We were, fair queen,
Two lads that thought there was no more behind,
But such a day to-morrow as to-day,
And to be boy eternal.
_Winter's Tale_, i. 2.
The holidays were over. Vernon was to have a tutor at Fairholm, and
Eric was to return alone, and be received into Dr Rowlands's house.
As he went on board the steam-packet, he saw numbers of the well-known
faces on deck, and merry voices greeted him.
"Hullo, Williams! here you are at last," said Duncan, seizing his hand.
"How have you enjoyed the holidays? It's so jolly to see you again."
"So you're coming as a boarder," said Montagu, "and to our noble house,
too. Mind you stick up for it, old fellow. Come along, and let's watch
whether the boats are bringing any more fellows; we shall be starting in
a few minutes."
"Ha! there's Russell," said Eric, springing to the gangway, and warmly
shaking his friend's hand as he came on board.
"Have your father and mother gone, Eric?" said Russell, after a few
minutes' talk.
"Yes," said Eric, turning away his head, and hastily brushing his eyes.
"They are on their way back to India."
"I'm so sorry," said Russell; "I don't think any one has ever been so
kind to me as they were."
"And they loved you, Edwin, dearly, and told me almost the last thing
that they hoped we should always be friends. Stop! they gave me
something for you." Eric opened his carpet-bag, and took out a little
box carefully wrapped up, which he gave to Russell. It contained a
pretty silver watch, and inside the case was engraved--"Edwin Russell,
from the mother of his friend Eric."
The boy's eyes glistened with joyful surprise. "How good they are," he
said; "I shall write and thank Mrs Williams directly we get to Roslyn."
They had a fine bright voyage, and arrived that night. Eric, as a
newcomer, was ushered at once into Dr Rowlands's drawing-room, where
the head-master was sitting with his wife and children. His greeting
was dignified, but not unkindly; and, on saying "good-night," he gave
Eric a few plain words of affectionate advice.
At that moment Eric hardly cared for advice. He was full of life and
spirits, brave, bright, impetuous, tingling with hope, in the very flush
of boyhood. He bounded down the stairs, and in another minute entered
the large room where all Dr Rowlands's boarders assembled, and where
most of them lived, except the few privileged sixth-form, and other boys
who had "studies." A cheer greeted his entrance into the room. By this
time most of the Rowlandites knew him, and were proud to have him among
their number. They knew that he was clever enough to get them credit in
the school, and, what was better still, that he would be a capital
accession of strength to the cricket and football. Except Barker, there
was not one who had not a personal liking for him, and on this occasion
even Barker was gracious.
The room in which Eric found himself was large and high. At one end was
a huge fireplace, and there was generally a throng of boys round the
great iron fender, where, in cold weather, a little boy could seldom
find room. The large windows opened on the green playground; and iron
bars prevented any exit through them. This large room, called "the
boarders' room," was the joint habitation of Eric and some thirty other
boys; and at one side ran a range of shelves and drawers, where they
kept their books and private property. There the younger Rowlandites
breakfasted, dined, had tea, and, for the most part, lived. Here, too,
they had to get through all such work as was not performed under direct
supervision. How many and what varied scenes had not that room beheld!
had those dumb walls any feeling, what worlds of life and experience
they would have acquired! If against each boy's name, as it was rudely
cut on the oak panels, could have been also cut the fate that had
befallen him, the good that he had there learnt, the evil that he there
had suffered--what _noble_ histories would the records unfold of honour
and success, of baffled temptations and hard-won triumphs; what _awful_
histories of hopes blighted and habits learned, of wasted talents and
ruined lives.
The routine of school-life was on this wise:--At half-past seven the
boys came down to prayers, which were immediately followed by breakfast.
At nine they went into school, where they continued, with little
interruption, till twelve. At one they dined, and, except on
half-holidays, went into school again from two till five. The lock-up
bell rang at dusk; at six o'clock they had tea--which was a repetition
of breakfast, with leave to add to it whatever else they liked--and
immediately after sat down to "preparation," which lasted from seven
till nine. During this time one of the masters was always in the room,
who allowed them to read amusing books or employ themselves in any other
quiet way they liked, as soon as ever they had learnt their lessons for
the following day. At nine Dr Rowlands came in and read prayers, after
which the boys were dismissed to bed.
The arrangement of the dormitories was peculiar. They were a suite of
rooms, exactly the same size, each opening into the other; six on each
side of a lavatory, which occupied the space between them, so that, when
all the doors were open, you could see from one end of the whole range
to the other. The only advantage of this arrangement was, that one
master walking up and down could keep all the boys in order while they
were getting into bed. About a quarter of an hour was allowed for this
process, and then the master went along the rooms putting out the
lights. A few of the "study-boys" were allowed to sit up till half-past
ten, and their bedrooms were elsewhere. The consequence was, that in
these dormitories the boys felt perfectly secure from any interruption.
There were only two ways by which a master could get at them--one up the
great staircase, and through the lavatory; the other by a door at the
extreme end of the range, which led into Dr Rowlands's house, but was
generally kept locked.
In each dormitory slept four or five boys, distributed by their order in
the school list, so that, in all the dormitories, there were nearly
sixty; and of these a goodly number were, on Eric's arrival, collected
in the boarders' room, the rest being in their studies, or in the
classrooms, which some were allowed to use in order to prevent too great
a crowd in the room below.
At nine o'clock the prayer-bell rang. This was the signal for all the
boarders to take their seats for prayers, each with an open Bible before
him; and when the school-servants had also come in, Dr Rowlands read a
chapter, and offered up an extempore prayer. While reading, he
generally interspersed a few pointed remarks or graphic explanations,
and Eric learnt much in this simple way. The prayer, though short, was
always well suited to the occasion, and calculated to carry with it the
attention of the worshippers.
Prayers over, the boys noisily dispersed to their bedrooms, and Eric
found himself placed in a room immediately to the right of the lavatory,
occupied by Duncan, Graham, Llewellyn, and two other boys named Ball and
Attlay, all in the same form with himself. They were all tired with
their voyage and the excitement of coming back to school, so that they
did not talk much that night, and before long Eric was fast asleep,
dreaming, dreaming, dreaming that he should have a very happy life at
Roslyn School, and seeing himself win no end of distinctions, and make
no end of new friends.