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    Son Philip
    Son Philip
    Son Philip
    Ebook83 pages56 minutes

    Son Philip

    By George Manville Fenn

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    Son Philip
    Author

    George Manville Fenn

    George Manville Fenn (1831-1909) was an English author, journalist, and educator. Although he is best known for his boy’s adventure stories, Fenn authored over 175 books in his lifetime, including his very popular historical naval fiction for adult readers. Fenn wrote a number of weekly newspaper columns, and subsequently became the publisher of various magazines, many which became a platform for his social and economic views of Victorian England.

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      Book preview

      Son Philip - George Manville Fenn

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Son Philip, by George Manville Fenn

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Son Philip

      Author: George Manville Fenn

      Illustrator: Anonymous

      Release Date: May 8, 2007 [EBook #21382]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SON PHILIP ***

      Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

      George Manville Fenn

      Son Philip

      Chapter One.

      Their Boy.

      Well, why not be a soldier?

      Philip Hexton shook his head.

      No, father. There’s something very brave in a soldier’s career; but I should like to save life, not destroy it.

      You would save life in times of trouble; fight for your country, and that sort of thing.

      No, father; I shall not be a soldier.

      A sailor, then?

      I have not sufficient love of adventure, father.

      Oh no, my boy, don’t be a sailor, said Mrs Hexton piteously. I have had sufferings enough over your father’s risks in the mine.

      No, no, Phil; you must not be a sailor, said sturdy, grey-haired old Hexton, laughing. I should never get a wink of sleep if you did. Every time the wind blew your mother would be waking me up to ask me if I didn’t think you were wrecked.

      No, dear; I shall not be a sailor, said Philip Hexton; and leaving his chair at the breakfast table he went round to his mother’s side, sank down on one knee, passed his arm around her, and drew her to his broad breast.

      It was a pleasant sight to see the look of pride come into the mother’s face, as she laid one hand upon her son’s shoulder, and pressed a few loose strands of hair away from his thoughtful forehead, which wrinkled slightly, and there was a look of anxiety in his face as he looked tenderly at the loving woman.

      That’s right, Phil dear, she said; don’t choose any life that is full of risks.

      Don’t try to make a milksop of him, mother, said Mr Hexton, laughing. Why, one would think Phil was ten years old, instead of twenty. I say, my boy, had she aired your night-cap for you last night, and warmed the bed?

      Well, I must confess to the warm bed, father, said the young man. A night-cap I never wear.

      I thought so, said Mr Hexton, chuckling. You must not stop at home, Phil. She’ll want you to have camomile tea three times a week.

      You may joke as much as you like, Hexton, said his wife, bridling, but no one shall ever say that I put anybody into a damp bed; and as for the camomile tea, many a time has it given you health when you have been ailing.

      Why, you don’t think I ever took any of the stuff you left out for me, do you?

      Of course, dear.

      Never took a glass of it, said Old Hexton, chuckling. Threw it all out of the window.

      Then it was a great shame, said Mrs Hexton angrily, and a very bad example to set to your son.

      Never mind, Phil; don’t you take it, chuckled Mr Hexton. Then becoming serious he went on: Well, there’s no hurry, my boy; only now that you are back from Germany, and can talk High Dutch and Low Dutch, and French, and all the rest of it, why it is getting time to settle what you are to do. I could allow you so much a year, and let you be a gentleman, with nothing to do, if I liked; but I don’t hold with a young fellow going through life and being of no use—only a tailor’s dummy to wear fine clothes.

      Oh no, father; I mean to take to a business life, said Philip Hexton quickly.

      Of course, my lad; and you’ll do well in it. I began life in a pair of ragged breeches that didn’t fit me, shoving the corves of coal in a mine; and now, he exclaimed proudly, I’m partner as well as manager in our pit. So what I say is, if I could do what I have done, beginning life in a pair of ragged breeches that didn’t fit me, why, what can my boy do, as has had a first-class education, and can have money to back him?

      My dear James, said Mrs Hexton, I do wish you would not be so fond of talking about those—those—

      Ragged breeches, mother? said the old fellow, chuckling; "but I will. That’s her

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