Hughes_School_Days_at_Rugby.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
CHAPTER I.
I'm the Poet of White Horse Vale, sir.
With liberal notions under my cap.**
Ballad,
The Browns have become illustrious by the pen
of Thackeray and the pencil of Doyle, within the
memory of the young gentlemen who are now
matriculating at the Universities. Notwithstanding
the well-merited but late fame which has now fallen
upon them, any one at all acquainted with the
family Inust feel, that much has yet to be written
and said before the British nation will be properly
sensible of how much of its greatness it owes to
the Browns. For centuries, in their quiet, dogged,
homespun way, they have been subduing the earth
in most English counties, and leaving their mark in
American forests and Australian uplands. Where-
[9]
10 THE BOWN FAMILY.
ever the fleets and armies of .England have won
renown, there stalwart sons of the Brt)wns have
done yeomen's work. With the yew-bow and
cloth-yard shaft at Cressy and Agincourt, with
the brown bill and pike under the brave Lord
WlUougliby, with culverin and demi-culverin against
Spaniards and Dutchmen, with hand-grenade and
sabre, and musket and bayonet, under Rodney
and St. Vincent, Wolfe and Moore, Nelson and
Wellington, they have carried their lives in their
hands; getting hard knocks and hard work in
plenty, which was on the whole what they looked
for, and, the best thing for them, and little praise
or pudding, which* indeed they, and most of us,
are better without* Talbots and Stanleys, St.
Maurs, and such like folk, have led armies and
made laws, time out of mind ; but those noble fami-
lies would be somewhat astounded, if the accounts
ever came to be fairly taken, to find how small
their work for England has been by the side of
that of the Browns.
These latter, indeed, have until the present genera-
tion rarely been sung by poet, or chronicled by sage.
They have wanted their "sacer vates," having been
too solid to rise .to the top by themselves, and not
having bee largely gifted with the talent of catch-
ing hold of, and holding on tight to, whatever good
things happened to be going, the foundation of the
fortunes of so many noble families. But the world
goes on its way, and the wheel turns, and the wrongs
of the Browns, like other wrongs, seem in a fair
way to get righted. And this present writer hav-
THE BBOWN CHABACTES. 11
ing for many years of his life been a devout Brown-
worshipper, and moreover having the honour of being
nearly connected with an eminently respectable
branch of the great Brown family, is anxious, so far
as in him lies, to help the wheel over, and throw his
stone on the pile.
However, gentle reader, or simple reader, which-
ever you may be, lest you should be led to waste
your precious time upon these pages, I make so bold
as at once to tell you the sort of folk you'U have to
meet and put up with, if you and I are to jog on
comfortably together. You shall hear at once what
sort of folk the Browns are, at least my branch of
them ; and then if you don't like the sort, why cut
the concern at once, and let you and me cry quits
before either of us can grumble at the other.
In the first place, the Browns are a fighting family.
One may question their wisdom, or wit, or beauty,
but about their fight there can be no question.
Wherever hard knocks of any kind, visible or invisi-
ble, are going, there the Brown who is nearest must
shove in his carcass. AAd these carcasses for the
most part answer very well to the characteristic pro-
pensity ; they are a square-headed and snake-necked
generation, broad in the shoulder, deep in the chest,
and thin in the flank, carrying no lumber. Then for
clanship, they are as bad as Highlanders ; it is amaz-
ing the belief they have in one another. With them
there is nothing like the Browns, to the third and
fourth generation. " Blood i^ thicker than water,"
is one of their pet sayings. They can't be happy
unless they are always meeting one another. Never
12 THE BSOWN FAMILY CHARLCTEBISTICS.
v/ were such people for family gatherings, which, were
you a stranger or sensitive, you might think had
better not have been gathered together. For during
the whole time of their being together they luxuriate
in telling one another their minds on whatever sub-
ject turns up, and their minds are wonderfully an-
tagonist, and all their opinions are downright beliefs.
, Till you've been among them some time and under-
stand them, you can't think but that they are quar-
relling. Not a bit of it; they love and respect one
another ten times the more after a good set family
arguing bout, and go back, one to his curacy, another
to his chambers, and another to his regiment, fresh-
ened for work, and more than ever convinced that the
Browns are the height of company.
This family training too, combined with their turn
for combativeness, makes them eminently quixotic.
They can't let any thing alone which they think
going wrong. They must speak their mind about it,
annoying all easy-going folk ; and spend their time
and money in having a tinker at it, however hopeless
the job. It is an impossibility to a Brown to leave
the most disreputable lame dog on the other side of a
stile. Most other folk get tired of such work. The
old Browns, with red faces, white whiskers, and bald
heads, go on believing and fighting to a green old
age. They have always a crotchet going, till the old
man with the scythe reaps and garners them away,
for troublesome old boys as they are. And the most
provoking thing is, that no failures knock them up,
or make them hold their hands?, or think you, or me,
or other sane people in the righi.
TOM BKOWN'S BIBTHFLA.C. 15
Failures slide off them like July rain off a duck's
back feathers. Jem and his whole family turn out
bad, and cheat them one week, and the next they
are doing the same things for Jack ; and when he
goes to the tread-mill, and his wife and children to
the workhouse, they will be on the look-out for Bill
to take his place.
However, it is time for us to get from the general to
the particular ; so leaving the great army of Browns,
who are scattered over the whole empire on which ^
the sun never sets, and whose general diffusion I
take to be the chief cause of that empire's stability ;
let us at once fix our attention upon the small nest
of Browns in which our hero was hatched, and which
dwelt in that portion of the royal county of Berks
which is called the Vale of White Horse.
Most of you have probably travelled down the
Great Western Railway as far as Swindon. Those
of you who did so with their eyes open, have been
aware, soon after leaving the Didcot station, of a
fine range of chalk hills running parallel with the
railway on the left-hand side as you go down, and
distant some two or three miles, more or less, from
the line. The highest point in the range is the
White Horse Hill, which you come in front of just
before you stop at the Shrivenham station. If you
love English scenery and have a few hours to spare,
you ;an't do better, the next time you pass, than
stop at the Farringdon road, or Shrivenham station,
and make your way to that highest point. And
those who care for the vague old stories that haunt
country sides all about England, will not, if they
14 THE OLD BOT HOtJBNETH.
are wise, be content with only a few hours' stay ; for
glorious as the view is, the neighbourhood is yet
more interesting for its relics of bygone times. I
only know two English neighbourhoods thoroughly,
and in each, within a circle of five miles, there is
enough of interest and beauty to last any reasonable
man his life. I believe this to be the case aln^ost
throughout the country, but each has its special
attraction, and none can be richer than the one I
am speaking of and going to introduce you to very
particularly ; for on this subject I must be prosy ; so
those that don't care for England in detail may skip
the chapter.
Oh Young England! Young England! You
who are born into these racing railroad times, when .
there's a Great Exhibition, or some monster sight,
every year, and you can get over a couple of thour
sand miles of ground for three pound ten, in a five
weeks' holiday; why don't you know more of your
own birthplaces? You're all in the ends of the
earth, it seems to me, as soon as you get your necks
out of the educational collar, for Midsummer holi-
days, long vacations, or what not. Going round Ire*
land with a return ticket, in a fortnight ; dropping
your copies of Tennyson on the tops of Swiss
mountains ; or pulling down, the Danube in Oxford
racing-boats. And when you get home for a quiet
fortrfight, you turn the steam off, and lie on your
backs in the paternal garden, surrounded by the last
batch of books from Mudie's library, and half bored
to death. Well, well ! I know it has its good side.
You all patter French more or less, and perhaps Ger-
OVEB YOUNG NGIAND. 15
man ; you have seen men and cities, no doubt, and
have your opinions, such as they are, about schools
of painting, high art, and all that; have seen the
pictures at Dresden and the Louvre, and know the
taste of sourkrout. All I say is, you don't know
your own lanes and woods and fields. Though you
may be chock full of science, not one in twenty of
you knows where to find the wood sorrel, or bee-
orchis, which grow in the next wood, or on the down
three miles off, or what the hog-bean and wood-sage
are good for. And as for the country legends, the
stories of the old gable-ended farm-houses, the place
where the last skirmish was fought in the civil wars,
where the parish Butts stood, where the last high-
wayman turned to bay, where the last ghost was
laid by the parson, they're gone out of date alto-
gether.
Now in my time, when we got home by the old
coach, which put us down at the cross-roads with
our boxes the first day of the holidays, and had been
driven off by the family coachman, singing " Dulce
domum" at the top of our voices, there we \vere, fix-
tures, till Black Monday came round. We had to
cut out our own amusements within a walk or a ride
of home. And so we got to know all the country
folk, and their ways and songs and stories, by heart ;
and went over the fields and woods and hills, again
and again, till we made friends of them all. We were
Berkshire, or Gloucestershire, or Yorkshire boys, and
you're young cosmopolites, belonging to all counties
and no countries. No doubt it's all right, I dare say
it is. This is the day of large views and glorious
16 THE TAIiB OF WHITE HOBSE.
humanity, and all that ; but I wish backsword play
had'nt gone out in the Vale of White Horse, and
that that confounded Great Western hadn't carried
away Alfred's Hill to make an embankment.
But to return to the said Vale of White Horse,
the country in which the first scenes of this true
and interesting story are laid. As I said, the Great
Western now runs right through it, and it is a land
' of large rich pastures, bounded by ox-fences, and
covered with fine hedgerow timber, with here and
there a nice little gorse or spinney, where abideth
poor Charley, having no other cover to which to
betake himself for miles and miles, when pushed
out some fine November morning by the Old Berk-
shire. Those who have been there, and well mounted,
only know how he, and the stanch little pack who
dash after him, heads high and sterns low, with a
breast-high scent, can consume the ground at such
times. There being little plough-land, and few
woods, tlie Vale is only an average sporting country,
except for hunting. The villages are stragglings
queer, old-fashioned places, the houses being dropped
down without the least regularity, in nooks and out-
of-the-way corners, by the sides of shadowy lanes
and footpaths, each \vith its patch of garden. They
are built chiefly of good gray stone and thatched,
though I see that within the last year or two the
red-brick cottages are multiplying, for the Vale is
beginning to manufacture largely both bricks and
tiles. There are lots of waste ground by the side of
the roads in every village, amounting often to village
greens, where feed the pigs and ganders of the peo-
TALES IN GENERAL. 17
pie ; and these roads are old-fashioned, homely roads,
very dirty and badly made, and hardly endurable
In winter, but still pleasant jog-trot roads, running
through the great pasture lands, dotted here and
there with little clumps of thorns, where the sleek
kine are feeding, with no fence on either side of thera,
and a gate at the end of each field, which makes you
get out of your gig (if you keep one) and gives
you a chance of looking about you every quarter of a
mile.
One of the moralists whom we sat under in my
youth, was it the great Richard Swiveller, or Mr.
Stiggins ? says, " we are born in a vale, and must
take the consequences of being found in such a
situation." These consequences, I for one am ready
to encounter. I pity people who weren't born in a
vale. I don't mean a flat country, but a vale ; that
is, a flat country bounded by hills. The having
your hill always in view if you choose to turn
towards him, that's the essence of a vale.* There
he is forever in the distance, your friend and com-
panion; you never lose him as you do in hilly
districts.
And then what a hill is the White Horse Hill!
There it stands right up above all the rest, nine hun-
dred feet above the sea,* and the boldest, bravest
shape for a chalk hill that you ever saw. Let us go
up to the top of him, and see what is to be found
there. Aye, you may well wonder, and think it odd
you never heard of this before ; but, wonder or not,
as you please, there are hundreds of such things
lying about England, which wiser folk than you
2
18 WHITE HOBSB HILL.
know nothing of, and care nothing for. Yes, it's
a magnificent Roman camp, and no mistake, with
gates, and ditch, and mounds, all as complete as it
was twenty years after the strong old rogues left
it. Here, right up on the highest point, from which
they say you can see eleven counties, they trenched
round all the table-land, some twelve or fourteen
acres, as was their custom, for they couldn't bear
anybody to overlook them, and made their eyrie.
The ground falls away rapidly on all sides. Was
there ever such turf in the whole world ? You sink
up to your ankles at every step, and yet the spring
of it is delicious. There is always a breeze in the
" camp," as it is called, and here it lies, just as the
Romans left it, except that cairn on the east side, left
by Her Majesty's corps of sappers and miners the
other day, when they and the engineer oflGicer had
finished their sojourn there, and their surveys for the
Ordnance Map of Berkshire. It is altogether a
place that you won't forget, a place to open a
man's soul and make him prophesy, as he looks
down on that great Vale, spread out as the garden
of the Lord before him, and wave on wave of the
mysterious downs behind; and to the right and left
the chalk hills running away into the distance, along
which he can trace for miles the old Roman road
" the Ridgeway " (" the Rudge " as the country-folk .
call it), keeping straight along the highest back of
the hills ; such a place as Balak brought Balaam
to, and told him to prophesy against the people in
the valley beneath. And he could not, neither shall
you, for they are a people of the Lord who abide
there.
BATTLE OP ASHDOWK. 19
And now we leave the camp, and descend towards
the west, and are on the Ashdown. We are tread-
ing on heroes. It is sacred ground for Englishmen,
more sacred than all but one or two fields where
their bones lie whitening. For this is the actual
place where our Alfred won his great battle, (the
battle of Ashdown, "^scendum" in the chroniclers,)
which broke the Danish power, and made England
a Christian land. The Danes held the camp, and
the slope where we are standing, the whole crown of
the hill in fact. " The heathen had beforehand seized
the higher ground," as old Asser says, having wasted
everything behind them from London, and being
just ready to burst down on the fair vale, Alfred's
own birthplace and heritage. And up the heights
came the Saxons, as they did at the Alma. " The
Christians led up their line from the lower ground.
There stood also on that same spot a single thorn
tree, marvellous stumpy (which we ourselves with
our very own eyes have seen.) " Bless the old
chronicler ! does he think nobody ever saw the
" single thorn treee " but himself ? Why, there it
stands to this very day, just on the edge of the slope,
and I saw it not three weeks since ; an old single
thorn tree, " marvellous stumpy." At least, if it isn't
the same tree, it ought to have been, for it's just in
the place where the battle must have been won or
lost " around which, as I was saying, the two lines
of foemen came together in battle with a huge shout.
And in this place, one of the two kings of the
heathen and five of his earls fell down and died, and
many thousands of the heathen side in the same
20 giant's STAIBS DBAGON'S HILL.
place."* After which crowning mercy, the pious
king, that there might never be wanting a sign and
a memorial to the country-side, carved out on the
northern side of the chalk hill, under the camp, where
it is almost precipitous, the great Saxon white horse,
which he who will may see from the railway, and
which gives its name to the vale, over which it has
looked these thousand years and rhore.
Right down below the White Horse, is a curious
deep and broad gully called " the Manger," into one
side of which the hills fall with a series of the most
lovely sweeping curves, known as "the Giant's
Stairs;" they are not a bit like stairs, but I never
saw anything like them anywhere else, with their
short green turf, and tender blue-bells, and gossamer
and thistle down gleaming in the sun, and the sheep-
paths running along their sides like ruled lines.
The other side of the Manger is formed by the
Dragon's Hill, a curious little round self-confident
fellow, thrown forward from the range, and utterly
unlike every thing round him. On this hill, some
deliverer of mankind, St. George, the country folk
used to tell me, killed a dragon. Whether it were
St. George, I cannot say, but surely a dragon was
* Pagani editiorem locum prseoccupayerant. Christiani ab in- .
feriori loco aciem dirigebant. Erat quoque in eodem loco unica spinosa
arbor, brevis admodum, (quam nos ipsi nostris propriis oculis yidimus.)
Circa quam ergo hostiles inter se acies cum ingenti clamore hostiliter
conveniunt Quo in loco alter de duobus Paganorum regibus et quin-
que comites occisi occubuerunt, et multa millia PagansB partis in eodem
loco. Cecidit illic ergo Bcegsceg Bex, et Sidroc ille senex comes, et
Sidroo unior comes, et obsbem comes, &c." Annalet Rerum Gestor
rum JElfredi Magni^ Auctore Asserio, Recensuit Franciscus Wise.
Oxford, 1722, p. 23.
'WAYLAND smith's CAVE- 21
killed there, for you may see the marks yet where
his blood ran down, and more-by-token the place
where it ran down is the easiest way up the hill-
side.
Passing along the Ridgeway to the west for about
a mile, we come to a little clump of young beech
and firs, with a growth of thorn and privqt under-
wood. Here you may find nests of the strong down
partridge and peewit, but take care that the keeper
isn't down upon you ; and in the middle of it is an
old cromlech, a huge flat stone raised on seven or
eight others,' and led up to by a path, with large
single stones set up on each side. This is Way-
land Smith's cave, a place of classic fame now;
but as Sir Walter has touched it, I may as well
let it alone, and refer you to Kenilworth for the
legend.
The thick deep wood which you see in the hol-
low, about a mile off, surrounds Ashdown Park,
built by Inigo Jones. Four broad alleys are cut
through the wood from circumference to centre,
and each leads to one face of the house. The mys-
tery of the downs hangs about house and wood, as
they stand there alone, so unlike all around, with
the green slopes, studded with great stones just
about this part, stretching away on all sides. It
was a wise Lord Craven, I think, who pitched his
tent there.
Passing along the Ridgeway to the east, we soon
come to cultivated land. The downs, strictly so
called, are no more ; Lincolnshire farmers have been
imported, and the long fresh slopes are sheep-walks
22 THE SEVEN BABSOWS THE BLOWING STONE.
no more, but grow famous turnips and barley. One
of these improvers lives over there at the " Seven
Barrows " farm, another mystery of the great downs.
There are the barrows still, solemn and silent, like
ships in the calm sea, the sepulchres of some sons of
men. But of whom? It is three miles from the
White Horse, too far for the slain of Ashdown to
be buried there, who shall say what heroes are
waiting there? But we must get down into the
vale again, and so away by the Great Western Bail-
way to town, for time and the printer's devil press,
and it is a terrible long and slippery descent, and a
shocking bad road. At the bottom, however, there
is a pleasant public, whereat we must really take a
modest quencher, for the down air is provocative of
thirst So we pull up under an old oak which
stands before the door.
" What is the name of your hill, landlord ? "
" Blawing Stwun Hill, sir, to be sure."
[Reader. '^ Sturm?"
Author. " Stone^ stupid ! the Blowing Stone." ]
" And of your house ? I can't make out the sign."
" Blawing Stwun, sir," says the landlord, pouring
out his old ale from a Toby Philpot jug, with a
melodious crash, into the long-necked glass.
" What queer names," say we, sighing at the end
of our draught, and holding out the glass to be re^
plenishQd.
" Be'ant queer at all, as I can see, sir," says njine
host, handing back our glass, " seeing as this here is
the Blawing Stwun his self," putting his hand on a
square lump of stone, some three feet and a half
THE BLOWING STONE KINOSTONE LISLE. 23
high, perforated with two or three queer holes, like
petrified antediluvian rat-holes, which lies there
close under the oak, under our very nose. We are
more than ever puzzled, and drink our second glass
of ale, wondering what will come next. " Like to
hear un, sir?" says mine host, setting down Toby
Philpot on the tray, and resting both hands on the
"Stwun." We are ready for anything; and he,
without waiting for a reply, applies his mouth to
one of the rat-holes. Something must come of it,
if he does'nt burst Good heavens ! I hope he has
no apoplectic tendencies. Yes, here it comes, sure
enough, a grewsome sound between a moan and a
roar, and spreads itself away over the valley, and up
the hill-side, and into the woods at the back of the
house, a ghost-like, awful voice. "Um do say, sir,"
says mine host, rising purple-faced, while the moan
is still coming out of the Stwun, " as they used in
old times to warn the country-side, by blawing the
Stwun* when the enemy was a comin' and as how
folks could make um heered then for seven mile
round, leastways so I've heered lawyer Smith say,
and he knows a smart sight about them old times."
We can scarcely swallow lawyer Smith's seven
miles, but could the blowing of the stone have been '
a summons, a sort of sending the fiery cross round
the neighbourhood in (the old times? What i)ld
times? Who knows ?^ We pay for our beer, and
are thankful.
" And what's the name of the village just below,
landlord?"
" Kingstone Lisle, sir."
24 FARBINGDOHr AND PUSEY.
" Fine plantations youVe got here ? "
" Yes, sir, the Squire's 'mazin fond of trees and
such like."
" No wonder. He's got some real beauties to be
fond of. Good-day, landlord."
" Good-day, sir, and a pleasant ride to 'e."
And now, my boys, you whom I want to get for
readers, have you had enough? Will you give in
at once, and say you're convinced, and let me begin
my story, or will you have more of it ? Remember,
I've only been over a little bit of the hill-side yet,
what you could ride round easily on your ponies in
an hour. I'm only just come down into the vale,
by Blowing Stone Hill, and if I once begin about
the vale, what's to stop me? You'll have to hear all
about Wantage, the birthplace of Alfred, and Far-
ringdon, which held out so long for Charles the First,
(the vale was near Oxford, and dreadfully malig-
nant ; full of Throgmortons, Puseys, and Pyes, and
such like, and their brawny retainers.) Did you ever-
read Thomas Ingoldsby's " Legend of Hamilton
Tighe ? " If you haven't, you ought to have. Well,
Farringdon is where he lived before he went to sea ;
his real name was Hamden Pye, and the Pyes were
the great folk at Farringdon. Then there's Pusey.
You've heard of the Pusey horn, which King Canute
gave to the Puseys of that day, and which the gal-
lant old squire, lately gone to his rest, (whom
Berkshire freeholders turned out of last Parliament,
to their eternal disgrace, for voting according to his
conscience,) used to bring out on high days, holi-
days, and bonfire nights. And the splendid old
TOM brown's home. 25
Cross church at UflGington, the Uffingas town ;-7- how
the whole country-side teems with Saxon names
and memories! And the old moated grange at
Compton, nestled close under the hill-side, where
twenty Marianas may have lived, with its bright
water-lilies in the moat, and its yew walk, "the
cloister w^alk," and its peerless terraced gardens.
There they all are, and twenty things besides, for
those who care about them, and have eyes. And
these are the sort of things you may find, I believe,
every one of you, in any common English country
neighbourhood.
WiH you look for them under your own noses, or
will you not? Well, well! Fve done what I can
to make you, and if you will go gadding over half
Europe now every holiday, I can't help it. I was
born and bred a west-countryman, thank God! a
Wessex man, a citizen of the noblest Saxon king-
dom of Wessex, a regular "Angular Saxon," the
very soul of me "adscriptus glebae." There's noth-
ing like the old country-side for me, and no music
like the twang of the real old Saxon tongue, as one
gets it fresh from the veritable chaw in the White
Horse Vale: and I say with "Gaarge Ridler," the
old west-country yeoman,
** Throo aall the waarld owld Gaarge would bwoast
- Commend me to merry owld England mwoast :
While vools gwoes praating rur and nigh,
We sti^ops at whum, my dog and I."
Here at any rate lived and stopped at home,
Squire Brown, J. P. for the County of Berks, in a vil-
lage near the foot of the White Horse range. And
8
26 SQUIBE BBOWN AND HIS HOUSEHOLD.
here he dealt out justice and mercy in a rough way,
and begat sons and daughters, and hunted the fox,
and grumbled at the badness of the roads and the
times. And his wife dealt out stockings, and calico
shirts, and smock frocks; and comforting drinks to
the old folks with the " rheumatiz," and good counsel
to all. And kept the coal and clothes clubs going, for
yule tide, when the bands of mummers came round,
dressed out in ribbons and coloured-paper caps ; and
stamped round the Squire's kitchen, repeating in true
sing-song vernacular the legend of St. George and
his fight, and the ten-pound doctor, who plays his
part at healing the saint, a relic, I believe, of the
old middle-age mysteries. It was the first dramatic
representation which greeted the eyes of little Tom,
who was brought down into the kitchen by his
nurse to witness it, at the mature age of three years.
Tom was the eldest child of his parents, and from
his earliest babyhood exhibited the family character-
istics in great strength. He was a hearty strong boy
frorn the first, given to fighting with and escaping
from his nurse, and fraterniring with all the village
boys, with whom he made expeditions all round the
neighbourhood. And here in the quiet old-fashioned
country village, under the shadow of the everlasting
hills, Tom Brown was reared, and never left it till
he went first to school when nearly eight years of
age, for in those days change of air twice a-year
was not thought absolutely necessary for the health
of all her Majesty's lieges.*
I have been credibly informed, and am inclined
to believe, that the various boards of directors of
THE OLD BOY ABUSETH MOVING ON. 27
railway companies, those gigantic jobbers and
bribers, while quarrelling about every thing else,
agreed together, some ten years back, to buy up the
learned profession of medicine, body and soul. To
this end they set apart several millions of money,
which they continually distribute judiciously amongst
the doctors, stipulating only this one thing, that they
shall prescribe change of air to every patient who
can pay, or borrow money to pay, a railway fare,
and see their prescription carried out. If it be not
for this, why is it that none of us can. be well at
home for a year together? It wasn't so twenty
years ago, not a bit of it. The Browns didn't go
out of the county once in five years. A visit to
Reading or Abingdon twice a-year, at Assizes or
Quarter Sessions, which the Squire made on his
horse with a pair of saddle-bags containing his
wardrobe, a stay of a day or two at some country
neighbour's, or an expedition to a county ball or the
yeomanry review, made up the sum of the Brown
locomotion in most years. A stray Brown from
some distant county dropped in every now and then,
or from Oxford on grave nag, an old don contem-
porary of the Squire ; and were looked upon by the
Brown household, and the villagers, with the same
sort of feeling with which we now regard a man
who has crossed the Rocky Mountains, or launched
a boat on the great lake in Central Africa. The
White Horse Vale, remember, was traversed .by no
great road, nothing but country parish roads, and
these very bad. Only one coach ran there, and this
one only from "Wantage to London, so that the
28 TOM BBOWN WISHETH TO MOVE ON.
western part of the Vale was without regular means
of moving on, and certainly didn't seem to want
them. There was the canal, by the way, which sup-
plied the country-side with coal, and up and down
which continually went the long barges, with the big
black men lounging by the side of the horses along
the towing-path, and the women in bright colour-
ed handkerchiefs standing in the sterns, steering.
Standing, I say, but you could never see whether
they were standing or sitting, all but their heads and
shoulders being out of sight in the cozy little cabins
which occupied some eight feet of the stern, and
which Tom Brown pictured to himself as the most
desirable of residences. His nurse told him that
those goodnatured-looking women were in the con-
stant habit of enticing children into the barges, and
taking them up to London and selling them, which
Tom wouldn't believe, and which made him resolve
as soon as possible to accept the oft-proffered invita-
tion of these sirens to " young master," to come in
and have a ride. But as yet the nurse was too
much for Tom.
Yet why should I, after all, abuse the gad-about
propensities of my countrymen? We are a vaga-
bond nation now, that's certain, for better for worse.
I am a vagabond ; I have been away from home no
less than five distinct times in the last year. The
Queen sets us the example we are moving on
from top to bottom. Little dirty Jack, who abides
in Clement's Inn gateway, and blacks my boots for a
penny, takes his month's hop-picking every year as a
matter of course. Why shouldn't he ? I'm delight-
THE OLD BOY APPBOVETH MOVING ON. 29
ed at it. I love vagabonds, only I prefer poor to rich
ones; couriers and ladies' maids, imperiais .and
travelling carriages are an abomination unto me, I
cannot away with them. But for dirty Jack, and
every good fellow who, in the words of the capital
French song, moves about, .
Comme le lima^on
Portant tout son ba^age,
Sesmeubles, sa maisoii,"
on his own back, why, good luck to them, and many
a merry road-side adventure, and steaming supper in
the chimney-corners of road-side inns, Swiss chalets,
Hottentot kraals, or wherever else they like to go.
So having succeeded in contradicting myself in my
first chapter, (which gives me great hopes that you
will all go on, and think me a good fellow notwith-
standing my crotchets,) I shall here shut up for the
present, and consider my ways ; having resolved to
" sar' it out," as we say in the Vale, " holus-bolus "
just as it comes, and then you'll probably get tlie
truth out of me.
CHAPTER II.
THE VEAST.
" And the King commandeth and forbiddeth, that from henceforth
neither fairs nor markets be kept in Church-yards, for the hononr of
the Church.'* Statutes* 13 Edw, L Stat. u. cap. ti. ^
As that venerable and learned poet (whose volu-
minous works we all think ijb the correct thing to
admire and talk about, but don't read often,) most
truly says, " the child is father to thi -man.;^. a for^
iiori, therefore, he must be father to the boy. So,
as we are going at any rate to see Tom Brown
through his boyhood, supposing we never get any
further, (which, if you show a proper sense of the
value of this history, there is no knowing but what
we may,) let us have a look at the life and environ-
ments of the child, in the quiet country village to
which we were introduced in the last chapter.
Tom, as has been already said, was; a robust
and combative urchin, . and at the age of four
began* to struggle against the yoke and authority
of his nurse. That functionary was a good-hearted,
t^iarful, scatter-brained girl, lately taken by Tom's
mother, .Madam Brown as she was called, from
the village school to be trained as nurserymaid.
Madam Brown was a rare trainer of servants,
and spent herself freely in the profession { for
profession it was, and gave her more trouble by
TOM bkown's nubse. 31
half than many people take to earn a good in-
come. Her servants were known and sought after
for miles round. Almost- all the girls who at-
tained a certain place in the village school were
taken by her, one or two at a time, as house-
maids, laundrymaids, nurserymaids, or kitchenmaids,
and after a year or two's drilling, were started in
life amongst the neighbouring families, with good
principles and wardrobes. One of the results of
this system was the perpetual despair of Mrs.
Brown's cook and own maid, who no sooner had a
notable girl made to their hands, than Missus was
sure to find a good place for her and send her off,
taking in fresh importations from the school. An-
other was, that the house was always full of young
girls, with clean shining faces, who broke plates
and scorched linen, but made an atmosphere of
cheerful homely life about the place, good for every
one who came within its influence. Mrs. Brown
loved young people, and in fact human creatures
in general, above plates and linen. They were more
like a lot of elder children than servants, and felt to
her more as a mother or aunt than as a mistress.
Tom's nurse was one who took in her instruction
very slowly, she seemed to have two left hands
' and no head ; and so Mrs. Brown kept her on longer
than ustial, that she might expend her awkwardness
and forgetfulness upon those who would not judge
and punish her too strictly for them.
Charity Lamb was her name. It had been the
imnlemorial habit of the village, to christen chil-
dren either by Bible names, or by those of the
32 TOM bkown's first bebellion.
cardinal and other virtues; so that one was for-
ever bearing in the village-street, or on the green,
shrill sounds of, " Prudence ! Prudence ! thee cum'
out o' the gutter ; " or, " Mercy ! d'rat the girl, what
bist thee a doin' wi' 'little Faith ? " and there were
Ruths, Rachels, Keziahs, in every corner. The same
with the boys ; they were Benjamins, Jacobs, Noahs,
Enochs. I suppose the custom has come down from
Puritan times, there it is. at any rate, very strong
still in the Vale.
Well, from early morn till dewy eve, when she
had it out of him in the cold tub before putting
him to bed. Charity and Tom were pitted against
one another. Physical power was as yet on the
side of Charity, but she hadn't a chance with
him wherever head-work was wanted. This war
of independence began every morning before break-
fast, when Charity escorted her charge to a neigh-
bouring farm-house which supplied the Browns,
and where, by his mother's wish. Master Tom
went to drink whey before breakfast. Tom had
no sort of objection to whey, but he had a decided
liking for curds, which were forbidden as unwhole-
some, and there was seldom a morning that he
did not manage to secure a handful of hard curds,
in defiance of Charity and of the farmer's wife.
The latter, good soul, was a gaunt angular woman,
who, with an old black bonnet on the top of
her head, the strings dangling about her shoulders,
and her gown tucked through her pocket-hdes,
went clattering about . the dairy, cheese-room, mnd
yard, in high pattens. Charity was some sort of
TOM BKOWN S CASTLE OF EBFUGE. 33
niece of the old lady's and was consequently
free of the farm-house and garden, into which
she could not resist going for the purposes of
gossip and flirtation with the heir apparent, who
was a dawdling fellow, never out at work, as
he ought to have been. The moment Charity
had found her cousin, or any other occupation,
Tom would slip away ; and in a minute shrill
cries would be heard from the dairy, " Charity,
Charity, thee lazy hussy, where bist?" and Tom
would break cover, hands and mouth full of curds,
and take refuge on the shaky surface of the great
muck reservoir in the middle of the yard, dis-
turbing the repose of the great pigs. Here he
was in safety, as no grown person could follow
without getting over their knees ; and the luck-,
less Charity, while her aunt scolded her from the
dairy-door, for being "alius hankering about arter
our Willum, instead of minding Master Tom,"
would descend from threats to coaxing, to lure Tom
out of the muck, which was rising over his, shoes,
and would soon tell a tale on Jiis stockings, for
which she would be sure to catch it from Missus's
maid.
Tom had two abettors in the shape of a couple
of old boys, Noah and Benjamin by name, who
defended him from Charity, and expended much
time upon his education. They were both of them
retired servants of former generations of the Browns.
Noah Crooke Vas a keen, dry old man of almost
ninety, but still able to totter about. He talked to
Tom quite as if he were one of his own family, and
34 TOM BKOWN'^S ABETTORS NOAH.
indeed had long completely identified the Browns
with himself. In some remote age he had been the
attendant of a Miss Brown, and had conveyed her
about the country on a pillion. He had a little
round picture of the identiced gray horse, capari-
soned with the identical pillion, before which he
used to do a sort of fetish worship, and abuse turn-
pike roads and carriages. He wore an old full-
bottomed wig, the gift of some dandy old Brown
whom he had valeted in the middle of last century,
which habiliment Master Tom looked upon with
considerable respect, not to say fear, and indeed his
whole feeling towards Noah was strongly tainted
with awe ; and when the old gentleman was gath-
ered to his fathers, Tom's lamentation over him was
-not unaccompanied by a certain joy at having seen
the last of the wig : " Poor old Noah, dead and
gone," said he, " Tom Brown so sorry ! Put him in
the coffin, wig and all." / /
But old Benjy was young Master's real delight
and refuge. He was a youth by the side of Noah, '
scarce seventy years old. A cheery, humourous,
kind-hearted old man, full f sixty years of vale gos-
sip, and of all sorts of helpful ways for young and
old, but above all for children. It was he who bent
the first pin, with which Tom extracted his first
stickleback out of " pebbly brook," the little stream
which ran through the village. The first stickleback
was a splendid fellow, with fabulous red and blue
gills. Tom kept him in a small basin until the day
of his death, and became a fisherman from that day.
Within a month firom the taking of the first stickle-
TOM BBOWN's ASETTOBS BBNJT. 35
back, Benjy had carried off our hero to the canal
in defiance of Charity, and between them, after a
whole afternoon's popjoying, they had caught three
or four small coarse fish and a perch, averaging per-
haps two-and-a-half inches each, which Tom bore
home in rapture to his mother as a precious gift,
and she received like a true mother with equal rap-
ture, instructing the cook nevertheless, in a private
interview, not to prepare the same for the Squire's
dinner. Charity had appealed against old Benjy
in the meantime, representing the dangers of the
canal banks; but Mrs. Brown, seeing the boy's in-
aptitude for female guidance, had decided in Benjy's
favor, and firom thenceforth the old man was Tom's
dry nurse. And as they sat by the canal, watching
their little green-and-white float, Benjy would in-
struct him in the doings of deceased Browns. How
his grandfather, in the early days of the great war,
when there was much distress and crime in the
Vale, and the magistrates had been threatened by
the mob, had ridden in with a big stick in his
hand, arid held the Petty Sessions by himself. How
his great uncle, the rector, had encountered and
laid the last ghost, who had frightened the old
women, male and female, of the parish, out of their
senses, and who turned out to be the blacksmith's
apprentice, disguised in drink and a white sheet.
It was Benjy, too, who saddled Tom's first pony,
and instructed him in the mysteries of horseman-
ship, teaching him to throw his weight back and
keep his hand low ; and who stood chuckling out-
side the door of the girls' school, when Tom rode
3b BENJT S KIN.
his little Shetland into the cottage and round the
table, where the old dame and her pupils were
seated at their work.
Benjy himself was come of a family distinguished
in the Vale for their prowess in all athletic games.
Some half-dozen of his brothers and kinsmen had
gone iso the wars, of whom only one had survived
to come home, with a small pension, and three
bullets in different parts of his body ; he had shared
Benjy's cottage till his death, and had left him his
old dragoon's sword and pistol, which hung over
the mantel-piece, flanked by a p^-ir of heavy single-
sticks, with which Benjy himself had won renown
long ago as an old gamester, against the picked
men of Wiltshire and Somersetshire in many a
good bout at the revels and pastimes of the country-
side. For he had been a famous backsword man in
his young days, and a good wrestler at elbow and
collar.
Backswording and wrestling were the most seri-
ous holiday pursuits of the Vale, those by which
men attained fame, and each village had its cham-
pion. I suppose that, on the whole, people were
less worked then than they are now; at any rate
they seemed to have more time and energy for the
old " pastimes." The great times for backswording
came round once a-year in each village, at the feast.
The Vale " veasts " were not the common statute
feasts, but much more ancient business. They are
literally, so far as one can ascertain, feasts of the
dedication, i. e. they were first established in the
churchyard, on the day on which the village church
OUB TEAST. 37
was opened for public worship, which was on the
wake or festival of the patron saint, an2[ have been
held on the same day in every year since that time.
There was no longer any remembrance of why
the "veast" had been instituted, but nevertheless it
had a pleasant and almost sacred character of its
own. For it was then that all the children of the
village, wherever they were scattered, tried to get
home for a holiday to visit their fathers and mothers
and friends, bringing with them their wages or some
litde gift from up the country for the old folk. Per-
haps for a day or two before, but at any rate on
" veast-day " and the day after, in our village, you
might see strapping healthy young men and women
from aU parts of the country going round from
house to house in their best clothes, and finishing
up with a call on Madam Brown, whom they would
consult as to putting out their earnings to the best
advantage, or how to expend the same best for the
benefit of the old folk. Every household, however
poor, managed to raise a " feast-cake " and bottle of
ginger or raisin wine, which stood on the cottage
table ready for all comers, and not unlikely to make
them remember feast-time, for feast-cake is very
solid, and full-of huge raisins. Moreover feast-time
was the day of reconciliation for the parish. If Job
Higgins and Noah Freeman hadn't spoken for the
last six months, their " old women " would be sure
to get it patched up by that day. And though there
was a good deal of drinking and low vice in the
booths of an evening, it was pretty well confined to
those who would have been doing the like, " veasi
38 APPROACH OP VEA8T-DAT.
or no veast," and on the whole, the effect was
humanizing and Christian. In fact, the only reason
why this is not the case still, is that gentlefolk and
farmers have taken to other amusements, and have
as usual forgotten the poor. They don't attend the
feasts themselves and call them disreputable, where-
upon the steadiest of the poor leave them also, and
they* become what they are called. Class amuse-
ments, be they for dukes or ploughboys, always be-
come nuisances and curses to a country. The true
charm of cricket and hunting is, that they are still
more or less sociable and universal ; there's a place
for every man who will come and take his part.
No one in the village enjoyed the approach of
" veast-day " more than Tom, in the year in which
he was taken under old Benjy's tutelage. The feast
was held in a large green field at the lower end of
the village. The road to Farringdon ran along one
side of it, and the brook by the side of the road ;
and above the brook was another large gently slop-
ing pasture-land, with a footpath running down it
from the churchyard ; and the old church, the origi-
nator of all the mirth, towered up with its gray
walls and lancet windows, overlooking and sanc-
tioning the whole, though its own share therein had
been forgotten. At the point where the footpath
crossed the brook and road, and entered on the field
where the feast was held, was a long, low, road-side
inn, and on the opposite side of the field was a
large white thatched farm-house, where dwelt an
old sporting farmer, a great promoter of the revels.
Past the old church and down the footpath, pot-
EVE OF VEA.8T-DAY. ' * 39
tered the old man and the child, hand-in-hand,
early on the afternoon of the day before the feast,
and wandered all round the ground, which was
already being occupied by the " cheap Jacks," with
their green covered carts and raarvellous assortment
of wares, and the booths of more legitimate small
traders with their tempting arrays of fairings and
eatables ; and penny peep-shows and other shows,
containing pink-eyed ladies, and dwarfs, and boa-
constrictors, and wild Indians. But the object of
most interest to Benjy, and of course to his pupil
also, was the stage of rough planks some four, feet
high, which was being put up by the village car-
penter for the backswording and wrestling ; and
after surveying the whole tenderly, old Benjy led his
charge away to the road-side inn, where he ordered
a glass of ale and a long pipe for himself, and
discussed these unwonted luxuries on the bench
outside in the soft autumn evening with mine host,
another old servant of the Browns, and speculated
with him on the likelihood of a good show of old
gamesters to contend for the morrow's prizes, and
told tales of the gallant bouts of forty years back, to
which Tom listened with all his ears and eyes.
But who shall tell the joy of the next morning,
when the church bells were ringing a merry peal,
and old Benjy appeared in the servants' hall resplen
dent in a long blue coat and brass buttons, and a
pair of old yellow buckskins and top-boots, which
he had cleaned for and inherited from Tom's grand-
father ; a stout thorn stick in his hand, and a nose-
gay of pinks and lavender in his button-hole, and
40 MOENING OF THE YEAST.
led away Tom in his best clothes, and two new
shillings in his breeches-pockets? Those two, at
any rate, look like enjoying the day's revel.
They quicken their pace when they get into the
churchyard, for already they see the field thronged
with country folk, the men in clean w^hite smocks or
velveteen or fustian .coats, with rough plush waist-
coats of many colours, and the women in the beau-
tiful long crimson cloak, the usual out-door dress of
west-country women in those days, and which often
descended in families from mother to daughter, or
in new-fashioned stuff shawls, which, if they would
but believe it, don't become them half so well.
The air resounds with the pipe and tabor, and the
drums and trumpets of the showmen shouting at
the doors pf their caravans, over which tremendous
pictures of the wonders to be seen within hang
temptingly ; while through all rises the shrill " root-
too-too-too" of Mr. Punch, and the unceasing pan-
pipe of his satellite.
" Lawk a' massey, Mr. Benjamin," cries a stout
motherly woman in a red cloak, as they enter the
field, " be that you ? Well I never ! you do look
purely. And how's the Squire, and Madam and the
family?"
Benjy graciously shakes hands with the speaker,
who has left our village for some years, but has
come over for Veast-day on a visit to an old gos-
sip, and gently indicates the heir apparent of the
Browns.
" Bless his little heart? I must gi' un a kiss.
FTere, Susannah, Susannah!" cries she, raising her-
GOSSIPING FRELIMINABT. 41
self from the embrace, " come and see Mr. Benjamin
and young Master Tom. You minds our Sukey,
Mr. Benjamin, she be growed a rare slip of a wench
since you seen* her, tho' her'U be sixteen come Mar-
tinmas. I do aim to take her to see Madam to get
her a place."
And Sukey comes bouncing away from a knot of
old school-fellows, and drops a curtsy to Mr. Ben-
jamin. And elders come up from all parts to
salute Benjy, and girls who have been Madam's
pupils to kiss Master Tom. And they carry him
off to load him with fairings; and he returns to
Benjy, his hat and coat covered with ribbons, and
his pockets crammed with wonderful boxes, which
open upon ever new boxes and boxes, and popguns,
and trumpets, and apples, and gilt gingerbread from
the stall of Angel Heavens, sole vendor thereof,
whose booth groans with kings and queens, and
elephants, and prancing steeds, all gleaming with
gold. There was more gold on Angel's cakes than
there is ginger in those of this degenerate age.
Skilled diggers might yet make a fortune in the
churchyards of the Vale, by carefully washing the
dust of the consumers of Angel's gingerbread.
Alas! he is with his namesakes, and his receipts
have, I fear, died with him.
And then they inspect the penny peep-show, at
least Tom does, while old Benjy stands outside and
gossips, and walks up the steps, and enters the mys-
terious doors of the pink-eyed lady, and the Irislj
giant, who do not by any means come up to their
pictures, and the boa will not swallow his rabbit,
4
42 JINGIiING MATCH.
but there the rabbit is waiting to be swallowed
and what can you expect for tuppence? We are
easily pleased in the Vale. Now there is a rush of
the crowd, and a tinkling bell is heard, and shouts
of laughter; and Master Tom mounts on Benjy's
shoulders and beholds a jingling match in all its
glory. . The games are begun, and this is the open-
ing of them. It is a quaint game, immensely
amusing to look at, and as I don't know whether
it is used in your counties, I had better describe it.
A large roped ring is made, into which are intro-
duced a dozen or so of big boys and young men
who mean to play ; these are carefully blinded and
turned loose into the ring, and then a man is intro-
duced not blindfolded, with a bell hung round his
neck, and his two hands tied behind him. Of
course every time he moves, the bell must ring, as
he has no hand to hold it, and so the dozen blind-
folded men have to catch him. This they cannot
always manage if be is a lively fellow, but half of
them always rush into the arms of the other half,
or drive their heads together, or tumble over ; and
then the crowd laughs vehemently, apd invents
nicknames for them on the spur of the moment,
and they, if they be choleric, tear off the handker-
cliiefs which blind them, and not unfrequently pitch
into one another, each thinking that the other must
have run against him on purpose. It is great fun
to look at a jingling match certainly, and Tom
shouts and jumps on old Benjy's shoulders at the
sight, until the old man feels weary and shifts him
to the strong young shoulders of the groom who has
just got down to the fun.
=^^^'^2^^^^*^?^ :^^
I'age42
STA.KES FOB THE BACKSWOBDING. 43
And now, while they are climbing the pole in
another part of the field, and muzzling in a flour-tub
in another, the old farmer, whose house, as has been
said, overlooks the field, and who is master of the
revels, gets up the steps on to the stage and announ-
ces to all whom it may concern, that a half-sovereign
in money will be forthcoming for the old gamester
who breaks most heads ; to which the Squire and
he have added a new hat.
The amount of the prize is sufficient to stimulate
the men of the immediate neighbourhood, but not
enough to bring any very high talent from a dis-
tance ; so, after a glance or two round, a tall fellow,
who is a down shepherd, chucks his hat on to the
stage and climbs up the steps, looking rather sheep-
ish ; the crowd of course first cheer, and then chaff
as usual, as he picks up his hat and begins handling
the sticks to see which will suit him.
" Wooy, Willum Smith, thee canst plaay wi' he
arra daay,'' says his companion to the blacksmith's
apprentice, a stout young fellow of nineteen or
twenty. Willum's sweetheart is in the "veast"
somewhere, and has strictly enjoined him not to
get his head broke at backswording, on pain of her
highest displeasure ; but as she is not to be seen, (the
women pretend not to like to see the backsword
play, and keep away from the stage,) and his hat is
decidedly getting old, he chucks it on to the stage,
and follows himself, hoping that he will only have to
break other people's heads, or that, after aU, Rachel
won't really mind.
Then follows the greasy cap lined with fur, of a
44 THE PLAYERS.
half-gipsey, poaching, loafing fellow, who travels the
Vale not for much good I fancy :
* Full tweniy times waa Peter feared
For once that Peter was respected "
in fact And then three or four other hats, includ-
ing the glossy castor of Joe Willis, the self-elected
and would-be champion of the neighbourhood, a well-
to-do young butcher of twenty-eight or thereabouts,
and a great strapping fellow with his full allowance
of bluster. This is a capital show of gamesters,
considering the amount of the prize ; so while they
are picking their sticks and drawing their lots, I
think I must tell you as shortly as I can how the
noble old game of backsword is played; for it is
sadly gone out of late, even in the Vale, and may-be
you have never seen it.
The weapon is a good stout ash-stick with a
large basket handle, heavier and somewhat shorter
than a common single-stick. The players are called
" old ganiesters,'' why, I can't tell you, and their
object is simply to break one another's heads : for
the moment that blood runs an inch anywhere
above the eyebrow, the old gamester to whom it
belongs is beaten, and has to stop. A very slight
blow with the sticks will fetch blood, so that it is by
no means a punishing pastime, if the men don't
play on purpose, and savagely, at the body and
arms of 'their adversaries. The old gamester going
into action only takes off his hat and coat, and
arms himself with a stick ; he then loops the fingers
of his left hand in a handkerchief or strap which he
fastens round his left leg, measuring the length, so
ASMS AND ACCOUTBEMENTS JOB AND THE GIPSEY. 45
that when he draws it tight with his left elbow in
the air, that elbow shall just reach as high as his
crown. Thus you see, so long as he chooses to
keep his left elbow up, regardless of cuts, he has a
perfect guard for the left side of his head. Then
he advances his right hand above and in front of
his head, holding his stick across so that its point
projects an inch or two over his left elbow, and thus
his whole head is completely guarded, and he faces
his man armed in like manner, and they stand some
three feet apart, often nearer, and feint, and strike,
and return at one another's heads, until one cries
" hold," or blood flows ; in the first case they are
allowed a minute's time, and go on again ; in the
latter, another pair of gamesters are called on. If
good men are playing, the quickness of the returns
is marvellous; you hear the rattle like that a boy
makes drawing his stick along .palings, only heavier,
and the closeness of the men in action to one an-
other gives it a strange interest, and makes a spell
at backswording a very noble sight.
They all are suited now with sticks, and Joe
Willis and the gipsey man have drawn first lot.
So the rest lean against the rails of the stage, and
Joe and the dark man meet in the middle, the boards
having been strewed with sawdust ; Joe's white
shirt and spotless drab breeches and boots contrast-
ing with the gipsey' s coarse blue shirt and dirty
green velveteen breeches and leather gaiters. Joe is
evidently turning up his nose at the other, and half
insulted at having to break his head.
The gipsey is a tough active fellow, but not very
46 WII.L SMITH AND THE SHEFHSBD.
skilful with his weapon, so that Joe's weigjit and
strength tell in a minute ; he is too heavy metal for
him : whack, whack, whack, come his blows, break-
ing down the gipsey's guard, and threatening to
reach his head eveiy moment. There it is at last
" Blood, blood ! " shout the spectators as a thin
stream oozes out slowly from the roots of his hair,
and the umpire calls to them to stop. The gipsey
scowls at Joe under his brows in no pleasant man-
ner, while Master Joe swaggers about, and makes
attitudes, and thinks himself, and shows that he
thinks himself, the greatest man in the field.
Then follow several stout sets-to between the
other candidates for the new hat, and at last come
the shepherd and Willum Smith. This is the crack
set-to of the day. They are both in famous wind,
and there is no crying " hold ; " the shepherd is an
old hand and up to all the dodges; he tries them
one after another, and very nearly gets at Willum's
head by coming in near, and playing over his guard
at the half-stick, but somehow Willum blunders
through, catching the stick on his shoulders, neck,
sides every now and then, anywhere but on his
head, and his returns are heavy and straight, and he
is the youngest gamester, and a favourite in the
parish, and his gallant stand brings down shouts
and cheers, and the knowing ones think he'll win if
he keeps steady, and Tom on the groom's shoulders
holds his hands together, and can hardly breathe for
excitement.
Alas for Willum ! his sweetheart, getting tired of
female companionship, has been hunting the booths
JOE HAS AI.L THE LUCK. 47
to see where he can have got to, and now catches
sight of him on the stage in full combat. She
flushes and turns pale ; her old aunt catches hold of
her, saying, " Bless 'ee, child, doan't'ee go a'nigst
it;" but she breaks away, and runs towards the
stage calling his name. Willum keeps up his guard
stoutly, but glances for^a moment towards the
voice. No guard will do it, Willum, without the
eye. The shepherd steps round and strikes, and
the point of his stick just grazes Willum's forehead,
fetching off the skin, and the blood flows, and the
umpire cries " hold," and poor Willum's chance is
up for the day. But he takes it very well, and puts
on his old hat and coat, and goes down to be scolded
by his sweetheart, and led away out of mischief.
Tom hears him say coaxingly, as he walks off'
" Now doan't 'ee, Kachel ! I wouldn't ha' done it,
I only w^anted summut to buy'ee a fairing wi', and I
be as vlush o' money as a twod o' veathers."
" Thee mind what I tells 'ee," rejoins Rachel, sau-
cily, " and doan't 'ee kep blethering about fairings."
Tom resolves in his heart to give Willum the re-
mainder of his two shillings after the backswording.
Joe Willis has all the luck to-day. His next bout
ends in an easy victory, while the shepherd has a
tough job to break his second head ; and when Joe
and ihfe shepherd meet, and the whole circle expect
and hope to see him get a broken crown, the shep-
herd slips in the first round and falls against the
rails, hurting himself so that the old farmer will not
let him go on, mucb as he wishes to try ; and that
impostor Joe (for he is certainly not the best man)
48 A NEW "OI.D GAMZSTEE."
struts and swaggers about the stage the conquering
gamester, though he hasn't had five minutes' really
trying play.
Joe takes the new hat in his hand, and puts the
money into it, and then as if a thought strikes him,
and he doesn't think his victory quite acknowledged
down below, walks to each face of the stage, and
looks down, shaking the money, and chaffing as how
he'll stake hat and money and another half-sovereign
" agin any gamester as hasn't played already." Cun-
ning Joe ! he thus gets rid of Willum and the shep-
herd, who is quite fresh again.
No one seems to like the offer, and the umpire is
just coming down, when a queer old hat, something
like a Doctor of Divinity's shovel, is chucked on to
the stage, and an elderly quiet man steps out, who
has been watching the play, saying he should like to
cross a stick wi' the prodigalish young chap.
The crowd cheer and begin to chaff Joe, who
turns up his nose and swaggers across to the sticks.
^'Imp'dent old wosbirdl" says he, "I'll break the bald
head on un to the truth."
The old boy is very bald certainly, aj^ the blood
will show fast enough if you can touch hiitf, Joe.
He takes off his long-flapped coat, and stands up
in a long-flapped waistcoat, which Sir Roger De
Coverley might have worn when it was new, picks
out a stick, and is ready for Master Joe, who loses
no time, but begins, his old game, whack, whack,
whack, trying to break down the old man's guard
by sheer strength. But it wo;i't do, he catches
every blow close by the basket, and though he is
JOB OUT OF I.UCK. 49
rather stiff in his returns, after a minute walks Joe
about the stage, and is clearly a stanch old gamester.
Joe now comes in, and making the most of his height,
tries to get over the old man's guard at half-stick, by
which he takes a smart blow in the ribs, and another
on the elbow, and nothing more. And now he loses
wind and begins to puff, and the crowd laugh : " Cry
*hold,' Joe, thee'st met thy match!" Instead of
taking good advice and getting his wind, Joe loses
his temper, and strikes at the old man's body.
"Blood, blood!" shout the crowd, "Joe's head's
broke!"
Who'd have thought it ? How did it come ?
That body-blow left Joe's head unguarded for a
moment, and with one turn of the wrist the old
gentleman has picked a neat little bit of skin off
the middle of his forehead, and though he won't
believe it, and hammers on for three more blows
despite of the shouts, is then convinced by the
blood trickling into his eye. Poor Joe is sadly
crestfallen, and fumbles in his pocket for the other
half-sovereign, but the old gamester won't have it.
"Keep thy money, man, and gi's thy hand," says
he, and they shake hands; but the old gamester
gives the new hat to the shepherd, and soon after the
half-sovereign to Willum, who thereout decorates his
sweetheart with ribbons to his heart's content.
" Who can a be ? " " Wur do a cum from ? " ask
the crowd. And it soon flies about that the old west-
country champion, who played a tie with Shaw, the
Life-guardsman at " Vizes," twenty years before, has
broken Joe Willis's crown for him.
5
50 THE BEVELS ARE OVEK.
How my country fair is spinning out! I see I
must skip the wrestling, and the boys jumping in
sacks, and rolling wheelbarrows blindfolded; and
the donkey race, and the fight which arose thereout,
marring the otherwise peaceful "veast;" and the
frightened scurrying away of the female feast-goers,
and descent of Squire Brown, summoned by the
wife of one of the combatants to stop it; which he
wouldn't start to do till he had got On hiS top-boots.
Tom is carried away by old Benjy dog-tired and
surfeited with pleasure, as the evening comes on
and the dancing begins in the booths ; and though
Willum and Rachel in her new ribbons and many
another good lad and lass don't come away just yet,
but have a good step out, and enjoy it, ^nd get no
harm thereby, yet we being sober folk will just stroll
away up through the churchyard, and by the old
yew-tree ; and get a quiet dish of tea and a parle
with our gossips, as the steady ones of our village
do, and so. to bed.
That's the fair true sketch, as far as it goes, of
one of the larger village feasts in the Vale of Berks,
when I was a little boy. They are much altered for
the worse, I am told. I haven't been at one these
twenty years, but I have been at the statute fairs in
some west-country towns, where servants are hired,
and greater abominations cannot be foimd. What
village feasts have come to, I fear in many cases,
may be read in the pages of Yeast, (though I never
saw one so bad thank God !)
Do you want to know why? It is because, as
I said before, gentlefolk and farmers have left off
THE OLD BOY MOKALIZETH ON VEA8TS. 51
joining or taking an interest in them. They don't
either subscribe to the prizes, or go down and enjoy
the fun.
Is this a good or a bad sign? I hardly know.
Bad, sure enough, if it only arises from the further
separation of classes consequent on twenty years of
buying cheap and selling dear, and its accompany-
ing overwork; or because our sons and daughters
have their hearts in London club-life, or so called
society, instead of in the old English home duties ;
because farmers' sons are aping fine gentlemen,
and farmers' daughters caring more to make bad
foreign music than good English cheeses. Good,
perhaps, if it be that the time for the old "veasf
has gone by; that it is no longer the healthy sound
expression of English country holiday-making ; that
in fact we as a nation have got beyond it, and are
in a transition state, feeling for and soon likely to
find some better substitute.
Only I have just got this to say before I quit the
text. Don't let reformers of any sort think that they
are going really to lay hold of the working boys and
young men of England by any educational grapnel
whatever, which hasn't some bond fide equivalent
for the games of the old country "veast" in it;
something to put in the place of the backswording
and wre'Steig and racing ; something' to try the
muscles of men's bodies, and the endurance of their
hearts, and to make them rejoice in their strength.
In all the new-fangled comprehensive plans I see,
this is all left out ; and the conseqiiexice is, that your
great Mechanics' Institutes end fn intellectual prigg-
52 THE OLD boy's VIEWS OP MAKT THINGS.
ism, and your Christian Young Men's Societies in
religious Pharisaism.
Well, well, we must bide our time. Life isn't all
beer and skittles, but beer and skittles, or some-
thing better of the same sort, must form a good part
of every Englishman's education. If I could only
drive this into the heads of you rising Parliamentary
Lords, and young swells who "have your ways
made for you," as the saying is, you, who frequent
palaver houses and West-end clubs, waiting always
ready to strap yourselves on to the back of poor
dear old John, as soon as the present used-up lot
(your fathers and uncles) who sit there on the great
Parliamentary-majorities' pack-saddle, and make be-
lief they're guiding him with their red-tape bridle,
tumble, or have to be lifted off!
I don't think much of you yet I wish I could ;
though you do go talking and lecturing up and
down the country to crowded audiences, and are
busy with all sorts of philanthropic intellectualism,
and circulating libraries and museums, and heaven
only knows what besides ; and try to make us think,
through newspaper reports, that you are even as we
of the working classes. But, bless your hearts, we
" ain't so green," though lots of us of all sorts toady
you enough certainly, and try to make you think so.
I'll tell you what to do now: instead bf all this
trumpeting and fuss, which is only the old Parlia-
mentary-majority dodge over again just you go
each of you (you've plenty of time for it, if you'll
only give up t'other line), and quietly make three or
four friends, real friends, among us. You'll find a
THE OLD boy's ADTICE TO YOUNG SWELLS. 53
little trouble in getting at the right sort, because
such birds don't come lightly to your lure; but found
they may be. Take, say, two out of the professions,-N
lawyer, parson, doctor, which you will ; one out of \
trade, and three or four out of the working classes,
tailors, engineers, carpenters, engravers, there's
plenty of choice. Let them be men of your own
ages, mind, and ask them to your homes ; introduce
them to your wives and sisters, and get introduced
to theirs : give them good dinners, and talk to them
about what is really at the bottom of your hearts,
and box, and tun, and row with them, when you
have a chance. Do all this honestly as man to man,
and by the time you come to ride old John, you'll be
able to do something more than sit on his back, and
may feel his mouth with some stronger bridle than a
red-tape one.
Ah, if you only would! But you have got too
far out of the right rut, I fear. Too much over-civil-
ization, and the deceitfulness of riches. It is easier
for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.
More's the pity. I never came across but two of you,
who could value a man wholly and solely for what
was in him, who thought themselves verily and in-
deed of the same flesh and blood as John Jones the
attorney's clerk, and Bill Smith the costerraonger,
and could act as if they thought so.
CHAPTER III.
SUNDRY WASS AND ALLIANCES.
Poor old Benjy! the "rheumatiz" has much to
answer for all through English country-sides, but it
never played a scurvier trick than in laying thee by
the heels, when thou wast yet in a green old age.
The enemy, which had long been carrying on a sort
of border warfare, and trying his strength against
Benjy's on the battle-field of his hands and legs, now
mustering all his forces began laying siege to the
citadel, and overrunning the whole country. Benjy
was seized in the back and loins; and though he
made strong and brave fight, it was soon clear enough
that all which could be beaten of poor old Benjy
would have to give in before long.
It w^as as much as he could do now, with the help
of his big stick and frequent stops, to hobble down
to the canal with Master Tom, and bait his hook
for him, and sit and watch his angling, telling him
quaint old country stories ; and when Tom had no
sport, and detecting a rat some hundred yards or so
off along the bank, would rush off with Toby the
turnspit-terrier, his other faithful companion, in boot-
less pursuit, he might have tumbled in and been
drowned twenty times over before Benjy could have
got near him.
Cheery and unmindful of himself as Benjy was,
.'L
benjy's decline. 55
this loss of locomotive power bothered him greatly.
He had got a new object iii his old age, and was
just beginning to think himself useful again in the
world. He feared much, too, lest Master Tom should
fall back again into the hands of Charity and the
women. So he tried every thing he could think of
to get set up. He even went an expedition to the
dwelling of one of those queer mortals, who, say
what we will, and reason how we will, do cure
simple people of diseases of one kind or another
without the aid of physic, and so get to themselves
the reputation of using charms, and inspire for
themselves and their dwellings great respect, not
to say fear, amongst a simple folk such as the
dwellers in the Vale of "White Horse. Where this
power, or whatever else it may be, descends upon
the shoulders of a man whose ways are. not straight,
he becomes a nuisance to the neighbourhood, a re-
ceiver of stolen goods, giver of love-potions, and
deceiver of silly women ; the avowed enemy of law
and order, of justices of the peace, head-boroughs,
and gamekeepers. Such a man in fact as was
recently caught tripping, and deservedly dealt with
by the Leeds justices, for seducing a girl who had
come to him to get back a faithless lover, and has
been convicted of bigamy since then. Sometimes,
however, they are of quite a different stamp, men
who pretend to nothing, and are with difficulty per-
suaded to exercise their occult arts in the simplest
cases.
Of this latter sort was old farmer Ives, as he was
called, the "wise man" to whom Benjy resorted.
56 BENJY BESOBTS TO A "WISE MAN."
taking Tom with him as usual, in the early spring
of the year next after the feast described in the last
chapter. Why he was called farmer I cannot say,
unless it be that he was the owner of a cow, a pig
or two, and ome poultry, which he maintained on
about an acre of land enclosed from the middle of
a wild common, on which probably his father had
squatted before lords of manors looked as keenly
after their rights as they do now. Here he had
lived, no one knew how long, a solitary man. It
was often rumoured that he was to be turned out,
and his cottage pulled down, but somehow it never
came to pass, and his pigs and cow went grazing
on the common, and his geese hissed at the passing
children, and at the heels of the horse of my lord's
steward, who often rode by with a covetous eye on
the enclosure, still unmolested. His dwelling was
some miles from our village; so Benjy, who was'
half ashamed of his errand, and wholly unable to
walk there, had to exercise much ingenuity to get
the means of transporting himself and Tom thither
without exciting suspicion. However, one fine May
morning he managed to borrow the old blind pony
of our friend the. publican, and Tom persuaded
Madam Brown to give him a holiday to spend with
old Benjy, and to lend them the Squire's light cart,
stored with bread and cold meat and a bottle of ale.
And so the two in high glee started behind old Dob-
bin, and jogged along the deep-rutted plashy roads,
which had not been mended after their winter's
wear, towards the dwelling of the wizard. About
noon they passed the gate which opened on to the
PABMEB IVES THE "WISE MAN." 57
large common, and old Dobbin toiled slowly up the
hill, while Benjy pointed out a little deep dingle on
the left, out of which welled a tiny stream. As they
crept up the hill the tops of a few birch trees came
in sight, and blue smoke curling up through their
delicate light boughs ; and then the little white
thatched home and patch of enclosed ground of
farmer Ives, lying cradled in the dingle with the
gay gorse common rising behind and on both sides,
while in front, after traversing a gentle slope, the
eye might travel for miles and miles over the rich
vale. They now left the naain road and struck into
a green track over the common, marked lightly with
wheel and horseshoe, which led down into the
dingle, and stopped at the rough gate of farmer
Ives. Here they found the farmer, an iron-gray old
man, with a bushy eyebrow and strong aquiline
nose, busied in one of his vocations. He was a
horse and cow doctor, and was tending a sick beast
which had been sent up to be cured. Benjy hailed
him as an old friend, and he returned the greeting
cordially enough, looking however hard for a mo-
ment both at Benjy and Tom, to see whether there
was more in their visit than appeared at first sight.
It was a work of some difficulty and danger for
Benjy to reach the ground, which, however, he man-
aged to do without mishap; and then he devoted
himself to unharnessing Dobbin, and turning him out
for a graze (" a run " one could not say of that
virtuous steed) on the common. This done, he
extricated the cold provisions from the cart, and they
entered the farmer's wicket; and he, shutting up the
58 THE LEECH AND HIS PATIENT.
knife with which he was taking maggots out of the
cow's back and sides, accompanied them towards
the cottage. A big old lurcher got up slowly from
the door-stone, stretching first one hind leg and then
the other, and taking Tom's caresses and the pres-
ence of Toby, who kept however at a respej||ful
distance, with equal indifference.
"Us be cum to pay'e a visit. I've a been long
minded to do't for old sake's sake, only I vinds I
dwont get about now as Vd used to't. I be so
plaguy bad wi' th' rumatiz in my back." Benjy
paused in hopes of drawing the farmer at once on
the subject of his ailments without further direct
application.
" Ah, I see as you bean't quite so lissom as you
was," replied the farmer with a grim smile, as he
lifted the latch of his door ; " we bean't so young as
we was, nother on us, wuss luck."
The farmer's cottage was very like those of the
better class of peasantry in general. A snug chim-
ney corner with two seats, and a small carpet on
the hearth, an old flint gun and a pair of spurs over
the fireplace, a dresser with shelves on which some
bright pewter plates and crockeryware were ar-
ranged, an old walnut table, a few chairs and set-
tles, some framed samplers, and an old print or two,
and a bookcase with some dozen volumes, on the
walls, a rack with flitches of bacon, and other stores
fastened to the ceiling, and you have the best part
of the furniture. No sign of occult art is to be
seen, unless the bundles of dried herbs 'hanging to
the rack and in the ingle, and the row of labelled
phials on one of the shelves, betoken it.
THB WISE man's subkottndings. ' 59
Tom played about with some kittens who occu-
pied the hearth, and with a goat who walked de-
murely in at the open door, while their host and
Benjy spread the table for dinner, and was soon
engaged in conflict with the cold meat to which he
didaCiuch honour. The two old men's talk was of old
comrades and their deeds, mute inglorious Miltons
of the Vale, and of the doings of thirty years back,
which didn't interest him much, except when they
spoke of the making of the canal, and then indeed
he began % listen with all his ears ; and learned to
his no soiaWkonder that his dear and wonderful
canal had i^JPeen there always was not in fact
so old as Benjy or farmer Ives, which caused a
strange commotion in his small brain.
After dinner Benjy called attention to a wart
which Tom had on his knuckles of his hand, and
which the family doctor had been trying his skill on
without success, and begged the farmer to charm it
away. Farmer Ives looked at it, muttered some-
thing or another over it, and cut some notches in a
short stick, which he handed to Benjy, giving him
instructions for cutting it down on certain days, and
cautioning Tom not to meddle with the wart for a
fortnight. And then they strolled out and sat on a
bench in the sun with their pipes, and the pigs came
up and grunted sociably and let Tom scratch them ;
and the farmer seeing how he liked animals, stood
up and held his arms in the air and gave a call,
which brought a flock of pigeons wheeling and
dashing thTbugh the birch trees. They settled down
in clusters on the farmer's arms and shoulders, mak-
bU WAET-CHAEMING AND BIRD-CHABMING.
ing love to him and scrambling over one another's
backs to get to his face; and then he threw them
all off, and they fluttered about close by, and lighted
on him again and again when he held up his arms.
All the creatures about the place were clean and fear-
less, quite unlike their relations elsewhere ; and Siom
begged to be taught how to make all the pigs and
cows and poultry in our village tame, at which the
farmer only gave ooe of his grim chuckles.
It wasn't till they were just ready to go, and old
Dobbin was harnessed, that Benjy brdftched, the
subject of his rheumatism again, dej^jj^^^i^ 'symp-
toms one by one. Poor old boy !^m|^ hoped the
farmer could charm it away as easily as he could
Tom's wart, and was ready with equal faith to put
another notched stick into his other pocket, for the
cure of his own ailments. The physician shook
his head, but nevertheless produced a bottle and
handed it to Benjy with instructions for use. " Not
as 't'U do'e much good leastways I be afeard not,"
shading his eyes with his hand and looking up at
them in the cart; "there's only one thing as I
knows on, as'll cure old folk like you and I o' th'
rhumatis."
" Wot be that then, farmer ? " inquired Benjy.
" Churchyard mould," said the old iron-gjjay man
with another chuckle. And so they said-fneir good-
byes and went their ways home. Tom's wart was
gone in a fortnight, but not so Benjy's rheumatism,
which laid him by the heels more and more. And
though Tom still spent many an hour with him, as
he sat on a bench in the sunshine, or by the chim-
TOM'S allies JOB BUDKIN, JACOB DOODLE-CALP, 61
ney corner when it was cold, he soon had to seek
elsewhere for his regular companions.
Tom had been accustomed often to accompany
his mother in her visits to the cottages, and had
thereby made acquaintance with many of the vil-
lage^ boys of his own age. There was Job Rudkin,
son of widow Rudkin, the most bustling woman in
the parish. How she could ever have had such a
stolid boy as Job for a child, must always remain a
mystery. The first time Tom went to their cottage
with his tfbther. Job was not in doors, but he en-
tered" soo^^ jM^ and stood with both hands in his
pockets stJ^I^ at Tom. Widow Rudkin, who
would have had to cross Madam to get at young
Hopeful a breach of good manners of which she
was wholly incapable began a series of pantomime
signs, which only puzzled him, and at last, unable
to contain herself longer, burst out with, " Job ! Job !
Where's thy cap ? "
" What ! beant'e on ma' head, mother ? " replied
Job, slowly extricating one hand firom a pocket and
feeling for the article in question ; which he found
on his head sure enough, and left there, to his moth-
er's horror and Tom's great delight.
Then there was poor Jacob Dobson, the half-witted
boy, who ambled about cheerfully, undertaking mes-
sages and little helpful odds and ends for every one,
which, however, poor Jacob managed always hope-
lessly to embrangle. Every thing came to pieces in
his hands, and nothing would stop in his head. They
nicknamed him Jacob Doodle-calf.
But, above all, there was Harry Winbum, the
52 HAKET WINBTJEN TOETISM OP SQTIIEE BEOWN.
quickest and best boy in the parish. He might be
a year older than Tom, but was very little bigger,
and he was the Crichton of our village boys. He
could wrestle, and climb, and run, better than all
the rest, and learned all that the schoolmaster could
teach him faster than that worthy at all liked. He
was a boy to be proud of, with his curly brown
hair, keen gray eye, straight active figure, and little
ears and hands and feet, " as fine as a lord's," as
Charity remarked to Tom one day, talking as usual
great nonsense. Lord's hands and ears "^nd feet are
just as ugly as other folks when theigMk children, as
any one may convince themselves^|^ey like to
look. Tight boots and gloves, and doing nothing
with them, I allow, make a difference by the time
they are twenty.
Now that Benjy was laid on the shelf, and his
young brothers were still under petticoat govern-
ment, Tom, in search of companions, began to cul-
tivate the village boys generally more and more.
I Squire Brown, be it said, was a true-blue Tory to
' the backbone, and believed honestly that the pow-
ers which be were ordained of God, and that loyalty
and steadfast obedience were men'"s first duties.
Whether it were in consequence or in spite of his
political creed, I do not mean to give an opinion,
though I hav^e one ; but certain it is, that he held
therewith divers social principles not generally sup-
posed to be true-blue in color. Foremost of these,
and the one which the Squire loved to propound
above all others, was the belief that a man is to be
valued wholly and solely for that which he is in
tom's watch-toweb by the school 63
himself, for that which stands up in the four fleshly
walls of him, apart from clothes, rank, fortune, and
all externals whatsoever. Which belief I take to
be a wholesome corrective of all political opinions,
and^ if held sincerely, to make all opinions equally
harmless, whether they be blue, red, or green. As a
necessary corollary to this belief. Squire Brown held
further, that it didn't matter a straw whether his
son associated with lords' sons or ploughmen's sons,
provided they were brave and honest. He himself
had played football and gone birds' -nesting with
the farmers whom he met at vestry and the labour-
ers who tilled their fields, and so had his father and
grandfather with their progenitors. So he encour-
aged Tom in his intimacy with the boys of the
village, and forwarded it by all means in his power,
and gave them the run of a close for a play-ground,
and provided bats and balls and a football for their
sports.
Our village was blessed, amongst other things,
with a well-endowed school. The building stood
by itself, apart from the master's house, on an angle
of ground where three roads met ; an old gray stone
building with a steep roof and mullioned \\andows.
On one of the opposite angles stood Squire Brown's
stables and kennel with their backs to the road,
over which towered a great elm tree ; on the third
stood the village carpenter^ and wheelwright's large
open shop, and his house and the schoolmaster's,
with long low eaves under which the swallows built
by scores.
The moment Tom's lessons were over he would
t .
64 TOM'S foes THE WHEELWEIGHT, ETC.
now get him down to this corner by the stables,
and watch till the boys came out of school. He
prevailed on the groom to cut notches for him in
the bark of the elm, so that he could climb into the
lower branches, and there he would sit watching the
school door, and speculating on the possibility of
turning the elm into a dwelling-place for himself
and friends, after the manner of the Swiss family
Robinson. But the school hours were long, and
Tom's patience short, so that soon he began to
descend into the street, and go and peep in at the
school door and the wheelwright's shop, and look
out for something to while away the time. Now
the wheelwright was a choleric man, and one fine
afternoon, returning from a short absence, found
Tom occupied with one of his pet adzes, the edge
of which was fast vanishing under our hero's care,
A speedy flight saved Tom from all but one sound
cuff on the ears, but he resented this unjustifiable
interruption of his first essays at carpentering, and
still more the further proceedings of the wheel-
wright, who cut a switch and hung it over the door
of his workshop, threatening to use it upon Tom if
he came within twenty yards of his gate. So Tom,
to retaliate, commenced a war upon the swallows
who dwelt under the wheelwright's eaves, whom he
harassed with sticks . and stones, and being fleeter
of foot than his enemy, escaped all punishment,
and kept him in perpetual anger. Moreover, his
presence about the school door began to incense the
master, as the boys in that neighbourhood neglected
their lessons in consequence; and more than once
PERILS OF ALLIANCE. 65
he issued into the porch, rod in hand, just as Tom
beat a hasty retreat. And he and the wheelwright
laying their heads together, resolved to acquaint the
Squire with Tom's afternoon occupations; but in
order to do it with effect, determined to take him
captive and lead him away to judgment fresh from
his evil doings. This they would have found some
difficulty in doing had Tom continued the war
single-handed, or rather single-footed, for he would
have taken to the deepest part of Pebbly Brook to
escape them ; but like other active powers, he was
ruined by his alliances. Poor Jacob Doodle-calf
could not go to school with the other boys, and one
fine afternoon, about three o'clock (the school broke
up at four), Tom found him ambling about the
street, and pressed him into a visit to the school
porch. Jacob, always ready to do what he was
asked, consented, and the two stole down to the
school together. Tom first reconnoitred the wheel-
wright's shop, and seeing no signs of activity,
thought all safe in that quarter, and ordered at
once an advance of all his troops upon the school
porch. The door of the school was ajar, and the
boys seated on the nearest bench at once recognized
and opened a correspondence with the invaders.
Tom, waxing bold, kept putting his head into the
school and making faces at the master when his
back was turned. Poor Jacob, not in the least
comprehending the situation, and in high glee at
finding himself so near the school, which he had
never been allowed to enter, suddenly, in a fit of
enthusiasm, pushed by Tom, and ambling three
66 DEFEAT, CAPTUBE, PEACE.
steps into the school, stood there looking round him
and nodding with a self-approving smile. The
master, who was stooping over a boy's slate with
his back to the door, became aware of something
unusual, and turned quickly round. Tom rushed
at Jacob, and . began dragging him back by his
smock-frock, and the master made at them, scatter-
ing forms and boys in his career. Even now they
might have escaped, but that in the porch, barring
retreat, appeared the crafty wheelwright, who had
been watching all their proceedings. So they were
seized, the school dismissed, and Tom and Jacob
led away to Squire Brown as lawful prize, the boys
following to the gate in groups, and speculating on
the result.
The Squire was very angry at first, but the
interview, by Tom's pleading, ended in a compro-
mise. Tom was not to go near the school till three
o'clock, and only then if he had done his own
lessons well, in which case he was to be the bearer
of a note to the master from Squire Brown, and
the master agreed in such case to release ten
or twelve of the best boys an hour before the
time of breaking up, to go off and play in the
close. The wheelwright's adzes and swallows
were to be forever respected, and that hero and
the master withdrew to the servants' hall to drink
the Squire^s health, well satisfied with their day's
w6rk.
The second act of Tom's life may now be said
fo have begun. The war of independence had
been oyer for some time : none of the women
PLAT AND WOKK. 67
now, not even his mother's maid, dared offer to
help him in dressing or washing. Between our-
selves, he had often at first to run to Benjy in an
unfinished state of toilet; Charity and the rest of
them seemed to take delight in putting impossi-
ble buttons and ties in the middle of his back;
but he would have gone without nether integu-
ments altogether, sooner than have had recourse
to female valeting. He had a room to himself, V
and his father gave him sixpence a-week pocket-
money. All this he had achieved by Benjy's ad-
vice and assistance. But now he had conquered
another step in life, the step which all real boysv
S9 long to make ; he had got amongst his equals
in age and strength, and could measure himself
with other boys ; he lived with those whose pursuits
and wishes and ways were the same in kind as his
own.
The little governess who had lately been in-
stalled in the house found her work grow won-
drously easy, for Tom slaved at his lessons in
order to make sure of his note to the schoolmas-
ter. So there were very few days in the week in
which Tom and the village boys were not playing
in, -their close by three o'clock. Prisoner's-base,
rounders, high-cock-a-lorum, cricket, football, he
was soon initiated into the delights of them all;
and though most of the boys were older than him-
self, he managed to hold his own very well. He
was naturally active and strong, and quick of eye
and hand, and had the advantage of light shoes
and well-fitting dress, so that in a sh^prt time
68 BIDING AND WEESTLING.
he could run and jump and climb with any of
them.
They generally finished their regular games half-
an-hour or so before tea-time, and then began trials
of skill and strength in many ways. Some of them
would catch the Shetland pony who was turned out
in the field, and get two or three together on his
back, and the little rogue, enjoying the fun, would
gallop off for fifty yards and then turn round, or
stop short and shoot them on to the turf, and then
graze quietly on till he felt another load; others
played peg-top or marbles, while a few of the big-
ger ones stood up for a bout at wrestling. Tom
at first only looked on at this pastime, but it had
peculiar attractions for him, and he could not long,
keep out of it. Elbow and collar wrestling as
practised in the western counties was, next to
backswording, the way to fame for the youth of
the Vale ; and all the boys knew the rules of it,
and were more or less expert. But Job Rudkin
and Harry Winburn were the stars, the former
stiff and sturdy, with legs like small towers, the
latter pliant as india-rubber, and quick as light-
ning. Day after day they stood foot to foot, and
offered first one hand and then the other, and grap-
pled and closed and swayed and strained, till a
well-aimed crook of the heel or thrust of the loin
took effect, and a fair back-fall ended the matter.
And Tom watched with all his eyes, and first
challenged one of the less scientific, and threw
him; and so one by one wrestled his way up to
the leaders.
WKESTLING HABKT WINBURN S FALL. 69
Then indeed for months he had a poor time of
it; it was not long indeed before he could man-
age to keep his legs against Job, for that hero
was slow of offence, and gained his victories
chiefly by allowing others to throw themselves
against his immovable legs and loins. But Harry
Winburn was undeniably his master; from the
first clutch of hands when they stood up, down
to the last trip which sent him on to his back on
the turf, he felt that Harry knew more and could
do more than he. Luckily Harry's bright uncon-
sciousness, and . Tom's natural good temper, kept
them from ever quarrelling; and so Tom worked
on and on, and trod more and more nearly on
. Harry's heels, and at last mastered all the dodges
and falls except one. This one was Harfy's own
particular invention and pet ; he scarcely ever used
it except when hard pressed, but then out it came,
and as sure as it did, over went poor Tom. He
thought about that fall at his meals, in his walks,
when he lay awake in bed, in his dreams, but all
to no purpose; until Harry one day in his open
way suggested to him how he thought it should
be met, and in a week from that time the boys
were equal, save only the slight difference of
strength in Harry's favour, which some extra ten
months of age gave. Tom had often afterwards
reason to be thankful for that early drilling, and
above all for having mastered Harry Winburn's
fall.
Besides their home games, on Saturdays the
boys would wander all over the neighbourhood ;
70\
EABLIEST FLATMATES.
sometimes to the downs, or up to the camp, where
they cut their initials out in the springy turf, and
watched the hawks soaring, and the " peert " bird,
as Harry Winburn called the gray plover, gorgeous
in his wedding feathers ; and so home, racing down
the Manger with many a roll among the thistles,
or through Uffington-wood to watch the fox-cubs
playing ip the green rides; sometimes to* Rosy
Brook, to cut long whispering reeds which grew
there, to make pan-pipes of; sometimes to Moor
Mills, where was a piece of old forest landy with
short browsed turf and tufted brambly thickets
stretching under the oaks, amongst whiclv rumour
declared that a raven, last of his race, still lin-
gered; or to the sand hills, in vain quest of rab-
bits; and birds'-nesting in the season anywhere
and everywhere.
The few neighbours of the Squire's own rank
every now and then would shrug their shoulders,
as they drove or rode by a party of the boys with
Tom in the middle, carrying along bulrushes or
whispering reeds, or great bundles of cowslip and
meadow-sweet, or young starlings or magpies, or
other spoil of wood, brook, or meadow ; and Lawr
yer Red-tape might mutter to Squire Straight-back
at the Board, that no good would come of the
young Browns, if they w^ere let run wild with all
the dirty village boys, whom the best farmers' sons
even would not play with. And the Squire might
reply with a shake of his head, that his sons only
mixed with their equals, and never went into the
village without the governess or a footman. But
\
FIRST SCHOOL. 71
luckily Squire Brown was full as stiff-backed as his
neighbours, and so went on his own way; and
Tom and his younger brothers, as they grew up,
went on playing with the village boys without the
idea of equality or inequality (except in wrestling,
running, and climbing) ever entering their heads, as
it doesn't till it's put there by Jack Nastys or fine
ladies^ maids.
I don't mean to say it would be the case in all
villages, but it certainly was so in this one; the
village boys were full as manly and honest, and
certainly purer, than 'those in a higher rank; and
Tom got more harm from his equals in his first
fortnight at a private school, where he went when
he was nine years old, than he had from his vil-
lage friends from the day he left Charity's apron-
strings.
Great was the grief amongst the village school-
boys, when Tom drove off with the Squire one
August morning to meet the coach on his way to
school. Each of them had given him some little
present of the best that he had, and his small pri-
vate box was full of peg-tops, white marbles, (called
."alley taws" in the Vale,) screws, birds' eggs,,
whipcord, jews-harps, and other miscellaneous boys'
wealth. Poor Jacob Doodle-calf, in floods of tears,
had pressed upon him with spluttering earnestness
his lame pet hedgehog, (he had always some poor
broken-down beast or bird by him) ; but this Tom
had been obliged to refuse by the Squire's order.
He had given them all a great tea uncjer the big
elm in their play-ground, for which Madam Brown
\
72 OF PEIVATE SCHOOLS.
had supplied the biggest cake ever seen in our vil-
lage ; and Tom was really as sorry to leave them as
they to lose him, but his sorrow was not unmixed
with the pride and excitement of making a new step
in life. ,
And this feeling carried him through his first
parting with his mother better than could have
been expected. Their love was as fair and whole
as human love can be, perfect self-sacrifice on the
one side meeting a young and true heart on the
other. It is not within the scope of my book, how-
ever, to speak, of family relatidns, or I should have
much to say on the subject of English mothers,
aye, and of English fathers, and sisters, and brothers,
too.
Neither have I room to speak of our private
schools : what I have to say is about public schools,
those much abused and much belauded institutions
peculiar to England. So we must hurry through
Master Tom's year at a private school as fast as we
can.
It was a fair average specimen, kept by a gentle-
man, with another gentleman as second master;
but .it was little enough of the real work they did,
merely coming in to school when lessons were pre-
pared and all ready to be heard. The whole disci-
pline of the school out of lesson bours was in the
hands of the two ushers, one of whom was always*
with the boys in their play-ground, in the school, at
meals, in fact at all times and everywhere, till they
were fairly in bed at night. ,
Now the theory of private schools is (or was)
THE USHEBS. 73
constant supervision out of school ; therein differing
fundamentally from that of public schools.
It may be right or wrong, but if right, this super-
vision surely ought to be the especial work of the
head-master, the responsible person. The object of
all schools is not to ram Latin and Greek into boys,
but to make them good English boys, good future
citizens ; and by far the most important part of that
work must be done, or not done, out of school hours.
To leave it therefore in the hands of inferior men, is
just giving up the highest and hardest part of the
work of education. Were I a private schoolmaster,
I should say, let who will hear the boys their lessons,
but let me live with them when they are at play and
rest.
The two ushers at Tom's first school were not
gentlemen, and very poorly educated, and were only ^
driving their poor trade of usher to get such living
as they could out of it. They were not bad men,
but had little heart for their work, and of course
were bent on making it as easy as possible. One
of the methods by which they endeavoured to ac-
complish this, was by encouraging ta]e-bearing,
which had become a frightfully common vice in the!
Bchool in consequence, and had sapped all the foun-j
dations of school morality. Another was, by favour-
ing grossly the biggest boys, who alone could have
given them much trouble, whereby those young gen-
tlemen became most abominable tyrants, oppressing
the little boys in all the small mean ways which pre-
vail in private schools.
Poor little Tom was made dreadfully unhappy in
7
74 HOW NOT TO SEAI. A LETTEK.
his first week, by a catastrophe which happened to
his first letter home. With huge labour he had, on
the very evening of his arrival, managed to fill two
sides of a sheet of letter-paper with assurances of
his love for dear mamma, his happiness at school,
and his resolves to do all she would wish. This
missive, with the help of the boy who sat at the
desk next him, also a new arrival, he managed to
fold successfully; but this done, they were sadly
put to it for means of sealing. Envelopes were
then unknown, they had no wax, and dared not
disturb the stillness of the evening school-room by
getting up and going to ask the usher for some. At
length Tom's friend, being of an ingenious turn of
mind, suggested sealing with ink, and the letter was
accordingly stuck down with a blob of ink, and
duly handed by Tom on his way to bed to the
housekeeper to be posted. It was not till four days
afterwards that that good dame sent for him, and
produced the precious letter, and some wax, saying,
'^ Oh, Master Brown, I forgot to tell you before, but
your letter isn't sealed." Poor Tom took the wax
in silence and sealed his letter, with a huge lump
rising in his throat during the process, and then ran
away to a quiet corner of the play-ground, and
burst into an agony of tears. The idea of his
mother waiting day after day for the letter he had
promised her at once, and perhaps thinking hiin
forgetful of her, when he had done all in his power
to make good his promise, was as bitter a grief aq
any which he had to undergo for many a long year.
His wrath then was proportionately violent when
" MAMMT-SIOK " AND ITS EESULTS. 75
he was aware of two boys, who stopped close by
him, and one of whom, a fat gaby of a fellow,
pointed at him and called him " Young-mammy-
sick." Whereupon Tom arose, and giving vent
thus to his grief and sliame and rage, smote his
derider on the nose, and made it bleed, which sent
that young worthy howling to the usher, who re-
ported Tom for violent and unprovoked assault
and battery. Hitting in the* face was a felony pun-
ishable with flogging, other hitting only a misde-
meanour a distinction not altogether clear in
principle. Tom, however, escaped the penalty by
pleading " primijm tempus ; " and having written a
second letter to his mother enclosing some forget-
me-nots, which he picked on their first half-holiday
walk, felt quite happy again, and began to enjoy
vastly a good deal of his new life.
These half-holiday walks were the great events of
the week. The whole fifty boys started after dinner
with one of the ushers for Hazeldown, which was
distant some mile or so from the school. Hazel-
down measured some three miles round, and in the
neighbourhood were several woods full of all man-
ner of birds and butterflies. The usher walked
slowly round the down with such boys as liked to
accompany him ; the rest scattered in all directions,
being only bound to appear again when the usher
had completed his round, and accompany ^him home.
They were forbidden, however, to go anywhere ex-
cept on the down and into the woods, the village
being especially prohibited, where huge bulls-eyes
and unctuous toffy might be procured in exchange
for coin of the realm.
76 THE AlklTJSEMENIS.
Various were the amusements to which the boys
then betook themselves. At the entrance of the
^ down there was a steep hillock, like the barrows of
\ Tom's own downs. This mound was the weekly
scene of terrific combats, ^t a game called by the
queer name of " mud-patties." The boys who
played divided into sides under different leaders,
and one side occupied the mound. Then, all par-
ties having provided themselves with many sods of
turf, cut with their bread-and-cheese knives, the side
which remained at the bottom proceeded to assault
the mound, advancing up on all sides under cover
of a heavy fire of turfs, and then struggling for
victory with the occupants, which was theirs as
soon as they could, even for a moment, clear the
summit, when they in turn became the besieged.
It was a good rough dirty game, and of great use
in comiteracting the sneaking tendencies of the
^school. Then others of the boys spread over the
down, looking for the holes of humble-bees and
mice, which they dug up y^ithout mercy, often (I
regret to say) killing and skinning the unlucky
mice, and (J do not regret to say) getting well
stung by the humble-bees. Others went after but-
terflies and birds' eggs in their seasons ; and Tom
found on Hazeldown for the first time the beautiful
little blue butterfly, with golden spots on his wings,
which he had never seen on his own downs, and
dug out his first sand-martin's nest. This latter
achievement resulted in a flogging, for the sand-
martins built in a high bank close to the village,
consequently out of bounds ; but one of the bolder
THE REPROBATE. 77
spirits of the school, who never could be happy un-
less he was doing something to which risk attached,
easily persuaded Tom to break bounds and visit the
martins' bank. From whence it being only a step
to the tofFy-shop, what could be more simple than
to go on there and fill their pockets ; or what more
certain than that on their return, a distribution of
treasure having been made, the usher should shortly
detect the forbidden smell of buUs-eyes, and, a search
ensuing, discover the state of the breeches-pockets of
Tom and his ally ?
This ally of Tom's was indeed a desperate hero
in the sight of the boys, and feared as one who
dealt in magic or something approaching thereto.
Which reputation came to him in this wise. The
boys went to bed at eight, and of course conse-
quently lay awake in the dark for an hour or two,
telling ghost-stories by turns. One night, when ^t
came to his turn, and he had dried up their souls by
his story, he suddenly declared that he would make
a fiery hand appear on the door ; and to the aston-
ishment and terror of the boys in his room, a hand,
or something like it, in pale light, did then and there
appear. The fame of this exploit having spread to
the other rooms, and being discredited there, the
young necromancer declared that the same wonder
would appear in all the rooms in turn, which it
accordingly did; and the whole circumstances hav-
ing been privately reported to one of the ushers as
usual, that functionary, after listening about at the
doors of the rooms, by a sudden descent caught the
performer in his night-shirt, with a box of phos-
78 TOM LEAVES HIS FIBST SCHOOL.
phorus in his guilty hand. Lucifer-matches and all
the present facilities for getting acquainted with fire
were then unknown ; the very name- of phosphorus
had something diabolic, in it to the boy-mind*; so
Tom's ally, at the cost, of a sound llogging, earned
what many older folk covet much, the most decided
fear of most of his companions. He was a remark-
able boy, and by no means a bad one.
Tom stuck to him till he left, and got into many
scrapes by so doing. But he was the great op-
ponent of the tale-bearing habits of the school, and
the open enemy of the ushers, and so worthy of
all support
Tom imbibed a fair amount of Latin and Greek
at the school, but somehow on the whole it didn't
suit him, or he it, and in the holidays he was con-
stantly working the Squire to send him at once to
a public school. Great was his joy then, when, in
the middle of his third half-year in October, 183-,
a fever broke out in the village, and' the master
having himself slightly sickened of it, the whole of
the boys were sent off at a day's notice to their
respective homes.
The Squire was not quite so pleased as Master
Tom to see that young gentleman's brown merry
face appear at home, some two months before the
proper time for Christmas holidays ; and so after
putting on his thinking cap, he retired to bis study
and wrote several letters, the result of which was,
that one morning at the breakfast-table, about a
fortnight after Tom's return, he addressed his wife
with " My dear, I have arranged that Tom shall
TOM PBEPABES FOB KUGBY. 79
go to Rugby at once, for the last six weeks of this
half-year, instead of wasting them, riding and loiter-
ing about home. It is very kind of the Doctor to
allow it Will you see that his things are all ready
by Friday, when I shall take him up to town, and
send him down the next day by himself."
Mrs. Brown was prepared for the announcement,
and merely suggested a doubt whether Tom were
yet old enough to travel by himself. However, find-
ing both father and son against her on this point,
she gave in like a wise woman, and proceeded to
prepare Tom's kit for his launch into a public
school.
CHAPTER IV.
* Let the steam-pot hiss till it's hot,
. Give me the speed of the Tantivy trot."
Vulgar Coaching Song Author unknown,
" Now, sir, time to get up, if you please. Tally-
ho coach for Leicester '11 be round in half-an-hour,
and don't wait for nobody." So spake the Boots of
the Peacock Inn, Islington, at half-past two o'clock
on th^ nnorning of a day in the early part of Novem-
ber, 183-, giving Tom at the same time a shake by
the shoulder, and then putting down a candle and
carrying off his shoes to clean.
Tom and his father had arrived in town from
Beickshire the day before, and finding on inquiry
that the Birmingham coaches which ran from the
city did not pass through Rugby, but deposited
their passengers at Dunchurch, a village three miles
distant on the main road, where said passengers had
to wait for the Oxford and Leicester coach in the
evening, or to take a post-chaise, had resolved that
Tom should travel down by the Tally-ho, which
diverged from the main road and passed through
Rugby itself. And as the Tally-ho was an early
coach, they had driven out to the Peacock to be on
the road.
Tom had never been in London, and would have
liked to have stopped at the Belle Savage, where
THE PEACOCK, ISLINGTON. 61
they had been put down by the Star, just at dusk,
that- he might have gone roving about those endless,
mysterious, gas-lit streets, which, with their glare
and hum and moving crowds, excited him so that he
couldn't talk even. But as soon as he found, that
the Peacock arrangement would get him to Rugby
by twelve o'clock in the day, whereas otherwise he
wouldn't be there till the evening, all other plans
melted away; his one absorbing aim being to be-
come a public school-boy as fast as possible, and six
hours sooner or later seeming to him of the most
alarming importance.
Tom and his father had alighted at the Peacock
at about seven in the evening, and having heard with
unfeigned joy the paternal order at the bar of steaks
and oyster-sauce for supper in half-an-hour, and seen
his father seated cozily by the bright fire in the
coffee-roopa, with the paper in his hand, Tom had
run out to see about him, had wondered at all the
vehicles passing and repassing, and had fraternized
with the boots and ostler, from whom he ascertained
that the Tally-ho was a tip-top goer, ten miles an
hour including stoppages, and so punctual, that all
the road set their clocks by her.
Then being summoned to supper, he had regaled
himself in one of the bright little boxes of the Pea-
cock coffee-room, on the beefsteak and unlimited
oyster-sauce, and brown stout, (tasted then for the
ftyst time a day to be marked forever by Tom with
a white stone) ; had ^t first attended to the excel-
lent advice which his father was bestowing on him
fi-om over his glass of steaming brandy and water,
82 SQUIRE brown's parting words.
and then began nodding, from the united effects of
the stout, the fire, and the lecture ; till the Squire
observing Tom's state, and remembering that it
was nearly nine o'clock, and that the Tally-ho left
at three, sent the little fellow off to the chamber-
maid, with a shake of the hand (Tom having stipu-
lated in the morning before starting, that kissing
should now cease between them) and a few parting
words.
" And now, Tom, my boy," said the Squire, " re-
member you are going, at your own earnest request,
to be chucked - into this great school, like a young
bear, with all your troubles before you earlier than
we should have sent you perhaps. If schools are
what they were in my time, you'll see a great many
cruel blackguard things done, and hear a deal of foul
bad talk. But never fear. You tell the truth, keep
a brave and kind heart, and never listen to or say any
thing you wouldn't have your mother and sister hear,
and you'll never feel ashamed to come home, or we
to see you."
The allusion to his mother made Tom feel rather
chokey, and he would have liked to have hugged
his father well, if it hadn't been for the recent stipu-
lation.
As it was, he only squeezed his father's hand, and
looked bravely up and said, " I'll try, father."
" I know you will, my boy. Is your money all
safe ? "
" Yes," said Tom, diving into one pocket to make
sure.
" And your keys ? " said the Squire.
EFFECT OF THE SQUISE's WOBDS. 83
"All right," said Tom, diving into the other
pocket.
" Well then, good-night. God bless you ! Til tell
Boots to call you, and be up to see you off."
Tom was carried off by the chambermaid in a
brown study, from which he was roused in a clean
little attic, by that buxom person calling him a little
darling, and kissing him as she left the room ;
which indignity he was too much surprised to
resent. And still thinking of his father's last words,
and the look with which they were spoken, he knelt
down and prayed, that come what might, he might
never bring shame or sorrow on the dear folk at
home.
Indeed the Squire's last words deserved to have
their effect, for they had been the result of much
anxious thought. All the way up to London he
had pondered what he should say to Tom by way
of parting advice, something that the boy could
keep in his head ready for use. By way of assist-
ing meditation, he had even . gone . the length of
taking out his flint and steel, and tinder, and ham-
mering away for a quarter of an hour till he had
manufactured a light for a long Trinchinopoli che-
root, which he silently puffed, to the no small
wonder of Coachee, who was an old friend, and an
mstitution on the Bath road ; and who always ex-
pected a talk on the prospects and doings, agricultural
and social, of the whole county, when he carried the
Squire.
To condense the Squire's meditation it was
somewhat as follows : " I won't tell him to read his
84 THE sqxjibe's meditations.
Bible, and love and serve God ; if he don't do that
for his mother's sake and teaching, he won't for
mine. Shall I go into the sort of temptations he'll
meet with ? No, I can't do that. Never do for an
old fellow to go into such things with a boy. He
won't understand me. Do him more harm than
good, ten to one. Shall I tell him to mind his
work and say he's sent to school to make himself a
good scholar ? Well, bat he isn' t sent to school for
that at any rate not fot that mainly. I don't care
a straw for Greek particles,, or the digamma, no
more does his mother. What is he sent to school
for ? Well, partly because he wanted so to go. If
he'll only turn out a brave, helpful, truth-telling
Englishman, and a gentleman, and a Christian,
that's all I want," thought the Squire; and upon
this view of the case framed his last words of
advice to Tom, which were well enough suited to
his purpose.
For they were Tom's first thoughts as he tumbled
out of bed at the summons of Boots, and proceeded
rapidly to wash and dress himself. At ten minutes
to three he was down in the coffee-room in his
stockings, carrying his hat-box, coat, and comforter
in his hand ; and there he found his father nursing
a bright fire, and a cup of hot coffee and a hard bis-
cuit on the table.
" Now, then, Tom, give us your things here, and
drink that ; there's nothing like starting warm. Old
feUow."
Tom addressed himself to the coffee, and prattled
away while he worked himself into his shoes and his
THE " TAXI.Y-HO." 85
great-coat, well warmed through ; a Petersham coat
with velvet collar, made tight after the abominable
fashion of those days. And just as he is swallowing
his last mouthful, winding his comforter round his
throat, and tucking the ends into the breast of his
coat, the horn sounds, Boots looks in and says,
" Tally-ho, sir ; " and they hear the ring and the rat-
tle of the four fast trotters and the town-made drag,
as it dashes up to the Peacock.
" Any thing for us. Bob ? " says the burly guard,
dropping down from behind, and slapping himself
across the chest.
" Young genPm'n, Rugby; three parcels, Leicester;
hamper o' game, Rugby," answers Ostler.
" Tell young gent to look alive," says Guard,
opening the hind-boot and shooting in the parcels
after examining them by the lamps. " Here, shove
the portmanteau up a-top I'll fasten him presently.
Now then, sir, jump up behind."
" Good-bye, father my love at home." A last
shake of the hand. Up goes Tom, the guard catch-
ing his hatbox and holding on with one hand, while
with the other he claps the horn to his mouth.
Toot, toot, toot ! the ostler lets go their heads, the
four bays plunge at the collar, and away goes the
Tally-ho into the darkness, forty-five seconds from the
time they pulled up ; Ostler, Boots, and the Squire
stand looking after them under the Peacock lamp.
. ** Sharp work," says the Squire, and goes in again
to bis bed, the coach being well out of sight and
hearing. ^
Tom stands up on the coach and looks back at
86 DEGENEBAGY OF THESE. DATS.
his father's figure as long as he can see it, and then
the guard having disposed of his luggage comes to
an anchor, and finishes his buttonings and other
preparations for facing the three hours before
dawn ; no joke for those who minded cold, on a
fast coach in November, in the reign of his late Ma-
jesty.
I. sometimes think that you boys of this genera-
tion are a deal tenderer fellows than we used to be.
At any rate you're much more comfortable travel-
lers, for I see every one of you with his rug or plaid,
and other dodges for preserving the caloric, and
most of you going in those fuzzy, dusty, padded
first-class carriages. It was another afiair altogether,
a dark ride on the top of the Tally-ho, I can tell
you, in a tight Petersham coat, and your feet dang-
ling six inches from the floor. Then you knew
what cold was, and what it was to be without legs,
for not a bit of feeling had you in them after the
first half-hour. But it had its pleasures, the old dark
ride. First there was the consciousness of silent
endurance, so dear to every Englishman, of stand-
ing out against something, and not giving in. Then
there was the music of the rattling harness, and the
ring of the horses' feet on the hard road, and the
glare of the two bright lamps through the steaming
hoar-frost over the leaders' ears into the darkness ;
and the cheery toot of the guard's horn, to warn
some drowsy pikeman or the ostler at the next
change; and the looking forward to daylight, and
last but not least, the delight of returning sensation
in your toes.
A 170TMBEB BIDE IK OLD TIME. 87
Then the break of dawn and the sunrise, where
can they be ever seen in perfection but from a coach
roof? You want motiqu and change and music to
see them in their glory ; not the music of singing-men
and singing-women, but good silent music, which
sets itself in your own head, the accompaniment of
work and getting over the ground.
The Tally-ho is past St. Alban's, and Tom is en-
joying the ride though half-frozen. The guard, who
is alone with him on the back of the coach, is silent,
but has muffled Tom's feet up in straw, and put
the end of an oat-sack over his knees. The dark-
ness has driven him inwards, and he has gone over
his little past life, and thought of all his doibgs and
promises, and of his mother and sister, and his
father's last words ; and has made fifty good reso-
lutions, and means to bear himself like a brave
Brown as he is, though a young one. Then he has
been forward into the mysterious boy-future, spec-
ulating as to what sort of a place Rugby is, and
what they do there, and calling up all the stories
of public schools which he has heard from big boys
in the holidays. He is chock full of hope and life,
notwithstanding the cold, and kicks his heels against
the backboard, and would like to sing, only he
doesn't know how his friend, the silent guard, might
take it.
And now the dawn breaks at the end of the
fourth stage, and the coach pulls up at a little road-
side inn with huge stables behind. There is a
bright fire gleaming through the red curtains of the
bar window, and the door is open. The coachman
88 PULLING UP.
catches his whip into a double thong, and throws it
to the ostler; the steam of the horses rises straight
up into the air. He has put them along over the
last two miles, and is two minutes before his time :
he rolls down from the box and into the inn. The
guard rolls off behind. " Now, sir," says he to Tom,
" you just jump down, and FU give you a drop of
something to keep the cold out"
Tom finds a diflSculty in jumping, or indeed in
finding the top of the wheel with his feet, which
may be in the next world for all he feels; so the
guard picks him off the coach-top and sets him on
his legs, and they stump off into the bar, and join the
coachman and the other outside passengers.
Here a firesh-looking barmaid serves them each
with a glass of early purl as they stand before
the fire, coachman and guard exchanging business
remarks. The purl warms the cockles of Tom's
heart and makes him cough.
"Rare tackle that, sir, of a cold morning," says
the coachman, smiling ; " Time's up." They are
out again and up; Coachee the last, gathering
the reins into his hands and talking to Jem the
ostlei about the mare's shoulder, and then swing-
ing himself up on to the box, the horses dashing
off in a canter before he falls into his seat. Toot-
toot-tootle-too goes the horn, and away they are
again, five-and-thirty miles on their road, (nearly
half-way to Rugby, thinks Tom,) and the prospect
of breakfast at the end of the stage.
And , now they begin to see, and the early jiife
of the country-side comes out; a market cart or
HOBNIKG SIGHTS AND DOINGS. 89
two, men in smock-frocks going to their work,
pipe in mouth, a whiff of which is no bad smell
this bright morning. The sun gets up and the
mist shines like silver gauze. They pass the
hounds jogging along to a distant meet at the
heels of the huntsman's hack, whose face is about
the colour of the tails of his old pink, as he ex-
changes greetings with coachman and guard. Now
they pull up at a lodge, and take on board a
well muffled-up sportsman, with his gun-case and
carpet-bag. An early up-coach meets them, and
the coachmen gather up their horses, and pass one
another with the accustomed lift of the elbow,
each team doing eleven miles an hour, with a mile
to spare behind if necessary. And here comes
breakfast.
"Twenty minutes here, gentlemen," says the
coachman, as they pull up at half-past seven at
the inn-door.
Have not we endured nobly this morning, and
is not this a worthy reward for much endurance?
There is the low dark wainscoted room hung with
sporting prints ; the hat-stand, with a whip or two
standing up in it belonging to bagmen, who are
still snug in bed, by the door; the blazing fire,
with the quaint old glass over the mantel-piece, in
which is stuck a large card with the list of the
meets for the week of the county hounds. The
table covered with the whitest of cloths and of
china, and bearing a pigeon-pie, ham, round of cold
boiled beef cut from a mammoth ox, and the great
loaf of household bread on a wooden trencher.
8
90 SBEAKFAST.
And here comes in the stout head waiter, puffing
under a tray of hot viands; kidneys and a steak,
transparent rashers and poached eggs, buttered
toast and muffins, coffee and tea, all smoking
hot. The table can never hold it all; the cold
meats are removed to the sideboard, they were
only put on for show, and to give us an appetite.
And now fall on, gentlemen all. It is a well-
known sporting-house, and the breakfasts are fa-
mous. Two or three men in pink, on their way
to the meet, drop in, and are very jovial and
sharp-set, as indeed we all are.
" Tea or coffee, sir ? " says head waiter, coming
round to Tom.
" Coffee, please," says Tom, with his mouth full
of muffin and kidney ; coffee is a treat to him, tea
is not.
Our coachman, I perceive, who breakfasts with
us, is a cold-beef man. He also eschews hot
potations, and addicts himself to a tankard of ale,
which is brought him by the barmaid. Sports-
man looks on approvingly, and orders a ditto for
himself.
Tom has eaten kidney and pigeon-pie, and im-
bibed coffee, till his little skin is as tight as a
drum; and then has the further pleasure of pay-
ing head waiter out of his own purse, in a digni-
fied manner, and walks out before the inn-door to
see the horses put to. This is done leisurely and
in a highly finished manner by the ostlers, as if
they enjoyed the not being hurried. Coachman
comes out with his way-bill, and puffing a fat
PUTTINO-TO AGAIN. 91
cigar which the sportsman has given him. Guard
emerges from the tap, where he prefers breakfast-
ing, licking round a tough-looking doubtful cheroot,
which you might tie round your finger, and three
whiffs of which would knock any one else out of
time.
The pinks stand about the inn-door lighting
cigars and waiting to see us start, while their
hacks are led up and down the market-place on
which the inn looks. They all know our sports-
man, and we feel a reflected credit when we see
him chatting and laughing with them.
" Now, sir, please," says the coachman. All the
rest of the passengers are up, the guard is locking
the hind boot.
" A good run to you," says the sportsman to
the pinks, and is by the coachman's side in no
time.
"Let 'em go, Dick!" The ostlers fly back,
drawing off the cloths from their glossy loins, and
away we go through the market-place and down
the High street, looking in at the first-floor win-
dows, and seeing several worthy burgesses shaving
thereat, while all the shop-boys who are cleaning
the windows, and housemaids who are doing the
steps, stop and look pleased as we rattle past, as
if it were a part of their legitimate morning's amuse-
m'ent. We clear the town, and are well out
between the hedgerows again as the town clock
strikes eight.
The sun shines almost warmly, and breakfast
has oiled all springs and loosened all tongues.
92 GUA.BD DISCOTTRSES ON BXJQBT.
Tom is encouraged by a remark or two of the
guard's, between the puffs of his oily cheroot, and
besides is getting tired of not talking. He is too full
of his destination to talk about anything else, and so
asks the guard if he knows Rugby.
" Goes through it every day of my life. Twenty
minutes afore twelve down, ten o'clock up."
" What sort of a place is it, please ? " says Tom.
Guard looks at him with a comical expression
" Werry out-o'-the-way place, sir ; no paving to
streets, nor no lighting. 'Mazin' big horse and cattle
fjair in autumn r lasts a week just over now.
} Takes town a week to, get clean after it. Fairish
hunting country. But slow place, sir, slow place :
off the main road you see only three coaches
a-day, and one on 'em a two-oss wan, more like
a hearse nor a coach. Regulator comes from Ox-
ford. Young genl'm'n at school calls him Pig and
Whistle, and goes up to college by him (six miles
an hour) when they goes to enter. Belong to
school, sir ? "
" Yes," says Tom, not unwilling for a moment
that the guard should think him an old boy. But
then, having some qualms as to the truth of the
assertion, and seeing that if he were to assume the
character of an old boy he couldn't go on asking
the questions he wanted, added "that is to say,
I'm on my way there. I'm a new boy."
The guard looked as if he knew this quite as well
as Tom.
" You're werry late, sir," says the gi||^rd ; " ony
six weeks to-day to the end of the half." Tom
THE
assented. " We takes up fine loads this day six
weeks, and Monday and Tuesday arter. Hope we
shall have the pleasure of carrying you back."
Tom said he hoped they would, but he thought
within himself that his fate would probably be the
Pig and Whistle.
" It pays uncommon, cert'nly," continues the
guard. " Werry free with their cash is the young
geiil'm'n. But, Lor' bless you, we gets into such
rows all 4ong the road, what wi' their pea-shooters,
and long whips, and hollering, and upsetting every
one as comes by ; Fd a sight sooner carry one or
two on 'em, sir, as I may be a carryin' of you now,
than a coach-load."
" What do they do with the pea-shooters ? " in-
quires Tom.
" Do wi' 'em ! why, peppers every one's faces as
we comes near, 'cept the young gals, and breaks
windows wi' them too, some on 'em shoots so hard.
Now 'twas just here last June, as we was a-driving
up the first-day boys, they was mendin' a quarter-
mile of road, and there was a lot of Irish chaps,
reg'lar roughs, a breaking stones. As we came up,
' Now, boys,' says young gent on the box, (smart
young fellow and despret reckless,) ' here's fun ! let
the Pats have it about the ears.' ' God's sake, sir ! '
says Bob, (that's ray mate the coachman,) * don't go
for to shoot at 'em, they'll knock us off the coach.'
* Damme, Coachee,' says young my lord, * you ain't
afraid ; hoora, boys ! let 'em have it.' * Hoora ! '
sings out jthe others, and fills their mouths chock
full of peas to last the whole line. Bob seeing as
94 BATTLE WITH THE PATS.
'twas to come, knocks his hat over his eyes, hollers
to his 'osses, and shakes 'em up, and away we goes
up to the line on 'em, twenty miles an hour. The
Pats begins to hoora too, thinking it was a runa-
way, and first lot on 'em stands grinnin' and wavin'
their old hats as we comes abreast on 'em ; and
then you'd ha' laughed to see how took aback and
fehoking savage they looked, when they gets the
peas a stinging all over 'em. But bless you, the
laugh weren't all of our side, sir, by a long way.
We was going so fast, and they was so took aback,
that they didn't take what was up till we was half-
way up the line. Then 'twas look out all surely.
They howls all down the line fit to frighten you,
some on 'em runs arter us and tries to clamber up
behind, only we hits 'em over the fingers and pulls
their hands off; one as had had it very sharp act'ly
runs right at the leaders, as though he'd ketch 'em
by the heads, ony luck'ly for him he misses his tip,
and comes over a heap o' stones first. The rest
picks up stones, and gives it us right away till we
gets out of shot, the young gents holding out werry
manful with the pea-shooters and such stones as
lodged on us, and a pretty many there was too.
Then Bob picks hisself up again, and looks at
young gent on box werry solemn. Bob 'd had a
rum un in the ribs, which 'd like to ha' knocked
him off the box, or made him drop the reins. Young
gent on box picks hisself up, and so does we all,
and looks. round to count damage. Box's head cut
open and his hat gone ; another young gent's hat
gone ; mine knocked in at the side, and not one on
V
THE OLD YEOMAN. 95
US as wasn't black and blue someweres or another,
most on 'em all over. Two-pound-ten to pay for
damage to paint, which they subscribed for there
and then, and give Bob and me a extra half-
sovereign each; but I wouldn't go down that line
again not for twenty half-sovereigns." And the
guard shook his head slowly, and got up and blew
a clear brisk toot, toot
" What fun ! " said Tom, who could scarcely con-
tain his pride at this exploit of his future school-
fellows. He longed already for the end of the half
that he might join them.
"'Taint such good fun though, sir, for the folk
as meets the coach, nor for we who has to go back
with it next day. Them Irishers last summer had
all got stones ready for us, and was all but letting
drive, and we'd got two reverend gents aboard too.
We pulled up at the beginning of the line, and
pacified them, and we're never going to carry no
more pea-shooters, unless they promises not to fire
where there's a line of Irish chaps a stone break-
ing." The guard stopped and pulled away at his
cheroot, regarding Tom benignantly the while.
" Oh, don't stop ! tell us something more about
the pea-shooting."
*^ Well, there'd like to have been a pretty piece of
work over at Bicester, a while back. We was six
mile, from the town, when we meets an old square-
headed, gray-haired yeoman chap, a jogging along
quite quiet. He looks up at the coach, and just then
a pea hits him on the nose, and some catches his cob
behind .and makes him dance up on his hind legs.
96 all's well that ends well.
I see'd the old boy's face flush and look plaguy awk-
ward, and I thought we was in for somethin' nasty.
He turns his cob's head, and rides quietly after
us just out of shot. How that ere cob did step!
we never shook him off not a dozen yards in the six
miles. At first the young gents was werry lively on
him ; but afore we got in, seeing how steady the old
chap come on, they was quite quiet, and laid their
heads together what they should do. Some was for
fighting, some for axing his pardon. He rides into
the town close after us, comes up when we stops,
and says, the two that shot at him must come before
a magistrate ; and a great crowd comes round, and
we couldn't get the osses to. But the young uns
they all stands by one another, and says all or none
must go, and as how they'd fight it out, and have to
be carried. Just as 'twas gettin' serious, and the old
boy and the mob was going to pull 'em off the coach,
one little fellow jumps up and says, 'Here, I'll
stay I'm only going three* miles further. My
father's name's Davis, he's known about here, and
I'll go before the magistrate with this gentleman.'
* What ! be thee Parson Davis' son ? ' says the old
boy. * Yes,' says the young un. ' Well, I be mortal
sorry to meet thee in such company, but for thy
father's sake and thine, (for thee bi'st a brave young
chap,) I'll say no more about it.' Didn't the boys
cheer him, and the mob cheered the young chap
and then one of the biggest gets down, and begs his
pardon werry gentlemanly for all the rest, saying as
they all had been plaguy vexed from the first, but
didn't like to ax his pardon till then, 'cause they felt
BLOW-HABD AND HIS YABNS. 97
they hadn't ought to shirk the consequences of their
joke. And then they all got down, and shook hands
with the old boy, and asked him to all parts of the
country, to their homes, and we drives off twenty
minutes behind time, with cheering and hollering as
if we was county members. But, 'Lor bless you,
sir," says the guard, smacking his hand down on his
knee and looking full into Tom's face, " ten minutes
after they was all as bad as ever."
Tom showed such undisguised and open-mouthed
interest in his narrations, that the old guard rubbed
up his memory, and launched out into a graphic
history of all the performances of the boys on the
road for the last twenty years. Off the road he
couldn't go, the exploit must have been connected
with horses or vehicles to hang in the old fellow's
head. Tom tried him off his own ground once or
twice, but found he knew nothing beyond, and so let
him have his head, and the rest of the road bowled
easily away; for old Blow-hard (as the boys called
him) was a dry old file, with much kindness and hu-
mour, and a capital spinner of a yarn when he had
broken 'the neck of his day's work, and got plenty of
ale under his belt.
What struck Tom's youthful imagination most,
was the desperate and lawless character of most of
the stories. Was the guard hoaxing him? He
couldn't help hoping that they were true. It's very
odd how almost all English boys love danger ; you
can get ten to join a game, or climb a tree, or swim
a stream, when there's a chance of breaking their
limbs or getting drowned, f6r one who'll stay on
9
THE RUNNEBS.
level ground, or in his depth, or play quoits or
bowls.
The guard had just finished an account of a des
perate fight which had happened at one of the fairs
between the drovers and the farmers with their whips,
and the boys with cricket-bats and wickets, which
arose out of a playful but objectionable practice of
the boys of going round to the public-houses, and
taking the lynch-pins out of the wheels of the gigs,
and was moralizing upon the way in which the
Doctor, " a terrible stern man he'd heard tell," had
come down upon several of the performers, " sending
three on 'em off next morning, each in a po-chay
with a parish constable," when they turned a corner
and neared the mile-stone, the third from Rugby.
By the stone two boys stood, their jackets buttoned
tight, waiting for the coach.
" Look here, sir," says the guard, after giving a
sharp toot-toot, "there's two on 'em, out-and-out
runners they be. They comes out about twice or
three* times a-week, and spirts a mile alongside of
us."
And as they came up, sure enough, away went
the two boys along the footpath, keeping up with
.the horses ; the first a light clean-made fellow going
on springs, the other stout and round-shouldered,
labouring in his pace, but going as dogged as a bull-
terrier.
Old Blow-hard looked on admiringly. " See how
beautiful that there un holds hisself together, and
goes from his hips, sir," said he; " he's a' mazin' line
runner. Ne\^*^any coachmen as drives a first-rate
TOM's riEST SIGHT OF BUGBY. 99
team'd put it on, and try and pass 'em. But Bob,
sir, bless you, he's tender-hearted ; he'd sooner pull in
a bit if he see'd 'em a gettin' beat. I do b'lieve too
as that there un'd sooner break his heart than let us
go by him afore next mile-stdne."
At the second mile-stone the boys pulled up short,
and waved their hats to the guard, who had his
watch out and shouted, 4.56, thereby indicating that
the mile had been done in four seconds under the
five minutes. They passed several more parties of
boys, all of them objects of the deepest interest to
Tom, and came in sight of the town at ten minutes
before twelve. Tom fetched a long breath, and
thought he had never spent a pleasanter day. Be-
fore he went to bed he had quite settled that it
must be the greatest day he should ever spend, and
didn't alter his opinion for many a long year, if he
has yet.
CHAPTER V.
RUGBY AND FOOTBALL.
** Foot and eye opposed
In dubious strifb;
Scott
" And so here's Rugby, sir, at last, and you'll
be in plenty of time for dinner at the school-
house, as I tell'd you," said the old guard, pull-
ing his horn out of its case, and tootle-tooing
away; while the coachman shook up his horses,
and carried them along side of the school-close,
round Dead-man's corner, past the school-gates,
and down the High street, to the Spread Eagle;
the wheelers in a spanking trot, and leaders can-
tering, in a style which would not have disgraced
" Cherry Bob," " ramping, stamping, tearing, swear-
ing Billy Harwood," or any other of the old coaching
heroes.
Tom's heart beat quick as he passed the great
school-field or close, with its noble elms, in which
several games at football were going on, and tried
to take in at once the long line of gray buildings,
beginning with the chapel, and ending with the
school-house, the residence of the head-master,
where the great flag was lazily waving from the
highest round tower. And he began already to
TOM FINDS X PATKON". 101
be proud of being a Rugby boy, as he passed the
school-gates, with the oriel window above, and
saw the boys standing there, looking as if the
town belonged to them; and nodding in a famil-
iar manner to the coachman, as if any one of
them would be quite equal to getting on the
box, and working the team down street as well
as he.
One of the young heroes, however, ran out from
the rest, and scrambled up behind ; where, having
righted himself, and nodded to the guard, with
" How do, Jem ? " he turned short round to Tom,
and, after looking him over for a minute, be-
gan
" I say, you fellow, is your name Brown ? "
" Yes," said Tom, in considerable astonishment ;
glad, however, to have lighted on some one already
who seemed to know him.
" Ah, I thought so ; you know my old aunt. Miss
East ; she lives somewhere down your way in Berk-
shire. She wrote to me that you were coming to-
day, and asked me to give you a lift."
Tom was somewhat inclined to resent the pat-
ronizing air of his new friend, a boy of just about
his own height and age, but gifted with the most
transcendent coolness and assurance, which Tom
felt to be aggravating and hard to bear, but couldn't
for the life of him help admhring and envying
especially when young my lord begins hectoring
two or three long loafing fellows, half porter, half
stable-men, with a strong touch of the blackguard,
and in the end arranges with one of them, nicknamed
102 JESTHETICS OF " BOOPING."
Cooey, to carry Tom's luggage up to the school-
hoqse for sixpence.
** And heark'ee, Cooey, it must be up in ten
minutes, or no more jobs from me. Come along,
Brown.'* And away swaggers the young potentate,
with his hands in his pockets, and Tom at his
side.
" All right, sir," says Cooey, touching his hat, with
a leer and a wink at his comrades.
" Hullo tho'," says East, pulling up, and taking
another look at Tom, " this '11 never do haven't ypu
got a hat? we never wear caps here. Only the
louts wear caps. Bless you, if you were to go into
the quadrangle with that thing on, I don't
know w^hat'd happen." The very idea was quite
beyond young Master East, and he looked unuttera-
ble things.
Tom thought his cap a very knowing affair, but
confessed that he had a hat in his hat-box ; which
was accordingly at once extracted from the hind
boot, and Tom equipped in his go-to-meeting roof,
as his new friend called it. But this didn't quite
suit his fastidious taste in another minute, being
too shiny ; so, as they walk up the town, they dive
into Nixon's the hatter's, and Tom is arrayed, to
his utter astonishment, and without paying for it, in
a regulation cat-skin at seven-and-sixpence ; Nixon
undertaking to send the best hat up to the matron's
room, school-house, in half-aifhour.
" You can send in a note for a tile on Monday,
and make it all right, you kno'w," said Mentor;
" we're allowed two seven-and-sixers. a half, besides
what we bring from home.'"
HENTOB EAST AND HIS MOTIVES. 103
Tom by this time began to be conscious of his new
social position and dignities, and to luxuriate in the
realized ambition of being a public school-boy at last,
with a vested right of spoiling two seven-and-sixers
in half a year.
" You see," said his friend, as they strolled up to-
wards the school-gates, in explanation of his conduct,
" a great deal depends on how a fellow cuts up at
first. If he's got nothing odd about him, and answers
straightforward, and holds his head up, he gets on.
Now you'll do very well as to rig, all but that
cap. You see I'm doing the handsome thing by
you, because my father knows yours: besides, I
want to please the old lady. She gave me half-a-sov
this half, and perhaps '11 double it next, if I keep in
her good books."
There's nothing for candour like a lower school-
boy, and East was a genuine specimen. Frank,
hearty, tnd good-natured, well satisfied with himself,
and his position, and chock full of life and spirits,
and all the Rugby prejudices and traditions which he
had been able to get together, in the long course of
one half year, during which he had been at the
school-house.
And Tom, notwithstanding his bumptiousness, felt
friends with him at once, and began sucking in all
his ways and prejudices, as fast as he could under-
stand them.
East was great in the character of cicerone ; he
canied Tom through the great gates, where were
only two or three boys. These satisfied themselves
with the stock questions, " You fellow, what's your
104 INTKODUCTION TO THE MJLTBON.
name ? Where do you come from ? How old are
you? Where do you board? and what form are
you in ? " and so they passed on through the quad-
rangle and a small court-yard, u^pon which looked
down a lot of little windows, belonging, as his
guide informed him, to some of the school-house
studies, into the matron's room, where East intro-
duced Tom to that dignitary; made him give up
the key of his trunk, that the matron might unpack
his linen, and told the story of the hat, and of his
own presence of mind; upon the relation whereof,
the matron laughingly scolded him, for the coolest
new boy in the house ; and East, indignant at the
accusation of newness, marched Tom off into the
quadrangle, and began showing him the schools, and
examining him as to his literary attainments ; the
result of which was, a prophecy that they would
be in the same form, and could, do their lessons
together. .
" And now come in and see my study ; we shall
have just time before dinner ; and afterwards, before
calling over, we'll do the close."
Tom followed his guide through the school-house
hall, which opens into the quadrangle. It is a great
room thirty feet long and eighteen high, or there-
abouts, with two great tables running the whole
length, and two large fireplaces at the side, with
blazing fires in them, at one of which some dozen
boys were standing and lounging, some of whom
shouted to East to stop ; but he shot through with
his convoy, and landed him in the long dark pas-
sages, with a large fire at the end of each, upon
east's study, and the fitbkishino thebeof. 105
which the studies opened. Into one of these, in the
bottom passage, East bolted with our hero, slam-
ming and bolting the door behind them, in case of
pursuit from the hall, and Tom was for the first time
in a Rugby boy's citadel.
He hadn't been prepared for separate studies, and
was not a little astonished and deUghted with the
palace in question.
It wasn't very large certainly, being about six feet
long by four broad. It couldn't be called light, as
there were bars and a grating to the window, which
little precautions were necessary in the studies on
the ground-floor looking out into the close, to pre-
vent the exit of small boys after locking up, and
the entrance of contraband articles. But it was
uncommonly comfortable to look at, Tom thought.
The space under the window at the further end was
occupied by a square table covered with a reason-
ably clean and whole red-and-blue check tablecloth ;
a hard-seated sofa covered with red stuff occupied
one side, running up to the end, and making a seat
for one, or by sitting close for two, at the table;
and a good stout wooden chair afforded a seat to
another boy, so that three could sit and work to-
gether. The walls were wainscoted half-way up,
the wainscot being covered with green baize, the
remainder with a bright-patterned paper, on which
hung three or four prints, of dogs' heads, Grimaldi
winning the Aylesbury steeple-chase, Amy Robsart,
the reigning Waverley beauty of the day, and Tom
Crib in a posture of defence, which did no great
credit to the science of that hero, if truly repres|?ntei
106 "OUB OWN" AND THE USE THEBEOF.
Over the door were a row of hat pegs, and on each
side bookcases, with cupboards at the bottom; shelves
and cupboards being filled indiscriminately with
school-books, a cup or two, a mouse-trap, and brass
candlesticks, leather straps, a fustian bag, and some
curious looking articles, which puzzled Tom not a
little, until his friend explained that they were climb-
ing irons, and showed their use. A cricket-bat and
small fishing-rod stood up in one corner.
This was the residence of East and another boy
in the same form, and had more interest for Tom
than Windsor Castle, or any other residence in the
British Isles. For was ha not about to become the
joint owner of a similar home, the first place which
he could call his own ? One's own what a charm
there is in the words ! How long it takes boy and
man to find out their worth ! how fast most of us
hold on to them ! faster and more jealously, the
nearer we are to the general home, into which we
can take nothing, but must go naked as we came
into the world. When shall we learn that he who
multiplieth possessions multiplieth troubles, and that
the one single use of things which we call our own,
is that they may be his who hath need of them ?
" And shall I have a study like this, too?" said
Tom.
" Yes, of course, you'll be chummed with some
fellow on Monday, and you can sit here till then."
" What nice places ! "
" They're well enough," answered East, patroniz-
ingly, " only uncommon cold at nights sometimes.
Qower, that's my chum, and I make a fire with
TOJC'S FIE8T BUGBT DINNEK. 107
paper on the floor after supper generally, only that
makes it so smoky."
" But there's a big fire out in the passage," said
Tom.
" Precious little good we get of that, tho'," said
East ; " Jones, the praepostor, has the study at the
fire end, and he has rigged up an iron rod and
green-baize curtain across the passage, which he
draws at night, and sits there with his door open, so
he gets all the fire, and hears if we come out of our
studies after eight, or make a noise. However, he's
taken to sitting in the fifth-form room lately, so we
do get a bit of fire now sometimes; only keep a
sharp look-out that he don't catch you behind his
curtain when he comes down, that's all."
A quarter past one now struck, and the bell be-
gan tolling for dinner, so they went into the hall
and took their places, Tom at the very bottom of
the second table, next to the praepostor, who sat at
the end to keep order there, and East a few places
higher. And now Tom for the first time saw his
future school-fellows in a body. In they came, some
hot and ruddy from football or long walks, some
pale and chilly from hard reading in their studies,
some from loitering over the fire at the pastry-cook's,
dainty mortals, bringing with them pickles and
sauce-bottles to help them with their dinners. And
a great big bearded man, whom Tom took for a
master, began calling over the names, while the
great joints were being rapidly carved on a third
table in the corner by the old verger and the house-
keeper. Tom's turn came last, and meanwhile he
108 EAST ON TOPOQBAPHT.
was all eyes, looking first with awe at the great man
who sat close to him, and was helped first, and who
read a hard-looking book all the time he was eating ;
and when he got up and walked off to the fire, at the
^mall boys round him, some of whom were reading,
and the rest talking in whispers to one another, or
stealing one another's bread, or shooting pellets, or
digging their forks through the tablecloth. However,
notwithstanding his curiosity, he managed to make a
capital dinner by the time the big man called " Stand
up," and said grace.
As soon as dinner was over, and Tom had been
questioned by such of his neighbours as were curious
as to his birth, parentage, education, and other like
matters. East, who evidently enjoyed his new dignity
of patron and mentor, proposed having a look at the
close, which Tom, athirst for knowledge, gladly as-
sented to, and they went out through the quadrangle
and past the big fives' court, into the great play-
ground.
" That's the chapel you see," said East, " and
there just behind it is the place for fights ; you see
it's 'most out of the way of the masters, who all
live on the other side and don't come by here after
first lesson or callings-over. That's when the fights
come off. And all this part where we are is the
little side-ground, right up to the trees, and on the
other side of the trees is the big side-ground, wherfe
the great matches are played. And there's the
island in the furthest corner ; you'll know that well
enough next half, when there's island fagging. I
say, it's horrid cold; let's have a run across,'^ and
WHITE TBOUSEBS IN" KOYEMBEB. 109
away went East, Tom close behind him. East
Was evidently putting his best foot foremost, and
Tom, who was mighty proud of his running, and
not a little anxious to show his friend that although
a new boy he was no milk-sop, laid himself down to
work in his very best style. Right across the close
they went, each doing all he knew, and there wasn't
a yard between them when they pulled up at the
island moat
"I say," said East, as soon as he got his wind,
looking with much increased respect at Tom, " you
ain't a bad scud, not by no means. Well, I'm as
warm as a toast now."
" But why do you wear white trousers in Novem-
ber?" said Tom. He had been struck by this pecu-
liarity in the costume of almost all the school-house
boys.
" Why, bless us, don't you know ? No, I forgot.
Why, to-day's the school-house match. Our house
plays the whole of the school at football. And we
all wear white trousers, to show 'em we don't care
for hacks. You're in luck to "come to-day. You
just will see a match ; and Brooke's going to let me
play in quarters. That's more than he'll do for
any other lower school-boy, except James, and he's
fourteen."
"Who's Brooke?"
" Why, that big fellow who called-over at dinner,
to be sure. He's cock of the school, and head of
the school-house side, and the best kick and charger
in Rugby."
" Oh, but do show me where j|cy play. And tell
110 EAST DISCOUBSETH LEABNEDLY
me about it. I love football so, and I've played all
my life. Won't Brooke let me play ? "
" Not he," said East, with some indignation ; "why
you don't know the rules, you'll be a month learning
them. And then it's no joke playing-up in a match,
I can tell you. Quite another thing from your private
school games. Why, there's been two collar-bones
broken this half, and a dozen fellows lamed. And
'last year a fellow had his leg broken."
Tom listened with the profoundest respect to this
chapter of accidents, and followed East across the
level ground till they came to a sort of gigantic gal-
lows of two poles eighteen feet high, fixed upright in
the ground some fourteen feet apart, with a cross-bar
running from one to the other at the height of ten feet
or thereabouts.
" This is one of the goals," said East, " and you
see the other, across there, right opposite, under the
Doctor's wall. Well, the match is for the best of
three goals; whichever side kicks two goals wins,
and it won't do, you see, just to kick the ball
through these posts, it must go over the cross-bar;
any height '11 do, so long as it's between the posts.'
You U have to stay in goal to touch the ball when
it rolls behind the posts, because if the other side
touch it they have a try at goal. Then we fellows
in quarters, we play just about in front of goal here,
and have to turn the ball and kick it back, before
the big fellows on the other side can follow it up.
And in front of us all the big fellows play, and that's
where the scrummages are mostly."
Tom's respect increased as he struggled to make
OK FOOTBALI. AND THE ULWS THEBEOF. Ill
out his friend's technicalities, and the other set to
work to explain the mysteries of "off your side,"
"drop-kicks," "punts," "places," and the other intri-
cacies of the great science of football.
"But how do you keep the ball between the
goals ? " said he ; " I can't see why it mightn't go
right down to the chapel."
" Why, that's out of play," answered East. " You
.see this gravel walk running down all along this
side of the playing-ground, and the line of elms op-
posite on the other ? Well, they're the bounds. As
soon as the ball gets past them, it's in touch, and
out of play. And then whoever first touches it, has
to knock it straight out amongst the players-up,
who make two lines with a space between them,
every fellow going on his own side. Ain't there
just fine scrummages then ! and the three trees you
see there which come out into the play, that's a
tremendous place wheh the ball hangs there, for you
get thrown against the trees, and that's worse than
any hack."
Tom wondered within himself, as they strolled
back again towards the fives' court, whether the
matches were really such break-neck affairs as East
represented, and whether, if they were, he should
ever get to like them and play-up well.
He hadn't long to wonder, however, for next
minute East cried out, "Hurra! here's the punt-
about, come along and try your hand at a kick."
The punt-about is the practice-ball, which is just
brought out and kicked about any how from one
boy to another before callings-over and dinner, and
112 CALLING-OVEB.
at other odd times. They joined the boys who had
brought it out, all small school-house fellows, friends
of East, and Tom had the pleasure of trying his skill,
and performed very creditably, after first driving his
foot three inches into the ground, and then nearly
kicking his leg into the air, in vigorous efforts to ac-
complish a drop-kick after the manner of East.
Presently more boys and bigger came out, and
boys from other houses on their way to calling-over, .
and more balls were sent for. The crowd thickened
as three o'clock approached; and when the hour
struck, one hundred and fifty boys were hard at
work. Then the balls were held, the master of the
week came down in cap and gown to calling-over,
and the whole school of three hundred boys swept
into the big school to answer to their names.
" I may come in, mayn't I ? " said Tom, catching
East by the arm and longing to feel himself one of
them.
" Yes, come along, nobody'U say anything. You
won't be so eager to get into calling-over after a
month," replied his friend; and they marched into
the big school together, and up to the further end,
where that illustrious form, the lower fourth, which
had the honour of East's patronage for the time
being, stood.
The master mounted into the high desk by the
door, and one of the praepostors of the week stood
by him on the steps, the other three marching up
and down the middle of the school with their canes,
calling out "Silence, silence!" The sixth-form
stood close by the door on the left, some thirty in
113
number, mostly great big grown men, as Tom
thought, surveying them from a distance with awe.
The fifth-form behind them, twice their number
and not quite so big. These on the left, and on
the right the lower fifth, shell, and all the junior
forms in order, while up the middle marched the
three praepostors.
Then the praepostor who stands by the master
calls out the names, beginning with the sixth-form,
and as he calls, each boy answers " here " to his
name, and walks out Some of the sixth stop at
the door to turn the whole string of boys into the
close; it is a great match day, and every boy in
the school, will-he, nill-he, must be there. The rest
of the sixth go forwards into the close, to see that
no one escapes by any of the side gates.
To-day, however, being the school-house match,
none of the school-house praepostors stay by the door
to watch for truants of their side ; there is carte
blanche to the school-house fags to go where they
hke. " They trust to our honour," as East proudly
informs Tom ; " they know very well that no school-
house boy would cut the match. If he did, we'd
very soon cut him, I can tell you."
The master of the week being short-sighted, and
the praepostors of the week small and not well up
to their work, the lower school-boys employ the ten
minutes which elapse before their names are called,
in pelting one another vigorously with acorns, which
fly about in all directions. The small praepostors
dash in every now and then, and generally chastise
some quiet, timid boy, who is equally afraid of
10
114 MABSHJLLLINa FOS FOOTBALL.
acorns and canes, while the principal performers
get dexterously out of the way; and so calling-
over rolls on somehow, much like the big world
punishments lighting on wrong shoulders, and mat-
ters going generally in a queer, cross-grained way,
but the end coming somehow, which is after all
the great point. And now the master of the week
has finished, and locked up the big school; and
the praepostors of the week come out, sweeping
the last remnant of the school fags, who had been
loafing about the corners by the fives' court, in
hopes of a chance of bolting, before them into the
close.
"Hold the punt-about!'' "To the goals! "are
the cries, and all stray balls are impounded by
the authorities ; and the whole mass of boys moves
up towards the two goals, dividing as they go
into three bodies. That little band on the left,
consisting of from fifteen to twenty boys, Tom
amongst them, who are making for the goal
under the school-house wall, are the school-house
boys who are not to play-up, and have to stay in
goal. The larger body moving to the island goal,
are the school-boys in a like predicament. The
great mass in the middle are the players-up, both
sides mingled together; they are hanging their
jackets, and all who mean real work, their hats,
waistcoats, neck-handkerchiefs, and braces, on the
railings round the small trees; and there they go
by twos and threes up to their respective grounds.
There is none of the colour and tastiness of get-
wp, you will perceive, which lends such a life to
FOOTBALL KOW JLNB THEIT. 115
the present game at Rugby, making the dullest
and worst-fought match a pretty sight. Now each
house has its own uniform of cap and jersey, of
some lively colour ; but at the time we are speak-
ing of, plush caps have not yet come in, or uni-
forms of any sort, except the school^house white
trousers, which are abominably cold to-day : let
us get to work, bare-headed and girded with our
plain leather straps but. we mean business, gen-
tlemen.
And now that the two sides have fairly sun-
dered, and each occupies its own ground, and we
get a good look at them, what absurdity is this?
You don't mean to say that those fifty or sixty
boys in white trousers, many of them quite small,
are going to play that huge mass opposite? In-
deed I do, gentlemen ; they're going to try at any
rate, and won't make such a bad fight of it either,
mark my word ; for hasn't old Brooke won the
toss, with his lucky halfpenny, and got choice of
goals and kick-off? The new ball you may see
lie there quite by itself, in the middle, pointing
towards the school or island goal ; in another
minute it will be well on its way there. Use that
minute in remarking how the school-house side is
drilled. You will see, in the first place, that the
sixth-form boy, who has the charge of goal, has
spread his force (the goal-keepers) so as to occupy
the whole space behind the goal-posts, at distances
of about five yards apart ; a safe and well-kept
goal is the foundation of all good play. Old
Brooke is talking to the captain of quarters ; and
^'
116 OLD bbooke's generalship.
now he moves away ; see how that youngster
spreads his men (the light brigade) carefully over
the ground, half-way between their own goal and
the body of their own players-up, (the heavy bri-
gade). These again play in several bodies : there
is young Brooke and the bull-dogs mark them
well they are "the fighting brigade," the "die-
hards,'' larking about at leap-frog to keep them-
selves warm, and playing tricks on one another*
And on each side of old Brooke, who is now stand-
ing in the middle of the ground and just going to
kick-off, you see a separate wing of players-up,
each with a boy of acknowledged prowess to look
to here Warner, and there Hedge; but over all
is old Brooke, absolute as he of Russia, but wisely
and bravely ruling over willing and worshipping
subjects, a true football king. His face is earnest
and careful as he glances a last time over his array,
but full of pluck and hope, the sort of look
F hope to see in my general when I go out to
fight.
The school side is not organized in the same
way. The goal-keepers are all in lumps, any-how
and no-how; you can't distinguish between the
players-up and the boys in quarters, and there is
divided leadership; but with such odds in strength
and weight, it must take more than that to hin-
der them from winning; and so their leaders seem
to think, for they let the players-up manage them-
selves.
But now look, there is a slight move forward of
the school-house wings ; old Brooke takes half-ar^
THE "ONSET." A SCBTJMMAGB. 117
dozen quick steps, and away goes the ball spinning
towards the school goal ; seventy yards before it
touches ground, and at no point above twelve or
fifteen feet high, a rnodel kick-off; and the school-
house cheer and rush on ; the ball is returned, and
they meet it and drive it back amongst the masses
of the school ahready in motion. Then the two sides
close, and you can see nothing for minutes but a
swaying crowd of boys, at one point violently agi-
tated. That is where the ball is, and there are the
keen players to be met, and the glory and the hard
knocks to be got ; you hear the dull thud thud of
the ball, and the shouts of " Off your side," " Down
with him," " Put him over," "Bravo." This is what
we call a scrummage, gentlemen, and the first scrum-
mage in a school-house match was no joke in the
consulship of Plancus.
But see ! it has broken, the ball is driven out on
the school-house side, and a rush of the school car-
ries it past the school-house players-up. " Look out
in quarters," Brooke's and twenty other voices ring
out ; no need to call though, the school-house captain "
of quarters has caught it on the bound, dodges the
foremost school-boys who are heading the rush, and
sends it back with a good drop-kick well into the
enemies' country. And then follows rush upon rush,
and scrummage upon scrummage, the ball now
driven through into the school-house quarters, and
now into the school goal ; for the school-house have
riot lost the ldvantage which the kick-off and a
slight wind gave them at the outset, and are slightly
"penning" their adversaries. You say, you don't
118 HOW TO GO IN.
see much in it all, nothing but a struggling mass of
boys, and a leather ball, which seems to excite them
all to great fury, as a red rag does a bull. My
dear sir, a battle would look much the same to you,
except that the boys would be men, and the balls
iron; but a battle would be worth your looking
at for all that, and so is a football match. You
can't be expected to appreciate the delicate strokes
of play, the turns by which a game is lost and
won, it takes an old player to do that, but the
broad philosophy of football you can understand if
you will. Come along with me a little nearer, and
let us consider it together.
The ball has just fallen again where the two sides
are thickest, and they close rapidly around it in a
scrummage ; it must be driven through now by force
or skill, till it flies out on one side or the other.
Look how differently the boys face it. Here come
two of the bull-dogs, bursting through the outsiders ;
in they go, straight to the heart of the scrummage,
bent on driving that ball out on the opposite side.
That is what they mean to do. My sons, my sons !
you are too hot ; you have gone past the ball, and
must struggle now right through the scrummage, and
get round and back again to your own side, before
you can be of any further use. Here comes young
Brooke ; he goes in as straight as you, but keeps his
head, and backs and bends, holding himself still
behind the ball, and driving it furiously when he
gets the chance. Take a leaf out of his book, you
young chargers. Here come Speedicut, and Flash-
man, the school-house bully, with shouts and great
THE PIBST CHECK. 119
action. Won't you two come up to young Brooke,
after locking-up, by the school-house fire, with " Old
fellow, wasn't that just a splendid scrummage by
the three trees ! " But he knows you, and so do we
You don't really want to drive that ball through
that scrummage, chancing all hurt for the glory of
the school-house, but to make us think that's what
you want -a vastly different thing, and fellows of
your kidney will never go through more than the
skirts of a scrummage, where it's all push and no
kicking. We respect boys who keep out of it, and
don't sham going in; but you we had rather not !
say what we think of you.
Then the boys who are bending and watching on
the outside, mark them they are most useful play-
ers, the dodgers ; who seize on the ball the moment
it rolls out from amongst the chargers, and away
with it across to the opposite goal ; they seldom go
into the scrummage, but must have more coolness
than the chargers ; as endless as are boys' characters,
so are their ways of facing or not meeting a scrum-
mage at football.
Three-quarters of an hour are gone; first winds
are failing, and weights and numbers beginning to
tell. Yard by yard the school-house have been driven
back, contesting every inch of ground. The bull-
dogs are the colour of mother earth from shoulder
to ankle, except young Brooke, who has a marvel-
lous knack of keeping his legs. The school-house
are being penned in their turn, and now the ball is
behind their goal, under the Doctor's wall. The
Doctor and some of his family are there looking on,
120 YOUNG BBOOKE's BUSH.
and seem as anxious as any boy for the success of
the school-house. We get a minute's breathing time
before old Brooke kicks out, and he gives the word
to play strongly for touch, by the three* trees. Away
goes the ball, and the bull-dogs after it, and in an-
other minute there is a shout of " In touch,'' " Our
ball." Now's your time, old Brooke, while your
men are still fresh. He stands with the ball in his
hand, while the two sides form in deep lines opposite
one another ; he must strike it straight out between
them. The lines are thickest close to him, but
young Brooke and two or three of his men are
ehifting up further, where the opposite line is weak.
Old Brooke strikes it out straight and strong, and it
falls opposite his brother. Hurra! that rush has
taken it right through the school line, and away
past the three ^ees, far into their quarters, and
young Brooke and the bull-dogs are close upon it.
The school leaders rush back shouting "Look out
in goal," and strain every nerve to catch him, but
they are after the fleetest foot in Rugby. There
they go straight for the goal-posts, quarters scatter-
ing before them.' One after another the bull-dogs
go down, but young Brooke holds on. " He is
down." No ! a long stagger, but the danger is past;
that was the shock of Crew, the most dangerous of
dodgers. And now he is close to the school goal,
l:he ball not three yards before him. There is a
hurried rush of the school fags to the spot, but no one
throws himself on the ball, the only chance, and
young Brooke has touched it right under the school
goal-posts.
CBAB JONES. 121
The school leaders come up furious, and adminis-
ter toco to the wretched fags nearest at hand ; they
may well be angry, for it is all Lombard street to a
China orange that the school-house kick a goal with
the ball touched in such a good place. Old Brooke
of course will kick it out, but. who shall catch
and place it? Call Crab Jones. Here he comes,
sauntering along with a straw in his mouth, the
queerest, coolest fish in Rugby : if he were tumbled
into the moon this minute, he would just pick him-,
self up without taking his hands out of his pockets
or turning a hair. But it is a moment when the
boldest charger's heart beats quick. Old Brooke
stands with the ball under his arm motioning the
school back ; he will not kick-out till they are all in
goal, behind the posts ; they are all edging forwards,
inch by inch, to get nearer for the rush at Crab
Jones, who stands there in front of old Brooke to
catch the ball. If they can reach and destroy him
before he catches, the danger is over, and with one
and the same rush they will carry it right away to
the school-house goal. Fond hope, it is kicked out
and caught bedutifully. Crab strikes his heel into
the ground, to mark the spot where the ball was
caught, beyond which the school line may not
advance; but there they stand five deep, ready to
rush the moment the ball touches the ground. Take
plenty of room! don't give the rush a chance of
reaching you! place it true and steady! Trust
Crab Jones he has made a small hole with his
heel for the ball to lie on, by which he is resting on
one knee, with his eye on old Brooke. " Now ! "
11
122 A. GOAL Griffith's baskets.
Crab places the ball at the word, old Brooke kicks,
and it rises slowly and truly as the school rush
forward.
Then a moment's pause, while both sides look up
at the spinning ball. There it flies straight between
the two posts, some five feet above the cross-bar, an
unquestioned goal ; and a shout of real genuine joy
rings out from the school-house players-up, and a
faint echo of it comes over the close from the goal-
keepers under the Doctor's wall. A goal in the first
hour such a thing hasn't been done in the school-
house match this five years.
" Over ! " is the cry : the two sides change goals,
and the school-house goal-keepers come threading
their way across through the masses of the school ;
the most openly triumphant of them, amongst whom
is Tom, a school-house boy of two hours' standing,
getting their ears boxed in the transit. Tom indeed
is excited beyond measure, and it is all the sixth-
form boy, kindest and safest of goal-keepers, has
been able to do to keep him from rushing out when-
ever the ball has been near their goal. So he holds
him by his side, and instructs him in the science of
touching.
At this moment Grifiith, the itinerant- vendor of
oranges from Hill Morton, enters the close with his
heavy baskets ; there is a rush of small boys upon
the little pale-faced man, the two sides mingliiig
together subdued by the great goddess Thirst, like
the English and French by the streams in the Pyy-
ennees. The leaders are past oranges and apples,
but some of them visit their coats, and apply inno-
THE SECOND HOUB. 123
cent looking ginger-beer bottles to their mouths. It
is no ginger-beer though, I fear, and will do you no
good. One short mad rash, and then a ''stitch in the
side, and no more honest play; that's what comes
of those bottles.
But now Griffith's baskets are empty, the ball is
placed again midway, and the school are going to
kick off. Their leaders have sent their lumber into
goal and rated the rest soundly, and one hundred
and twenty picked players-up are there, bent on re-
trieving the game. They are to keep the ball in
front of the school-house goal, and then to drive it in
by sheer strength and weight They mean heavy
play and no mistake, and so old Brooke sees ; and
places Crab Jones in quarters just before the goal,
with four* or five picked players, who are to keep
the ball away to the sides, where a try at goal, if
obtained, will be less dangerous than in front. He
himself, and Warner, and Hedge, yho have saved
themselves till now, will lead the chargers.
" Are you ready ! " " Yes." And away comes
the ball kicked high in the air, to give the school
time to rush on and catch it as it falls. And here
they are amongst us. Meet them like Englishmen,
you school-house boys, and charge them home.
Now is the time to show what mettle is in you -
and there shall be a warm seat by the hall fire, and
honour, and lots of bottled beer to-night, for him
who does his duty in the next half-hour. And they
are well met. Again and again the cloud of their
players-up gathers before our goal, and comes threat-
ening on, and Warner or Hedge, with young Brooke
'^4
124 bast's chabge.
and the relics of the bull-dogs, break through and
carry the ball back ; and old Brooke ranges the field
like Job's war-horse, the thickest scrummage parts
asunder before his rush, like the waves before a
clipper's bows ; his cheery voice rings over the field,
and his eye is everywhere. And if these miss the
ball, and it rolls dangerously in front of our goal,
Crab Jones and his men have seized it and sent it
away towards the sides with the unerring drop-kick.
This is worth living for ; the whole sum of school-
boy existence gathered up into one straining, strug-
gling half-hour, a half-hour worth a year of common
life.
The quarter to five has struck, and the play
slackens for a minute before goal; but there is
Crew, the artful dodger, driving the ball, in behind
our goal, on the island side, where our quarters
are weakest. Is there no one to meet him ? Yes !
look at little igast! the ball is just at equal dis-
tances between the two, and they rush together,
the young man of seventeen and the boy of twelve,
and kick it at the same moment. Crew passes
on without a stagger; East is hurled forward by
the shock, and plunges on his shoulder, as if he
would bury himself in the ground; but the ball
rises straight into the air, and falls behind Crew's
back, while the bravos of the school-house attest
the pluckiest charge of all that hard-fought day.
Warner picks East up lame and half stunned, and
he hobbles back into goal, conscious of having
played the man.
And now the last minutes are come, and the
THE LAST BUSH. 125
school gather for their last rush, every boy of the
hundred and twenty who has a run left in him.
Reckless of the defence of their own goal, on they
. come across the level big-side ground, the ball well
down amongst them, straight for our goal, like
the column of the old guard up the slope at
Waterloo. All former charges have been child's
play to this, Warner and Hedge have met them,
but still on they come. The bull-dogs rush in for^
the last time ; they are hurled over or carried back,
striving hand, foot, and eyelids. Old Brooke comes
sweeping round the skirts of the play, and turn-
ing short round, picks out the very heart of the
scrummage, and plunges in. It wavers for a mo-
ment, he has the ball! No, it has passed him,
and his voice rings out clear over the advancing
tide, " Look out in goal." Crab Jones catches it
for a moment, but before he can kick, the rush is
upon him and passes over him; and he picks
himself up behind them with his straw in his
mouth, a little dirtier, but as cool as ever.
The ball rolls slowly in behind the school-house
goal, not three yards in front of a dozen of the big-
gest school players-up.
There stand the school-house praepostor, safest of
goal-keepers, and Tom Brown by his side, who has
learned his trade by this time. Now is your time,
Tom. The blood of all the Browns is up, and the
two rush in together, and throw themselves on the
ball, under the very feet of the advancing column ; the
praepostor on his hands and knees arching his back,
and Tom all along on his face. Over them topple
126 TOM*S FIRST EXPLOIT.
the leaders of the rash, shooting over the back of the
prsBpostor, but falling flat on Tom, and knocking all
the wind out of his small carcass, " Our ball," says
the praspostor, rising with his prize, "but get up there,,
there's a little fellow under you." They are hauled
and roll off him, and Tom is discovered a motionless
body.
'-H' Brooke picks him up. " Stand back, give him
air,'' he says ; and then feeling his limbs, adds, " No
bones broken. How do you feel, young 'un ? "
" Hah-hah," gasps Tom, as his wind comes back,
" pretty well, thank you all right."
" Who is he ?" says Brooke. " Oh, it's Brown, he's
a new boy ; I know him," says East, coming up.
" Well, he's a plucky youngster, and will make a
player," says Brooke.
And five o'clock strikes. "No side" is called, and
the first day of the school-house match is over.
.^.-hJ^^
Page 12fi.
CHAPTER VI.
AFTER THE MATCH.
** ^^ Some food we had." Shakapeare.
tj g norog advg . Theocb. IcU
As the boys scattered away from the ground,
and East, leaning on Tom's arm, and limping
along, was beginning to consider what luxury they
should go and buy for tea to celebrate that glorious
victory, the two Brookes came striding by. Old
Brooke caught sight of East, and stopped; put his
hand kindly on his shoulder and said, ' Bravo,
youngster, you played famously ; not much the
matter, I hope?"
"No, nothing at all," said East, "only a little twist
from that charge."
. "Well, mind and get all right for next Saturday;"
and the leader passed on, leaving East better for
those few words than all the opodeldoc in England
would have made him, and Tom ready to give one
of his ears for as much notice. Ah! light words of
those whom we love and honour, what a power ye
are, and how carelessly wielded by those who can
use you ! Surely for these things also God will ask
an account.
" Tea's directly after locking-up, you see," said
128 CELEBBA.TING THE TICTOKT.
East, hobbling along as fast as he could, " so you
come along down to Sally Harrowell's ; that'^ our
school-house tuck-shop she bakes such stunning
murphies, we'll have a penn'orth each for tea*; come
along, or they'll all be gone."
Tom's new purse and money burnt in his pocket ;
he wondered, as they toddled through the quad-
rangle and along the street, whether East would be
insulted if he suggested further extravagance, as he
had not sufficient faith in a pennyworth of potatoes.
At last he blurted out
" I say. East, can't we get something ejse besides
potatoes ? I've got lots of money, you know."
"Bless us, yes, I forgot," said East, "you've only
just come. You see all my tin's been gone this
twelve weeks, it hardly ever lasts beyond the first
fortnight ; and our allowances were all stopped this
morning for broken windows, so I haven't got a
penny. J've got a tick at Sally's, of course ; but
then I hate running it high, you see, towards the
end of the half, 'cause one has to shell out for it all
directly one comes back, and that's a bore."
Tom didn't understand much of this talk, but ,
seized on the fact that East had no money, and
was denying himself some little pet luxury in conse-
quence. " Well, what shall I buy ? " said he, " I'm
uncommon hungry."
" I say," said East, stopping to look at him and
rest his leg, " you're a trump. Brown. I'll do the
same by you next half. Let's have a pound of
sausages, then; that's the best grub for tea I know
of."
habkowell's. 129
" Very well," said Tom, as pleased as possible,
where do they sell them ? "
" Oh, over here, just opposite;" and they crossed
the street, and walked into the cleanest little front-
room of a small house, half parlour, half shop, and
bought a pound of most particular sausages ; East
talking pleasantly to Mrs. Porter while she put them
in paper, and Tom doing the paying part.
From Porter's they adjourned to Sally Harro well's,
where Ihey found a lot of school-house boys waiting
for the roast potatoes, and relating their own ex-
ploits in the day's match at the top of their voices.
The street opened at once into Sally's kitchen, a
low brick-floored room, with large recess for fire,
and chimney-corner seats. Poor little Sally, the
most good-natured and much-enduring of woman-
kind, was bustling about with a napkin in her hand,
from her own oven to those of the neighbour's cot-
tages, up the yard at the back of her house. Stumps,
her husband, a short easy-going shoemaker, with a
beery humourous eye and ponderous c?ilves, who
lived mostly on his wife's earnings, stood in a corner
of the room, exchanging shots of the roughest de-
scription of repartee with every boy in turn. " Stumps,
you lout, you've had too much beer again to-day."
"'Twasnt of your paying for then." " Stumps's
calves are running down into his ankles, they want
to get to grass." ** Better be doing that, than gone
altogether like yours," &c., &c. Very poor stuff it
was, but it served to make time pass, and every
now and then Sally arrived in the middle with a
smoking tin of potatoes, which Was cleared off in a
130 STUMPS AND HIS TEIBULATIONS.
few seconds, each boy as he seized -his lot, running
oflF to the house with " Put me down two penn'orth,
Sally ; " " Put down three penn'orth between rae
and Davis," &c. How she ever kept the accounts
(So straight as she did, in *her head, and on her slate,
was a perfect wonder.
East and Tom got served at last, and started back
for the school-house just as the locking-up bell be-
gan to ring; East on the way recounting the life
and adventures of Stumps, who was a character.
Amongst his other small avocations, he was the
hind carrier of a sedan-chair, the last of its race, in
which the Rugby ladies still went out to tea, and in
which, when he was fairly harnessed and carrying a
load, it was the delight of small and mischievous
boys to follow him and whip his calves. This was
too" much for the temper even of Stunaps, and he
would pursue his tormentors in a vindictive and
apoplectic manner when released, but was easily
pacified by twopence to buy beer with.
The lower school boys of the school-house, some
fifteen in number, had tea in the lower-fifth school,
and were presided over by the old verger or head-
porter. Each boy had a quarter of a loaf of bread
and pat of butter, and as much tea as he pleased,
and there was scarcely one who didn't add to this
some further luxury, such as baked potatoes, a her-
ring, sprats, or something of the sort ; but few, at
this period of the half-year, could live up to a pound
of Porter's sausages, and East was in great mag-
nificence upon the strength of theirs. He had pro-
duced a toasting-fork from his study, and set Tom
TEA AND ITS LTTXTTBIES. . 131
to toast the sausages, while he mounted guard
over their butter and potatoes ; " 'cause," as he ex-
plained, " you're a new boy, and they'll play you
some trick and get our butter, but you can toast
just as well as I." So Tom, in the midst of three
or four more urchins similarly employed, toasted his
face and the sausages at the same time before the
huge fire, till the latter cracked; when East, from
his watch-tower shouted that they were done, and
then the feast proceeded, and the festive cups of
tea were filled and emptied, and Tom imparted of
the sausages in small bits to many neighbours, and
thought he had never tasted such good potatoes or
seen such jolly boys. They, on their parts, waived
all ceremony, and pegged away at the sausages and
potatoes, and remembering Tom's performance in
goal, voted East's new crony a brick. After tea, and
while the things were being dleared away, they
gathered round the fire, and the talk on the match
still went on; and those who had them to show,
pulled up their trousers and showed the hacks they
had received in the good cause.
They were soon, however, all turned out of the
school, and East conducted Tom up to his bedroom,
that he might get on clean things and wash himself
before singing.
" What's singing ? " said Tom, taking his head
out of his basin, where he had been plunging it in
cold water.
" Well, you are jolly green," answered his friend
from a neighbouring basin. " Why the last six Sat-
urdays of every half, we sing of course ; and this
132 SINGING.
is the first of them. No first lesson to do, you know,
and lie in bed to-morrow morning."
" But who sings ? "
" Why everybody, of course ; you'll see soon
enough. We begin directly after supper, and sing
till bed-time. It ain't such good fun now tho' as in
the summer half, 'cause then we sing in the little
fives' court, under the library, you know. We take
our. tables, and the big boys sit round, and drink
beer; double allowance on Saturday nights; and we
cut about the quadrangle between the songs, and it
looks like a lot of robbers in a cave. And the louts
come and pound at the great gates, and we pound
back again, and shout at them. But this half we
only sing in the hall. Come along down to iy
study."
Their principal employment in the study was to
clear out East's table, removing the drawers and
ornaments and table-cloth, for he lived in the bottom
passage, and his table was in requisition for the
singing.
Supper came in due course at seven o'clock, con-
sisting of bread and cheese and beer, which was all
saved foi* the singing; and directly afterward* the
fags went to work to prepare the hall. The school-
house hall, as has been said, is a great long high
room, with two large fires on one side, and two
large iron-bound tables, one running down the
middle, and the other along the wall opposite the fire-
places. Around the upper fire the fags placed the
^ tables in the form of a horseshoe, and upon them the
jugs, with the Saturday night's allowance of beer.
iom's pebfoemances. 133
Then the big boys began to drop in and take their
seats, bringing with them bottled beer and song-
books ; for although they all knew the songs by heart,
it was the thing to have an old manuscript book
descended from some departed hero, in which they
were all carefully written out.
The sixth -form boys had not yet appeared, so to
fill up the gap, an interesting and time-honoured cere-
mony v^bls gone through. Each new boy was placed
on the table in turn, and made to sing a solo, under
the penalty of drinking a large mug of salt and water
if he resisted or broke down. However, the new
boys all sing like nightingales to-night, and the salt
water is not in requisition ; Tom as his part perform-
ing the old west-country song of " The Leather Bot-
tel," with considerable applause. And at the half-
'hour down come the sixth and fifth-form boys, and
take their places at the tables, which are filled up by
the next biggest boys, the rest, for whom there is no
room at table, standing round outside.
The glasses and mugs are filled, and then the
fugleman strikes up the old sea song
*' A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
And a wind that follows fast," &c.
which is the invariable first song in the school-house,
and all the seventy voices join in, not mindful of har-
mony, but bent on noise, which they attain decidedly,
but the general effect isn't bad. ^nd then follow
" The British Grenadiers," Billy Taj^lor," The
Siege of Seringapatam," Three Jolly Post-boys,"
and other vociferous songs in rapid succession, in-
cluding the " Chesapeake and Shannon," a song
134 BB00K*8 HONOTTBS.
lately introduced in honour of old Brooke ; and when
they come to the words
" Brave Broke he waved his sword, crying. Now my lads aboard,
And we*ll stop their playing Yankee-doodle-dandy, oh ! "
you expect the roof to come down. The sixth and
fifth know that " brave Broke," of the Shannon, was
no sort of relation to our old Brooke. The fourth-
form are uncertain in their belief, but for the most
part hold that old Brooke was a midshipman then,
on board his uncle's ship. And the lower school
never doubt for a moment that it was our old Brooke
who led the boarders, in what capacity they care not
* a straw. During the pauses the bottled beer corks
fly rapidly, and the talk is fast and merry, and the
big boys, at least all of them who have a fellow-
feeling for dry throats, hand their mugs over their'
shoulders to be emptied by the small ones who stand
round behind.
Then Warner, the head of the house, gets up and
wants to speak, but he can't, for every boy knows
what's coming, and the big boys who sit at the table
pound them and cheer; and the small boys who
stand behind pound one another, and cheer, and
rush about the hall cheering. Then silence being
made, Warner reminds them of the old school-house
custom of drinking the healths, on the first night of
singing, of those who are going to leave at the end
of the half^ " He sees that they know what he is
going to say already (loud cheers) and so won't
keep them, but only ask them to treat the toast as it
deserves. It is, the head of the ej/even, the head of
. BBOOKS*S SPEECH. 135
big-side football, their leader on this glorious day
Pater Brooke ! "
And away goes the pounding and cheering again.,
becoming deafening when old Brooke gets on his
legs : till, a table having broken down, and a gallon
or so of beer been upset, and all throats getting dry,
silence ensues, and the hero speaks, leaning his hands?
on the table, and bending a little forwards. No ac- t
tion, no tricks of oratory, plain, strong and straight, '
like his play.
" Gentliemen of the school-house ! I arn very
proud of the way in which you have received my
name, and I wish I could say all I should like in
return. But I know I shan't. However, Til do the
best I can to say what seems to me ought to be
said by a fellow who's just going to leave, and who
has spent a good slice of his life here. Eight years
it is, and eight such years as I can never hope to
have again. So now I hope you'll all listen to me
(loud cries of * that we will ') for I'm going to
talk seriously. You're bound to listen to me, for
what's the use of calling me * pater,' and all that, if
you won't mind what I say? And I'm going to
talk seriously, because I feel so. It's a jolly time,
too, getting to the end of the half, and a goal
kicked by us first day (tremendous applause)
'after one of the hardest and fiercest .day's play I
can remember in eight years (frantic shoutings.)
The school played splendidly too, I will say, and
kept it up to the last. That last charge of theirs
would have carried away a house. I never thought
to see any thing again of old Crab there, except
136 BEOOKE ON UNION.
little pieces, when I saw him tumbled over by it
(laughter and shouting, and great slapping on the
back of Jones by the boys nearest him.) Well, but
we beat 'em (cheers.) Aye, but why did we beat
'em ? answer, me that (shouts of ' your play.')
Nonsense. 'Twasn't the wind and kick-off either,
that wouldn't do it. 'Twasn't because we've half-a-
dozen of the best players in the school, as we have.
I wouldn't change Warner, and Hedge, and Crab,
and the young 'un, for any six on their side (violent
cheers.) But half-a-dozen fellows can't keep it tip for
two hours against two hundred. Why is it then ?
I'll tell you what I think. It's because we've more
reliance on one another, more of a house feeling,
more fellowship than the school can have. Each of
us knows and can depend on his next hand man
better that's why we beat 'em to day. We've
union, they've division there's the secret (cheers.)
But how's this to be kept up ? How's it to be im-
proved ? That's the question. For I take it, we're
all in earnest about beating the school, whatever else
we care about. I know I'd sooner win two school-
house matches running than get the Balliol scholar-
ship any day (frantic cheers.)
" Now I'm as proud of the house as any one ; I
believe it is the best house in the school, out-and-
out. (Cheers.) But it's a long way from what I
want to see it. First, there's a deal of bullying
going on. I know it well. I don't pry about and
interfere ; that only makes it more underhand, and
encourages the small boys to come to us with
tbeir fingers in their eyes telling tales, and so we
BROOKE AGAINST BULLYING. 137
should be worse off than ever. It's very little kind-
ness for the sixth to meddle generally you young-
sters mind that. You'll be all the better football \
players for learning to stand it, and to take your
own parts, and fight it through. But depend on it, I
there's nothing breaks up a house like bullying.
Bullies are cowards, and one coward makes many ;
so good-bye to the school-house match if bullying
gets ahead here. (Loud applause from the small
boys, who look meaningly at Flashman- and other
boys at the tables.) Then there's fuddling about
in the pnblic-house, and drinking bad spirits, and
punch, and such rot-gut stuff. That won't make
good drop-kicks or chargers of you, take my
word for it. You get plenty of good beer here,
and that's enough for you ; and drinking isn't
fine or manly, whatever some of you may think
of it.
" One other thing I must have a word about. A
lot of you think and say, for Fve heard you, ' There's
this new Doctor hasn't been here so long as some of
us, and he's changing all the old customs. Rugby,
and the school-house especially, are going to the
dogs. Stand up for. the good old ways, and down
with the Doctor ! ' Now I'm as fond of old Rugby
customs and ways as any of you, and I've been here
longer than any of you, and I'll give you a word of
advice in time, for I shouldn't like to see any of you
getting sacked. * Down with the Doctor' is easier
said than done. You'll find him pretty tight on his
perch, 1 take it, and an awkwardish customer to
handle in that line*. Besides now, what custoftis
12
138 BBOOKE STANDETH TIP FOK "THE DOCTOR."
has he put down ? There was the good old custom
of taking the lyneh-pins out of the farmers' and
bagmen's gigs at the fairs, and a cowardly black-
guard custom it was. We all know what came of
it, and no wonder the Doctor objected to it. But,
come now, any of you, name a custom that he has
put down."
" The hounds," calls out a fifth-form boy, clad in a
green cutaway with brass buttons and cord trousers,
the leader of the sporting interest, and reputed a
great rider and keen hand generally.
" Well, we had six or seven mangey harriers and
beagles belonging to the house, I'll allow, and had
had them for years, and that the Doctor put them
down. But what good ever came of them ? Only
rows with all the keepers for ten miles round ; and
big-side Hare and Hounds is better fun ten times
over. What else ? "
No answer.
" Well, I won't go on. Think it over for your-
selves : you'll find, I believe, that he don't meddle
with any one that's worth keeping. And mind
now, I say again, look out for squalls, if you will
go your own way, and that way ain't the Doctor's,
for it'll lead to grief. You all know that I'm not
the fellow to back a master through thick and
thin. If I saw him stopping football, or cricket,
or bathing, or sparring, I'd be as ready as any
fellow to stand up about it. But he don't he
encourages them ; didn't you see him out t;-
day for half-an-hour watching us ? (Loud cheers
for the Doctor.) And he's a strong true man,
OLD bbooke's adyicb. 139
and a wise one too, and a public-school man too.
(Cheers.) And so let's stick to him, and talk no
more rot, and drink his health as the head of the
house. (Loud cheers.) , And now Fve done blow-
ing up, and very glad I am to have done. But it's
a solemn thing to be thinking of leaving a place
which one has lived in and loved for eight years ;
and if one can say a word for the good of the
old house at such a time, why it should be said,
whether bitter or sweet. If I hadn't been proud
of the house and you aye, no one knows how
proud I shouldn't be blowing you up. And now
let's get to singing. But before I sit down I
must give you a toast to be drunk with three-
times-three and all the honours. It's a toast
which I hope every one of us, wherever he may
go hereafter, will never fail to drink when he
thinks of the brave bright days of his boyhood.
It's a teast which should bind us all together, \
and to those who've gone before, and who'll
come after us here. It is the dear old school-
house the best house of the best school in
England!"
My dear boys, old and young, you who have
.belonged, or do belong, to other schools and other
houses, don't begin throwing my poor little book
about the .room, and abusing me and it, and vowing
you'll read no more when you get to this point I
allow you've provocation for it. But, come now
would you, any of you, give a fig for a fellow who ,
didn't believe in, and stand up for his own house '.
and his own school? You know you wouldn't.
140 OLD beooee's toast.
Then don't object to my cracking up the old school-
house, Rugby. Haven't I a right to do it, when I'm
taking all the trouble of writing this true history for
all of your benefits. If you ain't satisfied, go and
write the history of your own houses in your own
times, and say all you know for your own schools
and houses, provided it's true, and I'll read it with-
out abusing you.
The last few words hit the audience in their
weakest place ; they had been not altogether enthu-
siastic at several parts of old Brooke's speech; but
"the best house of the best school in England"
was too much for them all, and carried even the
sporting and drinking interests off their legs into
rapturous applause, and (it is to be hoped) resolu-
tions to lead a new life, and remember old Brooke's
words ; which, however, they didn't altogether da, as
will appear hereafter.
But it required all old Brooke's popularity to
carry down parts of his speech, especially that re-
lating to the Doctor. For there are no such bigoted
holders by established forms and customs, be they
never so foolish or meaningless, as English school-
boys, at least as the school-boys of our generation.
We magnified into heroes every boy who had left,
and looked upon him with awe and reverence, when
. he revisited the place a year or so afterwards on his
way to or from Oxford or Cambridge ; and happy
was the boy who remembered him, and sure of an
audience as he expounded what he used to do and
say, though it were sad enough stuff to make angels,
not to say head-masters, weep.
SCHOOL IDOLATBIES. 141
We looked upon every trumpery little custom
and habit which had obtained in the school, as
though it had been a law of the Medes and Per-
sians, and regarded the infringement or variation of
it as a sort of sacrilege. And the Doctor, than
whom no man or boy had a stronger liking for old
school customs, which were good and sensible, had,
as has already been hinted, come into most decided
collision with several which were neither the one or
the other. And as old Brooke had said, when he
came into collision with boys or customs, there was
nothing for them but to give in or take themselves
off; because what he said had to be done, and no
mistake about it. And this was beginning to be
pretty clearly understood; the boys felt that there
was a strong man over them, who would have things
his own way ; and hadn't yet learned that he was a
wise and loving man also. His personal character
and influence had not had time to make itself felt,
except by a very few of the bigger boys with whom
he came more directly in contact, and he was looked
upon. with great fear and dislike by the great ma-
jority even of his own house. For he had found
school and school-house in a state of monstrous
license and misrule, and was still employed in the
necessary but unpopular work of setting up order
with a strong hand.
^ However, as has been said, old Brooke triumphed,
and the boys cheered him, and then the Doctor.
And then more songs came, and the healths of the
other boys about to leave, who each made a speech,
one flowery, another maudlin, a third prosy, and so
on, which are not necessary to be here recorded.
142 BBEAK UP OF SINGING.
Half-past nine struck in the middle of the per-
formance of " Auld Lang Syne," a most obstreperous
proceeding; during which there was an immense
amount of standing with one foot on the table,
knocking mugs together and shaking hands, with-
out which accompaniments it seems impossible for
the youth of i^ritain to take part in that famous old
song. The under-porter of the school-house entered
during the performance, bearing five or six long
wooden candlesticks, with lighted* dips in them,
which he proceeded to stick into their holes in such
part of the great tables as he could get at ; and then
stood outside the ring till the end of the song, when
he was hailed with shouts.
"Bill, you old muff, the half-hour hasn't struck."
"Here, Bill, drink some cocktail," 'Sing us a
song, old boy," " Don't you wish you may get the
table? " Bill drank the proffered cocktail not unwill-
ingly, and putting down the empty glass remon-
strated, " Now, gentlemen, there's only ten minutes
to prayers, and we must get the hall straight.''
Shouts of "No, no," and a violent effort to strike
up "Billy Taylor" for the third time. Bill looked
appealingly to old Brooke, who got up and stopped
the noise. "Now then, lend a hand you young-
sters, and get the tables back, clear away the jugs
and glasses. Bill's right. Open the windows, War-
ner." The boy addressed, who sat by the long ropes,
proceeded to pull up the great windows, and let in
a clear fresh rush of night air, which made the
candles flicker and gutter, and the fires roar. The
circle broke up, each collaring his own jug, glass,
LAST LOYAL STBAINS. 143
and song-book ; Bill pounced on the big table, and
began to rattle it away to its place outside the
buttery-door. The lower-passage boys carried ofl'
their small tables aided by their friends, while above
all, standing on the great hall-table, a knot of un-
tiring sons of harmony made night doleful by a
prolonged performance of " God save the King."
His Majesty King William IV. then reigned over
us, a monarch deservedly popular amongst the boys
addicted to melody, to whom he was chiefly known
from the beginning of that excellent, if slightly vulgar
song in which they much delighted
" Come, neighbours all, both great and small,
Perform your duties here,
And loudly sing Live Billy our King,
For bating the tax upon beer."
Others of the more learned in songs also celebrated
his praises in a sort of ballad, which I take to have
been written by some Irish loyalist. I have forgotten
all but the chorus, which ran
* God save our good King William, be his name for ever blest.
He's the father of all his people, and the guardian of all. the rest"
In troth we were loyal subjects in those days, in a
rough way. I trust that our successors make as
much of her present Majesty, and, having regard to
the greater refinement of the times, have adopted or
written other songs equally hearty, but more civilized,
in her honour.
Then the quarter to ten struck, and the
prayer-bell rang. The * sixth and fifth-form boys
ranged themselves in their school order along the
wall, on either side of the great fires, the mid-
144 PBA.TEBS.
die fifth and upper school-boys round the long
table in the middle of the hall, and the lower
school-boys round the upper part of the second
long table, which ran down the side of the hall
furthest from the fires. Here Tom found him-
self at the bottom of all, in a state of mind and
body not at all fit for prayers, as he thought ;
and so tried hard to make himself serious, but
couldn't for the life of him, do anything but re-
peat in his head the choruses of some of the
songs, and stare at all the boys opposite, won-
dering at the brilliancy of their waistcoats, and
speculating what sort of fellows they were. The
steps of the head-porter are heard on the stairs,
and a light gleams at the door. " Hush,", from
the fifth-form boys who stand there, and then
in strides the Doctor, cap on head, book in one
hand, and gathering up his gown in the other.
He walks up the middle, and takes his post
by Warner, who begins calling over the names.
The Doctor takes no notice of anything, but quietly
turns over his book and finds the place, and* then
stands, cap in hand and finger in book, look-
ing straight before his nose. He knows better
than any one when to look, and when to see
nothing; to-night is singing night, and there's been
lots of noise and no harm done; nothing but beer
drunk, and nobody the worse for it; though some
of them do look hot and excited. So the Doctor
sees nothing, but fascinates Tom in a horrible
manner as he stands there, and reads out the
Psalm in that deep, ringing, searching voice of
TOSSING. 145
his. Prayers are over, and Tom still stares open-
mouthed after the Doctor's retiring figure, when he
feels a pull at his sleeve, and turning round sees
East.
" I say, were you ever tossed in a blanket ? "
No," said Tom ; why ? "
" ' Cause there'll be tossing to-night most likely,
before the sixth come up to bed. So if you funk,
you just come along and hide, or else they'll catch
you and toss you."
" Were you ever tossed ? Does it hurt ? " inquired
Tom.
" Oh yes, bless you, a dozen timps," said East, as
he hobbled along by Tom's side up stairs. " It don't
hurt unless you fall on the floor. But most fellows
don't like it"
They stopped at the fireplace in the top passage,
where were a crowd of small boys whispering
together, and evidently unwilling to go up into the
bedrooms. In a . minute, however, a study door
opened and a sixth-form boy came out, and off they
all scuttled up the stairs, and then noiselessly dis-
persed to their different rooms. Tom's heart beat
rather quick as he and East reached their room, but
he had made up his mind. " I shan't hide. East,"
said he.
" Very well, old fellow," replied East, evidently
pleased ; " no more shall I they'll be here for us
directly."
The room was a great big one with a dozen beds
in it, but not a boy that Tom could see, except East
and himself. East pulled off his coat and waistcoat,
13
146 FLASHMAN MUZZLED.
and then sat on the bottom of his bed, whistling
and pulling off his boots ; Tom followed his ex-
ample.
A noise and steps are heard in the passage, the
door opens, and in rush four or five great fifth-form
boys, headed by Flashman in his glory.
Tom and East slept in the further corner of the
room, and were not seen at first
" Gone to ground, eh ? " roared Flashman ; " push
'em out then, boys ! look under the beds : " and he
pulled up the little white curtain of the one nearest
him. " Who-o-op," he roared, pulling away at the
leg of a small boy, who held on tight to the leg of
the bed, and sung out lustily for mercy.
" Here, lend a hand, one of you, and help me pull
out this young howling brute. Hold your tongue,
sir, or I'll kill you." '
" Oh, please, Flashman, please, Walker, don't toss
me ! ril fag for you, I'll do anything, only don't toss
me."
" You be hanged," said Flashman, lugging the
wretched boy along, " 'twon't hurt you, you !
Come along, boys, here he is."
" I say, Flashey," sung out another of the big
boys, " drop that; you heard what old Pater Brooks
said to-night. I'll be hanged if we'll toss any one
against their will no more bullying. Let him go,
I say."
Flashman, with an oath and a kick, released his
prey, who rushed headlong under his bed again, for
fear they should change their minds, and crept along
underneath the other beds, till he got under that
EAST AND TOM DEVOTE THEMSELYES. 147
of the sixth-form boy, which he knew they daren't
disturb.
" There's plenty of youngsters don't care about
it," said Walker. " Here, here's Scud East you'll
be tossed, won't you, young 'un." Scud was East's
nickname, or Black, as we called it, gained by his
fleetness of foot.
" Yes," said East, " if you like, only mind my
foot."
"And here's another who didn't hide. Hullo!
new boy, what's your name, sir ? "
" Brown."
" Well, Whitey Brown, you don't mind being
tost ? "
" No," said Tom, setting his teeth.
" Come along then, boys," sung out Walker, and
away they all went, carrying along Tom and East,
to the intense relief of four or five other small boys,
who crept out from under the beds and behind
them.
" What a trump Scud is," said one. " They won't
come back here now."
" And that new boy, too, he must be a good
plucked one."
" Ah, wait till he's been tossed on to the floor ; see
how he'll like it then ! "
Meantime the procession went down the passage
to Number 7, the largest room, and the scene of
tossing, in the middle of which was a great open
space. Here they joined other parties of the bigger
boys, each with a captive or two, some willing to be
tossed, some sullen, and some frightened to death.
148 FLEASUBES OF lOSSINa.
At Walker's suggestion, all who were afraid were
let off, in honour of Pater Brooke's speech.
Then a dozen big boys seized hold of a blanket
dragged from one of the beds. " In with Scud,
quick, there's no time to lose." East was chucked
into the blanket. " Once, twice, thrice, and away ! "
up he went like a shuttlecock, but not quite up to the
ceiling.
" Now, boys, with a will," cried Walker, " once,
twice, thrice, and away ! " This time he went clean
up, and kept himself from touching the ceiling with
his hand, and so again a third time, when he was
turned out, and up went another boy. And then
came Tom's turn. He lay quite still by East's
advice, and didn't dislike the " once, twice, thrice ; "
but the " away " wasn't so pleasant They were in
good wind now, and sent him slap up to the ceiling
first time, against which his knees came rather
sharply. But the moment's pause before descending
was the rub ; the feeling of utter helplessness, and of
leaving his whole inside behind him sticking to the
ceiling. Tom was very near shouting to be set
down, when he found himself back in the blanket,
but thought of East, and didn't; and so took his
three tosses without a kick or a cry, and was called a
young trump for his pains.
He and East having earned it, stood now looking
on. No catastrophe happened, as all the captives
were cool hands, and didn't struggle. This didn't
suit Flashman. What your real bully likes in toss-
ing, is when the boys kick and struggle, or hold on
to one side of the blanket, and so get pitched bodily
A STOP PUT TO THE TOSSING. 149
on to the floor ; it's no fun to him when no one is
hurt or frightened.
" Let's toss two of them together, Walker," sug-
gested he.
" What a cursed bully you are, Flashey ! " fejoined
the other. " Up with another one."
And so no two boys were tossed together, the pecu-
liar hardship of which is, that it's too much for human
nature to lie still then and share troubles ; and so the
wretched pair of small boys struggle in the air which
shall fall a-top in the descent, to the no small risk of
both falling out of the blanket, and the huge delight
of brutes like Flashman.
But now there's a cry that the praepostor of the
room is coming ; so the tossing stops, and all scatter
to their different rooms, and Tom is left to turn in
with the first day's experience of a public school to
meditate upon.
CHAPTER VII.
SETTLING TO THE COLLAR.
* Says Giles, ' 'Tis mortal hard to go.
Bat if 8 be's I most,
I means to follow arter he
As goes hisself the fust' " Ballad.
Everybody, I suppose, knows the dreamy, delicious
state in which one lies, half-asleep half-awake, while
consciousness begins to return, after a sound night's
rest in a new place which we are glad to be in, fol-
lowing upon a day of unwonted excitement and ex-
ertion. There are few pleasanter pieces of life. The
worst of it is that they last such a short time ; for,
nurse them as you will, by Ijdng perfectly passive in
mind and body, you can't make more than five
minutes or so of them. After which time, the stupid,
obtrusive, wakeful entity which we call " I," as im-
patient as he is stiff-necked, spite of our teeth, will
force himself back again, and take possession of us
down to our very toes.
It was in this state that Master Tom lay at half-
past seven on the morning following the day of his
arrival, and from his clean little white bed watched
the movements of Bogle (the generic name by which
the successive shoeblacks of the school-house were
known), as he marched round from bed to bed col-
WAKING. 151
lecting the dirty shoes and boots, and depositing
clean ones in their places.
There he lay, half doubtful as to where exactly in
the universe he was, but conscious that he had made
a step in life which he had been anxious to make.
It was only just light as he looked lazily out of the
wide windows, and saw the tops of the great elms,
and the rooks circling about, and cawing remon-
strances to the lazy ones of their commonwealth, be-
fore starting in a body for the neighbouring ploughed
fields. The noise of the room-door closing behind
Bogle as he made his exit with the shoe-basket under
his arm, roused him thoroughly, and he sat up in bed
and looked round the room. What in the world
could be the matter with his shoulders and loins ?
He felt as if he had been severely beaten all down
his back, the natural results of his performance at his
fost match. He drew up his knees and rested his
chin on them, and went over all the events of yester-
day, rejoicing in his new life, what he had seen of it,
and all that was to come.
Presently one or two of the other boys roused them-
selves, and began to sit up and talk to one another in
low tones. Then East, after a roll or two, came to.
an anchor also, and nodding to Tom, began examin-
ing his ankle.
"What a pull," said he, "that it's lie-in-bed, for I
shall be as lame as a tree, I think."
It was Sunday morning, and Sunday lectures had
not yet been established, so that nothing but break-
fast intervened between bed and eleven o'clock
chapel a gap by no means easy to fill up; in fact,
15S LIE-IN-BED MORNING.
though received with the correct amount of grum-
bling, the first lecture instituted by the Doctor shortly
afterwards, was a great boon to the school. It was
lie-in-bed, and no one was in a hurry to get up,
especially in rooms where the sixth-form boy was
a good-tempered fellow, as was the case in Tom's
room, and allowed the small boys to talk and laugh,
and do pretty much what they pleased, so long as
they didn't disturb him. His bed was a bigger one
than the rest, standing in the corner by the fireplace,
with washing-stand and large basin by the side,
where he lay in state with his white curtains tucked
in so as to form a retiring place ; an a^ul subject
of contemplation to Tom, who slept nearly oppo-
site, and watched the great man rouse himself and
take a book from under his pillow and begin readmg,
leaning his head on his hand and turning his back
to the room. Soon, however, a noise of striving
urchins arose, and muttered encouragements from
the neighbouring boys, of "Go it. Tadpole!"
" Now, young Green," " Haul away his blanket,"
" Slipper him on the hands." Young Green and
little Hall, commonly called Tadpole from his great
black head and thin legs, slept side-by-side far away
by the door, and were forever playing one another*
tricks, which usually ended, as on this morning, in
open and violent collision ; and now, unmindful of
all order and authority, there they were each hauling
away at the other's bedclothes with one hand, and
with the other armed with a slipper, belabouring
whatever portion of the body of his adversary came
within reach.
GETTING UP. 153
" Hold that noise, up in the corner," called out the
prfiepostor, sitting up and looking round his curtains ;
and the Tadpole and young Green s^nk down
into their disordered beds, and then looking at his
watch, added, " Hullo, past eight ! whose turn for
hot water?"
(Where the praepostor was particular in his ablu-
tions, the fags in his room had to descend in turn to
the kitchen, and beg or steal hot water for him ; and
often thie custom extended further, and two boys
went down every morning to get a supply for the
whole room.)
" East's and Tadpole's," answered the senior fag,
who kept the rota.
" I can't go," said East, " I'm dead lame."
" Well, be quick, some of you, that's all," said the
great man, as he turned out of bed, and putting on
his slippers went out into the great passage, which
runs the whole length of the bedrooms, to get his
Sunday habiliments out of his portmanteau.
"Let me go for you," said Tom to East, "I
should like it."
" Well, thank'ee, that's a good fellow. Just pull
on your trousers, and take your jug and mine.
Tadpole will show you the way."
And so Tom and the Tadpole, in nightshirts and
trousers, started off down stairs, and through " Thos's
hole," as the little buttery where candles and beer,
and bread and cheese were served out at night, was
called; across the school-house court, down a long
passage and into the kitchen ; where, after some par-
ley with the stalwart handsome cook, who declared
154 DfiSCENT ON THE KITCHEN.
' t
that she had filled a dozen jugs already, they got
their hot water, and returned with all speed and great
caution. As it was, they narrowly escaped capture
by some privateers from the fifth-form rooms, who
were on the look-out for the hot-water convoys, and
pursued them up to the very door of their room,
making them spill half their load in the passage.
" Better than going down again though," as Tadpole
remarked, " as we should have had to do if those
beggars had caught us."
By the time that the calling-over bell rang, Tom
and his new comrades were all down, dressed in
their best clothes, and he had the satisfaction of
answering " here," to his name, for the first time, the
praepostor of the week having put it in at the bottom
of his list. And then came breakfast, and a saunter
about the close and town with East, whose lameness
only became severe when any fagging had to be done.
And so they whiled away the time until morning
chapel.
It was a fine November morning, and the close
soon became alive with boys of all ages, who saun-
tered about on the grass or walked round the gravel-
^Valk in parties of two or three. East still doing
the cicerone, pointed out all the remarkable charac-
ters to Tom as they passed ; Osbert, who could
throw a cricket-ball from the little-side ground over
the rook trees to the Doctor's wall ; Gray, who had
got the Balliol scholstrship, and, what East evidently
thought of much more importance, a half holiday
for the school by his success ; Thorne, who had run
ten miles in two minutes over the hour ; Black, who
THE " CLOSE " BEFORE CHAPEL. 155
had held his own against the cock of the town in
the last row with the louts ; and many more heroes,
who then and there walked about and were wor-
shipped, all trace of whom has long since vanished
from the scene of their fame; and the fourth-form
boy, who reads their names rudely cut out on the old
hall tables, or painted up on the Big-side cupboard
(if hall tables and Big-side cupboard still exist),
wonders what manner of boys they were. It will
be the same with you who wonder, my sons, what-
ever your prowess may be, in cricket, or scholarship,
or football. Two or three years more or less, and
then the steadily advancing, blessed wave will pass
over your names as it has passed over ours.- Never-
theless, play your games and do your work manfully
see only that that be done, and let the remem-
brance of it take care of itself.
The chapel-bell began to ring at a quarter to
eleven, and Tom got in early and took his place in
the lowest row, and watched all the other boys come
in and take their places, filling row after row ; and
tried to construe the Greek text which was inscribed
over the door with the slightest possible success,
and wondered which of the masters, who walked
down the chapel and took their seats in the exalted
boxes at the end, would be his lord. And then came
the closing of the doors, and the Doctor in his robes,
and the service, which, however, didn't impress him
much, for his feeling of wonder and curiosity was
too strong. And the boy on one side of him was
scratching his name on the oak panelling in front,
and he couldn't help watching to see ^hat the
156 MOBKING CHAPEL.
name was, and whether it was well scratched ; and
the boy on the other side went to sleep and kept
falling against him ; and on the whole, though many-
boys even in that part of the school were serious
and attentive, the general atmosphere was by no
means devotional; and when he got out into the
close again, he didn't feel at all comfortable, or as if
he had been to church.
^ But at afternoon chapel it was quite another thing.
He had spent the time after dinner in writing home
to his mother, and so was in a better frame of
mind, and his first curiosity was over, and he
could attend more to the service. As the hymn
after the prayers was being sung, and the chapel
was getting a little dark, he was beginning to feel
that he had been really worshipping. And then
came that great event in his, as in every Rugby
boy's life of that day the first sermon from the
Doctor.
More worthy pens than mine have described that
scene. The oak pulpit standing out by itself, above
the school seats. The tall gallant form, the kind-
ling eye, the voice, now soft as the low notes of a
flute, now clear and stirring as the call of the light
infantry bugle, of him who stood there Sunday after
Sunday, witnessing and pleading* for his Lord, the
King of righteousness and love and glory, with whose
spirit he was filled, and in whose power he spoke.
The long lines of young faces rising tier above tier
down the whole length of the chapel, from the little
boy's who had just left his mother to the young
man's who was going out next week into the great
AFTEKNOON CHAPEL. 157
world rejoicing in his strength. It was a great and
solemn sight, and never more so than at this time of
year, when the only lights in the chapel were in the
pulpit and at the seats of the proBpostors of the week,
and the soft twilight stole over the rest of the chapel,
deepening into darkness in the high gallery behind
the organ.
But what was it after all which seized and held
these three hundred boys, dragging them out of
themselves, willing or unwilling, for twenty minutes
on Sunday afternoons ? True, there always were
boys scattered up and down the school, who, iii
heart and head, were worthy to hear and able to
carry away the deepest and wisest words then
spoken. But these were a minority always, gen-
erally a very small one, often so small a one as to
be countable on the fingers of your hand. What
was it that moved and held us, the rest of the three
hundred reckless childish boys, who feared the Doc-
tor with all our hearts, and very little besides in
heaven or earth ; who thought more of our sets
in the school than of the church of Christ, and put
the traditions of Rugby and the public opinion of
boys in our daily life above the laws of God ? We
couldn't enter into half that we heard ; we hadn't
the knowledge of our own hearts or the knowledge
of one another, and little enough of the faith, hope,
and love needed to that end. But we listened, as
all boys in their better moods will listen (aye, and
man too for the matter of that), to a man who we
felt to be with all his heart and soul and strength
striving against whatever was mean and unmanly
158 THE SERMON.
md unrighteous in our little world. It was not the
;old clear voice of one giving advice and warning
*rom serene heights, to those who were struggling
and sinning below, but the warm living voice of one
who was fighting for us and by our sides, and call-
ing on us to help him and ourselves and one another.
And so, wearily and little by little, but surely and
steadily on the whole, was brought home to the
young boy, for the first time, the meaning of his
life : that it was no fool's or sluggard's paradise into
which he had wandered' by chance, but a battle-
field, ordained from of old, where there are no spec-
tators, but the youngest must take his side, and
the stakes are life and death. And he who roused
this consciousness in them, showed them at the
same time, by every word he spoke in the pulpit,
and by his whole daily life, how that battle was
to be fought; and stood there before them their
fellow-soldier and the captain of their band. The
true sort of captain too for a boy's army, one who
had no misgivings and gave no uncertain word of
command, and, let who would yield or make truce,
would fight the fight out (so every boy felt) to
the last gasp and the last drop of blood. Other
sides of his character might take hold of and influ-
ence boys here and there, but it was this thorough-
ness and undaunted courage which more than any
thing else won his way to the hearts of the great
mass of those on whom he left his mark, and made
them believe first in him, and then in his Master.
It was this quality above all others which moved
Buch boys as our hero, who had nothing whatever
THE DOOTOB's FISST HOLD. 159
remarkable about him except excess of boyishness ;
by which I mean animal life in its fullest measure,
good nature and honest impulses, hatred or injustice 1
and meanness, and thoughtlessness enough to sink][
a three-decker. And so during the next two years,
in which it was more than doubtful whether he
would get good or evil from the school, and before
any steady purpose or principle grew up in him,
whatever his week's sins and shortcomings might
have been, he hardly ever left the chapel on Sunday
evenings without a serious resolve to stand by and
follow the Doctor, and a feeling that it was only
cowardice (the incarnation of all other sins in such a
boy's mind) which hindered him from doing so with
all his heart.
The next day Tom was duly placed in the third-
form, and began his lessons in a corner of the big
school. He found the work very easy, as he had
been well grounded and knew his grammar by
heart, and as he had no intimate companion to
make him idle, (East and his other school-house
friends being in the lower-fourth, the form above
him,) soon gained golden opinions from his master,
who said he was placed too low, and should be
put out at the end of the half-year. So all went
well with him in school, and he wrote the most
flourishing letters home to his mother, full of his
own success and the unspeakable delights of a
public school.
In the house, too, all went well. The end of the
half-year was drawing near, which kept everybody
in a good humour, and the house was ruled well anc^
160 DAILY LIFE HOUSE TAGGING.
strongly by Warner and Brooke. True, the general
system was rough and hard, and there was bully-
ing in nooks and corners, bad signs for the future ;
but it never got further, or dared show itself openly,
stalking about the passages and hall and bedrooms,
and making the life of the small boys a continual
fear.
Tom, as a new boy, was of right exeused fagging
for the first month, but in his enthusiasm for his
new life this privilege hardly pleased him; and
East and others of his young friends discovering
this, kindly allowed him to indulge his fancy, and
take their turns at night fagging and cleaning
studies. These were the principal duties of the
fags in the house. From supper until nine o'clock,
three fags, taken in order, stood in the passages,
and answered any praepostor who called Fag, rac-
ing to his door, the last comer having to do the
work. This consisted generally of going to the
buttery for beer and bread and cheese, (for the
great men did not sup with the rest, but had each
his own allowance in his study or the fifth-form
room,) cleaning candlesticks and putting in new
candles, toasting cheese, bottling beer, and carrying
messages about the house ; and Tom, in the first
blush of his hero-worship, felt it a high privilege
to receive orders firom, and be the bearer of the
supper of old Brooke. And besides this night-work,
each praepostor had three or four fags specially al-
lotted to him, of whom he was supposed to be the
guide, phifosopher, and friend, and who in return for
these good offices had to clean out his study every
HARE-AND-HOUNDS. 161
morning by turns, directly after first lesson and be-
fore he returned from breakfast. And the pleasure
of seeing the great men's studies, and looking at their
pictures, and peeping into their books, made Tom
a ready substitute for any boy who was too lazy
to do his own work. And so he soon gained the
character of a good-natured willing fellow, who
was ready to do a turn for any one.
In all the games too, he joined with all his heart,
and soon became well versed in all the mysteries
of football by continued practice at the school-
house little-side, which played daily. The only in-
cident worth recording here, however, was his first
run at Hare-and-hounds. On the last Tuesday but
one of the half-year, he was passing through the
hall after dinner, when he was hailed with shouts
from Tadpole and several pther fags seated at one
of the long tables, the chorus of which was, " Come
and help us tear up scent."
Tom approached the table in obedience to the
mysterious summons, always ready to help, and
found the party engaged in tearing up old news-
papers, copy-books and magazines, into small pieces,
with which they were filling four large canvas bags.
" It's thQ turn of our house to find scent for Big-
side Hare-and-hounds," explained Tadpole; "tear
away, there's no time to lose before calling-over."
" I think it's a great shame," said another small
boy, " to have such a hard run for the last day."
" Which run is it ? " said Tadpole.
" Oh, the Barby run, I hear," answered the other,
" nine miles at least, and hard ground ; no chance^
14
162 THE MEET.
of getting in at the finish, unless you're a first-rate
scud."
" Well, Fm going to have a try," said Tadpole ;
" it's the last run of the half, and if a fellow gets in at
the end. Big-side stands ale and bread and cheese,
and a bowl of punch ; and the Cock's such a famous
place for ale."
" I should like to try too," said Tom.
" Well, then, leave your waistcoat behind, and
listen at the door after calling-over, and you'll hear
where the meet is."
After calling-over, sure enough, there were two
boys at the door, calling out, " Big-side Hare-and-
hounds meet at White Hall;" and Tom having
girded himself with leather strap, and left all super-
fluous clothing behind, set off* for White Hall, an
old gable-ended house some quarter of a mile from
the town, with East, whom he had persuaded to
join, notwithstanding his prophecy that they would
never get in, as it was the hardest run of the
year.
At the meet they found some forty or fifty boys,
and Tom felt sure, from having seen many of them
run at football, that he and East were more likely to
get in than they.
After a few minutes' waiting, two well-known
runners, chosen for the hares, buckled on, the four
bags filled with scent, compared their watches with
those of young Brooke and Thorne, and started off"
at a long slinging trot across the fields in the direc-
tion of Barby.
Then the hounds clustered round Thorne, who
THE FIKST BUK8T. 163
explained shortly, " They're to have six minutes'
law. We run into the Cock, and every one who
comes in within a quarter-of-an-hour of the hares 'U
be counted, if he has been round Barby church."
Then came a minute's pause or so, and then the
watches are pocketed, and the pack is led through
the gateway into the field which the hares had first
crossed. Here they break into a trot, scattering
over the field to find the first traces of the scent
which the hares throw out as they go along. The
old hounds make straight for the likely points, and
in a minute a cry of " forward " comes from one
of them, and the whole pack quickening their pace
make for the spot, while the boy who hit the scent
first, and the two or three nearest to him are over
the first fence, and making play along the hedgerow
in the long grass-field beyond. The rest of the pack
rush at the gap already made and scramble through,
jostling one another. " Forward" again, before they
are half through; the pace quickens into a sharp
run, the tail hounds all straining to get up with the
lucky leaders. They are gallant hares, and the scent
lies thick right across another meadow and into a
ploughed field, where the pace begins to tell ; then
over a good wattle with a ditch on the other side,
and down a large pasture studded with old thorns,
which slopes down to the first brook; the great
Leicestershire sheep charge away across the field a
the pack come racing down the slope. The brook
is a small one, and the scent lies right ahead up the
opposite slope, and as thick as ever ; noi a turn or a
check to favour the tail hounds, who strain on, now
164 THE FIBST CHECK.
trailing in a long line, many a youngster beginning
to drag his legs heavily and feel his heart beat like a
hammer, and the bad plucked ones thinking that
after all it isn't worth while to keep it up.
Tom, East, and the Tadpole had a good start,
and are well up for such young hands, and after
rising the slope and crossing the next field, find
themselves up with the leading hounds who have
overrun the scent and are trying back; they have
come a mile and a half in about eleven minutes, a
pace which shows that it is the last day. About
twenty-five of the original starters only show here,
the rest having already given in ; the leaders are
busy making casts into the fields on the left and
right, and the others get their second winds.
Then comes the cry of "forward" again, from
young Brooke, from the extreme left, and the pack
settles down to work again steadily and doggedly,
the whole keeping pretty well together. The scent
though still good is not so thick ; there is no need
of that, for in this part of the run every one knows
the line which must be taken, and so there are no
casts to be made, but good downright running and
fencing to be done. All who are now up mean
coming in, and they come to the foot of Barby Hill
without losing more than two or three more of the
pack. This last straight two miles and a half is
always a vantage ground for the hounds, and the
hares know it well ; they are generally viewed on
the side of Barby Hill, and all eyes are on the look-
out for them to-day. But not a sign of them ap-
pears, so now will be the hard work for hounds, and
NO oo. 165
there is nothing for it but to cast about for the
scent, for it is now the hare's turn, and they may
baffle the pack dreadfully in the next two miles.
Ill fares it now with our youngsters that they are
school-house boys, and so follow young Brooke, for
he takes the wide casts round to the left, conscious
of his own powers, and loving the hard work. For
if you would consider for a moment, you small
boys, you would remember that the Cock, where
the run ends, and the good ale will be going, lies
far out to the right on the Dunchurch road, so that
every cast you take to the left is so much extra
work. And at this stage of the run, when the even-
ing is closing in already, no one remarks whether you
run a little cunning or not, so you should stick to
those crafty hounds who keep edging away to the
right, and not follow a prodigal like young Brooke,
whose legs are twice as long as yours and of cast-
iron, wholly indifferent to two or three miles more or
less. However, they struggle after him, sobbing and
plunging along, Tom and East pretty close, and
Tadpole, whose big head begins t.o pull him down,
some thirty yards behind.
Now comes a brook, with stiff clay banks, from
which they can hardly drag their legs, and they hear
faint cries for help from the wretched Tadpole who
has fairly stuck fast. But they have too little run
left in themselves to pull up for their own brothers
Three fields more, and another check, and then " for-
ward " called away to the extreme right
The two boys' souls died within them, they can
never do it. Young Brooke thinks so too, and says
166 THE BEACTION.
kindly, ** YouUl cross a lane after next field, keep
down it, and you'll hit the Dunehurch road below
the Cock," and then steams away for the run in, in
which he's sure to be first, as if he were just start-
ing. They struggle on across the next field, the
"forward" getting fainter and fainter, and then
ceasing. The whole hunt is out of ear-shot, and
all hope of coming in is over.
" Hang it all," broke out East, as soon as he had
got wind enough, pulling off his hat and mopping
at his face, all spattered with dirt and lined with
sweat, from which went up a thick steam into the
still cold air. " I told you how it would be. What
a thick I was to come. Here we are dead beat, and
yet I know we're close to the run in, if we knew the
country.
"Well," said Tom, mopping away, and gulping
down his disappointment, " it can't be helped. We
did our best any how. Hadn't we better find this
lane, and go down it as young Brooke told us ? "
" I suppose so nothing else for it," grunted East.
" If ever I go out last day again," growl growl
growl.
So they tried back slowly and sorrowfully, and
found the lane, and went limping down it, plashing
in the cold puddly ruts, and beginning to feel bow
the run had taken it out of them. The evening
closed in fast, and clouded over, dark, cold, and
dreary.
" I say, it must be locking-up, I should think,"
remarked East, breaking the silence, " it's so dark."
What if we're late ? " said Tom.
I
THE "PIG AND WHISTLE." 167
" No tea, and sent up to the Doctor," answered
East.
The thought didn't add to their cheerfulness.
Presently a faint halloo was heard from an adjoin-
ing field. They answered it and stopped, hoping
for some competent rustic to guide them, when over
a gate some twenty yards ahead, crawled the
wretched Tadpole, in a state of collapse; he had
lost a shoe in the brook, and been groping after it
up to his elbows in the stiff wet clay, and a more
miserable creature in the shape of bpy seldom has
been seen.
The sight of him, notwithstanding, cheered them,
for he was some degrees more wretched than they.
They also cheered him, as he was now no longer
under the dread of passing his night alone in the
fields. And so in better heart the three plashed
painfully down the never-ending lane. At last it
widened, just as utter darkness set in, and they
came out on to a turnpike-road, and there paused
bewildered, for they had lost all bearings, and knew
not whether to turn to the right or left.
LuckUy for them they had not to decide, for lum-
bering along the road, with one lamp lighted, and
two spavined horses in the shafts, came a heavy
coach, which after a moment's suspense they recog-
nized as the Oxford coach, the redoubtable Pig and
Whistle.
It lumbered sjlowly up, and the boys mustering
their last run, caught it as it passed, and began
scrambling up behind, in which exploit East missed
his footing and fell flat on his nose along the road.
168 HOME AT LAST.
Then the others hailed the old scarecrow of a coach-
man, who pulled up and agreed to take them in for
a shilling ; so there they sat on the back seat drub-
bing with their heels, and their teeth chattering with
cold, and jogged into Rugby some forty minutes after
locking-up.
Five minutes afterwards, three small limping shiv-
ering figures steal along through the Doctor's gar-
den, and into the house by the servants' entrance
(all the other gates have been closed long since),
where the first thing they light upon in the passage
is old Thomas, ambling along, candle In one hand
and keys in the other.
He stops and examines their condition with a
grim smile. "Ah! East, Hall, and Brown, late for
locking-up. Must go up to the Doctor's study at
once."
" Well, but, Thomas, mayn't we go and wash first?
You can put down the time you know."
"Doctor's study d'rectly you come in that's the
orders," replied old Thomas, motioning towards the
stairs at the end of the passage which led up into
the Doctor's house; and the boys turned ruefully
down it, not cheered by the old verger's muttered
remark, " What a pickle they boys be in." Thomas
referred to their faces and habiliments, but they con-
strued it as indicating the Doctor's state of mind.
Upon the short flight of stairs they pause to hold
counsel,
" Who'll go in first ? " inquires Tadpole.
" You you're the senior," answered East.
" Catch me look at the state I'm in," rejoined
CONSEQUENCES. 169
Hall, showing the arms of his jacket. "J must get
behind you two."
" Well, but look at me," said East, indicating the
mass of clay behind which he was standing ; " Fm
worse than you, two to one ; you might grow cab-
bages in my trousers."
" That's all down below, and you can keep your
legs behind the sofa," said Hall.
" Here, Brown, you're the show-figure you must
lead."
" But my face is all muddy," argued Tom.
" Oh, we're all in one boat for that matter ; but
come on, we're only making it worse dawdling
here."
" Well, just give us a brush then," said Tom ; and
they began trying to rub off the superfluous dirt from
each other's jackets, but it was not dry enough, and
the rubbing made it worse; so in despair they pushed
through the swing door at the head of the stairs, and
found themselves in the Doctor's hall.
" That's the library door," said East,, in a whisper,
pushing Tom forwards. The sound of merry voices
and laughter came from within, and his first hesita-
ting knock was unanswered. But at the second, the
Doctor's voice said " Come in," and Tom turned the
handle, and he, with the others behind, sidled into
the room.
The Doctor looked up from his task ; he was
working away with a great chisel at the bottom of
a boy's sailing boat, the lines of which he was no
doubt fashioning on the model of one of Nicias'
galleys. Round him stood three or four children:
15
170 THEIK KECEPTION.
the candles burnt brightly on a large table at the
further end, covered with books and papers, and a
great fire threw a ruddy glow over the rest of the
room. All looked so kindly and homely and com-
fortable, that the boys took heart in a moment, and
Tom advanced from behind the shelter of the great
sofa. The Doctor nodded to the children, who
went out, casting curious and amused glances at
the three young scarecrows.
" Well, my little fellows," began the Doctor,
drawing himself up, with his back to the fire, the
chisel in one hand and his coat-tails in the other,
and his eye twinkling as he looked them over;
"what makes you so late?"
" Please, sir, we've been out Big-side Hare-and-
hounds, and lost our way."
" Hah ! you couldn't keep up, I suppose ? "
" Well, sir," said East, stepping out, and not lik-
ing that the Doctor should think lightly of his run-
ning powers, "we got round Barby all right, but
then "
" Why, what a state you're in, my boy," interrupt-
ed the Doctor, as the pitiful condition of East's gar-
ments was fully revealed to him.
" That's the fall I got sir, in the road," said East,
looking down at himself; "the old Pig came by"
" The what? " said the Doctoi^^
" The Oxford coach, sir," explained Hall.
" Hah ! yes, the Regulator,'^ said the Doctor.
" And I tumbled on my face, trying to get up be-
hind," went on East.
" You're not hurt, I hope," said the Doctor.
1
IiAST DATS. 171
Oh no, sir."
" Well now, ran up stairs, all three of you, and
get clean things on, and then tell the housekeeper to
give you some tea. You're too young to try such
long runs. Let Warner know I've seen you. Good
night."
" Good night, sir." And away scuttled the three
boys in high glee.
" What a brick, not to give us even twenty lines
to learn," said the Tadpole, as they reached their
bedroom, and in balf-an-hour afterwards they were
sitting by the fire in the housekeeper's room at a
sumptuous tea with cold meat, " twice as good a
grub as we should have got in the hall," as the Tad-
pole remarked with a grin, his mouth full of buttered
toast. All their grievances were forgotten, and they
were resolving to go out the first big-side next half, and
thinking Hare-and-hounds the most delightful of
games.
A day or two afterwards the great passage outside
the bedrooms was cleared of the boxes and port-
manteaus, which went down to be packed by the
matron, and great games of chariot-racing, and cock-
fighting, and bolstering went on in the vacant space,
the sure sign of a closing half-year.
Then came the making up of parties for the jour-
ney home,, and Tom joined a party who were to hire
a coach, and post wmi four horses to Oxford.
Then the last Saturday, on which the Doctor
came round to each form to give out the prizes, and
hear the masters' last reports of how they and their
charges had been conducting themselves ; and Tom,
172 A financiee's troubles.
to his huge delight, was praised, and got his remove
into the lower-fourth, in which all his school-house
friends were.
On the next Tuesday morning, at four o'clock, hot
coffee was going on in the housekeeper's and ma-
tron's rooms ; boys wrapped in great coats and muf-
flers were swallowing hasty mouthfuls, rushing about,
tumbling over luggage, and asking questions all al
once of the matron ; outside the school-gates were
drawn up several chaises and the four-horse coach
which Tom's party had chartered, the post-boys in
their best jackets and breeches, and a cornopean-
player hired for the occasion, blowing away " A
southerly wind and a cloudy sky," waking all peace-
ful inhabitants half-way down the High street.
Every minute the bustle and hubbub increased,
porters staggered about with boxes and bags, the
cornopean played louder. Old Thomas sat in his
den with a great yellow bag by his side, out of
which he was paying journey-money to each boy,
comparing by the light of a solitary dip, the dirty
crabbed little list in his own handwriting with the
Doctor's list and the amount of his cash ; his head
was on one side, his mouth screwed up, and his
spectacles dim from early toil. He had prudently
locked the door and carried on his operations solely
through the window, or he w^ have been driven
wild and lost all his money.
" Thomas, do be quick, we shall never catch the
Highflyer at Dunchurch."
" That's your money, all right. Green."
" Hullo, Thomas, the Doctor said I was to have
. %
OFf. 173
two-jpound-ten ; you've only given me two pound."
I fear that Master Green is not confining himself
strictly to truth. Thomas turns his head more on
one side than ever, and spells away at the dirty list.
Green is forced away from the window.
" Here, Thomas, never mind him, mine's thirty
shillings." " And mine too," " and mine," shouted
others.
One way or another, the party to which Tom
belonged all got packed and paid, and sallied out to
the gates, the cornopean playing frantically " Drops
of brandy," in allusion probably to the slight pota-
tions in which the musician and post-boys had been
already indulging. All luggage was carefully
stowed away inside the coach and in the front and
hind boots, so that not a hatbox was visible outside.
Five or six small boys with pea-shooters, and the
cornopean-playej* got up behind ; in front the big
boys, mostly smoking, not for pleasure, but be-
cause they are now gentlemen at large, and this
is the most correct public method of notifying the
fact
^' Robinson's coach will be down the road in a
minute, it has gone up to Bird's to pick up, we'll
wait till they're close and make a race of it," says
the leader. " Now, boys, half-a-sovereign apiece if
you beat'em into Dunchurch by one hundred yards."
" All right, sir," shout the grinning post-boys.
Dd^n comes Robinson's coach in a miuute or
two, with a rival cornopean, and away go the two
vehicles, horses galloping, boys cheering, horns play-
ing loud. There is a special Providence over school-
174 DiriiCB BOMUM.
boys as well as sailors, or they must have upset
twenty times in the first five miles ; sometimes
actually abreast of one another, and the boys on the
roofs exchanging volleys of peas, now nearly running
over a post-chaise which had started before them,
now half-way up a bank, now with a wheel-and-a-
half over a yawning ditch ; and all this in a dark
morning, with nothing but their own lamps to guide
them^ However, it's all over at last, and they have
run over nothing but an old pig in Southam street,
the last peas are distributed in the Corn Market at
Oxford, where they arrive between eleven and
twelve, and sit down to a sumptuous breakfast at
the Angel, which they are made to pay for accord-
ingly. Here the party breaks up, all going now differ-
ent ways, and Tom orders out a chaise and pair as
grand as a lord, though he has scarcely five shillings
left in his pocket, and more than twenty miles to get
home.
"Where to, sir?"
" Red Lion, Farringdon," says Tom, giving host-
ler a shilling.
" All right, sir. Red Lion, Jem," to the post-boy,
and Tom rattles away towards home. At Farring-
don, being known to the innkeeper, he gets that
worthy to pay for the Oxford horses, and forward
him in another chaise at once ; and so the gorgeous
young gentleman arrives at the paternal mansion,
and Squire Brown looks rather blue at having to
pay two-pound ten shillings for the posting expenses
from Oxford. But the boy's intense joy at getting
home, and the wonderful health he is in, and th^
DITLCE DOMUM. 175
good character he brings, and the brave stories he
tells of Rugby, its doings and delights, soon mollify
the Squire, and three happier people didn't sit down
to dinner that day in England (it is the boy's first
dinner at six o'clock at home, great promotion
already), than the Squire and his wife, and Tom
Brown, at the end of his first half-year at Rugby.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE WAB OF INDEPENDENCE.
* They are slaves who mU not ohoose
Hatred, scoffing, and abuse.
Bather than in silence shrink
From the truth they needs must think :
They are slaves who dare not be
In the jight with two or three."
Lowell, Stanxas on Freedom.
The lower-fourth form in which Tom found him-
self at the beginning of the next half-year, was the
largest form in the lower school, and numbered
upwards of forty boys. Young gentlemen of all
ages, from nine to fifteen, were to be found there,
who expended such part of their energies as was
devoted to Latin and Greek, upon a book of Livy,
the Bucolics of Virgil, and the Hecuba of Euripides,
which were ground out in small daily portions.
The driving of this unlucky lower-fourth must have
been grievous work to the unfortunate master, for
it was the most unhappily constituted of any in the
school. Here stuck the great stupid boys, who for
the life of them could never master the accidence ;
the objects alternately of mirth and terror to the
youngsters, who were daily taking them up, and
laughing at them in lesson, and getting kicked by
them for so doing in play-hours. There were no
less than three unhappy fellows in tail coats, with
THE LOWEE-FOITBTH. 17"?
incipent down on their chins, whom the Doctor and
the master of the form were always endeavouring to
hoist into the upper school, but whose parsing and
construing resisted the most well-meant shoves.
Then came the mass of the form, boys of eleven
and twelve, the most mischievous and reckless age
of British youth, of whom East and Tom Brown
were fair specimens. As full of tricks as monkeys,
and of excuses as Irish women, making fun of their
master, one another, and their lessons, Argus him-
self would have been puzzled to keep an eye on
them ; and as for making them steady or serious for
half an hour together it was simply hopeless. The
remainder of the form consisted of young prodigies
of nine and ten, who were going up the school at the
rate of a form a half-year, all boys' hands and wits
being against them in their progress. It would have
been one man's work to see that the precocious
youngsters had fair play ; and as the master had a
good deal besides to do, they hadn't, and were for
ever being shoved down three or four places, their
verses stolen, their books inked, their jackets whiten-
ed, and their lives otherwise made a burden to them.
The lower-fourth, and all the forms below it, were
heard in the great school, and were not trusted to
prepare their lessons before coming in, but were
whipped into school three-quarters of an hour before
the lesson began by their respective masters, and
there scattered about on the benches, with dictionary
and grammar, hammered out their twenty lines of
Virgil or Euripides in the midst of Babel. The
masters of the lower school walked up and down
178 THE LOWEB-FOUETH.
the great school together during this three-quarters
of an hour, or sat in their desks reading or looking
over copies, and keeping such order as was possible.
But the lower-fourth was just now an overgrown
form, too large for any one man to attend to prop-
erly, and consequently the elysium or ideal form of
the young scapegraces who formed the staple of it
Tom, as has been said, had come up from the
third with a good character, but the temptations of
the lower-fourth soon proved too strong for him, and
he rapidly fell away, and became as unmanageable
as the rest. For some weeks, indeed, he succeeded
in maintaining the appearance of steadiness, and
was looked upon favourably by his new master,
whose eyes were first opened by the following little
incident.
Besides the desk which the master himself occu-
pied, there was another large unoccupied desk in the
corner of the great school, which was untenanted.
To rush and seize upon this desk, which was as-
cended by three steps, and held four boys, was the
great object of ambition of the lower-fourthers ; and
the contentions for the occupation of it bred such
disorder, that at last the master forbade its use
altogether. This of course was a challenge to the
more adventurous spirits to occupy it, and as it was
capacious enough for two boys to lie hid there com-
pletely, it was seldom that it remained empty not-
withstanding the veto. Small holes were cut in the
front, through which the occupants watched the
masters as they walked up and down, and as les-
son time approached, one boy at a time stole out
tom's pall. 179
and down the steps, as the masters' backs were
turned, and mingled with the general crowd on the
forms below. Tom and East had successfully oc-
cupied the desk some half dozen times, and were
grown so reckless that they were in the habit of
playing small games with fives'-balls inside, when
the masters were at the other end of the big school.
One day, as ill luck would have it, the game be-
came more exciting than usual, and the ball slipped
through East's fingers, and rolled slowly down the
steps and out into the middle of the school, just as
the masters turned their walk and faced round
upon the desk. The young delinquents watched
their master through the look-out holes march slowly
down the school straight upon their retreat, while
all the boys in the neighbourhood of course stopped
their work to look on ; and not only were they igno-
miniously drawn out, and caned over the hand then
and there, but their characters for steadiness were
gone from that time. However, as they only shared
the fate of some three-fourths of the rest of the form,
this did not weigh heavily upon them.
In fact, the only occasions on which they cared
about the matter, were the mofathly examinations,
when the Doctor came round to examine their form,
for one long, awful hour, in the work which they
had done in the preceding month. The second
monthly examination came round soon after Tom's
faU, and it was with any thing but lively anticipa-
tions that he and the other lower-fourth boys came
into prayers on the morning of the examination-
day.
160 MONTHLY EXAMINATIONS.
Prayers and calling-over seemed twice as short as
usual, and before they could get construes of a tithe
of the hard passages marked in the margin of their
books, they were all seated round, and the Doctor
was standing in the middle, talking in whispers to
the master. Tom couldn't hear a word which pass-
ed, and never lifted his eyes from his book ; but he
knew by a sort of magnetic instinct, that the Doctor's
under lip was coming out, and his eye beginning
to burn, and his gown getting gathered up more and
more tightly in his left hand. The suspense was
agonizing, and Tom knew that he was sure on such
occasions to make an example of the school-house
boys. "If he would only begin," thought Tom, " I
shouldn't mind."
At last the whispering ceased, and the name which
was called out was not Brown. He looked up for a
moment, but the Doctor's face was too awful ; Tom
wouldn't have met his eye for all he was worth, and
buried himself in his book again.
The boy who was called up first was a clever
merry school-house boy, one of their set; he was
some connection of the Doctor's and a great favour-
ite, and ran in and out of his house as he liked,
and so was selected for the first victim.
" Triste lupus stabulis," began the luckless young-
ster, and stammered through some eight or 'ten
lines.
" There, that will do," said the Doctor, " now
construe."
On common occasions the "boy could have con-
strued the passage well enough probably, but now
his head was gone.
"TBI8TE LUPUS." 181
** Triste lupus, the sorrowful wolf," he began.
A shudder ran through the whole form, and the
Doctor's wrath fairly boiled over ; he made three
steps up to the construer, and gave him a good box
on the ear. The blow was not a hard one, but the
boy was so taken by surprise that he started back ;
the form caught the back of his knees, and over he
went on to the floor behind. There was a dead
silence over the whole school ; never before, and
never again while Tom was at school, did the Doc-
tor strike a boy in lesson. The provocation must
have been great. However, the victim had saved
his form for that occasion, for the Doctor turned
to the top bench, and put on the befet boys for the
rest of the hour ; and though at the end of the
lesson he gave them all such a rating as they did
not forget, this terrible field-day passed over with-
out any severe visitations in the shape of punish-
ments or floggings. Forty young scapegraces ex-
pressed their thanks to the " sorrowful wolf " in
their different ways before second lesson.
But a character for steadiness once gone, is not
easily recovered, as Tom found, and for years after-
wards he went up the school without it, and the
masters' hands were againBt him, and his against
them. And he regarded them, as a matter of course,
as his natural enemies.
Matters w^ere not so comfortable either in the
house as they had been, for old Brooke left at
Christmas, and one or two others of the sixth-form
boys at the following Easter. Their rule had been
rough, but strong and just in the main, and a
182 MISBULE AND ITS CATTSES.
higher standard was beginning to be get up; in
fact there had been a short foretaste of the good
time which followed some years later. Just now,
however, all threatened to return into darkness and
chaos again. For the new praepostors were either
small young boys, whose cleverness had carried
them up to the -top of the school, while in strength
of body and character, they were not yet fit for a
share in the government; or else big fellows of the
wrong sort, boys whose friendships and tastes had
a downward tendency, who had not caught the
meaning of their position and work, and felt none
of its responsibilities. So under this no-govern-
ment the school-house began to see bad times.
The big fifth-form boys, who were a sporting and
drinking set, soon began to usurp power, and to
fag the little boys as if they were prsBpostors, and
to bully and oppress any who showed signs of re-
sistance. The bigger sort of sixth-form boys just
described, soon made common cause with the fifth,
while the smaller sort, hampered by their colleagues'
desertion to the enemy, could not make head against
them. So the fags were without their lawful mas-
ters and protectors, and ridden over rough-shod by
a set of boys whom they were not bound to obey,
and whose only right over them stood in their bod-
ily powers ; and, as old Brooke had prophesied, the
house by degrees broke up into small sets and par-
ties, and lost the strong feeling of fellowship which
he set so much store by, and with it much of the
prowess in games, and the lead in all school matters,
which he had done so much to keep up.
THE OLD BOY MOBA.LIZETH THEBEON. 183
In no place in the world has individual character
more weight than at a public school. Remember
this, I beseech you, all you boys who are getting
into the upper-forms. Now is the time in all your
lives, probably, when you may have more wide
influence for good or evil on the society you live
in, than you ever can have again. Quit yourselves
like men, then ; speak up, and strike out if neces-
sary, for whatsoever is true, and manly, and lovely,
and of good report ; never try to be popular, but
only to do your duty and help others to do theirs,
and you may leave the tone of feeling in the school
higher than you found it, and so be doing good,
which no living soul can measure, to generations
of your countrymen yet unborn. For boys follow
one another in herds like sheep, for good or evil;
they hate thinking, and have rarely any settled
principles. Every school, indeed, has its own tra-
ditionary standard of right and wrong, which can-
not be transgressed with impunity, marking certain
things as low and blackguard, and certain others as
lawful and right. This standard is ever varying,
though it changes only slowly, and little by little,
and, subject only to such standard, it is the leading
boys for the time being who give the tone to all the
rest, and make the school either a noble institution
for the training of Christian Englishmen, or a place
where a young boy will get more evil than he would
if he were turned out to make his way in London
streets, or any thing between these two extremes.
The change for the worse in the school-house,
however, didn't press very heavily on our youngsters
184 THE SHOE BEGIKS TO FINCH.
for some time ; they were in a good bedroom, where
slept the only praepostor left who was able to keep
thorough order, and their study was in his passage ;
BO, though they were fagged more or less, and occa-
sionally kicked or cuffed by the bullies, they were
on the whole well off; and the fresh brave school-
life, so full of games, adventures, and good fellow-
ship, so ready at forgetting, so capacious at enjoying,
so bright at forecasting, outweighed a thousandfold
their troubles with the master of their form, and the
occasional ill-usage of the big boys in the house.
It wasn't till some year or so after the events re-
corded above, that the praepostor of their room and
passage left. None of the other sixth-form boys
would move into their passage, and, to the disgust
and indignation of Tom and East, one morning
after breakfast they were seized upon by Flashman,
and made to carry down his books and furniture
into the unoccupied study which he had taken.
From this time they began to feel the weight of the
tyranny of Flashman and his friends, and, now that
trouble had come home to their own doors, began
to look out for sympathizers and partners amongst
the rest of the fags ; and meetings of the oppressed
began to be held, and murmurs to arise, and plots to
be laid, as to how they should free themselves and be
avenged on their enemies.
While matters were in this state. East and Tom
were one evening sitting in their study. They had
done their work for first lesson, and Tom was in a
brown study, brooding like a young William Tell,
upon the wrongs of fags in general, and his own in
particular.
SXrSSTING POINT. 185
" I say, Scud," said he at last, rousing himself to
BUufF the candle, "what right have the fifth-form
boys to fag us as they do?"
" No more right than you have to fag them," an-
swered East, without looking up from an early
number of Pickwick, which was just coming out,
and which he was luxuriously devouring, stretched
on his back on the sofa.
Tom relapsed into his brown study, and East
went on reading and chuckling. The contrast of
the boys' faces would have given infinite amuse-
ment to a looker-on, the one so solemn and big with
mighty purpose, the other radiant and bubbling over
with fun.
" Do you know, old fellow, I've been thinking it
over a good deal," began Tom again.
" Oh yes, I know, fagging you're thinking of.
Hang it all, but listen here, Tom here's fun. Mr.
Winkle's horse "
" And I've made up my mind," broke in Tom,
"that I won't fag except for the sixth."
" Quite right, too, my boy," cried East, putting
his finger in the place and looking up ; " but a pretty
peck of troubles you'll get into, if you're going to
play that game. However, I'm all for a strike my-
self, if we can get others to join it's getting too
bad."
" Can't we get some sixth-form fellow to take it
up ? " asked Tom.
" Well, perhaps we might ; Morgan would inter-
fere, I think. Only," added East, after a moment's
pause, " you see we should have to tell him about
16
186 * WHAT HELP?
it, and that's against school principles. Don't you
remember what old Brooke said about learning to
take our own parts ? "
" Ah, I wish old Brooke were back again it was
all right in his time."
" Why yes, you see then the strongest and best
fellows were in the sixth, and the fifth-form fellows
were afraid of them, and they kept good order ; but
now our sixth-form fellows are too small, and the
fifth don't care for them, and do what they like in
the house." "
" And so we get a double set of masters," cried
Tom indignantly ; " the lawful ones, who are respon-
sible to the Doctor at any rate, and the unlawful
the tyrants, who are responsible to nobody."
" Down with the tyrants ! " cried East ; " Fm all
for law and order, and hurra for a revolution."
"I shouldn't mind if it were only for young
Brooke now," said Tom, "he's such a good-hearted
gentlemanly fellow, and ought to be in the sixth
I'd do any thing for him. Bat that blackguard
Flashman, who never speaks to one without a kick
or an oath "
" The cowardly brute," broke in East, " how I
hate him. And he knows it too, he knows that you
and I think him a coward. What a bore that he's
got a study in this passage ; don't you hear them
now at supper in his den? Brandy punch going,
rU bet. I wish the Doctor would come out and
catch him. We must change our study as soon as
we can."
" Change or no change, I'll never fag for him
again," said Tom, thumping the table.
THE EXPLOSION. , 187
** Fa-a-a-ag," sounded along the passage from
Flashman's study. The two boys looked at one
another in silence. It had struck nine, so the reg-
ular night-fags had left duty, and they were the
nearest to the supper-party. East sat up, and be-
gan to look comical, as he always did under dii&cul-
ties.
" Fa-a-a-ag," again. No answer.
'' Here, Brown ! East ! you cursed young skulks,'*
roared out Flashman, coming to his open door, " I
know you're in no shirking."
Tom stole to their door, and drew the bolts as
noiselessly as he could; East blew out the candle.
" Barricade the first," whispered he. " Now, Tom,
mind,- no surrender."
" Trust me for that," said Tom between his
teeth.
In another minute they heard the supper-party
turn out and come down the passage to their door.
They held their breaths, and heard whispering, ol
which they only made out Flashman's words, "I
know the young brutes are in."
Then came summonses to open, which being un-
answered, the assault commenced : luckily the door
was a good strong oak one, and resisted the united
weight of Flashman's party. A pause followed,
and they heard a besieger remark, " They're in safe
enough don't you see how the door holds at top
and bottom? so the bolts must be drawn. We
should have forced the lock long ago." East gave
Tom a nudge to call attention to this scientific re*
mark*.
188 THE SIEOS.
Then came attacks on particular panels, one of
which at last gave way to the repeated kicks, but it
broke inwards, and the broken piece got jammed
across, the door being lined with green baize, and
couldn't easily be removed from outside; and the
besieged, scorning further concealment, strengthened
their defences by pressing the end of their sofa
against the door. So after one or two more ineffec-
tual efforts, Flashman and Co. retired, vowing ven-
geance in no mild terms.
The first danger over, it only remained for the
besieged to effect a safe retreat, as it was now near
bed-time. They listened intently and heard the sup-
per-party resettle themselves, and then gently drew
back first one bolt and then the other. Presently
the convivial noises began again steadily. " Now
then, stand by for a run," said East, throwing the
door wide open and rushing into the passage, closely
followed by Tom. They were too quick to be
caught, but Flashman was on the look-out, and
sent an empty pickle-jar whizzing after them, which
narrowly missed Tom's head, and broke into twenty
pieces at the end of the passage. " He wouldn't
mind killing one if he wasn't caught," said East, as
they turned the corner.
There was no pursuit, so the two turned into the
hall, where they found a knot of small boys round
the fire. Their story was told the war of indepen-
dence had broken out who would join the revolu-
tionary forces ? Several others present bound them-
selves not to fag for the fifth-form at once. One or
two only edged off and left the rebels. What else
CONSTITUTIONAL BESISTAKGE. 189
could they do ? " Ive a good mind to go to the Doc-
tor straight," said Tom.
" That '11 never do don't you remember the levy
of the school last half? " put in another.
In fact that solemn assembly, a levy of the school,
had been held, at which the captain of the school
had got up, and, after premising that several in-
stances had occurred of matters having been reported
to the masters, that this was against public morality
and school tradition, that a levy of the sixth had.
been held on the subject, and they had resolved
that the practice must be stopped at once, had
given out that any boy in whatever form who
should thenceforth appeal to a master without hay-
ing first gone to some preepostor and laid the case
before him, should be thrashed publicly and sent to
Coventry.
Well, then, let's try the sixth. Try Morgan,"
suggested another. " No use." " Blabbing won't
do," was the general feeling.
" I'll give you fellows a piece of advice," said a
voice from the end of the hall. They all turned
round with a start, and the speaker got up from a
bench on which he had been lying unobserved, and
gave himself a shake; he was a big loose-made
fellow, with huge limbs which had grown too far
through his jacket and trousers. " Don't you go to
anybody at all, you just stand out ; say you won't
fag* they'll soon get tired of licking you. I've tried
it on years ago with their forerunners."
" No ! did you ? tell us how it was," cried a chorus
of voices, as they clustered round him.
190 A COXrKSELI.OR TO THE BEBELS.
" Well, just as it is with you. The fifth-form
would fag us, and 1 and some more struck, and we
beat 'em. The good fellows left off directly, and the
bullies who kept on soon got afraid."
" Was Flashman here then ? "
" Yes ! and a dirty little snivelling sneaking fellow
he was too. He never dared join us, and used to
toady the bullies by offering to fag for them, and
peaching against the rest of us."
" Why wasn't he cut, then ? " said East.
" Oh, toadies never get cut, they're too useful.
Besides he has no end of great hampers from home,
with wine and game in them, so he toadied and fed
himself into favour."
The quarter-to-ten bell now rang, and the small
boys went off up stairs, still consulting together,
and praising their new counsellor, who stretched
himself out on the bench before the hall fire again.
There he lay, a very queer specimen of boyhood, by
name Diggs, and familiarly called "the Mucker."
He was young for his size, and a very clever fellow,
nearly at the top of the fifth. His friends at home,
having regard I suppose to his age, and not to his
size and place in the school, hadn't put him into
tails ; and even his jackets were always too small,'
and he had a talent for destroying clothes, and mak-
ing himself look shabby. He wasn't on terms with
Flashman's set, who sneered at his dress and ways
behind his back, which he knew, and revenged
himself by asking Flashman the most disagreeable
questions, and treating him familiarly whenever a
crowd of boys were round them. Neither was he
THB MTJCKEB" HIS WAY OF LIFE. 191
intimate with any of the other bigger boys, who
were warned off by his oddnesses, for he was a very
queer fellow ; besides, amongst other failings, he had
that of impeeuniosity in a remarkable degree. He
brought as much money as other boys to school, but
got rid of it in no time, no one knew how. And
ihen, being also reckless, borrowed from any one, and
when his debts accumulated and creditors pressed,
would have an auction in the hall of every thing he
possessed in the world, selling even his school-books,
candlestick, and study table. For weeks after one
of these auctions, having rendered his study unin-
habitable, he would live about in the fifth-form room
and hall, doing his verses on old letter-backs and
odd scraps of paper, and learning his lessons no one
knew how. He never meddled with any little boy,
and was popular with them, though they all looked
on him with a sort of compassion, and called him
" poor Diggs," not being able to resist appearances, or
to disregard wholly even the sneers of their enemy
Flashman. However, he seemed equally indifferent
to the sneers of big boys and the pity of small ones,
and lived his own queer life with much apparent
enjoyment to himself. It is necessary to introduce
Diggs thus particularly, as he not only did Tom
and East good service in their present warfare, as is
about to be told, but soon afterwards, when he got
into the sixth, chose them for his fags, and excused
them from study-fagging, thereby earning unto him-
self eternal gratitude from them, and all who are
interested in their history.
And seldom had small boys more need of a
192 THE WAS BAOES.
friend, for the morning after the siege, the storm
burst upon the rebels in all its violence. Flash man
laid wait, and caught Tom before second lesson,
and receiving a point blank " No," when told to
fetch his hat, seized him and twisted his arm, and
went through the other methods of torture in use.
" He couldn't make me ciy though," as Tom said tri-
umphantly to the rest of the rebels, " and I kicked
his shins well I know." And soon it crept out that
a lot of the fags were in league, and Flashman
excited his associates to join him in bringing the
young vagabonds to their senses; and the house
was filled with constant chasings, and sieges, and
lickings of all sorts ; and in return, the bullies' beds
were pulled to pieces and drenched with water, and
their names written up on the waUs with every in-
sulting epithet which the fag invention could furnish.
The war in short raged fiercely ; but soon, as Diggs
had told them, all the better fellows in the fifth gave
up trying to fag them, and public feeling began to
set against Flashman and his two or three intimates,
and they were obliged to keep their doings more
secret, but being thorough bad fellows, missed no
opportunity of torturing in private. Flashman was
an adept in all ways, but above all in the power of
saying cutting and cruel things, and could often
bring tears to the eyes of boys in this way, which
all the thrashings in the world wouldn't have wrung
from them.
And as his opferations were being cut short in
other directions, he now devoted himself chiefly to
Tom and East, who lived at his own door, and would
THE LAST COMBATANTS. 193
force himself into their study whenever he found a
chance, and sit there, sometimes alone, sometimes
with a companiop, interrupting all their work, and
exulting in the evident pain which every now and
then he could see he was inflicting on one or the
other.
The storm had cleared the air for the rest of the
house, and a better state of things now began than
there had been since old Brooke had left : but an
angry dark spot of thunder-cloud still hung over the
end of the passage, where Flashman's study and
that of East and Tom lay.
He felt that they had been the first rebels,
and that the rebellion had been to a great ex-
tent successful; but what above all stirred the
hatred and bitterness of his heart against them, was
that in the frequent collisions which there had been
of late, they had openly called him coward and
sneak, the taunts were too true to be forgiven.
While he was in the act of thrashing them they
would roar out instances of his funking at football,
or shirking some encounter with a lout half his
own size. These things were all well enough
known in the house, but to have his disgrace
shouted out by small boys, to feel that they de-
spised him, to be unable to silence them by any
amount of torture, and to see the open laugh and
sneer of his own associates, (who were looking on,
and took no trouble to hide their scorn from him,
though they neither interfered with his bullying
or lived a bit the less intimately with him,) made
him beside himself. Come what might, he would
17
194 THE WEAK TO THE WALL.
make those boys' lives miserable. So the strife
settled down into a personal affair between Flash-
man and our youngsters; a war to the knife, to
be fought in the little cockpit at the end of the
bottom passage.
Flashman, be it said, was about seventeen years
old, and big and strong of his age. He played
well at all games where pluck wasn't much
wanted, and managed generally to keep up ap-
pearances where it was; and having a bluff oflF-
hand manner, which passed for heartiness, and
considerable powers of being pleasant when he
liked, went down with the school in general for
a good fellow enough. Even in the school-house,
by dint of his command of money, the constant
supply of good things which he kept up, and his
adroit toadyism, he managed to make him-
self not only tolerated, but rather popular amongst
his own cotemporaries ; although young Brooke
scarcely spoke to him, and one or two others of
the right sort showed their opinions of him when-
ever a chance offered. But the wrong sort hap-
pened to be in the ascendant just now, and so
Flashman was a formidable enemy for small boys.
This soon became plain enough. Flashman left
no slander unspoken, and no deed undone, which
could in any way hurt his victims, or isolate them
from the rest of the house. One by one most of
the other rebels fell away from them, while Flash-
man's cause prospered, and several other fifth-
form boys began to look black at them, and ill-
treat them as they passed about the house. Bj
biggs' bankbtjptcy. 195
keeping out of bounds, or at all events out of
the house and quadrangle, all day, and carefully
barring themselves in at night, East and Tom
managed td hold on without feeling very misera-
ble ; but it was as much as they could do. Greatly
were they drawn then towards old Diggs, who, in
an uncouth way, began to take a good deal of
notice of them, and once or twice came to their
study when Flashman was there, who immediately
decamped in consequence. The boys thought that
Diggs must have been watching.
When therefore, about this time, an auction was
one night announced to take place in the hall, at
which, amongst the superfluities of other boys, all
Diggs' penates for the time being were going to
the hammer. East and Tom laid their heads to-
gether, and resolved to devote their ready cash
(some four shillings sterling) to redeem such articles
as that sum would cover. Accordingly, they duly
attended to bid, and Tom became the owner of
two lots of Diggs' things; lot 1, price one-and-
threepence, consisting (as the auctioneer remarked)
of a '* valuable assortment of old metals," in the
shape of a mouse-trap, a cheese-toaster without a
handle, and a saucepan : lot 2, of a villainous dirty
tablecloth and green baize curtain ; while East, for
one-and-sixpence, purchased a leather paper-case,
with a lock but no key, once handsome, but now
much the worse for wear. But they had still the
point to settle, of how to get Diggs to take the
things without hurting his feelings. This they
solved by leaving them in his study, which was
196 THE DEKBY LOTTEEY.
never locked, when he was out. Diggs, who had
attended the auction, remembered who had bought
the lots, and came to their study soon after, and
sat silent for some time, cracking his great red
finger-joints. Then he laid hold of their verses,
and began looking over and altering them, and at
last got up, and turning his back to them, said,
" You're uncommon good-hearted little beggars, you
two I value that paper-case, my sister gave it me
last holidays I won't forget;" and so tumbled
out into the passage, leaving them somewhat em-
barrassed, but not sorry that he knew what they had
done.
The next morning was Saturday, the day on
which the allowances of one shilling a-week were
paid, an important event to spendthrift young-
sters ; and great was the disgust amongst the
small fry, to hear that all the allowances had
been impounded for the Derby lottery. That great
event in the English year, the Derby, was cele-
brated at Rugby in those days by many lotteries.
It was not an improving custom, I own, gentle
reader, and led to making books, and betting,
and other objectionable results ; but when our
great Houses of Palaver think it right to stop
the nation's business on that day, and many of
them bet heavily themselves, can you blame us
boys for following the example of our betters?
at any rate we did follow it. First, there was
the great school lottery, where the first prize was
six or seven pounds; then each house had one
or more separate 'otteries. These were all nomi-.
GENTLEMEN SPORTSMEN. 197
nally voluntary, no boy being compelled to put in
his shilling who didn't choose to do so : but besides
Flashman, there were three or four other fast sport-
ing young gentlemen in the school-house, who
considered subscription a matter of duty and ne-
cessity, and so, to make their duty come easy to
small boys, quietly secured the allowances in a
lump when given out for distribution, ?ind kept
them. It was no use grumbling, so many fewer
tartlets and apples were eaten, ' and fives'-balls
bought on that Saturday; and after locking-up,
when the money would otherwise have been spent,
consolation was carried to many a small boy, by
the sound of the night fags shouting along the
passages, '* Gentlemen sportsmen of the school-
house, the lottery's going to be drawn in the hall."
It was pleasant to be called a gentleman sports-
man also to have a chance of drawing a favourite
horse.
The hall was full of boys, and at the head of one
of the long tables stood the sporting interest, with a
hat before them, in which were the tickets folded
up. One of them then began calling out the list of
the house ; each boy, as his name was called, drew a
ticket from the hat and opened it ; and most of the
bigger boys, after drawing, left the hall directly to
go back to their studies or the fifth-form room. The
sporting interest had all drawn blanks, and they
were sulky accordingly ; neither of the favourites
had yet been drawn, and it had come down to the
upper-fourth. So now, as each small boy came up
and drew his ticket, it was seized and opened by
198 TOM^BAWS THE FATOUBITE.
Flashman, or some other of the standers-by. But
no great favourite is drawn until it comes to the
Tadpole's turn', and he shuffles up and draws, and
tries to make off, but is caught, and his ticket is
opened like the rest.
" Here you are ! Wanderer ! the third favourite,"
shouts the opener,
" I say, just give me my ticket, please," remon-
strates Tadpole.
" HuUo, don't be in a hurry," breaks in Flashman,
" what'U you sell Wanderer for now ? "
" I don't want to sell," rqoins Tadpole.
" Oh, don't you ! Now listen, you young fool
you don't know ahything about it ; the horse is no
use to you. He won't win, but I want him as a
hedge. Now I'll give you half-a-crown for him."
Tadpole holds out, but between threats and cajoler-
ies, at length sells half for one-shilling-and-six pence,
about a fifth of its fair market value ; however, he
is glad to realize anything, and as he wisely remarks,
" Wanderer mayn't win," and the tizzy is safe any
how.
East presently comes up and draws a blank.
Soon after comes Tom's turn ; his ticket, like the
others, is seized and opened. " Here you are then,"
shouts the opener, holding it up, " Harkaway ! By
Jove, Flashey, your young friend's in luck."
" Give me the ticket," says Flashman with an
oath, leaning across the table with open hand, and
his face black with rage.
" Wouldn't you like it ? " replies the opener, not
a bad fellow at the bottom, and no admirer of
CONSEQtJENCES. 199
Flasbman's. " Here Brown, catch hold," and he
hands the ticket to Tom, who pockets it; where-
upon Flashman makes for the door at once, that
Tom and the ticket may not escape, and there keeps
watch until the drawing is over, and all the boys are
gone, except the sporting set of five or six, who stay
to compare books, make bets, and so on ; Tom, who
doesn't choose to move while Flashman is at the
door, and East, who stays by his friend, anticipating
trouble.
The sporting set now gathered round Tom. Pub-
lic opinion wouldn't allow them actually to rob him
of his ticket, but any humbug or intimidation by
which he could be driven to sell the whole or part at
an undervalue was lawful.
" Now, young Brown, come, what'll you sell me
Harkaway for ? I hear he isn't going to start. I'll
give you five shillings for him," begins the boy who
had opened the ticket. Tom, remembering his good
deed, and moreover in his forlorn state wishing to
make 9. friend, is about to accept the offer, when
another cries out, " I'll give you seven shillings."
Tom hesitated and looked from one to the other.
" No, no ! " said Flashman, pushing in, " leave me
to deal with him ; we'll draw lots for it afterwards.
Now, sir, you know me you'll sell Harkaway to us
for five shillings, or you'll repent it."
" I won't sell a bit of him," answered Tom
shortly.
" You hear that now ! " said Flashman, turning to
the others. " He's the coxiest young blackguard in
the house I always told you so. We're to have
200 KOASTINQ A FAG.
all tae trouble and risk of getting up the lotteries
for the benefit of such fellows as he."
Flashman forgets to explain what risk they ran,
but he speaks to willing ears. Gambling makes
boys selfish and cruel as well as men.
" That's true, we always draw blanks," cries
one. " Now, sir, you shall sell half at any rate."
" I won't," said Tom, flushing up to his hair, and
lumping them all in his mind with his sworn enemy.
" Very well then, let's roast him," cried Flashman,
and catches hold of Tom by the collar : one or two
boys hesitate, but the rest join in. East seizes Tom's
arm and tries to pull him away, but is knccked
back by one of the boys, and Tom is dragged along
struggling. His shoulders are pushed against the
mantel-piece, and he is held by main force before
the fire, Flashman drawing his trousers tight by way
of extra torture. Poor East, in more pain even than
Tom, suddenly thinks of Diggs, and darts off to find
him. " Will you sell now for ten shillings ? " says
one boy who is relenting.
Tom only answers by groans and struggles.
" I say, Flashey, he has had enough," says the
same boy, dropping the arm he holds.
* " No, no, another turn'U do it," answers Flash-
man. But poor Tom h done already, turns deadly
pale, and his head falls forward on his breast, just as
Diggs in frantic excitement rushes into the hall with
East at his heels.
" You cowardly brutes ! " is all he can say, as he
catches Tom from them and supports him to the hall
table. " Good God ! he's dying. Here, get some
cold water run for the housekeeper."
OVEK DONE. 201
Flash man and one or two others slink away ; the
rest ashamed and sorry bend over Tom or run for
water, while East darts off for the housekeeper.
Water comes, and they throw it on his hands and
face, and he begins to come to. " Mother ! " the
words came feebly and slowly " it's very cold to-
night." Poor old Diggs is blubbering like a child.
" Where am I ? '' goes on Tom, opening his eyes.
" Ah ! I remember now," and he shut his eyes again
and groaned.
" I say," is whispered, " we can't dp any good, and
the housekeeper will be here in a minute," and all
but one steal away ; he stays with Diggs, silent and
sorrowful, and fans Tom's face.
The housekeeper comes in with strong salts, and
Tom soon recovers enough to sit up. There is a
smell of burning ; she examines his clothes, and looks
up inquiringly. The boys are all silent.
'* How did he come so ? " No answer.
" There's been some bad work here," she adds,
looking very serious, " and I shall speak to the Doc-
tor about it." Still no answer.
" Hadn't we better carry him to the sick-room?"
suggests Diggs.
" Oh, I can walk now," says Tom, and supported
by East and the housekeeper, goes to the sick-room.
The boy who held his ground is soon amongst the
rest, who are all in fear of their lives. " Did he
peach ? " " Does she know about it ? "
"Not a word, he's a stanch little fellow.''
And pausing a moment he adds, " I'm sick of this
work : what brutes we've been."
202 LAST DAYS OF THE WAS.
Meantime Tom is stretched on the sofa in the
housekeeper's room, with East by his side, while she
gets wine-and-water and other restoratives.
" Are you much hurt, dear old boy ? " whispers
East.
" Only the back of my legs," answers Tom.
They are indeed badly scorched, and part of his
trousers burnt through. But soon he is in bed with
cold bandages. At first he feels broken, and thinks
of writing home and getting taken away ; and the
verse of a hymn he had learned years ago sings
through his head, and he goes to sleep, murmur-
ing
** Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest."
But after a sound night's rest, the old boy-spirit
comes back again. East comes in reporting that
the whole house is with him, and he forgets every
thing except their old resolve, never to be beaten by
that bully Flashman.
Not a word could the housekeeper extract from
either of them; and though the Doctor knew all
that she knew that morning, he never knew any
more.
I trust and believe that such scenes are not pos-
sible now at school, and that lotteries and betting-
books have gone out; but I am writing of schools
as they were in our time, and must give the evil
with the good.
CHAPTER IX.
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS.
Wherein I [speak] of most disastrous chances.
Of moving accidents by flood and field,
Of hair-breadth 'scapes.** Shakspeare,
When Tom came back into school after a couple
of days in the sick-room, he found matters much
changed for the better, as East had led him to ex-
pect. Flashman's brutality had disgusted most
even of his intimate friends, and his cowardice
had been once more made plain to the house ; for
Diggs had encountered him on the morning after
the lottery, and after high words on both sides had
struck him, and the blow was not returned. How-
ever, Flashey was not unused to this sort of thing,
and had lived through as awkward affairs before,
and, as Diggs had said, fed and toadied himself
back into favour again. Two or three of the boys
who had helped to roast Tom came up and begged
his pardon, and thanked him for not telling any
thing. Morgan sent for him, and was inclined to
take the matter up warmly, but Tom begged him
not to do it ; to which he agreed, on Tom's promis-
ing to come to him at once in future a promise
which I regret to say he didn't keep. Tom kepi
Harkaway all to himself, and won the second prize in
204 Biri.E BBEAKINO.
the lottery, some thirty shillings, which he and East
contrived to spend in about three days, in the pur-
chase of pictures for their study, two new bats and
a cricket-ball, all of the best that could be got, and a
supper of sausages, kidneys, and beef-steak pies to
all the rebels. Light come, light go ; they wouldn't
have been comfortable with money in their pockets
in the middle of the half.
The embers of Flashman's wrath, however, were
still smouldering, and burst out every now and then
in sly blows and taunts, and they both felt that they
hadn't quite done with him yet. It wasn't long,
however, before the last act of that drama came,
and with it, the end of bullying for Tom and East
at Rugby. They now often stole out into the hall
at nights, incited theretOj partly by the hope of find-
ing Diggs there and having a talk with him, partly
by the excitement of doing something which was
against rules ; for, sad to say, both of our young-
sters, since their loss of character for steadiness in
their form, had got into the habit of doing things
which were forbidden, as a matter of adventure;
just in the same way, I should fancy, as men fall
into smuggling, and for the same sort of reasons.
Thoughtlessness in the first place. It never occurred
to them to consider why such and such rules were
laid down, the reason was nothing to them, and
they only looked upon rules as a sort of challenge
from the rule-makers, which it would be rather bad
pluck in them not to accept ; and then again, in the
lower parts of the school they hadn't enough to do.
The work of the form they could manage to get
BTTLE BBEAKIN6. 205
through pretty easily, keeping a good enough place
to get their regular yearly remove ; and not having
much ambition beyond this, their v^hole superfluous
steam was available for games and scrapes. Now
one rule of the house which it was a daily pleasure
of all such boys to break, was that after supper all
fags, except the three on duty in the passages,
should remain in their own studies until nine
o'clock ; and if caught about the piassages or hall,
or in one another's studies, they were liable to pun-
ishments or caning. The rule was stricter than its
observance, for most of the sixth spent their evenings
in the fifth-form room, where the library was, and
the lessons were learnt in common. Every now and
then, however, a praepostor would be seized with a
fit of district-visiting, and would make a tour of
the passages and hall and the fags' studies. Then,
if the owner were. entertaining a friend or two, the
first kick at the door and ominous " open here," had
the effect of the shadow of a hawk over a chicken-
yard ; every one cut to cover one small boy diving
under the sofa, another under the table, while the
owner would hastily pull down a book or two and
open them, and cry out in a meek voice, " Hullo,
who's there ? " casting an anxious eye round, to see
that no protruding leg or elbow could betray the
hidden boys. " Open, sir, directly, it's Snooks."
" Oh, I'm very sorry, I didn't know it was you.
Snooks ; " and then, with well-feigned zeal, the door
woulfl be opened, young hopeful praying that that
beast Snooks mightn't have heard the scufile caused
by his coming. If a study was empty, Snooks
306 THE BBTJISEB WOBM WILIi IITBN.
proceeded to draw the passages and hall to find the
truants.
Well, one evening, in forbidden hours, Tom and
East were in the hall. They occupied the seats
before the fire nearest the door, while Diggs sprawled
as usual before the further fire. He was busy with
a copy of verses, and East and Tom .'jvere chatting
together in whispers by the light of the fire, and
splicing a favourite old fives' bat which had sprung.
Presently a step came down the bottom passage;
they listened ^ moment, assured themselves that it
wasn't a praepostor, and then went on with their
work, and the door swung open, and in walked
Flashman. He didn't see Diggs, and thought it a
good chance to keep his hand in ; and as the boys
didn't move for him, struck one of them, to make
them get out of his way.
" What's that for ? " growled the assaulted one^
" Because I choose. You've no business here
go to your study."
" You can't send us."
Can't I ? Then I'll thrash you if you stay," said
Flashman, savagely. .
" I say, you two," said Diggs from the end of the
hall, rousing up and resting himself on his elbow,
" you'll never get rid of that fellow till you lick him.
Go in at him, both of you I'll see fair play."
Flashman was taken aback, and retreated two
steps. East looked at Tom. " Shall we try ? " said
he. " Yes," said Tom, desperately. So the two
advanced on Flashman with clenched fists and
beating hearts. They were about up to his shoulder,
ACCOTJKTS SQX7ABEB WITH FXASHMAN. 207
but tough boys of their age and in perfect training,
while he, though strong and big, was in poor con-
dition from his monstrous habits of stuffing, and
want of exercise. Coward as he was, however,
Flashman couldn't swallow such an insult as this ;
besides, he was confident of having easy work, and
so faced the boys, saying, " You impudent young
blackguards ! " Before he could finish his abuse
they rushed in on him, and began pummelling at
all of him which they could reach. He hit out
wildly and savagely, but the full force of his blows
didn't tell, they were too near him. It was long
odds tho' in point of strength, and in another minute
Tom went spinning backwards over a form, and
Flashman turned to demolish East with a savage
grin. But now Diggs jumped down from the table
on which he had seated himself. " Stop there,"
shouted he, " the round's over half-minute time
allowed."
"What the is it to you?" faltered Flash-
man, who began to lose heart.
" I'm going to see fair, I tell ^ou ? " said Diggs
with a grin, and snapping his great red fingers ;
"'taint fair for you to be fighting one of them at a
time. Are you ready. Brown ? Time's up."
The small boys rushed in again. Closing they
saw was their best chance, and Flashman was wilder
and more flurried than ever ; he caught East by the
throat and tried to force him back on the iron-bound
table ; Tom grasped his waist, and remembering the
old throw he had learned in the Vale from Harry
Winburn, crooked his leg inside Flashman's, and
208 ACCOUNTS SQITABED WITH FLASHMAN.
threw his whole weight forward. The three tottered
for a moment, and then over they went on to the
floor, Flash man striking his head against a form in
* the faU.
The two youngsters sprang to their legs, but he
lay there still. They began to be frightened. Tom
stooped down, and then crieti out, scared out of his
wits, " He's bleeding awfully ; come here, East.
Diggs he's dying ! "
" Not he," said Diggs, getting leisurely off the
table; "it's all sham, he's only afraid to fight if
out."
East was as frightened as Tom. Diggs lifted
Flashman's head and he groaned.
" What's the matter ? " shouted Diggs.
" My skull's fractured," sobbed Flashman.
" Oh, let me run for the housekeeper," cried Tonu
What shall we do ? "
" Fiddlesticks ! it's nothing but the skin broken,"
said the relentless Diggs, feeling his head. " Cold
water and a bit of rag's all he'll want."
" Let me go," said Flashman, surlily, sitting up ;
" I don't want your help."
" We're really very sorry," began East.
" Hang your sorrow," answered Flashman, hold-
ing his handkerchief to the place ; " you shall pay
for this, I can tell you, both of you." And he
walked out of the hall.
" He can't be very bad," said Tom, with a deep
sigh, much relieved to see his enemy march so well.
" Not he," said Diggs, " and you'll see you won't
be troubled with him any more. But, I say, your
ACCOUNTS SQITABED Wixr TLASHMAN. 209
head's broken too your collar is xjovered with
blood."
" Is it though?" said Tom, putting up his hand;
'' 1 didn't know it."
" WeU, mop it up, or you'll have your jacket spoilt.
And you have got a nasty eye, Scud ; you'd better
go and bathe it well in cold water."
" Cheap enough too, if we've done with our old
friend Flashy," said East, as they made off up stairs
to bathe their wounds.
They had done with Flashman in one sense, for
he never laid finger on either of them again ; but
whatever harm a spiteful heart and venomous tongue
could do them, he took care should be done. Only
throw dirt enough, and some of it is sure to stick ;
and so it was with the fifth-form and the bigger
boys in general, with whom he associated more or
less, and they not at all, Flashman managed to get
Tom and East into disfavour, which did not wear
off for some time after the author of it had disap-
peared from the school world. This event, much
prayed for by the small fry in general, took place a
few months after the above encounter. One fine
summer evening, Flashman had been" regaling him-
self on gin-punch, at Brownsover; and having ex-
ceeded his usual limits, started home uproarious.
He fell in with a friend or two coming back from
bathing, proposed a glass of beer, to which they
assented, the weather being hot, and they thirsty
souls, and unaware of the quantity of drink which
Flashman had already on board. The short result
was, that Flashy became inhumanly drunk ; they
18
210 PENALTIES OF THE WAK.
tried to get bini along, but couldn't, so they char-
tered a hurdle and two men to carry him. One of
the masters came upon them, and they naturally
enough fled. The flight of the rest raised the mas-
ter's suspicions, and the good angel of the fags
incited him to examine the freight, and after exam-
ination, to convoy the hurdle himself up to the
school-house ; and the Doctor, who had long had
his eye on Flashman, arranged for his withdrawal
next morning.
The evil that men, and boys too, do, lives after
them : Flashman was gone, but our boys, as hinted
above, still felt the effects of his hate. Besides, they
had been the movers of the strike against unlawful
fagging. The cause was righteous, the result had
been triumphant to a great extent ; but the best of
the fifth, even those who had never fagged the small
boys, or had given up the practice cheerfully,
couldn't help feeling a small grudge against the first
rebels. After all, their form had been defied ; on just
grounds, no doubt, so just indeed, that they had at
once acknowledged the wrong and remained passive
in the strife : had they sided with Flashman and his
set, the rebels must have given way at once. They
couldn't help, on the whole, being glad that they had
so acted, and that the resistance had been successful
against such of their own form as had shown fight j
they felt that law and order had gained thereby, but
the ringleaders they couldn't quite pardon at once.
" Confoundedly coxy those young rascals will get if
we don't mind," was the general feeling.
So it is, and must be always, my dear boys. If
FATI! OF LIBEBATOBS. 211
the Angel Gabriel were to come down from Heaven,
and head a successful rise against the most abomin-
able and unrighteous vested interest which this poor
old world groans under, he would most certainly lose
his character for many years, probably for centuries,
not only with upholders of said vested interest, but
with the respectable mass of the people whom he
had delivered. They wouldn't ask him to dinner,
or let their names appear with his in the papers ;
they would be very careful how they spoke of him
in the Palaver or at their clubs. What can we ex-
pect then, when we have only poor gallant blun-
dering men like Kossuth, Garibaldi, Mazzini, and
righteous causes which do not triumph in their
hands; men who have holes enough in their ar-
mour, God knows, easy to be hit by respectabilities
sitting in their lounging chairs, and having large
balances at their bankers ? But you are brave
gallant boys, who hate easy-chairs, and have no
balances or bankers. You only want to have your
heads set straight to take the right side : so bear in
mind that majorities, especially respectable ones, are
i^ine times out of ten in the wrong ; and that if you
see man or boy striving earnestly on the weak side,
however wrong-headed or blundering he may be,
you are not to go and join the cry against him. If
you can't join him, and help him, and make him
wiser, at any rate remember that he has found
something In the world which he will fight and
suffer for, which is jiist what you have got to do
for yourselves, and so think and speak of him
tenderly.
212 THE ISHMAELITE9.
So East and Tom, the Tadpole, and one or two
more, became a sort of young Ishmaelites, their
hands against every one, and every one's hand
against them. It has been already told how they
got to war with the masters and the fifth-form, and
with the sixth it was much the same. They
saw the praepostors cowed by or joining with the
fifth, and shirking their own duties, so they didn't
respect them, and rendered no willing obedience.
It had been one thing to clean out studies for sons
of heroes like old Brooke, but was quite another
to do the like for Snooks and Green, who had never
faced a good scrummage at football, and couldn't
keep the passages in order at night. So they only
slurred through their fagging just well enough to'
escape a licking, and not always that, and got the
character of sulky, unwilling fags. In the fifth-form
room, after supper, when such matters were often
discussed and arranged, their names were for ever
coming up-
" I say. Green," Snooks began one night, " isn't
that new boy, Harrison, your fag? "
"Yes, why?"
" Oh, I know something of him at home, and
should like to excuse him will you swop?"
" Who will you give me ? "
' Well, let's see, there's Willis, Johnson No, that
won't do. Yes, I have it there's young East, I'll
give you him."
" Don't you wish yon may get it ? " replied Green.
"TU tell you what I'll do I'll give you two for
Willis, if you like."
THE ISHMAELITES. 213
" Who, then ? " asks Snooks.
Hall and Brown."
" Wouldn't have 'em at a gift.''
" Better than East though, for they ain't quite so
sharp," said Green, getting up and leaning his back
against the mantel-piece he wasn't a bad fellow,
and couldn't help not being able to put down the
unruly fifth-form. His eye twinkled as he went on.
" Did I ever tell you how the young vagabond sold
me last half?"
No how?"
" Well, he never half cleaned my study out, only
just stuck the candlesticks in the cupboard, and
swept the crumbs on to the floor. So at last I was
mortal angry and had him up, made him go
through the whole performance under my eyes : the
dust the young scamp made nearly choked me, and
showed that he hadn't iswept the carpet before.
Well, when it was all finished, * Now, young gen-
tleman,' says I, * mind, I expect this to be done
every morning, floor swept, tablecloth taken off and
shaken, and every thing dusted.' * Very well,' grunts
he. Not a bit of it though I was quite sure in a
day or two that he never took the tablecloth off*
even. So I laid a trap for him : I tore up some
paper and put half-a-dozen bits on my table one
night, and the cloth over them as usual. Next
morning, after breakfast, up I came, pulled off the
cloth, and sure enough there was the paper, which
fluttered down on to the floor. I was in a towering
rage. ' I've got you now,' thought I, and sent for
him, while I got out my cane. Up he came as cool
214 THE ISHKAELITES.
as you please, with his hands in his pockets.
Didn't I tell you to shake my tablecloth every
morning ? ' roared I. ' Yes,' says he. ' Did you do
it this morning? ' ' Yes.' ' You young liar! I put
those pieces of paper on the table last night, and if
you'd takep the tablecloth ofT you'd have seen them,
so I'm going to give you a good licking.' Then my
youngster takes one hand out of his pocket, and
just stoops down and picks up two of the bits of
paper, and holds them out to me. There was
written on each in great round text, ' Harry East, his
mark.' The young rogue had found my trap out,
taken away my paper and put some of his there, every
bit ear-marked. I'd a great mind to lick him for his
impudence, but after all one has no right to be laying
traps, so I didn't. Of course I was at his mercy tilJ
the end of the half, and in his weeks my study was
so frowsy I could'n't sit in it."
" They spoil one's things so too," chimed in a
third boy. " Hall and Brown were night fags last
week ; I called fag, and gave them my candlesticks
to clean ; away they went, and didn't appear again.
When they'd had time enough to clean them three
times over, I went out to look after them. They
weren't in the passages, so down I went into the
hall, where I heard music, and there I found them
sitting on the table listening to Johnson, who was
playing the flute, and my candlesticks' stuck between
the bars well into the fire, red-hot, clean spoiled ;
they've never stood straight since, and I must get
some more. However, I gave them both a good
licking, that's one comfort.'^
THE ISHMAELIXES. 215
Such were the sort of scrapes they were always
getting into; and so, partly by their own faults,
partly from circumstances, partly from the faults of
others, they found themselves outlaws, ticket-of-leave
men, or what you will in that line ; in short, dan-
gerous parties, and lived the sort of hand-to-mouth,
wild, reckless life which such parties generally have
to put up with. Nevertheless, they never quite lost
favour with young Brooke, who was now the cock of
the house, and just getting into the sixth, and Dlggs
stuck to them like a man, and gave them store
of good advice, by which they never in the least
profited.
And even after the house mended, and law and
order had been restored, which soon happened after
young Brooke and Diggs got into the sixth, they
couldn't easily or at once return into the paths of
steadiness, and many of the old wild out-of-bounds
habits stuck to them as firmly as ever. While they
had been quite little boys, the scrapes they got into
in the school hadn't much mattered to any one ; but
now they were in the upper school, all wrongdoers
from which were sent up straight to the Doctor at
once ; so they began to come under his notice ; and
as they were a sort of leaders in a small way
amongst their own cotemporaries, his eye, which was
everywhere, was upon them.
It was a toss-up whether they turned out well or
ill, and so they were just the boys who caused most
anxiety to such a master. You. have been told of
the first occasion on which they were sent up to the
Doctor, and the remembrance of it was so pleasant
216 THE AVON.
that they had much less fear of him than most boys
of their standing had. " It's all his look," Tom used
to say to East, "that frightens fellows; don't you
remember, he never said any thing to us my jfirst.
half-year, for being an hour late for locking-up ? "
The next time that Tom came before him, how-
ever, the interview was of a very different kind. If
happened just about the time at which we have now
arrived, and was the first of a series of scrapes into
which our hero managed now to tumble.
The river Avon, at Rugby, is a slow and not
very clear stream, in which chub, dace, roach, and
other coarse fish are (or were) plentiful enough,
together with a fair sprinkling of small jack, but no
fish worth sixpence either for sport or food. It is,
however, a capital river for bathing, as it has many
nice small pools and several good reaches for swim-
ming, all within about a mile of one. another, and at
an easy twenty-minutes' walk from the school.
This mile of water is rented, or used to be rented,
for bathing purposes by the trustees of the school
for the boys. The footpath to Brownsover crosses
the river by "the Planks," a curious old single-
plank bridge, running for fifty or sixty yards into the
flat meadows on each side of the river, for in
the winter there are frequent floods. Above the
Planks were the bathing-places for the smaller boys :
Sleath's, the first bathing-place where all new boys
had to begin, until they had proved to the bathing-
men (three steady individuals who were paid to
attend daily through the summer to prevent acci-
dents) that they could swim pretty decently, when
DISPUTED EIGHTS OP PISHINO. 217
they were allowed to go on to Anstey's, about one
hundred and fifty yards below. Here there was a
hole about six feet deep and twelve feet across, over
which the puffing urchins struggled to the opposite
side, and thought no small-beer of themselves for
having been out of their depths. Below the Planks
came larger and deeper holes, the first of which was
Wratislaw's, and the last Swift's, a famous hole ten
or twelve feet deep in parts, and thirty yards across,
from which there was a fine swimming reach right
down to the mill. Swift's was reserved for the sixth
and fifth forms, and had a spring board and two
sets of steps ; the others had one set of steps each,
and were used indifferently by all the lower boys,
though each house addicted itself more to one hole
than to another. The school-house at this time
affected Wratislaw's hole, and Tom and East, who
had learnt to swim like fishes, were to be found there
as regular as the clock through the summer, always
twice, and often three times a-day.
Now the boys either had, or fancied they had,
a right also to fish at their pleasure over the
whole of this part of the river, and would not
understand that the . right (if any) only extended
to the Rugby side. As ill-luck would have it,
the gentleman who owned the opposite bank, after
allowing it for some time without interference,
had ordered his keepers not to let the boys
fish on his side; the consequence of which had
been, that there had been first wranglings and
then fights between the keepers and boys; and
so keen had the quarrel become, that the land-
19
218 DISPUTED BIGHTS OP FISHING.
lord and his keepers, after a ducking had been
inflicted on one of the latter, and a fierce fight
ensued thereon, had been up to the great school
at calling-over to identify the delinquents, and it
was all the Doctor himself and five or six mas-
ters could do to keep the peace. Not even his
authority could prevent the hissing, and so strong
was the feeling, that the four praepostors of the
week walked up the school with their canes,
shouting s-s-s-s-i-lenc-c-c-c-e at the top of their
voices. However, the chief offenders for the time
were flogged and kept in bounds, but the vic-
torious party had brought a nice hornet's nest
about their ears. The landlord was hissed at
the school gates as he rode past, and when he
charged his horse at the mob of boys and tried
to thrash them with his whip, was driven back by
cricket-bats and wickets, and pursued with pebbles
and fives' balls ; while the wretched keepers' lives
were a burthen to them, from having to watch the
waters so closely.
The school-house boys of Tom's standing, one
and all, as a protest against this tyranny and
cutting short of their lawful amusements, took to
fishing in all ways, and especially by means of
night-lines. The little tackle-maker at the bottom
of the town would soon have made his fortune had
the rage lasted, and several of the barbers began
to lay in fishing-tackle. The boys had this great
advantage over their enemies, that they spent a
large portion of the day in nature's garb by the
river side, and so when tired of swimming, would
CHAFFING A KEEFEB. 219
get out on the other side and fish, or set night-lines
till the keeper hove in sight, and then plunge in
and swim back and mix with the other bathers,
and the keepers were too wise to folJow across the
stream.
While things were in this state, one day Tom
and three or four others were bathing at Wratis-
law's, and had, as a matter of course, been taking
up and re-setting night-lines. They had all left
the water, arid were sitting or standing about at
their toilettes, in all costumes from a shirt up-
wards, when they were aware of a man in a
velveteen shooting-coat approaching from the other
side. He was a new keeper, so they didn't recog-
nize or notice him, till he pulled up right opposite,
and began :
" I see'd some of you young gentlemen over this
side a-fishing just now."
" Hullo, who are you ? what business is that of
yours, old Velveteens ? "
" I'm the new under-keeper, and master's told
me to keep a sharp look-out. on all o' you
young chaps. And I tells 'ee I means business,
and you'd better keep on your own side, or we
shall fall out."
" Well, that's right. Velveteens speak out, and
let's know your mind at once."
" Look here, old boy," cried East, holding up a
miserable coarse fish or two and a small jack,
" would you like to smell 'em, and see which bank
they lived under ? "
"I'll give you a bit of advice, keeper," shouted
220 CHAFFING A KEEFEB.
Tom, who was sitting in his shirt paddling with his
feet in the river ; " you'd better go down there to
Swift's where the big boys are, they're beggars at
setting lines, and '11 put you up to a wrinkle or two
for catching the five-pounders." Tom was nearest
to the keeper, and that officer, who was getting
angry at the chaff, fixed his eyes on our hero, as if
to take a note of him for future use. Tom returned
his gaze with a steady stare, and then broke into a
laugh, and struck into the middle of a favourite
school-house song
** Aal and my companions
Were setting of a snare.
The gamekeeper was watching us,
For him we did not care :
Fop we can wrestle and fight, my boys.
And jump out anywhere.
For 'tis my delight of a likely night,
In the season of the year."
The chorus was taken up by the other boys with
shouts of laughter, and the keeper turned away with
a grunt, but evidently bent on mischief. The boys
thought no more of the matter.
But now came on the may-fly season ; the soft
hazy summer weather lay sj^epily along the rich
meadows by Avon side, and the green and gray
flies flickered with their graceful lazy up-and-down
flight over the reeds and the water and the mea-
dows, in myriads upon myriads. The may-flies
must surely be the lotus-eaters of the ephemerae ;
the happiest, laziest, carelessest fly that dances and
dreams oat his few hours of sunshiny life by English
rivers.
THE JRETUKN MATCH WITH VELYETEENS. 221
Every pitiful, little coarse jfish in the Avon was on
the alert for the flies, and gorging his wretched car-
cass with hundreds daily, the gluttonous rogues!
and every lover of the gentle craft was out to avenge
the poor may-flies.
So one fine Thursday afternoon, Tom having bor-
rowed East's new rod, started by himself to the river.
He fished for some time with small success, not a
fish would rise at him ; but as he prowled along the
bank he was presently aware of mighty ones feeding
in a pool on the opposite side, under the shade of a
huge willow-tree. The stream was deep here, but
some fifty yards below was a shallow, for which
he made off* hot-foot ; and forgetting landlords, keep-
ers, solemn prohibitions of the Doctor, and every
thing else, pulled up his trousers, plunged across, and
in three minutes was creeping along on all-fours to-
wards the clump of willows.
It isn't often that great chub, or any other coarse
fish, are in earnest about any thing, but just then
they were thoroughly bent on feeding, and in half
an hour Master Tom had deposited three thumping
fellows at the foot of the giant willow. As he was
baiting for a fourth ^pounder, and just going to
throw in again, he became aware of a man coming
up the bank not one hundred yards off*. Another
look told him that it was the under-keeper. Could
he reach the shallow before him ? No, not carrying
his rod. Nothing for it but the tree ; so Tom laid
his bones to it, shinning up as fast as he could, and
dragging up his rod after him. He had just time
to reach and crouch along upon a huge branch some
222 THE EETTJEN MATCH WITH VELVETEENS.
ten feet up, which stretched out over the river, when
the keeper arrived at the clump. Tom's heart beat
fast as he came under the tree : two steps more and
he would have passed, when, as ill-luck would have
it, the gleam on the scales of the dead fish caught
his eye, and he made a dead point at the foot of the
tree. He picked up the fish one by one ; his eye
and touch told him that they had been alive and
feeding within the hour. Tom crouched lower
along the branch, and heard the keeper beating
the clump. " If I could only get the rod hidden,"
thought he, and began gently shifting it to get
it alongside him ; " willow-trees don't throw out
straight hickory, shoots twelve feet long, with no
leaves, worse luck." Alas! the keeper catches the
rustle, and then a sight of the rod, and then of Tom's
hand and arm.
" Oh, be up ther', be 'ee ? " says he, running under
the tree. " Now you come down this minute."
" Tree'd at last," thinks Tom, making no answer,
and keeping as close as possible, but working away
at the rod which he takes to pieces : " I'm in for it,
unless I can starve him out." And then he begins
to meditate getting along the branch for a plunge,
and scramble to the other side; but the small
branches are so thick, and the opposite bank so
difiicult, that the keeper will have lots of time to
get round by the ford before he can get out, so he
gives that up. And now he hears the keeper begin-
ning to scramble up the trunk. That will never do ;
so he scrambles himself back to where his branch
joins the trunk, and stands with lifted rod.
YELVBTEENS WELL IN. 223
" HuUoj Velveteens, mind your fingers if you come
any higher."
The keeper stops and looks up, and then with a
grin says : " Oh ! be you, be it, young measter ?
Well, here's luck. Now I tells 'ee to come down at
once, and 't'U be best for 'ee."
" Thank 'ee. Velveteens, Fm very comfortable,"
said Tom, shortening the rod in his hand, and pre-
paring for battle.
" Wenry well, please yourself," says the keeper,
descending, however, to the ground again, and tak-
ing his seat on the bank ; " I b'eant in no hurry, so
you med' take yer time. I'll larn 'ee to gee honest
folk names afore I've done with 'ee."
" My luck as usual," thinks Tom ; " what a fool I
was to give him a black. If I'd called him ' keeper'
now I might get off. The return match is all his
way."
The keeper quietly proceeded to take out his pipe,
fill, and light it, keeping an eye on Tom, who now
sat disconsolately across the branch looking at
keeper a pitiful sight for men and fishes. The
more he thought of it the less he liked it. " It must
be getting near second calling-over," thinks he.
Keeper smokes on stolidly. " If he takes me up, I
shall be flogged safe enough. I can't sit here all
night. Wonder if he'll rise at silver."
" I say, keeper," said he meekly, " et me go for
two bob ? "
" Not for twenty neither," grunts his persecutor.
And so they sat on till long past second calling-
over, and the sun came slanting in through the
224 velveteens' bevenge.
willow branches, and telling of locking-up near to
hand.
" I'm coming down, keeper," said Tom at last
with a sigh, fairly tired out. " Now what are you
going to do ? "
" Walk 'ee up to school, and give 'ee over to the
Doctor ; them's my orders," gays Velveteens, knock-
ing the ashes out of his fourth pipe, and standing up
and shaking himself.
" Very good," said Tom ; " but hands off you
know. I'll go with you quietly, so no collaring or
that sort of thing."
Keeper looked at him a minute " Werry good,"
said he at last ; and so Tom descended, and wended
his way drearily by the side of the keeper up to the
school-house, where they arrived just at locking-up.
As they passed the school-gates, the Tadpole and
several others, who were standing there, caught the
state of things, and rpshed out, crying "rescue;"
but Tom shook his head, so they only followed to
the Doctor's gate, and went back sorely puzzled.
How changed and stern the Doctor seemed from
the last time that Torti was up there, as. the keeper
told the story, not omitting to state how Tom had
called him blackguard names. " Indeed, sir," broke
in the culprit, " it was only Velveteens." The Doc-
tor only asked one question.
" You know the rule about the banks. Brown ? "
" Yes, sir."
" Then wait for me to-morrow, after first l6sson."
" I thought so," muttered Tom.
" And about the rod, sir ? " went on the keeper ;
" Master's told we as we might have all the rods "
MOBB BCBAFE8. 225
"Oh, please sir," broke in Tom, "the rod isn't
mine." The Doctor looked puzzled, but the keeper,
who was a good-hearted fellow, and melted at
Tom's evident distress, gave up his claim. Tom
was flogged next morning, and a few days after-
wards met Velveteens, and presented him with
half-a-crown for giving up the rod claim, and they
became sworn friends ; and I regret to say that
Tom had many more fish from under the willow
that may-fly season, and was never caught again
by Velveteens.
It wasn't three weeks before Tom, and now East
by his side, were again in the awful presence. This
time, however, the Doctor was not so terrible. A
few days before, they had been fagged at fives to
fetch the balls that went off" the court. While
standing watching the game, they saw five or six
nearly new balls hit on the top of the school. " I
say, Tom," said East, when they were dismissed,
" couldn't we get those balls somehow ? "
" Let's try, any how."
So they reconnoitred the walls carefully, borrowed
a coal hammer from old Stumps, bought some big
nails, and after one or two attempts, scaled the
schools, and possessed themselves of huge quanti-
ties of fives' balls. The place pleased them so
much that they spent all their spare time there,
scratching and cutting their names on the top of
every tower ; and at last having exhausted all other
places, finished up with inscribing H. East, T.
Brown, on the minute hand of the great clock. In
the doing of which, they held the minute-hand, and
226 KOBE SCBAFES.
disturbed the clock's economy. So next morning,
when masters and boys came trooping down to
prayers, and entered the quadrangle, the injured
minute-hand was indicating three minutes to the
hour. They all pulled up, and took their time:
When the hour struck, doors were closed, and half
the school late. Thomas being set to make in-
quiry, discovers their names on the minute-hand,
and reports accordingly ; and they are sent for, a
knot of their friends making derisive and pantomimic
allusions to what their fate will be, as they walk
off.
But the Doctor, after hearing their story, doesn't
make much of it, and only gives them thirty lines of
Homer to learn by heart, and a lecture on the likeli-
hood of such exploits ending in broken bones.
Alas, almost the next day was one of the great
fairs in the town ; and as several rows and other
disagreeable accidents had of late taken place on
these occasions, the Doctor gives out, after prayers
in the morning, that no boy is to go down into the
town. Wherefore East and Tom, for no earthly
pleasure except that of doing what they are told not
to do, start away after second lesson, and making
a short circuit through the fields, strike a back lane
which leads into the town, go down it, and run
plump upon one of the masters as they emerge into
the High street. The master in question, though a
very clever, is not a righteous man ; he has already
caught several of his own pupils, and gives them
lines to learn, while he sends 'East and Tom, who are
not his pupils, up to the Doctor ; who, on learning
KOBE SCBAFES. . 227
that they had been at prayers in the morning, flogs
them soundly. .
The flogging did them no good at the time, for
the injustice of their captor was rankling in their
minds ; but it was just the end of the half, and on
the next evening but one Thomas knocks at their
door, and says the Doctor wants to ^ee them. They
look at one another in silent dismay. What can it
be now ? Which of their countless wrong-doings
can he have heard of officially? However, it's no
use delaying, so up they go to the study. There
they find the Doctor, not angry, but very grave.
' He has sent for them to speak very seriously before
they go home. They have each been flogged sev-
eral times in the half year for direct and wilful
breaches of rules. This cannot go on. They are
doing no good to themselves or others, and now
they are getting up in the school, and have in-
fluence. They seem to think that rules are made
capriciously, and for the pleasure of the masters;
but this is not so, they are made for the good of the
whole school, and must and shall be obeyed. Those
who thoughtlessly or wilfully break them will not be
allowed to stay at the school. He should be sorry
if they had to leave, as the school might do them
both much good, and wishes them to think very se-
riously in the holidays over what he has said. Good
night.'
And so the two hurry off* horribly scared ; the idea
of having to leave has never crossed their minds, and
is quite unbearable.
As they go out they meet at the door old Holmes,
228 THE DOCTOB BEIONIN6.
a sturdy cheery praepostor of another house, who
goes in to the Doctor ; and they hear his genial
hearty greeting of the new-comer, so different to their
own reception, as the door closes, and return to their
study with heavy hearts, and tremendous resolves to
break no more rules.
Five minutes afterwards the master of their form,
a late arrival and a model young master, knocks at
the Doctor's study door. " Come in ! " and as he
enters the Doctor goes on to Holmes " you see I do
not know any thing of the case officially, and if I
take any notice of it at all, I must publicly expel the
boy. I don't wish to do that, for I think there is
some good in him. There's nothing for it but a good
sound thrashing." He paused to shake hands with
the master, which Holmes does also, and then pre-
pares to leave.
" I understand. Good night, sir."
" Good night, Holmes. And remember," added
the Doctor, emphasizing the words, " a good sound
thrashing before the whole house."
The door closed on Holmes, and the Doctor, in
answer to the puzzled look of his lieutenant, ex-
plained shortly. " A gross case of bullying. Whar-
ton, the head of the house, is a very good fellow, but
slight and weak, and severe physical pain is the only
way to deal with such a case ; so I have asked
Holmes to take it up. He is very careful and trust-
worthy, and has plenty of strength. I wish all the
sixth had as much. We must have it here, if we are
to keep order at all."
Now I don't want any wiseacres to read this
THE DOCTOR BEIONINO. 229
book ; but if they should, of course, they will prick
up their long ears, and howl, or rather bray, at the
above story. Very good, I don't object; but what
I have to add for you boys is this, that Holmes
called a levy of his house after breakfast next morn-
ing, made them a speech on the case of bullying in
question, and then gave the bully a " good sound
thrashing ; " and that years afterwards, that boy
sought out Holmes, and thanked him, saying it had
been the kindest act which had ever been done upon
him, and the turning point in his character ; and a
very good fellow he became, and a credit to his
school.
After some other talk between them, the Doctor
said, " I want to speak to you about two boys in
your form. East and Brown ; I have just been speak-
ing to them. What do you think of them ? "
" Well, they are not hard workers, and very
thoughtless, and full of spirits but I can't help
liking them, I think they are sound good fellows at
the bottom."
" I'm glad of it. I think so too. But they make
me very uneasy. They are taking the lead a good
deal amongst the fags in my house, for they are very
active, bold fellows. I should be sorry to lose them,
but I shan't let them stay if I don't see them gaining
character and manliness. In another year they may
do great harm to all the youngei^boys."
" Oh, I hope you won't send them away," pleaded
their master.
" Not if I can help it. But now I never feel sure,
after any half-holiday, that I shan't have to flog one
230 THE DOCTOB BEIONING.
of them next morning for some foolish thoughtless
scrape. I quite dread seeing either of them."
They were both silent for a minute. Presently
the Doctor began again :
" They don't feel that they have any duty or work
to do in the school, and how is one to make them
feel it?"
*^ I think if either of them had some little boy to
take care of, it would steady them. Brown is the
most reckless of the two, I should say; East wouldn't
get into so many scrapes without him."
" Well," said the Doctor, with something like a
sigh, " I'll think of it." And they went on to talk of
other subjects.
TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAIS.
PART II.
" I [hold] it tmth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in diyers tones,
That men may rise on stepping-stones
Of their dead seWes to higher things.*' j
Tbnntson.
/ '
CHAPTER I.
HOW THE TIDE TUBJ^m).
* Onoe to eyery man and nation, oomea the moment to decide
In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side :
Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside,
Doabting in his abject spirit, till his Lord is crucified.*'
Lowell.
The turning poAit in our hero's school career had
now come, and the manner of it was as follows. On
the evening of the first day of the next half-year,
Tom, East, and another school-house boy, who had
just been dropped at the Spread Eagle by the old
Regulator, rushed into the matron's room in high
spirits, such as all_real boys are in w^hen they first
get back, however fond they may be of home.
" Well, Mrs. Wixie," shouted one, seizing on the
methodical active little darlc-eyed woman, who was
busy stowing away the linen of the boys who had
abready arrived into their several pigeon-holes, " here
we are again you see, jolly as ever. Let us help you
put the things away."
" And, Mary," cried another, (she was called indif-
ferently by either name,) " who's come back ? Has
the Doctor made old 'Jones leave ? How many new
boys are there ?
20
234 BLACK MONDAY.
"Am I and East to have Gray's study? You
know you promised to get it for us if you could,"
shouted Tom.
" And am I to sleep in Number 4 ? " roared East.
How's old Sam, and Bogle, and Sally ? "
" Bless the boys," cries Mary, at last getting in a
word, " why you'll shake me to death. There, now
do go away up to the housekeeper's room and get
your suppers; you know I haven't time to talk
you'll find plenty more in the house. Now, Master
East, do let those things alone you're mixing up
three new boys' things." And she rushed at East,
who escaped round the open trunks holding up a
prize.
" Hullo, look here. Tommy," shouted he, " here's
fun!" and he brandished above his head some pretty
little night-caps, beautifully made and marked, the
work of loving fingers in some distant country homf.
The kind mother and sisters, who sewed that deli-
cate stitching with aching hearts, little thought of
the trouble they might be bringing on the young
head for which they were meant. The little matron
was Viser, and snatched the caps from East before
he could look at the name on them.
" Now, Master East, I shall be very angry if you
don't go," said she ; " there's some capital cold beef
and pickles up stairs, mnd I won't have you old boys
in my room first night."
" Hurrah for the pickles ! Come along, Tommy,
come along. Smith. We shall find out who the
young count is, I'll be bound ; I hope he'll sleep in
my room. Mary's always vicious first week."
THE SADDLE IS PUT ON TOM. 235
As the boys turned to leave the room, the matron
touched Tom's arm, and said, " Master Brown,
please stop a minute. I want to speak to you."
" Very well, Mary. FU come in a minute, East ;
don't finish the pickles "
" Oh, Master Brown," went on the little matron
when the rest had gone, "ypu're to have Gray's
study, Mrs. Arnold says. And she wants you to
take in this young gentleman. He's a new boy and
thirteen years old, though he don't look it. He's very
delicate, and has never been from home before.
And I told Mrs. Arnold I thought you'd be kind to
him, and see that they don't bully him at first. He's
put into your form, and I've given him the bed next
to yours in Number 4; so East can't sleep there this
half."
Tom was rather put about by this speech. He
had got the double study which he coveted, but here
were conditions attached which greatly moderated
his joy. He looked across the room, and in the far
corner of the sofa was aware of a slight pale boy,
with large blue eyes ajad light fair hair, who seemed
ready to shrink through the floor. He saw at a
glance that the little stranger was just the boy whose
first half-year at a public school would be misery to
himself if he were let alone, or constant anxiety to
any one who meant to see him through his troubles.
Tom was too honest to take in the youngster and
then let him shift for himself; and if he took him
as his chum instead of East, where were all his pet
plans of having a bottled-beer cellar under his win-
dow, and making night-lines and slings, and plotting
236 THE SADDLE IS PITT ON lOH.
expeditions to Brownsover Mills and Caldecott's
Spinney ? East and he had made up their minds
to get this study, and then every night from locking-
up till ten they would be together, to talk about
fishing, drink bottled-beer, read Marryatt's novels,
and sort birds' eggs. And this new boy would most
likely never go out of the close, and would be afraid
of wet feet, and always getting laughed at, and
called Molly, or Jenny, or some derogatory feminine
nickname.
The matron watched him for a moment, and saw
what was passing in his mind, and so, like a wise
negotiator, threw in an appeal to his warm heart.
" Poor little fellow," said she in almost a whisper,
" his father's dead, and he's got no brothers. And
his mamma, such a kind sweet lady, almost broke her
heart at leaving him this morning; and she said
one of his sisters was like to die of decline, and
so "
" Well, well," burst in Tom, with something like
a sigh at the effort, " I suppose I must give up East
Come along, young 'un. What's your name ? We'D
go and have some supper, and then I'll show yoa
our study."
" His name's George Arthur," said the matron,
walking up to him with Tom, who grasped his little
delicate hand as the proper preliminary to making a
chum of him, and felt as if he could have blown him
away. " I've had his books and things put into the
study, which his mamma has had new papered, and
the sofa covered, and new green-baize curtains over
the door," (the diplomatic matron threw this in, to
TEA WITH THE DOCTOB. 2t37
show that the new boy was contributing largely to
the partnership comforts.) " And Mrs. Arnold told
me to say" she added, "that she should like you
both to come up to tea with her. You know the
way, Master Brown, and the things are just gone up,
I know."
Here was an announcement for Master Tom ! He
was to go up to tea the first night, just as if he weie
a sixth or fifth-form boy, and of importance in the
school world, instead of the most reckless young
scapegrace amongst the fags. He felt himself lifted
on to a higher moral and social platform at once.
Nevertheless, he couldn't give up without a sigh the
idea of the jolly supper in the housekeeper's room
with East and the rest, and a rush round to all the
studies of his friends afterwards, to pour out the
deeds and wonders of the holidays, to plot fifty plans
for the coming half-year, and to gather news of who
had left, and what new boys had come, who had
got who's study, and where the new praepostors
slept. However, Tom consoled himself with think-
ing that he couldn't have done all this with the new
boy at his heels, and so marched off along the pas-
sages to the Doctor's private house, with his young
charge in tow, in monstrous good humour with him-
self and all the world.
It is needless, and would be impertinent to tell,
how the two young boys were received in that
drawing-room. The lady who presided there is still
living, and has carried with her to her peaceful
home in the North the respect and love of all those
who ever felt and shared that gentle and high-bred
238 TEA WITH THE BOCTOB.
hospitality. Aye, many is the brave heart now
doing its work and bearing its load in country cura-
cies, London cbartibers, under the Indian sun, and in
Australian towns and clearings, which looks back
with fond and grateful memory to that school-house
drawing-room, and dates much of its highest and
best training to the lessons learnt there.
Besides Mrs. Arnold and one or two of the elder
children, there were one of the younger masters,
young Brooke, who was now in the sixth and had
succeeded to his brother's position and influence,
and another sixth-form boy there, talking together
before the fire. The master and young Brooke,
now a great strapping fellow six feet high, eighteen
years old, and powerful . as a coal-heaver, nodded
kindly to Tom to his intense glory, and then went
on talking; the other did not notice them. The
hostess, after a few kind words, which led the boys
at once and insensibly to feel at their ease, to begin
talking to one another, left them with her own
children while she finished a letter. The young
ones got on fast and well, Tom holding forth about
a prodigious pony he had been riding out hunting,
and hearing stories gf the winter glories of the lakes,
when tea came in, and immediately after the Doctor
himself.
How frank, and kind, and manly, was his greet-
ing to the party by the fire ; it did Tom's heart good
to see him and young Brooke shake hands, and look
one another in the face ; and he didn't fail to remark
that Brooke was nearly as tall, and quite as broad
as the Doctor. And his cup was full, when in
TEA WITH THE DOCTOB. 239
another moment his master turned to him with an-
other warm shake of the hand, and seemingly obliv-
ious of all the late scrapes which he had been getting
into, said, " Ah, Brown, you here ! I hope you left
your father and all well at home."
" Yes, sir, quite well.''
" And this is the little fellow who is to share your
study. Well, he doesn't look as we should like to see
him. He wants some Rugby air, and cricket. And
you must take him some good long walks, to Bilton
Grange, and Caldecott's Spinney, and show him
what a little pretty country we have about here."
Tom wondered if the Doctor knew that his visits
to Bilton Grange were for the purpose of taking
rooks' nests (a proceeding strongly discountenanced
by the owner thereof), and those to Caldecott's
Spinney, were prompted chiefly by the conveniences
for setting night-lines. What didn't the Doctor
know ? And what a noble use he always made of
it He almost resolved to abjure rook-pies and
night-lines for ever. The tea went merrily off, the
Doctor now talking of holiday doings, and then of
the prospects of the half-year, what chance there
was for the Balliol scholarship, whether the eleven
would be a good one. Everybody was at their ease,
and everybody felt that he, young as he might be,
was of some use in the little school world, and had
a work to do there.
Soon after tea the Doctor went off to his study,
and the young boys a few minutes afterwards took
their leave, and went out of the private door which
led from the Doctor's house into the middle passage.
240 abthur's debut.
At the fire, at the further end of the passage, was
a crowd of boys in loud talk and laughter. There
was a sudden pause when the door opened, and
then a great shout of greeting, as Tom was recog-
nized marching down the passage. ^
" Hullo, Brown, where do you come from ? "
" Oh, I've been to tea with the Doctor," says Tom,
with great dignity.
" My eye," cried East. " Oh ! so that's why Mary
called you back, and you didn't come to supper.
You lost something that beef and pickles was no
end good."
" I say, young fellow," cried Hall, detecting
Arthur and catching him by the collar, "what's
your name ? Where do you come from ? How old
are you ? "
Tom saw Arthur shrink back and look scared as
all the group turned to him, but thought it best to
let him answer, just standing by his side to support
in case of need.
" Arthur, sir. I come from Devonshire."
" Don't call me * sir,' you young muff. How old
are you ? "
Thirteen."
" Can you sing?"
The poor boy was trembling and hesitating. Tom
truck in "You be hanged. Tadpole. He'll have
to sing, whether he can or not, Saturday twelve
weeks, and that's long enough off yet."
" Do you know him at home. Brown ? "
" No, but he's my chum in Gray's old study, and
it's near prayer time, and I haven't had a look at it
yet Come along, Arthur."
ABTHUB^S DEBUT. 241
Away went the two, Tom longing to get his
charge safe under cover, where he might advise him
on his deportment.
" What a queer chum for Tom Brown,'' was the
comment at the fire ; and it must be confessed so
thought Tom himself, as he lighted his candle, and
surveyed the new green-baize curtains, and the car-
pet and sofa with much satisfaction.
" I say, Arthur, what a brick your mother is to
make us so cosy. But look here now, you must
answer straight up when the fellows speak to you,
and don't be afraid. If you're afraid, you'll get
bullied. And don't you say you can sing; and
don't you ever talk about home, or your mother
and sisters."
Poor little Arthur looked ready to cry.
"But please," said he, "mayn't I talk about
about home to you ? "
" Oh, yes, I like it. But don't talk to boys you
don't know, or they'll call you home-sick, or mam-
ma's darling, or some such stuff. What a jolly desk !
is that your's ? And what stunning binding ! why,
your school-books look like novels."
And Tom was soon deep in Arthur's goods and
chattels, all new and good enough for a fifth-form
boy, and hardly thought of his friends outside, till
the prayer-bell rung.
I have already described the school-house prayers ;
they were the same on the first night as on the other
nights, save for the gaps caused by the absence of
those boys who came late, and the line of new boys
who stood all together at the further table of all
21 *
242 ABTHUS'S SEBTTT.
sorts and sizes, like young bears, with all theii
^ troubles to come, as Tom's father bad said to him
V when he* was in the same position. He thought of
it as he looked at the line, and poor little slight
Arthur standing with them, and as he was leading
hinf up stairs to Number 4, directly after prayers,
and showing him his bed. It was a huge, high, airy
room, with two large windows looking on to the
school-close. There were twelve beds in the room.
The one in the furthest corner by the fireplace, occu-
pied by the sixth-form boy who was responsible
for the discipline of the room, and the rest by boys
in the lower-fifth and other junior forms, all fags,
(for the fifth-form boys, as has been said, slept in
rooms by themselves.) Being fags, the eldest of
them was not more than about sixteen years old,
and were all bound to be up and in bed by ten ; the
sixth-form boys came to bed from ten to a quarter
past, (at which time the old verger came round to
put the candles out,) except when they sat up to
read.
Within a few minutes, therefore, of their entry, all
the other boys who slept in Number 4 had come up.
The little fellows went quietly to their own beds,
and began undressing and talking to one another in
whispers ; while the elder, amongst whom was Tom,
sat chatting about on one another's beds, with their
jackets and waistcoats off. Poor little Arthur was
overwhelmed with the novelty of his position. The
idea of sleeping in the room with strange boys had
clearly never crossed his mind before, and was as
painful as it was strange to him. He could hardly
LESSON NO. I. 243
bear to take his jacket off; however, presently with
an effort off it came, and then he paused and looked
at Tom j who was sitting at the bottom of his bed,
talking and laughing.
" Please, Brown," he whispered, " tnay I wash my
face and hands ? "
" Of course, if you like," said Tom staring ; " that's
your washhand-stand under the window, second
from your bed. You'll have to go down for more
water in the morning if you use it all." And on
he went with his talk, while Arthur stole timidly
from between the beds out to his washhand-stand,
and began his ablutions, thereby drawing for a mo-
ment on himself the attention of the room.
On went the talk and laughter. Arthur finished
his washing and undressing, and put on his night-
gown. He then looked round more nervously than
ever. Two or three of the little boys were already
in bed, sitting up with their chins on their knees.
The light burned clear, the noise went on. It was
a trying moment for the poor little lonely boy ; how-
ever this time he didn't ask Tom what he might or
might not do, but dropped on his knees by his bed-
side, as he had done every day from his childhood, to
open his heart to Him, who heareth the cry and
beareth the sorrows of the tender child, and the
strong man in agony.
Tom was sitting at the bottom of his bed unlac-
ing his boots, so that his back was towards Arthur,
and he didn't see what had happened, and looked up
in wonder at the sudden silence. Then two or three
boys laughed and sneered, and a big brutal fellow.
244 LESSON NO. I.
who was standing in the middle of the room, picked
up a slipper, and shied it at the kneeling boy, calling
him a snivelling young shaver. Then Tom- saw the
whole, and the next moment the boot he had just
pulled off flew straight at the head of the bully, who
had just time to throw up his arm and catch it on
his elbow.
" Confound you. Brown, what's that for ? " roared
he, stamping with pain.
" Never mind what I mean," said Tom, stepping
on to the flooi, every drop of blood in his body ting-
ling ; " if any fellow wants the other boot, he knows
how to get it"
What would have been the result is doubtful, for
at this moment the sixth-form boy came in, and not
another word could be said. Tom and the rest
rushed into bed and finished their unrobing there,
and the old verger, as punctual as the clock, had put
out the candle in another minute, and toddled on to
. the next room, shutting their door with his usual
" Qood night, genl'm'n."
^ There were many boys in the room by whom that
little scene was taken to heart before they slept
But sleep seemed to have deserted the pillow of
poor Tom. For some time his excitement, and the
flood of memories which chased one another through
his brain, kept him from thinking or resolving. His
head throbbed, his heart leapt, and he could hardly
keep himself from springing out of bed and rushing
about the room. Then the thought of his own
mother came across him, and the promise he had
made at her knee, years ago, never to forget to
LESSON NO. I. 245
kneel by his bedside, and give himself up to his
Father, before he laid his head on the pillow, from
which it might never rise ; and he lay down gently
and cried as if his heart would break. He was only
fourteen years old.
It was no. light act of courage in those days, my
dear boys, for a little fellow to say his prayer.s
publicly, even at Rugby. A few years later, when
Arnold's manly piety had begun to leaven the school. A
the tables turned; before he died, in the school-
house at least, and I believe in the other houses,
the rule was the other way. But poor Tom had
come to school in other times. The first few nights
after he came he did not kneel down because of the
noise, but sat up in bed till the candle was out, and
then stole out and said his prayers, in fear lest some
one should find him out. So did many another
poor little fellow. Then he began to think that he
might just as well say his prayers in bed, and then
that it didn't matter whether he was kneeling, or
sitting, or lying down. And so it had come to pass
with Tom, as with all who will not confess their
Lord before men ; and for the last year he had
probably not said his prayers in earnest a dozen
times.
Poor Tom! the first and bitterest feeling which
was like to break his heart, was the sense of his
own cowardice. The vice of all others which he
loathed was brought in and burned in on his own
soul. He had lied to his mother, to his conscience,
to his God. How could he bear it ? And then the
poor little weak boy, whom he had pitied and almost
246 LESSON NO. I.
scorned for his weakness, had done that which he,
braggart as he was, dared not do. The first dawn
of comfort came to him in swearing to himself that
he would stand by that boy through thick and thin,
and cheer him, and help him, and bear his burthens,
for the good deed done that night. Then he re-
solved to write home next day and tell his mother
all, and what a coward her son had been. And then
peace came to him as he resolved, lastly, to bear his
testimony next morning. The morning would be
harder than the night to begin with, but he felt that
he could not afford to let one chance slip. Several
times he faltered, for the devil showed him first, all
hid old friends calling him " Saint," and " Square-
toes," and a dozen hard names, and whispered to
him that bis motives would be misunderstood, and
he would only be left alone with the new boy;
whereas it was his duty to keep all means of in-
fluence, that he might do good to the largest num-
ber. And then came the more subtle temptation,
" Shall I not be showing myself braver than others
by doing this? Have I any right to begin it now?
Ought I not rather to pray in my own study, letting
other boys know that I do so, and trying to lead
them to it, while in public at least I should go on
as I have done ? " However, his good angel was
too strong that night, and he turned on his side and
slept, tired of trying to reason, but resolved to follow
the impulse which had been so strong, and in which
he had found peace.
Next morning he was up and washed and dressed,
all but his jacket and waistcoat, just as the ten
TOM LEJLBNS HIS LESSON. 247
minutes' bell began to ring, and then in the face of
the whole room knelt down to pray. Not five words
could he say the bell mocked him ; he was listen-
ing for every whisper in the room what were they
all thinking of him? He was ashamed to go on
kneeling, ashamed to rise from his knees. At last,
as it were from his inmost heart, a still small voice
seemed to breathe forth the words of the publican,
" God be merciful to me a sinner ! " He repeated
them over and over, clinging to them as for his life,
and rose from his knees comforted and humbled, and
ready to face the whole world. It was not needed ;
two other boys besides Arthur had aLready followed
his example, and he went down to the great school
with a glimmering of another lesson in his heart
the lesson that he who has conquered his own coward
spirit has conquered the whole outward world ; and
that other one which the old prophet learnt in the
cave at Mount Horeb, when he hid his face, and the
still small voice asked, " What doest thou here,
Elijah ? " that however we may fancy ourselves
alone on the side of good, the King and Lord of
men is nowhere without His witnesses ; for in every
sowety, however seemingly corrupt and godless,
there axe those who have not bowed the knee to
Baal
He found, too, how greatly he had exaggerated the
effect to be produced by his act. For a few nights
there was a sneer or a laugh when he knelt down,
but this passed off soon, and one by one all the
other boys but three or four followed the lead. I
fear that this was in some measure owing to the
248 TOM LEABNS HIS LESSON.
fact, that Tom could probably have thrashed any
boy in the room except the praepostor ; at any rate,
everybody knew that he would try upon very slight
provocation, and didn't choose to run the risk of a
hard fight because Tom Brown had taken a fancy
to say his prayers. Some of the small boys of
Number 4 communicated the new state of things
to their chums, and in several other rooms the poor
little fellows tried it on ; in one instance or so, where
the praepostor heard of it and interfered very deci-
dedly, with partial success ; but in the rest, after a
short struggle, the confessors were bullied or laughed
down, and the old state of things went on for some
time longer. Before either Tom Brown or Arthur
left the school-house, there was no room in which it
had not become the regular custom. I trust it is so
still, and that the old heathen state of things has
gone out for ever.
CHAPTER II.
THE NEW BOY.
^ And Heaven's rich instincts in him grew
As effortless as woodland nooks
Send violets up and paint them blue." Lowell.
I DO not mean to recount all the little troubles
and annoyances which thronged upon Tom at the
beginning of this half-year, in his new character of
bear-leader to a gentle little boy straight from home.
He seemed to himself to have become a new boy
again, without any of the long-suffering and meek-
ness indispensable for supporting that character
with moderate success. From morning till night he
had the feeling of responsibility on his mind, and
even if he left Arthur in their study or in the close
for an hour, was never at ease till he had him in
sight again. He- waited for him at the doors of the
school after every lesson and every calling-over;
watched that no tricks were played him, and none
but the regulation questions asked ; kept his eye oii^
his plate at dinner and breakfast, to see that no unfair
depredations were made upon his viands ; in short,
as East remarked, cackled after him like a hen with
one chick.
Arthur took a lohg time thawing too, which made
it all the harder work j was sadly timid ; scarcely
250 TOM'S TBIALS.
ever spoke unless Tom spoke to him first; and,
worst of all, would agree with him in everything,
the hardest thing in the world for Brown to bear.
He got quite angry sometimes, as they sat together
of a night in their study, at this provoking habit of
agreement, and was on the point of breaking out a
dozen times with a lecture upon the propriety of a
fellow having a Will of his own and speaking out ;
but managed to restrain himself by the thought that
it might only frighten Arthur, and the remembranee
of the lesson he had learnt from him on his first night
at Number 4. Then he would resolve to sit still, and
not say a word till Arthur began ; but he was always
beat at that game, and had presently to begin talking
in despair, fearing lest Arthur might think he was
vexed at something if he didn't, and dog-tired of sit-
ting tongue-tied.
It was h^d work ! But Tom had taken it up, and
meant to stick to it, and go through with it, so as to
satisfy himself; in which resolution he was much
assisted by the chaffing of East and his other old
friends, who began to call him " dry-nurse," and oth-
erwise to break their small wit on him. But when
they took other ground, as they did every now syod
th^n, Tom was sorely puzzled,
4r " Tell you what, Tommy," East would say;
you'll spoil young hopeful with too much cod-
dling. Why can't you let him go about by him-
self, and find his own level ? He'll never be worth
a button, if you go on keeping him under your
skirts."
^ Well, but he ain't fit to fight his own way yet ;
east's advice. 251
Fm trying to get him to it every day but he's very
odd. Poor little beggar ! I can't make him out a
bit. He ain't a bit like anything I've ever seen or
heard of he seems all over nerves; anything you
say seems to hurt him like .a cut or a blow."
" That sort of boy's no use here," said East, " he'll
only spoil. Now I'll tell you what you do, Tommy.
Go and get a nice large band-box made, and put him
in with plenty of cotton-wool, and a pap-bottle, la-
belled 'With care this side up,' and send him back
to mamma."
" I think I shall make a hand of him though,"
said Tom, smiling, "say what you will. There's
something about him, every now and then, which
shows me he's got pluck somewhere in him. That's
the ooly thing after all that'll wash, ain't it, old
Scud ? But how to get at it artid bring it out ? "
Tom took one hand out of his breeches-pocket
and stuck it in his back hair for a scratch, giving
his hat a tilt over his nose, his one ihethod of in-
voking wisdom. He stared at the ground with a
ludicrously piizzlcd look, and presently looked up
and met East's eyes. That young gentleman
slapped him on the back, and then put his arm
round his shoulder, as they strolled through the
quadrangle together. " Tom," said he, " blest if you ^
aki't the best old fellow ever was I do like to see
you go into a thing. Hang it, I wish I could take
things as you do but I never can get higher than
a joke. Everything's a joke. If I was going to be
flogged ^ext minute, I should be in a blue funk, but
I couldn't help laughing at it for the life of me."
252 AN EPISODE.
" Brown and East, you go and fag for Jones on
the great fives' -court."
" Hullo, though, that's past a joke," broke out East,
springing at the young gentleman who addressed
them, and catching him by the collar. " Here, Tom-
my, catch hold of him t'other side before he can
holla."
The youth was seized, and dragged struggling
out of the quadrangle into the school-house hall.
He was one of the miserable little pretty white-
handed, curly-headed boys, petted and pampered by
some of the big fellows, who wrote their verses for
them, taught them to drink and use bad language,
and did all they could to spoil them for everything *
in this world and the next. One of the avoca-
tions in which these young gentlemen took partic-
ular delight, was in going about and getting fags
for their protectors, when those heroes were playing
any game. They carried about pencil and paper
with them, putting down the names of all the boys
they sent, always sending five times as many as
were wanted, and getting all those thrashed who
didn't go. The present youth belonged to a house
which was very jealous of the school-house, and
always picked out school-house fags when he could
find them. However, this time he'd got the wrong
sow by the ear. His captors slammed the great
door of the hall, and East put his back against it
* A kind and wise critic, and old Rugboean, notes here in the mar-
gin : The "small friend system was not so utterly bad from 1841-
1847." Before that, too, there were many noble friendships between
big and little boys, but I can't strike out the passage; many boys wUl
know why it is left in.
AN EPISODE. 253
while Tom gave the prisoner a shake up, took away
his list, and stood him up on the floor, while he
proceeded leisurely to examine that document.
" Let me out, let me go ! " screamed the boy in a
furious passion. . " I'll go and tell Jones this minute,
and he'll give you both the thrashing you ever
had."
" Pretty little dear," said East, patting the top
of his hat ; " hark how he swears, Tom. Nicely
brought-up young man, ain't he, I don't think."
" Let me alone, you ! " roared the boy, foam-
ing with rage and kicking at East, who quietly
tripped him up, and deposited him on the floor in
a place of safety.
" Gently, young fellow," said he ; " 'tain't im-
proving for little whippersnappers like you to be
indulging in blasphemy ; so you stop that, or you'll
get something you won't like."
" I'll have you both licked when I get out, that I
will," rejoined the boy, beginning to snivel.
" Two can play at that game, mind you," said
Tom, who had finished his examination of the list.
" Now you just listen here. We've just come across
the fives'-court, and Jones has four fags there al-
ready, two more than he wants. If he'd wanted
us to change, he'd have stopped us himself. And
here, you little blackguard, you've got seven names
down on your list besides ours, and five of them
school-house." Tom walked up to him and jerked
him on to his legs ; he was by this time whining
; like a whipped puppy.
" Now, just listen to me. We ain't going to fag
254 AN EPISODE.
for Jones. If you tell him you've sent us, we'll each
of us give you such a thrashing as you'll remember."
And Tom tore up the list and threw the pieces into
tlie fire.
" And mind you, too," said East, " don't let me
catch, you again sneaking about the school-house,
and picking up our fags. You haven't got the sort
of hide to take a sound licking kindly;" and he
opened the door and sent the young gentleman
flying into the quadrangle, with a parting kick.
" Nice boy. Tommy," said East, shoving his hands
in his pockets and strolling to the fire.
" Worst sort we breed," responded Tom, follow-
ing his example. " Thank goodness, no big fellow
ever took to petting me."
" You'd never have been like that," said East.
" I should like to have him put in a museum.
Christian young gentleman, nineteenth century,
highly educated. Stir him up with a long pole,
Jack, and hear him swear like a drunken sailor.
He'd make a respectable public open its eyes, I
think."
Think he'll tell Jones ? " said Tom.
No," said East. " Don't care if he does."
" Nor I," said Tom. And they went back to talk
about Arthur.
The young gentleman had brains enough not to
tell Jones, reasoning that East and Brown, who
were noted as some of the toughest fags in the
school, wouldn't care three straws for any licking
.Tones might give them, and would be likely to keep
their words as to passing it on with interest
AN EPISODE. 255
After the above conversation, East came a good
deal to their study, and took notice of Arthur; and
soon allowed to Tom that he was a thorough little
gentleman, and would get over his shyness all in
good time; which much comforted our hero. He
felt every day, too, the value of having an object in
his life, something that drew him out of himself;
and, it being the dull time of the year, and no games
going about which he much cared, was happier than
he had ever yet been at school, which was saying a
great deal.
The time which Tom allowed himself away from
his charge, was from locking-up till supper-time.
During this hour, or hour-and-a-half, he used to take
his fling, going round to the studies of all his ac-
quaintance, sparring or gossiping in the hall, now
jumping the old iron-bound tables, or carving a bit of
his name on them, then joining in some chorus of
merry voices ; in fact, blowing off his steam, as we
should now call it.
ThifS process was so congenial to his temper, and
Arthur showed himself so pleased at the arrange-
ment, that it was several weeks before Tom was
ever in their study before supper. One evening,
however, he rushed in to look for an old chisel, or
some corks, or other article essential to his pursuit
for the time being, and while rummaging about in
the cupboards, looked up for a moment, and was
caught at: once by the figure of poor little Arthur.
The boy was sitting with his elbows on the
table, and his head leaning on his hands, and
Defore him an open book, on which his tears were
256 liEssoN NO. II.
falling fast. Tom shut the door at once, and sat
down on the sofa by Arthur, putting his arm round
his neck.
" Why, young'un ! what's the matter ? " said he
kindly ; " you ain't unhappy, are you ? "
" Oh no, Brown," said the little boy, looking up
with the great tears in his eyes, " you are so kind to
me, Fm very happy."
" Why don't you call me Tom ? lots of boys do
that I don't like half so much as you. What are
you reading then ? Hang it, you niust come about
with me, and not mope yourself," and Tom cast
down his eyes on the book and saw it was the
Bible. He was silent for a minute, and thought to
himself, " Lesson Number 2, Tom Brown," and then
sa^l gently
" I'm very glad to see this, Arthur, and ashamed
that I don't read the Bible more myself. Do you
read it every night .before supper while Fm out? "
Yes."
" Well, I wish you'd wait till afterwards, and then
we'd read together. But, Arthur, why does it make
you cry ? "
" Oh, it isn't that Fm unhappy. But at home,
while my father was alive, we always read the les-
. sons after tea ; and I love to read them over now,
and try to remember what he said about them.
I can't remember all, and I think I scarcely under-
stand a great deal of what I do remember. But
it all comes back to me so fresh, that I can't help
crying sometimes to think I shall never read them
again with him."
abthxtk's home. 257
Arthur had never spoken of his home before,
and Tom hadn't encouraged him to do so, as his
blundering school-boy reasoning made him think
that Arthur would be softened and less manly for
thinking of home. But now he was fairly interest-
ed, and forgot all about chisels and bottled beer;
while with very little encouragement Arthur launch-
ed into his home history, and the prayer-bell put
them both out sadly when it rang to call them to
t^e hall.
From this time Arthur constantly spoke of his
home, and above all, of his father, who had been
dead about a year, and whose memory Tom soon
got to love and reverence almost as much as his
own son did.
Arthur's father had been the clergyman of a
parish in the Midland counties, which had risen
into a large town during the war, and upon which
the hard years which followed had fallen with
a fearful weight The trade had been half ruined ;
and then came the old sad story, of masters
reducing their establishments, men turned off and
wandering about, hungry and wan in body, and
fierce in soul, from the thought of wives and
children starving at home, and the last sticks of
furniture going to the pawn-shop. Children taken
from school, and lounging about the dirty streets
and courts, too listless almost to play, and squalid
in rags and misery. And then the fearful strug-
gle between the employers and men ; lowerings
of wages, strikes, and the long course of oft-re-
peated crime, ending every now and then with a
22
258 abthub's home.
riot, a fire, and the county yeomanry. There is
no need heite to dwell upon such tales; the
Englishman into whose soul they have not sunk
deep, is not worthy the name: you English boys
for whom this book is meant (God bless your
bright faces and kind hearts !) will learn it all soon
enough.
Into such a parish and state of society, Ar-
thur's father had been thrown at the age of
twenty-five, a young married parson, full of faith,
hope, and love. He had battled with it like a
man, and had lots of fine Utopian ideas about
the perfectibility of mankind, glorious humanity,
and such like knocked out of his head; and a
real wholesome Christian love for the poor, strug-
gling, sinning men, of whom he felt himself one,
and with and for whom he spent fortune, and
strength, and life, driven into his heart. He had
battled like a man, and gotten a man's reward.
No silver teapots or salvers, with flowery inscrip-
tions, setting forth his virtues and the appreciation
of a genteel parish ; no fat living or stall, for which
he never looked, and didn't care ; no sighs and
praises of comfortable dowagers and well got-up
young women, who worked him slippers, sugared
his tea, and adored him as ' a devoted man ;
but a manly respect, wrung from the unwilling
souls of men who fancied his order their natural
enemies ; the fear and hatred of every one who was
false or unjust in the district, were he master or
man ; and the blessed sight of women and children
daily becoming more human and more homely,
Arthur's home. 259
a comfort to themselves and to their husbands and
fathers.
These things of course took time, and had to be
fought for with toil and sweat of brain and heart,
and with the life-blood poured out. All that,
Arthur had laid his account to give, and took
as a matter of course ; neither pitying himself,
or looking* on himself as a martyr, when he felt
the wear and tear making him feel old before
his time, and the stifling air of fever dens tell-
ing on his health. His wife seconded him in
everything. She had been rather fond of society,
and much admired and run after before her mar-
riage; and the London world to which she had
belonged pitied poor Fanny Evelyn when she mar-
ried the young clergyman, and went to settle in
that smoky hole Turley, a very nest of chartism
and atheism, in a part of the county which all
the decent families had had to leave for years.
' However, somehow or other she didn't seem to
care. If her husband's living had been amongst
green fields and near pleasant neighbours, she
would have liked it better, that she never pre-
tended to deny. But there they were: the air
wasn't bad after all; the people were very good
sort of people, civil to you if you were civil to
them, after the first brush; and they didn't ex-
pect to work miracles, and convert them all off-
hand into model Christians.' So he and she went
quietly among the folk, talking to and treating
them just as they would have done people of
their own rank. They didn't feel that they were
260 abthttb's home.
doing any thing out of the common way, and so
were perfectly natural, and had none of that
condescension or consciousness of manner, which
so outrages the independent poor. And thus they
gradually won respect and confidence ; and after
sixteen years he was looked up to by the whole
neighbourhood as the just man, the man to whom
masters and men could go in their strikes, and
all in their quarrels and dif&culties, and by whom
the right and true word would be said without
fear or favour. JS.nd the women had come round to
take her advice, and go to her as a friend in all their
troubles ; while the children all worshipped the very
ground she trod on.
They had three children, two daughters and a
son, little George, who came between his sisters.
He had been a Very delicate boy from his childhood ;
they thought he had a tendency to consumption,
and so he had been kept at home and taught
by his father, who had made a companion of him,
and from whom he had gained good scholarship,
and a knowledge of and interest in many subjects
which boys in general never come across till they
are many years older.
Just as he reached his* thirteenth year, and his
father had settled that he was strong enough to go
to school, and, after much debating with himself,
had resolved to send him there, a desperate typhus-
fever broke out in the town; most of the other
clergy, and almost all the doctors, ran away; the
work fell with tenfold weight on those who stood to
their work. Arthur and his wife both caught the
arthub's home. 261
fever, of which he died in a few days, and she recov^
ered, having been able to nurse him to the end, and
store up his last words. He was sensible to the last,
and calm and happy, leaving his wife and children
with fearless trust for a few years in the hands of the
Lord and Friend who had lived and died for him,
and for whom he, to the best of his power, had lived
and died. His widow's mourning was deep and
gentle ; she was more affected by the request of the
Committee of a Freethinking club, established in the
town by some' of the factory hands (which he had
striven against with might and main, and nearly
suppressed), that some of their number might be
allowed to help bear the coffin, than any thing else.
Two of them were chosen, who, with six other
labouring men, his own fellow-workmen and friends,
bore him to the grave a man who had fought the
Lord's fight, even unto the death. The shops were
closed, and the factories shut that day in the parish,
yet no master stopped the day's wages ; but for
many a year afterwards the townsfolk felt the want
of that brave, hopeful, loving parson, and his wife,
who had lived to teach them mutual forbearance and
helpfulness, and had almost at last given them a
glimpse of what this old world would be, if people
would live for God and each other, instead of for
themselves.
What has all this to do with our story ? Well,
my dear boys, let a fellow go on his own way, or
you won't get any thing out of him. worth having.
I must show you what sort of a man it was who had
begotten and trained little Arthur, or else you won't
262 abthitb's home.
believe in him, which I am resolved you shall do;
and you won't see how he, the timid, weak boy, had
points in him from which the bravest and strongest
recoiled, and made his presence and example felt
from the first on all sides, unconsciously to himself,
and without the least attempt at proselytizing. The
spirit of his father was in him, and the Friend to
whom his father had left him did not neglect the trust.
After supper that night, and almost nightly for
years afterwards, Tom and Arthur, and by degrees
East occasionally, and sometimes one, sometimes
another, of their friends, read a chapter of the Bible
together, and talked it over afterwards. Tom was
at first utterly astonished, and almost shocked^ at
the sort of way in which Arthur read the book, and
talked about the men and women whose lives were
there told. The first night they happened to fall on
the chapters about the famine in Egypt, and Arthur
began talking about Joseph as if he were a living
statesman ; just as he might have talked about Lord
Grey and the Reform Bill; only that they were much
more living realities to him. The book was to him,
Tom saw, the most vivid and delightful history of
real people, who might do right or wrong, just like
any one who was walking about in Rugby the
Doctor, or the master, or the sixth-form boys. But
the astonishment soon passed off, the scales seemed
to drop from his eyes, and the book became at once
and forever to him the great human and divine book,
and the men and women, whom he had looked upon
as something quite different from himself, became his
friends and counsellors.
JBESULTS OF LESSON NO. 11. 263
For our purposes, however, the history of one
night's reading will be sufficient, which must be told
here, now we are on the subject, though it didn't
happen till a year afterwards, and long after the
events recorded in the next chapter of our story.
Arthur, Tom, and East were together one night,
and read the story of Naaman coming to Elifeha to be
cured of his leprosy. When the chapter was finished,
Tom shut his Bible with a slap.
" I can't stand that fellow Naaman," said he,
" after what he'd seen and felt, going back and bow-
ing himself down in the house of Rimmon, because
his effeminate scoundrel of a master did it. I won-
der Elisha took the trouble to heal him. How he
must have despised him."
" Yes, there you go off as usual, with a shell on
your head," struck in East, who always took the
opposite side to Tom ; half from love of argument,
half from conviction. " How do you know he didn't
think better of it ? how do you know his master was
a scoundrel ? His letter don't look like it, and the
book don't say so."
" I don't care," rejoined Tom ; " why did Naaman
talk about bowing down, then, if he didn't mean to do
it ? He wasn't likely to get more in earnest when he
got back to court, and away from the prophet."
Well but, Tom," said Arthur, look what Elisha
says to him, * Go in peace.' He wouldn't have said
that if Naaman had been in the wrong."
" I don't see that that means more than saying.
You're not the man I took you for.' "
" No, no, that won't do at all," said East ; " rea'd
264 TOM IS STIFPNECEED.
the words fairly, and take men as you find them. 1
like Naaman, and think he was a very fine fellow."
" I don't," said Tom positively.
Well, I think East is right," said Arthur ; I
can't see but what it's right to do the best you can,
though it mayn't be the best absolutely. Every man
isn't born to be a martyr."
" Of course, of course," said East ; " but he's on
one of his pet hobbies. How often have I told you,
Tom, that you must drive a nail where it'll go."
" And how often have I told you," rejoined Tom,
" that it'll always go where you want, if you only
stick to it and hit hard enough. I hate half-measures
and compromises."
" Yes, he's a whole-hog man, is Tom. Must have
the whole animal, hair and teeth, claws and tail,"
laughed East. " Sooner have no bread any day,
than half the loaf."
" I don't know," said Arthur, " it's rather puzzling ;
but ain't most right things got by proper compro-
mises, I mean where the principle isn't given up ? "
That's just the point," said Tom ; I don't ob-
^ect to a compromise, where you don't give up your
principle."
" Not you," said East laughingly. " I know him
of old Arthur, and you'll find him out some day.
There isn't such a reasonable fellow in the world, to
hear him talk. He never wants any thing but what's
right and fair ; only when you come to settle what's
right and fair, it's every thing that he wants, and
nothing that you want. And that's his idea of a
compromise. Give me the Brown compromise when
I'm on his side."
TOM FLEDGES HIMSELF. 265
^^ Now, Harry," said Tom, " no more chaff I'm
serious. Look here this is what makes my blood
tingle ; " and he turned over the pages of his Bible
and read, " Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego an-
swered and said to the king, * O Nebuchadnezzar,
we are not careful to answer thee in this matter.
If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to
deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and He
will deliver us out of thine hand, O king. But if
noty be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not
serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which
thou hast set up.' " He read the last verse twice,
emphasizing the not's, and dwelling on them as if
they gave him actual pleasure, and were hard to part
with.
They were silent a minute, and then Arthur said,
" Yes, that's a glorious story, but it don't prove your
point, Tom, I think. There are times when there is
only one way, and that the highest, and then the men .
are found to stand in the breach."
" There's always a highest way, and it's always
the right one," said Tom. " How many times has
the Doctor told us that in his sermons in the laslr
year, I should like to know ?"
" Well, you ain't going to convince us, is he, Ar-
thur? No Brown compromise to-night," said East,
looking at his watch. " But it's past eight, and we
must go to first lesson. What a bore."
So they took down their books and fell to work;
but Arthur didn't forget, and thought long and often
over the conversation.
23
CHAPTER III.
ABTHUR MAKES A FRIEND.
" Let Nature be your teacher.
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things.
We murder to dissect
Enough of Science and of Art;
Close up those barren leaves,
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives." Wordsworth.
About six weeks after the beginning of the half,
as Tom and Arthur were sitting one night before
supper beginning their verses, Arthur suddenly' stop-
ped, and looked up, and said, " Tom, do you know
anything of Martin?"
" Yes," said Tom, taking his hand out of his back
hair, and delighted to throw his Gradus ad Parnas-
sura on to the sofa : " I know him pretty well.
He's a very good fellow, but as mad as a hatter.
He's called Madman, you know. And never was
such a fellow for getting all sorts of rum things
about him. He tamed two snakes last half, and
ujed to carry them about in his pocket, and I'll be
bound he's got some hedgehogs and rats in his cup-
board now, and no one knows what besides."
" I should like very much to know him," said Ar- ^
thur ; " he was next to me in the form to-day, aad
TROUBLES OF A BOY-PHILOSOPHER. 267
he'd lost his book and looked over mine, and he
seemed so kind and gentle, that I liked him very
much."
"Ah, poor old madman, he's always losing his
books,'' said Tom, " and getting called up and
floored because he hasn't got them.'*
" I like him all the better," said Arthur.
" Well, he's great fun, I can tell you," said Tom,
throwing himself back on the sofa and chuckling at
the remembrance. " We had such a game with
him one day last half. He had been kicking up
horrid stinks for some time in his study, till I sup-
pose some fellow told Mary, and she told the Doc-
tor. Any how, one day a little before dinner, when
he came down from the library, the Doctor, instead
of going home, came striding into the hall. East
and I and five or six other fellows were at the fire,
and preciously we stared, for he don't come in like
that once a year, unless it's a wet day and there's a
fight in the hall. * East,' says he, * just come and
show me Martin's study.' * Oh, here's a game,'
whispered the rest of us, and we all cut up stairs
after the Doctor, East leading. As we got into the
New Row, which was hardly wide enough to hold
the Doctor and his gown, click, click, click, we
heard in the old madman's den. Then that stopped
all of a sudden, and the bolts went to like fun : the
madman knew East's step, and thought there was
going to be a siege.
" ' It's the Doctor, Martin. He's here and wants to
,see you,' sings out East.
" Then the bolts went back slowly, and the door
268 TKOUBLES OP JL BOY-PHILOSOPHEB.
opened, and there was the old madman standing,
looking precious scared ; his jacket off, his shirt-
sleeves up to his elbows, and his long skinny arms
all covered with anchors and arrows and letters, tat-
tooed in with gunpowder like a sailor-boy's, and a
stink fit to knock you down coming out. 'Twas all
the Doctor could do to stand his ground, and East
and I, who were looking in under his arms, held our
noses tight. The old magpie was standing on the
window-sill, all his feathers drooping, and looking
disgusted and half-poisoned.
" * What can you be about, Martin ? ' says the
Doctor ; ' you really mustn't go on in this way
you're a nuisance to the whole passage.'
" ' Please, sir, I was only mixing up this powder,
there isn't any harm in it ; and the madman seized
nervously on his pestle and mortar, to show the
Doctor the harmlessness of his pursuits, and went
off pounding : click, click, click ; he hadn't given
six clicks before, puff! up went the whole into a
great blaze, away went the pestle and mortar across
the study, and back we tumbled into the passage.
The magpie fluttered down into the court, swearing,
and the madman danced out, howling, with his fin-
gers in his mouth. The Doctor caught hold of him,
and called to us to fetch some water. ' There, you
silly fellow,' said he, quite pleased though to find he
wasn't much hurt, ' you see you don't know the
least what you are doing with all these things ; and
now, mind, you must give up practising chemistry
by yourself Then he took hold of his arm and
looked at it, and I saw he had to bite his lip, atid
TE0UBLE8 OP A BOY-PHILOSOPHEE. 269
his eyes twinkled; but he said, quite grave, ' Here,
you see, you've been making all these foolish marks
on yourself^ which you can never get out, and you'U
be very sorry for it in a year or two : now come
down to the housekeeper's room, and let us see if
you are hurt.' And away went the two, and we all
staid and had a regular turn-out of the den, till
Martin came back with his hand bandaged and
turned us out. However, I'll go and see what he's
after, and tell him to come in after prayers to sup-
per." And away went Tom to find the boy in
question, who dwelt in a little study by himself, in
New Row.
The aforesaid Martin, whom Arthur had taken
such a fancy for, was one of those unfortunates,-
who were at that time of day (and are, I fear, still)
quite out of their places at a public-school. If we
knew how to use our boys, Martin would have been
seized upon and educated as a natural philosopher.
He had a passion for birds, beasts, and insects, and
knew more of them and their habits than any one
in Rugby ; except, perhaps, the Doctor, who knew
everything. He was also an experimental chemist
on a small scale, and had made unto himself an
electric machine, from which it was his greatest
pleasure and ^ glory to administer small shocks to
any small boys who were rash enough to venture
into his study. And this was by no means an
adventure free from excitement ; for, besides the
probability of a snake dropping on to your head or
twining lovingly up your leg, or a rat getting into
your breeches-pocket in search of food, there was
270 THOUBLES OP A B0T-PHIL080PHEK.
the animal and chemical odour to be faced, which
always hung about the den, and the chance of being
blown up in some of the many experiments which
Martin was always trying, with the most wondrous
results in the shape of explosions and smells that
mortal boy ever heard of. Of course, poor Martin,
in consequence of his pursuits, had become an
Ishmaelite in the house. In the first-place he half-
poisoned all his neighbours, and they in turn were
. always on the look-out to pounce upon any of his
numerous live stock, and drive him frantic by en-
ticing his pet old magpie out of his window into
a neighbouring study, and making the disreputable
old bird drunk on toast soaked in beer and sugar.
Then Martin, for his sins, inhabited a study looking
into a small court some ten feet across, the window
of which was completely commanded by those of
the studies opposite in the sick-room row, these
latter being at a slightly higher elevation. East,
and another boy of an equally tormenting and
ingenious turn of mind, now lived exactly opposite,
and had expended huge pains and time in the prep-
aration of instruments of annoyance for the behoof
of Martin and his live colony. One morning an
old basket made its appearance, suspended by a
short cord outside Martin's window, in which were
deposited an amateur nest containing four young
hungry jackdaws, the pride and glory of Martin's
life for the time being, and which he was currently
asserted to have hatched upon his own person.
Early in the morning and late at night he was to
be seen half out of window, administering to the
TROUBLES OF A BOY PHIIiOSOPHEB. 271
varied wants of his callow brood. After deep cogi
tation, East and his chum had spliced a knife on to
the end of a fishing-rod ; and having watched
Martin out, had, after half an hour's severe sawing,
cut the string by which the basket was suspended,
and tumbled it on to the pavement below, with
hideous remonstrance from the occupants. Poor
Martin, returning from his short absence, collected
the fragments and replaced his brood (except one
whose neck had been broken in the descent) in their
old location, suspending them this time by string
and wire twisted together, defiant of any sharp
instrument which his persecutors could command.
But, like the Russian engineers at Sebastopol, East
and his chum had an answer for every move of the
adversary ; and the next day had mounted a gun in
the shape of a pea-shooter upon the ledge of their
window, trained so as to bear exactly upon the spot
which Martin had to occupy while tending his nurse-
lings. The moment he began to. feed they began
to shoot-; in vain did the enemy himself invest in
a pea-shooter, and endeavour to answer the fire
while he fed the young birds with his other hand ;
his attention was divided, and his shots flew wild,
while every one of theirs told on his face and hands,
and drove him into bowlings and imprecations. He
had been driven to ensconce the nest in a corner of
his already too well-filled den.
His door was barricaded by a set of ingenious
bolts of his own invention, for the sieges were fre-
quent by the neighbours when any unusually am-
brosial odour spread itself from the den to the
272 THE fhilosofheb's pen.
neighbouring studies. The door panels were in a
normal state of smash, but the frame of the door
resisted all besiegers, and behind it the owner car-
ried on his varied pursuits ; much in the same state
of mind, I should fancy, as a border-farmer lived in,
in the days of the old moss-troopers, when his hold
might be summoned or his cattle carried off at any
minute of night or day.
" Open, Martin, old boy it's only I, Tom Brown."
" Oh, very well, stop a moment." One bolt went
back. " You're sure East isn't there ? "
" No, no, hang it, open." Tom gave a kick, the
other bolt creaked, and he entered the den.
Den indeed it was, about five feet six inches long
by five wide, and seven feet high. About six tat-
tered school-books, and a few chemical books. Tax-
idermy, Stanley on Birds, and an odd volume of
Bewick, the latter in much better preservation,
occupied the top shelves. The other shelves, where
they had not been cut away and used by the owner
for other purposes, were fitted up for the abiding
places of birds, beasts, and reptiles. There was no
attempt at carpet or curtain. The table was en-
tirely occupied by the great work of Martin, the
electric machine, which was covered carefully with
the remains of his table cloth. The jackdaw cage
occupied one wall, and the other was adorned by a
small hatchet, a pair of climbing irons, and his tin
candle-box, in which he was for the time being
endeavouring to raise a hopeful young family of
field-mice. As nothing should be let to lie useless,
it was well that the candle-box was thus occupied,
THE INVITATION. 273
for candles Martin never had. A pound was issued
to him weekly as to the other boys, but as candles
were available capital, and easily exchangeable for
birds' -eggs or young birds, Martin's pound invariably
found its way in a few hoijrs to Howlett's, the bird-
fancier's, in the Bilton road, who would give a
hawk's or nightingale's egg, or young linnet, in ex-
change. Martin's ingenuity was therefore forever on
the rack to supply himself with a light ; just now he
had hit upon a grand invention, and the den was
lighted by a flaring cotton-wick issuing from a
ginger-beer bottle full of some doleful composition.
When light altogether failed him, Martin would
loaf about by the fires in the passages or hall, after
the manner of Diggs, and try to do his verses or
learn his lines by the fire-light.
" Well, old boy, you haven't got any sweeter in
the den this half. How that stuff in the bottle
stinks. Never mind, I ain't going to stop, but you
come up after prayers to our sjtudy ; you know young
Arthur, we've got Gray's study. We'll have a good
supper and talk about birds'-nesting."
Martin was evidently highly pleased at the invita-
tion, and promised to be up without fail.
As soon as prayers were over, and the sixth and
fifth-form boys had withdrawn to the aristocratic
seclusion of their own room, and the rest, or de-
mocracy, had sat down to their supper in the hall ;
Tom and Arthur, having secured their allowances
of bread and cheese, started on their feet to catch
the eye of the praepostor of the week, who remained
in charge during supper, walking up and down the
274 tom's wokk.
hall. He happened to be an easy-going fellow, so
they got a pleasant nod to their " Please may I go
out?'' and away they scrambled to prepare for
Martin a sumptuous banquet. This, Tom had in-
sisted on, for he was in gjreat delight on the occasion ;
the reason of which delight must be expounded.
The fact was, that this was the first attempt at
a friendship of his own which Arthur had made,
and Tom hailed it as a grand step. The e^se with
which he himself became hail-fellow-well-met with
anybody, and blundered into and out of twenty
friendships a half-year, made him' sometimes sorry
and sometimes angry at Arthur's res^ve and lone-
liness. True, Arthur was always pleasant, and
even jolly, with any boys who came with Tom to
their study ; but Tom felt that it jfras only through
him, as it were, that his chum associated with
others, and that but for him Arthur would have been
dwelling in a wilderness. This increased his con-
sciousness of responsibility ; and though he hadn't
reasoned it out and made it clear to himself, yet
somehow he knew that this responsibility, this trust
which he had taken on him without thinking about
it, head-over-heels in fact, was the centre and turn-
ing-point of his school-life, that which was to make
him or mar him ; his appointed work .and trial for
the time being. And Tom was becoming a new-
boy, though with frequent tumbles in the dirt and per-
petual hard battle with himself, and was daily grow-
ing in manfulness, and thoughtfulness, as every high-
couraged and well-principled boy must, when he finds
himself for the first time consciously at grips with self
TOM'S WORK. 275
and the devil. Already he could turn almost with-
out a sigh from the school gates, from which had just
scampered off East and three or four others of his
own particular set, bound for some jolly lark not
quite according to law, and involving probably a row
with louts, keepers, or farm-labourers, the skipping
dinner or calling-over, some of Phoebe Jennings's
beer, and a very possible flogging at the end of all
as a relish. He had quite got over the stage in
which he would grumble to himself, " Well, hang it,
it's very hard of the Doctor to have saddled me with
Arthur. Why couldn't he have chummed him with
Fogey, or Thomkin, or any of the fellows who never
do anything but walk round the close, and finish
their copies the fir^ day they're set ? " But although
all this was past, he often longed, and felt that he
was right in longing, for more time for the legiti-
mate pastimes of cricket, fives, bathing, and fishing
within bounds, in which Arthur could not yet be his
companion; and he felt that when the young'un
(as he now generally called him) had found a pur-
suit and some other friend for himself, he should be
able to give more time to the education of his own
body with a clear conscience.
And now what he so wished for had come to
pass; he almost hailed it as a special providence,
(as indeed it was, but not for the reasons he gave
for it what providences are ?) that Arthur should
have singled out Martin of all fellows for a friend.
" The old madman is the yery fellow," thought he ;
^' he will take him scrambling over half the country
after birds' eggs and flowers, make him run and
276 THE 8UPPEE.
swim and climb like an Indian, and not teach him
a word of any thing bad, or keep him from his les-
sons. What luck ! " And so, with more than his
usual heartiness, he dived into his cupboard, and
hauled out an old knuckle-bone of ham, and two or
three bottles of beer, together with the solemn pew-
ter only used on state occasions; while Arthur,
equally elated at the easy accomplishment of his
first act of volition in the joint establishment, pro-
duced from his side a bottle of pickles, and a pot of
jam, and cleared the table. In a minute or two the
noise of the boys coming up from supper was heard,
and Martin knocked and was admitted, bearing his
bread and cheese, and the three fell to with hearty
good will upon the viands, talking faster than they
eat, for all shyness disappeared in % moment before
Tom's bottltsd-beer and hospitable ways. " Here's
Arthur, a regular young town-mouse, with a natural
taste for the woods, Martin, longing to break his
neck climbing trees, and with a passion for young
snakes."
'* Well, I say," sputtered out Martin eagerly, " wiU
you come to-morrow, both of you, to Caldecott's
Spinney then, for I know of a kestrel's nest, up a fir
tree I can't get at it without help ; and. Brown,
you can climb against any one."
" O yes, do let us go," said Arthur; " I never saw
a hawk's nest or a hawk's egg."
" You just come down to my study then, and I'll
show you five sorts," said Martin.
" Ay, the old madman has got the best collection
in the house, out-and-out," said Tom ; and then
THE SUPPER. 277
Martin, warming with unaccustomed good cheer
and the chance of a convert, launched out into a
proposed birds'-nesting campaign, betraying all man-
ner of important secrets; a golden-crested wren's
nest near Butlin's Mound, a moor-hen who was sit-
ting on fourteen eggs in a pond down the Barby-
road, and a kingfisher's nest in a corner of the old
canal above Brownsover Mill. He had heard, he
said, that no one had ever got a kingfisher's nest out
perfect, and that the British Museum, or the Govern-
ment, or somebody, had offered JGIOO to any one
w^ho could bring them a nest and eggs not damaged.
In the middle of which astounding announcement, to
which the others were listening with open ears, and
already considering the application of the JGIOO, a
knock came to the door, and East's voice was heard
.craving admittance.
There's Harry," said Tom, we'll let him in
I'll keep him steady, Martin. I thought the old boy
would smell out the supper."
The fact was, that Tom's heart had already smit-
ten him for not asking his * fidus Achates ' to the
feast, although only an extempore affair ; and though
prudence and the desire to get Martin and Arthur
together alone at first, had overcome his scruples, he
was now heartily glad to open the door, broach
another bottle of beer, and hand over the old hani-
knuckleto the searching of his old friend's pocket-
knife.
" Ah, you greedy vagabonds," said East, with his
mouth full; " I knew there was something going on
when I saw you cut off out of the hall so quick with
278 THE SUFFEB.
your suppers. What a stunning tap, Tom I you are
a wunner for bottling the swipes."
"I've had practice enough for the sixth in ray
time, and it's hard if I haven't picked up a wrinkle or
two for my own benefit."
" Well, old madman, and how goes the birds'-
nesting campaign? How's Howlett? I expect the
young rooks 11 be out in another fortnight, and then
my turn comes."
" There '11 be no young rooks fit for pies for a
month yet ; shows how much you know about it,"
rejoined Martin, who, thcJugh very good friends with
East, regarded him with considerable suspicion for
his propensity in practical jokes.
" Scud knows nothing and cares for nothing but
grub and misohief," said Tom; "but young rook
pie, 'specially when you've had to climb for them, is
very pretty eating. However, I say. Scud, we're all
going after a hawk's nest to-morrow, in Caldecott's
Spinney, and if you'll come and behave yourself,
we'll have a stunning climb."
" And a bathe in Aganippe. Hooray ! I'm your
man."
" No, no ; no bathing in Aganippe ; that's where
our betters go."
" Well, well, never mind. I'm for the hawk's nest
and anything that turns up."
And the bottled-beer being finished, and his hunger
appeased, East departed to his study, " that sneak
Jones," as he informed them, who had just got into
the sixth and occupied the next study, having insti-
tuted a nightly visitation upon East and his chum,
to their no small disoffrnfort.
VULGUSES. 279
When be was gone, Martin rose to, follow, but
Tom stopped bim. " No one goes near New Row,"
aid be, " so you may just as well stop bere and do
your verses, and then we'll have some more talk.
We'll be no end quiet ; besides no praepostor comes
here now we haven't been visited once this half."
So the table was cleared, the cloth restored, and
the three fell to work with Gradus and dictionary
upon the morning's' vulgus.
They were three very fair examples of the way in
which such tasks were done at Rugby, in the consul-
ship of Plancus. And doubtless the method is little
changed, for there is nothing new under, the sun,
especially at schools.
Now be it known unto all you boys who are at
86hools which do not rejoice in the time-honoured
institution of the Vulgus, (commonly supposed to
have been established by William of Wykeham at
Winchester, and imported to Rugby by Arnold,
more fpr the sake of the lines which were learnt by
heart with it, than for its own intrinsic value, as
Fve always understood,) that it is a short exercise,
in Greek or Latin verse, on a given subject, the
minimum number of lines being fixed for each form.
The master of the form gave out at fourth lesson
on the previous day the subject for next morning's
vulgus, and at first lesson each boy had to bring his
vulgus ready to be looked over ; and with the vul-
gus, a certain number of lines firom one of the Latin
or Greek poets, then being construed in the form.,
had to be got by heart. The master at first lesson
called up each boy in the form in order, and put
280 TUIiGTrSES.
him on in the lines. If he couldn't say them, or
seem to say them, by reading them oflF the master's
or some other boy's book who stood near, he was.
sent back, and went below all the boys who did so
say or seem to say them ; but in either case his
vulgus was looked over by the master, who gave
and entered in his book, to the credit or discredit of
the boy, so many marks as the composition merited.
At Rugby, vulgus and lines were the first lesson
eveiy other day in the week, on Tuesdays, Thurs-
days, and Saturdays ; and as there were thirty-eight
weeks in the school year, it is obvious tp the
meanest capacity that the master of each form had
to set one hundred and fourteen subjects every year,
two hundred and twenty-eight every two years, and
so on. Now to persons of moderate invention this
was a considerable task, and human nature being
prone to repeat itself, it will not be wondered that
the masters gave the same subjects sometimes over
again after a certain lapse of time. To meet and
rebuke this bad habit of the masters, the school-boy
mind, with its accustomed ingenuity, had invented
an elaborate system of tradition. Almost eveiy boy
kept his own vulgus written out in a book, and
these books were duly handed down from boy to
boy, till (if the tradition has gone on till now) I
suppose the popular boys, in whose hands be-
queathed vulgus-books have accumulated, are pre-
pared with three or four vulguses on any subject
in heaven or earth, or in " more worlds than one,*'
which an unfortunate master can pitch upon. At
any rate, such lucky fellows generally had one for
VULGXTSES. 281
themselves and one for a friend in my time. The
only objection to the traditionary method of doing
your valgus was, the risk that the successions might
have become confused, and so that you and another
follower of tradition should show up the same iden-
tical vulgus some fine morning, in which case, when
it happened, considerable grief was the result but
when did such risks hinder boys or men from short
cuts and pleasant paths ?
Now in the study that night, Tom was the up-
holder of the traditionary method of vulgus doing.
He .carefully produced two large vulgus-books, and
began diving into them, and picking out a line here,
and an ending there (tags as they were vulgarly
called), till he had gotten all that he thought he
could make fit. He then proceeded to patch his tags
together with the. help of his Gradus, producing an
incongruous and feeble result of eight elegiac lines,
the minimum quantity for his form, and finishing up
with two highly moral lines extra, making ten in all,
which he cribbed entire from one of his books, begin-
ning " O genus humanum," and whicl^ he himself
must have used a dozen times before, whenever an
unfortunate or wicked hero, of whatever nation or
language under the sun, was the subject. Indeed he
began to have great doubts whether the master
wouldn't remember them, and so only threw them in
as extra lines, because in any case they would call
off attention from the other tags, and if detected,
being extra lines, he wouldn't be sent back to do two
more in their place, while if they passed muster again
he would get marks for them.
24
282 THE SCIENCE OF VEESE-MAKING.
The second method, pursued by Martin, may be
called the dogged, or prosaic method. He, no more
than Tom, took any pleasure in the task, but having
no old vulgus-books of his own or any one's else,'
could not follow the traditionary method, for which,
too, as Tom remarked, he hadn't the genius. Mar-
tin then proceeded to write down eight lines in
English, of the most matter-of-fact kind, the first that
came into his head; and to convert these, line by
line, by main force of Gradus and dictionary, into
Latin that would scan. This was all he c^red for, to
produce eight lines with no false quantities or -con-
cords : whether the words w^re apt, or what the sense
was, mattered nothing ; and, as the .article was all
new, not a line beyond the minimum did the follow-
ers of the dogged method ever produce.
The third, or artistic method, was Arthur's. He
considered first what point in the character or event
which was the subject could most neatly be brought
out within the limits of a vulgus, trying always to
get his idea into the eight lines, but not binding
himself to t^ or even twelve lines if he couldn't do
this. He then set to work, as much as possible with-
out Gradus or other help, to clothe his idea in appro-
priate Latin or Greek, and would not be satisfied till
he had polished it well up with the aptest and most
poetic words and phrases he could get at.
A fourth method indeed was in use in the school,
but of too simple a kind to require description.
It may be called the vicarious method, obtained
amongst big boys of lazy or bullying habits, and con-
sisted simply in making clever boys whom they could
maetin's den. 283
thrash do their whole vulgus for them, and construe
it to them afterwards ; which latter is a method not
to be encouraged, and which I strongly advise you
all not to practise. Of the others you will find the
traditionary most troublesome, unless you can steal
your vnlguses whole (experto crede), and that the
artistic method pays the best, both in marks and
other ways.
The vulguses being finished by nine o'clock, and
Martui -having rejoiced above measure in the abun-
dance of light, and of Gradus and dictionary, and
other conveniences almost unknown to him for get-
ting through the work, and having been pressed by
Arthur 'to come and do his verses there whenever
he liked, the three boys went down to Martin's den,
and Arthur was initiated into the lore of birds' eggs
to his great delight. The exquisite colouring and
forms astonished and charmed him who had scarcely
ever seen any but a hen's egg or an ostrich's, and by
the time he was lugged away to bed he had learned
the names of at least twenty sorts, and dreamt of the
glorious perils of tree-climbing, and that he had found
a roc's egg in the island as big as Sindbad's, and
clouded like a tit-lark's, in blowing which Martin and
he had nearly been drowned in the yolk.
CHAPTER IV.
THE BIRD-FiLNCJEERS.
" I have found out a gift for my fair,
I have found where the wood-pigeons breed ;
But let me the plunder forbear.
She would say 'twas a barbarous deed."
BOWB.
^* And now, my lad, take them five shilling.
And on my advice in future think ;
So Billy pouched them all so willing.
And got, that night, disguised in drink.*'
MS. Ballad.
The next morning at first lesson Tom was turned
back in his lines, and so had to wait till the second
round, while Martin and Arthur said theirs all right
and got out of school at once. When Tom got
out and ran down to breakfast at Harrowell's they
were missing, and Stumps informed him that they
had swallowed down their breakfasts and gone oflF
together, where he couldn't say. Tom hurried over
his own breakfast, and went first to Martin's study
and then to his own, but no signs of the missing
boys were to be found. He felt half angry and
jealous of Martia where could they be gone ? He
learnt second lesson with East and the rest in no
very good temper, and then went out into the
quadrangle. About ten minutes before school Mar-
tin and Arthur arrived in the quadrangle breathless;
TOM PUT OUT. 285
and, catching sight of him, Arthur rushed up all ex-
citernent, and with a bright glow on his face.
" Oh, Tom, look here," cried he, holding out three
moor-hen's eggs ; " we've been down the Barby-road
to the pool Martin told us of last night, and just see
what we've got."
Tom wouldn't be pleased, and only looked out for
something to find fault with.
" Why, young'un," said he, " what have you been
after? You don't mean to say you've been wad-
ing?"
The tone of reproach made poor little Arthur
shrink up in a moment and look piteous, and Tom
with a shrug of his shoulders turned his anger on
Martin.
" Well, I didn't think. Madman, that you'd have
been such a muff as to let him be getting wet
through at this time of day. You might have done
the wading yourself."
" So I did, of course ; only he would come in too
to see the nest. We left eleven eggs in ; they'll be
hatched in a day or two."
*/ Hang the eggs ? " said Tom ; '* a fellow can't
turn his back for a moment but all his work's un-
done. He'll be laid up for a week for this precious
lark, I'll be bound."
" Indeed, Tom, now," pleaded Arthur, " my feet
ain't wet, for Martin made me take off my hoes and
stockings and trousers."
" But they are wet, and dirty too can't I see ? "
answered Tom ; " and you'll be called up and
floored when the master sees what a state you're in.
286 BIBDS'-KESTIKG.
You haven't looked at second lesson, you know."
Oh, Tom, jou old humbug! you to be upbraiding
any one with not learning their lessons. If you
hadn't been floored yourself now at first lesson, do
you .mean to say you wouldn't have been, with
them ? and you've taken away all poor little Ar-
thur's joy and pride in his first birds' eggs, and he
l^cs and puts them down in the study, and takes
down his books with a sigh, thinking he has done
something horribly wrong, whereas he has learnt on
in advance much more than will be done at SQCond
lesson.
But the old madman hasn't, and gets called up
and makes some firightful shots, losing about ten
places, and all but getting floored. This somewhat
appeases Tom's wrath, and by the end of the lesson
he has regained his temper. And afterwards in
their study he begins to get right again, as he
watches Arthur's intense joy at seeing Martin blow-
ing the eggs and glueing them carefully on to bits
of cardboard, and notes the anxious loving looks
which the little fellow casts sidelong at him. And
then he thinks, " What an ill-tempered beast I am !
Here's just what I was wishing for last night come
about, and I'm spoiling it all," and in another five
minutes has swallowed the last mouthful of his bile,
and is repaid by seeing his little sensitive plant ex-
pand again and sun itself in his smiles.
After dinner the madman is busy with the prepa-
rations for their expedition, fitting new straps on to
his climbing-irons, filling large pill-boxes with cot-
ton-wool, and sharpening East's small axe. They
BIEDS'-NESTING. 287
carry all their munitions into calling-oVer, and directly
afterwards, having dodged such praepostors as are on
the look-out for fags at cricket, the four set off at a
mart trot down the Lawford footpath, straight for
Caldecott's Spinney and the hawk's nest.
Martin leads the way in high feather ; it is quite
a new sensation to him, getting companions, and he
finds it very pleasant, and means to ^how them all
manner of proofs of his science and skill. Brown
and East may be better at cricket and football and
games, thinks he, but out in the fields and woods
see if I can't teach them something. He has taken
the leadership already, and strides away in front
with his climbing-irons strapped under one arm, his
pecking-bag under the other, and his pockets and
hat full of pill-boxes, cotton-wool, and other etceteras.
Each of the others carries a pecking-bag, and East
his hatchet.
When they had crossed three or four fields with-
out a check, Arthur began to lag, and Tom seeing
this shouted to Martin to pull up a bit : " We ain't
out Hare-and-hounds what's the good of grinding
on at this rate?"
" There's the spinney," said Martin, pulling up on
the brow of a slope at the bottom of which lay
Lawford brook, and pointing to the top of the op-
posite slope ; " the nest is in one of those high fir
trees at this end. And down by the brook there, I
know of a sedge-bird's nest ; we'll go and look at it
coming back."
" Oh, come on, don't let'us stop," said Arthur, who
was getting excited at the sight of the wood; so
288 SIBBS'-NESTINO.
they broke into a trot again, and were soon actos&
the brook, up the slope, and into the spinney. Here
they advanced as noiselessly as possible, lest keepers
or other enemies should be about, and stopped at th^
foot of a tall fir, at the top of which Martin pointed
out with pride the kestrel's nest, the object of their
quest.
* Oh where ! which is it ? " asks Arthur, gaping
up in the air, and having the most vague idea of
what it would be like.
" There, don't you see," said East, pointing to a
lump of mistletoe in the next tree, which was a
beech : he saw that Martin and Tom were busy
with the climbing-irons, and couldn't resist the
temptation of hoaxing. Arthur stared and won-
dered more than ever.
" Well, how curious ! it doesn't look a bit like
what I expected," said he.
" Very odd birds, kestrels," said East, looking
waggishly at his victim, who is still star-gazing.
" But I thought it was in a fir tree ? " objected
Arthur.
" Ah, don't you know ? that's a new sort of fir
which old Caldecott brought from the Himalayas."
" Really ! " said Arthur ; " I'm glad I know that
how unlike our firs they are. They do very well too
here, don't they ? the spinney's full of them."
" What's that humbug he's telling you ? " cried
Tom looking up, having caught the word Hima-
layas, and suspecting what East was after.
" Only about this fir," said Arthur, putting his
hand on the stem of the beech.
bibb's- NESTING. 289
" Fir ! " shouted Tom, " why you don't mean to
say, young 'un, you don't know a beech when you
see one ? "
Poor little Arthur looked terribly ashamed, and
East exploded in laughter which made the wood
ring.
" I've hardly ever seen any trees," faltered Arthur.
" What a shame to hoax him. Scud," cried Martin.
" Never mind, Arthur, you shall know more about
trees than he does in a week or two."
" And isn't that the kestrel's nest then ? " asked
Arthur.
" That ! why that's a piece of mistletoe. There's
the nest, that lump of small sticks up this fir."
" Don't believe him, Arthur," struck in the incor-
rigible East ; " I just saw an old magpie go out
of it."
Martin did not deign to reply to this sally, except
by a grunt, as he buckled the last buckle of his
climbing-irons; and Arthur looked reproachfully at
East without speaking.
Bat now came the tug of war. It was a very dif-
ficult tree to climb until the branches were reached,
the first of which was some fourteen feet up, for the
trunk was too large at the bottonj to be swarmed,
in fact neither of the boys could reach more than
half round it with their arms. Martin and Tom,
both of whom had irons on, tried it without success
at first; the fir bark broke away where they stuck
the irons in as soon as they leant any weight on
their feet, and the grip of their arms wasn't enough
to keep them * up ; so after getting up three or four
25
290
feet, down they came slithering to the ground, bark-
ing their arms and faces. They were furious, and
East, sat by laughing and shouting at each failure,
" Two to one on the old magpie ! "
" We must try a pyramid," said Tom at last.
" Now, Scud, you lazy rascal, stick yourself against
the tree."
" I dare say ! and have you standing on my shoul-
ders with the irons on ; what do you think my skin's
made of?" However up he got and leant against
the tree, putting his head down and clasping it with
his arms as far as he could. " Now then. Madman,"
said Tom, " you next."
" No, Fm lighter than you, you go next." So
Tom got on East's shoulders and grasped the tree
above,- and then Martin scrambled up on to Tom's
shoulders, amidst the totterings and groanings of
the pyramid, and with a spring which sent his sup-
porters howling to the ground, clasped the stem some
ten feet up, and remained clinging. For a moment
or two they thought he couldn't get up, but then,
holding on with arms and teeth, he worked first one
iron then the other firmly into the bark, got another
grip with his arms, and in another minute, had hold
of the lowest branch.
"All up with the old magpie now," said East;
and after a moment's rest, up wetit Martin,
hand over hand, watched by Arthur with fearful
eagerness.
" Isn't it very dangerous ? " said he.
" Not a bit," answered Tom ; " you can't hurt
if you only get good hand-hold. Try every branch
bibd's-nesting. 291
with a good pull before you trust it, and then up
you go."
Martin was now amongst the small branches
close to the nest, and away dashed the old
bird and soared up above the trees watching the
intruder.
" All right four eggs ! " shouted he.
"Take 'em all!" shouted East; "that'll be one
apiece."
"No, no! leave one, and then she won't care,"
said Tom.
We boys had an idea that birds couldn't count,
and were quite content as long as you left one egg.
I hope it is so.
Martin carefully put one egg into each of his
boxes and the third into his ^louth, the only
other place of safety, and came down like a lamp-
lighter. All went well till he was within ten feet
of the ground, when, as the trunk enlarged, his
hold got less and less firm, and at last down he
came with a run, tumbling on to his back on the
turf, spluttering and spitting out the remains of
the great egg, which had broken by the jar of his
fall.
" Ugh, ugh ! something to drink ugh ! it was
addled," spluttered he, while the wood rang again
with the merry laughter of East and Tom.
Then they examined the prizes, gathered up their
things, and went off to the brook, where Martin
swallowed huge draughts of water to get rid of the
taste; and they visited the sedge-bird's nest, and
from thence struck across the country in high glee,
292 PECKING.
beating the hedges and brakes as they went along ;
and Arthur at last, to his intense delight, was
allowed to climb a small hedge-row oak for a mag-
pie's nest, with Tom, who kept all round him like a
mother, and showed him where to hold, and how to
throw his weight; and though he was in a great
fright didn't show it, and was applauded by all for
his lissomness.
They crossed a road soon afterwards, and there
close to them lay a heap of charming pebbles.
" Look here," shouted East, " here's luck ! I've
been longing for some good honest pecking this half-
hour. Let's fill the bags, and have no more of this
foozling bird's-nesting."
No one objected, so each boy filled the fustian
bag he carried full of stones : they crossed into
the next field, Tom and East taking one side of
the hedges and the other two the other side.
Noise enough they made certainly, but it was too
early in the season for the young birds, and the old
birds were too strong on the wing for our young
marksmen, and flew out of shot after the first dis-
charge. But it was great fun, rushing along the
hedgerows and discharging stone after stone at
blackbirds and chaffinches, though no result in the
shape of slaughtered birds was obtained ; and Ar-
thur soon entered into it, and rushed to head back
the birds, and shouted, and threw, and tumbled into
ditches and over and through hedges, as wildly as
the Madman himself.
Presently the party, in full cry after an old
blackbird (who was evidently used to the thing
WHAT IS LABCENT? 293
and enjoyed the fun, for he would wait till they came
close to him and then fly on for forty yards or so, and
with an impudent flicker of his tail dart into the
depths of the quickset), came beating down a high
double hedge, two on each side.
" There he is again," "head him," "let drive," "1
had him there," " take care where you're throwing,
Madman," the shouts might have been heard a
quarter of a mile off. They were heard some two
hundred yards off by a farmer and two of his shep-
herds, who were doctoring sheep in a fold in the next
field.
Now the farmer in question rented a house and
yard situate at the end of the field in which the
young bird-fanciers had arrived, which house and
yard he didn't occupy or keep any one else in.
Nevertheless, like a brainless and unreasoning Bri-
ton, he persisted in maintaining on the premises a
large stock of cocks, hens, and other poultry. Of
course all sorts of depredators visited the place
fi'om time to time : foxes and gypsies wrought havoc
in the night; while in the day-time I regret to
have to confess, that visits from the Rugby boys,
and consequent disappearances of ancient and re-
spectable fowls, were not unfrequent. Tom and
East had during the period of their outlawry vis-
ited the barn in question for felonious purposes
and on one occasion had conquered and slain a .
duck there, and borne away the carcass trium-
phantly, hidden in their handkerchiefs. However,
tliey were sickened of the practice by the trouble
and anxiety which the wretched duck's body
294 THE IBOUBLESOME DUCK.
caused them. They carried it to Sally Harrowell's
in hopes of a good supper, but she, after examin-
ing it, made a long face and refused to dress or
have any thing to do with it. Then they took it
into their study and began plucking it themselves ;
but what to do with the feathers, where to hide
them ?
" Good gracious, Tom, what a lot of feathers a
duck has," groaned East, holding a bag full in his
hands, and looking disconsolately at the carcass not
yet half plucked.
" And I do think he's getting high too, ahready,"
said Tom, smelling at him cautiously, " so we must
finish him up soon."
" Yes, all very well, but how are we to cook him ?
I'm sure I ain't going to try it on in the hall or pas-
sages ; we can't afford to be roasting ducks about,
our character's too bad."
" I wish we were rid of the brute," said Tom,
throwing him on the table in disgust. And after a
day or two more it became clear, that got rid of he
must be ; so they packed him and sealed him up in
brown paper, and put him in the cupboard of an un-
occupied study, where he was found in the holidays
by the matron, a grewsome body.
They had never been duck-hunting there since, but
others had, and the bold yeoman was very sore on the
subject, and bent on making an example of the first
boys he could catch. So he and his shepherds
crouched behind the hurdles, and watched the party
who were approaching all unconscious.
Why should that old guinea-fowl be lying out in
THE OLD GUINEA-HEN. 295
the hedge just at this particular moment of all the
year ? Who can say ? Guinea-fowls always are
so are all other things, animals, and persons^ requi-
site for getting one into scrapes, always ready when
any mischief can come of them. At any rate, just
under East's nose popped out the old guinea-hen,
scuttling along and shrieking " come back, come
back," at the top of her voice. Either of the other
three might perhaps have withstood the temptation,
but East first lets drive the stone he has in his hand
at her, and then rushes to turn her into the hedge
again. He succeeds, and then they are all at it for
dear life, up and down the hedge in full cry, the
"come back, come back" getting shriller and fainter
every minute.
Meantime the farmer and his men steal over the
hurdles and creep down the hedge towards the
scene of action. They are almost within a stone's
throw of Martin, who is pressing the unlucky chase
hard, when Tom catches sight of them and sings
out, " Louts, ware louts, your side ! Madman, look
ahead!" and then catching hold of Arthur, hurries
him away across the field towards Rugby as hard
as they can tear. Had he been by himself he would
have stayed to see it out with the others, but now
his heart sinks and all his pluck goes. The idea of
being led up to the Doctor with Arthur for bagging
fowls, quite unmans and takes half the run out of
him.
However, no boys are more able to take care of
themselves than East and Martin ; they dodge the
pursuers, slip through a gap, and come pelting after
296 RUNNING FOK A CONYOY.
Tom and Arthur, whom they catch up in no time :
the farmer and his men are making good running
about a field behind. Tom wishes to himself that
they had made off in any other direction, but now
they are all in for it together, and must see it out.
" You won't leave the young'un, will you ? '' says he,
as they haul poor little Arthur, already losing wind
from the fright, through the next hedge. " Not we,"
is the answer from both. The next hedge is a stiff
one; the pursuers gain horribly oh them, and they
only just pull Arthur through with two great rents
in his trousers, as the foremost shepherd comes up
on the other side. As they start into the next field
they are aware of two figures walking down the
footpath in the middle of it, and recognize Holmes
and Diggs taking a constitutional. Those good-
natured fellows immediately shout " On." " Let's
go to them and surrender," pants Tom. Agreed.
And in another minute the four boys, to the great
astonishment of those worthies, rush breathless up to
Holmes and Diggs, who pull up to see what is the
matter, and then the whole is explained by the ap-
pearance of the farmer and his men, who unite their
forces and bear down on the knot of boys.
There is no time to explain, and Tom's heart beats
frightfully quick, as he ponders, " Will they stand by
us?"
The farmer makes a rush at East and collars him ;
and that young gentleman, with unusual discretion,
instead of kicking his shins looks appeaUngly at
Holmes, and stands still.
"Hullo there, not so fast," says Holmes, who is
A DEBATE. 297
bound to stand up for them till they are proved in
the wrong. " Now what's all this about ? "
" Fve got the young varmint at last, have I," pants
the farmer ; " why they've been a skulking about my
yard and stealing my fowls, that's where 'tis ; and
if I doan't have they flogged for it, every one on 'em,
ray name ain't Thompson."
Holmes looks grave, and Diggs's face falls. They
are quite ready to fight, no boys in the school more
so ; but they are praspostors, and understand their
office, and can't uphold unrighteous causes.
" I haven't been near his old barn this half,"
cries East. " Nor I," " nor I," chime in Tom and
Martin.
" Now, Willum, didn't you see 'em there last
week?"
" Ees, I seen 'em sure enough," says Willum,
grasping a prong he carried, and preparing for
action.
The boys deny stoutly, and Willum is driven to
admit that, " if it worn't they 'twas chaps as like 'em
as two peas'n ; " and " leastways he'll swear he see'd
them two in the yard last Martinmas," indicating
East and Tom.
Holmes has had time to meditate. " Now, sir,"
says he to Willum, " you see you can't remember
what you have seen, and I believe the boys."
" I doan't care," blusters the farmer ; " they was
arter my fowls to-day, that's enough for I. Willum,
you catch hold o' t'other chap. They've been a
sneaking about this two hours, I tells 'ee," shouted
he, as Holmes stands between Martin and Willum,
298 A DEBATE.
" and have druv a matter of a dozen young pullets
pretty nigh to death."
" Oh, there's a whacker! " cried East; " we haven't
been within a hundred yards of his J^arn; we
haven't been up here above ten minutes, and wVve
seen nothing but a tough old guinea-hen, who ran
like a greyhound."
" Indeed that's all true, Holmes, upon my honor,'*
added Tom ; " we weren't after his fowls ; guinea-
hen ran out of the hedge under our feet, and we've
seen nothing else."
" Drat their talk. Thee catch hold o' t'other, Wil-
lum, and come along wi' 'un."
" Farmer Thompson," said Holmes, warning off
Willum and the prong with his stick, while Diggs
faced the other shepherd, cracking his fingers like
pistol shots, "now listen to reason the boys haven't
been after your fowls, that's plain."
" Tells 'ee I seed 'em. Who be you, I should like
to know ? "
" Never you mind. Farmer," answered Holmes.
" And now I'll just tell you what it is you ought
to be ashamed of yourself for leaving all that poul-
try about with no one to watch it so near the
school. You deserve to have it all stolen. . So if
you choose to come up to the Doctor with them,
I shall go with you and tell him what I think
of it."
The farmer began to take Holmes for a master ;
besides, he wanted to get back to his flock. Cor-
poral punishment was out of the question, the odds
were too great ; so he began to hint at paying for
TEBMS. 299
the damage. Arthur jumped at this, offering to pay
anything, and the farmer immediately valued the
guinea-hen at half-a-sovereign.
" Half-a-sovereign ! " cried East, how released from
the farmer's grip ; " well, that is a good one ! the old
hen ain't hurt a bit, and she's seven years old I
know, and as tough as whipcord ; she couldn't lay
another egg to save her life."
It was at last settled that they should pay the
farmer two shillings and his man one shilling, and
so the matter ended, to the unspeakable relief of
Tom, who hadn't been able to say a word, being
sick at heart at the idea of what the Doctor would
think of him : and now the whole party of boys
marched off down the footpath towards Rugby.
Holmes, who was one of the best boys in the
school, began to improve the occasion. " Now, you
youngsters," said he, as he marched along in the
middle of them, " mind this, you're very well out of
this scrape. Don't you go near Thompson's barn
again, do you hear ? "
Profuse promises from all, especially East.
" Mind I don't ask questions," went on Mentor,
"but I rather think some of you have been there
before this after his chickens. Now knocking over
other people's chickens, and running off with them,
is stealing. It's a nasty word, but that's the plain
English of it. If the chickens were dead and lying
in a shop you wouldn't take them, I know that, any
more than you would apples out of Griffith's bas-
ket ; but there's no real difference between chickens
running about and apples on a tree, and the same
300 HOLMES LECTTJBES ON SCHOOL LABCENY.
articles in a shop. I wish our morals were sounder
in such matters. There's nothing so mischievous as
these school distinctions, which jumble up right and
wrong, and justify things in us for which poor boys
would be sent to prison." And good old Holmes
delivered his soul on the walk home of many wise
sayings, and as the .song says
* Gee'd *em a sight of good advice,"
which same sermon sank into them all more or
less, and very penitent they were for several hours.
But truth compels me to admit that East at any
rate forgot it dl in a week, but remembered the
insult which had been put upon him by Farmer
Thompson, and with the Tadpole and other hair-
brained youngsters, committed a raid upon the barn
soon afterwards, in which they were caught by the
shepherds and severely handled, besides having to
pay eight shillings, all the money they had in the
world, to escape being taken up to the Doctor.
Martin became a constant inmate in the joint
study from this time, and Arthur took to him so
kindly that Tom couldn't resist slight fits of jeal-
ousy, which, however, he managed to keep to him-
self. The kestrel's eggs had not been broken,
strange to say, and formed the nucleus of Arthur's
collection, at which Martin worked heart and soul;
and introduced Arthur to Howlett the bird-fancier,
and instructed him in the rudiments of the art of
stuffing. In token of his gratitude, Arthur allowed
Martin to tattoo a small anchor on one of his wrists,
which decoration, however, he carefully concealed
ABTHUB SEALS HIS FBIENDSHIF. 301
from Tom. Before the end of the half-year he had
trained into a bold climber and good runner, and, as
Martin had foretold, knew twice as much about
trees, birds, flowers, and many other things, as our
good-hearted and facetious young friend Harry
East
CHAPTER V,
THE FIGHT.
* Surgebat MaQnevisius
Et mox jactabat ultro,
Pugnabo tua gratia
Feroci hoc Mactwoltro." Etonian.
There is a certain' sort of fellow, we who are
used to studying boys all know him well enough, of
whom you can predicate with almost positive cer-
tainty, after he has been a month at school, that he
is sure to have a fight, and with almost equal cer-
tainty that he will have but one. Tom Brown was
one of these ; and as it is our well-weighed inten-
tion to give a full, true, and correct account of
Tom's only single combat with a school-fellow in
the manner of our old friend Bell's Life, let those
young persons whosS stomachs are not strong, or
who think a good set-to with the weapons which
Gfod has given us all, an uncivilized, unchristian, or
ungentlemanly affair, just skip this chapter at once,
for it won't be to their taste.
It was not at all usual in those days for two school-
house boys to have a fight. Of course there were
exceptions, when some cross-grained hard-headed
fellow came up, who would never be happy unless
he was quarrelling with his nearest neighbours, or
FIGHTING IN GENEEAL. 303
when there was some class-dispute, between the
fifth-form and the fags for instance, which required
blood-letting; and a champion was picked out on
each side tacitly, who settled the matter by a good
hearty mill. But for the most part, the constant
use of those surest keepers of the peace, the boxing
gloves kept the school-house boys from fighting one
another. Two or three nights in every week the
gloves were brought out, either in the hall or fifth-
form room ; and every boy who was ever likely to
fight at all knew all his neighbour's prowess perfectly
well, and could tell to a nicety what chance he would
have in a stand-up fight with any other boy in the
house. But of course no such experience could be
gotten as regarded boys in other houses ; and as
most of the other houses were more or less jealous of
the school-house, collisions were frequent.
After all, what would life be without fighting, I
should like to know ? From the cradle to the grave,
fighting, rightly understood, is the business, the real,
highest, honestest business of every son of man.
Every one who is worth his salt has his enemies,
who must be beaten, be they evil thoughts and habits
in himself, or spiritual wickedness in high places, or
Russians, or Border-ruflSians, or Bill, Tom, or Harry,
who will not let him live his life in quiet till he has
thrashed them.
It is no good for Quakers, or any other body of
men, to uplift their voices against fighting. Human
nature is too strong for them, and they don't follow
their own precepts. Every soul of them is doing
his own piece of fighting, somehow and somewhere.
304 FIGHTING IN GENEBAL.
The world might be a better world without fighting
for any thing I know, but it wouldn't be our world ;
and therefore I am dead against crying peace when
there is no peace, and isn't meant to be. Fm as
sorry as any man to see folk fighting the wrong
people and the wrong things, but I'd a deal sooner
see them doing that, than that they should have no
fight in them. So, having recorded, and being about
to record, my hero's fights of all sorts, with all sorts
of enemies, I shall now proceed to give an account
of his passage-at-arms with the only one of his
school-fellows whom he ever had to encounter in this
manner.
It was drawing towards the close of Arthur's first
half-year, and the May evenings were lengthening
out. Locking-up was not till eight o'clock, and
everybody was beginning to talk about what he
would do in the holidays. The shell, in which form
all our dramatis personce now are, were reading
amongst other things the last book of Homer's Iliad,
and had worked through it as far as the speeches
of the women over Hector's body. It is a whole
school-day, and four or five of the school-house boys
(amongst whom are Arthur, Tom, and East) are
preparing third lesson together. They have finished
the regulation forty lines, and are, for the most part,
getting very tired, notwithstanding the exquisite
pathos of Helen's lamentation. And now several
long four-syllabled words come together, and the boy
with the dictionary strikes work.
" I'm not going to look out any more words," says
he ; " we've done the quantity. Ten to one we
shan't get so far. Let's go out into the close.'*
HOW THE FIGHT AKOSE. 305
" Come along, boys," cries East, always ready to
leave the grind, as he called it; "our old coach is
laid up you know, and we shall have one of the
neyr masters, who's sure to go slow and let us down
easy."
So an adjournment to the close was carried nem.
con., little Arthur not daring to uplift his voice ; but,
being deeply interested in what they were reading,
stayed quietly behind, and learnt on for his own
pleasure.
As East had said, the regular master of the form
was unwell, and they were to be heard by one of
the new masters, quite a young man, who had only
just left the University. Certainly it would be hard
lines, if, by dawdling as much as possible in coming
in and taking their places, entering into long-winded
explanations of what was the usual course of the
regular master of the form, and others of the stock
contrivances of boys for wasting time in school,
they could not spin out the lesson so that he should
not work them through more than the forty lines ;
as to which quantity there was a perpetual fight
going on between the master and his form, the
latter insisting, and enforcing by passive resistance,
that it was the prescribed quantity of .Homer for
a shell lesson, the former that there was no fixed
quantity, but that they must always be ready to go
on to fifty or sixty lines if there were time within
the hour. However, notwithstanding all their ef-
forts, the new master got on horribly quick; he
seemed to have the bad taste to be really interested
in the lesson, and to be trying to work them up into
26
306 HOW THE PIOHT ABOSS.
something like appreciation of it, giving them good
spirited English words, instead of the wretched
bald stuff into which they rendered poor old Homer ;
and construing over each piece himself to them
after each boy, to show them how it should be
done.
Now the clock strikes the three-quarters ; there is
only a quarter of an hour more ; but the forty lines
are all but done. So the boys, one after another,
who are called up, stick more and more, and make
balder and even more bald work of it. The poor
young master is pretty near beat by this time, and
feels ready to knock his head against the wall, or
his fingers against somebody else's head. So he
gives up altogether the lower and middle parts of
the form, and looks round in despair at the boys on
the top bench, to see if there is one out of whom he
can strike a spark or two, and who will be too chiv-
alrous to murder the most beautiful utterances of the
most beautiful woman of the old world. His eye
rests on Arthur, and he calls him up to finish con-
struing Helen's speech. Whereupon all the other
boys draw long breaths, and begin to stare about
and take it easy. They are all safe ; Arthur is the
head of th^ form and sure to be able to construe,
and that will tide on safely till the hour strikes.
Arthur proceeds to read out the passage in Greek
before construing it, as the custom is. Tom, who
isn't paying much attention, is suddenly caught by
the falter in his voice as he reads the two lines
dWa av rov y eVf (r(rt 7Tapatfdixvos KoripvK^s
2fj T ayavot)po(rvvTj koi (rois dyavois inUwiv.
HOW THE FIGHT ABOSE. 807
He looks up at Arthur, " Why, bless us " thinks he,
" what can be the matter with the young *un ? He's
never going to get floored. He's sure to have learnt
to the end." Next moment he is reassured by the
spirited tone in which Arthur begins construing, and
betakes himself to drawing dog's heads in his note-
book, while the master, evidently enjoying the
change, turns his back on the middle bench and
stands before Arthur, beating a sort of time with
his hand and foot, and saying, " Yes, yes," " Very
well," as Arthur goes on.
But as he nears the fatal two lines, Tom catches
that falter again and looks up. He sees that there
is something the matter, Arthur can hardly get on
at all. What can it be ?
Suddenly at this point Arthur breaks down alto-
gether, and fairly bursts out crying, and dashes the
cufF of his jacket across his eyes, blushing up to the
roots of his hair, and feeling as if he should like to
go down suddenly through the floor. The whole
form are taken aback, most of them stare stupidly
at him, while those who are gifted with presence of
mind find their places and look steadily at their
books, in hopes of not catching the master's eye and
getting called up in Arthur's place.
The master looks puzzled for a moment, and then
seeing, as the fact is, that the boy is really affected
to tears by the most touching thing in Homer, per-
haps in all profane poetry put together, steps up to
him and lays his hand kindly on his shoulder, say-
ing, " Never mind, my little man, you've construed
very well. Stop a minute, there's no hurry." .
308 HOW THE FIGHT ABOSE.
Now as luck would have it, there sat next above
Tom on that day, in the middle bench of the form,
a big boy, by name Williams, generally supposed
to be the cock of the shell, therefore of all the school
below the fifths. The small boys, who are great
speculators on the prowess of their elders, used to
hold forth to one another about Williams's great
strength, and to discuss whether East or Brown
would take a licking from him. He was called Slog-
ger Williams, from the force with which it was sup-
posed he could hit. In the main, he was a rough
goodnatured fellow enough, but very much alive to
his own dignity. He reckoned himself the king of
the form, and kept up his position with the strong
hand, especially in the matter of forcing boys not to
construe more than the legitimate forty lines. He
had already grunted and grumbled to himself, when
Arthur went on reading beyond the forty lines. But
now that he had broken down just in the middle of
all the long words, the Slogger's wrath was fairly
roused.
" Sneaking little brute," muttered he, regardless of
prudence, " clapping on the waterworks just in the
hardest place; see if I don't punch his head after
fourth lesson."
" Whose ? " said Tom, to whom the remark seem-
ed to be addressed,
Why, that little sneak Arthur's," replied Wil-
Hams.
" No you shan't," said Tom.
" Hullo ! " exclaimed Williams, looking at Tom
with great surprise for a moment, and then giving
HOW THE PIGHT A.BOSE. 309
him a sudden dig in the ribs with his elbow, which
sent Tom's books flying on to the floor, and called
the attention of the master, who turned suddenly
round, and seeing the state of things, said
" Williams, go down three places, and then go
on."
The Slogger found his legs very slowly, and pro-
ceeded to go below Tom and two other boys with
great disgust, and then turning round and facing the
master, said, " I haven't learnt any more, sir ; our
lesson is only forty lines."
" Is that so ? " said the master, appealing generally
to the top bench. No answer.
"Who is the head boy of the form?" said he,
waxing wroth.
" Arthur, sir," answered three or four boys, indicat-
ing our friend.
" Oh, your name's Arthur. Well now, what is the
length of your regular lesson ? "
Arthur hesitated a moment, and then said, " We
call it only forty lines, sir."
" How do you mean, you call it ? "
" Well, sir, Mr. Graham says we ain't to stop there
when there's time to construe more."
" I understand," said the master. " Williams, go
down three more places, and write me out the lesson
in Greek and English. And now, Arthur, finish con-
struing."
" Oh ! would I be in Arthur's shoes after fourth
lesson," said the little boys to one another; but
Arthur finished Helen's speech without any further
catastrophe, and the clock struck four, which ended
third lesson.
31(X THE CHALLENGE.
Another hour was occupied in preparing and say-
ing fourth lesson, during which Williams was bot-
tling up his wrath ; and when five struck and the
lessons for the day were over, he prepared to take
summary vengeance on the innocent cause of his
misfortune.
Tom was detained in school a few minutes after
the rest, and on coming out into the quadrangle, the
first thing he saw was a small ring of boys, applaud-
ing Williams, who was holding Arthur by the
collar.
" There, you young sneak," said he, giving Arthur
a cuff on the head with his other hand, " what made
you say that "
"Hullo! "said Tom, shouldering into the crowd,
" you drop that, Williams ; you shan't touch him."
" Who'll stop me ? '' said the Slogger, raising his
hand again.
" I," said Tom ; and suiting the action to the
word, struck the arm which held Arthur's collar so
sharply, that the Slogger dropt it with a start, and
turned the full current of his wrath on Tom.
Will you fight ? "
" Yes, of course."
" Huzza, there's going to be a fight between Slog-
ger Williams and Tom Brown."
The news ran like wildfire about, and many boys
who were on their way to tea at their several houses
turned back, and sought the back of the chapel,
where the fights come off.
"Just run and tell East to come and back me,"
said Tom to a small school-house boy, who was off
THE CHALLENGE. 311
like a rocket to Harrowell's, just stopping for a mo-
ment to poke his head into the school-house hall,
where the lower boys were already at tea, and sing
out, " Fight ! Tom Brown and Slogger Williams."
Up start half the boys at once, leaving bread,
eggs, butter, sprats, and all the rest, to take care of
themselves. The greater part of the remainder fol-
low in a minute, after swallowing their tea, carrying
their food in their hands to consume as they go.
Three or four only remain, who steal the butter of
the more impetuous, and make to themselves an
unctuous feast.
In another minute East and Martin tear through
the quadrangle, carrying a sponge, and arrive at the
scene of action just as the combatants are beginning
to strip.
Tom felt he had got his work cut out for him, as
he stripped off his jacket, waistcoat, and braces.
East tied his handkerchief round his waist, and
rolled up his shirt-sleeves for him : " Now, old boy,
don't you open your mouth to say a word, or try to
help yourself a bit, we'll do all that; you keep all
your breath and strength for the Slogger." Martin,
meanwhile, folded the clothes and put them under
the chapel rails; and now Tom, with East to handle
him and Martin to give him a knee, steps out on to
the turf, and is ready for all that may come ; and
here is the Slogger too, all stripped, and thirsting for
the fray.
It doesn't look a fair match at first glance ; Wil-
liams is nearly two inches taller, and probably a
long year older than his opponent, and he is very
312 THE PEELING.
strongly made about the arms and shoulders ; " peels
well," as the little knot of big fifth-form boys, the
amateurs, say, who stand outside the ring of little
boys, looking complacently on, but taking no active
part in the proceedings. But down below he is not
so good by any means ; no spring from the loins,
and feebleish, not to say shipwrecky, about the knees.
Tom, on the contrary, though not half so strong in
the arms, is good all over, straight, hard, and springy,
from neck to ankle, better perhaps in his legs than
anywhere. Besides, you can see by the clear white
of his eye and fresh bright look of his skin, that he
is in tip-top training, able to do all he knows ;
while the Slogger looks rather sodden, as if he didn't
take rhuch exercise and eat too much tuck. The
timekeeper is chosen, a large ring made, and the
two stand up opposite one another for a mo-
ment, giving us time just to make our little observa-
tions.
"If Tom '11 only condescend to fight with his
head and heels," as East mutters to Martin, " we
shall do."
But seemingly he won't, for there he goes in,,
making play with both hands. Hard all, is the
word ; the two stand to one another like men ; rally
follows rally in quick succession, each fighting as if
he thought to finish the whole thing out of hand.
' Can't last at this rate," say the knowing ones, while
, t^e partisans of each make the air ring with their
shouts and counter-shouts, of encouragement, ap-
proval,, and defiance.
" Take it easy, take it easy keep away, let him
EARLY BOUNDS. 313
come after you," implores East, as he wipes Tom*s
face after the first round with wet sponge, while he
sits back on Martin's knee, supported by the Mad-
man's long arms, which tremble a little from excite-
ment.
'^ Time's up," calls the timekeeper.
"There he goes gigain, hang it all ! " growls, East,
as his man is at it again as hard as ever. A very
severe round follows, in which Tom gets out-and-out
the worst of it, and is at last hit clean off his legs,
and deposited on the grass by a right-hander from
the Slogger.
Loud shouts rise from the boys of Slogger's house,
and the school-house are silent and vicious, ready to
pick quarrels anywhere.
" Two to one in half-crowns on the big 'un," says
Rattle, one of the amateurs, a tall fellow, in thunder-
and-lightning waistcoat, and puffy goodnatured face.
" Done ! " says Groove, another amateur of quieter
look, taking out his note-book to enter it, for our
friend Rattle sometimes forgets these little things.
Meantime East is freshening up Tom with the
sponges for next round, and has set two other boys
to rub his hands.
" Tom, old boy," whispers he, " this may be fun
for you, but it's death to me. He'll hit all the fight
out of you in another five minutes, and then I shall
go and drown myself in the island ditch. Feint
him use your legs ! draw him about ! he'll lose hi
wind then in no time, and you can go into him.
Hit at his body too, we'll take care of his frontis-
piece by-and-bye."
27
314 HAND FIGHTING.
Tom felt the wisdom of the counsel, and saw
already that he couldn't go in and finish the Sloggei
off at mere hammer and tongs, so changed his tactics
completely in the third round; He now fights cau-
tious, getting away from and parrying the Slogger's
lunging hits, instead of trying to counter, and leading
his enemy a dance all round the ring after him.
" He's funking, go in Williams," " Catch him up,"
" Finish him off," scream the small boys of the Slog-
ger party.
" Just what we want," thinks East, chuckling to
himself, as he sees Williams, excited by these shouts
and thinking the game in his own hands, blowing
himself in his exertions to get to close quarters again,
while Tom is keeping away with perfect ease.
They quarter over the ground again and again,
Tom always on the defensive.
The Slogger pulls up at last for a moment, fairly
blown.
" Now then, Tom," sings out East, dancing with
delight. Tom goes in in a twinkling, and hits two
heavy body blows, and gets away again before the
Slogger can catch his wind ; which when he does he
rushes with blind fury at Tom, and being skilfully
parried and avoided, overreaches himself and falls on
his face, amidst terrific cheers from the school-house
boys.
" Double your two to one ? " says Groove to Rat-
tle, note-book in hand.
" Stop a bit," says that hero, looking uncomfortably
at Williams, who is pufiing away on his second's
knee, winded enough, but little the worse in any
other way.
HEAD FIGHTING. 315
After another round the Slogger too seems to see
that he can't go in and win right off, and has met
his match or thereabouts. So he too begins to use
his head, and tries to make Tom lose patience, and
come in before his time. And so the fight sways on,
now one and now the other getting a trifling pull.
Tom's face begins to look very one-sided there
are little queer bumps on his forehead, and his
mouth is bleeding ; but East keeps the wet sponges
going so scientifically, that he comes up looking as
firesh and bright as ever. Williams is only slightly
marked in the face, but by the nervous movement
of his elbows you can see that Tom's body blows
are telling. In fact half the vice of the Slogger's
hitting is neutralized, for he daren't lunge out freely
for fear of exposing his sides. It is too interesting
by this time for much shouting, and the whole ring is
very quiet.
" All right, Tommy," whispers East ; " hold on's
the horse that's to win. We've got the last. Keep
your head, old boy."
But where is Arthur all this time ? Words can-
not paint the poor little fellow's distress. He couldnH
muster courage to come up to the ring, but wan-
dered up and down from the great fives'-court to the
corner of the chapel rails. Now trying to make up
his mind to throw himself between them, and try to
stop them ; then thinking of running in and telling
his friend Mary, who he knew would instantly re-
port to the Doctor. The stories he had heard of
men being killed in prize-fights rose up horribly be-
fore him.
316 THE BINQ BBOKEN.
Once only, when the shouts of " Well done,
Brown ! '' " Huzza for the school-house ! " rose higher
than ever, he ventured up to the ring, thinking the
victory was won. Catching sight of Tom's face in
the state I have described, all fear of consequences
vanishing out of his mind, he rushed straight off to
the matron's room, beseeching her to get the fight
stopped, or he shall die.
But it's time for us to get back to the close.
What is this fierce tumult and confusion ? the ring
is broken, and high and angry words are being ban-
died about ; It's all fair," It isn't," No hug-
ging ; " the fight is stopped. The combatants, how-
ever, sit there quietly, tended by their seconds, while
their adherents wrangle in the middle. East can't
help shouting challenges to two or three of the other
side, though he never leaves Tom for a moment, and
plies the sponges as fast as ever.
The fact is, that at the end of the last round,
Tom seeing a good opening had closed with his
opponent, and after a moment's struggle had thrown
him heavily, by help of the fall he had learnt from
his village rival in the Vale of White Horse. Wil-
liams hadn't the ghost of a chance with Tom at
wrestling ; and the conviction broke at once on the
Slogger faction, that if this were allowed their man
must be licked. There was a strong feeling in the
school against catching hold and throwing, though
it was generally ruled all fair within certain limits ;
so the ring was broken and the fight stopped.
The school-house are overruled the fight is on
again, but there is to be no throwing ; and East in
THE BING'BBOEEN. 317
high wrath threatens to take his man away after
next round, (which he don't mean to do by the way,)
when suddenly young Brooke comes through the
small gate at the end of the chapel. The school-
house faction rush to him. " Oh, hurra ! now we
shall get fair play."
" Please, Brooke, come up, they won't let Tom
Brown throw him."
" Throw whom ? " says Brooke, coming up to the
ring. " Oh ! Williams, I see. Nonsense ! of course
he may throw him if he catches him fairly above the
waist."
Now, young Brooke, you're in the sixth, you know,
and you ought to stop all fights. He looks hard at
both boys. " Any thing wrong ? " says he to East,
nodding at Tom.
"Not a bit."
Not beat at all ? "
" Bless you, no ! heaps of fight in him. Ain't
there, Tom?"
Tom looks at Brooke and grins.
" How's he ? " nodding at Williams.
" So, so ; rather done, I think, since his last fall.
He won't stand above two more."
" Time's up ! " the boys rise again and face one
another. Brooke can't find it in his heart to stop
them just yet, so the round goes on, the Slogger
waiting for Tom, and reserving all his strength to
hit him out should he come in for the wrestling dodge
again, for he feels that that must be stopped, or his
sponge will soon go up in the air.
And now another new comer appears on the field,
3^18 THE CBI8IS.
to wit, the under-porter, with his long brush and great
woollen receptacle for dust under his arm. He has
been sweeping out the schools.
" You'd better stop, gentlemen," he says ; " the
Doctor knows that Brown's fighting he'll be out
in a minute." f
" You go to Bath, Bill," is all that that excellent
servitor gets by his advice. And being a man of his
hands, and a stanch upholder of the school-house,
can't help stopping to look on for a bit, and see Tom
Brown, their pet craftsman, fight a round.
It is grim earnest now, and no mistake. Both
boys feel this, and summon every power of head,
hand, and eye to their aid. A piece of luck on
either side, a foot slipping, a blow getting well
home, or another fall, may decide it. Tom works ~
slowly round for an opening, he has all the legs,
and can choose his own time ; the Slogger waits
for the attack, and hopes to finish it by some
heavy right-handed blow. As they quarter slowly
over the ground, the evening sun comes out from
behind a cloud and falls full on Williams's face.
Tom darts in, the heavy right*hand is delivered,
but only grazes his head. A short rally at close
quarters, and they close; in another moment the
Slogger is thrown again heavily for the third time.
" I'll give you three to two on the little one, in half
crowns," says Groove to Rattle.
" No thank'ee," answers the other, diving his hands
further into his coat-tails.
Just at this stage of the proceedings the door of
the turret which leads to the Doctor's library sud-
/
THS BOCTOB AB&IYES. 319
denly opens, and he steps into the close, and makes
straight for the ring, in which Brown and the Slog-
ger are both seated on their second's knees for the
last time.
" The Doctor ! the Doctor ! " shouts some small
boy who catches sight of him, and the ring melts
away in a few seconds, the small boys tearing off,
Tom collaring his jacket and waistcoat, and slipping
through the little gate by the chapel, and round
the corner to Harro well's, with his backers, as lively
as need be. Williams, and his backers, making off
not quite so fast across the close. Groove, Rattle,
and the other bigger fellows trying to combine dig-
nity and prudence in a comical manner, and walk-
ing off fast enough, they hope, not to be recognized,
and not fast enough to look like running away.
Young Brooke alone remains on the ground by
the time the Doctor gets there, and touches his hat,
not without a slight inward qualm.
" Hah ! Brooke. I am surprised to see you here.
Don't you know that I expect the sixth to stop fight-
ing?"
Brooke felt much more uncomfortable than he had
expected, but he was rather a favourite with the
Doctor for his openness and plainness of speech ; so
blurted out, as he walked by the Doctor's side, who
had already turned back
" Yes, sir, generally. But I thought you wished
us to exercise a discretion in the matter too not to
interfere too soon." .
" But they have been fighting this half-hour and
more," said the Doctor.
320 THE doctor's views.
" Yes, sir ; but neither wUs hurt. And they're the
sort of boys who'll be all the better friends now,
which they wouldn't have been if they had been
stopped any earlier before it was so equal."
" Who was fighting with Brown ? " said the Doc-
tor.
" Williams, sir, of Thompson's. He is bigger than
Brown, and had the best of it at first, but not when
you came up, sir. There's a good deal of jealousy
between our house and Thompson's, and there
would have been more fights if this hadn't been
let go on, or if either of them had had much the
worst of it."
" Well, but Brooke," said the Doctor, " doesn't this
look a little as if you exercised your discretion by
only stopping a fight when the. school-house boy is
getting the worst of it ? "
Brooke, it must be confessed, felt rather gravelled.
" Now remember," added the Doctor, as he stop-
ped at the turret-door, " this fight is not to go on
you'll see to that. And I expect you to stop all
fights in future at once."
" Very well, sir," said young Brooke, touching his
hat, and not sorry to see the turret-door close behind
the Doctor's back.
Meantime Tom, and the stanchest of his adhe-
rents, had reached Harrowell's, and Sally was bustling
about to get them a late tea, while Stumps had been
sent off to Tew, the butcher, to get a piece of raw
beef for Tom's eye, which was to be healed off-
hand, so that he might show well in the morning.
He was not a bit the worse except a slight diffi-
EVENING AFTEE THE FIGHT. 321
culty in his vision, a singing in his ears, and a
sprained thumb, which he kept in a cold-water
bandage, while he drank lots of tea, and listened
to the Babel of voices talking and speculating of
nothing but the fight, and how Williams would have
given in after another fall (which he didn't in the
least believe), and how on earth the Doctor could
have got to know of it, such bad luck! He
couldn't help thinking to himself that he was glad
he hadn't won; he liked it better as it was, and
felt very friendly to the Slogger. And then poor
little Arthur crept in and sat down quietly near
him, and kept looking at him and the raw beef
with such plaintive looks, that Tom at last burst
out laughing.
" Don't make such eyes, young 'un," said he,
" there's nothing the matter."
" Oh but, Tom, are you much hurt ? I can't bear
thinking it was all for me."
" Not a bit of it, don't flatter yourself. We were
sure to have had it out sooner or later."
" Well, but you won't go on, will you? You'll
promise me you won't go on ? "
" Can't tell about that all depends on the houses.
We're in the hands of our countrymen, you know.
Must fight for the school-house flag, if so be."
However, the lovers of the science were doomed
to disappointment this time. Directly after lock-
ing-up, one of the night fags knocked at Tom's
door.
" Brown, young Brpoke wants you in the sixth-
form room."
322 THET SHAKE HANDS.
Up went Tom to the summons, and found the
magnates sitting at their supper.
" Well, Brown," said young Brooke, nodding to
him, " how do you feel ? "
" Oh, very well, thank you, only I've sprained my
thumb, I think."
" Sure to do that in a fight. Well, you hadn't the
worst of it, I could see. Where did you learn that
throw?"
" Down in the country, when I was a boy."
" Hullo ! why, what are you now ? Well, never
mind, you're a plucky fellow. Sit down and have
some supper."
" Tom obeyed, by no means loth. And the fifth-
form boy next him filled him a tumbler of bot-
tled beer, and he eat and drank, listening to the
pleasant talk, and wondering how soon he should
be in the fifth, and one of that much envied
society.
As he got up to leave, Brooke said, " You must
shake hands to-morrow morning; I shall come and
see that done after first lesson."
And so he did. And Tom and the Slogger shook
hands with great satisfaction and mutual respect
And for the next year or two, whenever fights were
being talked of, the small boys who had been present
shook their heads wisely, saying, " Ah ! but you
should just have seen the fight between Slogger
Williams and Tom BrQ,wn ! "
And now, boys all, three words before we quit
the subject. I have put in this chapter on fight-
ing of malice prepense, partly because I want to
THE OLD BOT's BULE8. 323
give you a true picture of what every-day school life
was in my time, and not a kid glove and go-to-meet-
ing-coat picture ; and partly because of the cant and
twaddle that's talked of boxing and fighting with
fists now-a-days. Even Thackeray has given in to
it ; and only a few weeks ago there was some ram-
pant stuff in the Times on the subject, in an article
on field sports.
Boys will quarrel, and when they quarrel will
sometimes fight. Fighting with fists is the natu-
ral and English way for English boys to settle
their quarrels. What substitute for it is there,
or ever was there, amongst any nation under
the sun? What would you like to see take its
place ?
Learn to box then, as you learn to play cricket
and football. Not one of you will be the worse,
but very much the better for learning to box
well. Should you never have to use it in earn-
est, there's no exercise in the world so good for
the temper, and for the muscles of the back and
legs.
As to fighting, keep out of it if you can, by
all means. When the time comes, if it ever
should, that you have to say " Yes " or " No "
to a challenge to fight, say " No " if you can,
only take care you make it clear to your-
selves why you say " No." It's a proof of the
highest courage, if done# from true Christian
motives. It's quite right and justifiable, if done
from a simple aversion to physical pain and danger.
But don't say " No " because you fear a licking, and
324 THE OLD boy's EULES.
say or think it's because you fear God, for that's
neither Christian nor honest. And if you do fight,
fight it out ; and don't give in while you can stand
and see.
CHAPTER VI.
FEVER IN THE SCHOOL.
** This our hope for all that's mortal.
And we too shall burst the bond;
Death keeps watch beside the portal,
But 'tis life that dwells beyond."
John Sterlinq.
Two years have passed since the events recorded
in the last chapter, and the end of the summer half-
year is again drawing on. Martin has left and gone
on a cruise in the South Pacific, in one of his
uncle's ships; the old magpie, as disreputable as
ever, his last bequest to Arthur, lives in the joint
study. Arthur is nearly sixteen, and at the head of
the twenty, having gone up the school at the rate of
a form a half-year. East and Tom have been much
more deliberate in their progress, and are only a
little way up the fifth form. Great strapping boys
they are, but still thorough boys, filling about the
same place in the house that young Brooke filled
when they were new boys, and much the same sort
of fellows. Constant intercourse with Arthur has
done much for both of them, especially for Tom ;
but much remains yet to be done, if they are to get
all the good out of Rugby which is to be got there
in these times. Arthur is still frail and delicate, with
326 THE DOCTOB.
more spirit than body; but thanks to his intimacy
with them and Martin, has learned to swim, and run,
and play cricket, and has never hurt himself by too
much reading.
' One evening as they were all sitting down to sup-
per in the fifth-form room, some one started a report
that a fever had broken out at one of the boarding-
houses ; " they say," he added, " that Thompson is
very ill, and that Dr. Robertson has been sent for
from Northampton."
" Then we shall all be sent home," cried another.
" Hurrah ! five weeks' extra holidays, and no fifth-
form examination ! "
" I hope not," said Tom ; " there'll be no Maryle-
bone match then at the end of the half."
Some thought one thing, some another, many
didn't believe the report ; but the next day, Tuesday,
Dr. Robertson arrived, and stayed all day, and had
long conferences with the Doctor.
On Wednesday morning, after prayers, the Doctor
addressed the whole school. There were several
cases of fever in different houses, he said, but Dr.
Robertson after the most careful examination had
assured him that it was not infectious, and that if
proper care were taken there could be no reasort for
stopping the school work at present. The examina-
tions were just coming on, and it would be very
unadvisable to break-up now. However, any boys
who chose to do so were at liberty to write home,
and, if their parents wished it, to leave at once. He
should send the whole school home if the fever
spread.
DEATH IN THE SCHOOL. 327
The next day Arthur sickened, but there was no
other case. Before the end of the week thirty or forty
boys had gone, but the rest stayed on. There was a
general wish to please the Doctor, and a feeling that
it was cowardly to run away.
On the Saturday Thompson died, in the bright
afternoon, while the cricket-match was going on as
usual on the big-side ground; the Doctor, coming
from his death-bed, passed along the gravel-walk at
the side of the close, but no one knew what had
happened till the next day. At morning lecture it
began to be rumoured, and by afternoon chapel was
known generally ; and a feeling of seriousness and
awe at the actual presence of death among them,
came over the whole school. In all the long years
of his ministry the Doctor perhaps never spoke
words which sank deeper than some of those in
that day's sermon. " When I came yesterday from
visiting all but the very death-bed of him who has
been taken from us, and looked around upon all the
familiar objects and scenes within our own ground,
where your common amlisements were going on,
with your common cheerfulness and activity, I felt
there was nothing painful in witnessing that ; it did
not seem in any way shocking or out of tune with
those feelings which the sight of a dying Christian
must be supposed to awaken. The unsuitableness
in point of natural feeling between scenes of mourn-
ing and scenes of liveliness did not at all present
itself. But I did feel that if at that moment any of
those faults had been brought before me which
sometimes occur amongst us ; had I heard that any
328 DEATH IK THE SCHOOL.
of you had been guilty of falsehood, or of drunken-
ness, or of any other such sin ; had I heard from
any quarter the language of profaneness, or of un-
kindness, or of indecency; had I heard or seen any
signs of that wretched folly, which courts the laugh
of fools by affecting not to dread evil and not to
care for good, then the unsuitableness of any of
these things with the scene I had just quitted would
indeed have been most intensely painful. And
why ? Not because such things would really have
been worse than at any other time, but because at
such a moment the eyes are opened really to know
good and evil, because we then feel what it is so to
live as that death becomes an infinite blessing, and
what it is so to live also, that it were good for us if
we had never been born."
Tom had gone into chapel in sickening anxiety
about Arthur, but he came out cheered and strength-
ened by those grand words, and walked up alone to
their study. And when he sat down and looked
round, and saw Arthur's straw-hat and cricket-jacket
hanging on their pegs, and marked all his little neat
arrangements, not one of which had been disturbed,
the tears indeed rolled down his cheeks, but they
were calm and blessed tears, and he repeated to him-
self, " Yes, Geordie's eyes are opened ^ he knows
what it is so to live as that death becomes an infi-
nite blessing. But do I ? Oh God, can I bear to
lose him ? "
The week passed mournfully away. No more
boys sickened, but Arthur was reported* worse each
day, and his mother arrived early in the week.
CONVALESCENCE. 329
Tom made many appeals to be allowed to see him,
and several times tried to get up to the sick-room ;
but the housekeeper was always in the way, and at
last spoke to the Doctor, who kindly, but peremptorily
forbade him.
Thompson was buried on the Tuesday, and the
burial service, so soothing and grand always, but
beyond all words solemn when read over a boy's
grave to his companions, brought him much com-
fort, and many strange new thoughts and longings.
He went back to his regular life, and played cricket
and bathed as usual; it seemed to him that this
was the right thing to do, and the new thoughts and
longings became more brave and healthy for the
effort. The crisis came on Saturday, the day week
that Thompson had died; and during that long
afternoon Tom sat in his study reading his Bible,
and going every half-hour to the housekeeper's room,
expecting each time to hear that the gentle and brave
little spirit had gone home. But God had work for
Arthur to do ; the crisis passed on Sundaj^^Hjjp&i^ng
he was declared out of danger ; on Monday I5e sent
a message to Tom that he was almost well, had
changed his room, and was to be allowed to see him
the next day.
It was evening when the housekeeper summoned
him to the sick-room. Arthur was lying on the sofa
by the open window, through which the rays of th(;
western sun stole gently, lighting up his white face
and golden hair. Tom remembered a German
picture of an angel which he knew ; often had he
thought how transparent and golden and spirit-like
28
330 CONYALESCENCfi.
it was; and he shuddered to think how like it
Arthur looked, and felt a shock as if his blood had
all stopped short, as he realized how near the other
world his friend must have been to look like that.
Never till that moment had he felt how his little
chum had twined himself round his heart-strings;
and as he stole gently across the room, and knelt
down, and put his arm round Arthur's head on the
pillow, felt ashamed and half angry at his own red
and brown face, and the bounding sense of health
and power which filled every fibre of his body, and
made every moment of mere living a joy to him.
He needn't have troubled himself, it was this very
strength and power so different from his own which
drew Arthur so to him.
Arthur laid his thin white hand, on which the blue
veins stood out so plainly, on Tom's great brown
fist, and smiled at him ; and then looked out of the
window again, as if he couldn't bear to lose a moment
of the sunset, into the tops of the great feathery elms,
round which the rooks were circling and clanging, re-
turned in flocks from their evening's foraging parties.
The elms rustled, the sparrows in the ivy just outside
the window chirped and fluttered about, quarrelling
and making it up again ; the rooks, young and old,
talked in chorus, and the merry shouts of the boys,
and the sweet click of the cricket-bats, came up
cheerily from below.
" Dear George," said Tom, " I am so glad to be
let up to see you at last. I've tried hard to come so *
often, but they wouldn't let me before."
"Oh, I know, Tom ; Mary has told me every day
CONVALESCENCE. 831
about you, and how she was obliged to make the
Doctor speak to you to keep you away. I'm very
glad you didn't get up, for you might have caught
it, and you couldn't stand being ill with all the
matches going on. And you're in the eleven, too, I
hear I'm so glad."
" Yes, ain't it jolly ? " said Tom, proudly ; " I'm
ninth too. I made forty at the last pie-match, and
caught three fellows out. So I was put in above
Jones and Tucker. Tucker's so savage, for he was
head of the twenty-two."
" Well, I think you ought to be higher yet," said
Arthur, who was as jealous for the renown of Tom
in games, as Tom was for his as a scholar.
" Never mind, I don't care about cricket or any
thing now you're getting well, Geordie ; and I
shouldn't have hurt, I know, if they'd have let me
come up, nothing hurts me. But you'll get about
now directly, won't you ? You won't believe how
clean I've kept the study. All your things are just
as you left them; and I feed the old magpie just
when you used, though I have to come in from big-
side for him, the old rip. He won't look pleased, all
I can do, and sticks his head first on one side and
then on the other, and blinks at me before he'll
begin to eat, till Tm half inclined to box his ears.
And whenever East comes in, you should see him
hop off to the window, dot and go one, though Harry
wouldn't touch a feather of him now."
Arthur laughed. " Old Gravey has a good mem-
ory, he can't forget the sieges of poor Martin's den
in old times." He paused a moment and then went
332 CONVALESCENCE.
on. " You can't think how often Pve been thinking
of old Martin since Tve been ill; I suppose one's
rnind gets restless, and likes to wander off to strange
unknown places. I wonder what queer new pets the
old boy has gat ; how he must be revelling in the
thousand new birds, beasts, and fishes."
Tom felt a pang of jealousy, but kicked it out in
a moment. " Fancy him on a South-sea island, with
the Cherokees or Patagonians, or some such wild
niggers ; " (Tom's ethnology and geography were
faulty, but sufficient for his needs;) "they'll make
the old Madman cock medicine-man, and tattoo him
all over. Perhaps he's cutting about now all blue,
and has a squaw and a wigwam. He'll improve
their boomarangs, and be able to throw them too,
without having old Thomas sent after him by the
Doctor to take them away."
Arthur laughed at the remembrance of the boom-
arang story, but then looked grave again, and said,
" He'll convert all the Island, I know."
" Yes, if he don't blow it up first."
" Do you remembejr, Tom, how you and East
used to laugh at him and chaff him, because he said
he was sure the rooks all had calling-over, or prayers,
or something of the sort, when the locking-up bell
rang. Well, I declare," said Arthur, looking up seri-
ously into Tom's laughing eyes, " I do think he was
right. Since I've been lying here Pve watched them
every night ; and do you know they really do come
and perch all of them just about locking-up time:
and then first there's a regular chorus of caws, and
then they stop a bit, and one old fellow, or perhaps
MEMORIES.
two or three in different trees, caw solos, and then off
they all go again, fluttering about and cawing any
how till they roost."
" I wonder if the old blackies do talk ? " said Tom,
looking up at them. " How they must abuse me and
East, and pray for the Doctor for stopping the sling-
ing."
" There ! look, look ! " cried Arthur, " don't you see
the old fellow without a tail coming up ? Martin
used to call him ' the clerk.' He can't steer himself.
You never saw such fun as he is in a high wind,
when he can't steer himself home, and gets carried
right past the trees, and has to bear up again and
again before he can perch."
The locking-up bell began to toll, and the two
boys were silent and listened to it. The sound soon
carried Tom off to the river and the woods, and he
began to go over in his mind the many occasions on
which he had heard that toll coming faintly down
the breeze, and had to pack up his rod in a hurry and
make a run for it, to get in before the gates were
shut. He was roused with a start from his memories
by Arthur's voice, gentle and weak from his late
illness.
" Tom, will you be angry if I talk to you very
seriously ? "
" No, dear old boy, not I. But ain't you faint,
Arthur, or ill ? What can I get for you ? Don't say
anything to hurt yourself now, you are very weak ;
let me come up again."
*' No, no, I shan't hurt myself; I'd sooner speak to
you now, if you don't mind. I've asked Mary to
334 MO&E LESSONS.
tell the Doctor that you are with me, so you needn't
go down to calling-over ; and I mayn't have another
chance, for I shall most likely have to go home for
change of air to get well, and mayn't come back this
half."
" Oh, do you think you must go away before the
end of the half ? I'm so sorry. It's more than five
weeks yet to the holidays, and all the fifth -form ex-
amination and half the cricket matches to come yet.
And what shall I do all that time alone in our study ?
Why, Arthur, it will be more than twelve weeks be-
fore I see you again. Oh, hang it, I can't stand that.
Besides who's to keep me up to working at the ex-
amination books ? I shall come out bottom of the
form, as sure as eggs is eggs."
Tom was rattling on, half in joke, half in earnest,
for he wanted to get Arthur out of his serious vein,
thinking it would do him harm ; but Arthur broke
in
" Oh, please Tom, stop, or you'll drive all I had to
say out of my head. And I'm already horribly afraid
I'm going to make you angry."
"Don't gammon, young 'un," rejoined Tom, (the
use of the old name, dear to him from old recollec-
tions, made Arthur start and smile, and feel quite
happy;) "you know you ain't afraid, and you've
never made me angry since the first month we chum-
med together. Now I'm going to be quite sober for
a quarter of an hour, which is more than I am once
in a year, so make the most of it ; heave ahead, and
pitch into me right and left."
" Dear Tom, I ain't going to pitch into you,"
MOBE LESSONS. 335
said Arthur piteously ; " and it seems so cocky in
me to be advising you, who've been my backbone
ever since I've been at Rugby, and have made the
school a paradise to me. Ah, I see I shall never do
it, unless I go head-overrheels at once, as you said
when you taught me to swim. Tom, I want you
to give up using vulgus-books and cribs."
Arthur sank back on to his pillow with a sigh, as
if the effort had been great ; but the worst was now
over, and he looked straight at Tom, who was evi-
dently taken aback. He leant his elbows on his
knees and stuck his hands into his hair, whistled a
verse of Billy Taylor, and then was quite silent for
another minute. Not a shade crossed his face, but
he was clearly puzzled. At last he looked up and
caught Arthur's anxious look, took his hand, and
said simply
" Why, young'un ? "
" Because you're the honestest boy in Rugby, and
that ain't honest."
" I don't see that."
" What were you sent to Rugby for ? "
"Well, I don't know exactly nobody ever told
me. I suppose because all boys are sent to a public
school in England."
" But what do you think yourself ? What do you
want to do here and to carry away ? "
Tom thought a minute. " I want to be A I at
cricket and football, and all the other games, and to
make my hands keep my head against any fellow,
lout or gentleman, I want to get into the sixlh
before I leave, and to please the Doctor; and 1
336 tom's conpessions.
want to carry away, just as much Latin and Greek
as will take me through Oxford respectably. There
now, young 'un, I never thought of it before, but
that's pretty much about my figure. Ain't it all
on the square? What have you got to say to
that?"
" Why, that you're pretty sure to do all that you
want then."
" Well, I hope so. But you've forgot one thing,
what I want to leave behind me. I want to leave
behind me," said Tom, speaking slow and looking
much moved, " the name of a fellow who never bul-
lied a little boy, or turned his back on a big one."
Arthur pressed his hand, and after a moment's
silence went on : " You say, Tom, you want to
please the Doctor. Now do you want to please
him by what he thinks you do, or by what you
really do?"
" By what I really do, of course."
" Does he think you use cribs and vulgus-books ? "
Tom felt at once that his flank was turned, but he
couldn't give in. " He was at Winchester himself,"
said he, " he knows all about it."
" Yes, but does he think you use them ? Do you
think he approves of it?"
" You young villain," said Tom, shaking his fist at
Arthur half vexed and half pleased, " I never think
about it. Hang it there, perhaps he don't Well,
I suppose he don't"
Arthur saw that he had got his point ; he knew
his friend well,'lnd was wise in silence as in speech.
He only said, " I would sooner have the Doctor's
TOM PROFOSETH A COMFBOMISE. 337
good opinion of me as I really am, than any man's
in the world."
After another minute Tom began again : " Look
here, young 'un, how on earth am I to get time to
play the matches this half, if I give up cribs?
We're in the middle of that long crabbed chorus in
the Agamemnon, I can only just make head or tail
of it with the crib. Then there's Pericles' speech
coming on in Thucydides, and 'the Birds' to get
up for the examination, besides the Tacitus." Tom
groaned at the thought of his accumulated labours.
" I say young 'un, there's only five weeks or so left
to holidays, mayn't I go on as usual for this half?
I'll tell the Doctor about it some day, or you may."
Arthur looked out of window ;* the twilight had
come on and all was silent. He repeated in a low
voice, " In this thing the Lord pardon thy servant,
that when my master goeth into the house of Rim-
mon to worship there, and he leaneth on my hand,
and I bow down myself in the house of Rimmon ;
when I bow down myself in the house of Rimmon,
the Lord pardon thy servant in this thing."
Not a word more was said on .the subject, and the
boys were again silent One of those blessed short
silences, in which the resolves which colour a life are
so often taken.
Tom was the first to break it. " You've been very
ill indeed, haven't you, Geordie ? " said he with a
mixture of awe and curiosity, feeling as if his friend
had been in some strange place or scene, of which
he could form no idea, and full of the memory of his
own thoughts during the last week.
29
338 TOH 0UT-6ENEBALLED.
" Yes, very. I'm sure the Doctor thought I was
going to die. He gave rae the Sacrament last
Sunday, and you can't think what he is when one
is ill. He said such brave, and tender, and gentle
things to me, I felt quite light and strong after it,
and never had any more fear. My mother brought
our old medical man, who attended me when I was
a poor sickly child ; he said my constitution was
quite changed, and that I'm fit for anything now.
If it hadn't, I couldn't have stood three days of this
illness. That's all thanks to you, and the games
you've made me fond of."
" More thanks to old Martin," said Tom ; " he's
been your real friend."
" Nonsense, Tom, he never could have done for
me what you have."
" Well, I don't know, I did little enough. Did
they tell you you won't mind hearing it now, I
know that poor Thompson died last week ? The
other three boys are getting quite round, like you."
Oh, yes, I heard of it."
Then Tom, who was quite full of it, told Arthur
of the burial service in the chapel, and how it had
impressed him, and, he believed, all the other boys.
" And though the Doctor never said a word about
it," said he, " and it was a half-holiday and match
day, there wasn't a game played in the close all the
afternoon, and the boys all went about as if it wero
Sunday."
" I'm very glad of it," said Arthur. " But, Tom.
I've had such strange thoughts about death lately.
Pve never told a soul of them, not even my mother.
akthub's feyee. 339
Sometimes I think they're wrong, but, do you know,
I don't think in my heart I could be sorry at the
death of any of my friends."
Tom was taken quite aback. " What in the
world is the young 'un after now," thought he ; " I've
swallowed a good many of his crotchets, but tljis
altogether beats me. He can't be quite right in his
head." He didn't want to say a word, find shifted
about uneasily in the dark ; however, Arthur seemed
to be waiting for an answer, so at last he said, " I
don't think I quite see what you mean, Geordie.
One's told so often to think about death, that I've
tried it on sometimes, especially this last week. But
we won't talk of it now. I'd better go you're
getting tired, and I shall do you harm."
" No, no, indeed I ain't, Tom ; you must stop till
nine, there's only twenty minutes. I've settled you
shall stop till nine. And oh ! do let me talk to you
I must talk to you. I see it's just as I feared.
You think I'm half mad don't you now ? "
" Well, I did think it odd what you said, Geordie,
as you ask me."
Arthur paused a moment, and then said quickly,
" I'll tell you how it all happened. At first, when I
was sent to the sick-room and found I had really
got the fever, I was terribly frightened. I thought I
should die, and I could not face it for a moment. I
don't think it was sheer cowardice at first, but I
thought how hard it was to be taken awaj from my
mother and sisters and you all, just as I was begin-
ning to see my way to many things, and to feel
that I might be a man and do a man's work. To
340 abthub's fever.
die without having fought, and worked, and given
one's life away, was too hard to bear, I got terribly
inripatient, and accused God of injustice, and strove
to justify myself; and the harder I strove the deeper
I sank. Then the image of my dear father often
came across me, but I turned from it. Whenever it
came, a heavy numbing throb seemed to take hold
of my heart, and say, dead dead dead. And I
cried out, ' The living, the living shall praise Thee.
O God ; the dead cannot praise Thee. There is no
work in the grave ; in the night no man can work.
But I can work. I can do great things. I will do
great things. Why wilt thou slay me ? ' And so I
struggled and plunged, deeper and deeper, and went
down into a living black tomb. I was alone there,
with no power to stir or think; alone with myself;
beyond the reach of all human fellowship ; beyond
Christ's reach, I thought, in my nightmare. You,
who are brave and bright and strong, can have no
idea of that agony. , Pray to God you never may.
Pray as for your life."
Arthur stopped from exhaustion, Tom thought ;
but what between his fear lest Arthur should hurt
himself, his awe, and longing for him to go on, he
couldn't ask or stir to help him.
Presently he went on, but quite calm and slow.
' I don't know how long I was in that state. For
more than a day I know, for I was quite conscious,
and lived my outer life all the time, and took my
medicines, and spoke to my mother, and heard what
they said. But I didn't take much note of time, I
thought time was over for me, and that that tomb
abthub's pevbb. 341
was what was beyond. Well, on last Sunday morn-
ing, as I seemed to lie in that tomb, alone, as 1
thought, for ever and ever, the black dead wall was
cleft in two, and I was caught up and borne through
into the light by some great power, some living
mighty spirit. Tom, do you remember the living
creatures and the wheels in Ezekiel ? It was just
like that ; * when they went I heard the noise of their
wings, like +he noise of great waters, as the voice of
the Almighty, the voice of speech, as the noise of an
host ; when they stood they let down their wings '
* and they went every one straight forward ; whither
the spirit was to go they went, and they turned not
when they went.' And we rushed through the
bright air, which was full of myriads of living crea-
tures, and paused on the brink of a great river. And
the power held me up, and I knew that that great
river was the grave, and death dwelt there ; but not
the death I had met in the black tomb, that I felt
was gone forever. For on the other bank of the
great river I saw men and women and children
rising up pure and bright, and the tears were wiped
from their eyes, and they put on glory and strength,
and all weariness and pain fell away. And beyond ^^
were a multitude which no man could number, and
they worked at some great work ; and they who
rose from the river went on and joined in the work.
They all worked, and each worked in a different
way, but all at the same work. And I saw there
my father, and the men in the old town whom I
knew when I was a child ; many a hard stern man,
who never came to church, and whom they called
342 abthttb's peter.
atheist and infidel. There they were, side by side
with my father, whom I had seen toil and die for
them, and women and little children, and the seal
was on the foreheads of all. And I longed to
see what the work was, and could not; so I tried
to plunge in the river, for I thought I would join
them, but I could not. Then I looked about to see
how they got into the river. And this I could not
see, but I saw myriads on this side, and they too
worked, and I knew that it was the same work;
and the same seal was on their foreheads. And
tnough I saw that there was toil and anguish in the
work of these, and that most that were working
were blind and feeble, yet I longed no more to
plunge into the river, but more and more to know
what the work was. And as I looked I saw my
mother and my sisters, and I saw the Doctor, and
you, Tom, and hundreds more whom I knew ; and
at last I saw myself too, and I was toiling and
doing ever so little a piece of the great work. Then
it all melted away, and the power left me, and as it
left me I thought I heard a voice say, * The vision
is for an appointed time; though it tarry wait for
it, for in the end it shall speak and not lie, it shall
surely come, it shall not tarry.' It was early morn-
ing I know then, it was so quiet and cool, and my
mother was fast asleep in the chair by my bedside ;
but it wasn't only a dream of mine. I know it
wasn't a dream. Then I fell into a deep sleep, and
only woke after afternoon chapel ; and the Doctor
came and gave me the Sacrament, as I told you.
I told him and my mother I should get well I
abthub's moiheb. 343
knew I should ; but I couldn't teU them why. Tom,"
said Arthur, gently, after another minute, " do you
see why I could not grieve now to see ray dearest
friend die ? It can't be it isn't all fever or illness,
God would never have let me see it so clear if it
wasn't true. I don't understand it all yet it will
take me my life and longer to do that to find out
what the work is."
When Arthur stopped there was a long pause.
Tom could not speak, he was almost afraid to
breathe, lest he should break the train of Arthur's
thoughts. He longed to hear more, and to ask
questions. In another minute nine o'clock struck,
and a gentle tap at the door called them both back
into the world again. They did not answer, how-
ever, for a moment, and so the door opened, and a
lady came in carrying a candle.
She went straight to the sofa, and took hold of
Arthur's hand, and then stooped down and kissed
him.
" My dearest boy, you feel a little feverish '*ag^in.
Why didn't you have lights? You've talked too
much and excited yourself in the dark."
" Oh no, mother, you can't think how well I feel.
I shall start with you to-morrow for Devonshire.
But, mother, here's my friend, here's Tom Brown
you know him ? "
" Yes, indeed, I've known him for years," she said,
and held out her hand to Tom, who was now stand-
ing up behind the sofa. This was Arthur's mother.
Tall and slight and fair, with masses of golden hair
drawn back from the broad white forehead, and the
344 Arthur's mother.
calm blue eye meeting his so deep and open the
eye that he knew so well, for it was his friend's over
again, and the lovely tender mouth that trembled
while he looked. She stood there a woman of
thirty-eight, old enough to be his mother, and one
whose face showed the lines which must be written
on the faces of good men's wives and widows but
he thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.
He couldn't help wondering if Arthur's sisters were
like her.
Tom held her hand, and looked on straight in her
face ; he could neither let it go nor speak.
" Now Tom," said Arthur, laughing, " where are
your manners ? you'll stare my mother out of coun-
tenance." Tom dropped the little hand with a
sigh. " There, sit down, both of you. Here, dearest
mother, there's room here," and he made a place on
the sofa for her. " Tom, you needn't go ; I'm sure
you won't be called up at first lesson." Tom felt
that he would risk being floored at every lesson for
the rest of his natural school-life, sooner than go ; so
sat down. " And now," said Arthur, " I have real-
ized one of the dearest wishes of my life to see
you two together."
And then he led away the talk to their home in
Devonshire, and the red bright earth, and the deep
green combes, and the peat streams like cairn-gorm
pebbles, and the wild moor with its high cloudy
Tors for a giant background to the picture till
Tom got jealous, and stood up for the clear chalk
streams, and the emerald water meadows and great
elms and willows of the dear old Royal county, as
%i9*^!i^J^ ^fc C.' ^ ^% 'i't.
Page 345.
Tom's rewards. 345
he gloried to call it. And the mother sat on quiet
and loving, rejoicing in their life. The quarter-to-
ten struck, and the bell rang for bed, before they had
well begun their talk as it seemed.
Then Tom rose with a sigh to go.
" Shall I see you in the morning, Geordie ? " said
he, as he shook his friend's hand. " Never mind
though, you'll be back next half, and I shan't forget
the house of Rimmon."
Arthur's mother got up and walked with him to
the door, and there gave him her hand again, and
again his eyes met that deep loving look, which was
like a spell upon him. Her voice trembled slightly
as she said " Good night you are one who knows
what our Father has promised to the friend of the
widow and the fatherless. May He deal with you
as you have dealt with me and mine ! "
Tom was quite upset ; he mumbled something
about owing everything good in him to Geordie
looked in her face again, pressed her hand to his
lips, and rushed down stairs to his study, where he
sat till old Thomas came kicking at the door, to tell
him his allowance would be stopped if he didn't go
off to bed. (It would have been stopped anyhow,
but that he was a great favourite with the old
gentleman, who loved to come out in the afternoons
into the close to Tom's wicket, and bowl slow
twisters to him, and talk of the glories of by-gone
Surrey heroes, with whom he had played in former
generations.) So Tom roused himself and took up
his candle to go to bed ; and then, for the first time
was aware of a beautiful new fishing-rod, with old
346 toh's bewabds.
Eton's mark on it, and a splendidly bound Bible,
which lay on his table, on the titlepage of which
was written " Tom Brown, from his affectionate
and grateful friends, Frances Jane Arthur; George
Arthur."
I leave you all to guess how he slept, and what ho
dreamt of.
CHAPTER VII.
HARRY EAST'S DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES.
** The Holy Supper is kept indeed.
In whatso we share with another's need
Not that which we give, but that we share.
For the gift without the giver is bare :
Who bestows himself with his alms feeds three,
Himself, his hungering neighbour, and me."
LowxLL The Vision of Sir Launfal, p. 11.
The next morning after breakfast, Tom, East, and
Gower met as usual to learn their second lesson
together. Tom had been considering how to break
his proposal of giving up the crib to the others, and
having found no better way (as indeed none better
can ever be found by man or boy), told them simply
what had happened ; how he had been to see Arthur,
who had talked to him upon the subject, and what
he had said, and for his part he had made up his
mind and wasn't going to use cribs any more. And
not being quite sure of his ground, took the high
and pathetic tone, and was proceeding to say, " how
that having learnt his lessons with them for so many
years, it would grieve him much to put an end to
the arrangement, and he hoped at any rate that if
they wouldn't go on with him, they should still be
just as good friends, and respect one another's mo-
tives but "
*M8 TOBC SFBINGS HIS MIK.
Here the other boys, who had been listening with
open eyes and ears, burst in
" Stuff and nonsense ! " cried Gower. " Here, East,
get down the crib and find the place.*'
" Oh, Tommy, Tommy ! " said East, proceeding
to do as he was bidden, " that it should ever have
come to this. I knew Arthur 'd be the ruin of you
some day, and you of me. And now the time's
come " and he made a doleful face.
" I don't know about ruin," answered Tom ; " I
know that you and I would have had the sack long
ago, if it hadn't been for him. And you know it as
well as I."
" Well, we were in a baddish way befoi*e he came,
I own, but this new crotchet of his is past a joke."
" Let's give it a trial, Harry ; come you know
how often he has been right and we wrong."
" Now don't you two be jawing away about young
Square-toes," struck in Gower. " He's no end of a
sucking wiseacre, I dare say, but we've no time to
lose, and I've got the fives'-court at half-past nine."
" I say, Gower," said Tom, appealingly, " be a
good fellow, and let's try if we can't get on without
the crib."
" What ! in this chorus ? Why we shan't get
through ten lines."
" I say, Tom," cried East, having hit on a new
idea, " don't you remember, when we were in the
upper-fourth, and old Momus caught me construing
off the leaf of a crib which I'd torn out and put in
my book, and which would float out on to the floor ;
he sent me up to be flogged for it ? "
BESXTLTS OF THE EXPLOSION. 349
" Yes, I remember it very well."
" Well, the Doctor, after he'd flogged me, told me
himself that he didn't flog me for using a translation,
but for taking it into lesson, and using it there when
I hadn't learnt a word before I came in. He said
there was no harm in using a translation to get a clue
to hard passages, if you'd tried all you could first to
make them out without."
"Did he though?" said Tom; "then Arthur
must be wrongt"
" Of course he is," said Gower, " the little prig.
We'll only use the crib when we can't construe
without it. Go ahead, East."
And on this agreement they started. Tom satis-
fied with having made his confession, and not sorry
to have a locus pcenitentice, and not to be deprived
altogether of the use of his old and faithful friend.
The boys went on as usual, each taking a sen-
tence in turn, and the crib being handed to the one
whose turn it was to construe. Of course Tom
couldn't object to this, as, was it not simply lying
there to be appealed to in case the sentence should
prove too hard altogether for the construer ? But it
must be owned that Gower and East did not make
very tremendous exertions to conquer their sen-
tences before having recourse to its help. Tom,
however, with the most heroic virtue and gallantry,
rushed into his sentence, searching in a high-minded
manner for nominative and verb, and turning over
his dictionary frantically for the first hard word
which stopped him. But in the meantime, Gower,
who \^'as bent on getting to fives, would peep quietly
850 BESITLTS OF THE EXPLOSION.
into the crib, and then suggest, " Don't you think
this is the meaning ? " "I think you must take it
this way. Brown ; " and as Tom didn't see his way
to not profiting by these suggestions, the lesson went
on about as quickly as usual, and Gower was able to
start for the fives'-court within five minutes of the
half hour.
When Tom and East were left face to face, they
looked at one another for a minute, Tom puzzled,
and East chock full of fun, and then burst into a roar
of laughter.
" Well, Tom," said East, recovering himself, " I
don't see any objection to the new way. It's about
as good as the old one, I think ; besides, the advan-
tage it gives one of feeling virtuous, and looking
down on one's neighbours."
Tom shoved his hand into his back hair. " I ain't
so sure," said he ; " you two fellows carried me off
my legs ; I don't think we really tried one sentence
fairly. Are you sure you remember what the Doctor
said to you?"
Yes. And I'll swear I couldn't make out one of
my sentences to-day. No, nor never could. I really
don't remember," said East, speaking slowly and im-
pressively, " to have come across one Latin or Greek
sentence this half that I could go and construe by
the light of nature. Whereby I am sure Providence
intended cribs to be used."
The thing to find out," said Tom, meditatively,
"is, how long one ought to grind at a sentence
without looking at tbe crib. Now I think if one
fairly looks out all the words one don't know, and
then can't hit it, that's enough."
THE enemy's defence. 251
" To be sure, Tommy," said East, demurely, but
with a merry twinkle in his eye. " Your new doe-
trine too, old fellow," added he, " when one comes
to think of it, is a cutting at the root of all school
morality. You'll take away mutual help, brotherly
love, or in the vulgar tongue giving construes, which
I hold to be one of our highest virtues. For how
can you distinguish between getting a construe from
another boy, and using a crib ? Hang it, Tom, if
you're going to deprive all our school-fellows of the
chance of exercising Christian benevolence and being
good Samaritans, I shall cut the concern."
" I wish you wouldn't joke about it, Harry ; it's
hard enough to see one's way, a precious sight
harder than I thought last night. But I suppose
there's a use and an abuse of both, and one'U get
straight enough somehow. But you can't make
out anyhow that one has a right to use old vulgus-
books and copybooks."
" Hullo, more heresy ! how fast a fellow goes
down hill when he once gets his head before his
legs. Listen to me, Tom. Not use old vulgus-
books why, you Goth ! ain't we to take the bene-
fit of the wisdom, and admire and use the work of
past generations? Not use old copybooks! Why
you might as well say we ought to pull down West-
minster Abbey, and put up a go-to-meeting shop
with churchwarden windows; or never read Shak-
speare, but only Sheridan Knowles. Think of all
the work and labour that our predecessors have
bestowed on these very books, and are we to make
their work of no value ? "
352 THE enemy's defence.
" I say, Harry, please don't chaff; Fm really
serious."
" And then, is it not our duty to consult the
pleasure of others rather than our own, and above
all that of our masters ? Fancy then the difference
to them in looking over a vulgus which has been
carefully touched, and retouched by themselves and
others, and which must bring them a sort of dreamy
pleasure, as if they'd met the thought or expression
of it somewhere or another before they w^ere born
perhaps ; and that of cutting up, and making pic-
ture-frames round all your and my false quantities,
and other monstrosities. Why, Tom, you wouldn't be
so cruel as never to let old Moraus hum over the ' O
genus humanum ' again, and then look up doubting-
ly through his spectacles, and end by smiling and
giving three extra marks for it ; just for old sake's
sake, I suppose."
" Well," said Tom, getting up in something as
like a huff as he was capable of, " it's deuced hard
that when a fellow's really trying to do what he
ought, his best friends '11 do nothing but chaff him
and try to put him down." And he stuck his
books under his arm and his hat on his head,
preparatory to rushing out into the quadrangle, to
testify with his own soul of the faithlessness of
friendships.
" Now don't be an ass, Tom," said East, catch*
ing hold of him, "you know me well enough by
this time ; my bark's worse than my bite. You
can't expect to ride your new crotchet without any-
body's trying to stick a nettle under his tail and
THE enemy's defence. 353
make him kick you off: especially as we shall all
have to go on foot still. But now sit down and
let's go over it again. Til be as serious as a
judge."
Then Tom sat himself down on the table, and
waxed eloquent about all the righteousnesses and
advantages of the new plan, as was his wont when-
ever he took up any thing ; going into it as if his life
depended upon it, and sparing no abuse which he
could think of of the opposite method, which he de-
nounced as ungentlemanly, cowardly, mean, lying,
and no one knows what besides. " Very cool of
Tom," as East thought, but didn't say, " seeing as
how he only came out of Eygpt himself last night at
bed-time."
" Well, Tom," said he at last, " you see when you
and I came to school there were none of these
sort of notions. You may be right I dare say
you are. Only what one has always felt about
the masters is, that it's a fair trial of skill and last
befVeen us and them like a match at football^
or a battle. We're natural enemies in school, that's
the fact. We've got to learn so much Latin and
Greek and do so many verses, and they've got to
see that we do it. If we can slip the collar and
do so much less without getting caught, that's
one to us. If they can get more out of us, oi
catch us shirking, that's one to them. All's fair
in war, but lying. If I run my luck against theirs
and go into school without looking at my lesson,
and don't get called up, why am I a snob or a
sneak? I don't tell the master I have learnt it
80
354. THE enemy's defence.
He's got to find out whether I have or not : what's
he paid for? If he calls me np and I get floored,
he makes me write it out in Greek and English.
Very good, he's caught me, and I don't grumble.
I grant you, if I go and snivel to him, and tell
him I've really tried to learn it but found it so
hard without a translation, or say I've had a
toothache or any humbug of that kind, Tm a
snob. That's my school morality; it's served me,
and you too, Tom, for the matter of that, these
five years. And it's all clear and fair, no mistake
about it. We understand it and they understand
it, and I don't know what we're to come to with
any other."
Tom looked at him, pleased, and a little puz-
zled. He had never heard East speak his mind
seriously before, and couldn't help feeling how com-
pletely he had hit his own theory and practice up to
that time.
" Thank you, old fellow," said he. " You're a
good old brick to be serious, and not put out
with me. I said more than I meant, I dare say,
only you see I know I'm right: whatever you
and Gower and the rest do, I shall hold on
i must. And as it's all new and an up-hill
game, you see, one must hit hard and hold on tight
at first."
" Very good," said East ; " hold on and hit away,
only don't hit under the line."
" But I must bring you over, Harry, or I shan't
be comfortable. Now I allow all you've said.
We've always been honorable enemies with the
THE TBUCE. 355
masters. We found a state of war when we camC;
and went into it of course. Only don't you think
things are altered a good deal ? I don't feel as I
used to the masters. They seem to me to treat one
quite differently."
" Yes, perhaps they do," said East; "there's a
new set you see mostly, who don't feel quite sure of
themselves yet. They don't want to fight till they
know the ground."
" I don't think it's only that," said Tom. And
then the Doctor, he does treat one so openly,
and like a gentleman, and as if one was working
with him."
" Well, so he does," said East ; " he's a splendid
fellow, and when I get into the sixth I shall act ac-
cordingly. Only you know he has nothing to do
with our lessons now, except examining us. I say
though," looking at his watch, " it's just the quarter.
Come along."
As they walked out they got a message to say,
' that Arthur was just starting and would like to say
good-bye ; ' so they went down to the private entrance
of the school-house, and found an open carriage, with
Arthur propped up with pillows in it, looking already
better, Tom thought.
They jumped up on to the steps to shake hands
with him, and Tom mumbled thanks for the pres-
ents he had found in his study, and looked round
anxiously for Arthur's mother.
East, who had fallen back into his usual humour,
looked quaintly at Arthur and said
" So you've been at it again, through that hot-
356 ABTHU& GOES HOME.
headed convert of yours there. He's been making
our lives a burthen to us all the morning about using
cribs. I shall get floored to a certainty at second
lesson, if Vm called up."
Arthur blushed and looked down. Tom struck
in
" Oh, it's all right. He's converted already ; he
always comes through the mud after us, grumbling
and sputtering."
The clock struck and they had to go off to school,
wishing Arthur a pleasant holiday ; Tom lingering
behind a moment to send his thanks and love to
Arthur's mother.
Tom renewed the discussion after second lesson,
and succeeded so far as to get East to promise to
give the new plan a fair trial.
Encouraged by his success, in the evening, when
they were sitting alone in the large study, where
East lived now almost, vice Arthur on leave,' after
examining the new fishing-rod, which both pro-
nounced to be the genuine article, (' play enough to
throw a midge tied on a single hair against the
wind, and strength enough to hold a grampus,')
they naturally began talking about Arthur. Tom,
who was still bubbling over with last night's scene
and all the thoughts of the last week, and wanting
to clinch and fix the whole in his own mind, which
he could never do without first going through the
process of belabouring somebody else with it all,
suddenly rushed into the subject of Arthur's illness,
and what he had said about death.
East had given him the desired opening, after a
THE SIEGE BE-OPENS. 357
Berio-comic grumble, ' that life wasn't worth having
now they were tied to a young beggar who was
always "raising his standard;" and that he, East,
was like a prophet's donkey, who was obliged to
struggle on after the donkey-raan who went after the
prophet ; that he had none of the pleasure of start-
ing the new crotchets, and didn't half understand
them, bat had to take the kicks and carry the lug-
gage as if he had all the fun,' he threw his legs up
on to the sofe, and put his hands behind his head,
and said
" Well, after all, he's the most wonderful little fel-
low I ever came across. There ain't such a meek,
humble boy in the school. Hanged if I don't think
now really, Tom, that he believes himself a much
worse fellow than you or I, and that he don't think
he has more influence in the house than. Dot Bowles,
who came last quarter, and ain't ten yet. But he
turns you and me round his little finger, old boy
there's no mistake about that." And East nodded
at Tom sagaciously.
"Now or never," thought Tom; so shutting his
eyes and hardening his heart, he went straight at it,
repeating all that Arthur had said, as near as he
could remember it, in the very words, and all he
had himself thought. The life seemed to ooze out
of it as he went on, and several times he felt in-
clined to stop, give.it all up, and change the subject.
But somehow he was borne on ; he had a necessity
upon him to speak it all out, and did so. At the
end he looked at East with some anxiety, and was
delighted to see that that young gentleman was
358 FBIENDSHIF TESTED.
thoughtful and attentive. The fact is, that in the
stage of his inner life at which Tom had lately
arrived, his intimacy with, and friendship for East,
could not have lasted if he had not made him aware
of, and a sharer in, the thoughts that were begin-
ning to exercise him. Nor indeed could the friend-
ship have lasted if East had shown no sympathy
with these thoughts ; so that it was a great relief to
have unbosomed himself, and to have found that his
friend could listen.
Tom had always had a sort of instinct that East's
levity was only skin-deep, and this instinct was a
true one. East had no want of reverence for any-
thing he felt to be real : but his was one of those
natures that burst into what is generally called reck-
lessness and impiety the moment they feel that any-
thing is being poured upon them for their good,
which does not come home to their inborn sense of
right, or which appeals to anything like self-interest
in them. Daring and honest by nature, and out-
spoken to an extent which alarmed all respectabili-
ties, with a constant fund of animal health and
spirits which he did not feel bound to curb in any
way, he had gained for himself, with the steady part
of the school, (including as well those who wished
to appear steady as those who really were so,) the
character of a boy whom it would be dangerous to
be intimate with ; while his own hatred of every
thing cruel, or underhand, or false, and his hearty
respect for what he could see to be good and true,
kept off the rest.
Tom, besides being very like East in many points
FBIEKDSHIP TESTED. 359
of character, had largely developed in his composition
the capacity for taking the weakest side. This is
not putting it strongly enough, it was a necessity
with him, he couldn't help it, any more than he could
esiting or drinking. He could never play on the
strongest side with any heart at football or cricket,
and was sure to make friends with any boy who was
unpopular, or down on his luck.
Now, though East was not what is generally called
unpopular, Tom felt more and more every day, as
their characters developed, that he stood alone, and
did not make friends among their contemporaries ;
and therefore sought him out Tom was himself
much more popular, for his power of detecting hum-
bug was much less acute, and his instincts were
much more sociable. He was at this period of his
life, too, largely given to taking people for what they
gave themselves out to be ; but his singleness of
heart, fearlessness, and honesty, were just what East
appreciated, and thus the two had been drawn into
great intimacy.
This intimacy had not been interrupted by Tom's
guardianship of Arthur.
East had often, as has been said, joined them in
reading the Bible ; but their discussions had almost
always turned upon the characters of the men and
women of whom they read, and not become per-
sonal to themselves. In fact, the two had shrunk
from personal religious discussion, not knowing how
it might end ; and fearful of risking a friendship very
dear to both, and which they felt . somehow, without
quite knowing why, would never be the same, but
360 FBIENDSHIF TESTED. .
either tenfold stronger or sapped at its foundation,
after such a communing together.
What a bother all this explaining is ! I wish we
could get on without it. But we can't. However,
you'll all find, if you haven't found it already, that
a time comes in every human friendship, when you
must go down into the depths of yourself, and lay
bare what is there to your friend, and wait in fear for
his answer. A few moments may do it ; and, it may
be (most likely will be, as you are English boys),
that you never do it but once. But done it must
be, if the friendship is to be worth the name. You
must find what is there, at the very root and bottom
of one another's hearts ; and if you are at one
there, nothing on earth can, or at least ought, to sun-
der you.
East had remained lying down until Tom finished
speaking, as if fearing to interrupt him ; he now sat
up at the table and leant his head on one hand,
taking up a pencil with the other and working little
holes with it in the table-cover. After a bit he
looked up, stopped the pencil, and said, " Thank you
very much, old fellow; there's no other boy in the
house would have done it for me but you or Arthur.
T can see well enough," he went on after a pause,
" all the best big fellows look on me with suspicion ;
they think I'm a devil-may-care reckless young scamp
so I am eleven hours out of twelve but not
the twelfth. Then all of our contemporaries worth
knowing, follow suit of course; we're very good
friends at games and all that, but not a soul of them
but you and Arthur ever tried to break through the
.PBIENDSHIF TESTED. 361
crust, and see whether there was anything at the
bottom of me ; and then the bad ones I won't stand,
and they know that."
" Don't you think that's half fancy, Harry ? "
" Not a bit of it," said East, bitterly, pegging away
with his pencil. " I see it all plain enough. Bless
you, you think everybody's as straightforward and
kind-hearted as you are."
" Well, but what's the reason of it? There must
be a reason. You can play all the games as well as
any one, and sing the best song, and are the best
company in the house. You fancy you're not liked,
Harry. It's all fancy."
" I only wish it was, Tom. I know I could be
popular enough with all the bad ones, but that I
won't have, and the good ones won't have me."
" Why not ? " persisted Tom ; " you don't drink or
swear, or get out at night ; you never bully, or cheat
at lessons. If you only showed you liked it, you'd
have all the best fellows in the house running after
you."
" Not I," said East. Then with an effort he went
on, " I'll tell you what it is. I never stop the Sacra-
ment. I can see from the Doctor downwards, how
that tells against me."
" Yes, I've seen that," said Tom, " and I've been
very sorry for it, and Arthur and I have talked about
it. I've often thought of speaking to you, but it's so
hard to begin on such subjects. I'm very glad you've
opened it. Now, why don't you ? "
" I've never been confirmed," said East.
" Not been confirmed ! " said Tom, in astonish-
81
362 east's confessions..
ment. I never thought of that. Why weren't you
confirmed with the rest of us nearly three years
ago ? I always thought you'd been confirmed at
home.''
" No," answered East, sorrowfully ; " you see this
was how it happened. Last Confirmation was soon
after Arthur came, and you were so taken up with
him, I hardly saw either of you. Well, when the
Doctor sent round for us about it, I was living
mostly with Green's set you know the sort They
all went in I dare say it was all right, and they got
good by it; I don't want to judge them. Only all
I could see of their reasons drove me just the other
way. 'Twas, 'because the Doctor liked it;' 'no
boy got on who didn't stay the Sacrament ; ' it was
' the correct thing,' in fact, like having a good hat to
wear on Sundays. I couldn't stand it. I didn't feel
that I wanted to lead a different life, I was very
well content as I was, and I wasn't going to sham
religious to curry favour with the Doctor, or any
one else."
East stopped speaking, and pegged away more
diligently than ever with his pencil. Tom was
ready to cry. He felt half sorry at first thfct he had
been confirmed himself. He seemed to have de-
serted his earliest friend, to have left him by himself
at his worst need for those long years. He got up
and went and sat by East, and put his arm over hi
shoulder.
" Dear old boy," he said, " how careless and selfish
I've been. But why didn't you come and talk'to
Arthur and me ? "
i
AST*S COKrSSIONS.
363
" I wish to heaven I had," said East, "but I was
a fool. It's too late talking of it now,"
" Why too late ? Yoa want to be confirmed now,
don't you ? "
" I think so," said East. " I've thought about it a
good deal ; only often I fancy I must be changing,
because I see it's to do me good here, just what
stopped me last time. And then I go back again,"
" I'll tell you now how 'twas with me," said Tom,
warmly. " If it hadn't been for Arthur, I should
have done just as you did. I hope I should. I hon-
our you for it. But then he made it out just as if
it was taking the weak side before all th^ world
going in once for all against everything that's strong
and rich and proud and respectable, a little band
of brothers against the whole world. And the Doc- ;
tor seemed to say so too, only he said a great deal
more."
" Ah," groaned East, " but there again, that's just
another of my difficulties whenever I think about
the matter. I don't want to be one of your saints,
one of your elect, whatever the right phrase is. My
sympathies are all the other way ; with the many,
the poor devils who run about the streets and don't
go to church. Don't stare, Tom ; mind I'm telling
you all that's in my heart as far as I know it
but it's all a muddle. You must be gentle with me
if you want to land me. Now I've seen a greaj deal
of this sort of religion, I was bred up in it, and I
can't stand it. If nineteen-twentieths of the world
arfe to be left to uncovenanted mercies, and that sort
of thing, which means in plain English to go to hell,
364 tom's pkescbiption.
and the other twentieth are to rejoice at it all,
why "
" Oh ! but, Harry, they ain't, they don't," broke
in Tom, really shocked. " Oh, how I wish Arthur
hadn't gone ! I'm such a fool about these things.
But it's all you want too. East, it is indeed. It cuts
both ways somehow, being confirmed and taking
the Sacrament. It makes you feel on the side of
all the good and all the bad too, of everybody in the
world. Only there's some great dark strong power,
which is crushing you and everybody else. That's
what Christ conquered, and we've got to fight.
What a fool I am ! I can't explain. If Arthur were
only here ! "
" I begin to get a glimmering of what you mean,"
said East.
" I say now," said Tom eagerly, " do you remem-
ber how we both hated Flashman ? "
" Of course I do," said East ; " I hate him still.
What then ? "
" Well, when I came to take the Sacrament, I had
a great struggle about that. I tried to put him out
of my head ; and when I couldn't do that, I tried to
think of him as evil, as something that the Lord who
was loving me hated, and which I might hate too.
But it wouldn't do. I broke down ; I believe Christ
himself broke me down ; and when the Doctor gave
me tke bread and wine, and leant over me praying,
I prayed for poor Flashman as if it had been yon or
Arthur."
East buried his face in his hands on the table.
Tom could feel the table tremble. At last he looked
tom's fbescbiftion. 365
up. " Thank you again, Tom," said he ; " you don't
know what you may have done for me to-night. I
think I see now how the right sort of sympathy with
poor devils is got at"
" And you'll stop the Sacrament next time, won't
you ? " said Tom.
" Can I before I'm confirmed ? "
" Go and ask the Doctor."
I will."
That very night, after prayers. East followed the
Doctor and the old Verger bearing the candle, up
stairs. Tom watched, and saw the Doctor turn
round when he heard footsteps following him closer
than usual, and say, " Hah, East ! Do you want to
speak to me, my man ? "
" If you please, sir ; " and the private door closed,
and Tom went to his study in a state of great trouble
of mind.
It was almost an hour before East came back;
then he rushed in breathless.
" Well, it's all right," he shouted, seizing Tom by
the hand. " I feel as if a ton weight were off my
mind."
" Hurra," said Tom ; " I knew it would be, but
tell us all about it."
" Well, I just told him all about it. You can't
think how kind and gentle he was, the great grim
man, whom I've feared more than anybody on earth.
When I stuck, he lifted me, just as if I'd been a little
child. And he seemed to know all I'd felt, and to
have gone through it all. And I burst out crying
more than I've done this five years, and he sat down
366 THE EFFECT THEBEOF.
by me, and stroked my head ; and I went blundering
on, and told him all; much worse things than I've
told you. And he wasn't shocked a bit, and didn't
snub me, or tell me I was a fool, and it was all
nothing but pride or wickedness, though I dare say it
was. And he didn't tell me not to follow out my
thoughts, and he didn't give me any cut-and-dried
explanation. But when I'd done he just talked a bit,
'^ I can hardly remember what he said, yet; but it
seemed to spread round me like healing, and strength,
and light ; and to bear me up, and plant me on a
rock, where I could hold my footing and fight for
myself. I don't know what to do, I feel so happy.
And it's all owing to you, dear old boy ! " and he
seized Tom's hand again.
" And you're to come to the Communion ? " said
Tom.
"Yes, and to be confirmed in the holidays."
Tom's delight was as great as his friend's. But
he hadn't yet had but all his own talk, and was bent
on improving the occasion : so he proceeded to pro-
pound Arthur's theory about not being sorry for his
friends' deaths, which he had hitherto kept in the
background, and by which he was much exercised;
for he didn't feel it honest to take what pleased him
and throw over the rest, and was trying vigorously
to persuade himself that he should like all his best
friends to die off-hand.
But East's powers of remaining serious were ex-
hausted, and in five minutes he was saying the most
ridiculous things he could think of, till Tom was
almost getting angry again.
THE EPPEGT THEBEOF. 367
Despite of himself, however, he couldn't help
laughing and giving it up, when East appealed to
him with " Well, Tom, you ain't going to punch my
head I hope, because I insist upon being sorry when
you go to earth ? "
And so their talk finished for that time, and they
tried to learn first-lesson ; with very poor success, as
appeared next morning, when they were called up
and narrowly escaped being floored, which ill-luck,
however, did not sit heavily on either of their souls.
CHAPTER VIII.
TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH.
*^ Heaven grant the manlier heart, that timely, ere
Youth fly, with life's real tempest would be coping;
The fruit of dreamy hoping
Is, waking, blank despair.'*
Clough. Ambarvalia,
The curtain now rises upon the last act of our
little drama for hard-hearted publishers warn me
that a single volume must of necessity have an end.
Well, well ! the pleasantest things must come to an
end. I little thought last long vacation, when I
began these pages to help while away some spare
time at a watering-place, how vividly many an old
scene, which had lain hid away for years in some
dusty old corner of my brain, would come back
again, and stand before me as clear and bright, as if
it had happened yesterday. The book has been a
most grateful task to me, and I only hope that all
you, my dear young friends, who read it, (friends
assuredly you must be, if you get as far as this,)
will be half as sorry to come to the last stage as 1
am.
Not but what there has been a solemn and a sad
side to it. As the old scenes became living, and
the actors in them became living too, many a grave
SCHOOL MEMORIES. 369
in the Crimea and distant India, as well as in the
quiet churchyards of our dear old country, seeijjed to -
open and send forthTllBir dead, and their voices and
looks arid ways were again in one's ea? and eyes, as
in the old school days. But this was not sad ; how
should it be, if 'WGL^b^Iieve as our Lord has taught
us ? How should it be, when one more turn of the
wheel, and we shall be by their sides again, learning
from them again, perhaps, as we did when we were
new boys ?
Then there were others of the old faces so dear
to us once, who had somehow or another just gone
clean out of sight are they dead or living ? We
know not, but the thought of them brings no sad-
ness with it. Wherever they are, we can well be-
lieve they are doing God's work and getting His
wages.
But are there not some, whom we still see some-
times in the streets, whose haunts and homes we
know, whom we could probably find almost any
day in the week if we were set to do it, yet from
whom we are really farther than we are from the
dead, and from those who have gone out of our
ken ? Yes, there are and must be such ; and therein,
lies the sadness of old school memories. Yet of
these our old comrades, from whom more than time
and space separate us, there are some, by whose
sides we can feel sure that we shall stand again
when time shall be no more. We may think of
one another now as dangerous fanatics or narrow
bigots, with whom no truce is possible, from whom
we shall only sever more and more to the end of
370 SCHOOL MEMORIES.
our lives, whom it would be our respective duties to
impikon or hangi if fff^ had the jjpjaj;er. We must
go our way, and they thelftif.a^ long as %^esh and
spirit hold Whether; but let^ounown Ru^by poet
0peak words of healing for^is trial :
" To veer how Yain ! on, o ih iw tfff 'str'ain,
Brave barks ! in light, ii^4{krkness too;
Through winds and tides on6 compass guides.
To that, and your own selves, be true.
But, blithe beeeze ! and great seas.
Though ne'er that earliest parting past.
On your wide plain they join again,
Together lead them home at last
One port, methought, alike they sought,
One purpose hold where'er they fare.
bounding breeze, rushing seas !
At last, at last, unite them there ! " *
This is not mere longing, it is prophecy. So over
these too, our old friends who are friends no more,
we sorrow not as men without hope. It is only for
those who seem to us to have lost compass and
purpose, and to be drifting helplessly on rocks and
quicksands ; whose lives are spent in the service of
the world, the flesh and the devil; for self alone,
and not for their fellow-men, their country, or their
God, that we must mourn and pray without sure
hope and without light; trusting only that He, in
whose hands they as well as we are, who has died
for them as well as for us, who sees all His crea-
tures
* With larger, other eyes than ours,
To make allowance for us all,*'
Clough. Ambarvalia.
THE END OF THE HALF-YEAB. 371
will, in His own way and at His own time, lead
them also home.
Another two years have passed, alft it is again
the end of the summer half-year at Rugby, in
fact 'the school has broken up. The fifth-form
examinations were over last week, and upon them
have followed the speeches, and the sixth-form
examinations for exhibitions; and they too are
over now. The boys have gone to all the winds
of heaven, except the town boys and the eleven,
and the few enthusiasts besides who have asked
leave to stay in their houses to see the result of the
cricket matches. For this year the Wellesburn re-
turn match and the Marylebone match are played at
Rugby, to the great delight of the town and neigh-
bourhood, and the sorrow of those aspiring young
cricketers who have been reckoning for the last three
months on showing off at Lords' ground.
The Doctor started for the lakes yesterday morn-
ing, after an interview with the captain of the eleven,
in the presence of Thomas, at which he arranged in
what school the cricket dinners were to be, and all
other matters necessary for the satisfactory carrying
out of the festivities ; and warned them as to keeping
all spirituous liquors out of the close, and having the
gates closed by nine o'clock.
The Wellesburn match was played out with
great success yestefday, the school winning by
three wickets ; and to-day the great event of the
cricketing year, the Marylebone match, is being
played. What a match it has been! The Lon-
S12 CRICKET-MATCHES IN THE SCHOOL CLOSE.
don eleven came down by an afternoon train yes-
terday, in time to see the end of the Wellesburn
match ; and as soon as it was over their leading
men and umpire inspected the ground, criticizing
it rather unmercifully. The captain of the school
eleven, and one or two others, who had played the
Lords' match before and knew old Mr. Aislebie and
several of the Lords' men, accompanied them ; while
the rest of the eleven looked on from under the
Three Trees with admiring eyes, and asked one
another the names of the illustrious strangers, and
recounted how many runs each of them had made
in the late matches in Bell's Life. They looked
such hard-bitten, wiry, whiskered fellows, that their
young adversaries felt rather desponding as to the
result of the morrow's match. The ground was
at last chosen, and two men set to work upon it
to water and roll; and then, there being yet some
half-hour of daylight, some one had suggested a
dance on the turf. The close was half full of citi-
zens and their families, and the idea was hailed
with enthusiasm. The cornopean player was still
on the ground ; in five minutes the eleven and half-
a-dozen of the Wellesburn and Marylebone men got
partners somehow or another, and a merry country
dance was going on, to which every one flocked,
and hew couples joined in every minute, till there
were a hundred of them going down the middle and
up again and the long line of school buildings
looked gravely down on them, every window glow-
ing with the last rays of the western sun, and the
rooks clanged about in the tops of the old elms.
CRICKET-MATCHES IN THE SCHOOL CLOSE. 373
greatly excited and resolved on having their country
dance too, and the great flag flapped lazily in the
gentle western breeze. Altogether it was a sight
which would have made glad the heart of our brave
old founder, Lawrence Sheriff*, if he were half as
good a fellow as I take him to have been. It was
a cheerful sight to see ; but what made it so valuable
in the sight of the captain of the school eleven was,
that he there saw his young hands shaking off
their shyness and awe of the Lords' men, as they
crossed hands and capered about on the grass to-
gether ; for the strangers entered into it all, and
threw away their cigars, and danced and shouted
like boys ; while old Mr. Aislebie stood by looking
on, in his white hat, leaning on a bat, in benevo-
lent enjoyment. " This hop will be worth thirty
runs to us to-morrow, and will be the making
of Raggles and Johnson," thinks the young leader,
as he revolves many things in his mind, standing by
the side of Mr. Aislebie, whom he will not leave for
a minute, for he feels that the character of the school
for courtesy is resting on his shoulders.
But when a quarter to nine struck, and he saw
old Thomas beginning to fidget about with the keys
in his hand, he thought of the Doctor's parting
monition, and stopped the cornopean at once, not-
withstanding the loud-voiced remonstrances from all
sides ; and the crowd scattered away from the close,
the eleven all going into the school-house, where
supper and beds were provided for them by the
Doctor's orders.
Deep had been the consultations at supper as to
374 THE MABYLEBONE MATCH.
the order of going in, who should bowl the first over,
whether it would be best to play steady or freely ;
and the youngest hands declared that they shouldn't
be a bit nervous, and praised their opponents as
the jolliest fellows in the world, except, perhaps,
their old friends the Wellesburn men. How far a
little good-nature from their elders will go with the
right sort of boys !
The morning had dawned bright and warm, to
the intense relief of many an anxious youngster,
up betimes to mark the signs of the weather.
The eleven went down in a body before break-
fast, for a plunge in the cold bath in the corner
of the close. The ground was in splendid order,
and soon after ten o'clock, before spectators had
arrived, all was ready, and two of the Lords' men
took their places at the wicket ; the school with
the usual liberality of young hands, having put
their adversaries in first. Old Bailey stepped up
to the wicket, and called play, and the match has
begun.
" Oh, well bowled ! well bowled, Johnson ! " cries
the captain, catching up the ball and sending it
high above the rook trees, while the third Maryle-
bone man walks away from the wicket, and old
Bailey gravely sets up the middle stump again and
puts the bails on.
" How many runs ? " Away scamper three boys
to the scoring table, and are back again in a minute
amongst the rest of the eleven, who are collected
together in a knot between wicket. " Only eighteen
THE MABYLEBOKE MATCH. 375
rans, and three wickets down ! " " Huzza, for old
Rugby ! " sings out Jack Raggles, the long-stop,
toughest and burliest of boys, commonly called
" Swiper Jack ; " and forthwith stands on his head,
and brandishes his legs in the air in triumph, till
the next boy catches hold of his heels and throws
him over on to his back.
" Steady there, don't be such an ass. Jack," says
the captain, '' we haven't got the best wicket yet.
Ah, look out now at cover-point," adds he, as he
sees a long-armed, bare-headed, slashing looking
player coming to the wicket. " And, Jack, mind
your hits, he steals more runs than any man in
England."
And they all find that they have got their work to
do now ; the new comer's off-hitting is tremendous,
and his running like a flash of lightning. He is
never in his ground, except when his wicket is
down. Nothing in the whole game so trying to
boys ; he has stolen three byes in the first ten
minutes, and Jack Raggles is furious, and begins
throwing over savagely to the further wicket, until
he is sternly stopped by the captain. It is all that
the young gentleman can do to keep his team
steady, but he knows that everything depends on
it, and faces his work bravely. The score creeps
up to fifty, the boys begin to look blank, and the
spectators, who are now mustering strong, are very
silent. The ball flies off" his bat to all parts of the
field, and he gives no rest and no catches to any
one. But cricket is full of glorious chances, and
the goddess who presides over it loves to bring
376 THE MARYLEBONE MA.TCH.
down the most skilful players. Johnson, the yoang
bowler, is getting wild, and bowls a ball almost wide
to the off; the batter steps out and cuts it beauti-
fully to where cover-point is standing very deep, in
fact almost off the ground. The ball comes skim-
ming and twisting along about three feet from the
ground ; he rushes at it, and it sticks somehow or
other in the fingers of his left hand, to the utter
astonishment of himself and the whole field. Such a
catch hasn't been made in the close for years, and the
cheering is maddening. " Pretty cricket," says the
captain, throwing himself on the ground by the de-
serted wicket with a long breath ; he feels that a
crisis has passed.
I wish I had space to describe the whole match ;
how the captain stumped the next man off a leg-
shooter, and bowled slow cobs to old Mr. Aislebie,
who came in for the last wicket How the Lords'
men were out by half-past twelve o'clock for ninety-
eight runs. How the captain of the school eleven
went in first to give his men pluck, and scored
twenty-five in beautiful style ; how Rugby was only
four behind in the first innings. What a glorious
dinner they had in the fourth-form school, and how
the cover-point hitter sang the most topping comic
songs, and old Mr. Aislebie made the best speeches
that ever were heard, afterwards. But I haven't
space, that's the fact, and so you must fancy it all,
and carry yourselves on to half-past seven o'clock,
when the school are again in, with five wickets down
and only thirty-two runs to make to win. The
Marylebone men played carelessly in their second
SOME OLD FBIENDS. 377
innings, but they are working like horses now to save
the match.
There is much healthy, hearty, happy life scattered
up and down the close ; but the group to which I
beg to call your special attention is there, on the
slope of the island, which looks towards the cricket-
ground. It consists of three figures ; two are seated
on a bench, and one on the ground at their feet. The
first, a tall, slight, and rather gaunt man, with a
bushy eyebrow and a dry humourous smile, is evi-
dently a clergyman. He is carelessly dressed, and
looks rather used up, which isn't much to be won-
dered at, seeing that he has just finished six weeks
of examination work; but there he basks, and
spreads himself out in the evening sun, bent on en-
joying life, though he doesn't quite know what to do
with his arms and legs. Surely it is our friend the
young Master, whom we have had glimpses of before,
but his face has gained a great deal since we last
came across him.
And by his side, in white flannel shirt and trou-
sers, straw hat, the captain's belt, and the untanned
yellow cricket shoes which all the eleven wear, sits a
strapping figure near six feet high, with ruddy tanned
face and whiskers, curly brown hair, and a laughing
dancing eye. He is leaning forward with his elbows
resting on his knees, and dandling his favourite bat,
with which he has made thirty or forty runs to-day,
in his strong brown hands. It is Tom Brown, grown
into a young man nineteen years old, a praepostor
and captain of the eleven, spending his last day as a
Rugby boy, and let us hope as much wiser as he is
82
378 SOME OLD FBIENDS:
bigger since we last had the pleasure pf coming
across him.
And at their feet on the warm diy ground, simi-
larly dressed, sits Arthur, Turkish fashion, with his bat
across his knees. He too is no longer a boy, less of
a boy in fact than Tom, if one may judge from the
thoughtfuhiess of his face, which is somewhat paler
too than one could wish ; but his figure, though
slight, is well knit and active, and all his old timidity
has disappeared, and is replaced by silent quaint fun,
with which his face twinkles all over, as he listens to
the broken talk between the other two, in which he
joins every now and then.
All three are watching the game eagerly, and
joining in the cheering which follows every good
hit. It is pleasing to see the easy friendly footing
which the pupils are on with their master, perfectly
respectful, yet with no reserve and nothing forced in
their intercourse. Tom has clearly abandoned the
old theory of "natural enemies" in this case at any
rate.
But it is time to listen to what they are saying, and
see what we can gather out of it.
" I don't object to your theory," says the master,
" and I allow you have made a fair case for yourself.
But now, in such books as Aristophanes for instance,
you've been reading a play this half with the Doctor,
haven't you ? "
" Yes, the Knights," answered Tom.
" Well, I'm sure you would have enjoyed the won-
derful humour of it twice as much; if you had taken
more pains with your scholarship."
THEIE TALK. 379
" Well, sir, I don't believe any boy in the form
enjoyed the sets-to between Cleon and the Sausage-
seller more than I did eh, Arthur?" said Tom,
giving him a stir with his foot.
" Yes, I must say he did," said Arthur. " I think,
sir, you've hit upon the wrong book there."
" Not a bit of it," said the master. " Why, in
those very passages of arms, how can you thoroughly
appreciate them unless you are master of the weap-
ons ? and the weapons are the language which you,
Brown, have never half worked at ; and so, as I say.
you must have lost all the delicate shades of mean-
ing which make the best part of the fun."
" Oh ! well played Bravo, Johnson ! " shouted
Arthur, dropping his bat and clapping furiously, and
Tom joined in with a "bravo, Johnson!" which
might have been heard at the chapel.
" Eh ! what was it ? I didn't see," inquired the
master ; " they only got one run I thought? "
" No, but such a ball, three-quarters length and
coming straight for his leg bail. Nothing but that
turn of the wrist could have saved him, and he drew
it away to leg for a safe one. Bravo, Johnson ! "
" How well they are bowling though," said Ar-
thur; "they don't mean to be beat, I can see."
" There now," struck in the master, " you see that's
just what I have been preaching this half-hour. The
delicate play is the true thing. I don't understand
cricket, so I don't enjoy those fine draws which you
tell me are the best play, though when you or Rag-
gles hit a ball hard away for six, I am as delighted as
any one. Don't you see the analogy? "
THEIK TALK.
" Yes, sir," answered Tom, looking up roguishly,
" I see ; only the question remains, whether I should
have got most good by understanding Greek particles
or cricket thoroughly. I'm such a thick, I never
should have had time for both."
" I see you are an incorrigible," said the master
with a chuckle, " but I refute you by an example.
Arthur there has taken in Greek and cricket tooJ'
" Yes, but no thanks to him ; Greek came natural
to him. Why, w^hen he first came I remember he
used to read Herodotus for pleasure as I did Don
Quixote, and couldn't have made a false concord if
he'd tried ever so hard and then I looked after his
cricket."
"Out! Bailey has given him out do you see,
Tom ? " cries Arthur. " How foolish of them to run
so hard."
" Well, it can't be helped, he has played very welL
Whose turn is it to go in ? "
" I don't know ; they've got your list in the tent."
' Let's go and see," said Tom, rising ; but at this
moment Jack Raggles and two or three more come
running to the island moat.
" Oh, Brow^n, mayn't I go in next ? " shouts the
Swipcr.
" Whose name is next on the list ? " says the
captain.
" Winter's, and then Arthur's," answers the boy
who carries it ; " but there are only twenty-six runs
to get, and no time to lose. I heard Mr. Aislebie
say that the stumps must be drawn at a quarter-past
eight exactly."
THEIB TALK. 381
" Oh, do let the Swiper go in," chorus the boys ;
so Tom yields against his better judgment.
" I dare say now I've lost the match by this non-
sense," he says, as he sits down again ; " they'll be
sure to get Jack's wicket in three or four minutes ;
however, you'll have the chance, sir, of seeing a
hard hit or two,^' adds he smiling and turning to the
master.
" Come, none of your irony, Brown," answers the
master. "I'm beginning to understand the game
scientifically. What a noble game it is too."
"Isn't it? But it's more than a game. It's an
institution," said Tom.
" Yes," said Arthur, " the birthright of British boys,
old and young, as habeas corpus and trial by jury
are of British men."
" The discipline and reliance on one another which
it teaches is so valuable I think," went on the master,
" it ought to be such an unselfish game. It merges
the individual in the eleven ; he doesn't play that he
may win, but that his side may."
" That's very true," said Tom, " and that'.s why
football and cricket, now one comes to think of it,
are such much better games than fives' or hare-and-
hounds, or any others where the object is to come
in first or to win for oneself, and not that one's side
may win."
** And then the captain of the eleven ! " said the
master, " what a post is his in our school-world !
almost as hard as the Doctor's; requiring skill and
gentleness and firmness, and I know not what other
rare qualities."
382 - THEIB TALK.
" Which don't he wish he may get? '* said Tom,
laughing, " at any rate he hasn't got them yet, or he
wouldn't have been such a flat to-night as to let Jack
Raggles go in out of his turn."
" Ah ! the Doctor never would have done that,"
said Arthur, demurely. " Tom, you've a great deal
to learn yet in the art of ruling."
" Well, I wish you'd tell the Doctor so then, and
get him to let me stop till I'm twenty, I don't want
to leave, I'm sure."
" What a sight it is,'^ broke in the master, " the
Doctor as a ruler. Perhaps ours is the only little
corner of the British Empire which is thoroughly,
wisely, and strongly ruled just now. I'm more and
more thankful every day of my life that I came here
to be under him."
" So am I, I'm sure," said Tom ; " and more and
more sorry that I've got to leave."
" Every place and thing one sees here reminds
one of some wise act of his," went on the master.
" This island now you remember the time. Brown,
when it was laid out in small gardens, and culti-
vated by frost-bitten fags in February and March ? "
" Of course I do," said Tom ; " didn't I hate
spending two hours in the afternoons grubbing in
the tough dirt with the stump of a fives' bat ? But
turf-cart w^as good fun enough."
" I dare say it was, but it was always leading to
fights with the townspeople ; and then the stealing
flowers out of all the gardens in Rugby for the
Easter show was abominable."-
" Well, so it was," said Tom, looking down, '' but
THEIB TALK.
we fags couldn't help ourselves. /But what has that
to do with the Doctor's ruling ? "
" A great deal, I think," said the master ; " what
brought island-fagging to an end ? "
" Why, the Easter speeches were put off till Mid-
summer," said Tom, " and the sixth had the gym-
nastic poles put up here."
" Well, and who changed the time of the speeches,
and put the idea of gymnastic poles into the heads
of their worships the sixth form ? " said the master.
" The Doctor, I suppose," said Tom, " I never
thought of that."
" Of course you didn't," said the master, " or else,
fag as you were, you would have shouted with the
whole school against putting down old customs.
And that's the way that all the Doctor's reforms have
been carried out when he has been left to himself
quietly and naturally, putting a good thing in the
place of a bad, and letting the bad die out ; no wav-
ering and no hurry the best thing that could be
done for the time being, and patience for the rest."
" Just Tom's own way," chimed in Arthur, nudg-
ing Tom with his elbow, " driving a nail where it
will go ; " to which allusion Tom answered by a sly
kick.
" Exactly so," said the master, innocent of the
allusion and by-play.
Meantime Jack Raggles, with his sleeves tucked
up above his great brown elbows, scorning pads and
gloves, has presented himself at the wicket; and
having run one for a forward drive of Johnson's, is
about to receive his first ball. There are only
384 JACK KAGGLES' INNINGS.
twenty-four runs to make, and four wickets to go
down, a winning match if they play decently steady.
The ball is a very swift one, and rises fast, catching
Jack on the outside of the thigh, and bounding away
as if from india-rubber, while they run two for a
leg-bye amidst great applause, and shouts from Jack's
many admirers. The next ball is a beautifully pitch-
ed ball for the outer stump, which the reckless and
unfeeling Jack catches hold of, and hits right round
to leg for five, while the applause becomes deafen-
ing ; only seventeen runs to get with four wickets
the game is all but ours !
It is over now, and Jack w^alks swaggering about
his wicket, with the bat over his shoulder, while Mr.
Aislebie holds a short parley with his men. Then
the cover-point hitter, that cunning man, goes on to
bowl slow twisters. Jack waves his hand trium-
phantly towards the tent, as much as to say, " see if
I don't finish it all off* now in three hits."
Alas, my son Jack ! the enemy is too old for thee.
The first ball of the over Jack steps out and meets,
swiping with all his force. If he had only allowed
for the twist! but he hasn't, and so the ball goes
spinning up straight into the air, as if it would never
come down again. Away runs Jack, shouting and
trusting to the chapter of accidents, but the bowler
runs steadily under it, judging every spin, and call-
ing out " I have it," catches it, and playfully pitches
it on to the back of the stalwart Jack, who is depart-
ing with a rueful countenance.
" I knew how it would be," says Tom, rising.
* Come along, the game's getting very serious."
THE FINISH. 385
So they leave the island and go to the tent, and
after deep consultation Arthur is sent in, and goes
off to the wicket with a last exhortation from Tom,
to play steady and keep his bat straight. To the
suggestions that Winter is the best bat left, Tom
only replies, " Arthur is the steadiest, and Johnson
will make the runs if the wicket is only kept up."
" I am surprised to see Arthur in the eleven," said
the master, as they stood together in front of the
dense crowd, which was now closing in round the
ground.
" Well, Fm not quite sure that he ought to be in
for his play," said Tom, " but I couldn't help put-
ting him in. It will do him so much good, and you
can't think what I owe him."
The master smiled. The clock strikes eight, and
the whole field becomes fevered with excitement
Arthur, after two narrow escapes, scores one ; and
Johnson gets the ball. The bowling and fielding are
superb, and Johnson's batting worthy the occasion.
He makes here a two and there a one, managing to
keep the ball to himself, and Arthur backs up and
runs perfectly ; only eleven runs to make now, and
the crowd scarcely breathe. At last Arthur gets the
ball again, and actually drives it forward for two,
and feels prouder than when he got the three best
prizes, at hearing Tom's shouts of joy, " Well played,
well played, young 'un ! "
But the next ball is too much for a young hand,
and his bails fly different ways. Nine runs to make,
and two wickets to go down it is too much for
human nerves.
83
386 THE FINISH.
Before Winter can get in, the omnibus which is
to take the Lords' men to the train pulls up at the
side of the close, and Mr. Aislebie and Tom consult,
and give out that the stumps will be drawn after the
next over. And so ends the great match. Winter
and Johnson carry out their bats, and, it being a
one day's match, the Lords' men are declared the
winners, they having scored the most in the first
innings.
Bat such a defeat is a victory: so think Tom and
all the school eleven, as they accompany their con-
querors to the omnibus, and send them off with three
ringing cheers, after Mr. Aislebie has shaken hands
all round, saying to Tom, " I must compliment you,
sir, on your eleven, and I hope we shall have you for
a member if you come up to town."
As Tom and the rest of the eleven were turning
back into the close, and everybody was beginning to
cry out for another country dance, encouraged by the
success of the night before, the young master who
was just leaving the close, stopped him, and asked
him to come up to tea at half-past eight, adding,
" I won't keep you more than half-an-hour, and ask
Arthur to come up too."
" I'll come up with you directly if you'll let me,"
said Tom, " for I feel rather melancholy, and not
quite up to the country dance and supper with the
rest"
" Do, by all means," said the master, " I'll wait
here for you."
So Tom went off to get his boots and things from
the tent, to tell Arthur of the invitation, and to
SHUT OUT. 387
speak to his second in command about stopping the
dancing and shutting up the close as soon as it
grew dusk. ^Arthur promised to follow as soon as
he had had a dance. So Tom handed his things
over to the man in charge of the tent, and walked
quietly away to the gate where the master was
waiting, and the two took their way together up the
Hilmorton road.
Of course they found the master's house locked
up, and all the servants away in the close, about
this time no doubt footing it away on the grass
with extreme delight to themselves, and in utter
oblivion of the unfortunate bachelor their master,
whose one enjoyment in the shape of meals was his
" dish of tea " (as our grandmothers called it) in the
evening ; and the phrase was apt in his case, for he
always poured his out into the saucer before drink-
ing. Great was the good man's horror at finding
himself shut dUt of his own house. Had he been
alone he would have treated it as a matter of course,
and would have strolled contentedly up and down
his gravel-walk until some one came home ; but he
was hurt at the stain on his character of host, es-
pecially as the guest was a pupil. However, the
guest seemed to think it a great joke, and presently
as they poked about round the house, mounted a wall
from which he could reach a passage window : the
window, as it turned out, was not bolted, so in
another minute Tom was in the house and down at
the front door, which he opened from inside. The
master chuckled grimly at this burglarious entry, and
insisted on leaving the hall door and two of the
388 HOW THEY GOT IN.
front windows open, to frighten the truants on their
return ; and then the two set about foraging for tea,
in which operation the master was much at fault,
having the faintest possible idea of where to find
anything, and being moreover wondrously short-
sighted ; but Tom by a sort of instinct knew the
right cupboards in the kitchen and pantry, and soon
managed to place on the snuggery table better
materials for a meal than had appeared there prob-
ably during the reign of his tutor, who was then
and there initiated, amongst other things, into the
excellence of that mysterious condiment, a dripping
cake. The cake was newly baked, and all rich and
flaky ; Tom had found it reposing in the cook's pri-
vate cupboard, awaiting her return ; and as a warning
to her they finished it to the last crumb. The kettle
sang away merrily on the hob of the snuggery, for,
notwithstanding the time of year, they lighted a fire,
throwing both the windows wide open at the same
time ; the heap of books and papers were pushed
away to the other end of the table^ and the great
solitary engraving of King's College Chapel over the
mantel-piece looked less stiff than usual, as they
settled themselves down in the twilight to the serious
drinking of tea.
After some talk on the match, and other indifferent
subjects, the conversation came naturally back to
Tom's approaching departure, over w^hich he began
again to make his moan.
" Well, we shall all miss you quite as much as
you will miss us," said the master. " You are the
Nestor of the school now, are you not ? "
HABBY EAST.
"Yes, ever since East left," answered Tom.
** By-the-bye, have you heard from him? "
" Yes, I had a letter in February, just before he
started for India to join his regiment." ^
" He will make a capital officer."
"Aye, won't he!" said Tom, brightening; "no
fellow could handle boys better, and I suppose sol-
diers are very like boys. And he'll never tell them
to go where he won't go himself. No mistake about
that a braver fellow never walked."
" His year in the sixth will have taught him a /
good deal that will be useful to him now."
" So it will," said Tom, staring into the fire.
" Poor dear Harry," he went on, " how well I re- .
member the day we were put out of the twenty.
How he rose to the situation, and burnt his cigar-
cases, and gave away his pistols, and pondered on
the constitutional authority of the sixth, and his new
duties to the Doctor, and the fifth-form, and the
fags. Aye, and no fellow ever acted up to them
better, though he was always a people's man for
the fags, and "against constituted authorities. He
couldn't help that, you know. I'm sure the Doctor
must have liked him?" said Tom, looking up in-
quiringly.
" The Doctor sees the good in every one, and ap-
preciates it," said the master, dogmatically, "but 1
hope East will get a good colonel. He won't do if
he can't respect those above him. How long it took
him, even here, to learn the lesson of obeying."
" Well, I wish I were alongside of him," said
Tom. " If I can't be at Rugby, I want to be at work
390 WORK IN THE WOBLD.
in the world, and not dawdling away three years at
Oxford."
" What do you mean by ' at work in the world ? ' "
said the master, pausing, with his lips close to his
saucer-full of tea, and peering at Tom over it.
" Well, I mean real work ; one's profession ; what-
ever one will have really to do, and make one's living
by. I want to be doing some real good, feeling that
I am not only at play in the world," answered Tom,
rather puzzled to find out himself what he really did
mean.
" You are mixing up two very different things in
your head, I think. Brown," said the master, putting
down his empty saucer, " and you ought to get clear
about them. You talk of ' working to get your liv-
ing,' and ' doing some real good in the world,' in the
same breath. Now you may be getting a very good
living in a profession, and yet doing no good at all
in the world, but quite the contrary, at the same
time. Keep the latter before you as your one
object, and you will be right, whether you make a
living or not ; but if you dwell on the other, you'll
very likely drop into mere money-making, and let
the world take care of itself for good or evil. Don't
be in a hurry about finding your work in the world
for yourself; you are not old enough to judge for
yourself yet, but just look about you in the place
you find yourself in, and try to make things a little
better and honester there. You'll find plenty to
keep your hand in at Oxford, or wherever else you
go. And don't be led away to think this part of
the world important, and that unimportant. Every
WOBK IN THE WOfiLD. 391
corner of the world is important. No man knows
whether this part or that is most so, but every man
may do some honest work in his own corner'' And
then the good man went on to talk wisely to Tom
of the sort of work which he might take up as an
undergraduate ; and warned him of the prevalent
University sins, and explained to him the many and
great differences between University and school life ;
till the twilight changed into darkness, and they
beard the truant servants stealing in by the back
entrance.
" I wonder where Arthur can be," said Tom at
last, looking at his watch ; " why, it's nearly half-past
nine already."
" Oh, he is comfortably at supper with the eleven,
forgetful of his oldest friends," said the master.
" Nothing has given me greater pleasure," he went
on, " than your friendship for him, it has been the
making of you both."
" Of me, at any rate," answered Tom ; " I should
never have been here now but for him. It was the
luckiest chance in the world that sent him to Rugby,
and made him my chum."
" Why do you talk of lucky chances ? " said the
master ; " I don't know that there are any such
things in the World ; at any rate there was neither
luck nor chance in that matter."
Tom looked at him inquiringly, and he went on.
" Do you remember when the Doctor lectured you
and East at the end of one half-year, when you
were in the shell, and had been getting into all sorts
of scrapes ? "
392 THE doctor's wobe.
" Yes, well enough," said Tom, " it was the half-
year before Arthur came."
" Exactly so," answered the master, " Now I
was with him a few minutes afterwards, and he
was in great distress about you two. And, after
some talk, we both agreed that you in particular
wanted some object in the school beyond games
and mischief, for it was quite clear that you never
would make the regular school work\ your first
object. And so the Doctor at the beginning of the
next half-year, looked out the best of the new boys
and separated you and East, and put the young boy
into your study, in the hope that when you had
somebody to lean on you, you would begin to stand
a little steadier yourself, and get manliness and
thoughtfulness. And I can assure you he has
watched the experiment ever since with great satis-
faction. Ah! not one of you boys will ever know
the anxiety you have given him, or the care with
vhich he has watched over every step in your school
lives."
Up to this time Tom had never wholly given
in to, or understood the Doctor. At first he had
thoroughly feared him. For some years, as I have
tried to show, he had learnt to regard him with love
and respect, and to think him a very great and wise
and good man. But, as regarded his own position
in the school, of which he was no little proud, Tom
had no idea of giving any one credit for it but
himself; and, truth to tell, was a very self-conceited
young gentleman on the subject. He was wont to
boast that he had fought his own way fairly up the
A NEW LIGHT. 393
school, and had never made up to, or been taken up
by any big fellow or master, and that it was now
quite a different place from what it was when he
first came. And indeed, though he didn't actually
boast of it, yet in his secret soul he did to a great
extent believe, that the great reform in the school
had been owing quite as much to himself as to any
one else. Arthur, he acknowledged, had done him
good, and taught him a good deal, so had other
boys in different ways; but they had not had the
same means of influence on the school in general ;
and as for the Doctor, why he was a splendid
master, but every one knew that masters could do
very little out of school hours. In short, he felt on
terms of equality with his chief, so far as the social
state of the school was concerned, and thought that
the Doctor would find it no easy matter to get on
without him. Moreover, his school toryism was
still strong, and he looked still with some jealousy
on the Doctor, as somewhat of a fanatic in the mat-
ter of change ; and thought it very desirable for the
school that he should have some wise person (such
as himself) to look sharply after vested school-rights,
and see that nothing was done to the injury of the
republic without due protest.
It was a new light to him to find, that besides
teaching the sixth, and governing and guiding the
whole school, editing classics, and writing histories,
the great head-master had found time in those busy
years to watch over the career, even of him, Tom
Brown, and his particular friends, and, no doubt,
of fifty other boys at the same time ; and all this
394 HEBO-WOESHIP.
without taking the least credit to himself, or seem-
ing to know, or let any one eke know, that he ever
thought particularly of any boy at all.
However, the Doctor's victory was complete from
that moment over Tom Brown at any rate. He
gave way at all points, and the enemy marched right
over him, cavalry, infantry, and artillery, the land
transport corps, and the camp followers. It had
taken eight long years to do it, but now it was done
I thoroughly, and there wasn't a corner of him left
,' which didn't believe in the Doctor. Had he returned
to school again, and the Doctor begun the half-year
by abolishing fagging, and football, and the Saturday
half-holiday, or all or any of the most cherished
school institutions, Tom would have supported him
with the blindest faith. And so, after a half confes-
sion of his previous short-comings, and sorrowful
adieus to his tutor, from whom he received two beau-
tifully-bound volumes of the Doctor's Sermons, as a
parting present, he marched down to the school-
house, a hero-worshipper, who would have satisfied
the soul of Thomas Carlyle himself.
There he found the eleven at high jinks after
supper. Jack Raggles shouting comic songs, and
performing feats of strength ; and was greeted by
a chorus of mingled remonstrance at his desertion,
and joy at his reappearance. And falling in with
the humour of the evening, was soon as great a boy
as all the rest ; and at ten o'clock was chaired round
the quadrangle, on one of the hall benches, borne
aloft by the eleven, shouting in chorus, " For he's a
jolly good fellow," while old Thomas, in a melting
HEBO-WOBSHIP. 395
mood, and the other school-house servants, stood
looking on.
And the next morning after breakfast he squared
up all the cricketing accounts, went round to his
tradesmen and other acquaintance, and said his
hearty good-byes ; and by twelve o'clock was in the
train, and away for London, no longer a school-boy,
and divided in his thoughts between hero-worship,
honest regrets over the long stage of his life which
was now slipping out of sight behind him, and topes
and resolves for the next stage, upon which he was
entering with all the confidence of a young traveller.
CHAPTER IX.
FINIS.
** Strange friend, past, present, and to be;
Loved deeplier, darklier understood;
Behold, I dream a dream of good.
And mingle all the world with thee."
Tennyson.
In the summer of 1842, our hero stopped once
again at the well-known station ; and, leaving hia
bag and fishing-rod with a porter, walked slowly
and sadly up towards the town. It was now July.
He had rushed away from Oxford the moment that
term was over, for a fishing ramble in Scotland, with
two college friends, and had been for three weeks
living on oatcake, mutton-hams, and whiskey, in
the wildest parts of Skye. They had descended
one sultry evening on the little inn at Kyle Rhea
ferry, and while Tom and another of the party put
their tackle together and began exploring the stream
for a sea-trout for supper, the third strolled into the
house to arrange for their entertainment. Presently
he came out in a loose blouse and slippers, a short
pipe in his mouth, and an old newspaper in his
hand, and threw himself on the heathery scrub,
which met the shingle within easy hail of the fish-
ermen. There he lay, the picture of free-and-easy
FINIS. 397
loafing, hand-to-mouth young England, 'improving
his mind,' as he shouted to them, by the perusal of
the fortnight-old weekly paper, soiled with the marks
of toddy-glasses and tobacco ashes, the legacy of the
last traveller, which he had hunted out from the
kitchen of the little hostelry, and being a youth of a
communicative turn of mind, began imparting the
conteats to the fishermen as he went on.
" What a bother they are making about these
wretched corn laws ; here's three or four columns
full of nothing but sliding scales and fixed duties.
Hang this tobacco, it's always going out ! Ah,
here's something better a splendid match between
Kent and England, Brown ! Kent winning by three
wickets. Felix fifty-six runs without a chance, and
not out ! "
Tom, intent on a fish which had risen at him
twice, answered only with a grunt.
" Anything about the Goodwood ? " called out the
third man.
. " Rory-o-more drawn. Butterfly colt amiss,"
shouted the student.
"Just my luck," grumbled the inquirer, jerking his
flies off" the water, and throwing again with a heavy
sullen splash, and frightening Tom's fish.
" I say, can't you throw lighter over there ? we
ain't fishing for grampuses," shouted Tom across the
stream.
*^ Hullo, Brown ! here's something for you," called
out the reading man next moment. " Why, your old
master, Arnold of Rugby, is dead."
Tom's hand stopped half-way in his cast, and his
898 FINIS.
line and flies went all tangling round and round his
rod; you might have knocked him over with a
feather. Neither of his companions took any notice
of him luckily ; and with a violent effort he set to
work mechanically to disentangle his line. He felt
completely carried off his moral and intellectual
legs, as if he had lost his standing point in the
invisible world. Besides which the deep loving
loyalty which he felt for his old leader made the
shock intensely painful. It was the first great
wrench of his life, the first gap which the angel
Death had made in his circle, and he felt numbed,
and beaten down, and spiritless. Well, well! I
believe it was good for him and for many others in
like case ; who had to learn by that loss, that the
soul of man cannot stand or lean upon any human
prop, however strong, and wise, and good ; but that
He upon whom alone it can stand and lean will
knock away all such props in His own wise and
merciful way, until there is no ground or stay left but
Himself, the Rock of Ages, upon whom alone a sure
foundation for every soul of man is laid.
As he wearily laboured at his line, the thought
struck him, " it may all be false, a mere newspaper
lie," and he strode up to the recumbent smoker.
" Let me look at the paper," said he.
" Nothing else in it,'^ answered the other, handing
it up to him listlessly. "Hullo, Brown! what's the
matter, old fellow ain't you well?"
" Where is it ? " said Tom, turning over the leaves,
his hands trembling, and his eyes swimming, so that
be could not read.
FINIS. 399
" What ? What are you looking for ? " said his
friend, jumping up and looking over his shoulder.
That about Arnold," said Tom.
" Oh here," said the other, putting his finger on
the paragraph. Tom read it over and over again ;
there could be no mistake of identity, though the
account was short enough.
" Thank you," said he at last, dropping the paper,
" I shall go for a walk : don't you and Herbert wait
supper for me." And away he strode, up over the
moor at the back of the house, to be alone, and
master his grief if possible.
His friend looked after him, sympathizing and
wondering, and knocking the ashes out of his pipe,
walked over to Herbert. After a short parley they
walked together up to the house.
" I'm afraid that confounded newspaper has spoiled
Brown's fun for this trip."
" How odd that he should be so fond of his old
master," said Herbert. Yet they also were both pub-
lic-school men.
The two, however, notwithstanding Tom's pro-
hibition, waited supper for him, and had every-
thing ready when he came back some half-an-
hour. afterwards. But he could not join in their
cheerful talk, and the party was soon silent, not-
withstanding the efforts of all three. One thing
only had Tom resolved, and that was that he
couldn't stay in Scotland any longer; he felt an
irresistible longing to get to Rugby, and then home,
and soon broke it to the others, who had too much
tact to oppose.
400 FINIS.
So by daylight the next morning he was marching
through Rosshire, and in the evening hit the Cale-
donian canal, took the next steamer, and travelled as
fast as boat and railway could carry him to the
Rugby station.
As he walked up to the town he felt shy and
afraid of being seen, and took the back streets ; why,
he didn't know, but he followed his instinct. At
the school-gates he made a dead pause ; there was
not a soul in the quadrangle all was lonely, and
silent, and sad. So with another effort he strode
through the quadrangle, and into the school-house
offices.
He found the little matron in her room, in deep
mourning ; shook her hand, tried to talk, and moved
nervously about: she was evidently thinking of
the same subject as he, but he couldn't begin talk-
ing.
" Where shall I find Thomas ? " said he at last,
getting desperate.
" In the servants' hall, I think, sir. But won't you
take any thing?" said the matron, looking rather
disappointed.
" No, thank you," said he, and strode off again to
find the old verger, who was sitting in his little den
as of old, puzzling over hieroglyphics.
He looked up through his spectacles, as Tom seized
his hand and wrung it.
" Ah ! you've heard all about itj sir, I see," said
he.
Tom nodded, and then sat down on the shoe-
board, while the old man told his tale, and wiped
FINIS. 401
his spectacles, and fairly flowed over with quaint,
homely, honest sorrow.
By the time he had done, Tom felt much better.
" Where is he buried, Thomas ? " said he at
last.
" Un(Jer the altar in the chapel, sir," answered
Thomas.. " You'd like to have the key, I dare say."
" Thank you, Thomas yes, I should, very much."
And the old man fumbled among his bunch, and
then got up, as though he would go with him ; but
after a few steps stopped short and said, " Perhaps
you'd like to go by yourself, sir ? "
Tom nodded, and the bunch of keys were handed
to him with an injunction to be sure and lock the
door after him, and bring them back before eight
o'clock.
He walked quickly through the quadrangle and
out into the close. The longing which had been
upon him and driven him thus far, like the gad-fly
in the Greek legends, giving him no rest in mind
or body, seemed all of a sudden not to be satisfied,
but to shrivel up, and pall. " Why should I go on ?
It's no use," he thought, and threw himself at full
length on the turf, and looked vaguely and listlessly
at all the well-known objects. There were a few
of the town boys playing cricket, their wicket
pitched on the best piece in the middle of the
big-side ground, a sin about equal to sacrilege in
the eyes of a captain of the eleven. He was very
nearly getting up to go and send them off; " Pshaw !
they won't remember me. They've more right there
than I," he muttered. And the thought that his
U
402 FINIS.
sceptre had departed, and bis mark was wearing
out, came home to him for the first time; and bit-
terly enough. He was lying on the very spot where
the fights came ofT; where he himself had fought
six years ago his first and last battle. He conjured
up the scene till he could almost hear the shouts of
the ring, and East's whisper in his ear ; and looking
across the close to the Doctor's* private door, half
expected to see it open, and the tall figure in cap
and gown come striding under the elm-trees towards
him.
No, no ! that sight could never be seen again.
There was no flag flying on the round tower; the
school-house windows were all shuttered up ; and
when the flag went up again, and the shutters came
downj it would be to welcome a stranger. All that
was left on earth of him whom he had honoured,
was lying cold and still under the chapel floor. He
would go in and see the place once more, and then
leave it once for all. New men and new methods
might do for other people ; let those who would
worship the rising star, he at least would be faithful
to the sun which had set. And so he got up, and
walked to the chapel door and unlocked it, fancying
himself the only mourner in all the broad land, and
feeding on his own selfish sorrow.
He passed through the vestibule, and then paused
for a moment to glance over the empty benches.
His heart was still proud and high, and he walked
up to the seat 'which he had last occupied as a sixth-
form boy, and sat himself down there to collect his
thoughts.
7INIS. 403
And, truth to tell, they needed collecting and set-
ting in order not a little. The memories of eight
years were all dancing through his brain, and carry-
ing him about whither they would ; while beneath
them all, his heart was throbbing with the dull sense
of a loss that could never be made up to him. The
rays of the evening sun came solemnly through the
painted windows above his head and fell in gorgeous
colours on the opposite wall, and the perfect still-
ness soothed his spirit by little and little. And he
turned to the pulpit, and looked at it, and then lean-
ing forward, with his head on his hands, groaned
aloud. ' If he could only hav'e seen the Doctor
again for one five minutes, to have told him all that
was in his heart, what he owed to him, how he loved
and reverenced him, and Would, by God's help, fol-
low his steps in life and death, he could have borne
it all without a murmur. But that he should have
gone away for ever without knowing it all, was too
much to bear.' " But am I sure that he does not
know it all ? " the thought made him start " May
he not even now be near me, in this very chapel ?
If he be, am I sorrowing as he would have me sor-
row as I shall wish to have sorrowed when I shall
meet him again ? "
He raised himself up and looked round ; and after
a minute rose and walked humbly down to the low-
est bench, and sat down qn the very seat which he
had occupied on his first Sunday at Rugby. And
then the old memories rushed back again, but soft-
ened and subdued, and soothing him as he let him-
self be cEurried away by them. And he looked up
404 FINIS.
at the great painted window above the altar, and
remembered how, when a little boy, he used to try
not to look through it at the elm-trees and the rooks,
before the painted glass came and the subscription
for the painted glass, and the letter he wrote home
for mon6y to give to it. And there, down below,
was the very name of the boy who sat on his right
hand on that first day, scratched rudely in the oak
panelling.
And then came the thought of all his old school-
fellows , and form after form of boys, nobler, and
braver, and purer than he, rose up and seemed to
rebuke him. Could he not think of them, and what
they had felt and were feeling ; they who had hon-
oured and loved from the first, the man whom he had
taken years to know and love ? Could he not think
of those yet dearer to him who was gone, who bore
his name and shared his blood, and were now without
a husband or a father ? Then the grief which he be-
gan to share with others became gentle and holy, and
he rose up once more, and walked up the steps to
the altar ; and while the tears flowed freely down his
cheeks, knelt down humbly and hopefully, to lay
down there his share of a burden which had proved
itself too heavy for him to bear in his own strength.
Here let us leave him where better could we leave
him, than at the altar, before which he had first caught
a glimpse of the glory of his birthright, and felt the
drawing of the bond which links all living souls to-
gether in one brotherhood at the grave beneath the
altar of him who had opened his eyes to see that glory,
and softened his heart till it could feel that bond.
Page 404
FINIS. 405
And let us not be hard on him, if at that moment
his soul is fuller of the tomb and him who lies there,
than of the altar and Him of whom it speaks. Such
stages have to be gone through, I believe, by all
young and Brave souls, who must win their way
through hero-worship, to the worship of Him who is
the King and Lord of heroes. For it is only through
our mysterious human relationships, through the love
and tenderness and purity of mothers, and sisters, and
wives, through the strength. and courage and wis-
dom of fathers, and brothers, and teachers, that we
can come to the knowledge of Him, in whom alone
the love, and the tenderness, and the pm-ity, and the
strength, and the courage, and the wisdom of all
these dwell forever and ever in perfect fullness.