SETTLING TO THE COLLAR.
"Says Giles, 'Tis mortal hard to go;
But if so be's I must.
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,
following upon a day of unwonted excitement and exertion. 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 lying 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[1] which we
call "I," as impatient as he is stiff-necked, spite of our teeth will
force himself back again, and take possession of us down to our very
toes.
WAKING UP; MOVEMENTS OF BOGLE.
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[2] by which
the successive shoeblacks of the School-house were known), as he
marched round from bed to bed, collecting the dirty shoes and boots,
and depositing clean ones in their places.[3]
[1] #Entity#: being.
[2] #Generic name#: class name.
[3] "No Englishman ever blacks his own shoes," said an English
visitor to Mr. Lincoln. "Well, whose shoes does he black
then?" was the President's reply.
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 remonstrances to the lazy ones of their
commonwealth, before starting in a body for the neighboring plowed
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 first match. He drew up his knees and rested his
chin on them, and went over all the events of yesterday, 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 themselves, 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 examining
his ankle.
"What a pull,"[4] said he, "that it's lie-in-bed morning, for I shall
be as lame as a tree, I think."
[4] #Pull#: lucky thing.
It was Sunday morning, and Sunday lectures had not yet been
established; so that nothing but breakfast intervened between bed and
eleven o'clock chapel,--a gap by no means easy to fill up; in fact,
though received with the correct amount of grumbling, the first
lecture instituted by the Doctor shortly afterward 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 fire-place, with a 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 awful subject of contemplation to
Tom, who slept nearly opposite, and watched the great man rouse
himself and take a book from under his pillow, and begin reading,
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 neighboring 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
bed-clothes with one hand, and with the other, armed with a slipper,
belaboring whatever portion of the body of his adversary came within
reach.
GETTING UP.
"Hold that noise, up in the corner!" called out the praepostor, sitting
up and looking round his curtains; and the Tadpole and young Green
sank 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 ablutions, the fags in his
room had to descend in turn to the kitchen, and beg or steal hot water
for him; and often the 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.[5]
[5] #Rota#: list.
"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[6] and mine. Tadpole will show you the way."
[6] #Jug#: here, a large water-pitcher.
And so Tom and the Tadpole, in night-shirts 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 parley with the stalwart, handsome
cook, who declared 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[7] 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," Tadpole remarked, "as we should have had to do, if those
beggars had caught us."
[7] #Privateers#: literally, ships owned by private
individuals licensed to plunder an enemy in war.
THE "CLOSE" BEFORE CHAPEL.
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 sauntered about on the grass, or walked round
the gravel-walk, in parties of two or three. East, still doing the
cicerone, pointed out all the remarkable characters 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 scholarship, 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 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
worshipped, 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 old hall tables, or painted upon the big side-cupboard
(if hall tables and big side-cupboards still exist), wonders what
manner of boys they were. It will be the same with you who wonder,
my sons, whatever your prowess may be, in cricket, or scholarship,
or foot-ball. 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. Nevertheless, play your games and do your work
manfully--see only that that be done, and let the remembrance of it
take care of itself.
MORNING AND AFTERNOON CHAPEL.
The chapel-bell began to ring at a quarter to eleven, and Tom got in
early, 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[8] the Greek text which was inscribed over the door with
the slightest possible success, and wondering 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 paneling in front, and he couldn't help watching to see what the
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.
[8] #Construe#: translate.
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.
THE SERMON.
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 kindling 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 world rejoicing in his strength. It
was a great and solemn sight, and never more so than at this time of
the year, when the only lights in the chapel were in the pulpit and at
the seats of the praepostors 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 in heart and head were worthy to
hear and able to carry away the deepest and wisest words spoken. But
these were a minority always, generally 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 Doctor with our hearts, and very little
besides in heaven or earth: who thought more of our sets[9] 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 (ay, and men,
too, for the matter of that), to a man whom we felt to be, with all
his heart and soul and strength, striving against whatever was mean
and unmanly and unrighteous in our little world. It was not the cold
clear voice of one giving advice and warning from 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 calling 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
spectators, 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 influence boys here and there, but it
was this thoroughness and undaunted courage which more than anything
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.
[9] #Sets#: classes, social groups or cliques.
THE DOCTOR'S FIRST HOLD.
It was this quality, above all others, which moved such boys as our
hero, who had nothing whatever remarkable about him except excess of
boyishness; by which I mean animal life in its fullest measure,
good-nature and honest impulses, hatred of injustice and meanness, and
thoughtlessness enough to sink a three-decker.[10] 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 or 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[11] of all other
sins in such a boy's mind) which hindered him from doing so with all
his heart.
[10] #Three-decker#: an old-fashioned man-of-war of the
largest size.
[11] #Incarnation#: embodiment.
The next day Tom was duly placed in the third form, and began his
lessons in a corner of the Big School.[12] 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.
[12] #Big School#: one of the school buildings.
In the house too all went well. The end of the half-year was drawing
near, which kept everybody in a good humor, and the house was ruled
well and strongly by Warner and Brooke. True, the general system was
rough and hard, and there was bullying 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.
HOUSE-FAGGING.
Tom, as a new boy, was of right excused 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, racing to the 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, and carrying
messages about the house; and Tom, in the first blush of his
hero-worship, felt it a high privilege to receive orders from, and be
the bearer of the supper of old Brooke. And besides this night-work
each praepostor had three or four fags specially allotted to him, of
whom he was supposed to be the guide, philosopher, and friend, and who
in return for these good offices had to clean out his study every
morning by turns, directly after first lesson and before 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 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 foot-ball, by continual practice
at the School-house little-side, which played daily.
HARE AND HOUNDS.
The only incident 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 other 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
newspapers, copy-books, and magazines into small pieces, with which
they were filling four large canvas bags.
"It's the turn of our house to find scent for big-side Hare and
Hounds," exclaimed 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?" cried Tadpole.
"Oh, the Barby run, I hear," answered the other; "nine miles at least,
and hard ground; no chance of getting in at the finish, unless you're
a first-rate scud."
"Well, I'm going to have a try," said Tadpole; "it's the last run of
the half."
"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 a leather strap, and left all superfluous
clothing behind, set off for White Hall, an old gable-ended[13] house
some quarter of a mile from the town, and East, whom he had persuaded
to join, notwithstanding his prophecy that they could never get in, as
it was the hardest run of the year.
[13] #Gable-ended#: having a triangular end from the eaves or
cornice to the top.
THE MEET AND THE FIRST BURST.
At the meet they found some forty or fifty boys, and Tom felt sure,
from having seen many of them run at foot-ball, 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 direction of Barby.
Then the hounds clustered round Thorne, who explained shortly,
"They're to have six minutes' law.[14] We run to the Cock,[15] and
every one who comes in within a quarter of an hour of the hares'll 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 gate-way 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 hedge-row 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 to the lucky leaders. They are gallant hares, and the scent
lies thick right across another meadow and into a plowed field, where
the pace begins to tell; then over a good wattle[16] 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[17]
sheep charge away across the field as the pack comes 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; not a turn or a check to favor
the tail hounds, who strain on, now 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.
[14] #Six minutes' law#: six minutes' start.
[15] #The Cock#: a noted inn.
[16] #Wattle#: a gate or fence made of sticks woven together.
[17] #Leicestershire#: a county joining Warwickshire.
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[18] into the
fields on the left and right, and the others get their second winds.
[18] #Casts#: sallies or explorations in different directions.
Then comes the cry of "Forward" again, from young Brooke, from the
extreme left, and the pack settle 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[19] 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 appears, so now
will be the hard work for the hounds, and there is nothing for it but
to cast about for the scent, for it is now the hares' turn, and they
may baffle the pack dreadfully in the next two miles.
[19] #Vantage-ground#: a place of advantage.
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, 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 evening 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 one or
two miles, more or less. However, they struggle after him, panting and
plunging along, Tom and East pretty close, and Tadpole, whose big head
begins to pull him down, some thirty yards behind.
THE FIRST CHECK.
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 "forward," called away to the extreme
right.
The two boys' souls die within them; they can never do it. Young
Brooke thinks so, too, and says, kindly: "You'll cross a lane after
next field, keep down it, and you'll hit the Dunchurch 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 starting. They struggle on across the next
field, the "forwards" getting fainter and fainter, and then ceasing.
The whole hunt is out of earshot, and all hope of coming in is over.
NO GO.
"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[20] 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."
[20] #Thick#: fool.
"Well," said Tom, mopping away, and gulping down his disappointment,
"it can't be helped. We did our best, anyhow. 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 how the run had taken it out of them. The evening closed in
fast, and clouded over, dark, cold, and dreary.
CONSEQUENCES.
"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.
"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 adjoining 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 had been groping in it
up to his elbows in the stiff, wet clay, and a more miserable creature
in the shape of a boy 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 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 a turnpike road, and there paused bewildered, for they had lost
all bearings, and knew not whether to turn to the right or left.
Luckily for them they had not to decide, for lumbering 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 recognized as the
Oxford coach, the redoubtable Pig and Whistle.
It lumbered slowly up, and the boys mustering their last run, caught
it as it passed, and began clambering up behind, in which exploit East
missed his footing, and fell flat on his nose along the road. Then the
others hailed the old scarecrow of a coachman, who pulled up and
agreed to take them in for a shilling; so there they sat on the back
seat, drubbing with their heels, and their teeth chattering with cold,
and jogged into Rugby some forty minutes after locking-up.
THEIR RECEPTION.
Five minutes afterward, three small, limping, shivering figures steal
along through the Doctor's garden, 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 toward 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
construed it as indicating the Doctor's state of mind. Upon the short
flight of stairs they paused 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 Hall, showing the arms
of his jacket. "I must get behind you two."
"Well, but look at me," said East indicating the mass of clay behind
which he was standing; "I'm worse than you, two to one; you might grow
cabbages on 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 them 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
forward. The sound of merry voices and laughter came from within, and
his first hesitating 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 him, 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's galleys.[21]
Round him stood three or four children; 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,[22] and comfortable, 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.
[21] #Nicias's galleys#: Grecian boats under the command of
Nicias, a famous general.
[22] #Homely#: homelike.
THEIR EXPLANATION.
"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 eyes 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 liking that the Doctor
should think lightly of his running powers, "we got round Barby all
right, but then--"
"Why, what a state you're in, my boy!" interrupted the Doctor, as the
pitiful condition of East's garments 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 Doctor.
"Oxford coach, sir," explained Hall.
"Hah! yes, the Regulator," said the Doctor.
"And I tumbled on my face, trying to get up behind," went on East.
"You're not hurt, I hope?" said the Doctor.
"Oh, no, sir."
"Well, now, run 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 half an hour afterward
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 Tadpole 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.
LAST DAYS.
A day or two afterward the great passage outside the bedrooms was
cleared of the boxes and portmanteaus, which went down to be packed by
the matron, and great games of chariot-racing, and cock-fighting, and
bolstering[23] went on in the vacant space, the sure sign of a closing
half-year.
[23] #Bolstering#: fights with pillows and bolsters.
Then came the making up of parties for the journey home, and Tom
joined a party who were to hire a coach, and post with 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 report of how they and
their charges had been conducting themselves; and Tom, 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 matron's rooms: boys wrapped in great-coats
and mufflers were swallowing hasty mouthfuls, rushing about, tumbling
over luggage, and asking questions all at 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[24] in their best
jackets and breeches, and a cornopean[25] player, hired for the
occasion, blowing away, "A southerly wind and a cloudy day," waking
all peaceful inhabitants half-way down the High Street.
[24] #Post-boys#: the boys that drove the coach and the
post-chaises.
[25] #Cornopean#: a kind of trumpet.
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 through the
window, or he would have been driven wild and lost all his money.
"Thomas, do be quick; we shall never catch the Highflyer[26] at
Dunchurch."
[26] #Highflyer#: name of a coach.
"That's your money, all right, Green."
"Hullo, Thomas, the Doctor said I was to have two-pound-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 potations in
which the musicians 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 hat-box was visible outside. Five or six
small boys, with pea-shooters, and the cornopean player, got up
behind; in front the big boys, mostly smoking, not for pleasure, but
because they are now gentlemen at large[27]--and this is the most
correct public method of notifying the fact.
[27] #At large#: free from restraint.
OFF.
"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," shouted the grinning post-boys. Down comes
Robinson's coach in a minute or two with a rival cornopean, and away
go the two vehicles, horses galloping, boys cheering, horns playing
loud. There is a special Providence over schoolboys 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 is 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[28] 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
accordingly. Here the party breaks up, all going now different 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.
[28] #Corn Market#: one of the principal streets of Oxford.
DULCE DOMUM.
"Where to, sir?"
"Red Lion, Farringdon," says Tom, giving ostler a shilling.
"All right, sir. Red Lion, Jem," to the post-boy, and Tom rattles away
toward home. At Farringdon, 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
pounds 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 the 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.