The next morning, when he got up, Ernest was told, after prayers, to
take his seat on a vacant bench at the bottom of the school, till the
Doctor had time to examine him. He felt rather nervous about his
examination, for he had been led to suppose it a very awful affair. At
last the Doctor called him up and asked him what books he had read.
Ernest ran through a long list; Sir Walter Scott's novels, and Locke on
the Human Understanding, were among them. The Doctor smiled as he
enumerated them.
"I fear that they will not stand you in good stead here, my man; the
books I mean are Greek and Latin books. What have you read of them?"
"None, sir, right through. I know a great number of words, and can put
them together, and papa and I sometimes talk Latin and Greek together,
just as easily as we do French and German and Italian."
"I have no doubt that you will do in the end," observed Doctor Carr. "I
make a rule, however, to put boys who have not read certain books in the
class in which those books are about to be read, and let them work their
way up. I reserve the power of removing a boy up as rapidly as I think
fit, so that if you are diligent I have no doubt that you will rapidly
rise in the school."
Ernest thanked the Doctor, and in the forenoon went up with his new
class. He felt rather ashamed at finding himself among so many little
boys, and still more at the bungling, hesitating way in which they said
their lessons. They were just beginning Caesar. He found that he could
quickly turn it into English, but he took his dictionary that he might
ascertain the exact meaning of each word. The Doctor called up his
class that day, though he generally heard only the upper classes.
Ernest began at the bottom, but before the lesson was over he had won
his way to the top of the class.
"Very good indeed, Bracebridge," said the Doctor with an approving
smile; "you may read as much Caesar as you like every day. I will beg
Mr Johnson to hear you, and when you have got through it you shall be
moved into the next class."
Many of the boys thought this a very odd sort of reward, and were much
surprised to hear Ernest thank the Doctor for his kindness. They would
have considered it a greater reward to be excused altogether from their
lessons. Much more surprised were they to find Ernest working away day
after day at his Caesar, and translating as much as Mr Johnson had time
to listen to. He read on so clearly and fluently that most of the boys
declared that he must have known all about it before. A few felt
jealous of him, and tried to interrupt him; but he went steadily working
on, pretending to take no notice of these petty annoyances launched at
him. In the course of a fortnight he was out of the class and placed in
the next above it. This he got through in less than a month, and now he
found himself in the same with Buttar, Dawson, and Bouldon. They
welcomed him very cordially, though they could not exactly understand
how he managed so quickly to get among them. The two latter, however,
were especially indignant when they discovered his style of doing his
work.
"It's against all school morality," exclaimed Tommy, with a burst of
virtuous anger. "How should we be ever able to get through half our
lessons if we were to follow your plan? You must give it up, old
fellow; it won't do."
"I am sorry that I cannot, to please you," answered Ernest. "You see, I
want to read through all these books, that I may get to higher ones
which are more interesting; and then I want to get to College as soon as
possible, that I may begin life. Our days in this world are too short
to allow us to waste them. If I get through school twice as fast as any
of you, I shall have gained so many years to my life. That is worth
working for--is it not?"
"My notion is, that we should do as few lessons and amuse ourselves as
much as we can," answered Tom Bouldon. "When we are grown up there will
be time enough to think of employing time; I do not see any use in
looking forward to the future, which is so far off."
"What are we sent into this world for, do you think?" asked Ernest.
"I'm sure I don't know," answered Bouldon.
"To spend the money which is left us, or to go into professions to make
our fortunes," observed Dawson.
"I should think rather to prepare for the future," remarked Ernest. "So
my father has always told me, and I am very sure that he is right. We
are just sent into this world to prepare for another, and that
preparation is to be made by doing our duty to the best of our power in
that station of life in which we are placed. It is our duty when we are
boys to prepare for being men, by training our minds and bodies, and by
laying in as large a share of knowledge as we can obtain."
"Oh, that's what the saints say!" exclaimed Dawson, with a laugh. "We
shall very soon christen you the saint, Bracebridge, if you talk in that
way."
"I don't mind what you may call me," said Ernest, quietly; "I only
repeat what a sensible man has told me; I am very certain that he has
only said what he knows to be the truth."
Neither Dawson nor Bouldon would be convinced that Ernest was talking
sense, but Buttar, who was listening, drank in every word he said. He
had at first felt an inclination to patronise the new boy, but he now
tacitly acknowledged him as his superior in most respects, except
perhaps a small amount of the details of school knowledge.
Ernest, however, had been too carefully trained by his father to presume
on this superiority. He, of course, could not help feeling that he did
many things better than most of his companions, but then he was
perfectly conscious that if they had possessed the advantages his father
had given him, they would probably have done as well.
With the ushers he was a favourite, especially with his own master, who
was under the impression that the rapid progress he made was owing to
his instruction; while Doctor Carr soon perceived that he was likely to
prove a credit to the school. Ernest, however, was not perfect, and he
had trials which were probably in the end good for him. Some of the
elder boys were jealous of the progress he made, and called him a
conceited little puppy. Blackall, who was only in the third class, and
had from the first taken a dislike to him, did not like to see him
catching him up, as he called it. With mere brute force Ernest could
not contend, so that he got many a cuff and kick from the ill-disposed
among the elder boys, which he was obliged to take quietly, though he
might have felt the inclination to resent the treatment he received.
At length he began to prefer the hours spent in school, because he was
there certain of being free from the annoyances in the playground. The
bigger boys did not condescend to play with hoops, but Ernest was very
fond of all games played with them. Buttar and he were generally on one
side, opposed to Dawson and Bouldon.
"Who's for prisoners' base?" exclaimed Buttar coming out from school
into the playground with his hoop in his hand.
Plenty of boys were ready to join, and soon there was a tremendous
clattering away with hoop-sticks and hoops, while Ernest was seen with a
light thin hoop, dodging in noiselessly among them. His hoop-stick was
as light as his hoop, which he never beat. He merely pressed the stick
against it, and in an instant, by placing the stick on the top, could
either stop or turn, while he kept it under the most perfect command.
The sides were soon arranged. Out he darted with his swift hoop towards
the enemy's prison, which he circled round; and though Tom Bouldon was
on the watch to catch him, he kept dodging about till another of his own
side ran out, in the hope of knocking down Bouldon's hoop. Bouldon was
in honour bound to follow Ernest till he touched his hoop, or drove him
back to his base. Ernest drove on his hoop to a considerable distance,
with Tommy after him. Jones, one of Ernest's side, pursued Tommy,
Dawson pursued Jones, and Dawson, in his turn, was followed by Buttar,
and so on, till every one playing was out with the double work of having
to try and make a prisoner, and, at the same time, to escape from the
boy pursuing him. To a spectator not knowing the game, it might have
appeared as if all was confusion: but those playing knew exactly what
they were about, and felt that all their energies and science were
required to enable them to play well. Ernest's great aim was to lead
Bouldon into such a position that Jones might catch him. This he at
last succeeded in doing, and Tommy and his hoop were sent into prison,
and as no one was at the base, there he had every chance of remaining
some time. Meantime, Ernest rushed to the base, to be ready to capture
any one who might get back on the opposite side and endeavour to rescue
Bouldon. He was joined speedily by Jones, who had only to look out so
as to escape from Dawson. Dawson might have caught him, but, being
himself pursued, he had to take care of his own safety. When Dawson saw
that Jones had escaped him, he could with honour return to his camp; but
his pursuer was nimble of foot, and had a light hoop, and just before he
reached his base, he, or rather his hoop, was touched, and he had to
take up his place in the prison. Thus the game continued with great
animation, victory appearing now to lean to one side, now to the other;
but on each occasion when their side got the worst of it, Ernest and
Buttar made such well-directed efforts that they speedily restored the
day. Now, all but three on their side were captured. Out sprung Ernest
with his hoop, flying like the wind; and while his opponents were
looking on at the rapidity of his movements, Buttar, who had thrown
himself on the ground, as if exhausted, leaped up, and dashing along,
had recovered a prisoner before any one could overtake him. Ernest in
like manner regained another, and wheeling round as soon as he had
entered the base, he was off again, and had sent an opponent to prison,
and rescued another friend, without for a moment stopping. Sometimes he
would tell Buttar exactly what he was going to do, and so well were his
plans laid, that he seldom failed to accomplish his design. This gave
him confidence in himself, and gained him the perfect confidence of his
companions. At length Ernest and Buttar succeeded in putting every one
of their opponents in prison, and loud shouts from their side proclaimed
that they had won the well-contested victory. The game was over; the
light hoops were laid aside, and Dawson proposed that they should play
at English and French. Their chargers, as they called their heavy
hoops, were brought out from the play-room, and the two parties, joined
by a good many more, drew up on opposite sides of the field. Even some
of the bigger fellows condescended to join in the game. It was
generally supposed to depend more on strength than skill. The strongest
hoops were used, and if a hoop was once down, the owner was obliged to
retire from the field. Just as they were about to begin, Blackall
passed by. Dawson instantly called to him--
"I say, Blackall--there's a good fellow--do come and be our captain.
Here's my biggest hoop--it's a stunner! Under your guidance it is sure
to gain us the victory."
"Well, I don't mind helping you," answered Blackall, carelessly, eyeing,
however, Ernest and Buttar, for both of whom he had an especial dislike.
"That won't do," observed Buttar, who was one of the captains of his
party. "Stay, I'll get Lemon to join us. He won't mind taking a
hoop-stick to help us; and he, and you, and I, together with a few other
good fellows and true, will be able to hold our own against Dawson and
Tommy, even though they have Bully Blackall with them."
Buttar soon found Miles Lemon, who, though he was reading an interesting
book, jumped up with the most good-natured alacrity, and undertook to
act as the leader of their party.
"Oh, you fellows were afraid to take care of yourselves!" exclaimed
Blackall, when he saw Lemon and Buttar approaching. "Well, we will see
what we can do."
There were full thirty boys on each side--nearly half the school. None
of the bigger boys, of course, condescended to play with hoops.
Blackall and Lemon, indeed, made it understood that they only joined as
leaders, and on no account for their own amusement, while there were a
good many small boys who were considered too weak to take part in so
rough a sport. The armies were drawn up in double line, one at each end
of the gravel playground. At a signal given, they rushed forward to the
deadly strife, some striking away at their heavy hoops with all their
might, and using clubs rather than hoop-sticks. Ernest offered a great
contrast to those heavy chargers. He entered the battle with his light
hoop and hoop-stick, and when the signal was given, rushed forward in
the van to commence the strife. On came Blackall, highly indignant to
see a new boy taking the lead in so prominent a way. He struck his hoop
with a force sufficient to overthrow not only Ernest's hoop, but Ernest
himself; but the young champion knew well what he was about. Instead of
waiting for the blow, by a dexterous turn he brought the edge of his
light hoop against the side of Blackall's, which went reeling away among
the following crowd, and was instantly upset. Ernest was in time to
treat another hoop of the second line in the same fashion, and then he
sprang on with a shout of victory to the end of the ground. Several
times the two parties changed sides, and each time five or six hoops
went down, sometimes more. It was a regular tournament, such as was
fought by the knights of old, only hoops were used instead of horses,
and hoop-sticks in lieu of lances; but the spirit which animated the
breasts of the combatants was the same, and probably it was enjoyed as
keenly. Blackall stood on one side, eyeing with revengeful feelings the
success which attended Ernest wherever he moved. Backwards and forwards
he went; and although constantly charged and marked out for destruction
by the biggest fellows on the opposite side, always avoiding them, and
seldom failing to strike down one or more hoops in every course.
Blackall could not understand how it was. He was not aware what a
well-practised eye, good nerves, and a firm will could accomplish.
Ernest's father had instilled into him the principle, that whatever is
worth doing at all, is worth doing as well as it can be done. So, when
he took a hoop in his hand, he considered how he could use it to the
best advantage; and from the first, he never played with it without
endeavouring to perfect himself in some method of turning it here or
there, of stopping it suddenly, or of twirling it round.
A second time that day did Ernest's party come off victorious. Some
said that it was owing to Lemon having joined them: but Lemon himself
confessed that he had not done half as much execution as had young
Bracebridge. From that day Lemon noticed Ernest in a very marked way,
and when he spoke to him treated him as an equal in age. Some of his
first companions declared that, to a certainty, Bracebridge would be
very much cocked up by the attention shown him; but they were mistaken,
for he pursued the even tenor of his way without showing that he by any
means thought himself superior to his companions.
The Easter holidays arrived. Those who lived near enough to the school
went home; but as the boys were generally collected from widely
separated parts of England, Scotland, and Ireland, the greater number
remained. They had greater liberty than at any other time, and were
allowed to make long excursions with one of the masters, or with some of
the bigger boys who, from their good principles and steadiness, were
considered fit to be entrusted with them. Lemon was high enough in the
school to have that honour, and so Ernest and Buttar always endeavoured
to belong to his party. Lemon was very glad to have them, as he found
them more companionable than many of the bigger fellows, and he had no
difficulty in keeping them in order. Tom Bouldon was also frequently of
their party. He had tried others, but after some experience he found
their society by far the most satisfactory. Blackall, although a bully,
stood pretty well with the masters. He had cleverness sufficient to get
through his lessons with credit, and he had sense enough to keep himself
out of mischief generally. Doctor Carr now and then had uncomfortable
feelings about him. He was not altogether satisfied with his plausible
answers; nor did he like the expression of his countenance, that almost
sure indicator of the mind within. Still the Doctor hoped that he might
be mistaken, and did not forbid Blackall, who was appointed to the
office by one of the masters, to take out a party of youngsters. Far
better would it have been for the boys had they been kept shut up within
the walls of the school-room on the finest days of the year than have
been allowed to go out with such an associate. Blackall wanted to be
considered a man, and he thought the sure way to become so was to
imitate the vices and bad habits of men. Too well do I remember the
poison he poured into the ears of his attentive and astonished hearers.
About five miles off there was a village with a few small shops in it.
One of them contained books and stationery, and cigars and snuff. It
was much patronised by Blackall, not for the former, but for the latter
articles. He thought it very manly not only to have his cigar-case, but
his snuff-box. Lemon never failed to ridicule him to the other boys for
his affectation of manliness. He did this to prevent them from
following so pernicious an example.
"See that fellow, now, making a chimney of his mouth and a dust-hole of
his nose," observed Lemon, when one day he and his party passed him,
with several of his companions, lying on the grass on a hill side, three
or four miles from the school. Blackall had a huge cigar in his mouth,
and a small boy sat near him, looking pale as death, and evidently
suffering dreadfully.
"What's the matter, Eden?" asked Lemon, kindly, as he passed him.
"Oh--oh! it's that horrid tobacco! I thought I should like it; but I'm
going to die--I know that I am. Oh dear! oh dear!" answered the little
fellow.
"I hope that you are not going to die," said Lemon; "but you will not
get well sitting there in the hot sun. Jump up, and come with us.
Bracebridge and Buttar and I will help you along. There's a stream of
clear cold water near here; a draught of that will do you much good.
Think how pleasant it will be trickling down your throat, and putting
out the fire which I know you feel burning within you."
The picture that Lemon thus wisely drew was so attractive, that the
little fellow got slowly up, and tried to walk along with him.
"Where are you going to take Eden to?" shouted Blackall, when he saw
what was occurring.
"Out of mischief," answered Lemon. "We are going to the seaside, and--
some fresh air will do him good."
"He is under my charge, and you have no business to take him away from
me," said Blackall.
Lemon had become much interested in poor little Eden, who was a
promising boy, and who he saw would be ruined if left much in Blackall's
society. He therefore, like a true-hearted, conscientious person,
resolved by all means to save him. He did not say, like some people,
after a few slight efforts, "I have done my duty. I warned him of the
consequences, and I am not called on to do any more." When he wanted to
draw a boy out of danger, he made him his friend; he worked and worked
away; he talked to him; he showed him the inevitable result of his
folly; he used arguments of all sorts; he worked on all the better
feelings the boy might possess; and what was of still more avail, he did
not trust to his own strength for success--he prayed earnestly at the
Throne of Grace--at that Throne where such prayers are always gladly
heard--that his efforts might avail: and others wondered, more than
Lemon himself, how it was when Lemon took a fellow in hand that he
always turned out so well. For this important object he struggled hard
to obtain popularity in the school, and succeeded; for no boy of his age
and size was so popular among all the right-thinking and well-disposed
boys as he was. On this occasion he resolved not to leave Eden in
Blackall's power.
"If he wishes to come, I shall certainly allow him," said Lemon.
"He was committed to my charge by Mr Ogilby, and you have no business
to take him away," cried Blackall, still leaning lazily on his arm, and
continuing to smoke.
"To make him sick and wretched; to teach him to smoke and to drink beer
and spirits, and to listen to your foul conversation--you reprobate!"
answered Lemon calmly, as he stopped and faced Blackall.
"By God! I'll thrash you for that as soundly as you ever were in your
life," exclaimed Blackall, taking his cigar out of his mouth, and rising
to his feet.
Earnest's heart rose to his mouth; Buttar clenched his fists tightly.
Putting Eden behind them, they sprang to Lemon's side, and looked
defiantly at the approaching bully. None of the other boys of either
party stirred. Blackall did not like the aspect of affairs. He knew
that though, from his greater strength and weight, he could thrash
Lemon, he could not hope at any time to gain an easy victory; and from
what he had observed of Ernest, he suspected that if he did strike, he
would strike very hard and sharp. Buttar also, when once he was
attempting to thrash him, had given him such a hit in the eye that the
mark had remained for a fortnight at least, to the no small satisfaction
of those whom he had been accustomed to bully. He therefore stopped
just before he got up to Lemon.
"Come," he said, "I don't want to quarrel. Let Eden remain, and I'll
cry _pax_."
"Certainly not, Blackall, you've let Eden do what is forbidden; you are
setting him a bad example. I shall therefore be glad to take him away
from you. He wishes to accompany me, and I shall let him do so," was
the answer.
"Oh, you're a puritanical saint, Lemon,--all the school knows that,"
said Blackall with a sneer with which he hoped to cover his own retreat.
He had been telling the fellows around him that he felt very seedy, and
as he looked at the firm front of his three antagonists he had no fancy
to commence a desperate fight with them.
"I wish to deserve the good opinion of my schoolfellows, and I do not
believe that they will agree with you," said Lemon. "If hating vice and
despising the low practices in which you indulge will make me a saint, I
am ready to acknowledge the impeachment, and I can only say that I hope
the poor little fellows may see the hideousness of sin, and loathe it as
much as they do the vile tobacco-leaves you give them to suck, and the
spirits and beer which you teach them to drink. Stop! hear me out.
There is nothing immoral in drinking a glass of beer or in smoking, but
in our case they are both forbidden by the Doctor, whom we are bound to
obey. Both become vices when carried to excess, as you, Blackall, carry
them, and would teach your pitiable imitators to carry them; and I warn
you and them that such practices can only bring you disgrace and misery
at last."
Lemon, without saying another word, turned on his heel, and, accompanied
by his two sturdy supporters, was walking away.
"Do you mean to say that I drink?" shouted Blackall, with an oath, as
soon as he could recover from the astonishment into which this unusual
style of address had thrown him.
Lemon turned round, looked him full in the face, and said, "I do." Then
he went on the way he had been going. Blackall did not say another
word, but staggered back to the bank on which he had been sitting, and
endeavoured to re-light the end of the cigar he had dropped when he got
up. He knew that Lemon had spoken the truth. Already he had that day
stopped at more than one road-side ale-house and drunk several glasses
of beer. "_In vino-veritas_," is a true saying. Blackall when sober
might pass for a very brave fellow: his true character came out when he
was drunk, and he showed himself an arrant coward, as he had done on
this occasion. The boys who remained with him looked very foolish, and
some of them felt heartily ashamed of their leader. Some resolved to
break from him altogether, but he had thrown his chains too firmly over
others to allow them to hope or even to wish to get free from him.
Lemon, Ernest, Buttar, and their companions continued their walk,
carrying poor little Eden along with them. He confessed to having
chewed a piece of the cigar and swallowed it, before he discovered that
it was not intended to be eaten. Happily for him, he became violently
sick, and then, having washed his face in a brook and taken a draught of
cold water, he was able to enjoy the beautiful coast scenery the party
ultimately reached.
"Is not this much better than sitting smoking and boozing with that
thick-headed fellow, Blackall, and his set?" said Ernest, addressing
young Eden.
"Indeed it is," was the answer. "I'm sure if Lemon will let me come
with him, I will gladly promise never to go out with Blackall any more."
"Stick to that resolution, my boy," replied Ernest. "I'll undertake
that Lemon will let you accompany him; and now let us go down on the
beach. These sands look very tempting."
The whole party were soon on the sands, strolling along and picking up
the various marine curiosities they found in their way. Most of the
party wondered at the odd-shaped things they picked up, but had not the
slightest notion of their names, or even whether they were animal or
vegetable. Ernest knew very little on the subject, though he had read a
book or so about the wonders of the sea-shore; but Lemon was able to
give his party nearly all the information they required. One of their
number was called John Gregson. He was looked upon by the school
generally as rather stupid. He seldom joined in any of their games; and
when he did, played them very badly, unless they were such as required
more judgment than practice. Now, however, he showed that he possessed
some knowledge which the others did not. Ernest had picked up a
roundish object with a hole through it, and partly covered with spines,
which Tom Bouldon stoutly declared to be a fish's egg.
"It must have been a very large fish, then," observed Ernest. "Those
prickles, too, are puzzling. Perhaps they grew after the egg was laid."
The general opinion was that Gregson knew something about all sorts of
out-of-the-way matters.
"I say, Gregson, this is a regular-built _egg_; isn't it?" said Bouldon,
as soon as he could be found. He was discovered up to his knees in a
pool among the rocks, with a hammer and chisel in hand, working
perseveringly under water.
"No; you first make a statement totally at variance with the truth, and
then ask a question," answered the young naturalist, looking up from his
occupation, but apparently not well pleased at being interrupted. "That
is the _Echinus esculentus_, or sea-urchin. Just let me finish knocking
off this magnificent anemone, and I'll tell you all about it."
"Anemone! Oh, I know--one of those curious coloured sea-weedy things
I've seen girls collect at watering-places," observed Bouldon, whose
knowledge of natural history was not very extensive. "I'd save you all
that trouble; let me cut it off with my knife."
"Not for the world; you'd kill it, to a certainty," exclaimed Gregson.
"See, I have knocked off a piece of the rock to which it is sticking,
and I may now put it into my jar. Now I could cut off any portion of
it, and the part cut off will turn into a new anemone, but if I were to
injure the base the animal would quickly die. They belong to the class
scientifically called _Anthozoa_ or living flowers, because from their
external appearance they seem to partake of the vegetable nature. Just
look into that part of the pool which I have left undisturbed. See,
there are two of them feeding. Look how they stretch out their long
tentacles to catch hold of their food. Ah! that one has got hold of a
tiny shrimp, and is tucking it into his hungry maw, which is just in the
middle of its flower-like body. Is he not a handsome fellow? What
beautiful colours he presents! Ah! I thought that I should see
something else in the pool that you would think curious. Look down
close. There are three or more little globular bodies floating about
like balloons. The animal is the berve. It has ciliated bands round
it, like the marks on a melon. What a beautiful iridescent light plays
over them! They enable it to move over the water, while with its long
tentacles it fishes for its food. At night those cilia shine with a
phosphorescent light, and have a very beautiful appearance. Stop! oh,
don't go away without looking more particularly at this submarine
forest. The woods of America in autumn do not present more gorgeous
colours. That beautiful pink weed is the _Delesseria sanguinea_. Let
us pull up some and take it with us to dry it. It will keep its colour
for years and its smell for months. See, those are shrimps cruising in
and about those delicate branches, and crabs crawling round their stems,
and sandskippers darting about; ah, and there comes a goby! Did any of
you ever see a goby? Look at him!--what bright eyes he has got! He is
hardly bigger than a shrimp, but he is their deadly enemy. He eats up
their eggs and the young shrimps, as well as sandhoppers, and indeed
anything living which he can get into his big mouth. In his way he is
just as terrific a fellow as the shark. He is very hardy, too, and will
live in an aquarium with perfect contentment provided he can get enough
to eat."
"Well, I had no notion that so many curious things were to be found in a
little pool of water," observed Bouldon. "I've looked into hundreds,
but never found anything that I know of."
"Oh, I have not mentioned a quarter of the things to be found even in
this pool," answered Gregson. "Ah, look at that soldier-crab now! He
has just come out from among the sea-weed with his stolen shell in which
he has stowed away his soft tail. I'll tell you all about him--"
"Not now, Greggy, thank you," exclaimed Bouldon, who was getting
somewhat tired of the naturalist's accounts. When Gregson once began on
his favourite subject he was never inclined to stop. Nor was that
surprising, for no subject is more interesting and absorbing to those
who once take it up--nothing affords more pure or unmixed delight.
"But I say, Greggy, you promised to tell us about this sea-egg, or
whatever it is called," said Buttar. "Come, I want to hear."
"Well, look at this starfish," answered Gregson, drawing a five-fingered
jack from his jar. Then, taking the echinus in his hand,--"These two
fellows are first cousins, very nearly related, though you may not be
inclined to believe the fact. The thing you call an egg was as much a
living being, capable of feeding itself and producing young, as this
starfish. If I was to bend round the rays of the starfish and fill up
the interior, I could produce an animal very like the echinus. Both of
them have also a mouth at the lower part, and their internal structure
is very similar. It is curious that as the echinus grows he continually
sends forth a substance from the interior which simultaneously increases
the sides of all the plates which form his shell, and thus he never
finds his coat too small for him. The spines which appear so rigid when
he is dead, he can move when alive in any direction, and they are an
excellent substitute for feet; while he can put forth tentacles from the
centre orifice, which serve him as hands. Did you ever see a starfish
walk? Well, he can get very rapidly over the ground and up steep rocks.
He can bend his body into any shape, and the lower surface is covered
with vast numbers of tentacles, with which he can work his onward way;
and it is extraordinary what long journeys he is able to accomplish by
perseverance."
Gregson wound up his lecture by promising to commence a salt-water
aquarium, and most of his companions undertook to make another excursion
with him for the purpose of conveying back a sufficient supply of
salt-water and living curiosities to stock it. They all agreed that
they had mightily enjoyed their day's excursion. Ernest, for the first
time since he had come to school, felt rather ashamed of himself that he
knew so little about natural history, especially of the sea, and he
resolved to take every opportunity of making himself acquainted with the
subject. Just before they reached home they passed through the field
where they had left Blackall and his party. Most of the boys had gone
away; but they saw three or four collected together at the bank where
the bully had been sitting. He was there; and his companions were
bending over him endeavouring to rouse him up. Several empty porter
bottles lay near, which plainly told what was the matter with him--he
was helplessly tipsy. Lemon, and Ernest, and Buttar went forward to
help to drag him along. He looked a picture of imbecility and
brutishness. He knew none of them; and only grinned horribly when they
spoke to him. Though they felt he richly deserved punishment, it was a
point of honour to endeavour to save a school-fellow from disgrace, so
they hauled him along and got him into his room and put to bed without
meeting any of the masters or the matron--an undertaking they could not
have performed except in the holidays. Nearly all his companions next
day looked very wretched and complained of headaches--a pretty strong
proof of the ill effects of drinking. Alas, how many youths have been
hopelessly ruined by the example and counsels of a wretch like
Blackall!--and how many, in consequence of habits such as his, have sunk
into an early and unhonoured grave, after continuing for a time a
trouble and shame to all belonging to them! Let masters and parents
watch carefully against the first steps taken, often through folly and
idleness, towards so vile a habit; and most earnestly do I pray that
none of my young readers may be tempted to adopt so destructive a
practice.