cathedral."

"You'll not tell me this can be a church-yard, master Jack," said the incredulous maiden, "with all these grand shops about it, and so many carts and carriages rattling over | | 19 the graves. Nay! nay! London folks can surelie never be so hardened as to keep their market-day with their poor dead under their feet!"

Her Master quietly enlightened her on the subject of church yards and cemetries, and begged her to notice the cathedral.

"Is this your grand St. Paul's, that looks so bonny in picture-books?" said Nanny. "Why, I see nothing but a great black wall ; it's not to be named on the same day as Carlisle Cathedral. I'd be very sorry to see you, master, minister of such a great, black, noisy place as St. Paul's, that's not a bit like a canny, quiet church. Come on honeys, I cannot bide to see it. That's not a temple of God Almighty."

And so they went on through the mazy streets ; but Nanny, who had been struck with wonder at the first sight of London as a whole, was much dissatisfied with it in detail, and amused the children very much by her animadversions on the people who. she declared, never could clean their windows or sweep their chimneys, and she classed all the London people together, as dirty, ill-behaved, and altogether heathens.

Tom chose to visit the British Museum, and they spent several days pleasantly and profitably among the relics of past ages. At length, when the time for their departure was at hand, the girls petitioned for one day at, the Zoological Gardens. Even Charles, sheltered by a cab, condescended to accompany the party, which included Nanny, to that attractive scene, though he felt rather alarmed lest he should encounter any of his fashionable friends while surrounded by such a rustic group.

The screams of delight which burst from the party can only be comprehended by those who have witnessed the first introduction of children to this fairy scene. Tom was perfectly absorbed; he followed the keepers, inquiring and observing, and made notes of the habits, the appearance, and the names of the animals. Jack, with less steadiness of character, and somewhat exuberant vivacity, was wild with enjoyment. He planted himself in a menacing attitude before the cages of the ferocious animals, crying out, "Hollo, sir! if I had you in a wild forest, and had a good rifle in my hand, I promise you your chance would be small." The girls laughed at Jack's rhodomoutade, and were delighted with the scene, but clung | | 20 to papa with a little trepidation. Fanny, after a succession of shrieks, subsided into a stupid astonishment, gazing at every thing in silence, with enlarged eyes ; and Charles Viilars, smoking a segar, stood aloof, regarding his very much loved friends with an ineffable air of superiority, and wondering how in the world people could be so green.

At length Nanny's tongue was loosed. "Pray you, master, speak to me I feel all of a maze! Save us! master, look at yon great black creature walking about among folk, just like one of our own black mountains setting off out of its place! And what will become of us all, master, if such like beasts be roving about in that place we have to be sent to?"

"It is impossible, Nanny," replied Mr. Merton; "it well ascertained that the elephant has never inhabited the new world in the postdiluvian ages. I doubt, even, if the elephant of the antediluvian world--which the researches of geology have revealed to us, walked, in those early ages through the primeval forests of our own island--was an inhabitant of America, or, indeed, if that vast continent had then been called forth from the waters. The doubtful remains an earlier world, the scanty and vague traditions existing among the natives, the immense mass of waters which still cover so large a portion of the continent, and the luxuriant vegetation which announces the freshness ef the soil, all proclaim that it is indeed a new world, gradually emerged from the ocean."

Nanny curtsied with profound veneration of the hidden meaning of her master's reply. Mr. Merton rarely measured the understanding of his auditors when he gave words to his thoughts, but Nanny was always content "Master spoke grand," that was enough, though his words might be really Greek. But Charles was roused by his guardian's visionary theory, and spoke to him.

"That is a refuted error, my dear sir. I am certainly not prepared to prove that the elephant ever inhabited America but the numerous gigantic organic remains discovered, prove that the antediluvian America was the abode of wondrous land animals now extinct--the huge megatherium, the sclidotherium, a creature larger than the rhinoceros, the mylodon, nearly as large, the toxodon, large as the elephant, and several other extraordinary animals, whose teeth indicate that | | 21 their immense frames were supported by vegetable food. Thus, my dear uncle, the fact is indisputable that before the vast continent was trodden by man, it must have been a gigantic Zoological Garden."

"It may be so, Charles," said Mr. Merton, "but I should like to view these remains, that my doubts might be dispelled. But is it not extraordinary that the present feræ of America are certainly inferior in size to those of the Eastern continent?"

"I cannot account for that fact," answered Charles, "for it certainly is a fact; though you must not form your judgment of the lion and tiger of America, properly the puma and jaguar, by the wretched representatives of the species you see in confinement here. I hope I shall have the honor of introducing you to some noble specimens of the race in their native forests."

"I would rather not, I thank you, Charles," answered Mr. Merton, hastily; "I should feel greatly alarmed at such an encounter. I prefer the contemplation of such ferocious beasts, when under the subjugation of man, the ruler on earth of the brute creation."

"I am going to take out a dozen choice rifles," said Charles, laughing. "You must let me put one into your hands, uncle, and you will have the better of the brute. The boys have already made their choice among them, and you shall have the best that remains."

"Did not my profession forbid me to shed blood," replied Mr. Merton, "I should still feel the same repugnance to the use of arms. I shrink from the sight of the weapon of destruction."

"Then we will be your body-guards, papa," said Jack; "but come, leave your tedious discussions, and watch Nanny's delight at the sight of the parrots."

"Did ever eyes look on such another bonny bird as that!" cried the astonished maiden. "Surelie, Master Tom, this is like to be the king over all our poor bits of brown sparrows and black crows."

"Nanny, you understand nothing of the arrangements of ornithology," said Tom, somewhat pompously. "The sparrow and crow both belong to the Passerine order, the birds that feed on insects, fruits, or grains, and build their nests in | | 22 trees or bushes, on the ground, or even in the habitations of men. The sparrow is of the family Fringilla:, having short, stout, rounded bills, sharp at the point. The crow, of the genus Corvus, is distinguished by a strong convex bill and a rounded tail. Now, the parrot has no affinity to these birds; it is of the order Scansores, the climbing birds, and of the family Psittacidæ, distinguished by hooked bills, fleshy tongues, and claws formed for climbing. These beautful birds are found in the woods of South America of many varieties, and I shall have great pleasure in viewing them in a state of nature."

"Bonny creatures they are, for all their queer names," said Nanny, apparently satisfied with Tom's explanation; "and a good schoolmaster you have had, Master Tom, to make you get off such long outlandish words."

"Never listen to Tom's crabbed descriptions, Nanny," said Jack, "but come with me, and I will show you some of the strange animals we may meet with in our new country."

And Jack showed Nanny the stately ostrich of America, the poudrous condor, the curious scaly armadillo, and the gentle llama. With the latter animal she was much pleased, declaring that she would not believe it was a wild beast, for it looked as quiet as the goats that skipped about on their own mountains.

"The llama we shall doubtless meet with," said Tom, "for vast herds of these animals are found on the mountain sides of South America. The llama is--"

"Pray defer your discourse on the llama, Tom," interrupted Jack, "till we meet with one at large; and just look after papa, for fear he should intrude into the den of the brown bear, who might not honor him with a pleasant reception. And, above all, keep him from the cage of the tiger, for I see the treacherous brute is on the watch to have a claw at some unwary observer."

"I believe," said Mary, "that Matilda and I could milk a llama as well as we used to milk the goats; so remember, Nanny, if they cannot give us cow's milk at Valparaiso, we will keep a flock of llamas, have a dairy, and make our own butter and cheese."

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Charles, who had not forgotten the enervating climate of Valparaiso, nor the languid disposition of the inhabitants, laughed at the little girl's schemes; and assured her she must not condescend to do any household work at her new home, or she would never be regarded as a lady.

"Then, cousin Charles," said Matilda, "you, with papa, and mamma, who like ease, must represent the aristocracy of the family. Mary and I like to be active, and I certainly intend to take the management of the house."

"That I am quite sure of," said Jack laughing; "but I protest too, against being a lazy fine gentleman. I will hunt and shoot, and fish; I am up to any kind of hard work, and would rather draw a carriage than ride in one."

"I should like very much to accompany you in your field sports," said Matilda; "but I fear it will be necessary for me to remain at home to keep Mary at her useful employments. I have an ardent desire to pass days in the woods, watching the habits of the various birds, and the fairy-like insects, or collecting and arranging new plants."

"Well, well, Matilda" answered her brother, "you must sometimes take a holiday from the butter and cheese labors, and we will fly away to the woods and mountains, and spend the day among the birds and insects."

"And probably with the tigers and wild bulls, too," said Tom. "We must know a little more of the woods round our residence, Jack, before we plan excursions into them. But papa is weary, and I think all eyes must ache with gazing, so we had best leave this charming fairy land."