Ixxii 



MEMOIR 



Illness of 



Mrs. 



Jenkin. 



And of 

 Fleeming. 



fervent admirer, but I am so sorry he did not place his affections 

 on a Dulcinea of somewhat worthier stamp. In fact I think 

 there must be a mistake about it. Don Quixote might and 

 would serve his lady in most preposterous fashion, but I am 

 sure he would have chosen a lady of merit. He imagined her 

 to be such no doubt, and drew a charming picture of her 

 occupations by the banks of the river ; but in his other imagina- 

 tions, there was some kind of peg on which to hang the false 

 costumes he created ; windmills are big, and wave their arms 

 like giants ; sheep in the distance are somewhat like an army ; 

 a little boat on the river-side must look much the same whether 

 enchanted or belonging to millers ; but except that Dulcinea is 

 a woman, she bears no resemblance at all to the damsel of his 

 imagination.' 



At the time of these letters, the oldest son only was born to 

 them. In September of the next year, with the birth of the 

 second, Charles Frewen, there befell Fleeming a terrible alarm 

 and what proved to be a lifelong misfortune. Mrs. Jenkin was 

 taken suddenly and alarmingly ill ; Fleeming ran a matter of 

 two miles to fetch the doctor, and drenched with sweat as he 

 was, returned with him at once in an open gig. On their arrival 

 at the house, Mrs. Jenkin half unconsciously took and kept 

 hold of her husband's hand. By the doctor's orders, windows 

 and doors were set open to create a thorough draught, and the 

 patient was on no account to be disturbed. Thus, then, did 

 Fleeming pass the whole of that night, crouching on the floor 

 in the draught, and not daring to move lest he should wake the 

 sleeper. He had never been strong; energy had stood him 

 instead of vigour ; and the result of that night's exposure was 

 flying rheumatism varied by settled sciatica. Sometimes it quite 

 disabled him, sometimes it was less acute ; but he was rarely 

 free from it until his death, I knew him for many years ; 

 for more than ten we were closely intimate ; I have lived with 

 him for weeks ; and during all this time, he only once referred 

 to his infirmity and then perforce, as an excuse for some trouble 

 he put me to, and so slightly worded that I paid no heed. This 

 is a good measure of his courage under sufferings of which none 



