"What will become of us to-morrow?" exclaimed a boy at M---- school, to
little George Clifton, as they were undressing to go to bed. "I am so
frightened, that I shall not be able to close my eyes."
George, who was very sleepy, and had no inclination to be disturbed,
scarcely attended to what he was saying; but, on being asked how _he_
thought to get off, and how _he_ should relish a good sound flogging, if
he could not excuse himself, he thought it time to inquire into his
meaning, and was informed that some of the boys had that evening been
robbing the master's garden, that they had taken away all the fruit,
both ripe and unripe, and had trodden down and destroyed every thing.
George said he was very sorry for it, but he had no fears on his own
account, for he could prove that he had drank tea and spent the whole
evening at his aunt's, and was but just returned before their hour of
going to bed; but Robert assured him, that all he could say would avail
him nothing, and that he was very certain he would not be believed; and
moreover, that the master had declared, as he could not discover the
offenders he would punish the whole school: "And for my part," said
Robert, "I am determined not to stay here, to suffer for what I do not
deserve. I can easily slip out of this window into the yard, and at the
dawn of day I intend to set off; and shall be many miles from M----,
when you are begging in vain for forgiveness of your hard-hearted
master."
George, who, though a good boy in other respects, had a very great
dislike to the trouble of learning any thing, and had been sent to
school much against his inclination, thought this an excellent
opportunity of leaving it, and had no doubt, but having such a
melancholy story to recount of the injustice of his master, added to the
many hardships he fancied he had already endured on different
occasions, he should be able to prevail upon his papa to keep him at
home; and imagined, that, when he grew up to be a man, he should, by
some means or other, have as much learning and knowledge as other
people, without plaguing himself with so many books and lessons. Robert
had therefore very little difficulty in persuading him to accompany him,
which he had no reason to wish for, but that he knew he had always a
good deal of pocket-money, which he hoped to get possession of, and
cared very little, if once he could carry that point, what became of
poor George. He knew him to be quite innocent, and also that the master
was well acquainted with the names of the boys who had done the
mischief, and consequently had no thought of punishing the whole
school; but he was a wicked boy, had been the chief promoter of the
robbery, long tired of confinement, and determined to run away. At four
o'clock in the morning they got out of the window into the yard, jumped
over a low wall, and were soon several miles from the school.
Poor little George began, before it was long, to grow very tired; he was
hungry also, and had nothing to eat. Robert asked him if he had any
money, and said he would soon procure him something to eat, if he would
give him the means of paying for it; but the moment he had got his
little purse in his hand, he told him that he must now wish him a good
morning; that he was not such a fool as to go home to get a
horsewhipping for having run away from school, but should go immediately
to Portsmouth, where he should find ships enough ready to sail for
different parts of the world, and would go to sea, which was, he said,
the pleasantest life in the world; and making him a very low bow, he set
off immediately across the fields towards the high road, and was out of
sight in an instant.
George began to cry bitterly; he now repented having listened to this
wicked boy's advice, and would have returned to school if he could; but
he did not know the way back again, and, if he had known it, would have
been afraid to see his master. He wandered on the whole long day,
without seeing any body who thought it worth their while to stop to
listen to his tale; and at length, towards the close of evening, quite
ill for want of eating, and so tired that he could no longer stand, he
seated himself by the side of a brook, and leaning his head upon his
hand, sobbed aloud.
An old peasant returning from his labour, and passing that way, stopped
to look at him, and perceiving that he was in much distress, went up to
the place where he was sitting, and inquired kindly what ailed him.
"I am a naughty boy," said George, "and do not deserve that you should
take notice of me."--"When naughty boys confess their faults, they are
more than half cured of them," replied the old peasant. "Whatever you
have done, I am sure you repent of it, and I will take care of you."
He then took him by the hand, and led him to his cottage, which was very
near, and where he found an old woman spinning near the window, and a
young one sitting with two pretty little girls and a boy, whom she was
teaching to read: they had each a book in their hand, and were so
attentive to their lessons, that they scarcely looked up when the door
was opened.
"There," said the old peasant, "sits my good wife, this is my daughter,
and these are her children: we are poor people, and cannot afford to
spend much money on their education, but they are very good, and
endeavour to learn what they can from their mother, and get their
lessons ready against the hour they go to school in the morning, that
they may make the most of their time, and not rob their parents by
being idle."
"Rob their parents!" exclaimed George. "Yes, rob them," replied the old
man. "Would it not be robbing their father and mother, if they allowed
them to squander their money upon them in paying for their schooling to
no purpose?"
George wiped the tears from his eyes, and said he was afraid he was a
very bad boy; but he was sorry for it, and would endeavour to mend, if
his papa could be prevailed on to pardon what was past. He then told the
old man all that had happened, and how the wicked Robert had enticed him
to run away from school; but he was so hungry, and so fatigued, that he
could hardly speak or hold up his head. The young woman gave him a
large bowl of milk and bread, and put him into a neat, clean bed, where
he slept soundly till eight o'clock the next morning, when, after a
comfortable breakfast, the good peasant accompanied him to his father's
house, and said so much in his favour, and of the sorrow he had shewn
for his ill behaviour, that he was immediately forgiven.
He was, at his own desire, taken back to school, where he entreated his
master to pardon the little attention he had paid to his books, and the
instruction he had been so good as to give him; as also his elopement, a
fault he had, he said, repented of almost as soon as he had committed
it.
The master readily forgave him upon his acknowledging his error, and
assured him, that, though he always punished those who deserved it, he
knew very well how to distinguish the innocent from the guilty, and
that, whilst he behaved like a good boy, he would have no reason to fear
his anger.