Ernest liked his school very much, but he had good reason to love his
home still more, for such a home as his--or rather its inhabitants,
which constituted it his home--was well worthy of all the affection of
his warm affectionate heart. His father and mother were so wise and
sensible and kind, so just and so indulgent. The expression of their
countenances and their general personal appearance at once showed that
they were above the ordinary run of people; yet, noble as they looked,
none but the base and evil-disposed were afraid of them. It was a
pleasure to see the smiling faces and the affectionate looks with which
they were received as they walked about the village, where they and
their ancestors for several generations had lived before them. Often
and often they might be seen simply, and, if the weather was bad,
roughly, dressed; going from cottage to cottage, with a basket of
medicines, or provisions and clothing, for those poor neighbours who
were, they well knew, utterly unable to obtain them for themselves.
Their daughters followed their example. No more sweet, amiable, and yet
refined, girls were to be found in the country. Their brothers declared
that no such girls existed in the world; and yet, though they could do
all sorts of things, and ride, and fish, and even play cricket with them
on a pinch, they were not in the slightest degree proud or conceited.
They could sing and play, and when they went to balls, which was not
very often, no young ladies appeared to greater advantage, or were more
lively or graceful. They were admired, and yet fully respected, by all
who knew them.
I have described what Ernest was. His brothers were his equals in most
respects. His eldest brother was a very fine young man, and had taken
high honours at Cambridge. He was an excellent specimen of an English
gentleman of the nineteenth century. Free from all affectation and
pedantry, still his whole nature seemed to revolt from anything slangish
or low. No oaths, nor anything which would be considered one, nor any
cant expressions, ever escaped his lips. Yet he was full of life and
spirits, the soul of every society in which he moved. He had numerous
friends, and so mild and quiet was his disposition that he seldom or
never made enemies; or rather, I may say, if he made an enemy, he
quickly got rid of his enmity. All his brothers looked up to him, and
loved him heartily.
"My brother John says so and so," or "My brother John did so and so,"
was a constant phrase of theirs, and it was always something good he had
said or done. He was at home, and so were indeed all Ernest's brothers.
One was in the navy--Frank. What a light-hearted and merry fellow he
was. He had seen some hard service, had been highly spoken of in a
dispatch, and had a medal on his breast. He was a gallant, true-hearted
sailor, and was as much liked by his companions afloat as his brothers
were by theirs on shore.
Such were the inhabitants of Oaklands. The house itself was a fine old
substantially-built edifice, with thick walls, standing on a gentle
elevation, and overlooking a wide extent of country. The grounds which
surrounded it were large, and contained woods, and shady walks, and
fishponds, or rather lakes, and ornamental flower gardens, and rich
velvety lawns, and kitchen gardens.
A short time before the holidays, Mr Bracebridge had written to his
son, desiring to have the addresses of several of them. What was his
reason for doing this, his father did not tell him.
The holidays began. What a happy Christmas-day the whole family spent
together! It was spent as Christmas-day should be spent--in
affectionate family intercourse, and not in a wild gaiety which is
calculated to drive away all thought and recollection of the great and
glorious event it is intended to celebrate on that day. How happy
everybody was both upstairs and downstairs; what long yarns Frank spun
of his adventures in many lands, and his hair-breadth escapes; how he
made them laugh at some of his stories, and cry, if their hair did not
stand on end, at others, so exciting or so full of horror did they
appear. I should like to repeat some of them, but I have not time to do
so now. Of course everybody was wishing for a frost, that they might
have skating.
"Oh, how delightful it will be!" exclaimed the midshipman. "I have not
put on a pair of skates for the last five years. I have seen ice enough
and to spare in the shape of icebergs, and floes, and fields of ice, but
that is not the sort of ice suitable for skating. A big, thundering
iceberg is a wonderful thing; we nearly got run down by one, or rather
we nearly ran into one, if the truth must be said, when I was in the
`Stag,' only, of course, we always lay the blame on anything but
ourselves; so in this case we blamed the iceberg for getting in our way,
as if it had not just as much right to be there as we had, and as if it
had not been our business to get out of its way. We were going round
Cape Horn, and the master thought fit to make a considerable offing, and
to keep away to the southward. It was my watch on deck. We had a fair
wind on our starboard quarter. Jim Holdfast, whom I took out with me,
and who promises to turn out a prime sailor, was forward. It was a
pitchy dark night. We could barely make out our hands held out before
us, and as to seeing across the deck, that was impossible. We had three
reefs in our topsails, and though it was not blowing very hard--that is
to say, a man might open his mouth without fear of having his teeth
blown down his throat--we were running at the rate of nearly eight knots
an hour through the water. By the way the stern of the ship lifted, and
then by the feeling that she was gliding away downward into the depths
of some watery valley, we knew that huge mountainous seas were rolling
up astern of us. I frequently looked astern to try and make them out,
but I could only hear their loud surge or slush (I must coin a word), as
they broke close to our taffrail. Now and then, by keeping my eye on
the sky, a vast ominous darkness came up between me and it, and that I
knew from experience was a giant billow, big enough, if it once broke
over us, to swallow up us, or a ship ten times as large. My watch was
nearly out. I was thinking that I should not be sorry to get below, and
go fast asleep. Now, `you gentlefolks of England, who stay at home at
ease,' will, I dare say, fancy that no one could go to sleep under such
circumstances; but for us sailors it would never do if we allowed a gale
of wind or any such trifle to keep us awake when it was not our watch on
deck. The officer of the watch had just ordered eight bells to be
struck, that is to say, it was the end of the first watch, or twelve
o'clock at night, when a voice from forward shrieked out--for it was not
an ordinary hail, but a cry which showed that life or death depended on
the words being heard.
"`Iceberg ahead! Port the helm!--port--port--luff--luff! Ease away the
weather braces--haul taut the lee braces!'
"I recognised the voice as that of Jim Holdfast. I do not think the
second-lieutenant, who had the watch, was aware who was speaking, but he
was a sensible fellow, and instead of being angry, as some officers
would have been at finding anybody venturing to give an order instead of
themselves, he repeated it, and discovering that it was obeyed, hurried
forward to ascertain more clearly if possible the state of things. I
looked out to leeward. There rising, as it were, out of the ocean was
an indistinct mass of luminous matter (I can call it by no other name),
out of which proceeded a cold chilling air, piercing to our very marrow.
High, high above us it seemed to tower. The seas roared against its
base. Not a man on deck but held his breath, for no one knew what was
next to happen. We were terribly near to it. The sea, as it dashed up
the sides of the icy rock--for there was no doubt it was an iceberg--
came toppling back in showers of foam, and deluging our decks. As the
ship heeled over to the breeze, her mainyard, I verily believe, grazed
the iceberg. Had she been a few feet nearer to it, perhaps, I may say,
a few inches, I do not believe that the gallant little sloop or any one
on board would ever again have been heard of. The watch below had been
called, and they came tumbling up in a great hurry, not knowing what was
the matter. I could tell by the exclamations of a few near me that they
wished themselves anywhere but where they were. The dear little ship
flew on, and in another minute the iceberg was left astern. Then a
cheer from all hands arose, and I believe many returned sincere, though
silent, thanks to Him who had so mercifully preserved us. We hauled our
wind and stood to the northward, for we had no fancy to encounter
another of those big ice mountains in that dark night, not but what we
knew that even then we might still run against one. You see, our sailor
philosophy is to do our very best, and then not to trouble our heads
more than we can help as to what are to be the consequences. When the
excitement had calmed down, inquiries were made as to who had seen the
iceberg, and so promptly given the order to `port the helm,' through
which the ship had undoubtedly been saved. Jim Holdfast, when he heard
the inquiries made, was in a great fright, thinking that he was going to
be punished, or well rowed at all events; and he never would have
confessed that he had ventured to give the order, had not I gone to him
and insisted on his coming forward, and saying how he had seen the
iceberg, and had known that, unless what he had ordered was done, the
ship would be lost. The next day the sea went down, and we were able
before night to haul up permanently on our course for Valparaiso, the
capital of Chili. Well, after breakfast I got Jim to come aft with me
to the captain, who, with most of the officers, was on the quarter-deck.
"`I've found the culprit, sir,' said I. `Here's the man who first
discovered the iceberg, though he had never seen one before, and--'
"`And gave the order which saved the ship, and all our lives,' said the
captain, interrupting me, and smiling pleasantly. `Holdfast, my man,
you did a most seaman-like thing. I shall at once give you a higher
rating, for you have shown yourself thoroughly deserving of it.'
"I never saw a fellow so thoroughly astonished. He pulled away a lock
of his hair, till I thought he would haul it out by the roots, for he,
of course, held his hat in his hand; and he scraped away with his foot,
and said that he didn't think he had done anything out of the common
way, and it was only his duty, and that sort of thing; but there was
nothing like affectation in what he said. Still more astonished was he
when the captain continued--
"`You shall come to my clerk every day, and perhaps he will give you
some instruction which may be useful to you. If you go on as you have
begun, I may hope some day to see you on the quarter-deck.'
"The captain said a good deal more to the same effect. As I was saying,
Jim was astonished. He said very little in return, but only pulled away
harder than ever at his hair. Though before that time I should not have
supposed that he had a spark of ambition in his soul, I after this
observed a marked change in his demeanour and character. I suspect his
eye was never off the quarter-deck. When not on duty, he was always
reading and writing, and talking on nautical subjects. He was neater,
and cleaner, and more active than before; at the same time that he was
just as respectful as ever to all above him. He came home with us, and
as soon as the ship was paid off, he went of his own accord to a
nautical school to learn navigation, to enable him to do which he had
saved up every farthing of his pay. Now, I say that Jim has set an
example which many young gentlemen would do well to follow. If our
captain gets a ship soon, he will take him with him; and when he hears
how he has been employing his time on shore, I am very certain that he
will keep his eye on him, and advance him if he can."
Everybody present had listened with intense interest to Frank's account
of his ship's narrow escape from destruction, and this of course
encouraged him to continue his narrations on subsequent evenings; but as
my readers are not his brothers and sisters, and father and mother, who
might possibly be somewhat prejudiced in his favour, I will not repeat
them.
The young men and boys were all looking out eagerly for a frost; and
every night they went out, one after the other, to ascertain whether the
smell of the air gave indications of one having set in. Who does not
know that peculiar clear, fresh feeling, so invigorating and
exhilarating, which the air has when a frost has begun? Night after
night, however, passed, and still the frost did not commence; but as the
atmosphere grew colder and colder, everybody believed that their hopes
would not long be delayed. Skates, which had long lain dormant in
tool-chests and cupboards, were got out and polished. Skating shoes or
boots were greased, and straps were repaired. At last Ernest, in high
glee, rushed in among the family circle assembled around the
drawing-room fire one evening, and declared that a right honest frost
had, without the slightest doubt, set in, and that in two days he felt
sure the ice would bear. The anticipation of the pleasure they all so
much enjoyed put them into great spirits; and if either of the younger
ones had been asked what he considered the greatest misfortune that
could happen to the world, he would very likely have replied, a thaw.
When, however, they had exhausted the subject, or at all events the
patience of their hearers, their eldest sister proposed that those who
were not engaged in any manual employment should read or tell a tale.
The proposal was cordially welcomed. Frank gave for his share of the
evening's amusements a further account of his adventures; then a tale
was read; and at last Charles, Ernest's second brother, who had lately
returned from Germany, undertook to give a terrible ghost story which he
had heard in that country, and which, as he said, had the advantage of
being entirely true, though he was not disposed to quarrel with those
who would not believe it.
"Is it an ancient or modern story, Charles?" asked Ernest; "I have no
fancy for modern ghost stories. They all end in so ridiculous a way
that one feels vexed at having taken the trouble of reading them."
"Oh, this is a true antique tale," said Charles; "but you shall hear it.
Is everybody ready to attend? Well, then. Once upon a time--"
"No! no! no! Don't begin a story in that old-fashioned, obsolete way,"
exclaimed Ernest. "I never can fancy that a story is worth hearing when
it begins with `Once upon a time.'"
"Heave ahead! and let us hear what it is about," cried Frank. "Leave
out the `Once upon a time.' We are all ready. Just plunge at once into
the story--don't give us a long-winded prelude, that is all."
"Very well, then; I will leave out the objectionable expression, and
will begin at once by telling you all about the hero and his exploits up
to the time my story commences. So once more. Listen--listen now!
Here goes:--
"Kurd von Stein was a gallant and adventurous knight; he cared not how
far he wandered, nor what danger lay in his path. He had travelled to
all lands, and in all climates, defending ladies from insult, and the
defenceless from oppression. His love of adventure led him through wood
and wild, over mountains and across seas; but it was in the night that
he loved best to ride forth, when the soft moon shone on the silvery
lake and quiet forest; when the stars gazed calmly on the earth, as if
seeking to penetrate its future, and mourning over its past; when the
hoot of the owl and the cry of the beast of prey were the only sounds to
be heard, besides the tread of his own charger, when he left the forest
glade for the more beaten track.
"The Castle of Jauf, whose grey ruins may still be seen on a wooded
height in the high country of the Rhine, was at that time a stately
pile, with battlements, towers, and walls of massive strength; but it
was uninhabited even then, and in the country round strange tales were
told of sights and sounds which issued from it, not only at night, but
even during the day. Spirits were said to hold their meetings there,
and the place was shunned by all mankind.
"Sir Kurd, however, knew nothing of these tales; he had come from a
great distance, and beyond inquiring his way, and ordering his necessary
food, had held no communication with the peasantry, whose dialect was
with difficulty understood either by his servant or himself. As he came
within some hours of Jauf, he desired his servant to proceed to the
castle of a baron whom he had met in the wars in Belgium, and who lived
at no great distance, while he himself turned into the forest in hopes
of meeting with some adventure. On he rode, through the pleasant oak
woods, and by many a wild crag; but he at last found that he had
wandered out of the direction he meant to have taken, and had no idea
where he was, or which way he ought to turn to find his friend's castle;
but he comforted himself with the old proverb, `that every road leads to
Rome, and even out of the labyrinth you will reach your destination.'
"The last ray of sunset had disappeared as Sir Kurd entered a wide
valley, and faintly through the deepening gloom descried a large
building, standing on a height at its further end--it was the Castle of
Jauf. His horse was tired, and he himself both weary and hungry; he
therefore determined on going to the castle, and asking for food and
shelter for the night. He rode slowly up the hill on which the castle
stood; but as he came near the walls, the darkness increased so suddenly
that it was with difficulty he found the entrance to the court. He
called loudly, but no servant appeared at his summons. His shout was
given back by a dull echo from the walls, within which night and
solitude alone seemed to reign. The court was full with long grass; he
led his horse across it to a tall silver pine, whose outline he could
faintly trace through the darkness, bound him to it, and then sat down
to rest. After a little time he looked up,--and see! A light shone
from one of the windows! He rose quickly, found a door, and felt his
way up the narrow spiral staircase. At the top of the staircase was a
door, which he opened, and found himself in a large baronial hall; but
he hesitated to advance when he saw that the only person in it was a
girl, who sat by the long table. She wore a black dress, and a string
of large pearls confined her soft brown hair; and her attention was so
absorbed in a large book which was open before her, and which she read
by the light of a lamp, that she did not seem to be aware of the
knight's entrance. She was very lovely, and her expression told of a
gentle heart; but she was pale as a cloud, and some deep sorrow seemed
to have robbed her cheek of its roses.
"`Noble lady, I greet you well,' said the knight, at length.
"She looked up, and thanked him silently by a gentle inclination of her
head. He continued:--
"`In my journey through this wood I have lost my way; may I ask for some
food and a night's lodging?'
"She rose, and with noiseless step left the hall, returning presently
with two dishes, one of venison, another of wild fowl; these she placed
on the table, and again retiring, brought a goblet of sparkling red
wine. Having arranged everything, she signed to Sir Kurd to eat,
accompanying the sign with a sad smile. He very willingly accepted her
invitation; and though he found that both bread and salt had been
forgotten, his modesty prevented his asking for them. It seemed
strange, too, that not a single word had escaped the maiden's lips, and
he dared not speak to her. But the spirit of the generous wine, which
came from the sunny hills of Burgundy, began to assert its power over
him, and prompted him to speak as follows:--
"Much-honoured lady, may I be allowed one question?"
"She bent her head.
"I suppose you are the daughter of the house?"
"Again she bowed.
"`And who are your parents?'
"She turned to the wall of the apartment, on which hung many portraits
of knights and ladies; and pointing to the two last, she said, in a
voice so soft, so melodious, that it seemed like the sighing of an
Aeolian harp--
"`I am the last of my race.'
"`Here,' thought Sir Kurd, `this may turn out as good an adventure as
ever knight met with in an out-of-the-way part of the world. To be
sure, they sometimes won a princess, sometimes a wicked fairy; but this
maiden pleases me, and it is a splendid castle. Ah, poor thing! no
doubt it is grief at the loss of her parents which has paled her cheek.
Perhaps I may find means of comforting her.'
"He advanced, took her hand, and said--
"`Believe me, lady, I grieve to hear that death has so early robbed you
of your parents; but ladies require the protection of knights. Have
you--pardon the liberty I take--have you chosen one to make you happy?'
"She shook her head. He continued, modestly--
"`In that case, may Kurd von Stein--whose name may have been heard even
here as that of a trusty Knight of the Empire, and as having
distinguished himself in many wars--may Kurd von Stein offer you his
heart and hand?'
"A gleam of pleasure lighted up the pale face of the girl; such a one as
you may have seen pass over a meadow when the moon shone suddenly from
behind a cloud. She rose, and from a cupboard brought two gold-rings,
set in black, and a wreath of sweet rosemary, [See Note 1.] which she
twisted amongst the pearls in her hair. She signed to the knight to
follow, and went towards the door. As he passed down the hall, he
wondered that neither male nor female attendants were to be seen; but at
that moment the door was thrown open by two old men in full holiday
suit. Their robes were white, and richly embroidered with gold; their
black barettes had large silver ornaments. They placed themselves on
either side of the knight and lady, and with them descended the long
flight of stairs, on which Sir Kurd's step alone was heard; the others
seemed rather to glide than walk.
"Sir Kurd began to feel very uncomfortable; he did not like the style of
thing at all, and half repented of having pledged himself; but it was
now too late to retract, and an irresistible power seemed to draw him
onwards. The old men led them to the castle chapel. Lights already
burned on the high altar; monuments of gleaming white marble, ornamented
with weapons and golden inscriptions, rose on all sides. It was before
one of these that the lady stopped; the iron figure of a bishop rested
on it; the eyes were closed, the hands folded. She touched the figure;
it instantly rose, and the eyes sparkled, as you may have seen the
northern lights sparkle through the keen air of a winter night. He went
to the altar, and standing before the bridal pair, said, in a deep and
solemn voice--
"`Say, Sir Kurd von Stein, will you wed with the noble and honourable
Lady Bertha von Windeck?'
"As the leaves of the aspen and tremulous poplar shiver when a chilly
breeze touches them, so trembled the knight as the lady passed her arm
round him. He tried to say--he did not quite know what; but he could
not utter a sound, his very blood seemed curdled in his veins. Hark!--
the crowing of a cock. A storm swept through the chapel, and the castle
trembled to its very foundations. In an instant all had vanished, and
Sir Kurd sank down in a swoon. On coming to himself, he lay--where?
Amongst the long grass in the castle court, under the spreading branches
of the silver pine, and by his side stood his faithful charger, while
the cold grey light of morning began to appear in the east.
"`Was it a dream? Did I really see these awful sights?' said the knight
to himself; and still the cock crew on.
"Sir Kurd mounted his horse, quickly left the castle, and, without
looking behind him, rode towards the spot where the cock was yet
crowing. He soon reached a hospitable farm-house, standing amongst the
meadows in the valley, by the side of a clear stream. Here he
dismounted, just as the sun rose, and while partaking of a hearty
breakfast, of which he stood in great need, he related to the farmer all
his adventures of the past night, who, in his turn, told many others of
the same sort. Sir Kurd found that his servant had been unable to reach
the castle to which he had sent him, and had spent the night at the
farm; so they soon after started together, the knight feeling most
thankful to be rid of his ghostly bride."
Charles's story met with perhaps more applause even than it deserved.
He confessed that it was a very free translation of a German tale he had
read somewhere, but it was not admired the less for all that.
Two days after this a carriage drove up to the door, and out of it
stepped Buttar and Ellis. Ernest knew nothing of their coming. It was
a surprise his father wished to give him. The boys were delighted to
meet each other, and kept shaking hands till they nearly dislocated each
other's wrists. Buttar, who had come from a distance, had picked up
Ellis on the way. The parents of the latter were glad to have him with
a companion like Ernest, from whom, from his account, they believed he
could reap so much benefit.
Not long after another carriage arrived, and great was the delight of
all parties when Lemon and Tom Bouldon's faces were seen looking out of
the window.
"This is jolly!--how delightful!--how capital!--what fun!" were some of
the exclamations which escaped the boys' lips as they shook hands with
each other.
"And the frost has begun here, as I suppose it had with you," added
Ernest. "And the gardener says he is certain that the ponds will bear
to-morrow, and if they do, we shall have some magnificent skating.
There is not a particle of snow on the ice, and when it set there was a
perfect calm, so that it is as smooth--as smooth--what shall I say?--as
ice can be. Oh, we shall have some first-rate skating, and hockey,
perhaps, and sleighing also, such as people have in Canada. John has
had a sleigh built, such as he saw when he went over there in the last
long vacation. He proposes to drive young Hotspur in it. We shall fly
over the ground at a tremendous rate if he does. There isn't a horse in
the country like young Hotspur for going. My pony, whom we call
Larkspur, is first-rate of his sort; but when I am riding out with any
one mounted on young Hotspur I feel just as if I was on board a small
yacht with the `Alarm' or one of those large fast racing cutters in
company. You have all brought your skates I hope. If you have not, I
dare say we have some spare ones which will fit you. We have had them
given to us at different times, and most of my brothers have outgrown
theirs, so that I have no doubt we shall find enough. Oh, Ellis, do you
say that you cannot skate? Never mind, you will soon learn. You have
learned many things more difficult. I'll undertake that you will be
quite at home on your skates in the course of a week."
So Ernest ran on, as he conducted his friends round the house, to
exhibit to them its numberless attractions, and to show them their
rooms. They could not fail to be pleased, for the house, although not
fitted up with anything like luxury, contained within itself abundance
of objects to afford amusement and instruction to the inmates when
confined by bad weather.
There was a first-rate library, in the first place, and a very
interesting museum, illustrating all parts of the world. The articles
in it were well arranged, and every one had a clearly written and full
description attached to it. The articles from each country were placed
together, and the countries were arranged according to their respective
quarters of the globe. There were good maps, and many pictures
illustrating the scenery or habits and customs of the inhabitants. Many
hours might be passed profitably in it, which is not often the case with
museums. At all events, I have never found that I could carry away much
information from one. At the same time, I own that I think very likely
I may have a more correct notion of the forms of animals, and of the
shape of boats and buildings of foreign countries, than I should possess
had I not visited the British Museum, and others of less note. The most
advantageous way of visiting a general museum is to go with a definite
object each time, and to attend exclusively to that object. I have
never seen a museum better arranged than that which had been formed by
Mr Bracebridge, aided by his sons, who were great collectors for it,
and accordingly took a warm interest in its success. However, not only
studiously disposed people found amusement in the house. There was a
billiard table, and foils, and boxing-gloves, and single-sticks, and
basket-sticks, and implements for all sorts of less athletic games at
which ladies can play.
"Why, Ernest, you live in a perfect paradise of a home," exclaimed
Buttar, as at last they reached the sleeping-rooms which Mrs
Bracebridge had appropriated to her young guests.
"My father and mother make it so," said Ernest, enthusiastically. "They
regulate everything so well, and yet we have such perfect liberty. Our
father trusts us entirely. He tells us that there are certain things
which he does not wish us to do--sometimes he gives us his reasons, and
very good ones they are; at other times he gives no reason, but simply
says we are not to do certain other things, and we know that his reasons
are good, so we do not think of doing them. Frequently he leaves us to
act according to our discretion, and gives us only general rules for our
guidance."
Buttar could thoroughly appreciate the advantages his friend possessed,
for they were advantages of no ordinary kind, and were the cause of the
superiority he possessed over the greater number of his companions.
What a merry evening that was on which the boys arrived! Lemon had met
Charles Bracebridge in Germany, though it was only just before the
holidays he discovered that Ernest was his brother. He now came more
especially to visit him. He was of a more suitable age than Ernest for
a companion.
There was a Christmas-tree loaded with really useful prizes, so that all
the boys were glad enough to obtain some of them, and their distribution
caused great fun; then they had a most uproarious game of blindman's
buff. Some of them dressed up in all sorts of costumes, so that when
they were caught, the blind man could not tell who they were.
Bouldon made a capital blind man. He rushed furiously here and there,
over everybody and everything, never minding where he went, shrieking
with laughter all the time, but keeping his hands well out before his
head, so that he ran no chance of knocking it against the wall. More
than once Tom came head over heels down on the ground; but amid the
shouts of laughter, in which he himself heartily joined, having stood on
his head for a minute, he leaped up, and made a desperate dash at some
of the players. At last he caught Buttar, who also made a very amusing
blind man, and though he suffered several mishaps, never for a moment
lost his temper.
Among Buttar's very many good qualities, a fine temper was one. Nothing
ever put him out, though he was often much tried. He was good-tempered
by nature, but he was also good-tempered from principle. He knew how
wrong it is to lose temper, and he despised the frivolous excuses often
made by people for doing so. The game of blindman's buff lasted a
wonderfully long time. At last the ladies began to think that it had
become almost too boisterous, and Lemon, who was a capital hand at
starting games, proposed the game of "baste the bear."
"What's that?" asked Buttar. "In all my experience I never heard of
that game."
"I'll show you, then. Who knows it? Do any of you?"
Tom Bouldon acknowledged that he did.
"Very well, Tom; you must be the first bear. I'll be your keeper," said
Lemon. "Properly speaking, everybody ought to draw lots as to who
should be bear, and the bear selects his keeper. However, we will
suppose that preliminary got over. All the rest of the company are to
tie their handkerchiefs into knots, with which to baste the bear. Now,
I, as keeper, will fasten a rope round the waist of the bear, leaving a
scope of about five feet. We take our position within a circle of about
five feet in diameter, in the centre of the room. Here the circle is
easily formed by tacking a little red tape down to the carpet. If I, as
keeper, touch anybody without dragging the bear out of the ring, that
person must become bear, and may select his keeper; or if the bear
catches anybody by the legs, and holds him fast in the same way, he must
take the bear's place. Now we are all ready. Very well, then, hit away
with all your might."
Tom looked very lugubrious as, taking up his position, he saw the
preparations making for his basting.
"Oh, oh, oh! Don't, kind gentlemen, hit hard," he cried out in piteous
accents; and then in a deep tone he added, "if you do, to a certainty
I'll catch hold of some of you, and make you rue the day."
Nothing daunted by Tom's threats, the party began to attack him
vigorously; but they ran no little risk of being caught by Lemon, who
sprang out on them to the full length of the rope, now and then almost
pulling Tom out of his line; Bouldon also was very active, especially
when any of his schoolfellows came near him. He growled and roared in a
very wild-beast-like way, sometimes springing at Ernest, sometimes at
Buttar or Ellis. Frank, the midshipman, also came in for an equal share
of his attentions, and he seemed to consider that he was much on a par
with him. The moment Frank understood the game, he played as vehemently
as anybody. He said that it was a capital game, and that he should
introduce it on board the next ship he joined. In spite of all his
activity, Tom got many a hard lick, and still he remained a bear. At
last he pretended to be so weary of his exertions, that he could not
attempt to capture one of his tormentors. Those who were acquainted
with Tom best, and saw his eye, knew that he was not to be trusted. The
midshipman, however, was not up to him, and rushing in, found himself
grasped tightly round the knee by the seeming half-sleeping bear.
"I thought that I should catch you, Frank," cried Bouldon, shouting in
triumph. "Now please go and turn into a bear, and take care that you
don't get into a butter boat."
Frank had therefore to become the bear. He chose Ellis as his keeper.
Never was a more extraordinary bear seen. He stood on his head; he
jumped about with his feet in his hands, and rolled round and round as a
ball; and when anybody came near to baste him, he jumped and kicked
about in so wonderful a way that no one could hit him. Every one also
saw that he was very likely to catch them if they ventured near.
At last Charles, the narrator of the German ghost story, got caught, and
he chose his brother John as his keeper. They tried to catch one of
their sisters, or some of the eldest of the family, but were very glad
at length, so pestered were they by Bouldon, to catch him, when in a
daring mood he ventured near them. Thus the game went on, and many
other games succeeded, till bed-time at last arrived, and the boys
exclaimed with one voice, "Well, we have had a jolly evening!"
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Note 1. A wreath of rosemary is worn by the dead in many parts of
Germany.