It seems, by common consent, established among school-boys, that school
and school-masters are necessary evils, only endurable because incurable,
and that, as a matter of course, the return to school must be looked on
as a species of martyrdom, the victims of which are unanimously opposed
to the usual persuasives that school-days are the happiest, and that
they will wish themselves back again before they have left it long.
We will not attempt to account for this perversity of opinion in the
minds of the individuals alluded to, nor have we any intention of
instituting an inquiry as to the probability of the origin of this
repugnance to scholastic life being in the natural opposition of man's
mind to discipline or order, and the tendency therein to dislike all
that is especially arranged and placed before him plainly for his
benefit; but I am sure that most of those among my readers who either
have been, or are school-boys at this moment, will agree with me in
declaring that, returning to school, after the vacation, is a dismal
affair, and that, during the first week or fortnight, certain rebellious
feelings are prominent, which it would be treason to breathe.
The close of the holidays had arrived, and it was decided that Louis
should return to school with his brother, notwithstanding his great
wish to the contrary; but now his principles were firmer, his father
was of opinion that mixing with a large party of boys was more calculated
to supply what was wanting in his character than staying at home with his
mother and sister, and, consequently, a day or two after the reopening
of Ashfield House, Reginald and Louis were placed by their father safely
in a coach that started from Norwich, and, in a rather sorrowful mood,
began their long journey.
I have no adventures to mention; romantic incidents are rarely met
with in a school-boy's life; nor was there any thing remarkable to
relate in the day and a half's travel, beyond the stoppage for meals,
and the changes of vehicle. Louis and his brother generally patronized
the top of the coach, but as they drew near Bristol, Louis grew so sleepy
and tired, from the length of the journey, as well as the imperfect
slumber obtained inside the preceding night, that he preferred changing
his quarters, to the risk of falling from his perch above. It so happened
that the coach was empty inside, and Louis indulged himself by stretching
at full length on one of the seats, and soon lost the recollection of
his troubles in sleep. How long he had slept he could not tell, when the
stopping of the coach disturbed him, and rising lazily, he looked out to
see where they were. Instead, however, of the "White Lion," in Bristol,
or the "Roadside Inn," with the four waiting horses, there was opposite
the window a pretty house, standing in a moderately sized garden, gay
with countless flowers, green grass, and waving trees. It was such
a house as Louis with his romance loved; low and old-fashioned,
with a broad glass door in the centre, on one side of which was a
long casement-window, and on the other, two thick sashes. The house,
extending to some length, displayed among the evergreen shrubs,
delicate roses and honey-suckles, a variety of odd windows, from
the elegant French to the deep old-fashioned bay; and over the front,
almost entirely concealing the rough gray stucco, was a vine, the
young grapes of which fell gracefully over the little bedroom windows,
suggesting the idea, how very pleasant it would be, when the fruit was
ripe, to obtain it at so little trouble. Louis especially noticed the
sheltering trees, that grew to a great height close behind the house,
and the long shadows thrown by the evening sun across the smooth
green lawn.
While he was admiring the little prospect before him, a maid-servant,
assisted by the guard of the coach, appeared at the door, carrying
a black trunk, and behind followed another elderly servant, with a
carpet-bag and basket. It was very evident that another passenger
might be expected, and a few seconds more threw considerable light
on the doubt enveloping the expected personage. The glass door before
mentioned, opened into a low square hall, and at the further end, just
as the carpet-bag reached the garden gate, appeared a group, of which,
till it arrived at the door, little could be discerned but some white
frocks. Presently, however, a pleasant middle-aged gentleman came out,
holding by the hand a tearful-looking little boy, seemingly about nine
or ten years old. The shade of his cap was pulled down very far over
his forehead, but enough of his face was visible to betray some very
showery inclinations. Two little girls, one older and the other younger,
clung round him; the little one was weeping bitterly. When they reached
the gate, the gentleman shook the boy's hand, and gave him in charge
of the guard, to see him safely into a coach to convey him to
Ashfield House.
"No fear of that, sir," replied the guard, opening the coach door,
and putting in the bag and basket. "I daresay these young gentlemen
would let him ride with them: they are for Dr. Wilkinson's."
"Indeed," said the gentleman, looking at Reginald, and then following
the jerk of the guard's thumb at Louis; "perhaps you will share your
fly with my son?" Reginald replied that they would be most happy. The
gentleman thanked him, and turning to his little boy, who was hugging
his youngest sister at the moment, said cheerfully, "Well, Charles,
this is pleasant; here are some school-fellows already. You will have
time to make friends before you reach the doctor's. Come, my boy."
Charles had burst into a torrent of fresh tears, and sobbing his
"Good-byes," got into the coach very quickly.
"Come, come, you mustn't be a baby," said his father, squeezing both
his hands; and he shut the coach door himself.
"Good-bye, Charlie," said the little girls.
"Good-bye, master Charles," said the servants.
"I shall be so glad when Christmas comes," sobbed the little one.
The coach rolled away, amid the adieus and blessings poured on the
disconsolate boy, who watched his home eagerly as long as he could
see it. There they were all--father, sisters, and servants, watching
at the gate till the coach was out of sight. For some time, Louis did
not attempt to console his new companion, who threw himself into the
opposite corner, and burying his face in his handkerchief, sobbed
passionately, without any effort at self-control. At length, the
violence of his grief abating, Louis gently spoke to him, asking if
he had ever been away from home before. At first, Charles was very
reserved, and only answered Louis' questions; but by degrees his sobs
decreased, and from declaring that he could not see the reason of
his being sent away from home, he at last talked freely to Louis
of his father, sisters, and home; and asked Louis of his. Louis was
ready enough to enlarge on these topics, and entered into an enthusiastic
description of home and its pleasures, and before they had reached their
journey's end, they had become very good friends.
Charles had informed Louis that his father was a clergyman, and that
his home was the parsonage house; and enlarged very much on the pleasure
of being taught by his father. There was something in his manner of
expressing himself that often surprised Louis, and made him think that
he must be older than he appeared. Before they reached Bristol, they had
agreed to be "great friends," and to help each other as much as possible.
Charles had evidently been very carefully brought up, and Louis found
that they had many things in common. They decided to be companions on
Sunday, and to be together whenever they could.
Between seven and eight o'clock, the coach stopped in Bristol, where
Reginald joined his brother; and after a few minutes spent in taking
a hasty tea, the three boys were consigned to a suitable conveyance,
and drove on to Dr. Wilkinson's.
Reginald had a mortal aversion to tears in any boy but Louis, and had
consequently taken an antipathy to his new school-fellow, besides caring
very little about so small a boy. He was just civil to him, and his
manner bringing out all Charles's shyness, he became very silent,
and scarcely any thing was said during the ride from Bristol to
Ashfield House.
It would be of little use describing the interesting appearance that
Ashfield House presented when the three young gentlemen arrived there.
Such descriptions are generally skipped; consequently, I leave it to my
reader's imagination to picture how romantic the edifice looked, with
the last faint yellow daylight glowing on its front, and the first few
stars peeping out on the green park.
Our young gentlemen, be assured, noticed nothing but the very dismal
impression that they were once more at school. Inquiring if the doctor
were to be seen, they were informed that he was expected in a few
minutes, as it was nearly prayer-time; and accordingly Reginald
marshalled the way without a word to the school-room. There was no
one in the hall or school-room, but a murmur from the half-open door
of the adjoining class-room drew them in that direction. The room was
nearly full, for besides the first and second classes there were many
belonging to the third class, and one or two others who had either
arrived late, or taken advantage of the little additional license
given the first few days to stay beyond their usual bedtime. It was
too dark to distinguish faces, but the figure of Frank Digby, who had
managed with great pains to climb the mantelpiece, and was delivering
an oration, would have been unmistakable if even he had been silent;--who
but Frank Digby could have had spirit to do it the third night after
the opening of the school?
"Gentlemen and ladies," began the merry-andrew; "I beg your
pardon, the Lady Louisa not having arrived, and Miss Maria
Matheson being in bed, I ought to have omitted that term--but,
gentlemen, I take this opportunity, gentlemen, the opportunity
of the eleventh demi-anniversary of our delightful reunion.
Gentlemen, I am aware that some of you have not been fortunate
enough to see eleven, but some among us have seen more. I,
gentlemen, have seen eleven at this auspicious moment. I may
say it is the proudest moment of my life to be able to stand
on this mantelpiece and look down on you all, to feel myself
enrolled a member of such an august corps. I may say I feel
myself elevated at this present moment, but as, gentlemen,
there is no saying, in the precarious situation I am now
placed, how long I may be in a position to contemplate the
elegance of his majesty and court, I hasten to propose that
his majesty's health be eaten in plum-cake, and that if I
fall somebody will catch me.
"With kind regards to all,
"Believe me your attached school-fellow,
"FRANK DIGBY."
A little on one side of the fireplace, which was not far from the open
window, Trevannion was leaning back in a chair that he had tipped on
the hind legs till the back touched the wall behind him, his own legs
being stretched out on another poised in like manner on the two side
legs; this elegant and easy attitude being chosen partly for the
convenience of speaking to Salisbury, who was nicely balanced on
the window-sill, eating plum-cake. As the young gentleman concluded
his delectable harangue, he made an involuntary leap from his narrow
pedestal, plunging on the top of Trevannion's legs, and, tumbling over
him, struck with some violence against Salisbury, who was thrown out
of the window by the same concussion that brought his more fastidious
compeer to the ground, chairs and all. There was a burst of merriment
at this unexpected catastrophe, but nothing could exceed the mirth of
the author of the mischief, who sat in unextinguishable laughter on the
floor, to the imminent danger of his person when the enraged sufferers
recovered their legs.
[Illustration: The finale to Digby's speech.]
"Really! Digby," exclaimed Trevannion, angrily, "this foolery is
unbearable. You deserve that we should give you a thrashing; if it
were not beneath me, I most certainly would."
"You--ha! ha!" returned Frank: "ha! ha!--you must stoop to--ha! ha!--you
must stoop to conquer--for, oh! oh! I can't get up. Pardon me, my dear
fellow, but--oh! ha! ha!--you did look so ridiculous."
"Get up, you grinning donkey!" said Salisbury, who, in spite of his
wrath, could not help laughing.
"Trevannion's legs!" exclaimed Frank, in a choking fit of laughter.
"Get up, Digby," exclaimed Trevannion, kicking him; "or I'll shake some
of this nonsense out of you."
"Do be rational, Frank," said Hamilton's voice from a corner; "you are
like a great baby."
How long Frank might have sat on the floor, and what direful events
might have transpired, I cannot pretend to say, for just at this
juncture the further door opened, and Dr. Wilkinson entered, bearing
a candle in his hand. Frank very speedily found his legs, and retired
into a corner to giggle unseen. The light thus suddenly introduced
brought Reginald and his brother into notice, and one or two near the
door recognizing them, pressed forward to speak to them, and before
the doctor had fairly attained his place, Reginald had run the gauntlet
of welcomes through all his school-fellows--and Louis, half-way on the
same errand, was forcibly arrested by something scarcely short of an
embrace from Hamilton, who expressed himself as surprised as pleased
at his appearance, and in whose glistening eyes, as well as the friendly
looks of those around, Louis experienced some relief from the almost
insupportable sense of dulness that had oppressed him ever since his
entrance into the house. But now, the doctor having opened his book,
the young gentlemen were obliged to separate and form into their places.
Hamilton kept Louis by him, and Louis beckoned the sorrowful little boy
who had accompanied him towards them.
"Who is that?" asked the doctor, as the child moved shyly towards Louis.
"A new boy, sir," said one.
"What is your name?" said the doctor. "Come here. Oh! I see, it is
Clifton, is it not?--how do you do?"
Charles had reached Dr. Wilkinson by this time, and, encouraged by
his kind tone, and the sympathizing though slightly quizzical gaze
on his very tearful face, replied to his queries in a low, quick tone.
"When did you come?" asked the doctor.
"He came with us, sir," said Reginald, stepping forward.
"Mortimer here!" said the doctor. "How do you do? and Louis, too,
I presume--where is he? I am very glad to see you again," he added,
as Louis came forward with a blushing but not miserable countenance.
He then spoke to the other new-comers, and then, commanding silence,
read prayers.
The young gentlemen were just retiring, when Dr. Wilkinson desired them
to stay a moment--"I have one request to make, young gentlemen," he said,
gravely; "that is, I particularly wish when Mr. Ferrers returns that no
allusion be made to any thing gone by, and that you treat him as one
worthy to be among you."
The doctor paused as he spoke, and glanced along the row of faces,
many of which looked sullen and cloudy: most of them avoided their
master's eye, and looked intently on the ground. Dr. Wilkinson sought
Hamilton's eye, but Hamilton, though perfectly conscious of the fact,
was very busily engaged in a deep meditation on the texture of Louis'
jacket.
"Hamilton."
"Sir," replied Hamilton, reluctantly raising his eyes.
"I look to you, as the head of the school, to set the example. I am
grieved to see so little Christian spirit among you. Why should you
feel more aggrieved than the injured party, who has, I am sure,
heartily forgiven all, and will wish no further notice to be taken
of what has passed?"
Louis looked up acquiescently, and slipped his hand into Hamilton's.
A slight pressure was returned, and Hamilton, bowing to the doctor,
led the way out of the room.
On the way up stairs many rebellious comments were made on the
doctor's speech, and some invoked tremendous penalties on themselves
if they had any thing to do with him or any like him. Hamilton was
quite silent, neither checking nor exciting the malcontents. He put
his hand into Louis' arm, and, walking up stairs with him, wished him
a warm good-night, and marched off to his own apartment.
This evening, as there were one or two new-comers, an usher was present
in the dormitory to insure the orderly appropriation of the several
couches; and, to Louis' great satisfaction, he was able to get quietly
into bed--where, feeling very dull and sad, he covered his head over
and unconsciously performed a crying duet with his new friend.
Hardly had the usher departed than Frank Digby popped his head
out of bed:
"I don't know," said he, "whether any one expects a feast to-night,
from a few unlucky remarks which fell from me this morning; if so,
gentlemen, I wish immediately to dispel the pleasing delusion,
assuring you of the melancholy fact, that my golden pippins have
fallen victims to Gruffy's rapacity."
"Oh, what a shame!" exclaimed one.
"What's that, Frank?" said Reginald.
"How did Gruffy get hold of them?" asked Meredith: "I thought you
were more than her match."
"Why, the fact is, her olfactory nerves becoming strongly excited,
she insisted upon having a search, and after snuffing about, she
came near my hiding-place, and found the little black portmanteau:
"'Upon my word, Mr. Digby,' said she, 'I am surprised at your
dirtiness--putting apples under your pillow!' and insisted on
having the key or the apples. I disclaimed all ideas of apples,
but quite failed in persuading her that I had Russian leather-covered
books inside, that were placed there to enable me to pursue my studies
at the first dawn of day. You should have heard her: 'Did I suppose
she was an idiot, and couldn't smell apples!' and oh--nobody knows
how much more. But I should have carried my point if ill-luck hadn't
brought Fudge in the way, and the harpy carried off my treasures."
Frank paused, and then added, in a tone that set every one laughing,
"It's a pity she can't be transported into heathen mythology; she'd
have made an excellent dragon. Hercules would never have been so
successful if she'd been that of Hesperia. I'll be even with her yet;
but there's something very forlorn in one's troubles beginning directly."
The next morning brought with it the stern reality of school. Louis
was dreaming that he was in Dashwood with Charles Clifton, when the
bell-man came into the breakfast-room, crying out that the golden
pippins belonging to his attached school-fellow, Frank Digby, were
lost, stolen, or strayed; and that he would be even with any who
should find them, and bring them to the Hesperides; and he was in
the act of proving, more to his own satisfaction than to that of the
bell-man, that the books in the library were what he wanted, when
Reginald discovered them,--i.e., the golden apples,--peeping from
under his pillow, and shook him violently for his deceit.
"Louis, Louis!--the bell, the bell."
He started up in great alarm, and discovered that he was sitting on
his bed at school, listening to the sonorous clanging of the bell below.
Groans, shouts, and sleepy exclamations reverberated round him. Reginald,
rather more accustomed to good early habits at home than some of his
room-fellows, was busy rousing those who either did not, or pretended
not to hear the summons. Among the latter was our friend Frank Digby,
who stoutly resisted being awakened, and when obliged to yield to the
determined efforts of his cousin, nearly overwhelmed him with a species
of abuse.
"That bell's a complete bugbear," he groaned. "It ought to be indicted
for a nuisance, waking people up o' mornings when they ought to be in
the arms of Morpheus--I've a great mind to lie still. Half an hour's
sleep is worth sixpence."
"It's much better laid out with 'Maister,' Frank," suggested Meredith.
"And then Fudge will be so black about it," said Reginald.
"Come, up with you, Frank."
"As for Fudge," said Frank, "I wouldn't give you twopence for him,
nor his black looks neither. But you may be sure he'll be amiable
enough this morning. He has been remarkably affectionate these few
mornings--hasn't he, Meredith?"
"_To be sure_," replied the young gentleman addressed: "when did you
know a master otherwise the first week? They all know there's danger
of our cutting their acquaintance in a summary manner, and take good
care to be bland enough till we're tamed down."
"For my part," said Frank, "I have been longing for an opportunity of
putting Fudge in a passion. If only he or Danby would box my ears for
something, that I might fling a book at his head, and have a legitimate
excuse for taking myself off--but, alas! they are all so dreadfully
amiable, except old Garthorpe, and he's beneath all consideration."
Frank continued in this strain for some minutes, working himself into
a more rebellious humor, stimulated by those among his companions who
admired this demonstration of spirit. Confidentially I may remark,
that though running away seems to be the desideratum of a discontented
school-boy, it is far more interesting in theory than practice, and I
doubt much whether any malcontent who availed himself of this as his
only refuge from the miserable fate awaiting him in the dungeon to
which he was consigned, ever considered in the end that his condition
had been materially improved. Spangled canopies and soft turf couches
do well to read of, but stiff limbs and anxious hearts are sterner
realities, to say nothing of sundry woes inflicted on the culprit when
discovered. But I am enlarging and must return from my digression.
Dr. Wilkinson was engaged the greater part of the morning in arranging
the different classes and examining his new pupils. Great surprise was
felt among those interested, in the news that Charles Clifton was to
take his place in the second class. Even the doctor paused once or twice
in his examination, and looked earnestly on the great forehead and small
pale face of the child.
"Why, how old are you?" said he, at length.
"Twelve, sir," replied Charles, gravely.
"Very little of your age. Have you ever been at school before?"
Charles replied in the negative, and after another momentary scrutiny,
Dr. Wilkinson asked a few concluding questions, and then unhesitatingly
declared him a member of the second class.
Louis had, this half-year, a far better chance of distinguishing himself
than before, as his brother and Meredith, with one or two others, had
mounted into the first class, and John Salisbury had not returned. He
was, however, not a little surprised when Hamilton informed him that
he would have enough to do to keep pace with his new friend, whom he
had looked upon as quite one of the lower school.