pon her intended godson; I was christened
simply, Ralph Rattlin. The lady wrote her name in the book the last,
and it was instantly removed by the clerk. She thrust a guinea into his
hand, and then, for the first time, bent her veiled face over me. I
must have been a miserable-looking object, for no sooner had she seen
me, than she gave a bitter shriek, and laying hold of the woodwork of
the pews, she slowly assisted herself out of the church. Two or three
persons who happened to be present, as well as Mr and Mrs Brandon,
stepped forward to support her, but the clergyman, who seemed to have
had a previous conversation with her, signed them to desist. It was
altogether a most melancholy affair. Old Ford, when we left the church,
was helped into the coach again, Joe Brandon, being either justly
irritated at his conduct, or angry that he could not see my unknown
godmother's face, when we were all fairly on our way home, gave the old
sot such a tremendous beating, that Mrs Brandon nearly went into fits
with alarm, and Ford himself was confined to his bed for a week after.
When I reflect upon the manner in which I was christened, though I
cannot exactly call it a "maimed rite," I have a great mind to have it
done over again, only I am deterred by the expense.

All now was bustle in removing from Felix Street, Lambeth, to Bath,
where it was ordered that I should be dipped every morning in some
spring, that at that time had much celebrity. Old Ford was left behind.
At Bath I remained three years, Joe Brandon doing no work, and
persuading himself now, that he actually was a gentleman. In my third
year, my foster-sister, little robust, ruddy Mary, died, and the weakly,
stunted, and drooping sapling lived on. This death endeared me more and
more to my nurse, and Joe himself was, by self-interest, taught an
affection for me. He knew that if I went to the grave, he must go to
work; and he now used himself to perform the office of dry-nurse to me,
taking me to the spring, and allowing no one to dip me but himself.
When I grew older, he had many stories to tell me about my pantings, and
my implorings, and my offers of unnumbered kisses, and of all my
playthings, if he would not put me in that cold water--only this one,
one morning. And about a certain Dr Buck, who had taken a wonderful
liking to me, after the manner of the Lambeth surgeon, and had
prescribed for me, and sent me physic, and port wine, all out of pure
philan