30 MARKET PUCE! 
 READ I Mfi 
 
 :NER] 
 UCE] 
 
 5
 
 rv
 
 'am; n HIM I
 
 YOUNG HEADS 
 
 ON 
 
 OLD SHOULDERS. 
 
 BY 
 
 ASCOTT E. HOPE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " A PECK OF TROUBLES," " THE YOUNG REBELS,' 
 " STORIES OF WH1TM1KSTEE,'' KTC., ETC. 
 
 SJATU THOUSAND. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 
 57 & 59, LUDGATE HILL, B.C. 
 
 2136142
 
 EEE are a few good old-fashioned-looking 
 stories under a title that needs a word of 
 explanation. We have all heard of Feuds, 
 Conspiracies, Injured Innocents, and so on ; 
 and now, as in a puppet show, the performance is to 
 consist of these well-worn plots, with the chief parts 
 played by small actors, who will often be found laugh- 
 ing at us out of the corner of their eyes all the time 
 that they are mimicking the lofty strut and tragic 
 frown of their elders in fiction. The readers are ex- 
 pected to laugh, too, at the figure cut by these Young 
 Heads on old Shoulders ; but when they have done 
 laughing the writer hopes that he will have helped to 
 put some kindly and sensible thoughts into the real 
 heads that are still upon young shoulders. 
 
 A. E. H.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOK 
 
 THE FEUD: A SNOWBALL STOKY 1 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY : A CHAPTER OF SCHOOL-BOY HISTORY 81 
 THE INJURED INNOCENT : THE SORROWS OF A LAD 
 
 AND A LADY 59 
 
 THE MYSTERY ; OR, THE YOUNG PHILOSOPHER AND THE 
 
 STRANGE PHENOMENON 97 
 
 THE PENITENTS: A STORY WRITTEN ON FOOLSCAP ... Ill 
 THE BENIGHTED TRAVELLER : AN ADVENTURE 
 
 AMONG THE INDIANS 143 
 
 THE BITER BIT : A TALE OF A SPIDER AND A FLY , 163
 
 LIST OF ENGKAYINGS. 
 
 " GIVE IT HIM ! " 
 
 OG AKD GOG 
 
 A MIDNIGHT ALARM 
 
 HIT 
 
 FAGS 
 
 ... Frontispiece 
 
 24 
 
 73 
 
 124 
 
 NOTHING TO LAUGH AT 177
 
 THE FEUD. 
 A SNOWBALL STORY.
 
 THE FEUD. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 AM an old fogey, and I regret the good old- 
 fashioned winters. Not for myself, you will 
 understand ; to tell the truth, I begin to be 
 somewhat wheezy and rheumatic, and I want 
 no ice to slide on towards my graven But I lament 
 for the youth of my country, who seem nowadays to be 
 too indulgently dealt with by our degenerate Decembers. 
 I should like to know what is the good of being a boy 
 if one has not the satisfaction of bidding defiance to 
 stern nature, feeling one's spirits go up as the mercury 
 goes down! For my part, I distrust any system of 
 education which does not include a due proportion of 
 chilblains and blue noses. It was so in my day, sir, 
 and see what it made us ! A dull old age, at all 
 events, is that which they must look forward to who 
 cannot have the delight of looking back on a time 
 when, four weeks together, they never got up in the 
 dark early mornings without finding the water frozen
 
 4 A Snowball Story. 
 
 in their basins, and never stirred out of doors without 
 feeling it so cold that they were positively obliged to 
 run about and work themselves into a glow of invigor- 
 ating warmth and jovial mirth. 
 
 The winters must have changed since then or is 
 it I who lie longer in bed, sit oftener by a cosy fireside, 
 and never venture forth without a thick overcoat and 
 an umbrella ? Surely the snow used to fall heavier 
 and lie much longer on either side of our Christmases, 
 which were, I affirm, a hundred times warmer and 
 brighter than the dull holidays of this generation. 
 My young nephew, who at the age of fourteen wears 
 spectacles, attends scientific lectures, despises story 
 books, and requires antibilious pills, admits the 
 change, and explains it by a theory of his own. He 
 has written a paper showing, as I understand, that 
 the heat given out by our vast network of railways, 
 not only from the engine fires, but from the friction 
 over so many thousand miles of rail, radiating into 
 the air, has a perceptible effect upon our climate. Be 
 this as it may, it certainly appears to me that boys 
 are not the same as they used to be. These boys 
 have more useful information, more elevated tastes, 
 more expensive games, more abundant pocket-money, 
 and other doubtful advantages. Those seem to have 
 had simpler ways, thicker skins, a larger capacity for 
 pudding and pleasure, which were dealt out to them 
 in smaller allowances, and greater readiness to make 
 the best of circumstances and not to lose any chance
 
 Houses of York not Lancaster. 5 
 
 of fun which might be going. Perhaps if I saw the 
 matter from the inside of a modern hoy's jacket rather 
 than from my present height of contemplation, I 
 might judge differently, and approve the wisdom of 
 the second example of the tenth rule of our Latin 
 grammar, which declared, if I am not mistaken, that 
 it is easier to find another climate than to change our 
 nature. But without further speculation, I will get 
 on to my story, merely remarking that a great many 
 things have altered, for the better or the worse, since 
 I was at school with Dr. O'Donnell at a small town in 
 Yorkshire. 
 
 Everybody knows that schools in Yorkshire are, or 
 were, as thick as the plums were not in our puddings. 
 A friend of mine, who is a philologist, informs me 
 that the Yorkshire dialect is peculiarly rich in phrases 
 expressive of personal chastisement a fact no doubt 
 closely related to Mr. Squeers' connection with that 
 country. There were two schools in this town, a 
 classical and a commercial academy. The masters of 
 them were Dr. O'Donnell and Mr. Macnab, respec- 
 tively nicknamed Og and Gog bytheir irreverent flocks. 
 
 They were both big men, but here the resemblance 
 ended. Dr. O'Donnell was stout, fair, and rubicund ; 
 Mr. Macnab was thin, dark, and of sallow complexion. 
 Og was an Irishman and a Doctor of Divinity ; Gog 
 came from very far north and wrote himself Master of 
 Arts. The one was a Tory and a Churchman, the 
 other a Whig and a Dissenter. The doctor's temper
 
 6 A Snoivball Story. 
 
 was hot and hasty; his rival had the reputation of 
 being patient and sulky. The former infandum re- 
 novare dolor em ! used the birch and made jokes ; 
 the latter kept a cane and \vas prone to lecturing. 
 The bee and butterfly are not more unlike than were 
 these instructors of youth. 
 
 As with the pedagogues so with the .pupils. Ours 
 was, of course, the superior establishment in our own 
 opinion, which counted for much among us. We 
 were understood to be receiving a " sound," they a 
 "practical," education. Latin was our strong point; 
 we had a boy in our school who, it was whispered, 
 could write Latin hexameters all by himself, while 
 their champion boasted of a contemptible skill in 
 vulgar fractions. "We went to church ; most of them, 
 I believe, to chapel. The Archdeacon gave away our 
 prizes ; the Mayor theirs. They had their pudding 
 before meat; we rejoiced in ours occasional!}- in the 
 proper place. We could beat them at cricket ; they 
 sometimes had the best of it at football. Most of our 
 boys were boarders, most of theirs were day boys ; 
 and the antithesis was complete in many other re- 
 spects for which, in these days of rapid reading, I 
 cannot hope to gain attention. 
 
 These things being so, it will at once be evident to 
 the merest schoolboy that what the Montagues were 
 to the Capulets, the Mohawks to the Delawares, the 
 MacDonalds to the Campbells, the Cavaliers to the 
 Roundheads, the Platonists to the Aristotelians, the
 
 " Arma, Virumque Cano /" 7 
 
 Carthaginians to the Bomans, the Blue party to the 
 Yellow, the partisans of Tweedledum all the world 
 over to the fanatics of Tweedledee, and the two factions 
 who to this day divide my native village on the ques- 
 tion of a new pump, to each other that were we to the 
 neighbouring school, and they to us, from one scholastic 
 generation to another. 
 
 Thence arose, as may be imagined, many contests 
 and skirmishes, not alone on the peaceful field of 
 sport, but in bloodier and more bitter frays, with 
 varying results. In my time the Ogs, as we called 
 ourselves, had one great advantage over the Gogs, 
 which often turned the tide of victory in our favour. 
 They had more big boys, I think, but our head boy 
 was himself a tower of strength. His name was Lamb 
 a name more than half belied by his nature and his 
 tastes, which were decidedly martial. To his friends 
 and the weak, indeed, he was gentle as a Quaker grand- 
 mother ; but towards a defying foe he was a very 
 Achilles of eagerness and ferocity. It followed that 
 they regarded him with as much fear as we with 
 affectionate admiration. Their chief captains and 
 men of war had a standing challenge to come forth 
 and do single combat with our champion, but sad ex- 
 perience had taught them to shrink from such an 
 ordeal. The very name of Lamb was enough for them ; 
 they would scatter and fly at the cry that he was 
 coming round the corner. Often he must have wished 
 to be less redoubtable, for it was the struggle rather
 
 8 A Snowball Story. 
 
 than the triumph in which his spirit took delight; and 
 since his soul was too noble to fight without cause or 
 against an unworthy foe, there would be days and 
 weeks together in which he would be like a stabled 
 war-horse, pawing and champing for battle. 
 
 The frost and snow had come, and Lamb was in his 
 element. To skim the frozen pond, to "make one 
 long sliding of a holiday," these things were not un- 
 loved by him, but most of all dear to his amiably 
 bellicose disposition were the mimic operations of a 
 snow war. He was equally skilful to build forts of 
 snow and daring to head some desperate charge 
 through a volley of balls. One of our boys, who was 
 a great reader, prophesied that Lamb would turn out 
 a second Napoleon and alter the face of Europe. No- 
 thing of the kind ; he became a doctor at Sheffield, and 
 has a great reputation in nursery practice. 
 
 Well, one morning when we got up in the dark, and 
 ran out to warm our shivering little selves before going 
 into school, we were horrified to find that salt had been 
 sprinkled on our slides. What enemy had done this ? 
 Not the doctor or his myrmidons ; he had his faults, 
 but was as wholly incapable of such an act as any 
 other sound divine in the kingdom. We were not 
 long left in doubt. A trail of footsteps in the snow 
 led right to the other school. And if this indication 
 were not enough, there were certain chalk-marks on 
 the wall, expressive of exultation and derision; in these 
 we recognised the totems of the tribe of Gog.
 
 "A Chieftain's Vengeance ye shall feel!" 9 
 
 Great was our indignation, loud were our demands 
 of vengeance. It was proposed that we should way- 
 lay the Gog day boys going singly or in small parties 
 to school, and exact a tenfold retribution on their puny 
 persons. But Lamb was too chivalrous for such war- 
 fare. He vowed that though they were not ashamed 
 to make sneaking forays by night, no Gog should 
 suffer harm from us till they were gathered together, 
 with due warning of our intentions, and every oppor- 
 tunity of defending themselves. 
 
 One small boy on his way to the other school our 
 captain ordered to be captured, but not a hair of his 
 head was to be hurt. When this prisoner was led 
 trembling into Lamb's presence, he delivered to him 
 an enormous snowball, wrapped in a sheet of brown 
 paper. This he was charged to convey to the heads 
 of his own people, who, without further ceremony, 
 could not fail to receive it as a declaration of war. 
 
 I need not say how impatiently we went through our 
 morning lessons, or how eagerly we swallowed down 
 our breakfast. The word had been handed round that 
 at the very first available moment, Lamb was to lead 
 us against the foe. When at last we were free to as- 
 semble in the playground, the utmost enthusiasm 
 prevailed. Every boy of us was eager for the attack, 
 or, if he had not this virtue, was fain to assume it. 
 When the doughty Lamb took the war path, none 
 dared linger at home. 
 
 Our leader was a man of deeds rather than words ;
 
 10 A Snowball Story. 
 
 indeed, there was no time for speeches. We had not 
 three-quarters of an hour clear, and in three minutes 
 we were on the march for the scene of action, a 
 tumultuous hut determined band. 
 
 The Gog institution stood just outside of the town, 
 its playground bordering the high road. "We had 
 expected to find scouts posted to give warning of our 
 approach, but no : a reconnoitring party thrown out in 
 advance reported them to be disporting themselves in 
 confidence and security. At the last turn of the road 
 we were halted and received a few final directions from 
 our general. Then we moved on cautiously, stooping 
 under the wall so as not to be seen till the moment of 
 attack, and each warrior hastily providing himself as 
 he went with as many snowballs as he could carry in 
 his arms. 
 
 In spite of our warning, the Gogs were off their 
 guard. We could see them scattered over their play- 
 ground, some sliding, some playing leap-frog, some 
 poor creatures moving about with their hands in their 
 pockets to keep them warm. The first notice they had 
 of our approach was a tremendous cheer ; then from 
 behind the wall we started up into view, and a volley 
 of snowballs was poured in upon them. Taken by 
 surprise, their impulse was to run. Lamb, leading 
 the forlorn hope, fiew to the gate. Through this, or 
 bounding over the low wall, we rushed into their play- 
 ground with our terrible war-whoop, and half the field 
 was in our hands before they had fired a shot.
 
 " The Combat Deepens. On, ye Brave ! " 11 
 
 But soon some of their big fellows came hurrying up 
 to check our onset, and the rest, recovering from their 
 surprise, flocked round their leaders and began to de- 
 fend themselves. Sing, Muse, the varying fortunes of 
 the field, where now in battle closed the adverse lines ! 
 Loud rose the martial cries of either band. Fast flew 
 the snowballs, whitening all the air. Unheeded 
 moaned the timid, they who slunk to the safe rear, pre- 
 tending to be hurt. With hand and voice each warrior 
 fiercely strove; defiance answering triumph, as the fray 
 waxed hot and hotter, and the swaying ranks charged 
 but to waver, yielded to return. Thus, for a little space, 
 the battle raged, and victory, hovering o'er the doubt- 
 ful scene, now to this side inclined, and now to that. 
 
 But not long did the issue hang thus in suspense. 
 The advantage which we had gained at first, inspired 
 us with courage, and we pressed with irresistible 
 ardour on the faltering ranks of the foe. They give 
 ground, they move back ; the movement becomes a 
 retreat, the retreat quickens into a run, and we are at 
 their heels, turning it into a rout. Nor is this all. 
 Lamb, who has been fighting in the thick of the fray, 
 dashing up to the very ranks of the enemy, and dis- 
 daining to hurl his unerring missile till he can see 
 the whites of their eyes, is not for all his valour for- 
 getful of cunning strategy. With six or seven chosen 
 braves, he has been creeping to our right wing, and 
 now rushes on impetuously, out -flanking the enemy's 
 left, and cutting them off from their schoolhouse, in
 
 12 A Snowbatt Story. 
 
 which they would fain take refuge. Panic-stricken, 
 they heed not what they do, but, like a flock of silly 
 sheep, turn their headlong course, and skurry across 
 to the opposite corner of the playground, with not a 
 moment's time for consideration, till they are brought 
 up by the high wall, and breathlessly turn to bay. 
 
 What! oh, what have they done? Huddled into 
 their fives-court, they find us closing round them in 
 a joyfully shouting semicircle. Their new position is 
 all slides and hard-beaten snow ; they have scarcely any 
 ammunition, and can only return a rare and random 
 shot at our warriors leaping free in the open, who 
 hurl snowballs as fast as they can make them, and 
 every shot tells on the helpless crowd penned up be- 
 tween the three walls of the court. Once and again 
 they attempt to break out, but in vain. Our fire 
 redoubles ; the boldest of them tries to shrink back ; 
 they struggle and press and hold craven hands before 
 their faces, and bend their heads under the merciless 
 fire which we pour in upon them from every side. 
 Thus, in five minutes, have we made ourselves masters 
 of the scene, and the proud foe is beleaguered, block- 
 aded, and bombarded to the utmost point of despair. 
 
 The bravest hearts among them cannot hold out 
 against such a reverse of fortune. Five more minutes 
 have not passed before they demand a parley. They 
 declare that they must go to school, and sue for 
 quarter. 
 
 The word is given to cease firing, and the conditions
 
 " There's many a Slip 'twixt the Cup and the Lip." 13 
 
 of surrender are entered upon. But during the ar- 
 mistice we busy ourselves in preparing a battery of 
 snowballs, for use at the first sign of renewed hostility. 
 
 Such a victory justified severe terms. Lamb re- 
 quired of the enemy that they should surrender at 
 discretion. We were then to form into two lines, 
 down which they were to pass one by one, and be 
 pelted to our hearts' content. Their leader's honour 
 must be pledged that the besieged force would march 
 out in this and no other way. Two minutes were 
 given them for reflection ; at the end of that time our 
 batteries would reopen. 
 
 Naturally, the Gogs hesitated to accept these pro- 
 posals, granting them as little of the honours of war 
 as fell to the lot of the Koman army at the Caudine 
 Forks. But while they were consulting, and, urged 
 by the straitness of their predicament and the relent- 
 lessness of our preparations, were perhaps about to 
 yield to their ignominious fate, our own rashness 
 undid the success which we had won, and at the very 
 moment of triumph wrested the prize from our too 
 eager grasp. 
 
 Beyond one wall of the playground was a walk lead- 
 ing to the private entrance of Mr. Macnab's house, 
 and in the middle of the wall a barred gate communi- 
 cated with this walk. Along the top of the wall was 
 now seen slowly and steadily moving, a high hat worn 
 by a tall man, and some foolish urchin was moved to 
 exclaim, " Here's Gog himself! "
 
 14 A Snowball Story. 
 
 Flushed with easy conquest, we were in no mood 
 for consideration. " Give it him/ " was the cry, and 
 a score of us took good aim at the opening made by 
 the gate. Then, the instant that the wearer of the 
 hat presented himself, a cloud of snowballs flew 
 through the air and burst on and around the head of 
 the amazed pedagogue. Checked in his stately stride, 
 he staggered and toppled down, throwing out his arrna 
 in vain, and reaching wildly after his dislodged beaver. 
 Roars of laughter from both sides greeted his down- 
 fall, and we laughed loudest, thinking we had nought 
 to fear from his vengeance. But when he picked him- 
 self up, shook off the snow by which his black garments 
 were plentifully bespattered, and turned his red and 
 wrathful countenance upon us, lo ! it was Dr. O'Donnell. 
 
 It was our turn to quail. One small and heedless 
 boy, still too excited to see the fact of the case, hurled 
 a snowball with so true an aim that it hit our vener- 
 able preceptor full in the face and dismounted his 
 spectacles. But the rest of us were overwhelmed by 
 contrition and alarm. We stayed our sacrilegious 
 hands, the snowballs with which we were about to 
 rake the gateway dropped to the ground, and we stood 
 not knowing where to look, and looking anywhere but 
 in the face of our outraged and irate master. Not 
 long had we to stand this ordeal. Shaking his stick 
 at us, and muttering certain words, which we heard not 
 but guessed their purport only too well, he disappeared 
 and went on his way without further molestation.
 
 " Alarms, Retreats, Excursions." 15 
 
 And this was the time which our enemies chose to 
 make a sudden rush forward, basely taking advantage 
 of our abashment and confusion. Before we could 
 brace our spirits anew to the battle, they had broken 
 our lines, driven us right and left, captured our maga- 
 zines of ammunition, and thus in a few seconds the tide 
 was turned, and we fled pell-mell before our lately 
 despairing prisoners. 
 
 Twice, thrice, we rallied and made a short stand, 
 while Lamb fought desperately at every point of the 
 battle, and was a host in himself. The last to retreat, 
 and the first to return to the charge, more than once, 
 like a second Horatius, he stood singly against the 
 advancing foe, and by his sole prowess held back the 
 pursuit. But when we saw him in the enemy's hands, 
 borne down by a rush, surrounded with yells of savage 
 joy, rolled ignominiously on the ground, and rubbed 
 in the face with snow, then our hearts fairly failed us. 
 A faint attempt we made to rescue our leader, but as 
 his captors came on with fresh fury, a panic seized 
 us, and we fled from the field. Nor did we halt now, 
 till we had run forth into the road and were out of fire. 
 Lamb came bounding after us, his face glowing like a 
 red-hot coal, his eyes shining with indignation, his 
 cap lost, and his tawny mane, all wet with snow, 
 streaming in the wind, his voice raised in reproof, en- 
 treaty, exhortation. It was too late. Our forces were 
 already melting away. There was nothing for it but 
 to set our faces towards home, and confess our defeat.
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 T was, indeed, time to be returning to school. 
 "We had already got too far wrong with our 
 master to be able to afford giving him fresh 
 cause of displeasure by being late. Do- 
 minies were dominies in these days, and by no means 
 to be offended with impunity. If we had been 
 victorious in the recent encounter, we might have 
 made lighter of his wrath ; but, in the depression of 
 defeat, we were fain to consider with some anxiety 
 what would now befall us in a contest where all the 
 blows would be on one side. A few short minutes had 
 changed us from lions into most tail-drooping lambs. 
 We heard the school-bell, and quickened our reluc- 
 tant steps. As soon as we entered the schoolroom 
 we saw signs to justify our fears. The Doctor, gene- 
 rally the last to appear upon the scholastic scene, was 
 already seated on his lofty chair, and one glance 
 showed his storm-compelling brow darkened by an
 
 " Conscience does make Cowards of us all." 17 
 
 ominous cloud. He had not opened his desk ; no pile 
 of books was laid before him, nor did he address him- 
 self to mending a mighty pen, the usual preliminaries 
 of beginning work. It was painfully evident that the 
 proceedings were to be of a special character. The 
 mind of the boldest was moved, and the knees of the 
 timid shook beneath them. All eyes were fixed on a 
 little closet behind the Doctor's chair. When that 
 dread receptacle should be opened, full well we knew 
 whttt olasts of dread and doom were let loose. The 
 key was in the door. As if that key had been inserted 
 at the nape of the neck and slid downwards with cold 
 and gruesome touch along the spine, such was the 
 shudder which the very sight of it sent through every 
 guilty beholder. 
 
 There was no need to command silence. We took 
 our places with unwonted sedateness, and when the 
 Doctor's heavy knuckles rapped on the desk, such a 
 hush ensued as if the curtain was being drawn up for 
 the last scene of some familiar tragedy. Our precep- 
 tor's stentorian voice rolled out upon ears which could 
 have caught his slightest whisper. Like a classical 
 scholar that he was, he plunged right in the middle of 
 his tale, according to the Horatian maxim. 
 
 " Boys," he exclaimed, sternly frowning, " I have 
 been grossly insulted ! " 
 
 What a sight were our faces ! Some tried to affect 
 surprise, even incredulity. Some were seen struggling 
 with a faint smile, which faded into preternatural 
 
 3
 
 18 A Snowball Story. 
 
 solemnity as they thought the Doctor's awful eye 
 rested upon them. Some preserved looks of stolid 
 immobility, and seemed to desire that he would come 
 to business at once and have done with it. Some were 
 in a too evident state of apprehension. 
 
 When he had paused a moment to let this announce- 
 ment sink duly into our minds, the Doctor went ma- 
 jestically on, with a thump upon the desk that made 
 half of us jump in our creeping skins. 
 
 " This morning I was going to call on Mr. Macnab, 
 for the purpose of complaining of an outrage, which, 
 as you are aware, was last night perpetrated upon my 
 premises by the pupils of his establishment. You are 
 all acquainted with the matter to which I allude." 
 
 Having proceeded thus far in measured tones, the 
 Doctor looked round to observe the effect of this com- 
 munication. We were all much interested alas ! only 
 too much interested but well we knew that the point 
 was yet to come, and felt as uncomfortable as a mouse 
 no doubt does while a cruel cat is playing with its 
 helpless agonies and delaying the fatal moment of 
 execution. 
 
 "While on the way to Mr. Macnab's house," con- 
 tinued the Doctor, raising his voice and drawing him- 
 self up, as if calling heaven and earth to witness that 
 such things were, " I was I was attacked by a mob of 
 rude boys ! I was pelted with snowballs ! My hat was 
 knocked off my glasses were broken ! It is a mercy 
 that no worse injury followed this most unseemly be-
 
 " You lie under a Mistake" 19 
 
 haviour. I never was so treated before in all my life ! " 
 declared the Doctor, and we could well believe him, 
 for it had never entered our heads to conceive of him 
 as a boy, without dignity, learning, a white necktie, 
 and an enormous shirt collar. He must have been 
 born above all the rude accidents of human existence. 
 
 At each statement of his injuries he made a full stop, 
 which fell like a blow upon our consciences. Already 
 I, for one, began to feel a tingling anticipation of what 
 might come next. Even Lamb's face wore a shade of 
 serious anxiety. The climax was approaching. 
 
 " Do you know who these boys were ? " 
 
 We modestly looked down. 
 
 "This is not by any means the first time that I 
 have been insulted by Mr. Macnab's pupils." 
 
 We quickly looked up. 
 
 "Complaint in the proper quarter is useless, as I 
 have learned by experience, Therefore I have deter- 
 mined to appeal to you to vindicate the honour of 
 your school, and the respect due to your master." 
 
 We opened our eyes. 
 
 " I leave it to you, then, to chastise the presump- 
 tion and impertinence of these fellows. If it's snow- 
 balls they want, give them snowballs to their hearts' 
 content. Pelt them, drive them out of your sight, 
 teach them to interfere with us at their peril." 
 
 We opened our mouths. 
 
 " For this purpose," said the Doctor, speaking with 
 more deliberation than ever, " I have resolved to "
 
 20 A Snowball Story. 
 
 he looked round and held us in suspense " to give 
 you a holiday." 
 
 We burst into cheers, and under cover of the cheers 
 rose shouts of laughter from those who saw the mistake 
 which our master had made, and of glee from those 
 who, not quite understanding how it was, yet rejoiced 
 at the unexpected and undeserved result of his indig- 
 nation. A holiday gained in such a manner came 
 with a double relish, and fears dissipated in such a 
 form left a double sense of relief. We felt as a mariner 
 might feel, who, just escaped from shipwreck, had 
 come suddenly upon a treasure. I fear none of us re- 
 flected in our surprise that we were not acting quite 
 fairly in allowing the Doctor to remain under his delu- 
 sion. We were all eager to be off. And our master, 
 touched by our outburst of enthusiasm and affection, 
 as he thought it, relaxed his brow, and dismissed us 
 with a jovial smile, relapsing, as at such moments he 
 was apt to do, into his native accent. 
 
 " Off with ye ! And don't be after hurting any of 
 these fellows more than ye can help, but just give 
 them a hint that they had better not meddle with 
 your slides or your master again. Make the best of 
 the day, my boys, for it's all your own ! " 
 
 Away we ran, giving three cheers for the Doctor, 
 and quickly, with new courage, we hastened back 
 towards the strongholds of Gog. 
 
 "Now they shan't have the best of it!" vowed 
 Lamb, bounding onwards like a hungry lion.
 
 " The Day is Ours." 21 
 
 But now we found the enemy safe behind their 
 walls. Their master kept them mewed up in school 
 all the forenoon. How they must have chafed as 
 they heard our shouts of derision and defiance be- 
 neath the windows, and were not suffered to come 
 forth to the stirring encounter, but, chained to the 
 weary desk, must slave with numbed fingers at the 
 miserable art of ornamental handwriting, and strive 
 to fix their wandering wits on the loathsome problems 
 of compound proportion ! 
 
 We remained scouting round their premises for 
 some time. Once only it seemed that our challenge 
 was about to be accepted. The door of the schoolroom 
 opened, and Mr. Macnab sallied forth in person, to be 
 speedily driven back by a volley of snowballs and not 
 to reappear. We were almost as tickled by the joke 
 of pelting the other boys' master as we were by the 
 results of our unnatural onslaught upon our own. 
 But when no further notice was taken of us we gave 
 up the siege, and went off to amuse ourselves as best 
 we could by our own devices, and in this you may be 
 sure we had no difficulty. 
 
 After dinner, and it was roast beef day, the Doctor 
 had some more good news for us. He had been to 
 look at a large pond not far from the town, and 
 finding that the ice would bear, proposed to take us 
 there for an afternoon's skating. This was more 
 excellent sport than the other. Mirthfully we slung 
 our skates over our shoulders, and set forth, the
 
 22 A Snowball Stoj-y. 
 
 Doctor stalking before us in that high good-humour 
 which with him always followed an outburst of wrath, 
 as surely as fine weather comes at the heel of a Whit- 
 sunday storm. 
 
 We had arrived in sight of the pond, when we be- 
 held a like procession advancing from an opposite 
 direction. It was the boys of the other school, 
 headed by their master. Both parties reached the 
 banks of the pond at the same time, and we made 
 towards each other, like two bands of gallant knights 
 bent on meeting midway in these icy lists. And as Sir 
 Lancelot and the mighty Knight of the Red Lawns 
 might have towered above the press, so strode our 
 learned leaders, a head and shoulders over the tallest 
 of their following tail. Or rather, like " some great 
 admiral" did each of them lead into the fight, for 
 some instinct told us that a combat of words at least 
 was now at hand, and the boldest held his tongue and 
 sailed silent towards that strange encounter. Were 
 Og and Gog going to fall foul of each other ? If so, 
 we did not doubt that our flagship would prove to 
 carry the heavier metal. 
 
 As soon as they bore down within hailing distance, 
 the two armaments, following the motions of their 
 leaders, heaved to, and formed into confronting lines, 
 with the commanders anchored broadside to broad- 
 side in the space between. Like courteous antago- 
 nists they saluted each other, while we stood at quar- 
 ters, so to speak, with decks cleared for action and
 
 OO AND GOO. 
 
 Page 25.
 
 "Sweet Masters, be Patient." 25 
 
 ready to obey signals. Then Gog fired the first 
 gun. 
 
 " Good-morning, Dr. O'Donnell ! I am glad I have 
 met you, sir. I had proposed to wait upon you to 
 complain of the conduct of your boys." 
 
 "Indeed, sir ! I fancied that I had some reason to 
 make a similar complaint to you." 
 
 " Are you aware, sir, that your boys invaded my 
 playground this morning, and attacked my pupils as 
 they were peacefully amusing themselves there ? " 
 
 " Well, well, boys will be boys," said the Doctor, 
 smiling pleasantly, and helping himself to a pinch of 
 snuff. 
 
 " They rolled in the snow two small boys who had 
 colds in the head ! They interrupted our work in 
 school to such an extent that the morning was as 
 good as wasted ! They cracked two panes of glass in 
 my windows ! Is this the conduct of young gentle- 
 men?" 
 
 " Aye, aye," said the Doctor, inwardly chuckling, 
 but outwardly trying to look a little a very little 
 concerned as he politely handed his snuff-box to the 
 other dominie. " I am sorry if they have done any 
 mischief: but you know, when there is a good fall 
 of snow, one winks at a little fun. My boys are so 
 industrious most days of the year, that I cannot 
 grudge them a harmless prank now and then." 
 
 " They threw snowballs at me, sir ! Surely this is a 
 more serious matter than you seem to consider it?"
 
 26 A Snowball Story. 
 
 "Come, Mr. Macnab," said the Doctor, in his 
 blandest style, " we have been young ourselves once, 
 and we know that the high spirits of youth will some- 
 times trifle with our dignity. Surely we can afford 
 to smile at it for once in a way ? " 
 
 This honeyed speech had gall in it, for Dr. Og 
 seemed to imply that while his own dignity was 
 above question, his rival had not much of that article 
 to come and go upon. At least Mr. Macnab under- 
 stood him in some such sense, for he raised his voice 
 and exclaimed with increasing heat 
 
 " Well, sir, you may like to be insulted and snow- 
 balled by your pupils ! " 
 
 " My pupils have too much respect for me to do 
 anything of the kind," quoth our doctor beniguantly, 
 looking round on us, as if for a response to this senti- 
 ment, which of course was not forthcoming. 
 
 " Why, sir, didn't I see them with my own eyes ? 
 Not content with attacking my boys and driving them 
 out of their playground, I saw them assault you as 
 you were coming to my house, to concert measures, as 
 I was weak enough to suppose, for suppressing this 
 lawlessness and quarrelling. I saw you almost 
 knocked down by the snowballs which your own boys 
 hurled at you, and fearing you might be seriously 
 injured, I was on the point of rushing out of the house 
 to offer you my services. I am heartily glad, sir, 
 that you are none the worse for the treatment you 
 received on my premises, and if you are quite satisfied
 
 " What! Wilt Thoufluut me thus unto my Face ? " 27 
 
 with what happened, I am none the less thankful to 
 say that my bo} 7 s had no hand in it." 
 
 " What is this ? " faltered the Doctor, regarding 
 us with astonishment and severity, while a new light 
 dawned upon him as he saw the conscious guilt of 
 some faces, and the scarcely repressed laughter on 
 others. 
 
 "Is it possible that you are ignorant of your 
 assailants ? There is the ringleader! " declared Mr. 
 Macnab, pointing out Lamb. 
 
 " Lamb ! " said Dr. O'Donnell in his most awful 
 voice. "What do I hear? Explain give me the 
 truth, sir ! Have I been disgracefully insulted as a 
 preliminary to being grossly deceived ? Speak, sir." 
 
 But poor Lamb at the best of times was, like some 
 other heroes of history, no less unready of speech than 
 he was prompt in action. He was better at bearing 
 punishment than at making excuses. And now, when 
 he would fain have told a soothing tale and depre- 
 cated the rising ire of our preceptor, as might well 
 have been done and with honesty, he found himself 
 able only to stammer and blunder and bluntly confess 
 in a way which put the worst instead of the best 
 aspect on what had happened. The Doctor heard 
 and stood struggling with unutterable thoughts, till 
 his feelings found vent in a portentous " Go, sir ! " 
 
 " Come, Dr. O'Donnell," said the other master 
 with malicious civility, " don't be too hard on them. 
 Boys will be boys, we all know."
 
 28 A Snowball Story. 
 
 What a dreadful moment for us ! And, worst of all, 
 the other boys were visibly sniggering over our sad 
 discomfiture. 
 
 " We were young ourselves once," suggested that 
 dreadful Macnab. " We can afford to smile at these 
 pranks when they don't go too far." 
 
 " This is intolerable ! This is scandalous ! " muttered 
 the Doctor, still trying to keep his wrath from public 
 outburst ; then in a voice whose tones were pregnant 
 with dire meaning, he ordered us to go home forth- 
 with and await his arrival in the schoolroom. 
 
 We slunk off downcast beneath the grins of Gog, 
 leaving our master in close and far from friendly 
 confabulation with theirs. Ah ! we were now about 
 to pay the price of that brief triumph. We might 
 have known that the truth would leak out sooner or 
 later. But in spite of our humiliation and of our 
 danger, we could not but laugh as we recalled the 
 scene which had just passed before our eyes. Thus 
 with mixed emotions we came back to the school and 
 awaited the Doctor's return. 
 
 When he came, the laughing was at an end. Here 
 however, the curtain must be dropped, for like the 
 old tragedians, I do not choose to enact scenes of 
 horror upon the open stage. Suffice it to say that 
 before the sun had set there was a certain soreness 
 in the feelings with which some of us looked back to 
 the events of the day, and all of us had reason to 
 vow vengeance more than ever against the rival school.
 
 " Peace hath her Victories." 29 
 
 But a boy's will, we know, is the wind's will, and 
 our ill-will, in this case, was specially at the mercy of 
 the weather. Through the night came a rapid thaw, 
 and in the morning there was no snow wherewith to 
 mark our sense of injury and to wreak our wrath upon 
 the enemy. Besides, as we learned, our master had 
 informed theirs of their clever trick of getting out at 
 night to spoil our slides, and the result was that they 
 were punished by being shut up and kept out of our 
 way for a time. 
 
 So when we did meet, it was with kindlier feelings, 
 community of suffering having bred in us an un- 
 wonted sympathy. We made peace for the moment, 
 and ascribed our joint misfortunes to the cause of so 
 many woes since the days of Troy: quicquid reges 
 delirant, plectuntur Achivi ; that is to say, when rulers 
 fall out, their subjects are apt to pay the piper. 
 This is a thing which could not happen nowadays of 
 course, but my story is one of the old school.
 
 THE 
 A CHAPTER OF SCHOOLBOY HISTORY.
 
 THE COWSPIBACY. 
 
 T is thirty years since I was a small pupil 
 at a Cheltenham boarding - school, kept by 
 a certain Mr. Monk. My school days there 
 seem now, so far as I can recollect, to have 
 been uneventful enough ; but there was one episode 
 in our history which will, perhaps, be found worth 
 relating. 
 
 Mr. Monk's boys were chiefly little fellows j there 
 were, however, two rather bigger and older than the 
 rest, who took the lead in most things. These two, 
 Collins and Biggs by name, were very different in 
 character, though they drew pretty well together, as 
 became their position as the aristocracy of our little 
 community. Collins was a dull, heavy boy, who, being 
 left an orphan, poor fellow ! at a very early age, had 
 lived almost always at various schools, and had been 
 longer at ours than most of us, so that he had become 
 learned, if in nothing else, in the customs and tradi-
 
 34 A Chapter of Schoolboy History. 
 
 tions of school life, and was looked up to by us not 
 only with dread for bis rougb, domineering propen- 
 sities, but witb unfeigned respect, such as we thought 
 due to a boy who had seen so much of the juvenile 
 world, and was so experienced in all things boyish ; 
 his word was law as to the rules of any game, or in 
 deciding upon any point of schoolboy honour. Biggs, 
 on the other hand, was a youth of a more amiable 
 disposition, and of greater talents and accomplish- 
 ments. Though he was not such a hero as Collins in 
 our eyes, we took pride in him as being no ordinary 
 boy. He was no great favourite with Mr. Monk, 
 being, indeed, rather given to idling and dreaming 
 over his work, but he was undoubtedly clever. He 
 took the first prize for history. He was understood 
 to have written poetry. He read a great deal, and 
 used finer words than the rest of us : " long-nibbed " 
 words, that was what we used to call them. He was 
 of a decidedly sentimental and imaginative turn of 
 mind, as we had reason to know to our cost, when the 
 first class were put into a Latin book containing lives 
 of the great men of antiquity. Then Biggs was seized 
 with a violent taste for the spirit of ancient history. 
 He had no sooner studied the life of Lycurgus, than 
 nothing would serve him but turning the whole of us 
 into a set of young Spartans. He incited us to run 
 pins into our legs, and drop hot sealing-wax on our 
 arms, that we might learn to bear pain without calling 
 out. Collins joined him readily in this, taking what
 
 "Mischief, thou art Afoot!" 85 
 
 may be called an active rather than a passive part in 
 Spartan discipline, which, in his hands, became noth- 
 ing but a kind of rough bullying, with a slight veil of 
 sentiment thrown over it ; but Biggs was too sincere 
 in his enthusiasm to inflict any tortures on others 
 which he did not bear cheerfully himself. At first 
 some of us were not altogether averse to this strange 
 diversion, congenial, in some degree, to the schoolboy 
 mind; but we soon found that it was being pushed 
 too far, and thought the Spartan boys must have had 
 a bad time of it. And when Biggs and Collins openly 
 spoke of setting up an altar of Diana, at which we 
 were to be invited to test our fortitude at a competitive 
 ordeal of stripes, our dissatisfaction with the institu- 
 tions of ancient history might have been very clearly 
 shown, if fortune had not, about this time, given a 
 new turn to Biggs' classical tastes. 
 
 There was a spirit of discontent abroad in our 
 school ; such a spirit will occasionally creep into even 
 the best regulated establishment, as unexpectedly, 
 and with as little apparent cause or cure as an east 
 wind or a thick fog. I believe the main reason in our 
 case was that we had nothing particular to do in our 
 playtime. Football was just over; cricket had not 
 yet begun ; and that year, as it so happened, no game 
 came into fashion to occupy our energies in the in- 
 terval, so we had time for grumbling. We had griev- 
 ances, too, undoubted grievances, to grumble about. 
 Mr. Monk had recently added an hour to the school-
 
 36 A Chapter in Schoolboy History. 
 
 time of the elder boys, an hour gained by getting up 
 earlier, now that the long dark nights were over. More- 
 over, he made us go to bed sooner, and stopped our 
 frugal supper, the slices of bread and cheese that it 
 had been the custom to serve out to each boy on 
 some frivolous pretext of suppers being unwholesome, 
 forsooth. We knew better ; it was nothing but stingi- 
 ness, and Collins did not scruple to denounce our 
 master as dishonest. Some boys went the length of 
 writing home on the subject, and suggested in vain 
 that they should be taken away from such a school. 
 
 But perhaps the most galling grievance was one for 
 which Miss Sickles was to blame. Miss Sickles 
 " Icicles " we called her was the housekeeper, who, 
 our master being a bachelor, had great power in the 
 establishment, and used it in a high-handed manner ; 
 it was whispered that even Mr. Monk himself stood in 
 awe of her. Miss Sickles had a great regard for neat- 
 ness and order ; our notions of these matters did not 
 square with hers, hence arose many troubles and dis- 
 agreements, in which the younger boys invariably got 
 the worst of it in dealing with Miss Sickles, and the 
 elder ones did not always come off best. Utterly 
 regardless of our feelings and our customs, she had 
 recently procured the enactment of a decree that she 
 should be allowed to inflict small fines upon boys who 
 spoiled their clothes, or neglected to take a bath regu- 
 larly, or came to dinner without brushing their hair. 
 It was easy for her to carry out this kind of discipline,
 
 " Who so Base as be a Slave ? " 37 
 
 for she had the distribution of our pocket-money in 
 her hands, and never failed to deduct the fine whenever 
 any of her rules were broken. This roused our utmost 
 indignation. To be obliged to obey a woman, and to 
 have our pocket-money taken from us, this was 
 wounding boys and Britons in their most sensitive 
 points. I fear we became as rude and troublesome 
 as we could to Miss Sickles. Among the elder boys it 
 was a point of honour to set her wishes at nought. 
 Then the housekeeper called in the aid of Mr. Monk, 
 and the dispute became a sore point in more senses 
 than one. The power of the law was too much for us, 
 however ; we were forced to submit sullenly, and our 
 discontent grew from day to day. Biggs declared that 
 the thirty tyrants of Athens were nothing to Miss 
 Sickles. We all agreed with him, having a very vague 
 notion as to the oppressive power of the said tyrants, 
 and we enthusiastically applauded when with great 
 spirit he spouted out of our school reading -book 
 several stirring poetical sentiments, such as 
 
 " Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs 
 Eeceive our air , that moment they are free ; 
 They touch our country, and their shackles fall." 
 
 I don't know who it was that first suggested the idea 
 of armed resistance to these unpopular measures. I 
 am telling of the year when Louis Philippe was driven 
 from his throne, and there was a political storm in the 
 air of every European capital. Our quiet school at 
 Cheltenham did not wholly escape this disturbing in-
 
 38 A Chapter in Schoolboy History. 
 
 fluence ; we took in a newspaper, and read with eager 
 interest about barricades, insurrections, constitutions, 
 secret societies, chartist meetings, and the like. Then 
 it occurred to some of the most daring of us that if 
 kings and emperors could be made to tremble for their 
 crowns, even Mr. Monk and Miss Sickles might prove 
 not invulnerable. 
 
 If Biggs and Collins were not the proposers of a 
 revolt, they readily fell in with the notion, and gave 
 all the weight of their experience and authority to 
 organising it. Collins was a revolutionist, " desirous 
 of new things," as the Latin phrase has it, because 
 his credit was so bad with the authorities, and so 
 many black marks were set down against him, that 
 he had nothing to lose by taking a prominent part in 
 such a movement. Biggs was no less eager ; he had 
 just got into the story of the Tarquins, and was filled 
 with a fervent admiration for liberty, and tickled with 
 the idea of playing the part of Brutus, Tell, and Gari- 
 baldi all at once. Through his influence, we took 
 the important step of forming ourselves at once into a 
 republic, upon the Eoman model. Biggs and Collins 
 were, of course, elected consuls with dictatorial power. 
 The next office filled up, and the most sought after, 
 was that of Master of the Horse. All the boys of the 
 first class envied this dignity, and to save disputes we 
 made six masters of the horse, and six lictors, who 
 were to carry sticks and inflict punishments, so that 
 this latter office was also much run after. The other
 
 " Let us then be Up and Doing. 89 
 
 magistrates, praetors, aediles, tribunes, and censors 
 were appointed more sparingly ; and when all these 
 posts were filled, there remained some half a dozen 
 small boys, who, that in a private capacity they 
 might not have cause for dissatisfaction, were named 
 decemvirs, and took great pride in the honour con- 
 ferred upon them. So our forces were formed some- 
 what on the model of that potentate's who 
 
 " swore a feud against the clan MacTavish, 
 And marched into their land to plunder and to ravish, 
 For he did resolve to extirpate the vipers, 
 With four-and-tweuty men and five-and-thirty pipers ! " 
 
 The republic being thus constituted, it was in- 
 augurated by all the boys walking in procession round 
 the playground with bare legs and arms it had been 
 proposed, indeed, that the consuls should wear 
 paper cocked hats and top-boots, but Biggs, true to 
 republican simplicity, declined all such marks of 
 distinction, and Collins thrashed one of the praetors 
 who had the presumption to insist on putting a 
 feather in his cap. In the evening we celebrated our 
 declaration of independence by a grand banquet in 
 our bedrooms, which, for want of funds to provide 
 better, consisted chiefly of toffee and gingerbread 
 excellent things in their way, but rather apt to make 
 a mess of clean sheets, as one or two ardent sons of 
 liberty found to their cost, when they got into trouble 
 with Miss Sickles in consequence. The fear of Miss 
 Sickles, Biggs finely said, was the sword of Damocles, 
 hanging always over our midnight feasts.
 
 40 A Chapter in Schoolboy History. 
 
 All this delighted Biggs beyond measure. If left to 
 himself, he would have gone no further, but his un- 
 romantic colleague looked upon such proceedings as 
 mere useless tomfoolery, and kept urging us to action. 
 It was easier, however, to talk of conspiring than to 
 find any active form which our conspiracy might 
 conveniently take. Biggs read to us, out of his Latin 
 book, a story of a certain Roman general, who, when 
 a wicked schoolmaster offered to betray the children of 
 his enemies into his power, ordered the treacherous 
 pedagogue's hands to be bound behind him, and that 
 he should be beaten back into the city by his own 
 pupils I think this was the story, but my classics 
 are a little rusty by this time, and I may have told it 
 wrongly. Anyhow, this seemed to Collins an example 
 worthy of being imitated, but unfortunately no person 
 was likely to appear to play for us the part of the 
 Eoman general, or Mr. Monk would have been most 
 unwise to drum such notions into the heads of his 
 pupils as he did with so much labour. It was lucky 
 for him that, while the histories of Greece and Borne 
 contain a great deal of very revolutionary sentiment, 
 they are wanting in what may be called practical 
 suggestions adapted to the means of youthful mal- 
 contents. Biggs certainly made a great point of us 
 all taking a solemn oath of secrecy, as a preliminary 
 to further action ; Collins, however, declared that 
 this was quite unnecessary, and that he would punch 
 the head of any boy who should breathe a word of
 
 " Lay the Proud Usurpers Low ! " 41 
 
 our intentions to the government. " We must take 
 them by surprise," both Collins and Biggs said, and 
 the necessity of this was too evident to be contradicted. 
 Up to this point, it will be plain, most of the con- 
 spirators had a very vague idea of what they meant 
 to be at. Some of us went into it all as a piece of fun ; 
 others, like Biggs, had no serious intention of going 
 beyond a harmless demonstration. But now Collins 
 began to talk boldly of a barring out. He professed 
 to be well versed in the history of such undertakings, 
 which, according to him, always ended successfully. 
 He had seen in the flesh and spoken with boys who 
 had taken part in barrings out, and we listened with 
 reverence and kindling spirit to his legends of the 
 humiliation of schoolmasters, and the triumph of 
 oppressed scholars. Indeed, after a time, he got the 
 length of giving us to understand that he himself 
 had played a prominent part in more than one move- 
 ment of the kind. He could tell us exactly how to 
 set about it ; he would lead us on to victory ; there 
 could be no fear of disaster if we only stuck to one 
 another. Biggs, also, grew more and more daring in 
 his imaginations. He took to writing Down with the 
 tyrant ! all over the playground in red chalk ; he 
 spoke scornfully of Mr. Monk as " Tarquin," and 
 more than hinted that he would be found ready to 
 meet him in single combat when the moment of 
 action came. The rest of us, fired with contagious 
 ardour, gave what aid we could to the preparations for
 
 42 A Chapter in Schoolboy History. 
 
 revolt. We laid by the best part of our pocket-money 
 to supply provisions. We secreted arms in our play- 
 boxes, rulers, hockey-sticks, catapults, stones, and 
 bullets. Some boys bought squibs and crackers ; one 
 had a pistol, which Collins insisted on taking posses- 
 sion of in the public interest, and it was agreed that 
 he would be likely to make the best use of it. For 
 my part I was luckily able to contribute a dark lantern 
 to the common weal, and this was admitted on all 
 hands to be a most valuable acquisition; nothing 
 could be more necessary to a conspiracy, we thought, 
 with a confused reminiscence of Guy Fawkes. 
 
 Thus did we drift into an undertaking, of which 
 few of us had realised the seriousness, when one 
 morning we were astonished by a declaration from 
 Collins and Biggs, that the plan of revolt was now 
 fully determined upon, and that very evening fixed for 
 its execution. This certainly seemed rather precipitate, 
 but the fact was that an event had occurred that morn- 
 ing which goaded Biggs' revolutionary disposition into 
 desperate action. Coming in rather late to breakfast, 
 as he often did, for his poetic soul was far above 
 petty considerations of punctuality, he met Miss 
 Sickles' sharp eye fixed upon him. 
 
 " Master Biggs," she said, in full hearing of all the 
 small boys, who were wont to tremble at her voice, 
 " you have not washed your face again, this morning. 
 You will please go back and do it at once before you 
 sit down to breakfast."
 
 " This it is when Men are Ruled by Women ! " 43 
 
 Biggs pretended not to hear, but he turned very red. 
 Miss Sickles repeated her command in a sterner tone, 
 and Mr. Monk looked up from his seat at the other 
 end of the table. There was no help for it. Abashed 
 and enraged, our leader turned back to the door, and 
 retired to his ablutions. But before he left the room 
 he darted one look towards the imperious house- 
 keeper, a look of stern purpose and fixed resolve which 
 seemed to say : No matter I A time will come. 
 
 In that basin Biggs washed away all thoughts of 
 indecision and delay. It was half an hour afterwards 
 that we were summoned together and informed by 
 our leaders of their sudden determination. They 
 had actually settled that at a given signal, a little 
 before bed-time, we should rise and take possession 
 of the schoolroom. Mr. Wilkins, the assistant 
 master, was to be overpowered, and either driven out 
 or held in our hands as a hostage. There was a 
 division of opinion on this point, but in any case, 
 " not a hair of his head should be hurt," Biggs 
 declared. Then the door was to be fastened with 
 nails and screws, and a huge barricade of tables and 
 forms to be heaped up behind it ; the barricade was 
 the fashionable feature at revolutions at that day, 
 and must on no account be omitted. Through an 
 aperture for ventilation in the upper part of the door, 
 we could then hold parley with the enemy, who 
 would doubtless lose no time in coming to the attack ; 
 and the only terms we should listen to were the
 
 44 A Chapter in Schoolboy History. 
 
 redress of our grievances, as set forth in a manifesto 
 drawn up by Biggs, under three heads, viz. : 
 
 Art. I. Eeturn to the old hours of study. 
 
 Art. II. Eestoration of our supper. 
 
 Art. III. The abolition of Miss Sickles' penal juris- 
 diction. 
 
 To these conditions must of course be added the 
 promise of a full amnesty to all concerned, and 
 se urity that our oppressors would not revoke their 
 concessions as soon as we had laid down our arms. 
 The last was a quid pro quo, as Biggs said, warned by 
 the experience of other European revolutions. I 
 rather think he meant sine qua non, but one phrase 
 impressed us just as much as the other, and gave us 
 confidence in a leader so well acquainted with the 
 forms of diplomatic negotiations. If these terms 
 should not be at once granted, we were to hold out, 
 keeping watch turn about and sleeping on the forms, 
 and if attacked we must resist by force of arms to the 
 last extremity. But our position would be impregnable 
 if the door were only well barricaded. The windows 
 were strongly barred ; we should be provisioned for a 
 siege ; all would depend on our own resolution. Our 
 leaders did not conceal from us, however, that the 
 matter would be no child's play. Collins openly said 
 that in all probability Mr. Monk would bring in the 
 police to his aid ; he even darkly hinted that in such 
 cases the military were sometimes called out. On 
 the other hand, it was cheering to learn on such good
 
 " Be Men to-day, Qidritcs, or be for ever Slaves ! " 45 
 
 authority that if we only held out for twenty-four 
 hours, our master was bound to accept our con- 
 ditions : such was the etiquette of barrings out, Collins 
 assured us. 
 
 This was the project fully disclosed to all the boys 
 except the very youngest, who were merely desired to 
 hold themselves in readiness to obey orders. There 
 was no retreat possible ; and the fact of the time fixed 
 being so near at hand was perhaps favourable to our 
 fidelity. We had not time to think the matter over 
 soberly, and, carried away by the enthusiasm of our 
 leaders, we vowed to stand by them to the last drop of 
 our blood. To animate us still further, Biggs recited 
 one of the " Lays of Ancient Borne," which all the boys 
 who slept in his room had been made to learn off by 
 heart, as a punishment for engaging in a pillow fight. 
 
 It may be imagined that few of us were in a mood 
 to pay much attention to our studies that morning, so 
 little so, indeed, that it is a wonder Mr. Monk did not 
 suspect there was something wrong. As it was, he 
 seemed not very well pleased, and gave the first and 
 second classes a long imposition to write out for next 
 morning, which, in their eyes, was only another reason 
 for bringing on the rebellion. It had been proposed 
 to include the abolition of impositions in the charter 
 of liberties to be presented to our master ; but some 
 of the more prudent and moderate minded of the con- 
 spirators suggested that this might be reserved for 
 consideration till we saw how our other demands
 
 46 A Chapter in Schoolboy History. 
 
 were received. " We have only to teach them that 
 they cannot trample on us with impunity!" quoth 
 Biggs. " That will be enough." 
 
 There was no afternoon school ; this day had been 
 chosen partly because it was a half- holiday, allowing 
 plenty of time for our preparations, and one of the 
 days, moreover, on which we might go out to the 
 town for an hour to spend what money we had 
 we had not much ; for, like the poet and his school- 
 fellows 
 
 " Exclude 
 
 A little weekly stipend, and we lived 
 Through three divisions of the quartered year 
 In penniless poverty " 
 
 tempered in our case by occasional windfalls in the 
 way of " tips," a word scarcely admissible into Words- 
 worth's dignified verse. But what we had we gave 
 freely to the common fund which was raised to furnish 
 supplies, or, if we did not give freely, Collins made us 
 give otherwise. Still our public treasury would have 
 contained only a few shillings if Biggs had not mag- 
 nanimously come forward with a whole sovereign, 
 which his grandmother had just sent him on his birth- 
 day, and which he unreservedly handed over to the 
 common stock. In return for this liberality, we could 
 do no less than appoint Biggs treasurer. The sum at 
 his disposal was exactly one pound seven shillings and 
 eightpence, and a short consultation was held to settle 
 how this should be expended. 
 Biggs was decidedly in favour of Spartan fare ; our
 
 " The Ides of March are Come." 47 
 
 garrison should be provisioned with nothing but the 
 bare necessaries of life, and all luxury banished till 
 our cause was triumphant. He even suggested raw 
 turnips, bringing forward the example of a remarkably 
 incorruptible Eoman hero, who had been accustomed 
 to nourish his integrity on this vegetable. Collins, on 
 the other hand, had more generous notions of the fare 
 appropriate to conspirators, and mentioned currant 
 wine as a highly revolutionary beverage. He also 
 proposed a supply of raw beef- steaks, to be cooked in 
 the intervals of military operations. Hereupon a 
 serious division of opinion arose between our leaders ; 
 but after an animated debate, we found, on calculating 
 our ways and means, that if we were to sustain a siege 
 of twenty-four hours, we must be content with meagre 
 rations. It never occurred to us that no water was to 
 be got at in our fortress, and we arranged to provide 
 nothing but eatables. 
 
 If, just before dinner-time, the government officials 
 had been on the look-out, they would have seen each 
 boy stealing up to the schoolroom by a back way, 
 with a half-quartern loaf and a great lump of cheese 
 hid away under his jacket. Eggs had also been 
 bought, two a-piece, and a saucepan to boil them in, as 
 well as salt and pepper enough for a whole regiment. 
 Twenty Brazil nuts per boy were served out; and 
 Biggs was understood to have a reserve store of cap- 
 tains' biscuits, under lock and key, to be used only as 
 a last resource. The rest of the provisions were stowed
 
 48 A Chapter in Schoolboy History. 
 
 away in our play boxes, which stood round the school- 
 room. As the night might be cold, coals and 
 wood were brought from the cellar stolen, I ought 
 to say, if it had not been done in such a noble cause 
 and smuggled into the house in some of our hat-boxes. 
 All this was accomplished without any apparent sus- 
 picion on the part of the authorities. They did not 
 notice even that the poker and tongs had been abstracted 
 from the dining-room. 
 
 No games were played that afternoon. Even if we 
 had been in the mind for such frivolity, it was a wet 
 afternoon, and we spent it in the schoolroom, discuss- 
 ing the forthcoming event and looking to our arms. 
 Biggs and Collins formed the various classes into 
 companies, appointed captains, and tried to drill us. 
 The first company were to be armed with catapults 
 and fire-irons; the second with cricket-stumps; the 
 third with hockey-sticks ; the smallest boys were to act 
 as powder-monkeys and supply ammunition to the 
 front ranks. Several of the desks were turned into 
 magazines of pebbles and small lumps of coal. My 
 dark lantern was filled with oil and concealed in a 
 corner. Biggs exhibited to our great admiration a 
 blood-red sash, which he meant to put on as soon as 
 the^ fighting began. Then we rehearsed, as far as pos- 
 sible, the scene of the evening. Each of us was told 
 off to some special duty ; some were to turn out the 
 lights, some to nail up the door, some to drag up 
 benches for the barricade. It would all be done in a
 
 Jam non satis. 49 
 
 minute if every one played his part like a man. We 
 made such a noise, practising our various parts, that 
 Wilkins, the usher, who was supposed to be looking 
 after us, popped his head into the room, and wanted 
 to know what we were about. We told him we were 
 playing at soldiers, and he withdrew, smiling at our 
 childish sport ! If he had only known that it was in 
 grim earnest we were under arms ! 
 
 Tea passed off as usual, except that we had jam 
 that evening for a treat. If the matter had not gone 
 so far, this mark of liberality on the part of our rulers 
 might have made us relent ; but it was too late. 
 Collins frowned threateningly at a boy who expressed 
 gratitude to Miss Sickles for the jam. We would eat 
 it, but it could not change our resolution. Indeed, the 
 word was passed round to eat as much at tea as we 
 could, to save our own stores. 
 
 After tea there came an interval of play, before we 
 were called upon to prepare our lessons for the next 
 day. It might be thought that this would have been 
 the best time to raise the standard of revolt ; but the 
 fact was, we had reason to believe that Mr. Monk 
 would probably be out later in the evening, and, with 
 all our determination, we would rather not have him 
 to deal with till our barricades were made sure. Be- 
 sides, in Biggs' eyes, an insurrection would be nothing 
 if not theatrical, and he had the idea of letting the 
 signal come from our oppressors themselves. When 
 the clock in the passage struck eight, it was usual for 
 
 5
 
 50 A Chapter of Schoolboy History. 
 
 Mr. Wilkins, or whoever might be superintending our 
 studies, to let us rise from our seats. Then we would 
 spring up, and shout out our war-cry. " Horatius 
 Codes ! " was to be the watchword, and the counter- 
 sign, "Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality /" 
 
 It now occurred to one of the conspirators, who had 
 studied the newspapers of the day to some purpose, 
 that at this point we ought to elect a provisional 
 government, and the notion met with approval. But 
 here signs of dissension again appeared between our 
 leaders. A provisional government, it was stated, 
 should have a president, and as neither Biggs nor 
 Collins was willing to play the second part, the Roman 
 machinery of government, admitting as it did of two 
 chief magistrates, was evidently better suited to the 
 circumstances of our republic. Yet even Biggs de- 
 clared that in times of war it was desirable to appoint 
 a dictator with supreme power. Luckily his classical 
 reading enabled him to suggest a compromise. Biggs 
 and Collins agreed to be dictators in turn, hour about, 
 as soon as the fighting began. They should draw lots 
 for the first turn of office, and when the cause was 
 victorious, a president might be elected by free vote 
 of all the rebels. 
 
 The final arrangements were thus made. Brandy- 
 balls were distributed among the younger boys, to 
 keep up their courage and ensure their fidelity. Col- 
 lins was very violent towards some fellows who began 
 to show signs of cowardice now that the hour drew
 
 " Fiiends, Romans, Countrymen!" 51 
 
 near. He boxed the ears of one boy for simply sug- 
 gesting that some traitor might betray the plot to Mr. 
 Monk, and that then we should probably get the worst 
 of it. Biggs mounted upon a form, and would have 
 made us an inspiriting harangue. 
 
 " We must remember," he said, " that this was the 
 most important day of our lives. Our conduct on 
 this night would decide whether we were to be free for 
 ever, or slaves who deserved all that Miss Sickles 
 could do to them. The eyes of all the other schools 
 in the town would be fixed on us when it was known 
 what we had clone, and we should be awfully laughed 
 at if we didn't behave with courage. More than we 
 thought depended on us ; we were about to fight for 
 the rights and privileges of schoolboys all over the 
 world. For his own part, he could promise that he 
 would never submit till " 
 
 " Take your seats ! " cried Mr. Wilkins, entering at 
 this moment ; and such is the force of habit, that we 
 obediently got out our books, and sat down as usual 
 in our places. 
 
 " Now, boys, let us see how quiet and industrious 
 you can be to-night," said the assistant-master, rub- 
 bing his hands, and trying to look cheerful, as if he 
 quite expected us to do what he wished. 
 
 Mr. Wilkins was a mild, easy-going man, to whom 
 the task of keeping us in order was a heavy burden. 
 This night he must have been surprised at the calm- 
 ness which reigned throughout the schoolroom. It
 
 52 A Chapter of Schoolboy History. 
 
 was the calm before a thunderstorm. A volcano was 
 about to burst beneath his feet, and there he sat 
 unconscious and indifferent, only glancing round him 
 now and then, as if suspicious that some mischief 
 must be brewing under this unusual good behaviour. 
 But he could detect nothing. We did not trouble 
 about our lessons for next day, but we sat still, and 
 thought on the approaching crisis, and kept looking 
 to our leaders for encouragement. No sign of fear 
 was to be read upon their serene countenances. Col- 
 lins was polishing the barrel of his pistol under the 
 table. Biggs was copying out in his best hand our 
 declaration of revolt and a memorial of the grievances 
 which we required to be redressed before returning to 
 our allegiance. He was writing with red ink upon 
 blue foolscap, and this declaration of rights was to be 
 signed by us all presently, in a form not yet agreed 
 upon by our leaders. Collins, who had stories of 
 mutinies running in his head, insisted upon a round 
 robin, while Biggs' historical studies led him to prefer 
 Magna Charta as a model. 
 
 The hour went slowly by. Mr. Wilkins was reading 
 a newspaper ; he seemed to be nodding as if about to 
 drop off to sleep. Silence still prevailed along our 
 benches, and there was a serious look upon most of 
 the boys' faces. The more we thought over what we 
 were about to do, the more some of us began to see 
 the gravity of it. Some were excited and restless. 
 Borne looked anxious; others merely puzzled at the
 
 " What is 't o'clock ? " 53 
 
 prospect of the new experience which was before us. 
 Young soldiers, I should think, look so, when they 
 know that only a wood or a hill is between them and 
 the enemy's guns, and that in a few minutes they will 
 be for the first time under fire. 
 
 Never were watches consulted more frequently by 
 those among us who had them, and who were con- 
 stantly employed in telegraphing the time to their 
 friends in various parts of the room. These watches 
 differed, and we could not be certain how the time 
 was going by the clock in the hall, which we could 
 hear ticking towards the stroke of that hour which 
 was to be our tocsin. Never did an hour seem to 
 pass more irksomely. Even the great-souled Biggs 
 began to fidget on his seat. 
 
 At last we thought we heard the hall clock give a 
 louder tick, as was its nature to, a few minutes 
 before striking. There was a slight stir on our 
 benches, and a whisper ran along that the time was 
 at hand. The suspense became terrible. All eyes 
 were turned on Biggs ; his face lighted up, and he 
 cast round him glances of encouragement, as if calling 
 upon us to be ready and bold. Collins was scowling, 
 while his fingers played beneath the table with the 
 trigger of his pistol. 
 
 All ears were listening for the striking of the clock, 
 when a soft but firm tread was heard without ; the 
 door opened wide, and Miss Sickles stood before us. 
 With one look round the room, she walked up to Mr.
 
 54 A Chapter of Schoolboy History. 
 
 Wilkins and whispered something in his ear. The 
 usher nodded. 
 
 " Master Collins, you are to come with me ! " she 
 said. 
 
 We started. Could she have discovered our plot ? 
 What meant this sudden summons? What would 
 Collins do ? He did not budge, but growled out 
 
 " I'm at my lessons." 
 
 " You come this moment ! " repeated Miss Sickles, 
 in such a tone, and with such an eye, as few of us 
 were able to say nay to. When Miss Sickles chose 
 to exercise it, she seemed to be possessed of an almost 
 magnetic power of having her own way. 
 
 Collins looked round at us. We made no move- 
 ment. Every eye was fixed anxiously upon him. It 
 was a critical moment. He hesitated ; he wriggled 
 about on the form ; he gave in ; he rose from his 
 seat. 
 
 "You are to come, too, Master Biggs," said the 
 housekeeper, in her commanding way, and Biggs also 
 was fain to obey. He thought he was about to be 
 called upon to play the part of a martyr, and rather 
 liked the notion than otherwise, I believe. 
 
 Fancy our surprise and dismay, when we saw our 
 leaders following Miss Sickles out of the room, Collins 
 with a sullen frown on his face, Biggs with the lofty 
 look becoming a hero who was being led off to pine in 
 the dungeons of the tyfant. The first impression of 
 the rest of us also was that we had been betrayed ;
 
 " Now's the Day and now's the Hour ! " 55 
 
 and when the door had closed upon Biggs and Collins 
 we felt that our strength was indeed gone from us. 
 
 But before we had time to realise the situation, Mr. 
 Wilkins pleased, no doubt, at our quiet behaviour, 
 and wishing to reward it by letting us off a few 
 minutes before the proper time got up from his 
 chair, yawned, and said 
 
 " That will do for to-night, boys. You may put 
 away your books." 
 
 No one moved. 
 
 "I said you might go." 
 
 It was his turn to be surprised. Instead of leaping 
 up with noisy glee, we all sat preternaturally still, and 
 looked round us, as if to ask one another what we 
 were to do. 
 
 Suddenly the clock struck, and at this sound one 
 bold boy jumped to his feet and raised a shout. Most 
 of us only stared at him, but a few made some attempt 
 to back him up. A form was overturned; two or 
 three books flew across the room ; there was a clatter 
 as of fire-irons beneath the table. But still the insur- 
 rection was hanging fire, when Miss Sickles again 
 appeared at the door, and the noise ceased all at 
 once. 
 
 " Are you going to make a disturbance because 
 Mr. Monk is out ?" she said severely. " I won't have 
 it. The hair- cutter has come, and those who hadn't 
 their hair cut last week will go to him in the dining- 
 room, as soon as he is done with Master Biggs and
 
 56 A Chapter of Schoolboy History. 
 
 Collins. The rest of you had better go to bed and be 
 out of the way. Come, be off ! " 
 
 She addressed particularly the youngest boys, who 
 stood nearest the door. It was assailing us in our 
 weakest point. They durst not set her at defiance. 
 They wavered they went. And the others, except 
 some half-dozen who were to stay and have their hair 
 cut, went also, filing out in an orderly manner, as the 
 custom was. No one liked to begin resistance to her 
 commands. Deprived of our leaders, our numbers 
 melting away every moment, even the most deter- 
 mined spirits saw that all was lost. In three minutes 
 we were bestowed in our bedrooms in separate parts 
 of the house. 
 
 Here was an ignominious end to our plot! Our 
 courage was all gone now, and we began to tremble 
 at the consequences of a discovery. Presently Biggs 
 and Collins came upstairs, with close-cropped heads, 
 and countenances full of disgust. They went from 
 room to room, consoling their adherents, and assuring 
 them that the rising was only postponed till next day. 
 But we did not respond heartily to their appeals to 
 remain faithful to the cause. I think most of us were 
 on the whole much relieved not to find ourselves in 
 arms, as at that hour we had expected to be. It was 
 much more satisfactory to lie in bed and talk over 
 what we should have done if our project had not thus 
 come to nought, and of what we should do next day, 
 perhaps !
 
 " To-morrow to Fresh Fields ! " 57 
 
 Next day it so happened that a box of new cricket 
 things arrived from London, and created such an ex- 
 citement that we had time to think of nothing else. 
 Even Biggs and Collins, earnest as they were about 
 their conspiracy, were still more enthusiastic about 
 cricket. So the matter dropped somehow. We recon- 
 ciled ourselves to the oppression of our rulers as best 
 we could, and all the rest of the time I was at that 
 school nothing more was heard of a barring-out, or 
 of any other form of insurrection. 
 
 I hope, in conclusion, that no other schoolboys will 
 follow our example ; but if they fancy themselves ill- 
 used, let them remember that few persons in this 
 world are able to be contented, and take to their 
 hearts the sound advice of a certain poet 
 
 " Use not complaints unseemly, 
 
 Though you must work like bricks ; 
 And it is cold, extremely, 
 Bising at half-past six. 
 
 " Soon sunnier will the day grow, 
 
 And the east wind not blow so, 
 Soon, as of yore, L'Allegro 
 Succeed II Penseroso. 
 
 " Stick to your ' Mangnall's Questions,' 
 
 And Long-Division sums, 
 And come with good digestions 
 Home when next Christmas comes.'
 
 THE INJURED INNOCENT. 
 
 THE SORROWS OF A LAD AND A LADI.
 
 THE INJURED INNOCENT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HE visitor to the venerable fane of Whit- 
 minster will do well to give sixpence to the 
 officious verger for the privilege of ascending 
 the tower, from which he will get a bird's- 
 eye view of the quaint old town and a pleasant pros- 
 pect over a wide stretch of characteristically English 
 scenery. And one of the first spots on which his eye 
 falls will probably be a curious patch of irregularly 
 shaped and sized gardens, lying snug and green at his 
 feet, and enclosed, as he will see, in a triangle formed 
 by the backs of three short rows of houses Westgate, 
 or one of the divisions of the street so named, irregular 
 ancient stone buildings, held in high respect; the 
 Paragon, tall, square, dingy brick mansions, nearly 
 a hundred years old and quite genteel; and Albert 
 Terrace, all stucco, bow windows, green blinds, and 
 modern improvements. 
 
 This triangular block of buildings was irreverently
 
 62 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 termed the "Asses' Bridge" by clever young gentlemen 
 of the neighbourhood who went to school and learned 
 Euclid, and who, in exercising their wit at its expense, 
 were conscious of not fouling their own nest, since their 
 noisy kind was conspicuous by its absence from the 
 Triangle, which had therefore the reputation of being 
 one of the quietest parts of the town. Albert Terrace 
 was chiefly tenanted by young married couples ; the 
 Paragon by grave citizens, with grown-up families or 
 tribes of girls, as chance had it ; and the four detached 
 houses of Westgate by single ladies, or unmarried 
 clergymen. Strange to say, at the time of which I 
 write there existed in the refined precincts of the 
 Triangle abundance of small children, a swarm of 
 great girls, a sufficiency of promising young men, but 
 only one actual boy. A definition of the word boy is 
 wanting; I venture to supply one. A boy may be 
 considered as a male human creature during that 
 second octavo of life in which he is least under the 
 influence of the other sex. When a child is free from 
 the power of the nursery-maid, and can no longer be 
 constrained to put on a clean pinafore, he becomes a 
 boy ; and he is ceasing to be one as soon as he volun- 
 tarily wears his best clothes to gain favour in female 
 eyes. 
 
 In the Triangle, then, there was only one person 
 answering to this definition, and that was the boy 
 Wyld, twelve or thirteen years old, freckled, untidy, 
 rough, and restless, as boys are apt to be. He was the
 
 " A kind of Boy, a little scrubbed Boy" 63 
 
 orphan son of a sea-captain. Years before, the father's 
 vessel, on board of which were his wife and child, had 
 foundered in the middle of the Atlantic, and among 
 the few souls picked up to tell the tale was this boy, 
 lashed to a spar by his father, five minutes before he 
 went down with his ship, like an English sailor, while 
 the terrified passengers were madly struggling to 
 swamp the overcrowded boats. The mother's body 
 was there too, but she was dead of cold and exhaustion. 
 Some of my readers may remember the story in the 
 newspapers of the day. The boy had been brought to 
 England and somewhat grudgingly adopted by his 
 unmarried uncle, Dr. Wyld, a hard, dry, disappointed 
 man, who for more than twenty years had lived in the 
 smallest and ugliest house of the Paragon, and for 
 some reason or other, probably because of his surly, 
 forbidding manner, had never advanced far in the 
 more profitable paths of his profession, though at the 
 Union and the Dispensary his services were considered 
 invaluable in repressing pauper ailments. 
 
 When this friendless little fellow first came to live 
 in his uncle's dull house, the whole neighbourhood was 
 disposed to look on him with great interest and 
 sympathy. At home he was treated with cold neglect, 
 fed and lodged, but little more : out of doors for a time 
 he was pitied and petted to a degree that would spoil 
 any child. All the ladies of the Triangle were willing 
 to make much of him, and it was with real concern 
 that they soon found he was not a material to be made
 
 64 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 much of by them. With his romantic antecedents, 
 it was a pity he should turn out such a rebellious little 
 imp, with no sense of juvenile propriety, and only 
 increasing in turbulence with years. He altogether 
 refused to behave prettily; he romped in the most 
 decorous drawing-rooms ; he could keep his fingers off 
 nothing, and put his foot into everything ; he showed 
 himself either helplessly shy or irrepressibly noisy; he 
 had no graces or accomplishments, except such as 
 whistling or standing on his head, which he insisted 
 on exhibiting on all inconvenient occasions. Clearly 
 he was not an ornament or an acquisition to well-be- 
 haved society, and his lady friends began to give him 
 up, with many a lament over the way in which Dr. Wyld 
 was neglecting his training. But their disapproval of 
 the uncle was transferred in full to the nephew, as the 
 propensities of the latter were developed. Soon his 
 conduct became such as to withdraw the last rag of 
 their favour from him ; and when the boy Wyld had 
 attained to trousers and jackets his character was 
 fully revealed in all its objectionable features. The 
 only boy of the Triangle was considered as great a 
 plague to it as a round dozen of them might have been 
 expected to be. He teased the girls ; he was impudent 
 to the young gentlemen; the old ones tumbled on slides 
 of his making; he upset children out of their perambu- 
 lators, not so much from ill-nature as from an excess 
 of zeal ; he indulged in unseemly levity towards the 
 servant-maids, and would not speak civilly to their
 
 " It was his Nature to" 65 
 
 mistresses; he made friends with low street boys, and 
 fought with them, too, in public ; he broke windows, 
 chased cats, and entertained strange dogs ; he climbed 
 anywhere, he tumbled into everything, he seemed 
 afraid of nothing and nobody; in fact, he was generally 
 rude, boisterous, and mischievous, and might well be 
 held a scandal to such a sober neighbourhood. Com- 
 plaints about his pranks were, from time to time, 
 made to his uncle, who was not wanting in due 
 severity; but punishment and scolding were all thrown 
 away on the boy Wyld, who, moreover, would probably 
 not be long of playing some impudent trick at the ex- 
 pense of the person who had " sneaked about him," 
 as he expressed it. So it came to pass that he was a 
 young Ishmaelite among the other inhabitants of the 
 Triangle ; his rough hands were against all of them, 
 and all of them looked on him as a most dangerous 
 and undesirable neighbour. 
 
 Luckily for these good people and for himself, he 
 was sent to the Grammar School as soon as he could 
 read, and took to it as readily as a dog to water. 
 There was no " creeping unwillingly " in the case of 
 this boy, who scarcely knew what home was. The 
 school was his club, where he found friends and fun 
 and full scope for his energies. Not that he showed 
 much love for his books, but I am writing of a date 
 before country grammar schools had got hopelessly 
 enclosed in the net of competitive examinations, and 
 when a lad with a tolerably thick skin and easy con- 
 
 6
 
 66 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 science could make shift to pass through the lower 
 forms without being over-much laborious. Wyld did 
 as little work and as much play as possible, and 
 passed at school as neither better nor worse than 
 most of his comrades, among whom he was rather a 
 favourite than otherwise. 
 
 All day, then, the boy Wyld was out of the way, 
 but in the evening his uncle's rule was for him to stay 
 at home that he might learn his lessons, and as likely 
 as not he smuggled some companion into the back 
 garden for a little congenial amusement, involving 
 probably a catapult or a ball, and climbing into the 
 other gardens to get it. Then perhaps there would 
 be a shout and a crash, as of broken glass, and Miss 
 Telfer, sitting in the drawing-room at the back of her 
 house in Westgate, would lay down her teacup, and 
 exclaim instinctively 
 
 " That boy Wyld ! " 
 
 " That boy Wyld ! " would echo Poll, her parrot, 
 trying to stretch his fat green neck between the bars 
 of his cage to see what was the matter. Then the 
 starling would choke and gurgle and try to repeat the 
 same phrase, and all the canary birds and bullfinches 
 would twitter and hop in sympathy. 
 
 Miss Telfer lived next door to Dr. Wyld, or rather 
 round the corner, the back of their gardens being 
 contiguous. Her pretty little house was quite an 
 aviary. There were forty-three birds, without reckon- 
 ing its mistress, who was so tiny and timid and
 
 " A Parlous Boy ! Go to /" 67 
 
 smooth and elegant that she might be thought to 
 have partly grown into the nature of her feathered 
 friends. She looked as if a puff of wind could blow 
 her off her perch in this rough world, and was, indeed, 
 one of the most nervous, delicate, sensitive old maids 
 in Whitminster. So it may readily be imagined that 
 she was not fond of boys. 
 
 But she had tried to be friendly with the boy Wyld. 
 Eeport said that Miss Telfer had once been engaged 
 to a naval officer, killed in the Crimea ; be that as it 
 may, her tender heart was unusually soft towards the 
 sailor's orphan, and she had done her best to show 
 kindness to him, and was long-suffering before she 
 admitted him to be hopelessly undeserving of it. Her 
 splendid King Parrot, the monarch of her menagerie, 
 had from the first shown himself ill-disposed towards 
 the boy Wyld, and took an early opportunity of biting 
 his fingers, whereupon the graceless urchin pulled a 
 feather out of the screaming bird's tail ; but not even 
 then did Miss Telfer withdraw her countenance wholly 
 from him. His perverse and mischievous disposition, 
 however, rendered him more and more unbearable, 
 and he was finally cast out as reprobate when the 
 good lady discovered him knocking down a poor spar- 
 row with a stone in her very garden. If the sparrow 
 had been consulted, he might have preferred a violent 
 death in this way to perpetual imprisonment in a 
 cage ; but Miss Telfer was like the majority of the 
 civilised world, who think cruelty to mean nothing but
 
 68 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 blood and bruises; and from that day she renounced 
 the boy Wyld, falling back upon her principle that 
 all boys were the pariahs of good society, and among 
 the main troubles of life, permitted to afflict the earth 
 by a mysterious dispensation of Providence. 
 
 " They have such disagreeable voices and such 
 awkward manners," she used to chirp out, looking 
 round with affectionate pride at her feathered flock. 
 
 There was another race besides that of boys which 
 Miss Telfer could not but look upon with aversion 
 cats. And at that time the gardens of the Triangle 
 actually swarmed with a plague of cats 
 
 "Black cats, brown cats, grey cats, tawny cats, 
 Big cats, small cats, thin cats, brawny cats ; 
 Grave old baskers, gay young friskers, 
 Tabby cats with claws and whiskers." 
 
 Each household in the three streets had its author- 
 ised and domesticated puss, except only that of Miss 
 Telfer, where of course no such insidious beast of prey 
 was entertained to disturb the peace of mind of her 
 birds. But besides these regular forces, there were 
 troops of guerilla cats, cats of fortune, so to speak, 
 which prowled about, gaunt and unkempt, from roof 
 to roof and from wall to wall, without visible means of 
 subsistence. Where they came from nobody knew, but 
 there they were, a nuisance to the whole neighbourhood, 
 and, like gipsies, could not be got rid of. They made 
 their way into cellars ; they stole scraps ; they wrought 
 havoc in flower-beds; they fought and made love in an
 
 " The Harmless Necessary Cat." 69 
 
 obstrusively public manner ; and the most noisy and 
 unprincipled of them delighted in choosing the dead 
 of night for the hour of their disturbances, when even 
 boys were safe in bed. To do the boy Wyld justice, 
 when other people only talked of the nuisance, he took 
 the field and kept up a perpetual war against the 
 feline race. But it was only the more inoffensive civil- 
 ised cats which he succeeded in terrifying ; the rogues 
 and vagabonds seemed rather to like the fun than 
 otherwise, and increased in number and impudence in 
 spite of his sticks and catapults, which added a zest 
 of adventure to their precarious existence. 
 
 " Oh dear, oh dear ! " sighed Miss Telfer, as she 
 turned about in her great feather bed, and tried not 
 to listen to one of her whiskered enemies, which was 
 screaming in the next garden like a child in pain. 
 Then, when it had tired itself out, and she had begun 
 to doze off into a restless nightmare, in which she 
 thought a gigantic cat's jaws were closing on her 
 orange-breasted wax-bill, the pearl of her aviary, she 
 would start up to hear the shrieking and squealing of 
 a battle-royal beneath her window, and, when this had 
 died away, the discordant notes of a lovesick Tom 
 caterwauling to the moon among the chimney-pots, 
 alternating with the faint miauings of a deserted 
 kitten in the distance, would keep her in such a state 
 of restlessness that the poor lady could not get an 
 honest wink of sleep all night. 
 
 At last she could bear it no longer, and sought con-
 
 70 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 solation and counsel from Dr. Grey, her medical and 
 general adviser. He listened to her story with all the 
 attention due to a profitable patient, and sympathised 
 with her in the ready way which made nervous old 
 ladies think him the best of doctors. 
 
 " Cats ! you may well grumble at them, Miss Telfer. 
 For my part, I wish the whole breed had been drowned 
 in the Deluge. There is no other creature that 
 occupies such a conspicuous place in the catalogue of 
 human ills," chuckled Dr. Grey, who was a chatty old 
 gentleman and loved his little joke. 
 
 " What am I to do, doctor ? " entreated Miss Telfer, 
 in a sorrowful twitter. " I assure you I can't sleep 
 for them, and my nerves are in such a state all day." 
 
 " If I were so much troubled, I'll tell you what I 
 should do," said the doctor, " I should get a squib 
 and put a light to it and fling it out among them some 
 of these nights. That would give them a scare, I'll 
 be bound. But we must see to this, Miss Telfer, or I 
 shall have to send you to Weston again. We must 
 brace up the system, ma'am ; we must brace up the 
 system." 
 
 So spoke Dr. Grey and wrote out a prescription, 
 and Miss Telfer departed, strengthened in mind by 
 the prospect of having her system braced up. But 
 that part of the doctor's advice which perhaps he had 
 scarcely given seriously had also made a great im- 
 pression on her. Miss Telfer's gentle nature was 
 stirred up to the point of combating her feline foes,
 
 " A Beggarly Account of Empty Boxes." 71 
 
 even by gunpowder ; and on her way home, happening 
 to pass by a shop in an obscure part of the town, 
 where a card announced that fireworks were to be 
 bought, she stopped, turned, hesitated, and at last 
 fluttered into the shop and shyly made request for a 
 squib. 
 
 " What sort of a squib, ma'am ? " said the shop- 
 keeper, staring at her a little, which did not diminish 
 her timidity. 
 
 " Any kind the largest the best," said Miss 
 Telfer, and the tradesman of course took her as mean- 
 ing the most expensive. 
 
 The fact was that, the fifth of November being still 
 far off, he had no stock of fireworks on hand. But 
 rummaging through a box, he picked out a huge 
 cracker, remaining from last year's supply, and asked 
 if that would do. 
 
 " It won't go off in my fingers ? " was the only 
 stipulation Miss Telfer had to make ; and the man 
 assured her that it was quite harmless, and instructed 
 her how to light and throw it. I don't quite know 
 what kind of firework it was that Miss Telfer became 
 possessed of, but from the sequel it was clearly one 
 of a complicated nature, and it cost her sixpence. 
 
 When she got home Miss Telfer made haste to lock 
 her dangerous acquisition away in a drawer, all by 
 itself, and it was three days before she ventured to 
 make any use of it. But on the third night the cats 
 became more noisy than ever, and the bracing-up
 
 72 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 medicine seemed to have no effect. Moreover, the 
 parrot had been waked up, too, and was screaming 
 downstairs at the pitch of his voice, " The boy Wyld ! 
 TheboyWyld! I want my dinner ! Pretty Poll !" 
 
 " I can't endure this," piped Miss Teller, at last 
 getting up and putting on her dressing-gown. She 
 opened her window just a little bit, and, having satis- 
 fied herself that the wind was not in the east, peeped 
 out with a scarf round her head, looking as like Lady 
 Macbeth as a nervous little old dame can do. The 
 cats stopped for a moment, then renewed their hideous 
 concert with double fury. Miss Telfer in her excite- 
 ment fancied that there were at least a dozen of them 
 in her neighbour's garden. She drew back and stood 
 screwing up her courage for a minute ; then her reso- 
 lution was taken. She stole on tiptoe to the drawer 
 where her artillery was hidden, unlocked it, lit a 
 taper, and with trembling hands applied it to the 
 match of the cracker, which she then hastily flung 
 out of the window as far as she could, which was not 
 far, for it fell upon the roof of her little conservatory. 
 
 For a moment there was silence, but in a moment 
 more the cracker began to burst. Bang, fizz ! it 
 went, and the cats fled howling in all directions as it 
 jumped, banging and dancing, among them. Bang, 
 bang ! and at every detonation somebody leaped out 
 of bed in alarm. Windows were thrown up, heads 
 thrust out, screams might be heard, cries of "Police ! " 
 were echoed back the whole of the Triangle was
 
 A MIDNIGHT ALAEM 1 
 
 Page 72.
 
 ''Macbeth hath Murdered Sleep." 
 
 75 
 
 aroused. Then steps were trampling in the gardens, 
 lights moved about, voices here and there, and the 
 commotion went on increasing long after the cause of 
 it had banged and burned itself out. Nobody knew 
 exactly what had happened. Some spoke of an earth- 
 quake, some of a thunderbolt ; some thought the gas- 
 works had been blown up, and some that a murder 
 had been committed. And when fathers and brothers 
 were able to soothe the fears of their families and 
 pronounce the affair a mischievous trick, there re- 
 mained the indignant question, " Who did it ? " 
 
 Who indeed ! Poor Miss Telfer, struck with horror 
 at the unexpected performances of her fatalis machina, 
 had fled into bed, and lay quaking with her head 
 buried beneath the blankets.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 EXT morning the night's disturbance was 
 the theme of conversation at most of the 
 breakfast-tables of the Triangle, and there 
 was complete unanimity of suspicion as to 
 the author of it. There was only one boy in the three 
 streets, and he, no doubt, was at that moment exult- 
 ing with his rude companions over the success of his 
 freak. His impudence was no longer to be put up 
 with ; it was intolerable that quiet, respectable people 
 should be frightened out of their sleep by such mali- 
 cious tricks. Something must be done. 
 
 In the course of the day Miss Telfer had a call from 
 Mrs. Gargoyle, of the Paragon, the minor canon's 
 wife, who came to condole with her over the agitation 
 she must have undergone, and to tell her what steps 
 were being taken for the punishment of the culprit. 
 
 " I never heard of such a thing ! " Mrs. Gargoyle 
 declared indignantly, at least half a dozen times.
 
 " What a Pestilent Knave is this Same!" 77 
 
 " There's poor Mrs. Browne, with her heart complaint ; 
 it's a mercy she was not terrified to death." 
 
 " Oh dear ! " Miss Telfer gave a little cry. 
 
 " And you, Miss Telfer, in the state of your nerves ! 
 I assure you, I fully expected to find you in bed." 
 
 " It has quite upset me ; it has indeed ! " said Miss 
 Telfer, pecking at her smelling-bottle. 
 
 " But of course we know who did it oh, the little 
 wretch ! " said Mrs. Gargoyle. 
 
 " That boy Wyld ! That boy Wyld ! " screamed the 
 parrot above her head. 
 
 " Yes ; that dreadful boy Wyld ! But his uncle 
 can't have a grain of sense if he does not punish him 
 severely as he deserves. Mr. Gargoyle is going to 
 speak to Dr. Wyld about it at the dispensary meeting ; 
 and I do hope the child will get a lesson against these 
 dreadful habits." 
 
 " Oh, I don't think he did it," said poor Miss Telfer, 
 all in a twitter. 
 
 " My dear, there can be no doubt about it. Have 
 you ever seen the way in which that boy fidgets about 
 when Mr. Gargoyle is preaching ? The dreadful 
 creature is always playing with fireworks and danger- 
 ous things of that sort, and it was in the Wylds' 
 garden, you know, that the explosion took place. 
 Oh, Miss Telfer, I wonder that you weren't frightened 
 out of your life ! But now I must go and ask how 
 poor Mrs. Browne is." 
 
 When her visitor was gone Miss Telfer flew out into
 
 78 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 her little conservatory, and sat down, with fluttering 
 heart, to think over what she had just heard. The 
 very idea of any one being punished for her fault 
 filled her with dismay. She longed to have had the 
 courage to tell Mrs. Gargoyle the truth ; she half re- 
 solved to sit down and write a note to her containing 
 a full confession. But then there would be the aston- 
 ishment, the scandal, the ridicule ! Miss Telfer quite 
 trembled to think of what people would say. She felt 
 as if she were a great criminal ; no forger or burglar, 
 hiding from the police, had ever such a troubled 
 mind. It would be found out somehow ; she could 
 never show her cap again at the tea-parties of Whit- 
 minster ; and, worst of all, in the meanwhile this in- 
 nocent boy would bear the shame and the punishment. 
 Oh that she had never meddled with such things as 
 squibs ! For the first time she lost faith in Dr. Grey. 
 But what was she to do ? what could she do ? She 
 could not confess. To be the joke of the whole com- 
 munity was more than ladylike flesh and blood could 
 bear; yet her tender conscience would give her no 
 rest, if an injustice were committed through her 
 cowardice. She would run away to Weston, and let 
 the truth be disclosed, and not return for years till the 
 public indignation had died away. This way and that 
 her excited mind was swayed, and meanwhile the 
 parrot screamed unheeded in the drawing-room behind, 
 and one of the leanest and most disreputable-looking 
 of the marauding cats had crept along the wall of her
 
 "Ask Me not what the Maiden Feels ! " 79 
 
 garden, and was crouching within ten feet of her, 
 looking slyly out of his half -open eyes, as if pleased 
 to see into what a scrape she had brought herself. 
 
 " Oh these cats ! these cats ! " murmured Miss 
 Telfer, and shook her handkerchief at it, calling out 
 with as much anger as was in her nature, " Go away! 
 Go away ! " Away went the cat like a rocket, but 
 less in obedience to Miss Telfer' s injunction than by 
 reason of a broken bottle which at the same moment 
 was thrown at it from the other side of the wall, 
 showing that the boy Wyld had returned from school, 
 and was disporting himself according to his wont in 
 his uncle's back premises. Suddenly Miss Telfer 
 heard the loud, harsh voice of Dr. Wyld through the 
 open door of the surgery. 
 
 " Come here, sir, and tell me what you mean by 
 this fine prank. I'll teach you to throw fireworks out 
 of my windows in the middle of the night." 
 
 Miss Telfer thought she would have fainted. She 
 almost embraced a geranium-pot in her agitation. 
 For a minute she could make out nothing distinctly, 
 except that Dr. Wyld was talking angrily. "Don't 
 say you didn't do it, sir. You are the worry of my 
 life ; there is scarcely a day that somebody does not 
 complain to me of your conduct, and I am determined 
 to take it out of you. I tell you I will teach you " 
 
 So much Miss Telfer heard and wished to rise and 
 call out, but she could not, and sat pale and shudder- 
 ing. Then the surgery door was shut with a bang,
 
 80 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 and within there was a dull sound of blows. There 
 were none of the screams which she expected to follow, 
 but if the boy Wyld did not cry, Miss Telfer did most 
 bitterly. 
 
 She had another wretched night. The cats left her 
 in peace this time, but conscience is more trouble- 
 some than cats, and Miss Telfer thought she would 
 never sleep sound again, now that her hands were 
 stained with the blood of this innocent victim. The 
 details of corporal punishment being unfamiliar to her, 
 her fancy kept calling up a sickening scene of horror, 
 for which her cowardice was responsible. And crime 
 will always out, she said to herself. Oh, where should 
 she hide herself when Mrs. Gargoyle knew the truth 
 and had set forth to bear the news from drawing- 
 room to drawing-room ? 
 
 Early in the morning she was up feeding her birds, 
 but that gave her no comfort. She caught herself 
 again and again peeping out from the drawn blind of 
 her front parlour, in fearful hope of catching a sight of 
 the injured boy, pale, suffering, and resentful. At last 
 she did see him, on his way to school. 
 
 He did not seem much the worse for whatever he 
 had undergone ; his cap was stuck the wrong way 
 on the back of his head as usual ; he was whistling a 
 vulgar tune, and stopped for a second in front of Miss 
 Telfer's window to give a kick to an abandoned cab- 
 bage-stalk on the pavement. Another second and 
 Miss Telfer could no longer have restrained herself
 
 In Perplexity and Doubtful Dilemma. 81 
 
 from knocking at the window, beckoning him in, and 
 overwhelming him with cake and wine and all the 
 silver in her purse. But while she hesitated he 
 caught sight of a schoolfellow and scampered after 
 him, and she was glad she had not ventured to meet 
 his eye. He would suspect, he would denounce her ; 
 her crime would come to light at once. No ! as long 
 as possible she must lock the secret in her breast. 
 Miss Telfer felt that in the last two days she had 
 grown years older. 
 
 A few days passed away, and with them the danger 
 of discovery. The neighbours appeared to have 
 forgotten all about it ; but Miss Telfer did not forget. 
 Her conscience kept on accusing her, and she never 
 heard the boy Wyld's voice without a fresh prick. 
 She durst not look him in the face, but she thought 
 often how she might make up for the injury done to 
 him. She sometimes meditated buying a cricket-bat 
 and sending it to him anonymously; then, again, 
 she fancied it would be a good thing to speak a word 
 for him to his master at the school, who was a friend 
 of hers. But her habitual hesitation kept her from 
 doing anything else than distressing herself to no 
 purpose. Jane, the maid, did not know what had 
 come to her mistress. She thought it must be the 
 death of the prettiest of her love-birds in moulting. 
 But no ; Miss Telfer would have given a wilderness of 
 love-birds that this should not have happened which 
 we know of. She fretted over it till she felt really ill. 
 
 7
 
 82 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 Then she sent for Dr. Grey, and had half made up 
 her mind to take him into her confidence. But again 
 her courage failed her ; the wrongs of the boy Wyld 
 remained unredressed, and Dr. Grey's tonics minis- 
 tered in vain to the mental disease of his patient. 
 
 As poor Miss Telfer feared, a dire punishment was 
 not long of falling upon her guilty head, a worse 
 calamity than even the epidemic which seemed to have 
 broken out among her small birds. She had been 
 to forenoon service at the minster, she had heard 
 the parable of Nathan against David, and with a pang 
 had taken the lesson home to herself ; she came back 
 to her house, meditating over the consequences of that 
 unfortunate night, and at the door was met by Jane, 
 who was waiting with a thunderbolt on her lips. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Telfer, the parrot has got out of his 
 cage ! " 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " exclaimed Miss Telfer, scarcely 
 realising the calamity at first, till she had hurried 
 into the drawing-room and saw the empty and open 
 cage of her favourite favourite is a weak word to 
 express Miss Telfer's love for that parrot, which in 
 its youth had been given her, so people said, by the 
 naval officer before mentioned, and was now the 
 familiar friend and companion of her old age. Jane 
 followed breathlessly, giving details of the catas- 
 trophe, caused, it appeared, by the carelessness of the 
 new girl, Kitty, who was now cowering in the kitchen, 
 not daring to meet her mistress's eyes.
 
 " Come into the Garden." 83 
 
 " And where has my darling gone to ? " cried poor 
 Miss Telfer. "Oh, Jane, we must not lose him 
 I can't bear to think of losing him." 
 
 " He is sitting on the pear-tree in the garden, 
 and I asked the boy Wyld to come over and catch 
 him," was Jane's reply, and Miss Telfer flew into the 
 garden. 
 
 There, sure enough, was the erring Poll, sitting 
 lordly in the middle of the pear-tree, altogether dis- 
 dainful of the blandishments of the boy Wyld, who 
 was standing below fishing for him with a bone 
 fastened to a long pole. He had been standing thus 
 for the last half-hour, patiently awaiting the pleasure 
 of his old enemy ; for the boy Wyld, whatever his 
 faults may have been, was always willing to be of use 
 where his peculiar talents came into play, and as it 
 was now the holidays, he had plenty of time on his 
 hands. Being engaged in serious business, he scarcely 
 turned his head when Miss Telfer appeared, but went 
 on poking his bait up into the tree. At such a junc- 
 ture Miss Telfer forgot everthing else, and hailed 
 with joy the presence of this shock-haired, sunburnt 
 lad with the patched trousers and rough hands, that 
 had so often shocked her sensibilities when there was 
 no parrot to be caught. 
 
 " Oh, Johnny, can't you get him down ? " cried Miss 
 Telfer, in her emotion using the familiar name of the 
 boy Wyld's childish and more innocent days. 
 
 " No j the stupid thing ! " said he, and laying
 
 84 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 down his pole, began to look at the tree with a 
 climber's eye, while the malicious Poll shifted to a 
 higher branch, and croaked out 
 
 " That boy Wyld ! " 
 
 " Just you wait till I come to you, and I'll make 
 you be quiet ; " and then the boy spat on his hands, 
 an action which Miss Telfer actually beheld without 
 disgust, and bid Jane run to fetch Poll's cage, if 
 haply the wanderer might be tempted to return to it. 
 
 " Take care and don't hurt him ! " she called out 
 as the boy began to swing himself up the tree. But 
 Poll intended to have his fling while he was about it, 
 and, allowing his pursuer to get just near enough to 
 be confident of success, he, so to speak, weighed his 
 anchor and sailed deh'berately across to the next tree. 
 Nothing daunted, the boy Wyld slipped down and pre- 
 pared to follow him to his new fastness. 
 
 " Oh, Johnny, dear, catch him and I will give you 
 this ! " cried Miss Telfer, holding up sixpence she 
 meant it to have been half a sovereign, but the smaller 
 sum which she had produced in her agitation was 
 quite enough for the encouragement of the boy 
 Wyld. To tell the truth, he had not looked forward 
 to any reward; virtue is its own reward to boys 
 when chasing birds or beasts is in question. 
 
 "All right," said he, with a grin, and resumed his 
 pursuit. 
 
 Again Polly gave him the slip, and again he 
 followed the provoking bird, which had the sense not
 
 " I Prithee, Hear me Speak." 85 
 
 to go far away from home, but flapped about in its 
 mistress's garden, perching now on one stunted tree 
 and now on another, but always taking care not to 
 come within reach of its importunate friends. 
 
 It was an exciting scene. A slight shower had 
 begun to fall, but, heedless of it, the distracted Miss 
 Telfer, holding up her dove-coloured dress, hopped 
 over the wet grass, and vainly reproached and be- 
 sought her erring favourite. Behind her came Jane, 
 bearing the great gilt cage with its door enticingly 
 open, and, chuck-chucking sweetly, endeavoured with 
 no better results to charm down the perverse parrot. 
 In the rear stood careless Kitty, who, seeing her 
 mistress's countenance more in sorrow than in anger, 
 had ventured forth to assist at the proceedings with 
 ejaculations of deep concern. Idle servant-maids 
 from the other houses had taken the excuse to leave 
 their work and come out to look. Children and 
 ladies watched from the back windows all round. For 
 the moment the whole neighbourhood was interested 
 in the boy Wyld's prowess. 
 
 At last Poll was caught napping. When his 
 pursuer was close upon him, he delayed too long to 
 be off, and when he did flap his wings he found him- 
 self hard put to it in the leafy bunch of a pollard 
 lime. Then there was a quick shoving aside of the 
 branches, and the boy's hand closed upon the bird's 
 neck. It struggled, screeched, and tried to bite him, 
 but he held fast to Polly, not to the tree. Finding his
 
 86 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 footing insecure, he dropped down with the parrot in 
 his hand, and only let it go when he fell on the ground 
 and sprained his ankle. 
 
 " Brute ! " was the boy Wyld's exclamation of pain, 
 and Polly, amazed, alarmed, and indignant, bounced 
 right into the familiar shelter of his cage, and was 
 promptly secured by joyful Jane and her mistress, 
 who, however, ceased rejoicing when they found that 
 their young ally was hurt.
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 WO or three hours later John Wyld was 
 lying on Miss Telfer's best sofa in the 
 drawing - room, where the blinds were 
 drawn down to keep him cool; his 
 injured foot rested on the most daintily- worked 
 cushion in the house, and opposite him, at the 
 other side of the room, the re-captured parrot 
 brooded silent and sulky in his cage. Dr. Wyld 
 had been sent for in haste, had ordered leeches, 
 and done what else he could to reduce the sprain. 
 He wished to take his nephew home, but this Miss 
 Telfer, in the exuberance of her gratitude, would not 
 hear of for a moment. So there the boy lay in state, 
 surrounded by pictures, story-books, biscuits, jelly, 
 preserves, wine, and whatever else of refreshment for 
 mind or body Miss Telfer's establishment could 
 furnish, and, the smart of the leeches set apart, was
 
 88 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 having rather a good time of it in this novel expe- 
 rience of laziness and luxury. Miss Telfer anxiously 
 hovered round him ; she had not even allowed her- 
 self to he driven away at the sight of the leeches. 
 She had banished the starling and the cockatoo to the 
 top bedroom, and ordered the abodes of her various 
 finches to be covered up lest their twittering should 
 annoy the patient ; she kept pressing him to eat or 
 drink, and worrying him with reiterated praises of 
 his gallantry and obligingness ; in fact, she had been 
 doing everything she could think of to make up to 
 the boy Wyld for the injuries she had been the means 
 of bringing upon him. And with heroic resolution 
 she was now nerving herself to an ordeal requiring 
 far more courage than her young friend had shown. 
 He should learn how greatly she had wronged him. 
 The leeches had been taken off, the foot bound up, 
 Jane had gone out of the room, and Miss Telfer took 
 a seat beside the sofa and prepared to unburden her 
 overflowing heart. 
 
 " Take some more jelly, John," she began earnestly. 
 "You can't think how much I am obliged to you. 
 You don't know how fond I am of that naughty 
 parrot." 
 
 " It's no matter," said the boy Wyld, awkwardly. 
 
 " Shall I give you one of my birds ? You may 
 choose any one you like." 
 
 "No, thanks. I don't care for keeping birds. I 
 wish there were no birds in the world, because then
 
 " I will a Tale Unfold." 89 
 
 nobody would blame you for bagging their eggs," he 
 said, taking up the thread of an old argument between 
 them ; but Miss Telfer was in no mood to argue now. 
 
 " Oh, John, what a gallant little fellow you are ! 
 If you only knew how I felt when you tumbled 
 down ! " 
 
 The object of this praise looked uncomfortable, 
 and the parrot seized the opportunity to add his 
 mite to the conversation. " That boy Wyld ! I want 
 my dinner." 
 
 " Hush, Polly ! " cried Miss Telfer, with as much 
 authority as she could assume. " And now, John," 
 she went on, " I am going to tell you a secret." 
 
 Her tone was decidedly alarming, and the boy 
 Wyld fidgeted about on the sofa. He was not used 
 to confidential tete-a-tetes with ladies, and when they 
 got to telling him secrets, he might well be disquieted. 
 
 Miss Telfer's voice sank almost to a whisper, and 
 she turned her head away. " It was I who fired that 
 squib ! " 
 
 " What squib ? " asked the boy Wyld, with genuine 
 surprise. 
 
 " Oh, don't you remember ? They said it was you, 
 but it was I. I threw it out of the window to frighten 
 the cats." 
 
 "You!" cried John, and seemed struggling with 
 a grin. " I remember now. Did you do it ? What 
 a joke ! " The rude boy almost laughed outright. 
 
 " Yes, John. But I assure you I did not mean to
 
 90 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 get you into trouble, and I have never passed a day 
 without feeling bitterly the injustice done to you." 
 
 " It's no matter. I had forgotten all about it." 
 
 " But I did not. I heard you had been punished, 
 and I have been longing for an opportunity of con- 
 fessing the truth ; but I could not do it, I was so 
 afraid of what people would think. Oh, John, John, 
 what wicked hearts we have ! " 
 
 The boy Wyld, without quite understanding it, saw 
 that Miss Telfer was deeply moved, and tried to 
 comfort her in his rough way. 
 
 " What's the good of talking about it, Miss Telfer ? 
 It can't be helped now. I didn't mind much." 
 
 "Noble boy!" exclaimed the lady. "But not 
 another moment shall you rest under this imputa- 
 tion. Every one shall know how badly I have 
 behaved to you." 
 
 The boy began to get an insight into her trouble 
 now. 
 
 " Look here, Miss Telfer," he said, " you don't want 
 people to know who did it. You needn't tell them." 
 
 " But think of your character ! Oh ! I can't be so 
 unjust." 
 
 The boy Wyld smiled when he thought of his 
 character. 
 
 "I don't care a button. Don't you say a word 
 about it, Miss Telfer, and I'll never tell." 
 
 "Oh, Johnny! I have never done anything to 
 deserve such kindness from you ! "
 
 " A Creature not too Bright and Good." 91 
 
 " Yes, you have. You used to give me biscuits 
 and things when I was a little kid." 
 
 " I never knew a boy could be so good-hearted ! " 
 exclaimed Miss Telfer. " People say you are rough 
 and noisy and mischievous, and but, Johnny, you 
 may be sure I will never say so again. You must 
 have been calumniated." 
 
 The boy Wyld did not know what to say to 
 these compliments, so he said nothing, but scratched 
 his head, which at that moment actually seemed a 
 graceful action in Miss Telfer's eye. 
 
 " Johnny, dear, if you wish to bring boys to play 
 cricket in front of the house, I won't object any 
 more. And you may climb into my garden as much 
 as you like only please don't meddle with Poll, for 
 his temper is not very good, poor thing ! " 
 
 "I don't want to climb into anybody's garden 
 when I can get fellows to play with," said John; 
 then there was an uncomfortable silence which Miss 
 Telfer broke after a minute. 
 
 " Johnny, tell me this. Why is it that with such 
 a brave, good heart, you will be so so so you 
 know what I mean you are always being found 
 fault with ? " 
 
 " I don't know that I am worse than other fellows," 
 said the boy, doggedly. 
 
 "Oh! I am sure you are not. But people com- 
 plain that you are always idling about, and doing 
 mischief I hope you are not offended, dear, at my
 
 92 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 telling you so and they say you are often beaten at 
 school because you don't learn your lessons." 
 
 " Well, Miss Telfer, I don't see the good of learning 
 lessons," said the boy, in a sudden burst of con- 
 fidence. " Uncle says I am to go into a stupid office 
 in a year or two, and sit on a stool all my life, 
 I suppose ; so I may as well have some fun while I 
 can. I can write pretty well and do sums, and I 
 don't want anything else for an office, you know." 
 
 " You must remember, my dear boy, that your 
 uncle knows best what is good for your future 
 welfare." 
 
 "No he doesn't. I am certain there is only one 
 thing I shall ever be fit for." 
 
 " And that is " 
 
 " A sailor ! " cried the boy, with sparkling eyes. 
 "Oh, Miss Telfer, I have longed to go to sea ever 
 since I was able to read, and I shall never be happy 
 unless I go. I asked my uncle to let me go to school 
 on a training-ship like young Catesby you know the 
 Catesbys, Miss Telfer ? and if he would only let me 
 go, I would work like a horse see if I shouldn't ! 
 But he says it would cost too much, and then there 
 would be the money for apprenticing me, you know ; 
 so there's nothing for me but the office, unless I run 
 away and become a cabin boy. But don't say another 
 word about it, please, Miss Telfer. It makes me mad 
 to think of it, when there's no chance of my going to 
 sea. And there's no use talking of what can't be
 
 " One Boon I Crave of Thee." 98 
 
 helped, is there, Miss Telfer ? I say, what a row 
 there was when you let off that squib ! Oh, I forgot, 
 you don't want me to speak about it." 
 
 " To me as much as you like, my dear. But if 
 you could if you really don't mind if " 
 
 " All right ! the people have forgotten all about it ; 
 it doesn't make much difference to me. I won't tell." 
 
 " You really, never, never will " 
 
 " There ! I've promised," said the boy Wyld, laying 
 his not over clean fist on the table. 
 
 " Oh, Johnny, I can't tell you under what an obli- 
 gation you have put me. Only say what I can do 
 for you how I can show my gratitude is there 
 nothing ? " 
 
 The boy Wyld hesitated. 
 
 " No, yes. Well, there's one thing." 
 
 " Do tell it me ! " 
 
 " Please, Miss Telfer, I wish " the boy Wyld 
 
 stopped and the lady encouraged him to go on. 
 
 " Then I wish you wouldn't call me Johnny." 
 
 " My dear Johnny, I never will again ! " cried Miss 
 Telfer, and to his confusion she kissed him, and ran 
 out of the room to conceal her emotion. 
 
 That same evening Miss Telfer was again closeted 
 with her counsellor Dr. Grey, in whom her confidence 
 had not been wholly shaken even by his unlucky 
 advice on the cats' question. 
 
 " So you say you take a great interest in this lad, and 
 wish to place him at your expense on board a training-
 
 94 The Sorrows oj a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 ship school, to be turned out as a midshipman in the 
 merchant service ? " 
 
 " Yes, I should like him to serve the Queen, but 
 I understand he must pass an examination to get 
 into the navy ; and I am afraid he doesn't like ex- 
 aminations." 
 
 "Are you prepared to pay, say fifty pounds, for 
 him, for two or three years, and then perhaps as 
 much as premium to the owners of the vessel he sails 
 in?" 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Telfer. " Even more, if neces- 
 sary, for Heaven has blessed me, doctor, with the good 
 things of this life, and " 
 
 " Excuse me. Is the boy you speak of bold, active, 
 sensible, good-tempered ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! " cried Miss Telfer enthusiastically, and 
 was about to enlarge on the merits of her protege, but 
 the doctor, who was pressed for time, as usual, cut 
 her short. 
 
 " Is he idle at school and a nuisance to his friends 
 at home ? " 
 
 " I am afraid he is," admitted Miss Telfer. 
 
 " Are you sure he really wishes to go to sea, and 
 understands the hardships of such a life? " 
 
 " Quite sure. He says he will never be happy 
 unless he goes." 
 
 " Has he any other prospects?" 
 
 No." 
 
 " Then, Miss Telfer, by all means send him to sea ;
 
 " A Life on the Ocean Wave." 95 
 
 and your generosity will probably be a great benefit to 
 the boy himself, and to all who have to do with him." 
 
 " But the danger ! " said Miss Telfer, taking up 
 another side of the question. 
 
 " Danger ! Pooh, pooh ! my dear madam. Ladies 
 never believe in dry figures, or I could show you by 
 statistics that a sailor has a greater chance of a good 
 long life than a doctor, for instance. The danger of 
 tumbling overboard, or being knocked on the head by 
 savages, isn't half so great as the danger of catching 
 infectious fever, or over-eating oneself, or ruining 
 one's nervous system by too much brain-work, or too 
 much strong tea at home. It seems a terrible life to 
 you and me : I confess I would never cross the Chan- 
 nel, as a first-class passenger, if I could help it. But, 
 luckily for the interests of commerce and civilisation, 
 nature has provided a certain proportion of the male 
 population with strong stomachs, rough skins, obtuse 
 senses, and no nerves to speak of; and when boys of 
 this species declare they can settle to nothing else, 
 they are clearly meant to minister to the comfort and 
 convenience of the rest of the community by taking 
 themselves off to sea and expending their superfluous 
 energy in the toils and hardships of a sailor's life. So 
 let him go, and be thankful there are such lads and 
 such ways of getting rid of them. If all the world 
 were sea-sick creatures like you and me, I should like 
 to know what you would do for cockatoos and canaries, 
 Miss Telfer."
 
 96 The Sorrows of a Lad and a Lady. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, Dr. Grey ! " chirped the good little 
 lady, and flew homewards with her mind made up. 
 
 It may have been four years or so later that I was 
 passing through Westgate one afternoon, and saw 
 knocking at Miss Telfer's door a sturdy young fellow, 
 dressed in unmistakable blue clothes with brass buttons, 
 and bearing in his hand a cage that contained two 
 gorgeous parroquets. I thought I had seen him before, 
 and when I came to look hard at his cheery bronzed 
 face, who should he be but the boy Wyld !
 
 A MYSTERY; 
 
 OR, THE YOUNG PHILOSOPHER AND THE STRANGE 
 PHENOMENON.
 
 A MYSTERY. 
 
 ORD Augustus Surfoy, third son of the 
 Marquis of Rathrnore, was a schoolboy,, 
 but, you will understand, a very superior 
 schoolboy. He was high up in a well- 
 known public school, he could write Latin verses 
 on any conceivable historical or moral theme, he 
 had a turn for science, he read the Times and the 
 Saturday Eevieiv regularly, he talked about the spirit 
 of the age, he already looked forward to being a 
 statesman and a man of letters ; in short, he was very 
 well satisfied with himself and the circumstances 
 under which he had been lucky enough to be born 
 into this world of discontent and imperfection. 
 
 But neither rank nor learning will put us out of 
 the reach of the risks common to mortality. Fever, 
 for instance, slips in by the door, or the drains, of 
 lordly hall and humble hut alike, and this is what 
 happened to young Lord Augustus soon after he had
 
 100 Young Philosopher and Strange Phenomenon. 
 
 attained the height of his present ambition by 
 being chosen into the football team of his school. 
 He was laid up all the Christmas holidays at his 
 father's house in London, where, of course, he had 
 the best of nursing and the most expensive of 
 doctoring. And as soon as he was well enough to be 
 moved, his anxious and affectionate mother took him 
 off to Eathmore Castle, close to the town of that 
 name, which, as everybody knows who knows geo- 
 graphy, is on the coast of Ireland, and the air of 
 which, as Lady Eathmore firmly believed, is unsur- 
 passed for its salubrity. 
 
 Then came a pleasant and lazy period in the life 
 of our hero, during which he had nothing to do but 
 to get better, and to make up the arrears of eating into 
 which he had fallen during his illness. Nothing is so 
 delightful as the sensation of recovery from a fever, 
 when dry toast seems a delicious banquet, and our 
 prudent friends have to lock away cold beef from us 
 with as much solicitude as if they were concealing 
 a brandy bottle from a drunkard. "When we have 
 youth, quinine, a good constitution, sea air, and the 
 best of nourishment on our side, the fever soon has 
 itself put to the right-about. And by the time that 
 the first primroses peeped out, our patient found him- 
 self so much better that he began to feel tired of 
 the dulness of Eathmore, and to wish himself back 
 at school again. 
 
 One day he was yawning over the local paper, the
 
 " It Chanced then on a Winter's Day." 101 
 
 chief columns of which were devoted to chronicling 
 the arrival of a new steam fire-engine that his mother 
 had just presented to the town. There had been a bad 
 fire in Eathmore ; the old fire-engine was found to 
 be of so little use that the flames had threatened to 
 endanger the whole town; Lady Eathrnore had ac- 
 cordingly made this New Year's present to her neigh- 
 bours, and the good folks were now cackling over it 
 like a hen with one chicken, and lauding, as good 
 reason was, her ladyship's well-known generosity. 
 Augustus was pleased to see his mother so well 
 spoken of, but he was too much a boy of the world 
 to excite himself over a fire-engine. So, as I say, he 
 yawned, and found himself thinking how he should 
 spend the afternoon. 
 
 "Why should he not go for a good smart walk on the 
 hills? The day was damp and cold, but he had 
 grown quite strong now, and felt sure that a little wet 
 could not hurt him half so much as a little exercise 
 would do him good. He had always been fond of 
 walking, so without more ado he put on his football 
 boots and set forth to the moors, which lay for miles 
 and miles round the castle in almost every direction. 
 
 Soon he was stretching his legs upon the low hills 
 with all the energy of a convalescent. It is when one 
 has been recently lying on a sick bed that one tastes 
 the full pleasure of feeling-the fresh breeze in one's 
 face, and the soft turf under one's foot. Augustus 
 so thoroughly enjoyed his walk, that he was led on
 
 102 Young, Philosopher and Strange Phenomenon. 
 
 further than he had intended, and only thought of 
 turning back when it began to rain. It had, indeed, 
 been raining after a fashion all the afternoon, but a 
 slight drizzle goes for nothing in that part of the 
 country; now, however, the drops grew larger and 
 thicker, and the pedestrian became aware that he was 
 likely to be wet through long before he could get home. 
 Not that he cared much for that, since at the age of 
 seventeen a wet jacket is rather a joke than otherwise 
 to all well-constituted minds. But it was growing 
 dark ; he had lost sight of the sea and all other land- 
 marks, and he was not quite sure if he could find his 
 way back to the castle. All he could do was to turn 
 his face in what he imagined to be the right direction, 
 and trudge on manfully through the pelting rain, 
 hoping before long to fall in with some native who 
 would put him on the right track. 
 
 Lord Augustus was rather short-sighted, but this 
 mattered the less, as before long he found himself 
 surrounded by a darkness that would have baffled the 
 sharpest eyes. He wandered about for an hour or 
 more without meeting any one or coming upon the 
 least sign of habitation. He could see nothing but the 
 dim masses of the hills rising above him ; he heard 
 nothing but the rush of some swollen torrent in the 
 glen beneath. The sky was black as pitch; the 
 streaming ground let him sink up to the ankles at 
 every second step ; he kept stumbling over stones and 
 tufts of heather ; his clothes were as wet as they could
 
 " The Sky doth Frown and Lower." 103 
 
 be; he began to feel tired; in short, if ever a boy was 
 at a loss, it was our hero. The rain did cease to pour 
 down after a time, but it only gave place to a dense 
 wall of mist which shut him up on every side, and 
 through which he groped his way without the slightest 
 trace to guide him. 
 
 Nevertheless, he did not allow himself to lose 
 courage. Worse things had happened to him in his 
 life, and would happen yet, he had no doubt. There 
 was even something romantic and not disagreeably 
 exciting in his situation. I can't spare room to de- 
 scribe it at length, nor, indeed, can one afford to throw 
 away such a chance for a piece of fine description upon 
 an insignificant story like this ; but, if you will take 
 the trouble to lose yourself in a thinly inhabited 
 country any misty night, you cannot fail to see some 
 very fine effects of darkness, and experience some 
 curious sensations. 
 
 Augustus had a strong notion, though he could not 
 be quite sure of it, that he was in the neighbourhood 
 of a hill known among the country people as " The 
 Hanged Man." The legend of it declared that a cer- 
 tain wicked wight, having stolen a sheep, was leading 
 the same home by a cord, on just such a night as this, 
 when, as he was crossing a turf wall, the cord got 
 twisted round his neck, and the sheep strangled him 
 by its struggles. The story may or may not have been 
 true, but of course the ghost of this unfortunate was 
 well known to haunt the spot, and the belated youth
 
 104 Young Philosopher and Strange Phenomenon. 
 
 recalled what he had heard of this gruesome tradition. 
 He also recalled an essay on "Popular Superstitions," 
 by which he had gained a prize at school the year 
 before. 
 
 " I can well understand," he said to himself, almost 
 in the language of his essay, " how such notions arise 
 in ignorant and credulous minds. In such a scene 
 as this it takes very little imagination to give a spec- 
 tral form to every wreath of mist, and to people the 
 solitary darkness with weird mysteries. If I had to 
 spend much time alone among these hills I might find 
 that even I myself was not proof against absurd 
 fancies of this kind. Hallo ! what's that ? Oh, only 
 a sheep scampering away ! Come, I needn't begin to 
 see ghosts quite so early," declared Lord Augustus, 
 smiling complacently at the very idea of such a thing. 
 
 But, for all his smiling, he could not feel quite com- 
 fortable, now that his mind had taken up this train 
 of thought. It has been said that supernatural 
 apparitions are what none of us believe in, but all of 
 us are afraid of, sometimes, and now there was cer- 
 tainly something skeary about the scene and the sur- 
 roundings, which was not without its influence upon 
 the juvenile writer on popular superstitions. He 
 began to wish more decidedly that he were at home, 
 or could at least fall in with some dwelling or crea- 
 tures of flesh and blood. 
 
 Then, as he was struggling and splashing on, a most 
 extraordinary thing happened. On the hill above
 
 " Look, my Lord, it comes /" 105 
 
 him there suddenly shone forth through the mist a 
 red glare. It was no friendly house-light ; it moved 
 rapidly along it was coming towards him ! His 
 heart jumped into his mouth and he grasped his walk- 
 ing-stick. The thing sped on a ball of fire, sur- 
 rounded by a glowing halo but he was too much 
 amazed to observe it accurately. To his imagination 
 it took the form of a gigantic fiery dragon bearing 
 down upon him with burning eyes. For a moment 
 he stood rooted to the spot, then involuntarily turned 
 and began to retire. But ashamed of such weakness, 
 he once more faced the dragon, and, to his no small 
 relief, saw that it was moving round to his left. 
 Moreover, he could now perceive that it was some 
 distance off. As he tried to keep his eyes steadily 
 fixed upon it, repressing his alarm as much as he 
 could, though, to tell the truth, he could not restrain 
 his heart from beating a good deal faster than usual, 
 he stumbled over a large stone, and went souse down 
 on his face into a wet peat-hole. By the time that he 
 had picked himself up, recovered from his confusion, 
 rubbed the dirt from his face, and climbed out of the 
 hole, the terrible apparition had disappeared. 
 
 " This is most extraordinary ! " he said to himself 
 aloud, trying to reassure his troubled senses. "I 
 cannot have been dreaming. I saw it as plainly as I 
 see nothing now. Am I awake ? Yes. A fiery dragon ! 
 Nonsense. But there it was. Pooh! Surely the fever 
 must be coming back on me. I saw such things when
 
 106 Young Philosopher and Strange Phenomenon. 
 
 I was delirious, I think. No, it "was real enough, and I 
 am well enough, though I feel as if all my bones, and 
 my mind too, had been shaken out of their places. 
 But it could not have been real. I won't allow myself 
 to make a fool of myself. I am not going to be afraid 
 do you hear that ? It is you I am speaking to 
 that is, myself! Let us have no more of this delusion. 
 Yet how could it be a delusion, when I saw it with my 
 own eyes? Well, I am not afraid now. If it had 
 been one of these poor ignorant people, he would have 
 been scared out of his life. But I am all right, and to 
 make sure of it I will just run through the lists of the 
 axioms in Euclid." 
 
 When he had finished this task, and thus proved to 
 himself that his reason was in no way out of gear, 
 Lord Augustus was nevertheless more anxious than 
 ever to get away from a spot haunted by such curious 
 phenomena. And now he began to be aware of the 
 roar of a waterfall close by, to which, while the 
 dragon was before his eyes, his senses had paid no 
 attention, though it was loud enough to drown any 
 other sound, if sound there had been on the lonely 
 moorland. In this waterfall he believed he had a 
 landmark, and once more addressed himself to the 
 task of finding his way in the darkness. In a few 
 minutes he saw before him a tall, dark form rising 
 in the mist, and started back with a readiness which 
 showed that his nerves were not yet satisfied as to the 
 non-existence of the supernatural. But another look
 
 " You have a Nimble Wit." 107 
 
 discovered in this object nothing more alarming than 
 a telegraph post ; and he was rejoiced to find that he 
 had at last come upon a high road. Here, too, was 
 a bridge which he recognised, and knew that there 
 was nothing but two or three miles of a familiar turn- 
 pike between him and home. 
 
 And now, as he trudged along the welcome foot- 
 path, he could afford to smile at the experience 
 through which he had just passed, and took himself 
 to task for having been at all perturbed by what he 
 had seen in the mist ; though it was only a quarter 
 of an hour ago, he already began to have a very 
 misty notion of what he had seen. Laughingly he 
 repeated to himself the lines of a transatlantic poet 
 
 "Do I sleep, do I dream, 
 
 Do I wonder and doubt ? 
 Are things what they seem, 
 Or are visions abont ? " 
 
 "After all," reasoned our dripping philosopher, 
 "the explanation is no doubt very simple. One has 
 heard of the will-o'-the-wisps which are so often seen 
 flitting about marshy places. In our Irish, peat-bogs 
 the same phenomenon is naturally produced on a 
 larger scale, and, magnified through a damp mist, 
 might well alarm any traveller whose mind is not 
 fortified by the lessons of science. This was the very 
 subject I treated in my essay ; now I know by expe- 
 rience how easy it is to mistake a gaseous exhalation 
 for a fiery dragon. What a blessing it is to live in
 
 108 Young Philosopher and Strange Phenomenon. 
 
 the nineteenth century ! My respected great-grand- 
 father would have had a blood-curdling story out of 
 this adventure, to tell to the end of his life. I think 
 I could turn it to better account by -writing a scien- 
 tific paper on it." 
 
 Lord Augustus, young as he was, had no small 
 ambition for literary distinction, so he eagerly turned 
 over this idea, till it took firm hold of him. As soon 
 as he got home he would put down rough notes of 
 what had happened while it was still fresh in his 
 memory; he would read up the subject; he would 
 employ his leisure in making an essay on it, founded 
 on personal experience, which perhaps might attain 
 the distinction of being accepted by some good maga- 
 zine ; in any case, he was sure to have it printed in 
 the local paper ; then he would send copies to his 
 friends at school, and win great kudos, as a fellow who 
 had faced a fiery dragon and had not lost his senses 
 or taken to his heels, but had observed and analysed 
 it by the calm light of reason and science. 
 
 With this project growing in his mind he reached 
 the bounds of the demesne, and hurried up the short 
 avenue which led to the castle. His mind was full of 
 the proposed essay. He would set to work at it as 
 soon as he had changed his clothes and had a cup of 
 tea, asking his mother to excuse him from dinner. 
 
 He entered, and was passing through the hall, when 
 at a window commanding a view of the high road, he 
 saw his youngest brother kicking and struggling in
 
 " So Wise, so Young." 109 
 
 the arms of the nurse, who was vainly trying to per- 
 suade him to come away from this post of observation. 
 Impatient as Augustus was to record his strange expe- 
 rience, he stopped to say a word or two to the little 
 fellow. 
 
 " Now then, youngster, what's the matter? Why 
 don't you go to bed like a good boy?" he cried out, 
 making no doubt that at three years old he was 
 always good, and never failed to go to bed quietly at 
 the proper time. 
 
 " Want to see firegee. Bring back firegee, Gussy ! " 
 screamed the nobleman in petticoats, clinging to the 
 carved window-sill with obstinate little hands. 
 
 "My sweet infant, I haven't the slightest notion 
 what you are talking about," said his big brother, 
 whose mind was filled with something more important 
 than a child's fancies. 
 
 " He means the fire-engine, my lord," explained 
 nurse. " There has been a fire at some village over 
 the hills, and they telegraphed to Eathmore for the 
 engine, and it went rattling past not an hour ago all 
 blazing and fizzing, and your brother can't get it out 
 of his head." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Lord Augustus as a light dawned upon 
 him. 
 
 " Did 'oo see firegee, Gussy ? " exclaimed the child 
 in great excitement. 
 
 " Yes, I think I saw it," said his brother, and went 
 upstairs to change his clothes but not to write his
 
 110 Young Philosopher and Strange Phenomenon. 
 
 essay. He was glad he had let no one know how 
 very acute he had been in accounting for the fiery 
 apparition. For you see there is such a thing as being 
 in too great a hurry to think we have got to the bottom 
 of mysteries.
 
 THE PENITEJ4T2. 
 A STORY WRITTEN ON FOOLSCAP.
 
 THE PENITENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HERE \vas a boy at school with me -who, 
 both from his appearance and his be- 
 haviour, had the reputation of being a 
 very odd character. He had a heavy, ex- 
 pressionless face, a mouth always open as if to catch 
 flies, and small, deep- set eyes, almost as invisible as 
 those of a prize pig. His figure and dress were 
 equally unprepossessing. His long and awkward 
 limbs constantly outgrew his clothes, which, to begin 
 with, were not of the best fitting ; but if the most 
 skilful tailor in the world had undertaken to disguise 
 his deficiencies, he was one of those fellows who never 
 can be made to look tidy. His garments, ill-matched, 
 stained, and patched, always seemed to have been 
 huddled on at random ; his boot-laces were for ever 
 hanging about his heels; his neck-tie was like a 
 badly knotted rope ; his linen had the secret of being 
 crushed almost as soon as it was put on ; his buttons 
 
 9
 
 114 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 were in a constant state of disagreement with their 
 corresponding holes; and as for soap and water, his 
 dislike of such worldly vanities was only too conspi- 
 cuous. The more ragged, unkempt, and unwashed he 
 was, the more at ease he seemed to feel; he was a 
 lazy, sit-still sort of a lad, and after a fashion had a 
 great notion of comfort. It was understood that in 
 cold weather he was wont to supplement his ordinary 
 clothes by stuffing newspapers beneath his waistcoat ; 
 and when he was seen looking unusually blue and 
 shivery, with his great hands covered with chilblains 
 and two or three inches of wrist sticking out of the too 
 short sleeves of his jacket, it was a great joke open 
 to the smallest boys in the lowest form, to ask him 
 whether he had on the Times or the Standard that 
 morning ; while some facetious youth would tell him 
 that to go about in nothing but a Punch or a 
 Chambers' Journal would give him his death of cold. 
 On one occasion, being examined, he actually was 
 found to be stuffed throughout with sheets of foolscap 
 which had been used at an examination. This 
 original was called Thomas Capper, but he could not 
 be expected to escape some nickname alluding to his 
 peculiarities, so, after the last-mentioned episode in 
 his history, he was christened Foolscap, and known 
 by that name all the rest of his schooldays. It was 
 generally understood that Foolscap was " not quite 
 right " in his head. 
 This poor lad should never have been sent to a
 
 " His Name's Poor Tom." 115 
 
 large school, for schoolboys are apt to be sadly cruel 
 and thoughtless towards faults such as his, and the 
 effect of their rough treatment is often to crush all 
 spirit and self-respect out of a character already too 
 deficient in this respect. Yet our queer Foolscap was 
 not easily to be crushed. Though not very wise, he 
 was a philosopher in his way, inasmuch as he took 
 things very coolly and pursued his own eccentric 
 courses without seeming to care much for other 
 people's opinion. I remember one amusing instance 
 of the stolidity that stood him in such good stead in 
 the many trials which would have made another boy's 
 life miserable. At dinner, some fellow who was 
 helping a roly-poly pudding thought fit to send Tom 
 Capper the end piece with no jam in it, which was 
 considered among us a high injury and insult not to 
 be put on any person of importance. When the 
 despised portion was set before him, Foolscap took it 
 on his fork, and held it up for public examination, 
 with such an unconsciously comical look of protest 
 and disapproval, that all the fellows at that end 
 of the table burst out laughing, and so would you, 
 if I could give you any idea of his air and gesture 
 as we saw him. Unfortunately, our master, Mr. 
 Vialls, saw him also, his attention being called by 
 the unusual outburst ; and he said sternly 
 
 " Capper, will you speak to me after dinner? and in 
 the meanwhile behave yourself as like a gentleman as 
 you can."
 
 116 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 "Very well, sir," said Foolscap calmly, and once 
 more addressed himself to the book he had been 
 reading before he was thus interrupted in his studies. 
 
 After this we looked at him with the interest one 
 takes in a pig marked out from his companions for 
 killing, and we were not a little surprised to see him 
 apparently as unconscious of his imminent fate as 
 the pig is of the butcher. Mr. Vialls was known to 
 be very strict about orderly behaviour at table, and to 
 speak to him was a euphemism for an interview the 
 prospect of which would effectually take away the 
 appetite of most boys. But Foolscap did not put 
 himself out. Setting to work on his unsavoury share 
 of the pudding, since better might not be, he pro- 
 ceeded to eat it with the utmost deliberation, at the 
 same time devouring his book, a mouthful and a 
 sentence time about. It was a book of Natural His- 
 tory, I think, for our friend was fond of promiscuous 
 reading, though he was supposed to remember very 
 little of what he read; anyhow, we conceived a certain 
 amused admiration for a boy who was able to give his 
 mind to any book at such a time, and to eat suet 
 pudding steadily with the sword of Damocles, so to 
 speak, hanging over his head. 
 
 Grace was said, and most of the company rushed 
 off to their various avocations without delay. But 
 the doomed Tom sat down to finish his pudding quite 
 at his ease, and two or three of us hung near the 
 door watching him. Now he proceeded more slowly
 
 "AWs Well that Ends Well" H7 
 
 than ever, keeping each morsel suspended for a 
 minute on the way to his open mouth, -while he 
 digested the description of a camel or a dromedary. 
 He seemed not to be in the slightest hurry ; and it 
 was only to be hoped that Mr. Vialls was of the same 
 mind. Regardless of the clatter of plates and the 
 bustling of the servants around him, he went on 
 enjoying himself in his own fashion, till at last he 
 came to the end both of his chapter and his plateful, 
 whereupon he shut up the book, turning down a leaf 
 to mark the place, and after carefully clearing off the 
 last crumbs of the pudding which had brought him 
 into trouble, rose and shuffled away leisurely as if to 
 keep an ordinary engagement. 
 
 But when some of us asked him later in the day 
 how he had fared at the hands of our strict master, he 
 half shut his little eyes, as if trying to collect his 
 thoughts, and said in the most matter-of-fact way 
 
 "Oh, by-the-bye, I quite forgot to go to him." 
 
 " "Well, you are a cool hand ! " was the opinion of 
 his interlocutor. " If I were you, Foolscap, I should 
 put on my thickest suit of brown paper before old 
 Vialls remembers, for he will be after refreshing your 
 memory in fine style, my boy." 
 
 After all, however, Mr. Yialls, for once in a way, 
 must have forgotten this appointment made by him, 
 for Master Tom heard no more of the matter, and 
 had the laugh on his side this time. 
 
 Indeed, the laugh was not always against Fools-
 
 118 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 cap, for, with all his lackadaisical air of indifference, 
 there were occasional flashes of sly and even spiteful 
 humour in him, which gave some cause to suspect 
 that he was not such a fool as he seemed, if he would 
 only take the trouble to show it. But as a rule he 
 played to perfection the part of butt to his sharper 
 companions, and especially to my particular crony 
 Lionel Mansfield and myself, who thought ourselves 
 very fine fellows, and were pleased to air our rude wit 
 upon this great stupid harmless lout, two or three 
 years our senior, and yet sticking helplessly at the 
 bottom of the form of which we were for a time 
 moderately distinguished ornaments. Need I relate 
 all the tricks and teasings with which we did our best 
 to ruffle the even tenor of his life ? how we used to 
 hide his pens and pencils for the mere fun of seeing 
 him bite his fingers, his common way of expressing 
 that he was troubled and at a loss how we would 
 half coax and half bully him into carrying our books 
 and otherwise acting as a beast of burden for us 
 how we tried to torment him when engaged in his 
 favourite pursuit of making nets, that we might have 
 the satisfaction of hearing him appeal to us in his 
 breaking voice that ludicrously alternated between a 
 squeak and a growl : " Shut up, and let me do my 
 net ! " which we declared that he pronounced exactly 
 in the tones of the scale do re mi fa sol-la 
 ci do,- the fact being that poor Foolscap had no more 
 music in his soul than a
 
 "But let our Plot go Fonvard" 119 
 
 Enough! All selfish and thoughtless boys know 
 only too well the many ways in which we could annoy 
 such a tempting subject for annoyance. Let such 
 boys take note that I, for one, am heartily ashamed 
 now of many things which I did in my boyhood, and 
 that I write in hope to make some of my readers 
 ashamed of some of their doings at school while it is 
 yet not too late to amend them. 
 
 In due time the holidays came round, and Lionel 
 Mansfield's mother had taken a house for the summer 
 at Torcombe, on the Devonshire coast, and I was 
 asked to spend a fortnight there with my friend, and 
 of course I went, and we two enjoyed ourselves to our 
 hearts' content, bathing, rowing, fishing off the pier, 
 scrambling on the hills, and, in short, partaking of 
 all the pleasures of this picturesque and popular 
 seaside resort. And two or three days after my 
 arrival, as Lionel and I were lounging arm-in-arm 
 down the narrow, old-fashioned High Street on our 
 way to the Parade, where the band played, who 
 should appear before us but Tom Foolscap, dressed in 
 a new suit of light clothes, which Lionel at once pro- 
 nounced to be made of blotting paper, and which had 
 already contracted sundry stains and blotches. He 
 was walking with a young lady in spectacles, whose 
 face was otherwise an improved image of his own; 
 but when he saw us, he left her and came up with a 
 silly grin as his wont was. 
 "Hallo, Foolscap, you here?"
 
 120 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 " Yes, I'm here," said Tom, stumbling back out of 
 reach, as Lionel tried to knock off his cap by way 
 of salutation. 
 
 Then we stood looking at each other, not knowing 
 what to say next, till Lionel said, nodding towards 
 the young lady in spectacles 
 
 " I suppose that is one of the Miss Foolscaps?" 
 
 "Look here, Mansfield," spluttered out our school- 
 fellow with unexpected energy, "you shouldn't say 
 that. If you call my sister any of your names, I 
 won't go with you." 
 
 "Nobody asked you, sir," quoth Lionel, and we 
 both burst out laughing. As if a fellow like a Fools- 
 cap could be supposed to have the feelings of his kind, 
 and as if we cared whether or no he bestowed upon 
 us the pleasure of his society ! So Tom turned and 
 shuffled off after his sister, and we went on our way, 
 thinking no more of this encounter, except it might 
 be to wonder at the presumption of such a person in 
 coming to the same place as was honoured by our 
 patronage. 
 
 But, after all, it was the holidays, when boys are 
 not ill-pleased to meet their school acquaintances, 
 especially where there is no great choice of com- 
 panions ; so at our next falling in with Foolscap we 
 were more gracious to him, and allowed him the plea- 
 sure of our society, and he seemed content to be with 
 us on such terms as he was accustomed to. Our rage 
 at that time was for shooting. Lionel and I had each
 
 "Heigho! the Wind and the Rain." 121 
 
 provided ourselves with a strong catapult a dan- 
 gerous instrument only too well known to most school- 
 boys and a little magazine of small bullets. Thus 
 armed, we would sally forth among the cliffs, in the 
 fond hope of being able to kill a seagull, and our 
 humble friend was taken with us on such excursions, 
 to carry the bag if necessary. This appointment 
 proved a sinecure, for we never succeeded in securing 
 any game but a dead dog washed on shore by the 
 tide. There were other ways, however, in which 
 Foolscap could make himself useful. "We often got 
 him to stand and be shot at, promising him a bottle 
 of gingerbeer if either of us succeeded in hitting him 
 three times running. It was not bad fun, though I 
 daresay he would have enjoyed better some other way 
 of spending his holidays. But he did not complain, 
 and we were not accustomed to take his feelings or 
 wishes much into consideration. So the time went 
 by, and my fortnight was drawing to an end only too 
 soon. 
 
 The worst of Torcombe is the weather, for that part 
 of the country is wont to use its watering-pot some- 
 what freely at all times of the year, and its visitors 
 must lay their account to stay indoors pretty often, 
 unless they don't mind being drenched to the skin. 
 One wet, windy afternoon, Lionel and I, for want of 
 anything better to do, had repaired to our bedroom 
 at the top of the house, where, sitting by the open 
 window in our shirt-sleeves, we were amusing ourselves
 
 122 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 by shooting "with our catapults, and compounding the 
 refreshment of sherbet in a tea-cup. The Mansfield's 
 house was one of a little terrace just outside the town ; 
 in front ran the high road, and beyond was the sea, 
 and a wide view of the rocky coast on either hand. 
 Game proved scarce that afternoon ; not a cat or a 
 bird showed itself as a mark for our skill, so we had 
 to content ourselves with trying to hit a mile-stone on 
 the other side of the road, and were thus engaged, 
 when two figures hove in sight, struggling along the 
 footway under an umbrella. 
 
 " I declare it's Tom Foolscap and his sister," cried 
 Lionel, as they came nearer. " What a lark it would 
 be to put a shot through that Gamp of theirs ! " 
 
 " You might hit her," I said ; and, after all, neither 
 of us was rude enough to run the risk of hurting a 
 young lady ; so she and her brother were to be allowed 
 to pass our battery in peace. 
 
 But, as ill luck would have it, he hung behind his 
 companion for a minute, and stopped right opposite 
 our house to tie up his bootlace on that very mile- 
 stone. Then the temptation was too strong to be 
 resisted. Both of us let fly at him, and had the satis- 
 faction of seeing the mud splatter up from a puddle 
 close beside the mile- stone, showing that we were not 
 so far out in our mark. 
 
 Tom deliberately turned round and looked about 
 to see whence these missiles might have come. But 
 before he got his little eyes fixed on our windows we
 
 HIT 
 
 Page 125.
 
 " A Hit, a very Palpable Hit." 125 
 
 bad ducked down and kept our chuckling faces out of 
 sight till we thought it might be safe to peep out 
 again. 
 
 Now we saw that Tom had done with his bootlace, 
 and was beginning to shamble after his sister, who 
 stood some little way further on, waiting for him. 
 
 " Give him another broadside ! " laughed Lionel. 
 " Eeady ! present ! fire ! " 
 
 "Whiz went the catapults ; and what was our horror 
 to see Tom suddenly stop, reel, and stagger against 
 the wall, putting up his hands to his head ! His sister 
 gave a cry and ran towards him. Down went both 
 our heads quicker than before, but it was with no 
 laughing faces that we looked at each other beneath 
 the window-sill. 
 
 " I say ! he must have been hit on the head." 
 
 "Never mind; his head is too thick to be easily 
 hurt," said Lionel, with an affectation of indifference, 
 but it was plain to both of us that we had gone beyond 
 a joke this time. 
 
 We stole another look at what was going on. Tom 
 lay on the ground, with his back against the wall, and 
 his head drooping forward. His sister was applying 
 a handkerchief to his temples, and bending down as 
 if to catch what he said in a low, faint voice. No 
 doubt he was telling her how it had happened. She 
 turned and looked up at our windows, whereupon 
 down again went our heads, as quick as ever a rabbit 
 popped into its hole.
 
 126 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 " Shall we not go out and see what's the matter ? " 
 I suggested, in my contrition. 
 
 " No ; what good could we do ? " was Lionel's opinion. 
 " There will be lots of people to look after him." 
 
 And, indeed, a small group was already gathering 
 round the scene of the accident. Taking all care not 
 to be seen, we anxiously watched the results of our 
 thoughtlessness, and saw a servant-maid running out 
 with a glass of water from one of the adjoining houses, 
 then a couple of street boys appearing from nobody 
 knew where to take part in the excitement, and a 
 benevolent-looking old gentleman picking his steps 
 across the muddy road towards the spot. Our idle 
 afternoon's work was about to become a matter of 
 public notoriety ; and if Lionel felt as I did, he would 
 have given half his holidays to be safe out of this 
 scrape. But Miss Capper did not wish her brother to 
 remain on the road as an object of sympathy for a 
 staring crowd. One of the little basket carriages 
 which stand for hire in the streets of Torcombe came 
 rattling up at this moment. She hailed it ; with the 
 assistance of the driver poor Tom was tenderly raised 
 and deposited on the back seat in an apparently 
 helpless state. Then, before the above-mentioned 
 members of the public were able to satisfy their 
 curiosity, the carriage was rapidly driven off, leaving 
 Lionel and me in a state of mind which to use the 
 phrase so convenient for story-tellers may be better 
 imagined than described.
 
 "Tis Good to be Merry and Wise." 127 
 
 Now, boys, I have so often written for your amuse- 
 ment, that you must agree I have earned the right to 
 inflict upon you a fair share of good advice, so clear 
 the decks and pipe all hands for the moral of our 
 story, which has a better chance of being listened to 
 here, half-way, than when we come into port at the 
 end of it. "While you are waiting to know what was 
 the result of our unlucky shot, I will take the oppor- 
 tunity of telling you that these catapults of yours are 
 very dangerous and objectionable instruments. It is 
 all very well to say boys will be boys to be sure they 
 will, but there is a difference in boys. Some boys 
 delight in doing mischief and causing pain, and sooner 
 or later contrive to burn their own fingers pretty 
 severely through their silly tricks. Others, just as 
 fond of fun and frolic, are lucky enough to have 
 learned that no amusement is worth much, the end of 
 which is trouble for their neighbours or for themselves. 
 Such boys I wish all my readers to be. So I ask you 
 at least to read my next chapter very carefully, and 
 mark what a price my friend and I had to pay for our 
 afternoon's piece of thoughtless fun. If you don't 
 choose to profit by the lesson, and ever get into similar 
 trouble, I, for one, wash my hands of the conse- 
 quences ; and when you are learning in the way that 
 fools must be taught, you cannot say that you were not 
 warned by "Kind Words." This is the end of the 
 moral, but the story is to be continued.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 H, Lionel, is he killed, do you think ? " I 
 exclaimed in horrified accents. 
 
 " Nonsense ! He can't be so bad as all 
 that. He is only stunned. He will be all 
 right to-morrow." So my friend kept saying loudly, 
 in the vain hope of persuading himself and me that 
 he was speaking the truth ; but his looks belied his 
 tones, and he might as well have confessed at once 
 that he was in a great fright. 
 
 All enjoyment was over for both of us. The more 
 we thought over our predicament the worse it seemed, 
 as we began to realise the consequences of what we 
 had done. For this we were honestly sorry, but we 
 were more honestly apprehensive when we considered 
 what would now be done to us. Every moment we 
 might expect to see Capper's wrathful parent arrive to 
 demand our condign punishment, accompanied, per- 
 haps, by the officers of justice, for it was clearly no
 
 " Fly Brother, Fly." 19 
 
 common injury which we had inflicted on our unfor- 
 tunate schoolfellow. When a policeman came saunt- 
 ering by on the road, our hearts jumped at least, I 
 know mine did and our guilty consciences put the 
 worst interpretation on a casual glance which he 
 directed towards our house. He was going to stop 
 to cross the road no ! he passed on, and I drew my 
 breath more freely. Yet I half wished it could be got 
 over at once, seeing that it must come sooner or later. 
 It could not be concealed that we were the culprits ; 
 Tom Capper would know that, even if no one else had 
 detected us ; and in such a serious manner, we should 
 be certain to be called to account. Heartily we re- 
 pented of our folly, and our repentance grew more 
 acute as often as a footstep without, or a knock at 
 the door, gave the alarm that our accusers might be 
 at hand. 
 
 It must have been about an hour, and it appeared 
 much longer, that we remained in this state of sus- 
 pense, and still no accusers arrived. We kept our- 
 selves in the bedroom, not knowing where else to go ; 
 and, indeed, at first we had not the courage to take 
 counsel upon any means of getting away from our 
 danger ; it seemed the only thing to be done, to wait 
 till it came to find us. But at last we could stand 
 it no longer. Heedless of the weather, we stole out 
 of the house without any very definite intentions as to 
 how we should keep out of the way for a time. Thus, 
 like Achilles, and a great many other unfortunates 
 
 10
 
 130 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 since his day, we found ourselves wandering " sadly 
 by the sounding shore." And the very first thing we 
 did was to break these unlucky catapults to pieces, and 
 sink them with all our store of pellets to the tangled 
 bottom of the deepest pool left by the out-going tide. 
 If we could but as easily have destroyed all the 
 evidence that would be brought against us ! 
 
 There was a cave or hole in the rocks, which we had 
 been in the habit of looking on with great interest as 
 a resort of smugglers in the good old romantic days 
 that we understood to have existed at some indefinite 
 period between the Norman conquest and our own in- 
 fancy. Judging by the size of their place of refuge, 
 they must have been rather stunted smugglers and in 
 a very small way of contraband business, but then at 
 twelve years of age the imagination is large enough to 
 comprehend greater difficulties. It seemed fit that in 
 our present plight we should seek such a shelter as 
 this, the associations of which were thus in harmony 
 with our own circumstances. So into the rocky recess 
 we crept, I cannot now be quite sure whether with a 
 certain notion of hiding ourselves from our pursuers, 
 or of doing penance for our crime, or chiefly to escape 
 from the pelting rain without ; and there for two or 
 three hours we crouched, uncomfortably enough to 
 have satisfied Don Quixote or Amadis de Gaul in their 
 melancholy madness, sitting on the slimy rock with- 
 out being able to hold our heads upright, and suffering 
 the wet to trickle down our backs with a resignation
 
 "Is this the Laic? " 131 
 
 produced by the consciousness that we had deserved 
 worse than this. In this appropriate situation we 
 opened our hearts to each other, and no longer feigned 
 to be indifferent to the calamity which we had brought 
 on ourselves. 
 
 Our ideas of justice were simple but all the more 
 terrible. Now that I am grown-up, I know that should 
 I be so unfortunate as to injure a fellow creature in 
 life or limb, there would be still some chance of my 
 being able to escape the consequences of my action. I 
 should have a right to deny the charge, and might hire 
 a clever lawyer to throw dust in the ey^s of the jury, 
 to bully and confuse the witnesses against me, to pre- 
 sent, if necessary, the injured prosecutor as a malici- 
 ous villain, in short to make the truth of the case look 
 a lie for my benefit. But we were only a couple of 
 ignorant and artless schoolboys, careless enough, I 
 fear, about doing right; yet believing that, if we had 
 done wrong, the only thing for it was to confess 
 honestly when taxed by the proper authorities, and 
 submit as patiently as might be to the punishment 
 which found us out. We never supposed that our 
 elders would take a more sophisticated view of the 
 matter, or that we should get any encouragement in 
 telling or acting a lie before a magistrate rather than 
 a master. In this case we could scarcely escape sus- 
 picion, and to be suspected in such a serious matter 
 was to be accused, and to be accused was, in our eyes, 
 to be convicted, and to be convicted was what ?
 
 132 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 That was the point on which we were much in want 
 of information. The operations of the criminal law 
 were unknown, and therefore appalling to us. "We 
 could only take the cold comfort of vague guesses at 
 the magnitude of the danger in which we stood. I 
 fancied to have read in the newspapers of some man 
 who had got ten years at the treadmill for aggravated 
 assault. Lionel was almost certain that a poacher of 
 his acquaintance had been transported for life after 
 nearly killing a gamekeeper. These vague reminis- 
 cences did not cheer us up. I preferred to dwell on 
 the thought that if Capper got better soon, we might 
 be let off with the option of a fine ; I had heard the 
 phrase used by my father, but could not recall the 
 facts of the case to which it referred. Poor Tom 
 Capper we hoped in any case that he would get 
 better soon ! We did not call him Foolscap now ; his 
 misfortune seemed to entitle him to be thought of with 
 respect, and spoken of by his real name. 
 
 " They never hang fellows under fourteen ; I am 
 sure they don't," broke out Lionel, suddenly and un- 
 connectedly, putting his head close to mine, and then 
 looking away again, as if afraid of what he had said. 
 He was answering a thought rather than a speech of 
 mine, and I drew a long breath. Then we both sat 
 silent for a little, listening to the mournful sound of 
 wind and waves without, and to the drops splashing 
 dismally on the rock within. It was the gloomiest 
 afternoon of my little life.
 
 " Oh Woeful Sympathy! Piteous Predicament.'" 133 
 
 But our own thoughts were not agreeable enough 
 to he long indulged ; rather, like two shivering 
 wretches, we were fain to huddle our minds together 
 to keep a little spark of warmth in them. Presently 
 we found ourselves discussing the matter in its surgical 
 aspects, according to our lights. We agreed that the 
 poor fellow had fallen senseless on the road, but of 
 what injury this might be the symptom we were in 
 some doubt. Lionel mentioned concussion of the 
 brain, a case of which had come under his own obser- 
 vation, that of a boy who was struck on the head by 
 a cricket ball, and had to have all his hair shaved off, 
 and was not allowed to do any lessons for nearly a 
 year afterwards. This last feature struck us as a 
 favourable one, for we were sure Tom Capper would 
 bear no malice on account of any hurt which procured 
 him such an agreeable form of cure. My accomplice 
 smiled feebly when I suggested that poor Tom had 
 not much brain to be seriously injured ; I had scarcely 
 said it before I felt that this was not an occasion for 
 joking, and hastened to make up for my want of 
 sympathy by opining that our victim had perhaps 
 had one of his eyes knocked out. But this supposi- 
 tion called up such a ludicrous picture of his face 
 with the additional blemish of having only one eye, 
 that I again felt it to be out of place, and gave up 
 speculating on the precise nature of Tom's wound. 
 It was only too clear to us now that a lead bullet 
 could not violently impinge upon the thickest skull
 
 134 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 without doing considerable harm. If we had but 
 thought of that before ! 
 
 Then came moral considerations. We careless, 
 rattle-brained urchins, had been suddenly sobered. 
 If I were making up a story such as I have read in 
 so many good little books, I would represent Lionel 
 and myself as repenting in due form, and giving 
 utterance to the most correct and elegantly expressed 
 sentiments, but we didn't. Yet if some preacher or 
 teacher had been able to put our thoughts into words 
 for us, they might have proved not unedifying. 
 Indeed, I think we said to each other more than boys 
 usually say in such a strain, and more than I choose 
 to repeat here. One thing we promised ourselves : 
 if Tom Capper got over this accident, we would not 
 only never tease him again, but would do our little 
 best to protect him against all ill-usage. Other good 
 resolutions we made, openly or inwardly; the wind 
 was blowing hard at the time, and such resolutions 
 are easily carried away, but it may be that we kept 
 some of them. 
 
 As evening drew on, the cold and wet made us 
 consider that no dungeon could be much more uncom- 
 fortable than our present place of voluntary confine- 
 ment. So we concluded to go home and face it out, 
 even if it might mean being haled off to prison with- 
 out our tea or our night-shirts. "We drew our cramped 
 limbs out of the cave, and slunk back by the wet 
 sand, on which the tide was now as low as our spirits.
 
 " Fear each Bush an Officer." 135 
 
 We half expected to find the local police on the watch 
 for us at the entrance of the town. It would not have 
 astonished us to see the walls placarded with a bill 
 offering a reward for our apprehension. The few 
 persons we met seemed to look at us curiously, as if 
 informed already of our offence. So with downcast 
 looks we made our way along the less frequented side 
 of the road. All the spirit had gone out of us as 
 completely as the starch had been washed out of our 
 collars. 
 
 We arrived unchallenged at the Mansfield's house, 
 and nervously presented ourselves in the drawing- 
 room. Somewhat to our surprise, no one had a word 
 to say to us about what had happened ; Capper's 
 friends had not yet brought their complaint. It was 
 no unusual thing for us to come home wet and late. 
 It was, however, unusual for either of us to miss the 
 hour of tea, and still more remarkable that we then 
 should not be eager for that of supper. We affirmed 
 that we were not hungry, and Mrs. Mansfield, at once 
 suspecting that there was something wrong, discovered 
 that we both lookedpale. A cross-examination followed, 
 in which neither Lionel nor I would confess to unripe 
 plums, and stood still more steadily out against the 
 charge of surreptitious cigars, suggested by Lionel's 
 elder brother. His mother, therefore, summarily 
 convicted us of having caught some sort of cold, and 
 condemned us both to appropriate remedies. She 
 was a believer in homceopathy, and never went from
 
 136 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 home unprovided with a store of little pills with big 
 names. In the present case she thought right to 
 administer spirit of camphor upon a lump of sugar, 
 and there was another drug which we were to take 
 the first thing in the morning. I submitted readily 
 to her prescription, as it gave me an excuse for 
 going early to bed. But ah ! what drops and globules 
 could minister to the ease of a disordered mind. 
 
 I lay awake more than half the night, turning 
 over in nay restless thoughts what had happened and 
 would happen. I mentally composed several versions 
 of the letter in which I must inform my people at 
 home of the dreadful cloud that had overcast my 
 holidays. I recalled all Tom Capper's good points, how 
 patient he was, and harmless, and how easily pleased ; 
 I thought we had indeed been a set of brutes to tor- 
 ment him so much. I wondered if he were at that 
 moment tossing about in pain of body, with his sorrow- 
 ing relatives standing anxiously around him, speaking 
 bitterly of Lionel and me. Whatever might be his 
 sufferings, I felt that I would willingly change places 
 with him, and had for the first time some insight into 
 the truth of a maxim, it is better to be injured than to 
 injure, which I had come across in the study of that 
 celebrated moral and philosophic author Delectus, the 
 profundity of whose reflections is only equalled by the 
 versatility with which he touches on every interest 
 of life. I reproached myself for having been but too 
 indifferent to theprecepts of the good and wise if I had
 
 " The Miserable have no other Medicine." 137 
 
 only paid more attention to my Delectus, and less to 
 such follies as those fatal catapults with which Lionel 
 and I had murdered sleep ! He pretended to be snoring, 
 but I believe he was as wakeful as myself. At last, 
 when the early morning was rubbing his dull eyes and 
 stretching himself on the eastern tors preparatory to 
 getting up, I was able to fall asleep and have bad 
 dreams. The wronged and wounded Foolscap sat 
 heavy on my slumbering senses. 
 
 But I was up early, and Lionel and I were down 
 first of all the family to get a look at the little local 
 paper which came in that morning. With eager 
 haste we opened it, expecting to see on every page 
 some such heading in large capitals as FRIGHTFUL 
 
 ATROCITY AT CLIFFBOROUGH TERRACE, Or, SERIOUS OUT- 
 RAGE UPON A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, with an account of 
 Tom's condition and a statement that the police 
 had a clue to the offenders. But no ! there was not 
 a word about us in the paper from beginning to end, 
 except in the stereotyped visitors' chronicle, where we 
 had been so proud to figure, though incorrectly, as 
 " The Masters Mansfield (2)." Tom's accident had 
 at least not been made public. What were his family 
 about ? Now, if I had been knocked down and 
 rendered senseless, my father would not have let the 
 sun go down without bringing the assailants to book. 
 This state of things was so strange and perplexing, 
 and we were so uneasy, that we began to think of 
 taking some older and more experienced person into
 
 138 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 our confidence, and soon agreed that the best person 
 before whom to lay our case -would be Lionel's big 
 brother Alfred. 
 
 So, after breakfast, when Alfred went into the gar- 
 den to smoke his pipe, we followed him and told him 
 our story, expecting his sympathy and advice. But 
 Alfred was just at that age when he could not afford 
 to show much sympathy for the tricks of schoolboys, 
 and I am not sure he was old enough to warrant his 
 advice as particularly valuable. Meekly, however, 
 we submitted ourselves to his judgment. And like 
 some other people who happen not to have made 
 fools of themselves for the time being, he was some- 
 what hard upon us who had. We had made a nice 
 mess of it, he told us more than once, as if we didn't 
 know that already ! It was a good thing we were not 
 in jail, and serve us right too ! Well, of course, we 
 must take the consequences of what we had done, 
 and we might depend upon it we had not heard the 
 end of the matter. The most sensible thing we 
 could now do would be to go right up to the Capper's 
 house, find out how Tom was, and confess frankly 
 our share in the business, with whatever apologies 
 and promises for the future we could use to soften the 
 heart of Mr. Capper senior. Otherwise, the next 
 thing would be a summons to the police-court, and 
 we might think ourselves lucky if we escaped that, in 
 any case. It was mainly a question of how far Tom 
 Capper had been injured ; and after knocking him
 
 " Go o?i ; ril Follow Thee" 139 
 
 over senseless on the road, it would only be decently 
 civil to call and ask how he was. This was Alfred's 
 opinion, and we were obliged to own that he seemed 
 right, though both of us felt as if we would almost 
 rather have visited a den of lions than present our- 
 selves on such an errand to the family of our school- 
 fellow. 
 
 Seeing how much we were at a loss to explain our- 
 selves, Alfred volunteered to go along with us and help 
 to face the indignation of the Capper paterfamilias. 
 So off we three went straightway, two of us most 
 anxious to have the worst of the business over. 
 
 The Cappers were staying in Dovecot Place, at the 
 very top of the hill on which Torconibe is mainly 
 built, and some way from our part of the town. Under 
 the broiling sun we toiled up the narrow lanes, 
 silently speculating as to what would be the nature of 
 our reception. As we came near the top of the hill, 
 Lionel and I were thrown into some confusion to 
 meet Miss Capper coming down to the town with a 
 little basket in her hand for medicine perhaps ! She 
 turned her spectacled eyes on us for a moment, and 
 the shining glasses appeared to be filled with anger 
 and reproach ; she knew too well who we were, and 
 what we had done. "We could not meet her gaze, 
 but hung our heads in shameful sorrow. 
 
 Another turn brought us in front of Dovecot Place. 
 And there, sitting upon the gate, was Tom Capper 
 himself, all alive and kicking his heels against the
 
 140 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 rails. He bad a towel in his hand, and was luxu- 
 riously munching a green fig, which he had just taken 
 from a paper bag sticking out of his pocket. 
 
 "Are you fellows going for a bathe?" he piped 
 out in his sing-song tones, as coolly as if nothing had 
 happened. 
 
 "Weren't you hurt, then?" I asked eagerly.. " Are 
 you all right now ? " 
 
 Tom took another bite out of his fig and ruminated 
 for a moment, then growled and squeaked forth, 
 " Oh, I suppose you mean when somebody shot at me 
 with a catapult. No. You didn't hit me." 
 
 " Then why on earth ! what did you go tumbling 
 down on the ground for, like a fool ? " 
 
 " For fun," said Tom in his solemnest croak, and 
 without moTing a muscle of his countenance, but 
 away down at the bottom of his little deep-set eyes, I 
 fancied that I could see ever so small a twinkle. "I 
 thought you would like to think that you had hit me, 
 you know. And my sister said it would be good fun 
 to give you a fright." 
 
 I declare I was so much relieved to find this weight 
 off my conscience, that for the moment I scarcely 
 thought of the ludicrous aspect in which this un- 
 expected turn of affairs placed Lionel and myself. But 
 my companion in imaginary guilt was quick to feel 
 his self-esteem wounded. 
 
 " Well, Foolscap, of all the I never heard of such 
 a you are a "
 
 " This is not Altogether Fool." 141 
 
 Before, however, be could bit upon fitting epitbets 
 to apply to our schoolfellow's strange conduct, bis 
 big brother, who bad been roaring witb laughter at 
 us all this time, cut him short. 
 
 " I say, Lionel, if I were you, I shouldn't be in 
 such a. hurry to ask which of us the fool's cap fits best 
 this time. Some people, you know, are often greater 
 fools than they look, and other people sometimes look 
 greater fools than they are." 
 
 " But who would ever have thought be was the 
 fellow to play such a trick ? " 
 
 "Will you have a fig?" quoth Tom Capper witb 
 the utmost composure, holding out the bag to us, as 
 if to put an end to all discussion. So, since nothing 
 better was to be done, we laughed all round, and 
 partook of the peace offering in a friendly spirit. 
 
 After this we went off to bathe together, and for 
 the rest of the day two of us exercised vainly much 
 ingenuity in trying to persuade ourselves and other 
 people that we had not really been in such a fright 
 after all. I will not say how far our consciences 
 prompted us to behave better towards Tom Capper for 
 the future, but you may be sure that be held bail for 
 our good conduct, since, if he chose to tell this story 
 at school, we knew that we should never hear the end 
 of it. 
 
 It will certainly be agreed on all sides thaf we bad 
 had a wholesome and well-deserved lesson to be more 
 careful about what tricks we played, seeing that, in
 
 142 
 
 A Story Written on Foolscap. 
 
 tliis case, smart youths as we thought ourselves, we 
 had missed our aim, while our accustomed butt, for 
 all his stupidity, had managed to score a fair hit off 
 us. 

 
 THE BENIQHTED TRAVELLER. 
 
 AN ADVENTURE AMONG THE INDIANS.
 
 THE BENIGHTED TRAVELLER. 
 
 WAS a youth lately set free from school and 
 packed off to spend a summer in Canada, 
 partly for the sake of health, partly for 
 amusement, and partly for other reasons 
 which do not concern the reader. I had been staying 
 for some weeks with an uncle in the old Huron country. 
 I had heard much of this ill-starred tribe; I had visited 
 the sites of their once flourishing towns ; I had seen 
 bones and other relics dug out of their ancient burial- 
 places, now covered with woods or the settlements of 
 the conquering race. In my boyhood no reading 
 had been more delightful to me than the works of 
 Feninaore Cooper. Now that I was among those 
 romantic scenes of which I had dreamt so often, my 
 interest and imagination were excited to the highest 
 pitch ; in short, I had Indians on the brains, while as 
 yet I had seen only two or three Indians in the flesh, 
 and these very unsatisfactory specimens of their race, 
 
 11
 
 146 An Adventure among the Indians. 
 
 by whose degenerate manners and appearance I was 
 not to be cheated out of rny belief in the noble and 
 ferocious red man. 
 
 So I was glad to go on a visit to an old schoolfellow 
 living some hundred miles further west, in a more un- 
 settled part of the country. Here I should at last have 
 the opportunity of meeting with some real adventures. 
 I was not unprepared for scenes of terror and blood- 
 shed. My fond friends at home had furnished me with 
 a brand-new revolver for my pride and protection in 
 these perilous travels, and they had not taken the 
 precaution to withhold the ammunition. This weapon 
 dangerous in more senses than one I had worn 
 about me day and night, and was rather disappointed 
 at not yet having found an opportunity for defending 
 myself with it. 
 
 It was a long August day's journey to my friend's 
 neighbourhood. At an early hour in the morning I 
 was rowed across the lake to a railway track. There 
 was no station here ; but when the engine appeared I 
 waved my hat, and it slackened speed while I hoisted 
 my portmanteau on board and scrambled up behind 
 into the one car for passengers which ended a long 
 train of trucks. Then off we went along a single 
 track, through miles and miles of primaeval forest, a 
 wilderness of mighty trees, choked up with underwood 
 and gay with rank growth of purple and yellow weeds, 
 along the borders of which the grasshoppers chirped 
 so loud as to be heard above the puffing and the rat-
 
 "Frets his Hour upon the Stage." 147 
 
 tling of the train. It was pleasant to sit on the back 
 platform of the car, "with one's legs swinging over the 
 edge, feasting the eyes on this woodland beauty lit by 
 the fresh morning sun, and catching glimpses here 
 and there of the lake shining between the trees. At a 
 place where there was no sign of men or cultivation 
 we stopped for half an hour to let a train pass us from 
 the opposite direction, and most of the passengers got 
 out to pick berries along the line. It was quite an 
 arcadian and romantic phase of railway travelling. 
 Afterwards we passed through a more cleared country, 
 which was anything but picturesque : all blackened 
 stumps, ragged fields, and unfinished villages. And 
 so we reached the little town where I was to take the 
 stage for the rest of my journey. It did not start till 
 two or three hours after the advertised time ; but in 
 Canada that is positive punctuality, and I was not 
 sorry for the rest. 
 
 The stage was the most tedious and fatiguing part 
 of the journey. You must understand this vehicle to 
 be as unlike as possible to a well-appointed English 
 stage-coach. It was a rickety waggon, covered with 
 leather curtains, and containing sitting, or rather 
 squeezing, room for nine persons, upon three bare 
 planks, of which the back one was uncomfortable, the 
 front one more uncomfortable, and the one in the 
 middle the most uncomfortable seat that human in- 
 genuity could devise. Luckily, I had this caravan to 
 myself, save for a pile of parcels in the corner, and
 
 148 An Adventure among the Indians. 
 
 was able to make the best of it, but bad was the best. 
 Thirty miles of such conveyance are a sore trial for 
 the unseasoned stranger, who soon finds himselt 
 cramped and cross, and wearier in mind and body than 
 if he had walked all the way. I did walk some part 
 of the way, as the stage progressed not more than five 
 miles an hour, in spite of a great deal of whipping and 
 shouting on the part of the driver, and there were halts 
 on the way to change horses and deliver parcels, which 
 gave me a start. The driver was a negro, and, like 
 many other negroes in this free country, a sulky, 
 uncommunicative fellow, who seemed to resent any 
 approaches to civility on the suspicion of condescen- 
 sion, so that I was left mainly to my own thoughts 
 and observations. 
 
 Our dusty road lay, for the most part, through a 
 belt of new clearings in a rough, undulating district. 
 On either side the view was monotonously shut in by 
 gloomy woods full of smouldering piles where the 
 settlers were destroying the timber. Here and there 
 we came upon a recently built farm or a log hut, 
 from which a group of barefooted children would come 
 out to stare at us, or a mongrel cur run yelping after 
 us till he was out of breath. Harvest was over, and 
 the bare fields, with their stiff snake fences, added to 
 the dreariness of the general aspect of the country. 
 It seemed as if the wild beauties of nature had been 
 spoiled, and not yet replaced by a face smiling with 
 the associations of home and culture. But perhaps it
 
 Remote, Unfriended, Melancholy, Sloiv. 149 
 
 was the jolting that put me out of humour with the 
 scenery. I know I was glad to come to the end of 
 this part of my journey, and to bid farewell to a vehicle 
 in which, if I were of a cruel disposition, I would wish 
 my deadliest enemy nothing worse than to be carted 
 from morn till dewy eve. 
 
 Towards dusk, as I had walked up a steep hill in 
 front of the stage and taken a short cut across a corner 
 of the woods, I came upon a band of hunters in real 
 forest costume, who were lighting their camp-fire and 
 preparing to spend the night in the open air. Much 
 interested, I ventured to enter into conversation with 
 these adventurous heroes, and was then somewhat 
 disgusted to learn that they were only a party of clerks 
 from Toronto, who had come to spend their holidays 
 in playing at backwoods rangers. I rejoined my lum- 
 bering vehicle with a painful suspicion that, after all, 
 there was nothing romantic left in Canadian life. I 
 had not met a single Indian, unless it were two little 
 black-haired imps who looked dirty enough to be of 
 any colour, and who burst out laughing as I passed, 
 as impudently as if they had been London street 
 Arabs. 
 
 It was almost dark when I was set down at a little 
 low tavern which, in large letters all along its white 
 front, was loftily announced as THE HYPERBOREAN 
 HOTEL. Here I learned that my friend's house was 
 still some miles off, and only to be reached by a bad 
 road through the woods. It seemed out of the question
 
 150 An Adventure among the Indians. 
 
 to go on that night ; and as the landlord, with some 
 hesitation, said I could have a bed, I resolved to stay 
 where I was, the more willingly as to sleep in such a 
 placed savoured of something adventurous to my 
 inexperienced mind. 
 
 This tavern, which was the only habitation in sight, 
 consisted of two storeys, the lower of these having two 
 rooms a kitchen behind, and a more pretentious 
 apartment, which served as hall, drawing-room, bar- 
 room, and general lounging place for the idlers of 
 the neighbourhood. The landlord, who also appeared 
 to unite in his own person the offices of cook, waiter, 
 ostler, and chambermaid, was a rough, awkward fellow, 
 who has left no other impression in my mind than a 
 vague reminiscence of long legs and shirt-sleeves. 
 There was one other guest, a weak-eyed and red-haired 
 young man, whom I found to be the schoolmaster of the 
 place, a permanent inmate of the Hyperborean Hotel, 
 at the rate of a dollar and a quarter per week. These 
 two were the only persons visible about the house. I 
 afterwards learned the probable cause of this absence 
 of custom. It was Saturday night, when, by the law 
 of that part of the world, no liquor is allowed to be 
 sold after a certain hour. 
 
 As soon as the stage had rattled off, and glad was 
 I to see the dusty back of it, my host went into the 
 kitchen and addressed himself to cooking supper. In 
 the meanwhile, the schoolmaster and I sat in the 
 front room, and he endeavoured to entertain me with
 
 "Cups that Cheer but not Inebriate." 151 
 
 conversation. He was an ambitious youth, this 
 schoolmaster, who evidently considered himself an 
 oasis of cultivation in the mental desert of backwoods 
 life, and was bent on showing the stranger that he 
 knew how to talk to a man of the world. But, to tell 
 the truth, I was too tired to pay much attention to his 
 well-meant civilities, and my thoughts were not so 
 much taken up by recognition of his superior infor- 
 mation as in wishing that supper was ready. 
 
 When the meal was at last on the table, the land- 
 lord notified the fact by standing in the doorway 
 between the two rooms and solemnly ringing a large 
 bell, a proceeding quite unnecessary, so far as we were 
 concerned, but no doubt meant as a tribute to the 
 respectability of the establishment. Thus formally 
 summoned, we went into the kitchen and sat down to 
 tea, bacon, and fried potatoes, under the cheering 
 influence of which I soon recovered my sociability and 
 gave the schoolmaster cause to think that he had 
 discovered in me a kindred spirit. The landlord sat 
 at the head of the table, still in his shirt- sleeves, and 
 we all got on very well together. My companions 
 were disposed to treat me with a certain curiosity and 
 respect as one coming from the "old country," which 
 in Canada seldom fails as a passport to goodwill. The 
 landlord was very inquisitive as to what my business 
 might be in the neighbourhood ; he could not conceive 
 of any one travelling for purposes unconnected with 
 business, and kept informing me of the excellent lots
 
 152 An Adventure among the Indians. 
 
 of land and other opportunities which he could help 
 me to. The schoolmaster, on the other hand, tried to 
 direct the conversation to the fashionable and intel- 
 lectual life of the British metropolis, of -which it 
 seemed that he "was a distant admirer. He informed 
 us, I remember, that some of the aristocracy of Eng- 
 land dined so late as six o'clock, and appealed to me 
 for confirmation. He also stated it but with less 
 confidence to be a popular delusion on that side of 
 the Atlantic that every commoner in England was 
 obliged to stand up and take off his hat whenever a 
 peer entered the room, and here again I was able to 
 inform him that, to the best of my knowledge, he had 
 not been misinformed. He was a curious little fellow, 
 and you would laugh if I could recall all his pieces of 
 information, and the complacent manner in which he 
 enunciated them. 
 
 After washing up the dishes and raking the fire in 
 the v stove, our host announced that he proposed to 
 leave us in the house by ourselves for the night, as 
 he was going to visit his wife, who was lying ill at 
 her father's, some miles off. Without further ado, 
 he set off in his shirt-sleeves, promising to be back in 
 time to get our breakfast " fixed." The young domi- 
 nie and I lit our pipes and went outside to watch the 
 silent flashes of summer lightning, at this time of 
 year an almost nightly phenomenon in these ^>arts. 
 It was pleasant enough to sit idly in the warm dark- 
 ness, listening, so to speak, to the stillness of the
 
 " Good Night, till it be Morrow." 153 
 
 woods around, broken only now and again by the 
 distant bark of a dog or the tinkling of a cow-bell. 
 But the effect on us both was somewhat somniferous ; 
 we soon began to find that we had not much to say to 
 each other, and to think of going to bed. 
 
 Just as we were about to retire I asked my new 
 acquaintance if there were any Indians about. In the 
 most matter-of-fact way he answered that a band of 
 them was at that moment camped in the wood behind 
 the house. I pricked up my ears at this news, but 
 the schoolmaster was too sleepy to notice my desire 
 for further information. To my surprise, I found he 
 was going to leave the door open. When I suggested 
 that it ought to be closed, he replied with a yawn, 
 " Well, I guess it might as well," and gave it a push 
 to with his foot. I certainly thought this a want of 
 precaution when a band of Indians were so near, but 
 I did not like to say anything that showed uneasiness, 
 and gave him the credit of knowing what was neces- 
 sary for the security of our scalps. 
 
 The schoolmaster lit two stumps of candle and led 
 the way up a narrow staircase, ascending from the 
 kitchen to the floor above. Here he showed me the 
 room which had been prepared for my accommodation, 
 and, blinking wearily, as a teacher of the rude Cana- 
 dian youth must often do, betook himself to the next 
 apartment. 
 
 Left to myself, I surveyed my apartment with no 
 great satisfaction. It was a mere closet ; a small and
 
 154 An Adventure among the Indians. 
 
 not very clean-looking bed filled half of it, and the 
 rest of the space was almost entirely choked up by my 
 portmanteau and by the furniture, which consisted of 
 nothing more or less than a stool with a washing-basin 
 on it, and an enormous drum, suggestive of anything 
 but repose. The only attempt at ornament on the 
 whitewashed walls was a framed and glazed certificate 
 of membership of an "Orange Young Britons' Lodge," 
 which further acquaintance with the country would 
 have enabled me to connect with the drum. The floor 
 was uncarpeted and full of knots and holes. There 
 was a fusty smell, as if the room were not much used. 
 Cobwebs hanging in the corners and other signs of neg- 
 lect suggested, as the most charitable explanation, that 
 the mistress had been a long time away from home. 
 
 My short candle burning down warned me that, 
 without further examination, I must proceed to make 
 the best of these quarters. I tried to open the window, 
 but, to my disgust, it would not move ; so I had to 
 leave my door ajar to get as much fresh air as possible. 
 Then, when I came to look into the bed and feel its 
 thin, lumpy mattress and coarse sheets, I concluded 
 not to undress, but to lie down as I was, wrapping 
 myself in a Scotch plaid. And you may be sure I 
 looked to my revolver and placed it carefully under 
 my pillow. Scarcely was I settled thus, when my 
 candle guttered out, leaving me in the dark. 
 
 Tired as I was, I could not sleep. Turning restlessly 
 from side to side on my uncomfortable couch, drawing
 
 " Making Night Hideous:' 155 
 
 long breaths, trying in vain to keep a quiet mind, I 
 had soon -worked myself up into a feverish state, in 
 which sleep was out of the question for hours. The 
 air was close and sultry ; the lightning disturbed me 
 even when I resolutely closed my eyes; the house 
 seemed to be alive with rats and mice ; and above the 
 sound of their scampering, magnified by my excited 
 senses, rose steadily and provokingly the snores of the 
 schoolmaster, sleeping happily after the toils of his 
 laborious week, and making his repose only too audible 
 through the thin partition of the next room. There 
 was a mosquito or two about, also, which caused me 
 a good deal of annoyance. 
 
 Then I found my mind running upon the Indians, 
 as by a resistless fascination I recalled the most 
 horrible stories I had read of midnight attacks, of 
 scalpings, of massacres, of treachery and cruelty. 
 Was it possible to be at ease with the knowledge that 
 a band of these savages was lying within a few hun- 
 dred yards? I got up two or three times to bathe my 
 hot face in water, and, looking out of the window, 
 fancied I could distinguish the glow of camp fires in 
 the dark woods around. Were they not at that 
 moment, perhaps, putting on their war paint and 
 preparing for a stealthy onslaught on this unprotected 
 cabin. The landlord and my fellow-lodger seemed to 
 be quite unsuspicious, and they ought to know what 
 was really to be feared, yet I was not accustomed to 
 sleeping outside of a policeman's beat.
 
 156 An Adventure among the Indians. 
 
 Other images of horror arose, suggested by remini- 
 scences of European fiction. A lonely spot a con- 
 fiding traveller an unfrequented inn a landlord in 
 league -with brigands a midnight assassination an 
 unknown grave in the depths of the forest were those 
 scenes and characters wholly confined to mediseval 
 times and countries where villains were picturesquely 
 equipped with cloaks and poniards ? 1 had been too 
 rash in displaying my watch and purse ; I had noticed 
 the landlord looking with greedy eyes at my well-filled 
 portmanteau. Now that I came to think of it, he had 
 a most forbidden, treacherous expression ; and that 
 mysterious leaving of the house, with the door open, 
 too what was one to think of that ? The school- 
 master might be an accomplice. No ; the very name 
 of schoolmaster brought in modern associations quite 
 out of harmony with romantic crimes. But he might 
 easily be gagged and bound, or even knocked on the 
 head, if he tried to thwart the purpose of the ruffians. 
 And, by-the-bye, how about Eugene Aram ? 
 
 " Nonsense ! " I said to myself, sitting up, and 
 trying to shake my wits out of this creepy mood. But it 
 would have been much easier to do so if I could have 
 forgotten that a band of redskins were at that moment 
 prowling round the house, and that the landlord had 
 gone out to them in such a suspicious manner. 
 
 I suppose I must have gone off into a doze for a 
 short time, for now I had a horrible nightmare. It 
 was the landlord in full war-paint, sitting on my chest
 
 " 7 have Supped Full with Horrors." 157 
 
 and brandishing a tomahawk ; then it was the school- 
 master, attired like an Italian brigand, trying to stab 
 me through my cloak with a scalping knife ; next I 
 fancied that 1 was lying out in the woods, and that a 
 gigantic bear was devouring the deer as a cow eats 
 grass, and was coming round presently to have a taste 
 of nie. This is what comes of bacon and fried potatoes 
 indulged in too freely before bed- time. I may mention 
 that the tea I had taken was probably green tea, 
 with which Canadian inns are wont to ruin the rest of 
 their unwary guests. After a snatch of uneasy slum- 
 ber I was broad awake, arid more ready than ever to 
 entertain gruesome thoughts. 
 
 Ha ! What was that ? I could have sworn I heard 
 heavy footsteps moving in front of the house. I 
 leaped up, ran to the window, peered into the dark- 
 ness. Nothing to be seen, but the sound was repeated. 
 I knocked sharply on the window, to show that I was 
 not to be taken unprepared. The footsteps suddenly 
 ceased. Then I thought I could distinguish a low 
 whisper and a stealthy movement on the grass. If 
 that idiot of a schoolmaster would only stop snoring 
 for a little ! 
 
 For several minutes I stood listening with strained 
 ears. All was now quiet, except my suspicions. I 
 began to be certain that something was wrong, and 
 resolved to be on the look-out, at all events. They 
 should not catch me napping, and they might depend 
 on it I would sell my life dearly. Trying hard to keep
 
 158 An Adventure among the Indians. 
 
 cool and steady, I sat down on my portmanteau -with 
 the cocked revolver in my band. 
 
 I bad sat so for some time without anytbing bap- 
 pening, and bad balf made up my mind to return to 
 bed, wben again I beard tbe same noise beneatb tbe 
 windows. Tbere could be no mistake about it now. 
 Some one was certainly moving round tbe bouse. 
 Tbere came a low grunt a curious sound, tbat my 
 reading at once enabled me to identify as tbe gutteral 
 exclamation witb wbicb tbe red man calls tbe atten- 
 tion of bis comrades. Tbe perspiration stood on my 
 brow. Sbould I wake tbe scboolniaster and inform 
 bim of our danger ? 
 
 Tbey were creeping nearer. Tbey were surrounding 
 tbe door. Horror ! tbey were pusbing it open. I 
 could distinctly bear tbe slow creaking of tbe binge 
 and tbe tread of moccasined feet upon tbe floor. It 
 was no mere imagination, for now came a loud noise 
 beneatb, as if some article of furniture bad been over- 
 turned. It was a wonder tbat any one could be in tbe 
 bouse and not bear it ; but still tbe scboolniaster snored 
 on. I drew a long breatb and started up. 
 
 My resolution was taken. I need not wake my 
 fellow- lodger. One bold man could defend tbe stair 
 as well as two. Not a moment was to be lost, if an 
 effort migbt yet be made to save our scalps. Grasp- 
 ing my trusty revolver in my rigbt band, and feeling 
 my way in tbe dark passage witb my left, I stole fortb 
 and almost stumbled beadlong down tbe staircase.
 
 " Come One, Come All!' 1 159 
 
 Recovering my footing, and holding on to the rope 
 which served as baluster, I stood about half way 
 down the steps, looking firmly before me into the 
 kitchen beneath, where the only light was a dim 
 glimmer through the chinks of the stove. It was a 
 trying moment. All was now silent as death ; but, in 
 the further corner, my eager eyes could trace a dark 
 crouching form. 
 
 "Who is there?" I asked in a deep, determined 
 voice, clicking the lock of my weapon to show that I 
 was armed. 
 
 There was no answer to my challenge. 
 
 " The first man who moves a step this way shall 
 have a bullet through his head," I continued, in a 
 tone admirably calculated to overawe these midnight 
 marauders. 
 
 Still no reply, but I heard something stir. 
 
 " I have six shots here, and I never in my life 
 missed my man." This I might say very truly, as I 
 had never had a chance. " Go out," I cried, growing 
 bolder ; " leave the house or say who you are, or I 
 fire. I have given you a fair warning. One two- 
 three ! " 
 
 The dark figure moved and sprang towards me. 
 With a hasty aim I pulled the trigger. 
 
 The flash showed me nothing, for I involuntarily 
 closed my eyes as the pistol went off. The report 
 rang through the house like a miniature thunderclap. 
 It was followed by a deep groan of agony and by a
 
 160 An Adventure among the Indians. 
 
 terrible crash, as if a volcano of crockery and fire- 
 irons bad burst forth at my feet. But louder than 
 all rang the ear-piercing and heart-appalling war- 
 whoop. Never before had I heard that fearful sound, 
 save in my dreams ; yet now, in my excitement, it 
 seemed not wholly unfamiliar to me. 
 
 I stood as one stunned and amazed by the con- 
 sciousness of having, for the first time in my life, 
 shed a fellow-creature's blood ; but I had presence of 
 mind enough to keep the revolver pointed into the 
 darkness with my finger still on the trigger. The 
 schoolmaster was heard calling out in alarmed tones. 
 I shouted to him to bring a light. Then he ran out 
 in his night-shirt, holding a whole bunch of tallow 
 candles the first torch that had come to his hand. 
 The wicks spluttered and blazed up, and the 
 astonished dominie stood staring at me with open 
 mouth and eyes. He was not yet wide awake, and 
 might well be somewhat confused, but in the glow of 
 my excitement I took him for a coward, and im- 
 patiently reached out to snatch the candles from his 
 hand. So flurried was I that I only succeeded in 
 knocking them down, leaving us in darkness ; while 
 overbalancing myself I lost my footing, and fell 
 sprawling headlong down the staircase, with my re- 
 volver going off in my hand like a firework. At the 
 bottom my fall was broken by some large, rough 
 object a wild beast ! "With a struggle and a bound 
 it shook me off on the floor, and if my senses had
 
 A Sight to Dream of, not to Tell! 161 
 
 not been half knocked out of me I should have thought 
 that my last hour was come. 
 
 When I picked myself up and the schoolmaster 
 appeared with another light, we found ourselves 
 unhurt. But that it was no nightmare which had 
 thus deluded me was proved by a pool of blood into 
 which I had fallen, wofully bedabbling my hands 
 and face. Throughout the confusion strange cries 
 of pain had not ceased to make themselves heard ; 
 now the light was thrown into every corner of the 
 kitchen, and rolling on the floor we saw a thing / 
 ****** 
 
 But, at whatever cost to my own feelings, I must 
 not leave the reader in horror and mystery. Oh, 
 why did my friends trust me with firearms? The 
 band of Indians who had so much roused my imagi- 
 nation were on their way to a Methodist camp meeting. 
 A young donkey belonging to them had got loose 
 through the night, and, wandering down the road to 
 the tavern, had pushed itself in, perhaps mistaking 
 the place for a stable. The bray of that wounded 
 ass rings in my ears to this day ; and it was long 
 before I learned not to blush at the mention of my 
 first adventure among the Indians. 
 
 12
 
 THE BITER BIT. 
 
 A TALE OF A SPIDER AND A ILTt.
 
 THE BITER BIT. 
 
 in the heart of Wales there is 
 a little town called Llanbwlch, inhabited 
 mainly by some hundreds of Joneses, Prices, 
 and Williamses. An irregular heap of grey 
 stone houses, now huddled at the foot of a bleak hill, 
 now straggling along a clear trout stream, here and 
 there making a show of shaping themselves into a 
 crooked street with muddy footpaths and grass growing 
 in the rough roadway you can easily form a picture 
 of it for yourself, if you have ever been in that part of 
 the country, where there are a dozen small towns, or 
 big villages, with names as hard to pronounce, and as 
 like one another as two peas. But you have probably 
 never heard its name, so far behind the times is this 
 quiet old place, and so hidden out of the way among 
 the hills, though within half a dozen miles all is bustle 
 and business, the bare moor honeycombed with coal 
 pits, and the mountain air thick with the smoke from 
 blast furnaces and steam-engines.
 
 166 A Tale of a Spider and a Fly. 
 
 It is not easy to get to Llanbwlch. A certain 
 traveller who finally succeeded in reaching it declares 
 that he spent a whole day in the last twenty-five miles 
 of the journey. He travelled in four trains, as a rule 
 ingeniously timed so as just to miss one another, for 
 these railways seemed to be conducted on the principle 
 of a donkey race, where the object is to take as much, 
 not as little, time as possible in getting over the ground. 
 At two junctions he had to wait wearily for a longer 
 time than a moderately minded express would have 
 taken to do the whole distance. At one station the 
 guard informed him that there was a fine waterfall 
 about a quarter of a mile off, and volunteered to wait 
 while he went to see it. At another, a singular acci- 
 dent occurred : the train actually arrived at the very 
 moment it was due. The engine-driver, guard, and 
 porters clustered together in evident surprise, and 
 appeared to be earnestly consulting as to what could 
 be done in such an emergency. One ready wit must 
 have suggested that matters could be set right by 
 fooling away time in examining the tickets, which was 
 accordingly done, and the train made up its accus- 
 tomed unpunctuality. Finally, the tired traveller was 
 turned out into a vehicle dignified by the name of a 
 coach, but which looked rather like a compromise 
 between a hearse and an omnibus, and which took its 
 creaking way over such steep hills that most of the 
 passengers were continually getting off to ease the 
 horses ; so, as the Irishman said when he hired a sedan
 
 "He Sought these Wilds, Traversed by Few." 167 
 
 chair with the bottom out, but for the honour of the 
 thing, one might as well have walked all the way. It 
 was soon after breakfast that he had begun this journey 
 of no greater length than from one end of London to 
 the other, and night was drawing in when at last he 
 caught sight of the ancient tower of Llanbwlch church. 
 Such being its situation and circumstances, you may 
 well suppose that the inhabitants of this place were 
 an old-fashioned, easy-going folk, friendly enough 
 among themselves, except at election times, but not 
 taking kindly to strangers or improvements. So the 
 above-mentioned traveller found before he had been 
 long among them. He was a dentist, who had come 
 to set up at Llanbwlch, understanding that there was 
 no one in his way of business for many miles round ; 
 but he soon learned that it was not easy to extract the 
 teeth or the prejudices of the natives. Upon his new 
 brass door-plate his name was followed by a certain 
 imposing array of capital letters, signifying that his 
 skill had been duly attested by the College of Dentists, 
 but this served him little. His diploma seemed only 
 a cause for greater suspicion in the eyes of his new 
 neighbours. For half a century they had had their 
 teeth pulled out by Dr. Price; and though the old 
 gentleman was getting rather blind, and would occa- 
 sionally extract a sound grinder instead of the bad one, 
 why he had a younger assistant who didn't often 
 make mistakes and who never failed to give them a 
 good satisfactory tug for their money ; anyhow, they
 
 163 A Tale of a Spider and a Fly. 
 
 were not disposed to trust this stranger with his new- 
 fangled apparatus and unknown title. His very name 
 was a suspicious one. It was John Jarnieson, whereas 
 it ought to have been John James or James Jones. 
 They said he was a Scotchman, or at least a Yorkshire- 
 man, and were duly cautious about having any dealings 
 with him. Unfortunately, too, his appearance was 
 against him ; he was a tall, lanky, raw-boned, awk- 
 ward-looking man, with a somewhat solemn expression 
 of countenance. The boys of the town laughed at him, 
 and nicknamed him " Spider." The ladies discussed 
 him with unfavourable criticism. The men simply 
 took no notice of him or his door-plate ; and malicious 
 wits declared that his only patient was the tax-gatherer. 
 
 So for a time Mr. Jamieson did not find much 
 business in his chosen abode. His professional exer- 
 tions were not meant to be confined to Llanbwlch. He 
 tried to form a connection in the country round about, 
 and arranged to visit on market days the neighbouring 
 towns of Aberhonddhu, Pant-y-coed, and Cwmniynnyd; 
 also, by special appointment he would attend at Pend- 
 humawr, Llanfihangelystern, Pwl-Gwchellog, and 
 Bryncrwysfach. To perform these journeys he kept a 
 pony, whereby hangs our tale. 
 
 This animal was a shaggy, scrubby, stumbling beast, 
 no more adapted to conciliate public opinion than his 
 owner, and inviting scorn and ill usage even by his 
 sole virtue, a patient and downcast resignation, which 
 was the fruit of much experience in the hard roads and
 
 " An Ill-favoured Thing, but mine Own" 169 
 
 poor stables of life, and was fully called into play in 
 the service of the dentist, a kind master but a heavy 
 one. Neither of them found friends at first sight. 
 
 The field in which the said pony took such ease as 
 was permitted him, lay beside the playground of a 
 school. Now the boys of this school shared their 
 parents' want of sympathy with strangers, and if they 
 did not go the length of heaving half a brick at the new 
 comer, after the manner said to be prevalent in the 
 black country, the same barbarous sentiment inclined 
 them to consider his pony as fair game for their rnis- 
 chievotisness. Some of them set to pelting the poor 
 beast with stones, by way of expressing their unfriendly 
 opinion of strangers, and especially of dentists, a sort 
 of men whom the rising generation of Llanbwlch took 
 for cruel ogres delighting in the torture of their fellow 
 creatures. When he found his steed thus maltreated, 
 Mr. Jamieson complained and threatened, which did 
 not mend matters. Thus, without meaning the least 
 harm to any of them, the dentist became an unpopular 
 person among his juvenile neighbours, and the inno- 
 cent pony continued to suffer persecution for his 
 master's sake as well as for the mere fun of setting 
 him to scamper wildly about his narrow enclosure. 
 At last it happened that one of the boys, called Howell 
 Powell, was caught in the act by Mr. Jamieson, who 
 spoke to the schoolmaster about it, and procured for 
 this naughty urchin a rebuke or a punishment which 
 served him right.
 
 170 A Tale of a Spider and a Fly. 
 
 The culprit himself was not of this opinion. He saw 
 no great harm in his having ill-used a harmless animal; 
 but it seemed to him that the dentist had committed 
 a crime of the deepest dye in " telling " about him and 
 getting him into trouble. Our ideas of virtue have 
 often a good deal to do with our own interests ; when 
 boys are aware that the tales to be told about them will 
 not always bear telling, they naturally take a very 
 unfavourable view of the character of a tell-tale. Such 
 is juvenile morality, and Master Howell Powell, not 
 much given to analysing actions and motives, mistook 
 his private resentment for righteous indignation, and 
 thought it almost a public duty to make this con- 
 temptible person feel duly ashamed of himself. With 
 this intent, he and some of his cronies laid their heads 
 together, and, as it was about the middle of February, 
 they agreed that the best way of striking home to the 
 dentist's conscience would be by sending him a valen- 
 tine, calculated to let him know what other people 
 thought of him and what he ought to think of himself. 
 So Howell Powell, in company with his particular 
 friends, Jenkins, Watkins, Jones, and Price, visited one 
 of the chief shops of the town, in which were sold 
 stationary, tobacco, fishing-tackle, and other miscel- 
 laneous articles, but the window of which was at this 
 time of the year filled with valentines, chiefly of the 
 coarse and abusive order. From these they selected 
 the one which seemed most appropriate, representing 
 a very unprepossessing, long-legged scarecrow of a
 
 " To be your Valentine." 171 
 
 man riding on a donkey with his face to the tail, and 
 having this doggrel beneath but no, the lines shall 
 not be quoted, for there was no wit in them except to 
 the taste of rude and vulgar boys, such as, I hope, are 
 none of my readers. 
 
 This gaudily coloured work of low art, after having 
 been much admired by all the fraternity, was fastened 
 up in a large envelope and addressed in big printed 
 letters to the person who had been unfortunate enough 
 to incur their displeasure, his professional appellation 
 being caricatured by the addition to his name of the 
 titles A.S.S. and L.L. Donkey. But now a difficulty 
 arose. The price of valentine and envelope had been 
 twopence half-penny, the precise sum which the young 
 satirists had been able to raise among them ; but where 
 was the penny to come from to pay for the stamp ? 
 It seemed necessary that the missive should be 
 delivered by hand. Then came the question, who 
 would bell the cat, and run the risk of presenting 
 himself at the dentist's door ? Jones thought Price 
 should do it ; Price was of opinion that Jenkins would 
 be a better messenger ; Jenkins, for his part, strongly 
 advised Watkins to take upon him this part of the plot; 
 but Watkins did not see it in the same light. Finally, 
 they all unanimously declared that Howell Powell, 
 being most concerned in the matter, should go himself 
 while the rest backed him up by looking on from a safe 
 distance. Howell Powell did not half like the job, but 
 when the others urged him on and accused him cf
 
 172 A Tale of a Spider and a Fly. 
 
 being afraid, he felt that his honour was at stake, and 
 consented in an unlucky hour to do this doughty deed. 
 
 So now you understand how on the afternoon of 
 Saturday, the 13th of February, these boys came to 
 be hanging about behind a wall which commanded the 
 front of Mr. Jamieson's house, while their leader crept 
 up to the door, bearing the torpedo which was to 
 explode in the dentist's home and shatter his good 
 opinion of himself to pieces. Now that it had come 
 to this point, Ho well Powell wished that he had never 
 entered upon the undertaking. He was a bit of a 
 coward, and had not bargained for any risk to himself 
 in attacking his enemy; but with the eyes of his 
 companions fixed upon him, he could not draw back. 
 Cautiously he approached the door, and having looked 
 round to make sure that his retreat was safe, he pre- 
 pared to fire the train. 
 
 What he should have done was this : first, slip the 
 valentine into the letter-box, next, knock gently, then 
 run away with all his might and main. But being a 
 little flurried and anxious to have it over, what he did 
 do was to use the knocker first. And by ill chance it 
 happened that Mr. Jamieson was in the very act of 
 putting on his hat behind the door, which he opened 
 himself as soon as the boy had done knocking, and 
 stood before him most unexpectedly and unoppor- 
 tunely. 
 
 The dentist was a very tall man; Howell Powell 
 was a very small boy for his age, besides, he was
 
 " Fee, Fie, Fo, Fum ! " 173 
 
 standing a step lower, and he felt like Hop-o'-my- 
 Thumb confronting an enormous giant. He was too 
 much taken by surprise to run away. In his con- 
 fusion he had just presence of mind enough to pop the 
 valentine behind him. Then, before he could make 
 up his mind how to explain his presence there, Mr. 
 Jamieson addressed him. 
 
 " Well, my little man, what can I do for you ? " 
 
 " I have a bad tooth," stammered out Howell Powell, 
 for he could think of nothing else to say. 
 
 "Ay, ay; that's a pity! Come in, and we will 
 perhaps be able to make it better," said the dentist in 
 as friendly a tone as "'Will you walk into my parlour,' 
 said the spider to the fly." And he kindly put his 
 hand on the little fellow's shoulder, and drew him in, 
 to the great wonder of his watching confederates. 
 
 Sorely unwilling, but not knowing how to refuse, 
 Howell Powell suffered himself to be led into the room 
 where the dentist drove his grim trade. The boy 
 looked nervously round as he entered this chamber of 
 horrors ; but nothing more suspicious was to be seen 
 than a great chair with a sliding back, such as most 
 of us have made the acquaintance of in some unhappy 
 half-hour of our lives. Master Howell had never been 
 at a dentist's before, but he had heard of the instru- 
 ments of torture used in such a place, and was relieved 
 to find that they were at least out of sight. 
 
 In this chair he was now invited to place himself, 
 and to open his mouth. He had a tooth a good deal
 
 174 A Tale of a Spider and a Fit}. 
 
 decayed, which, however, never gave him any~pain. 
 Mr. Jamieson fixed upon this at once. 
 
 " I see," he said, when he had finished his examina- 
 tion. " It is a bad tooth, indeed, but never mind ; I 
 will soon do something for it, so that it shall never 
 trouble you any more. Now just sit still for a 
 moment, and don't distress yourself. I shall be back 
 directly." 
 
 With this he went out of the room, and his patient, 
 much perturbed in mind, began to cast about for 
 means of escape from this awkward quandary into 
 which he had got himself. He tried the window, but 
 could not open it. Outside he could see his friends 
 putting their heads together to guess what was befall- 
 ing him, but that was no help. He ran to the door, 
 but Mr. Jainieson's footsteps were heard along the 
 passage. He was fairly caught in the web which he 
 had approached of his own accord and for his own bad 
 designs. And his guilty conscience made him think 
 that the letter which he held in his hand would not 
 long escape the observation of the person to whom it 
 was addressed; it would be opened, and then there 
 would be a fine to-do. How could he get rid of the 
 unlucky valentine? Hurriedly he threw it into the 
 fire, and it began to blacken and shrivel away just as 
 the unsuspicious dentist entered the room with a 
 tumbler of warm water in his hand. 
 
 The first thing he did was to unlock a drawer, out 
 of which he took something and held it mysteriously
 
 " Come, Boy, Prepare Yourself." 175 
 
 behind his back. Howell Powell's heart sank within 
 him, as he was invited again to occupy the chair. 
 
 " My tooth is all right now ; I don't think it wants 
 anything done to it," he said, trying to get up the 
 moment he had sat down. 
 
 " Come, come, you are not going to be afraid when 
 it will all be over in half a minute," remonstrated the 
 dentist, gently holding him down with one hand, and 
 keeping the other still behind his back. 
 
 ''What are you going to do?" cried the boy, be- 
 ginning to be very much afraid. 
 
 " I am going to set this tooth right for you." 
 
 " But I don't want it set right ! " exclaimed Howell, 
 struggling vainly to get up. 
 
 " Yes, yes, you do ; you will be obliged to me pre- 
 sently, when it is all over. Open your mouth wide 
 now. I won't hurt you more than I can help, my boy." 
 
 " Oh dear, what shall I do ? " thought Howell 
 Powell in dismay, as he saw the dentist lay down 
 something shining, and select another instrument from 
 his drawer, still holding the reluctant patient fast. 
 The boy opened his mouth wide to howl, when sud- 
 denly he found it stopped by a kind of a gag which 
 prevented him from closing it again. Then he became 
 aware that his head was being held as in a vice, and 
 something cold and hard was dug into his gums. He 
 tried to cry out, but could only utter a helpless gurgle, 
 
 and OH ; the blank may be filled up by any one 
 
 who has ever gone through a similar experience.
 
 176 A Tale of a Spider and a Fly. 
 
 It only lasted a second or so, and the next seemed 
 to Howell Powell the happiest moment of his life, -when 
 the dreadful wrench came to an end and he was 
 allowed to let his head fall over a basin, hitherto con- 
 cealed, which Mr. Jamieson quickly set before him, at 
 the same time triumphantly holding up the useless 
 grinder, and exclaiming cheerily " There ! It's all 
 over." 
 
 "Ugh! ugh! ugh!" was all that Howell Powell 
 could reply, as he shed blood and tears into the basin, 
 and wished with all his heart that he had never 
 meddled with playing tricks on a dentist. 
 
 Half an hour later, Howell Powell's young friends, 
 still waiting and wondering, saw him issue forth from 
 the dentist's door with a handkerchief applied to his 
 downcast countenance. But he was in no mood to 
 meet their open eyes and mouths. Utterly refusing to 
 gratify their curiosity, he hurried home and shut him- 
 self up for the rest of the day. Nor, though the truth 
 of the story was more than guessed by his companions 
 and he had to put up with being well laughed at, 
 would he ever disclose all that had passed between 
 himself and Mr. Jamieson. I am inclined to think, 
 however, that they must have had some conversation 
 of a serious and profitable kind. At all events, it is 
 certain that this involuntary young patient of his 
 never again joined in speaking ill of the dentist, or 
 behaving ill towards his much-enduring quadruped. 
 
 Time passed on, and brought changes to Llanbwlch
 
 KOTHIXO 10 LACGH AT ! 
 
 Page 176.
 
 " The Healing Hand of Time" 179 
 
 as well as to the rest of the world. The Welsh are a 
 good-natured people, and after Mr. Jamiesonhad been 
 kept long enough in a quarantine of distrust, his 
 neighbours began gradually to forgive him for being 
 a stranger, and to find that he was a good fellow and 
 not a bad dentist, so that he came to have a capital 
 practice, and was able to exchange the stumbling pony 
 for a strong sleek cob which commanded everywhere 
 as much respect as its master. By this time Howell 
 Powell and his companions had grown a good deal 
 bigger. Let us hope they had also become wiser and 
 more kindly towards man and beast.
 
 TJNWIN BBOTHEES, 
 CHILWORTH AMD LONDON.
 
 WORKS FOR STUDIOUS BOYS AND GIRLS. 
 
 BOYS WORTH NOTING. 
 
 Showing how, by Industry and Perseverance, Boys became 
 
 Honoured and Renowned. 
 By J. L. NYE, Author of " Anecdotes on Bible Texts " 
 
 " Acts Romans." 
 Small Crown &vo, l. 
 
 " Let fathers note the book and hand it to their boys ; it will stimulate the slow, 
 eaconrage th e dull, and cheer the industrious." Sword and Trowel. 
 
 The more little folks are tempted to peep into biography, the better will it be for 
 tnem in after years. We must, therefore, highly commend Mr. J. L. Nye's little 
 volume, ' Boys Worth Noting.' "Daily Chronicle. 
 
 CELEBRATED DUNCES. 
 
 gtbiratfb to J5 annul Srailts. 
 
 By TOM BROWN. 
 
 Gives an account of the School-boy days of some of our Eminent Men. 
 Crown Svo, cloth, gilt edges. Price 2s. M. 
 
 "It is an excellent little work, with a most benevolent and useful mission." ^School 
 Boar.d Chronicle. 
 
 "_The_aim of the book is to show that boys who show mere average talents or appli- 
 cation, in their early studies, may turn out to be estraordinary men." Manchester 
 Examiner. 
 
 MEN WORTH IMITATING; 
 
 OR BRIEF SKETCHES OF NOBLE LIVES. 
 
 By W. H. GROSER, B.Sc. (Lond.) 
 
 Crown 8vo, eloth. Price 2s. 
 
 The Author endeavours to elevate the minds of the young by setting 
 before them deeds of moral grandeur and excellence, so that by 
 learning to admire they may be incited to imitate. 
 " Well fitted for boys who cannot be expected as yet to study exhaustive biographies, 
 
 but who, nevertheless, have the sense to appreciate what is good and brave, and sel* 
 
 denying." Nonconformist. 
 
 WOMEN WORTH EMULATING. 
 
 By C. L. BALFOUR. 
 
 Crown Bvo, cloth. Price Is. &d. 
 
 Contains Biographical Sketches of eminent "Women ; among whom are 
 MAET SOMEEVILLE, AMELIA OPIE, SAEAH MAETIN, JANB and ANWK 
 TAYLOB, and others. 
 
 " It is to be hoped that the sterling qualities and amiable characters of the heroine* 
 will convey lessons of encouragement and instruction to the present generation of 
 girls." Court Journal, 
 
 LONDON: SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 56, OLD BAILEY, E.G.
 
 Books for Thought! Readers. 
 
 THE HORSES OF THE SUN: 
 
 THEIR MYSTERY AND THEIR MISSION. 
 
 By JAMES CROWTHER, Author of "Five-barred Gate," "Solomon's 
 
 Little People," &c. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth boards, gilt edges, 35. 6d. (Just Published.) 
 
 Is a popularly written story of the myths and marvels of the sun, from the formation 
 of a dewdrop to the phenomena of our world. Sun-worship in early human history, 
 with the allegory of Phaeton, introduces a vast amount of matter which cannot fail 
 to interest and instruct, and often amuse, both young and old ; while the reader is 
 gradually led onward and upward to the Light of the World. Well illustrated. 
 
 " It is a storehouse of interesting and curious information about our great luminary 
 and its marvels." Literary World. 
 
 THE UNWRITTEN RECORD: 
 
 A STORY OF THE WORLD WE LIVE ON. 
 
 By JAMES CROWTHER. With an Introductory Note by Rev. J. R, 
 
 MACDUFF, D.D. 
 Cloth boards, gilt edges, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Gives an account, in a popular style, of how the earth was formed, and became 
 fitted for man. It describes, in a most interesting way, its various geological forma- 
 tions, and is an admirable book for intelligent young people. 
 
 " ' The Unwritten Record ' is a volume full of information, pleasantly conveyed, 
 concerning the harmony of the two great volumes Nature and Revelation." 
 Literary World. 
 
 CONVERSATIONS ON CREATION. 
 
 By A. LAYMAN. 
 
 Cloth boards, 2s. 
 " A very interesting and thoughtful book." Spectator. 
 
 THE STARRY CROSS: 
 
 A STORY OF DREAMLAND. 
 
 By JAMES CROWTHER, Author of " Solomon's Little People." 
 Cloth boards, gilt edges, 2s. 6d. 
 
 The author has given a great deal of information in this book, and uses as a medium 
 of communication the leaves of trees, which tell their own tale about Christianity 
 from its earliest days. 
 
 " It is well meant, and contains a mass of useful information." Literary World, 
 
 ANCIENT NINEVAH: 
 
 A STORY FOR THE YOUNG. 
 Cloth Boards, is. 6d. 
 
 An epitome of Mr. Layard's work, together with the Bible and Classic Histories of 
 that great city. 
 " A most useful adaptation." Scottish Sunday School Teacher, 
 
 LONDON: SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 56, OLD BAILEY, E.C,
 
 WORKS ON NATURAL HISTORY. 
 
 ZOOLOGICAL PHOTOGRAPHS. 
 
 Short and Interesting Chapters on Natural History. With Numerous 
 Illustrations. 
 
 By JOSEPH HASSELL, A.K.C., London, 
 
 Author of " Common Things," " The Dead who Speak ; or, Lessons de- 
 rived from the Lives of the Men and Women of the Bible," &c., &c. ; 
 formerly Assistant Master of Method and Lecturer on Zoology at the 
 Home and Colonial Training College. 
 
 Cloth Boards, 2s. Gd. 
 
 "The explanations and descriptions ... are given in a simple and attractive 
 manner." Times. 
 
 " A capital work. ... It is profusely illustrated, and will certainly delight every 
 young naturalist." Seottman. 
 
 " Full of interest. It leads the young to admire the works of God . . . Children 
 reading it will learn something, and have their appetites whetted for more know- 
 ledge.' 1 Sword and Trowel. 
 
 SOLOMON'S LITTLE PEOPLE. 
 
 A STORY ABOUT THE ANTS, 
 
 By J. CEOWTHEB. 
 Crown Qvo, eloth, gilt edges (Illustrated), price Zs. M. 
 
 " Contains tales of ants and their habits : and it would be difficult to imagine any- 
 thing more likely to interest young people, or any information that could be given to 
 them of more value." Scotsman. 
 
 UNCLE JAMES' SKETCH-BOOK. 
 
 By J. CBOWTHEB. 
 Fcap. Svo, eloth, Jj. 
 
 "Will greatly amuse children with its quaint dialogues and monologues among 
 our friends in feathers and furs and various other coverings." Literary World. 
 
 " Various animals are made, in a series of conversations, to give brief and Tery 
 simple outlines of their own natural history. From these conversations little lessons 
 In morality and religion are drawn." School Board Chronicle, 
 
 LONDON : SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 56, OLD BAILEY, E.G.
 
 UPWAEDS OF 5,000 VOLUMES 
 
 TO SELECT FROM FOB 
 
 PRIZES, PRESENTS, GIFTS, AND REWARDS, 
 
 AT THE 
 
 BOOK SALOONS, 56, OLD BAILEY, LONDON. 
 
 BIBLICAL WORKS 
 
 For Ministers and Teachers. 
 
 STORY BOOKS 
 
 For Young People. 
 
 PICTURE BOOKS. 
 
 For the Little Ones. 
 
 WALL DECORATIONS 
 
 And Illuminations. 
 
 BIRTHDAY CARDS 
 
 For the Million. 
 
 SCHOOL PRIZES 
 
 Beautifully Bound and "Well Illustrated. 
 
 GIFT BOOKS 
 
 For all Ages and in all Styles. 
 
 BIBLES. 
 
 From Sixpence to Three Guineas each. 
 
 PHOTOGRAPHIC ALBUMS 
 
 For Presentation, 
 
 AMERICAN ORGANS 
 
 For Cash, or on the Three Years' System. 
 
 Illustrated Catalogues on application at tht 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION BOOK SALOONS, 
 66, OLD BAILEY, LONDON, E.G.
 
 ELEGANTLY BOUND BOOKS. 
 
 for $rmnts, f rijca, (gifts, &*toaris, 
 anfr (igncral ca&t0. 
 
 * NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS. 
 
 At 10s. 6d. 
 
 SPECIAL PRESENTATION EDITION. 
 
 COME YE APART. By J. R. MILLER, D.D. With Frontis- 
 piece, and 12 original drawings illustrating the Months, by 
 Charles Robinson. Printed in Red and Black, bound in padded 
 paste grain, round corners, gilt roll, red under gold edges, in box. 
 "In simple language many a familiar incident is made to live with 
 new beauty and force before us, and from all of them quickening, stimu- 
 lating lessons are brought. We put it among the first half-dozen in many 
 hundreds of similar volumes." Word and Work. 
 
 Also in cloth bindings, 35. 6d. and 45. 6d. 
 
 At 5s. 
 
 GENTLEMAN ADVENTURER, A : A Story of Panama, 
 1698. By JOHN BLOUNDELLE- BURTON, Author of "The 
 Hispaniola Plate." With Illustrations by MAYNARD BROWN. 
 Demy 8vo, buckram, gilt top. Cheaper Edition, 33. 6d. 
 
 A historical romance based on the story of the ill-fated British attempt 
 to colonise Darien. The scene is laid successively in the fever-stricken 
 camp of the settlers, the mountain forests, the dungeons of the Inquisition, 
 and the island of Jamaica. 
 
 "Few will lay down the story without feeling that they have been 
 completely carried away into a stirring world." Timtt. 
 
 BRIDGE OF BEAUTY, THE. By Mrs. G. LINN.US 
 BANKS, Author of " The Manchester Man," " God's Providence 
 House," &c. With new Portrait of the Author, and 14 large 
 Illustrations by W. DEWAR. Demy 8vo, cloth, bevelled boards, 
 gilt edges. 
 
 A story of Welsh peasant life in the last century, dealing mainly with 
 the early aims and struggles of William Edwards, the builder of Pont-y- 
 pridd. 
 
 " This is one of the best of Mrs. Banks' many excellent stories." 
 Lady s Pictorial. 
 
 NOBODY'S GIRLS. By SARAH TYTLER. With Illustra- 
 tions by W. DEWAR. Imperial i6mo, cloth, gilt edges. 
 
 A well-written story by a well-known writer. Two girls, educated 
 abroad, are sent home to live at their grandfr.ther's farm. To supplemen 1 
 their straitened means, they plan various projects. A long srries m 
 troubles and perplexities is finally cleared up by the discovery of a missing 
 will. 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 57 * 59, Ludgate Hill, E.G.
 
 a REWARD BOOKS AND GENERAL LITERATURE. 
 
 At 3s. 6d. 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ACORN, THE. By JAMES 
 CROWTHER. 
 
 A volume illustrative of the romance of natural history, between the 
 lines of which any thoughtful mind may discover the key to the riddle of 
 life, and learn the best way to use it. It is illustrated with many figures, 
 chiefly from nature, drawn specially for the work. 
 
 BENEATH THE SURFACE. By SARAH TYTLER. With 
 Illustrations by HAL LUDLOW. 
 
 A domestic story of three young people of pronounced character who, 
 early left orphans, struggle bravely to retain their independence. 
 
 "A capital story, full of homely and unflagging interest." British 
 Weekly" 
 
 'BIRDS OF OUR ISLANDS. By F. A. FLETCHER, 
 Splendidly Illustrated. 
 
 BUILDING OF CHARACTER, THE. By J. R. 
 
 MILLER, D.D., Author of " Come ye Apart," &c. Large 
 imperial i6mo, printed on antique laid paper, cloth boards, 
 red edges ; in handsome light cloth binding, gilt back, 43. 6d., 
 and in half calf, marbled edges, in box, 6s. 6d. ; padded paste- 
 grain, round corners, gilt edges, in box, 8s. 
 
 "Written with simple directness, with courage and tenderness, and 
 with a wide outlook on life and literature. He writes like a man who. 
 understands the inner aspects of the battle and burden of life as it presents. 
 itself to those who have not discarded their ideals or lost their aspira- 
 tions." Speaker. 
 
 COME YE APART: Daily Readings in the Life of Christ. 
 By J. R. MILLER, D.D. Large imp. i6mo, printed on antique 
 laid paper, cloth boards, red edges. Also in handsome light 
 cloth binding, gilt back, 45. 6d., and half calf, marbled edges, 
 in box, 6s. 6d. 
 
 CONSTANCY'S HOUSEHOLD. A Story of the 
 
 Spanish Reformation. By EMMA LESLIE, Author of "Caught 
 in the Toils." Imp. i6mo, cloth boards. 
 
 DENNY; or, From Haven to Haven. By ANNIE GRAY. 
 With many Illustrations by A. H. COLLINS. 
 
 A story of a Scottish fisher-boy, whose strong will is subdued under 
 the kindly influence of a loving sister. The tale is full of incident and 
 adventure, largely in Australia. 
 
 'The story is a touching; and interesting one, and unusually helpfub 
 in its religious teaching.' 1 Christian World. 
 
 DIFFICULT DAUGHTER. A. By EVELYN EVERETT- 
 GREEN. Illustrated by PAUL HARDY. 
 
 The story of a madcap girl in wealthy circumstances, the pranks she 
 played, the troubles she created, and the way in which her finer qualities 
 gradually triumphed over the spirit of mischief. 
 
 " Well written, and beautifully illustrated.".?/. James's Budget. 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 57 & 59, Ludgate Hill, E.G.
 
 THE DEPARTURE OF VASCO DA GAMA. 
 
 (Illustration from "Our WITH THE OLD VOYAGERS.")
 
 4 REWARD BOOKS AND GENERAL LITERATURE. 
 
 At 3s. 6<L continued. 
 
 GENTLE JESUS. A Life of Christ for Little Folks. By 
 HELEN E. JACKSON. With numerous Illustrations by W. S. 
 STACEY. 4to, cloth boards, handsome side. [Third Edition. 
 " It is no small achievement for the Author to have succeeded where 
 so many have failed to have succeeded in telling the life of Christ in a 
 way sure to be enthralling for the little ones." Family Churchman. 
 
 GENTLEMAN ADVENTURER, A. A Story of Panama, 
 1698. By J. BLOUNDELLE-BURTON, Author of " The Hispaniola 
 Plate." Illustrated by MAYNARD BROWN. 
 
 HOME MAKING ; or, The Ideal Family Life. By Rev. T. R. 
 MILLER, D.D. Large imp. i6mo, cloth boards, red edges. 
 Also in handsome light cloth binding, full gilt back, gilt edges, 
 45. 6d. (Suitable for a wedding present.) 
 
 " A very valuable work on a subject of great importance." Christian. 
 
 HORSES OF THE SUN, THE: Their Mystery and 
 Their Mission. By JAMES CROWTHER, Author of " Solomon's 
 Little People," &c. 
 
 Popularly written chapters on sun marvels, ancient sun worship, the 
 laws of light, &c., and the teachings which they contain for us. 
 
 IN FELLOWSHIP. A Story for Young Men. By W. E. 
 CHADWICK, M.A., Author of " Brotherhood," &c. 
 
 A strong, well-written story for young men, showing the wholesome 
 influence exerted by a young fellow of sterling character over one of a 
 weaker nature who had got entangled in betting habits and consequent 
 evils. A useful, manly story, 
 
 " Its tone is manly, and free from cant." School Guardian. 
 
 IN THE GRIP OF THE ALGERINE. By ROBERT 
 
 LEIGHTON, Author of " Under the Foeman's Flag." An 
 Historical Romance of the Mediterranean. Profusely Illus- 
 trated by MAYNARD BROWN. 
 
 The hero, a young English squire, setting out for the Court of Queen 
 Elizabeth, is carried off by corsairs. His sufferings, as a slave in Algiers, 
 his perils and escapes, his share in the sea-fight of Lepanto, his friendship 
 with Cervantes, and his eventual return home, are entertainingly set forth. 
 
 "It is a stirring story, and well told." Speaker. 
 
 IN THE LAND OF THE GREAT SNOW-BEAR. 
 
 By GORDON STABLES, C.M., M.D., R.N. Illustrated by 
 GORDON BROWNE. 
 
 A story of a young Scottish nobleman, who leaves his home in a moment 
 of passion. He obtains an appointment as commander of a ship that is 
 sent on a voyage of discovery to the Arctic Seas, and encounters man>j 
 perils and privations. 
 
 " It is in the author's best style. 1 ' School Board Chronicle. 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOI UNION, 57 & 59, Ludgate Hill, E.G.
 
 BEWABD BOOZS AND GENERAL LITEKATUKE. 5 
 
 .At 3s. 6d- con'.inued. 
 
 *IN THE WILDERNESS. By ADELINE SERGEANT 
 Author of "The Story of a Penitent Soul," etc. Large imp' 
 i6mo, cloth boards. [Second Edition. 
 
 KEITH'S TRIAL AND VICTORY. By EVELYN 
 LVERETT-GREEN. Illustrated by PAUL HARDY. 
 
 A well-written story of a young girl of high position, who, dis- 
 appointed in her expectations as an heiress, learns nobly her lesson of self- 
 conquest. 
 
 " Such an excellent book for girls is rait." Schoolmaster. 
 
 LITTLE BAG OF GOLD, THE. By r. BAYFORD 
 HARRISON. Illustrated by W. B. WOLLEN, R.I. 
 
 A domestic story of a village boy's ambition and the part played 
 therein by a bag of coins and certain eccentric people. The story is 
 suitable for readers of either sex. 
 
 "A clever story, well told." Newcastle Daily Journal. 
 
 LONG CHASE, A. A Story of African Adventure. By K. 
 M. EADY. Illustrated by JOSEPH BELL. 
 
 A story of adventure, in which two brothers institute a search for their 
 father, an African explorer. Full of exciting episodes. 
 
 " We can recommend 'A Long Chase' as a book which will not dis- 
 appoint." Daily Telegraph. 
 
 MAKING OF THE EMPIRE, THE : The Story of our 
 
 Colonies. By ARTHUR TEMPLE. Well Illustrated. Large size 
 (imp. i6mo), plain edges. 
 
 "This is a book which should be in every domestic bookcase and in 
 every schoolboy's hand. . . . Who shall say these chapters do not 
 contain stories of adventure of the best and most wholesome type ? " Daily 
 Telegraph. 
 
 MICROSCOPE AND ITS LESSONS, THE : A Story 
 
 ot the Invisible World, with Pictorial Descriptions of its 
 Inhabitants. By JAMES CROWTHER. 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE YEAR, THE. 
 
 By J. ARTHUR THOMSON, M.A., Author of "The Study of 
 Animal Life." &c. Profusely Illustrated. Imp. i6mo, cloth 
 boards, gilt edges. 
 
 OUT WITH THE OLD VOYAGERS. By HORACE G. 
 GROSER. With numerous Illustrations. Large size (imp. 
 i6mo), plain edges. 
 
 " Such a treasure-store of sea-travel one rarely meets in one volume." 
 Glasgow Herald. 
 
 "A capital record of maritime adventure, which will be read wit 
 pleasure and profit. It is copiously and usefully illustrated.* Black ana 
 White. ^ 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 57 A 59, Ludgate Hill, *.C.
 
 6 REWARD BOOKS AND GENERAL LITERATURE. 
 
 At. 3s. 6rl. continued, 
 
 'SECRET OF THE FIRE MOUNTAIN, THE. By 
 
 K. M. EADY, Author of "A Long Chase," "The Lifting of the 
 Shadow," &c. Illustrated by A. PEARSE. Imp. i6mo, cloth 
 boards. 
 
 STEADFAST : The Story of a Saint and a Sinner. By ROSE 
 TERRY COOKE. With Illustrations by AYTON SYMINGTON. 
 
 " Morally and artistically beautiful." Manchester Examiner. 
 
 " Deserves to be read by every thoughtful girl who is on the verge of 
 womanhood." Christian World. 
 
 STEPHEN: A Soldier of the Cross. By FLORENCE M. 
 KINGSLEY, Author of "Titus." With Portrait of the Author. 
 Large imp. i6mo, antique laid paper, cloth bevelled boards, 
 gilt edges. (Upwards of 1,000,000 copies were sold of this 
 Author's last work). 
 
 "TOLD FROM THE RANKS. Camp and Campaign, 
 Stories of the Reign of Queen Victoria. Collected by E. 
 MILTON SMALL. Illustrated by W. B. WOLLEN, R.I. 
 
 TOM'S NUGGET I A Story of the Australian Gold Fields. 
 
 By Professor J. F. HODGETTS. Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. 
 
 The adventures of a "thorough boy" at the diggings in '51, the 
 
 friends he made, and the dangers he passed through; the book vividly 
 
 illustrates life in Melbourne in those exciting times. 
 
 *UNDER THE FOEMAN'S FLAG: A Tale of the 
 
 Spanish Armada. By ROBERT LEIGHTON, Author of "In the 
 Grip of the Algerine." Illustrated by PAUL HARDY. Imp. 
 i6mo, cloth boards. 
 
 UNDER THE WAR CLOUDS: A Tale of 1870. By 
 E. F. POLLARD. With numerous Illustrations. 
 
 A Romance of the Franco-German War, showing how it affected an 
 English family resident in Paris. Many of the scenes are drawn from the 
 author's own recollections. 
 
 " A book that is sure to find favour." St. James's Budget. 
 
 WEEK-DAY RELIGION. By J. R. MILLER, D.D., 
 Author of "Come Ye Apart," &c. Large imperial i6mo, 
 printed on antique laid paper, cloth boards, red edges ; 
 in light cloth binding, full gilt back, 43. 6d. ; half-calf, marbled 
 edges, in box, 6s. 6d. ; padded paste grain, round corners, 
 gilt edges, price 8s. 
 
 "This book is one of the most helpful we have read for some time, 
 and it abounds in sentences which sparkle like gems. At the same time, 
 there is always that true chord of sympathy running through the book 
 which is so grateful to the weary worker and belated traveller on the 
 pilgrim way." Sunday School Chronicle. 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 57 ft 59, Ludgate Hill, E.G.
 
 THE LEADERS OF THE EXPEDITION STOPPED WITH AM 
 IRREPRESSIBLE CRY ! 
 
 (Illustration from "THE SECRET OF THE FIRE-MOUNTAIN.")
 
 8 REWABD BOOKS AND GENERAL LITERATURE. 
 
 At 3s. 
 
 CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOUR BIRTHDAY BOOK, 
 
 THE. Compiled by FLORENCE WITTS. Handsomely bound 
 in padded paste grain, round corners, gilt roll, red under 
 gold edges. Also in cloth boards, gilt edges, price is. 6d. 
 
 STORIES ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE BOOK OF 
 PROVERBS. ByJ. L. NYK. 
 
 At 2s. 6d. 
 
 '"AUTOCRAT" BIRTHDAY BOOK, THE: Being 
 Selections from the Works of OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 Arranged by A. L. MACDONALD. Padded paste grain, round 
 corners, gilt edges, price as. 6d. ; cloth boards, gilt edges, 
 price is. 6d. 
 
 " One of the prettiest ' birthday books ' we have seen for some time." 
 A thttufutn. 
 
 BENJAMIN HOLBECK. A Story of the Siege of Ply- 
 mouth during the Civil War. By M. A. PAULL. Illustrated 
 by GORDON BROWNE. 
 
 A young Yorkshireman joins the army of the Parliament and serves 
 in the garrison deiending Plymouth. He acquits himself creditably, and, 
 during the siege, he mtcts his future wite in the person of a young 
 Royalist lady in that city. 
 
 " There is far more to be learnt from this story than from many of 
 our ordinary histories." Christian Age. 
 
 BOOKS FOR THE HEART. 
 
 QUIET HOURS. By JOHN PULSFORD, D.D. 
 THE CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 
 
 Other Volumes in Preparation. 
 
 "COME YE APART" BIRTHDAY BOOK, THE* 
 
 Selected from the writings of J. R. MILLER, D.D., Author o* 
 "Come Ye Apart," &c. 272 pages, crown i6mo, handsomely 
 bound in padded paste grain, round corners, gilt roll, red under 
 gold, 2s. 6d. ; cloth boards, gilt edges, is. 6d. 
 
 "A well got-up little book, in every sense one of the best of its class." 
 Baptist Magazine. 
 
 DAIVEN INTO THE RANKS. 100 Prize Temperance 
 Tale. By Rev. RABSON VENNELL. Illustrated by FAIRFAX 
 MUCKLEY. 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL US ION. 57 & 59, Ludgate Hill, E.C.
 
 BEWABD BOOKS AND GENEBAL LITEBATUBE. 9 
 .At 2s. 6d. continued. 
 
 FALL OF THE STAINCLIFFES, THE. By ALFRED 
 
 COLBECK. Illustrated. 100 Prize Tale on the Evils of Gambling 
 Fourth Edition. 
 
 "7 J he Case a B ainst gambling is certainly strongly put." Literary 
 lArorla. 
 
 HEIR OF SANDYSCOMBE, THE. By K. M. EADY. 
 Illustrated by PAUL HARDY. 
 
 _A story of sacrifice and self-discipline. It opens with the storming of 
 a hill fort on the Indian frontier, and closes with the restoration of the 
 young heir to the Kentish home of his ancestors. Love, as well as friend- 
 ship, plays a prominent part in the story. 
 
 " It is a deeply interesting story, and one which boys will read with 
 eagerness." Nottingham Fret Press. 
 
 KING AND HERO : The Story of Gustavus Adolphus. By 
 J. JOHNSON LEAK. Illustrated by J. L. WIMBUSH. 
 
 MISCHIEVOUS MONCTON ; or, Jest Turned to Earnest. 
 By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN. Illustrated by MAYNARD BROWN. 
 
 The story of an irrepressible boy whose high spirits led him into all 
 sorts of mischief, and how he came to learn that there was something in 
 life better worth planning than practical jokes. 
 
 " Lads of any age will be delighted to make the acquaintance of 
 Master Moncton. " Rock. 
 
 MYSTERY OF HALL-IN-THE-WOOD, THE. By 
 
 ROSA MULHOLLAND. Illustrated by MAYNARD BROWN. 
 
 A romantic story, dealing with the adventures of a party of boys and 
 girls in an old country mansion in the closing days of the last century. 
 
 " A good mystery is always attractive . . . this is one of the best 
 we have met with for a long time." Athenaum. 
 
 QUIET THOUGHTS, for Morning Devotion. Brief Daily 
 Readings for a Year. By the late Rev. H. S. B. YATES, 
 Editor of the SUNDAY SCHOOL CHRONICLE. Demy tamo, cloth 
 boards, gilt top. With Frontispiece in red and black, Specially 
 Designed by HAMILTON JACKSON. 
 
 " It is a book of fresh, original, suggestive spiritual meditations. The 
 more we look into it the better we like it" Baptist. 
 
 SOLOMON'S LITTLE PEOPLE: A Story about the 
 Ants. By JAMES CROWTHER. 
 
 TREASURE LOST AND TREASURE FOUND. By 
 
 E. C. KENYON and R. G. SOANS, B.A. 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 67 * 59, Ludgate Hill, E.G.
 
 10 REWARD BOOKS AND GENERAL LITERATURE. 
 
 At, 2s. 6d. continued. 
 
 UNWRITTEN RECORD, THE: A Story of the World 
 
 we Live On. By JAMES CROWTHER. With an Introductory 
 Note by Rev. J. R. 'MACDUFF, D.D. 
 
 Gives an account, in a popular style, of how the earth was formed, and 
 became fitted for man. 
 
 WAIF AND GIPSY. By Mrs. A. D. PHILPS. Illustrated 
 by H. S. GREIG. 
 
 The chequered story of a Scotch workhouse girl who, falling 
 under suspicion, runs away and travels through Spain with a gipsy 
 troupe. Supporters of the S. S. U. Continental Mission will do well to 
 read and recommend this book. 
 
 WILD-CATTERS, THE: A Tale of the Pennsylvanian Oil 
 Fields. By C. J. CUTLIFFE HYNE. Illustrated by H. S. GREIG. 
 
 Relates the fortunes and misfortunes of two young Englishmen and a 
 Yankee colleague, in the forest regions of Pennsylvania. Portrays 
 graphically the feverish excitement and rush of a prospector's life. 
 
 " Our verdict is ' a splendid boys' prize."' Teachers' Aid. 
 
 At 2s. 
 
 THE "ENDEAVOUR" LIBRARY. 
 Crown 8vo, gilt top. Thick bulky Volumes. Splendid value. 
 
 BEN HUR : A Tale of the Christ. By LEW. WALLACE. 
 Illustrated by J. AYTON SYMINGTON, and others. 
 
 CHRISSY'S ENDEAVOUR. By PANSY. Well Illustrated. 
 LITTLE WOMEN AND LITTLE WIVES. By 
 
 L. M. ALCOTT. Illustrated by JESSIE T. MITCHELL. 
 MARY MORDAUNT. By ANNIE GRAY. Illustrated. 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, THE. By JOHN BUNYAN. 
 With a Frontispiece by CHARLES ROBINSON, and other Illustra- 
 tions. 
 
 STEPPING HEAVENWARD. By E. PRENTISS. Illus- 
 trated by SCOTT RANKIN. 
 
 A new and illustrated edition of this well-known book for girls. 
 
 HETTY MARTIN'S TRIAL: A Story of Home Life. By 
 Mrs. LYSAGHT. Illustrated by W. DEWAR. 
 
 "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN. By HARRIET BEECHER STOWB. 
 With New Illustrations by T. NOYES-LEWIS. 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 67 * 59, Ludgate Hill, E.G.
 
 SEWABD BOOKS AND GENERAL LITEBATUBE. 11 
 At 2s. continued. 
 
 G FOR THr P v C f ' A * ND L p VING GREETINGS 
 E TE **R By ROSE PORTER. Fcap. 8vo, cloth 
 
 BESOM YARD: A Story of Trial, Temptation, and De- 
 liverance. By THOMAS PEET, M.A. Illustrated. 
 
 A temperance story, showing the silent workings of Christian influence 
 on ungodly people. 
 
 BLINKY AND ONIONS: A Ragged School Reminiscence. 
 
 By Mrs. JAS. MARTIN. 
 
 The story is of the saddest side of metropolitan life, and shows how 
 even amongst the poorest the darkness of sin and suffering may be re- 
 lieved by an unselfish love. 
 
 BOY WHO SAILED WITH BLAKE, THE. By 
 
 W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 A story of the Civil War and the Commonwealth, of days " when good 
 men held not their lives dear to uphold and defend civil and religious liberty." 
 The book treats of naval encounters with Royalist frigates, Spanish and 
 Dutch warships, and Barbary corsairs. 
 
 CAUGHT IN THE TOILS: A Story of a Convent School. 
 By EMMA LESLIE. 
 
 Relates the methods employed in a French convent school to pervert 
 two English Protestant girls who were sent there for education. 
 
 CELEBRATED DUNCES. By TOM BROWN. 
 
 Gives an account of the schoolboy days of seventeen of our eminent men. 
 
 CHARLEY LAUREL: A Story of Adventure by Sea and 
 Land. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 A vigorous story of a sailor-boy's adventures, early in the century, told 
 in this popular writer's best style. 
 
 CRUMBS FROM THE CHILDREN'S TABLE. By 
 
 JESSIE M. E. SAXBY. Illustrated by W. DEWAR. 
 
 A domestic story, in which the characters of the children are developed 
 by the example of one of its younger members, who, by her cheerfulness 
 and self-denial, is quite the good angel of the household. For members of 
 Christian Endeavour Societies it would be an excellent gift-book. 
 
 GIDEON HOOLE'S SECRET: A Story of Trial and 
 Truth. By WM. J. LACEY. Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. 
 
 Shows how a lad was led astray through bad companionship, involved 
 in debt and suspicion, forced to run away, and how, after much hardsh 
 and suffering ashore and afloat, he was reinstated in the offic 
 employer. 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, fi7 * 59, Ludgate Hill, E.C.
 
 12 BE WARD BOOKS AND GENERAL LITERATURE. 
 
 At 2s. continued. 
 
 GIRL GOVERNESS, A ; or, Ella Dalton's Success. 67 
 A. E. WARD. Illustrated by EVERARD HOPKINS. 
 
 A story of a young girl who, in controlling and influencing her pupil, 
 a self-willed little lad, is led to look up from her old self-sufficiency to the 
 true Source of strength. 
 
 "An excellent story." Family Churchman. 
 
 GIRLS OF CLIFF SCHOOL, THE. By GRACE TOPLIS. 
 
 Illustrated by SCOTT RANKIN. 
 
 A graphic picture of life at a high-class boarding school, showing the 
 moral influence exerted by certain noble-spirited girls in the senior form. 
 " Brightly written, and full of incident." The Lady. 
 
 KING'S DIADEM, THE. By ANNIE GRAY. With Illus- 
 trations. 
 
 It is a story for elder girls, and shows how the heroine gave up- 
 worldly pleasures to consecrate herself to the Master's work. 
 
 LIFTING OF THE SHADOW, THE. By K. M. EADY, 
 Author of "A Long Chase," &c. Illustrated by SYDNEY 
 Co WELL. 
 
 A story of love, misunderstanding, and hope deferred. The scene is 
 laid at the moorland residence of an impoverished Scotch laird and the 
 little mining village close by. 
 
 "A clever, fascinating, and well-worked-out story." Leedt Mercury. 
 
 LIGHTSHIP HAND, THE. By HENRY FRITH. Illus 
 trated by W. S. STACEY. 
 
 Is a book for boys, and relates the strange adventures of Richard 
 Gayden, lightship apprentice. 
 
 " A volume of really strange adventure, which boys who love the sea- 
 cannot fail to appreciate." Echo. 
 
 MORAG MACLEAN : A Perthshire Story of Fifty Years Ago. 
 By M. M. RANKIN. With Illustrations byAviON SYMINGTON. 
 
 "We can heartily recommend this charming natural story to all lovers 
 of healthy, wholesome fiction." Huddersfield Examiner. 
 
 ON ROCKY SOIL: A Story of Christian Sowing. By 
 ANNIE GRAY. 
 
 For teachers and Christian workers ; showing^ that, however rocky the: 
 soil, Christian teaching among the neglected ones will in time have its reward. 
 
 PILOT'S DAUGHTERS, THE. By SARAH DOUDNEY. 
 With Illustrations by H. S. GREIG. 
 
 The story of two sisters, the younger of whom, gifted with great, 
 beauty, frets at the dulness of cottage life, and finally disappears from her 
 home. A bag of gold, kept in trust by her old father, figures prominently 
 in the narrative. 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 57 ft 69, Ludgate Hill, E.G.
 
 BEWARD BOOKS AND GENEBAL LITEBATUBE. 13 
 At 2s. continued. 
 
 RALPH ROXBURGH'S REVENGE. By EVELYN 
 
 EVERETT-GREEN. Illustrated by AYTON SYMINGTON. 
 
 A present-day country story of social differences, and the evil fruits of 
 class jealousies when fomented by popular agitators. 
 
 SCHOONER ON THE BEACH, THE. By the REV. 
 
 E. A. RAND. 
 
 A story of temperance work, written in a style attractive to boys. The 
 'schooner" is a wrecked ship set up on the seashore, and used as a 
 fisherman's cabin. 
 
 " A capital story, graphically written." Christian Age. 
 
 SCHOOL'S HONOUR, THE, and other Stories. By 
 HAROLD AVERY. Illustrated by A. JOHNSON, and others. 
 A collection of tales founded on, and illustrative of, outdoor sports. 
 " Quite up to date, .... and of an excellent spirit." Athena-urn. 
 "To read it brings back the memory of 'Tom Brown.' We un- 
 hesitatingly give it a front place in every school library." Schoolmaster. 
 
 SQUIRE LYNNE'S WILL. By EMMA LESLIE. 
 
 Teaches the evil and the danger of tampering with the dictates of con- 
 science, and of postponing obedience to them. 
 
 STORIES FOR BIBLE READERS. By j. L. NYR. 
 
 Stories illustrating the sterling worth of the Bible. 
 
 STORIES FOR THE BAND OF HOPE. By j. L. 
 
 NYE, Author of " Boys worth Noting," &c. 
 
 Designed as a prize book for the young, and as a storehouse of 
 incidents for conductors of temperance meetings. 
 
 TRUE HERO, A : A Story of the Days of William Penn. By 
 W. H. G. KINGSTON. Illustrated. 
 
 A historical romance of London two centuries ago, showing the events 
 leading up to the Quaker hero's voyage across the Atlantic, and th 
 colonising of Pennsylvania. 
 
 WAVE UPON WAVE. By SARAH DOUDNEY. 
 
 The storj ~( a motherless girl, and how she was strengthened for tht 
 successive triai* of a lonely life till her marriage " after many days." 
 
 WHO WAS GUILTY? The Story of a School Mystery. 
 By WILLIAM J. LACEY, Author of " Gideon Hoole's Secret," &c. 
 Illustrated by ALFRED PEARSE. 
 
 The scene is laid at a boys' boarding-school. One boy is expelled for 
 the theft of a missing watch ; but the real culprit is eventually led to 
 confess, after a daring rescue from drowning by his wronged schoolfellow. 
 
 YOUNG HEADS ON OLD SHOULDERS. By ASCOTT 
 
 R. HOPE. 
 
 Seven amusing stories, mostly of boy-life, with sundry serious sugge- 
 tions underlying the fun. 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 67 * 69, Ludgate Hill, E.G.
 
 I 4 BE WARD BOOKS AND GENERAL LITERATURE. 
 
 At Is. 6d. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth boards. 
 "DARING DEEDS" LIBRARY. 
 
 *STORIES OF THE FAR WEST. By FRANK MUNDELL. 
 Numerous Illustrations. 
 
 STORIES OF THE COAL MINE. By FRANK 
 MUNDELL. Well Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 
 " The author has chosen a fitting theme to rouse the enthusiasm and 
 heroism of both old and young readers." H udder s_fi eld Examiner. 
 
 STORIES OF THE FIRE BRIGADE. By FRANK MUN 
 DELL, Author of ' ' Into the Unkno%vn West, " &c. Well Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. 
 
 " The illustrations are as exciting as the information ; and as a record 
 of fire brigade work and an appeal to the sense of heroism, the book is a 
 distinct success." Christian. 
 
 STORIES OF NORTH POLE ADVENTURE. With 
 
 a Frontispiece 'of Dr. NANSEN'S Ship the "Fram." By FRANK 
 MUNDELL. Well Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 
 " A popular series of well-known episodes of Arctic exploration and 
 adventure, well told and based on accurate and authentic records." Times. 
 
 STORIES OF THE ROYAL HUMANE SOCIETY. 
 
 By FRANK MUNDELL. With Portraits and Illustrations. 
 Second Edition. 
 
 "Stories of exciting rescues and daring heroism." Daily Telegraph. 
 
 STORIES OF THE VICTORIA CROSS. By FRANK 
 
 MUNDELL. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 
 " Will win all the boys' hearts." Daily Chronicle. 
 
 STORIES OF THE LIFEBOAT. By FRANK MUNDELL. 
 Well Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 
 " It is a capital book for boys, and should be placed at once in every 
 Sunday School library in the kingdom." Sivord and Trowel. 
 
 " THE HEROINES' " LIBRARY. 
 
 HEROINES OF DAILY LIFE. By FRANK MUNDELL, 
 Author of " Stories of the Lifeboat," &c. Well Illustrated. 
 
 HEROINES OF MERCY. By FRANK MUNDELL, Author 
 of " Stories of the Fire Brigade." With Portraits a d 
 Illustrations. 
 
 HEROINES OF THE CROSS. By FRANK MUNDELL. 
 
 Illustrated. 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 57 & 59, Ludgate Hill, E.G.
 
 _ REWARD BOOKS AND GENERAL LITERATURE. 15 
 
 At Is. 6d. continued. 
 '"EROINES OF TRAVEL. By FRANK MUNDELL. 
 
 *BIG CYPRESS : The Story of a Florida Homestead. By 
 
 KlRKE MUNRO. 
 
 'CLEVER DAUGHTER, A. By Mrs. HENRY CLARKE, 
 M.A., Author of "A High School Girl." Illustrated by IDA 
 
 LOVERING. 
 
 DRIFTED INTO PORT: A Story of School Life. Bv 
 EDWIN HODDER. 
 
 The scene is laid partly at a boys' school, and partly in the Shetland*, 
 where a wreck occurs. 
 
 FALL OF THE STAINCLIFFES, THE; BY ALFRED 
 COLBECK. (^100 Prize Tale on the Evils of Gambling.) Illus- 
 trated. 
 
 HIGH SCHOOL GIRL, A. By Mrs. HENRY CLARKE, M.A. 
 Illustrated by M. A. BOOLE. 
 
 Relates how, during the intercourse of school-girl friends, an un- 
 expected discovery affects their future, and removes a cloud overshadowing 
 the life of their teacher. 
 
 " A most delightful book for girls." Civil Service Gazette. 
 
 HOPE'S LEGACY. By Mrs. HENRY CLARKE, M.A. 
 
 Illustrated. 
 
 Tells of a girl artist's visit to her relatives in a lonely house on the 
 Cornish coast, and how her coming led to the mending of their broken 
 fortunes. 
 
 "A cleverly written tale, well suited to educated girls." Rock. 
 
 IN THE DAYS OF '54. By F. M. WOOTTON. Illustrated 
 by FRANK DADD, R.I 
 
 Concerns two young Englishmen out in the Crimea. It is a story of 
 self-sacrifice and devotion. 
 
 "A splendid story this. . . . Of thrilling interest." Teachers' Aid. 
 
 " Recalls vividly to us the Crimea. . . . The story is an excellent 
 one." Civil Service Gazette. 
 
 LINDEMAN BROTHERS; or, Shoulder to Shoulder. 
 By JESSIE M. E. SAXBY. Illustrated by ALFRED PEARSE 
 
 The story of two talented lads, the sons of a wealthy Scottish merchant. 
 They refuse to enter their father's business, believing certain of its 
 practices to be dishonest, and voluntarily leave home to support them- 
 selves. The conflicting of principle and inclination is well shown. 
 
 MONKSBURY COLLEGE: A Tale of Schoolgirl Life. 
 By SARAH DOUDNEY. 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 67 & 59, Lad gate Hill, E.G.
 
 1 6 REWARD BOOKS AND GENERAL LITERATURE. 
 
 At Is. 6d. continued. 
 
 PETER BIDDULPH ; or, a Settler's Life in Australia. By 
 W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, THE. By JOHN BUNYAN. 
 Illustrated. With a specially designed Frontispiece by CHARLES 
 ROBINSON. Crown 8vo. 
 
 "Admirably printed and daintily illustrated. Itis astonishingly cheap, 
 and should be a favourite edition." Word and Work. 
 
 *PINE CASTLE : An Italian Story. By W. K. LANDELS. 
 
 With Illustrations by H. S. GREIG. 
 SILVERBEACH MANOR. By M. S. HAYCRAFT. 
 
 The story of a young girl who has been brought up in a quiet little 
 country town, and who is thrown suddenly among fashionable society 
 through becoming the protegee of a wealthy old lady. 
 
 STRING OF STORIES, A. By ASCOTT R. HOPE. Illus- 
 trated by PAUL HARDY. 
 
 Eight stories by this well-known writer, mostly suited for boys, and 
 illustrating some moral truth. 
 
 " It is an A i boys' book, and is both cheap and good." Schoelmasttr. 
 
 THE "WONDERFUL" SHILLING 
 SERIES. 
 
 The largest Books published at the Price. 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, THE. By JOHN BUNYAN. 
 With a Frontispiece by CHARLES ROBINSON, and other Illus- 
 trations. 
 
 STEPPING HEAVENWARD. By E. PRENTISS. With 
 
 Illustrations by SCOTT RANKIN. 
 
 CHRISSY'S ENDEAVOUR. By PANSY. Well Illustrated. 
 MARY MORDAUNT. By ANNIE GRAY. Illustrated. 
 UNCLE TOM'S CABIN. By HARRIET EEECHER STOWS. 
 
 New Illustrations. 
 
 EVELINE'S KEYNOTE. By EDITH C. KENYON. Illus- 
 trated. 
 KING'S ARMY, THE. By ANNIE GRAY. With Illustra- 
 
 tions. 
 BASKET OF FLOWERS, THE. With new Illustrations 
 
 by SCOTT RANKIN. 
 AILIE STUART: A Story of School Life. By ANNIE 
 
 GRAY. 
 
 LITTLE WOMEN. By LOUISA M. ALCOTT. Illustrates. 
 LITTLE WIVES. By LOUISA M. ALCOTT. Illustrated. 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 57 & 59 Ludgate Hill, E.G.
 
 A 000129864 5