The sequence of events that delivered Mr Headstone from a close death under an oak tree can be summarised in a few paragraphs. By a fortuitous circumstance a traveller on foot was passing by the scene of the accident shortly after the lightening had struck. He was a young fellow, of some five or six-and-twenty perhaps, and was dressed in such a free and fly-away fashion that the long ends of his loose red neckcloth were streaming out behind him quite as often as before; and he wore a bunch of bright meadow flowers in the buttonhole of his velveteen coat. On hearing cries coming from beneath a pile of smoking timber, the young man ran to the pedagogue's aid and extricated him from his predicament, all the while singing in a very loud voice as if he were engaged in an easy and not unpleasurable task.
Having established that the gentleman was no worse for his experience than might be reasonably expected, the rural Samaritan escorted him to a local ale-house that went by the name of The Blue Dragon. This establishment advertised itself not unnaturally with a large sign on which was represented the rampant form of that mythical beast, and which, having been exposed to many a wintry storm of rain, snow, sleet, and hail, was so battered and weathered that its original gaudy blue had faded to a lack-lustre shade of grey. The mistress of the house was in outward appearance just what a landlady should be: broad, buxom, comfortable, and good-looking, with a face of clear red and white, which, by its jovial aspect, at once bore testimony to her hearty participation in the good things of the larder and cellar, and to their thriving and healthful influences. Under her command a chamber was prepared for the unfortunate stranger and he was by stages got into bed.
There being no medical practitioner resident in the village but a poor apothecary who was also a grocer and general dealer, the landlady sent for him immediately. Of course, it followed, as a necessary result of his being wanted, that he was not at home, and so the blacksmith attended the bedside. This worthy's experience in matters aesculapian being confined to the quadruped, it is questionable whether his remedy of applying a bed warmer to the soles of the patient's feet had any material effect. Howsoever it was, in the course of two hours, the gentleman's sufferings decreased and the blacksmith retired to the bar below for a pint of porter, which he took in lieu of a medical fee.
On the following day the patient was sufficiently recovered to take some broth, which was brought to him by the landlady. Mrs Lupin - for in that name the Blue Dragon was licensed to furnish entertainment, both to man and beast - had her full share and dividend of that large capital of curiosity which is inherited by her sex, and as she held each spoon of steaming broth before the gentleman's trembling lips, she pressed him with questions on his name, on his origin, on his profession or his station. The lady's curiosity, however, remained unsatisfied as the gentleman could answer none of the enquiries with any degree of certainty - for the blow he had received to his head had rendered him senseless and deprived him of any memories from his past.
Mr Charles Dickens
