[16] #Midge#: a gnat or small fly.

[17] #Grampus#: a whale-like fish.

East had given him the desired opening; after a seriocomic grumble,

"that life wasn't worth having now they were tied to a young beggar

who was always 'raising his standard';[18] and that he, East, was like

a prophet's donkey, who was obliged to struggle on after the

donkey-man who went after the prophet; that he had none of the

pleasure of starting the new crotchets, and didn't half understand

them, but had to take the kicks and carry the luggage as if he had all

the fun," he threw his legs up on to the sofa, and put his hands

behind his head, and said:--

"Well, after all, he's the most wonderful little fellow I ever came

across. There isn'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 doesn't think he has more influence

in the house than Dot Bowles, who came last quarter, and isn'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.

[18] #Raising his standard#: advancing, improving.

"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 inclined 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

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 beginning to exercise him. Nor

indeed could the friendship 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.

FRIENDSHIP.

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 anything that he felt to be real, but he was one of

those natures that burst into what is generally called recklessness

and impiety the moment they feel that anything 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 outspoken to an extent which alarmed all

respectabilities, 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 with whom it would be dangerous to be intimate; while his own

hatred of everything 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 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 eating

or drinking. He could never play on the strongest side with any heart

at foot-ball 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 humbug 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 been interrupted by Tom's guardianship of Arthur.

FRIENDSHIP TESTED.

East had often, as has been said, joined them in reading the Bible,

but their discussion had almost always turned upon the characters of

the men and women of whom they read, and not become personal 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 either tenfold

stronger or sapped[19] at its foundation, after such communing

together.

[19] #Sapped#: undermined.

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

out 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

will 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, sunder you.

EAST'S CONFESSIONS.

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. I 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 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 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 songs, 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 during the Sacrament. I can see, from the

Doctor downward, 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,"[20] said East.

[20] #Confirmed#: admitted to church membership; here, to that

of the Church of England.

"Not been confirmed!" said Tom, in astonishment. "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 favor[21] with the Doctor, or any one else."

[21] #Curry favor#: seek favor by flattery and the like.

East stopped speaking, and pegged away more diligently than ever with

his pencil. Tom was ready to cry. He felt half sorry at first that he

had been confirmed himself. He seemed to have deserted 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 his

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 wish to Heaven I had," said East, "but I was a fool. It's too late

talking of it now."

"Why too late? You 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."

TOM'S PRESCRIPTION.

"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 honor you for it. But then he made it out just as if it was taking

the weak side before all the 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 Doctor 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,[22] whatever the right phrase is.

My sympathies are all the other way; with the many, the poor wretches

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.[23] Now I've seen a deal of this sort of religion: I was bred

up in it, and I can't stand it. If nineteen-twentieths of the world

are to be left to uncovenanted mercies,[24] and that sort of thing,

which means in plain English to go to destruction and the other

twentieth are to rejoice at it all, why--"

[22] #Elect#: chosen to salvation; one of the favored few.

[23] #Land me#: here, persuade me.

[24] #Uncovenanted mercies#: that is, to such mercies as God

will grant to the heathen or those outside the church.

"Oh I but, Harry, they're not, 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 remember 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 the bread and wine, and leaned over me praying, I

prayed for poor Flashman, as if it had been you or Arthur."

East buried his face in his hands on the table. Tom could feel the

table tremble. At last he looked 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 wretches is got at."

"And you'll stop for 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 foot-steps 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.

THE EFFECT THEREOF.

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."

"Hurrah!" 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 had 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 have done this five

years,--and he sat down 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 out

all his own talk, and was bent on improving the occasion; so he

proceeded to propound Arthur's theory about not being sorry for his

friends' death, which he had hitherto kept in the background, and by

which he was much exercised;[25] 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.

[25] #Exercised#: made thoughtful or anxious.

But East's powers of remaining serious were exhausted, and in five

minutes he was saying the most ridiculous things he could think of,

till Tom was almost getting angry again.

Despite of himself, however, he couldn't help laughing and giving it

up, when East appealed to him with: "Well, Tom, you aren't going to

punch my head, I hope, because I insist on being sorry when you get to

earth?"[26]

[26] #When you get to earth#: when you are buried.

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 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 I am.

Not but what there has been a solemn and sad side to it. As the old

scenes became living, and the actors in them became living, too, many

a grave in the Crimea and distant India, as well as in the quiet

church-yards of our dear old country, seemed to open and send forth

their dead, and their voices, and looks, and ways were again in one's

ears and eyes, as in the old school-days. But this was not sad; how

should it be, if we believe 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 sadness with

it. Wherever they are, we can well believe they are doing God's work,

and getting His wages.

SCHOOL MEMORIES.

But are there not some, whom we still see sometimes 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

further than we are from the dead, and from those who have gone out of

our ken?[1] 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 our lives, whom it would be our respective

duties to imprison or hang, if we had the power. We must go our way,

and they theirs, as long as flesh and spirit hold together; but let

our own Rugby poet speak words of healing for this trial:--

"To veer how vain! on, onward strain,

Brave barks! in light, in darkness, too;

Through winds and tides one compass guides,--

To that, and your own selves, be true.

"But, O blithe breeze! and O 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,

O bounding breeze! O rushing seas!

At last, at last, unite them there!"--_Clough._[2]

This is not mere longing, it is prophecy. So over these two, 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 driven 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 are as well as we are, who has died for

them as well as for us, who sees all His creatures--

"With larger, other eyes than ours,

To make allowance for us all,"[3]--

will, in His own way and at his own time, lead them also home.

[1] #Ken#: knowledge.

[2] #Clough#: poem of "Qua cursum ventus."

[3] #Tennyson#: "In Memoriam."

* * * * *

THE END OF THE HALF-YEAR.

Another two years have passed, and 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;[4] 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 return match and

the Marylebone match are played at Rugby, to the great delight of the

town and neighborhood, and the sorrow of those aspiring young

cricketers who have been reckoning for the last three months on

showing off at Lord's grounds.[5]

[4] #Exhibitions#: allowances of money, etc., made to certain

scholars at Oxford and Cambridge. The boys of the sixth form,

who were preparing for the universities, were competing for

these.

[5] #Lord's grounds#: see note on Marylebone, p. 304.

The Doctor started off for the Lakes[6] yesterday morning, 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.

[6] #Lakes#: Dr. Arnold spent his vacations at his country

place of Fox Howe in Westmoreland, in the beautiful lake

region of the northwest of England.

CRICKET-MATCHES.

The Wellesburn match was played out with great success yesterday, the

School winning by three wickets;[7] and to-day the great event of the

cricketing year, the Marylebone match, is being played. What a match

it has been! The London eleven came down by an afternoon train

yesterday, 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,

criticising it rather unmercifully. The captain of the School eleven,

and one or two others, who had played the Lord's match before, and

knew old Mr. Aislabie and several of the Lord's 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,[8] 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 to water and roll it; 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 citizens 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 new

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 glowing

with the last rays of the western sun, and the rooks clanged about in

the tops of the old elms, 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,[9] 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 saw there his young

hands shaking off their shyness and awe of the Lord's men, as they

crossed hands and capered about on the grass together; for the

strangers entered into it all, and threw away their cigars, and danced

and shouted like boys, while old Mr. Aislabie stood by looking on in

his white hat, leaning on a bat, in benevolent enjoyment. "This hop

will be worth thirty runs[10] 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. Aislabie, whom he will

not leave for a minute, for he feels that the character of the School

for courtesy is resting on his shoulders.

[7] #By three wickets#: three players yet to bat.

[8] #Hard-bitten#: keen.

[9] #Lawrence Sheriff#: See note on Rugby, p. 72.

[10] #Runs#: the running from one wicket to the other by the

batsmen. The game depends on these runs.

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, notwithstanding

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 by the Doctor's orders.

Deep had been the consultations at supper as to the order of going in,

who should bowl the first over,[11] 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!

[11] #Over#: a certain number of balls pitched in succession

from one side.

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 breakfast 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 Lord's 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.

* * * * *

THE MARYLEBONE MATCH.

"Oh, well bowled! well bowled, Johnson!" cries the captain, catching

up the ball and sending it high above the rook-trees, while the third

Marylebone man walks away from the wicket, and old Bailey gravely sets

up the middle stump[12] again and puts the bails[13] on.

[12] #Middle stump#: the middle stake of a wicket.

[13] #Bails#: two small, round sticks laid across the top of a

wicket.

"How many runs?" Away scamper three boys to the scoring-table,[14] and

are back again in a minute amongst the rest of the eleven, who are

collected together in a knot between wickets.

[14] #Scoring-table#: a table where the reckoning of the game

is kept.

"Only eighteen runs, and three wickets down!"

"Huzzah for old Rugby!" sings out Jack Raggles, the long-stop,[15]

toughest and burliest of boys, commonly called "Swiper Jack";[16] 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 his back.

[15] #Long-stop#: a person who stands behind the wicket-keeper

to stop the balls that escape him.

[16] #Swiper Jack#: hard-hitting Jack.

"Steady there; don't be such an ass, Jack," says the captain; "we

haven't got the best wicket. Ah, look out now at cover-point,"[17]

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."

[17] #Cover-point#: the person who stops a ball or the act of

stopping it.

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[18] 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 young gentleman can do

to keep his team[19] 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

down the most skilful players. Johnson, the young bowler, is getting

wild; and bowls a ball almost wide to the off;[20] the batter steps

out and cuts it beautifully to where cover-point is standing very

deep; in fact, almost off the ground. The ball comes skimming 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.

[18] #Byes#: runs on balls that have passed the wicket-keeper.

[19] #Team#: one of the parties or sides in a game.

[20] #Off#: to the right of the batsman.

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 deserted wicket, with a long breath; he feels that a

crisis has past.

I wish I had space to describe the match; how the captain stumped the

next man off a leg-shooter,[21] and bowled small cobs[22] to old Mr.

Aislabie, who came in for the last wicket. How the Lord's 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[23] What a glorious dinner they had in the fourth-form

School, and how the cover-point hitter sang the most topping[24] comic

songs, and old Mr. Aislabie made the best speeches that ever were

heard, afterward. 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 innings, but they are working like horses now to save

the match.

[21] #Stumped off a leg-shooter#: perhaps to put a man out of

play by knocking down his wicket.

[22] #Cobs#: balls peculiarly bowled.

[23] #Innings#: turns for using the bat.

[24] #Topping#: wonderful.

SOME OLD FRIENDS.

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 toward the

cricket-ground. It consists of three figures: two are seated on the

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, humorous smile,

is evidently a clergyman. He is carelessly dressed, and looks rather

used up, which isn't much to be wondered 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 enjoying 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 trousers, 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 favorite 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 bigger since we last had the pleasure of coming across him.

And at their feet on the warm dry ground, similarly 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 thoughtfulness 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 now and then.

All three are watching the game eagerly, and joining in the cheering

that 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.

THEIR TALK.

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,'"[25] answered Tom.

[25] #"The Knights"#: a Greek comedy by Aristoph'anes.

"Well, I'm sure you would have enjoyed the wonderful humor of it twice

as much if you had taken more pains with your scholarship."

"Well, sir, I don't believe any boy in the form enjoyed the

set-tos[26] between Cleon and the sausage-seller more than I did--eh,

Arthur?" said Tom, giving him a stir with his foot.

[26] #Set-tos#: fights or encounters of any kind.

"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 masters of

the weapons? 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 meaning which make the best part of the fun."

"Oh! well played--bravo, Johnson!" shouted Arthur, dropping his hat

and clapping furiously, and Tom joined in with a "Bravo, Johnson!"

which might have been heard at the chapel.

"Eh! what is 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.[27] Nothing but that turn of the wrist could have saved

him, and he drew it away to leg[28] for a safe one. Bravo, Johnson!"

[27] #Leg-bail#: part of the wicket.

[28] #To leg#: to the left and rear.

"How well they are bowling, though," said Arthur; "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[29] which

you tell me are the best play, though when you or Raggles hit a ball

hard away for six,[30] I am as delighted as any one. Don't you see the

analogy?"

[29] #Draws#: good play by the batsman.

[30] #Hard away for six#: to the best advantage.

"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, too."

"Yes, but no thanks to him; Greek came natural to him. Why, when he

first came I remember he used to read Herodotus[31] for pleasure, as

I did Don Quixote,[32] and couldn't have made a false concord if he

tried ever so hard--and then I looked after his cricket."

[31] #Herodotus#: an early Greek writer, "the father of

history."

[32] #Don Quixote#: a Spanish romance.

"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 came running to the island moat.

"Oh, Brown, mayn't I go in next?" shouts the Swiper.

"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. Aislabie say that the stumps must be drawn at a quarter past eight

exactly."

"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 nonsense," 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."

"Yes," said Arthur, "the birth-right of British boys old and young, as

_habeas corpus_[33] and trial by jury are of British men."

[33] #Habeas corpus#: a writ for bringing a prisoner before a

judge and inquiring into the cause of his detention, its

object being to prevent illegal imprisonment.

"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 foot-ball and cricket,

now one comes to think of it, are much better games than fives or

hare-and-hounds, or any others where the object is to come in first or

to win for one's self, 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."

"Which doesn'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[34] as to

let Jack Raggles go in, out of his turn."

[34] #Flat#: fool.

"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 in 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 first laid out in small gardens, and cultivated by

frost-bitten fags in February and March?"

"Of course I do," said Tom; "didn't I hate spending two hours in the

afternoon grubbing in the tough dirt with the stump of a fives'-bat?

But turf-cart[35] was good fun enough."

[35] #Turf-cart#: Tom, with the other boys, used to decorate

the "island" in the school-grounds with turf and flowers,

which they stole "out of all the gardens in Rugby for the

Easter show." They took the "turf-cart" for this purpose. The

"island," by the way, no longer exists.

"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 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 midsummer," said Tom, "and

the sixth had gymnastic 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,[36] the sixth form?"

said the master.

[36] #Worships#: here, mock titles of honor.

"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 wavering 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, nudging Tom with his elbow,

"driving a nail where it will go"; to which allusions Tom answered by

a sly kick.

"Exactly so," said the master, innocent of the allusion and by-play.

JACK RAGGLES'S INNINGS.

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 off Johnson's, is

about to receive his first ball. There are only 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[37] amidst great

applause and shouts from Jack's many admirers. The next ball is a

beautifully pitched 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 is deafening; only seventeen runs to get with four

wickets,--the game is all but ours!

[37] #Leg-bye#: the ball glances from the batsman's leg.

It is over now, and Jack walks swaggering about his wicket, with his

bat over his shoulder, while Mr. Aislabie 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 triumphantly toward 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[38] with all his force. If

he had only allowed for the twist! but he hasn't, and so the ball goes

spinning up straight in 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 calling

out: "I have it," catches it, and playfully pitches it on to the back

of the stalwart Jack, who is departing with a rueful countenance.

[38] #Swiping#: not a scientific hit.

"I knew how it would be," says Tom, rising. "Come along; the game's

getting very serious."

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, I'm not quite sure that he ought to be in for his play,"[39]

said Tom, "but I couldn't help putting him in. It will do him so much

good, and you can't think what I owe him."

[39] #His play#: his skill.

THE FINISH.

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 shout 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.

Before Winter can get in,[40] the omnibus which is to take the Lord's

men to the train pulls up at the side of the close, and Mr. Aislabie

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 Lord's men are

declared the winners, they having scored the most in the first

innings.

[40] #Winter can get in#: before Winter can get a chance to

play.

But such a defeat is a victory; so think Tom and all the School

eleven, as they accompany their conquerors to the omnibus, and send

them off with three ringing cheers, after Mr. Aislabie had 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."[41]

[41] #Town#: London.

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 for you."

So Tom went off to get his boots and things from the tent, to tell

Arthur of the invitation, and to 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 Hillmorton road.

SHUT OUT.

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 drinking. Great was the good

man's horror at finding himself shut out 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,

especially 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 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[42] table better materials for a meal than had

appeared there probably 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 private

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[43] of

the snuggery, for, notwithstanding the time of year, they lighted a

fire, throwing both the windows wide open at the same time; the heaps

of books and papers were pushed away to the other end of the table,

and the great solitary engravings of King's College Chapel[44] over

the mantle-piece looked less stiff than usual, as they settled

themselves down in the twilight to the serious drinking of tea.

[42] #Snuggery#: a small, cosy room.

[43] #Hob#: that part of a grate on which things are placed to

be kept hot.

[44] #King's College Chapel#: a chapel of King's College,

Cambridge. It is celebrated for its architectural beauty.

HARRY EAST.

After some talk on the match, and other indifferent subjects, the

conversation came naturally back to Tom's approaching departure, over

which he began again to moan.

"Well, we shall miss you quite as much as you will miss us," said the

master. "You are the Nestor[45] of the School now, are you not?"

[45] #Nestor#: oldest member of the School.

"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."

"Ay, won't he?" said Tom, brightening; "no fellow could handle boys

better, and I suppose soldiers 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 remember the day we were put out of the

twenty.[46] How he rose to the situation, and burnt his cigar-cases,

and gave away his pistols, and pondered on the constitutional

authority[47] of the sixth and his new duties to the Doctor, and the

fifth form, and the fags. Ay, and no fellow ever acted up to them

better, though he was always a people's man,--for the fags, and

against constituted authorities.[48] He couldn't help that, you know.

I'm sure the Doctor must have liked him?" said Tom, looking up

inquiringly.

[46] #The twenty#: the fifth form.

[47] #Constitutional authority#: here, the authority

established by school customs.

[48] #Constituted authorities#: here, the upper-class boys.

"The Doctor sees the good in every one, and appreciates it," said the

master, dogmatically;[49] "but I 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."

[49] #Dogmatically#: positively.

"Well, I wish I were alongside of him," said Tom. "If I can't be at

Rugby, I want to be at work in the world, and not dawdling away three

years at Oxford."

WORK IN THE WORLD.

"What do you mean by 'at work in the world'?" said the master,

pausing, with his lips close to the saucerful of tea, and peering at

Tom over it.

"Well, I mean real work; one's profession; whatever 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 the empty saucer, "and you ought

to get clear about them. You talk of 'working to get your living,' 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 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 heard the truant

servants stealing in by the back entrance.

THE DOCTOR'S WORK.

"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 his 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. 'Twas 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?"

"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

afterward, 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 satisfaction. Ah! not one of you boys will ever

know the anxiety you have given him, or the care with which he has

watched over every step in your school lives."

A NEW LIGHT.

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 learned 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 the 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 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[50] was still strong, and he looked still with some

jealousy on the Doctor, as somewhat of a fanatic in the matter 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[51] School rights, and see that nothing was done to the injury

of the republic without due protest.

[50] #Toryism#: here, adherence to the established customs of

the School.

[51] #Vested#: long established; fixed.

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 Headmaster 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 without taking the least credit to himself, or

seeming to know, or let any one else know, he ever thought

particularly of any boy at all.

HERO-WORSHIP.

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, and the land

transport corps, and the camp followers. It had taken eight long years

to do it, but now it was done 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 began in the half-year by abolishing fagging,

and foot-ball, 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 confession of his previous

short-comings, and sorrowful adieus to his tutor, from whom he

received two beautifully 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[52] himself.

[52] #Thomas Carlyle#: a distinguished British author, died

1881. One of his best-known books is "Heroes and Hero

Worship."

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 remonstrances at his desertion and joy

at his reappearance.

And falling in with the humor of the evening was soon as great a boy

as all the rest; and at ten o'clock was chaired[53] 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 mood, and the other School-house servants stood looking

on.

[53] #Chaired#: here, carried.

And the next morning after breakfast he squared up all the cricketing

accounts, went round to his tradesmen and other acquaintances, 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 his thoughts

between hero-worship, honest regrets over the long stage of his life

which was now slipping out of sight behind him, and hopes 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 his bag and fishing-rod with the porter, walked

slowly and sadly up towards the town. It was now July. He had rushed

away from Oxford the moment the term was over, for a fishing ramble in

Scotland with two college friends, and had been for three weeks living

on oat-cake and mutton-hams, in the wildest parts of Skye.[1] 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[2] which met the shingle,[3] within easy hail of the fishermen.

There he lay, the picture of free-and-easy, 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,[4]

and, being a youth of a communicative turn of mind, began imparting

the contents to the fishermen as he went on.

[1] #Skye#: an island off the west coast of Scotland.

[2] #Scrub#: stunted shrubs.

[3] #Shingle#: a pebbly beach.

[4] #Hostelry#: inn.

"What a bother they are making about these wretched Corn-laws![5]

Here's three or four columns full of nothing but sliding-scales and

fixed duties.[6] 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!"

[5] #Corn-laws#: laws imposing a heavy tax on imported grain.

They made bread dear, and caused great distress among the

laboring classes in England.

[6] #Sliding-scales and fixed duties#: different kinds of

revenue tax.

Tom, intent on a fish which had risen at him twice, answered only with

a grunt.

"Anything about the Goodwood?"[7] called out the third man.

[7] #Goodwood#: a famous annual horse-race.

"Rory O'More drawn. Butterfly colt amiss," shouted the student.

"Just my luck," grumbled the inquirer, jerking his flies[8] off the

water, and throwing again with a heavy sullen splash, and frightening

Tom's fish.

[8] #Flies#: artificial flies used as bait.

"I say, can't you throw lighter over there? We aren'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[9] of Rugby, is dead."

[9] #Arnold#: Dr. Arnold died suddenly at the School on Sunday

morning, June 12, 1842, the day before his forty-seventh

birthday.

Tom's hand stopped half-way in his cast,[10] and his 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 had

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.

[10] #Cast#: throw.

As he wearily labored at his line, the thought struck him: "It may be

all 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.[11] "Hullo, Brown! what's the matter, old fellow--aren't

you well?"

[11] #Listlessly#: carelessly.

"Where is it?" said Tom, turning over the leaves, his hand trembling,

and his eyes swimming, so that he could not read.

"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,[12] they walked together up to the house.

[12] #Parley#: conversation.

"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 public-school men.

The two, however, notwithstanding Tom's prohibition, waited supper for

him, and had everything ready when he came back some half an hour

afterward. But he could not join in their cheerful talk, and the party

was soon silent, notwithstanding 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.

So by daylight the next morning he was marching through Ross-shire,

and in the evening hit the Caledonian 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.[13]

[13] #Offices#: servants' apartments.

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 talking.

"Where shall I find Thomas?" said he at last, getting desperate.

"In the servants' hall, I think, sir. But won't you take anything?"

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.[14]

[14] #Hieroglyphics#: here, writing not easily read.

He looked up through his spectacles, as Tom seized his hand and wrung

it.

"Ah! you heard all about it, sir, I see," said he.

Tom nodded, and then sat down on the shoe-board, while the old man

told his tale, and wiped 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.

"Under the altar in the chapel,[15] sir," answered Thomas. "You'd like

to have the key, I dare say."

[15] #Chapel#: the late Matthew Arnold wrote the following

lines on his father's tomb in the chapel:--

"O strong soul, by what shore

Tarriest thou now? For that force,

Surely, has not been left vain!

Somewhere, surely, afar,

In the sounding labor-house vast

Of being, is practised that strength,

Zealous, beneficent, firm!

"Yes, in some far-shining sphere,

Conscious or not of the past,

Still thou performest the word

Of the Spirit in whom thou dost live,--

Prompt, unwearied, as here!

"Still thou upraisest with zeal

The humble good from the ground,

Sternly repressest the bad!

Still, like a trumpet, dost rouse

Those who with half-open eyes

Tread the border-land dim

'Twixt vice and virtue; reviv'st,

Succorest!--this was thy work,

'This was thy life upon earth.'

"But thou would'st not _alone_

Be saved, my father! _alone_

Conquer and come to thy goal,

Leaving the rest in the wild.

Therefore to thee it was given

Many to save with thyself;

And at the end of thy days,

O faithful shepherd! to come,

Bringing thy sheep in thy hand."

_Rugby Chapel, November, 1857._--_Matthew Arnold._

"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[16] 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.[17] "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 sceptre had departed,

and his mark was wearing out, came home to him for the first time, and

bitterly enough. He was lying on the very spot where the fights came

off; 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

toward him.

[16] #Gad-fly#: a gad-fly sent by Juno to torment Io, a

beautiful maiden whom Jupiter had transformed into a heifer.

[17] #Pall#: lose strength.

No, no! that sight could never be seen again. There was no flag flying

on the round tower;[18] the School-house windows were all shuttered

up; and when the flag went up again, and the shutters came down, it

would be to welcome a stranger. All that was left on earth of him whom

he had honored, 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.

[18] #Round tower#: the entrance to the head-master's

residence at Rugby is through this tower over which a flag

generally flies.

He passed through the vestibule[19] 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.

[19] #Vestibule#: entrance hall or anteroom.

And, truth to tell, they needed collecting and setting in order not a

little. The memories of eight years were all dancing through his

brain, and carrying him about whither they would; while beneath them

all, his heart was throbbing with a 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

colors on the opposite wall, and the perfect stillness soothed his

spirit little by little. And he turned to the pulpit, and looked at

it, and then, leaning forward with his head on his hands, groaned

aloud, "If he could only have seen the Doctor again for one five

minutes, 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, follow his

steps in life and death, he could have borne it all without a murmur.

But that he should have gone away forever 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 sorrow--as I

should 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 lowest bench, and sat down on the very seat

which he had occupied on his first Sunday at Rugby. And then the old

memories rushed back again, but softened and subdued, and soothing him

as he felt himself carried away by them. And he looked up 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 money 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 schoolfellows; 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 honored 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 were gone, who bore his name and shared his

blood, and were now without a husband or a father? Then the grief

which he began 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

birth-right,[20] and felt the dawning of the bond which links all

living souls together 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?

[20] #Birth-right#: here, the highest manhood. (See Ephesians

iv. 13.)

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 wisdom 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 purity, and the strength, and the

courage, and the wisdom of all these dwell for ever and ever in

perfect fulness.

INDEX TO NOTES.

[D.H.M.]

A, 44

Accidence, 163

Achates, 257

Act'ly, 87

Addled, 271

Adscriptus glebae, 18

Affected, 202

A fortiori, 24

Agamemnon, 314

Aganippe, 258

Agincourt, 2

Aim, 35

Alfred, 11

Allowance, 322

Alma, 12

Amateur nest, 250

Amateurs, 290

Ambrosial, 251

Amy Robsart, 97

Angular Saxon, 18

A'nigst, 41

Antediluvian, 15

Argus, 164

Arnold, Dr., 372

Arra, 37

Arter, 85

Arthur, 239

Asser, 12

Assizes, 21

At large, 160

Baal, 228

Babel, 165

Backsword, 8

Bagmen, 82

Bails, 349

Balak, 11

Balances, 197

Balliol, 127

Barrows, 14

Basket handle, 38

Bath, 296

Bating, 133

Beagles, 128

Beating, 271

Bee-orchis, 7

Beggars, 182, 205

Belauded, 66

Belle Sauvage, 74

Bell's Life, 281

Bequest, 303

Berks, 5

Berkshire, 8

Bewick, 252

Big School, 147

Bile, 266

Bill, 2

Bird-fancier, 253

Birth-right, 379

Biscuit, 77

Bist, 26

Bi'st, 89

Black, 208

Blackies, 310

Black Monday, 7

Blethering, 41

Blowing, 263

Blown, 293

Bob, 208

Bolstering, 158

Bona fide, 45

Books, 95, 182

Boomerang, 310

Booths, 32

Boots, 73

Border-farmer, 251

Bore, 119

Bounds, 70

Bout, 4

Bowls, 90

Boxes, 74

Box's head, 87

Braces, 106

Break cover, 27

Brownsover, 201

Brown study, 75

Buckskins, 34

Bucolics, 163

Bulls'-eyes, 69

Bumptiousness, 95

Burgess, 84

Butts, 7

Buxom, 76

Byes, 350

Cairn, 10

Cairngorm, 321

Cajoleries, 184

Calico, 19

Calling over, 96

Callow, 250

Caloric, 79

Camp, 10

Canes, 105

Cant, 301

Cap and gown, 104

Caravans, 34

Cardinal, 26

Carlyle, 369

Carte blanche, 105

Cast, 372

Castor, 38

Casts, 152

Catskin, 94

Chaff, 37

Chaffinch, 272

Chaired, 369

Chalet, 23

Chambers, 4

Chapel, 375

Charley, 8

Chartered, 195

Chartism, 239

Chaw, 19

Cheap Jacks, 33

Cheroot, 76

Chesapeake and Shannon, 124

China orange, 112

Chivalrous, 285

Choleric, 58

Chorus, 325

Chronicler, 12

Churchwarden windows, 328

Cicerone, 95

Civil wars, 7

Clanship, 3

Clement's Inn, 22

Clerk, 310

Clever, 167

Close, 57, 100

Cloth-yard shaft, 2

Coach, 284

Cob, 88

Cobs, 351

Cock, The, 150

Cock, 309

Cock of the House, 200

Cockpit, 180

Cogitation, 250

Colleagues, 169

Combes, 321

Comme, etc., 23

Concord, 261

Confirmed, 338

Congenial, 236

Constituted authorities, 364

Constitutional, 275

Constitutional authority, 364

Construe, 144

Convivial, 174

Convoy, 97

Corn-laws, 371

Corn Market, 161

Cornopean, 159

Corollary, 57

Cosmopolite, 8

Costermonger, 48

Counter, 292

Country sides, 49

County members, 89

Courier, 22

Courts, 238

Coventry, 175

Cover, 8, 191

Coverley, 43

Cover-point, 350

Coxiest, 185

Cressy, 2

Cribbed, 261

Cribs, 312

Crichton, 56

Cricket, 32

Cromlech, 14

Crotchet, 4

Culverin, 2

Curacy, 4

Curry favor, 338

Cut, 105, 176, 191

Cut out, 290

Derby, 182

Derogatory, 218

Digamma, 77

Dingle, 51

Dips, 132

Doctor, 127

Dogmatically, 364

Don, 21

Don Quixote, 355

Dot, 309

Dowager, 238

Down, 7

Down shepherd, 37

Doyle, 1

Drag, 77

Dragoons, 30

Dramatis personae, 283

Drat, 26

Draw, 191

Drawing, 183

Draws, 354

Dresden, 7

Dresser, 53

Dulce domum, 7

'E, 17

Ear-marked, 199

Earth, 342

Ee, 41

Ees, 276

Egypt, 330

Elaborate, 260

Elect, 339

Elegiac, 260

Eleven, 221

Elijah, 228

Elysium, 165

Embrangle, 56

Ensconce, 251

Entity, 139

Environments, 24

Ephemerae, 206

Et ceteras, 267

Ethnology, 309

Eton, 323

Exercised, 342

Exhibitions, 346

Experto crede, 262

Extempore, 257

Eyrie, 10

Fagging, 101

Fairings, 33

Fat living, 238

Feint, 39, 292

Felonious, 273

Felony, 68

Fetish, 28

Fiery cross, 16

File, 90

First-class carriages, 79

First-day boys, 86

First-floor, 84

Fives' court, 100

Flank, 314

Flat, 356

Flies, 371

Flitch, 53

Float, 29

Floored, 265

Fond, 113

Foot-ball, 101

Footman, 64

Foozling, 271

Form, 168

Forms, 60

Freeholders, 18

Frontispiece, 292

Frowzy, 199

Fugle-man, 124

Functionary, 24

Funk, 135, 232

Fustian, 34

Gable ended, 150

Gaby, 68

Gad-fly, 376

Gamester, 30

Gammon, 312

Gee, 208

Gee'd 'em, 279

Generic, 139

Genus, 261

Geordie, 306

Get in, 360

Gi's, 43

Goodwood, 371

Gorse, 8

Goth, 328

Gradus, 246

Grampus, 333

Grapnel, 45

Gravelled, 298

Green rides, 64

Grewsome, 16

Grey, 242

Grimaldi, 97

Guard, 78

Habeas corpus, 356

Hack, 81

Hacks, 101

Half, 190

Half-a-crown, 184

Half-a-sov., 95

Half-sovereign, 37

Hamper, 78

Hand-grenade, 2

Handle, 290

Hands, 296

Hard all, 291

Hard away, 354

Hard-bitten, 347

Hare and hounds, 28

Harriers, 128

He, 37

Head, 293, 294

Hector, 283

Hecuba, 163

Hedge, 184

Heir-apparent, 27

Helen, 283

Herodotus, 355

Hieroglyphics, 374

High, 273

High feather, 266

Highflyer, 160

High Street, 84

Hind-boot, 78

Hoar-frost, 79

Hob, 363

Holus bolus, 23

Homely, 157, 239

Homer's Iliad, 283

Hop-picking, 22

Horn, 17

Hostelry, 371

Hot-foot, 206

Houses of Palaver, 182

Humble-bees, 70

Impecuniosity, 177

Imperial, 22

Impounded, 106

Incarnation, 147

Incongruous, 260

Ingle, 53

Inigo Jones, 14

Innings, 351

Integuments, 61

Intrinsic, 259

Ishmaelites, 197

Island, 101

Islington, 73

Itinerant, 114

Jack, 201

J. P., 19

Jobbers, 20

John, 46

Jug, 15, 142

Jugs, 132

Keeper, 13

Keepers, 203

Ken, 344

Kestrel, 256

King's College Chapel, 363

Kit, 72

Knee, 290

Knights, 353

Kossuth, 196

Kraal, 23

Laid, 7

Lakes, 346

Lancet windows, 32

Land me, 339

Larking, 108

Last, 330

Law, 150

Learned poet, 24

Leastway, 276

Leg, 354

Leg-bail, 354

Leg-bye, 359

Legitimate, 33

Leg-shooter, 351

Leicestershire, 151

Lessons, 237

Levy, 175

Lieges, 20

Life-guardsman, 44

Lift, 93

Likely, 205

Line, 331

Lissom, 52

Listlessly, 372

Living, 239

Locus penitentiae, 326

Lodge, 82

Lombard Street, 112

Long-stop, 349

Lord Craven, 14

Lord Grey, 242

Lord's grounds, 346

Lotus-eaters, 205

Louts, 123

Louvre, 7

Lunging hits, 292

Lupus, 167

Lurcher, 52

Magnates, 300

Magpie, 248

Malice prepense, 301

Malignant, 17

Manor, 50

Map, 11

Marianas, 18

Marryat, 218

Marylebone, 304

Martinmas, 35

Match, 208

Matriculating, 1

Maudlin, 132

Medes and Persians, 131

Medicine-man, 309

Meet, 81

Mentor, 94

Mercies, 339

Midge, 333

Midland, 237

Mill, 282

Miltons, 53

Minds, 35

Minimum, 259

Missive, 67

Mistletoe, 268

Moated grange, 18

Momus, 325

Moor, 321

More by token, 13

Moss-troopers, 252

Mucker, 177

Muff, 132

Mullioned, 58

Mummers, 19

Munitions, 266

Muzzling, 37

Mysteries, 20

Necromancer, 71

Nem. con., 284

Nestor, 363

Nether, 61

Nicias's galleys, 157

Nominally, 182

Nor, 85

Normal, 251

No side, 117

N[)o]table, 25

Nother, 53

Occult, 50

Off, 350

Offices, 374

Old Berkshire, 8

Old John, 46

Old man with a scythe, 4

Ominous, 191

Opodeldoc, 118

Ordnance map, 11

Oriel window, 92

Outlaws, 200

Over, 348

Palaver, 182, 196

Palaver houses, 46

Pall, 376

Pan-pipe, 34

Pap-bottle, 232

Parley, 373

Parrying, 292

Partisans, 291

Pater Brooke, 125

Pattens, 27

Peaching, 176

Peas'n, 276

Pea-shooters, 85

Peat, 321

Pecking-bag, 267

Pellets, 100

Pence, 36

Penates, 181

Penny, 36

Petty sessions, 29

Pewter, 255

Phosphorus, 71

Pickwick Papers, 171

Pie match, 308

Pig and Whistle, 85

Pikeman, 79

Pillion, 28

Pink, 81

Pinks, 83

Pipe, 34

Plancus, 109, 258

Plantations, 16

Play, 291, 333, 360

Poaching, 38

Po-chay, 91

Pop-joying, 29

Portmanteau, 78

Post-boys, 159

Post-chaise, 73

Pottered, 33

Pound, 6

Praepostors, 99

Predicate, 281

Premising, 175

Priggism, 46

Primum tempus, 68

Prisoner's base, 61

Privateers, 142

Privet, 13

Profane, 286

Progenitors, 57

Proselytizing, 242

Public, 15

Publican, 51, 228

Public schools, 66

Pull, 140, 293

Purely, 35

Puritan, 26

Purl, 81

Pusey horn, 17

Pyrenees, 114

Quadrangle, 94

Quaint, 36

Quantities, 261

Quarter, 293

Quarter Sessions, 21

Quickset, 272

Quit, 170

Quixotic, 4

Quoits, 90

Rashers, 82

Rating, 168

Raven, 64

Reaches, 201

Reading, 99

Reconnoitered, 59

Red tape, 46

Regulation catskin, 94

Regulator, 85

Richard Swiveller, 9

Rodney, 2

Roc, 263

Roman camp, 10

Rota, 142

Round tower, 376

Rug, 79

Rugby, 72

Rum, 246

Rum un, 87

Runs, 348

Russia, 108

Sacer vates, 2

Sack, 325

Salver, 238

Sampler, 53

Sapped, 336

Sappers and Miners, 11

Sar' it out, 23

Sauce-pan, 181

Sauer-kraut, 7

Saxon, 18

Saxons, 12

Scan, 261

Scatter-brain, 24

Science, 98

Scoring-table, 349

Scrub, 370

Scythe, 4

Seal, 319

Sebastopol, 251

Sedan-chair, 121

Sedge-bird, 271

Servants' hall, 61

Sessions, 21

Set-tos, 353

Sets, 146

Settle, 53

Seven and sixers, 95

Sheep-walks, 14

Shell, 105

Shell lesson, 284

Sheridan Knowles, 328

Sheriff, 348

Shilling, 6

Shingle, 370

Shovel, 42

Side, 117

Silver, 208

Sindbad, 263

Sirens, 22

Sir Roger de Coverley, 43

Sir Walter, 14

Six minutes' law, 150

Skittles, 46

Skye, 370

Sliding-scales, 371

Slithering, 269

Slogger, 287

Smock frocks, 19

Snob, 330

Snuggery, 362

Sodden, 291

Sold, 198

Somersetshire, 30

Sovereign, 37

Sparring, 129

Spinney, 8

Sponge, 296

Sprats, 289

Spring-board, 202

Sprung, 192

Squaretoes, 325

Squire, 17

Stage, 80

St. Albans, 80

Stall, 238

Standard, 333

Staple, 165

Star, 74

Statute feasts, 31

Steeple-chase, 97

Sterling, 181

St. George, 13

Stickleback, 28

Stiggins, Mr., 9

Stolid, 55

Stone, 3

Studies, 96

Study-fagging, 178

Stuff, 34

Stump, 349

Stumped, 354

Summary, 288

Summut, 41

Surrey, 322

Swarmed, 269

Swiper Jack, 350

Swiping, 359

Swiss Family Robinson, 58

Swiveller, Richard, 9

Tabor, 34

Tacitly, 282

Tackle, 81

Tackle-maker, 204

Tails, 177

Talbots, 2

Tally-ho, 73

Tap, 83

Taxidermy, 252

Team, 350

Technicalities, 103

Ten-pound doctor, 20

Thatched, 9

Thick, 154

Three-decker, 147

Three pound ten, 6

Thunder-and-lightning, 292

Tick, 119

Ticket-of-leave-men, 200

Tie, 44

Tighe, 17

Tile, 94

Tip, 87

Tithe, 167

Tizzy, 184

Toady, 47, 176

Toby Philpot jug, 15

Toco, 112

Toffee, 69

Tom Crib, 98

Top-boots, 34

Topping, 351

Tors, 321

Tory, 57

Toryism, 368

Toss-up, 201

Town, 361

Treadmill, 5

Trencher, 82

True blue, 57

Tuck, 291

Tuck-shop, 119

Tuppence, 36

Turf-cart, 357

Turnspit, 49

Turret, 297

Tutelage, 32

Twenty, The, 364

Twisters, 322

Twod, 41

Two seven and sixers, 95

Um, 16

Umpire, 40

Un, 16

Uncovenanted mercies, 339

Unctuous, 290

Usher, 66

Utopian, 238

Valeted, 28

Van, 85

Vantage-ground, 152

Veathers, 41

Velveteens, 204

Verger, 100

Vernacular, 19

Verses, 182

Vested, 368

Vested interest, 196

Vestibule, 377

Vestry, 57

Veto, 165

Vicarious, 262

Vice, 332

Vizes, 44

Vlush, 41

Volition, 256

Vools, 19

Wainscoted, 82

War, The, 237

'Ware, 274

Wash, 232

Waterloo, 116

Wattle, 151

Way-bill, 83

Wayland Smith's cave, 14

Wench, 35

West-countryman, 18

West End clubs, 46

Whey, 26

Whum, 19

Wicket, 52

Wickets, 90, 346

Wig, 28

Will-he, nill-he, 105

William IV., 133

Wiltshire, 30

Winded, 293

Windsor Castle, 98

Wiseacre, 325

Wiseacres, 213

Wooy, 37

Worships, 358

Wos-bird, 42

Wur, 44

Wykeham, 259

Yeast, 45

Yeomanry, 21, 238

Yeomen, 1

Yule-tide, 19

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.

2. Passages in bold are indicated by #bold#.

3. Footnotes have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the end

of the paragraph referring to the particular footnote.

4. The original text includes Greek characters. For this text version

these letters have been replaced with transliterations.

5. Obvious punctuation errors have been silently corrected, such as,

addition of missing period at the end of sentences, etc.

6. Other than the changes listed above, printer's inconsistencies in

spelling, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been retained.