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A STORY FOR BOYS.
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| OSSD S
|
| Louis and Meredith on Brandon Hill. Page 76.
NEW-YORK:
| D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY.
1852.
eee ane
LOUIS’ SCHOOL DAYS:
A STORY FOR BOYS.
BY &E.J. MAY.
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY.
M DCCC LI.
PREFACE.
Ir was originally my intention to leave the child
of my imagination to make its way where it would,
without any letter of introduction in the form of the
usuak prefatory address to the reader; but having
been assured that a preface is indispensable, I am
laid under the necessity of formally giving a little
insight into the character of the possible inmate of
many a happy home.
Reader, the following pages claim no interest
on the score of authenticity. They are no fiction
founded on facts. They profess to be nothing but
fiction, used as a vehicle for illustrating certain
broad and fundamental truths:in our holy religion.
It has often struck me, in recalling religious sto-
ries (to which I acknowledge myself much indebted),
that many of them fell into an error which might
have the effect of confusing the mind of a thinking
child, namely, that of oes a perfect character
vi PREFACE.
as soon as the soul has laid hold of Christ, without
any mention of those struggles through which the
Christian must pass, in order to preserve a holy con-
sistency before men. This would seem to exclude
the necessity of maintaining a warfare.
The doctrine I have endeavored to maintain in
the following pages is, that man being born in “sin,
a child of wrath,†has, by nature, all his affections
estranged from God; that, when by grace, through
faith in Christ, a new life has been implanted within
him, his affeetions are restored to their rightful
Lord, every thought and imagination is brought
into captivity to the obedience of Christ; and his
whole being longs to praise Him who has called him
“out of darkness into light ’—to praise Him “ not
only with his lips, but in his life.’ Then com-
mences the struggle between light and darkness,
between the flesh and the spirit, between the old
and new man; and the results of this conflict are
seen in the outward conduct of the Christian soldier.
The character of the child of God does not essen-
tially alter, but a new impulse is given him. What-
ever good quality was in his natural state conspicu.
ous in him, will, in a state of grace and newness of
life, shine forth with double lustre; and he will find
PREFACE. Vil
his besetting sin his greatest hindrance in pressing
forward to the attainment of personal holiness. The
great wide difference is, that he deszres to be holy,
and the Lerd, who gives him this desire, gives him
also the strength to overcome his natural mind ;
and the more closely lfe waits on his heavenly Fa-
ther for His promised aid, the more holily and con-
sistently he will walk; and when, through the de-
ceits of his heart, the allurements of the world, or
the temptations of Satan, he relaxes his vigilance,
and draws less largely from the fountain of his
strength, a sad falling away is the inevitable conse-
quence. ‘This warfare, this danger of backsliding,
ends only with the life, when, and when only, he
will be perfect, for he shall be like his Saviour.
As a writer for the young, I dare not plead even
the humble pretensions of my little volume in dep-
recation of the criticism which ought to be the lot
of every work professing to instruct others. In
choosing the arena of a boy’s school for the scene of
my hero’s actions, I have necessarily been com-
pelled to introduce many incidents and phrases to
which, perhaps, some very scrupulous critics might
object as out of place ina religious work; but my
readers will do well to recollect, that to be useful, a
Vill PREFACE.
story must be attractive, and to be attractive, it
must be natural; and I trust that they who can-
didly examine mine will find nothing therein that
can produce a wrong impression. It has not been
without an anxious sense of the great responsibility
dependent on me in my present capacity, that this
little effort has been made. Should it be the instru-
ment of strengthening in one young one the best
lessons he has received, it will, indeed, not have
been in vain. To the service of Him who is the
strength and help of all His people, it is dedicated.
“ Be Thou alone exalted:
If there’s a thought of favor placed on me—
Ture be it all!
Forgive its evil and accept its good—
I cast it at Thy feet.â€
E.J.M.
LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
A-STORY FOR BOYS.
CHAPTER IL.
Do.ervut were the accounts received from time to time
of Louis Mortimer’s life with his tutor at Dashwood Rec-
tory ; and, if implicit credence might be yielded to them,
it would be supposed that no poor mortal was ever so per-
secuted by Latin verses, early rising, and difficult problems,
as our hero. His eldest brother, to whom these pathetic
relations were made, failed not to stimulate him with exci-
ting passages of school life—and these, at last, had the de-
sired effect, drawing from Louis the following epistle :
“My dear Reginald,
“Your letter was as welcome as usual. You
cannot imagine what a treat it is to hear from you. Mr.
Phillips is kind, but so very different from dear Mr. Daun-
ton. What I dislike most is, that he says so often, ‘ What
did Mr. Daunton teach you? I never saw a boy so igno-
rant in my life!’ I do not care how much he says of me,
but I cannot bear to hear him accuse dear Mr. Daunton of
not teaching me properly. I believe I am really idle often,
10 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
but sometimes, when I try most, it seems to give least satis-
faction. The other day I was busy two hours at some Latin
verses, and I took so much pains with them—lI had written
an ‘Ode to the Rising Sun,’ and felt quite interested, and
thought Mr. Phillips would be pleased; but when I took
it to him, he just looked at it, and taking a pen dashed out
word after word, and said, so disagreeably, ‘ Shocking !
Shocking, Louis! Disgraceful, after all that I said yester-
day—the pains that I took with you.’ ‘Indeed, sir,’ I said,
‘I tried a great deal.’ ‘Fine ideas! fine ideas! no doubt,’ he
said, ‘but I have told you dozens of times that I do not
want. 2deas—I want feet.’ I wish those same feet would
run away to Clifton with me, Reginald ; I hope I have not
been saying any thing wrong about Mr. Phillips—I should
be very sorry to do so, for he is very kind in his way: he
tells me I do not know what I am wishing for, and that
school will not suit me, and a great deal about my having
to fag much harder and getting into disgrace; but never
mind, I should like to make the experiment, for I shall be
with you; and, dear as Dashwood is, it is so dull without
papa and mamma—lI can hardly bear to go into the Priory
now they are away. I seem to want Freddy’s baby-voice
in the nursery; and sober Neville and Mary are quite a
part of home—how long it seems since I saw them! Well,
I hope I shall come to you at Easter. Do you not wish it
were here? I had a nice letter from mamma yesterday—
she was at Florence when she wrote, and is getting quite
strong, and so is little Mary. I have now no more time ;
mamma said papa had written to you, or I would have told
you all the news. I wanted to tell you very much how
our pigeons are, and the rabbits, and Mary’s hen, which I
A STORY FOR BOYS. 11
shall give in Mrs. Colthrop’s care when I leave Dashwood.
But good bye, in a great hurry. With much love, I remain
your very affectionate brother,
“Louis Francis Mortimer.
«“P.§. Do you remember cousin Vernon’s laughing at
our embrace at Heronhurst? I wonder when I shall have
another—I am longing so to see you.â€
It would not concern my readers much were I to de-
scribe the precise locality of the renowned Dr. Wilkinson’s
establishment for young gentlemen—suffice it to say, that
somewhere near Durdham Down, within a short walk of
Clifton, stood Ashfield House, a large rambling building,
part of which looked gray and timeworn when compared
with the modern school-room, and sundry dormitories, that
had been added at different periods as the school grew out
of its original domains. Attached to the house was a con-
siderable extent of park land, which was constituted the
general play-ground.
At the time of. which I am ileal Dr. Wilkinson’s
school consisted of nearly eighty pupils, all of whom were
boarders, and who were sent from different parts of the
kingdom ; for the doctor’s fame, as an excellent man, and
what, in the eyes of some was even a greater recommen-
dation, as a first-rate classical scholar, was spread far and
wide. At the door of this house, one fine April day, Louis
presented himself; and, after descending from the vehicle
which brought him from Bristol, followed the servant into
the doctor’s dining-room, where we will leave him in soli-
tary grandeur, or, more correctly speaking, in agitating ex-
12 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
pectation, while we take a peep at the room on the opposite
side of the hall. In this, Dr. Wilkinson was giving audience
to a gentleman who had brought back his little boy a few
minutes before Louis arrived. Having some private busi-
ness to transact, the child was sent to the school-room, and
then Mr. Percy entered into a discussion respecting the
capabilities of his son, and many other particulars, which,
however interesting to himself, would fail of being so
to us.
At length these topics were exhausted, and it seemed
nearly decided how much was to be done or discontinued
in Master Percy’s education. Mr. Percy paused to consider
if any thing were left unsaid.
“Oh! by the by, Dr. Wilkinson,†he said, letting fall
the pencil with which he had been tapping the table during
his cogitations, “you have one of Sir George Vernon’s
grandsons with you, I believe 2â€
“Two of them,†replied the doctor.
“* Ah! indeed, I mean young Mortimer, son of Mr. Mor-
timer of Dashwood.â€
“T have his eldest son, and am expecting another to-
day.â€
“Then it was your expected pupil that I saw this morn-
ing,†said Mr. Percy.
“‘ May I ask where ?†said the doctor,
‘“‘At the White Lion. He came down by the London
coach. I saw his trunk, in the first place, addressed to
you, and supposed him to be the young gentleman who
attained to some rather undesirable notoriety last year.â€
‘How so ?†asked the doctor.
“Oh! he very ungenerously and artfully endeavored
A STORY FOR BOYS. 13
to retain for himself the honor of writing a clever little
essay, really the work of his brother, and actually obtained
a prize from his grandfather for it.â€
«How came that about ?†asked Dr. Wilkinson.
‘“‘Oh! there was some mistake in the first instance, I be-
lieve, and the mean little fellow took advantage of it.â€
Mr. Percy then gave a detailed account of Louis’ birth-
day at Heronhurst, and concluded by saying—
“‘T was not present, but I heard it from a spectator; I
should be afraid that you will not have a little trouble with
such a character.â€
“It is extraordinary,†said the doctor ; “his brother is
the most frank, candid fellow possible.â€
“T hear he is a nice boy,†said Mr. Percy. “There is
frequently great dissimilarity among members of the same
family ; but of course, this goes no further. It is as well
you should know it,—but I should not talk-of it to every
one.â€
Dr. Wilkinson bowed slightly, and remained silent, with-
out exhibiting any peculiar gratification at having been
made the depository of the secret. Mr. Percy presently
rose and took his leave; and Dr. Wilkinson was turning
towards the staircase, when a servant informed him that a
young gentleman waited to see him in the dining-room.
“Oh!†said the doctor to himself, “my dilatory pupil, I
presume.â€
He seemed lost in thought for a minute, and then slowly
crossing the hall, entered the dining-room.
Louis had been very anxious for the appearance of his
master, yet almost afraid to see him; and when the door
opened, and this gentleman stood before him, he was seized
2
14 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
with such a palpitation as scarcely to have the power of
speech.
Dr. Wilkinson was certainly a person calculated to inspire
a school-boy with awe. He was a tall, dignified man, be-
tween fifty and sixty years of age, with a magnificent fore-
head and good countenance: the latter was not, however,
generally pleasing, the usual expression being stern and
unyielding. When he smiled, that expression vanished ;
but to a new-comer there was something rather terrible in
the compressed lips and overhanging eyebrows, from under
which a pair of the keenest black eyes seemed to look him
through. | :
Louis rose and bowed on his master’s entrance,
‘ How do you do, Mortimer 2†said the doctor, shaking
hands with him. “I dare Say you are tired of waiting.
You have not seen your brother, I suppose ?â€
“« No, sir,â€â€™ replied Louis, looking in the stern face with
something of his customary simple confidence. Doctor
Wilkinson smiled, and added, “You are very like your
father,—exceedingly like what he was at your age,â€
“ Did you know him then, sir ?†asked Louis, timidly.
“Yes, as well as I hope to know you in a short time.
What is your name ?â€
“‘ Louis Francis, sir,â€
‘‘ What! your father’s name—that is just what it should
be. Well, I hope, Louis, you will now endeavor to give
him the utmost satisfaction, With such a father, and such
a home, you have great privileges to account for ; and it is
your place to show to your parents of what use their care
and instruction have been. Ina large school you will find
many things so different from home, that, unless you are
A STORY FOR BOYS. 15
constantly on your guard, you will often be likely to do
things which may afterwards cause you hours of pain.
Remember that you are a responsible creature sent into the
world to act a part assigned to you by your Maker; and to
Him must the account of every talent be rendered, whether
it be used, or buried in the earth. As a Christian gentle-
man, see, Louis, that you strive to do your part with all
your might.â€
Dr. Wilkinson watched the attention and ready sympathy
with his admonition displayed by Louis ; and in spite of the
warning he had so lately received, felt very kindly and
favorably disposed towards his new pupil.
“Come with me,†he said, “I will introduce you to your
school-fellows ; I have no doubt you will find your brother
among them somewhere.â€
Louis followed Dr. Wilkinson through a door at the
further end of the hall, leading into a smaller hall which
was tapestried with great-coats, cloaks, and hats ; and here
an increasing murmur announced the fact of his near ap-
proach to a party of noisy boys. As the doctor threw
open the folding-doors leading into the noble school-room,
Louis felt almost stupefied by the noise and novelty. A
glass door leading into the play-ground was wide open,
and, as school was just over, there was a great rush~into
the open air. Some were clambering in great haste over
desks and forms ; and the shouting, singing, and whistling,
together with the occasional overthrow of a form, and the
almost incessant banging of desk-lids, from those who were
putting away slates and books, formed a scene —
new and bewildering to our hero.
The entrance of Dr. Wilkinson stilled the tumult in a
16 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
slight degree, and in half a minute after, the room was
nearly cleared, and a passage was left for the new-comers’
towards the upper end. Here was a knot of great boys
(or, rather, craving their pardon, I should say young men),
all engaged in eager and merry confabulation. So intent
were they that their master’s approach was wholly unno-
ticed by them. One of these young gentlemen was sitting
tailor fashion on the top of a desk, apparently holding forth
for the edification of his more discreet companions, to whom
he seemed to afford considerable amusement, if the peals of
laughter with which his sallies were received might be con-
sidered any proof. A little aloof from this party, but with-
in hearing, stood a youth of about seventeen, of whom no-
thing was remarkable, but that his countenance wore a
very sedate and determined expression. He seemed strug-
gling with a determination not to indulge a strong pro-
pensity to laugh; but, though pretending to be occupied
with a book, his features at length gave way at some irre-
sistible sally, and throwing his volume at the orator, he ex-
claimed—
“‘ How can you be such an ass, Frank !â€
“There now,†said Frank, perfectly unmoved, “ the cen-
tre of gravity is disturbed,—well, as I was saying,—Here’s
the doctor !†and the young gentleman, who was no other
than Frank Digby, brother of Louis’ cousin Vernon, dis-
mounted from his rostrum in the same instant that his audi-
tors turned round, thereby acknowledging the presence of
their master.
*“‘T have brought you a new school-fellow, gentlemen,â€
said the doctor; “ where is Mortimer ?â€
“Here, sir,†cried Reginald, popping up from behind a
A STORY FOR BOYS. 17
desk, where he had been pinned down by a short thick-set
boy, who rose as if by magic with him.
“Here is your brother.â€
Louis and Reginald scrambled over all obstacles, and
stood before the doctor, in two or three seconds.
In spite of Louis’ valiant protestations the preceding mid-
summer at Heronhurst, he did not dare, in the presence of
only a quarter of the hundred and twenty eyes, to embrace
his brother, but contented himself with a most energetic
squeeze, and a look that said volumes; and, indeed, it must
be confessed, that Reginald was not an inviting figure for
an embrace ; for, independently of a rough head, and dust-
bedecked garments, his malicious adversary had decorated
his face with multitudinous ink-spots, a spectacle which
greatly provoked the mirth of his laughter-loving school-
fellows. :
Dr. Wilkinson made some remark on the singularity of
his pupil’s appearance, and then, commending Louis to the
kind offices of the assembled party, left the room.
He had scarcely closed the door behind him, when sev-
eral loiterers from the lower part of the room came up;
and Reginald and his brother were immediately assailed
with a number of questions, aimed with such rapidity as to
be unanswerable.
“When did you come?†‘Who's that, Mortimer?â€
“Ts that your brother?†‘ What’s‘his name?†“ Shall
you be in our class?†“Why didn’t you stay longer in
Bristol ?—If I had been you I would !â€
Louis was amused though puzzled, and turned first one
way, and then another, in his futile attempts to see and
reply to his interrogators.
18 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS.
“Make way!†at last exclaimed Frank Digby; “ you
are quite embarrassing to her ladyship. Will the lady
Louisa take my arm? Allow me, madam, to interpose my
powerful authority.†And he offered his arm to*Louis
with a smirk and low bow, which set all the spectators off
laughing ; for Frank was one of those privileged persons,
who, having attained a celebrity for being very funny, can
excite a laugh with very little trouble.
“ Don’t, Frank !’’ said Reginald. .
“ Don’t! really, Mr. Mortimer, if you have no respect
for your sister’s feelings, it is time that I interposed. Here
you allow this herd of Z don’t know what to call them, to
incommode her with their senseless clamor. I protest, she
is nearly fainting; she has been gasping for breath the last
five minutes. Be off, ye fussy, curious, prying, peeping,
pressing-round fellows; or, I promise you, you shall be
visited with his majesty’s heaviest displeasure.â€
“How do you do, lady Louisa? I hope your ladyship’s
in good health!†“Don’t press on her !†was now echoed
mischievously in various tones around Louis, whose color
was considerably heightened by this unexpected attack,
“‘Now do allow me,†persisted Frank, dragging Louis’
hand in his arm, in spite of all the victim’s efforts to pre-
vent it, and leading him forcibly through the throng, which
made way on every side, to Edward Hamilton, the grave
youth before mentioned :—“ His majesty is anxious to
make the acquaintance of his fair subject. Permit me to
present to your majesty the lovely, gentle, blushing lady
Louisa Mortimer, lately arrived in your majesty’s kingdom ;
your majesty will perceive that she bears loyalty in her—
hey ! what! excited !—hysterics !â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 19
The last exclamations were elicited by a violent effort of
Louis to extricate himself.
« Frank, leave him alone !â€
“What is the will of royalty ?†said Frank, struggling
with his refractory cousin.
«That you leave Louis Mortimer alone,†said. Hamilton.
“You will like us better presently, Louis,’ added he,
shaking hands with him: “my subjects appear to consider
themselves privileged to be rude to a new- sees but my
royal example will have its weight in due time.â€
“Your majesty’s faithful trumpeter, grand vizier, and
factotum is alive and hearty,†said Frank.
« But as he had a selfish fit upon him just now,†returned
Hamilton, “ we were under the necessity of doing our own
business.â€
“JT crave your majesty’s pardon,†said Frank, stroking
his sovereign tenderly on the shoulder ; for which affection-
ate demonstration he was rewarded by a violent push that
laid him prostrate.
“J am a martyr to my own benevolence,†said Frank,
getting up and approaching Louis, “ still I am unchanged
in devotion to your ladyship. Tell me what I can do,â€â€”
and whichever way Louis turned, Frank with his smirking
face presented himself ;—* Will you not give your poor
slave one command ?â€
“Only that you will stand out of my sunihind;†said
Louis good-temperedly.
“Very good,†exclaimed Hamilton.
“Out of your sunshine! What, behind you? that is
cruel, but most obsequiously I obey.â€
Louis underwent the ordeal of a new scholar’s intro-
20 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
duction with unruffled temper, though his cousin took care
there should be little cessation until afternoon school, when
Louis was liberated from his tormentors to his great satis-
faction—Frank’s business carrying him to a part of the
school-room away from that where Louis was desired to
await further orders. In the course of the afternoon, he
was summoned to the presence of Dr. Wilkinson, who was
holding a magisterial levee in one of two class-rooms or
studies adjoining the school-room. The doctor appeared
in one of his sternest humors. Besides the fourteen mem-
bers of the first class, whose names Louis knew already,
there was in this room’a boy about Louis’ age, who seemed
in some little trepidation. Doctor Wilkinson closed the
book he held, and laying it down, dismissed his pupils ;
then turning to the frightened-looking boy, he took a new
book off the table, saying, “Do you know this, Harrison ?â€
“Yes, sir,†faintly replied the boy.
“Where did you get it 2â€
“T bought it.â€
“To assist you in winning prizes from your more honor-
able class-fellows, I suppose,†said the doctor, with the
most marked contempt. “Since you find Kenrick too diffi-
cult for you, you may go into the third class, where there
may be, perhaps, something better suited to your capacity ;
and beware a second offence: you may go, sir.â€
Louis felt great pity for the boy, who turned whiter still,
and then flushed up, as if ready to burst into tears.
‘‘ Well, Louis, I wish to see what rank you will be able
to take,†said the doctor, and he proceeded with his exam-
ination.
“ Humph !†he ejaculated at length, “ pretty well—you
A 8TORY FOR BOYS. 21
may try in the second class. I can tell you that you must
put your shoulder to the wheel, and make the most of yourâ€
powers, or you will soon be obliged to leave it for a less
- honorable post ; but let me see what you can do—and now
put these books away on that shelf.†As he spoke, the
doctor pointed to a vacant place on one of the shelves that
lined two sides of the study, and left the room. Louis put
the books away, and then returned to the school-room,
where he sought his brother, and communicated his news
just before the general uproar attendant on the close of
afternoon school commenced. ;
Reginald was one of the most. noisy and eager in his
preparations for play; and, dragging Louis along with
him, bounded into the fresh air, with that keen feeling of
enjoyment which the steady industrious school-boy knows
by experience.
‘“‘ What a nice play-ground this is !†said Louis.
“ Capital!’ said Reginald. “ What’s the fun, Frank ?â€
he cried to his cousin, who bounded past him at this mo-
ment, towards a spot already tolerably crowded.
‘* Maister Dunn,†shouted Frank.
“Oh, the old cake-man, Louis,†said Reginald ; “I must
go and get rid of a few surplus pence.â€
‘Do you like to spend your money in cakes 2†asked
Louis; “I have plenty, Mrs. Colthrop took care of that.â€
“In that case Dll save for next time,†said Reginald,
‘but let’s go and see what’s going on.â€
Accordingly Reginald ran off in the cake-man’s direction.
Louis followed, and presently found himself standing in the
outer circle of a group of his school-fellows, who formed a
thick wall round a white-haired old man and a boy, both of
22, LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
whom carried a basket on each arm, filled with dainties
always acceptable to a school-boy’s palate.
Were I inclined to moralize, I might here make a few
remarks on waste of money, &c., but my business being
merely to relate incidents at present, I shall only say that
there they stood, the old man and his assistant, with the
boys in constant motion and murmur around them.
_ Frank Digby and Hamilton were in the outer circle, the
latter having walked from a direction opposite to that from
which Frank and Reginald came, but whose dignity did not
prevent a certain desire to purchase if he saw fit, and if
not, to amuse himself with those who did so. He stood
watching the old man with an imperturbable air of gravity,
and, hanging on his arm in a state of listless apathy, stood
Trevannion, another member of the first class.
Frank Digby took too active a share in most things in
the establishment to remain a passive spectator of the ac-
tions of others, and began pushing right and left. “ Get
along, get away ye vagabonds!†he politely cried: “you
little shrimps! what business have you to stop the way ?—
Alfred, you ignoramus! Alfred, why don’t you move ?â€â€™
«Because I’m buying something,†said the little boy
addressed, looking up very quietly at the imperious in-
truder.
« Da locum melioribus, Alfred, as the poet has it. Do
you know where to find that, my boy ?—the first line of
the thirteenth book of the Aineid, being a speech of the
son of Anchises to the Queen of Carthage. You'll find a
copy of Virgil’s works in my desk.â€â€™ |
«TI don’t mean to look,†said Alfred, “1 know it’s in the
Delectus.â€â€™
ae
be
Maister Dunn. Page 29.
_A STORY FOR BOYS. 23
“Wonderful memory!—I admire that delectable book
of yours,†cried Frank, who talked on without stopping,
while forcing himself to the first rank. ‘How now, Mais-
ter Dunn!†he said, addressing the old man, “I hope you
b’aint a going to treat us as e did last time. You must be
reasonable ; the money market is in a sadly unflourishing
condition at present.â€
“You always talk of the money market, Frank,†said
little Alfred: “what do you mean by the money market ?â€
“It’s a place, my dear—I’ll explain it in a moment.
Here, Maister Dunn ;—It’s a place where the old women
sell sovereigns a penny a measure, Alfred.â€
“Oh, Frank!†exclaimed Alfred.
“Oh! and why not?†said Frank; “do you mean to
Say you don’t believe me? That’s it,—isn’t it, maister ?â€
“Ah, Maister Digby! ye’re at yer jokes,†said the old
man,
“Jokes!†said Frank, with a serious air. “ Pray, Mr.
Dunn, did you ever happen to notice certain brass, or cop-
per, or bronze tables, four in number, in front of the Bristol
Exchange !â€
“ Ay sure, maister !â€
“Well, I'll insense you into the meaning of that, pres-
pay: That, my good sir, is where the old women stood
n the good old times, crying out, ‘Here you are! sove-
fens a penny a measure!’ And that’s the reason people
used to be so rich!â€
“Oh, Frank! now I*know that’s only your nonsense,â€
said Alfred.
“ Well, I can’t give you a comprehension, and if I could
buy you one, I couldn’t afford it,†answered Frank, « Now
24 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
here’s my place for any one; Louis, I'll make you a pres-
ent of it, as I don’t want it.â€
«T don’t want to buy any thing,†said Louis.
« Rubbish!†cried Frank. ‘Every one does. Don't be
stingy.†And so Louis allowed himself to be pushed and
pulled into the crowd, and bought something he would
much rather have been without, because he found it incon-
venient to say no.
The two upper classes were privileged to use the largest
of the class-rooms as their sitting-room in the evenings ;
and here Reginald introduced his brother after tea; and,
when he had shown him his lessons, began to prepare his
own. Most of the assembled youths were soon quietly
busy, though some of the more idly disposed kept up a fire
of words, while turning over leaves, and cutting pens to
pieces. Among the latter class was Frank Digby, who was
seldom known to be silent for a quarter of an hour, and
who possessed the singular power of distracting every one’s
attention but his own; for, though he scarcely ever ap-
peared to give his lessons a moment’s attention, he was
generally sufficiently prepared with them to enable him to
keep his place in his class, which was usually two from the
bottom.
Louis saw that he must give his whole mind to his work ;
but being unused to study in a noise, it was some time be-
fore he was well able to comprehend what he wanted to do;
and found himself continually looking up and laughing at
something around him, or replying to some of Frank’s
jokes, which were often directed to him. When, by a great
exertion, he had_at last forced himself to attend to Regin-
ald’s repeated warnings, and had begun to learn in earnest,
A STORY FOR Boys. 95
the door softly opened, and the little boy he had noticed in
the crowd that afternoon came in.
“Halloa! what do you want 2†cried one of the seniors ;
“you have no business here.â€
“Is Edward here, Mr. Salisbury ?â€
“No.â€
“Do you know where he is, please ?â€
“ With the doctor,†replied the young gentleman.
“Oh dear!†sighed the little boy, venturing to approach
the table a little nearer,
“‘ What’s the matter with you?†asked Reginald.
“T can’t do this,†said the child: “I wanted Edward to
help me with my exercise,â€
“My little dear, you have just heard that sapient Fred
Salisbury declare, in the most civil terms chooseable, that
your fraternal preceptor, Edwardus magnus, non est inven-
tus,†said Frank, pompously, with a most condescending
flourish of his person in the direction of the little boy.
“And, consequently,†said the afore-mentioned Mr. Salis-
bury, “ you have free leave to migrate to York, Bath, Jer’-
cho, or any other equally convenient resort for bores in
general, and you in particular,â€
“Please, Mr, Digby,†said the little boy, “will you just
show me this ?â€
“Indeed I can’t,†said Frank ; “TI can’t dd my own, so in
all reason you could not expect me to find brains for two
exercises,â€
“Oh! please somebody show me—Dr. Wilkinson will
be so angry if Mr. Norton sends me up again to-morrow.â€
“WiLL you co?†shouted Salisbury, with such delib-
erate energy of enunciation that Alfred shrunk back:
3
7
26 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
«“ what’s the use of your exercises, if you’re shown how to
do them ?â€â€™
‘Come here, Alfred,†said Louis,softly. Alfred readily
obeyed ; and Louis, taking his book, began to show him —
what to do. .
“Louis. ~1 must not tell him word for word,†said
Reginald (amilton wouldn’t like it—he never does him-
self.â€
«But I may help him to do it for himself, may I not rr
said Louis.
“Yes; but, Louis, you have not time—and he is so
stupid,†replied Reginald; “ you won’t have time to do
your own.†|
But Louis thought he should have time for both, and,
putting his arm round Alfred, he kindly and patiently set
him in the way of doing his lesson properly, and then re-
sumed his own disturbed studies.
Hardly, however, was he settled than he found himself
listening to Frank, who remarked,jas Alfred left the room,
“We shall be sure to have ‘ Oars’ in soon !â€â€
“Who do you mean by Oars?†asked Louis.
“ Churchill,†said Reginald, laughing.
« What an extraordinary name!†said Louis.
“I say, Digby,†cried a boy from the opposite side of
the table, “they give you the credit of that cognomen—
but we are all in the dark as to its origin.â€
“Like the origin of all truly great,†answered Frank,
‘
his usual ‘ Do tell us a bit, that’s a good fellow,’ and after
he had badgered me some minutes, I asked him if he had
not the smallest idea of his lesson—so, after looking at it
A STORY “FOR Boys. 27
another minute, he begins thus, ‘ Omues, all.’ «Bravo ?
replied I. ‘ Conticwere—What’s that, Frank?’ ‘Were
silent,’ I answered: ‘Go on.’ After deep cogitation, and
sundry hints, he discovered that tenebant must have some
remote relationship to a verb signifying to hold fast, and
forthwith a bright thought strikes him, and on we go:
* Intentique ora tenebant—and intently they hold their oars,’
he said, exultingly. ‘Very well,’ quoth I, approvingly,
and continued for him, ‘ Znde toro pater—the waters flowed
glibly farther on, ab alto—to the music of the spheres ;
the inseparable Castor and Pollux looking down benignantly
on their namesake below.’ Here I was stopped by the
innocent youth’s remark, that I certainly was quizzing, for
he knew that Castor and Pollux were the same in Latin as
in English. Whereupon, I demanded, with profound gray-
ity, whether gemini did not mean twins, and if the twins
were not Castor and Pollux—and if he knew (who knew
so much better than I) whether or no there might not be
some word in the Latiti language, besides gemini, signifying
twins ; and that if it was his opinion that I was quizzing,
he had _ better do his lesson himself, He looked hard, and,
thinking I was offended, begged pardon; and believing that
Jjubes was Castor and Pollux, we got on quite famously—
and he was quite reassured when we turned from the de-
scriptive to the historical, beginning with:_4neas sic orsus
¢nfandum— Eneas was such a horrid bear,â€
“ Didn’t you tell him of his mistake â€â€ asked Louis, who
could not help laughing.
“What! spoil the fun and the lesson I meant to give
him ?—not I.â€
“Well, what then, Frank?†said Reginald.
298 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
« Why, imagine old Whitworth’s surprise, when, confi-
dent in the free translation of a first-class man, Oars flowed
on as glibly as the waters ; Whitworth heard him to the
end in his old dry way, and then asked him where he got
that farrago of nonsense ;—I think he was promoted to the
society of dunces instanter, and learns either Delectus or
Eutropius now.. Of course, he never applied again to me.â€
Louis did not express his opinion that Frank was ill-
natured, though he thought so, in spite of the hearty laugh
with which his story was greeted. When he turned again
to his lesson, he found his book had been abstracted.
“TI tell you what,†cried Reginald, fiercely, “I won't
have Louis tormented—who has taken his book? It’s
you, Ferrers, I am sure.â€
“T! did you ever!†replied that young gentleman. “ I
appeal to you, Digby—did you see me touch his book 2â€
«J did not, certainly,†said Frank.
« Give me the book,†exclaimed Reginald, jumping upon
the table, “ give me the book, and let’s have no more such
foolery.†|
‘Get down, Mortimer, you're not transparent,†cried
several voices,
Reginald, however, paid no attention to the command, but
pouncing upon Ferrers at a vantage, threw him backwards
off the form, tumbling over his prostrate foe, and in his de-
scent bringing down books, inkstand, papers, and one of
the candles, in glorious confusion.
«¢ What’s the row !†exclaimed Salisbury, adding an ex-
pression more forcible than elegant ; and, starting from his
seat, he pulled Reginald by main force from his adversary,
with whom he was now struggling on the floor, and at the
oer
A STORY FOR BOYS. 29
same instant the remaining candle was extinguished. Louis
was almost stunned by the noise that ensued: some taking
his brother’s part, and some that of Ferrers, while, in the
dark, friend struggled and quarrelled with friend as much
as foe, no one attempting to quell the tumult, until the door
was suddenly burst open, and Hamilton with Trevannion
and two or three from the school-room entered. Hamilton
stood still for a moment, astonished by the unlooked-for ob-
scurity. His entrance checked the combatants, who at first
imagined that one of their masters had made his appear-
ance, if that could be said to appear which was hardly
discernible in the dim light which came through the half-
open door. Hamilton begged one of the boys with him to
fetch a light, and taking advantage of the momentary lull, he
called out, “ Is this Bedlam, gentlemen? You ought to be
ashamed of yourselves! What’s the matter, Mortimer ?â€
“Oh!†replied Ferrers, « they’ve been teasing his little
brother, and he can’t abide aâ€
“I only mean to say, that Louis shan’t be plagued in
this manner,†cried Reginald, passionately ; “and you
know if the others were not here you wouldn’t dare to do
it, you bully !â€
“For shame, Mortimer,†said Hamilton, decidedly ; and
coming up to Reginald he drew him a little aside, not with-
out a little resistance on Reginald’s part—«What’s the
matter, Mortimer ?â€
“‘ Matter! why that they are doing all they can to hinder
Louis from knowing his lessons to-morrow. I won’t stand
it. He has borne enough of it, and patiently too.â€
“ But is that any reason you should forget that you are
a gentleman ?†said Hamilton.
3%
30 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
“ My book is here, dear Reginald,†said Louis, touching
his brother’s shoulder.
Reginald darted a fierce glance at Ferrers, but not being
able to substantiate an accusation against him, remained
silent, and, under the eye of Hamilton and his friend Tre-
vannion, the remainder of the evening passed in a way
more befitting the high places in the school which the
young gentlemen held ; but Louis had been so much inter-
rupted, and was so much excited and unsettled by the
noise and unwonted scenes, that when Dr. Wilkinson came
at nine to read prayers, he had hardly prepared one of his
lessons for the next day.
ty
A STORY FOR Boys. 31
CHAPTER I,
Louis soon made himself a universal favorite among’ his
school-fellows; and, though he was pronounced by some
to be a “softy,†and by others honored by the equally com-
prehensive and euphonious titles of « spooney†and “ muff,â€
there were few who were not won by his gentle good-
nature, and the uniform good temper, and even playfulness,
with which he bore the immoderate quizzing that fell to his
lot, as a new boarder arrived in the middle of the half-year,
If there were an errand to be run among the seniors, it was,
“Louis Mortimer, will you get me this or that ?†if a dunce
wanted helping, Louis was sure to be applied to, with the
certainty in both cases that the requests would be complied
with, though they might, as was too often the case, inter-
fere with his duties; but Louis had not courage to say no..
In proportion, however, as our hero grew in the good
graces of his school-fellows, he fell out of those of his mas-
ters, for lessons were brought only half-learned, and exer-
cises only half-written, or blotted and scrawled so as to be
nearly unintelligible ; and after he had been a fortnight at
school, he seemed much more likely to descend to a lower
“class than to mount’ step in his own. Day after day saw
Louis kept in the school-room during play-hours, to learn
lessons which ought to have been done the night before, or
32 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
to write out some long imposition as a punishment for
some neglected duty that had given place to the desire of
assisting another.
Louis always seemed ina hurry, and never did any thing
well. His mind was unsettled, and, like every thing else
belonging to him at present, in a state of undesirable con-
fusion.
There was one resource which Louis had which would
have set all to rights, but his weakness of disposition often
prevented him from taking advantage of even the short
intervals for prayer allowed by the rules of the school, and
he was often urged at night into telling stories till he drop-
ped asleep, and hurried down by the morning bell, before
he could summon up courage to brave the remarks of his
school-fellows as to his being so very religious, &c., and
sometimes did not feel sorry that there was some cause to
prevent these solemn and precious duties. I need not say
he was not happy. He enjoyed nothing thoroughly ; he
felt he was not steadily in earnest. Every day he came
with a beating heart to his class, never certain that he could
get through a single lesson.
One morning he was endeavoring to stammer through a
few lines of some Greek play, and at last paused, unable to
proceed.
“ Well, sir,†said his master quietly,—* as usual, I sup-
pose—I shall give you only a few days’ longer trial, and
then, if you cannot do better, you must go down.â€
‘Who is that, Mr. Danby ?†said a voice behind Louis,
that startled him, and turning his blafiched face round, he®
saw Dr. Wilkinson standing near. “Who is that, Mr, -
Danby ?†he repeated, in a deep stern voice.
A STORY FOR Boys. | 33
‘* Louis Mortimer, sir,†replied Mr. Danby. “ Either he
is totally unfit for this class, or he is very idle; I can make
nothing of him.â€
Dr. Wilkinson fixed his eyes searchingly on Louis, and
replied, in a tone of much displeasure :
“If you have the same fault to find the next two days,
send him into a lower class, It is the most disgraceful
idleness, Louis.†:
Louis’ heart swelled with Sorrow and shame as the doc-
tor walked away. He stood with downcast eyes and quiv-
ering lids, hardly able to restrain his tears, until the class
was dismissed, and he was desired to Stay in and learn his
unsaid lesson.
Reginald followed his brother into the study, where Louis
took his books to learn more quietly than he could do in
the school-room,
“ My dear Louis,†he said, “you must try ; the doctor
will be so displeased if you go into a lower class; and just
think what a disgrace it will be,â€
“T know,†said Louis, wiping his eyes: “T can’t tell
how it is, every thing seems to §° wrong with me—JI
am not at all happy, and I am sure I wish to please every-
body.â€
“A great deal too much, dear Louis,â€â€™ said Reginald.
“You are always teaching everybody else, and you know
you have scarcely any time for. yourself. Yoy must tell
them you won’t do it; I can’t be always at your elbow;
I’ve quarrelled more with the boys than ever I did, since
“you came, on your account.†:
“Oh dear! I am sorry I came,†sighed Louis, “I do so
long to be a little quiet. Reginald, dear, I am so sorry I
34 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
should give youany trouble. Oh, I have lost all my happy
thoughts, and I know every thing is sure to go wrong.â€
Louis remained sadly silent for a few minutes, and then,
raising his tearful eyes to his brother, who was sitting with
his chin on his hands, watching him, he begged him to
leave him, declaring he should not learn any thing while
Reginald was with him.
Thus urged, Reginald took his departure, though, with
his customary unselfish affection, he would rather have
stayed and helped him.
When he was gone, Louis began slowly to turn over the
leaves of his Lexicon, in order to prepare his lesson. He
had not been long thus employed, when he was interrupted
by the irruption of the greatest dunce in the school, intro-
duced to the reader in the former chapter as Churchill,
alias Oars, a youth of fifteen, who had constant re-
course to Louis for information. He now laid his dog’s-
eared Eutropius before Louis, and opened his business
with his usual “ Come now, tell us, Louis—help us a bit,
Louis.â€
“Indeed, Harry, it is impossible,â€â€™ said Louis sorrowfully.
“T have all my own to do, and if I do not get done before
dinner I shall go into the third class—no one helps me,
you know.â€
“Tt won’t take you a minute,†said Churchill.
“Tt does take much more. You know I was an hour
last night writing your theme; and, Churchill, I do not
think it is right.†in
“Oh stuff! who’s been putting that nonsense into your
head ?†replied Churchill. “It’s all right and good, and
like your own self, you’re such a good-natured fellow.â€
A STORY FOR Boys. 35
“ And a very foolish one, Sometimes,†said Louis. “ (Can’t
you get somebody else to show you?â€
“Goodness gracious!†cried Churchill, “who do you
think would do it now? and no one does it so well as you.
Come, I say—come now—that’s a good fellow,—now do.â€
“ But how is it that you want to learn your lesson now,â€
asked Louis? “ Won’t the evening do?â€
“No; Dr. Wilkinson has given me leave to go out with
my uncle this afternoon, if I learn this and say it to old
Norton before I go; and I am sure I shan’t get it done if
you don’t help me.â€
“I cannot,†said poor Louis,
“Now I know yow’re too good-natured to let me lose
this afternoon’s fun. Come, you might have told me half.â€
And against his better judgment, Louis spent half an
hour in hearing this idle youth a lesson, which, with a little
extra trouble he might easily have mastered himself in three
quarters of an hour.
“Thank you, Louis, you're a capital fellow; I know it
now, don’t I ?†|
“I think so,†replied Louis; “and now you must not
talk to me.â€
“What are you doing?†said Churchill, looking at his
book; oh, ‘Kenrick’s Greek Exercises.’ If I can’t tell
you, I can help you to something that will.. Here’s a key.â€
As he spoke, he took down the identical book taken from
Harrison on the day of Louis’ arrival, and threw it on the
table before him.
“Is that a key 2†asked Louis, Opening the book; «“ put
it back, Harry, I cannot use it.â€
“ Why not ?â€
36 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS!
“Tt would not be right. Oh no! I will not, Churchill ;
put it up.â€
“How precise you are!â€â€™ said Churchill ; “it’s quite a
common thing for those ane can get them—Thompson and
Harcourt always use one.’
“Thompson ought to be ashamed of hineall †cried
Louis, “to be trying for a prize, and use a key.â€
“Well, so he ought, but you won’t get a prize if you
begin now, and try til breaking-up day ; so you hurt no-
body, and get yourself out of a scrape. Don’t be a donkey,
Louis.â€
When Churchill left him alone Louis looked at the title-
page, and felt for an instant strongly tempted to avail him-
self of the assistance of the book; but something checked
him, and.he laid his arms suddenly on the table, and buried
his ‘face on them. A heavy hand laid on his shoulder
roused him from this attitude; and looking up, with his
eyes full of tears, he found Hamilton and Trevannion stand-
ing beside him. °
““What’s the matter, Louis ?†said the former.
“I have so much to.do;—I—I’ve been very careless
and idle,†stammered Louis.
“T can readily believe that,†said Hamilton.
“A candid confession, at any rate,†remarked Trevannion.
“And do you imagine that your brains will be edified by
noehg in contact with these books?†asked Hamilton.
“What have you to do?â€
“T have this exercise to re-write, and my Greek to
learn »—and—and—twenty lines of Homer to write out.
I can’t do all now—I shall have to stay in this after-
o>
noon.
A STORY FOR Boys. 37
“TI should think that more than probable,†said Tre-
vannion.
‘What have we here ?†said Hamilton, taking up the
key. “Hey! what! Louis! Is this the way you are going
to cheat your masters ?†:
“Pray don’t think it 2†said Louis, eagerly.
“If you use keys, I have done with you.â€
“Indeed I did not,—I never do,—I wasn’t going. One
of the boys left it here. Iam sure I did not mean to do
so,†cried Louis in great confusion.
“ Put it back,†said Hamilton, gravely, “and then I will
§° over your lessons with you, and see if I can make yJu
understand them better,â€
“Thank you, thank you,—how kind you are !†said poor
Louis, who hastily put the dangerous book away, and then
sat down. en
Hamilton smiled, and remarked, “It is but fair ‘that one
should be assisted who loses his character in playing knight
errant for all those who need, or fancy. they need, his good
services: but, Louis, you are very. wrong to give up so
much of. your time to others ; your time does not ‘belong
to yourself ; your father did not send you here to assist
Dr. Wilkinson—or, rather, I should Say, to save a set of
idle boys the trouble of doing their own work. There is a
vast difference between weakness and good-nature; but
now to business.â€
Trevannion withdrew with a book to the window, and
Hamilton sat down by Louis, and took great pains to make
him give his mind to his business; and so thoroughly did
he succeed with his docile pupil, that, although he had
come in rather late, all, with the exception of the imposi-
4
38 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS!
tion, was ready for Mr. Danby by the time the dinner-bell
rang. ;
~ Louis overwhelmed Hamilton with the expression of his
gratitude, and again and again laid his little hand on that
of his self-instituted tutor. Hamilton did not withdraw his
hand, though he never returned the pressure, nor made
any reply to Louis’ thanks, further than an abrupt admo-
nition from time to time to “mind what he was about,â€
and to “go on.â€
Several inquiries were made at the open window after
Louis, but all were answered by Trevannion, and our hero
was left undisturbed to his studies.
That evening Louis had the satisfaction of being seated
near his friend Hamilton, who, with a good-natured air of
authority, kept him steadily at work until his business was
properly concluded. Unhappily for Louis, Hamilton was
not unfrequently with the doctor in the evenings, or he
might generally have relied on his protection and assistance :
however, for the next two or three days, Louis steadily re-
sisted all allurements to leave his own lesson until learned ;
and, in consequence, was able to report to Hamilton the
desirable circumstance of his having gained two places in
his class, |
OO
A STORY FOR Boys. 39
CHAPTER III.
For some time before Louis’ arrival at Ashfield House,
preparations had been making in the doctor’s domestic
ménage for the approaching marriage of Afiss Wilkinson,
the doctor’s only daughter. The young gentlemen had,
likewise, their preparations for the auspicious event, the re-
sult of which was a Latin Epithalamium, composed by the
seniors, and three magnificent triumphal arches, erected on
the way from the house-door to the gate of the grounds.
Much was the day talked of, and eagerly were plans laid, -
both by masters and pupils, for the proper enjoyment of
the whole holiday that had been promised on the occasion,
and which, by the way—whatever young gentlemen gen-
erally may think of their masters’ extreme partiality for
teaching—was now aygreater boon to the wearied and over-
fagged ushers, than to the party for whose enjoyment it
was principally designed. *
The bridal day came.—No need to descant on thie weath-
er. The sun shone as brightly as could be desired, and as
the interesting procession passed under the green bowers,
cheer after cheer rose on the air, handfuls of flowers were
trodden under the horses’ feet, and hats, by common con-
Sent, performd various somersaults some yards above their
Owners’ heads.
40 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
There was a long watci till the carriages returned, and
the same scene was enacted and repeated, when the single
vehicle rolled away from the door; and the last mark of
honor having been paid, the party dispersed over the large
playground, each one in search of his own amusement.
Louis wandered away by himself, and enjoyed a quiet hour
unmolested, and tried, with the help of his little hymn-book,
and thinking over old times, to bring back some of his for-
mer happy thoughts. There were more than ordinary
temptations around him, and he felt less able to resist them ;
and this little rest from noise and hurry was to him very
grateful. When, at length, a little party found out his re-
treat and begged him to join in a game of “hocky,†he
complied with a light and merry heart, freer from that rest-
less anxiety to which he had been lately so much subject.
In the afternoon, determining to let nothing interfere
with the learning of his lessons, Louis sat down in the
school-room to business. There were but two persons be-
sides himself in the room, one of whom was an usher, who
was writing a letter, and the other, his school-fellow Ferrers.
The latter was sitting on the opposite side of the same
range of desks Louis had chosen, very intently engaged in
the same work which had brought Louis there.
Lonis felt very happy in the consciousness that he Was
foregoing the pleasure of the merry playground for the
stern business that his duty had imposed on him; and the
noise of his companions’ voices, and the soft breezes that
came in through the open door leading into the playground,
only spurred him on to finish his work as quickly as possible.
Ferrers and his younger vis-a-vis pursued their. work in
silence, apparently unconscious of the presence of each
_A STORY FOR Boys. 41
other, until the former, raising his head, asked Louis to fetch
him an atlas out of the study.
“With pleasure,†said Louis, jumping up and running
into the study; he returned almost immediately with a
large atlas, and laid it down on Ferrers’ books. He had
once more given his close attention to his difficult exercises,
when a movement from his companion attracted his notice.
“Did you speak ?†he said.
“Will you—oh, never mind, I’ll do it myself,†muttered
Ferrers, rising and going into the class-room himself.
Louis had become again so intent upon his study, that
he was hardly aware of the return of his school-fellow, nor
did he notice the precipitation with which he hurried into
his place, and half hid the book he had brought with him,
a book that he imagined’to be a key to his exercises, but
which, in fact, was a counterpart.to that taken away from
Harrison, though bound exactly like the one Ferrers had
gone for, and so nearly the same size as easily to be mista-
ken for it in the confusion attendant on the abstraction of it.
Just at this moment, Hamilton, Trevannion, and Salis-
bury, with one or two more of the first class, entered from
the playground, and walked directly across to Ferrers.
Alive to all the disgrace of being found by his class-
fellgws in possession of a key, and unable to return it unob-
served, Ferrers, in the first moment of alarm,‘ tried to Sush
it into the desk at which he was writing, but finding it
locked, he stood up with as much self-possession as he
could assume, and pretending to be looking among his
books and. papers, managed, unobserved, to pass the obnox-
ious volume over to Louis’ heap of books, laying it half un-
der one of them. Louis was wholly unconscious of the
4%
42 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
danger so near him, and did not raise his head from his ab-
sorbing occupation when the fresh comers approached the
desk.
“Ferrers,†said Salisbury, as they came up, “we want
your advice on a small matter; come with us into the
class-room.â€
Accordingly Ferrers obeyed, glad to leave the dangerous
spot, and Louis was left in undisturbed possession of the
apartment for more than half an hour, at the end of which
time the party returned from the inner room laughing, and
all walked out of doors. Just as they passed out, Mr.
Witworth, the usher, approached Louis, and asked him if
he could lend him a pencil. Louis laid his pen down, and
began to search his pockets for a gene he knew should be
there, when he was startled by the ejaculation of the master:
— ee '—what !—This is it, ig it? So I have found you
out, .sir.’
Louis looked up in alarm, “Found me out, sir?†he
said, in a terrified tone: “what have I done ?â€
“Done!†exclaimed Mr. Witworth,—* done, indeed : what
are you doing there ?â€
“‘ My exercise, sir.â€
“To be sure, to be sure. What’s the meaning of this,
sir?†and he held up the key. ‘What have you done,
indeed !—you hoped that it was nicely concealed, I dare
say. I wonder how you can be so artful.â€
“Tam sure I don’t know any thing about that book,â€
said Louis, in great agitation.
‘‘ Admirably acted,†said Mr. Witworth. “It wouldn’t
walk here, however, Master Mortimer: some one must have
brought it.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 43
«T am sure I don’t know who did—I don’t indeed,â€â€™ said
poor Louis, despairingly.
« Perhaps you'll try to make me believe you don’t know
what it is, and that you never saw the book before,†re-
marked Mr. Witworth, scornfully.
“J do know what it is, but I never used it, I do assure
you, sir, and I did not bring it here. * Will you not believe
me ?â€
“Tt is very likely that I should believe you, is it not?
Well, sir, this book goes up with you to-morrow to Dr. Wil-
kinson, and we shall see how much he will believe of your
story. This accounts for your apparent industry lately.â€
So saying, Mr. Witworth walked off with the book in his
hand, leaving Louis in the greatest distress.
“And all my pains are quite lost!’ he exclaimed, as
he burst into tears. ‘The doctor is sure not to believe
me, and there will be—oh, who could have left it
there ?â€
“Louis, are you coming out this afternoon ; what’s the
matter ?â€â€™ exclaimed the welcome voice of his brother.
“What, Lady Louisa in tears! Here’s the ink bottle;
do let me catch the crystal drops,†said Frank Digby, who
accompanied Reginald in search of his brother.
“Oh, Reginald !†exclaimed Louis, regardless of Frank’s
nonsense, “‘some one has left a key to my exercises on my
books, and Mr. Witworth has just found it. What shall
I do?â€
“« Some one has left,†ejaculated Frank. That’s a good
story, Louis; only one can’t quite swallow it, you know.
Who would leave it, eh ?â€
“How? where, Louis?†said Reginald.
44 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
“It was just here it was found. I am sure I cannot
think who put it there.â€
“Well of all the’—began Frank; « my astonishment
positively chokes me. Louis, are you not ashamed of
yourself ?â€
“Oh, Frank! Iam speaking the truth; I am, indeed, I
am—Reginald, I am,.you know I am.â€
“It is very strange,†remarked Reginald, who was stand-
ing with a clouded, unsatisfied brow, and did not exhibit
that enthusiasm respecting his innocence which Louis ex-
pected from him. Reginald knew too much, and dared
not yet be certain when appearances were so sadly against
him.
“ Reginald, dear Reginald, tell me,†cried Louis, almost
frantically ; “surely you believe me 2?â€
“ Believe you!â€â€™ echoed Frank, scornfully ; “he knows
you too well, and so do I. Remember last year, Louis :
you'd better have thought of it sooner.â€
Reginald cast a threatening glance on his cousin, who
undauntedly replied to it.
“You can’t gainsay that, at any rate, Reginald.â€
“Reginald, dear Reginald,†cried Louis, with streaming
eyes, “you know I always spoke the truth to you; I de-
clare solemnly that I am speaking only the truth now.â€
Reginald looked gloomily at his brother.
“Indeed it is. If you will not believe me, who will ?â€
“Who, indeed 2?†said Frank.
“I do believe you, Louis,†said Reginald, quickly, “I do
believe you; but this matter must be sifted. It is very
strange, but I will make all the inquiries I can. Who sat
with you?â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 45
“Ferrers was sitting there,†replied Louis.
« Any one else ?â€â€™ .
“No,†replied Louis.
«T’ll answer for it, it was Ferrers,†said Reginald.
« A likely story,†said Frank.
“T think it very likely,†said Reginald, firmly, “ and woe
be to him if he has.â€
As he finished speaking, Reginald ran off in search of
Ferrers, whom he found in a group of the head boys, into
the midst of which he burst without the smallest cere-
mony.
«Manners !â€â€™ exclaimed Hamilton; “I beg your pardon,
Mr. Mortimer, for standing in your way.â€
“T am very sorry,†said Reginald, bluntly, “‘ but I can’t
stand upon ceremony. Ferrers, what have you been doing
with Kenrick’s Exercises—I mean the key to it ?â€
“T!†cried Ferrers, reddening violently ; “‘ what—what
do you mean, Mortimer ?â€â€™
“You have left the key on Louis’ desk, to get him into
a scrape—you know you have.â€â€™
“Upon my word, Mortimer! what next!†exclaimed
Salisbury. “Who do you think would fash themselves
about such a little hop-o’-my-thumb ?â€
“Will you let Ferrers answer!†cried Reginald, im-
periously.
Unconscious of the mistake he had made, Ferrers felt
exceedingly uncomfortable in his present position, and, as-
suming an air of contemptuous indignation, he turned his
back on Reginald, saying as he did so, “Such impertinence
merits nothing but silent contempt.â€
“You did it, you coward!†cried Reginald, enraged
46 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS!
almost beyond control. “I know you did, and you know
you did. Will you answer me Y
“ Answer him, Ferrers, answer him at once, and let us
have an end of his impertinence,†cried several voices: « he’s
like a wild-cat.â€
“ Well then, I did not,†said Ferrers, turning round with
a violent effort; “ will that satisfy you ?â€
Reginald glared angrily and doubtfully on the changing
countenance of the speaker, and then burst out vehe-
mently,
“I don’t believe a word you say: you did it eitner to
spite him, or you mistook your aim. Do you never use
keys, Mr. Ferrers ?â€
‘Really, Mortimer !â€â€ exclaimed Trevannion, “ your lan-
guage is very intemperate and ungentlemanly. I have no
doubt your brother knows how to help himself ; and now,
for your comfort, know that I saw him the other day with
that same book, and here is Hamilton, who can corrobo-
rate my statement.â€
“Where ? when?†asked Reginald, in a subdued tone.
*‘In the class-room alone, when he was writing his exer-
cise. Hamilton, am I not right ?â€
Hamilton nodded.
“ Dr. Wilkinson will do justice to-morrow,†said Regi-
nald, as after a moment’s painful silence he looked up with
assumed confidence, and turned proudly away from Ferrers’
reassured look of exultation, though the latter hardly
dared exult, for he thought Reginald had mistaken the
book, and feared the suspicions that might rest on himself
when it should be discovered that it was not a second-class
key. “And now, Mortimer, let’s have no more of this
A STORY FOR BOYS. 47
violent language,†said Hamilton. “Jf the matter is to
come before the doctor, he will do all justice ; let him be
sole arbitrator; but I would not bring it before him were
I in your place. Make an apology to Ferrers, and say
nothing more. You will do your brother more harm than
good.â€
“Make an apology,†said Reginald, ironically ; “I haven’t
changed my mind yet. It must come before the doctor.
Mr. Witworth found the book, and has carried it by this
time, or certainly will carry it, Piniiecec†:
“Come along with me, and tell me the whole affair,â€
said Hamilton.
While Reginald was unfolding the matter to Hamilton,
the party they had left was reinforced by Frank Digby,
who warmly took Ferrers’ part, and enlightened the com-
pany as to many particulars of his cousin’s former charac-
ter: and so much was said about the injury Reginald had
done to Ferrers by his suspicions, that when that youth
discovered the certainty of the mistake he had made, he
was so far involved as to render it impossible to him to ac-
knowledge that even out of a spirit of teasing he had placed
the book near Louis; and his anxiety was so great* to free
himself from any suspicion, that he was selfishly and un-
generously insensible to the trouble: entailed upon Louis,
whom he disliked on account of his superiority to himself,
but on whom he had not seriously contemplated inflicting
So great an injury—so imperceptibly does one fault lead to
another, so unable are we to decide where the effects of
one false step, one dishonest thought, shall end.
The story was soon spread among Louis’ immediate com-
panions, who were anxious to learn the cause of his swollen
@e
48 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYs:
eyes and sad demeanor, and Louis had to endure many
sneers, and, what was still harder to bear, much silent con-
tempt from those whose high sense of honor made them
despise any approach to the meanness of which he was
supposed guilty. Hamilton, though in the study the whole
evening, took no notice of him, and when his eyes met
Louis’, they bore no more consciousness of his presence
than if he had been a piece of stone, Frank Digby did
not tease Louis, but he let, fall many insinuations, and a few
remarks so bitter in their sarcasm, that Reginald more than
once looked up with a glance so threatening in its fierce-
ness, that it checked even that audacious speaker. Even
little Alfred was not allowed to sit with Louis ; though
Hamilton made no remark, nor even alluded to the subject
to his brother, he called him immediately to himself, and
only allowed him to leave him at bed-time.
As the elder boys went up stairs to bed, Frank continued
his aggravating allusions to Louis’ weakness, but in so
covert a manner, that no one but those acquainted with
Louis’ former history could have understood their import.
lor some time Reginald pretended not to hear them; there
was a strong struggle within him, for his high spirit rose
indignantly at his cousin’s unkindness, yet was for some
time checked by a better feeling within; but, at length, on
Frank’s making some peculiarly insulting remark in a low
tone, his pent-up ire boiled forth, and, in the madness ‘of
his fury, he seized on his cousin with a strength that passion
rendered irresistible. “You've tried to provoke me to this
all the evening—you will have it, you dastardly coward !
you wit have it, will you 2?â€
These exclamations were poured forth in a shout, and
A STORY FOR Boys. 49
Reginald, after striking his cousin several violent blows,
threw him from him with such force that. his head struck
against the door-post, and he fell motionless to the ground,
the blood streaming from a wound in his forehead.
There was an awful silence for a minute. The boys,
horror-struck, stood as if paralyzed, gazing on’the inanimate
form of their school-fellow. Reginald’s passion subsided
in an instant; his face. turned pale, the color fled from his
lips, ‘and clasping his hands ingterror, hé muttered, “Oh!
what have I done!†and then there was a shout, “ Oh,
Frank Digby’s killed! Digby’s*killed—he’s dead !â€
Hamilton at dength pushed forward and raised Frank’s
head, and at this moment Mr. Norton and Dr. Wilkinson,
with two or three of the servants, came from different direc-
tions. The crowd round Frank made way for the doctor,
who hurriedly approached, and assisted Hamilton to raise
Frank and carry him to his bed.
“ He’s dead, he’s dead!†cried the boys all round.
“How did this happéh?†asked the doctor, and without
waiting for an answer he tore open the handkerchief and
collar of the insensible youth, and. dispatched some one
immediately for a medical man. € was sent for a smell-
ing-bottle, another for some water, and Mrs. Wilkinson soon
made her appearance with a fan, and other apparatus for
restoring a fainting person. But it was long before there
Were any signs of returning life. It was a terrible time for
Reginald. It was agony to look on the motionless form,
and blood-streaked countenance before him—to watch the
cloud of anxiety that seemed to deepen on his master’s face
as each new restorative failed its accustomed virtue,—to
listen to the subdued murmurs and fearful whispers, and to
5
®
50 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS8:
note the blanched faces of his school-fellows. He stood
with clasped hands, and ‘there was a prayer in his heart
that he might not be called to suffer so very deeply for
this sinful expression of his temper. What if he should
have sent his cousin unprepared into eternity? Oh, what
would he give to see one motion; what, that he had been
able to restrain his ungovernable fury! There was almost
despair in his wild thoughts, when at last Frank sighed
_ faintly, and then opened his eyes. He closed them imme-
diately, and just then the surgeon arriving, more potent
remedies were used, and he was at length restored to con-
sciousness, though unable to speak aloud. #Doctor Wilkin-
son had him removed to another room, and after seeing
him comfortably arranged, returned to Reginald’s bed-
room.
“ Now, how did this happen?†he said.
No one spoke, and the silence was only broken by the
sound of sobs from the further end of the room. e
“Who did this ?†asked the doctor again.
“T did, sir,†said Reginald, in a broken voice.
“Come forward. Who is it that speaks?’ said Doctor
Wilkinson. “‘ Mortimef! is this some passion of yours that
“nas so nearly caused the death of your cousin? I am
deeply grieved to find that your temper is still so ungov-
ernable.†What was the matter?â€
Reginald was incapable of answering, and none of his
companions understood the quarrel; so Doctor Wilkinson
left the.room, determined to make a strict investigation the
next morning.
Poor Reginald was almost overwhelmed: he knelt with
his ‘brother after their candle was extinguished, by their
A STORY FOR Boys. 51.
bedside, and both wept bitterly, though quite silently.
Distress at his own. fault, and his brother’s new trouble,
and deep thankfulness that his cousin was alive, and not.
dangerously hurt, filled Reginald’s mind, and kept him
awake long after all besides in the room were asleep,
¢
“e.
=
52 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
CHAPTER IV.
Tue next morning, after the early school-hours, Doctor
Wilkinson kept Reginald back as he was following the
stream to breakfast, and led the way into the class-room,
where, after closing the door, he seated himself, and mo-
tioning Reginald to draw closer to him, thus opened his
inquiry.
“JT wish to know, Mortimer, how this affair began last
night: it appears, from all I can make out, to have been a
most unprovoked attack on your part, but as there is often
more than appears on the surface, I shall be glad to hear
what you have to allege in extenuation of your savage con-
duct.â€
Reginald colored very deeply, and dropping his eyes
under the piercing gaze of his master, remained silent.
“Am I to conclude from. your silence that you have no
excuse to make ?†asked the doctor in a tone of mixed sor-
row and indignation ; “and am I to believe that from some
petty insult you have allowed your temper such uncon-
trolled sway as nearly to have cost your cousin his life ?â€
“T had very great provocation,†said Reginald, sullenly. —
“And what might that be?†asked his master. “If
the wrong be on Digby’s side, you can have no hesitation
in telling me what the wrong was.â€
A STORY FOR BuYs. 53
Reginald made no answer, and, after a pause, Dr. Wil-
kinson continued: ‘‘ Unless you can give me some reason,
I must come to the conclusion that you have again given
way to your violent passions without even the smallest
excuse of injury from another. The assertion that you
have been ‘ provoked’ will not avail you much: I know
that Digby is teasing and provoking, and is therefore very
wrong, but if you cannot bear a little teasing, how are you
to get on in the world? You are not a basy now, though
you have acted more like a wild beast than a reasonable
creature. I am willing and desirous to believe that some-
thing more than usual has been the cause of this ebullition
of temper, for I hoped lately that you were endeavoring to
overcome this sad propensity of yours.â€
“I assure you, sir,†said Reginald, raising his open
countenance to his master’s, “I tried very much to bear
with Frank, and I think I should if he had not said so
much about—about—â€â€™
Here Reginald’s voice failed ; a sensation of choking
anger prevented him from finishing his sentence.
“‘ About what ?†said the doctor, steadily.
« About my brother,â€â€™ said Reginald, abruptly.
“« And what did he"say about your brother that chafed
you so much ?â€â€™
Reginald changed color, and his eyes lighted up with
passion. He did not reply at first, but as his master
seemed quietly a his answer, he at length burst
out,— -
“‘ He had been going on ‘all the afternoon about Louis :
he tried to put me in a passion; he said all he could—
every thing that was unkind and provoking, and it was
5*
54 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
more than a fellow could stand. I bore it as long as I
couldщۉ۪
“You are giving me a proof of your gentle endurance
now, I suppose,†said the doctor.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but I can’t help it,—I feel so
angry when I think of it, that I am afraid I should knock
him down again if he were to repeat it.â€
“For shame, sir!†said the doctor, sternly ; “I should
have thought that you had already had a lesson you would
not easily have forgotten. What did he say of ycur brother
that irritated you? I insist upon knowing.â€
“He said Louis was—that Louis did not speak the truth,
sir. He said that I believed it—that J believed it â€â€”and
Reginald’s passionate sobs choked his utterance.
“ Belived what 2?†asked the doctor.
“Something that happened yesterday,†said Reginald ;
“he said that—he was a hypocrite, and he went omtaunt-
ing me about last summer.â€
“ About last summer !â€â€ repeated the doiten,
“Yes, sir—about a mistake. Nobody makes allowances
for Louis. I could have borne it all if he had not said that
I knew Louis was a liar. I’d knock any one down that I
was able who should say so ! Indeed†continued Reginald,
fiercely, “I begged him to leave off, and not provoke me,
but he would have it, and he knew what I was.â€
“ Enough—enough—hush,†said Dr. Wilkinson: «TI
beg I may hear no more of knocking down. Don’t add to
your fault by working yourself into a passion with me,
Some provocation you certainly have had, but nothing can
justify such unrestrained fury. Consider what would have
been your condition at present, if your rage had been fatal
A STORY FOR BOYs. 55
to your cousin ; it would have availed you little to have
pleaded the aggravation; your whole life would have been
embittered by the indulgence of your vengeful feelings—
one moment. have destroyed the enjoyment of years.
Thank God, Mortimer, that you have been spared so terri-
ble a punishment. But you will always be in danger of
thig unless you learn to put a curo on your hasty temper.
The same feelings which urge you into a quarrel as a boy,
will hurry you into the duel as a man. It is a false spirit
of honor and manliness that makes. you so ready to resent
every little insult. In the life of the only perfect Man that
ever lived, our great Example and Master, we do not see
this impatience of contradiction: ‘When He» was reviled,
He reviled not again ;’ and if He, the Lord of all, could
condescend to endure such contradiction of sinners against
Himself, shall it be too much for us to bear a little with
the e@ntrddiction of our fellow-creatures? My boy, if we
do not strive to bear a little of the burden and heat of the
day, we are not worthy to bear the noble name of Chris-
tians.â€â€™
“T am very sorry, sir,†said Reginald, quite softened by
the earnest manner of his master; “Iam very sorry I have
been so hasty and wrong. I dare not make any promises
for the future, for I know I cannot certainly keep them,
but, with God’s — I hope ‘to remember what. you have
so kindly said to me.’
“ With His help we may a all things,†said Dr. Wilkin-
son; “you may by this help overcome the stumbling-stone
of your violent passions, which otherwise may become an
effectual barrier in the way of your attaining the prize of
eternal life; and remember that ‘he that is slow to anger
-â€
56 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit,
than he that taketh a city.’ â€
There was a minute’s silence, which Reginald broke by
asking if he might attend on Frank until he was well.
“Can I hope that you will be gentle,†said the doctor ;
“that you will remember he is an invalid—one of your
making, Mortimer ; and that if he is impatient and fretful,
you are the cause ?â€â€™
“I will try, sir, to make amends to him,†said Reginald,
looking down; “I hope I may be able to be patient.â€
“I will give orders that you may go to him,†said the
doctor; and after a pause, he added, “another offence of
this kind I shall visit with the heaviest displeasure. I am
in hopes that the anxiety you have undergone, and the
present state of your cousin, may be a lesson to you; but
if I find this ineffectual, I shall cease to consider you a
reasonable creature, and shall treat you accordingly.â€
Dr. Wilkinson then rose and left the room. Reginald
lingered a few minutes to compose himself before joining
his school-fellows ; his heart was very full, and he felt an
earnest desire to abide by his master’s counsel, as well as
grateful for the leniency and kindness with which he had
been treated, which made him feel ‘his fault much more
deeply than the severest punishment. oak
The breakfast time was very unpleasant for Louis that
morning ; he was full of anxiety as to the result of Mr.
Witworth s discovery, and his sickness of heart entirely de-
prived him of appetite. When the meal was dispatched,
Reginald went off to Frank, whom he found in a darkened
room, very restless and impatient. He had passed a very
bad night, and was suffering considerable pain. Reginald
A STORY FOR BOYS. 57
had to endure much ill-nature and peevishness; all of
which he endeavored to bear with gentleness, and during
the time Frank was ill, he-gave up all his »play-hours to
wait on him and to amuse him as he grew better; and the
exercise of patience which this office. entailed was greatly
beneficial to his hasty and proud spirit.
Mr. Danby was in the midst of the second-class lessons
that morning, when one of the first class brought him a lit-
tle slip of paper. Mr. Danby glanced at the few words
written thereon, and when the class had finished he desired
Louis to go to Dr. Wilkinson. All remnant of color fled
from Louis’ cheek, though he obeyed without making any
reply, and with a very sinking heart entered the room
where the doctor was engaged with the first class. The
keen eye of his master detected him the instant he made
his appearance, but he took no notice of him until he had
finished his business ; then, while his pupils were putting
up their books he turned to Louis, and pointing to a little
table by his side, said, “‘ There is a volume, Louis Mortimer,
with which I suspect you have some acquaintance.â€
Louis advanced to the table, and beheld the Key to Ken-
rick’s Greek Exercises... .
« You know it ?†said the doctor.
“Yes, sir, but I did not use it,â€â€™ said Louis.
“ You will not deny that it was found among your books
in the school-room,†said the doctor.
“T know, sir, Mr. Witworth found it, but I assure you I
did not put it there,†replied Louis, very gently.
“Have you never used it at all?†asked Dr. Wilkinson.
« Never, sir,†replied Louis, firmly.
At this moment, he met the eye of Hamilton, who was
58 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
standing near Dr. Wilkinson, and who looked very scorn-
fully and incredulously at him as he paused to hear the re-
sult of the inguiry. Louis remembered that Hamilton had
seen the key Churchill had left, and he hastily exclaimed,
“JT assure you, Mr. Hamilton, I did not.â€
“What is this, Hamilton?†said Dr. Wilkinson, turning
~ round. “Do you know any thing of this matter ?â€
“T would much rather not ong, said Hamilton,
abruptly, “if you will excuse me, sir.’
“‘T must, however, beg that you will, if you please,†re-
plied the doctor.
“T really know nothing positively, I can say nothing cer-
tainly. You would not wish, sir, that any imagination of
mine should prejudice you to Louis Mortimer’s disadvan-
tage; I am not able to say any thing,†and Hamilton
turned away in some confusion, vexed that he should have
been appealed to.
Dr. Wilkinson looked half perplexed—he paused a mo-
ment and fixed his eyes on the table. Louis ventured to
say, “ Mr. Hamilton saw a book once before with my lesson
books, but I never used it.â€
« What do you mean by saw a book ?†asked the doctor.
“ What book did Mr. Hamilton see? How came it there,
and why was it there ?’
“Tt was ‘ Kenrick’s Greek Exercises,’ sir.â€
«You mean the ‘ Key,’ I suppose ?â€
Louis answered in the affirmative.
‘* Whose was it?†asked the doctor, with a countenance
more ominous in its expression. J
“Jt was the one you took from sir,†replied
Louis.
A STORY FOR ’BOYs. 59
“Humph! I thought I took it away. Bring it here.â€
Louis obeyed, and the doctor having looked at it, continued,
“Well, you had this with your lesson books, you say. How
did it come there ?â€
“ One of the boys gave it to me; sir,†replied Louis.
“‘ And why did you not put it away ?â€
“T was going, sir;†and the color rushed into Louis’
pale face. “TI did not use it—and I hope I should not.â€
‘Who left the book ?†asked Dr. Wilkinson.
“ Churchill, sir.â€
“ Call Churchill, Salisbury.â€
Salisbury obeyed; and during his absence a profound
silence reigned in the room, for all the first class were
watching the proceedings in deep interest. Dr. Wilkinson
seemed lost in thought; and Louis, in painful anxiety,
scanned the ‘strongly marked countenance of his master,
now wearing its most unpleasing mask, and those of Ham-
ilton and Trevannion, alternately. Hamilton did not look
at him, but bent over a table at a book, the leaves of which
he nervously turned. -Trevannion eyed him haughtily as
he leaned in his most graceful attitude against the wall be-
hind the doctor’s chair ; and poor Louis read his condemna-
tion in his eyes, as well as in the faces of most present.
Salisbury at length returned with Churchill, who was
the more awe-struck at the unwonted summons, as he was
so low in the school as seldom to have any business with
the principal.
“Churchill,†said the doctor, gravely, “I have sent for
you to hear what is§said of you. Now, Louis Mortimer,
who gave you this book on the day Mr. Hamilton discov-
ered it in your possession ?â€
a
60 LOUISâ„¢ SCHOOL-DAYS :
- « Qhurchill, sir,†replied Louis, in great agitation ; “ you
did, Churchill, did you not? Oh! do say you did.â€
«“ Hush,†said the doctor. ‘What have you to say
against this, Churchill ?
“Nothing, sir—I did—I gave it to Louis Mortimer,â€
stammered Churchill, looking from Louis to the doctor, and
back again.
«And how came you to give it to him ?â€
Churchill did not reply until the question was repeated,
when he reluctantly said, he had given it to Louis to assist
him in his exercise. |
“Did Mortimer ask you for it 2â€
** No, sir.â€
“Did he wish for it ?â€
‘‘ No, sir, not that I know of.â€
“You know, Harry, that I asked you to put it away—
did I not?†cried Louis. |
“TJ don’t know—yes—I think you did,†said Churchill,
growing very hot. |
«Why did you not put it away?†asked Dr. uecuren
« Because I thought he wanted it, please sir.’
“But I did not, Harry! I told you I did not,†said
Louis, eagerly. |
Dr. Wilkinson desired Louis to be silent, and continued
his questions—
“Did you try to persuade him to use it?â€
Again Churchill paused, and again confessed, most un-
willingly, that he had done so—and received a severe repri-
mand for his conduct on the occasion, and a long task to
write out which would keep him employed during the Pay:
hours of that day.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 61
He was then dismissed, and Dr. Wilkinson again ad-
dressed himself to Louis : “Tam glad to find that part of
your story is correct; but I now wish you to explain how
my key found its way into the school-room yesterday, when ,
discovered by Mr. Witworth. The book must have been
deliberately taken out of this room into the school-room.
You appear to have been alone, or nearly so, in the school-
room the greater part of yesterday afternoon, and Mr.
Witworth found the book half concealed by your lesson
books while you were writing your exercises.â€
“‘T assure you, sir, I did not take it,†said Louis.
+s “ Unhappily,†replied Dr. Wilkinson, “I cannot take a
mere assurance in the present instance. Had not the case
been so palpable, I should have been bound to believe you
until I had had reason to mistrust your word—but with
these facts I cannot, Louis ;†and he added, in a,very low
tone, so as to be heard only by Louis, who was much nearer
to him than the others, “ Your honor has not always been
sacred—beware.â€
His school-fellows wondered what made the red: flush
mount so fariquaty: in Louis’ forehead, and the tears spring
to his eyes. The painful feelings called forth by his mas-
ter’s speech prevented him from speaking for a few minutes.
He was roused by Dr. Wilkinson saying—
“The discovery of this Key in your possession would
involve your immediate dismissal from the second class, a
sufficient disgrace, but the matter assumes a far more serious
aspect from these assertions of innocence. If you had not
used the book when discovered, it must have been taken
either by you, or another, for use. The question is now,
who took it?†2
6
62 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
“T did not, sir,†said Louis, in great alarm.
“Who did, then? Were any of*your class with you?â€
* No, sir.â€
“Was any one with you?â€
Louis paused. A sudden thought flashed across hin—
a sudden recollection of seeing that book passed over and
slipped among his books; an action he had taken n> notice
of at the, time, and which had never struck him till this
moment. He now glanced eagerly at Ferrers, and then, in
a tremulous voice, said, ig remember now, Ferrers put it
there—I am almost sure.’
“Ferrers !â€â€ exclaimed the young men, with one voice.
“What humbugging nonsense!†said Salisbury, in a low
tone.
‘Do you hear, Mr. Ferrers?†said the doctor: “how
came you to put that Key among Louis Mortimer’s books ?â€
“I, sir—I never,†stammered Ferrers. ‘What should
I want with it? What good could I get by it? Is it
likely 27’ sui
“Tam not arguing on the possibility of such an event,
I simply wish to know if you did it ?†said the doctor.
“TI, sir—no,†exclaimed Ferrers, with an air. of injured
innocence. “If I had done it, why did he not accuse me
at once, instead of remembering it all of a sudden ?â€
“‘ Because I only just remembered that I saw you mov-
ing Something towards me, and I am almost sure it was
that book now—TI think so,â€â€™ replied Louis.
“You'd better be quite sure,†said Ferrers.
Dr. Wilkinson looked from one to the other, and his look
might have made a less unprincipled youth fear to persist
in so horrible a falsehood.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 63
‘“‘ Were you learning your lessons in the school-room yes-
terday afternoon, Mr. Ferrers, at the same time with Louis
Mortimer?†Ferrers acknowledging this, Dr. Wilkinson
sent for Mr. Witworth, and asked him if he had observed
either Ferrers or Louis go into the study during the after-
noon, and if he knew what each brought out with him.
Mr. Witworth replied that both went in, but he did not
know what for.
“I went in to get an atlas for Ferrers,†cried Louis, in
great agitation.
“TI got the atlas myself, Mortimer, you know,†said
Ferrers,
Louis was quite overcome. He covered his face with
his hands, and burst into tears.
“This is a sad business,†said Dr. Wilkinson, very
gravely ; “much worse than I expected—one of you must
be giving utterance to the most frightful untruths. Which
of you is it?â€
“What would Ferrers want with the Key to the Greek.
Exercises, sir?†suggested Trevannion, “ unless he yates
to do an ill turn to Mortimer, which you cannot suppose.â€â€™
“I have hitherto trusted Mr. Ferrers,’ replied Dr. Wil-
kinson ; “and am not disposed to withdraw that confidence
without sufficient cause. Mr. Ferrers, on your word of
honor, am I to believe your statement?â€
Ferrers turned pale, but the doctor’s steady gaze was
upon him, and all his class-fellows awaited his reply—visions
of disgrace, contempt, and scorn were before him, and theré
was no restraining power from within, to check him, as he
hastily replied, On my word of honor, sir.†|
“TI must believe you, then, as I can imagine.no motive
-
64 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
which could induce you to act dishonorably by this boy ,
were I to discover that any one in my school had ee so,
his immediate expulsion should be the consequence.â€
The dead silence that followed the doctor’s words struck
coldly on the heart of the guilty coward.
““Now, Louis Mortimer,†said the doctor, ‘sternly, eT
wish to give you another chance of confessing your fault.â€
Louis’ thick convulsive sobs only replied to this. After
waiting a few minutes, Dr. Wilkinson said, “Go now to
the little study joining my dining-room, and wait there till
I come: I shall give you half an hour to consider.â€
Louis left the room, and repaired to the study, where he
threw himself on a chair in a paroxysm of grief, which,
for the first quarter of an hour, admitted of no alleviation:
«He had no character. The doctor had heard all before.
All believed him guilty—and how could Ferrers act so?
How could it ever be found out? And, oh! his dear
father and mother, and his grandfather, would believe it.â€
By degrees the violence of his distress subsided, and he
sent up his tearful petitions to his heavenly Father, till his
overloaded heart felt lightened of some of its sorrow. As
he grew calmer, remembrances of old faults came before
him, and he thought of a similar sin of his own, and how
nearly an innocent person had suffered for it—and this he
felt was much easier to bear than the consciousness of hav-
ing committed the fault himself; and he remembered the
sweet verses in the first Epistle of St. Peter: “ What glory
ig it if, when ye be buffeted for your faults, ye take it
patiently; but if when ye do well and suffer for it, ye take
it patiently, this is acceptable with God. For even here-
unto ye were called, because Christ also suffered for us,
A STORY FOR BOYS. | 65
leaving us an example that we should follow His steps:
who did no sin, neither was guile found in His mouth; who,
when He was reviled, reviled not again; when He suffered,
He threatened not; but committed Himself to Him that
judgeth righteously,’—and the feeling of indignation
against Ferrers was gradually changed into almost pity for
him, for Louis knew by experience the pain of a loaded
conscience. While his thoughts thus ran over the past and
present, he heard the firm step of Dr. Wilkinson crossing
the hall, and nearly at the same moment that gentleman
entered the room. There was no pity in his countenance—
the dark lines in his face seemed fixed in their most iron
mould ; and briefly announcing to his trembling pupil that
the time allowed him for consideration had expired, he asked
whether he were prepared to acknowledge his fault. Louis
meekly persisted in his denial, which had only the effect of
making the doctor consider him a more hardened offender ;
rand after a few words, expressing the strongest reprehen-
sion of his wickedness and cowardice, he gave hima severe
caning, and sent him immediately to bed, although it was
but the middle of the day. In spite of the better feelings
which urged poor Louis to acknowledge the justice, under
the circumstances, of his master’s proceedings, he could
not help thinking that he had been very hardly treated.
He hurried up stairs, glad to indulge his grief in silence.
How many times, in the affliction of the next few hours,
did he repeat a little hymn he had learned at home:
“Thy lambs, dear Shepherd, that are weak,
Are thy peculiar care ;
"Tis Thine in judgment to afflict,
And Thine in love to spare.
6*
cs
os
LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
“Though young in years, yet, oh! how oft
Have I a rebel been;
My punishment, O Lord, is mild,
Nor equals all my sin.
“ Since all the chastisements I feel
Are from Thy love alone,
Let not one murmuring thought arise,
But may Thy will be done.
“Then let me blush with holy shame,
And mourn before my Lord,
That I have lived to Thee no more,
No more obeyed Thy word.â€*
At last he fell asleep, and oh! to wake from that sleep!
It was surely good to be afflicted, and in the happiness of
his mind Louis forgot his trouble. But he -had yet to en-
dure much more, and the bitterest part of his punishment
came the next morning, when, according to his master’s
orders, he repaired to the study with his books. He had
been desired to remain in this room out of school-hours,
and was forbidden to speak to any of his school-fellows
without leave. While he was sitting there the first morn-
ing after the inquiry related in this chapter, Dr. Wilkinson
entered with a letter, and sat down at the table where
Louis was reading. As he opened his desk, he said, “I
have a painful task to perform. This is a letter from your
father, Louis Mortimer, and he particularly requests that I
should give him an account of your conduct and your bro-
ther’s ; you know what an account I can give of you both.â€
Louis had listened very attentively to his master’s speech,
and when it was concluded he gave way to such a burst of
* “Hymns for Sunday-Schovls.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 67
sorrow as quite touched the doctor. For some minutes he
wept almost frantically, and then clasping his hands, he
implored Dr. Wilkinson not to tell his father what had hap-
pam: “Tt will break mamma’s heart, it will break mam-
ma’s heart, sir—do not tell my father.â€
“Confess your fault, Louis, and I may then apie of
amendment,†said the doctor.
«‘T cannot, indeed—indeed I cannot. It will, all come
out by and bye: you will see, sir—oh! you will see, sir,â€
sobbed Louis, deprecating the gathering of the angry cloud
on the doctor’s face. ‘Oh! do not tell mamma, for it is
not true.â€
“TI do not wish to hear any more, sir,†said the doctor,
sternly.
“ Oh! what’shall I do—what shall I do!†cried Louis ;
and he pushed his chair quickly from the table, and, throw-
ing himself on his knees by Dr. Wilkinson, seized the hand
that was beginning to date the dreaded letter—“ I assure
you I did not, sir—I am speaking the truth.â€
«« As you always do, doubtless,†said the doctor, draw-
ing his hand roughly away. “Get up, sir; kneel to Him
you have so deeply offended, but not to me.â€
Louis rose, but stood still in the same place. “ Will
you hear only this one thing, sir? I will not say any mag
more about my innocence—just hear me, if you please, sir.’
Dr. Wilkinson turned his head coldly towards him.
Louis dried his tears, and spoke with tolerable calmness :
“T have one thing to ask, sir—will you allow me still to
remain in the second class, and to do my lessons always in
this room? You will then see if I can do without keys, or
having any help.†»
68 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
‘««T know you can if you choose,†replied Dr. Wilkinson,
coldly, “or I should not have’placed you in that class.â€
“ But, if you please, sir, I know all,â€â€”Louis paused, he
had promised to say no more on that subject. |
There was a little silenee, during which Dr. Wilkinson
looked earnestly at Louis. At last he said, “ You may
stay in the class; but, remember, you are forbidden to
speak to any of your school-fellows for the next week
without express permission.â€
“Not to my brother, sir ?â€
“No; now go.â€
“ May I write to mamma 2â€
“ Yes, if you wish it.â€
After timidly thanking the doctor, Louis returned to his
seat, and Dr. Wilkinson continued his letter, which went off
by the same post that took Louis’ to his mother.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 69
CHAPTER V.
“ Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but griev-
ous ; nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth ‘the peaceable fruit of
righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby.†—Heb. xii. 11.
“ Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now have I kept Thy
word.â€â€”Psalm cxix. 67.
- Prrnaps there is no state more dangerous to a Christian’s
peace of mind than’one of continual prosperity. In adver-
sity even the worldly man will sometimes talk of resigna-
tion, and feel that it is a good thing to be acquainted and
at peace with God, and that when all human help is cut
off, it is a sweet thing to have a sure refuge in an almighty
Saviour. But in. prosperity the ungodly never look to
Him ; and. His own children, carrying about with them a
sinful’nature; against which they must continually maintain
a warfare, are too apt to forget: the Giver in his gifts, and
to imagine that all is well because nothing occurs to disturb.
the regularity of their blessings. ai8
Our little Louis, though the trial he now underwent was
a bitter one, and though at times it seemed almost too hard
to be endured, learned by degrees to feel that it was good
for him. He had been in too high favor, he had trusted
too much in the good word of his school-fellows, and had
70 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
suffered the fear of man to deter him from his duty to God ;
and now, isolated and looked upon as an unworthy member
of the little society to which he belonged, he learned to find
his sole happiness in that sweet communion which he had
now solitary leisure to enjoy. His very troubles carried him
to a throne of grace ; his desolate condition made him feel
that there was only One who never changed nor forsook
His people; only One who could understand and feel for
the infirmities and sorrows of a human creature ; and though
to the ungodly it is a terror to know that 1 ee, “nothing
that is not manifest in God’s sight,†to the true child of
God it is an unspeakable comfort to feel that his thoughts
and actions are “known long before†by his unwearied
Guardian.
The effects of Louis’ lonely communings were soon yvisi-
ble in his daily conduct, and after his term of punishment
had expired, the meekness of his bearing, and the gentle
lowliness of his demeanor, often disarmed the most severe
and unpitying of his youthful judges.. There was no ser-
vility in his manner, for he neither courted nor shunned ob-
servation ; nor, though he was as willing as ever to do a
kind action for any one, did he allow himself to be persua-
ded to give up all his time to his idler school-fellows.
There seemed more firmness and decision in his naturally
yielding disposition, and those who knew not the power of
assisting grace, looked and wondered at the firmness the
sweet but weak boy could at times assume. He would have
told them it was not his own. He was very quiet, and spoke
little, even to his brother, of what was passing in his mind,
and sometimes his thoughts were so quietly happy that he
did not like to be spoken to. To Ferrers, Louis was as gen-
A STORY FOR BOYS. 71
tle and courteous as to the rest of his companions, and, in-
deed, he had now little other feeling towards him than that
of sorrow and pity.
There had been an unusual noise in the study one eve-
ning, while Louis was absent, and when he entered it, he
found the confusion attendant on a grand uproar. Very
little was doing, and tokens of the late skirmish lay about
the floor in torn and scattered books, and overthrown forms.
Among others, Ferrers was hunting for a missing book, but
to discover it in such a chaos was a difficult task, especially
as no one wétild now allow the candles to be used in the
search.
(With many expressions, so unfitted for refined ears that
I do not choose to present them to my reader, Ferrers con-
tinued his search, now and then attempting to snatch a can-
“dle from the table, in which he was regularly foiled by
those sitting there.
« Well, at least have the civility to move and let me see
if it is under the table,†he said at length.
“You have hindered us long enough,†said Salisbury ;
“Smith, Jones, and I have done nothing to-night. If you
will have rows, you must e’en take the consequences. â€
“Qan’t you get under the form 9� asked Smith, de-
risively.
Ferrers was going to make some angry reply, when
Louis dived between the table and the form, with some.
trouble, and, at the expense of receiving a few unecere-
monious kicks, recovered the book and gave it to Fer-
rers, who hardly thanked him, but leaning his head on
his hand, seemed almost incapable of doing any thing.
Presently he looked up, and asked in a tone of mingled
72 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
anger and weariness, what had become of the inkstand
he had brought.
“ Loosing’s seeking,
Finding’s keeping,â€
said Romeneey. “Which is yours? Perhaps it’s under the
table too.â€
‘‘ Hold your nonsense,†cried Sienvini, anguly. “ Tt’s very
shabby of you to hinder me in this manner.’ |
Louis quietly slipped an inkstand near him, an action of
which Ferrers was quite aware, and though he pretended
not to notice it, he availed himself presentl¥ of the con-
venience. A racking headache, however, almost disabled
him from thinking, and though he was really unwell, thére
was only the boy he had so cruelly injured who felt any
sympathy for his suffering.
Louis carefully avoided any direct manifestation of his
anxiety to return good for evil, for he felt, though he hardly
knew why, that his actions would be misconstrued, but
whenever any little opportunity occurred in ‘which he could
really render any service, he was always as ready to do it
for Ferrers as for another; and now, when from his class-
mates Ferrers met with nothing but pes on his “ beauti-
ful temper,†and « placid state “of mind,†he could not help
feeling the gentleness of Louis’ conduct, the absence of
pleasure in his annoyance, and the look of evident sym-
pathy he met whenever he accidentally turned his eyes in
his direction. For a few days after this he was obliged to
keep his bed, and during this time, though Louis only once
saw him, he thought of every little kind attention he could,
that might be grateful to the invalid. Knowing that he
was not a favorite, and that few in the school would trouble
A STORY FOR Boys. 73
themselves about him, he borrowed books and sent them to
him for his amusement, and empowered the old cake man
to procure some grapes, which he sent up to him bya
servant, with strict orders to say nothing of where they
came from. The servant met Hamilton at the door of the
room, and he relieved her of her charge, and as she did not
consider herself under promise of secrecy towards him, she
mentioned it, desiring him at the same time to say nothing
to Ferrers.
Louis had now established a regular time for doing his
own lessons, and kept to it with great perseverance to the
end of the half-year, with one exception, when he had been
@eting prisoner in a trial performed in the school-room, by
half his own class and the third, and let the evening slip
by without remembering how late it grew. His class-
fellows were in the same predicament as himself, and as
they had barely time to write a necessary exercise, they
agreed among themselves to learn each his own piece of
the lesson they had to repeat. Louis did not seriously con-
sider the deceit they were practising, and adopted the same
plan, One of the number, not trusting to his memory, hit
upon the singular expedient of writing the whole of his piece
and the next ona piece of paper, and wafering it to the
instep of his shoe when he went up to his class. Unhap-
pily for his scheme, he was so placed that he dared not
expose his foot so as to allow him to avail himself of this
delectable assistance, and consequently, after much looking
on the floor for inspiration, and much incoherent muttering,
was passed over, and the order of things being thereby
disturbed, of course no one could say the missing lines until
the head boy was applied to, and the lower half of the
7
~
74 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:!
class was turned down, with the exception of Louis, who,
standing on this occasion just above the gentleman of shoe
memory, had been able to say his share.
As they were breaking up, Mr. Danby said to Louis,
“ You have been very industrious lately, Louis Mortimer :
I am glad you have been so correct to-day.â€
Louis blushed from a consciousness of undeserved praise ;
but though his natural fear of offending and losing favor
sprung up directly, a higher principle faced it, and bearing
down all obstacles, forced him to acknowledge his unworthi-
ness of the present encomium.
“ T ought to learn mine, sir,—I learned my piece to-day.â€
“What do you mean?†asked Mr. Danby.
“T Jearned my part of the lesson, as well as Harris,
Williams, Sutton, and Charles Salisbury. We forgot our
lessons last night, but it is quite an accident that I have
said mine to-day.â€
“Tam glad you have had the honor to say so,†said
Mr. Danby. “ Of’course you must learn yours, but let me
have no more learning pieces, if you please.â€
ee A STORY FOR BOYS. 75
CHAPTER VI.
.
“ Blessed are they that dwell in Thy house, they will be still prais-
ing Thee. For a day in Thy courts is better than a thousand.
I had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God, than to
dwelkin the tents of wickedness.â€â€”Psalm Ixxxiv. 4, 10.
Dr. Witkryson’s school was too large to be entirely
accommodated with sittings in the nearest church—and,
consequently, was divided into two bodies on Sunday, one
of which regularly attended one of the churches in Bristol,
where Mr. Wilkinson, the doetor’s son, occasionally did
duty. It fell to Louis’ lot, generally, to be of the Bristol
party, and unless the day was rainy he was not ill-pleased
with his destiny, for the walk was very pleasant, and there
was something in the chorus of bells in that many-churched_
city, and the sight of the gray towers and spires, very con-
genial to his feelings. It happened that the Sunday after
Louis had received permission to mix ‘as usual with his
school-fellows was one of those peculiarly sunny days that
seem to call upon God’s people especially to refeice and be
glad in the works of His hand. Louis’ mind was in a more
than usually peaceful state, and his heart overflowed with
quict happiness as he looked down from the height of
Brandon Hill upon the city below. Hg and his companion
76 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
had walked on rather faster than the rest of their school-
fellows, and now stood waiting till they came up. '
« A penny for your thoughts, Mortimer,†said his com-
panion, a pleasant-looking boy of fifteen or sixteen years of
age; “you are very silent to-day—what may be the sub-
ject of your profound meditations ?â€
Louis hardly seemed to hear the question, for he sud-
denly turned his bright face to his interrogator, and ex-
claimed, “What a beautiful sight it is to see so many
churches together, Meredith ! I think our churches make
us such a happy country.â€
“Upon my word,†replied Meredith, “you are endowing
those piles of stone with considerable potency. What be-
comes of commerce and—â€
«‘T mean, of course,†interrupted Louis, “ that it is reli-
gion that makes us a happier country than others. I love
so to look at the churches; the sight of one sometimes,
when all is fair and quiet, brings the tears into my eyes.â€
«Hey-dey! quite sentimental! You'd better be a par-
son, I think.â€
_ €T hope I shall be a clergyman—I wish very much to
be one—there is not such another happy life. I was just
thinking, Meredith, when you spoke to me, of a verse we
read yesterday morning, which quite expresses my feelings :
‘One thing have I desired of the Lord which I will seek
after, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the
days of my“life, to behold the fair beauty of the Lord, and
to inquire in His temple.’ â€
Meredith looked with some surprise at Louis, and as
they moved on he said carelessly, “I suppose somebody
will have the gratifigation of beholding me in a long gown
*
A STORY FOR BOYS. V7
some day, holding forth for the edification of my devoted
flock.†|
‘«« Are you going to be a clergyman ?†asked Louis.
“Yes,*I suppose I must. Don’t you think I shall bea
most useftl character ?â€
“Oh! surely you wish it, do you not?â€
‘Well, I don’t much mind,†replied Meredith, snatching
a handful of leaves from the hedge near‘him ; “I shall have
a nice fat living, and it’s a respectable kind of thing.â€
Louis was horror-struck—he had not imagined such an
idea—he almost gasped out, ‘Oh! Meredith, I can hardly
understand you. Surely that is not your only wish about
it: that cannot be a reason—not a right one.â€
“Why, what’s the harm?†said Meredith, laughing. “I
only say outright what hundreds think. If I could choose,
perhaps I might like the army best, but my father has a
comfortable provision in the church for me, and so I, like a
dutiful son, don’t demur, especially as, if I follow the ex-
ample of my et it will be vastly more easy than a
soldier’s life.â€
“‘ Meredith, Meredith, this is too solemn a thing to laugh
about. I have often wondered how it is there are clergy-
men who can take their duties so easily as some do ; but if
they only undertake them for your reasons, I cannot feel so
much surprised that they should be so Rivclons. How can
you expect any happiness from such a life! J should be
afraid to talk so.â€
Meredith stared contemptuously. ‘ You area Methodist,
Louis,†he said; “I have no doubt I shall preach as good
sermons as you: just put on a grave face, and use a set of
tender phrases, and wear .. aillens on your little finger,
78 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
and a curly head, and there you are a fashionable preacher
at once—and if you use your white pocket-handkerchief
occasionally, throw your arms about a little, look as if you
intended to tumble over the pulpit and embrace the con-
gregation, and dose your audience with a littie pathos, you
may draw crowds—the ladies will idolize you.â€
_ TJ should not think that such popularity would be very
good,†replied Louis, “ supposing you could do as you say ;
but it seems to me quite shocking to speak in such a slight-
ing manner of so holy a thing. Were you ever at an ordi-
nation, Meredith ?â€â€™
“ Not I,†said Meredith.
“ T should think if you had been you would be afraid to
think of going to answer the solemn questions you will be
asked when you are ordained. I was once with papa at
an ordination at Norwich cathedral, and I shall never for-
get how solemnly that beautiful service came upon me. I
could not help thinking how dreadful it must be to come
there carelessly, and I wondered how the gentlemen felt
who were kneeling therez-and the hymn was so magnifi-
cent, Meredith. I think if you were there with your pres-
ent feelings, you would be afraid to stay. It would seem
like mocking God to come to answer all those solemn ques-
tions, and not mean what you said. I think it is wicked.â€
Louis spoke rapidly, and with great emotion.
Meredith looked angry, struggling with a feeling of shame,
and a wish to laugh it off. “You are exclusively precise,â€
he said ; “others are not, and have as much right to their
opinion as you to yours. ‘Trevannion, for instance—he’s
going into the church because it is so genteel.â€
“I hope you are mistaken,†said Louis, quickly.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 9
“Not I; I heard him say the same thing myself.â€
“Tam very sorry,†said Louis, sadly. “Oh! I would
rather be a laborer than go into the church with such a
wish—and yet, I had rather be a very poor curate than a
rich duke: it is such a happy, holy life.†The last part of
Louis’ speech was nearly inaudible, and no more was said
until the afternoon.
It was Dr. Wilkinson’s wish that the Sabbath shculd be
passed as blamelessly as he had the power of ordering it
in his household ; but to make it a day of reverence and
delight among so large a number of boys, with different
dispositions and habits of life, was an arduous task. Mr.
James Wilkinson was with the boys the whole afternoon, as
well as his father, to whose utmost endeavors he joined his
own, that the day might not be wholly unprofitable. In
spite, however, of all diligence, it could not fail of often
being grossly misspent with many of the pupils; for it is
not possible for human power effectually to influence the
heart, and, until that is done, any thing else can be but an
outward form.
This afternoon the boys were scattered over the large
playground. In one corner was the doctor, with twenty
or thirty boys around him, and in other directions, the dif-
ferent ushers hearing Qatechisms and other lessons. Some
of the parties were very dull, for no effort was made by
the instructor to impart-a real delight in the Word of God
to his pupils; and religion was made merely a matter of
question and answer, to remain engraved in such heartless
form on the repugnant mind of the learner. And, alas!
how can it be otherwise, where the teacher himself does
not know that religion is a real and happy thing, and not
80 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
to be learned as we teach our boys the outlines of heathen
mythology ?
Sitting on the ground, lolling against one of the benches
under a tree, sat Hastings Meredith and Reginald and Louis
Mortimer ; and one or two more were standing or sitting
near ; all of whom had just finished answering all the ques-
tions in the Church Catechism to Mr. Danby, and had said
a Psalm.
Louis was sitting on the bench, looking flushed, thinking
of holidays, and, of course, of home,—home Sabbaths, —
those brightest days of home life,—when Trevannion came
up with his usual air of cool, easy confidence. Trevannion
was the most gentlemanly young man in the school; he
never was in a hurry; was particularly alive to any thing
“ vulgar,†or “snobbish,†and would have thought it espe-
cially unbecoming in him to exhibit the smallest degree of
annoyance at any untoward event. It took a good deal to
put him out of countenance, and he esteemed it rather
plebeian to go his own errands, or, indeed, to take any un-
necessary trouble.
“Were you in Bristol this morning, Meredith?†he
said.
“Yes, sure, your highness,†replied Meredith, yawning.
“Tired apparently,†said Trevanpion ironically, glancing
at the recumbent attitude of the speaker.
“Worried to death with that old bore Danby, who’s been
going backwards and forwards for the last hour, with ‘ What
is your name? and ‘My good child,’ &c. I’m as tired
as—as—oh help me for as imile! as a pair of worn-out
shoes.â€
“A poetical simile at last,†remarked Reginald, laughing.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 81
«You would have a nice walk,†said Trevannion.
“Very! and a sermon gratis to boot,†replied Meredith.
“Tt would have done you good, Trevannion, to have heard
what shocking things you have done in being so very
genteel.â€
«What do you mean?†said Trevannion, coolly.
«Louis Mortimer was giving me a taste of his Methodis-
tical mind on the duties of clergymen generally, and your
humble servant especially.â€
“TJ presume you do not include yourself in the fraternity
yet ?†said Trevannion.
“Not exactly ; but having informed him of my pr pspects,
the good child began to upbraid me with my hypocrisy,
and, bless you, such a thundering sermon,—positively quite
el. quent.â€
Â¥ eshape I may be allowed to profit by the second part
of it,†said Trevannion, turning to Louis; “ will you be
kin@ enough to edify me?â€
Louis did not reply, and Trevannion’s lips curled slightly
as he remarked, “There is an old proverb about those who
live in glass houses—‘ Physician, cure thyself.’â€â€™
Poor Louis turned away, and Meredith, stretching him-
self and yawning terrifically, continued, ‘You must know,
Trevannion, that it is very wicked to be any thing but a
Methodist, very wicked for a clergyman to be genteel, or to
wish to make*himself comfortable.â€
“Hastings, I did not say so,†said Louis, turning his head,
« And so,†continued Meredith, without noticing Louis,
“if we dare to follow up our own,or our fathers’ wishes,
we must listen to Louis Mortimer, and he will tell us what
to do.â€
82 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
“Much obliged to him, I am sure,†said Trevannion.
«“ Yes, so am I,†rejoined Meredith, “ though I forgot to
tender my thanks before; and hereby give notice, that
when I am in orders, I will not hunt more than convenient,
nor play cards on Good Friday, nor go to dancing parties
on Saturday evening.â€
« Pshaw, Meredith,†said Trevannion: “ it is very unbe-
soming to talk in this manner of so sacred a profession. A
hunting and card-playing clergyman ought to be stripped
of his gown without hesitation. Any right-minded person
would recoil with horror at such a character. It is a great
disgrace to the profession; no clergyman ought to enter
into any kind of improper dissipation. Your ideas are very
light and indelicate.â€
“Will you be kind enough to define that term, improper
dissipation,†said Meredith, carelessly. “1 presume you
have no objection to a quiet dance now and then, only they
~ must not call it a ball.†-
« A clergyman ought not to dance,†replied Trevannion,
in precisely the same cool, dictatorial manner.
«He may look on them, may he not?†said Meredith.
« A clergyman has many serious duties to perform, and
he should be Very careful that ,he does not degrade his ~
office,†replied Trevannion. “‘ He has to uphold the dignity
of the church, and should take care that his conduct is
such that no reproach can fall on that church from his in-
consistency.â€
“Well, for my part,†said Meredith, lightly, “I think
the church too important to miss the weight of my example.
I mean to have a most exemplary curate.â€
Near these speakers sat Mr. James Wilkinson, with a few
A STORY FOR BOYS. 83
little boys, whom at this moment he hastily dismissed, for
the sound of the light conversation reached him, and he
arose quickly and introduced himself to the little cdterie
just as Reginald exclaimed, “‘ For shame, Meredith !â€
« Ay, for shame,†said Mr. James:. “I have heard a
little of what has been going on among you, and am really
very sorry to hear such expressions on a subject so solemn
and important. Meredith, you cannot be aware of what
you are saying. I should like to havea little talk about
this matter; and, Mr. Trevanhion, if you will give me your
attention for a few minutes, I shall be obliged to you.â€
Trevannion seated himself on the bench, and folding his
arms, remained in an attitude of passive attention:
«Lend me your prayer-book, Mortimer,†said Mr. James,
and he quickly turned to the service for the ordering of
deacons. “The first question here put to the candidate for
holy orders is, ‘Do you trust that you are inwardly moved
by.the Holy Ghost, to take upon you this office and minis-
tration, to serve God for the promoting of His glory and
the edifying of His people ?’ Now, Meredith, I ask you
to think, whether, with such, sentiments as you have just
expressed, you can dare to answer, ‘ J trust so .
“JT never thought very seriously about it,†said Meredith,
rather abruptly. .
«But you know these things must be. thought of seri-
ously and prayerfully. It is required of a man in every
station of life, that he be faithful and diligent, serving the
Lord, and whoever does not remember this, must answer
for his neglect of such duty to his Maker. It will not do
to say that our individual example can be of no importance ;
the command, ‘ Occupy till I come,’ is laid upon each one
84 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
of us; but what must be said of him who, in a careless,
light frame of mind, takes these holy vows upon him,
knowing in his own mind that he intends to break them; ~
that his sole desire to be put into the priest’s office is to eat
a morsel of bread? What shall be said of him who goes
into the house of God, and in the presence of His people
declares that it is his intention, ‘to search gladly and will-
ingly for the sick and poor of his parish, to relieve their
necessities ; to frame his own life and the lives of his family
according to the doctrine of Christ; to be diligent in
prayers and in reading of the Holy Scriptures, laying aside
the study of the world and the flesh,’ and yet knows that
he intends to enjoy himself in the things of this world—a
yery hireling who forgets that his master’s eye is upon him.
It is a fearful thing. It is coming before the Almighty
with a lie. Nay, hear me a little longer. The clergyman’s
is a glorious and exalted path, the happiest I know of on
earth. It is his especially to bear the message of salvation
from a tender Saviour. It is his to go forth with the balm
of heavenly comfort, to bind up the wounds sin and grief
have made. It is his indeedpre-eminently to dwell in the
house of his God, to be hid away from the world and its
many allurements ; but as every great blessing brings with
it a great responsibility, so the responsibility of the minis-
ter of Christ is very great, and if he turn from the com-
mandment delivered to him, his condemnation is fearful. I
should be much obliged to you, Meredith, if you would
read me these verses.†.~
Meredith took the open Bible from Mr. Wilkinson’s
hand, and read aloud the first ten verses of the 34th of
Ezekiel.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 85
“In this holy word, which must be the standard for all
our conduct, we do not find that the Almighty looks upon
this office as a light thing. In the thirty-third chapter
there is so solemn a warning to the careless watchman, that
I wonder any one who does not steadfastly intend to give
himself to his sacred duties, can read it and not tremble.
‘If the watchman see the sword come, and blow not the
trumpet, and the people be not warned ; if the sword come,
and take away any person from among them, he is taken
away in his iniquity; but nis BLOOD WILL I REQUIRE AT THE
WATCHMAN’S HAND. So thou, O son of man, I have set
thee a watchman unto the house of Israel; therefore thou
shalt hear the word at my mouth, and warn them from me.
When I say unto the wicked, Oh wicked man, thou shalt
surely die; if thou dost not speak to warn the wicked from
his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity ; but his
blood will I require at thine hand.’ This is the second
solemn warning to the same purport given to Ezekiel ; for,
in the third chapter, we find the same thing ; and these are
awful truths engraved in God’s everlasting word, by which
we are to be judged at the Jast day. You must excuse
me,â€â€™ eontinued Mr. Wilkinson, and his eyes glistened with
emotion ; “ but I am a watchman, and I must warn you of
the fearful sin you are contemplating.â€
Meredith was silent. He was impressed with the earn»
estness displayed by Mr. Wilkinson, and the solemn truths
he had brought before him—truths it would be well if all
those who are looking forward to*%entering the sacred min-
istry would seriously and prayerfully consider.
The tea bell ringing at this moment, the conversation _
was necessarily concluded; but that evening after prayers,
8
86 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
Mr. Wilkinson put into Meredith’s hand a piece of paper,
on which were written the following references: Num. xvi.
9; Isaiah lii. 7, 8; Ixii. 6, 7; Jer. xxiii, 1—4; Ezek. it.
17—21; xxxiii. 1—9; xxxiv. 1—10; John xxi. 15—17;
1 Cor. ix. 16, 17, 19; and both the Epistles to Timothy ;
and underneath the references was the Apostle’s injunc-
tion, “‘ Meditate upon these things; give thyself wholly to
them, that thy profiting may appear unto all.â€
When Louis was fairly in bed that night, he was cai.ed
on for a story.
«Tell us the end of the princess Rosetta, Louis,†cried
Frank ; “I want to know how the fair animal got out of
her watery bedroom, and whether the green dog ever got
his nose nipped by the oysters he was so fond of snapping
up.â€
“Yes, Rosetta!’ cried. several voices. ‘Did she ever
get to the king of the peacocks, Louis ?â€
“No, no,†cried Reginald; “it is not fit for Sunday.â€
«‘T am sure we have been doing heaps of good things
to-day,†replied Frank, lightly ; “come, Louis.â€
“TI must not,†said Louis, gently. “Ido not like tell-
ing stories at night at all, because I think we ought*not to
fill our heads with such things when we are going to sleep ;
but I must not tell you Rosetta to-night, Frank.â€
“Get along,†said Frank, contemptuously ; “you are
not worth the snap of a finger. All you are ever worth is
to tell stories, and now you must needs set up for a good,
pious boy—you, forsoothy of all others !’â€â€™
“Indeed, Frank, you will not understand me.â€
“Tf you dare to say any more to Louis,†cried Reginald,
“Tl make you—â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 87
Louis’ hand was upon Reginald’s mouth.
Frank replied, tauntingly, “Ay, finish your work this
time, that’s right. Come boys, never mind, I'll tell you a
wonderful tale.â€â€™
“T think we’d better not have one to-night,†“said one;
«perhaps Mortimer’s right.â€
“Don’t have one, don’t!†said Louis, starting up; “do
not let us forget that all this day is God’s day, and that we
must not even speak our own words.â€
‘None of your cant,†cried one.
“Well, I propose that we go to sleep, and then we
shan’t hear what he says,†said Meredith. “They talk of
his not having pluck enough to speak, but he can do it
when he pleases,†he remarked in a low tone to his next
companion, Frank Digby, who rejoined,
“ More shame for him, the little hypocrite. I like real
religious people, but I can’t bear cant.â€
What Frank’s idea of real religion was, may be rather a
difficult matter to settle. Probably it was an,obscure idea
to himself,—an idea of certain sentiment and no vitality.
88 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
CHAPTER VII.
Tur next Saturday afternoon proving unusually fine, the
community at Ashfield House sallied forth to enjoy their
half-holiday on the downs. A few of the seniors had re-
ceived permission to pay a visit to Bristol, and not a small
party was arranged for a good game of cricket. Among
the latter was Reginald Mortimer, whose strong arm and
swift foot were deemed almost indispensable on such occa-
sions. As he rushed out of the playground gates, bat in
hand, accompanied by Meredith, he overtook his brother,
who had discovered a poem unknown to him in Coleridge’s
Ancient Mariner, and was anticipating a pleasant mental
feast in its perusal.
“Louis, you lazy fellow,†cried Reginald, good-temper-
edly, “you shan’t read this fine afternoon—come, join us.â€
“T don’t play cricket, I have not learned,†replied Louis.
“And you never will,†rejoined Reginald, “if you don’t
make a beginning: Ill teach you—now put away that
stupid book.â€
“ Stupid !â€â€™ said Lovie “It’s Coleridge, that mamma
promised to read to us.’
“T hate poetry,†exclaimed Reginald; “I wonder how
anybody can read such stuff. Give me the book, Louis,
and come along.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 89
“No, thank you, I’d rather not.â€
‘What a donkey youare!†said Meredith: “why don’t
you learn?â€
“‘ Perhaps me Tepuiation may be the safer for not divulg-
ing my reasons,†said Louis, archly: “it is suffidient for
present purposes that I had rather not.â€
‘‘ Rather not—rather not,†echoed Meredith: “like one
of your sensible reasons.â€
“He has refused to give them, so you cannot call that
his reason, Meredith,†remarked Reginald; “but let us be
off, as Louis won’t come.â€
Away they ran, and after looking at them for a minute,
Louis turned off his own way, but it was destined that he
should not read the Ancient Mariner that day, for he was
presently interrupted by little Alfred Hamilton, who pounced
upon him full of joy.
“Louis,†he cried, “I am so glad to speak to you! I
don’t know how it is that I have not been able to speak to
you lately: I half thought Edward did not like it, but he
asked me to-day why I did not come to you now.â€
“Did he?†exclaimed Louis, with joyful surprise; “I
am very glad you are come. I think we shall have a beau-
tiful walk.â€
“TI can’t think how it is, Louis, that everybody is either
so grave or rude when I speak of you. What is the
matter ?â€
« A mistake ; ; amidsa anidja sad one fonmyy†said Louis, gravely.
“But don’t say any thing about it, Alfred; they think I
have been one something very wrong; but all will come
out some day.â€
“I hope so,†replied little Alfred; “I cannot think what
g*
90 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS
you can have done wrong, Louis, you always seem so
good.â€
The child looked wistfully up in Louis’ face as he spoke,
and seemed to wait some explanation.
«That is because you do not know much about me,
Alfred,†replied Louis; “but in this one case I have not
done wrong, I assure you.â€
Alfred asked no more questions, though he looked more
than once in the now sorrowful young face by him, as they
sauntered along the wide downs.
‘‘ Here come Edward and Mr. Trevannion,†said Alfred,
turning round; “and there is Frank Digby, and Mr. Fer-
rers, too. I think Edward is going to Bristol this after-
noon.â€
This intimation of the august approach of his majesty
and court was hardly given when the young gentlemen
passed Louis. Hamilton, with Trevannion, as usual, leaning
on his arm, and Frank Digby walking backwards before
them, vainly endeavoring to support a failing argument
with a flood of nonsense, a common custom with this young
gentleman ; and, by the way, we might recommend it as
remarkably convenient at such times, to prevent the pain
of a total discomfiture, it being more pleasant to slip quietly
and unseen from your pedestal to some perfectly remote
topic, than to allow yourself to be hurled roughly there-
from by the rude hand of a more sound and successful
disputant. oy
« Enough, enough, Prank ’ exclaimed Hamilton, laugh-
ing. ‘I see through your fli veil. We won’t say any
more: you either argue in a circle, or try to blind us.â€
Louis looked up as Hamilton passed, in hopes that that
A STORY FOR BOYS. 91
magnate might give him a favorable glance, in which he
was not mistaken, for Edward the Great had been watch-
ing him from some distance, and was perfectly aware of
his near approach to him. 7
He certainly did not seem displeased, though the grave
countenance bore no marks of particular satisfaction at the
rencontre. He spoke carelessly to his brother, and then,
addressing Louis, said, “‘ You must look after him, Louis,
if you wish for his company ; if not, dismiss him at once.â€
“JT do wish for him,†said Louis, with a bright look of
gratitude ; “I promise to take care of him. Mr. Hamilton,
I am getting up in my class—I am fifth now.â€
The latter communication was made doubtfully, in a tone
indicating mixed pleasure and timidity.
“Tam glad to hear it,†was Hamilton’s laconic reply.
He did not quicken his pace. ‘“ What have you there ?â€
he asked, noticing his book.
“ Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner ; 1 was going to read it,â€
replied Louis; “ but now Alfred has come we shall talk:
shall we not, Alfred ?â€
This was accompanied by another look of grateful pleas-
ure at Alfred’s brother.
What was passing in Hamilton’s mind was not to be
gathered from his countenance, which exhibited no emotion
of any kind. He turned to Trevannion, as their party was
strengthened by Churchill, remarking, “ Here comes the
sucking fish.†% nk
“It’s uncommon hot,†said Chure ill, taking off his hat,
and fanning himself with andkerchief.
“ Dreadful warm,†said Frank Digby, in exactly the
same tone. Be i, <
92 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
« And there is not a breath of wind on the horrid downs,â€
continued the sapient youth, perfectly unconscious of Frank’s
mimicry.
« What'will the fair Louisa do?†cried Frank: “O that
a zephyr would have pity on that delicate form !â€
Across their path lay a wagon, from which the horses
had been detached, and which now offered a tempting
though homely shelter to those among the pedestrians who
might choose to sit on the shady side, or to avail themselves
of the accommodation afforded by the awning over the in-
terior. Ferrers threw himself full length inside the cart :
and Louis, drawing Alfred to the shady side, seated him-
self by him on the grass. His example was followed by
Churchill, who exclaimed rapturously as he did so, “ How
nice! This puts me in mind of a Latin sentence; I forget
the Latin, but I remember the English—‘ Oh, ‘tis pleasant
to sit in the shade!’ â€
“Of a wagon,†said Frank, laughing. ‘“ Remarkably
romantic! It is so sweet to hear the birds chirp, and the
distant hum of human voices—but language fails! As for
Lady Louisa, she is in the Elysium of ecstasy. It’s so
romantic.â€
“Are you going to Bristol, Frank, for I’m off?†said
Hamilton.
“ Coming,†replied Frank. ‘ We'll leave these romantic
mortals to their sequestered glen. There ain’t nothing like
imagination, my good ,sixs.†5
As he joined his Mica , Trevannion remarked to
Hamilton, “ Little Mortimer i much the gentleman, you
never know him do or say any thing vulgar or awkward.
It is a pity one can’t depend upon him.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 93
«T am not quite sure that you cannot,†replied Hamilton.
«« How !†said Trevannion, in astonishment.
“ Are you going to turn Paladin for her ladyship?â€
asked Frank.
“T have been watching Louis very carefully, and the
more I see, the more I doubt his guilt,†replied Hamilton.
« After what you saw yourself? After all that was
seen by others? Impossible, my dear Hamilton!†ex-
claimed Trevannion. ‘ You cannot exonerate him without
criminating others.†-
“We shall see,†replied Hamilton ; “and more than that,
Trevannion, I am certain that Dr. Wilkinson has his doubts
now, too.â€
“ But does Fudge know any thing about his old pranks ?â€
asked Frank, incredulously.
“T cannot say,â€â€™ replied Hamilton ; “but I think that he
probably does; for what is"So well known now any our-
selves, is likely enough to reach his quick ears.’
“But knowing all you do, my dear Hamilton,†said Tre-
vannion, expostulatingly, “you must be strongly prejudiced
in your protegé’s favor to admit a doubt in this case. Has
Dr. Wilkinson told you that he has any doubts ?â€
« No,†replied Hamilton ; “you know the doctor would
not reveal his mind unless he were confident, but I have
noticed some little things, and am sure that though he seems
generally so indifferent to Louis’ presence and concerns, and
so distant and cold towards him, he_is nevertheless watch-
ing him very narrowly ; and_I, ‘ath, part, expect to see
things take a new turn beforeilong.â€
“The boy seems quite to have’ won your heart,†said
Trevannion.
|
|
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A STORY FOR BOYS.
eae By 6.3. Pay. 2>>—_
| OSSD S
|
| Louis and Meredith on Brandon Hill. Page 76.
NEW-YORK:
| D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY.
1852.
eee ane
LOUIS’ SCHOOL DAYS:
A STORY FOR BOYS.
BY &E.J. MAY.
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY.
M DCCC LI.
PREFACE.
Ir was originally my intention to leave the child
of my imagination to make its way where it would,
without any letter of introduction in the form of the
usuak prefatory address to the reader; but having
been assured that a preface is indispensable, I am
laid under the necessity of formally giving a little
insight into the character of the possible inmate of
many a happy home.
Reader, the following pages claim no interest
on the score of authenticity. They are no fiction
founded on facts. They profess to be nothing but
fiction, used as a vehicle for illustrating certain
broad and fundamental truths:in our holy religion.
It has often struck me, in recalling religious sto-
ries (to which I acknowledge myself much indebted),
that many of them fell into an error which might
have the effect of confusing the mind of a thinking
child, namely, that of oes a perfect character
vi PREFACE.
as soon as the soul has laid hold of Christ, without
any mention of those struggles through which the
Christian must pass, in order to preserve a holy con-
sistency before men. This would seem to exclude
the necessity of maintaining a warfare.
The doctrine I have endeavored to maintain in
the following pages is, that man being born in “sin,
a child of wrath,†has, by nature, all his affections
estranged from God; that, when by grace, through
faith in Christ, a new life has been implanted within
him, his affeetions are restored to their rightful
Lord, every thought and imagination is brought
into captivity to the obedience of Christ; and his
whole being longs to praise Him who has called him
“out of darkness into light ’—to praise Him “ not
only with his lips, but in his life.’ Then com-
mences the struggle between light and darkness,
between the flesh and the spirit, between the old
and new man; and the results of this conflict are
seen in the outward conduct of the Christian soldier.
The character of the child of God does not essen-
tially alter, but a new impulse is given him. What-
ever good quality was in his natural state conspicu.
ous in him, will, in a state of grace and newness of
life, shine forth with double lustre; and he will find
PREFACE. Vil
his besetting sin his greatest hindrance in pressing
forward to the attainment of personal holiness. The
great wide difference is, that he deszres to be holy,
and the Lerd, who gives him this desire, gives him
also the strength to overcome his natural mind ;
and the more closely lfe waits on his heavenly Fa-
ther for His promised aid, the more holily and con-
sistently he will walk; and when, through the de-
ceits of his heart, the allurements of the world, or
the temptations of Satan, he relaxes his vigilance,
and draws less largely from the fountain of his
strength, a sad falling away is the inevitable conse-
quence. ‘This warfare, this danger of backsliding,
ends only with the life, when, and when only, he
will be perfect, for he shall be like his Saviour.
As a writer for the young, I dare not plead even
the humble pretensions of my little volume in dep-
recation of the criticism which ought to be the lot
of every work professing to instruct others. In
choosing the arena of a boy’s school for the scene of
my hero’s actions, I have necessarily been com-
pelled to introduce many incidents and phrases to
which, perhaps, some very scrupulous critics might
object as out of place ina religious work; but my
readers will do well to recollect, that to be useful, a
Vill PREFACE.
story must be attractive, and to be attractive, it
must be natural; and I trust that they who can-
didly examine mine will find nothing therein that
can produce a wrong impression. It has not been
without an anxious sense of the great responsibility
dependent on me in my present capacity, that this
little effort has been made. Should it be the instru-
ment of strengthening in one young one the best
lessons he has received, it will, indeed, not have
been in vain. To the service of Him who is the
strength and help of all His people, it is dedicated.
“ Be Thou alone exalted:
If there’s a thought of favor placed on me—
Ture be it all!
Forgive its evil and accept its good—
I cast it at Thy feet.â€
E.J.M.
LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
A-STORY FOR BOYS.
CHAPTER IL.
Do.ervut were the accounts received from time to time
of Louis Mortimer’s life with his tutor at Dashwood Rec-
tory ; and, if implicit credence might be yielded to them,
it would be supposed that no poor mortal was ever so per-
secuted by Latin verses, early rising, and difficult problems,
as our hero. His eldest brother, to whom these pathetic
relations were made, failed not to stimulate him with exci-
ting passages of school life—and these, at last, had the de-
sired effect, drawing from Louis the following epistle :
“My dear Reginald,
“Your letter was as welcome as usual. You
cannot imagine what a treat it is to hear from you. Mr.
Phillips is kind, but so very different from dear Mr. Daun-
ton. What I dislike most is, that he says so often, ‘ What
did Mr. Daunton teach you? I never saw a boy so igno-
rant in my life!’ I do not care how much he says of me,
but I cannot bear to hear him accuse dear Mr. Daunton of
not teaching me properly. I believe I am really idle often,
10 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
but sometimes, when I try most, it seems to give least satis-
faction. The other day I was busy two hours at some Latin
verses, and I took so much pains with them—lI had written
an ‘Ode to the Rising Sun,’ and felt quite interested, and
thought Mr. Phillips would be pleased; but when I took
it to him, he just looked at it, and taking a pen dashed out
word after word, and said, so disagreeably, ‘ Shocking !
Shocking, Louis! Disgraceful, after all that I said yester-
day—the pains that I took with you.’ ‘Indeed, sir,’ I said,
‘I tried a great deal.’ ‘Fine ideas! fine ideas! no doubt,’ he
said, ‘but I have told you dozens of times that I do not
want. 2deas—I want feet.’ I wish those same feet would
run away to Clifton with me, Reginald ; I hope I have not
been saying any thing wrong about Mr. Phillips—I should
be very sorry to do so, for he is very kind in his way: he
tells me I do not know what I am wishing for, and that
school will not suit me, and a great deal about my having
to fag much harder and getting into disgrace; but never
mind, I should like to make the experiment, for I shall be
with you; and, dear as Dashwood is, it is so dull without
papa and mamma—lI can hardly bear to go into the Priory
now they are away. I seem to want Freddy’s baby-voice
in the nursery; and sober Neville and Mary are quite a
part of home—how long it seems since I saw them! Well,
I hope I shall come to you at Easter. Do you not wish it
were here? I had a nice letter from mamma yesterday—
she was at Florence when she wrote, and is getting quite
strong, and so is little Mary. I have now no more time ;
mamma said papa had written to you, or I would have told
you all the news. I wanted to tell you very much how
our pigeons are, and the rabbits, and Mary’s hen, which I
A STORY FOR BOYS. 11
shall give in Mrs. Colthrop’s care when I leave Dashwood.
But good bye, in a great hurry. With much love, I remain
your very affectionate brother,
“Louis Francis Mortimer.
«“P.§. Do you remember cousin Vernon’s laughing at
our embrace at Heronhurst? I wonder when I shall have
another—I am longing so to see you.â€
It would not concern my readers much were I to de-
scribe the precise locality of the renowned Dr. Wilkinson’s
establishment for young gentlemen—suffice it to say, that
somewhere near Durdham Down, within a short walk of
Clifton, stood Ashfield House, a large rambling building,
part of which looked gray and timeworn when compared
with the modern school-room, and sundry dormitories, that
had been added at different periods as the school grew out
of its original domains. Attached to the house was a con-
siderable extent of park land, which was constituted the
general play-ground.
At the time of. which I am ileal Dr. Wilkinson’s
school consisted of nearly eighty pupils, all of whom were
boarders, and who were sent from different parts of the
kingdom ; for the doctor’s fame, as an excellent man, and
what, in the eyes of some was even a greater recommen-
dation, as a first-rate classical scholar, was spread far and
wide. At the door of this house, one fine April day, Louis
presented himself; and, after descending from the vehicle
which brought him from Bristol, followed the servant into
the doctor’s dining-room, where we will leave him in soli-
tary grandeur, or, more correctly speaking, in agitating ex-
12 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
pectation, while we take a peep at the room on the opposite
side of the hall. In this, Dr. Wilkinson was giving audience
to a gentleman who had brought back his little boy a few
minutes before Louis arrived. Having some private busi-
ness to transact, the child was sent to the school-room, and
then Mr. Percy entered into a discussion respecting the
capabilities of his son, and many other particulars, which,
however interesting to himself, would fail of being so
to us.
At length these topics were exhausted, and it seemed
nearly decided how much was to be done or discontinued
in Master Percy’s education. Mr. Percy paused to consider
if any thing were left unsaid.
“Oh! by the by, Dr. Wilkinson,†he said, letting fall
the pencil with which he had been tapping the table during
his cogitations, “you have one of Sir George Vernon’s
grandsons with you, I believe 2â€
“Two of them,†replied the doctor.
“* Ah! indeed, I mean young Mortimer, son of Mr. Mor-
timer of Dashwood.â€
“T have his eldest son, and am expecting another to-
day.â€
“Then it was your expected pupil that I saw this morn-
ing,†said Mr. Percy.
“‘ May I ask where ?†said the doctor,
‘“‘At the White Lion. He came down by the London
coach. I saw his trunk, in the first place, addressed to
you, and supposed him to be the young gentleman who
attained to some rather undesirable notoriety last year.â€
‘How so ?†asked the doctor.
“Oh! he very ungenerously and artfully endeavored
A STORY FOR BOYS. 13
to retain for himself the honor of writing a clever little
essay, really the work of his brother, and actually obtained
a prize from his grandfather for it.â€
«How came that about ?†asked Dr. Wilkinson.
‘“‘Oh! there was some mistake in the first instance, I be-
lieve, and the mean little fellow took advantage of it.â€
Mr. Percy then gave a detailed account of Louis’ birth-
day at Heronhurst, and concluded by saying—
“‘T was not present, but I heard it from a spectator; I
should be afraid that you will not have a little trouble with
such a character.â€
“It is extraordinary,†said the doctor ; “his brother is
the most frank, candid fellow possible.â€
“T hear he is a nice boy,†said Mr. Percy. “There is
frequently great dissimilarity among members of the same
family ; but of course, this goes no further. It is as well
you should know it,—but I should not talk-of it to every
one.â€
Dr. Wilkinson bowed slightly, and remained silent, with-
out exhibiting any peculiar gratification at having been
made the depository of the secret. Mr. Percy presently
rose and took his leave; and Dr. Wilkinson was turning
towards the staircase, when a servant informed him that a
young gentleman waited to see him in the dining-room.
“Oh!†said the doctor to himself, “my dilatory pupil, I
presume.â€
He seemed lost in thought for a minute, and then slowly
crossing the hall, entered the dining-room.
Louis had been very anxious for the appearance of his
master, yet almost afraid to see him; and when the door
opened, and this gentleman stood before him, he was seized
2
14 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
with such a palpitation as scarcely to have the power of
speech.
Dr. Wilkinson was certainly a person calculated to inspire
a school-boy with awe. He was a tall, dignified man, be-
tween fifty and sixty years of age, with a magnificent fore-
head and good countenance: the latter was not, however,
generally pleasing, the usual expression being stern and
unyielding. When he smiled, that expression vanished ;
but to a new-comer there was something rather terrible in
the compressed lips and overhanging eyebrows, from under
which a pair of the keenest black eyes seemed to look him
through. | :
Louis rose and bowed on his master’s entrance,
‘ How do you do, Mortimer 2†said the doctor, shaking
hands with him. “I dare Say you are tired of waiting.
You have not seen your brother, I suppose ?â€
“« No, sir,â€â€™ replied Louis, looking in the stern face with
something of his customary simple confidence. Doctor
Wilkinson smiled, and added, “You are very like your
father,—exceedingly like what he was at your age,â€
“ Did you know him then, sir ?†asked Louis, timidly.
“Yes, as well as I hope to know you in a short time.
What is your name ?â€
“‘ Louis Francis, sir,â€
‘‘ What! your father’s name—that is just what it should
be. Well, I hope, Louis, you will now endeavor to give
him the utmost satisfaction, With such a father, and such
a home, you have great privileges to account for ; and it is
your place to show to your parents of what use their care
and instruction have been. Ina large school you will find
many things so different from home, that, unless you are
A STORY FOR BOYS. 15
constantly on your guard, you will often be likely to do
things which may afterwards cause you hours of pain.
Remember that you are a responsible creature sent into the
world to act a part assigned to you by your Maker; and to
Him must the account of every talent be rendered, whether
it be used, or buried in the earth. As a Christian gentle-
man, see, Louis, that you strive to do your part with all
your might.â€
Dr. Wilkinson watched the attention and ready sympathy
with his admonition displayed by Louis ; and in spite of the
warning he had so lately received, felt very kindly and
favorably disposed towards his new pupil.
“Come with me,†he said, “I will introduce you to your
school-fellows ; I have no doubt you will find your brother
among them somewhere.â€
Louis followed Dr. Wilkinson through a door at the
further end of the hall, leading into a smaller hall which
was tapestried with great-coats, cloaks, and hats ; and here
an increasing murmur announced the fact of his near ap-
proach to a party of noisy boys. As the doctor threw
open the folding-doors leading into the noble school-room,
Louis felt almost stupefied by the noise and novelty. A
glass door leading into the play-ground was wide open,
and, as school was just over, there was a great rush~into
the open air. Some were clambering in great haste over
desks and forms ; and the shouting, singing, and whistling,
together with the occasional overthrow of a form, and the
almost incessant banging of desk-lids, from those who were
putting away slates and books, formed a scene —
new and bewildering to our hero.
The entrance of Dr. Wilkinson stilled the tumult in a
16 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
slight degree, and in half a minute after, the room was
nearly cleared, and a passage was left for the new-comers’
towards the upper end. Here was a knot of great boys
(or, rather, craving their pardon, I should say young men),
all engaged in eager and merry confabulation. So intent
were they that their master’s approach was wholly unno-
ticed by them. One of these young gentlemen was sitting
tailor fashion on the top of a desk, apparently holding forth
for the edification of his more discreet companions, to whom
he seemed to afford considerable amusement, if the peals of
laughter with which his sallies were received might be con-
sidered any proof. A little aloof from this party, but with-
in hearing, stood a youth of about seventeen, of whom no-
thing was remarkable, but that his countenance wore a
very sedate and determined expression. He seemed strug-
gling with a determination not to indulge a strong pro-
pensity to laugh; but, though pretending to be occupied
with a book, his features at length gave way at some irre-
sistible sally, and throwing his volume at the orator, he ex-
claimed—
“‘ How can you be such an ass, Frank !â€
“There now,†said Frank, perfectly unmoved, “ the cen-
tre of gravity is disturbed,—well, as I was saying,—Here’s
the doctor !†and the young gentleman, who was no other
than Frank Digby, brother of Louis’ cousin Vernon, dis-
mounted from his rostrum in the same instant that his audi-
tors turned round, thereby acknowledging the presence of
their master.
*“‘T have brought you a new school-fellow, gentlemen,â€
said the doctor; “ where is Mortimer ?â€
“Here, sir,†cried Reginald, popping up from behind a
A STORY FOR BOYS. 17
desk, where he had been pinned down by a short thick-set
boy, who rose as if by magic with him.
“Here is your brother.â€
Louis and Reginald scrambled over all obstacles, and
stood before the doctor, in two or three seconds.
In spite of Louis’ valiant protestations the preceding mid-
summer at Heronhurst, he did not dare, in the presence of
only a quarter of the hundred and twenty eyes, to embrace
his brother, but contented himself with a most energetic
squeeze, and a look that said volumes; and, indeed, it must
be confessed, that Reginald was not an inviting figure for
an embrace ; for, independently of a rough head, and dust-
bedecked garments, his malicious adversary had decorated
his face with multitudinous ink-spots, a spectacle which
greatly provoked the mirth of his laughter-loving school-
fellows. :
Dr. Wilkinson made some remark on the singularity of
his pupil’s appearance, and then, commending Louis to the
kind offices of the assembled party, left the room.
He had scarcely closed the door behind him, when sev-
eral loiterers from the lower part of the room came up;
and Reginald and his brother were immediately assailed
with a number of questions, aimed with such rapidity as to
be unanswerable.
“When did you come?†‘Who's that, Mortimer?â€
“Ts that your brother?†‘ What’s‘his name?†“ Shall
you be in our class?†“Why didn’t you stay longer in
Bristol ?—If I had been you I would !â€
Louis was amused though puzzled, and turned first one
way, and then another, in his futile attempts to see and
reply to his interrogators.
18 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS.
“Make way!†at last exclaimed Frank Digby; “ you
are quite embarrassing to her ladyship. Will the lady
Louisa take my arm? Allow me, madam, to interpose my
powerful authority.†And he offered his arm to*Louis
with a smirk and low bow, which set all the spectators off
laughing ; for Frank was one of those privileged persons,
who, having attained a celebrity for being very funny, can
excite a laugh with very little trouble.
“ Don’t, Frank !’’ said Reginald. .
“ Don’t! really, Mr. Mortimer, if you have no respect
for your sister’s feelings, it is time that I interposed. Here
you allow this herd of Z don’t know what to call them, to
incommode her with their senseless clamor. I protest, she
is nearly fainting; she has been gasping for breath the last
five minutes. Be off, ye fussy, curious, prying, peeping,
pressing-round fellows; or, I promise you, you shall be
visited with his majesty’s heaviest displeasure.â€
“How do you do, lady Louisa? I hope your ladyship’s
in good health!†“Don’t press on her !†was now echoed
mischievously in various tones around Louis, whose color
was considerably heightened by this unexpected attack,
“‘Now do allow me,†persisted Frank, dragging Louis’
hand in his arm, in spite of all the victim’s efforts to pre-
vent it, and leading him forcibly through the throng, which
made way on every side, to Edward Hamilton, the grave
youth before mentioned :—“ His majesty is anxious to
make the acquaintance of his fair subject. Permit me to
present to your majesty the lovely, gentle, blushing lady
Louisa Mortimer, lately arrived in your majesty’s kingdom ;
your majesty will perceive that she bears loyalty in her—
hey ! what! excited !—hysterics !â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 19
The last exclamations were elicited by a violent effort of
Louis to extricate himself.
« Frank, leave him alone !â€
“What is the will of royalty ?†said Frank, struggling
with his refractory cousin.
«That you leave Louis Mortimer alone,†said. Hamilton.
“You will like us better presently, Louis,’ added he,
shaking hands with him: “my subjects appear to consider
themselves privileged to be rude to a new- sees but my
royal example will have its weight in due time.â€
“Your majesty’s faithful trumpeter, grand vizier, and
factotum is alive and hearty,†said Frank.
« But as he had a selfish fit upon him just now,†returned
Hamilton, “ we were under the necessity of doing our own
business.â€
“JT crave your majesty’s pardon,†said Frank, stroking
his sovereign tenderly on the shoulder ; for which affection-
ate demonstration he was rewarded by a violent push that
laid him prostrate.
“J am a martyr to my own benevolence,†said Frank,
getting up and approaching Louis, “ still I am unchanged
in devotion to your ladyship. Tell me what I can do,â€â€”
and whichever way Louis turned, Frank with his smirking
face presented himself ;—* Will you not give your poor
slave one command ?â€
“Only that you will stand out of my sunihind;†said
Louis good-temperedly.
“Very good,†exclaimed Hamilton.
“Out of your sunshine! What, behind you? that is
cruel, but most obsequiously I obey.â€
Louis underwent the ordeal of a new scholar’s intro-
20 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
duction with unruffled temper, though his cousin took care
there should be little cessation until afternoon school, when
Louis was liberated from his tormentors to his great satis-
faction—Frank’s business carrying him to a part of the
school-room away from that where Louis was desired to
await further orders. In the course of the afternoon, he
was summoned to the presence of Dr. Wilkinson, who was
holding a magisterial levee in one of two class-rooms or
studies adjoining the school-room. The doctor appeared
in one of his sternest humors. Besides the fourteen mem-
bers of the first class, whose names Louis knew already,
there was in this room’a boy about Louis’ age, who seemed
in some little trepidation. Doctor Wilkinson closed the
book he held, and laying it down, dismissed his pupils ;
then turning to the frightened-looking boy, he took a new
book off the table, saying, “Do you know this, Harrison ?â€
“Yes, sir,†faintly replied the boy.
“Where did you get it 2â€
“T bought it.â€
“To assist you in winning prizes from your more honor-
able class-fellows, I suppose,†said the doctor, with the
most marked contempt. “Since you find Kenrick too diffi-
cult for you, you may go into the third class, where there
may be, perhaps, something better suited to your capacity ;
and beware a second offence: you may go, sir.â€
Louis felt great pity for the boy, who turned whiter still,
and then flushed up, as if ready to burst into tears.
‘‘ Well, Louis, I wish to see what rank you will be able
to take,†said the doctor, and he proceeded with his exam-
ination.
“ Humph !†he ejaculated at length, “ pretty well—you
A 8TORY FOR BOYS. 21
may try in the second class. I can tell you that you must
put your shoulder to the wheel, and make the most of yourâ€
powers, or you will soon be obliged to leave it for a less
- honorable post ; but let me see what you can do—and now
put these books away on that shelf.†As he spoke, the
doctor pointed to a vacant place on one of the shelves that
lined two sides of the study, and left the room. Louis put
the books away, and then returned to the school-room,
where he sought his brother, and communicated his news
just before the general uproar attendant on the close of
afternoon school commenced. ;
Reginald was one of the most. noisy and eager in his
preparations for play; and, dragging Louis along with
him, bounded into the fresh air, with that keen feeling of
enjoyment which the steady industrious school-boy knows
by experience.
‘“‘ What a nice play-ground this is !†said Louis.
“ Capital!’ said Reginald. “ What’s the fun, Frank ?â€
he cried to his cousin, who bounded past him at this mo-
ment, towards a spot already tolerably crowded.
‘* Maister Dunn,†shouted Frank.
“Oh, the old cake-man, Louis,†said Reginald ; “I must
go and get rid of a few surplus pence.â€
‘Do you like to spend your money in cakes 2†asked
Louis; “I have plenty, Mrs. Colthrop took care of that.â€
“In that case Dll save for next time,†said Reginald,
‘but let’s go and see what’s going on.â€
Accordingly Reginald ran off in the cake-man’s direction.
Louis followed, and presently found himself standing in the
outer circle of a group of his school-fellows, who formed a
thick wall round a white-haired old man and a boy, both of
22, LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
whom carried a basket on each arm, filled with dainties
always acceptable to a school-boy’s palate.
Were I inclined to moralize, I might here make a few
remarks on waste of money, &c., but my business being
merely to relate incidents at present, I shall only say that
there they stood, the old man and his assistant, with the
boys in constant motion and murmur around them.
_ Frank Digby and Hamilton were in the outer circle, the
latter having walked from a direction opposite to that from
which Frank and Reginald came, but whose dignity did not
prevent a certain desire to purchase if he saw fit, and if
not, to amuse himself with those who did so. He stood
watching the old man with an imperturbable air of gravity,
and, hanging on his arm in a state of listless apathy, stood
Trevannion, another member of the first class.
Frank Digby took too active a share in most things in
the establishment to remain a passive spectator of the ac-
tions of others, and began pushing right and left. “ Get
along, get away ye vagabonds!†he politely cried: “you
little shrimps! what business have you to stop the way ?—
Alfred, you ignoramus! Alfred, why don’t you move ?â€â€™
«Because I’m buying something,†said the little boy
addressed, looking up very quietly at the imperious in-
truder.
« Da locum melioribus, Alfred, as the poet has it. Do
you know where to find that, my boy ?—the first line of
the thirteenth book of the Aineid, being a speech of the
son of Anchises to the Queen of Carthage. You'll find a
copy of Virgil’s works in my desk.â€â€™ |
«TI don’t mean to look,†said Alfred, “1 know it’s in the
Delectus.â€â€™
ae
be
Maister Dunn. Page 29.
_A STORY FOR BOYS. 23
“Wonderful memory!—I admire that delectable book
of yours,†cried Frank, who talked on without stopping,
while forcing himself to the first rank. ‘How now, Mais-
ter Dunn!†he said, addressing the old man, “I hope you
b’aint a going to treat us as e did last time. You must be
reasonable ; the money market is in a sadly unflourishing
condition at present.â€
“You always talk of the money market, Frank,†said
little Alfred: “what do you mean by the money market ?â€
“It’s a place, my dear—I’ll explain it in a moment.
Here, Maister Dunn ;—It’s a place where the old women
sell sovereigns a penny a measure, Alfred.â€
“Oh, Frank!†exclaimed Alfred.
“Oh! and why not?†said Frank; “do you mean to
Say you don’t believe me? That’s it,—isn’t it, maister ?â€
“Ah, Maister Digby! ye’re at yer jokes,†said the old
man,
“Jokes!†said Frank, with a serious air. “ Pray, Mr.
Dunn, did you ever happen to notice certain brass, or cop-
per, or bronze tables, four in number, in front of the Bristol
Exchange !â€
“ Ay sure, maister !â€
“Well, I'll insense you into the meaning of that, pres-
pay: That, my good sir, is where the old women stood
n the good old times, crying out, ‘Here you are! sove-
fens a penny a measure!’ And that’s the reason people
used to be so rich!â€
“Oh, Frank! now I*know that’s only your nonsense,â€
said Alfred.
“ Well, I can’t give you a comprehension, and if I could
buy you one, I couldn’t afford it,†answered Frank, « Now
24 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
here’s my place for any one; Louis, I'll make you a pres-
ent of it, as I don’t want it.â€
«T don’t want to buy any thing,†said Louis.
« Rubbish!†cried Frank. ‘Every one does. Don't be
stingy.†And so Louis allowed himself to be pushed and
pulled into the crowd, and bought something he would
much rather have been without, because he found it incon-
venient to say no.
The two upper classes were privileged to use the largest
of the class-rooms as their sitting-room in the evenings ;
and here Reginald introduced his brother after tea; and,
when he had shown him his lessons, began to prepare his
own. Most of the assembled youths were soon quietly
busy, though some of the more idly disposed kept up a fire
of words, while turning over leaves, and cutting pens to
pieces. Among the latter class was Frank Digby, who was
seldom known to be silent for a quarter of an hour, and
who possessed the singular power of distracting every one’s
attention but his own; for, though he scarcely ever ap-
peared to give his lessons a moment’s attention, he was
generally sufficiently prepared with them to enable him to
keep his place in his class, which was usually two from the
bottom.
Louis saw that he must give his whole mind to his work ;
but being unused to study in a noise, it was some time be-
fore he was well able to comprehend what he wanted to do;
and found himself continually looking up and laughing at
something around him, or replying to some of Frank’s
jokes, which were often directed to him. When, by a great
exertion, he had_at last forced himself to attend to Regin-
ald’s repeated warnings, and had begun to learn in earnest,
A STORY FOR Boys. 95
the door softly opened, and the little boy he had noticed in
the crowd that afternoon came in.
“Halloa! what do you want 2†cried one of the seniors ;
“you have no business here.â€
“Is Edward here, Mr. Salisbury ?â€
“No.â€
“Do you know where he is, please ?â€
“ With the doctor,†replied the young gentleman.
“Oh dear!†sighed the little boy, venturing to approach
the table a little nearer,
“‘ What’s the matter with you?†asked Reginald.
“T can’t do this,†said the child: “I wanted Edward to
help me with my exercise,â€
“My little dear, you have just heard that sapient Fred
Salisbury declare, in the most civil terms chooseable, that
your fraternal preceptor, Edwardus magnus, non est inven-
tus,†said Frank, pompously, with a most condescending
flourish of his person in the direction of the little boy.
“And, consequently,†said the afore-mentioned Mr. Salis-
bury, “ you have free leave to migrate to York, Bath, Jer’-
cho, or any other equally convenient resort for bores in
general, and you in particular,â€
“Please, Mr, Digby,†said the little boy, “will you just
show me this ?â€
“Indeed I can’t,†said Frank ; “TI can’t dd my own, so in
all reason you could not expect me to find brains for two
exercises,â€
“Oh! please somebody show me—Dr. Wilkinson will
be so angry if Mr. Norton sends me up again to-morrow.â€
“WiLL you co?†shouted Salisbury, with such delib-
erate energy of enunciation that Alfred shrunk back:
3
7
26 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
«“ what’s the use of your exercises, if you’re shown how to
do them ?â€â€™
‘Come here, Alfred,†said Louis,softly. Alfred readily
obeyed ; and Louis, taking his book, began to show him —
what to do. .
“Louis. ~1 must not tell him word for word,†said
Reginald (amilton wouldn’t like it—he never does him-
self.â€
«But I may help him to do it for himself, may I not rr
said Louis.
“Yes; but, Louis, you have not time—and he is so
stupid,†replied Reginald; “ you won’t have time to do
your own.†|
But Louis thought he should have time for both, and,
putting his arm round Alfred, he kindly and patiently set
him in the way of doing his lesson properly, and then re-
sumed his own disturbed studies.
Hardly, however, was he settled than he found himself
listening to Frank, who remarked,jas Alfred left the room,
“We shall be sure to have ‘ Oars’ in soon !â€â€
“Who do you mean by Oars?†asked Louis.
“ Churchill,†said Reginald, laughing.
« What an extraordinary name!†said Louis.
“I say, Digby,†cried a boy from the opposite side of
the table, “they give you the credit of that cognomen—
but we are all in the dark as to its origin.â€
“Like the origin of all truly great,†answered Frank,
‘
his usual ‘ Do tell us a bit, that’s a good fellow,’ and after
he had badgered me some minutes, I asked him if he had
not the smallest idea of his lesson—so, after looking at it
A STORY “FOR Boys. 27
another minute, he begins thus, ‘ Omues, all.’ «Bravo ?
replied I. ‘ Conticwere—What’s that, Frank?’ ‘Were
silent,’ I answered: ‘Go on.’ After deep cogitation, and
sundry hints, he discovered that tenebant must have some
remote relationship to a verb signifying to hold fast, and
forthwith a bright thought strikes him, and on we go:
* Intentique ora tenebant—and intently they hold their oars,’
he said, exultingly. ‘Very well,’ quoth I, approvingly,
and continued for him, ‘ Znde toro pater—the waters flowed
glibly farther on, ab alto—to the music of the spheres ;
the inseparable Castor and Pollux looking down benignantly
on their namesake below.’ Here I was stopped by the
innocent youth’s remark, that I certainly was quizzing, for
he knew that Castor and Pollux were the same in Latin as
in English. Whereupon, I demanded, with profound gray-
ity, whether gemini did not mean twins, and if the twins
were not Castor and Pollux—and if he knew (who knew
so much better than I) whether or no there might not be
some word in the Latiti language, besides gemini, signifying
twins ; and that if it was his opinion that I was quizzing,
he had _ better do his lesson himself, He looked hard, and,
thinking I was offended, begged pardon; and believing that
Jjubes was Castor and Pollux, we got on quite famously—
and he was quite reassured when we turned from the de-
scriptive to the historical, beginning with:_4neas sic orsus
¢nfandum— Eneas was such a horrid bear,â€
“ Didn’t you tell him of his mistake â€â€ asked Louis, who
could not help laughing.
“What! spoil the fun and the lesson I meant to give
him ?—not I.â€
“Well, what then, Frank?†said Reginald.
298 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
« Why, imagine old Whitworth’s surprise, when, confi-
dent in the free translation of a first-class man, Oars flowed
on as glibly as the waters ; Whitworth heard him to the
end in his old dry way, and then asked him where he got
that farrago of nonsense ;—I think he was promoted to the
society of dunces instanter, and learns either Delectus or
Eutropius now.. Of course, he never applied again to me.â€
Louis did not express his opinion that Frank was ill-
natured, though he thought so, in spite of the hearty laugh
with which his story was greeted. When he turned again
to his lesson, he found his book had been abstracted.
“TI tell you what,†cried Reginald, fiercely, “I won't
have Louis tormented—who has taken his book? It’s
you, Ferrers, I am sure.â€
“T! did you ever!†replied that young gentleman. “ I
appeal to you, Digby—did you see me touch his book 2â€
«J did not, certainly,†said Frank.
« Give me the book,†exclaimed Reginald, jumping upon
the table, “ give me the book, and let’s have no more such
foolery.†|
‘Get down, Mortimer, you're not transparent,†cried
several voices,
Reginald, however, paid no attention to the command, but
pouncing upon Ferrers at a vantage, threw him backwards
off the form, tumbling over his prostrate foe, and in his de-
scent bringing down books, inkstand, papers, and one of
the candles, in glorious confusion.
«¢ What’s the row !†exclaimed Salisbury, adding an ex-
pression more forcible than elegant ; and, starting from his
seat, he pulled Reginald by main force from his adversary,
with whom he was now struggling on the floor, and at the
oer
A STORY FOR BOYS. 29
same instant the remaining candle was extinguished. Louis
was almost stunned by the noise that ensued: some taking
his brother’s part, and some that of Ferrers, while, in the
dark, friend struggled and quarrelled with friend as much
as foe, no one attempting to quell the tumult, until the door
was suddenly burst open, and Hamilton with Trevannion
and two or three from the school-room entered. Hamilton
stood still for a moment, astonished by the unlooked-for ob-
scurity. His entrance checked the combatants, who at first
imagined that one of their masters had made his appear-
ance, if that could be said to appear which was hardly
discernible in the dim light which came through the half-
open door. Hamilton begged one of the boys with him to
fetch a light, and taking advantage of the momentary lull, he
called out, “ Is this Bedlam, gentlemen? You ought to be
ashamed of yourselves! What’s the matter, Mortimer ?â€
“Oh!†replied Ferrers, « they’ve been teasing his little
brother, and he can’t abide aâ€
“I only mean to say, that Louis shan’t be plagued in
this manner,†cried Reginald, passionately ; “and you
know if the others were not here you wouldn’t dare to do
it, you bully !â€
“For shame, Mortimer,†said Hamilton, decidedly ; and
coming up to Reginald he drew him a little aside, not with-
out a little resistance on Reginald’s part—«What’s the
matter, Mortimer ?â€
“‘ Matter! why that they are doing all they can to hinder
Louis from knowing his lessons to-morrow. I won’t stand
it. He has borne enough of it, and patiently too.â€
“ But is that any reason you should forget that you are
a gentleman ?†said Hamilton.
3%
30 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
“ My book is here, dear Reginald,†said Louis, touching
his brother’s shoulder.
Reginald darted a fierce glance at Ferrers, but not being
able to substantiate an accusation against him, remained
silent, and, under the eye of Hamilton and his friend Tre-
vannion, the remainder of the evening passed in a way
more befitting the high places in the school which the
young gentlemen held ; but Louis had been so much inter-
rupted, and was so much excited and unsettled by the
noise and unwonted scenes, that when Dr. Wilkinson came
at nine to read prayers, he had hardly prepared one of his
lessons for the next day.
ty
A STORY FOR Boys. 31
CHAPTER I,
Louis soon made himself a universal favorite among’ his
school-fellows; and, though he was pronounced by some
to be a “softy,†and by others honored by the equally com-
prehensive and euphonious titles of « spooney†and “ muff,â€
there were few who were not won by his gentle good-
nature, and the uniform good temper, and even playfulness,
with which he bore the immoderate quizzing that fell to his
lot, as a new boarder arrived in the middle of the half-year,
If there were an errand to be run among the seniors, it was,
“Louis Mortimer, will you get me this or that ?†if a dunce
wanted helping, Louis was sure to be applied to, with the
certainty in both cases that the requests would be complied
with, though they might, as was too often the case, inter-
fere with his duties; but Louis had not courage to say no..
In proportion, however, as our hero grew in the good
graces of his school-fellows, he fell out of those of his mas-
ters, for lessons were brought only half-learned, and exer-
cises only half-written, or blotted and scrawled so as to be
nearly unintelligible ; and after he had been a fortnight at
school, he seemed much more likely to descend to a lower
“class than to mount’ step in his own. Day after day saw
Louis kept in the school-room during play-hours, to learn
lessons which ought to have been done the night before, or
32 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
to write out some long imposition as a punishment for
some neglected duty that had given place to the desire of
assisting another.
Louis always seemed ina hurry, and never did any thing
well. His mind was unsettled, and, like every thing else
belonging to him at present, in a state of undesirable con-
fusion.
There was one resource which Louis had which would
have set all to rights, but his weakness of disposition often
prevented him from taking advantage of even the short
intervals for prayer allowed by the rules of the school, and
he was often urged at night into telling stories till he drop-
ped asleep, and hurried down by the morning bell, before
he could summon up courage to brave the remarks of his
school-fellows as to his being so very religious, &c., and
sometimes did not feel sorry that there was some cause to
prevent these solemn and precious duties. I need not say
he was not happy. He enjoyed nothing thoroughly ; he
felt he was not steadily in earnest. Every day he came
with a beating heart to his class, never certain that he could
get through a single lesson.
One morning he was endeavoring to stammer through a
few lines of some Greek play, and at last paused, unable to
proceed.
“ Well, sir,†said his master quietly,—* as usual, I sup-
pose—I shall give you only a few days’ longer trial, and
then, if you cannot do better, you must go down.â€
‘Who is that, Mr. Danby ?†said a voice behind Louis,
that startled him, and turning his blafiched face round, he®
saw Dr. Wilkinson standing near. “Who is that, Mr, -
Danby ?†he repeated, in a deep stern voice.
A STORY FOR Boys. | 33
‘* Louis Mortimer, sir,†replied Mr. Danby. “ Either he
is totally unfit for this class, or he is very idle; I can make
nothing of him.â€
Dr. Wilkinson fixed his eyes searchingly on Louis, and
replied, in a tone of much displeasure :
“If you have the same fault to find the next two days,
send him into a lower class, It is the most disgraceful
idleness, Louis.†:
Louis’ heart swelled with Sorrow and shame as the doc-
tor walked away. He stood with downcast eyes and quiv-
ering lids, hardly able to restrain his tears, until the class
was dismissed, and he was desired to Stay in and learn his
unsaid lesson.
Reginald followed his brother into the study, where Louis
took his books to learn more quietly than he could do in
the school-room,
“ My dear Louis,†he said, “you must try ; the doctor
will be so displeased if you go into a lower class; and just
think what a disgrace it will be,â€
“T know,†said Louis, wiping his eyes: “T can’t tell
how it is, every thing seems to §° wrong with me—JI
am not at all happy, and I am sure I wish to please every-
body.â€
“A great deal too much, dear Louis,â€â€™ said Reginald.
“You are always teaching everybody else, and you know
you have scarcely any time for. yourself. Yoy must tell
them you won’t do it; I can’t be always at your elbow;
I’ve quarrelled more with the boys than ever I did, since
“you came, on your account.†:
“Oh dear! I am sorry I came,†sighed Louis, “I do so
long to be a little quiet. Reginald, dear, I am so sorry I
34 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
should give youany trouble. Oh, I have lost all my happy
thoughts, and I know every thing is sure to go wrong.â€
Louis remained sadly silent for a few minutes, and then,
raising his tearful eyes to his brother, who was sitting with
his chin on his hands, watching him, he begged him to
leave him, declaring he should not learn any thing while
Reginald was with him.
Thus urged, Reginald took his departure, though, with
his customary unselfish affection, he would rather have
stayed and helped him.
When he was gone, Louis began slowly to turn over the
leaves of his Lexicon, in order to prepare his lesson. He
had not been long thus employed, when he was interrupted
by the irruption of the greatest dunce in the school, intro-
duced to the reader in the former chapter as Churchill,
alias Oars, a youth of fifteen, who had constant re-
course to Louis for information. He now laid his dog’s-
eared Eutropius before Louis, and opened his business
with his usual “ Come now, tell us, Louis—help us a bit,
Louis.â€
“Indeed, Harry, it is impossible,â€â€™ said Louis sorrowfully.
“T have all my own to do, and if I do not get done before
dinner I shall go into the third class—no one helps me,
you know.â€
“Tt won’t take you a minute,†said Churchill.
“Tt does take much more. You know I was an hour
last night writing your theme; and, Churchill, I do not
think it is right.†in
“Oh stuff! who’s been putting that nonsense into your
head ?†replied Churchill. “It’s all right and good, and
like your own self, you’re such a good-natured fellow.â€
A STORY FOR Boys. 35
“ And a very foolish one, Sometimes,†said Louis. “ (Can’t
you get somebody else to show you?â€
“Goodness gracious!†cried Churchill, “who do you
think would do it now? and no one does it so well as you.
Come, I say—come now—that’s a good fellow,—now do.â€
“ But how is it that you want to learn your lesson now,â€
asked Louis? “ Won’t the evening do?â€
“No; Dr. Wilkinson has given me leave to go out with
my uncle this afternoon, if I learn this and say it to old
Norton before I go; and I am sure I shan’t get it done if
you don’t help me.â€
“I cannot,†said poor Louis,
“Now I know yow’re too good-natured to let me lose
this afternoon’s fun. Come, you might have told me half.â€
And against his better judgment, Louis spent half an
hour in hearing this idle youth a lesson, which, with a little
extra trouble he might easily have mastered himself in three
quarters of an hour.
“Thank you, Louis, you're a capital fellow; I know it
now, don’t I ?†|
“I think so,†replied Louis; “and now you must not
talk to me.â€
“What are you doing?†said Churchill, looking at his
book; oh, ‘Kenrick’s Greek Exercises.’ If I can’t tell
you, I can help you to something that will.. Here’s a key.â€
As he spoke, he took down the identical book taken from
Harrison on the day of Louis’ arrival, and threw it on the
table before him.
“Is that a key 2†asked Louis, Opening the book; «“ put
it back, Harry, I cannot use it.â€
“ Why not ?â€
36 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS!
“Tt would not be right. Oh no! I will not, Churchill ;
put it up.â€
“How precise you are!â€â€™ said Churchill ; “it’s quite a
common thing for those ane can get them—Thompson and
Harcourt always use one.’
“Thompson ought to be ashamed of hineall †cried
Louis, “to be trying for a prize, and use a key.â€
“Well, so he ought, but you won’t get a prize if you
begin now, and try til breaking-up day ; so you hurt no-
body, and get yourself out of a scrape. Don’t be a donkey,
Louis.â€
When Churchill left him alone Louis looked at the title-
page, and felt for an instant strongly tempted to avail him-
self of the assistance of the book; but something checked
him, and.he laid his arms suddenly on the table, and buried
his ‘face on them. A heavy hand laid on his shoulder
roused him from this attitude; and looking up, with his
eyes full of tears, he found Hamilton and Trevannion stand-
ing beside him. °
““What’s the matter, Louis ?†said the former.
“I have so much to.do;—I—I’ve been very careless
and idle,†stammered Louis.
“T can readily believe that,†said Hamilton.
“A candid confession, at any rate,†remarked Trevannion.
“And do you imagine that your brains will be edified by
noehg in contact with these books?†asked Hamilton.
“What have you to do?â€
“T have this exercise to re-write, and my Greek to
learn »—and—and—twenty lines of Homer to write out.
I can’t do all now—I shall have to stay in this after-
o>
noon.
A STORY FOR Boys. 37
“TI should think that more than probable,†said Tre-
vannion.
‘What have we here ?†said Hamilton, taking up the
key. “Hey! what! Louis! Is this the way you are going
to cheat your masters ?†:
“Pray don’t think it 2†said Louis, eagerly.
“If you use keys, I have done with you.â€
“Indeed I did not,—I never do,—I wasn’t going. One
of the boys left it here. Iam sure I did not mean to do
so,†cried Louis in great confusion.
“ Put it back,†said Hamilton, gravely, “and then I will
§° over your lessons with you, and see if I can make yJu
understand them better,â€
“Thank you, thank you,—how kind you are !†said poor
Louis, who hastily put the dangerous book away, and then
sat down. en
Hamilton smiled, and remarked, “It is but fair ‘that one
should be assisted who loses his character in playing knight
errant for all those who need, or fancy. they need, his good
services: but, Louis, you are very. wrong to give up so
much of. your time to others ; your time does not ‘belong
to yourself ; your father did not send you here to assist
Dr. Wilkinson—or, rather, I should Say, to save a set of
idle boys the trouble of doing their own work. There is a
vast difference between weakness and good-nature; but
now to business.â€
Trevannion withdrew with a book to the window, and
Hamilton sat down by Louis, and took great pains to make
him give his mind to his business; and so thoroughly did
he succeed with his docile pupil, that, although he had
come in rather late, all, with the exception of the imposi-
4
38 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS!
tion, was ready for Mr. Danby by the time the dinner-bell
rang. ;
~ Louis overwhelmed Hamilton with the expression of his
gratitude, and again and again laid his little hand on that
of his self-instituted tutor. Hamilton did not withdraw his
hand, though he never returned the pressure, nor made
any reply to Louis’ thanks, further than an abrupt admo-
nition from time to time to “mind what he was about,â€
and to “go on.â€
Several inquiries were made at the open window after
Louis, but all were answered by Trevannion, and our hero
was left undisturbed to his studies.
That evening Louis had the satisfaction of being seated
near his friend Hamilton, who, with a good-natured air of
authority, kept him steadily at work until his business was
properly concluded. Unhappily for Louis, Hamilton was
not unfrequently with the doctor in the evenings, or he
might generally have relied on his protection and assistance :
however, for the next two or three days, Louis steadily re-
sisted all allurements to leave his own lesson until learned ;
and, in consequence, was able to report to Hamilton the
desirable circumstance of his having gained two places in
his class, |
OO
A STORY FOR Boys. 39
CHAPTER III.
For some time before Louis’ arrival at Ashfield House,
preparations had been making in the doctor’s domestic
ménage for the approaching marriage of Afiss Wilkinson,
the doctor’s only daughter. The young gentlemen had,
likewise, their preparations for the auspicious event, the re-
sult of which was a Latin Epithalamium, composed by the
seniors, and three magnificent triumphal arches, erected on
the way from the house-door to the gate of the grounds.
Much was the day talked of, and eagerly were plans laid, -
both by masters and pupils, for the proper enjoyment of
the whole holiday that had been promised on the occasion,
and which, by the way—whatever young gentlemen gen-
erally may think of their masters’ extreme partiality for
teaching—was now aygreater boon to the wearied and over-
fagged ushers, than to the party for whose enjoyment it
was principally designed. *
The bridal day came.—No need to descant on thie weath-
er. The sun shone as brightly as could be desired, and as
the interesting procession passed under the green bowers,
cheer after cheer rose on the air, handfuls of flowers were
trodden under the horses’ feet, and hats, by common con-
Sent, performd various somersaults some yards above their
Owners’ heads.
40 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
There was a long watci till the carriages returned, and
the same scene was enacted and repeated, when the single
vehicle rolled away from the door; and the last mark of
honor having been paid, the party dispersed over the large
playground, each one in search of his own amusement.
Louis wandered away by himself, and enjoyed a quiet hour
unmolested, and tried, with the help of his little hymn-book,
and thinking over old times, to bring back some of his for-
mer happy thoughts. There were more than ordinary
temptations around him, and he felt less able to resist them ;
and this little rest from noise and hurry was to him very
grateful. When, at length, a little party found out his re-
treat and begged him to join in a game of “hocky,†he
complied with a light and merry heart, freer from that rest-
less anxiety to which he had been lately so much subject.
In the afternoon, determining to let nothing interfere
with the learning of his lessons, Louis sat down in the
school-room to business. There were but two persons be-
sides himself in the room, one of whom was an usher, who
was writing a letter, and the other, his school-fellow Ferrers.
The latter was sitting on the opposite side of the same
range of desks Louis had chosen, very intently engaged in
the same work which had brought Louis there.
Lonis felt very happy in the consciousness that he Was
foregoing the pleasure of the merry playground for the
stern business that his duty had imposed on him; and the
noise of his companions’ voices, and the soft breezes that
came in through the open door leading into the playground,
only spurred him on to finish his work as quickly as possible.
Ferrers and his younger vis-a-vis pursued their. work in
silence, apparently unconscious of the presence of each
_A STORY FOR Boys. 41
other, until the former, raising his head, asked Louis to fetch
him an atlas out of the study.
“With pleasure,†said Louis, jumping up and running
into the study; he returned almost immediately with a
large atlas, and laid it down on Ferrers’ books. He had
once more given his close attention to his difficult exercises,
when a movement from his companion attracted his notice.
“Did you speak ?†he said.
“Will you—oh, never mind, I’ll do it myself,†muttered
Ferrers, rising and going into the class-room himself.
Louis had become again so intent upon his study, that
he was hardly aware of the return of his school-fellow, nor
did he notice the precipitation with which he hurried into
his place, and half hid the book he had brought with him,
a book that he imagined’to be a key to his exercises, but
which, in fact, was a counterpart.to that taken away from
Harrison, though bound exactly like the one Ferrers had
gone for, and so nearly the same size as easily to be mista-
ken for it in the confusion attendant on the abstraction of it.
Just at this moment, Hamilton, Trevannion, and Salis-
bury, with one or two more of the first class, entered from
the playground, and walked directly across to Ferrers.
Alive to all the disgrace of being found by his class-
fellgws in possession of a key, and unable to return it unob-
served, Ferrers, in the first moment of alarm,‘ tried to Sush
it into the desk at which he was writing, but finding it
locked, he stood up with as much self-possession as he
could assume, and pretending to be looking among his
books and. papers, managed, unobserved, to pass the obnox-
ious volume over to Louis’ heap of books, laying it half un-
der one of them. Louis was wholly unconscious of the
4%
42 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
danger so near him, and did not raise his head from his ab-
sorbing occupation when the fresh comers approached the
desk.
“Ferrers,†said Salisbury, as they came up, “we want
your advice on a small matter; come with us into the
class-room.â€
Accordingly Ferrers obeyed, glad to leave the dangerous
spot, and Louis was left in undisturbed possession of the
apartment for more than half an hour, at the end of which
time the party returned from the inner room laughing, and
all walked out of doors. Just as they passed out, Mr.
Witworth, the usher, approached Louis, and asked him if
he could lend him a pencil. Louis laid his pen down, and
began to search his pockets for a gene he knew should be
there, when he was startled by the ejaculation of the master:
— ee '—what !—This is it, ig it? So I have found you
out, .sir.’
Louis looked up in alarm, “Found me out, sir?†he
said, in a terrified tone: “what have I done ?â€
“Done!†exclaimed Mr. Witworth,—* done, indeed : what
are you doing there ?â€
“‘ My exercise, sir.â€
“To be sure, to be sure. What’s the meaning of this,
sir?†and he held up the key. ‘What have you done,
indeed !—you hoped that it was nicely concealed, I dare
say. I wonder how you can be so artful.â€
“Tam sure I don’t know any thing about that book,â€
said Louis, in great agitation.
‘‘ Admirably acted,†said Mr. Witworth. “It wouldn’t
walk here, however, Master Mortimer: some one must have
brought it.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 43
«T am sure I don’t know who did—I don’t indeed,â€â€™ said
poor Louis, despairingly.
« Perhaps you'll try to make me believe you don’t know
what it is, and that you never saw the book before,†re-
marked Mr. Witworth, scornfully.
“J do know what it is, but I never used it, I do assure
you, sir, and I did not bring it here. * Will you not believe
me ?â€
“Tt is very likely that I should believe you, is it not?
Well, sir, this book goes up with you to-morrow to Dr. Wil-
kinson, and we shall see how much he will believe of your
story. This accounts for your apparent industry lately.â€
So saying, Mr. Witworth walked off with the book in his
hand, leaving Louis in the greatest distress.
“And all my pains are quite lost!’ he exclaimed, as
he burst into tears. ‘The doctor is sure not to believe
me, and there will be—oh, who could have left it
there ?â€
“Louis, are you coming out this afternoon ; what’s the
matter ?â€â€™ exclaimed the welcome voice of his brother.
“What, Lady Louisa in tears! Here’s the ink bottle;
do let me catch the crystal drops,†said Frank Digby, who
accompanied Reginald in search of his brother.
“Oh, Reginald !†exclaimed Louis, regardless of Frank’s
nonsense, “‘some one has left a key to my exercises on my
books, and Mr. Witworth has just found it. What shall
I do?â€
“« Some one has left,†ejaculated Frank. That’s a good
story, Louis; only one can’t quite swallow it, you know.
Who would leave it, eh ?â€
“How? where, Louis?†said Reginald.
44 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
“It was just here it was found. I am sure I cannot
think who put it there.â€
“Well of all the’—began Frank; « my astonishment
positively chokes me. Louis, are you not ashamed of
yourself ?â€
“Oh, Frank! Iam speaking the truth; I am, indeed, I
am—Reginald, I am,.you know I am.â€
“It is very strange,†remarked Reginald, who was stand-
ing with a clouded, unsatisfied brow, and did not exhibit
that enthusiasm respecting his innocence which Louis ex-
pected from him. Reginald knew too much, and dared
not yet be certain when appearances were so sadly against
him.
“ Reginald, dear Reginald, tell me,†cried Louis, almost
frantically ; “surely you believe me 2?â€
“ Believe you!â€â€™ echoed Frank, scornfully ; “he knows
you too well, and so do I. Remember last year, Louis :
you'd better have thought of it sooner.â€
Reginald cast a threatening glance on his cousin, who
undauntedly replied to it.
“You can’t gainsay that, at any rate, Reginald.â€
“Reginald, dear Reginald,†cried Louis, with streaming
eyes, “you know I always spoke the truth to you; I de-
clare solemnly that I am speaking only the truth now.â€
Reginald looked gloomily at his brother.
“Indeed it is. If you will not believe me, who will ?â€
“Who, indeed 2?†said Frank.
“I do believe you, Louis,†said Reginald, quickly, “I do
believe you; but this matter must be sifted. It is very
strange, but I will make all the inquiries I can. Who sat
with you?â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 45
“Ferrers was sitting there,†replied Louis.
« Any one else ?â€â€™ .
“No,†replied Louis.
«T’ll answer for it, it was Ferrers,†said Reginald.
« A likely story,†said Frank.
“T think it very likely,†said Reginald, firmly, “ and woe
be to him if he has.â€
As he finished speaking, Reginald ran off in search of
Ferrers, whom he found in a group of the head boys, into
the midst of which he burst without the smallest cere-
mony.
«Manners !â€â€™ exclaimed Hamilton; “I beg your pardon,
Mr. Mortimer, for standing in your way.â€
“T am very sorry,†said Reginald, bluntly, “‘ but I can’t
stand upon ceremony. Ferrers, what have you been doing
with Kenrick’s Exercises—I mean the key to it ?â€
“T!†cried Ferrers, reddening violently ; “‘ what—what
do you mean, Mortimer ?â€â€™
“You have left the key on Louis’ desk, to get him into
a scrape—you know you have.â€â€™
“Upon my word, Mortimer! what next!†exclaimed
Salisbury. “Who do you think would fash themselves
about such a little hop-o’-my-thumb ?â€
“Will you let Ferrers answer!†cried Reginald, im-
periously.
Unconscious of the mistake he had made, Ferrers felt
exceedingly uncomfortable in his present position, and, as-
suming an air of contemptuous indignation, he turned his
back on Reginald, saying as he did so, “Such impertinence
merits nothing but silent contempt.â€
“You did it, you coward!†cried Reginald, enraged
46 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS!
almost beyond control. “I know you did, and you know
you did. Will you answer me Y
“ Answer him, Ferrers, answer him at once, and let us
have an end of his impertinence,†cried several voices: « he’s
like a wild-cat.â€
“ Well then, I did not,†said Ferrers, turning round with
a violent effort; “ will that satisfy you ?â€
Reginald glared angrily and doubtfully on the changing
countenance of the speaker, and then burst out vehe-
mently,
“I don’t believe a word you say: you did it eitner to
spite him, or you mistook your aim. Do you never use
keys, Mr. Ferrers ?â€
‘Really, Mortimer !â€â€ exclaimed Trevannion, “ your lan-
guage is very intemperate and ungentlemanly. I have no
doubt your brother knows how to help himself ; and now,
for your comfort, know that I saw him the other day with
that same book, and here is Hamilton, who can corrobo-
rate my statement.â€
“Where ? when?†asked Reginald, in a subdued tone.
*‘In the class-room alone, when he was writing his exer-
cise. Hamilton, am I not right ?â€
Hamilton nodded.
“ Dr. Wilkinson will do justice to-morrow,†said Regi-
nald, as after a moment’s painful silence he looked up with
assumed confidence, and turned proudly away from Ferrers’
reassured look of exultation, though the latter hardly
dared exult, for he thought Reginald had mistaken the
book, and feared the suspicions that might rest on himself
when it should be discovered that it was not a second-class
key. “And now, Mortimer, let’s have no more of this
A STORY FOR BOYS. 47
violent language,†said Hamilton. “Jf the matter is to
come before the doctor, he will do all justice ; let him be
sole arbitrator; but I would not bring it before him were
I in your place. Make an apology to Ferrers, and say
nothing more. You will do your brother more harm than
good.â€
“Make an apology,†said Reginald, ironically ; “I haven’t
changed my mind yet. It must come before the doctor.
Mr. Witworth found the book, and has carried it by this
time, or certainly will carry it, Piniiecec†:
“Come along with me, and tell me the whole affair,â€
said Hamilton.
While Reginald was unfolding the matter to Hamilton,
the party they had left was reinforced by Frank Digby,
who warmly took Ferrers’ part, and enlightened the com-
pany as to many particulars of his cousin’s former charac-
ter: and so much was said about the injury Reginald had
done to Ferrers by his suspicions, that when that youth
discovered the certainty of the mistake he had made, he
was so far involved as to render it impossible to him to ac-
knowledge that even out of a spirit of teasing he had placed
the book near Louis; and his anxiety was so great* to free
himself from any suspicion, that he was selfishly and un-
generously insensible to the trouble: entailed upon Louis,
whom he disliked on account of his superiority to himself,
but on whom he had not seriously contemplated inflicting
So great an injury—so imperceptibly does one fault lead to
another, so unable are we to decide where the effects of
one false step, one dishonest thought, shall end.
The story was soon spread among Louis’ immediate com-
panions, who were anxious to learn the cause of his swollen
@e
48 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYs:
eyes and sad demeanor, and Louis had to endure many
sneers, and, what was still harder to bear, much silent con-
tempt from those whose high sense of honor made them
despise any approach to the meanness of which he was
supposed guilty. Hamilton, though in the study the whole
evening, took no notice of him, and when his eyes met
Louis’, they bore no more consciousness of his presence
than if he had been a piece of stone, Frank Digby did
not tease Louis, but he let, fall many insinuations, and a few
remarks so bitter in their sarcasm, that Reginald more than
once looked up with a glance so threatening in its fierce-
ness, that it checked even that audacious speaker. Even
little Alfred was not allowed to sit with Louis ; though
Hamilton made no remark, nor even alluded to the subject
to his brother, he called him immediately to himself, and
only allowed him to leave him at bed-time.
As the elder boys went up stairs to bed, Frank continued
his aggravating allusions to Louis’ weakness, but in so
covert a manner, that no one but those acquainted with
Louis’ former history could have understood their import.
lor some time Reginald pretended not to hear them; there
was a strong struggle within him, for his high spirit rose
indignantly at his cousin’s unkindness, yet was for some
time checked by a better feeling within; but, at length, on
Frank’s making some peculiarly insulting remark in a low
tone, his pent-up ire boiled forth, and, in the madness ‘of
his fury, he seized on his cousin with a strength that passion
rendered irresistible. “You've tried to provoke me to this
all the evening—you will have it, you dastardly coward !
you wit have it, will you 2?â€
These exclamations were poured forth in a shout, and
A STORY FOR Boys. 49
Reginald, after striking his cousin several violent blows,
threw him from him with such force that. his head struck
against the door-post, and he fell motionless to the ground,
the blood streaming from a wound in his forehead.
There was an awful silence for a minute. The boys,
horror-struck, stood as if paralyzed, gazing on’the inanimate
form of their school-fellow. Reginald’s passion subsided
in an instant; his face. turned pale, the color fled from his
lips, ‘and clasping his hands ingterror, hé muttered, “Oh!
what have I done!†and then there was a shout, “ Oh,
Frank Digby’s killed! Digby’s*killed—he’s dead !â€
Hamilton at dength pushed forward and raised Frank’s
head, and at this moment Mr. Norton and Dr. Wilkinson,
with two or three of the servants, came from different direc-
tions. The crowd round Frank made way for the doctor,
who hurriedly approached, and assisted Hamilton to raise
Frank and carry him to his bed.
“ He’s dead, he’s dead!†cried the boys all round.
“How did this happéh?†asked the doctor, and without
waiting for an answer he tore open the handkerchief and
collar of the insensible youth, and. dispatched some one
immediately for a medical man. € was sent for a smell-
ing-bottle, another for some water, and Mrs. Wilkinson soon
made her appearance with a fan, and other apparatus for
restoring a fainting person. But it was long before there
Were any signs of returning life. It was a terrible time for
Reginald. It was agony to look on the motionless form,
and blood-streaked countenance before him—to watch the
cloud of anxiety that seemed to deepen on his master’s face
as each new restorative failed its accustomed virtue,—to
listen to the subdued murmurs and fearful whispers, and to
5
®
50 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS8:
note the blanched faces of his school-fellows. He stood
with clasped hands, and ‘there was a prayer in his heart
that he might not be called to suffer so very deeply for
this sinful expression of his temper. What if he should
have sent his cousin unprepared into eternity? Oh, what
would he give to see one motion; what, that he had been
able to restrain his ungovernable fury! There was almost
despair in his wild thoughts, when at last Frank sighed
_ faintly, and then opened his eyes. He closed them imme-
diately, and just then the surgeon arriving, more potent
remedies were used, and he was at length restored to con-
sciousness, though unable to speak aloud. #Doctor Wilkin-
son had him removed to another room, and after seeing
him comfortably arranged, returned to Reginald’s bed-
room.
“ Now, how did this happen?†he said.
No one spoke, and the silence was only broken by the
sound of sobs from the further end of the room. e
“Who did this ?†asked the doctor again.
“T did, sir,†said Reginald, in a broken voice.
“Come forward. Who is it that speaks?’ said Doctor
Wilkinson. “‘ Mortimef! is this some passion of yours that
“nas so nearly caused the death of your cousin? I am
deeply grieved to find that your temper is still so ungov-
ernable.†What was the matter?â€
Reginald was incapable of answering, and none of his
companions understood the quarrel; so Doctor Wilkinson
left the.room, determined to make a strict investigation the
next morning.
Poor Reginald was almost overwhelmed: he knelt with
his ‘brother after their candle was extinguished, by their
A STORY FOR Boys. 51.
bedside, and both wept bitterly, though quite silently.
Distress at his own. fault, and his brother’s new trouble,
and deep thankfulness that his cousin was alive, and not.
dangerously hurt, filled Reginald’s mind, and kept him
awake long after all besides in the room were asleep,
¢
“e.
=
52 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
CHAPTER IV.
Tue next morning, after the early school-hours, Doctor
Wilkinson kept Reginald back as he was following the
stream to breakfast, and led the way into the class-room,
where, after closing the door, he seated himself, and mo-
tioning Reginald to draw closer to him, thus opened his
inquiry.
“JT wish to know, Mortimer, how this affair began last
night: it appears, from all I can make out, to have been a
most unprovoked attack on your part, but as there is often
more than appears on the surface, I shall be glad to hear
what you have to allege in extenuation of your savage con-
duct.â€
Reginald colored very deeply, and dropping his eyes
under the piercing gaze of his master, remained silent.
“Am I to conclude from. your silence that you have no
excuse to make ?†asked the doctor in a tone of mixed sor-
row and indignation ; “and am I to believe that from some
petty insult you have allowed your temper such uncon-
trolled sway as nearly to have cost your cousin his life ?â€
“T had very great provocation,†said Reginald, sullenly. —
“And what might that be?†asked his master. “If
the wrong be on Digby’s side, you can have no hesitation
in telling me what the wrong was.â€
A STORY FOR BuYs. 53
Reginald made no answer, and, after a pause, Dr. Wil-
kinson continued: ‘‘ Unless you can give me some reason,
I must come to the conclusion that you have again given
way to your violent passions without even the smallest
excuse of injury from another. The assertion that you
have been ‘ provoked’ will not avail you much: I know
that Digby is teasing and provoking, and is therefore very
wrong, but if you cannot bear a little teasing, how are you
to get on in the world? You are not a basy now, though
you have acted more like a wild beast than a reasonable
creature. I am willing and desirous to believe that some-
thing more than usual has been the cause of this ebullition
of temper, for I hoped lately that you were endeavoring to
overcome this sad propensity of yours.â€
“I assure you, sir,†said Reginald, raising his open
countenance to his master’s, “I tried very much to bear
with Frank, and I think I should if he had not said so
much about—about—â€â€™
Here Reginald’s voice failed ; a sensation of choking
anger prevented him from finishing his sentence.
“‘ About what ?†said the doctor, steadily.
« About my brother,â€â€™ said Reginald, abruptly.
“« And what did he"say about your brother that chafed
you so much ?â€â€™
Reginald changed color, and his eyes lighted up with
passion. He did not reply at first, but as his master
seemed quietly a his answer, he at length burst
out,— -
“‘ He had been going on ‘all the afternoon about Louis :
he tried to put me in a passion; he said all he could—
every thing that was unkind and provoking, and it was
5*
54 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
more than a fellow could stand. I bore it as long as I
couldщۉ۪
“You are giving me a proof of your gentle endurance
now, I suppose,†said the doctor.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but I can’t help it,—I feel so
angry when I think of it, that I am afraid I should knock
him down again if he were to repeat it.â€
“For shame, sir!†said the doctor, sternly ; “I should
have thought that you had already had a lesson you would
not easily have forgotten. What did he say of ycur brother
that irritated you? I insist upon knowing.â€
“He said Louis was—that Louis did not speak the truth,
sir. He said that I believed it—that J believed it â€â€”and
Reginald’s passionate sobs choked his utterance.
“ Belived what 2?†asked the doctor.
“Something that happened yesterday,†said Reginald ;
“he said that—he was a hypocrite, and he went omtaunt-
ing me about last summer.â€
“ About last summer !â€â€ repeated the doiten,
“Yes, sir—about a mistake. Nobody makes allowances
for Louis. I could have borne it all if he had not said that
I knew Louis was a liar. I’d knock any one down that I
was able who should say so ! Indeed†continued Reginald,
fiercely, “I begged him to leave off, and not provoke me,
but he would have it, and he knew what I was.â€
“ Enough—enough—hush,†said Dr. Wilkinson: «TI
beg I may hear no more of knocking down. Don’t add to
your fault by working yourself into a passion with me,
Some provocation you certainly have had, but nothing can
justify such unrestrained fury. Consider what would have
been your condition at present, if your rage had been fatal
A STORY FOR BOYs. 55
to your cousin ; it would have availed you little to have
pleaded the aggravation; your whole life would have been
embittered by the indulgence of your vengeful feelings—
one moment. have destroyed the enjoyment of years.
Thank God, Mortimer, that you have been spared so terri-
ble a punishment. But you will always be in danger of
thig unless you learn to put a curo on your hasty temper.
The same feelings which urge you into a quarrel as a boy,
will hurry you into the duel as a man. It is a false spirit
of honor and manliness that makes. you so ready to resent
every little insult. In the life of the only perfect Man that
ever lived, our great Example and Master, we do not see
this impatience of contradiction: ‘When He» was reviled,
He reviled not again ;’ and if He, the Lord of all, could
condescend to endure such contradiction of sinners against
Himself, shall it be too much for us to bear a little with
the e@ntrddiction of our fellow-creatures? My boy, if we
do not strive to bear a little of the burden and heat of the
day, we are not worthy to bear the noble name of Chris-
tians.â€â€™
“T am very sorry, sir,†said Reginald, quite softened by
the earnest manner of his master; “Iam very sorry I have
been so hasty and wrong. I dare not make any promises
for the future, for I know I cannot certainly keep them,
but, with God’s — I hope ‘to remember what. you have
so kindly said to me.’
“ With His help we may a all things,†said Dr. Wilkin-
son; “you may by this help overcome the stumbling-stone
of your violent passions, which otherwise may become an
effectual barrier in the way of your attaining the prize of
eternal life; and remember that ‘he that is slow to anger
-â€
56 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit,
than he that taketh a city.’ â€
There was a minute’s silence, which Reginald broke by
asking if he might attend on Frank until he was well.
“Can I hope that you will be gentle,†said the doctor ;
“that you will remember he is an invalid—one of your
making, Mortimer ; and that if he is impatient and fretful,
you are the cause ?â€â€™
“I will try, sir, to make amends to him,†said Reginald,
looking down; “I hope I may be able to be patient.â€
“I will give orders that you may go to him,†said the
doctor; and after a pause, he added, “another offence of
this kind I shall visit with the heaviest displeasure. I am
in hopes that the anxiety you have undergone, and the
present state of your cousin, may be a lesson to you; but
if I find this ineffectual, I shall cease to consider you a
reasonable creature, and shall treat you accordingly.â€
Dr. Wilkinson then rose and left the room. Reginald
lingered a few minutes to compose himself before joining
his school-fellows ; his heart was very full, and he felt an
earnest desire to abide by his master’s counsel, as well as
grateful for the leniency and kindness with which he had
been treated, which made him feel ‘his fault much more
deeply than the severest punishment. oak
The breakfast time was very unpleasant for Louis that
morning ; he was full of anxiety as to the result of Mr.
Witworth s discovery, and his sickness of heart entirely de-
prived him of appetite. When the meal was dispatched,
Reginald went off to Frank, whom he found in a darkened
room, very restless and impatient. He had passed a very
bad night, and was suffering considerable pain. Reginald
A STORY FOR BOYS. 57
had to endure much ill-nature and peevishness; all of
which he endeavored to bear with gentleness, and during
the time Frank was ill, he-gave up all his »play-hours to
wait on him and to amuse him as he grew better; and the
exercise of patience which this office. entailed was greatly
beneficial to his hasty and proud spirit.
Mr. Danby was in the midst of the second-class lessons
that morning, when one of the first class brought him a lit-
tle slip of paper. Mr. Danby glanced at the few words
written thereon, and when the class had finished he desired
Louis to go to Dr. Wilkinson. All remnant of color fled
from Louis’ cheek, though he obeyed without making any
reply, and with a very sinking heart entered the room
where the doctor was engaged with the first class. The
keen eye of his master detected him the instant he made
his appearance, but he took no notice of him until he had
finished his business ; then, while his pupils were putting
up their books he turned to Louis, and pointing to a little
table by his side, said, “‘ There is a volume, Louis Mortimer,
with which I suspect you have some acquaintance.â€
Louis advanced to the table, and beheld the Key to Ken-
rick’s Greek Exercises... .
« You know it ?†said the doctor.
“Yes, sir, but I did not use it,â€â€™ said Louis.
“ You will not deny that it was found among your books
in the school-room,†said the doctor.
“T know, sir, Mr. Witworth found it, but I assure you I
did not put it there,†replied Louis, very gently.
“Have you never used it at all?†asked Dr. Wilkinson.
« Never, sir,†replied Louis, firmly.
At this moment, he met the eye of Hamilton, who was
58 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
standing near Dr. Wilkinson, and who looked very scorn-
fully and incredulously at him as he paused to hear the re-
sult of the inguiry. Louis remembered that Hamilton had
seen the key Churchill had left, and he hastily exclaimed,
“JT assure you, Mr. Hamilton, I did not.â€
“What is this, Hamilton?†said Dr. Wilkinson, turning
~ round. “Do you know any thing of this matter ?â€
“T would much rather not ong, said Hamilton,
abruptly, “if you will excuse me, sir.’
“‘T must, however, beg that you will, if you please,†re-
plied the doctor.
“T really know nothing positively, I can say nothing cer-
tainly. You would not wish, sir, that any imagination of
mine should prejudice you to Louis Mortimer’s disadvan-
tage; I am not able to say any thing,†and Hamilton
turned away in some confusion, vexed that he should have
been appealed to.
Dr. Wilkinson looked half perplexed—he paused a mo-
ment and fixed his eyes on the table. Louis ventured to
say, “ Mr. Hamilton saw a book once before with my lesson
books, but I never used it.â€
« What do you mean by saw a book ?†asked the doctor.
“ What book did Mr. Hamilton see? How came it there,
and why was it there ?’
“Tt was ‘ Kenrick’s Greek Exercises,’ sir.â€
«You mean the ‘ Key,’ I suppose ?â€
Louis answered in the affirmative.
‘* Whose was it?†asked the doctor, with a countenance
more ominous in its expression. J
“Jt was the one you took from sir,†replied
Louis.
A STORY FOR ’BOYs. 59
“Humph! I thought I took it away. Bring it here.â€
Louis obeyed, and the doctor having looked at it, continued,
“Well, you had this with your lesson books, you say. How
did it come there ?â€
“ One of the boys gave it to me; sir,†replied Louis.
“‘ And why did you not put it away ?â€
“T was going, sir;†and the color rushed into Louis’
pale face. “TI did not use it—and I hope I should not.â€
‘Who left the book ?†asked Dr. Wilkinson.
“ Churchill, sir.â€
“ Call Churchill, Salisbury.â€
Salisbury obeyed; and during his absence a profound
silence reigned in the room, for all the first class were
watching the proceedings in deep interest. Dr. Wilkinson
seemed lost in thought; and Louis, in painful anxiety,
scanned the ‘strongly marked countenance of his master,
now wearing its most unpleasing mask, and those of Ham-
ilton and Trevannion, alternately. Hamilton did not look
at him, but bent over a table at a book, the leaves of which
he nervously turned. -Trevannion eyed him haughtily as
he leaned in his most graceful attitude against the wall be-
hind the doctor’s chair ; and poor Louis read his condemna-
tion in his eyes, as well as in the faces of most present.
Salisbury at length returned with Churchill, who was
the more awe-struck at the unwonted summons, as he was
so low in the school as seldom to have any business with
the principal.
“Churchill,†said the doctor, gravely, “I have sent for
you to hear what is§said of you. Now, Louis Mortimer,
who gave you this book on the day Mr. Hamilton discov-
ered it in your possession ?â€
a
60 LOUISâ„¢ SCHOOL-DAYS :
- « Qhurchill, sir,†replied Louis, in great agitation ; “ you
did, Churchill, did you not? Oh! do say you did.â€
«“ Hush,†said the doctor. ‘What have you to say
against this, Churchill ?
“Nothing, sir—I did—I gave it to Louis Mortimer,â€
stammered Churchill, looking from Louis to the doctor, and
back again.
«And how came you to give it to him ?â€
Churchill did not reply until the question was repeated,
when he reluctantly said, he had given it to Louis to assist
him in his exercise. |
“Did Mortimer ask you for it 2â€
** No, sir.â€
“Did he wish for it ?â€
‘‘ No, sir, not that I know of.â€
“You know, Harry, that I asked you to put it away—
did I not?†cried Louis. |
“TJ don’t know—yes—I think you did,†said Churchill,
growing very hot. |
«Why did you not put it away?†asked Dr. uecuren
« Because I thought he wanted it, please sir.’
“But I did not, Harry! I told you I did not,†said
Louis, eagerly. |
Dr. Wilkinson desired Louis to be silent, and continued
his questions—
“Did you try to persuade him to use it?â€
Again Churchill paused, and again confessed, most un-
willingly, that he had done so—and received a severe repri-
mand for his conduct on the occasion, and a long task to
write out which would keep him employed during the Pay:
hours of that day.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 61
He was then dismissed, and Dr. Wilkinson again ad-
dressed himself to Louis : “Tam glad to find that part of
your story is correct; but I now wish you to explain how
my key found its way into the school-room yesterday, when ,
discovered by Mr. Witworth. The book must have been
deliberately taken out of this room into the school-room.
You appear to have been alone, or nearly so, in the school-
room the greater part of yesterday afternoon, and Mr.
Witworth found the book half concealed by your lesson
books while you were writing your exercises.â€
“‘T assure you, sir, I did not take it,†said Louis.
+s “ Unhappily,†replied Dr. Wilkinson, “I cannot take a
mere assurance in the present instance. Had not the case
been so palpable, I should have been bound to believe you
until I had had reason to mistrust your word—but with
these facts I cannot, Louis ;†and he added, in a,very low
tone, so as to be heard only by Louis, who was much nearer
to him than the others, “ Your honor has not always been
sacred—beware.â€
His school-fellows wondered what made the red: flush
mount so fariquaty: in Louis’ forehead, and the tears spring
to his eyes. The painful feelings called forth by his mas-
ter’s speech prevented him from speaking for a few minutes.
He was roused by Dr. Wilkinson saying—
“The discovery of this Key in your possession would
involve your immediate dismissal from the second class, a
sufficient disgrace, but the matter assumes a far more serious
aspect from these assertions of innocence. If you had not
used the book when discovered, it must have been taken
either by you, or another, for use. The question is now,
who took it?†2
6
62 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
“T did not, sir,†said Louis, in great alarm.
“Who did, then? Were any of*your class with you?â€
* No, sir.â€
“Was any one with you?â€
Louis paused. A sudden thought flashed across hin—
a sudden recollection of seeing that book passed over and
slipped among his books; an action he had taken n> notice
of at the, time, and which had never struck him till this
moment. He now glanced eagerly at Ferrers, and then, in
a tremulous voice, said, ig remember now, Ferrers put it
there—I am almost sure.’
“Ferrers !â€â€ exclaimed the young men, with one voice.
“What humbugging nonsense!†said Salisbury, in a low
tone.
‘Do you hear, Mr. Ferrers?†said the doctor: “how
came you to put that Key among Louis Mortimer’s books ?â€
“I, sir—I never,†stammered Ferrers. ‘What should
I want with it? What good could I get by it? Is it
likely 27’ sui
“Tam not arguing on the possibility of such an event,
I simply wish to know if you did it ?†said the doctor.
“TI, sir—no,†exclaimed Ferrers, with an air. of injured
innocence. “If I had done it, why did he not accuse me
at once, instead of remembering it all of a sudden ?â€
“‘ Because I only just remembered that I saw you mov-
ing Something towards me, and I am almost sure it was
that book now—TI think so,â€â€™ replied Louis.
“You'd better be quite sure,†said Ferrers.
Dr. Wilkinson looked from one to the other, and his look
might have made a less unprincipled youth fear to persist
in so horrible a falsehood.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 63
‘“‘ Were you learning your lessons in the school-room yes-
terday afternoon, Mr. Ferrers, at the same time with Louis
Mortimer?†Ferrers acknowledging this, Dr. Wilkinson
sent for Mr. Witworth, and asked him if he had observed
either Ferrers or Louis go into the study during the after-
noon, and if he knew what each brought out with him.
Mr. Witworth replied that both went in, but he did not
know what for.
“I went in to get an atlas for Ferrers,†cried Louis, in
great agitation.
“TI got the atlas myself, Mortimer, you know,†said
Ferrers,
Louis was quite overcome. He covered his face with
his hands, and burst into tears.
“This is a sad business,†said Dr. Wilkinson, very
gravely ; “much worse than I expected—one of you must
be giving utterance to the most frightful untruths. Which
of you is it?â€
“What would Ferrers want with the Key to the Greek.
Exercises, sir?†suggested Trevannion, “ unless he yates
to do an ill turn to Mortimer, which you cannot suppose.â€â€™
“I have hitherto trusted Mr. Ferrers,’ replied Dr. Wil-
kinson ; “and am not disposed to withdraw that confidence
without sufficient cause. Mr. Ferrers, on your word of
honor, am I to believe your statement?â€
Ferrers turned pale, but the doctor’s steady gaze was
upon him, and all his class-fellows awaited his reply—visions
of disgrace, contempt, and scorn were before him, and theré
was no restraining power from within, to check him, as he
hastily replied, On my word of honor, sir.†|
“TI must believe you, then, as I can imagine.no motive
-
64 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
which could induce you to act dishonorably by this boy ,
were I to discover that any one in my school had ee so,
his immediate expulsion should be the consequence.â€
The dead silence that followed the doctor’s words struck
coldly on the heart of the guilty coward.
““Now, Louis Mortimer,†said the doctor, ‘sternly, eT
wish to give you another chance of confessing your fault.â€
Louis’ thick convulsive sobs only replied to this. After
waiting a few minutes, Dr. Wilkinson said, “Go now to
the little study joining my dining-room, and wait there till
I come: I shall give you half an hour to consider.â€
Louis left the room, and repaired to the study, where he
threw himself on a chair in a paroxysm of grief, which,
for the first quarter of an hour, admitted of no alleviation:
«He had no character. The doctor had heard all before.
All believed him guilty—and how could Ferrers act so?
How could it ever be found out? And, oh! his dear
father and mother, and his grandfather, would believe it.â€
By degrees the violence of his distress subsided, and he
sent up his tearful petitions to his heavenly Father, till his
overloaded heart felt lightened of some of its sorrow. As
he grew calmer, remembrances of old faults came before
him, and he thought of a similar sin of his own, and how
nearly an innocent person had suffered for it—and this he
felt was much easier to bear than the consciousness of hav-
ing committed the fault himself; and he remembered the
sweet verses in the first Epistle of St. Peter: “ What glory
ig it if, when ye be buffeted for your faults, ye take it
patiently; but if when ye do well and suffer for it, ye take
it patiently, this is acceptable with God. For even here-
unto ye were called, because Christ also suffered for us,
A STORY FOR BOYS. | 65
leaving us an example that we should follow His steps:
who did no sin, neither was guile found in His mouth; who,
when He was reviled, reviled not again; when He suffered,
He threatened not; but committed Himself to Him that
judgeth righteously,’—and the feeling of indignation
against Ferrers was gradually changed into almost pity for
him, for Louis knew by experience the pain of a loaded
conscience. While his thoughts thus ran over the past and
present, he heard the firm step of Dr. Wilkinson crossing
the hall, and nearly at the same moment that gentleman
entered the room. There was no pity in his countenance—
the dark lines in his face seemed fixed in their most iron
mould ; and briefly announcing to his trembling pupil that
the time allowed him for consideration had expired, he asked
whether he were prepared to acknowledge his fault. Louis
meekly persisted in his denial, which had only the effect of
making the doctor consider him a more hardened offender ;
rand after a few words, expressing the strongest reprehen-
sion of his wickedness and cowardice, he gave hima severe
caning, and sent him immediately to bed, although it was
but the middle of the day. In spite of the better feelings
which urged poor Louis to acknowledge the justice, under
the circumstances, of his master’s proceedings, he could
not help thinking that he had been very hardly treated.
He hurried up stairs, glad to indulge his grief in silence.
How many times, in the affliction of the next few hours,
did he repeat a little hymn he had learned at home:
“Thy lambs, dear Shepherd, that are weak,
Are thy peculiar care ;
"Tis Thine in judgment to afflict,
And Thine in love to spare.
6*
cs
os
LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
“Though young in years, yet, oh! how oft
Have I a rebel been;
My punishment, O Lord, is mild,
Nor equals all my sin.
“ Since all the chastisements I feel
Are from Thy love alone,
Let not one murmuring thought arise,
But may Thy will be done.
“Then let me blush with holy shame,
And mourn before my Lord,
That I have lived to Thee no more,
No more obeyed Thy word.â€*
At last he fell asleep, and oh! to wake from that sleep!
It was surely good to be afflicted, and in the happiness of
his mind Louis forgot his trouble. But he -had yet to en-
dure much more, and the bitterest part of his punishment
came the next morning, when, according to his master’s
orders, he repaired to the study with his books. He had
been desired to remain in this room out of school-hours,
and was forbidden to speak to any of his school-fellows
without leave. While he was sitting there the first morn-
ing after the inquiry related in this chapter, Dr. Wilkinson
entered with a letter, and sat down at the table where
Louis was reading. As he opened his desk, he said, “I
have a painful task to perform. This is a letter from your
father, Louis Mortimer, and he particularly requests that I
should give him an account of your conduct and your bro-
ther’s ; you know what an account I can give of you both.â€
Louis had listened very attentively to his master’s speech,
and when it was concluded he gave way to such a burst of
* “Hymns for Sunday-Schovls.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 67
sorrow as quite touched the doctor. For some minutes he
wept almost frantically, and then clasping his hands, he
implored Dr. Wilkinson not to tell his father what had hap-
pam: “Tt will break mamma’s heart, it will break mam-
ma’s heart, sir—do not tell my father.â€
“Confess your fault, Louis, and I may then apie of
amendment,†said the doctor.
«‘T cannot, indeed—indeed I cannot. It will, all come
out by and bye: you will see, sir—oh! you will see, sir,â€
sobbed Louis, deprecating the gathering of the angry cloud
on the doctor’s face. ‘Oh! do not tell mamma, for it is
not true.â€
“TI do not wish to hear any more, sir,†said the doctor,
sternly.
“ Oh! what’shall I do—what shall I do!†cried Louis ;
and he pushed his chair quickly from the table, and, throw-
ing himself on his knees by Dr. Wilkinson, seized the hand
that was beginning to date the dreaded letter—“ I assure
you I did not, sir—I am speaking the truth.â€
«« As you always do, doubtless,†said the doctor, draw-
ing his hand roughly away. “Get up, sir; kneel to Him
you have so deeply offended, but not to me.â€
Louis rose, but stood still in the same place. “ Will
you hear only this one thing, sir? I will not say any mag
more about my innocence—just hear me, if you please, sir.’
Dr. Wilkinson turned his head coldly towards him.
Louis dried his tears, and spoke with tolerable calmness :
“T have one thing to ask, sir—will you allow me still to
remain in the second class, and to do my lessons always in
this room? You will then see if I can do without keys, or
having any help.†»
68 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
‘««T know you can if you choose,†replied Dr. Wilkinson,
coldly, “or I should not have’placed you in that class.â€
“ But, if you please, sir, I know all,â€â€”Louis paused, he
had promised to say no more on that subject. |
There was a little silenee, during which Dr. Wilkinson
looked earnestly at Louis. At last he said, “ You may
stay in the class; but, remember, you are forbidden to
speak to any of your school-fellows for the next week
without express permission.â€
“Not to my brother, sir ?â€
“No; now go.â€
“ May I write to mamma 2â€
“ Yes, if you wish it.â€
After timidly thanking the doctor, Louis returned to his
seat, and Dr. Wilkinson continued his letter, which went off
by the same post that took Louis’ to his mother.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 69
CHAPTER V.
“ Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but griev-
ous ; nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth ‘the peaceable fruit of
righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby.†—Heb. xii. 11.
“ Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now have I kept Thy
word.â€â€”Psalm cxix. 67.
- Prrnaps there is no state more dangerous to a Christian’s
peace of mind than’one of continual prosperity. In adver-
sity even the worldly man will sometimes talk of resigna-
tion, and feel that it is a good thing to be acquainted and
at peace with God, and that when all human help is cut
off, it is a sweet thing to have a sure refuge in an almighty
Saviour. But in. prosperity the ungodly never look to
Him ; and. His own children, carrying about with them a
sinful’nature; against which they must continually maintain
a warfare, are too apt to forget: the Giver in his gifts, and
to imagine that all is well because nothing occurs to disturb.
the regularity of their blessings. ai8
Our little Louis, though the trial he now underwent was
a bitter one, and though at times it seemed almost too hard
to be endured, learned by degrees to feel that it was good
for him. He had been in too high favor, he had trusted
too much in the good word of his school-fellows, and had
70 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
suffered the fear of man to deter him from his duty to God ;
and now, isolated and looked upon as an unworthy member
of the little society to which he belonged, he learned to find
his sole happiness in that sweet communion which he had
now solitary leisure to enjoy. His very troubles carried him
to a throne of grace ; his desolate condition made him feel
that there was only One who never changed nor forsook
His people; only One who could understand and feel for
the infirmities and sorrows of a human creature ; and though
to the ungodly it is a terror to know that 1 ee, “nothing
that is not manifest in God’s sight,†to the true child of
God it is an unspeakable comfort to feel that his thoughts
and actions are “known long before†by his unwearied
Guardian.
The effects of Louis’ lonely communings were soon yvisi-
ble in his daily conduct, and after his term of punishment
had expired, the meekness of his bearing, and the gentle
lowliness of his demeanor, often disarmed the most severe
and unpitying of his youthful judges.. There was no ser-
vility in his manner, for he neither courted nor shunned ob-
servation ; nor, though he was as willing as ever to do a
kind action for any one, did he allow himself to be persua-
ded to give up all his time to his idler school-fellows.
There seemed more firmness and decision in his naturally
yielding disposition, and those who knew not the power of
assisting grace, looked and wondered at the firmness the
sweet but weak boy could at times assume. He would have
told them it was not his own. He was very quiet, and spoke
little, even to his brother, of what was passing in his mind,
and sometimes his thoughts were so quietly happy that he
did not like to be spoken to. To Ferrers, Louis was as gen-
A STORY FOR BOYS. 71
tle and courteous as to the rest of his companions, and, in-
deed, he had now little other feeling towards him than that
of sorrow and pity.
There had been an unusual noise in the study one eve-
ning, while Louis was absent, and when he entered it, he
found the confusion attendant on a grand uproar. Very
little was doing, and tokens of the late skirmish lay about
the floor in torn and scattered books, and overthrown forms.
Among others, Ferrers was hunting for a missing book, but
to discover it in such a chaos was a difficult task, especially
as no one wétild now allow the candles to be used in the
search.
(With many expressions, so unfitted for refined ears that
I do not choose to present them to my reader, Ferrers con-
tinued his search, now and then attempting to snatch a can-
“dle from the table, in which he was regularly foiled by
those sitting there.
« Well, at least have the civility to move and let me see
if it is under the table,†he said at length.
“You have hindered us long enough,†said Salisbury ;
“Smith, Jones, and I have done nothing to-night. If you
will have rows, you must e’en take the consequences. â€
“Qan’t you get under the form 9� asked Smith, de-
risively.
Ferrers was going to make some angry reply, when
Louis dived between the table and the form, with some.
trouble, and, at the expense of receiving a few unecere-
monious kicks, recovered the book and gave it to Fer-
rers, who hardly thanked him, but leaning his head on
his hand, seemed almost incapable of doing any thing.
Presently he looked up, and asked in a tone of mingled
72 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
anger and weariness, what had become of the inkstand
he had brought.
“ Loosing’s seeking,
Finding’s keeping,â€
said Romeneey. “Which is yours? Perhaps it’s under the
table too.â€
‘‘ Hold your nonsense,†cried Sienvini, anguly. “ Tt’s very
shabby of you to hinder me in this manner.’ |
Louis quietly slipped an inkstand near him, an action of
which Ferrers was quite aware, and though he pretended
not to notice it, he availed himself presentl¥ of the con-
venience. A racking headache, however, almost disabled
him from thinking, and though he was really unwell, thére
was only the boy he had so cruelly injured who felt any
sympathy for his suffering.
Louis carefully avoided any direct manifestation of his
anxiety to return good for evil, for he felt, though he hardly
knew why, that his actions would be misconstrued, but
whenever any little opportunity occurred in ‘which he could
really render any service, he was always as ready to do it
for Ferrers as for another; and now, when from his class-
mates Ferrers met with nothing but pes on his “ beauti-
ful temper,†and « placid state “of mind,†he could not help
feeling the gentleness of Louis’ conduct, the absence of
pleasure in his annoyance, and the look of evident sym-
pathy he met whenever he accidentally turned his eyes in
his direction. For a few days after this he was obliged to
keep his bed, and during this time, though Louis only once
saw him, he thought of every little kind attention he could,
that might be grateful to the invalid. Knowing that he
was not a favorite, and that few in the school would trouble
A STORY FOR Boys. 73
themselves about him, he borrowed books and sent them to
him for his amusement, and empowered the old cake man
to procure some grapes, which he sent up to him bya
servant, with strict orders to say nothing of where they
came from. The servant met Hamilton at the door of the
room, and he relieved her of her charge, and as she did not
consider herself under promise of secrecy towards him, she
mentioned it, desiring him at the same time to say nothing
to Ferrers.
Louis had now established a regular time for doing his
own lessons, and kept to it with great perseverance to the
end of the half-year, with one exception, when he had been
@eting prisoner in a trial performed in the school-room, by
half his own class and the third, and let the evening slip
by without remembering how late it grew. His class-
fellows were in the same predicament as himself, and as
they had barely time to write a necessary exercise, they
agreed among themselves to learn each his own piece of
the lesson they had to repeat. Louis did not seriously con-
sider the deceit they were practising, and adopted the same
plan, One of the number, not trusting to his memory, hit
upon the singular expedient of writing the whole of his piece
and the next ona piece of paper, and wafering it to the
instep of his shoe when he went up to his class. Unhap-
pily for his scheme, he was so placed that he dared not
expose his foot so as to allow him to avail himself of this
delectable assistance, and consequently, after much looking
on the floor for inspiration, and much incoherent muttering,
was passed over, and the order of things being thereby
disturbed, of course no one could say the missing lines until
the head boy was applied to, and the lower half of the
7
~
74 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:!
class was turned down, with the exception of Louis, who,
standing on this occasion just above the gentleman of shoe
memory, had been able to say his share.
As they were breaking up, Mr. Danby said to Louis,
“ You have been very industrious lately, Louis Mortimer :
I am glad you have been so correct to-day.â€
Louis blushed from a consciousness of undeserved praise ;
but though his natural fear of offending and losing favor
sprung up directly, a higher principle faced it, and bearing
down all obstacles, forced him to acknowledge his unworthi-
ness of the present encomium.
“ T ought to learn mine, sir,—I learned my piece to-day.â€
“What do you mean?†asked Mr. Danby.
“T Jearned my part of the lesson, as well as Harris,
Williams, Sutton, and Charles Salisbury. We forgot our
lessons last night, but it is quite an accident that I have
said mine to-day.â€
“Tam glad you have had the honor to say so,†said
Mr. Danby. “ Of’course you must learn yours, but let me
have no more learning pieces, if you please.â€
ee A STORY FOR BOYS. 75
CHAPTER VI.
.
“ Blessed are they that dwell in Thy house, they will be still prais-
ing Thee. For a day in Thy courts is better than a thousand.
I had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God, than to
dwelkin the tents of wickedness.â€â€”Psalm Ixxxiv. 4, 10.
Dr. Witkryson’s school was too large to be entirely
accommodated with sittings in the nearest church—and,
consequently, was divided into two bodies on Sunday, one
of which regularly attended one of the churches in Bristol,
where Mr. Wilkinson, the doetor’s son, occasionally did
duty. It fell to Louis’ lot, generally, to be of the Bristol
party, and unless the day was rainy he was not ill-pleased
with his destiny, for the walk was very pleasant, and there
was something in the chorus of bells in that many-churched_
city, and the sight of the gray towers and spires, very con-
genial to his feelings. It happened that the Sunday after
Louis had received permission to mix ‘as usual with his
school-fellows was one of those peculiarly sunny days that
seem to call upon God’s people especially to refeice and be
glad in the works of His hand. Louis’ mind was in a more
than usually peaceful state, and his heart overflowed with
quict happiness as he looked down from the height of
Brandon Hill upon the city below. Hg and his companion
76 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
had walked on rather faster than the rest of their school-
fellows, and now stood waiting till they came up. '
« A penny for your thoughts, Mortimer,†said his com-
panion, a pleasant-looking boy of fifteen or sixteen years of
age; “you are very silent to-day—what may be the sub-
ject of your profound meditations ?â€
Louis hardly seemed to hear the question, for he sud-
denly turned his bright face to his interrogator, and ex-
claimed, “What a beautiful sight it is to see so many
churches together, Meredith ! I think our churches make
us such a happy country.â€
“Upon my word,†replied Meredith, “you are endowing
those piles of stone with considerable potency. What be-
comes of commerce and—â€
«‘T mean, of course,†interrupted Louis, “ that it is reli-
gion that makes us a happier country than others. I love
so to look at the churches; the sight of one sometimes,
when all is fair and quiet, brings the tears into my eyes.â€
«Hey-dey! quite sentimental! You'd better be a par-
son, I think.â€
_ €T hope I shall be a clergyman—I wish very much to
be one—there is not such another happy life. I was just
thinking, Meredith, when you spoke to me, of a verse we
read yesterday morning, which quite expresses my feelings :
‘One thing have I desired of the Lord which I will seek
after, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the
days of my“life, to behold the fair beauty of the Lord, and
to inquire in His temple.’ â€
Meredith looked with some surprise at Louis, and as
they moved on he said carelessly, “I suppose somebody
will have the gratifigation of beholding me in a long gown
*
A STORY FOR BOYS. V7
some day, holding forth for the edification of my devoted
flock.†|
‘«« Are you going to be a clergyman ?†asked Louis.
“Yes,*I suppose I must. Don’t you think I shall bea
most useftl character ?â€
“Oh! surely you wish it, do you not?â€
‘Well, I don’t much mind,†replied Meredith, snatching
a handful of leaves from the hedge near‘him ; “I shall have
a nice fat living, and it’s a respectable kind of thing.â€
Louis was horror-struck—he had not imagined such an
idea—he almost gasped out, ‘Oh! Meredith, I can hardly
understand you. Surely that is not your only wish about
it: that cannot be a reason—not a right one.â€
“Why, what’s the harm?†said Meredith, laughing. “I
only say outright what hundreds think. If I could choose,
perhaps I might like the army best, but my father has a
comfortable provision in the church for me, and so I, like a
dutiful son, don’t demur, especially as, if I follow the ex-
ample of my et it will be vastly more easy than a
soldier’s life.â€
“‘ Meredith, Meredith, this is too solemn a thing to laugh
about. I have often wondered how it is there are clergy-
men who can take their duties so easily as some do ; but if
they only undertake them for your reasons, I cannot feel so
much surprised that they should be so Rivclons. How can
you expect any happiness from such a life! J should be
afraid to talk so.â€
Meredith stared contemptuously. ‘ You area Methodist,
Louis,†he said; “I have no doubt I shall preach as good
sermons as you: just put on a grave face, and use a set of
tender phrases, and wear .. aillens on your little finger,
78 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
and a curly head, and there you are a fashionable preacher
at once—and if you use your white pocket-handkerchief
occasionally, throw your arms about a little, look as if you
intended to tumble over the pulpit and embrace the con-
gregation, and dose your audience with a littie pathos, you
may draw crowds—the ladies will idolize you.â€
_ TJ should not think that such popularity would be very
good,†replied Louis, “ supposing you could do as you say ;
but it seems to me quite shocking to speak in such a slight-
ing manner of so holy a thing. Were you ever at an ordi-
nation, Meredith ?â€â€™
“ Not I,†said Meredith.
“ T should think if you had been you would be afraid to
think of going to answer the solemn questions you will be
asked when you are ordained. I was once with papa at
an ordination at Norwich cathedral, and I shall never for-
get how solemnly that beautiful service came upon me. I
could not help thinking how dreadful it must be to come
there carelessly, and I wondered how the gentlemen felt
who were kneeling therez-and the hymn was so magnifi-
cent, Meredith. I think if you were there with your pres-
ent feelings, you would be afraid to stay. It would seem
like mocking God to come to answer all those solemn ques-
tions, and not mean what you said. I think it is wicked.â€
Louis spoke rapidly, and with great emotion.
Meredith looked angry, struggling with a feeling of shame,
and a wish to laugh it off. “You are exclusively precise,â€
he said ; “others are not, and have as much right to their
opinion as you to yours. ‘Trevannion, for instance—he’s
going into the church because it is so genteel.â€
“I hope you are mistaken,†said Louis, quickly.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 9
“Not I; I heard him say the same thing myself.â€
“Tam very sorry,†said Louis, sadly. “Oh! I would
rather be a laborer than go into the church with such a
wish—and yet, I had rather be a very poor curate than a
rich duke: it is such a happy, holy life.†The last part of
Louis’ speech was nearly inaudible, and no more was said
until the afternoon.
It was Dr. Wilkinson’s wish that the Sabbath shculd be
passed as blamelessly as he had the power of ordering it
in his household ; but to make it a day of reverence and
delight among so large a number of boys, with different
dispositions and habits of life, was an arduous task. Mr.
James Wilkinson was with the boys the whole afternoon, as
well as his father, to whose utmost endeavors he joined his
own, that the day might not be wholly unprofitable. In
spite, however, of all diligence, it could not fail of often
being grossly misspent with many of the pupils; for it is
not possible for human power effectually to influence the
heart, and, until that is done, any thing else can be but an
outward form.
This afternoon the boys were scattered over the large
playground. In one corner was the doctor, with twenty
or thirty boys around him, and in other directions, the dif-
ferent ushers hearing Qatechisms and other lessons. Some
of the parties were very dull, for no effort was made by
the instructor to impart-a real delight in the Word of God
to his pupils; and religion was made merely a matter of
question and answer, to remain engraved in such heartless
form on the repugnant mind of the learner. And, alas!
how can it be otherwise, where the teacher himself does
not know that religion is a real and happy thing, and not
80 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
to be learned as we teach our boys the outlines of heathen
mythology ?
Sitting on the ground, lolling against one of the benches
under a tree, sat Hastings Meredith and Reginald and Louis
Mortimer ; and one or two more were standing or sitting
near ; all of whom had just finished answering all the ques-
tions in the Church Catechism to Mr. Danby, and had said
a Psalm.
Louis was sitting on the bench, looking flushed, thinking
of holidays, and, of course, of home,—home Sabbaths, —
those brightest days of home life,—when Trevannion came
up with his usual air of cool, easy confidence. Trevannion
was the most gentlemanly young man in the school; he
never was in a hurry; was particularly alive to any thing
“ vulgar,†or “snobbish,†and would have thought it espe-
cially unbecoming in him to exhibit the smallest degree of
annoyance at any untoward event. It took a good deal to
put him out of countenance, and he esteemed it rather
plebeian to go his own errands, or, indeed, to take any un-
necessary trouble.
“Were you in Bristol this morning, Meredith?†he
said.
“Yes, sure, your highness,†replied Meredith, yawning.
“Tired apparently,†said Trevanpion ironically, glancing
at the recumbent attitude of the speaker.
“Worried to death with that old bore Danby, who’s been
going backwards and forwards for the last hour, with ‘ What
is your name? and ‘My good child,’ &c. I’m as tired
as—as—oh help me for as imile! as a pair of worn-out
shoes.â€
“A poetical simile at last,†remarked Reginald, laughing.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 81
«You would have a nice walk,†said Trevannion.
“Very! and a sermon gratis to boot,†replied Meredith.
“Tt would have done you good, Trevannion, to have heard
what shocking things you have done in being so very
genteel.â€
«What do you mean?†said Trevannion, coolly.
«Louis Mortimer was giving me a taste of his Methodis-
tical mind on the duties of clergymen generally, and your
humble servant especially.â€
“TJ presume you do not include yourself in the fraternity
yet ?†said Trevannion.
“Not exactly ; but having informed him of my pr pspects,
the good child began to upbraid me with my hypocrisy,
and, bless you, such a thundering sermon,—positively quite
el. quent.â€
Â¥ eshape I may be allowed to profit by the second part
of it,†said Trevannion, turning to Louis; “ will you be
kin@ enough to edify me?â€
Louis did not reply, and Trevannion’s lips curled slightly
as he remarked, “There is an old proverb about those who
live in glass houses—‘ Physician, cure thyself.’â€â€™
Poor Louis turned away, and Meredith, stretching him-
self and yawning terrifically, continued, ‘You must know,
Trevannion, that it is very wicked to be any thing but a
Methodist, very wicked for a clergyman to be genteel, or to
wish to make*himself comfortable.â€
“Hastings, I did not say so,†said Louis, turning his head,
« And so,†continued Meredith, without noticing Louis,
“if we dare to follow up our own,or our fathers’ wishes,
we must listen to Louis Mortimer, and he will tell us what
to do.â€
82 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
“Much obliged to him, I am sure,†said Trevannion.
«“ Yes, so am I,†rejoined Meredith, “ though I forgot to
tender my thanks before; and hereby give notice, that
when I am in orders, I will not hunt more than convenient,
nor play cards on Good Friday, nor go to dancing parties
on Saturday evening.â€
« Pshaw, Meredith,†said Trevannion: “ it is very unbe-
soming to talk in this manner of so sacred a profession. A
hunting and card-playing clergyman ought to be stripped
of his gown without hesitation. Any right-minded person
would recoil with horror at such a character. It is a great
disgrace to the profession; no clergyman ought to enter
into any kind of improper dissipation. Your ideas are very
light and indelicate.â€
“Will you be kind enough to define that term, improper
dissipation,†said Meredith, carelessly. “1 presume you
have no objection to a quiet dance now and then, only they
~ must not call it a ball.†-
« A clergyman ought not to dance,†replied Trevannion,
in precisely the same cool, dictatorial manner.
«He may look on them, may he not?†said Meredith.
« A clergyman has many serious duties to perform, and
he should be Very careful that ,he does not degrade his ~
office,†replied Trevannion. “‘ He has to uphold the dignity
of the church, and should take care that his conduct is
such that no reproach can fall on that church from his in-
consistency.â€
“Well, for my part,†said Meredith, lightly, “I think
the church too important to miss the weight of my example.
I mean to have a most exemplary curate.â€
Near these speakers sat Mr. James Wilkinson, with a few
A STORY FOR BOYS. 83
little boys, whom at this moment he hastily dismissed, for
the sound of the light conversation reached him, and he
arose quickly and introduced himself to the little cdterie
just as Reginald exclaimed, “‘ For shame, Meredith !â€
« Ay, for shame,†said Mr. James:. “I have heard a
little of what has been going on among you, and am really
very sorry to hear such expressions on a subject so solemn
and important. Meredith, you cannot be aware of what
you are saying. I should like to havea little talk about
this matter; and, Mr. Trevanhion, if you will give me your
attention for a few minutes, I shall be obliged to you.â€
Trevannion seated himself on the bench, and folding his
arms, remained in an attitude of passive attention:
«Lend me your prayer-book, Mortimer,†said Mr. James,
and he quickly turned to the service for the ordering of
deacons. “The first question here put to the candidate for
holy orders is, ‘Do you trust that you are inwardly moved
by.the Holy Ghost, to take upon you this office and minis-
tration, to serve God for the promoting of His glory and
the edifying of His people ?’ Now, Meredith, I ask you
to think, whether, with such, sentiments as you have just
expressed, you can dare to answer, ‘ J trust so .
“JT never thought very seriously about it,†said Meredith,
rather abruptly. .
«But you know these things must be. thought of seri-
ously and prayerfully. It is required of a man in every
station of life, that he be faithful and diligent, serving the
Lord, and whoever does not remember this, must answer
for his neglect of such duty to his Maker. It will not do
to say that our individual example can be of no importance ;
the command, ‘ Occupy till I come,’ is laid upon each one
84 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
of us; but what must be said of him who, in a careless,
light frame of mind, takes these holy vows upon him,
knowing in his own mind that he intends to break them; ~
that his sole desire to be put into the priest’s office is to eat
a morsel of bread? What shall be said of him who goes
into the house of God, and in the presence of His people
declares that it is his intention, ‘to search gladly and will-
ingly for the sick and poor of his parish, to relieve their
necessities ; to frame his own life and the lives of his family
according to the doctrine of Christ; to be diligent in
prayers and in reading of the Holy Scriptures, laying aside
the study of the world and the flesh,’ and yet knows that
he intends to enjoy himself in the things of this world—a
yery hireling who forgets that his master’s eye is upon him.
It is a fearful thing. It is coming before the Almighty
with a lie. Nay, hear me a little longer. The clergyman’s
is a glorious and exalted path, the happiest I know of on
earth. It is his especially to bear the message of salvation
from a tender Saviour. It is his to go forth with the balm
of heavenly comfort, to bind up the wounds sin and grief
have made. It is his indeedpre-eminently to dwell in the
house of his God, to be hid away from the world and its
many allurements ; but as every great blessing brings with
it a great responsibility, so the responsibility of the minis-
ter of Christ is very great, and if he turn from the com-
mandment delivered to him, his condemnation is fearful. I
should be much obliged to you, Meredith, if you would
read me these verses.†.~
Meredith took the open Bible from Mr. Wilkinson’s
hand, and read aloud the first ten verses of the 34th of
Ezekiel.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 85
“In this holy word, which must be the standard for all
our conduct, we do not find that the Almighty looks upon
this office as a light thing. In the thirty-third chapter
there is so solemn a warning to the careless watchman, that
I wonder any one who does not steadfastly intend to give
himself to his sacred duties, can read it and not tremble.
‘If the watchman see the sword come, and blow not the
trumpet, and the people be not warned ; if the sword come,
and take away any person from among them, he is taken
away in his iniquity; but nis BLOOD WILL I REQUIRE AT THE
WATCHMAN’S HAND. So thou, O son of man, I have set
thee a watchman unto the house of Israel; therefore thou
shalt hear the word at my mouth, and warn them from me.
When I say unto the wicked, Oh wicked man, thou shalt
surely die; if thou dost not speak to warn the wicked from
his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity ; but his
blood will I require at thine hand.’ This is the second
solemn warning to the same purport given to Ezekiel ; for,
in the third chapter, we find the same thing ; and these are
awful truths engraved in God’s everlasting word, by which
we are to be judged at the Jast day. You must excuse
me,â€â€™ eontinued Mr. Wilkinson, and his eyes glistened with
emotion ; “ but I am a watchman, and I must warn you of
the fearful sin you are contemplating.â€
Meredith was silent. He was impressed with the earn»
estness displayed by Mr. Wilkinson, and the solemn truths
he had brought before him—truths it would be well if all
those who are looking forward to*%entering the sacred min-
istry would seriously and prayerfully consider.
The tea bell ringing at this moment, the conversation _
was necessarily concluded; but that evening after prayers,
8
86 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
Mr. Wilkinson put into Meredith’s hand a piece of paper,
on which were written the following references: Num. xvi.
9; Isaiah lii. 7, 8; Ixii. 6, 7; Jer. xxiii, 1—4; Ezek. it.
17—21; xxxiii. 1—9; xxxiv. 1—10; John xxi. 15—17;
1 Cor. ix. 16, 17, 19; and both the Epistles to Timothy ;
and underneath the references was the Apostle’s injunc-
tion, “‘ Meditate upon these things; give thyself wholly to
them, that thy profiting may appear unto all.â€
When Louis was fairly in bed that night, he was cai.ed
on for a story.
«Tell us the end of the princess Rosetta, Louis,†cried
Frank ; “I want to know how the fair animal got out of
her watery bedroom, and whether the green dog ever got
his nose nipped by the oysters he was so fond of snapping
up.â€
“Yes, Rosetta!’ cried. several voices. ‘Did she ever
get to the king of the peacocks, Louis ?â€
“No, no,†cried Reginald; “it is not fit for Sunday.â€
«‘T am sure we have been doing heaps of good things
to-day,†replied Frank, lightly ; “come, Louis.â€
“TI must not,†said Louis, gently. “Ido not like tell-
ing stories at night at all, because I think we ought*not to
fill our heads with such things when we are going to sleep ;
but I must not tell you Rosetta to-night, Frank.â€
“Get along,†said Frank, contemptuously ; “you are
not worth the snap of a finger. All you are ever worth is
to tell stories, and now you must needs set up for a good,
pious boy—you, forsoothy of all others !’â€â€™
“Indeed, Frank, you will not understand me.â€
“Tf you dare to say any more to Louis,†cried Reginald,
“Tl make you—â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 87
Louis’ hand was upon Reginald’s mouth.
Frank replied, tauntingly, “Ay, finish your work this
time, that’s right. Come boys, never mind, I'll tell you a
wonderful tale.â€â€™
“T think we’d better not have one to-night,†“said one;
«perhaps Mortimer’s right.â€
“Don’t have one, don’t!†said Louis, starting up; “do
not let us forget that all this day is God’s day, and that we
must not even speak our own words.â€
‘None of your cant,†cried one.
“Well, I propose that we go to sleep, and then we
shan’t hear what he says,†said Meredith. “They talk of
his not having pluck enough to speak, but he can do it
when he pleases,†he remarked in a low tone to his next
companion, Frank Digby, who rejoined,
“ More shame for him, the little hypocrite. I like real
religious people, but I can’t bear cant.â€
What Frank’s idea of real religion was, may be rather a
difficult matter to settle. Probably it was an,obscure idea
to himself,—an idea of certain sentiment and no vitality.
88 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
CHAPTER VII.
Tur next Saturday afternoon proving unusually fine, the
community at Ashfield House sallied forth to enjoy their
half-holiday on the downs. A few of the seniors had re-
ceived permission to pay a visit to Bristol, and not a small
party was arranged for a good game of cricket. Among
the latter was Reginald Mortimer, whose strong arm and
swift foot were deemed almost indispensable on such occa-
sions. As he rushed out of the playground gates, bat in
hand, accompanied by Meredith, he overtook his brother,
who had discovered a poem unknown to him in Coleridge’s
Ancient Mariner, and was anticipating a pleasant mental
feast in its perusal.
“Louis, you lazy fellow,†cried Reginald, good-temper-
edly, “you shan’t read this fine afternoon—come, join us.â€
“T don’t play cricket, I have not learned,†replied Louis.
“And you never will,†rejoined Reginald, “if you don’t
make a beginning: Ill teach you—now put away that
stupid book.â€
“ Stupid !â€â€™ said Lovie “It’s Coleridge, that mamma
promised to read to us.’
“T hate poetry,†exclaimed Reginald; “I wonder how
anybody can read such stuff. Give me the book, Louis,
and come along.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 89
“No, thank you, I’d rather not.â€
‘What a donkey youare!†said Meredith: “why don’t
you learn?â€
“‘ Perhaps me Tepuiation may be the safer for not divulg-
ing my reasons,†said Louis, archly: “it is suffidient for
present purposes that I had rather not.â€
‘‘ Rather not—rather not,†echoed Meredith: “like one
of your sensible reasons.â€
“He has refused to give them, so you cannot call that
his reason, Meredith,†remarked Reginald; “but let us be
off, as Louis won’t come.â€
Away they ran, and after looking at them for a minute,
Louis turned off his own way, but it was destined that he
should not read the Ancient Mariner that day, for he was
presently interrupted by little Alfred Hamilton, who pounced
upon him full of joy.
“Louis,†he cried, “I am so glad to speak to you! I
don’t know how it is that I have not been able to speak to
you lately: I half thought Edward did not like it, but he
asked me to-day why I did not come to you now.â€
“Did he?†exclaimed Louis, with joyful surprise; “I
am very glad you are come. I think we shall have a beau-
tiful walk.â€
“TI can’t think how it is, Louis, that everybody is either
so grave or rude when I speak of you. What is the
matter ?â€
« A mistake ; ; amidsa anidja sad one fonmyy†said Louis, gravely.
“But don’t say any thing about it, Alfred; they think I
have been one something very wrong; but all will come
out some day.â€
“I hope so,†replied little Alfred; “I cannot think what
g*
90 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS
you can have done wrong, Louis, you always seem so
good.â€
The child looked wistfully up in Louis’ face as he spoke,
and seemed to wait some explanation.
«That is because you do not know much about me,
Alfred,†replied Louis; “but in this one case I have not
done wrong, I assure you.â€
Alfred asked no more questions, though he looked more
than once in the now sorrowful young face by him, as they
sauntered along the wide downs.
‘‘ Here come Edward and Mr. Trevannion,†said Alfred,
turning round; “and there is Frank Digby, and Mr. Fer-
rers, too. I think Edward is going to Bristol this after-
noon.â€
This intimation of the august approach of his majesty
and court was hardly given when the young gentlemen
passed Louis. Hamilton, with Trevannion, as usual, leaning
on his arm, and Frank Digby walking backwards before
them, vainly endeavoring to support a failing argument
with a flood of nonsense, a common custom with this young
gentleman ; and, by the way, we might recommend it as
remarkably convenient at such times, to prevent the pain
of a total discomfiture, it being more pleasant to slip quietly
and unseen from your pedestal to some perfectly remote
topic, than to allow yourself to be hurled roughly there-
from by the rude hand of a more sound and successful
disputant. oy
« Enough, enough, Prank ’ exclaimed Hamilton, laugh-
ing. ‘I see through your fli veil. We won’t say any
more: you either argue in a circle, or try to blind us.â€
Louis looked up as Hamilton passed, in hopes that that
A STORY FOR BOYS. 91
magnate might give him a favorable glance, in which he
was not mistaken, for Edward the Great had been watch-
ing him from some distance, and was perfectly aware of
his near approach to him. 7
He certainly did not seem displeased, though the grave
countenance bore no marks of particular satisfaction at the
rencontre. He spoke carelessly to his brother, and then,
addressing Louis, said, “‘ You must look after him, Louis,
if you wish for his company ; if not, dismiss him at once.â€
“JT do wish for him,†said Louis, with a bright look of
gratitude ; “I promise to take care of him. Mr. Hamilton,
I am getting up in my class—I am fifth now.â€
The latter communication was made doubtfully, in a tone
indicating mixed pleasure and timidity.
“Tam glad to hear it,†was Hamilton’s laconic reply.
He did not quicken his pace. ‘“ What have you there ?â€
he asked, noticing his book.
“ Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner ; 1 was going to read it,â€
replied Louis; “ but now Alfred has come we shall talk:
shall we not, Alfred ?â€
This was accompanied by another look of grateful pleas-
ure at Alfred’s brother.
What was passing in Hamilton’s mind was not to be
gathered from his countenance, which exhibited no emotion
of any kind. He turned to Trevannion, as their party was
strengthened by Churchill, remarking, “ Here comes the
sucking fish.†% nk
“It’s uncommon hot,†said Chure ill, taking off his hat,
and fanning himself with andkerchief.
“ Dreadful warm,†said Frank Digby, in exactly the
same tone. Be i, <
92 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
« And there is not a breath of wind on the horrid downs,â€
continued the sapient youth, perfectly unconscious of Frank’s
mimicry.
« What'will the fair Louisa do?†cried Frank: “O that
a zephyr would have pity on that delicate form !â€
Across their path lay a wagon, from which the horses
had been detached, and which now offered a tempting
though homely shelter to those among the pedestrians who
might choose to sit on the shady side, or to avail themselves
of the accommodation afforded by the awning over the in-
terior. Ferrers threw himself full length inside the cart :
and Louis, drawing Alfred to the shady side, seated him-
self by him on the grass. His example was followed by
Churchill, who exclaimed rapturously as he did so, “ How
nice! This puts me in mind of a Latin sentence; I forget
the Latin, but I remember the English—‘ Oh, ‘tis pleasant
to sit in the shade!’ â€
“Of a wagon,†said Frank, laughing. ‘“ Remarkably
romantic! It is so sweet to hear the birds chirp, and the
distant hum of human voices—but language fails! As for
Lady Louisa, she is in the Elysium of ecstasy. It’s so
romantic.â€
“Are you going to Bristol, Frank, for I’m off?†said
Hamilton.
“ Coming,†replied Frank. ‘ We'll leave these romantic
mortals to their sequestered glen. There ain’t nothing like
imagination, my good ,sixs.†5
As he joined his Mica , Trevannion remarked to
Hamilton, “ Little Mortimer i much the gentleman, you
never know him do or say any thing vulgar or awkward.
It is a pity one can’t depend upon him.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 93
«T am not quite sure that you cannot,†replied Hamilton.
«« How !†said Trevannion, in astonishment.
“ Are you going to turn Paladin for her ladyship?â€
asked Frank.
“T have been watching Louis very carefully, and the
more I see, the more I doubt his guilt,†replied Hamilton.
« After what you saw yourself? After all that was
seen by others? Impossible, my dear Hamilton!†ex-
claimed Trevannion. ‘ You cannot exonerate him without
criminating others.†-
“We shall see,†replied Hamilton ; “and more than that,
Trevannion, I am certain that Dr. Wilkinson has his doubts
now, too.â€
“ But does Fudge know any thing about his old pranks ?â€
asked Frank, incredulously.
“T cannot say,â€â€™ replied Hamilton ; “but I think that he
probably does; for what is"So well known now any our-
selves, is likely enough to reach his quick ears.’
“But knowing all you do, my dear Hamilton,†said Tre-
vannion, expostulatingly, “you must be strongly prejudiced
in your protegé’s favor to admit a doubt in this case. Has
Dr. Wilkinson told you that he has any doubts ?â€
« No,†replied Hamilton ; “you know the doctor would
not reveal his mind unless he were confident, but I have
noticed some little things, and am sure that though he seems
generally so indifferent to Louis’ presence and concerns, and
so distant and cold towards him, he_is nevertheless watch-
ing him very narrowly ; and_I, ‘ath, part, expect to see
things take a new turn beforeilong.â€
“The boy seems quite to have’ won your heart,†said
Trevannion.
94. LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
“Poor fellow,†replied Hamilton, smiling. “He is a
sweet-tempered, gentle boy ; a little too anxious to be well
thought of, and has, perhaps, too little moral courage. I
own he has interested me. His very timidity and his nu-
merous scrapes called forth pity in the first instance, and then
I saw more. I should not have been surprised at his tell-
ing a lie in the first place, but I do not think he would
persist in it.â€
“‘T’m afraid wisdom’s at fault,†said Frank, shaking his
head: “you would not say that Ferrers helped him?—I
mean took the key to get him into a scrape.â€
“‘T accused no one, Digby,†replied Hamilton, in a re-
served tone; “nor am I going to wrong any one by utter-
ing unformed suspicions.â€
‘Enough has been said,†remarked Trevannion ; “ let us
drop the subject, and talk » ae more interesting
to all parties.â€
While these young gentlemen pursue their walk, we will
retrace our steps@to the wagon, where Louis and his little
friend have taken shelter.
Churchill, finding neither seemed very much inclined to
encourage his conversational powers, took himself off, after
remaining in the shade long enough to cool himself. After
his departure Louis and Alfred talked lazily on of their
own pleasant thoughts and schemes, both delighted at
being once more in each other’s society. They were within
sight of the masters out on the downs, and who had for-
bidden them to wander beyond certain limits, but still so
far from their school- fellows as. to be able to enjoy their
own private conversation unmolested, and in the feeling of
seclusion.
*
A STORY FOR BOYS. 95
At length, after a pause, Louis made an original remark
on the beauty of the weather, which was immediately re-
sponded to by his companion, who added that he had not
known such a fine day since Miss Wilkinson’s wedding.
“Don’t you think go?†said Louis ; “ I think we had one
or two Sundays quite as fine.â€
“Perhaps I thought that day so very fine, because I
wanted to go out,†said Alfred.
«What do you mean?†asked Louis: “we had a holiday
then.â€
“Yes, I know, but I was not allowed to go out because
I had been idle, and had spoken improperly to Mr. Norton.
I remember it was so sad. I assure you, Louis, I cried
nearly all day ; for I was shut up in your class-room, and
I heard all the boys so merry outside. The very thought
makes me quite sorrowful now.â€
A thought flashed acréss Louis’ mind, and he asked
quickly —
“Were you shut up in our class-reom that holiday,
Alfred? I never saw you when I went in.â€
« But I saw you once,†said Alfred, “when you came in
for an atlas; and I saw Mr. Ferrers, and afterwards Ed-
ward andeMr. Salisbury and Mr. Trevannion come in; but
I was ashamed, and I did not want any one to see me, so
I hid myself between the book-case and thé wall.â€
“Did your brother know you were there ?†asked Louis.
“Not there,†replied Alfred. ‘“ He thought I was to go
into Dr. Wilkinson’s study ; but I could not go there, and
I didn’t want him to speak*t® me.â€
“Did Ferrers come to fetch any thing, Alfred ?â€
Alfred laughed. “It won't be telling tales out of school
96 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
to tell you, Louis. He came for a key to the first-class
exercise book.â€
«How do you know it was a first-class exercise book,
Alfred?†asked Louis, with a glowing face and beating
heart.
«©T know Edward does Kenrick’s Latin Exercises, and
I know the key because it’s just like the book, and I
have seen Mr. Ferrers with it before. I remember once
on a half-holiday he did his lessons in the school-room
at my desk, and he had it open in the desk, and as I
wanted something out, I saw it, though he did not think
I did.â€
“Oh Alfred, Alfred!†cried Louis, clasping him very
tightly. “Oh Alfred! dear Alfred!â€
The child looked up in astonishment, but Louis was so
wild with excitement that he could not say any more.
Just at that moment there Was an abrupt movement in
the wagon, and Ferrers’ head was put over the side.
Alfred utteredwan exclamation of fear. ‘Oh, there’s
Mr. Ferrers !â€
«What rubbish have you been talking, you little impos-
tor?†cried Ferrers. ‘ How dare you talk in such a man-
ner? I’ve a great mind to kick you from Land's End to
John o’ Groat’s house.â€
«Ferrers, you know it’s all true,â€â€™ said Louis.
Ferrers’ face was white with passion and anxiety. “ Get
along with you, Alfred, you’d better not let me hear any
more of your lies, I can tell you.â€
“Tf you had not been: listening you would not have .
heard,†replied Alfred, taking care to stand out of Ferrers’
reach. “ Listeners never hear any good of themselves, Mr.
Ferrers begins to be found out. Page 96.
A STORY FOR BOYs. 97
Ferrers: you know it’s all true, and if I’d told Edward,
you wouldn’t have liked it.â€â€™
“ Alfred dear, don’t say so much,†said Louis.
Alfred here set off running, as Ferrers had dismounted
in a very threatening attitude, but instead of giving chase
to the daring fugitive, the conscience-stricken youth drew
near Louis, who was standing in a state of such delight
that he must be excused a little if no thought of his
school-fellow’s disgrace marred it at present. A glance at
the changed and terror-stricken countenance of that school-
fellow checked the exuberance of Louis’ joy, for he was
too sympathizing not to feel for him, and he said in a gentle
tone,
“I am very’sorry for you, Ferrers,—you have heard all
that Alfred has said,â€
“Louis Mortimer!†exclaimed Ferrers, in agony ; and
Louis was half alarmed by the wild despair of his manner,
and the vehemence with which he seized his arm. “ Louis
Mortimer—it is all truae—but what shall I do?â€
Louis was so startled that he could not answer at first:
at last he replied,
“Go and tell the doctor yourself—that will be much the
best way.â€
“ Listen to me a moment—just listen a moment—as soon
as Dr. Wilkinson knows it, I shall be expelled, and I shall
be ruined for life. What I have suffered, Louis! Oh—
you see how it was; I dared not tell about it—how can I
hope you can forgive me ?â€
“TI think you must have seen that I forgave you long
ago,’ replied Louis; “I wish I could do any thing for you,
Ferrers, but you cannot expect me to bear the blame of
9
98 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
this any longer. I think if you tell it to the doctor your-
self, he will, perhaps, overlook it, and I will beg for you.â€
“Oh, Louis!†said Ferrers, seizing the passive hand, and
speaking more vehemently; “you heard what the doctor
said, and he will do it—and for one fault to lose all my
prospects in life! I shall leave at the holidays, and then I
will tell Dr. Wilkinson; will you—can you—to save a fel-
low from such disgrace, spare me a little longer? There
are only four weeks—oh, Louis! I shall be eternally
obliged—but if you could tell—t have a father—just
think how yours would feel. Louis, will you, can you do
this very great favor for me? I don't deserve any merey
from you, I know; but you are better than I am.â€
All the bright visions of acknowledged innocence fled,»
and a blank seemed to comover-poor Louis’ soul. The’
sacrifice seemed far too great, and he felt as if he were not
called to make it; and yet—a glance at Ferrers’ face—his
distress, but not his meanness, struck him. A minute before,
he had indulged in bright dreams of more than restoration
to favor—of his brother’s delight—of his father’s and
mother’s approbation—of his grandfather's satisfaction—
and Hamilton’s friendly congratulations. And to give up
this! it was surely too much to expect.
During his silence, Ferrers kept squeezing, and even kiss-
ing, his now cold hand, and repeating,
“Dear Louis—be merciful—will you pity me ?—think
of all—I don’t deserve it, I know.â€â€™ And though the mean-
ness and cowardliness were apparent, Louis looked at little
else than the extreme agony of the suppliant.
“ Don’t kiss my hand, Ferrers—I can’t bear it,†he said
at length, drawing his hand quickly away ; and there was
A STORY FOR BOYS. 99
something akin to disgust mingled with the sorrowful look
he gave to his companion.
“ But Louis, will you?â€
“Oh Ferrers ! it isa hard thing to ask of me,†said Louis,
bitterly.
“Just for a little longer,†implored Ferrers, “to save me
from a lasting disgrace.â€
Louis turned his head away—it was a hard, hard struggle:
“T will try to bear it if God will help me,†he said; “I
will not mention it at present.â€
“Oh! how can I thank you! how can I! how shall I
ever be able!†cried Ferrers: “ but will Alfred tell?â€
“He does not know,†replied Louis, in a low tone.
a “‘ But will he not mention what has passed ?â€
“7 will warn him then,†said Louis.
Ferrers then in broken sentences renewed his thanks, and
Louis, after hearing a few in silence, as if he heard nothing,
turned his full moist eyes on him with a sorrowful beseech-
ing look, |
“You have done a very wicked thing, Ferrers. Oh do
pray to God to forgive you.â€
“TI will try to do any thing you wish,†replied Ferrers.
“A prayer because J wished, could do you no good.
You must feel you have sinned against. God. Do try to
think of this. If it should make you do so, I think I could
cheerfully bear this disgrace a little longer for you, though
what it is to bear I cannot tell you.â€
“You are almost an angel, Louis !†exclaimed Ferrers.
“Oh don’t say such things to me, Ferrers,†said Louis,
“pray don’t. Iam not more so than I was before this—I
am but a sinful creature like yourself, and it is the remem-
oe
y
100 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
brance of this that makes me pity you. Now do leave me
alone; I cannot bear to hear you flatter me now.â€
Ferrers lingered yet, though Louis moved from him with
a shuddering abhorrence of the fawning, creeping manner
of his school-fellow. Seeing that Ferrers still loitered near
him, he asked if there were any thing more to say.
« Will your brother know this ?â€
« Reginald?†replied Louis. “Of course—no—Z shall
not tell him.â€
«A thousand thousand times I thank you,—oh Louis,
Louis, you are too good !â€
« Will you be kind enough to let me alone,†said Louis
gently, but very decidedly.
This time the request was complied with, and Louis re-.
sumed his former seat, and fixing his eyes vacantly on the
sweet prospect before him, ruminated with a full heart on
the recent discovery ; and, strange to say, though he had
voluntarily promised to screen Ferrers a little longer from
his justly merited disgrace, he felt as if it had been only
a compulsory sense of duty and not benevolence which had
led him to do so, and was inclined to murmur at his hard
lot. For some time he sat in a kind of. sullen apathy,
without being able to send up a prayer, even though he
felt he needed help to feel rightly. At length the kindly
tears burst forth, and covering his face with his hands he
wept softly. ‘I am very wrong—very ungrateful to God
for His love to me. . He has borne so much for me, and I
am so unwilling to bear a little for poor Ferrers. Oh what
sinful feelings I have! My heavenly Father, teach me to
feel pity for him, for he has no one to help him ; help him,
teach him, Thyself.†| 7
bl
A STORY FOR BOYS. 101
Such, and many more, were the deep heart-breathings
of the dear boy, and who ever sought for guidance and
grace, and was rejected ? and how unspeakably comfortable
is the assurance, that for each of us there is with Christ
the very grace we need.
The sullen fit was gone, and Louis was his own happy
self again, when little Alfred came to tell him that Mr.
“Witworth had given the order to return home,—*“ And I
came to tell you, dear Louis, for 1 wanted to walk home
with you. What a beast that Ferrers is! see if I won't
tell Edward of him.â€
“ Hush, Alfred!†said Louis, putting his finger on the
little boy’s mouth. “Do you know that God is very angry
when we call each other bad names, and surely you do not
wish to revenge yourself? I will tell you a very sweet
verse which our Saviour«said: ‘Zove your enemies, bless —
them that curse you, and pray for them that despitefully use
you and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your
Father who is in heaven.’� As the little monitor spoke,
the soft consciousness of the comfort of those sweet words
rushed over his own mind, “children of your Father who is
in heaven.â€
‘And am I a child—His child indeed! I will try to
glorify my Saviour who has given me that great name.â€
That is a sure promise that “they, who water shall be
watered,’ and who is there that has endeavored to lead
another heavenward, that has not felt, at one time or
another, a double share of that living water refreshing his
own soul ? |
_With one arm round his little friend’s neck, Louis wan-
dered home, and, during the walk, easily persuaded Alfred
Q*
102 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
not to say a word of what had passed ; and as for Louis—
oh, his eye was brighter, his step more buoyant, his heart
full of gladness !
A little word, and I will close this long chapter. It is
good for us to consider how unable we are to think and to
do rightly ourselves : we must do so if we would be saved
by Christ. When we have done all, we are unprofitable
servants; but oh, how gracious—how incomprehensible is
that love that puts into our minds good desires, brings the
same to good effect, and rewards us for those things which
He Himself has enabled us to do!
A STORY FOR BOYS. 103
CHAPTER VIII.
“Charity suffereth long, and is kind.â€â€”1 Cor. xiii. 4.
Louis entered the class-room sooner than usual one
evening, and sitting down by his brother, spread before
him a few strawberries and some sweet-cakes, inviting him
and one of Salisbury’s brothers who was on the other side
of him to partake of them. ws
«What beauties they are!†exclaimed John Salisbury ;
“have you had a box, Louis? How did you get them ?â€
‘«¢ Guess,’ said Louis.
“Nay, I can’t guess. Strawberries like these don’t come
at this time of the year in boxes.â€
“T guess,†said Frank Digby from the opposite side of
the table, in a tone as if he had been speaking to some
one behind him. “Fudge has a dinner party to-night,
hasn’t he ?â€
“Yes,†said Louis, laughing; “how did you know
that ?â€â€™
“Oh, I have the little green bird that tells every thing,â€
replied Frank.
« What’s that, Frank 2†cried Salisbury ; “‘ Fudge a din-
ner party? How snug he’s kept it!â€
“Why you don’t suppose that he’s obliged to inform us
104 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
-all when he has some idea of doing the genteel,†remarked
one of the first class. 7
“Are Hamilton and Trevannion invited?†asked Salis-
bury. Ps
“In good troth ! thou art a bat of the most blind species,â€
said Frank; “ didn’t you see them both just now in all
their best toggery? Trevannion went up to his room just
after school, and has, I believe, at last adorned his beaute-
ous person to his mind—all graces and delicious odors.—
Faugh! he puts me in mind of a hair-dresser’s shop.â€
“ He declares that his new perfumes are something ex-
pressly superior,†said another. “He wouldn’t touch your
vulgar scents.â€
“ His millefleurs is at all events uncommonly like a musk-
rat;said Salisbury.
,’ remarked Frank, “as that erudite youth, Oars,
would say, ‘puts me in mind of some poet, but I’ve forgot-
ten his name.’ However, two lines borrowed from him,
which my sister quotes to me when I am genteel, will do as
well as his name:
““T cannotetalk with civet in the room—
A fine puss gentleman, that’s all perfume.’ â€
Reginald laughed. “I often think of the overrun flower-
pots in the cottages at Dashwood, when Trevannion has
been adorning himself. I once mortally offended him by
the same quotation.â€
“Had you the amazing audacity! the intolerable pre-
sumption!’ cried Frank, pretending to start. “I perceive
his magnificent scorn didn’t quite annihilate you; I think,
though, he was three hours embellishing himself to-night.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 105
Ss.
«Frank, that’s impossible!†cried Louis, laughing," for
it was four o’clock when he went, and it’s only half-past
six now.â€
«Cease your speech, antl eat your booty : I dare say it is
sweet enough ; sweetness is the usual concomitant of goods
so obtained.â€
«What do you mean, Frank?†asked Louis.
‘‘ Sweet little innocent; of course he don’t know—no, in
course he don’t—how should he? they came into his hand
by accident,†said Frank, mockingly ; “I wish such fortu-
nate accidents would happen to m@â€
“They were given to me, Frank,†said Louis, quietly.
“Mrs. Wilkinson gave them to me when she told me I
must not stay in the study.†|
«What a kind person Mrs. Wilkinson is !—oh .
Louis, Tanta est depravitas humani generis |â€
“Frank!†shouted Reginald, “at your peril
“Well, my dear—what, is my life in peril from you
again? I must take care then.â€
“Come, Frank, have done,†cried one of his class-fellows,
“can’t you leave Louis Mortimer alone—it doesn’t signify
to you.â€
“I only meant to admonish him by a gentle hint, that
he must not presume to contradict gentlemen whose honor
and veracity may at least be on a par with his own.â€
«“ Frank,†said Louis, “I cannot think how you can sup-
pose me guilty of such meanness,â€
«The least said, the soonest mended,’’ remarked Salis-
bury. “We must have large powers of credence where
you are concerned. Clear off your old scores, and then
we will begin a new one with you.â€
!?
106 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
Reginald started to his feet. ‘You shall rue this, Salis-
bury.â€
«Two can play at your game,†rejoined Salisbury, rising.
Reginald was springing forward, but was checked by
Louis, who threw himself on him. “Do not fight, dear
Reginald—do not, pray.â€
««[ will—unhand me, Louis! I tell you I wiLt—let
me go.â€
« Dear Reginald, not for me—wait a minute.â€
At this moment the form behind them fell with a heavy
bang, and in struggling to release himself, Reginald fell
over it, dragging Louis with him. Louis was a little hurt,
but he did not let go his hold. “ Reginald,†he said, “ask
ae to say so herself; they will believe her, I
».â€â€
“She fall had a little checked his rage, and Reginald sat
brooding in sullen anger on the ground. At last he started
up and left the room, saying to Louis, “It’s all your fault,
_then—you've no spirit, and you don’t want me to have
any.â€
Louis mechanically assisted in raising the form, and stood
silently by the table. He looked quickly round, and push-
ing the little share of his untasted fruit from him, went into
the school-room. He did not recover his spirits again that
evening, even when Reginald apologized to him for his
roughness, pleading in excuse the extreme trouble it gave
him to prevent himself from fighting with Salisbury.
Asithey went'up stairs that night, in spite of the cau-
tions given by the usher to be quiet, a sham scuffle ensued
on purpose between Salisbury and Frank Digby, during
which the former let his candle fall over the bannisters, and
A STORY FOR BOYS. 107
they were left in darkness ; though, happily for the com-
fort of the doctor’s dinner party, the second hall and back
staircase arrangement effectually prevented the noise that
ensued from reaching the drawing-room.
« Halloa there—you fellows! Mortimer, ahoa !†cried
one of Salisbury’s party; “bring your light.â€
“You may come and fetch it if you want it,†shouted
Reginald from his room. ;
« We're in the dark,†was the reply.
“So much the better,†said Reginald: “ perhaps you
will behave a little better now; if you want a light you
may come and light your candle fiere.â€â€™
«Our candle’s on the hall floor,†said another voice,
- amidst suppressed laughter.
«Pick it up, then.†|
«We're desperately afraid of hobgoblins,â€â€™ cried Frank,
rushing into his room and blowing their candle out.
«What did you do that for, Frank?†asked several in-
dignant voices.
«Because Salisbury and his myrmidons were coming
to carry it off by a coup de main—he-he-he—†giggled
Frank. |
« And so you’ve given your own head a blow to punish
your tooth! well done,†exclaimed another voice at the
door.
«“ Peters, is that you?â€
« What’s to be done now ?â€
« How shall we get a light?â€
“Tf you will give me the candle I Will get one,†said
Louis.
Accordingly, the extinguished candle was delivered ‘into
108 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
his hands, and he felt his way to the kitchen door, where
he obtained a light, and then, picking up the fallen candle,
tried to arrange its shattered form, and replace it. While
thus employed, Ferrers joined him, and offered his aid, and
on Louis’ accepting it, said in a low tone,—
‘Louis, I am a wretch, I am so very miserable. I can’t
think how you can bear so much from one who has never
done you any thing but harm.â€
Louis raised his head from his work in astonishment, and
saw that Ferrers looked as he said, very miserable, and was
deadly pale.
“1 do so despise myself—to see you bearing all so
sweetly, Louis. I should have been different, perhaps, if
I had known you before—I love, I admire you, as much as
I hate myself.â€
“ Are you coming with the candle there?†cried a voice
from above: “ Louis Mortimer and William Ferrers in deep
confabulation—wonders will never cease.’
Ferrers jumped up and ran up stairs with his candle,
and Louis followed more leisurely to his own room, nor
could any thing induce him that night to tell a story. How
long and earnest was his prayer for one who had injured
him so cruelly, but towards whom he now, instead of re-
sentment, felt only pity and interest!
Ferrers, after tossing from side to side, and trying all
schemes for several hours, in vain, to drown his remorse in
sleep, at last, at daybreak, sank into an uneasy slumber.
The image of Louis, and his mute expression of patient
sorrow that evening, haunted him, and he felt an indefinable
longing to be like him, and a horror of himself in compari-
sor with him. He remembered Louis’ words, “ Pray to
A STORY FOR BOYS. 109
God ;†and one murmured petition was whispered in the still-
ness of the night, “ Lord have mercy on a great sinner.â€
Since his disgrace, Louis generally had his brother for a
companion during their walks; but the next morning Fer-
rers joined him, and asked Louis to walk with him to the
downs. They were both naturally silent for the beginning
of the walk; but on Louis making some remark, Ferrers
said, “I can’t think of any thing just now, Louis; I have
done every thing wrong to-day. My only satisfaction is in
telling you how much I ane your goodness. I can’t think
how you can endure me.’
‘¢Oh, Ferrers!†said Louis, “ what am I that I should
not bear you? and if you are really sorry, and wish to be
better, I think I may some day love you.â€
“That you can never do, Louis,—you must hate and
despise me.â€â€™
“No, I do not,†said Louis, kindly; “I am very sorry
for you.â€
«You must have felt very angry.â€
“I did feel very unkind and shocked at first,†replied
Louis ; “but by God’s grace I learned afterwards to feel
very differently, and you can’t think how often I have pit-
ied you since.â€
“Pitied me /†said Ferrers. .
“Oh yes,†replied Louis, sweetly; < nan I am sure
you must have been very unhappy with tHe knowledge of
sin in your heart—I don’t think there is any thing so hard as
remorse to bear.â€
“TI did not feel much sorrow till you were so kind to me,â€
said Ferrers. ‘What a wretch you must think me!†.
“I have sinned too greatly myself to judge very hardly
10
110 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
of you; and when I think of all the love shown to me, I
feel anxious to show some love to others ; and I should be
afraid, if I thought too hardly of you, I should soon be left
to find out what I am.â€
Ferrers did not reply ; he did not understand the motives
which induced Louis’ forbearance and gentleness, for he
was an entire stranger to religion, and never having met
with any one resembling Louis, could not comprehend,
though he did not fail to admire, his character, now its
beauty was so conspicuously before him. He felt there
was an immeasurable distance between them—for the first
time he found himself wanting. Mentally putting himself
in Louis’ place, he acknowledged that no persuasion could
have induced him to act so generously and disinterestedly ;
and knowing the keen sensitiveness of Louis to disgrace, he
wondered how one so alive to the opinion of others, and
naturally so yielding and wavering, could steadily and un-
complainingly persevere in his benevolent purpose ; for not
by word or sign did Louis even hint the truth to Reginald
—the usual depository of his cares and secrets.
Louis, imagining the silence of his companion to proceed
from shame and distress, proceeded after a few minutes to
reassure him.
“You must not think that I am miserable, Ferrers, for
lately I have been much happier than even when I was in
favor, for now I do not care so much what the boys will
think or say of me, and that thought was always coming in
the way of every thing; and there are many nye which
make me very happy, often.â€
“What things, Louis ?â€
“I do not think you would understand me,†replied
A STORY FOR BOYS. 111
Louis, timidly ; “the things and siete that make me
happy are so different from what we hear generally here.â€
‘But tell me, Louis. I want to know how it is you are
so much better than any one else here. I want to be bet-
ter myself.â€
«Oh, dear Ferrers,â€â€™ said Louis, gazing earnestly in Fer-
rers’ face, “if you do want to be better, come to our Sa-
viour, and He will make you all you want to be. It is the
feeling of His goodness, and the happy hope of being God’s
children, and having all their sins forgiven, that make all
God’s people so happy : ; and you may have this happiness
too, if you will. Ido not think we think enough of our
great name of Christian,â€
«You read your Bible a ot deal, Louis, don’t you?â€
«Not so much as I ought,†replied Louis, blushing, “ but
I love it very much.â€
«It always seems to me such a dull book, I am always
very glad when our daily reading’s over.â€
«I remember when I thought something in the same
way,†said Louis: “only mamma used always to explain
things so pleasantly, that even then I used to like to hear
her read it to us. Papa once said to me that the Bible is
like a garden of flowers, through which a careless person
may walk, and notice nothing, but that one who is really
anxious to find flowers or herbs to cure his disease, will
look carefully till he finds what he wants, and that some
happy and eager seekers will find pleasure in all.â€
‘Louis, you are very happy,†said Ferrers, “ though
very strange. I would give a world, were it mine, to lay
this heavy burden of mine down somewhere, and be as
light in disgrace as you are.â€
112 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
Ferrers sighed deeply, and Louis said softly, « ‘Come
unto Him all ye that are heavy laden, and He will give you
rest. His yoke is easy and His burden is light.’ â€
Here they parted. The last whispers of the Saviour’s
gracious invitation, those “ comfortable words,†lingered in
Ferrers’ ears as he entered the house, and returned at
night; but he did not throw himself and his burden at the
Saviour’s feet. And what hindered him? It was pride,
pride—though forced to feel himself a sinner, pride still
retained its hold, more feebly than before, but still as a
giant. <
A STORY FOR BOYS. 113
CHAPTER IX.
Tu holidays were fast approaching. Ten days of the
three weeks’ examination had passed, and every energy was
exerted, and every feeling of emulation called out, among
those who had any hope of obtaining the honors held out
to the successful candidates. It was surprising to see what
could be, and what was, done. Even idle boys who had
let their fair amount of talent lie dormant during the half
year, now came forth, and, straining every nerve, were seen
late and early at work which should have been gradually
mastered during the last five months ; denying themselves
both recreation and sleep, with an energy, which, had it
been earlier exerted in only half the degree, would have
been highly laudable. Some of the latter, who possessed
great talent, were successful, but generally the prizes fell
to the lot of those who had throughout been uniformly
steady, and who had gained an amount of thorough infor-
mation which the eager study of a few weeks could not
attain. Now there were beating hearts and:anxious faces,
and noisy summing up of the day’s successes or losses,
when the daily close of school proclaimed a truce to the
emulous combatants. A few there were who appeared
totally indifferent as to the issue of the contest, and who
hailed the term of examination as entailing no set tasks to
10*
114 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS }
be said the ensuing day under certain penalties, and, revel-
ling in extended play-hours, cared nothing for disgrace,
having no character to lose.
Reginald bid fair to carry off all, or nearly all, the
second-class honors; still, there were in his class several
whose determined efforts and talents gave him considerable
work in winning the battle.
Amongst all this spirited warfare, it is not to be sup-
posed that Louis was tranquil; for, though naturally of an
indolent temperament, there was in him a fund of latent
emulation, which only wanted a stimulus such as the present
to rouse him to action. Louis was a boy of no mean ability,
and now, fired with the hope of distinguishing himself, and
gaining a little honor that might efface the remembrance of
past idleness, and give some pleasure to his dear parents, |
he applied himself so diligently and unremittingly to his
studies during the last month, as to astonish his masters.
I do not mean to particularize the subjects for examina-
tion given by Dr. Wilkinson to the two upper classes, for
this simple reason, that my classical and mathematical igno-
rance might cause mistakes more amusing to the erudite
reader than pleasant to the author. It shall be sufficient
to say, that whatever these subjects had been, the day’s
examination had gone through in a manner equally credit-
able to masters and pupils; and after a few turns in the
fresh air when tea was over, a knot, comprising the greater
part of the above-mentioned classes, assembled round their
head man to congratulate him on his undoubted successes,
and to talk over the events of the day elsewhere. Regi-
nald and Louis could spare little time for talking, and were
walking up and down the playground, questioning and
A STORY FOR BOYS. 115
answering each other with the most untiring diligence,
though both of them had been up since four o’clock that
morning. There were a few who had risen still earlier, and
who now lay fast asleep on forms in the school-room, or
endeavored to keep their eyes open by following the ex-
ample of our hero and his brother. “
« John’s fast asleep,†said Salisbury, laughing ; “ he has
a capital way of gaining time—by getting up at half-past
three, and falling asleep at seven.â€
« How does he stand for the prizes?†asked Smith.
“Tm sure I can’t tell you; I suppose Mortimer’s sure
of the first classics and history—and he ought, for he’s
coming to us next half. John’s next to him.â€
«[ hear little Mortimer’s winning laurels,’’ remarked
Trevannion.
“ Oh! for him,†said Harris,.a second-class boy, “ be-
cause he’s been such a dunce before ;—I suspect Ferrers
helps him.â€
“Ferrers!†cried all at once, and there was a laugh—
“Do you hear, Ferrers ?â€
“Of course I do,†replied Ferrers.
« He’s not good-natured enough,†remarked another.
‘He needs no help,†said Ferrers.
«You’re sure of the mathematical prize, Ferrers ; and
Hamilton, of course, gets that for Latin composition.â€
Ferrers did not reply—his thoughts had flown to Louis,
from whom they were now seldom absent ; and, though he
had been generally successful, yet the settled gloom and
anxiety of his manner led many to suppose that he enter-
tained fears for the issue of his examination. There were
others who imagined that there was some deeper cause of
116 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
anxiety preying on his mind, or that he was wei
illness and fatigue—and one or two made mysterious re- —
marks on his intimacy with Louis, and wondered what all |
foreboded.
«‘T wonder who'll get the medal,†said one.
«‘ Hamilton, of course,’ replied Smith.
«You're out there,†said Frank Digby. ‘“ My magic
has discovered that either the Lady Louisa or myself will
obtain it. I admire your selfishness, young gentlemen—
you assign to yourselves every thing, and leave us out of |
the nies. If I can’t be a genius, I mean to be a good
boy.â€
Many bitter remarks were then made on Louis’ late good
behavior, and a few upon his manner towards Ferrers,
which, by some, was styled meanness of the highest degree.
Ferrers could not endure it—he left the circle and walked
about the playground alone, full of remorse, thinking over
every plan he had formed for making amends to Louis for
all. He looked up once or twice with a gasping effort,
and, oh! in the wrinkled and contracted forehead what
trouble might be read. “Oh! that it were a dream,†he
at wan uttered, “that I could wake and find it a warn-
ing.†|
There was a soft, warm hand in his, and Louis’ gentle
voice replied, “ Do not grieve now about me, Ferrers, it
will soon be over.â€
Ferrers started and drew his hand away.
“You are not angry with me, are you?†said Louis;
“‘T saw you alone, and I was afraid you wanted comfort—
I did not like to come before, for fear the boys should make
remarks, Reginald especially.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 117
Ferrers looked at Louis a minute without speaking, and
then, pushing him off, walked quickly to the house, and
did not show himself any more that evening.
Breukfast. had long been finished, and the school was
once more assembled ; the second class was waiting im-
patiently on the raised end of the school-room for the doc-
tor’s entrance, or for a summons to his presence ; and near,
at their several desks, busily writing answers to a number
of printed questions, sat the first class. It was nearly an,
hour past the time, and impatient eyes were directed to the
clock over the folding-doors, which steadily marked they.
flying min ates.
« Where can the doctor be?†had been asked many times
already, but no one couldtanswer.
«‘ We shall have no time—we shall not get done before
night,†muttered several malcontents. “ What can keep
the doctor ?â€
At this moment the folding-doors were quickly flung
open, and Dr. Wilkinson entered, and rapidly made his way
towards the upper end of the school-room, but in such a
state of unwonted agitation that the boys were by common
consent hushed into silence, and every occupation was sus-
pended to wat¢h their master’s movements. * How strange —
he looks !†whispered one ; “something’s the matter.†Dr.
Wilkinson took no notice of the open eyes and mouths of
his awe-struck pupils—all his aim seemed to be to reach
his seat with the greatest speed.
“ What’s the row?†muttered Salisbury, in an under-
tone to Hamilton, having some idea that the latter could
afford a clue to the clearing up of the mystery. “ Do you
118 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
know of any thing, Hamilton?†Hamilton shook his head,
and fairly stood up to see what was going on.
Dr. Wilkinson at length reached his place, and there
stood a few minutes to collect himself. He then looked
around, and asked, in a quick, low tone, for Louis Mortimer.
Louis was almost behind him, and in some terror presented
himself; though he was unconscious of any misdemeanor,
he did not know what new suspicion might have attached
to him. His gentle “Here, sir,†was distinctly heard in
every part of the large room, in the breathless silence
which now ruled. Dr. Wilkinson looked on him, but there
wvas no anger in his gaze—his eyes glistened, and though
“there might be indignation mixed with the many emotions
struggling for expression in his countenance, Louis felt, as
he raised his timid eyes, that there was nothing now to
fear. The doctor seemed incapable of speaking ; “after one
or two vain efforts he placed both hands on Louis’ head,
and uttered a deep ‘“ God bless you!â€
It would be impossible to describe the flood of rapture
which this action poured upon poor Louis. The endurance
of the last few weeks was amply repaid by the eonscious-
ness that somehow—and he did not consider how—his in-
nocence was established, and now, in the presence of his
school-fellows, publicly acknowledged.
For another minute Dr. Wilkinson stood with both hands
resting on the head of his gentle pupil, then, removing one,
he placed it under Louis’ chin, and turned the glowing face .
up to himself and smiled—such a smile none remembered
ever to have seen on that stern face.
“Have you found all out, sir?†cried Reginald, starting
forward.
y,
4
Y7 _|
|
WZ
Dr. Wilkinson proclaims Louis innocent.
Page 115.
*
A STORY FOR BOYS. 119
The doctor’s hand motioned him back, and turning Louis
round, so as to face the school, he said in a distinct, yet
excited manner,
“Young gentlemen, we have been doing a wrong un-
consciously, and I, as one of the first, am anxious to make
to the subject of it the only reparation in my power, by
declaring to you all that Louis Mortimer is entirely innocent
of the offence with which he was charged; and I am sure
I may say in the name of you all, as well as of myself, that
we are very sorry that he should have suffered so much on
account of it.â€
There was a hum all around, and many of the lower
school who knew nothing of the matter, began whispering
among themselves. But all was hushed directly the doc-
tor resumed his speech.
« There are some among you who are not aware, I believe,
to what I allude; but those who do know, can bear testi-
mony to the gentle endurance of false accusation that Louis
Mortimer has exhibited during the whole time he has been
made to suffer so severely for the fault of another. I can-
not express my admiration of his conduct—conduct which
I am sure has had for its foundation the fear and love of
God. Stay, gentlemen,†said the doctor, stilling with a
motion of his hand the rising murmur of approbation, “all
is not yet wold. This patient endurance mizht be lauded
as an unusual occurrence, were there nothing more—but
there is more. Louis Mortimer might have produced
proofs of his innocence and cleared himself in the eyes of
us all.â€
“Louis!†exclaimed Reginald, involuntarily.
Louis’ head was down as far as his master’s hand»would
120 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
allow it, and deep crimson blushes passed quickly over the
nearly tearful face—and now the remembrance of Ferrers,
poor Ferrers, who had surely told all. Louis felt very sorry
for him, and almost ashamed on his own account. He
wished he could get behind his master, but that was impos-
sible, and he stood still, as the doctor continued, “ Three
weeks ago Louis discovered that a little boy was in the
study on the day when Kenrick’s Key was abstracted, who
could, of course, bring the desired information—the informa-
tion which would have righted him in all our eyes; but
mark—you who are ready to revenge injuries—because
this would have involved the expulsion of one who had
deeply injured him, he has never, by sign or word, made
known to any one the existence of such information, persua-
ding the little boy also to keep the secret; and this, which
from him I should never have learned, I have just heard
from the guilty person, who, unable to bear the remorse of
his own mind, has voluntarily confessed his sin and Louis’
estimable conduct. Young gentlemen, I would say to all of
you, ‘Go AND DO LIKEWISE.’ â€â€™
During this speech, Reginald had hardly been able to con-
trol himself, especially when he found that Louis had never
mentioned his knowledge to himself; and now he sprang
forward, unchecked by the doctor, and, seizing his brother,
who was immediately released, asked, “‘ Why ‘did you not
tell me, Louis? How was it I never guessed ?â€
While he spoke, there was a buz of inquiry at the lower
end of the school, and those who knew the story crowded
eagerly up to the dais to speak to Louis. Alfred’s voice
was very distinct, for he had worked himself up to his
brother ;
A STORY FOR BOYS. 121
« Edward, tell me all about it. I’m sure if I'd‘ known
I'd have told. I didn’t know why Louis was so joyful.â€
Edward could answer nothing: his heart was as full as
the doctor’s, and with almost overflowing eyes and a trem-
bling step, he pushed his way to Louis, who had thrown
himself on Reginald and was sobbing violently.
“Louis, I’m very sorry,†said one. “ Louis, you'll for-
give me—I’m sure I beg pardon,†said other voices ;
and others added, “How good you are !—I shouldn’t have
done it.â€
Louis raised his head from that dear shoulder, so often
the place where it had rested in his troubles, and said, amidst
his sobs,
“Oh! don’t praise me, I was very unwilling to do it.â€
«Let him alone,†said the doctor. “ Reginald, take him
up stairs. Gentlemen, I can do nothing more, nor you
neither, I think, to-day. I shall give you a holiday for the
remainder of it.â€
There was a lull in the noise as Dr. Wilkinson spoke, but
just as Louis was going out, there arose a deafening cheer, "
three times repeated, and then the boys picked up their
books and hurried out of doors.
Louis’ heart was full of gratitude, but at the same time
it was sobered by the recollection of what Ferrers must
now suffer, and the doubt he felt respecting his fate ; and
as soon as he had recovered himself, he sought the doctor
to beg pardon for him.
«« As he has voluntarily confessed his fault, I shall not
expel him,†replied the doctor ; “ but I intend that he shall
beg your pardon before the school.â€
Louis, however, pleaded so earnestly that he had already
11
122 ‘LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
suffered enough, and begged as a favor that nothing more
might be said, that at length Dr. Wilkinson gave way.
The sensation that this event had caused in the school
was very great: those who had been loudest in condemn-
ing Louis, were now the loudest in his praise, and most
anxious to load him with every honor ; and when he made
his appearance among them with Reginald, whose manly
face beamed with satisfaction and brotherly pride, he was
seized by a party, and against his will, chaired round the
playground, everywhere greeted by loud cheers, with now
and then “ A groan for Ferrers !â€
«Louis, my man, you look sorrowful,†said Hamilton,
as he was landed at last on the threshold of the school-
room door.
« No, no,†said Salisbury, who had been foremost in the
rioting ; “ cheer up, Louis—what’s the matter ?â€
«7 am afraid,†said Louis, turning away.
« Afraid! of what old boy?†said Salisbury. ‘“ Come,
out with it.â€
«J am afraid you will make me think too much of what
ought not to be thought of at all—you are all very kind,
but—†?
“ Nonsense!†exclaimed Salisbury ; “ we're all so vexed
that we have been such bears, and we want to make
it up.†|
“JT am sure I do not think any thing about it now,†said
Louis, holding out both his hands and shaking all by turns ;
“Tam very happy. Will you let me ask one thing of
you?â€
« A hundred,†was the reply; “and we'll fly on Mer-
cury’s pennons to do your bidding.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 123
«Put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes,†said
Frank Digby.
«When poor Ferrers comes among us, for my sake, do
not take any notice of what has happened.â€
There was a dark cloud on the faces before Louis, and
Hamilton’s lip trembled with scorn. No reply was made.
“Tam the only one who has any thing to forgive ; please
promise me to leave him alone.â€
“Then,†said Salisbury, abruptly, “ whenever he comes
in, I walk out, for I can’t sit in the same room and be
civil.â€
“JT shan’t be particularly inclined to favor him with my
discourse,†said Frank ; “so I promise to leave him alone.â€
« Will you try to be the same as you were before? Do!â€
said Louis.
“That’s impossible !â€â€™ they all cried ; “ we cannot, Louis.â€
“Tf you only knew how unhappy he has been, you
would pity him very much,†said Louis, sorrowfully. ‘He
has been so very sad—and do not talk of this to other peo-
ple, please. I should be so much more happy if you would
try to be the same to him.â€
« All we can promise, is not to notice it, Louis,†said
Hamilton; “and now, don’t be sad any longer.â€
Yet Louis was sad and anxious; though now and then a
thought that all was clear, darted like a sunbeam across
his mind, and called forth a grateful emotion. He longed
for the holidays to come,—the favor he was in was almost
painful.
Ferrers was invisible till the next evening, when he
joined his class-fellows at prayers. In spite of the half-
promise Louis had obtained from them, a studied uncon-
124 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
sciousness of his presence, and a chilling coldness, erected
him. Louis alone stood by him, and looked in the deadly
white countenance by him with heartfelt sympathy and
compassion; and glanced at several of his companions to
remind them of his wish. Ferrers seemed hardly the same ;
the proud, bullying air of arrogance had given place to a
saddened, subdued despair; and yet his expression was far
more pleasing in its humility than the natural one.
One or two, noticing Louis’ anxiety, addressed him civilly,
and even wished him “ Good-night!†which he did not re-
turn by more than an inclination of the head. He expected
no pity, and had nerved himself to bear the scorn he had
brought on himself; but any attention was a matter of sur-
prise to him.
A STORY FOR BOYS, 125
CHAPTER X.
Weanity and joylessly had the last week of the exami-
nation passed away for Ferrers; although in one branch he
had borne away the palm from all competitors.. His con-
fession had, in some measure, atoned for his great fault, in
the eyes of his judicious master; for, however much it
called for the severest reprehension, the fact of the mind
not being hardened to all sense of shame and right feeling,
made the doctor anxious ‘to improve his better feelings;
and, instead of driving them all away by ill-timed severity,
considering how lamentably the early training of Ferrers
had been neglected, he endeavored, after the first emotion
of indignation had passed away, to rouse the fallen youth
to a sense of honor and Christian responsibility ; and sought
to excite, as far as he was able, some feeling of compassion
for him among his school-fellows.
There were, however, few among them who had learned
the Christian duty of bearing one another’s burdens; few
among them, who, because circumstances over which they
had had no control, had placed them out of the tempta-
tions that had overcome their penitent school-fellow, did
not esteen»themselves better than he, and look scornfully
upon him, as though they would say with the proud Phari-
see of old, “Stand by, for Iam holier than thou!†And
i
126 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
is it not the case around us generally? Alas! how apt
we are all to condemn our fellow-creatures ; forgetting that,
had we been throughout similarly situated, our course
might have been the same, or even worse. ‘“ Who is it
that has made us to differ from another ?â€
Louis, as I have mentioned, felt very deeply for Ferrers ;
for, besides their late close connection, had he not known
what it was to suffer for sin? He knew what it was to
carry about a heavy heart, and to wake in the morning as
if life had no joy to give; and he knew, too, what it was
to lay his sins at a Saviour’s feet, and to take the light yoke
upon him. How anxious was he to lead his fellow-sinner
there! Though his simple efforts seemed impotent at the
time, years after, when his school-fellow had grown a steady
and useful Christian, he dated his first serious impressions
to this time of disgrace; and the remembrance of Louis’
sweet conduct was often before him.
Louis’ mind had been so chastened by his previous ad-
versity that his present prosperity was meekly though
thankfully borne. It came like sunshine after showers,
cheering and refreshing his path, but not too powerful ; for
he was gradually learning more and more, to fear any thing
that had a tendency to draw his mind to rest complacently
on_ himself.
But the prize-day came—the joyful breaking-up-day—
the day that was to bring his dear parents; and of all the
bounding hearts, there were none more so than those of the
two brothers. Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer had given their
boys reason to expect, them in the afternoon ofgthat day,
and they were to go from Clifton to Heronhurst before re-
turning home.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 127
Although Dr. Wilkinson’s breaking-up-day was not osten-
sibly a public day, yet so many of the pupils’ friends
claimed admittance to the hall on the occasion, that it be-
came so in fact, and was usually very respectably attended.
Many of the doctor’s old pupils came, to recall their old
feelings, by a sight of this most memorable exhibition.
And on this day, Vernon Digby was present with a younger
brother, not to witness Frank’s triumph, for that young
gentleman had none to boast of, but to look on the theatre
of his former fame, and to see how his place was now
filled.
Dr. Wilkinson’s high desk had been removed from the
dais, and in its place stood a long table covered with a red
cloth, on which were arranged a number of handsomely
bound books of different sizes; and in front of the dais, in
a semicircular form, were placed the rows of seats for the
boys. On each side of this semicircle, and behind and
parallel with Dr. Wilkinson’s seat, was accommodation for
the spectators. The room was in the most inviting order,
and had been hung with garlands of flowers by the boys.
At eleven o’clock the pupils assembled, and under the in-
spection of two of the under masters, seated themselves in
the places assigned them, the little boys being placed in
the front row. 1
As the exact fate of each was unknown, though tolerably
accurately guessed, there was much anxiety. Some of the
youths were quite silent and pale, others endeavored to hide
their agitation by laughing and talking quietly, and some
affected to é@nsider their nearest companion as more sure
than themselves. Even Hamilton was not free from a little
nervousness, and though he talked away to Vernon Digby,
128 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
who was sitting by him, he cast more than one fidgety
glance at the red-covered table, and perceptibly changed
color when the class-room door opened to allow the long
train of ladies and gentlemen to enter, and closed after Dr.
Wilkinson, and a few of his particular friends, among whom
were two great scholars who had assisted in the examina-
tion of the past week.
When every one was comfortably settled, Dr. Wilkinson
leaned forward over the table, and drew a paper towards
him. His preliminary “hem†was the signal for many
fidgety motions on the forms in front of him, and every eye
was riveted on him as he prefaced his distribution of the
prizes by a short statement of his general satisfaction, and
a slight notice of those particular points in which he could
desire improvement. He then spoke of his pleasure at the
report his friends had made of the proficiency of the upper
classes, and particularly alluding to the first class, stopped
and mentioned by name those who had especially distin-
guished themselves. Among these, as a matter of course,
Hamilton stood foremost, and carried away the prize for
Latin composition, as well as another. Ferrers gained that
for mathematics—and two other prizes were awarded to
the next in order. Dr. Wilkinson mentioned Frank Digby
as having taken so high a place during the examination, as
to induce one of the gentlemen who assisted him to con-
sider him entitled to one of the classical prizes; but the
doctor added that Frank Digby’s indifference and idleness
during the term had made him so unwilling that he should,
by mere force of natural ability, deprive his moge industrious
class-fellows of a hard-earned honor, that he had not felt
himself justified in listening to the recommendation, but
A STORY FOR BOYS. 129
hoped that his talents would, the following term, be ex-
erted from the beginning, in which case, he should have
pleasure in awarding to him the meed of successful appli-
cation.
Frank colored, half angrily, but said, sotto voce,
“T don’t care—lI just like to see whether I can’t do as well
as any one else without fagging.â€
Vernon was half provoked and half amused at his broth-
er’s discomfiture.
Then came Reginald’s turn, and he carried off three out
of the four prizes of his class, leaving one for John Salisbury.
As each one was called up to receive his reward, an im-
mense clapping and stamping took place, and Louis, all ex-
uberance, stamped most vigorously when his brother and
his particular friends went up. There were very slight
manifestations when poor Ferrers was summoned, but Louis
exerted himself so manfully in the applauding department,
that the contagion spread a little before the despised recip-
ient was seated.
The other classes were taken in order ; and when all was
finished, Dr. Wilkinson took up a little morocco case, and,
after clearing his throat once or twice, began anew:
‘There remains now but one reward to be assigned, but
it is the greatest of all, though undoubtedly that one which
it is the most difficult to adjudge rightly. It is the medal
for good conduct. Hitherto it has been my practice never
to give it to any one who has not been with me the whole
term, but on the present occasion I am inclined to depart
from my custom in favor of a young gentleman whose con-
duct has Been most praiseworthy, though he has only been
with me since Easter. Before adjudging it, I will, however,
130 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
appeal to the young gentlemen themselves, and ask them
who they think among them is the most deserving Of this
honor ?â€
Dr. Wilkinson paused, and immediately a shout, led by
Hamilton, arose, of ‘“‘ Louis Mortimer.â€
“TI expected it,†said the doctor, with a smile: “ Louis
Mortimer has been placed, perhaps, in a situation in the
school a little beyond him, and has, therefore, made no great
figure in the examination, but of his conduct I can speak in
the highest terms, and believe that his sense of duty is so
strong that he only wants the conviction that it is his duty
to exert himself a little more, to make him forthe future as
habitually industrious as he has been during the last six
weeks.—Louis Mortimer !â€
Almost overcome with astonishment and delight, Louis
hardly understood the summons, but Reginald whispered,
“Go, Louis, the doctor calls you,†and all made way for
him with the most pleasant looks of sympathy and congrat-
ulation. His modesty and elegance prepossessed the spec-
tators greatly in his favor, as he passed timidly along the
ranks to the table. Dr. Wilkinson smiled kindly on him
as he delivered the bright silver medal, in its claret-colored
case, saying as he did so,
“T have the greatest pleasure in giving this to you, and
trust that you will be encouraged, when you look on it,
to go on as you have begun.â€
Louis was covered with blushes—he bowed, and as he
turned away, the most deafening applause greeted him;
and, as the last prize was now given, the boys left their
seats and mingled among the company. Louis was drawn
immediately into a little cdterie, composed of Hamilton,
A STORY FOR BOYS. 131
S
Reginald, his three cousins, and one or two others, all of
whom congratulated him upon his distinction.
« And so, Louis, you are the hero,†said Vernon; “ and
what is the drama in which you have been acting so much
to your credit ?â€
“Too long a tale to tell now,†replied Hamilton, smiling
on Louis ; “ we will talk over it by and by. We have been
treating him very ill, Digby, but next half-year we shall
understand him better—shall we not, Louis ?â€
Louis was so full of delight that he could hardly speak—
it was especially a happy moment to stand before his cousin
Vernon with agbright fame and well-established character.
“JT said my magic knew who would gain the medal,â€
said Frank. 7
«But your magic did not anticipate such magnificent
honors for yourself, I imagine,†said Vernon.
“T was a little out,†said Frank, carelessly ; “for it has
proved that Lady Louisa has all the goodness, and I the
genius. My head is quite overloaded with the laurels
Fudge heaped on me: I shan’t be able to hold it up these
holidays.â€
“A good thing that something will press it down: it is
generally high enough,†remarked Hamilton.
“How delighted father and mother will be to hear of
your industry !’’ said Vernon. é
“Tam sure,†replied the incorrigible youth, “ they ought
to be proud of having a son too clever to win the prizes.
Louis, it puts me in mind of the man in your tale, who had
to bind his legs for fear he should outrun the hares. Iam,
however, heartily glad for you, and amazingly sorry we
should have so misunderstood you.â€
132 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
* «Louis Mortimer,†cried a little boy, very smartly
dressed, “‘ mamma wants to look at your medal—will you
come and show it to her ?â€â€™
«And go off, Reginald, with him, and tell Lady Stan-
hope all the news,†said Vernon, as Louis went away with
little Stanhope ; “‘I will come and pay my respects as soon
as it is conyenient for me to be aware of her ladyship’s
presence.â€â€™
Louis’ medal was examined and passed from hand to
hand, and many compliments were made on the occasion.
Lady Stanhope was very kind, and would hear the history,
a command Reginald was by no manner of means unwil-
ling to obey, though he suppressed the name of the guilty
party. The doctor was in great request, for many of the
ladies were very anxious to know more of “that lovely
boy,†but he was very guarded in his accounts of the mat-
ter, though bearing the strongest testimony to Louis’ good
conduct. He turned to Mr. Percy, who was present, and
said, quietly, ‘ That, sir, is the boy you mentioned to me
at Easter; the son of Mr. Mortimer, of Dashwood.â€
The excitement was almost too much for Louis, tried as
he had been lately by unusual fagging and early rising.
He was glad to get away into the playground, and after
watching one or two departures he ran wildly about, now
and then laughing aloud in his delight, “Oh! papa and
mamma, how glad they .will be!†and then the well-spring
of deep gladness seemed to overflow, and the excess of
happiness and gratitude made him mute. His heart swelled
with emotions too great for any words; a deep sense of
_ mercies and goodness of which he was unworthy, but for
which he felt as if he could have poured out his being in
A STORY FOR BOYS. 133
praise. Oh the blessing of a thankful heart! How happy
is he who sees his Father’s hand in every thing that befalls
him, and in whom each mercy calls forth a gush of gratitude!
“'Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ ;
Nor is the least a thankful heart,
To taste those gifts with joy.â€
ADDISON.
The playground was empty, for the boys were either en-
gaged with their friends, or else departing; and Louis,
from his little nook, saw many vehicles of different descrip-
tions drive away from the door. When the dinner-bell
rang he re-entered the house, but the dinner-table looked
very empty—there was not half the usual party.
“Where have you been, Louis?†asked Reginald, as he
entered ; “I have been looking everywhere for you. Hamil-
ton was quite vexed to go away without bidding you good-
bye, and he begged me to do it for him.â€
“‘T am very sorry, indeed,†said Louis; “I have been in -
the playground. Reginald, does it not make you feel very
pleasant to see the heap of boxes in the hall? I siood a
long time looking at our directions.â€
“I am almost cracked,†cried Reginald, joyously ;—
“*Midsummer’s coming again, my boys,
Jolly Midsummer and all its joys!â€
How far Reginald’s reminiscences of his holiday song
might have continued, I cannot pretend to say, had it not
been interrupted by a desire from the presiding master,
that “he would recollect himself, and where he was ;†but
order was out of the question, most of the party being in
12
arm
134 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
Reginald’s condition—and, after several useless appeals to
the sense of gentlemanly decorum proper to be observed
by the noisy party, Mr. Witworth found his best plan would
be to let every thing pass that did not absolutely interfere
with the business in hand, and, dinner being over, the ill-
mannered troop dispersed. Several of them, among whom
were Reginald and Louis; stopped in the hall to feast their
eyes on the piles of trunks and portmanteaus ; and Reginald
discovered that a direction was wanting on one of theirs ;
« And I declare, Louis, see what Frank has been doing.â€
Louis laughed, as he perceived that one of the directions
on his luggage was altered to “ Lady Louisa Mortimer,†and
ran away to rectify it. When he returned, the party in the
hall was considerably enlarged, and Ferrers came towards
him to wish him good-bye. ‘ Good-bye, Louis, I am com-
ing back next half-year,†he said, in alow tone; “and you
must help me to regain my character.†Louis squeezed his
hand, and promised to write to him, though he hoped, he
said, that he should not come back himself ; and when Fer-
rers left the hall, the business of affixing the necessary di-
rections went on very busily. Reginald was in a state of
such overflowing delight, as to be quite boisterous, and now
and then burst out into snatches of noisy songs, rendered re-
markably effective by an occasional squeak and grunt, which
proclaimed his voice to be rather unmanageable.
“Now, Louis, here’s a piece of string, and my knife.
‘Christmas is coming again, my boys!â€
“ Christmas, Reginald—Midsummer !†cried Louis, laugh-
ing.
“ Well then, ah, well! tie it tight.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 135
‘Midsummer’s coming again, my boys,
Jolly Midsummer, and all its joys;
And we're all of us cracked, so we'll kick up a noise.
Chorus. Ri-toorul-loor, rul-loor, rul-loor-rul. Hip, hip, hurrah !
Hollo!â€
The sensible chorus was shouted at the utmost pitch of
the voices of the assembled youths, who waved hats, hands,
and handkerchiefs, during the process,
“ Bravissimo !â€â€ exclaimed Reginald, quite red with his
exertions, and beaming with excitement. <‘ But my beauti-
ful voice is very unruly ; the last few times I have tried to
sing, it has been quite disobedient. I think it must be
cracked, at last.â€
“Are you not pleased ?â€â€™ said Louis, archly.
‘“ Not particularly,†replied Reginald.
‘You said you should be, last Christmas. Do you re-
member the ladies at grandpapa’s ?â€
‘Well, there is that comfort at any rate,†said Reginald,
“‘we shan’t have any more of their humbug; but think of
the dear old madrigals, and—it’s no laughing matter, Mr.
Louis, for all your fun.â€
“ Acknowledge, then, that you spoke rashly, when you
said you should be glad of it,†said Louis, who was full of
merriment at his brother’s misfortune.
And now Vernon, Arthur, and Frank Digby pressed for-
ward, to bid good-bye.
As Vernon shook Louis’ hand, he said, “I shall sce you
at Heronhurst, I suppose.â€
“TI suppose J mustn’t dare to go,†said Frank.
‘And now I shall go and gather some of those white
roses by the wall, for mamma,†said Louis. “I hope it
136 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
won’t be very long, Reginald, they must be here soon—oh,
how delightful it will be
Louis ran off, and succeeded in finding a few half-blown
roses for his dear mother, and was engaged in carefully cut-
ting off the thorns, when one of his school-fellows ran up
to him, and called out that his father and mother were
come.
« Papa and mamma! Where’s Reginald 2†he cried, and
flew over the playground without waiting for an answer.
«Where are papa and mamma? Where is Reginald ?†he
cried, as he ran into the hall. His hurried question was as
quickly answered ; and Louis, jumping over the many pack-
ages, made his way to the drawing-room. Here were his
dear father and mother, with Dr. Wilkinson. Reginald had
been in the room several minutes ; and when Louis entered,
was standing by his mother, whose arm was round him,
and close behind him stood his father.
«My Louis!†was his mother’s affectionate greeting, and
the next moment he was in her arms, his own being clasped
tightly round her neck, and he could ‘only kiss her in
speechless joy, at first; and then, when the kind arms that
strained him to her bosom were loosened, there was his dear
father, and then words came, and as he looked with flash-
ing eyes and crimsoned cheek, from one to the other, he
exclaimed, ‘“‘ Oh, mamma! I have a medal—mamma, it
is all come out! Papa, I am innocent ; I have a character
now! Oh, dear mamma, I said it would—I am quite
cleared !â€
His head sank on his father’s shoulder; a strange, dull
sound in his head overpowered him; a slight faintness
seemed to blow over his face; his eyes were fixed and
*
A STORY FOR BOYs. 137
glassy, and he became unconscious. Mr. Mortimer changed
color, and hastily catching the falling boy, he carried him
to the sofa. Dr. Wilkinson sent Reginald immediately for
some water, but before he could return, and almost before
Mrs. Mortimer could raise her dear boy’s head from the
pillow to her shoulder, the color came again, and his eyes
resumed their natural expression.
“What was the matter, my darling ?†said his mother,
kissing him.
“T don’t know, mamma,†replied Louis, sitting up. “I
only felt giddy, and something like a little wind in my face.â€
“T think he has been overwrought,†said Dr. Wilkinson,
kindly ; “he has gone through a great deal lately. We
will take him up stairs and let him lie down; I think he
wants a little quiet.â€
“Tam quite well now,†said Louis.
“‘T will sit by your side; you had better go up stairs,
dear,†said his mother.
Louis yielded, and Mr. Mortimer assisted him up stairs,
despite his declarations that he was quite strong and well,
and, being laid on a bed, Mrs. Mortimer stationed herself
by his side.
All they said I have not time to relate, but long Louis
lay with his mother’s hand in both of his, telling her of the
events of the last two months, and often she bent her head
down and kissed his broad forehead and flushed cheek ; and
when she would not let him talk any more, he lay very
passively, his eyes filling with grateful tears, and now and
then in the overflowing of his heart, raising them to his
mother, with “Mamma, thank God for me. Oh, how
very grateful I ought to be!â€
12*
f
138 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
At length he fell asleep, and his mother sat still, watch-
ing the quiet face, and the glitterg tear-drop that trem-
bled on his eyelash, and she too felt that her mercies
were very great—she did thank God for him, and for
herself,
s
A STORY FOR BOYS. 139
CHAPTER XI.
“Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of
life.†—-Prov. iv, 238.
Arter a long and tedious journey Mr. and Mrs. Mor-
timer, with their two boys, reached Heronhurst, where they
met with the affectionate welcome usually given by Sir
George and Lady Vernon to all so nearly related to them.
The castle was full of visitors, amongst whom were Lady
Digby and her two eldest daughters, and many young peo-
ple—personages grandmamma never forgot in the holidays,
however unimportant they may appear in the eyes of some.
Children liked to come to Heronhurst, for there was always
so much mirth and amusement, and Lady Vernon was so
remarkably clever in arranging pleasant pic-nics and excur-
sions. Vernon and Frank Digby arrived the same day as
Mr. Mortimer, a few hours before him, and as Vernon. had
announced the fact of Louis’ having gained the medal,
every one was prepared to receive our hero with due
honor,
It was with no little satisfaction that Louis felt in the
hearty shake of the hand, and the kind tone, that he was
now more than re-established in his grandfather’s good
opinion. Had it not been for the salutary effects of his
&
140 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
former disgrace, and the long trial he had lately undergone,
there would: have been great danger now of his falling into
some open fault, for he was praised so much by his kind.
relations, and flattered by the company, and his medal had
so often to be exhibited, that it needed much that in himself
he did not possess, to guard him from falling into the error
of imagining himself to be already perfect.
It was settled that there was to be a féte on the 27th,
which some of my readers may remember was Louis’ birth-
day ; and Sir George, anxious to efface from his grandson’s
memory any painful reminiscences of the last, arranged the
order of things much in the same manner, taking care that
Louis’ protegés, the school-children, should not be for-
gotten.
This news had just been communicated to Louis by his
grandfather, with many expressions of commendation, and
he was in a state of complacent self-gratulation, that feel-
ing which would have led him to say, “ By the strength of
my hand I have done this ;†instead of, “ My strength will
I ascribe unto the Lord,†when a kind, soft hand, glittering
with rings, was laid upon his arm, and the pleasant voice
of his old friend Mrs. Paget greeted him.
“So, Master Louis, we are to have a féte, I hear. Are
you really fourteen on the 27th? Come and sit down and
tell me in about your school. I knew you would soon be
a favorite. What’s all this long story that everybody talks
of and nobody knows? I said I would ask you, the most
proper person to know it; and I know you will tell me the
secret.â€
“Jt is no secret, ma’am,†said Louis; “I would rather
not talk of it.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 141
“ Just like your own modest little self: and it might not
be kind to tell every one all the story, perhaps; but with
an old friend like me, you know you are safe.â€
“But, ma’am, you might forget when every one is
talkingщۉ۪
Louis stopped and colored, for he thought it seemed
rather conceited to imagine every one must be talking of
him, and he corrected himself,
“ At least, dear Mrs. Paget, I had much rather not, I
mean.†|
“You are a dear, kind little boy,†said the injudicious
lady ; “I know very well you are afraid of committing that
naughty school-fellow of yours. I can’t understand about
the keys—I heard your brother saying something about
them—what keys? Were they the keys of the boy’s
desks ?â€
Louis could hardly help laughing—“ No, ma’am, Ken-
rick’s keys,â€
“ And who is Kenrick—one of the masters ?â€
“It is a book, ma’am—a key to the Greek exercises.â€
“Oh, I see—a sort of translation—well, he stole this
from Dr. Wilkinson, and said you’d done it?â€
“ No, not that,†replied Louis. “He took it out of the
study. Some of the boys were in the habit of using the
keys when they could.†an
“Well, there was nothing so very terrible in it, poor
fellows. I dare say the lessons are very hard. I think
every boy ought to have an English translation of those
frightful Latin and Greek books.â€
Louis opened his eyes and quietly said—
“We think it very dishonorable and unfair, ma’am.â€
142 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS ¢
« Well, if I understood all about it, I might too, I dare
say. I only see a little bit, but of course you know the
rules and all the rest,—well, was that all?â€
«No, ma’am,†said Louis, uneasily.
« He said you had taken it, I dare say ?â€
«Something like it,†replied Louis. ‘He slipped it
among my books to hide it, ma’am, but not intending to do
me any harm; and when it was found he was afraid to
speak the truth.â€
« And so you bore the blame—and did you not try to
clear yourself ?â€
«To be sure, ma’am; but he was older and better known
than I was, and so he was believed.â€
« And you couldn’t help yourself? I thought you bore
it out of kindness to him.â€
« Afterwards I found it out, ma’am. I found that Alfred
Hamilton knew something about it.â€
“« Who is Alfred Hamilton?†asked Mrs. Paget.
« A little boy, ma’am, at school.â€
« And he found it out—and didn’t he tell of it ?â€â€
“did not wish him,†replied Louis, with less reserve.
“Tt would have been very unkind to poor Ferrers ; he
would have been expelled. Alfred was going to tell, but
you would not have wished him to do it, I am sure.â€
Ah Igguis, Louis! anxiety for Ferrers’ reputation was
quite lost in the selfish desire of admiration. Mrs. Paget
put her arm round him, and her kindly eyes nearly over-
flowed with affectionate emotion, for she, poor lady, could
only see the surface ; the inward workings of the little
vain heart were hid from her, or she would have been sur-
prised to find under the appearance of sweetness and
©
A STORY FOR BOYS. 143
humility, Louis was only thinking of seeming lovely and
amiable in her eyes,
“No, my darling, I know you could not do any thing
unkind—you are a sweet, dear creature, and I am sure I
love you; and so this Master Ferrers never spoke the truth,
and you bore the blame ?â€
“He did at last, ma’am, at the end of the half-year :
but it was not very long to bear it, only five weeks.â€
“Only! I wonder you could have done it for so long ;
Ferrers, that was the name, was it ?â€
“If you please, don’t mention it,†exclaimed Louis, with
unaffected earnestness ; “I did not mean to say his name.
Please, dear Mrs. Paget, do not mention it. He is so very
sorry, and confessed all so handsomely—I think you would
like him if you knew all about him, for he is not so bad as
others make him out to be.â€
Mrs. Paget had only time to give him a kind of half
promise, when she was called away ; and Louis, left to him-
self, became aware of the vanity his foolish heart had per-
suaded him was Christian kindness. His enjoyment was
destroyed that evening, for he was full of anxiety lest Mrs.
Paget should talk of the matter, and he wandered restlessly
about the rooms, longing for an opportunity of speaking a
kind word for Ferrers, wishing vainly that what he had
said could be undone. He felt more than ever the neces-
sity of keeping a watch over his heart and: tongue, and
almost inclined to despair of ever overcoming the many
stumbling-blocks in the way of attaining to holiness. Thus,
little by little, is the evil of our hearts disclosed to us, and
the longer the true Christian lives, the less he finds to be
satisfied with in himself; not that he is further removed
144 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
from holiness, but he has more sight given him to know
what he really is by nature—and the nearer he arrives to
the perfect day, the greater is the light to disclose his own
deformities, and the exceeding loveliness of the righteous-
ness he possesses in Jesus his Lord.
Louis, in common with the young visitors at Heronhurst,
thought often and expectantly of his birthday—and when
the morning at last arrived, he awoke much earlier than
usual, with a strong sensation of some great happiness.
The light on the blind of his window was not bright, nor
promising brightness—and when he jumped up and ran
to examine the day, expressing to his brother his hope
that the weather was propitious, he found to his dis-
may that the rain was pouring in torrents, and the dull un-
broken clouds gave but little promise of a change in the
prospect.
“Oh! Reginald, it’s raining, raining hard.â€
“How very provoking!†cried Reginald. ‘Let me see
there is not much hope neither—how exceedingly tire-
some—there’s an end to our fun—who’'d have thought it—
how vERY—’’
“Hush!†said poor Louis, who was very much disap-
pointed, “it is not right to say tiresome when it pleases God
that the weather shall not suit us.â€
“J can’t help it,†said Reginald.
«1 dare say we shall be very happy. 1 am most sorry
about the school-children.†i
“J don’t care a fig about them,†said Reginald, impa-
tiently ; “there’s that cricket match, and all.â€
« What, not the poor little things, Reginald? just think
how they have been expecting this day—it is quite an event
A STORY FOR BOYs. 145
for them, and we have so many pleasures: I dare say you
will have the cricket the first fine day.â€
Reginald felt rather ashamed, and yet unwilling to ac-
knowledge himself in the wrong; therefore he satisfied
himself with remarking, that Louis did not like cricket, and
he didn’t care about the children, and there was no dif-
ference.
Louis’ attention was at that moment attracted by some-
thing on the table. “Oh! here is something for me, Reg-
inald !—A beautiful new Bible from dear papa and mamma
—and a church service from grandmamma, and what’s this ?
—‘The Lady of the Manor’ from uncle and aunt Clarence ;
how kind, look Reginald! and here’s another—a beautiful
little red and gold book, ‘Mrs. Rowe’s Poems,’ the book I
am so fond of—from you: oh! thank you, dear Reginald.â€
‘And many happy returns of the day, dear Louis,†said
Reginald, who had by this time completely recovered his
ordinary good-humor.
At the foot of the stairs, when he descended, Louis met
some of the young party, who hardly waited to offer the
compliments of the day before they loudly expressed the
disappointment felt by each at the unfavorable weather.
“ Raining, raining—nothing but splashing and dark clouds—
so tiresome, so disappointing—we shall be obliged to stay
in-doors,†sounded round him in different keys as they
marched in close phalanx to the breakfast-room, where
they found Bessie Vernon, a little girl of seven years old,
kneeling on a chair at the window, singing, in the most
doleful accents,
“ Rain, rain, go to Spain,
And mind you don’t come back again.â€
13
146 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
«“ Good morning, Bessie,†said Louis.
«Oh! Louis, many happy returns. I haven't got a
present for you, because I hadn’t money enough.â€
«« Never mind,†said Louis; “1 would rather have your
love and kisses than any present.â€
« And I will give you many, many kisses,†cried the
little girl, fulfilling her promise in good earnest.
“ My love and a kiss,†said her brother; “that’s what
Bessie always sends at the end of her letters: isn’t it,
Bessie, J send you my love and a kiss ?â€
“«« Well, I mean it,†said Bessie, “ and you needn’t laugh.
I wonder what we shall do to-day—dear me—I think,
though, there’s a little lighter bit of sky over the oak.â€â€™
« Let me see—where are my spectacles ?â€â€™ said Frank.
«Not much hope, I fear,†said Sir George’s hearty voice
behind her. “Not much hope, Bessie. What an array of
long faces. How do you do? Good morning, ladies and
gentlemen, I hope I see you in health and spirits. A happy
birthday, and many of them to you, my boy; the rain does
not appear to have damped you so much as some of your
play-fellows—well, Miss Bessie ?â€
e“ Grandpapa, grandpapa! what shall we do? you must
find some pleasure for us,†cried Bessie, clinging round her
grandfather’s knees, and looking up very beseechingly in
the kind face so far above her.
« Ah, well—we'll see, we'll see—now let me go to break-
fast; when that important business is dispatched, and
grandmamma makes her appearance, we will find some-
thing to do.†|
Fortified with this promise, an excellent breakfast was
eaten by the martyrs to disappointment, and then, after
A STORY FOR BOYS. 147
some consultation, it was decided that the band should be
in attendance in the hall, and a messenger should be sent
forthwith to command the attendance of the school-chil-
dren at a banquet in the same place, and Lady Vernon was
of opinion that with charades, a magic lantern, bagatelle,
tivoli, and dolls, a very merry morning might be spent.
The young people then dispersed in search of their own
peculiar amusements. Some of the young men went into
the billiard-room, and a few chess parties were formed.
Some began to act charades for the edification of such
amfiong the elders as would choose to make an audience.
A still larger party adjourned to the school-room to play
at houses with their dolls, and two tables were soon spread
with ground plans of three magnificent establishments for
paper ladies and gentlemen, by three young ladies between ~
the ages of twelve and eight, assisted by Mr. Frank Digby.
At one o’clock they went to the hall, where the band
was playing a merry air. Here a long table was spread,
well covered with a nice plain dinner, and the school-chil-
dren came two-and-two into the hall, just after the visitors
had arrived.
When all were seated, the girls at the upper, and the
boys at the lower end, Mr. Mortimer came forward and
said grace for them, and then the viands disappeared with
great rapidity. Some of the castle children, headed by
Louis, asked to be allowed to wait on them, and, the per-
mission being given, they made themselves very busy,
though it must be confessed that they were sometimes
sadly in the servants’ way. Sir George Vernon went round
the table very majestically, and now and then spoke a word
or two to one of the children—words which were treasured
148 LOUIS’ SOHOOL-DAYS :
up in their memories for many a long day, though they
meant little or nothing ; but it is so easy to create a pleasant
and grateful feeling.
Many of the spectators, including nearly all the gentle-
men, had left the hall very soon after the commencement
of the feast, and now a summons was given to the little
ones of the castle to their own dinner. Louis, not being
included in the little ones, went with the school-children
into a large empty room, and with the help of his father
and one or two others, exerted himself successfully for their
entertainment, until his friends joined them, and, the rogm
being darkened, the magic lantern was displayed. The
humble little guests then, being supplied each with a cake
and some fruit, returned to their homes, quite delighted
with the pleasures of the day.
Frank and the three young ladies enjoyed an hour’s
amusement during the late dinner; for the good-natured
youth had yielded to the pressing invitation of the merry
little party, and dined with them at two, to their great sat-
isfaction, notwithstanding the declaration of some, that he
was “a great tease.â€
The great dinner was much earlier than usual, to allow
of the ball, which began at seven o’clock for the convenience
of the younger ones, and was continued until eleven, at
which time, though he had been very happy, Louis was
very tired, and could not help thinking, that, after all, a
whole day of pleasure-seeking in this manner, was very
fatiguing and unsatisfying. He could hardly keep his eyes
open, when Mrs. Paget seized him, and after a few compli-
ments on his dancing, insisted upon hearing him sing
“ Where the bee sucks.â€
lh
A STORY FOR BOYs. 149
Louis complied as well as he was able, and though his
sleepiness robbed his song of some power, its sweetness
not only satisfied the flattering lady, but a more unscrupu-
lous auditor who stood behind him in the person of his
grandfather.
“ Your mother taught you to sing, Louis?†said he.
“Miss Spencer taught me,†replied Louis.
“The mechanism, perhaps, but it’s your mother’s teach-
ing. The taste, madam,†said Sir George, turning to Mrs.
Paget. .
®< Both Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer are first-rate amateurs,â€
said Mrs. Paget.
“Mrs. Mortimer has great talent,†replied Sir George ;
“and she has done something with this boy. I suppose
you are very fond of music, Louis ?â€
Louis answered in the affirmative, and Sir George added—
“T shall give you a treat. You shall go on Sunday to
A. , and hear the singing at the church there. The lit-
tle boys sing very sweetly. Have you heard them ma’am ?â€
“No, I never have.â€
“Then I think it would be a wise step to pay a visit
there during divine service next Sunday. The church is
worth looking at,—a good specimen of the early English
style of architecture. We can make up a little party to go,
if you would like it.â€
Mrs. Paget expressed her entire ap piaecinn of the
scheme, and Louis, too sleepy to think much of it, wished
her and Sir George good night, and went to bed.
The next day, the rain continuing, in the morning Louis
enjoyed The Lady of the Manor in his ownroom. He was
still much excited by the yesterday's pleasure, and felt un-
13
150 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
settled, and disinclined to employ himself steadily with any
thing. In the afternoon, as the weather was fine, his
mother insisted on his taking a walk, and Reginald and
Vernon Digby accompanied him. They had a great scram-
ble through the hilly district that surrounded Heronhurst,
and merrily the talk (we will not dignify it by the name of
conversation) continued. As they re-entered the grounds
it fell upon the scheme of visiting the church, and during
the light and common-place discussion that ensued, it struck
Louis that there might be something wrong in the plan.
He became very silent, and when he reached his room,
quietly thought over the matter, and came to the conclu-
sion that, though they intended going to church, yet the
motives that induced their doing so were not to the glory
of God, and that to employ servants for such an end, on
God’s holy day, was certainly wrong. This was his first
impression ; and when he next saw Reginald, he told him
what he had been thinking of.
« Well, but Louis, you know it won’t make any difference
whether we go or not, and so we shan’t engage the servants.
I don’t see why, because you like nice singing, you should
go to the chapel where they screech so abominably.â€
Louis was silent, for he hardly liked to oppose his reasons
to Reginald’s blunt speech, and Reginald, dismissing the
subject from his mind, began to talk of something else.
He ran on very volubly for a little while, without receiving
any interruption from his brother, and, looking at him, he
saw very plainly that Louis was not paying the slightest
attention to him.
«What is the matter, Louis? How dull you are!â€
«‘ Nothing,†replied Louis.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 151
‘‘ Nothing ?†repeated Reginald ; “ Something, you ought
to say. I know you are making yourself miserable about
this church-going, and what need i is there? We are going
to church, and’we can’t prevent the carriage going. If it
were on purpose for us it would be different.â€
«But there will be a great deal of nonsense, I know,â€
suid Louis, uneasily. ‘It seems very much like going to
a show place. JI hope I shall be able to ask mamma
about it.â€
« As to nonsense,†replied Reginald, “ when do we have
any thing else here ?—you can’t make Dashwood of Heron-
hurst, and I think if you go to hear such beautiful singing, it
is more likely to put good thoughts into your head than
those lovely singers here; and then, Mr. Perrott is quite a
famous man ; everybody likes him better than Mr. Burton—
you are too scrupulous, Louis. I think, sometimes, you
are guilty of over-conscientiousness.â€â€™
Before Louis could reply, some of their young friends
entered the room, and one thing followed another so quickly
that Louis had no time to think clearly on the subject till
he went to bed; but when all was silent and nothing in-
terfered with his thoughts, his anxious mind ran over all
that had passed, and turn it which way he would, it still
seemed wrong. What with this feeling, and the fear of
making his grandfather angry, Louis felt very uncomfort-
able ; and then came Reginald’s sophistry, and Louis
almost argued himself into the belief that his brother was
right and he too scrupulous: and when he tried to pray
for direction he did not feel sincere, for he was conscious
of a wish to go to the church, and a great dread of offend-
ing his grandfather. After some hours’ restless considera-
152 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
tion, he dropped asleep, having made up his mind to con-
sult his father and mother, and to abide by their counsel.
The next day, however, he had no opportunity of speaking
to them alone, and Saturday night found him as miserably
undecided as before. ‘Oh dear, if there were any one I
could ask!†There was One, and though aid was feebly
asked, it was granted; and with much fear and anxiety,
Louis declined accompanying the party to A church
the next morning.
Vernon stared, and Reginald tried in vain to persuade
him to alter his mind,—but he stood firm, and turning
away from them, afraid to trust himself, stayed up stairs
till the castle chapel bells began to ring, and then hastened
down with a happy, free, and light heart, to join his
mother. |
« Hey-day, Louis!†exclaimed his grandfather ; “I thought
you were off long ago. You're too late: the carriage has
been gone this hour. What’s the meaning of these late
hours, sir?â€
‘I was up quite early, grandfather,†said Louis.
“Then how was it you let them go without you?â€
“Because I had rather not go, sir,†said Louis, with a
heightened color.
« And pray why could you not say so sooner ?—you are
the most uncertain fellow ;—not the smallest dependence
ever to be placed upon you. Do you know your own
mind, Mr. Louis ?â€
“Not always at first,†replied Louis, in a low tone.
«Hold up your head and speak out. And pray why has
your weather-cock mind changed? What new wind has
blown you round now, eh?â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 153
“ It’s Sunday, grandpapa,†said Louis, looking up at his
mother with a distressed face. |
“Well! Isthe boy moon-struck? < J?’s Sunday, grand-
papa.’ Don’t you suppose I know that ?â€
“I didn’t think it was quite right, sir, to go to A
church when we had one so near us.â€
“Just as you please,†said Sir George, contemptuously—
“just as you please, Master Louis; only do not expect me
to plan any thing for your pleasure again.â€
“I am very much obliged, grandpapa—you don’t under-
stand me.â€
“ Oh, we understand each other very well, sir,†said his
grandfather, turning off very haughtily.
As he passed Mr. Mortimer he said,
“This comes of molly-coddling that boy at home; you'll
make a Methodist of him.â€
What answer Mr. Mortimer made, Louis could not hear,
and the next moment they all went into the chapel.
Many contemptuous smiles were exchanged among those
of the visitors who heard the colloquy, but Louis was com-
forted by an approving smile from his parents, and from
the sweet consciousness of having done what was right.
The service was very sweet to him, and the lightness of his
heart made even the inferior singing very pleasant, and he
gained something from “tedious Mr. Burton’s†sermon:
so much depends on the frame of mind. Our Saviour has
enjoined us to take heed how we hear.
Louis had a very pleasant stroll in the park with his
father after service, and when he entered the house with
.2 happy quiet mind, he contrasted his feelings with those
he should have had, had he been one of the giddy party
154 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
at that time returning from A , and joyfully thanked
his heavenly Father for keeping him from dishonoring His
holy day in “seeking his own pleasure†on it.
The following Thursday evening Mr. Mortimer’s carriage
was seen coming along the road leading to Dashwood, and
at each window was a very joyful face noting all the familiar
objects around ; and as the horses dashed round a corner
under a short grove of limes, the tongues belonging to the
two began to move with astonishing rapidity.
“ Here’s Dashwood!†cried one.
«“'There’s the river,†exclaimed the other.
« The Priory chimneys,†shouted the first.
«The Grange, Reginald,†cried the second.
« And Bessie Gordon in the garden,—she sees us,†cried
Reginald, who had changed sides for a second. “ Ann
White’s cottage, Louis—I saw the old picture of Lazarus
large as ever—and the sheep—and I smell hay. Look,
there’s a hay-field, and Johnson with the hay-makers !
Hillo, Johnson! He sees me.â€
«The bells, papa! The bells, mamma!†exclaimed
Louis—‘“ Oh, it’s home, dear, sweet home! ‘The bells are
ringing because you are come home, papa; and look, there
are all the people coming out of the cottages—how glad
they seem to be!†| .
« Louis, Louis, here we go ? shouted Reginald, as the
carriage swept down a lane arched over with green
boughs.
Presently they came to the lodge gate; but not a mo-
ment had they to wait; it was wide open, and they could
scarcely exchange marks of recognition with the gate-
neater
A STORY FOR BOYS. 155
keeper and family, when they were out of sight in the long
winding carriage road that led through the park.
“Welcome, welcome—home! The dear, dear old Priory,â€
said Louis, with increasing enthusiasm.
“Take care you are not out on the grass, Louis,†said
his mother, seizing his arm.
“Here we are!†cried Reginald. “And there’s Mary,
the little pussy, and sober Neville, looking out of his wits,
fora wonder. Here we are!â€
156 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
CHAPTER XII.
“ Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.â€â€”
Eccles. ix. 10.
“ Watch and pray.â€â€”Matt. xxvi. 41.
“The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through
God to the pulling down of strongholds; casting down imagina-
tions, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the know-
ledge of God.â€â€”2 Cor. x. 4, 5.
« Aq! Louis, this is home,†exclaimed Reginald, as, after
the embraces in the hall, they entered the pleasant drawing-
room. It was home, home with all its sweet associations
and dear beings; and, in a few minutes, Reginald and Louis
had run all over the house for the pleasure of seeing ‘“ the
dear old places ;†had shaken hands with the old servants,
given nurse a kiss, and, having finished by wakening Freddy
from his first sleep, returned to the drawing-room, where tea
was ready. It was a very pleasant tea that night. Every
one had so much to say, and there was so much innocent
mirth—all agreed it was worth while going away from
home, for the pleasure of returning. Gradually the broad
yellow light faded from the wall, table, carpet, and window ;
and, the gray twilight usurping its place, little Mary was
obliged to leave her seat on her father’s knee, and with
many kisses was marshalled up stairs by nurse and Neville.
A STORY FOR BOYS. i
When Neville returned, the happy party sat round the
open window watching the bright stars in their trembling
beauty, and the half-moon rise over the dark trees, whiten-
ing their tops, silvering the water, and casting the deep
shadows into deeper darkness. There was something in
the still beauty that hushed the speakers, and at last only
a low remark was now and then made, until Louis asked
his mother to walk out into the garden. Mrs. Mortimer at
first pleaded the heavy dews as an excuse, but the request
was so urgently pressed by Reginald and Neville, and a large
shawl and pair of clogs being procured, they sallied forth,
Neville and his father first, then Reginald and Miss Spencer,
and lastly, to his great satisfaction, Louis and his mother.
“JT am so fond of moonlight, mamma,†said Louis.
‘“‘T think most people are,†replied his mother.
“IT wonder what is the reason that moonlight is so much
sweeter than sunlight,†said Louis.
“ Do you like it better ?†said his mother.
“T don’t know that I like it better,†replied Louis ; “ but
it always seems so quiet and soothing. I always liked
moonlight when I was a eeey little boy—but I thought
very differently about it then.â€
“How so?†asked his mother.
“Oh! mamma, I thought it was very beautiful, and I
felt a strange sort of feeling come into my mind—a sort of
sad happiness: and sometimes I thought of fairies dancing
in the moonlight ; and when I grew older, I used to think
a great deal of nonsense, or try to make poetry, and I called
the moon ‘ Diana,’ and ‘ queen of night’—and imagined a
great deal that I hardly like to tell you, about lovers walk-
ing in moonlight.â€
14
158 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
“ And your feelings are quite changed now ?†asked his
mother.
“Oh, yes! quite, mamma, it only seems more soothing,
because I feel as if I were alone with God. Does it not
seem to you, mamma, as if we see something of heaven
in these lovely nights? I often wonder whether the bright
stars are the many mansions our Saviour speaks of. Oh!
mamma, what an immense thought it is to think of all
these bright worlds constantly moving—either suns them-
selves with their planets revolving in ceaseless circles, or
else themselves going round some bright sun!â€
« And, perhaps,†added his mother, “that bright sun
carrying all its attendant worlds round some larger and
brighter sun, whose distance is too great to be calculated.
By the aid of powerful telescopes may be seen in the ex-
tremity of our firmament, appearances which those who
have devoted themselves to this glorious science have de-
cided are other firmaments, each one containing its count-
less systems. Oh! Louis, God is infinite—what if these
wondrous creations have no limit, but circle beyond circle
spread out to all eternity! We may see the infinity of
our Maker in the smallest leaf. There is nothing lost.
What we destroy does but change its form.â€
“Mamma, I once remember cutting a bit of paper into
halves—that is to say, I first cut it into halves, and then
cut one half into halves and so on, till my scissors would
not divide the little bit. I was very idle that day, but
I remember thinking that if I could get a pair of scis-
sors small enough I could cut that speck up forever—and
even if there only happened to be a grain left, I could not
make that nothing.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 159
Louis paused ; he was lost in thoughts of wonders that
human imagination cannot grasp: the immensity and mys-
tery of the Almighty’s works. Presently he added, “I
cannot imagine it, mamma, my mind seems lost when I try
to think of forever. But there is a little hymn you used
to teach me that I cannot help thinking of—I often think.
of it—it was the first I ever learned :
‘’T was God, my child, that made them all
By His almighty skill;
He keeps them that they do not fall,
And rules them by His will.
How very great that God must be
Hymns FoR InranT MINDs.
! »â€
“Do you remember learning that hymn?†said his mother,
“T should have thought it had been too long ago.â€
“Oh, no, mamma. I remember once very distinctly,
you had drawn up the blind that I might look at the stars,
and you leaned over my crib, and taught me that verse.
Mamma, even when I did not love God, I used to like to
hear you tell me Bible stories and hymns sometimes, but I
did not think much of them after they were over ; but now,
almost every thing reminds me of something in the Bible ;
or seems a type or a _— of some of our heavenly
Father’s dealings with us.’
“ That is what the Apostle says,’ replied Mrs. Mortimer:
«««'The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty,
through God, to the pulling down of strongholds; casting
down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself
against the knowledge of God; and bringing into captivity
every thought to the obedience of Christ.’ Your imagi-
nations before were not according to the will of God; you
160 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
never saw any thing lovely in Him, but now He has become
‘altogether lovely’ in your eyes ; every imagination that is
contrary to His will is subdued, and all brought into obe-
dience to Him. And are you not far happier ?â€
“Indeed I am; oh, how much more happy !†said Louis:
“but, dear mamma, I do not wish you to think that I am
always so happy, because that would not be true. Very
often, I seem almost to forget that I am a child of God,
and then, nothing awakens those happy feelings.†°
“I do not suppose you are always so happy, my dear
boy. It is too often the case with Christians, that instead
of drawing their pleasures from the fountain of life, they
imagine that they can make cisterns of their own; they
look to the comforts around them, to the friends God has
given them, for satisfaction; and numberless other things
have a tendency to draw their minds from their heavenly
Father, which must inevitably destroy their peace of mind.
But how sad it should ever be so! we have only ourselves
to blame that we are not always happy. A Christian
should be the most joyous creature that breathes.â€
“ Dear mamma, how many pleasant conversations I have
had with you!†said Louis, affectionately kissing his mother’s
hand, as it lay on his arm. “They have been some of my
sweetest hours. It makes me so happy to talk of God’s
love to me.â€â€™
« An inexhaustible subject,†said his mother: ‘‘ ‘Then they
that feared the Lord, spake often one to another; and the
Lord hearkened and heard it; and a book of remembrance
was written before Him, for them that feared the Lord,
and.thought upon his name. And they shall be mine, saith
the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels.’
A STORY FOR BOYS. 161
“Our favorite poet has expressed your feelings very
beautifully :
‘Oh, days of heaven, and nights of equal praise,
Serene and peaceful as those heavenly days
When souls drawn upward, in communion sweet
Enjoy the stillness of some close retreat ;
Discourse, as if released and safe at home,
Of dangers past and wonders yet to come ;
And spread the sacred treasures of the breast
Upon the lap of covenanted rest.’ â€
CowreEr’s ‘‘ Conversation.â€â€™
“Come, I think I must order you in,†said Mr. Mor-
timer, who came up with the others, just as these lines
were finished. ‘“'These nocturnal perambulations will not
improve your health, my love; and it is past prayer-time
already. What a sweet night!â€
“Tam afraid I have been a little imprudent, but it was
a temptation when the dear boys pressed me so earnestly ;
our first night at home too, after so long a separation.â€
‘“‘Mamma’s very carefully wrapped up,†said Neville.
“ And it’s so deliciously warm,†said Reginald.
“Well, let us not increase the evil,†said Mr. Mortimer.
They presently re-entered the drawing-room, and the
servants being summoned, Mr. Mortimer read prayers, and
the boys went to bed.
The weather being generally wet for hi next fortnight,
all the in-door resources were drawn upon by the young
people of the Priory, and time seldom hung heavily on
their hands. I do not mean to say that there was never a
moment wasted ; on the contrary, Louis had many lazy fits.
It must be allowed that in holiday time, when no one is
14*
162 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
expected to do much regularly, there are great temptations
to be idle, and beys are apt to forget that it is not particu-
larly for parents and teachers’ good that they are exhorted
to make the most of their time.
Louis’ father and mother gave him many gentle reminders
of his failing, and many were the struggles which he had
with his dreamy indolence. Sometimes, when in accord-
ance with a plan laid down by his mother’s advice, he sat
down to study for a stated time, he would open the bgok,
and, after leaning over it for half ‘an hour, find that he had
built himself a nice little parsonage and school, and estab-
lished himself a most laborious and useful minister in the
prettiest of villages. At other times he was a missionary,
or an eminent writer, and occasionally a member of Parlia-
ment. ‘Then, at other times, he must draw the plan of a
cottage or church, or put down a few verses; and some-
times, when he heard the clock strike the hour that sum-
moned him to his studies, he had some excessively inter-
esting story to finish, or very much preferred some other
occupation.
« Now, Louis, my dear, there is ten o’clock.â€
«Yes, mamma, I will go directly.â€
“Directly,†in some persons’ vocabulary, being an am-
biguous term, another quarter of an hour saw Louis in the
same place, quite absorbed.
‘‘ Louis, Louis!â€
‘Yes, mamma.†And Louis got up, book and all, and
walked across the room, reading all the way. After knock-
ing his head against the door, and walking into the library
instead of into the school-reom, he at last found himself
at the table where his writin ftdesk stood, without any fur-
y
A STORY FOR BOYS. 163
ther excuse, but there he stood for a minute or two read-
ing, and then, still continuing, felt for hisekey, and slipped
it along the front of his desk for some time in the most
absent and fruitlessjmanner. Being obliged, at length, to
lay aside the book, he unlocked the desk, and opening it,
laid the dear volume thereon, and read while he carried
his desk to another table. Then a few books were fetched
in the same dawdling way, Louis all the while persuading
himself—foolish boy—that he was merely occupying the
time of walking across the room in reading. A few min-
utes more, and a chair was dragged along, and Louis seated.
Then he reluctantly laid his book down open beside him
and commenced. It would be tiresome to say how often
when the dictionary or something else had to be referred
to, a half page or more of the story was read, and to re-
mark how equally Louis enjoyed his amusement and pro-
fited by his study. He was finally overwhelmed with
confusion when his father, entering the room, came and
looked over his shoulder, making some remark on the
economy of time exhibited in thus ingeniously blending
together his work and play without profiting by either.
‘But ,indeed, papa, I don’t know how it is; I made up
my mind to be very industrious, and I was very steady
yesterday.â€
“You put me in mind of a story of a man who made a
vow to abstain from frequenting beer-shops, and who, on
the first day of his resolution, passed several successively,
until he came to the last that lay on his way home, when
he stopped and exclaimed, ‘ Well done, Resolution! I'll
treat you for this,’ and walked in.â€
“Oh, papa!†exclaimed Louis, laughing.
164 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
“Don’t you think this looks very much like treating
resolution ?†said his father, taking up the open book.
“T can’t tell how it is, papa,†said Louis, looking ashamed.
“T assure you I did not mean to waste time; Icannot help
being interested in stories, and unless I leave off reading
them altogether, I don’t know what to do.â€
«As reading stories is not a duty,†said his father, “I
would certainly advise your leaving off reading them if
they interfere with what is so clearly one; but do you not
think there is any way of arranging your affairs so as to
prevent a harmless recreation from doing this ?â€
“T can’t depend upon myself, papa. If it were Regi-
nald, he could throw his book down directly, and do at
once what he ought, and so would Neville, but it is quite a
trouble to me sometimes even to bring my thoughts to
bear upon dry studies, particularly mathematics, which
[ hate.â€
“‘T allow there is some difference of constitution ; Regi-
nald is not so fond of reading as you are, and has naturally
more power of turning his attention from one subject to
another; but this power may be acquired, and if you grow
up with this inclination to attend only to those things for
which you take fancies and fits, you will not be a very use-
ful member of society ; for it must always be remembered
that consistency is essential to a useful character, and that
without it, though many may love, few will respect you.â€
“‘T wish I could be like Neville; he is like a clock, and
never lets any one thing interfere with another, and he
always has time for all he wants to do, and is never ina
hurry. and flurry as I am; I think he has nothing to —
gle with.â€
¢
A STORY FOR BOYS. 165
“Indeed, my dear Louis, he has. Neville has as many
faults as the generality of boys, but you must not forget
how much longer he has begun the good fight than your-
self; and the earlier we begin to struggle against the cor-
ruptions of our nature, the easier the task is; but, Louis,
instead of wishing yourself like Neville, or any one else,
think how you may approach most nearly to the high
standard of excellence which is placed before us all.â€â€™
“ But, father, how can 1? What must I do?†sighed
Louis. ‘You cannot tell how difficult it is to keep good
resolutions. I fear I shall never be any better.â€
“What is the grace of God, my boy ?†said Mr. Mor-
timer, laying his hand on Louis’ shoulder; “ tell me, what
is the grace of God ?†.
“‘God’s favor and help,†replied Louis.
«« And to whom is this promised ?â€â€™
“To all who will ask for it, father.â€
« And will you say you can do nothing? Oh, my dear
son! God is a God of all grace, and can give to each of us
what we need for every emergency. Without Him, we can,
indeed, do nothing, but with Him we may do all things ;
and blessed be His name for this unspeakable gift by which
He works in man a gradual restoration to more than his
primeval condition. Called with a holy calling, my boy,
seek to glorify God in every little affair of life; take your
religion into these unpleasant studies, and you will find
them pleasures.â€
« But, father, there is one thing I want to say. Often
when I pray, I do not seem able to do things that I wish
and ought.â€
“ There may be two reasons for that,†replied his father.
166 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
«The first, that you are not sutticiently in earnest in your
petitions ; and next, that you imagine that your prayers
are to do all, without any exertion on your part—that the
mere fact of having asked the help of the Almighty will
insure you a supernatural ease and delight in performing
these duties, forgetting that, while we are in this world we
have to fight, to run steadily forward, not to sit still and
expect all to be smooth for us. We must show diligence
unto the end—we must watch as well as pray. You re-
member the parable of the withered hand ?â€
«“ Yes, father.â€
« And you remember that our Lord commanded the man
to stretch forth his hand. He might have pleaded that it
was powerless; but no, the Lord had given him power at
the moment he desired him to exert it ; and just so to every
Christian, God is a God of all grace, and will give to each
of us the peculiar grace we need ; but we must not lock
it up, and imagine it to be efficacious without exertion on
our part.â€
Louis was silent for some minutes. At length he turned
his face up to his father, and said—
“What would you advise me to do ?â€
« What do you think yourself would be best?†said his
father. ‘Think always after earnest prayer for divine
guidance, what seems right to do, what the Bible says,
and how it will be to the glory of your Saviour; then,
when you have made up your mind as to the rectitude of
any plan of action, let your movements be prompt and
decided, and do not leave the silly heart any room to sug-
gest its excuses and modifications. Your judgment may
sometimes err, but it is better for the judgment than the
A STORY FOR BOYS. 167
conscience to be in fault. Be assured that if you thus
acknowledge God in all your ways, He will direct your
paths.â€
Louis paused another moment, and said—
“Will you take that book, father, and not let me have it
any more to-day, as it has interfered sa much with my
study ; and I will try to be more industrious. I will finish
my Prometheus and Euclid, and the projection of my map,
and then, perhaps, I shall be ready for the reading.â€
Mr. Mortimer shook his head as he held up his watch
before his son’s eyes—
“Too late, Louis. The time is lost, and something must
_ be missed to-day.â€
“Then, papa, I will do my Greek, and go to the read-
ing, and then, instead of amusing myself after lunch, I will
do the other things—and please take that book away with
you.â€
‘T had rather leave it,†said Mr. Mortimer. “ You
must learn to act for yourself and by yourself. You do
not expect to be always a boy, and if these weaknesses are
not checked now, you will grow up a weak man, sadly de-
pendent upon external influences and circumstances. Put
the book out of your way by all means, but let it be your
own act. And now I will leave you to do your work, for
I see you have done very little, and that little very ill.â€
When his father had left the room, Louis put the book
on a shelf, and, turning his back to it, set himself to work
with earnest determination. He rewrote what he had done
so badly, took great pains with the new edition, and had
the satisfaction of receiving his father’s approval of his
work in the evening. After lunch his disagreeable Euclid
168 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
was completed, and the map finished, and Louis refrained
steadily from looking at the book for the rest of the day ;
nor did he, though sorely inclined, open it the next day
until he could do so with a safe conscience.
For the remainder of the holidays Louis adhered to his
resolution; but I do not mean to say he trusted on his own
resolution: that he had found, by painful experience, to be
a broken reed. In dependence upon an Almighty helper,
he steadily endeavored from day to day to perform what
was required of him in his station and circumstances, and
found his reward in peace of mind and -consciousness of
growing in grace.
A STORY FOR BOYS. . 169
CHAPTER XIIL
Ir 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 op-
posed 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 insti-
tuting an inquiry as to the probability: of the origin of this
repugasnes 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, not-
15
170 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
withstanding his great wish to the contrary; but now his,
principles were firmer, his father was of opinion that mix-
ing with a large party of boys was more calculated to sup-
ply 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 sa‘ely 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 “ Road-
side 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 wav-
ing 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-win-
A STORY FOR BOYS. 171
dow, and on the other, two thick sashes. The house, ex-
tending 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, how-
ever, 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
ae
172 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
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 dare.
say 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?†Regi-
nald replied that they would be most happy. The gentle-
man 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 be-
fore you reach the doctor’s. Come, my boy.â€
Charles had burst into a torrent of fresh tears, and sob-
bing 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.
“T shall be so glad when Chesstenan 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 hand-
&
A STORY FOR BOYS. 173
kerchief, 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 jour-
ney’s end, they had become very good friends.
Charles had informed Louis that his father was a clergy-
man, 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 aggpossible. Charles had evi-
dently 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
15*
174 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
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 ap-
pearance 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 bed-
time. _ 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 ?
5.
‘The finale to Digby’s speech. Page 11
A STORY FOR BOYS. 175
« Gentlemen and ladies,†began the merry-andrew; “T
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, gentle-
men, the opportunity of the eleventh demi-anniversary of
our delightful reunion. Gentlemen, | 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 en-
rolled a member of such an august corps. I may say I
feel myself elevated at this present moment, but as, gentle-
men, there is no saying, in the precarious situation I am
now placed, how long I may be in a position to contem-
plate 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 Diasy.â€
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
176 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
made an involuntary leap from his narrow pedestal, plung-
ing 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 unex-
pected 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.
“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 cer-
tainly would.â€
“ 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.â€
“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 [ll shake some of this nonsense out of you.â€
“ Do be rational, Frank,†said Hamilton’s voice from a
corner; “you are like a great baby.â€
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
A STORY FOR BOYS. 177
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 experi-
enced 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 ?9—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. ss
«He came with us, sir,†said Reginald, stepping for-
ward.
« Mortimer here!†said the doctor. “ How do you do?
and Louis, too, I presume—where is he? Iam very glad
178 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS
‘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. Wil-
kinson desired them to stay a moment—“I have one re-
quest 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.â€
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 in-
tently 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 tex-
ture of Louis’ jacket.
“‘ Hamilton.â€
“Sir,†replied Hamilton, reluctantly raising his eyes.
“TI 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 ?â€
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
A STORY FOR BOYS. , 179
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 apart-
ment.
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 pop-
ped his head out of bed :
“J 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 melan-
choly fact, that my golden pippins have fallen victims to
Gruffy’s rapacity.â€
«Oh, what a shame !†exclaimed one.
«« What’s that, Frank?†said Reginald.
« How did Gruffy get hold of them?†asked Meredith :
“az thought you were more than her match.â€
“ Why, the fact is, her olfactory nerves becoming strongly
excited, she insisted upon having a search, and after snuff-
ing about, she came near my hiding-plave, and found the
little black portmanteau :
«Upon my word, Mr. Digby,’ said she, ‘lam 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
180 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
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.â€
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.†| Bi
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 belong-
ing 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 satisfac-
tion than to that of the bell-man, that the books in the
library were what he wanted, when Reginald discovered |
them,—. e., the golden apples,—peeping from under his
pillow, and shook him violently. for his deceit.
“‘ Louis, Louis !—the bell, the bell.â€
He started up in great alarm, and discovered that he was
sitting on his bed at school, listening to the sonorous clang-
ing of the bell below.
Groans, shouts, and sleepy exclamations reverberated
A STORY FOR BOYS. 181
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 0â€
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.â€
“ Tt’s much better laid out with ‘ Maister,’ Frank,†sug-
gested Meredith.
« And then Fudge will be so black about it,†said Regi-
nald. ‘Come, up with you, Frank.â€
« As for Fudge,†said Frank, “ I wouldn’t give you two-
pence 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 ?â€
“ 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 acquaint-
ance 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 s§ dreadfully
16
182 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
amiable, except old Garthorpe, and he’s beneath all con-
sideration.â€
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 con-
sidered 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 examin-
ing 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 ?â€
Charles replied in the negative, and after another mo-
mentary sofutiny, Dr. Wilkinson asked a few concluding
A STORY FOR BOYS. 183
questions, and then unhesitatingly declared him a member
of the second class.
Louis had, this half-year, a far better chance of distin-
guishing 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.
184 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS *
CHAPTER XIV.
Tue first long dreary week had passed: quicker, how-
ever, in its peaceable monotony than many a gayer time
has been known to do, and the young gentlemen of Ash-
field House were beginning to settle down soberly and
rationally to their inevitable fate. Louis’ position was so
altered this half-year, that he hardly understood himself
the universal affection and consideration with which he was
treated. He was indubitably a favorite with the doctor, but
no one was jealous, for he bore his honors very meekly,
and was always willing to share his favors with others,
neither encroaching on nor abusing the kindness displayed
towards him by his master, who seemed, in common with
his pupils, to be exceedingly desirous of obliterating all
remembrance of the misunderstanding of the last half-year.
But the doctor’s affection was much more sparingly ex-
hibited than Hamilton’s, who seemed at times to forget
every thing for Louis. He was now made the companion
of the seniors—he had free admission into all their parties.
Hamilton seemed unable to walk into Bristol unless Louis
were allowed to accompany him. Louis’ place in the even-
ing was now by Hamilton, who did his utmost to make him
steady, and to prevent him from yielding the first place to
Clifton, who very soon proved himself to be a boy of con-
A STORY FOR BOYS. 185
siderable genius, united with much steadiness of purpose,
and who had, evidently, been very carefully educated.
One evening about this time, when most of the class-room
party were very busy, under the orderly supervision of
Messrs. Hamilton and Trevannion, the door was quietly
opened and Ferrers entered with that doubtful air that ex-
pected an unfavorable reception. When I speak of busi-
ness and quietude at Ashfield House it must, of course, be
understood as comparative, for the quietest evening in that
renowned academy would have furnished noise enough to
have distracted half the quiet parlors in the kingdom—and
on this particular evening there was quite enough to cover
the bashful entrance of the former bully. Hamilton was
writing, and doubly engaged in keeping Louis from listen-
ing to an interesting history, delivered by Salisbury, of a
new boy who had arrived that half-year from a neighbor-
ing school. The boy in question was a cunning dunce, who
had already discovered Louis’ failing, and having partaken
of the assistance Louis supplied as liberally as allowed, had
come more especially under the ken of the seniors, and
Hamilton had been administering a reproof to Louis for
helping Casson before getting his own lessons ready.
Ferrers had nearly reached the upper end of the table
before any one was aware of his vicinity, when Trevannion,
looking up from his writing to dip his pen anew in the ink,
caught sight of him, recognizing him so suddenly that even
his equanimity was almost surprised into a start. He
colored slightly, and coldly acknowledging his presence by
a stiff bow and a muttered “‘ How do you do,†returned to
his work, not, however, before his movement had attracted
the attention of one or two others. The intimation of his
16*
186 LOUIS’ SCIIOOL-DAYS }
presence was conveyed almost talismanically round the
room, and a silence ensued while the young gentlemen
looked at one another for an example. ‘These unfriendly
symptoms added considerably to Ferrers’ embarrassment.
Pale with anxicty, he affected to notice nothing, and looked
for a place at one ef the tables where he might lay the
books he had brought in with him. The silence, however,
had made Hamilton now very conscious of what, till this
moment, he had been in blissful ignorance—that his voice
was raised to nearly a shouting pitch to make his admo-
nitions sufficiently impressive to his protegé—and the so-
norous tones of his voice, delivering an emphatic oration on
weakness and perseverance contrasted, were so remarkable
that the attention was a little drawn from Ferrers by this
unusual phenomenon.
‘What a burst of eloquence!’ exclaimed Frank, who,
on the first sound of the kingly voice, had begun to atti-
tudinize; while Trevannion gazed on his friend with a quiet,
gentlemanly air of inquiry, that was not to be put out of
countenance by any circumstance how ludicrous soever,
‘His majesty’s in an oratorical vein to-night. Such a flow
of graceful language, earnest, mellifiluous persuasives drop-
ping like sugar-plums from his lips !â€â€™
“ Three cheers for his majesty’s speech,†cried Salisbury.
These comments were hailed by a hearty laugh, mingled
with clapping of hands, and an effort on the part of a few
to raise a cheer. Hamilton joined in the laugh, though he
had been so intent upon his lecture that at first he hardly
comprehended the joke.
“Your majesty’s been studying rhetoric since we had the
pleasure of a speech,†remarked Reginald, when a little
A STORY FOR Boys. 187
jull had succeeded to the uproarious mirth. “ Mercury
himself couldn’t have done better.â€
“ Considering that the speeches of Edward the Great
usually savor of Spartan brevity,†said Smith, “ we couldn’t
have hoped for such a masterpiece.â€
« You don’t understand his most gracious majesty,†said
Krank ; “depend upon it he’s a veritable cameleon.â€
At this juncture, Louis, whose eyes had a sad habit of
wandering when they should be otherwise employed, caught
sight of Ferrers, and, starting up, he welcomed him with
the utmost heartiness.
Hamilton looked round and colored furiously, but before
Ferrers had time to make any answers to Louis’ rapid ques-
tions, he rose, and, stepping forward, held out his hand—
“How are you, Ferrers?†he said, in a cheerful ‘tone,
“T neither saw nor heard you come in justnow. You have
not been here long, have you ?â€
Ferrers gripe Hamilton’s hand and looked in his face,
astonished and overcome with gratitude for this unexpected
welcome. ‘The silence of the few minutes before was re-
sumed, and every eye was riveted on Hamilton, who, per-
ceiving from the tight grasp on his hand and the crimsoned
countenance of Ferrers, his utter inability to speak, and
being anxious to remove the insupportable feeling of awk-
wardness under which he felt sure he labored, continued,
without waiting for an answer—
«You are very late this half. We have expected you
every day.â€
_ He then sat down and went on telling Ferrers about the
new-comers, and the present condition of the first class,
asking him some questions about his journey, and all so
188 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
quickly and cleverly as neither to appear forced, nor to
oblige Ferrers to speak more than he chose. While Hamil-
ton spoke he only now and then glanced at him from his
work, which he had apparently resumed as soon as he sat
down.
“His majesty’s taken Fudge’s hint,†said Frank, in a low,
discontented tone.
«“ Hamilton can, of course, do as he likes, but I won't,â€
said another, with a nod of determination. ‘“ We’re not
obliged to follow his lead.â€
«Trevannion won’t, you'll see,†muttered Peters.
“Be kind enough to lend me your lexicon, Salisbury,â€
said Trevannion, who had, since Hamilton’s notice of Fer-
rers, assumed an air of more than ordinary dignity, and
now reached across Ferrers for the book, as if there were
no one there. Ferrers made an effort to assist in the tran-
sition of the thick volume, but all his politeness obtained
was a haughty, cold stare, and a determined rejection of
assistance. Louis was sure that Hamilton observed this
action, from the expression of his face, but he made no re-
mark, and continued to talk to Ferrers a little longer, when
he laughingly pleaded his avocations as an excuse for being
silent ; but Louis was now disengaged, and Reginald had
happily followed Hamilton’s example, for though at first
inclined to be on Trevannion’s side, he could not help pity-
ing his evident distress, and, touched by the emotion he
exhibited, he exerted himself to smooth ali down. Had all
been as cold and repulsive as Trevannion and his advocates,
Ferrers would have been dogged and proud, but now the
sense of gratitude and humility was predominant, and at last
so overpowered him, that he was glad to get away in the
A STORY FOR BOYS. 189
play-ground by himself. As he closed the door, the buz
was resumed, and an attack was made on Hamilton by
those who had determinedly held back.
“Your royal clemency is most praiseworthy, most mag-
nanimous Edward,†said Frank Digby.
“ Worthy of you, #Hamilton,†said Trevannion, sneer-
ingly. “Ferrers is a fit companion and associate for gen-
tlemen.â€â€™
« My manners not bearing any comparison with yours,â€
replied Hamilton, coolly, “1 am not so chary of contami-
nation.â€
«That’s a hit at your slip just now, Trevannion,†said
Smith. “How could you commit such a what-do-you-call
it 2. gooch—gaucherie.â€
“You had better take lessons of the old woman over the
way,†said Salisbury ; “she only charges twopence extra
for them as learns manners.â€
« A good suggestion,†said ‘Trevannion, laughing ; “‘ will
you pay for me, Hamilton r:
« Willingly,†replied Hamilton, in a low, deep tone, “if,
on inquiry, I find her good manners are the result of good
feeling.†:
«JT am excessively indebted to you,†replied Trevannion,
coloring ;#‘‘ and. feel exceedingly honored by the solicitude
of Ferrers’ friend.†3 .
« Just as you choose to feel it, Trevannion,†said Hamil-
ton; “but I had better speak my mind, gentlemen,—I do
not think we have, as a body, remembered the doctor’s
injunction.â€
“How could we?†“Is it likely?†“No, indeed.â€
“T dare say!†“Very fine!†sounded on all sides.
190 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS8:!
“Hear me to the end,†said Hamilton; “I have not
much to say.â€
“Two speeches in one night
was such condescension.â€
Hamilton took no notice of the jeering remarks round
him, but having obtained a little silewi@e, continued—
“We have made enough of this business. It is cruel
now to carry it on further. I confess myself to have felt
as much repugnance as any one could feel, to renewing any
thing beyond the barest possible intercourse with Ferrers ;
but let us consider, first, that it becomes us, while we are
Dr. Wilkinson’s pupils, to pay some respect to his wishes,
whether they coincide with our feelings or not; and next,
whether it is charitable to shut a school-fellow out cf a
chance of reformation. Let us put ourselves in his place.â€
‘“‘ A very desirable position; rather too much for imagi-
nation,’ remarked Trevannion.
‘It is a miserable position,’ said Hamilton ; “ therefore
we should do well to endeavor to help him out of it. I
have no doubt if we had been once in so painful a situation,
we should not have considered ourselves as hopeless or
irremediable characters—nor is he; he is quite overcome
to-night because all have not been quite such savages as
he expected.â€â€™ ,
“As he would have been. He wouldn’t have been mer-
ciful!†exclaimed Meredith.
“ That’s nothing to the purpose,†said Hamilton. ‘We
have only to act rightly ourselves. Give him a chance.
If he forfeit it by a similar offence, I will not say another
word for him.â€
There was a dead silence when Hamilton had finished.
!??
said Jones. ‘“ Ne ever
A 8TORY FOR BOYS. 191
His appeal had the more effect, that he was usually too
indolent to trouble himself much about what did not imme-
diately concern him or his, but took all as he found it.
“ In giving what you eall a chance, Hamilton,†said
Trevannion, who alone, in the indecision evident, remained
entirely unmoved ; ayers what you call a chance, you
forget that we implicate ‘ourselves. As honorable individ-
uals, as gentlemen, we cannot admit to fellowship one who
has so degraded himself. To be ‘ hail-fellow-well-met’ with
him, were to lower ourselves. We do not prevent his im- -
proving himself. When he has done so, let us talk of re-
ceiving him among us again. In my opinion, Dr. Wilkin-
son’s allowing him to return is as much, and a great deal
more than he could expect.â€
« T shall say nothing more,†said Hamilton. “I do not
often make a request.â€
“] know what Louis would say,†said Salisbury, who
had been watching Louis’ earnest, gratified gaze on Hamil-
ton for the last few minutes; “I think we ought to be
guided by him in this matter.†.
“J! oh, I wish just what Hamilton has said—you know
I wished it long ago.†- 3
«‘ What Louis says shall be the law,†said Jones. «We
won’t refuse him any thing.â€
«Especially in this matter,†said Salisbury. “‘He’s a
brick, and so is his majesty, after all. My best endeavors
for your side, Louis.â€
« And mine,†said Jones.
“ll outwardly forgive the culprit, at any rate,†said
Frank. Several others expressed their desire to abide by
the same resolution; Hamilton looked his satisfaction, Tre-
192 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
vannion sulkily recommenced his work, and Louis stole out
of the room to find Casson, that he might finish telling him
his lesson, according to promise. When Dr. Wilkinson
arrived, he narrowly watched the manners of his pupils
towards Ferrers, and was satisfied with his scrutiny, though
he was, of course, unconscious of the means by which the
civility shown had been procured. It is to be hoped that
we have not gone so far in the delineation of Dr. Wilkin-
son’s school, without discovering that the spirit of honor
and confidence was generally high among the young gen-
tlemen, and, consequently, having promised to be friendly
to Ferrers, each individual, in duty bound, did his utmost to
fulfil that promise, and in a little while the stiffness attend-
ant on the effort wore off, and Ferrers was, in appearance,
in precisely the same position as before, to the great satis-
faction of the doctor, who was much pleased with his
pupils’ conduct on the occasion.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 193
CHAPTER XV.
‘© Wuerz is Louis Mortimer?†asked Hamilton, the next
Saturday afternoon, about a quarter of an hour after dinner.
“Does any one know where Louis Mortimer is ?â€
«Here I am, Hamilton, pret &@ vous servir, as Monsieur
Gregoire would say!†cried Louis, starting from behind the
school-room door.
« Are you engaged this afternoon ?â€
« Never, when you want me!†exclaimed Louis.
Hamilton looked gratified, but checked the expression as
soon as he was aware of it.
« That is not right, Louis ; I never wish, and never ought,
to be an excuse for breaking an engagement.â€
«< But suppose I make your possible requirements a con-
dition of my engagements,†said Louis, archly ; “ you have.
no objection to that, have you?â€
« Only I cannot imagine such a case.â€
“ Such is the case, however, this afternoon. I had the
vanity to hope you would let me walk with you, and so
only engaged myself conditionally.â€
«To whom were you engaged in default of my suffer-
ance ?â€â€™
«Twas going to stay with Casson,†replied Louis, hesi-
tatingly. «“ He has a‘€old and headache, and he asked me
17
194 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS!
if I would stay with him in the class-room, where he is
obliged to stay while we are out.â€
“ Casson!†said Hamilton, contemptuously ; “you were
not talking to him just now ?â€
“No; I was only listening to Ferrers. He was telling
me about a wager Frank had just laid with Salisbury.â€
“‘ How is it you prefer Casson to your friend Clifton ?â€
‘Oh, Hamilton, I don’t much like Casson; but he asked
me, poor fellow. Charlie’s engaged to West—our days
are Sunday, Monday, and Thursday.â€
“ Which of you is first now ?â€
“Charles is, to-day,†said Louis; “he is so very clever,
Hamilton.â€
“T know he is; but you are older, and not a dunce, if
you were not idle, Louis. Louis, I shall repudiate you, if
you don’t get past him.â€
“That would be a terrible fate,â€â€™ said Louis, slipping his
hand into Hamilton’s. “I cannot tell you how I should
miss your kind face and help. You have been such a very
kind friend to me: but I have not beenyso very idle,
Hamilton.â€
“Yes, you have,â€â€™ returned Hamilton ; ‘‘ I am vexed with
you, Louis. If I did not watch over you as I d®, you
would be as bad as you were last half. Don’t tell me you
can’t keep before Clifton if you choose.â€
Louis looked gravely in Hamilton’s face, and put his
other hand on that he held. Hamilton drew his own
quickly away. .
“Lady Louisa,†he said, “these affectionate demon-
strations may do well enough for us alone, but keep them
for private service, and don’t let us play Damon and ty.
:
shall be so much disappointed if you go
A STORY FOR Boys. 195
7
in this touching manner, to so large an audience. It par-
takes slightly of the absurd.â€
Louis colored, and seemed a little hurt; but he replied,
“Tam afraid I am very girlish sometimes.â€
“Incontrovertibly,†said Hamilton, kindly laying his
hand heavily on Louis’ shoulder. ‘ But we have no desire
that any one should laugh at you but our royal self.â€
« Are we going to the downs?†asked Louis.
Before Hamilton could answer, Frank Digby, one of the
large audience alluded to, came up. “ Of course,†he re-
plied ; «‘ Hamilton is one of our party.â€
“One of your party ?†asked Hamilton.
“Your majesty’s oblivious of the fact,†said Frank,
“that among the many offices, honorary and distinctive,
held ®y your most gracious self, the presidency of the
‘ Ashfield Cricket Club’ is not altogether one of the most
insignificant.â€
‘We will thank our faithful amanuensis to become our
deputy this afternoon,†said Hamilton; “having a great
desire to refgesh ourself with a quiet discourse on the
beauties of Nature.â€
‘‘ No cricket this afternoon, Hamilton!’ cried Louis; “I
!??
“ No cricket!†exclaimed Frank : ‘‘ we will enter into a
conspiracy, and dethrone Edward, if he refuses to come
instanter.â€â€™
‘“‘Dethrone me by all means, this afternoon,†said Hamil-
ton; “ my deposition wilh save me a great deal of trouble.
I am only afraid that my freedom from state affairs would
be of short duration; my subjects appear to be able to do
so little without me.â€
Cy
196 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
*
“Hear him !†exclaimed Jones, laughing ; “hear king
Log!â€
“No favoritism!’ cried Smith; “TI bar all partiality.
We'll treat you in the Gaveston fashion, Louis, if you don’t
persuade your master to accede to our reasonable demands.â€
“That would be treason against my own comforts,†said
Louis, laughing, and struggling unsuccessfully to rise from
the ground, where he had been playfully thrown by Salis-
bury. “To the rescue! your majesty ; I ery help!â€
“To the rescue !â€â€ shouted Reginald, pouncing suddenly
“upon Salisbury, and diverting his attention from Louis who
would have recovered his feet, but for the intervention of
one or two of the party.
“Your majesty perceives,†said Frank, “ that a rebellion
is already broken out. A word from you may cdinpose
all.â€
“TI have engaged to walk with Louis Mortimer, and
I declare I will not stir anywhere without him,†said
Hamilton.
“We cannot do without you, Hamilton,’ said Trevan-
nion, who had just joined the council. “ You are engaged
for all the meetings,â€
“Which meetings have no right to be. convened without
the concurrence of the president ;—eh, Mr. Secretary ?â€
rejoined Hamilton. |
“Of course you can please yourself,†said Trevannion,
proudly.
“ Let Louis get up, Jones,†said Hamilton.
“ Does your majesty concede, or not?†said J ones, who
was sitting upon Louis,
“T will answer when you let him get up.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 197
Jones suffered Louis to rise, breathless and hot with his
laughing exertions to free himself from durance vile.
«‘T will come, on condition that Louis comes too.â€
“Certainly,†said Salisbury.
« And join our game, mind,†said Hamilton.
“Oh!†exclaimed Smith; “that’s decidedly another
affair. You can’t play, Sir Piers, can you ?â€
‘«‘ He can learn,†said Hamilton, who was perfectly aware
of his ignorance. ’ |
“T’ve not the smallest objection,†said Jones, “ as lm
on the opposition side.â€
« Nor I,†cried Salisbury ; “though I should be a loser,
as is probable.â€
“Really, Hamilton,†exclaimed Trevannion, sulkily, “it’s
impossible! He’ll only be in the way. I never saw such
a fuss about a boy; it’s quite absurd. If you want him,
let him look on.â€
“T don’t like cricket,’ said Louis.
“ Humbug !†exclaimed Salisbury.
“T shall be in the way, as Trevannicn says,†continued
Lou's; “I am sure I shall never learn.â€
“* Patientia et perseverantia omnia vincunt,’†remarked
Frank ; ‘‘ which may be freely translated in three ways :
999
‘If a weary task you find it,
Persevere, and never mind it?
or,
‘Never say die?’
or, thirdly,
‘If at first you don’t succeed,—try, try again,’â€
«Louisa, I am ashamed for you,†said Hamilton; “and
insist on the exhibition of a more becoming spirit.â€
7"
4
198 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
“‘That’s right, Hamilton,†cried Reginald ; “make him
learn.â€â€™
Louis pleaded as much as he dared, in dread of a few
thumps, friendly in intent, but vigorous in execution, from
Salisbury, and a second shaking from Hamilton, but all
in vain, and they sallied forth. Trevannion fastened on
Hamilton, and grumbled ineffectual remonstrances till they
reached a convenient spot for their game. Here, under the
active supervision of Hamilton, Salisbury, and Reginald,
Louis was duly initiated ; and after a couple of hours’ play
they returned home, Louis being in some doubt as to
whether his fingers were not all broken by the concussion
of a cricket-ball, but otherwise more favorably disposed
towards the game than heretofore. He was, likewise, not
a little gratified by the evident interest most of the players
took in his progress. Hamilton had entirely devoted him-
self to his instruction, encouraged him when he made an
effort, and laughed at his cowardliness, and Salisbury had
been scarcely less kind.
As they entered the playground, Salisbury held up a
silver pencil-case to Frank :
“Remember, Frank,†said he, warningly.
“Do you think I’ve forgotten?†said Frank; « my
memory’s not quite so treacherous, Mr. Salisbury.â€
“« What’s that, Salisbury 2†said Jones,
“Only my wager.â€
“Wager!†repeated Hamilton. «What absurdity is Frank
about to perpetrate now ?â€
“He is going to make Casson swallow some medicine of
his own concoction. My pencil-case against his purse, con-
tents and all, he isn’t able to do it. Casson’s too sharp.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 199
“Tam surprised,†said Hamilton, “ that Frank is not
above playing tricks on that low boy. I thought you had
had enough of it, Frank.â€
Frank laughed :—“ No, he has foiled me regularly twice
lately, and I am determined to pay him off for shamming
this afternoon.â€
“T think it is real,†said Louis.
«Then he has all the more need of medicine,†said
Frank ; “and if he supposes it, my physic will do him as
much good as any one else’s.â€
“ You'll certainly get yourself into some serious scrape
some day with these practical jokes, Frank,†said Hamilton.
“It is a most ungentlemanly propensity.â€
“ Hear, hear,†said Reginald.
“ What’s that? Who goes there?†said Frank, direct-
ing the attention of the company to the figure of a tall
woman neatly dressed in black silk, with an old-fashioned
bonnet of the coal-scuttle species, who was crossing from the
house to the playground at the moment ; the lady in question
being no other than the housekeeper, clothes-mender, &c.,
vo Dr. Wilkinson, introduced by Mr. Frank Digby as Gruffy,
more properly rejoicing in the name of Mrs. Guppy.
“It’s Gruffy, isn’t it? Where is she going, I wonder.â€
Without waiting for an answer, Frank flew round the
house, and disappeared in the forbidden regions of the
kitchen.
“What is he after?†said Meredith. ‘I suspect we
shall have some fun to-night.â€
‘TI do wish Frank wouldn’t be so fond of such nonsense,â€
said Hamilton, angrily. ‘Come, Louis, and take a turn
till the tea-bell rings.â€
200 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
They had taken two or three turns up and down in front
of the school-room, when the bell rang, and Frank Digby
came back full of glee.
“I’ve done it, Salisbury,†he cried, as he threw his hat
in the air. “I’ve done it. I shall kill two birds withone
stone. I’m sure to win; it’s all settled ; only I must
be allowed to put the school-room clock forward half an
hour.â€
“ That wasn’t in the bargain,†said Salisbury.
“It wasn’t out of it, at any rate,†said Frank.
“ It’s all fair,†said several voices; « he may do it which
way he pleases.â€
“Remember, tace,†said Frank. « Tace is the candle
that lights Casson to bed to-night.â€
“I promise nothing, Frank,†said Hamilton.
“ Nevertheless you'll keep it,†said Frank, laughing.
“When tea was over, Frank disappeared rather mysteri-
ously.
Salisbury had just begun to make use of one of the pile
of books he had brought to the table in the class-room,
when a notification was brought to him from the school-
room, that Mrs. Guppy wanted to speak to him.
“Bother take her!†he exclaimed, « Why can’t she
come and speak to me ? Interrupting a fellow at his work!
Don’t take my place; I shall be back presently.â€
Some time, however, elapsed, and no Salisbury. Now
and then a few wonderments were expressed as to how
Frank’s wager would be won, and as to what Mrs. Guppy
could want with Salisbury.
“Where is Frank, I wonder?†said one. “Just see,
Peters, if Casson’s gone yet.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 201
Peters departed, and returned with the news that Casson
had gone to bed a little while before.
«“'The farce has begun, I suspect,†said Meredith. “ It’s
more than half an hour since Salisbury went,—and depend
upda it, wherever he is, there is Frank.â€
At this moment Salisbury rushed into the room, and
throwing hizself in a sitting posture on the floor, with his
back against the wall as if completely exhausted, laughed
on without uttering a word, till his mirth became so infec-
tious, that nearly all the room joined him.
“ Well, Salisbury!’ “Well, Salisbury!†“What is
it?†“Tellus.†“Have done laughing, do, you wretch,
you merry-andrew.†“Do be sensible.â€
“ Sensible!†groaned Salisbury, laying his head against
a form; “oh, hold me, somebody—I’m quite knocked up
with laughing. It’s enough to make a fellow insensible for
the rest of his life.â€
« Well, what is it, madcap?†said Reginald, jumping
up from his seat, and approaching him in a threatening
attitude.
“Frank Digby!†said Salisbury, going off into another
paroxysm of laughter.
‘«« Shake him into a little sense, Mortimer,†said Jones.
«Come, Salisbury, what is it ?†said several more, com-
ing up to him.
Salisbury sat upright and wiped his eyes.
“It was the clearest case of stabbing a man with his
own sword I ever saw. I don’t know whether I shall ever
get it out for laughing, but I'll try.â€
Louis looked up at Hamilton, rather anxious to get nearer
to Salisbury, but Hamilton wrote on as if determined neither
202 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
to let Louis move, nor to pay any attention himself, and
Louis dared not ask,
“Well, you know, Mrs. Guppy sent for me. I went off
in a beautiful humor, as you may imagine, and found her
ladyship in a great dressing-gown, false front, and SPec-
tacles, surrounded by little boys in various stages of Satur-
day night’s going to bed, tucking up Casson very com-
fortably.
“*Oh, Mr. Salisbury,’ said she, ‘I'll speak with you
presently,—will you be so good as to wait there a minute ?’
“Well, I thought she looked very odd, but she spoke
just the same as ever; and being very cross, I said, ‘I am
in a hurry; perhaps when you'ye done you'll call on me
in the study.’ Whereupon her ladyship comes straight out
of the room, and says on the landing, in Frank Digby’s
voice, ‘Know me by this token, Z am mixing a black
draught by the light of a Latin cundle.Չۉ۪
Salisbury burst out into a fresh fit of laughter, in which
he was joined by all present except Hamilton, who steadily
pursued his work with an unmoved countenance.
“ Well, you may imagine,†said Salisbury, when he had
recovered himself, “I wasn’t in a hurry then. I came back
and waited behind the door very patiently. You never saw
any thing so exact—every motion and tone. He had pulled
the curls over his eyes, and tied up his face with a great
handkerchief over the cap, as Gruffy has been doing lately
when she had the face-ache, and he went about among the
little chaps in such a motherly, bustling way, it was quite
affecting. Sally, who helped him, hadn’t the least: idea it
wasn’t Gruffy. However, the best of it is to come,†said
Salisbury, pausing a moment to recover the mirth which
A STORY FOR BOYS. 203
the recollection produced :—“ He was stirring up @ concoc-
tion of cold tea, ink and water, slate-pencil dust, sugar,
mustard, and salt, when I thought†(Salisbury’s voice trem-
bled violently) “that I heard a step I ought to know, and
I fad hardly time to get completely behind the door when
it was widely opened, and in walked the doctor!â€
A burst of uproarious mirth drowned the voice of the
speaker. There was a broad smile on Hamilton’s face,
though he did not. raise his head. As soon as Salisbury
could speak, he continued :
“¢Oh! said I to myself, ‘it’s all up with you, Mr.
Frank,’ and I felt a little desirous of concealing my small
proportions as much as might be. What Frank might feel
I can’t say, but he seemed to be very busy, and, as he
turned round to the doctor, put up his handkerchief to
his face. :
“Does your face ache, Mrs. Guppy ?’ says the doctor ;
and—imagine the impudence of the boy—he answered, it
was a little troublesome. ‘How is Clarke this evening ?—
I hear he has been asleep this afternoon.’ I imagine
Frank has as much idea of the identity of Clarke as I
have—I don’t even know who he is, much less that he
was ill—but he answered just as Gruffy would do, with
her handkerchief up to her mouth, ‘ Rather better, sir,
I think—he was asleep when I saw him last, and I
didn’t disturb him.’ ‘Hem,’ said the doctor, ‘and who’s
this ?’†|
The audience was here so convulsed with laughter that
Salisbury could not proceed; Louis could not help joining
the laugh, though rather checked by the immovable gravity
of Hamilton’s countenance.
204 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
«Really, Hamilton,†he said, “I wonder how Frank
could tell such stories.â€
«He doesn’t think them so,†said Hamilton, abruptly.
“Well, Salisbury!†“ Well, Salisbury !â€â€ exclaimed sev-
eral impatient voices. “The impudence of the fellow.â€
“ How will he ever get out of it?†“Get on, Salisbury.â€
“The idea of joking with the doctor.’ ‘Go on, Salis-
bury.†‘ What a capital fellow he’d make for one of those
escaping heroes in romances—he’d never stay to have his
head cut off.â€
‘Well, and the doctor says, ‘ Who’s this, Mrs. Guppy ?
Casson? How—what’s the matter with you? How long
“have you been here?’ ‘Just come to bed, sir,’ says Cas-
son; and then the doctor makes a few inquiries about his
terrible headache, et cetera ; and Mrs. Guppy had a twinge
of the toothache, and could only let the doctor know by little
and. little how she had thought it better to put him to bed.
«* And that is medicine for him ?’ |
«The doctor looked very suspiciously at the cup, I
fancy, for his tone was rather short and sulky. Frank
seemed a little daunted, but he soon got up his spirits
again, and, stirring up the mess, was just going to give
it to Casson, when, lo! another strange footfall was heard ; -
doctor turned round (I was in a state of fright, I assure
you, lest he should discover me) and in marched the
real Simon Pure! It was a picture—oh! if I had been
an artist:—there stood Gruffy, in her best black silk,
looking more puzzled than angry ; Frank—I couldn’t see
what he looked like, but I’ll suppose it, as he says—and
doctor turning from one to the other with a face as red as
a turkey-cock, and looking so magnificent !â€â€™
RSs
»
I
The counterfeit Mrs, Guppy.
Page 24.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 205
“ Poor Frank !†exclaimed several laughing voices.
“Well, at last Fudge found words, and in such a tone,
exclaimed, ‘Mrs. Guppy! who is ruis, then?’ Then she
stormed out: ‘Ay, sir, who is it, indeed? perhaps you
will inquire.’ I didn’t see what followed, for my range of
vision was rather circumscribed—but I imagine that doctor
pulled off part of Frank’s disguise, for the next words I
heard were, ‘ Digby, this is intolerable /’»uttered in the
doctor’s most magnificent anger—‘ What is the meaning of
this?’ Frank said iting about a wager and a little
fun, meaning no harm, et cetera; and Fudge gave him
such a lecture, finishing off by declaring, that ‘if he
persisted in perpetrating such senseless follies he should
find some other place to do so in than his house.’ All
the little boys were laughing, but doctor stopped them
all with a thundering ‘Simence!’ and then he asked what
Frank had in that cup. ‘Cold tea, sir,’ said Digby,-
quite meekly. ‘And what’s this at the bottom?’ ‘Sugar,
sir.’ I saw the doctor’s face—it was not one to be trifled
with, but there seemed a sort of grim smile there, too,
when he gave the cup to Frank and insisted upon his
drinking it all up; and Digby did it, too—he dared not
refuse.â€
Another peal of laughter rang through the room, in
which Hamilton joined heartily. ,
“Then,†continued Salisbury, “ doctor said he hoped he
would feel a little better for his dose—and, becoming as
grave as before, he desired he would return Mrs. Guppy’s
things, and beg her pardon for his impertinence.â€
“ He didn’t do so, surely ?â€â€™ said Jones.
. “He did, though,†replied Salisbury ; “and I wouldn’t
18
206 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
have been him if he’d been obstinate; but he added—I
wondered how even he dared—ZJ’ve saved you a little trouble,
ma'am, there are siz of them in bed.â€
“Oh! oh! disgraceful !†exclaimed Hamilton.
“What did Fudge say ?†asked Smith.
“««'T'HIs TO MY FACE, sir!’ and then, what he was going
to do I don’t know, but Frank was quite frightened, and
begged pardog so very humbly that at last Fudge let
him off with five hundred lines of Virgil to be done before
Wednesday evening, and then sent him to bed—and there
he is, for he was too much alarmed to play any more
tricks.†3
“I'd have given something to have seen it,†cried one,
when the laugh was a little over.
“J think,†said Jones, “all things considered, that the
doctor was tolerably lenient.â€
“Oh! Digby’s a little bit of a favorite, I fancy,†said
Meredith.
“ Not a bit,†said Reginald. “ What do you say, Hamil-
ton ?â€
* Nothing,†said Hamilton, shortly.
“One would think you never liked a joke, Hamilton,â€
said Peters.
‘‘ Nor do I, when it is so low as to be practical,†said
Hamilton. “I feel no sympathy whatever with him.â€
The event furnished idle conversation enough for that
evening, and it was long before it was forgotten; and, in
spite of Frank’s reiterated boast that he did not care, and
his apparent participation in the mirth occasioned by his
failure, it required the utmost exercise of his habitual good-
humor to bear equally the untiring teasing of his school-
7
A STORY FOR BOYS. 207
fellows, and the still more trying coldness and sarcasm of
his master, whose manner very perceptibly altered towards
him for some time after. Casson took care that no one in
the lower school should be ignorant of Frank’s defeat, and
stimulated the little boys to tease him—but this imperti-
nence, being an insult to the dignity of the seniors, was
revenged by them as a body, and the juvenile tormentors
were too much awe-struck and alarmed t® venture on a
repetition of their offence.
208 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
CHAPTER XVI.
>
" Durtne Louis’ frequent walks with Hamilton, it must
not be supposed that his home and home-doings were left
out of the conversation; before very long, Hamilton had
made an intimate mental acquaintance with all his little
friend’s family, their habits of life, and every other inter-
esting particular Louis could remember. Hamilton was an
excellent listener, and never laughed at Louis’ fondness for
home, and many were the extracts from home-letters with
which he was favored ; nay, sometimes whole letters were
inflicted on him.
Among the many delightful topics of home history,
Louis dwelt on few with more pleasure and enthusiasm
than the social musical evenings, and said so much on them,
that Hamilton’s curiosity was at length aroused, after hear-
ing Louis sing two or three times, to wonder what a mad-
rigal could be like. Louis tried to satisfy this craving by
singing the treble part, and descanting eloquently on the
manner in which the other parts ought to come in; but all
in vain he repeated, “ There now, Hamilton, you see this
is the contralto part ; and when this bit of the soprano is
sung, it comes in so beautifully, and the bass is crossing it,
and playing hide and seek with the tenor.â€
Hamilton was obtuse, but at length, by fagging very
A STORY FOR BOYS. 209
hard with one or two boys in the school-room, and getting
one of the ushers, who generally performed a second in all
the musical efforts in the school, to make some kind of bass,
Louis presented his choir one evening in the playground,
and made them sing, to the great rapture of the audience.
After this exhibition, the whole school seemed to have a
fever for madrigals; nothing was heard about the play-
ground but scraps of that which Louis had taken pains to
drill into his party; and one or two came to Louis and
Reginald to learn to take a second part. In play-hours,
nothing seemed thought of but part-singing, and suddenly
the propriety of giving a grand public concert was started ;
and after a serious debate, a singing-class was established,
Louis being declared president, or master of the choir.
We will not say how fussy Louis was on the occasion ;
but he went about very busily trying the voices of his
school-fellows for a day or two after his appointment, and
picking out the best tones for his pupils. Casson owned a
very fine singing voice, though it was one of the most rude
in speaking, and having been partially initiated in the mys-
tery before, by Louis was declared a treasure. Frank
Digby was another valuable acquisition ; for, joined to an
extremely soft, full contralto voice, he possessed, in com-
mon with his many accomplishments, a refined ear and
almost intuitive power of chiming in melodiously with any
thing. Salisbury was a very respectable bass, as things
went ; and Reginald, who was certainly incapacitated for
singing treble, declared his intention of assisting him, being
quite confident that his voice would be a desirable adjunct.
The members of the class having at last been decided on,
a subscription was raised, and Hamilton was commissioned
18*
210 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
to purchase what was necessary, the first convenient oppor-
tunity; and accordingly, the next half-holiday, he obtained
leave for Louis to accompany him, and set off on his com-
mission. He had scarcely left the school-room when Tre-
vannion met him, and volunteered to accompany him.
«I shall be very glad of your company,’’ said Hamilton ;
“Tam going to choose the music. You may stare when I
talk of choosing music—it is well I have so powerful an
auxiliary, or I am afraid I should not give much satisfaction
to our committee of taste.â€
« What powerful auxiliary are you depending on 2?†said
Trevannion ; “I shall be a poor one.â€
“ You—oh, yes!†exclaimed Hamilton ; “a very poor one,
I suspect. I was speaking of Louis Mortimer ; he is going
with me.â€
“ Indeed,†said Trevannion, coldly ; “ you will not want
me, then!â€
«Why not?†asked Hamilton. “We shall, I assure
you, be very glad of your company.â€
‘«¢ So will Hutton and Salisbury,†said Trevannion ; “and
I can endure my own company when Jam not wanted ;â€
as he spoke, he walked away.
Hamilton turned, and looked after his retreating figure,
as, drawn up to its full height, it quickly disappeared in the
crowd of boys, who were chaffering with the old cake-man.
His puzzled countenance soon resumed its accustomed
gravity, and with a slight curl of the lip, he laid his hand
on Louis’ arm, and drew him on. |
«‘ Trevannion is offended,†said Louis.
« He’s welcome,†was the rejoinder.
“But it is on my account, Hamilton,†said Louis,
A STORY FOR BOYS. 211
anxiously ; “I cannot bear that you should quarrel with
him for me.â€
«T have not quarrelled,†said Hamilton, coldly. “If he
chooses to be offended, I- can’t help it.â€
“< But he is an older friend than I am in two senses—let
me go after him and tell him I am not going. I can go
with you another afternoon.â€
Louis drew his arm away as he spoke, and was starting
off, when Hamilton seized him quite roughly, and exclaimed
in an angry tone, “ You shall do no such thing, Louis!
Does he suppose I am to have no one else but himself for
my friend—friend, indeed !†he repeated. “It’s all indo-
lence, Louis.â€
Louis looked up half alarmed, startled at his vehemence.
‘«‘ Perhaps,†said Hamilton, relaxing his hold, and laugh-
ing as he spoke, “ perhaps if I had not been so lazy, I
should have found a more suitable friend before; as it is,
I do not yet find Trevannion indispensable—by no means,â€
he added, scornfully. .
‘Dear Hamilton,†said Louis, “I shall be quite unhappy
if I think I am the cause of your thinking ill of Trevannion.
You used to be such great friends.â€
«‘None the worse, perhaps, because we are aware of a
common absence of perfection in each other,†replied Hamil-
ton, whose countenance had gradually tegained its calm-
ness. ‘It is foolish to be angry, Louis, but I was; and
now let there be an end of it—I don’t mean to forsake you
for all the Trevannions in Christendom.â€
They had by this time reached the playground gates,
and were here overtaken by Frank Digby, who had before
engaged to be one of the party.
912 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
“ Better late than never,†said Louis, in reply to his
breathless excuses. “I had my doubts whether your
pressing engagements with Maister Dunn would allow you
to accompany us.â€
“ Why, I got rid of him pretty soon,†said Frank ; “‘ only
just as I had wedged myself out of the phalanx, who
should appear but Thally.â€â€™
“Who?†said Louis.
“ Tharah,†repeated Frank.
“Sally Simmons, the boot-cleaner, Louis,†said Hamil-
ton; “you are up to nothing yet.â€
«‘ She’s a queer stick,†said Frank.
«“ What a strange description of a woman!†remarked
Louis. ‘It is as clear as a person being a brick.â€
« And so it is,†replied Frank; “ only it’s just the re-
verse.â€
“Up comes Thally with my Sunday boots as bright as
her fair hands could make them, and wanted me to look at
a hole she had scraped in them, nor, though I promised to
give her my opinion of her handiwork when I came back,
was I allowed to depart till she had permission to take
them to her ‘fayther.’â€â€™
Nothing worthy of record passed during the walk to
Bristol till the trio reached College Green. Here Louis
began to look out for music-shops, while Frank entertained
his companions with a running commentary on the shops,
carriages, and people. It was a clear, bright day, and
Clifton seemed to have poured itself out in the Green.
‘Look there, Hamilton, there’s a whiskered don} What
a pair of moustaches! Hamilton, where is your eye-glass ?
Here’s Trevannion’s shadow—was there ever such a Paris!
A STORY FOR BOYS. 913
Good gracious ! as the ladies say, what a frightful bonnet!
Isn’t that a love of a silk, Louis? Now, Hamilton, did you
ever see such a guy ?â€
Hamilton was annoyed at these remarks, made by no
means in a low tone, and, in his eagerness to change the
conversation and get further from Frank, he unfortunately
ran against a lady who was getting out of a carriage just
drawn up in front of a large linen-draper’s shop, much to
the indignation of a young gentleman who attended her.
Hamilton begged pardon, with a crimson face ; and, as
the lady kindly assured him she was not hurt, Louis recog-
nized in her his quondam friend, Mrs. Paget, and darted
forward to claim her acquaintance.
“What, Louis! my little Master Louis!’’ exclaimed the
lady; “I did not expect to see you. Where have you
come from 2†"
‘‘T am at school, ma’am, at Dr. Wilkinson’s, and I had
leave to come out with Hamilton this afternoon. This is
Hamilton, ma’am—Hamilton, this is Mrs. Paget.â€
“Our rencontre, Mr. Hamilton,†said the lady, “has
been most fortunate; for without this contretemps I should
have been quite ignorant of Master Louis’ being so near—
you must come and see me, dear. Mr. Hamilton, I must
take him home with me this afternoon.â€
‘It is impossible, ma’am,â€â€™ said Hamilton, bluntly; “I
am answerable for him, and he must go back with me.â€
“Can you be so inexorable?†said Mrs. Paget. “ Will
you come, too, and Mr. Francis Digby—I beg your par-
don, Mr. Frank, I did not see you.â€
“T beg yours, ma’am,†replied the affable Frank, with a
most engaging bow; “for I was so taken up with the
914 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
tempting display on the green this afternoon, that I only
became aware this moment of my approximation to your-
self.†: ,
«The shops are very gay, certainly ; but I should have
thought that you young gentlemen would not have cared
much for the display. Now, a tailor’s shop would have
been much more in your taste.â€
“Indeed, ma’am, we came out with the express purpose
of buying a silk for the Lady Louisa.â€
« J wonder any lady should commission you to buy any
thing for her.â€
“Oh!†replied Frank, “I am renowned for my taste ;
and Hamilton is equally well qualified. Can you recom-
mend us a good milliner, ma’am ?â€â€™
“Tam going to look at some bonnets,â€â€™ said the lady.
«But, Mr. Frank,’ I half suspect you are quizzing. What
Lady Louisa are you speaking of sy
Frank had drawn up his face into a very grave and
confidential twist, when Mrs. Paget’s equerry, the young
_ gentleman before mentioned, offered his arm, and, giv-
ing Frank a withering look, warned the lady of the
time.
_ You are right. It is getting late,†she said. ‘“ Good-
bye, dear boy. Where are you now 2 Dr. Williams ?â€â€™
«© Dr. Wilkinson’s, Ashfield House,†said Louis.
“Henry, will you remember the address ?â€â€™ said the
lady. |
The young gentleman grunted some kind of acquies-
cence; and, after due adieus, Mrs. Paget walked into the
shop.
« Fyank, I’m ashamed of you,†said Hamilton.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 915
~
“JT am sure,†replied Frank, “I’ve been doing all the
work; I’m a walking exhibition of entertainment for man
and beast.â€
Hamilton would not laugh, and, finding all remon-
strances unavailing, he quickened his pace and walked on
in silence till they reached the music-seller’s, where, after
some deliberation, they obtained the requisite music, and,
after a few more errands, began to retrace their steps.
The walk home was very merry. Louis, having un-
fastened the bundle, tried over some of the songs, and
taught Frank readily the contralto of two. Then he
wanted to try Hamilton, but this in the open air Hamilton
stoutly resisted, though he promised to make an effort at
some future time. After Frank and Louis had sung their
duets several times over to their own satisfaction while sit-
ting under a hedge, all the party grew silent: there was
something so beautiful in the stillness and brightness, that
none felt inclined to disturb it. At last, Louis suddenly
began Eve’s hymn: 5
“ How cheerful along the gay mead
The daisy and cowslip appear!
The flocks, as they carelessly feed,
Rejoice in the spring of the year:
The myrtles that shade the gay bowers,
The herbage that springs from the sod,
Trees, plants, cooling fruits, and sweet flowers,
All rise to the praise of my God.
“ Shall man, the great master of all,
The only insensible prove ?
Forbid it, fair gratitude’s call!
Forbid it, devotion and love!
916 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS
Tuer, Lord, who such wonders canst raise,
And still canst destroy with a nod,
My lips shall incessantly praise,
My soul shall be wrapped in my God.â€
Dr. ARNE.
Frank joined in the latter part of the first verse, but was
silent in the second.
“Why did you not go on, Frank?†asked Hamilton.
“It was too sweet,†said Frank. ‘Louis, I envy you
your thoughts.â€
“Do you?†said Louis, looking up quickly in his cousin’s
face, with a bright expression of pleasure.
‘When you began that song,†continued Frank, “I was
thinking of those lines,
‘These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty, Thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; Thyself how wondrous then !’â€
«««Thyself how wondrous then!†repeated Hamilton,
reverentially.
‘*T don’t know how it is, Louis,†said Frank ; “‘ in cathe-
drals, and in beautiful scenery, when a grave fit comes
over me, I sometimes think I should like to be religious.â€
Louis squeezed his hand, but did not speak.
“Take care, Frank,†said Hamilton with some emotion.
“Be very, very careful not to mistake sentiment for religion.
I am sure it is so easy to imagine the emotion excited by
beauty of sight or sound, religious, that we cannot be too
careful in examining the reason of such feelings.â€
“But how, Hamilton?†said Frank. ‘ You would not
check such impressions ?â€â€™ |
“No; it is better that our thoughts should be carried
A STORY FOR BOYS: 217
by beauty to the source of all beauty; but to a poetical,
susceptible imagination this is often the case where there
is not the least vital religion, Frank. The.deist will gaze
on the splendid landscape, and bow in reverence to the God
of nature, but a Christian’s thoughts"should fly to his God
at all times; the light and beauty of the scenes of nature —
should be within himself. When a person’s whole religion
consists in these transient emotions, he ought to mistrust it,
Digby.â€
“But, dear Hamilton,†said Louis, after a few minutes’
silence, ‘ we ought to be thankful when God gives us the
power of enjoying the beautiful things He has made.
Would it not be ungrateful to check every happy feeling
of gratitude and joy for the power to see, and hear, and
enjoy, with gladness and thankfulness, the loveliness and
blessings around ?â€
“The height of ingratitude, dear Louis,†said Hamilton,
emphatically. ‘But Iam sure you understand me.†__
“To be sure,†said Louis. “Many good gifts our Al-
mighty Father has given us, and one perfect gift, and the
good gifts should lead us to think more of the perfect onz.
[ often have thought, Hamilton, of that little girl’s nice
remark that I read to you last Sunday, about the good and
perfect gifts.â€
Hamilton did not reply, and for a minuté or two longer
they sat in silence, when the report of a gun at a little
distance roused them, and almost at the same instant, a
little bird Louis had been watching as it flew into a large
tree in front of them, fell wounded from branch to branch,
until it rested on the lowest, where a flutter among the
leaves told of its helpless sufferings.
19
918 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
«TIT must get it, Hamilton !†cried Louis, starting up.
“Tt is wounded.â€
“The branch is too high,†said Hamilton. “I dare say
the poor thing is dying ; we cannot do it any good.â€
“Indeed I mustetry!’ exclaimed Louis, scrambling
partly up the immense trunk of the tree, and slipping
down much more quickly. ‘I wish there were something
to catch hold of, or to rest one’s foot against.â€
“You'll never get up,†said Hamilton, laughing; “ if
you must get it, mount my shoulders.â€
As he spoke he came under the tree, and Louis, availing
himself of the proffered assistance, succeeded in reaching
and bringing down the wounded bird, which he did with
many expressions of gratitude to Hamilton.
«JT am sure you ought to be obliged,†said Frank.
« Royalty lending itself out as a ladder is an unheard-of
anomaly. Pray, what are you going to do with cock-spar-
row now you have got him ?â€
' Louis only replied by laying some grass and leaves in the
bottom of his cap, and putting the bird on this extempore
bed, He then seized Hamilton’s arm and urged him for-
ward, Hamilton responded to Louis’ anxiety with some
queries on the expediency of assisting wounded birds if
pleasant walks were to be thereby curtailed, and Frank,
after suggesting, to Louis’ horror, the propriety of making
a pie of his favorite, walked on, singing
> little cock-sparrow sat upon a tree,â€
which, with variations, lasted till they reached the play-
ground gates, where Louis ran off to find Clifton, that he
_ might enter into proper arrangements for due attendance on
his sparrow’s wants.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 919
cs
CHAPTER XVII.
“Tn the multitude of words there wanteth not sin; but he that
refraineth his lips is wise.â€â€”Prov, x. 19.
“ Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth ; a vedlidieie
and not thine own lips.â€â€”Prov. xxvii. 2.
Weare now considering Louis Mortimer under prosperity ;
a state in which it is much more difficult to be watchful,
than in that of adversity. When he first came to school,
his struggle was to be consistent in maintaining his prin-
ciples against ridicule and fear of his fellow-creatures’ judg-
ment. In that he nearly failed; and then came the hard
trial we have related, the furnace from whose fires he came
so bright : and another trial awaited him, but different still.
By ‘the beauty of conduct Divine grace alone had enabled
him to observe, he now won the regard of the majority of
his school-fellows ; and no one meddled with him or his
opinions. He was loved by many; liked by most, and un-
molested by the rest. We are told, ‘‘ When a man’s ways
please the Lord, even his enemies are at peace with him ;â€
and this was Louis’ case. Ifa few remarks were now and
then made on the singularity and stiffness of his notions,
the countenance of the seniors, and the general estimation
in which he was held, prevented any annoyance or inter-
ference. His feet were now on smooth ground, and the sky
>
220 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS *
was bright above his head ; and he began to forget that a
storm had ever been.
One day between school-hours, when Louis and his bro-
ther were diligently drilling the chorus, they were sum-
moned to the drawing-room, where they found the doctor
standing talking with a lady, in the large bay-window.
Her face was turned towards the prospect beyond, and she
did not see them enter; and near her, leaning on the top
of a high-backed chair, stood a tall gentlemanly youth,
whom Louis immediately recognized as Mrs. Paget’s es-
quire. The lady was speaking as they entered, and her
gentle lady-like tones fell very pleasantly on Louis’ ears,
and made him sure he should like her, if even the words
she had chosen had been otherwise.
“JT have been quite curious to see him; my sister has
said so much, poor little fellow !â€
Dr. Wilkinson at this moment became aware of the pres-
ence of his pupils, and, turning round, introduced them to
the lady, and the lady in turn to them, as Mrs. Norman.
«J-am personally a stranger to you, Master Mortimer,â€
said Mrs. Norman; “ but I have often heard of you. You
know Mrs. Paget?â€
«Qh, yes!†replied Louis.
« She is my sister, and, not being able to come herself
to-day, she commissioned me to bring an invitation for you
and your brother to spend the rest of this day with her, if
Dr. Wilkinson will kindly allow it.†3
Louis looked at Dr. Wilkinson ; and Reginald answered
for himself—
“JT am much obliged, ma’am; and, if you please, thank
Mrs. Paget for me, but as it is not a half-holiday, I shall
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The invitation. Page 220.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 291
not be able to come this afternoon. I shall be very glad
to come when school is over, if Dr. Wilkinson will allow
me.â€
Dr. Wilkinson smiled. ‘*Mrs. Norman will, I am sure,
excuse a school-boy’s anxiety to retain a hard-earned place
in his class,â€â€™ he said. ‘I have given my permission, you
may do as you please.â€
“Mrs. Paget will be so much disappointed,†said Mrs.
Norman; ‘are you anxious about your class, too, Master
Louis ?â€
Louis blushed, hesitated, and then looked from Reginald
to the doctor, but Dr. Wilkinson gave no assistance, Louis
demurred a little; for he had a place to lose that he had
gained only the day before, and that, probably, he might
not be able to gain from Clifton for the rest of the half-
year. But at length, on another persuasive remark from
Mrs. Norman, he accepted the invitation in rather a con-
fused manner ; and, it being decided that Reginald was to
join them at dinner, he went away to make some alteration
in his dress. When he returned, Mrs. Norman carried him
off in her carriage, which was waiting at. the door, having
first introduced him to her companion, as her son, Henry
Norman.
During the ride to Clifton, Louis became very communi-
cative. He liked Mrs. Norman very much, she was so
very sweet, and now and then made little remarks that re-
minded Louis of home; and then he was sure she liked
him ; even if he had not guessed that the few words he
first heard from her lips referred to him, her very kind full
eyes and affectionate manner spoke of unusual interest, and
Louis felt very anxious to rise in her estimation. Things
19*
922 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
that are not sinful in themselves, become sins from the ac-
companying motives ; the desire of favor in the eyes of so
excellent a person was not wrong, had it been mixed with
a wish to adorn the doctrine of Christ, and thankfulness
for the love and favor given; but now Louis talked of
things which, though he really believed them, and of feel-
ings which, though he had once really experienced them,
were not now the breathings of a heart ‘that overflowed
with all its fulness of gratitude. He had quickness enough
to see what was most precious in his new friend’s sight, and
tried to ingratiate himself with her, by dwelling on these
subjects, and showing how much he had felt on them.
Had felt, for he had “ left his first love.â€
Let it not be supposed that Louis meant to deceive—he
deceived himself as much as any one; but he was in that
sad state when a Christian has backslidden so far as to live
on the remembrance of old joys, instead of the actual pos-
session of new. |
The carriage stopped, at length, at a house in York
Crescent, where the trio alighted. Mrs. Norman led Louis
up stairs into the drawing-room, while her son; who had
scarcely spoken a word during the drive, stayed a minute
or two at the house-door, and then ran down the nearest
flight of steps leading to the carriage-road, jumped into the
carriage, which was just driving off, and paid a visit to the
stables. .
The room into which Louis entered was very large, and
littered so with all descriptions of chairs, stodls, and non-
descript elegancies, that it required some little ingenuity to
reach the further end without upsetting the one, or being —
overthrown by the others. Near one of the three win
A STORY FOR BOYS. 923
4
dows, reclining on a sofa, was Mrs. Paget, who welcomed
Louis with her usual warmth.
«You see,†said she, “I am a prisoner. I sprained my
ankle the very day I saw you; and I am positively forbid-
den to walk. But where is Master Reginald ?â€
Louis informed Mrs. Paget of his brother’s intentions,
and, after expressing her regrets at his non-appearance, the
lady continued :
«‘ Now, sit near me, and let us have a little tak: I want
to hear how you are going on, and how many prizes you
are likely to get. But, perhaps, my dear, you would like
to go on the downs, or into the town, or to ‘Where’s
Henry, I wonder: where is Mr. Norman?†she asked of a
servant who came to remove a little tray that stood beside
her.
“ Just gone round to the stables, ma’am.â€
“Dear, how unfortunate! You ¢éan’t think what a
beautiful little horse he has ; I tell him it is quite a lady’s
horse. He will show it to you. I can’t think how he
could go away this afternoon. You'll be very dull, my
dear—bitt my sister will take you out.â€
Louis assured her he should enjoy sitting with her.
“ That is very kind of you; very few of your age would
care about staying with a lame, fidgety, old woman.â€
Louis protested against the two last epithets, and as Mrs.
Norman had left the room he began talking of the pleasant
ride he had had with her, and how much he loved her.
Mrs. Paget warmly admitted every thing, only adding
that in some things she was a little too particular.
“But, dear me! you must be very hyngry,†she ex-
claimed, interrupting herself. “ How could I forget? Just
924 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS8:!
ring the bell, dear boy—there’s lunch down stairs. Oh,
never mind, here is Charlotte.â€
As she spoke, Mrs. Norman re-entered, and took Louis
down to lunch.
When he returned to the drawing-room, Mrs. Paget had
her sofa moved so as to face the window, and a little table
“was placed in front of her. A low armchair was near her
for Louis, and another quite in the window Mrs. Norman took
possession of, when she had provided herself with some work.
“Oh, what a beautiful view!†exclaimed Louis, as he
looked for the first time out of the window. “How very,
very beautiful! I think this is the pleasantest situation in
Clifton.â€
“Tt is very beautiful,†said Mrs. Norman. “But you
have a magnificent prospect at Dt. Wilkinson’s.â€
«Dr. Wilkinson’s is a very nice place, I believe, is it
not ?â€â€™ said Mrs, Paget. ‘It is a pity such a pretty place
should be a school.â€â€™
“Nay,†said Mrs. Norman, smiling ; “‘ why should you
grudge the poor boys their pleasure ?â€â€™
-«T don’t think they appreciate it,†said Mrg» Paget ;
“and, poor fellows, they are always so miserable that they
might as well be miserable somewhere else.â€
«“ We are not at all miserable after the first week,â€â€™ said
Louis.
“TI thought you wereiot to go to school again, my deur,â€
said Mrs. Paget.
“So I thought, myself, but papa wished mesto go, and
he is the best judge.â€
“ Well, dear, it’s a very nice thing that you are wise
enough to see it,—and you are happy ?â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 225
‘‘T should be very ungrateful not to be so, ma’am; Dr.
Wilkins@h and all the boys are so kind to me this half. It
is so different from the first quarter spent at school.â€
“They are kind, are they? Well, I dare’say; they
couldn’t help it, I’m sure,†replied Mrs. Paget. ‘I sup-
pose you will have the medal again this half year. Iam
sure you ought to have it to make up.â€
‘‘Oh, but I shouldn’t have it to make up for last half,
ma’am,â€â€™ said Louis, smiling. -
“ But you will get it, I dare say,†said the lady.
“TI don’t know,†said Louis ; “ perhaps—lI think I have -
a very good chance yet, but we “wa, can tell exactly what
Dr. Wilkinson thinks about us. e are only one or two
I am afraid of.â€
‘“‘T should think you needh’t be afraid of any,†said Mrs.
Paget. ‘I told you, Charlotte, about that story we heard
at Heronhurst last summer—dear boy—you know he
bore—†)
Yeo" interrupted Mrs. Norman. “ You have a large
number of school-fellows, Master Louis,†she added.
‘« Yes, mia‘am, there are seventy-six of us this half, so
many that we hardly know the names of the loWer school.â€â€™
“Ts that My. Ferrar or Ferrers there still?†asked Mrs.
Paget lt 2:77
« Yes, ma@’am, and he is so much improved, you cannot
think.†ee
Louis looked very earnestly at her as she spoke, and she
put her hand on his forehead, stroking his hair off, while
she replied, *
“ He is very happy in having so kind a friend, I am sure ;
he ought to have been expelled.â€
926 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
«“ Oh no, ma’am—lI think kindness was much the best
way,†said Louis; and remembering how incautiously he had
spoken of him before he said all that he could in his praise.
The conversation then turned upon the school in general,
and it was astonishing to watch how much Louis said in-
directly in his own praise, and how nearly every thing
seemed to turn in the direction of dear self, in the history
of his lessons, progress, and rivals—and even when it
branched offyto his friends, among whom in the first rank
stood Hamilton.
“You would so like Hamilton, he is so kind to me. I
told you about him before,†said Louis, eagerly.
«Js that the young gentleman who had charge of you
the other day ?†asked Mrs. Paget. ©
Louis answered in the affirmative.
«J did not much like him, only one doesn’t judge people
fairly at first, often.â€
« Oh, Hamilton’s such a good creature !†exclaimed Louis,
in his energy letting fall one end of a skein of silk he was
holding. He gathered it ‘up, apologized, and resumed his
defence of his friend. = “
“ He is, perhaps, a little blunt, but he is so sincere, and
so steady and kind, Dr. Wilkinson is very, very fond of him,
I know; he makes me sit by him every night, and I learn
my lessons with him. Iam sure if it were not for him I
should be terribly behiiad Clifton.†|
« [ saw them coming out of Redland Chapel yesterday
morning,†said Mrs. Paget. “At least I saw Mr. Hamil-
ton, but I did not see you.â€
Louis informed her of. the division of the school on Sun-
day, and she continued, |
A STORY FOR BOYS. | 227
«I noticed a very aristocratic young gentleman with Mr.
Hamilton—quite a contrast, so very handsome and elegant;
who was he ?†*
« Was he tall?†asked Louis; “and dressed in black,
with a light waistcoat ?â€
«J don’t know what waistcoat he had,†said Mrs. Paget,
laughing. “His dress was in perfect gentlemanly taste.
He was, I should think, tall for his age, and had dark hair
and eyes.†‘
«T have no doubt it was Trevannion; he is the hand-
somest fellow in the school, except Salisbury.â€â€™
«That he is not,†said Mrs. Paget, significantly.
Louis blushed, and felt rather fé0lish, certainly not wholly
insensible to the injudicious hint.
“ Only Fred Salisbury is so different : he is not elegant,
and yet he is not awkward; he is rough and ready, and
says all kinds of vulgar things. He is very much liked
among us, but I don’t think Trevannion is, though he gets
his own way a great deal: he thinks nobody is equal to
himself, I know, but I am sure he is not a favorite.â€
“Why not?†saidyMrs. Paget.
“He is so very selfish, and so contemptuous, and so
dreadfully†offended if Hamilton does not treat him with
the deference he wants. I think we know more of each
other than any one else does, and no one would think, in
company, when Trevannion is smiling and talking so clev-
erly, that he is so unamiable.â€
“ He does not look like an ill-tempered person,†said the
lady. .
“T don’t think he is what is generally called an ill-tem-
pered person ; for he never puts himself into passions, nor
228 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
does he seem to mind many things that make others very
angry. But he is sometimes dreadfully disdainful and
haughty when any one offends him, and especially when
Hamilton seems to like anybody as well as himself. Only
last Saturday, he was so much affronted because Hamilton
had asked leave for me to go into Bristol with him. When
he found I was coming, he wouldn’t go with us. I think
he is very jealous of me, though I begged Hamilton to let
me stay at home, and I was just going after him to call
him back, only Hamilton wouldn’t let me. I did not like
to see such old friends quarrel. I am sure I would very
gladly have stayed at home to keep peace.â€
“J am quite sure of that,†said Mrs. Paget. “But
how came your perfect Mr. Hamilton to choose such a
friend 2?â€
««T have often wondered,†said Louis ; ‘‘ and last Satur-
day, when that happened that I told you of just now, and
Hamilton (he is so-kind) said he wouldn’t give me up for
anybody, he said he thought he made Trevannion his
friend because he was too lazy to find another for him-
self.â€
“ Too lazy to find another ?†repeated Mrs. Paget.
“Hamilton does not like taking trouble, generally,â€
said Louis: “it is his greatest fault, I think. He takes
things as they come. I have often wished he would con-
cern himself a little moreabout the wrong things that go
on among us. You know it would be of no use my speak-
ing about them, though I try sometimes ; it is so much
easier to do right when the great boys support you.â€
«So it is, dear,†said Mrs. Paget, kindly.
Mrs. Norman had scarcely spoken during the whole
al
A STORY FOR BOYS. 229
conversation, though she had once or twice laid down her
work and looked very gravely at Louis; but he had not
noticed it; for he was so elated with himself, and the rela-
tions of his own importance at school, and the idea of his
superiority above his school-fellows, that there was no
room for any thing else in his head, and he went on with
the firm conviction that both the ladies were, like every
one else, extremely delighted and interested in him and his
sentiments. There had been another auditor in the room
almost ever since the beginning of the long chat, and that
was Henry Norman, who, when he had seen his horse and
lunched, entered. the room unperceived by Louis or Mrs.
Paget, and passed noiselessly along to the furthest win-
dow, where he sat, with a book, hid by the curtains from
a @areless glance. A few words caught his ear as he was
finding out his place ; and, whether the matter of the first
page required deep consideration and digestion or not, we
cannot pretend to determine, not knowing the nature of the
chosen volume, but it-is certain that that leaf was not
turned over that afternoon, and the eyes that professed to
convey its meaning to the mind of the reader not unfre-
quently wandered on the hills in the distant prospect, or,
on being recalled, on the nearer objects of Mrs. Paget’s
sofa—the skein of silk and the pair of hands, which were
the only portions visible to him of the loquacious little vis-
itor. That he was listening with»interest of an €quivocal
nature might be gathered from the ffréquent, impatient
knitting of the brow, biting of the lips, and sudden laying
down of the book altogether; but there he sat till Louis,
having flown off from Hamilton to the general school fail-
ings, had finished relating the history of Frank Digby’s
20
+
930 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
memorable Saturday night’s exploit, and concluded by an
emphatic delivery of his upright sentiments on. the heinous-
ness of practical jokes. He paused a minute to take
breath, after a Philippic that elicited a small dose of flat-
tery from Mrs. Paget, and, with a face flushed with satis-
faction and excitement, stooped to pick up a fallen pair of
scissors, when Mrs. Norman, laying down her work, looked
again at him and uttered a sound indicative of an intention
of speaking. This time Louis was fully aware of an ex-
pression in her countenance far from satisfactory, but she
had not time to express her sentiments, for at this moment
Reginald was announced, and‘a general move took place.
Henry Norman came forward and welcomed him, and then
took him and Louis out on the Crescent till dinner-time.
Here they were joined by some of Norman’s acquaintances,
whom he introduced to his visitors. Louis thought uncom-
fortably, for a few minutes, of Mrs. Norman’s look of dis-
approbation ; but he p srsuaded himself that there was no-
thing meant by it, and soon became very lively. There
was something he did not like about Norman, who, though
perfectly well-bred and attentive, showed a degree of indif-
ference and disregard to any thing he said or did, that did
not altogether suit Louis’ present state of mind. If Louis
addressed him, he listened very politely, but with a slight,
sarcastic smile, and either returned a very short and cool
reply, or, if the remark did not require one, an inclination
of the head, and®turned immediately to one of his other
companions. Reginald did not much fancy him; but, upon
the whole, they managed to pass the time very pleasantly
till they were summoned to dinner.
Several persons came in in the evening, and Louis was
~~
A STORY FOR BOYS. 231
called upon by Mrs. Paget to sing, “ Where the bee sucks.â€
This led to other songs, and Louis attracted the notice of a
musical gentleman, who was much pleased with him, and
who gave him a general invitation to his house. Louis
was in the midst of his thanks when Reginald summoned
him to go home, and, in spite of Mrs. Paget’s remon-
strances and offers of her carriage, carried his point.
«Well, Louis, how did you get on ?†said Reginald, as
they were walking home; “I think you must have been
dreadfully bored with holding skeins and talking fine for
Mrs. Paget’s ‘edification for two hours at least, to say
nothing of all the stuffing you have had this evening.â€
«Qh! I have been very happy,†said Louis. “Do you
know Mr. Fraser has invited me to his musical parties ?â€
“I wish you joy, lam sure. What a nice woman Mrs.
Norman seems !â€â€™ ;
«‘ Yes,†said Louis, doubtfully.
« Yes—that sounds very much like no,†said Reginald.
“TJ did not mean it.†Louis recalled her manner lately
towards him, and mentally went over the conversation of
the day.
‘Well, what’s the matter?†asked Reginald.
‘«‘T am afraid I have been very foolish ; I talk so foolishly
sometimes, Reginald—I said so many foolish things this
afternoon. I don’t think Mrs. Norman likes me.â€
“Rubbish! stuff and nonsense! Just like you, Louis,
always imagining somebody’s displeased with you—I won't
hear a word more; I have no patience with you.â€
«Then you don’t think she seemed vexed with me ?â€
«“ Not 1; and if she were, what’s the odds? What differ-®
ence need she make in your happiness? What a wretched
#
932 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
ereature you'll make of yourself, Louis, if you think so
much of the opinion of every one—a person, too, you may
never see again.â€
Louis was relieved, and talked on other matters with his
brother till they reached home. He was a little annoyed
to hear that Hamilton had expressed considerable vexation
at his going with Mrs. Norman before afternoon school, and
this, combined with the excitement and vanity under which
he labored, disturbed considerably the tranquillity of his
slumbers, and prevented his earnestly secking that aid he
so much needed.
iy
A STORY FOR BOYS. 233
CHAPTER XVIII.
“A talebearer revealeth secrets; but he that is of a faithful spirit
concealeth the matter.â€â€”Prov. xi. 13.
“He that covereth a transgression seeketh love, but he that re-
peateth a matter separateth very friends.†—Prov. xvii. 9.
“ When pride cometh, then cometh shame.â€â€”Prov. xi. 2.
“A haughty spirit goeth before a fall.â€â€”Prov. xvi. 18.
Preruaps those who have read the first part of the story
of Louis Mortimer will remember that I there endeavored
to explain the nature of the Christian’s warfare, and that I
stated that there were sad periods when the Christian, too
confident in his own strength, perhaps too much inclined to
exult in his victories as evincing some latent power in him-
self, becomes less watchful, and gradually falls back in his
glorious course. It is certain, that if we do not advance
we go back, and oh, how sad it is that redeemed sinners,
called by so holy a name as that. of Christian, should, in
any degree, forget to whom they owe all their might to do
well, as well as their final salvation, that they should relax,
in the least, their prayers, their efforts in the strength of
the Holy Spirit to press forward towards the mark of the
prize of their high calling. It is not that all those who
thus sadly backslide are allowed to fall into open sin.
Many, by the great mercy of their Lord, | are preserved
20*
934 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS!
from thus dishonoring His holy name and cause; but alas!
too often is there a falling off in devotion, in singleness
of heart, in perseverance, in watchfulness against beset-
ting sins, when the prayers are fewer and colder, the
praises fainter, and the Christian, after languishing for a
time in this divided state, hardly making an effort to return,
becomes conscious, to his alarm, how far he has wandered,
and feels with our sweet poet, in the bitterness of his spirit,
“ Where is the blessedness I knew,
When first I saw the Lord ?
Where is the soul-refreshing view
Of Jesus and His word ?
“The peaceful hours I once enjoyed
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill.â€
For the next fortnight the singing class was indefatigable,
and owing to the cultivated taste of Louis and Reginald,
and the superior musical education of one or two others,
among. whom Mr. Witworth and Frank were not the least
in importance, the members at length considered themselves
competent to exhibit before an audience,
Accordingly, after Dr. Wilkinson had been favored with
a specimen of their skill, his permission was obtained to in-
vite such of their friends as they chose.
Tickets of admission, which had been prepared before-
hand, were then sent out in various directions, accompanied.
by notes of invitation. As soon as Mrs. Paget’s arrived at
its destination, a most kind answer was dispatched to Louis
as president, adding a request to be allowed to provide
A STORY FOR BOYS. 935
refreshment for the performers ; and, as her proposal was
hailed with three cheers, and gracefully accepted by Louis,
on the morning of the eventful day came grapes, peaches,
biscuits, and wine, which were very elegantly set out in the
class-room by the committee. |
The concert passed off as propitiously as could be
wished. Hamilton, who, from utter want of ear, was to-
tally incapacitated for singing, acted the part of steward
with Trevannion, Meredith, and one or two others, with
great decorum, and actually stood near Mrs. Paget during
part of the performance, listening quietly to Louis’ praises
with such evident interest, that a few words of commenda-
tion he uttered quite won the lady’s heart, though she had
certainly been prejudiced against him before. It was
remarked by some, that the doctor did not seem much
pleased with Louis’ manners on this occasion; for, when
Mrs. Paget, between the parts, began to praise Louis’ ex-
traordinary musical talents (as she was pleased to call
them), and to relate how much he pleased the company at
her house, Dr. Wilkinson coolly replied, that he considered
he had been well taught, but doubted his having more
than an average good taste and general ability ; and as his
eye turned upon Louis, who was moving rather affectedly
and conceitedly from rank to rank on his way to the re.
freshment-room, his forehead wrinkled ominously, and his
lips became more tightly compressed. He was observed
to watch Louis for a minute, and then turn suddenly away
as if disgusted.
The madrigal concert took place about the end of the
quarter, and on the following Saturday afternoon, the mo-
notony of Ashfield House was varied by the arrival of a
236 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
new scholar, in the person of Mr. Henry Norman, who
was placed as a parlor boarder with the doctor.
" When Hamilton and Louis returned from the playground
together, they discovered this young gentleman sitting on
the table, carefully balancing the doctor’s chair with one of
his feet, deeply immersed in the contents of a new book
with only partially cut leaves, left by accident on the table.
His back was turned towards them, and he was so en-
grossed in the twofold occupation of reading and keeping
the heavy chair from falling, that he did not notice their
entrance, and Louis, not recognizing his figure at first, nor
knowing that he was expected, left the business of wel-
coming the stranger to his senior.
*‘ Our new school-fellow, Louis, I suppose,â€â€™ said Hamil-
ton, in a low tone, as he scrutinized the lengthy figure be-
fore him. ‘I know that fellow, Louis—he is a frien of
yours.â€â€™
Before Louis had time to answer, the low murmur
had disturbed Norman; and, looking up without altering
his position in the least, he acknowledged _ his acquaint-
ance with Louis by a nod, and a careless “ How do you
do?â€
Louis advanced directly with a warm welcome and out-
stretched hand that was met by two fingers of Norman’s
left hand, tendered in a manner so offensive to Hamilton
that he debated whether he should turn the intruder out
of window, or walk himself out of the door ; and concluded
by drawing back in disdainful anger. |
Louis was not so ready to take offence, though he was
sensitive enough to feel a little hurt; and, turning round to
his friend, introduced Norman to him.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 237
Norman «took a steady quick glance at Hamilton, and,
though his lips were full of propriety, there was something
like a sarcastic smile in his eyes.
“You are not altogether a stranger to me, Mr. Hamil-
ton, though, I imagine, I am to you,†he said, as he al-
lowed the chair to regain its legs, and got off the table,
throwing the book on-another, several yards distant.
“TI must confess you have the advantage of me,†said
Hamilton, coldly. “I was not aware that I had the honor
of being known to you.â€
“TI assure you, then, that you had that honor.—Dear
me!’ he added, as he threw himself into the doctor’s
chair, stretching out his legs to their utmost length: <‘ab-
surd of me to sit on that table, when I might have initiated
myself so admirably into the art of reading made easy.
Comfortable chair this of Fudge’s—I beg his Pardon, Dr.
Wilkinson’s. I am so accustomed to that elegant nom du
guerre that I occasionally forget myself. The old gentle-
man knows how to make himself comfortable ; I suppose
that book belongs to him. I took the liberty of cutting a
few leaves.â€
“ Which will be a peculiar satisfaction to him, doubtless,â€
said Hamilton; ‘and perhaps you may have the pleasure
of hearing so from his own lips.â€
“ Verbum sat,†replied Norman. {It is a peculiar grati-
fication, Mr. Hamilton, to discover that your natural good
sense is overcoming your usual disinclination to notice those
things which are.not comme-il faut in your school-fellows,
thereby depriving them of the aid of your countenance and
example in their little endeavors ; and I feel peculiar satis-
faction in thus early becoming the recipient of the good
238 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
services bestowed by the blunt sincerity and kindliness of
your nature.â€
Hamilton crimsoned and stared; but there was nothing
insolent in the tone: it was inexplicable. That something
was meant he could not doubt; and presently, perceiving that
Louis was uncomfortable and embarrassed, he said haughtily,
“T really am at a loss to understand you, sir; but your
manner towards your friend and mine is particularly un-
pleasant. What you may have been used to I cannot
pretend to know; but, whatever it be, you will be kind
enough to remember that here we are accustomed to the
society of gentlemen, and to treat each other as such.â€
“My dear Mr. Hamilton,†said Norman, blandly,
slightly moving as if to arrest Hamilton’s progress towards
the door, “you entirely misunderstand me. Master Mor-
timer and & now understand each other better. Indeed, I
am laid under a weighty obligation to Master Louis for my
acquaintance with your royal self and various members of
your court; and could not possibly have any intention of
quarrelling with so kind a benefactor. As for you, I have
made up my mind to know and like you. Shake hands,
will you ?â€
Hamilton hesitatingly touched the proffered hand, and
looking at his watch at the same moment, wondered to
Louis why tea was not ready.
« There’s the bell !’’ exclaimed Louis ; and seizing Hamil-
ton’s arm, he hurried off, leaving Norman to follow at his
leisure, as neither Hamilton nor himself delt at all inclined
to be ceremonious.
Louis felt a little afraid of Weeman. though he did not
exactly know why.
A STORY FOR BOYs. 239
Norman did not follow them immediately ; and Hamilton
had nearly emptied his first cup of tea when he came in,
in company with Trevannion and Frank Digby, the latter
of whom had a marvellous facility for making acquaintances
on the shortest notice. They sat down at the end of one
of the three long tables, and continued laughing and talk-
ing the whole of the tea-time, after which Norman went
to his own tea with the doctor.
“So, Louis, Norman’s come!†exclaimed Reginald, poun-
cing upon his brother just as he reached the school-room
door.
“Is he e friend of yours?†asked Trevannion.
‘«‘ He is, and he is not. Make that riddle out at your
leisure,†replied Reginald, gayly.
“Oh, that settles the matter!’ said Trevannion.
« What matter ?†asked Louis.. *
A look of the most withering description was the only
answer Louis received ; it was ough, however, to deter
him from repeating his question.
Happily, Reginald did not see it.
“ How do you like our. new-comer, Trevannion?â€â€™ asked
Hamilton, linking his arm in his friend’s, preparatory toa
short, after-tea turn in. the playground. “There is some-
thing very peculiar about him—insolent, I think.â€
“‘ He’s a nice fellow, in my opinion,†said Trevannion.
“A very knowing chap,†said Salisbury. ** Has he been
here before ?â€
“No,†said -_ Digby ».‘‘ but somebody’s been kind
enough to give the full particulars, history, and lives, pec-
cadilloes, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, of the gentlemen,
generally, and individually, at Ashfield Academy. Why,
240 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
Hamilton, he called Trevannion and Salisbury by their
names, without any introduction, and is as much up to
every thing here as yourself, I believe.â€
“I don’t much fancy him,†said Hamilton ; “ and strongly
suspect he won’t add much to our comfort.â€
“He doesn’t like your pet, I suppose, then,†said Tre-
vannion, marking the slight color that rose in Hamilton’s
face. ‘He told me of your strange rencontre in the class-
room ; heshas taken a fancy, I am sure, to you.â€
Hamilton did not look particularly delighted, and changed
the subject to one on which he and Trevannion conversed
most amicably till past their usual time for re-entering the
study.
Norman did not come among them that evening till
prayer-time ; and, to his great satisfaction, Louis saw very
little of him for the Mext day or two.
One day, during the first week of Norman’s initiation, at
the close of the morning school, a party similar in size and
kind to that which had the honor of greeting Louis on his
arrival the preceding half-year, was assembled on the raised
end of the school-room. Frank and Salisbury were both
of them seated on the top of a desk; the former, generally
silent, relieved himself by sundry twists and contortions,
smacking of the lips, sighs, and turnings of the eyes, varied
by a few occasional thumps administered to Salisbury, who
sat by him, apparently unconscious of the bellicose attitude
of his neighbor, listening attentively, with a mixed expres-
sion of concern and anger om his honeg\countenance, to
Norman, who, on this occasion, was ne Mscinal speaker.
Louis was in the room, at his desk, hunting for a top; but
too intent upon his search, and too far off to hear more of
?
A STORY FOR BOYS. 941
the topics that engrossed so much attention, than a few
words that conveyed no impression to him, being simply,
“Ferrers—my aunt—clever—hypocritical.â€
Just as he had given up all hope of finding his top,
Hamilton came up to him. “Louis,†said he, “if Tre-
vannion goes out with me, I shall have time to hear your
Herodotus before afternoon school, directly after dinner,
mind.â€
“J shan’t forget ;—oh, Hamilton, you haven’t such a
thing as another top, have you? Reginald’s broken two
of mine, and I can’t find my other.â€
‘‘I do happen to have taken care of yours for you, you
careless boy. Here is my desk-key, you will find it there ;
you can give me the key after dinner.â€
With many thanks, Louis proceeded to Hamilton’s desk,
and Hamilton went up to Trevannion, who was one of the
party at the upper end of the room. Louis was now so
near the speakers, as to be unavoidably within hearing of
all that passed ; and, astonished by the first few words, he —
proceeded no further in his errand than putting the key
into the lock.
‘Are you inclined for a walk, Trevannion 2?†asked
Hamilton, as he reached him.
Trevannion was leaning against the doctor’s desk, in a
more perturbed state than his calm‘ self usually exhibited.
As Hamilton spoke, he turned round, stared, and drew
himself proudly up, replying, in a tone of great bitterness,
“Thank you, Mr. Hamilton, but perhaps if you will take
the trouble, you may find some one better suited to you
than myself.â€
What is the matter ?†said Hamilton.
21
949 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
“Some of your friends appear to have better memories
than yourself,†replied Trevannion, folding his arms, and
assuming an indifferent air ; “you will, perhaps, not find
mine quite so capricious; I am much obliged for all favors
bestowed, Mr. Hamilton. Perhaps you considered me too
lazy to look out for another friend; I am active enough, I
assure you, to provide myself with one, and to release
you from the irksome ties your indolence has imposed -
upon you.†|
Hamilton looked, as he was, seriously annoyed. He did
not remember the expression that had given so much of-
fence, and was quite at a loss to understand the mystery :—
he looked from one to the other for explanation; at. one
time inclined to walk away as proudly as Trevannion could
have done; at anothér, his more moderate feelings tri-
umphing, urged him into an inquiry.
“T really cannot understand you,†he said, at length ;
«do explain yourself. If I have done any thing to offend
you, let me know what it is, and, if reasonable, I am willing
to apologize.†aeâ€
Trevannion sneered. ‘“ Apologies can do little good—eh,
Norman ?â€â€™ | | 2
“Tf you know what this is, Norman,†said Hamilton, “ I
must beg you to enlighten me.†.
«“‘[ have no business to interfere,†said Norman, care-
lessly. 8. 0-
«What a tragedy scene! What’s the matter 2†eried
Reginald Mortimer, who came up at the moment. “ You
lazy-bones of a Louis! where are you?â€
“The matter is simply this,†said Frank Digby: “ Nor-
man has heard from a veracious source that Mr. Hamilton
A STORY FOR Boys. 943
once said, in confidence (between you and me, you know),
that the reason he retained Mr. Philip Trevannion in the
rank of first bosom-friend, was because he was too lazy to
look out for one better suited to his tastes : consequently, as
Mr. Trevannion can aver that Mr. Hamilton never confided
this matter to him, it is certain that some one has betrayed
confidence reposed in him—oh, yes! oh, yes!â€
-“ What a fuss about a nonsensical report!†exclaimed
Reginald. “ Do you believe it ?†-
‘‘ Does he deny it?†said Trevannion, turaing to Hamil-
ton. | i
Hamilton’s color rose ; and, after a little pause, in which
he carefully considered what he had said, he replied, “ No,
I do not deny having said something like this one day when
Trevannion and I had fallen out ;*but how much it was
more than a momentary fit of anger our long friendship
ought to decide. ‘Trevannion, we have been friends too
long for such a silly thing as this to separate us. I am
very sorry it should ever have escaped my lips; but if
every thing we say in a moment of impatience and vexation
were repeated and minded, there would be very little
friendship in the world. Come, Trevannion, shake hands,
and forget it for auld lang syne, as I will do when any one
brings such a tale to me.†| |
As Hamilton spoke, his eye résted on Norman, fired
with indignation, and lighted a second on the principal of-
fender, but no longer, for he did not wish to draw Louis
into notice. -
“It may seem a little nonsensical mattér to you, Hamil-
ton,†said Trevannion, putting his hand behind him; “but
these little things exhibit more than the greatest profes-
~
944 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
sions. Iam not too lazy to cure myself of old habits, if
you are.â€
«I never make professions,†said Hamilton, proudly ;
“and I have done.â€
He was turning away, when a sudden motion from Jones
arrested him. Jones had been standing silently by Trevan-
nion, and now, leaping over a desk, seized Louis, and
dragged him in the centre of the group, to the great
astonishment of both himself and his brother, exclaim-
ing : |
“Here’s the offender, the tell-tale, the hypocrite, the
meek good boy, so anxious of Ferrers’ reputation !â€
«What do you want with me?†exclaimed Louis, an-
grily, struggling to free himself from his captor.
“Hands off! Leave him alone, Jones,†shouted Regi-
nald. ‘ What’s all this about?â€
“Do let him go,†said Hamilton. ‘“Can’t you let him
alone ?â€
«« He’s the traitor, Hamilton.â€
Hamilton could not deny it, for it could have been no
one else.
“Well, it is past, and the punishment he has in his own
feelings will be enough,†he said. “ Let him alone.â€
« Louis, you haven’t been telling tales and making mis-
chief ?†cried Reginald.
“J don’t know,†said Louis. ‘I said something to Mrs.
Paget, I believe—I didn’t know there was any harm.
Hamilton didn’t say he didn’t want any thing said about it.â€
“ Didn’t say!†echoed Jones, scornfully.
Hamilton’s look was more in reproach than anger.
Louis felt struck to the heart with shame and anger; but
A STORY FOR BOYS. 945
so much had he lately been nursed in conceit and self-
sufficiency, that he drove away the better impulse; and,
instead of at once acknowledging himself in the wrong and
begging pardon, he stood still, endeavoring to look uncon-
cerned, repeating, “ I didn’t mean any harm.†|
“Oh, Louis!†exclaimed Reginald, reproachfully, “I
didn’t think you could.â€
“Let the boy go, Jones,â€â€™ said Hamilton, trying to re-
move the grasp from Louis’ shoulders.
“‘ Not so fast, an’t please your majesty,†said Jones: “I
like ts see hypocrites unmasked. Here, gentlemen, for-
sooth, here in this soonified youth, the anxious warden of
Ferrers’ reputation, you see the young gentleman who not
only tells the story, but gives the name of the party con-
cerned to a dear, good, gossiping soul—â€
“ Gently, gently there, Jones,†remarked Norman.
« A gossiping old soul,†repeated Jones, “who'd have
the greatest delight in retailing the news, with decorations
and additions, all over the ace with the greatest pos-
sible speed.â€
“T don’t believe a word of that, Jones,†said Reginald.
“ It is impossible ! e
«What! is it impossible ?†asked: Jones, giving Louis a
shake.
“What business have you to question me ?â€
“Did you?†repeated Jones, with another shake.
“Fair questioning, Jones,†cried Reginald. ‘No coer-
cion, if you please.â€â€™
“ Hold him back, Mason, if you please. Norman, will
you hold him back? Now, Louis, if you don’t answer I’ll
give you a thrashing.â€
21*
246 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
«“ You and Lare friends, Mortimer,†said Salisbury, jump-
ing off the desk and coming close up to Reginald ; “but I
mean to have fair play in this matter. He shan’t be hurt
—but, if you interfere till they’ve done questioning him,
I shall help them to hold you back.â€
“ Don’t meddle with it, Salisbury,†said Hamilton; ‘it’s
nobody’s affair.â€
“ Nobody’s affair, indeed!†exclaimed Frank. “Here
we’ve been making a cher amt, a rara avis, or something or
other of this boy, because he professed to be something
superior to us all—and now, when we find he has been
telling tales of all of us, we are told it’s nobody's affair.
He’s been obtaining credit upon false enw, We're
the strongest party, and we'll do what we please.â€
Reginald restrained himself with a violent effort, and
Jones proceeded.
«Now, sir, answer directly—is this impossible ?â€
Louis felt very much inclined to cry, but he replied with-
out tears very reluctantly, “Mrs. Paget would make me
tell her some things—she had heard almost all from others.
I don’t know how the name slipped out; I didn’t mean to
tell, I am sure.â€
«“ Wuat?†said fiilton ; “ you tell that story, Louis! .
Louis felt that Ham Iton despised him ; and perhaps,
had they known all the circumstances relative to the Heron-
hurst disclosure, the clamor would not have been so great ;
so much evil is done. by repeating a small matter, exag-
gerated, as these repetitions usually are, according to the
feelings of the speaker. But in every case now bearing so
unexpectedly down upon him, had Louis, thoughtless of
himself, been less anxious for admiration, he would not
A STORY FOR BOYS. 247
have committed himself; had he not attracted Norman’s
attention by his folly and conceit, the circumstance of: his
having disclosed the name of the offender, at Heronhurst,
would, most probably, not only have been unknown to his
school-fellows, but to Norman also.
“ Oh, Hamilton, I didn’t tell all the story !’ he exclaimed.
“No, only just enough to appear magnanimous,†said
F rank.
“ Seeing that such is ii case,†continued Jones, “ it can-
not be a matter of great astonishment, that the same meek
crocodile should also deliver to the same tender mercy various
particulars of minor import respecting sundry others of his
school-fellows ; among which, we discover the private con-
versation of an intimate and too indulgent friend. Upon
my word, young gentleman, I’ve a great mind to make you
kiss Ferrers’ shoes. Where’s Ferrers ?†:
Jones turned round with his victim towards the door,
perceiving that Ferrers was not in the room, but neither
Hamilton nor Reginald would —— matters to proceed
further. 7
“Let him go,†said Norman; ‘it is not worth -while
taking so much trouble about it. You know whom you
have to deal with, and will be 9
“Thanks to you,†said Hamil ‘atone of the most
cutting irony.
He released Louis, and stood still till he saw him safely
in the playground, whither he was followed by the hisses
and exclamations of. his inquisitors, and then turned in the
opposite direction to the class-room.
“Mr. Hamilton!†exclaimed Norman, “may I ask what
+ your words meant just now ?â€
948 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS8 !
“You may,†said Hamilton, turning round and eyeing the
speaker from head to foot, with the most contemptuous in-
difference. ‘‘ You are at liberty to put whatever construc-
tion you please upon them; and perhaps it will save trouble
if I inform you at once that I never fight.â€
“ Then, sir,†said Norman, whose anger was rising beyond
control, “ you should weigh your words a little more cau-
tiously, if you are so cowardly.â€
Hamilton deigned no reply, and proceeded to the class-
room, where he shut himself up, leaving the field clear for
Reginald, who, before long, was engaged in a pitched
battle with Norman.
Louis retreated to his play-fellows who were yet uncon-
scious of his disgrace with the higher powers; and, after
playing for a little while, wandered about by himself, too
uneasy and sick at heart to amuse himself. He found now,
alas! that he was alone; that he had lost all pleasure in
holy things ; and, conscious of his falling away, he was
now afraid to pray,—foolish boy. And thus it is—Satan
tempts us to do wrong, and then tempts us to doubt God’s
willingness to forgive us, in order that, being without grace
and strength, we may fall yet deeper.
As Louis wanderedalong, he heard sounds familiar
enough to him, which: portended a deadly fray, and when
he came upon the combatants, he discovered that one of
them was his own brother. He knew it was useless to at-
tempt to stop the fight, and he wandered away again, and
cried a little, for he thought that something would happen,
and he and Reginald would be placed together in some un-
pleasant situation ; and he dreaded Dr. Wilkinson’s hearing
of either affair.
ee Pes Peres oy
A STORY FOR BOYS. ' 949
I must be excused for stopping my story to remark here,
that in this world, it is certain that we have great influence
on one another, and that for this influence we are respon-
sible. Had Louis’ school-fellows acted more kindly, en-
deavoring to set before him the fault of tattling, the effect
would have been to raise a feeling of gratitude in his mind,
which would have been far more effectual in preventing the
recurrence of the fault, than the plan of repudiation they
had adopted. Had they, even after a day or two’s pen-
ance, given him an opening into their good graces, he would
not have felt, as he did, that he had lost his character, and
it was ‘no use caring about it,†and so gone from bad to
worse, till his name was associated with those of. the worst
boys in the school. It may be said, How can school-boys
be expected to have so much consideration? but this a
school-boy may do. He may mentally put himself in the
position of the delinquent, and considering how he would
wish to be treated, act accordingly.
Every thing seemed to go wrong with Louis that day.
The Herodotus that Hamilton was to have heard, was
scarcely looked at; and Louis lost two or three places in
his class. Hamilton never noticed him, and even Reginald
was offended with him. Louis tried to.brave it out, and
sung in a low tone, whistled, and finally, when he was
roughly desired to be quiet, walked into the school-room,
and finished his evening with Casson and Churchill.
Lie
250 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
CHAPTER XIX.
«“ Be not deceived; evil communications corrupt good manners.â€- -
1 Cor. xV. 32.
For the next few days Louis was regularly sent to
Coventry, and though Hamilton took no part in any thing
that was said against him, his manner had so. entirely
changed, and his tone was so cold when he addressed or
answered him, that Louis needed no further demonstration
to feel assured of the great difference in the feeling with
which he was regarded. Clifton alone remained unchanged,
but he was so much absorbed in his dear classics that he
had hardly time to notice that any thing was the matter:
and as Reginald, thoroughly disappointed, was also highly
displeased with his brother, Louis was either thrown entirely
upon his own resources, or driven to seek the society of the
lower school; and, as he was in a very unhappy state, and
could not bear to be left alone, he naturally chose the latter.
For the first two days he struggled to assume an independ-
ent air, and, changing his place of his own accord from
Hamilton to Clifton, talked incessantly, though nearly un-
heeded by the latter, to show how perfectly well able he
was to do his own business without assistance. Hamilton
missed him, and glanced down the table with a gaze of
A STORY FOR BOYS. 951
mingled disappointment and displeasure. A few words
from him might have recalled Louis, but they were not
spoken, and the only impression conveyed to the poor
truant was, that the friend he most cared about, in com-
mon with the rest, considered him beneath his notice.
The third evening some affair was to be taken into con-
sideration, of which the proceedings were intended to be
kept very secret. Louis was sitting by Clifton, when Tre-
vannion, who was to open the business, entered with a
folded paper and a pencil in one hand, and took his place
at the head of the long table. He looked down the table,
and his eyes meeting Louis’, he laid down his pencil, and
taking up a book, began, or pretended to. begin, to read.
“Hey! What’s that, Trevannion?†asked Salisbury.
«‘Are we to be prepared with a choice quotation from
Thucydides, or is it a hint that we are to remember duty
first and pleasure afterwards ?â€
“ Rather,†said Frank, “ that some people have — ears
and tongues.â€
" Perhaps,†said Trevannion, looking over the top of bis
book, ‘“ Louis Mortimer will have the civility to hasten his
studies this evening, as we have pressing business to per-
form.â€
“And why need I prevent it ?†said Louis, crimsoning,
“Simply for this reason,†said-Trevannion, “ that we do
not choose to have every thing that passes our lips this
night carried over the country; therefore, Master Louis,
we can disp@se with your company.â€
“Without so much circumlocution, either,†said Jones.
“We like your room better than your company-just now,
Louis Mortimer ; so please to decamp.â€
952 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
“ Evaporate |†said Meredith.
“T have my lessons % learn,†said Louis.
“Ts there any moral or physical impossibility in your
lessons being learned in the school-room ?â€â€ asked Smith.
“JT don’t choose.â€
“Don’t choose!†repeated Jones. “ We’ll see about that.
Do you choose to go quietly, or to be turned out, eh?â€
“You have no right to do it,†exclaimed Louis. “I
have as much right to be here as you.â€
“Ho, ho!†exclaimed Jones. ‘You'll find might is
right here, my pretty young gentleman. Salisbury, will
you have the kindness to put the door between us and his
impertinence ?†‘
« The procacity of the juvenile is progressing,†remarked
Frank.
Hamilton was not in the room, and there was no one to
assist Reginald in his resistance to the numbers by whom
he was soon overpowered, and in a few minutes, in spite of
his exertions, he found himself turned out with Louis,
whom he had vainly endeavored to defend.
Boiling with fury, Reginald at first attempted to kick
open the door, and then, being called to his senses by the
interference of the usher in the room, walked into the play-
ground, and getting in at one of the class-room windows,
opened the door to Louis before his antagonists had re-
covered from their surprise.
There was another scuffle, which was at length settled
by the usher’s taking Louis’ side, and desiring him to go
in; but Louis found the study so thoroughly uncomfort-
able, that in a few minutes he returned to the school-room,
and seated himself, in a restless, idle mood, by Casson.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 253
The idle conversation of an idle, uprincipled boy is sure
to be of a hurtful description, and after Casson had heard
Louis’ grievances, and condoled with him in the fashion of
encouraging him in all that was bad, the discourse fell upon
Casson’s last school, and many things Louis heard and
learned of which he had remained, till then, in blissful
ignorance. One or two ushers usually sat with the boys
in the evening. One of these was an elderly man, uncouth
and ungainly in person, and possessed. of a very unfor-
tunate temper, that was irritated in every possible manner
by those whose duty it was to have soothed the infirmities
and considered the trials of one whose life was spent in
their service. Louis had felt a great pity for the poor
solitary man who never seemed to have a friend, and now
and then had spared a few minutes of his play-time to talk
to him, and would ask to be allowed to cut the pencil that
was employed so constantly in ruling the ciphering books ;
and when his flowers were in bloom, a half-open rosebud
was usually presented to Mr. Garthorpe to put in his but-
ton-hole on Sunday morning. ‘The poor usher loved Louis
as warmly as any one else in that house, nor would he
have believed that ‘that good lad,†as he called him, could
have spent a great part of an evening in laughing at prac-
tical jokes played off on him, though Louis could not yet
be prevailed upon to take part in them.
The next few days were spent as might be expected.
Louis had now put himself under the guidance of some of
the worst boys in the school, and the consequence was (for
the downward path is easy) the neglect of all that was
good, and the connivance at, if not actual participation in
all that was wrong. His place was: lost, his lessons so al
22
254 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
prepared, that, as formerly, he was kept in day after day,
and Casson, his chief adviser, persuaded him that Mr.
Danby was unjust and tyrannical, and instigated him to
impertinence as a retaliation. Louis was miserable, for
miserable must he be who sins against light. :
It was not long before Dr. Wilkinson became aware of a
change in Louis’-conduct, and he took an early opportunity
of speaking very seriously to him on the subject. Louis
was very humble, and longed to throw open all his ti oubles
to his master, the only person who had spoken kindly and
sensibly to him since his disgrace, yet foolishly afraid to
declare the whole truth to him, especially as, by the doc-
tor’s recommendation to him to follow the example of his
friends Hamilton and Clifton, he found that his master was
not aware that Hamilton was so much displeased with him.
Unhappily, Dr. Wilkinson did not know of Louis’ intimacy
with Casson, nor had Casson been long enough with him
to enable him to know more of him than as an idle, trouble-
some dunce. The doctor’s admonitions were so far bene-
ficial to Louis, that besides producing decidedly better
behavior for a few days, they were instrumental in restrain-
ing him afterwards from the commission of many things
which might have been both hurtful to his well-doing and
future peace of mind; but unassisted by prayerful efforts
on Louis’ part, they could go no further than this ; and as
he had not strength of mind to shake off his evil com-
panions, he soon fell back into much of his idle, giddy
habits, and was classed with some of the worst boys by
those of the upper school who had formerly so unwisely
flattered and spoiled him. Oh, had they known how often
his sad, restless, though at times reckless mind, yearned
A STORY FOR BOYS. 255
for a little kindness from them, that he might feel that
every chance of retrieving their esteem had not gone!
Once, after standing some time by Hamilton, he eile
to ask if he were still offended with him. Hamilton coldly
disclaimed any idea of offence, and declining all discussion
on the matter, hinted that Louis’ conduct was too disrepu-
table to be noticed. Louis turned fronr him with a proud
resolve never te speak to Hamilton again. Hamilton’s con-
science smote him when he saw him a short time after in
company with Casson and Harris, whispering and laughing
in a corner, at no good, assuredly ; but though he inwardly
felt that he had forced Louis, in some measure, to take
refuge with thése boys, he was too proud to stoop from his
throne of dignity to save him.
That day, when the boys returned from their walk, they
entered at the back of the playground from a lane, on the
opposite side of which lay some fields belonging to Dr.
Wilkinson, and close on the edge of the field nearest to the
ditch bounding the lane, were some out-houses, consisting
of a cow-house, stables, and barn. As the lane was public
property, the boys were forbidden to wander beyond the
boundary of their playground, which on this side was a high
wall, a wooden door shutting out all communication with
any thing beyond. Notwithstanding the prohibition re-
garding this lane, there were now and then excursions over
the wall in the direction of the cottage of an old woman,
who kept a small day- -school, and sold bull’s-eyes and ginger-
bread, with other dainties of a doubtful description, and
who was, more than all, willing, for “a consideration,†to
perform any hazardous errand for the young, gentlemen.
Other sallies of a still more doubtful character occasionally
256 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:!
took place, and Dr. Wilkinson felt sure that his orchard had
been robbed more than once, though by what hands he did
not always discover. On this day the boys had just entered
from the lane, and, as the ushers had not been careful in
seeing the door closed, it stood open for some time, while
several of the boys availed themselves of the crowd of their
school-fellows near it to slip out on their various errands to
old Mary Simmons. Louis had been collecting minera-
logical specimens during his walk, all of which he had con-
signed to ‘the depths of a large green baize bag which he
carried with him. He stopped a few minutes near the gate
to talk about his treasures to Clifton, who had been walk-
ing with him, but the concourse becoming rather greater
than Clifton found convenient, he presently moved away,
and Louis was following him, his bag in one hand and two
unpromising-looking stones in the other, when Casson ar-
rested him with, |
“T say, Louis, what a famous bag—lend it us a minute.
I’m going to old mother Simmons’s; it would hold half
her shop.â€
‘There are stones in it,†said Louis, drawing back.
Casson verbally execrated the stones, and, declaring it
was of no consequence, snatched the bag out of Louis’
hand and ran away.
Rather startled by this abrupt manner of proceeding,
Louis followed Casson to the verge of the lane, and waited
there till he came back.
“J haven’t eaten your bag, you see, but I can’t spare it
till we get in.â€
“ But are the stones there?†said Louis.
* «To be sure ; what do you suppose I’ve done with them ?
nr on
A STORY FOR BOYS. 95
What a famous receptacle! I say, Louis, did you ever s€@\-
the inside of the stable over the way ?â€
« No—I am not very fond of stables.â€â€™
“ But I suspect there’s something worth seeing there,†eo
said Casson; and he proceeded to tell Louis, under a a
promise of the strictest secrecy, in a manner so exceed-
ingly vulgar and improper that I do not choose to write it,
that he believed that the doctor kept his winter apples in
the loft of that stable, and concluded by hinting that some
of them meant to find them out and help themselves.
“We used to do it regularly at old Stennett’s, where I
went before, Louis,†he continued. “It’s such fun: you
must lend us your green bag, and come with us.â€
“Oh! Casson, how can you think such a thing of me!â€
exclaimed Louis, shrinking back.
The exclamation was so loud that Casson laid his hand
upon his mouth with a muttered angry ejaculation.
“One would think I had spoken of breaking open a
house,†said Casson.
«It’s stealing,†said Louis, in a tone of anger.
«« Nonsense.†°
“T tell you, Casson, it is—don’t talk to me any more
about it—I wish I had never known you!â€
Casson burst out laughing. ‘“ What a ninny you are!â€
he exclaimed. .“ You are as easily, frightened as a bird
with a pop-gun. And now, I suppose, you will go with
this nice little story to some good friend and make some-
thing interesting and romantic out of nothing.â€
“Ts it really nonsense?†said Louis, after a pause.
«Tell me, Casson, truly, did you mean nothing just —
now ?â€
ay†a
22*
258 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
“ Nothing, upon honor,†said the unprincipled boy. “I
wanted to see you horrified.â€
Louis looked doubtfully at him. ‘‘ Well, please give me
my bag.â€
“ What a hurry you are in !—you must wait till I’ve un-
loaded.â€
Louis followed him to the school-room, but, Casson’s
crowded desk not holding all the contents of the bag, he
was obliged, notwithstanding his anxiety, to wait for his »
property for a day or two, at the expiration of which time
it was returned to him, and borrowed the next day for
another expedition to Mary Simmons.
*
A STORY FOR BOYS. 259
CHAPTER XX.
“Open rebuke is better than secret love.â€
Iv now wanted little more than three weeks to the holi-
days. Sticks for notching were in great request, and “daysâ€
cut in paper were fastened to the testers of the several
beds, to mark more securely the weary time that must
elapse before the joyful breaking-up. Reginald and Louis
had jointly decorated theirs with an elegant drawing of
Dashwood Priory, with a coach and four in the distance,
which drawing would remain uninjured till even the last of
the twenty-eight strips of paper had been detached, when
the owners tore the remainder for excess of joy. The sub-
jects for examination had already been given out, and those
who had any interest at stake had already commissioned
Maister Dunn: for candles, and begun to rise early and sit
late, or as late as was allowed, at their various studies. It
was with some little dismay that Louis looked down the
long list of subjects for the examination of his class, for he
felt that, though (thanks to Hamilton at first, and latterly
some degree of perseverance on his own part) he had made
some progress during the half-year: his friend Clifton’s in-
defatigable industry had placed him so far first, that it
would be almost impossible to hope for any advantage.
- 260 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
Hamilton was now busily engaged in the composition of
a prize poem in Latin, besides the many other things with
which (to use his own expression) he found it necessary
“to cram himself ;†for, however easy, comparatively, he
had found his post the preceding half-year, he had now
competitors sufficiently emulous and talented in Norman
and Frank Digby—the latter of whom had shown a mod-
erate degree of diligence during the half-year, and now,
exerting to the utmost the great powers with which he was
gifted, bid fair, if not to distance all his rivals, at least to
claim the lion’s share of the honors held out.
As Hamilton scarcely allowed himself time to run once
round the playground in the day, it cannot be supposed
that even had he condescended to notice Louis he would
have found much time to attend to him. More than once,
however, he looked rather anxiously down the long table
where Louis now sat (Reginald having insisted on his leav-
ing the school-room and his companions to their fate), and,
apparently satisfied that he was doing something, resumed
his own work. Louis’ mind was more than ever occupied
now—every moment was taken up with lessons of one kind
or another. The first waking thoughts, which were for-
merly, at least, a consciousness of the presence of his Maker,
were now so mixed up with Latin verses, English transla-
tions, French plays, ancient and modern history, that a very
short time sufficed for his cold prayer—and then poured in
the whole flood of daily business, only checked by as cold
a semblance of a petition at night. The former: half-year
the case, though similar in many respects, differed in the
greatest essential. Louis was not less diligent than now,
but he was more prayerful ; he had not more time, but he
A STORY FOR BOYS. 261
used it better; he did not leave his religion for a few
minutes at night and morning, and forget it for the rest of
the day ; he did not shut up his Bible, and scarcely look
at it from Sunday to Sunday. He who waits closely upon
his God is sure to be enabled to serve him in the beauty
of holiness: and those who thought at all about Louis
could not but be struck with the wide difference between
the gentle, humble, happy-looking boy, who bore so meekly
what was unkindly done and spoken, and the equally indus-
trious, but fevered, restless, anxious, and now rather irri-
table being, who toiled on day after day almost beyond his
strength.
The first day of the examination, Charles Clifton and
Louis were walking together, between school-hours, settling
the order in which their labors were to be undertaken. As
they turned the corner of the playground, near the kitchen,
they encountered Harris, Casson, and Churchill, who, with
Sally Simmons and her basket of apples, blocked up a nar-
row passage between the side of the house and the kitchen-
garden wall.
« Aint they beauties, Louis ?†said Churchill, at the sight.
The mention of apples sufficiently disturbed Louis in the
present company, and he made a violent effort to get past
Harris, who was, however, so much engaged in choosing an
apple from the basket, that he did not move aninch. Find-
ing it useless at present to attempt the pass, Louis was
turning back, when Sally offered the basket to him, with
“ Mathter Louis, you mutht hide it ; I donnoh what math-
ter would thay.â€
“There are plenty more where they came from, Sally,â€
said Casson.
262 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS °
«“ Here’th a nithe one, thir,†said Sally, looking in Louis’
alarmed face, and pointing to one of the apples.
“They are not yours to give, Sally,†said Louis, step-
ping back against. the wall. «Harris, Casson, Churchill,
don’t take them—it’s dishonest.â€
Sally protested in great dismay, that it was only one or
two, and Dr. Wilkinson wouldn’t mind.
“ You know he would, Sally, or why did you say I was
to hide it?†said Louis.
«Do you mean to tell him you have given away any?â€
asked Clifton.
“Not she; she knows better—don’t you, Sally 2†said
Casson.
«¢ You are not t6 be trusted,†said Clifton.
« Mathter Louis, you won’t be going and making mith-
chief ?’’ said the girl.
“If he does,†ejaculated Harris, “ ri—â€
What he would do Louis never heard, for he had by this
time freed himself from the basket and run away, followed
more leisurely by Clifton.
«T am sure,†he said, when Clifton rejoined him, “ that
Sally Simmons ought not to be émployed here; she is
always doing forbidden things for the boys.â€
“If you know of any thing wrong in her, why don’t
you tell Dr. Wilkinson ?â€â€™ said Charles.
«The next thing I know of, I shall. But I should get
the boys into such a scrape,†said Louis. |
“If they are bad boys they deserve it,†replied Clifton;
“my father says, if we conceal evil, when we may remove
it by mentioning it, we make ourselves partners in it.â€
“The boys would call me a sneak if I did,†said Louis.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 263
Charles looked at Louis in simple wonderment. “ That
wouldn’t hinder you from doing what is right, would it?
What does it matter what such fellows as those thinkgor
say ?â€
“Yes, but I shouldn’t like to get thém into a scrape,â€
repeated Louis, uneasily.
« Why don’t you tell your friend Hamilton of it, and ask
his advice ?â€
« Oh, Olition | surely you know that Hamilton won’t
speak to me.’
“No, I didn’t,†said Clifton, in a _ of surprise.
“Why not? he used to be so fond of you.â€
« He’s offended now,†replied Louis, looking down.
‘He doesn’t like me, I know,†said @harles ; “ but he
used to be so very fond of you.â€
“ Used—that’s long ago,†said Louis, with a suppressed
sigh.
“Well, but,†remarked Clifton, without showing the
least curiosity to discover the cause of Louis’ quarrel with
Hamilton, “if you can’t consult him, ask your brother.â€
“T know very well what Reginald would do ; he wouldn’t
think it right to tell of them, or of her either.â€
«Then, Louis, make up your own mind.â€
‘“‘Tt’s not so easily done,†—" Louis ; “oh, Charlie,
I wish I were like you!â€
“Oh, why ?†said Charles, gravely; “you have a great
. many more friends, and are much better liked than I am.
T have no friend but you—not that I care at all about it,
but I should think -you would.â€
«Yes; but I wish I could make up my mind. Iam not
half. so happy as you are, for I cannot make up my mind
264 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS%
to do a thing because it is right. You only think about
that and do it at once; and because I have so many friends,
and even care about pleasing those I do not like, I am
always getting into scrapes, and always doing wrong. I
think there never was anybody so bad as I am. I wish
papa hadn’t sent me to school.â€
“T like you very much,†said Clifton; “and Iam sure
you have done me good—on Sunday, at least.â€
«« Ah, it is much easier to know and talk of what is right
than to do it,†replied Louis, sighing very deeply. “Oh,
domum, dulce.domum! But there is Reginald, and I must
go and ask him a question.â€
For several days after this occurrence, Louis was too
busy, and too much with his brother, to see much of his
evil advisers ; and very pleased in having, as he imagined,
thus got rid of them. The examination was going on in
earnest ; Louis had now nearly regained his old place, and
was, on the whole, favorably reported of: but Clifton was
not to be overcome. Thoroughly prepared, and thoroughly
understanding all he had learned, he kept the first place
undaunted by any difficulty, and apparently unexcited by
the crisis ; at least, Louis remarked to Reginald, that Clif-
ton was so cool, he didn’t seem to care whether he won or
not. He had a little more color than usual, an@ the only
beauty his face possessed—his intelligent eyes—wore per-
haps a keener and more anxious expression, but this was
not noticed by a casual observer ; nor was the violent palpi-
tation of the heart, when the chances ran so closely between
him and the next, at the close of a two days’ struggle for
the mathematical prize. There were few that congratulated
A STORY FOR BOYS. 265.
him on his almost unparalleled success; but few,that did
not respect his ability and steadiness, Never once, from
the first day he came to school, had he on any occasion in-
curred the displeasure of his masters ; and yet no one cared
for him, for he had lived only for himself.
But to return to Louis. The mathematical contest was
finished, and there was a little lull before the second class
would be again called on, and Louis determined to spend
this little interval of leisure in giving a finishing scrutiny
of the history likely to bein demand. Full of his purposes,
he burst into the class-room, where only Hamilton and
Reginald were, the former writing very fast, and the latter
looking carefully over an English essay he had just finished.
Louis flew to the shelves and ransacked them in vain: almost
every book he wanted was gone. At length, in despair, he
asked Reginald if he knew who had Rollin’s History. Regi-
nald absently replied in the negative, as he noted down
something in the page he was reading.
“The books are always gone,†said Louis, pettishly. “I
suppose Charlie has it. He had it yesterday—he might as
well let me have it to-day.â€
‘'Trevannion has it, I think,â€â€™ said Reginald.
“You may have mine,†said Hamilton.
Louis stood still; he wanted the book very much, but
was too proud to accept the offer.
“Tt is in my room,†continued Hamilton, without look-
ing up.
“Thank you, I don’t want yours,†replied Louis, proudly,
walking out of the room.
As he entered the school-room he confronted Dr. Wil- .
kinson, who, haying given orders for a brisk walk, was
23
266 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS °
inquiring for Hamilton. Louis had scarcely taken his hand
from the lock when Hamilton abruptly opened it and came
quickly out of the room. —
«You are the person I want,†said the doctor, laying
his hand on his arm. ‘Hamilton, I want you to come out
with me this bright day.â€
«To-day, sir?†said Hamilton, whose countenance ex-
pressed any thing but delight at the proposition.
« And why put off till to-morrow what may be done to-
day so well?†said the doctor, smiling. “ I suppose you
have hopes of the weather making a walk impracticable to-
morrow: but I must have you all out, or some of you will
be laid up before you go home.â€
His eye fell upon Clifton, who was sitting with his elbows
on a desk close by, his fingers pushed through his hair,
wholly absorbed in “ Gibbon’s Decline and Fall.†Dr.
Wilkinson addressed him twice, but, producing no impres-
sion, he removed one of the props of his head, and turned
his face towards himself.
«“ What are you doing there ?â€
“ History, sir,†said the boy, getting up mechanically,
and looking very much as if he were not pleased at the in-
terruption.
«J hear your name is very high in the list to-day.â€
“ Yes, sir,†replied Charles, gravely ; and, as the doctor
released him, he settled down precisely in the same attitude,
without showing the least satisfaction at the notice he had
received.
Hamilton turned away with an impatient gesture.
_ Are you going immediately, sir ?†he said. “ Can you
spare me a few minutes ?â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 267
«“T shall be at the garden-gate in a quarter of an hour
from this time,†replied the doctor.
«JT will not fail, sir,†said Hamilton; and, crossing the
room in immense strides, he flew up stairs, and returned
almost immediately with a large volume under his arm.
He made some inquiries of Trevannion’s whereabouts, and,
learning that he was in the playgrouna, went in search of
him. He very soon found him, walking briskly up and
down with Norman, making extracts from an old book in
his hand, and questioning his friend alternately. Hamilton
and he had scarcely exchanged a word since their quarrel,
and it was with some surprise that he saw Hamilton pre-
sent himself, and still more, when a request was made that
he would exchange books.
“JT particularly want this just now,†he replied.
«This is Rollin,†said Hamilton. “I should feel obliged
if you would exchange copies.â€
Trevannion opened his eyes wider, but after a second’s
pause, he took Hamilton’s and gave him his book in ex-
change, without any comment. .
«What a strange whim!†remarked Norman, when
Hamilton had left them, after shortly expressing his
thanks.
«¢ What can he mean, Norman?†said Trevannion. “This
is his own, too.†‘
“Perhaps some new way of trying to make up an old
quarrel,†said Norman, sneeringly.
“T don’t think so,†replied Trevannion; “ he would not
have tried so odd a plan—no, there’s something deeper
than that.†*
“ Are the histories alike ?â€â€™ asked Norman.
2968 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
‘I believe so,†answered Trevannion; “if there’s any
advantage, I am sure to have it, at any rate.â€
«You have a very high opinion of him.â€
“Very,†said Trevannion. ‘If Hamilton did mean this
to make up our quarrel, I am sure I shall be willing.â€
“Upon my word,†said Norman, “ this is dignity.â€
Trevannion made no answer, for something had attracted
his attention on the opposite side of the playground.
“ Holloa! Norman, look there!†he exclaimed.
“ Where? what! oh, horror!’ cried Norman.
“There they are—they’re hid: now, there they are
again!—now look, who is it? Stand behind this tree a
minute—now let us look out.â€
Obedient to his instructions, Norman looked, and saw
three boys drop down one after another from the branch of
a tree, that had evidently assisted their descent from the
playground wall, and then run across the playground.
«Who are they 2†said Trevannion, putting up his eye-
glass (which, gentle reader, be it known he carried for use).
“One is Churehill, I’m sure! Who’s that long fellow?
Why, it’s Harris, isn’t it? It can’t be, surely!â€
“Tt is,†said Norman; “ and the other’s Casson.â€
“T’m sure they are at no good,†said T'revannion; “1
shall make a note of this remarkable occurrence.â€
So saying, he made a memorandum of the circumstance
in his pocket-book, and had just finished when the boys
poured out cloaked and great-coated, and informed him of
the doctor’s desires. :
The reader will be at no loss to discover Hamilton’s
reason for exchanging the books. As Louis was out, he
took Dr, Wilkinson’s with him into the class-room, and sat
A STORY FOR BOYS. 269
down to finish the six last words of his poem ; and then,
fclding it neatly up, enveloped it in half a sheet of writing-
paper. He was just pressing the seal upon the wax, when
his watch, which he had laid open before him, warned him
that the last minutes of the quarter of an hour had arrived.
He just pushed his things together, and left them on the
table; and snatching up his hat as he ran through the hall,
scarcely arrived at the garden-gate in time to save his char-
acter for punctuality.
It so happened that Casson was Louis’ companion dur-
ing the walk, and entertained him with a flowing account
of all the vulgar tricks he had been in the habit of playing
at his former school. Louis could not help laughing at
them ; nor would his vanity allow him to refrain from boast-
ing of—what he had before been properly ashamed—his
own share in some of Casson’s late exploits. So afraid was
he of seeming inferior, even to a person he despised, and
in those things which his better feelings taught him equally
to despise. Casson inwardly laughed at Louis’ boasted
feats, as he had always done to others when Louis was out
of hearing ; but he now quizzed him, stimulating him, by
applauding his spirit and ingenuity ; and by the time they
had reached the house, Louis was in a thoroughly giddy
humor, ready to try, at the risk of disgrace, the new schemes
to which he had just been listening.
The boys stayed in the playground till the dinner-bell
rang, which was a few minutes after they had entered the
playground ; ut these few minutes sufficed for Louis, in
his present humor, to get himself in a scrape, the conse-
quences of which, at the time, he certainly did not contem-
plate. He had been oe to Casson, in the beginning
270 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS!:
of their walk, that he could not get “ Rollin’s History,†and,
as Casson persisted that it was in the study, Louis took him
there to show him his error, when they returned home.
“Ha, ha! Mr. Louis Mortimer, who’s right ?†cried Cas-
son, holding up the book.
“That can’t be; I wonder how it got there,†said Louis,
approaching the table ina mystified manner. ‘These must
be Trevannion’s things, I suppose ; only Hamilton was writ-
ing here; and here is his dictionary,—I wonder what he
wanted with it—he never said he had it—he let me suppose
Trevannion had it—kind of him—lI suppose he wanted to
prevent my getting it; but ’ll have it now—he’s got one
of his own.â€
“I'd be even with him,†said Casson; “what a heap of
things! See, here’s an exercise of his; or a letter, I sup-
pose—it’s too neat for an exercise. A good thick letter—
sealed, too. I'll tell you what, Louis—â€
Accordingly, what Casson did tell Louis was, what a
“capital dodge†it would be to abstract Hamilton’s sealed
packet, and to leave another folded like it in its place.
“‘ Ws often used to trick the boys at old Stennett’s with
their exercises,†continued he; “ they never wrote in books
there—we used to tear the leaves out of the exercise-books,
and write on them. It was such jolly fun to see them open
the paper and find nothing in it, or only some rubbish.â€
“‘ How did you do it?†asked Louis.
“Oh, we doubled up a bit of an old exercise-book, and
exchanged, that’s all!†replied Casson; “see, why here’s
half a sheet of paper, that’ll do for the cover; and now
then, Louis, more paper—he’ll never miss it—that’s it—
fold it up just the size ; how beautifully you have done it !â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 971
« But there’s no seal,†said Louis.
“ He'll forget he sealed it,’ replied Casson; “ oh, how
jolly !—here’s a piece of sealing-wax—it is sealed with the
top of a pencil-case.â€
«TJ have one just like that,†said Louis.; “ oh, no ; here’s
E. H. on this—that won't do, Casson.â€
Casson presently relieved this difficulty by discovering
Hamilton’s pencil-case ; and the paper was quickly sealed,
when Louis began to doubt :
« But we don’t know what it is, Casson.â€
“Tf it turns out to be any thing, send it by post, directed to
him, at his father’s,†said Casson ; “he'll get it safely enough.â€
The dinner-bell rang loudly at this moment, and with a
little laugh at the idea of the oddity of sending it to Hamil-
ton’s home, and a strong feeling of doubt as to the wisdom
of his proceeding, Louis hastily exchanged the packets, and
ran out of the room. On hisgway to the dining-room he
paused—
“Tf it should be of any consequence, Casson,†he said.
“«“ Well, if it is, so much the better fun; he won’t treat
you so shabbily another time.â€
« Ah, but—I don’t want to revenge myself, and I don’t
like playing tricks on Hamilton exactly, either: I think I
must give it back.â€
« I thought you were such a dabiat these kinds of things,â€
said Casson, sneeringly.
«What have I done with it now ?†Louis exclaimed sud-
denly, as they reached the dining-room door, after stopping
a few seconds in the hall to hang up his coat. “ What can
I have done with it? I must have slipped it into my desk
just now, when I put my Livy in.â€
272 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
He was not able to turn back then; and, in the mean
time, Hamilton had paid a hasty visit to the class-room, to
collect his things, and had locked up carefully the false
packet ; and Louis had not courage to make any inquiries,
though he hoped,that he might have found the right one,
which, with all his care, he could not discover himself.
Louis had, in his hurry, left Rollin on the study-table, and
afterschool he ran into the room, and finding it in nearly
the same place where Hamilton had been guarding it for
him, he carried it off, and Hamilton, seeing the action, made
no remark on the matter.
The next evening, the Latin poems were sent in to the
doctor’s study for comparison, and Hamilton’s blank coun-
terfeit was titled on the cover, and dispatched with a degree
of nervous anxiety that certainly would not have been
called forth by a subject so empty. Louis was in an agony
of remorse, when the trutheburst on him. His only hope
was, that Hamilton might have found the right packet.
He heard the speculations around him as to the probability
of success, and saw the last paper put into Norman’s hand
to be carried away, but he dared not say any thing. He
had never dreamt of the importance of the paper he had
so carelessly dropped or mislaid, and would have given all
he possessed to have remembered what he had done with it.
Nothing more was done that evening. Study had helped
to drive away the smaller qualms of conscience the day
before ; but he was now so sick at heart, that he remained
with his head on his hand doing nothing, puzzling himself
in vain to remember what he had done with the poem.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 273
CHAPTER XXtI.
Ir was Saturday night when the manuscripts were de-
livered to the doctor, and it was not till Monday that the
absence of Hamilton’s poem was discovered. As much of
Sunday as he was able, Louis spent with Casson, trying to
discover what could have become of the poem, and in de- ©
vising all manner of schemes for its recovery and restora-
tion. Little comfort he received from his tempter—Casson
alternately laughed at his fears, and blamed his cowardice—
and, in oder to escape this, Louis affected to be indifferent
to the consequences, concealing his heaviness of heart under
assumed mirth and unconcern. He had lately spent many
cold, careless Sabbaths, but one so utterly wretched as this
he could not remember.
The boys had just left the dining-room on Monday, after
dinner, when a summons to the doctor’s study came for
Hamilton. As this was not an uncommon occurrence,
Hamilton betrayed neither curiosity nor uneasiness, but
quietly gave a few directions to his little brother, and then
leisurely left the room. He was soon in the presence of
Dr. Wilkinson, Mr. James Wilkinson, and an old gentleman
who had a day or two before been examining his class, and
who usually assisted in the half-yearly examinations. The
countenances of these gentlemen were not very promising,
274 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
and he instantly saw that something unpleasant might be
expected. Before the doctor lay a number of folded
papers, which Hamilton recognized as the poems under
consideration, and in his hand was a blank sheet of paper,
the envelope of which had fallen on the floor.
“ Mr. Hamilton,†said the doctor, “ I have sent for you
to explain this strange affair. Pray can you tell me what
was in this envelope?†He stooped, and, picking up the
paper as he spoke, handed it to Hamilton.
«My poem, sir,†replied Hamilton, quietly.
« You are sure that is your writing ?â€
“ Quite,†said Hamilton, confidently.
«I have been able to discover nothing more than this,â€
said the doctor, with something like annoyance in his tone.
“J do not. know whether you have been writing with
invisible ink. This is a mistake, Hamilton,†he added,
turning the blank sheet in all directions. ‘‘ Where is your
poem ?â€
«That in my envelope, sir!†ex@laimed Hamilton, red-
dening to the roots of his hair. “In my envelope!†he
reiterated, taking up the envelope and re-examining it in a
state of tremulous excitement. ‘1 cannot have made such
a mistake—it is utterly impossible.â€
«JT should say so—impossible, unconsciously, to make
so great a mistake,†said the old gentleman.
« And equally so, sir, to make it consciously,†replied
Hamilton.
« But where is the poem ?†asked Dr. Wilkinson.
“I expected it was here,†said Hamilton—* and, as it is
not, I cannot answer that question, sir.†He again turned
over the paper, but could find no clue to the mystery.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 275
«Ts the paper the same as you used ?†asked Mr.
James.
“Tt is,†replied Hamilton; “ and the seal is my own, as
well as the writing.â€
“ What is the seal?†asked Dr. Berry, the old gentle-
man.
“E, H. It belongs to this pencil-case,†answered Ham-
ilton, producing his pencil-case. “I always carry it about
with me.â€
«That’s awkward again,†said Dr. Berry, exchanging a
look with Mr. James.
« Have you never left your pencil-case about lately, nor
lent it to any one?†asked Dr. Wilkinson.
Hamilton considered.
“T believe I left it with all my things on the class-room
table last Friday, when I went out with you, sir.â€
« Ah!†said Dr. Berry, “ what did you leave there ?â€
“ Some writing-paper, pens, a few books, and my poem,
which I had just finished.â€
“That was careless of you, Hamilton,†said Dr. Wilkin-
son.
“Thad only just sealed it in time to run after you, sir,â€
replied Hamilton ; ‘and, as every one was out, I thought
there could be no harm in leaving them there till I re-
turned.â€
“How much paper did you leave there?†asked Mr.
James.
« About half a quire.â€
« About half a quire ; then, I suppose, you do not know
whether any of that paper was taken while you were
away ?â€
276 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
“No, I do not,†replied Hamilton. “If any one
changed it, it must have been then; as, after I came home,
it was locked up in my own writing-desk till Saturday
evening.â€
“It might have been changed on the way,†suggested
Mr. James.
Hamilton was silent for a few seconds, when he an-
swered :
« [ do not think so; for I am sure this is my writing: I
must unwittingly have directed an empty packet.â€
“ Unless,†said Dr. Wilkinson, quietly, “‘some one has
imitated your writing ?â€
“T only know one who could,†replied Hamilton, color-
ing ; “and, I am confident, he was not the party: besides,
sir, I do not think there was time, between Norman’s de-
parture and his return, to have done it, and that was the
only time any one would have had after I had directed. it.
I did not direct it till Saturday evening.â€
« But you said the boys were all out at the same time
with yourself; and, in fact, I know they were: I saw
them going in as we turned into the playground,†said
Dr. Wilkinson. ‘Did no one stay at home? Stay—
Friday—Digby was at home ; I remember he pleaded his
cold.â€
Dr. Wilkinson looked down on the paper he held:
there was a strong expression of suspicion in his counte-
nance. The other gentlemen exchanged looks, and Mr.
James remarked, that he considered Frank the probable
culprit.
«Tam glad he does not hear you say so, sir,†exclaimed
Hamilton. “Iam sure Digby would sooner put his own
A STORY FOR BOYS. 277
on the fire! Id trust Frank’s honor as much as my own;
and, I am sure, sir,†he added, turning to Dr. Wilkinson,
«you know Frank too well.â€
To Hamilton’s annoyance, Dr. Wilkinson did not reply
immediately.
“Frank is too fond of practical jokes,†he said, at last ;
«T wish I could give him a lesson he would remember.
He will never be cured till it touches him severely.â€
« But Frank would not joke on this, sir,’ expostulated
Hamilton. “If he were not so high it might be so, but
I’m sure it is not now.â€
“Well, there is no time now to consider of this any
more,†said Dr. Wilkinson, getting up. ‘I could bring
forward many instances of Digby’s disregard of feelings
and appearances when his fancy for joking interferes. Dr.
Berry, will you be kind enough to attend to these for
me, this afternoon? I shall be glad to call upon you on
Wednesday for my second class, if you can spare me the
day.â€
Dr. Berry signified his ready acquiescence; and Dr. Wil-
kinson turned to Hamilton:
“Tt is just school-time,†he said; ‘“ but I wish you, after
school, to make a search in every desk for your poem. I
do not imagine it is destroyed. Mr. James will assist. you.
In the mean time, in the event of your poem not being dis-
covered, you had better rewrite it as well as you can; I
will give you till nine o’clock on the last morning.â€
Hamilton bowed, thanked his master, and retired, exceed-
ingly uncomfortable. His own loss was slight compared
with the vexation he felt at any suspicion of Frank’s honor
being raised. A very different surmise would now and then
24
278 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
try to rise in his own mind, but was vigorously opposed as
ungenerous in the extreme. An idea of the real culprit
never once occurred to him, nor to any other person. The
first class being disengaged that afternoon, Hamilton em-
ployed himself with the new edition of his poem, but his
thoughts wandered ; and, had it not been for a good mem-
ory and the force of habitual concentration, he would have
found it almost impossible to resume a task he had con-
sidered as finished, in circumstances so very disagreeable
to him.
As soon as the business of the day was concluded Dr.
Wilkinson commanded every one to remain in his place, and
then desired Hamilton to begin the search, carefully refrain-
ing from mentioning the object in quest. There was con-
siderable excitement in the school when the doctor’s com-
mand was made known, and it was strictly enforced, that
no one should touch the desks till after the search had
been made.
«« Frank Digby, come here!†shouted the doctor from his
post. “Did I not desire that none of those desks should
be touched at present ?â€
«J was only putting my slate away, sir,†said Frank, in
much amazement.
«J will not have your desk touched ; stay here.â€
«‘ What’s in the wind?†muttered Jones, sulkily. ‘The
magister’s in a splendid humor. What do you want in my
desk, Hamilton 2â€
« A trick has been played on me,†said Hamilton, hastily ;
“ my poem has been exchanged ; but—†he added, hesitat-
ing, “I cannot bear this.â€
“ Nonsense, Hamilton!†said Mr. James, who was turn-
A STORY FOR BOYS. 279
ing over the contents of Jones's desk. “There is nothing
there.â€
« Stand back, and let Hamilton look, pray!†exclaimed
Reginald Mortimer. “ What a shame it is !—you don’t sus-
pect us, Hamilton ?â€
“To be sure not!†said Hamilton, warmly; “ but I am
desired to do this.â€
«So much the better,†said Salisbury; “you'll find
mine locked, but here are my keys: we'll go up to the
doctor. I say, Hamilton, don’t upset my bottle of lemon
kali, or my blue ink ; you mightn’t see them, perhaps, among
the other things.â€
Hamilton took the keys with some embarrassment, and
the first class moved ina body to the upper end of the
room, where they remained till every desk had been sub-
jected to a fruitless ransacking.
Louis’ state of mind may be easily imagined. He had
guessed the reason of the doctor’s command the instant it
was given ; and had also heard the few words that passed
between Hamilton and his friends. Oh! what would he
have given that he had considered before he committed
such folly! He could not bear to face Hamilton, and yet
he must be near him when his own desk was examined, for
he dared not move from his place. He had looked care-
fully there himself, but still he was afraid it might, by chance,
be there. He hardly dared look round, for fear he should
betray his secret ; and yet his distress sadly longed for vent.
“I did not mean to do any harm,†was his reiterated
thought ; “I am sure, I thought it was a letter—I did not
mean it.†And then he wished to confess his fault; but,
with his usual vacillation of purpose, he deferred it, till he
280 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
should see how things went. It did seem strange that,
with all the lessons he had had, he should have put off his
confession ; yet he dared not, and tried to quiet his con-
science with, “I shall tell Hamilton alone ;†and, “It’s no
use telling, when I can’t find the poem.†But his trouble
was tenfold increased when Hamilton and Mr. James came
near him, and finding his desk locked, inquired who’s it
was, and where the keys were. :
Hamilton remarked in a low tone, not aware that Louis
was so near, “I suppose for form’s sake we must look, but
Lam sure, poor fellow, he has nothing to do with it.â€
Louis just then handed his key ; and, as Hamilton’s hand
came in contact with his, he was struck by its cold clammi-
ness, and just looking at him, noticed the troubled expres-
sion, and the almost tearful eyes that were fixed on him.
He attributed Louis’ anxiety to his natural timidity, as well
as to his having probably overheard the remark on himself ;
and his heart smote him, for he still loved him, and had
felt once or twice lately, that he had not done his duty
towards him.
The poem was not found. Louis ran out into the play-
ground, despite the cold and twilight, to cry ; and hurried
in again in a few minutés, for fear of discovery. The mem-
bers of the first class gathered round Hamilton to learn the
story and to condole with him, and even Trevannion made
some remark on the shamefulness of such a trick.
«T am sure, whoever gets the prize will not feel com-
fortable unless your poem is found and compared,†said
Frank ; “‘ write away, Hamilton; no one shall disturb you.
I don’t wonder Fudge was in such a passion.â€
Louis was very glad when bed-time came, and he could
A STORY FOR BOYS. 981
hide his tears and misery under the bed-clothes. Reginald
had been too busy to notice that any thing was the matter
with him; but Hamilton, occupied as he was, had seen it,
though Louis had kept out of his way as much as possible.
He dared not tell Reginald his trouble; and he felt afraid
to pray—he did not remember that, though our Heavenly
Father knows all our thoughts and wants, He requires that
all our care and sin should be poured out, before Him. The
Christian does not love sin; and when, through unwatch-
fulness or neglect of prayer, he has been betrayed into the
commission of it, let him remember, that He alone can
remove it and restore peace to his wounded conscience,
who has said, “ Return, ye backsliding children, and I will
heal your backslidings.â€
Louis got on very ill the next Wednesday, and Regi-
nald, extremely vexed, spoke very angrily to him. Louis
answered as unkindly, and walked proudly away from him
to the other end of the school-room, where, in spite of his
abhorrence of such company, he was soon surrounded by
his worst companions. Hamilton was standing near Regi-
nald at the time; he watched [suis in his proud descent,
and saw that, though he turned away with an erect head
and high words, his step soon grew more listless, and an
expression. of indefinable weariness usurped the place of the
independence he had assumed.
“ Louis is unwell, I am sure, Reginald,†he said.
“He is well enough,†said Reginald, abruptly ; “ but he
is sadly altered: I never saw a boy so changed. He is
quite ill-tempered now, and so horridly idle. Why, Ham-
ilton, you’d never believe that in to-day’s examination in
24*
282 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
Prometheus Vinctus, he got down below Harris !—he’s
positively at the bottom. He hardly answered any thing,
and seemed quite stupefied.†:
«‘'The more reason to think he’s not well,†said Hamil-
ton; “for, to my certain knowledge, he would have stood
an examination on Prometheus better than that, a week
after we came back. Why, Harris and Peters, and half
the rest, are not to be compared with him.â€
«J know it,†said Reginald; “and that makes it the
more vexatious. It’s bad enough to think that Clifton
should get ahead of him, but one may comfort one’s self in
the idea of his genius; but when it comes to those donkey-
fied ignorami, it is past endurance. He has not tried a bit:
I have seen him lately with his book before him, dreaming
about some wonderful story of some enchanted ass, or some
giantess Mamouka, I suppose ; or imagining some new ode
to some incomprehensible, un-come-at-able Dulcinea. He
is always shutting himself up in his air-castles, and expect-
ing that dry Latin and Greek, and other such miserable
facts, will penetrate his atmosphere.â€
“Don’t be angry with him; something is the matter.
You only drive him to hétd with those boys,†said Hamil-
ton. ‘Look there !—there they are !—oh, Reginald! it is
not right to leave him with them.†‘
«Speak to him yourself, Hamilton,†said Reginald, a
little sobered. “He will mind you. You have had a
great deal to bear with him, but I know you make allow-
ances.†|
Hamilton did not reply, but he had determined on
making the effort to detach Louis from his evil counsel-
lors, when the latter suddenly left the room with Casson,
e
A STORY FOR BOYS. — 283
and did not return till Hamilton had gone into the class-
° room.
Casson was the only one to whom Louis could relieve
his mind on the subject that weighed him down so heavily
—and he had, at the time Hamilton was watching him so
intently, been whispering some of his fears, only to be
laughed at. Suddenly he paused—‘ Casson, just come
with me; I think I recollect—yes, surely—â€
He did not wait to conclude his sentence, but, pulling
Casson into the hall, sought his great-coat, dived to the
bottom of the pocket, and, to his great joy, drew forth
Hamilton’s poem. 6
“It’s here! it’s here! it’s here!’ he cried. “How
could I have put it here without knowing? Oh, my dear
@asson, I am so glad !â€
« Well, what now?†said Casson, rudely. “ What good
is it? What do you mean to do with it ?â€
“ Give it back, of course—I think Hamilton will forgive
me, and if not, I must give it back to him, and then, per-
haps, I shall be happy again; for I have not been happy
for a long, long while: I have been very wrong,†he added,
in a low, sorrowful tone.
“Tf ever I saw such a sap in my life,†said Casson ;
“this comes of all your fine boasting ; a nice fellow you are
—why you're afraid of your own shadow! Do you know
what you'll get if you give it back ?â€
‘Whatever happens,†said Louis, “ I feel I have done
wrong—wrong in listening to you, too, Casson. Oh, if
ever it please God to make me happy again, I hope I shall
be more careful! I have been afraid to do right—I am
afraid to think of all that has happened lately.â€
284 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
“TJ always thought you were a canting hypocrite,†said
Casson, sneeringly. ‘I never see that you religious peo-
ple do any better than any one else. Go and get a
thrashing, as you deserve, for your cowardice, only don’t
tell any lies about me. Remember it was all your own
doing.â€
Casson opened the hall-door as he spoke, and ran into
the playground, where most of the boys had assembled,
the weather having cleared a little for the first time for the
last two days.
Louis sat down on a chair to think what he should do,
and the lepg-restrained tears coursed slowly down his face.
His first and best thought was to go at once to Hamilton,
acknowledge his fault, and restore the poem. Then came
the idea of renewed disgrace, and his head sunk lower on,
his breast, and the parcel fell from his powerless hands.
So intense was his grief, that he was as unconscious that
Dr; Wilkinson passed through the hall while he sat there,
as that he had heard the conversation between himself and
Casson; for, unknown to them both, he had been in a re-
cess of the hall, nearly covered by the cloaks and coats,
looking there for something in a little corner closet. Louis
at last took up the paper, and went to Hamilton’s room ;
but a servant was there, and he did not like to leave it.
Next he thought of the doctor’s study, but he dared not
venture to approach it. At length, after wandering about
from the bed-room to the class-room door several times,
he ventured to peep into the latter room, and, throwing
the parcel in, ran to the playground as fast as his feet
could carry him.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 285
CHAPTER XXII.
“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.â€â€”
Gal. vi. 2.
As soon as Hamilton had decided that it was of no use
following Louis, he called his brother to him and marched
with him into the class-room, to explain, according to
promise, some classical allusions that occurred in his Latin
grammar. Reginald took his arm, and several of the first
class, who saw them move, accompanied him, for the glass-
door opening at the moment, admitted more cold air than
was agreeable to those who did not feel inclined to visit the
playground. They almost expected to find the do¢tor in
the study, as they knew he had been there a short time
before, but the sole occupant of the éhamber was Frank
Digby, who, to the astonishment of all, was standing in a
very disconsolate attitude near the fireplace, leaning his
head on the mantelpiece, and neither moved nor spoke when
they entered.
“ Holloa, Momus!†exclaimed Reginald, “what's the
row? as Salisbury would say; only, more properly we
might ask, in your case, what do the tranquillity and gen-
teel pensiveness of your demeanor denote ?â€
«We're going to have a change in the weather,†said
Jones.
286 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
« What’s the matter, Frank ?†asked Hamilton.
“ Nothing,†replied Frank, raising his head quickly, and
endeavoring, rather unsuccessfully, to smile, amid some-
thing that looked very much like tears ; at least, if we must
not be allowed to hint at such appearances, there was cer-
tainly much agitation in his countenance—so unusual a
phenomenon, that a dead silence followed the ghastly effort.
«‘ Nonsense,†said Hamilton, kindly ; “you won’t per-
suade me that nothing is the matter, Frank.â€
« Nothing particular,†said Frank, fidgeting with a penny
that lay on the mantelpiece ; “ only the doctor has been giv-
ing me a lecture for the good of my morals, that’s all.â€
«A lecture ?†repeated Norman.
“‘ What’s been the matter, Frank ?†said Reginald.
«A small moral discourse upon the sin and danger of
practical jokes,†said Frank, swallowing down such an evi-
dent degree of emotion as convinced his auditors that the
discourse had been no ordinary one. “His hints were
rather peculiar, Hamilton—too decided for so quick-sighted
a youth as myself. I don’t wonder he has such a horror
of a joke; I should think the dear man never was guilty
of such a crime in his life himself; or he has a strong
imagination; or, perhaps, a bad opinion of your humble
servant—all the same—the cause doesn’t much signify ;
the effect’s what one looks at.â€
“ Something dreadfully mysterious,†said Reginald.
Hamilton was silent. He watched anxiously Frank’s
varying countenance, the twitching of which, as well as
the thick, quick tone in which he spoke, betrayed great
excitement.
“The fact is, I suppose, the doctor has reasons for his
A STORY FOR BOYS. 287
suspicions,†continued Frank, still more quickly, while his
face grew redder, and his eyelids twinkled painfully, and
the penny was fairly spun into the fender.
“‘T haven’t been quite so sage as I might have been, and,
perhaps, jokes may not be quite gentlemanly—but,—but,
Hamilton,—he thinks,—he thinks—and almost said it—
that. I changed your poem.â€
«What a shame!†they cried.
Frank stooped to pick up the penny, and was some
minutes finding it. When he rose, he said :
“ One will grow old in time, but it’s hard to pay so dearly
for good spirits. However, you couldn't expect such a flow
cheap, I suppose,†he added, with a little laugh.
« You must have mistaken him,†said Trevannion; “ he
couldn’t have meant it.â€
“Tam not in the habit of taking offence at nothing,â€
replied Frank. ‘‘ Nay, I can be as purposely obtuse as any
one when I choose, but one couldn’t be blind.â€
‘What did he say ?†said Reginald.
“T don’t exactly remember—a heap about ‘ pain inflicted,’
of ‘ misconstructions being placed on motives,’ of ‘ trans-
gressions aga‘nst honor and kindliness ;’ and then, when I
was at a loss to comprehend him, he said, ‘he could not
understand the gratification of seeing another disappointed
and annoyed—when he discovered ,that his school-fellow,
whom he confidently trusted, had substituted a blank sheet
for a carefully, laboriously-written work ;’ and then I asked
him if he supposed I had tricked Hamilton ? and he said he
couldn’t think of another who was so likely to do it as my-
self—that ‘the constant mdulgence in these senseless follies
was likely to blunt the sense of honor,’ ‘that I must excuse
288 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:!
him’—excuse him, forsooth—‘if he spoke his mind on the
subject :’ and then he raked up an old affair, that happened
ages ago, about an exercise—Salisbury, you remember—
you were the victim; but that was a paltry, every-day
affair, only he didn’t seem to understand the difference. T’ll
back the doctor up for as good a memory as any man in
the three kingdoms. I had forgotten that. piece of moral
turpitude, and might have been excused for imagining that
the caning I got then had wiped out the offence. Hamil-
on,†he added, with a faltering voice, laying his hand on
Hamilton’s shoulder—“ you don’t believe I did it 2â€
“To be sure not, Frank,†said Hamilton, heartily shaking
Frank’s hand.’ “I know you too well—I am as confident
of you as I should be of myself in the same case. Don’t
think any more of it. I am sure the doctor doesn’t believe
it himself: he only wants to show what might be thought
if you get a character for playing tricks. I am excessively
vexed at this.â€
“I don’t feel at all certain he believes me yet,†said
Frank ; “ but this I declare, that unless your poem is
found, I will withdraw all claim—lI won’t touch the prize
for any consideration.â€
“Don’t do that, Frank,†said Hamilton; “Ill give you
some trouble yet with my new one.â€
“Tf that gets it, so much the better,†said Frank, “and
I dare say it will; but you all hear—my mind is made up
—I won’t have a aa for this poem unless it is gained
over Hamilton’s first.â€
“ How came the doctor to begin this rigmarole ? 2†asked
Salisbury.
Frank blushed, and replied, with a conscious nag “TJ
A STORY FOR BOYS. 289
did an abominably foolish thing last night, in dipping all
the bed-room candles that were standing in the pantry,
into a tempting basin of water; and Mrs. Guppy was mali-
cious because the candles sputtered and_wouldn’t light,
and, as usual, determined that “ had doné it; and Fudge
taxed me with it this morning.â€
“TI wish,†said Hamilton, emphatically, “I could dis-
cover the author of this shameful piece of business. It
was vexatious enough in the first place, but this is painful
‘to us all. Frank, every one knows you.â€
“ Doctor best of all,†put in Frank.
“T will give myself up to discovering who has done it,â€
said Hamilton.
“You had better give yourself up to finishing your
poem,†said Reginald ; “ for it’s my humble opinion if you
haven’t found it now, your eyes won’t discover the clue, if
you were Argus himself.â€
The others then began a rather noisy debate on the im-
propriety of their, master’s behavior ; and little Alfred,
finding his brother was not speaking, ventured to remind
him of his promise. Contrary to his usual habit, Hamilton
turned quite crossly to him: |
“What an idle fellow you are! Why don’t you get
Lempriére and find them out for yourself ?—you ought not
to be beginning now.â€
«T tried, Edward, but I couldn’t understand it, and it
went out of my head. I want to know about Cecropia
again—I forget what country it was, Edward,†said the
child, timidly, noticing an ominous reddening of his broth-
er’s face.
“A great deal of use it is giving you any information,
25
290 | LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
is it not, sir? I have a great mind to make you write out
every word I say. And pray what else have you forgot-
ten ?†é
“Not forgotten any thing,†said Alfred, meekly; ‘ but
I wanted to Kfiow, please Edward, who was Hannibal’s
father, and whether it was true about Hannibal’s making
the rocks red hot, and pouring vinegar on them? I don’t
think it could, for I don’t know where he could get so
much.â€
“A great deal he carried in his own countenance,†said
Frank, “‘ and the rest was made from the wine supplied for
the Carthaginian officers. There’s nothing like white-
wine vinegar, Alfred ; and the Carthaginians were re-
nowned for parting with luxuries on an emergency.â€
‘¢ Now I know that’s your nonsense,†said Alfred, look-
ing very puzzled. ‘And, please Edward, who was Philo-
mela and—â€
“ That’s enough—one at a time!†exclaimed Hamilton ;
“get Lempriere, and my Roman History, aff@ you shall
look them out with me. It’s to be Hoped you are not
dreaming of a prize.â€
“ Poor infant!†said Salisbury; “it’s hard work, I
know, to remember the difference between those heathen
chaps.â€
Alfred had just brought the required books, and was
opening them by his brother’s desire, and Hamilton was
standing near him at the table, when suddenly a packet
was thrown into the room, and fell at his feet. Changing
color, he picked it up with the rapidity of lightning, and,
with an exclamation, rushed out of the room, before any
one but Alfred had seen the transaction. Louis had just
??
A STORY FOR BOYS. 291
gained the threshold of the door leading to the play-
ground, when Hamilton hailed him, and his long strides
gaining on Louis’ terror-impeded steps, he presently
reached him, and, grasping him tightly by both arms,
bore him back to the class-room, sternly desiring two or
three boys, who attempted to follow, to stay behind.
Louis did not make any resistance, and Hamilton, after
locking the door and putting the key into his pocket,
brought him irresistibly to the front of the fire, and, placing
him with his back against the table, opposite the assembled
group, desired him, under pain of instant punishment, to
remain where he was.
« What is the matter with him, Hamilton ?†asked Regi-
nald.
«You shall see presently,†said Hamilton; “1 mean
to have some inquiries answered: and please, Mortimer,
however unpleasant it may be to you, let®us have fair
play.â€
‘TI onlygstipulate it for Louis too,†said Reginald.
“He shall have it,†said Hamilton, calmly ; “but if he
attempts to move till I have done, I will carry him at once
to Dr. Wilkinson.â€
Hamilton glanced at the windows, where five or six
heads were darkening the lower panes, in their eagerness
to discover the cause of Louis†forcible abduction; and,
walking coolly up to them, bolted them, and drew dowff
both blinds. He then returned to his place, and, drawing
his coat-tails under his arms, arranged himself with his
back to the fire, exactly opposite to Louis, who stood pas-
sively where he had been placed, very pale, but otherwise
showing little emotion.
292 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
«“ Now, sir,†began Hamilton, ‘explain how you got
this.†|
As he spoke, he produced, to the astonishment of his
school-fellows, the parcel—rubbed at the edges, but still
the identical parcel, as he proved, by breaking the seal, and.
showing the writing inside.
« What } Louis Mortimer !†exclaimed Jones:
“« Bt tu Brute!†ejaculated Frank, in a tone of mingled
surprise and reproach. |
« Louis !’ said Reginald, coloring deeply; “ oh, Louis !
How did you find it, Hamilton a
“Did you not see it come in through the half-open door
just now?†said Hamilton.
«“ ] fancied I saw something fly along,†said Meredith.
«T thought I heard something fall,†said another.
. «Too cowardly to come openly,†said Trevannion.
The room seemed to turn round with Louis.
« How did you come by this 2� said Hamilton.
There was no answer. oe
«T will have an answer, Louis,†he said: “ and if you
don’t give it to me, you shall to Dr. Wilkinson !â€â€
Louis murmured something that no one heard.
« What?†said Hamilton, sharply ; “speak so as we can
all hear. If you have brought it back for some one else,â€
he added, in a softened tone, “ say so at once ; only let me
Rnow who took it.â€
«T took it,†replied Louis, with a great effort.
«You ungrateful viper?†exclaimed Jones.
Hamilton appeared a little moved, but checking the emo-
tion, continued :
“You! for—your—own—especial—gratification ? And
*
A STORY FOR BOYS. 293
‘pray, when might you have accomplished that adroit and
praiseworthy feat ?†,
“Last Friday,†said Louis, in so low a tone, that
nothing but the silence that reigned could have ‘made it
audible. .
« And what was your motive ?†asked Hamilton, leaning
back against the mantelpiece, and putting one foot on the
fender behind him.
“Only a little fun !â€
“Pretty respectable fun/†said Hamilton, contemptu-
ously. .
“ Gratitude might have restrained you, one would think,â€
said Jones, “if nothing else would. A pretty return for
all Hamilton’s kindness, to set to work to lose him his
prize |â€
“T didn’t, Jones,†said Louis, warmly; “I thought it
was a letter; I didn’t mean any harm. And as to grati-
tude—when Hamilton was kind to me, I was grateful—
and I do feel grateful for his kindness now; but he has
been unkind enough lately to make me forget that.â€
« And reason enough he had,†said Meredith. “ Un-
kind, indeed! why no one else stood your friend when we
found out what a tell-tale you were.â€
«Tam sure nobody knew he was my friend then,†said
Louis, assuming an air of independence that ill became him.
“ Only last Friday, he let me believe that Treyannion had
the doctor’s Rollin; he offered me his, but I wasn’t likely to
take that, and—†Louis hesitated, for Hamilton’s eye was
upon him so calmly and inquiringly ; and Louis felt he was
not likely to have had such an idea in his head.
« And what?†said Hamilton, quietly. *
25*
294 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
« Nothing,†replied Louis ; “I don’t believe you knew, .
only it was rather strange, Hamilton.â€
« What was strange?†said Hamilton, inthe same un-
moved tone.
«‘ Only when I came back into this room, I-saw it on the
table with your things, and I thought you had it, perhaps,â€
said Louis, reluctantly. “If it hadn’t been for that, |
shouldn’t have come here, and shouldn’t have thought of
playing the trick.â€
“You little—†exclaimed Trevannion. Not being able
to find’ a genteel epithet strong enough, he continued,
_ « When Hamilton had just taken the trouble of exchanging
his own history with me, for your service! YT see it all now,
Hamilton—you ungrateful boy "
« How should I know? he never said so,†replied Louis,
touched to the heart at this proof of his friend’s kindness ;
and grieved very deeply that he should have thought or
said so unkind a thing of him in his anger. «“ How am |
to know what people think, if they don’t speak, or if I
don’t see them ?â€
« And so you did it out of revenge 2†said Hamilton.
Louis was silent for a minute, for he could not speak ;
but at last he replied, in a quivering voice—
«No; I told you I did it out of fun. I thought it was
a letter, and—and I have been very sorry I ever did any
thing so foolish. I should have brought it back sooner, but
I could not remember what I did with it.†.
“Why did you not tell me, at least, that you had taken
it, Louis,†said Hamilton, “ when I was inquiring for it?
It would have been more open.â€
«J sHould have done it, I believe, if I had known how
A STORY FOR BOYS. 295
you would have heard me—but it’s not so easy when every
one is against you. I brought it only a few minutes after
I found it.â€
« Who put such a thing into your head, Louis ?†asked
Reginald.
Louis checked the answer he had nearly given, and re-
mained silent.
«Were you alone?†said Hamilton. “ Were you the
only one concerned in this business :
« [ was not alone,†replied Louis, rather proudly ; “ but
I do not mean to say who was with me. He was not to
blame for what I did.†,
“How so?†asked Hamilton. # Didn’t he put it into
your head, and help you to do it ?â€
« You have no right to ask such questions,†said Louis,
uneasily. ‘He came in to help me find Rollin, and—that’s
all I shall tell you.â€
« What, Casson help you to find Rollin !†said Hamilton,
quickly. ‘He wouldn’t know the book from a Lexicon.â€
“He did,†however,†said Louis ; then, becoming sud-
denly conscious, from the intelligent glances exchanged
among his judges, of the admission he had made, he turned
very red, and exclaimed,
“It’s very unfair !â€
«| knew he was your companion,†said Hamilton, rather
scornfully. ‘‘ You have belonged to his set too much lately
to suppose otherwise—and this is the consequence.â€
“Tf it is, Hamilton,†said Louis, scarcely able to speak
for the warmth of his feelings, “ you might have prevented
it if you would. You wouldn't forgive my speaking care-
lessly once—and no one that I cared for would notice me.
296 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
He was almost the only one who would speak to me. If
you had said one word, I shouldn’t have been so bad. I
thought you didn’t care about me, and I didn’t mean to
stay where I wasn’t wanted.â€
The expression of Hamilton’s face was not easy, and he
drowned the end of Louis’ speech by knocking all the fire-
irons down with a movement of his poised foot.
“It was a likely way to be wanted, I imagine,†said
Jones, “to go on as you have been doing. Besides, who
is to know what’s likely to be safe with such a tell-tale—a
traitor—in the camp as youare?â€
«Tf there hadn’t been another as great,†said Louis,
“you would never have,known of me ; but you bear with
him because you can’t turn him out.â€
«Pray, sir!†exclaimed Norman, “whom do you
mean ?â€
Louis felt sorry he had allowed himself to say so much ;
but he stood unshrinkingly before his interrogator, and re-
plied :
“JT mean you, Norman: you know if you hadn’t told
tales of me this wouldn’t have happened.â€
What vengeance Louis might have drawn on himself by
this ill-judged speech we cannot tell, had not Hamilton
stepped forward and interposed. |
There was a grim ghost of a smile on his face as he put
his arm in front of Louis.
« Fair play, Norman,†he said; “I won’t have him
touched here. You can go now.†|
As Louis left the room, Hamilton resumed his former at-
titude, and seemed lost in a revery of an unpleasant de-
scription, while a discussion on Louis’ conduct was noisily
A STORY FOR BOYS. 297
carried on around him: some declaring that Louis had
done the deed from malicious motives, others believing that
it was merely a foolish joke of which he had not calculated
the consequences, and a third party attributing it entirely
to Casson’s influence.
“‘ Vexed as I am to find Louis has been so foolish,†said
Reginald, “I am glad, Frank, that you will now be cleared.
Hamilton, I am sure you believe that Louis only intended a
joke ?â€
Hamilton nodded gravely.
“I suppose you'll clear up the matter instanter, Hamil-
ton ?â€â€™ said Jones. -
“ Clear up the matter? How ! is it not clear enough
already ?†said Hamilton, almost fiercely.
«QJear to us, but not to the doctor,†said Meredith.
«It’s as clear as it’s likely to be, then,†said Hamilton.
“T intend to send up this poem the last evening, and say
nothing about it.†.
« A likely story!†exclaimed Jones.
«If you don’t, I shall, Hamilton,†said Salisbury.
<< Whoever breathes a word of the matter,†cried Hamil-
ton, “ceases from that moment to be a friend of mine.
Whose business is it, I should like to know—if I choose to
throw that unhappy thing on the fire, who is the loser but
myself? What satisfaction can it be to any one to get
that boy into such a mess ?†|
As Hamilton spoke he disdainfully flung the poem-on
the table, and drew the fender, contents and all, on the
floor with his fidgety foot.
“The matter comes to this,†said Reginald: “it ap-
pears that either Louis must be exposed, or Frank suffer
998 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
for his delinquencies. It is not, certainly, fair to Frank,
and mustn’t be, Hamilton, though Louis is my bro-
ther.†)
Hamilton cast a bewildered look on Frank.
«True, I had really forgotten Frank. It must be so,
then,†he said, in a lower tone.
«No, Hamilton, no Y? said Frank; “I won't have you
tell of poor Louis. 1 don’t care a bit about Fudge’s sus-
picions now, you all know Lam clear. Don’t say a word
about it, I beg.â€
« Frank, you're a fine fellow!’ exclaimed Hamilton,
grasping his hand; “ but I don’t think it is quite fair.â€
« Nonsense!†said Frank, gayly; “ I owe him some-
thing for relieving me from my situation; and, besides,â€
he added, more gravely, “ Louis deserves a little forbear-
ance from us: none of us would have done what he did,
last half.â€
« You are right,†said Hamilton, Warmly; “none of us
would, but all of us have forgotten that lately; even Fer-
rers, who ought, at least, to have befriended him, has
turned the cold shoulder to him. I feel quite indignant
with Ferrers.†i
«« Ferrers had a little reason to doubt him,†said Trevan-
nion.
« What, for letting his name slip out by accident
said Hamilton, scornfully ; “you heard how he let out
Casson’s just now—you wouldn’t blame him for that, 1
imagine ?†:
« No,†said Frank; ‘and I can tell you that Mrs. Paget
(no offence to her nephew) is one of those dear retailers of
all descriptions of news, that would worm a secret out of
A STORY FOR BOYS. 299
a toad in a stone, and Louis hasn’t ready wit enough to
manage her.â€
«He has no presence of mind, and a little vanity,†said
Hamilton.
“He is as vain as a peacock—a lump of vanity!†ex-
claimed Norman ; “ without an atom of moral courage to
stand any persuasion short of being desired to put his head
into the fire—a perfect coward !â€
« And where did you get your moral courage, Mr. Nor-
man?†said Hamilton, with deliberate gravity; “‘ we may
send you to the heathen for reproof: —
=
«“¢ Tf thou hast strength, ’twas heaven that strength bestowed,
For know, vain man, thy valor is from God.â€
Norman was on the point of speaking, but Hamilton con-
tinued in the same calm, irresistible manner :
“Tf Louis is vain, we are proud; and I should like to
know which is the worst,—having an exalted opinion of
ourselves, or craving the exalted opinion of others? We
have not behaved well to Louis, poor fellow! we first
spoiled him by over-indulgence and. flattery, nd when
this recoils upon us, we visit all the evil heavily on him.â€
«“T only want to remark,†said Meredith, “ that we had
a right to expect more consistency in a professed saint.â€
« Perhaps so,†said Hamilton ; “yet, though I am sure
Louis is a sincere Christian, he is not free from faults, and
had still a hard work to do in overcoming them ; and, be-
cause he has for a time forgotten that he had this work to
do, shall we cast him off as a reprobate? Remember it
was his former blameless conduct that made us expect
more from him than another: the Power that guided him
3800 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
then can restore him again. But we have sadly forgotten
that great duty, of bearing one another’s burdens, which
he taught us so sweetly a few months ago. Let us for-
give him,†continued Hamilton, with tears in his eyes, “as
we would be forgiven ; ; considering how we should act in
temptation ourselves.â€â€™
There was a dead silence, for Hamilton’ s address had
something solemn in it. He added, after a short pause—
“I feel that we seniors have an immense responsibility :
the power of doing much good or harm lies with us. I
have been far too selfish and indifferent: Trevannion, will
you forgive the thoughtless,words that so justly offended
you, but which, I assure you, had only the meaning of an
angry emotion ?â€
“ Willingly !†said Trevannion, starting up to meet the
proffered hand of his friend; “I am sorry I should have
been so much offended.â€
Reginald was making some acknowledgments to Hamilton
and Frank, when a messenger came to summon Hamilton
to a short turn with the doctor, and after gladly accepting
Reginald’s offer of performing his task towards Alfred, he
took up his poem, and went away full of deep thoughts
and regrets, that the late scene had called, forth.
‘we
A STORY FOR BOYS. 301
CHAPTER XXIII.
“O Israel, return unto the Lord thy God; for thou hast fallen by
thine iniquity. Take with you words, and turn to the Lord:
say unto Him, Take away all iniquity, and receive us graciously ;
so will we render the calves of our lips.â€â€”Hosea xiv. 1, 2.
Wuen Louis left the class-room, his feelings of grief and
shame were almost too bitter for restraint; but he had
learned lately to conceal something of what he felt from
those who were not likely to sympathize with him; and
finding some boys in the school-room, and being subjected
there to several disagreeable remarks and questions, he went
into the playground, in the hope of finding either relief in
change of scene, or a little more seclusion than he could
hope for in-doors; and after escaping from some tor-
mentors, who met him at the door, in their anxiety to know
what Hamilton wanted with him, he went towards the side
of the playground that looked upon the lane, hardly caring
where he was going, or what became of him.
The door was open, and disregarding, or more properly,
forgetting, the injunctions respecting it, he went up to it,
and stood looking out into the lane, till at last, one of his
school-fellows discovering the open door, came up, and
asked him to keep watch for him, while he went on a for-
bidden errand.
26
302 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS !
Meantime, Dr. Wilkinson and Hamilton had, after a walk
across the grounds in front of the house, turned into the
lane, making as large a round as possible, on their way to
the house. Hamilton was in a very silent humor, and as
his tutor was equally grave, very few words passed between
them during the first half of their walk; and if Hamilton had
thought at all about what he had undertaken so mechani-
cally, he might have wondered how the doctor could have
wanted a companion, when he was in so taciturn a humor.
Suddenly the doctor remarked,—‘“Have you heard
nothing of your poem, Hamilton ?â€
This was so unexpected a question, and Hamilton was so
unwilling to make a direct answer, that he remained silent
for a minute or two, his hesitation and color convincing his
master that Louis had acted up to his determination.
« Well, have you forgotten all about it 2†said the doc-
tor, good-humoredly. |
«‘T have found it, sir—here it is,†he replied, producing
the paper.
« How did you get it?†asked the doctor; who betrayed
far less stirprise and satisfaction than the occasion seemed
to demand.
«Tt was thrown into the class-room this morning, sir,â€
said Hamilton, reservedly.
« And you are ignorant of the party 2?†said the doctor,
with raised eyebrows.
«¢ No, sir, I know who has done it,†replied Hamilton,
after a slight pause; “but I must beg you to excuse my
naming him. I think there is no danger of a repetition of
the offence. Of course you will understand, sir, that I do
not mean Digby, who is as innocent as I ever believed him.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 303
There was a little silence, while the doctor ran his eye
down a page of Hamilton’s manuscript.
“As you wish to keep the matter secret, I shall ask no
further questions; only, Digby may not think it quite
fair.â€â€™
‘‘ He wishes it to be so, sir,†replied Hamilton, eagerly.
“It is quite his wish now he knows I have proof that he is
not the culprit.â€
Dr. Wilkinson’s face lighted up with an expression of
great satisfaction, as he said,
“It does Digby credit.â€
Hamilton was on the point of hazarding a remark on the
impossibility of Frank’s contemplating such a thing, when
they turned a corner of the lane that brought them in sight
of the playground wall and the farm-yard opposite. The
doctor’s attention was suddenly arrested by the figure of a
boy, perched on the top of the high wall surrounding the
latter, who was reaching downwards towards the top of a
large hawthorn-tree that grew inside.
‘“‘ Hey-day ! Hamilton, who’s that?†he exclaimed. “Do
you recognize the figure? If my eyes deceive me nof it is
Louis Mortimer. I have strongly suspected lately that I
have been robbed more than once. It és Louis Mortimer.†©
The doctor’s tone assumed its ready sternness, and he
quickened his pace. Hamilton could not doubt the evidence
of his senses, but he felt miserably disappointed.
“TI do not think Louis Mortimer would do so, sir,†he
said, faintly. ’
“There he is, however, out of bounds,†said the doctor.
“Something else may have taken him there,†said
Hamilton. .
304 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
“J hope it may prove so, but he is surely receiving
something from below—he sees us—he will be down—he
will assuredly break his neck !â€â€™ exclaimed the doctor, hur-
riedly. ‘ There—quick, Hamilton—run.â€
Hamilton needed no bidding, for, as soon as he saw Louis
fall, he ran off in the direction of the stable-yard. The
doctor followed so quickly that Hamilton had only just
raised Louis from the ground when he came up. To their
great satisfaction he was not much hurt, having fallen on a
heap of straw that lay just under the wall. He was much
frightened, and at first so stunned as to be almost incapable
of understanding what was said to him. On the ground
near him lay his green baize bag, and rolling about in all
directions, some apples, one or two still remaining in the
bag.
«Where is your companion, sir?†was. t first question
Dr. Wilkinson asked, after ascertaining that no injury had
been done to Louis. | :
«There was no one with me, sir,†replied Louis, almost
inarticulately.
«What were you doing here, sir
«I came to fetch my bag, sir.â€
«It is a mercy you were not killed,†said Dr. Wilkinson,
gravely. ‘Put the apples in that bag, Hamilton.â€
Dr, Wilkinson waited till Hamilton had performed this
task, and then desired Louis to take the bag and follow him.
Louis did as he was desired, but he was evidently not yet
in a condition to walk, and trembled so violently that Hamil-
ton caught hold of him to prevent him from falling.
« He can’t walk yet, sir,†he said, compassionately. “ I
will bring him in when he has recovered a little.â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 805
“It is too cold to sit out here,†said the doctor. “ Where
are you hurt?â€
“T don’t exactly know; I am not much hurt—but, oh!
I feel so strange, Hamilton. Let me walk—I can take
your arm.â€
Dr. Wilkinson looked anxiously at him, and assisted him,
with Hamilton’s aid, across the road, through the garden,
into the kitchen, where, with a little hartshorn and water,
he was soon in a condition to go up stairs. Dr. Wilkinson
desired him to go to bed for the rest of the day, and sent
Reginald to help him. The bag he took into his own pos-
session till further occasion.
Louis was too much dismayed by his ill success, and too
much exhausted by the shock of his fall, to make any re-
marks till he reached his room. Hamilton did not leave
him until he had seen him comfortably in bed; and then,
after wrapping®him up most tenderly, he leaned over him,
and asked what was really the matter.
Louis endeavored to answer calmly, but in his present
weak condition Hamilton’s kind manner overcame him, and
he burst into tears. j
‘* Oh, dear!†he exclaimed, amid his violent sobs; “ oh,
Reginald, Reginald—Hamilton, I am so unfortunate! Every
thing I do is always found out ; but others can do all sorts
of things, and no one knows it.â€
“Ts there any thing then to be found out, Louis?†said
Hamilton, gravely ; “if so, itis far better for you that it
should be.â€
Louis suddenly threw his arms round Hamilton, as he sat
near him.
‘‘ Hamilton, I did not go there to steal, I am sure,†he «
96*
&
306 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
said, throwing his head back, and examining his friend’s
face with the most intense anxiety. “ Tam sure, Hamilton,
bad as I am, you could not believe it of me. I have been
very sinful, but oh, I am very sorry ; and, Hamilton, I could
not do so very wicked a thing. Do remember, please, how
things were against me before when I was not guilty.
Though it seems all against me now, I assure you, the only
thing I have done wrong is going out of bounds—oh, do let
me keep my arms round you, Hamilton—don’t believe me
guilty. I haven’t—oh, I haven’t had a friend for so long!
I have been very proud and self-willed—if I had been
humble perhaps things would not have gone so wrong. I
never even said I was sorry I repeated what you said to
Mrs. Paget; but I was sorry, Hamilton—very, very sorry,
~ only, I did not like to say so. Will you forgive me, and be
my-friend again? I have been so ungrateful, 1 am afraid
you will never love me any more.†.
Hamilton was completely overcome by the vehemence
of Louis’ appeal. He pressed the poor boy closer to
him, and even kissed his forehead, as if he were a little
child.
“Love you, Louis! love you, dear boy!†he replied ;
«you have had reason to doubt it, but I have always loved
you. I forgive you from my heart, but you have some-
thing to forgive in me. I have not been as kind to you as
I might have been.â€
«Tam very sorry I spoke so unkindly of you this morn-
ing, Hamilton,†sobbed Louis, laying his wet cheek on
Hamilton’s shoulder. “1 was cross, and didn’t think of
what I was saying.â€
«Don’t think any more about it,†said Hamilton, affec-
A STORY FOR BOYS. | 307
tionately ; “lie down, and tell me quietly how you came to
be on that wall just now.â€
“‘T was standing at the wooden door,†said Louis, “‘ when
Sally Simmons told me that she had seen my bag on the
great hawthorn-tree, by the wall on. the other side. And
when I asked her how it got there, she said, she supposed
I knew, but it was too high for her to reach; and if I
didn’t get it, the doctor would find me out. At first, I
thought I wouldn’t go,†said Louis, hesitating ; “and then
I was afraid I should be getting into a scrape—I am some-
times so unfortunate—and so I went across the lane, and
got over the gate, and went into the yard to see if it were
there. And there it was, Hamilton, with some apples in it,
too, hanging partly, and partly lying, near the top of the
tree; it was so high that I was obliged to get upon the
cow-house roof, and as the cow-house was on the wrong
side, I was obliged to get on the wall to reacl it. And I
was pulling it off when you first saw me, and then—I was
afraid, and as I was rather over-reaching myself, I tried to
get down in a hurry, and fell down. I think the tree broke
my fall; but I don’t know how it was, for I hardly under- .
stood any thing, even when you came up.â€
“ You had better have let it alone,†said Reginald.
“What were you doing at the gate?†said Hamilton ;
“keeping watch ?â€
“One of them asked me,†replied Louis.
Hamilton shook his head.
“Have you any idea how your bag came there?â€
“Please don’t ask me any questions about that, Hamil-
ton. Will you not believe I am innocent ?â€
“T fully believe your story, Louis, but I know you have
308 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS
been in bad company lately, and I wish to help you to
clear yourself. Tell me all you know. If you have ever
had even the least hand in any thing like this, make a
friend of me, and tell me at once. Have you not some
idea who put your bag there ?â€
“T may guess, you know,†said Louis, evasively ; “ but,
Hamilton, I do assure you, I never had any thing to do
with any robbery here at all—never once.â€
«Tf you do not know who has done it, then,†said Ham-
ilton, “I am sure your gwess is a very accurate one—whom
do you guess ?†|
«T cannot tell you, Hamilton; you mustn’t ask me.â€
“This is only nonsense,†said Reginald, impatiently.
« Are you going to make a martyr of yourself for a set of
bag fellows who are a disgrace to the school ?â€
‘They may tell themselves, perhaps,†said Louis, “ but
T will not.â€
‘«‘ Louis !†said Hamilton, seriously, “ this is folly ; don’t
let a mistaken notion of honor induce you to skreen these
bad boys from their just punishment. By doing so, you
are doing an injury to others as well as yourself. You
must remember, that these evil-disposed boys are still mix-
ing with others, to whom their example and principles may
do much harm, independently of the evil done to them-
selves by being allowed to sin with impunity. Louis, you
were saying just now, that you were very unfortunate—
they are the most unfortunate whose crimes are undiscov-
ered, and therefore unchecked. If you are, as you say,
innocent of any participation in this affair, why should you
wish to conceal what you know, or, at least, telling me
whom you lent your bag to?â€
A STORY FOR BOYS. 309
“T did not lend it at all lately,†said Louis, raising his
face from the pillow, where he had hidden it. ‘The thing
is, Hamilton,†continued he, very sorrowfully, “I am called
a tell-tale, and I know I deserve it; but the worst is, they
call me a hypocrite, and say that religious people are no
better than others. I could bear it if it were only myself,
but it is more, and I have given reasons for them to say all
kinds of things,†he added, and burst anew into tears.
“But do not make me tell any more tales. I have prom-
ised, Hamilton—I dare not—I will not break my prom-
ise !â€â€
Hamilton made no immediate reply, and the loud ring-
ing of the dinner-bell obliged him to leave Louis to him-
self.
“If it is a promise, Louis,†he said, as he left tl:e roo
with Reginald, ‘‘I won’t urge you to.break it; but remem-
ber well how the promise was made—remember the con-
sequences.â€
“ Reginald,†he added, when they had closed the door,
“T have a clue; depend upon it, he won’t be much the
worse, poor fellow. But the doctor knows him well, I am
sure.â€
Reginala stole away after dinner to sit with Louis, and
to endeavor to persuade him to disclose all his suspicions,
but all he could obtain was a kind of half-promise to clear
it up, after he had seen how the matter would end ;° and
the subject caused him so much distress, that Reginald at
length left it alone.
‘Sit down by my side, dear Reginald,†said Louis, “and
tell me again that you forgive me. I cannot think how I
could be so unkind to you as I have been lately, when you
310 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
were so anxious about me. I have been ungrateful to
everybody.â€
“Don’t make yourself miserable,†said Reginald, as
gayly as he could. “I know I am hasty and cross, and
don’t go the right way to help you; but you had spoiled
me by being so very gentle before, and I didn’t understand
your having any spirit.â€
‘“« It was a very wrong spirit,†replied Louis; “ the fact
is, Reginald, I have not been serving God lately, though at
first I did not know it myself. I thought I did a great
many things when I came back to school, because it would
glorify God; when, I really believe now, the reason was—
to be praised for it. Every one seemed to think so much
of me, and that every thing I did was right. I have
wished so many times lately, that all the trouble of last
half-year might come again if I should be so happy.
But, Reginald, when the boys would not speak to me, then
I knew by my angry feelings that I only cared for myself;
and I saw that I had not been serving God, and I became
afraid to pray. Sometimes so strangely, when I knew I
was in the wrong, and that I ought to pray for help to be
better, yet I wanted to look grand, and to show I didn’t
care, and I never used the time I had, and that’s very
little here, Reginald. I have been thinking of myself al-
most ever since I came back—I have been thinking of
glorifying myself!’ He paused, and then added, in a
lower tone, ‘I fancied I was not selfish, but now I know I
am !â€
When Reginald went away, Louis had long and quiet |
time to trace the reason of his sad falling away, and to
- make his peace with Him whose great name he had so
A STORY FOR BOYS. 311
dishonored. Earnestly, humbly, and sorrowfully did he
confess his faults. How bowed to the earth he felt, in the
consciousness of his utter impotence! He remembered how
confident he had been in his good name; and now he be-
came aware, in this silent self-examination, how mixed his
motives had been, how full of vanity and vain-glory he had
been, how careless in waiting for “more grace,†how little
he had thought of pressing forward, how wanting he had
been in that single heart that thought only of doing the
work committed to him regardless of the approbation of
men—that only desired to know what was right in order
fearlessly to follow it; and unutterable were the tearful
desires of his heart that he might be strengthened for the
time to come to walk more worthy of the vocation where-
with he was called.
312 LOUIS’ SCHOOI-DAYS :
CHAPTER XXIV.
“Twill heal their backslidings, I will love them freely ; for mine
anger is turned away from him. Ephraim shall say, What have
I to do any more with idols ?â€â€”Hosea xiv. 4, 8.
“1 will hear what God the Lord will speak: for He will speak
peace to His people, and to His saints, but let them not turn
again to folly.â€â€”Psalm lxxxv. 8.
Lovis awoke from a calm, sound sleep very early the
next morning, with a dim, indistinct recollection of having,
when half awake during the night, seen Dr. Wilkinson
standing by him, and of a consciousness of a hand being
laid on his forehead and his hands; but, as he did not feel
certain, much less suppose it likely, he settled that he
must have dreamed it. It was quite dark when he awoke,
and it was some few minutes before the events of the pre-
ceding day ranged themselves in any order in his mind ;
and then his thoughts flew to that rest whence they had
been so long absent.
In about half an hour, several of his school-fellows
began to rouse themselves, and, a candle or two being
lighted, dressing was hastily accomplished ; and, rolling
themselves up in counterpanes and blankets, shawl fashion,
they proceeded to pore over the books they had brought
up the night before.
A STORY FOR BOYS. 313
“IT don’t mean to get up,†growled Frank; *it’s a great
deal more comfortable in bed. Clifton, bring me my can-
dle here, and put it on that chair—I shall make a studium
of my couch.â€
“Dr. Wilkinson asked if we read with candles near
the beds,†said Clifton. ‘He said he wouldn’t have us
read in bed unless it were daylight, Digby.â€
“Well, we’ll suppose he didn’t,†said Frank, “so come
along.â€
“No, I won’t,†said Clifton, sitting down near a chest of
drawers, on which was a candle, the joint property of him-
self, Reginald, and Louis.
“You won't, won’t you?†said Frank, coolly; “Regi-
nald, my candle’s near you, I'll trouble you for it.â€
“ You must take the consequences, then,â€â€™ said Reginald,
‘for I heard the doctor say so.â€
“{ didn’t,†said Frank, snuffing his candle, and opening
a book; “ Meredith, ’'d advise you to follow my ex-
ample.â€
“JT followed it yesterday, and fell asleep in uncomfort-
able snoozes till the bell rang,†yawned Meredith. ‘“Read-
ing one word and dreaming six may be entertaining, but it
is certainly not instructive.â€
There was very little noise, and Louis lay for some
time in deep thought. At length he moved as if with
the intention of getting up, when Reginald started up
and planted his beaming face over him so as to prevent
his rising :
“ Awake at last,sLouis ?â€
“Yes, I have been awake a long time.â€
“ You’ve heen very quiet.â€
27
814 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:+
« How happy you look !†said Louis; “I could almost
fancy you had something to tell.â€
« What will you give me for my news 1
«J am afraid I can offer nothing put thanks,†replied
Louis, smiling. 3
« What should you say if I were to tell you Casson was
gone ?â€
« Casson gone !â€â€ exclaimed Louis, starting up in spite
of his brother’s ‘ncubian overseership. ‘“ Where 2? When?
How? Was he ill? What was the matter ?â€
«He went home yesterday evening by the London
coach. He was in perfect bodily health. The matter was,
that the magister wouldn't keep him.â€
« What! expelled, Reginald 9†said Louis, aghast.
« Expelled, Louis,†Reginald replied, gravely ; “don’t
look so frightened ; he deserved it.â€
« Oh, Reginald! it is so tertible! But how—why was
it so sudden ?â€
« Ah, Beauty ? said Frank, “a few wonders have hap-
pened while your ladyship has been sleeping there. What
will you say to Harris going, too?â€
« Harris! no, surely not, Frank? Tell me, do tell me
what’s been the matter.†:
«We promised to let Hamilton tell the story,†said
Reginald. “He has been, in a great measure, the cause
of finding all out; so make haste and go to him, for I want
you back again.†:
Louis did not need any further pidding—he hurried his
toilette, and flew to the room that Hamilton enjoyed to
himself. Hamilton was up. An open Bible lay near him,
which he closed as Louis entered. -
A STORY FOR BOYS. 315
“How are you, foolish boy, this morning ?†he said,
kindly—very kindly, Louis thought, as he squeezed his
hand.
“T am very well, thank you. Reginald’s been telling
me strange news this morning.†|
“ News ?†said Hamilton. “He promised me—â€
“Oh! I only know that Casson’s gone, and Harris going,
but he would not tell me any more.â€
“ Well, then, I will.â€
‘‘ Hamilton,†said Louis, gently laying his hand on Hamil-
ton’s, “ may I ask one thing ?â€
«What is it ?â€
“Will you read a little of this.with me first?†he said,
timidly, touching the Bible. “I have neglected it so lately.
It would be so pleasant before we begin any thing else.
You do not know how difficult it is in our room to bea
minute quiet.â€
Hamilton had opened the Bible before Louis had finished,
and bade him seleet a chapter, which he asked him to read
aloud.
Louis read the 7th Psalm, and the 14th of Hosea; and
when he had finished, he and his friend remained very silent.
Hamilton felt for Louis, though he did not know how
soothingly the sweet words fell on the soul of the erring
boy ; how unspeakably precious had been the promise, that
the backslider should be healed, and the dew of the Spirit
refresh him, and make him grow in grace. Louis felt a
wish to prolong those gracious words, “ Ephraim shall say,
What have I anymore to do with idols? I have heard
and observed him; I am like a green fir-tree, from me is
thy fruit found!â€
316 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
“Dear Hamilton,†he said, at length, “1 have a very
great favor to beg of you—would you let me come ina
little every morning to read with you? It would do me
so much good.â€
“By all means,†said Hamilton, perhaps a little shily ;
but it was promise enough to call forth Louis’ heartfelt
thanks.
Hamilton then made Louis don a cloak of his, and stretch-
ing his own legs, so as to rest them comfortably on the
window where Louis was sitting, he entered into a minute
detail of the events of yesterday afternoon, equally sur-
prising and interesting to Louis.
It appeared that Hamilton, acting on his own strong
suspicions, went immediately after dinner to Dr. Wilkinson,
whom, strange to say, he found equally inclined to listen to
them; for he confessed to Louis that he did not exactly
know what had made Dr. Wilkinson so suddenly take such
a decided view of Casson’s character as he appeared to have
done. They went to the stable and examined it very care-
fully. They found the door unfastened; but on further
consideration, discovered that the staple, which was rusty,
had been broken off, so that, though the key had been
turned, it could-be opened as easily as if it had had no lock.
They went up through the trap-door, but found nothing to
assist them, till, just as they were descending, Hamilton
picked up part of a Greek exercise. It was very small,
not more than two inches square ; a more careless observer
might not have noticed it, but Hamilton seized it as a treas-
ure, and, with the doctor’s advice, set to work to discover
whose handwriting it was.
The few words he deciphered carried him to the second
A STORY FOR BOYS. 317
class for the owner: ‘“ And oh, Louis! Dr. Wilkinson looked
so grave when I told him it was Kenrick. But I knew it
was not your writing. With very little trouble, and with-
out discovering any thing, I soon found Harris to have been
the writer. Having settled this point about an hour after
school had begun, I took the first opportunity of informing
the doctor, who tmmediately entered the school-room, sus-
pended all business, summoned every one, and in an able
speech, as the papers would say, prefaced the proceedings
by declaring how painful it had been to him to discover
that any of his pupils were not trustworthy, et cetera ; and
his determination to arrive at some conclusion on the point,
to know whether his orders were or were not to be obeyed.
He then mentioned having found you, and his firm belief,
that even supposing you had gone there for the purpose of
abstracting the apples, which he could not believe, you must
have been tempted and persuaded to it by older hands;
he called upon the offenders to come forward and clear the
matter. Well, no one answered ; and then the doctor just
alluded to you, and what you had suffered last half, and
said that he had determined that every one should be aware
of the grounds of accusation, and he desired, if any one
knew of any thing that would throw a light on the matter,
he would come forward.
“Then, to every one’s surprise, cones up Charles Clifton,
and tells him coolly, that he was sure you had not stolen
the.apples, and that it was very likely to be Harris, Casson,
and Churchill, and that Sally Simmons had, in his presence,
given them apples, and they joked about the place where
they came from. Sally was called, and at last confessed
that she had let Casson know where the apples were kept ;
27*
318 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
and they frightened her, or something, for she tried to bring
you in as an accomplice, only Clifton was so manful, and
braved her with so much spirit, that she soon quitted that
ground, and departed under sentence of dismissal.â€
“Oh, poor Sally! I am very sorry.â€
“She is a bad girl,†said Hamilton; “I never liked
Clifton so well as I did yesterday: there is a great deal of
truthful independence about him.â€â€™
“ Oh, Charlie’s a very nice fellow !†said an warmly.
“ Well, Hamilton.â€
“ Well, Casson and Harris bullied, talked of characters
defamed, and stoutly protested innocence. The doctor
looked so indignant ; I think I never saw him so thoroughly
convinced of the evil-mindedness of any one, as he appeared
to be of Casson’s. He heard all they had to say, and spoke
to them seriously of the crime they were adding. Harris
looked abashed, but Casson declared there was not enough
to convict him in the evidence of a ‘liar like Sally, and a
self-sufficient fellow like Clifton ;’ when, to my astonish-
ment, Trevannion came forward, and gave his pocket-book
open into the doctor’s hands.†Hamilton then proceeded
to tell Louis what Trevannion had seen on the memorable
Friday, and theygreat effect produced upon the school by
the reading of the memorandum. Churchill confessed
every thing, and cried, and begged pardon.
It seemed that they had gone no further than the gate
leading to the field, on the Friday morning, as they saw
some one in the distance ; but that the plan had been re-
newed on Monday at twilight, when they were disturbed
by a man with a lantern, coming into the yard as they
left the stable, and, instead of going out the usual way,
A STORY FOR BOYS. 319
they scrambled over the wall, dropping the bag in their
hurry, and had no opportunity the ensuing day to look
for it.
“Harris,†continued Hamilton, “turned as white as a
sheet, and murmured something that no one could under-
stand. The doctor spoke really beautifully. I hope some-
thing of what he said may remain with them, at least, be
remembered at some future time.â€
‘What did he say ?†asked Louis.
“He spoke about the heinousness of the offences they
had committed, and of his sorrow ; and, Louis, he spoke as
if he were sorry,†said Hamilton, looking down, and speak-
ing gravely. “I felt as if I were wrong in being so re-
joiced at their detection. He spoke of the necessity he
was under, not simply of making an example of such of-
fenders, which was a duty he owed to the others under his
charge, but of that of marking also to themselves the great
abhorrence he entertained of their conduct. He then spoke
of the consequences of unchecked sin, and, in a few words,
mentioned a very sad history of a former pupil of his who
turned out very ill—he is dead, Louis; the manner in
which he spoke of that prayer of the Psalmist’s, ‘ Make me
not a rebuke unto the foolish,’ was very solemn; I assure
you there were very few dry eyes,â€
Louis’ were filled with tears.
“ Well, Hamilton,†he said, slowly.
“He then degired Casson to go directly and make prep-
arations for leaving his house in less than an hour, and
told Harris that he should not allow him to return after the
holidays. There was not a sound when Casson left the
room, Louis, except the sobbing of one or two of the little
320 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS:
boys. I think I never felt any thing so solemn. It is a
serious, a very serious thing.â€
“Very, very,†said Louis. «Did Casson seem sorry,
Hamilton ?†|
«He was very pale and silent—I think frightened, not
sorry. Harris stood like a statue while the doctor was
speaking ; but, when he told him he was not to return, I
heard him sigh so deeply, it was quite painful.â€
«¢ And Churchill ?†said Louis, with difficulty.
« Churchill is to stay a week behind the others, and to
write exercises every day till he goes home.â€
“Oh, Hamilton, Hamilton !â€â€™ cried Louis, bursting fairly
into tears, “I am not crying wholly for sorrow ; for I am,
and ought to be, thankful that I have not been made a
‘rebuke unto the foolish.’ â€
Hamilton pressed his hand.
“I hope,†he continued, “ that this may be a blessing to
me; but I am very much afraid of myself, Hamilton, for
L am constantly making good resolutions and breaking
them—but, Hamilton, do you think they would suppose ]
had told of them ?â€
“Dr. Wilkinson told them you would not break your
promise and clear yourself by betraying them,†replied
Hamilton; “and he also said a great deal on the folly of
rash promises, and the evil of covering sin. I wish you
had heard it; but we must not talk any more, for here is
Alfred, and we shall have the prayer-bell gpresently ; so, if
you have any thing to do before you se down, you had
better make haste.â€
Louis dried his tears, and obeyed the hint, after submit-
ting, with no very great reluctance, to a mighty hug from
A STORY FOR BOYs. 321
Alfred, who would have given vent to his delight in a great
flow of words had not his brother been present and waiting
for him. There was little time for talking when Louis re-
turned to his dormitory ; but he and his brother made the
most of it, and, arm in arm, they issued forth when the
summons was heard. All the way down stairs Louis re-
ceived the congratulations of his school-fellows. Every-
body, even Trevannion, seemed to have forgiven him, and
Norman held out his hand at the hall-door with a “Shake
hands, old fellow !â€â€™
Louis felt rather afraid of entering the school-room, but
Dr. Wilkinson made no comment, and, as far as he could
judge from the doubtful light of a few candles struggling
with the coming daylight, scarcely looked at him. The
names were called over. At Harris’s name there was a
pause—some one answered, “ Not here, sir ;†and, as Dr.
Wilkinson, without any comment, proceeded, Louis caught
a few whispered words near him:
“‘ He’s been moaning nearly all night, poor fellow! he’s
in a terrible way now;†and then the reply, “ Ah, the
doctor never unsays any thing !â€
When prayers were over, Dr. Wilkinson called Louis
into the study, and kept him till breakfast-time with him.
What passed, never transpired ; but that it was something
serious was conjectured from Louis’ exceedingly humble
manner and red eyes, when he left the room—though
every one was sure, from the subsequent manner of both
master and pupil, that all was entirely forgiven, and Louis
reinstated fully in Dr. Wilkinson’s good graces.
But I must hasten to finish my story. The prize day
arrived. It was a dismal, wet, dreary day; but the boys
822 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS!
cared nothing for that, except that the audience was
smaller than usual. Charles Clifton carried away all the
first prizes of his class, except that for French, which was,
contrary to his expectation, adjudged to Louis. Hamilton
having privately signified to the doctor his wish to with-
draw all claim to the medal, it was likewise bestowed on
Clifton. Reginald was not successful in any branch this
half-year, having so recently entered the highest class. As
for Frank and Hamilton, the poems were considered so
equal—Hamilton’s being the more correct, and Frank’s
displaying the greater talent and brilliancy—that they
each received a prize exactly alike. The doctor passed a
high encomium on Frank’s industry, and that original
young gentleman had the satisfaction of bearing away
two prizes in addition to that already mentioned, leay-
ing another for Hamilton, one for Ferrers, and one for
Norman. '
Just as the boys had dispersed, and Reginald and Louis
were arranging a snug place in their carpet-bag for Louis’
prize, a letter was put into the hand of the former.
“From home, Reginald 2†cried Louis ; “ I suppose it is
to say who is coming for us.â€
But, no;—it was to tell them of the illness of a lady
who had been staying at Dashwood Priory, which had
assumed so much the character of typhus fever, that Mr.
Mortimer considered it unsafe for his boys to return; and
the letter, which was from their mother, informed them,
with many expressions of affectionate regret, that their
father had written to ask Dr. Wilkinson to keep them a
few days, till it could be decided how they were to be dis-
posed of. Poor Louis was grievously disappointed, and
A STORY FOR BOYS. 323
Reginald, not less so, inveighed aloud on the folly and im-
pertinence of ladies going to friends’ houses to fall ill there
and prevent their sons from enjoying their holidays, so long,
that Louis at length could not help laughing.
“ But what shall we do, Reginald? it will be so dull
here.â€
“T shall die of the vapors, 1 think,†said Reginald.
“Come home with me,†said Salisbury, “ both of you—
I am sure my father and mother will be very glad to see
you.â€
“T should like nothing better,†replied Reginald ; “ pro-
vided your father and mother prove of the same accom-
modating opinion when you sound them.â€
“ Charlie asked me last week to go with him, Reginald,â€
said Louis ; “ if you go with Salisbury, I shall go with him ;
but if you remain here, I shall stay with you.â€
The brothers received invitations on all sides when their
desolate condition was known, but none could be accepted
without the consent of their parents, or in the mean time of
Dr. Wilkinson, as their guardian. It was finally. settled,
that as both Salisbury and Clifton lived in the neighbor-
hood, their invitations might be — till further notice
from Dashwood.
The lady sing very ill, though,Abs it was not any in-
fectious disease, the brothers probably might have been
sent for, had not a heavy fall of snow rendered the roads
near Dashwood impassable.
Louis spent nearly the whole of his holidays very hap-
pily with Charles ; becoming, during his stay with them, a
great favorite with Mr. Clifton and his little girls, as well
as their-nurse. Salisbury had the benefit of Reginald’s
324 LOUIS’ SCHOOL-DAYS :
company for a fortnight, the rest of his time being bestowed
upon Meredith.
When the holidays were over, Hamilton returned for his
last ‘half-year. The reflections induced by the preceding
term were not transient. He struggled manfully with the
constitutional indifference of his character; and though
there were many failifes, for the ‘habits were too deeply
rooted to be suddenly overcome, yet the effort was not
without its®use, both to himself and others. To Louis, he
was a constant and useful friend, never flagging in his
efforts to make him more manly and independent in his con-
duct, as regarded the opinion of others; and also quietly
strengthening, by his example and encouragement, every
good feeling and impression he noticed. There were no
tears shed, but, Louis felt very low when he bade good-bye
to Hamilton, at the close of the next half-year.
« Oh, Hamilton! I owe you a great deal. . What shall I
do next half without you? Who will help me?â€
“Thy God, whom thou servest;â€â€™ said Hamilton, rever-
entially. ‘The thanks are not to me for the help of the
last few months, Louis. Good-bye, my dear fellow—our
friendship does not end here; we are friends forever.â€
They shook hands warmly and parted.
Louis continued af*school for two or three years longer,
and passed through the ordeal of school-life with credit to
himself* and his relations. I would not be thought to mean
that he never did wrong, or was always equally steady in
his Christian course ; for the Christian’s whole life is a con-
tinued fight against the evil of his nature. He still retained
his strong desire to enter the ministry of the Church, and
his studies, and pursuits were principally directed to that
A STORY FOR BOYS. 825
end. It was one of his fairest day-dreams, to be his
father’s curate when old enough to be ordained, and though
that might not be, he still felt, wherever he might be
placed, his language would be that of the Psalmist, when
he said—
‘* My soul hath a desire and a longing to enter into the
courts of the living God,†‘ FogI had rather be a door
keeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents
of wickedness.†F
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