A real and sunny pleasure befell Laetitia in the establishment of young Crossjay Patterne under her roof; the son of the lieutenant, now captain, of Marines; a boy of twelve with the sprights of twelve boys in him, for whose board and lodgement Vernon provided by arrangement with her father.  Vernon was one of your men that have no occupation for their money, no bills to pay for repair of their property, and are insane to spend.  He had heard of Captain Patterne’s large family, and proposed to have his eldest boy at the Hall, to teach him; but Willoughby declined to house the son of such a father, predicting that the boy’s hair would be red, his skin eruptive, and his practices detestable.  So Vernon, having obtained Mr. Dale’s consent to accommodate this youth, stalked off to Devonport, and brought back a rosy-cheeked, round-bodied rogue of a boy, who fell upon meats and puddings, and defeated them, with a captivating simplicity in his confession that he had never had enough to eat in his life.  He had gone through a training for a plentiful table.  At first, after a number of helps, young Crossjay would sit and sigh heavily, in contemplation of the unfinished dish.  Subsequently, he told his host and hostess that he had two sisters above his own age, and three brothers and two sisters younger than he:  “All hungry!” said die boy.

His pathos was most comical.  It was a good month before he could see pudding taken away from table without a sigh of regret that he could not finish it as deputy for the Devonport household.  The pranks of the little fellow, and his revel in a country life, and muddy wildness in it, amused Laetitia from morning to night.  She, when she had caught him, taught him in the morning; Vernon, favoured by the chase, in the afternoon.  Young Crossjay would have enlivened any household.  He was not only indolent, he was opposed to the acquisition of knowledge through the medium of books, and would say:  “But I don’t want to!” in a tone to make a logician thoughtful.  Nature was very strong in him.  He had, on each return of the hour for instruction, to be plucked out of the earth, rank of the soil, like a root, for the exercise of his big round headpiece on those tyrannous puzzles.  But the habits of birds, and the place for their eggs, and the management of rabbits, and the tickling of fish, and poaching joys with combative boys of the district, and how to wheedle a cook for a luncheon for a whole day in the rain, he soon knew of his great nature.  His passion for our naval service was a means of screwing his attention to lessons after he had begun to understand that the desert had to be traversed to attain midshipman’s rank.  He boasted ardently of his fighting father, and, chancing to be near the Hall as he was talking to Vernon and Laetitia of his father, he propounded a question close to his heart, and he put it in these words, following:  “My father’s the one to lead an army!” when he paused.  “I say, Mr. Whitford, Sir Willoughby’s kind to me, and gives me crown-pieces, why wouldn’t he see my father, and my father came here ten miles in the rain to see him, and had to walk ten miles back, and sleep at an inn?”