CHAPTER II. In Which Morris takes Action

Some days later, accordingly, the three males of this depressing family

might have been observed (by a reader of G. P. R. James) taking their

departure from the East Station of Bournemouth. The weather was raw

and changeable, and Joseph was arrayed in consequence according to the

principles of Sir Faraday Bond, a man no less strict (as is well known)

on costume than on diet. There are few polite invalids who have not

lived, or tried to live, by that punctilious physician's orders. 'Avoid

tea, madam,' the reader has doubtless heard him say, 'avoid tea, fried

liver, antimonial wine, and bakers' bread. Retire nightly at 10.45;

and clothe yourself (if you please) throughout in hygienic flannel.

Externally, the fur of the marten is indicated. Do not forget to

procure a pair of health boots at Messrs Dail and Crumbie's.' And he has

probably called you back, even after you have paid your fee, to add

with stentorian emphasis: 'I had forgotten one caution: avoid kippered

sturgeon as you would the very devil.' The unfortunate Joseph was cut to

the pattern of Sir Faraday in every button; he was shod with the health

boot; his suit was of genuine ventilating cloth; his shirt of hygienic

flannel, a somewhat dingy fabric; and he was draped to the knees in

the inevitable greatcoat of marten's fur. The very railway porters at

Bournemouth (which was a favourite station of the doctor's) marked the

old gentleman for a creature of Sir Faraday. There was but one evidence

of personal taste, a vizarded forage cap; from this form of headpiece,

since he had fled from a dying jackal on the plains of Ephesus, and

weathered a bora in the Adriatic, nothing could divorce our traveller.

The Wrong Box