THE PLAY-BOX AND ITS CONTENTS--A SCHOOL SUPPER--DIGBY LEARNS FRENCH, AND
WISHES THAT HE DID NOT--DIGBY RISES IN HIS SCHOOLFELLOWS' ESTIMATION.
Digby's first half-holiday had been full of stirring events. As the
evening drew on, his hunger reminded him of the contents of his
play-box. He had not entirely lost his taste for jam and honey since
the days when he had made free with Mrs Carter's preserve pots; and it
was with some anticipation of pleasure that he proposed to Paul Newland
to examine his treasures.
Paul was a thorough schoolboy, so he willingly agreed; but suggested
that it would be wise to keep the jam till after tea, when they might
have bread to eat with it. "I have two bottles, and we will pour our
tea into them," observed Newland. "Cold tea is very nice, you know; and
we will stow away as much bread as we can in our pockets. I have some
gingerbread and a bottle of ginger-beer remaining; and we shall have a
good supply for a feast."
"But I dare say that I have plenty of things more, for I did not see
what was put up; only I know that the housekeeper was told to fill my
box as full as it could be," answered Digby. "And do you know, I should
like to ask some other fellows to join us. Farnham, certainly, and all
those who came to my help when that bully attacked me; or, if you like,
all who were playing with us just now. I can easily get some more pots
of jam, if I want them, I dare say."
"Capital, capital!" exclaimed Paul. "But I don't think it will do to
have as many fellows as you propose. I'll just ask those I think you
would really like; but would it not be wiser to see what you have got
first. I have known boxes broken open, and when the owners have gone to
them, they have found only lumps of paper instead of cake, and empty jam
and honey pots."
Digby's heart sank somewhat on hearing this; and with no little
trepidation and doubt he accompanied Paul to the play-room.
It was a good-sized place, and had been originally used as a schoolroom;
a passage led to it from one end of the present schoolroom. A fire was
always lighted there on half-holidays in the winter, so that it was a
very favourite resort in the evenings, especially in bad weather. It
was not the thing to read there, nor were running games allowed. An
exception was made in favour of high-cock-o'-lorum and leap-frog, which
might be played at the end furthest from the fireplace. There were
tables, and benches, and a few strong wooden chairs and stools; and
shelves all round on which the boys might keep their boxes, and other
treasures, boats, or little theatres, or museums, or anything they were
making.
Digby found his box standing by itself, on a spare shelf. The lock
looked all right; he produced the key, and opened it--nothing had been
touched.
"All right, then," exclaimed Paul. "We ought to get Farnham and two or
three other fellows to stand by as guards, or we shall have Scarborough
pouncing down on us like a hawk, or Spiller insinuating himself like an
eel, and carrying off the spoil, as they will call it. I have seen
those two fellows, before now, half clear out the box of a fellow who
had just come from home before he has been able to give anything to his
friends. There they both come; I thought so. Shut it again, and hide
the key in your pocket."
"I say, though, don't you think we might ask Bouverie to come to the
feast?" exclaimed Digby, as Paul was running off. "Is he above that
sort of thing?"
Paul stopped, and considered.
"He likes jam and cake, I dare say; but I don't think he would take
yours, lest it should be said he helped you for the sake of what you
have got," he answered. "I'll ask him in your name, though; there can
be no harm in doing that."
When Newland was gone, Digby sat down near his box. Scarborough stood
at one end of the room, eyeing him, and considering whether or not it
would be worth while to indulge himself in the satisfaction of attacking
him, and compelling him to give up some of the contents of his box.
Spiller, meantime, also, was playing with a ball, while he reflected how
he might most easily obtain the object of his wishes, and get hold of
the eatables he doubted not the new boy had brought. Still, as he felt
sure that Newland must have warned Digby against him, he knew that he
must exert the utmost circumspection and caution. Once more he glided
up to Digby, and sat down near him, taking out his knife, and shaping a
piece of soft pine into a boat.
"You are not fond of this sort of thing?--it is too sedentary for you, I
have no doubt," he observed. "It suits me, as I am not fond of games.
I shall be glad to make you a little vessel some day. Perhaps you have
got some tools, now, in your box. I could do it much better with them
than with a knife."
Digby very nearly laughed in Spiller's face. As to tools, he had never
even possessed a hammer; and besides, his eyes having been opened to his
companion's character, the object of his remarks were perfectly evident,
and he had resolved not to be humbugged by him. However, he said,
"Thank you;" for Digby never forgot to be polite even when he lost his
temper, which was not often. "But, to tell you the truth, I do not care
much about models and little things. I like sailing in a real vessel,
or pulling in a real boat, or swimming, or riding; and, therefore, any
such thing would be thrown away on me. Still, if you do anything for me
when I ask you, I shall be very glad to repay you with a piece of cake,
or some jam, or anything I may have which suits your fancy."
This was plain speaking; but Spiller was in no way offended. His wages
had been settled, and now he had to consider how he might most
conveniently win them. Still his mouth watered for the sweet things;
and he wished that he could get paid beforehand.
Digby felt inclined to go to his box, to cut a piece of cake, and to
throw it to him, as people sometimes do a penny to an importunate
beggar, whom, in their hearts, they believe to be an impostor; but he
restrained himself.
Just then, Paul Newland, Farnham, and three or four more boys, of whom,
though they were younger than himself, Spiller had an especial dread,
made their appearance at the door of the play-room. He knew that his
chance of getting anything just then out of Digby was gone, so he
sneaked away to a distance, where he sat down to watch their
proceedings.
"I have arranged everything," said Newland. "I first gave your message
to Bouverie. He is much obliged, but cannot join our party. Then I got
Farnham and the other fellows to keep guard while you open your box: and
Bouverie told me that if anybody interferes with you, one of us is to
run and let him know, and that he will come to your assistance."
"He is a right capital fellow, then," exclaimed Digby. "It is all the
better that there should be a few bullies and blackguards, that the good
qualities of others may be the better discovered."
Paul answered that he thought Digby's philosophy was very good in
theory; but that practically, he would rather dispense both with bullies
and blackguards, as he was constantly a sufferer from them.
At length, all arrangements being made, Digby's box of treasures was
opened, and found to contain even more good things than even he or any
of his friends had anticipated. Everybody at Bloxholme who could think
of what boys liked best, had made some suggestion which had been
adopted, and the wonder was, that so much had been stowed away in so
small a space. Every crevice had been filled with little and big pots
of jam, and marmalade, and honey, a tongue, a Dutch cheese,
chocolate-paste, anchovies, a pie without gravy, and a fine plum-cake
were only some of the eatables,--then there was a hammer and nails, and
gimlets, and screws, and a hasp-knife, and a writing-case, and a number
of other useful things; enough, as Paul declared, to enable him to set
up house by himself, if he wished.
They had only time to put back about two-thirds of the things, which
were all they could get into the box, the rest having to be distributed
between Newland's and Farnham's boxes, before the bell rang for tea.
One of the party, William Ranger, Digby heard him called, was easily
persuaded to stay away from tea, to watch that no burglary was attempted
during their absence.
Tea was quickly over; the bottles were filled, and the bread-and-butter
stowed away in their pockets, and then, more hungry than ever, they
hurried back to the play-room.
Ranger told them that he had placed himself on a bench, pretending to be
fast asleep, and that scarcely had they gone, than Spiller glided into
the room, and went up to the well-filled box. He had begun to work away
at the lock, when up he had jumped and sung out--
"You had better not."
Without making any answer to this, Spiller had sneaked away again. In
another minute, who should come in but the bully Scarborough, with a
hammer in his hand. He walked straight up to the box, and finding that
it was locked, was about to strike it with all his might, when Ranger,
though trembling for the consequences to his bones, again cried--
"You had better not."
The words acted like magic, even on the notorious bully, and he betook
himself out of the room as fast as he could, having also, probably, lost
his share of the provisions in the tea-room.
The supper-party were now able to assemble in peace and tolerable quiet;
and a very merry party they were. The supper service was not exactly
uniform, for each person had brought his own plate; some were of wood,
and others of earthenware, or iron, or tin, while cups differed as much
as did knives, and forks, and spoons. The pie, and the tongue, and the
cheese, and the cake, and the jams, were all pronounced excellent, and
though all the party eat as much as they wanted, helped out with their
own bread-and-butter, it was agreed that there was enough for two or
three more feasts, helped out a little, perhaps, with some of the
contents of the cake-man's basket. The beverages were, however, of a
nature almost too simple for dishes so highly flavoured; the strongest
was ginger-beer, the others were lemonade, cold tea, milk-and-water, and
water alone. It were well if none of them had ever indulged in anything
stronger.
It would be absurd to say that the way in which Digby dispersed the
eatables in his box did not contribute to make him popular; at the same
time, they would not have done so unless his own personal qualities had
been calculated to win the regard of his schoolfellows. Ever cheerful,
honest and upright, and bold and fearless, he quickly gained the kindly
feeling of all the better boys in the school. With the others, he
almost instinctively avoided associating. One of his greatest
annoyances was Tommy Bray, who seemed never to lose an opportunity of
trying to put him out of temper.
Digby, as he had promised, wrote very frequently to Kate. He had not
altogether a satisfactory account to give of the school; still, he was
happy--very jolly, he described himself--and there were plenty of
fellows he liked, more or less, and he was learning a number of new
games, and he was getting on very fairly with his lessons. Kate wrote
even oftener to him, and told him all she was doing. Among other
things, she said that she was learning French, and it would be so nice
to be able to talk with him, and that she had persuaded papa to let him
learn if he wished it, and so that he must, and she had enclosed the
necessary written permission.
Digby had seldom differed with Kate in any of her propositions, so, in a
fatal moment for his peace, he took up the order, and was at once placed
in Monsieur Guillaume's junior class.
The French master was highly pleased, and complimented him much on the
wisdom of his resolution. All went very well at first; he managed to
get through the rudiments about as well as the ordinary run of boys, but
his advance after this was very slow, as Newland used to tell him, it
was all goose-step with him. Somehow or other he could not manage to
twist his thoroughly English mouth, so as properly to pronounce the
French words. In vain the master made him repeat them over and over
again. He knew the meaning of a good number of phrases and words, but
when he came to express himself, Monsieur Guillaume vowed that he could
not understand a word he said.
"That is because he speaks in one way, and I speak in another, I
suppose," observed Digby. "But I don't see why my way is not the best;
it is the English way, and I should be ashamed of myself if I did not
consider everything English better than anything French."
There was a twinkle in Digby's eyes as he said this which showed that he
was not altogether very serious.
"You remind me, Heathcote, of a story my father tells," observed
Newland. "An old shipmate of his, a Master in the Navy, was taken
prisoner by the French early in the war, and had to remain at Verdun for
several years. At last he was liberated, and was very soon again
afloat. It was necessary, on the occasion of some expedition being
dispatched, to send an officer who could speak French. The Captain
knowing that the worthy Master had been many years in France, sent for
him to take the command of it, explaining the reason why he had done so.
"`I speak French, do you say, sir?' he exclaimed. `No, sir; I am
thankful to say that I never learned a word more of their lingo than I
could possibly help. I, a true-born, patriotic Englishman! I should
have felt that I was disgracing myself if I had.'"
"I am not so bad as that," said Digby. "I should like to learn if I
could; but I have no aptitude for languages, I suppose."
Monsieur Guillaume had, however, resolved that his boys should not only
learn, but speak French; and all his pupils were ordered to speak French
at certain hours, either in the playground or anywhere else, except when
they were up saying their lessons. To compel the boys to talk, several
marks were distributed to those who spoke best; and they were to give
them to whatever boys they found speaking English. Those who had them
at the end of the day had a task of several lines of French poetry to
learn by heart, an occupation Digby especially hated. Still the decree
had gone forth, and Digby was continually having an odious piece of
wood, with "French Mark" burnt on it, slipped quietly into his hands.
Nine times out of ten, Tommy Bray was the person to give it him. How
Tommy so often became possessed of it seemed a mystery, for he spoke
French with more ease than most of the rest, and was not likely to have
been caught, thoughtlessly, talking English.
Paul at length found that he would go up to a fellow he knew had got the
mark, and address him in English, when, of course, it was given to him.
He would then not try to pass it till the evening, when he would
continually hover about Digby till he found him tripping. At last
Digby, in desperation, would get hold of one of the marks early in the
day, and keeping it in his pocket, give, as he said, free play to his
native tongue. Of course, the system did not increase his affection for
French, or for Monsieur Guillaume, or Tommy Bray, in particular; yet,
after all, it was a less annoyance than many to which he and some of the
best boys were subjected by the masters.
Mr Sanford's illness increased, till he was unable to appear at all in
the schoolroom; and yet, as he still retained his post as head-master,
points were supposed to be referred to him which never were so referred;
and various grievances which sprung up remained, day after day,
unredressed.
Mr Yates became more pompous and dictatorial than ever, and not only
took to caning, but assumed the power of flogging, which even Mr
Sanford had long disused.
Mr Tugman, too, bullied more than ever; he pulled and boxed the boys'
ears, and hit them over the shoulders and knuckles with a cane, which he
always kept by his side.
Monsieur Guillaume imitated his example; and Mr Moore, the second
master, was the only one who continued to treat the boys in the quiet,
gentlemanly way he had always done.
One of the punishments Mr Yates had invented was to lock up a culprit
in a dark room for several hours together, without food. This was
especially hated; and some of the boys declared that they would sooner
leave than submit to it. As it proved, it was calculated to produce
very bad effects in the school. These punishments, and the unusual
harshness of the masters, instead of introducing more order and
regularity into the school, had a very different effect, and never had
it been so disorganised and in so unsatisfactory a condition.
This state of things had begun to grow up before Digby's arrival. He,
of course, did not, at first, discover it, and was not of a disposition
to trouble himself much about the politics either of the school or of
the nation at large. In a few months he found himself holding not only
a good position in the school, but looked upon as a leader in many
games, and in all expeditions and amusements.
Spring was advancing, and, as the days were long, the boys were allowed,
according to an established custom, to go out after dinner, on
half-holidays, and to make excursions to a distance. They were obliged,
however, to say where they were going, and to report themselves on their
return, when they were expected to give an account of their proceedings.
In the summer, when cricket had come in, the privilege was seldom taken
advantage of, as most of the boys spent their time in the cricket-field.
Several, however, even then, who did not care about cricket, would get
away from it; some to fish, others, who had a fancy for the study of
natural history, to collect insects and other creatures; and some,
unhappily, and the number was increasing, to assemble in spots where
they were not likely to be observed; then they brought from the nearest
public-house pipes, and tobacco, and beer, and often spirits, and they
would spend the whole afternoon smoking, and drinking, and talking, as
they called it, like men. Often, miserable, ignorant fools, they talked
on subjects which no gentleman, no Christian man, worthy of the name,
would even touch on.
Digby knew of these assemblings, and of the orgies which took place at
them, but had resisted all the invitations he received to join them. Of
course, he scarcely saw the evil in its true light, likely to result
from them; health injured; habits of intemperance gained; the mind
contaminated and debased with vicious ideas; and time, which ought to be
spent either in health and strength-gaining exercise, or in study and
preparation for the real business of life, squandered.
Bouverie, whose good opinion Digby had gained, spoke to him on the
subject.
"I tall you this, Heathcote," he said, "when I was a little chap, I knew
of a good number of big fellows who carried on much as these are doing.
They thought themselves very fine fellows, and so did I. Had I not had
a friend, who warned me to keep free from them, I might have done the
same. There were about a dozen of them; the youngest was only two or
three years older than I was. They all grew up; some went into the
navy, others the army, and others abroad, in different capacities. Out
of the whole number, four only are now alive; and of those four, one was
dismissed from the navy, and another from the army, for drunkenness, and
conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman; a third is a confirmed
invalid, with a broken constitution; and one only, whom I meet
occasionally, has given up his bad practices; and he never fails to say,
that he hopes I do not imitate the bad example he set me, as I may be
sure that the momentary satisfaction, I may fancy I should obtain, would
make but a poor amends for all the suffering and wretchedness of mind
and body I should be sure to reap in the end, and which he had gone
through. It never occurred to me that a little smoking and drinking,
and merely loose conversation, could do a fellow much harm. One might,
I thought, easily give up the first, and, of course, with grave people
and with ladies, one wouldn't talk loosely. But from what my friend
told me, and from what I found out myself, I now know the consequences
are sure to be bad. With regard to drinking, I tell you how it is.
Beer, spirits, and wine are stimulants, and excite the lining of the
stomach into which they are poured. Nothing so quickly acquires a bad
habit as the stomach, because it has not got reason to guide it, and is,
besides, full of sensitive organs. When once it is stimulated--that is,
excited--it wants to be excited again; and so one says, I must give it a
little more drink. If it has been excited by brandy, or rum, or gin, it
generally longs for the same thing. It acts on the mind, remember, much
more powerfully than the mind acts on it. If it gave pain at once,
people would not drink; but it excites in a pleasant way, and the
excitement goes on increasing till the brain is confused, and a person
does not know what he is about. When the excitement goes off, while the
nerves are returning to nearly their former state, then comes the pain.
These nerves, understand, run all the way from the coats of the stomach
up into the brain. They do not return quite to their former state, at
all events, for a long time, and so have a longing for more excitement;
and thus if a person can get spirits, or wine, or beer, he pours some
down his throat to gratify them. The more these sensitive nerves are
excited, the more stimulating liquid they desire; and thus, acting
through the brain, the more they make their owner wish for. So he goes
on increasing the frequency of the times in which he gratifies them, and
the quantity of liquor he pours down, because that which at first
gratified them will do so no longer. This goes on till a man becomes
what is called a confirmed drunkard. The younger a person is, the more
sensitive are all his organs, and therefore the more likely he is to
establish an irritable state of stomach, if he stimulates it in any way.
Now, these fellows don't actually get drunk, but their stomachs will
not long be content with the quantity of liquor they pour into them; and
so they will go on increasing till they not only get drunk, but become
miserable drunkards, on whom no one will depend, and who will very soon
sink into early graves, loathed and despised by those who once cared
most for them. There, Heathcote, I have told you something I know about
the subject, not in a very learned way, but it is the truth. I might
tell you a great deal more. Smoking, I own, is not nearly so bad; but
common tobacco irritates the lining or coats of the stomach, and makes
it wish for drink; and so I object to it. And I'll tell you what, also,
bad conversation, such as those fellows indulge in, irritates and
excites the mind, and so acting on the body, excites all the lower and
grosser passions, and keeps out pure and ennobling thoughts. You must
understand, Digby, that the mind cannot stand still. I am afraid that
it has a tendency to becoming debased; and it requires all a person's
resolution, energy, ay, and prayers too, my boy, to soar upwards to the
condition it is capable of enjoying. The only safe course is to keep
out all bad thoughts, or even light thoughts, and to resist every bad
propensity from the very first, and to keep away from all temptations,
from all examples, from everything, indeed, which may encourage them. I
can tell you that so pernicious, so terrible are the results of the
habits in which those fellows indulge, that I would far rather see my
younger brother in his grave than know that he had become their
companion, and was running the risk of being contaminated by them.
There, Heathcote, I will not talk any more about the matter now.
Perhaps I have said even more now than you can understand. Trust me,
however, that it is the advice I would give my youngest brother, or any
boy in whom I might feel a deep interest."
These remarks, whether entirely understood or not at the time, did make
a deep impression on Digby's mind; and he thanked Bouverie for speaking
so unreservedly to him. "But how did the other fellows, of whom you
were speaking, die?" asked Digby. "Perhaps they had reformed, or would
have reformed, had they lived."
"What they might have done no mortal can venture to say," answered
Bouverie, gravely. "They had not reformed, but, on the contrary, had
become worse and worse, and one and all of them died miserably. The
deaths of some were laid to the climates to which they went; but had
their constitutions not been completely weakened, they might easily have
withstood the attacks of the climate. Two died from excessive drinking,
another was killed in a drunken brawl, and a fourth broke his neck when
unconscious of what he was about, while two more died miserably,
horribly. I need not tell you now; but they had their own vicious
propensities alone to blame."
"I believe all you have told me, and how I wish that you would speak to
others in the way you have done to me," exclaimed Digby. "What shall we
do when you go, Bouverie?" As he spoke, the tears came into his eyes.
"Remember what I have said to you; and let the right-thinking boys keep
as much as possible to themselves," answered Bouverie (he was going at
the end of the half). "I will let you know where I am, and you must
write to me and let me know how things go on, and I will write to you,
and give you my advice. I shall depend a good deal upon you, remember.
Already many fellows look to you as a leader; you must do your best to
keep that position, not only by your daring and activity, but by your
moral conduct, by your steadiness and general good behaviour. As a
proof of it, Farnham and others have been arranging a game of
`Follow-my-leader' for to-morrow, across the country somewhere; and,
after discussing a number of fellows to act as leader, some much older
than you are, they unanimously fixed on you."
Digby could not be but pleased at this, especially from the importance
Bouverie attached to the circumstance. That very evening, Farnham,
Newland, Ranger, and several other fellows came up to him.
"Heathcote, the weather is still cool, and we have all been talking of a
grand Follow-my-leader run;" began Newland.
"Sibley, who was one of our best leaders, is lame, and can't run, and
Cooper won't, and the fellows say that Hume, and Freeland, and Rolls,
and Elmore don't give sport enough, and funk to go over difficult
places, and can't jump half the brooks about us, and so it was agreed
that the chances are you would make a better leader than any of them."
"That's not exactly it, Newland," interposed Farnham; "you know that
when some one asked you to lead, you said, that from the way Heathcote
had followed the last time we had a run, and from the capital manner in
which he plays all the games he learns, that you were certain that he
would prove about the best and most plucky leader we have had in our
time. Then, Heathcote, say you will accept the office, and settle the
matter."
"I can't make a speech, but I will undertake to do my best; and all I
ask is, that if I tumble into a ditch and can't get out by myself,
somebody will help me," answered Digby. "How many will join, do you
think?"
"Twenty, at least," said Farnham. "Good sport is expected; because they
all say a plucky fellow like you is certain to lead into new and
difficult places."
"As I said before, I'll do my best, and just think over to-night the
line of country I will take," said Digby. "I know it pretty well by
this time, but I will consult you two fellows about it when I have
formed a plan, and see if you approve of it."
So it was settled.
"We'll just take care, though," he added, "lest that little sneak, Tommy
Bray, does not manage to slip his vile French mark into my hand the last
thing. The only safe plan will be to hold my tongue altogether; then he
can't say I am talking English or bad French."
The rest undertook to keep a watch over Tommy, and to draw him away
should he be found near Digby.
The precaution was not useless, for he was very soon afterwards seen
hovering about, his little sharp eyes twinkling with malice, as if he
had made sure of his victim. The rest, however, sung out "Johnny
Jackass, Johnny Jackass,"--a name which had lately been bestowed on him,
while others "he-hawed--he-hawed" in concert, and in a way which
prevented him from fixing on any of the party with whom, from their
being in the French class, he could leave the mark. Besides, had he
given it to one of them, he would have been prevented handing it to
Digby, which it was his object to do. First one addressed him--not in
very good French, certainly,--then another; and the others pretended to
be talking English a little way off; but by the time he got up to them
they were either making dumb show, or chattering away in what was
considered French. Then he would suddenly turn back to Digby, but would
find him poring over a book, and as dumb as an adder. Thus the evening
slipped away; and after the bell rang for prayers, the mark could not be
passed. It was known that Bray did not really get any imposition for
having the mark, and thus all escaped.
Digby, very naturally, could scarcely sleep at first going to bed for
thinking of what he would do the next day. He resolved, at all events,
that he would show he was worthy of the honour done him. Each boy was
furnished with a strong ash leaping-pole, about ten feet long, and this
added very much to the excitement and interest of the sport, because by
their means wide and deep streams could easily be crossed, walls scaled,
and difficult hedges got through. At last Digby recollected having
taken a walk over a wildish part of the country, three or four weeks
before this; and on thinking over the impediments to a direct course
across it, he resolved that that should be the line he would follow.
This done, he fell asleep.