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. C<-ll.I.F.fiK, AND . ::. 

"SCHOOL D A \' S. 

PART n, 


Wit btuHtrjtn evllnniiinon 

Dr. Siiuiianucl Sdjmibt, 


lV/ALD FLaGi^L. 













3)lit beutfd^en @tllfivungen 


Dr. ^nianucl ©(i^ittibt, 

iptoftncc on ttt it. $au))ttaMtniimft<i[t ju St^tctfelbc, 




as r » r t* 

S)cr ^erouggcbcr tourbc bic fd^toicrigc Stufgabc, Tom 
Brown's School Days ju crftaren, nid^ in genugenber SBcifc 
l^aben Wfen Bnucn, tDcnn cr nid^t in bcm ©itppIcmcnt^Scytfon 
fcincg greunbcg, bc§ ^crm ^Profcffor Dr. 91. ^oppc, grunb* 
Kd^c SSoratbcitm gcfuubcn l^ftttc. SSon ben frul^eren 2lu§gabcn 
bictct bic bon 9iiebl imr ©ttlcitung unb (Sloffar, bic bon 
5Pfcffcr unb Sl^icm umfaffcn nid^t ba§ gonjc SBcrf. @inigc§ 
tt)cnigc ift auS bcnfcfficn ntit Slngabc beg tlrfprungg aufgcnom* 
men. S)a§ tt)crtboHftc SKatcrid aber bcrbanft bcr ^erauggcbcr 
bricflid^cn SRittcilungcn. @r fprid^t fcincn S)anl junild^ft bcm 
SSerfaffcr bc§ SBcrfcS fdbft au§, bon bcm cr burd^ aScrmittlung 
beg leiber friil^ betftorbenen SKilitarlcl^rerg an ber S^5niglid^ 
$(mt)tfabcttenanftalt, ^anptmann gontane, fel^r totxtooUt Stuffs 
fd^Iiiffc txf)olkn f)at Site greunb beg SBcrfeg ^at fid^ au§cr== 
bcm bcfonberg ^crr ®eorgc ©taHorb, Scl^rcr ber ©d^ulc bon 
Shigb^, erttjiefen, inbem cr auf bie jnborlommcnbfte SBcifc 
SRad^forfd^nngen angeftcHt unb bit Srgebniffe ubcrfanbt ]§at. 
Unterftu^ung l^at bic Strbcit fcmcr gcfunben burd^ bic ^erren 
Dr. ^augfned^t in Solio, ^Profeffor ^apitt in Dyforb, ^Profeffor 
Dr. Qvipii^a in aScrlin unb $Profeffor Dr. S!oi) in Sraunfd^ttjcig, 
tt)cld^er le^tere ben Slnl^ang iiber ba§ ©ridEctfpiel burd^gefel^cn 
]§at. 2Cffen biefen ©clcl^ten fprid^t ber Untcrjeid^nete fur i^rc 
aScitrdge ju ber 2luggabe feinen ticfgeful^Itcn S)an! aug. 

Sid^terfelbe, bm 28. fjebruar 1888. 

^Profeffor Dr. 3mmanuel Sdjmxbt 

3 n I| a 1 1, 

PART n. 

TOM brown's school DAYS. 


CHAPTER I. How the Tide turned i 

— n. The new Boy 17 

— III. Arthur makes a Friend 36 

— rV. The Bird-Fanders 56 

— V. The Fight 73 

— VI. Fever in the School 98 

— VII. Harry East's Dilemmas and DeUverances . . 120 

— Vni, Tom Brown's last Match 142 

— IX. Finis 174 

StnJ^ong 184 

SBerbeffenmgcn vmb S'^aci^trSge .* 189 

S)er 2!ejt bcr Dorliegcnbcn StuSgabe entfprid^t gcnau bcm ber 

3)ie ©eitcnjol^Iett ber Tauchnitz Edition fmb am SRanbe an* 
gegeben; auf biefe, ntd^t auf bie ©eitcnjal^Iett in Students' Series, 
bejiel^cn fic)^ atte ©itatc in ben STnmerhmgen. 

' .< \ 



• „" 




PART n. 

I [hold] it truth, with him who sings 
To one clear harp in divers tones, 
That men may rise on stepping-stones 
Of their dead selves to higher things." 



« 4 


Chapter I. 

How the Tide turned. 

"Once to every man and nation, comes the moment to decide, 
In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side : 

* * 9ic « * 

Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside. 
Doubting in his abject spirit, tiU his Lord is crucified." 


The turning-point in our hero's school career had i8i 
now come, and the manner of it was as follows. On 
the evening of the first day of the next half-year, 
Tom, East, and another School-house boy, who had 
just been dropped 3 at the Spread Eagle by the old 
Regulator, rushed into the matron's room in high 
spirits, such as all real boys are in when they first 
get back, however fond they may be of home. 

^ I [hold] it truth. 95ei Tenn. In Mem. i fte^t I held it truth. 

* The Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell, Miscel- 
laneous Poems, The Present Crisis. §ug^eg ftel^t mit Sottjett, bem 
gefeiertften bet lebenben S)id^ter 3lmerifa8, in frcutibfc^aftlidfter S8e= 
jiel^ung, toad fd^on baraud txf)tUi, ha^ er bie englifc^e ^udgaBe bet 
Biglow Papers Beforgt l^at. 

3 to drop : einett $affagier aBfe^en. The Spread Eagle, ftel^c 

@. 75. 

T(?m Brown's School Days, //. "V- 




"Well, '5B3!r^. Wixie," shouted one, seizing on^ the 

methodicaj;. active little dark-eyed woman, who was 

busy s£(>vpng away the linen of the boys who had 

already^arrived into their several pigeon-holes 2, "here 

we ;g^.e* again, you see, as jolly as ever. Let us help 

ydu.put the things away." 

182 '•''And, Mary," cried another (she was called in- 

'^fferently by either name), "who's come back? Has 

/.'•••jrfie Doctor made old Jones leave? How many new 

,-*•%,•' boys are there?" 

'•*%" "Am I and East to have Gray's study? You 

know you promised to get it for us if you could," 
shouted Tom. 

"And am I to sleep in Number 4?" roared East. 

"How's old Sam, and Bogle, and SaUy?" 

"Bless the boys3!" cries Mary, at last getting in 
a word4, "why, you'll shake me to deaths. There 
now, do go away up to the housekeeper's room and 
get your suppers; you know I haven't time to talk — 
you'll find plenty more^ in the house. Now, Master 
East, do let those things alone — you're mixing up 
three new boys' things." And she rushed at East, 
who escaped round the open trunks holding up a 

"Hullo, look here. Tommy," shouted he, "here's 
fun!" and he brandished above his head some pretty 
little night-caps, beautifully made and marked, the 

' to seize on: in S3efd^Iag ne^^men. ^feffcr. Methodical: 
peinlid^ genau, etmaS ))ebantif(^. 

* pigeon-holes, fonft: fjftd^er am ©d^reibtifc^c fUr SBriefe unb 
©c^riftftiide, l^ier: gftd^cr gut ^lufbctoa^ning ber SBfifc^e fiir bie ein= 
jelnen gbglinge beg ^cnfionatS. SSgl. @. 78. Sine ©rabfanimer l^ieg 
bel ben 9iiJmeni columbarium toegen ber SWfd^en, Sxi benen bie Utnen 

3 Bless the boys! @adermentfd^e Sungen! 

+ getting in a word: ju SBorte fommenb. $feffer. 

5 you'll shake me to death: 'iS^x loerbet mi(j^ nod^ tot mac^en 
tntt eutem S)rangett yxsC:> ©tofeen. 

^ plenty more: noc§ Diele anbere ^^sSii^"^, 


work of loving fingers in some distant country home. 
The kind mother and sisters, who sewed that delicate 
stitching with aching hearts, little thought of the 
trouble they might be bringing on the young head 
for which they were meant. The little matron was 
wiser, and snatched the caps from East before he 
could look at the name on them. 

"Now, Master East, I shall be very angry if you 
don't go," said she; "there's some capital cold beef 
and pickles up-stairs, and I won't have you old boys 
in my room first night." 

"Hurrah for the pickles! Come along, Tommy; 
come along. Smith. We shall find out who the 
young Count is, I'll be bound ' : I hope he'll sleep in 
my room. Mary's always vicious^ first week." 

As the boys turned to leave the room, the matron 
touched Tom's arm, and said, "Master Brown, please 183 
stop a minute, I want to speak to you." 

"Very Well, Mary. I'll come in a minute: East, 
don't finish the pickles — " 

"Oh, Master Brown," went on the little matron, 
when the rest had gone, "you're to have Gray's study, 
Mrs. Arnold says. And she wants you to take in 
this young gentleman. He's a new boy, and thirteen 
years old, though he don't look it 3. He's very deli- 
cate, and has never been fi-om home before. And I 
told Mrs. Arnold I thought you'd be kind to him, 
and see that they don't buUy him at first. He's put 
into your form, and I've given him the bed next to 
yours in Number 4; so East can't sleep there this 

Tom was rather put about by this speech. He 
had got the double study which he coveted, but here 
were conditions attached which greatly moderated 
his joy. He looked across the room, and in the far 

^ PU be bound; bafiir toiH id^ gutfagen, id^ toettc barauf. 

^ vicious : tnurfif c§ ; eigcntUc^ toon ?pferbett. 

3 be don't (doesn't) look it; he looks tsynxOsn-^wsw^j^x^ 

4 TOM brown's school days. 

comer of the sofa was aware of a slight pale boy, 
with large blue eyes and light fair hair, who seemed 
ready to shrink through the floor. He saw at a 
glance that the little stranger was just the boy whose 
first half-year at a public school would be misery to 
himself if he were left alone, or constant anxiety to 
any one who meant to see ^ him through his troubles. 
Tom was too honest to take in the youngster and 
then let him shift for himself; and if he took him as 
his chum instead of East, where were all his pet 
plans of having a bottled-beer cellar under his window, 
and making night-lines and slings, and plotting ex- 
peditions to Brownsover Mills and Caldecott's Spin- 
ney ^P East and he had made up their minds to get 
this study, and then every night fi-om locking-up till 
ten they would be together to talk about fishing, 
drink bottled-beer, read Marryat's3 novels, and sort 
birds' eggs. And this new boy would most likely 
never go out of the close, and would be afraid of 
184 wet feet, and always getting laughed at and called 
Molly, or Jenny 4, or some derogatory feminine nick- 

The matron watched him for a moment, and saw 
what was passing in his mind, and so, like a wise 
negotiator, threw in an appeal to his warm heart. 
"Poor little fellow," said she in almost a whisper, 
"his father's dead, and he's got no brothers. And 
his mamma, such a kind sweet lady, almost broke 

^ to see, toic to see a lady home: nad^ ipaufe bcgleiten. SSgl. 
to see fair play, @. 161. 

2 Brownsover Mills, eine ^oXbt cngltfd^e SWeilc fiiboftlic]^ t)Ott 
Brownsover. ((S. 164.) Caldecott's Spinney (@. 6), fiibloeftltc^ 
t)on DfhtgBt). ^ Captain Frederick Marryat (1786— 1848), 

SSerfaffer Don (Secromanen. 

4 Molly (Mary) or Jenny (Jane), etloa: Sottd^en obcr Siegc^en. 
Molly erinnert an a mollycoddle, einen 3Bcic§Iing, ber ftd^ untcr 
SBcibetn Der^fttfc^elt itnb mil SSorliebe SBetberarbeit Domimmt. Jenny 
bcntet eine Heine 3ierliefe an, Jenny-wren, pxo\)\n^kU jenny-crudle, 
ijt bet.3aunfonig, jenny-tit, hk SJtoumeife. 


her heart at leaving him this morning; and she said 
one of his sisters was like to die of decline, and 

so " 

"Well, well," burst in Tom, with something like 
a sigh at the eflFort, "I suppose I must give up East 
Come along, young un. What's your name? We'll 
go and have some supper, and then I'll show you 
our study." 

"His name's George Arthur," said the matron, 
walking up to him with Tom, who grasped his little 
delicate hand as the proper preliminary to making a 
chum of him, and felt as if he could have blown him 
away. "I've had his books and things put into the 
study, which his mamma has had new papered, and 
the sofa covered, and new green-baize ' curtains over 
the door" (the diplomatic matron threw this in, to 
show that the new boy was contributing largely to 
the partnership comforts), "And Mrs. Arnold told 
me to say," she added, "that she should like you 
both to come up to tea with her. You know the 
way. Master Brown, and the things^ are just gone 
up, I know." 

Here was an announcement for Master Tom! He 
was to go up to tea the first night, just as if he were 
a sixth or fifth-form boy, and of importance in the 
school world, instead of the most reckless young 
scapegrace amongst the fags. He felt himself lifted 
on to a higher social and moral platform 3 at once. 
Nevertheless, he couldn't give up without a sigh the 
idea of the jolly supper in the housekeeper's room 
with East and the rest, and a rush round to all the 
studies of his fiiends afterwards, to pour out the 185 
deeds and wonders of the holidays, to plot fifty plans 
for the coming half-year, and to gather news of who 

* baize, pel^c (S. 80. 

* the things; the tea-things; baS ^ee^cug, ©efd^irr. 

3 a higher moral and social platform : eine ^d^cre ©tufe fttt? 
{icj^er unb gefcttfc^aftlid^er 535iitb?. 

6 TOM brown's school days. 

had left, and what new boys had come, who had got 
who's study', and where the new praepostors slept. 
However, Tom consoled himself with thinking that 
he couldn't have done all this with the new boy at 
his heels, and so marched off along the passages to 
the Doctor's private house with his young charge in 
tow, in monstrous good humour with himself and all 
the world. 

It is needless, and would be impertinent^, to tell 
how the two young boys were received in that 
drawing-room. The lady who presided there is still 
hvmg, and has carried with her to her peaceftil home 
in the Norths the respect and love of all those who 
ever felt and shared that gentle and high-bred 
hospitaUty. Ay, many is the brave heart now doing 
its work and bearing its load in country curacies 4, 
London chambers 5, under the Indian sun, and in 
Australian towns and clearings, which looks back 
with fond and grateftil memory to that School-house 
drawing-room, and dates much of its highest and 
best training to the lessons learnt there. 

Besides Mrs. Arnold and one or two of the elder 
children, there were one of the younger masters, 
young Brooke — who was now in the sixth, and had 

* who had got who's study. S)lc im ©ricd^ifd^cn gcltJolftnlid^c 
gufatntnenjie^img jmcicr fjragcn ju cincr mil bo^^cltcm fjragcttjort 
tft in mobcmcn ^pxa^tn nur cine fjorm bcS nad^Iftffigen ^ontjer* 
fationStonS unb l^at ctwaS ^omifd^cS, bag l^icr erl^ol^t tt)irb burd^ bic 
fjorm who's (fiir whose). 

* hnpertinent: nid^t jut ©ad^e gcl^orig (nid^t: taftloS). 

3 her peaceful home in the North. Fox Howe, Dedication 
to Mrs. Arnold. His Westmoreland home. Fox How, a small 
estate between Rydal and Ambleside, which he purchased in 
1832. Stanley, Life and Correspondence of T. Arnold. I, p. 237. 
SScrgL @. 292. The Doctor started for the Lakes yesterday 

. 4 curacy: bic ©telle eineS curate, be§ ijon bent 3^^^^^ ^^^^^ 
^friinbe ^jritjatim gcl^altenen unb mciftenS fiimmcrUd^ beja^Iten §iilf§= 

5 London Chambers^ fte^e ©. 3. 


succeeded to his brother's position and influence — 
and another sixth-form boy there, talking together 
before the fire. The master and young Brooke, now 
a great strapping fellow six feet high, eighteen years 
old, and powerful as a coal-heaver, nodded kindly to 
Tom, to his intense glory, and then went on talking; 
the other did not notice them. The hostess, after 
a few kind words, which led the boys at once and 
insensibly to feel at their ease, and to begin talking 
to one another, left them with her own children 
while she finished a letter. The yoimg ones got on 
fast and well, Tom holding forth ^ about a prodigious 
pony he had been riding out hunting, and hearing i86 
stories of the winter glories of the lakes ^, when tea 
came in, and immediately after the Doctor himself. 

How frank, and kind, and manly, was his greet- 
ing to the party by the fire! It did Tom's heart 
good to see him and young Brooke shake hands, 
and look one another in the face; and he didn't fail 
to remark, that Brooke was nearly as tall, and quite 
as broad as the Doctor. And his cup was full 3, 
when in another moment his master turned to him 
with another warm shake of the hand, and, seemingly 
oblivious of all the late scrapes which he had been 
getting into, said, "Ah, Brown, you here! I hope 
you left your father and all well at home?" 

"Yes, sir, quite well." 

"And this is the little fellow who is to share your 
study. Well, he doesn't look as we should like to 
see him. He wants some Rugby air, and cricket. 
And you most take him some good long walks, to 
Bilton Grange 4 and Caldecott's Spinney, and show 

^ to hold forth: fid^ crgcl^en, Did er^ftl^Ien. 

* the lakes of Westmoreland. SBergl. (S. 185 3 unb @. 292. 

3 his cup was full; ha^ 3Jla& feincS ©rftauncn^ unb ©ntjiidEenS 
toot DoH. 

4 Bilton Grange, ctwa 2 cnglifd^c 3Rci(en fiibfubiJftltd^ t)on 
SRugb^. Caldecott's Spinney, ftcl^e @. 183. 

8 TOM brown's school days. 

him what a little pretty country we have about 

Tom wondered if the Doctor knew that his visits 
to Bilton Grange were for the purpose of taking 
rooks' nests (a proceeding strongly discountenanced 
by the owner thereof), and those to Caldecott's 
Spinney were prompted chiefly by the conveniences 
for setting night-lines. What didn't the Doctor know? 
And what a noble use he always made of it! He 
almost resolved to abjure rook-pies^ and night-lines 
for ever. The tea went merrily off, the Doctor now 
talking of holiday doings, and then of the prospects 
of the half-year, what chance there was for the 
Balliol scholarship^, whether the eleven would be a 
good one 3. Every body was at his ease, and every 
body felt that he, young as he might be, was of 
some use in the little school world, and had a work 
to do there. 

Soon after tea the Doctor went off to his study, 

187 and the young boys a few minutes afterwards took 

their leave, and went out of the private door which 

led from the Doctor's house into the middle passage. 

At the fire, at the further end of the passage, 
was a crowd of boys in loud talk and laughter. 
There was a sudden pause when the door opened, 
and then a great shout of greeting, as Tom was re- 
cognised marching down the passage. 

"Hullo, Brown, where do you come from?" 

•*0h, I've been to tea with the Doctor," says Tom, 
with great dignity. 

"My eye4!" cried East. "Oh! so that's why Mary 

^ rook-pies: fcl^r bclicbtc ^aftcten. SSergl. @. 218. 
* the Balliol scholarship, ficl^e @. 104. SBeld^c StuSfici^t bor= 
f)anhtn Mxt, bafe cm (Sd^iiler t)on 9htgb^ fie gewannc 

3 the eleven : bic beftcn S^ridetsSpieler. SWg regcIma^iQc Qof^l 
bcr ^artci ift bic 3^^^^ ^icr o(g (Singular bcl^anbclt (a good one). 

4 My eye! (God) bless my eye, StuSruf unglSubigcr SScr= 
toimbcrung, lotc fonft my stars, (God) bless me, bless my heart, 
bless my soul: mcincr (Sccle. ^nbcr^ tt)irb gcbraud^t (it is) all my 


called you back, and you didn't come to supper. 
You lost something — that beef and pickles was no 
end good^" 

"I say, young fellow," cried Hall, detecting 
Arthur, and catching him by the collar, "what's your 
name? Where do you come from? How old are 

Tom saw Arthur shrink back, and look scared as 
all the group turned to him, but thought it best to 
let him answer, just standing by his side to support 
in case of need. 

"Arthur, sir. I come from Devonshire^." 

"Don't call me 'sir,' you young mufF3. How old 
are you?" 


"Can you sing?" 

The poor boy was trembling and hesitating. Tom 
struck in — "You be hanged. Tadpole. He'll have to 
sing, whether he can or not, Saturday twelve weeks, 
and that's long enough off yet." 

"Do you know him at home. Brown?" 

"No; but he's my chum in Gray's old study, and 
it's near prayer time, and I haven't had a look at it 
yet. Come along, Arthur." 

Away went the two, Tom longing to get his 

eye = it is moonshine, it is humbug: c^ ift lautcr ©ci^minbcl. S)er 
3ufaJ in it is all my eye and Betty Martin bcutet nad^ bem Slang 
Diet. f)in auf oh mfhl bea'te Martf ne (a tt)ie in far). 

^ no end good: imcnblic^ gut. @. 218: We'll be no end 
quiet. S)og abDcrbictt gcbraud^tc no end erinncrt an btn biblifd^cn 
Stu^bruc! world (time) without end, in saecula saeculorum. ©ub* 
ftantit)ifc^ ift c8 in no end (plenty, a deal) of good things, of 
porter u. bergl. 

* I come from Devonshire, al§ Stnttoort auf where do you 
come from? @ic^c @. 78. Dgv'onshire: ©raffd^aft bom ^anal 
fia 3Rand^c big an ben £anal t)on S3riftoI, tt)eftlid^ Don ©omttjaH, Sftlic^ 
an 3)orfetf^irc unb ©onterfctf^irc angrenjenb, mil ©jeter aU county- 

3 muff, ftel^c ©. 109. 

lO TOM brown's school DAYS. 

charge safe under cover, where he might advise him 
on his deportment. 
1 88 "What a queer chum for Tom Brown," was the 
comment at the fire; and it must be confessed so 
thought Tom himself, as he lighted his candle, and 
surveyed the new green-baize curtains and the carpet 
and sofa with much satisfaction. 

"I say, Arthur, what a brick ^ your mother is to 
make us so cosy. But look here now, you must 
answer straight up^ when the fellows speak to you, 
and don't be afraid. If you're afraid, you'll get 
bullied. And don't you say you can sing; and don't 
you ever talk about home, or your mother and sisters." 

Poor little Arthur looked ready to cry. 

"But please," said he, "mayn't I talk about — 
about home to you?" 

"Oh yes, I like it. But don't talk to boys you 
don't know, or they'll call you home-sick, or mamma's 
darling, or some such stuff. What a jolly 3 desk! Is 
that yours? And what stunning 4 bin(Hng! why, your 
school-books look like novels!" 

And Tom was soon deep in Arthur's goods and 
chattels 5, all new and good enough for a fifth-form 
boy, and hardly thought of his fiiends outside, till 
the prayer-bell rung. 

I have already described the School-house prayers; 
they were the same on the first night as on the other 
nights, save for the gaps caused by the absence of 
those boys who came late, and the line of new boys 
who stood all together at the further table — of all 
sorts and sizes, like young bears ^ with aU their 

^ brick (a trump, (S. 98), fclten toic l^ict toon cincr S)atnc. 

* straight up : gcrabe ing ©cfld^t. 

3 jolly, ftcl^e @. 100. ^ Stunning, ftcl^c (S. 97. 

5 goods and chattels: ^aV unb (5Jut. Chattels (tote cattle 
t)on capitale) ift ein juriftifd^er StuSbrud (to seize a man's goods 
and chattels), jerfallcnb in real chattels (3fleaI6eftg, (icgcnbc ®utcr) 
unb personal chattels (bemegli^e ^abe). 

^ like young bears^ fic^e @. 61, 


troubles to come, as Tom's father had said to him 
when he was in the same position. He thought of 
it as he looked at the line, and poor little slight 
Arthur standing with them, and as he was leading 
him up-stairs to Nimiber 4, directly after prayers, 
and showing him his bed. It was a huge high airy 
room, with two large windows looking on to the 
School close. There were twelve beds in the room. 
The one in the ftirthest comer by the fire-place, 
occupied by the sixth-form boy who was responsible 
for the discipline of the room, and the rest by boys 189 
in the lower-fifth and other junior forms, all fags 
(for the fifth-form boys, as has been said, slept in 
rooms by themselves). Being fags, the eldest of 
them was not more than about sixteen years old, 
and were all bound to be up^ and in bed by ten; 
the sixth-form boys came to bed from ten to a quarter- 
past (at which time the old verger came round to 
put the candles out), except when they sat up to 

Within a few minutes therefore of their entry, all 
the other boys who slept in Number 4 had come up. 
The little fellows went quietly to their own beds, 
and began undressing and talking to each other in 
whispers; while the elder, amongst whom was Tom, 
sat chatting about on one another's beds, with their 
jackets and waistcoats off. Poor little Arthur was 
overwhelmed with the novelty of his position. The 
idea of sleeping in the room with strange boys had 
clearly never crossed his mind before, and was as 
painful as it was strange to him. He could hardly 
bear to take his jacket off; however, presently, with 
an effort, off it came, and then he paused and looked 
at Tom, who was sitting at the bottom of his bed 
talking and laughing. 

^ to be up, fonft: auf (aufgcftanben) fein, l^ict: dbm fcin; bcim 
baS ©d^lafjimmer ift im obcrcn @todtt)crf. ©tatt and were all bound 
ift tool^l ju Icfcn they were all bound. 

12 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

"Please, Brown," he whispered, "may I wash my 
face and hands?" 

"Of course, if you like," said Tom, staring; "that's 
your washhand-stand, under the window, second from 
your bed. You'll have to go down for more water 
in the morning if you use it all." And on he went 
with his talk, while Arthur stole timidly from be- 
tween the beds out to his washhand-stand, and 
began his ablutions, thereby drawing for a moment 
on himself the attention of the room. 

On went the talk and laughter. Arthur finished 
his washing and undressing, and put on his night- 
gown ^ He then looked round more nervously than 
ever. Two or three of the little boys were already 
190 in bed, sitting up with their chins on their knees. 
The light burned clear, the noise went on. It was a 
trying moment for the poor little lonely boy; how- 
ever, this time he didn't ask Tom what he might or 
might not do, but dropped on his knees by his bed- 
side, as he had done every day from his childhood, 
to open his heart to Him who heareth the cry and 
beareth the sorrows of the tender child, and the 
strong man in agony. 

Tom was sitting at the bottom of his bed un- 
lacing his boots, so that his back was towards 
Arthur, and he didn't see what had happened, and 
looked up in wonder at the sudden silence. Then 
two or three boys laughed and sneered, and a big 
brutal fellow, who was standing in the middle of the 
room, picked up a slipper, and shied it at the kneel- 
ing boy, calling him a snivelling young shaver^. 

' night-gown, l^icr fur night-shirt. 

^ snivelling (fiel^c @. 148) young shaver: ein IUTiH)iger ficincr 
SJlilci^bart. Shaver, i. a cunning shaver, a sharp fellow (to 
shave a customer, to charge him more for an article than the 
marked price), 2. a young shaver : cin jungcr fjant; an old shaver : 
tin alter ^eter; a rum shaver: ein fd^nurrlger ^auj. SBartpu^er (in 
®rimm3 aJlttrc^en Don fjud^g unb ^oj^e), wretched shaver. Grimm's 
Household Stories, Lond. 1862, p. 225, 


Then Tom saw the whole, and the next moment 
the boot he had just pulled off flew straight at the 
head of the bully, who had just time to throw up 
his arm and catch it on his elbow. 

"Confound you^ Brown, whafs that for?" roared 
he, stamping with pain. 

"Never mind what I mean," said Tom, stepping 
on to the floor, every drop of blood in his body 
tingling; "if any fellow wants the other boot, he 
knows how to get it." 

What would have been the result is doubtful, for 
at this moment the sixth-form boy came in, and not 
another word could be said. Tom and the rest rushed 
into bed and finished their unrobing there, and the 
old verger, as punctual as the clock ^, had put out 
the candle in another minute, and toddled on to the 
next room, shutting their door with his usual "Good 
night, genl'm'n." 

There were many boys in the room by whom 
that little scene was taken to heart before they slept. 
But sleep seemed to have deserted the pillow of 
poor Tom. For some time his excitement, and the 
flood of memories which chased one another through 191 
his brain, kept him from thinking or resolving. His 
head throbbed, his heart leapt 3, and he could hardly 
keep himself from springing out of bed and rushing 
about the room. Then the thought of his own 
mother came across him, and the promise he had 
made at her knee, years ago, never to forget to kneel 
by his bedside, and give himself up to his Father, 
before he laid his head on the pillow, from which it 
might never rise; and he lay down gently and cried 

^ Confound you: ^oV bid^ ber ^cnfet. 

* as punctual as the clock, ficl^c @. 170. 

3 his heart leapt. Wordsw. My heart leaps up when I 
behold A rainbow in the sky. Dick. Christm. Car. p. 39. Why 
did his heart leap up as they went past? 

14 TOM brown's school days. 

as if his heart would break. He was only fourteen 

years old. 

It was no light act of courage in those days, my 
dear boys, for a little fellow to say his prayers 
publicly, even at Rugby. A few years later, when 
Arnold's manly piety had begun to leaven^ the 
School the tables turned^; before he died, in the 
School-house at least, and I believe in the other 
houses, the rule was the other way. But poor Tom 
had come to school in other times. The first few 
nights after he came he did not kneel down because 
of the noise, but sat up in bed till the candle was 
out, and then stole out and said his prayers 3 in fear, 
lest some one should find him out So did many 
another poor little fellow. Then he began to think 
that he might just as well say his prayers in bed, 
and then that it didn't matter whether he was kneel- 
ing, or sitting, or lying down. And so it had come 
to pass with Tom as with all who will not confess 
their Lord before men: and for the last year he had 
probably not said his prayers in earnest a dozen times. 

Poor Tom! the first and bitterest feeling which 
was like to break his heart was the sense of his own 
cowardice. The vice of all others 4 which he loathed 
was brought in and burned in on his own soul 5. He 

^ to leaven: burd^fSucm (in gutem @inne), im ^Infd^Iug an 
S. Matth. 13, 33. The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, 
which a woman took, and hid in three measures of meal, till 
the whole was leavened. 

^ the tables turned (intranptib) : ba§ SBIatt tt)anbte ftd^, gctofil^ns 
lid^ the tables were turned. S)ic f<)nd^tt)3rtlid^c SSenbimg ftamntt 
ttjol^rfd^cinlicl^ §er Dom play at tables = game of backgammon. 

3 he stole out and said his prayers. S)ag ^ccn jut @eite 
bcS SBcttcS btim ®cbct ift in ©nglanb ]^crfammlid&, unb in bielen 
^cnfioncn toirb ftreng barauf gd^altcn. @. 190. He dropped on 
his knees by his bedside. 

4 The vice of all others: tjor alien anbeten; ftcl^enbct ^pxadj^^ 

5 burned in on his own soul: Brannte l^inein bi3 jut @eelc; 
eigcntltd^ \)on cinem tt)itflid^cn fjeuer ober t)on einer ^erje. 


had lied to his mother, to his conscience, to his God. 
How could he bear it? And then the poor little 
weak boy, whom he had pitied and almost scorned 
for his weakness, had done that which he, braggart 
as he was, dared not do. The first dawn of comfort 
came to him in swearing to himself that he would 192 
stand by that boy through thick and thin, and cheer 
him, and help him, and bear his burdens, for the 
good deed done that night. Then he resolved to 
write home next day and tell his mother all, and 
what a coward her son had been. And then peace 
came to him as he resolved, lastly, to bear his tes- 
timony next morning. The morning would be harder 
than the night to begin withS but he felt that he 
could not afford to let one chance slip^. Several 
times he faltered, for the devil showed him, first, all 
his old fiiends calling him "Saint" and "Square- 
toes 3," and a dozen hard names, and whispered to 
him that his motives would be misunderstood, and 
he would only be left alone with the new boy; 
whereas it was his duty to keep all means of in- 
fluence, that he might do good to the largest number. 
And then came the more subtle temptation, "Shall I 
not be showing myself braver than others by doing 
this? Have I any right to begin it now? Ought I 
not rather to pray in my own study, letting other 
boys know that I do so, and trying to lead them to 
it, while in public at least I should go on as I have 
done?" However, his good angel was too strong 
that night, and he turned on his side and slept, tired 

^ to begin with, wic Christm. Car. p. 9. S)ic freic imb barutn 
ctltiaS ungenaue Stnfniipfung gcrobc bicfeS S^P^iti^^r *>^ti« bag with 
\id) auf ettt borl^crgd^cnbeS ©ubftantit) bejiel^t, ift fcl^r getDiJ^nlid^. 

^ he could not afford to let one chance slip : cr loat ttid^t in 
bet fiage, b. i). fein (SJewiffen eriaubtc ilfttn ni^t, aud^ nut ein e ©cicgens 
l^cit Uttbenittt enlfd^Iiipfen ju laffcn I cannot afford it: i^ !ann c8 
mir nid^t leiftcn, i^ fann c§ nid^t erfc^joingen, tneinc 3RittcI criouben 
mir^g nid^t. 

3 Square-toes, ficl^e @. XXXII. 

1 6 TOM brown's school days. 

of trying to reason, but resolved to follow the im- 
pulse which had been so strong, and in which he 
had found peace. 

Next morning he was up and washed and dressed, 
all but his jacket and waistcoat, just as the ten 
minutes' bell^ began to ring, and then in the face 
of ^ the whole room knelt down to pray. Not five 
words could he say — the bell mocked him; he was 
listening for every whisper in the room — what were 
they all thinking of him? He was ashamed to go 
on kneeling, ashamed to rise fi-om his knees. At 
last, as it were from his inmost heart, a still small voice 
seemed to breathe forth the words of the publican 3, 
"God be merciful to me a sinner!" He repeated 
them over and over, clinging to them as for his life, 
193 and rose from his knees comforted and humbled, and 
ready to face the whole world. It was not needed: 
two other boys besides Arthur had already followed 
his example, and he went down to the great School 
with a glimmering of another lesson in his heart — 
the lesson that he who has conquered his own 
coward spirit has conquered the whole outward world; 
and that other one which the old prophet learnt in 
the cave in Mount Horeb, when he hid his face, and 
the still smaiU voice asked, "What doest thou here, 
Elijah^ ? " that however we may fancy ourselves alone 
on the side of good, the King and Lord of men is 
nowhere without His witnesses; for in every society, 
however seemingly corrupt and godless, there are 
those who have not bowed the knee to Baal 5. 

He found too how greatly he had exaggerated 

^ the ten minutes' bell: ba§ 3^^*^^" ^"* ^^^ ©lode 10 3Rmuten 
uor ber jutn SScrlaffcn bcr ©d^Iafgitnmer beftimmten 3«it- 

* in the face of the whole room : angeftd^t§ bee gan^cn Piaffe. 

3 the words of the publican. S. Luke, 18, 13. 

4 What doest thou here, Elijah? I Kings, 19, 9. §tuf bcr 
fjlud^t t)or Sfebcl (Jgz'ebgl) gckngte bcr $ro<)]^ct ©lia (elfjah) in bic 
^b^Ie beg SBergcS |)oreb, too bog SBort beg ^erm ju i^m fam. 

5 those who have not bowed to B5'51 (faft ba'l), glcid^ (Slia. 


the effect to be produced by his act. For a few 
nights there was a sneer or a laugh when he knelt 
down, but this passed off soon, and one by one all 
the other boys but three or four followed the lead. 
I fear that this was in some measure owing to the 
fact, that Tom could probably have thrashed any 
boy in the room except the praepostor; at any rate, 
every boy knew that he would try upon very slight 
provocation, and didn't choose to run the risk of a 
hard fight because Tom Brown had taken a fancy 
to say his prayers. Some of the small boys of 
Number 4 communicated the new state of things to 
their chums, and in several other rooms the poor 
little fellows tried it on; in one instance or so where 
the praepostor heard of it and interfered very de- 
cidedly, with partial success; but in the rest, after 
a short struggle, the confessors were bullied or 
laughed down, and the old state of things went on 
for some time longer. Before either Tom Brown or 
Arthur left the School-house, there was no room in 
which it had not become the regfular customs. I 
trust it is so still, and that the old heathen state of 
things has gone out for ever. 

Chapter II. 
The new Boy. 

**And Heaven's rich instincts in him grew, 
As effortless as woodland nooks 
Send violets up and paint them blue." — Lowell'. 

I do not mean to recount all the little troubles 194 
and annoyances which thronged upon Tom at the 
beginning of this half-year, in his new character of 
bear-leader^ to a gentle little boy straight from home. 

' Lowell, Extreme Unction. And Heaven's rich instincts 
in me grew, etc. 

* bear-leader, tt)ic ,,S3arenfii]^rer", te\l% \ux ^SxvKa ^vixw^Jt ^^ 

Tom Brown* s School Days, II, 1. 

i8 TOM brown's school days. 

He seemed to himself to have become a new boy 
again, without any of the long-suffering and meek- 
ness indispensable for supporting that character with 
moderate success. From morning till night he had 
the feeling of responsibility on his mind; and even if 
he left Arthur in their study or in the close for an 
hour, was never at ease till he had him in sight 
again. He waited for him at the doors of the school 
after every lesson and every calling -over; watched 
that no tricks were played him, and none but the 
regfulation questions^ asked; kept his eye on his 
plate at dinner and breakfast, to see that no unfair 
depredations were made upon his viands; in short, 
as East remarked, cackled after him like a hen with 
one chick. 

Arthur took a long time thawing^ too, which 
made it all the harder work; was sadly timid; scarcely 
ever spoke unless Tom spoke to him first; and, worst 
of all, would agree with him in everything, the 
hardest thing in the world for a Brown 3 to bear. 
He got quite angry sometimes, as they sat together 
of a night ^ in their study, at this provoking habit of 
agreement, and was on the point of breaking out a 
dozen times with a lecture upon the propriety of a 
fellow having a will of his own and speaking out; 
but managed to restrain himself by the thought that 
195 it might only frighten Arthur, and the remembrance 
of the lesson he had learnt from him on his first 
night at Number 4. Then he would resolve to sit 

brauci^f, teilS fur einen §ofmciftcr, inSbefonberc fiir cinen travelling 

^ regulation questions, jiel^c @. 78. 

* Arthur took a long time thawing; it took him a long 
time to thaw: er brau^tc langc 3^^* um awfeutauen, cr taute crft 
ganj aHmdl^Iid^ auf. 

3 the hardest thing for a Brown. SScrgl. @. 3. Their minds 
are wonderfully antagonist. 

4 of a night, ^tooijl: be§ SfbenbS (at night), aU: eineS ^benbS 
(one evening). 


Still, and not say a word till Arthur began; but he 
was always beat at that game, and had presently to 
begin talking in despair, fearing lest Arthur might 
think he was vexed at something if he didn't, and 
dog-tired ^ of sitting tongfue-tied. 

It was hard work! But Tom had taken it up, 
and meant to stick to it, and go through with it, so 
as to satisfy himself; in which resolution he was 
much assisted by the chaffing of East and his other 
old friends, who began to call him "dry-nurse," and 
otherwise to break their small wit on him^. But 
when they took other ground 3, as they did every 
now and then, Tom was sorely puzzled. 

"Tell you what, Tommy," East would say, "youll 
spoil young HopeftiH with too much coddling. Why 
can't you let him go about by himself and find his 
own levels? He'll never be worth a button, if you 
go on keeping him under your skirts^." 

"Well, but he ain't fit to fight his own way yet; 
I'm tr3dng to get him to it every day — but he's 
very odd. Poor little beggar! I can't make him 

^ dog-tired, nad& Analogic tjon dog-sick (as sick as a sick 
dog), dog-weary gcbilbet unb alS SSerftftrfung be§ cinfad^cn tired mil 
of t)crbimben: er toax eg l^unbemiibc. 

* to break their small wit on him : ftd^ an il^m ju reibcn, il^ren 
SBiJ an i^m auSjuIaffcn (^feffer). S)ic SSenbung ift fctnc§tt)eg8 gc^ 
too^nli^; small wit: 9Si^ itn Mnm, SSi^eleien, ft^nlid^ toie small 
talk: lei^teS ©ejjlaxibcr. 

3 to take other ground: htn Stngriffg^Ian anbem (^fcffcr), 
cigentlid^: ftd^ etne anbere ^option jum Slngriff M^m; a^nlid^ tok 
to choose, keep, stand, lose, quit one's ground, to dispute the 
(every inch of) ground, to gain ground, to give ground. 

^ young Hopeful, ftcl^c @. i6o. 

5 to find his own level: fcin rid^tigeS S'Jitjeau finben, in baS 
rid^tigc fjal^rwaffer geraten (^fcffer). 9Kan fagt f^rid^tubrtli^ water 
always finds its level: jcbcr finbet ben $(a^, too er l^ingcPrt. 

^ keeping him under your skirts: t^n unter Me SRodfd^bge, 
toir fagen geiobl^nad^ „untet bie Sfliigel/' nel^men. ©§ liegt eine 
biblifd^e SBenbung ju ©runbe. Ruth, 3, 9. Spread thy skirt over 
thijie handmaid. Expande pallium tuum super farRM.\ass\.\»a5s>.^ 

20 TOM brown's SCHOOL DAYS. 

out^ a bit. He ain't a bit like anything IVe ever 
seen or heard of — he seems all over nerves^; any- 
thing you say seems to hurt him like a cut or a blow." 

"That sort of boy's no use here," said East, "he'll 
only spoil. Now, I'll tell you what to do, Tommy. 
Go and get a nice large band-box made, and put 
him in with plenty of cotton wool 3, and a pap-bottle, 
labelled *With care — this side up,' and send him 
back to mamma." 

"I think I shall make a hand 4 of him though," 
said Tom, smiling, "say what you will. There's 
something about him, every now and then, which 
shows me he's got pluck somewhere in him. That's 
the only thing after all that'll wash 5, ain't it, old 
Scud? But how to get at it and bring it out^?" 
196 Tom took one hand out of his breeches-pocket 
and stuck it in his back hair for a scratch, giving 
his hat a tilt over his nose 7, his one method^ of in- 
voking wisdom. He stared at the ground with a 
ludicrously puzzled look, and presently looked up 
and met East's eyes. That young gentleman slapped 
him on the back, and then put his arm round his 
shoulder, as they strolled through the quadrangle 

^ I can't make him out: i^ fann il^n nid^t berftel^en, mid^ nid^t 
in \i)n finbcn. 

^ he seems all over nerves; he seems nothing but nerves : 
er fd^eint nur ouS Sfjcrtjcn ju beftcl^cn, he seems to have no flesh 
and blood. SBergleid^en Iftjt ftd^ ba§ ^rotjin^icHc all-overish, feel- 
ing all over alike and touching nowhere. 

3 cottonwool: SSattc. Pap-bottle: (Saugflafd^c. With care: 
S8orftd^t! This side up: obcn; iiblid^c SSorfd^rift bci $a!etcn mil 
jcrbre^Iid^cm Qnl^alt. 

^ a hand: eincn tiid^tigen ^erl. SBergl. @. 114: cool hands. 

5 that'll wash: toafd^cd^t. It won't wash, i. e. will not stand 
investigation, will not "bear the rub," is not genuine, can't be 
believed. Slang Diet. 

^ to bring out : jur ©ntfaltung bringen (Stl^icm), toon eincm ^eim. 

7 giving his hat a tilt over his nose : inbetn cr ben ©ut iibcr 
bit 9Jafc ftp^tc. 

^ ]2Js onp metjliod; hi§ invariable me^hgdr 


together. "Tom," said he, "blest if you ain't the 
best old fellow ever was — I do like to see you go 
into a thing. Hang it, I wish I could take things 
as you do — but I never can get higher than a joke. 
Everything's a joke. If I was going to be flogged 
next minute, I should be in a blue funk^, but I 
couldn't help laughing at it for the life of me." 

"Brown and East, you go and fag for Jones on 
the great fives'-court." 

"Hullo, though, that's past a joke 3," broke out 
East, springing at the young gentleman who ad- 
dressed them, and catching him by the collar. "Here, 
Tommy, catch hold of him t'other side before he can 

The youth was seized, and dragged struggling 
out of the quadrangle into the School-hpuse hall. 
He was one of the miserable little pretty white- 
handed curly-headed boys, petted and pampered by 
some of the big fellows, who wrote their verses for 
them, taught them to drink and use bad language, 
and did all they could to spoil them for everything* 
in this world and the next. One of the avocations 
in which these young gentlemen took psirticular 
delight, was in 4 going about and getting fagfs for their 
protectors, when those heroes were playing any game. 
They carried about pencil and paper with them, put- 197 
ting down the names of all the boys they sent, always 
sending five times as many as were wanted, and 

* A kind and wise critic, an old Rugboean, notes here in 
the margin: The "small friend system was not so utterly bad 
from 1 84 1 — 1847." Before that, too, there were many noble 
friendships between big and little boys, but I can't strike out 
the passage: many boys will know why it is left in. @8 tuirb 
angcbcutct, bo^ aud^ njirflid^ fd^Iimme 2)inge Dorfomen. 

* blest, befonbcrS mil folgcnbem if, ©upl^emi^mug fiir cursed. 

* in a blue funk. Blue, confounded, slang. Funk, fic^c 
@. 1 1 1 unb XXVII. 

3 that's past a joke : ha^ gel^t ii6cr ben ©pafe. ^fcffcr. 
^ was in going about ; c8 foUtc l^el^eu was ^om^ -aZJoovyX.* 

22 TOM brown's SCHOOL DAYS. 

getting all those thrashed who didn't go. The pre- 
sent youth belonged to a house ^ which was very 
jealous of the School-house, and always picked out 
School-house fags when he could find them. How- 
ever, this time he'd got the wrong sow by the ear*. 
His captors slammed the great door of the hall, and 
East put his back against it, while Tom gave the 
prisoner a shake-up 3, took away his list, and stood 
him up 4 on the floor, while he proceeded leisurely 
to examine that document. 

"Let me out, let me go!" screamed the boy in a 
furious passion. "Ill go and tell Jones this minute, 

and he'll give you both the thrashing you ever 


"Pretty little dear," said East, patting the top of 
his hat; "hark how he swears, Tom. Nicely brought- 
up young man, ain't he, I don't think." 

"Let me alone, you," roared the boy, foam- 
ing with rage, and kicking at East, who quietly 
tripped him up, and deposited him on the floor in a 
place of safety. 

"Gently, young fellow," said he; "'taint improv- 
ing for little whippersnappersS like you to be in- 
dulging in blasphemy; so you stop that, or you'll 
get something you won't like." 

"I'll have you both licked when I get out, that I 
will," rejoined the boy, beginning to snivel. 

"Two can play at that game^, mind you," said 

^ a house; ein ^enfionot untcr fieitung emc8 Sel^rcr^. SSergl. 
©. 178. 

^ to get (to take) the wrong sow by the ear: ftd^ Dcrgrcifen, 
cm ben unrcd^ten SJJann fommcn. 

3 gave the prisoner a shake-up : fd^iittelte il^n jufammen. 

4 stood him up: ftclltc i^n aufrcij^t l^in; ein in bcr gcwo^nlid^en 
@))rad^e l^ftufigcr, wenngletd^ in!orre!ter ©ebraud^ bcS SSerbumS. 

5 whippersnapper : Hciner ^ir))3; bie§ ift bic gcwBl^nlid^c SBc* 
bcutung beg SBortc§. HaUiw., an insignificant person, a term of 
contempt. Slang Diet., a waspish, diminutive person. 

^ Two can play at that game (at that): baju ge^iJren jttJei, 


Tom, who had finished his examination of the list 
;*Now you just listen here. WeVe just come across 
the fives'-court, and Jones has four fags there already, 
two more than he wants. If he'd wanted us to 
change ^ , he'd have stopped us himself. And here, 
you little blackguard, youVe got seven names down 
on your list besides ours, and five of them School- 
house^." Tom walked up to him and jerked him on 
to his legs 3; he was by this time whining like a 
whipped puppy. 

"Now just listen to me. We ain't going to fag 198 
for Jones. If you tell him you've sent us, we'll each 
of us give you such a thrashing as you'll remember." 
And Tom tore up the list and threw the pieces into 
the fire. 

"And mind you too," said East, "don't let me 
catch you again sneaking about the School-house, 
and picking up our fags. You haven't got the sort 
of hide to take a sound licking kindly 4;" and he 
opened the door and sent the young gentleman 
fl3dng into the quadrangle, with a parting kick. 

"Nice boy. Tommy," said East, shoving his hands 
in his pockets and strolling to the fire. 

"Worst sort we breed," responded Tom, following 
his example. "Thstnk goodness 5, no big fellow ever 
took to petting me." 

ba^u miiffen jtrci fcin, id^ Bin au^ nod^ baBei. ©§ fann barin cine 
S)rol^ung Kegcn, bod^ ift bieS nid^t notnjcnbig bcr Sroll. 

^ If he had wanted us to change : tomn er Derlangt l^clttc, trir 
{oHten bie anbercn ablBfcn. 

* School-house = being of (belonging to) the School-house. 
3 jerked him on to his legs: fd^uppte i^n ttJciter, Bt8 cr auf 

bic SBcinc fam. 

* to take a sound licking kindly: hu l^aft nid^t baS fjctt baju, 
urn eine tiid^tige S^rad^t ^riigel Icid^t au^ju^altcn. (Sonft fagt man^to 
take kindly to something : fidft leid^t an etttjad gcttJ5^nen. Sher. 
Riv. I, I. Does she draw kindly with the captain? ^u^brudC 
clneS ^tfd^erg. 

5 Thank goodness: bcm ^immcl fci 2)an!. ^^nlid^e Snter* 
jeftionen ftnb my goodness, goodness me, goodiv^"5»^ ^x^civovx^* 


" You*d never have been like that," said East. "I 
should like to have him put^ in a museum: — Christian 
young gentleman^, nineteenth century, highly edu- 
cated. Stir him up with a long pole, Jack, and hear 
him swear like a drunken sailor! — He'd make a re- 
spectable public open its eyes, I think." 

"Think he'll tell Jones?" said Tom. 

"No," said East. "Don't care if he does." 

"Nor I," said Tom. And they went back to talk 
about Arthur. 

The young gentleman had brains enough not to 
tell Jones, reasoning that East and Brown, who were 
noted as some of the toughest fags in the school, 
wouldn't care three straws 3 for any licking Jones 
might give them, and would be likely to keep their 
words as to passing it on with interest. 

After the above conversation. East came a good 
deal to their study, and took notice of Arthur; and 
soon allowed to Tom that he was a thorough little 
gentleman, and would get over his shyness all in 
199 good time; which much comforted our hero. He felt 
every day, too, the value of having an object in his 
life, something that drew him out of himself; and, it 
being the dull time of the year 4, and no games going 
about which he much cared, was happier than he 
had ever yet been at school, which was saying a 
great deal. 

The time which Tom allowed himself away from 
his charge, was from locking -up till supper -time. 
During this hour or hour-and-half he used to take 

^ to have put him bcr lonboner StuSgabe ift Wdf^l nut tin SBer* 
fel^en. ^ Christian young gentleman. Snbem ber SBerfoffcr t)on 
cincm SKufeum ^u cincr SKcnageric iibcrfpringt, Iftfet cr hm SBftrter 
fpredften. Stir him up, Dom ^ufrcijen ber tuilbcn Zkxt au8 bcm @d^Iaf. 

3 wouldn't care three straws for (gcwb^nlid^ a straw, n)ie 
@. 63), would care nothing for; fie njiirben fid^ nid^tS barauS madden; 
fottJol^I SBejetd^nung ber ©leid^gultigfeit aB ber SSerad^tung. 

4 the dull time of the year, the silly season: bie ©aure* 


his fling', going round to the studies of all his ac- 
quaintance, sparring or gossiping in the hall, now 
jumping the old iron-bound tables, or carving a bit 
of his name on them, then joining in some chorus of 
merry voices; in fact, blowing off his steam ^, as we 
should now call it. 

This process was so congenial to his temper, and 
Arthur showed himself so pleased at the arrange- 
ment, that it was several weeks before Tom was 
ever in their study before supper. One evening, 
however, he rushed in to look for an old chisel, or 
some corks, or other articles essential to his pursuit 
for the time being, and while rummaging about in 
the cupboards, looked up for a moment, and was 
caught at once by the figure of poor little Arthur. 
The boy was sitting with his elbows on the table, 
and his head leaning on his hands, and before him 
an open book, on which his tears were falling fast. 
Tom shut the door at once, and sat down on the 
sofa by Arthur, putting his sirm round his neck. 

"Why, young un! what's the matter?" said he, 
kindly; "you ain't unhappy, are you?" 

"Oh no. Brown," said the little boy, looking up 
with the great tears in his eyes, "you are so kind to 
me, Tm very happy." 

"Why don't you call me Tom? lots of boys do 
that I don't like half so much as you. What are 
you reading, then? Hang it, you must come about 
with me, and not mope yourself3," and Tom cast 200 
down his eyes on the book, and saw it was the 
Bible. He was silent for a minute, and thought to 

^ to take his fling (to have his fling) : auSfd^Iagen unb au8- 
tobctt, (Sa^e Vinh @^)rlinge ma^cn, fid^ in auSgclaffencr Saune gel^en 
laffcn; let him have (give him) his fling: laft i^m bic QvLQtl fij^ie^en. 

* to blow the steam off (to blow off the steam) , ficl^e @. 5 
unb @. 160. 

3 to mope one's self: fi^ ttftuttterifd^ in cine ttilBc @timmun(i 
Derfc^en, fid^ Dcrfim|)eln. 

26 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

himself, "Lesson Number 2, Tom Brown;" — and then 
said gently — 

"I'm very glad to see this, Arthur, and ashamed 
that I don't read the Bible more myself. Do you 
read it every night before supper while I'm out?" 


"Well, I wish you'd wait till afterwards, and then 
we'd read together. But, Arthur, why does it make 
you cry?" 

"Oh, it isn't that I'm unhappy. But at home, 
while my father was alive, we always read the 
lessons^ after tea; and I love to read them over 
now, and try to remember what he said about them. 
I can't remember all, and I think I scarcely under- 
stand a great deal of what I do remember. But it 
all comes back to me so fresh, that I can't help 
crjdng sometimes to think I shall never read them 
again with him." 

Arthur had never spoken of his home before, and 
Tom hadn't encouraged him to do so, as his blunder* 
ing school-boy reasoning made him think that Arthur 
would be softened and less manly for thinking of 
home. But now he was fairly interested, and forgot 
all about chisels and bottled beer; while with very 
little encouragement Arthur launched^ into his home 
history, and the prayer-bell put them both out sadly 
when it rang to call them to the halL 

From this time Arthur constantly spoke of his 
home, and above all, of his father, who had been 
dead about a year, and whose memory Tom soon 
got to love and reverence almost sis much as his 
own son did. 

^ the lessons: bie, ttJie unfetc $ert!o))cn fiir (Sonntagc, fo filr allc 
eingelncn ^age be§ 3al^rc8 jum Sefen obcr SSorlcfcn beftitntnten ^ihtU 

* to launch (out) into a subject: fid^ iiber tin %i)tma a\x^^ 
iaffm (Deribreitcn); etgentUd^: fid^ Quf ettuaS cinlaffen, cntle^nt Dom 
Sd^iff, baS t)om ©topcl tftuft unb in bk <See %^t 


Arthur's father had been the clergyman of a 
parish in the Midland Counties S which had risen 
into a large town during the war, and upon which 
the hard years which followed had fallen with a 
fearful weight The trade had been half ruined: 
and then came the old sad story, of masters reducing 
their establishments, men turned off and wandering 201 
about, hungry and wan in body and fierce in soul, 
from the thought of wives and children starving at 
home, and the last sticks^ of furniture going to the 
pawn-shop. Children taken from school, and loung- 
ing about the dirty streets and courts, too listless 
almost to play, and squalid in rags and misery. And 
then the fearful struggle between the employers and 
men; lowerings of wages, strikes, and the long course 
of oft-repeated crime, ending every now and then 
with a riot, a fire, and the county yeomanry 3. There 
is no need here to dwell upon such tales; the English- 
man into whose soul they have not sunk deep is not 
worthy the name; you English boys for whom this 
book is meant (God bless your bright faces and kind 
hearts!) will learn it all soon enough. 

Into such a parish and state of society, Arthur's 
father had been thrown at the age of twenty-five, a 
young married parson, full of faith, hope, and love. 
He had battled with it like a man, and had lots of 

" the Midland Counties. (Snglanb mit HuSfd^Iujs Don SBolc* 
ioirb in 40 Q)raffd^aften (counties, shires) geteilt, Me ioieber in ge^ 
fonbcrte ©ntp^cn ^crfaHen. gicl^t man einc fiinie Don bet 5Kiinbung 
beS SWerfe^ big ju bet be8 ^jitmber, fo liegcn nbrblid^ bic fed^8 northern 
counties. SSon htn filbli^ baoon gclegcnen fonbert man tocftlid^ ble 
Diet an SBalcS grcnjcnbcn ©raffd^aften ab, toftl^cnb 5ftli^ Diet eastern 
counties fid^ am 9Wecrc Don ber SKiinbung beS dumber bi* ^u ber 
X^emfc erftredEcn. S)ie fed^S southern counties liegen am ^anal. 
& bleibcn im S^ttcm jtoanjig ©raffd^aftcn iibrig, bie man ju je jel^n 
al8 north midland-counties unb south midland-counties bcjcld^nct. 

' sticks im slang fiir furniture, household chattels. 

3 the yeomanry, fiel^e @. 16. 2)a militia unb yeomanry ben 
3)ienft im Snnem be» fianbeS bcforgen, fo Joerbcn fie gelegcntlid^ hti 
Unrnf^m aufgeboten. 

28 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

fine Utopian ideas ^ about the perfectibility of man- 
kind, glorious humanity and such-like, knocked out 
of his head; and a real wholesome Christian love for 
the poor struggling, sinning men, of whom he felt 
himself one, and with and for whom he spent fortune, 
and strength, and life, driven into his heart. He had 
battled like a man, and gotten^ a man's reward. 
No silver teapots or salvers, with flowery inscriptions, 
setting forth his virtues and the appreciation of a 
genteel parish; no fat living or stall 3, for which he 
never looked, and didn't care; no sighs and praises 
of comfortable dowagers and well got-up4 young 
women, who worked him slippers, sugared his tea, 
and adored him as "a devoted man 5;" but a manly 
respect, wrung firom the unwilling souls of men who 
fancied his order their natural enemies; the fear and 
hatred of every one who was false or unjust in the 
district, were he master or man; and the blessed sight 
202 of women and children daily becoming more human 
and more homely, a comfort to themselves and to 
their husbands and fathers. 

^ Utopian (uto'pTSn) ideas. Sir Thomas More (Thomas 
Morus), 1478(1480?)— 1535, Tangier untcr ^peinrid^ VIII., bcr t^n l^in* 
rid^ten tic^, tear SBcrf offer cineS ^crfeS, ha^ perft 15 16 in S5ttJen ^u 
\(i)kn, de optimo reipublicae statu deque nova insula Utopia (Uber 
ben beften Suftanb bc§ (5taatc§ unb ilbcr bic neue 3nfcl Uto))ia). 3)er 
aug bcm ©ried^ifd^cn (ov, rosiog) geBtlbctc S^atne, tjon t^m felbft latini* 
fieri Nusquama (SWrgenbgl^cim) uttb englifd^ ttJicbcrgegebcn Nowhere, 
begeid^nct ein ibeoIeS Sanb bcr SSoHfommen^eit, bcffen SSilb in ^jl^on* 
taftifd^er ^eife cnttuorfen wirb. S)a§ 2Bcr!, bog DorjugSnjcife focia* 
liftifd^e fjragen bel^anbclt, l^at bic SBcgcid^nung bcS nur gbccllcn, bcr 
^irflid^!cit nic^t ©ntfprcd^cnbcn a(§ Utopian, uto^iifd^, ucronlagt. 

^ gotten, gcnjbl^nlid^ aB attributives ^Ibjcftit) gcbraitd^t (ill gotten 
goods seldom prosper), bod^ nic^t feltcn al8 ttJirllid^cS ^articip in 
fd^ttjungtjottcr 9flebc. 

3 stall : e^orftul^I in cincr ^atl^cbrole fiir gciftlid^c SBiirbentriigcr, 
balder (StiftSi^crmftcHc. 

^ got-up: ^crouSgcpu^t, aufgcbonncrt, bon ben 2)c!orationcn 
cincS X^caterftiidfcS l^crgenommcn. SScrgl. @. 87: the get-up. 

5 a "devoted man": cin ®ott crgebcncr, gottfcligcr Wtann, 
burd^ ^nfiifirungSjcid^cn alS ^uSbrudf bc8 frommcn cant gcfennjcid^nct. 


These things of course took time, and had to be 
fought for with toil and sweat of brain and heart, 
and with the life-blood poured out. All that, Arthur 
had laid his account^ to give, and took as a matter 
of course neither pitying himself, or looking on him- 
self as a mart3rr, when he felt the wear and tear* 
making him feel old before his time, and the stifling 
air of fever dens telling on 3 his health. His wife 
seconded him in everything. She had been rather 
fond of society, and much admired and run after be- 
fore her marriage; and the London world, to which 
she had belonged, pitied poor Fanny Evelyn when 
she married the young clergyman and went to settle 
in that smoky hole Turley^, a very nest of Chartism 5 
and Atheism, in a part of the county which all the 
decent families had had to leave for years. However, 
somehow or other she didn't seem to care. If her 
husband's living had been amongst green fields and 
near pleasant neighbours, she would have liked it 
better, that she never pretended to deny. But there 
they were: the air wasn't bad after all; the people 
were very good sort of people, civil to you if you 

* to lay one's account: feine IRed^nung aniegcn, balder fid^ auf 
etmad gefagt madden. 

' wear and tear: ^ufrclbung, t>on ^bnu^ung bcr ^Icibcr auf 

3JJitna]^mc bcr ^onftitution, ber ^bxptc^ mh @)cifte8lrafte iibcrtragen. 

3 to tell, ficl^e @. 91. Oft mit on berbimbcn, j. JB. @. 202, 212. 

* Turley, tool^I ein finglertcr 9'iame, DieHeid^t gcbilbet uiit S3cs 
nu^ung \)on turlins, eincr S(rt ^ol^Ie in 9'Jortl^umbcrIanb. 

5 Chartism. 2)a§ 1838 aufgeftcflte^rogramtn bcr bemofrotifd^cn 
^ortci (the People's Charter) umfafetc 6 ^unftc, i. aflgcmctncS 
SBal^Ircd^t aUcr unbcfd^oltcncn ©taatSbilrgcr tjom TOcr toon 21 gal^rcn 
an, 2. glcid^mafelgc ©intclliutg beg SanbcS in 300 SBa^Ibcjirfe, 3. gc* 
l^eime ©timmabgabe, 4. jft^rUd^c ^arlamcntSttja^l, 5. fJortfaH aflcr 
bcfonbcrcn IBcbingungcn (beg ©cnfuS) fiir bag ))afftt)e SSal^Ircd^t, 
6. ^IniDcifung Don S)ifttcn (ift^rlid^ 500 £) fur bic ^bgcorbnctcn. eg 
fd^icben fld^ jtuci ^artcicn bcr ©l^artiftcn, the Physical Force 
Chartists unb the Moral Force Chartists; bie crfteren l^egten 
grbjtcntcilg focialiftifd^c SBcftrcbungcn unb forbertcn a fair day's 
wages for a fair day's work. 

30 TOM brown's school days. 

were civil to them, after the first brush*; and they 
didn't expect to work miracles, ahd convert them all 
ofF-hand into model Christians. So he and she went 
quietly among the folk, talking to and treating them 
just as they would have done people of their crs^m 
rank. They didn't feel that they were doing any- 
thing out of the common way, and so were perfectly 
natural, and had none of that condescension or con- 
sciousness of manner which so outrages the in- 
dependent poor. And thus they gradually won 
respect and confidence; and after sixteen years he 
was looked up to by the whole neighbourhood as 
fhe just man, ^Ae man to whom masters and men 
could go in their strikes, and all in their quarrels and 
difficulties, and by whom the right and true word 
203 would be said without fear or favour. And the 
women had come round to take her advice, and go 
to her as a friend in all their troubles; while the 
children all worshipped the very ground she trod on. 

They had three children, two daughters and a 
son, little Arthur, who came between his sisters. He 
had been a very delicate boy fi-om his childhood; 
they thought he had a tendency* to consumption, 
and so he had been kept at home and taught by his 
father, who had made a companion of him, and fi^om 
whom he had gained good scholarship, and a know- 
ledge of and interest in many subjects which boys 
in general never come across till they are many 
years older. 

Just as he reached his thirteenth year, and his 
father had settled that he was strong enough to go 
to school, and, after much debating with himself, had 
resolved to send him there, a desperate typhus-fever 
broke out in the town; most of the other clergy, 

^ after the first brush: nad^ bcm erftcn ^wfttmntcntrcffen; mU 
Id^nt Dotn 3wfQmntcTifto6 tint cincm tJelnbc. 

* tendency (ftatt disposition) : 5(nlagc; too^Inur urn bett ©Icid^s 
Hang bet ®nbimg mil consumption ju Dermeiben. 



and almost all the doctors, ran away; the work fell 
with tenfold weight on those who stood to their 
work. Arthur and his wife both caught the fever, 
of which he died in a few days, and she recovered, 
having been able to nurse him to the end, and store 
up his last words. He was sensible to the last, and 
calm and happy, leaving his wife and children with 
fearless trust for a few years in the hands of the 
Lord and Friend who had lived and died for him, 
and for whom he, to the best of his power, had lived 
and died. His widow's mourning was deep and 
gentle; she was more affected by the request of the 
Committee of a Freethinking ClubS established in 
the town by some of the factory hands ^, (which he 
had striven against with might and main, and nearly 
suppressed,) that some of their number might be 
allowed to help bear the coffin, than by anything 
else. Two of them were chosen, who witii six other 
labouring men, his own fellow-workmen and friends, 
bore him to his grave — a man who had fought the 
Lord's fight even unto the deaths. The shops were 204 
closed and the factories shut that day in the parish, 
yet no master stopped the day's wages; but for many 
a year afterwards the townsfolk felt the want of that 
brave, hopeftil, loving parson, and his wife, who had 
lived to teach them mutual forbearance and helpful- 
ness, and had almost at last given them a glimpse of 
what this old world would be if people would live 
for God and each other, instead of for themselves. 

What has all this to do with our story? Well, 
my dear boys, let a fellow go on his own way, or 
you won't get anything out of him worth having. I 
must show you what sort of a man it was who had 

^ a Freethinking Club; cin ^lub t)on grcibcnlcm. Free- 
thinkers l^ci^en aUc, ble nid^t an gottlid^c Offcnbarung glauben. 

* factory hands : f}<ibrifarBcttcr. 

3 even unto the death. Phil. 2, 8. He humbled himselC, 
and became obedient unto death, even xXie de^VJa. c>i ^^ ct^'b's** 

32 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

begotten and trained little Arthur, or else you Won't 
believe in him, which I am resolved you shall do; 
and you won't see how he, the timid weak boy, had 
points ^ in him from which the bravest and strongest 
recoiled, and made his presence and example felt 
from the first on all sides, unconsciously to himself, 
and without the least attempt at proselytizing. The 
spirit of his father was in him, and the Friend to 
whom his father had left him did not neglect the 

After supper that night, and almost nightly for 
years afterwards, Tom and Arthur, and by degrees 
East occasionally, and sometimes one, sometimes an- 
other, of their friends, read a chapter of the Bible 
together, and talked it over afterwards. Tom was 
at first utterly astonished, and almost shocked, at the 
sort of way in which Arthur read the book, and 
talked about the men and women whose lives were 
there told. The first night they happened to fall on 
the chapters about the famine in Kgypt^, and Arthur 
began talking about Joseph as if he were a living 
statesman; just as he might have talked about Lord 
Grrey and the Reform Bill 3; only that they were 
much more living realities to him. The book was to 
him, Tom saw, the most vivid and delightfiil history 
of real people, who might do right or wrong, just 
205 like any one w^ho was walking about in Rugby — 
the Doctor, or th6 masters, or the sixth-form boys. 

^ points: l^crtjortrctetibe ©l^arafterjilgc. 

* the famine in Egypt. Gen. 41, 53 flf. 

3 Lord Grey and the Reform Bill. Charles Earl of Grey, 
1764— 1845, touxbt halh nad^ bcr ^ronbeftcigung ^iH^cImg IV. 
(1830— 1837) ^rcmterminiftcr unb Itcfe ate fold^cr 1831 burd^ Sbrb 
Sol^n SfhiffcH bic (First) Reform Bill einbringcn, tueld^cr ©cfc^Dorfd^lag 
56 SBal^Ijiedcn ol^ne toirfltd^c SBSl^Icrfd^aft (rotten boroughs) bic SBer* 
tretung tm ^arlamcnte nal^m, bagcgcn ©raffd^oftcn nnb (StSbtcn 143 
SScrtretcr sulcgtc unb bag SBal^Ircd^t Bcbcutcnb auSbel^ntc. 9iad^ l^cf* 
tigcm SBtbcrftanb tjon fcitcn bc8 Oberl^aufcg ging bic 9flcformbill am 
7. guni JS32 bm^ rnib tourbe ©taatSgcfc^. 


But the astonishment soon passed off, the scales^ 
seemed to drop from his eyes, and the book became 
at once and for ever to him the great human and 
divine book, and the men and women, whom he had 
looked upon as something quite different from him- 
self, became his friends and counsellors. 

For our purposes, however, the history of one 
night's reading will be sufficient, which must be told 
here, now we are on the subject, though it didn't 
happen till a year afterwards, and long after the 
events recorded in the next chapter of our story. 

Arthur, Tom, and East were together one night, 
and read the story of Naaman^ coming to Elisha to 
be cured of his leprosy. When the chapter was 
finished, Tom shut his Bible with a slap. 

"I can't stand that fellow Naaman," said he, "after 
what he'd seen and felt, going back and bowing 
himself down in the house of Rimmon, because his 
effeminate scoundrel of a master did it. I wonder 
Elisha took the trouble to heal him. How he must 
have despised him." 

"Yes, there you go off as usual, with a shell on 
your head 3," struck in East, who always took the 
opposite side to Tom; half from love of argument, 

^ the scales. Acts, 9, 18. And immediately there fell 
from his eyes as it had been scales. 

^ Na'amSn. II Kings, 5. 9'iaeman, bcr geIb^atl|)tmQntt beS 
^onigS tjon ©^rien, tear auSfft^ig unb tourbc tjon bcm ^xopi^tkn @Itfa 
butc^ pcbcnmaligcS SBaf^en im gorban gci^eilt. S)le SBortc 2:om§ 
U^it^tn ftd^ QUf fcin SScrfJJted^cn, v. i8. In this thing the Lord 
pardon thy servant, that when my master goeth into the house 
of Rimmon to worship there, and he leaneth on my hand, and 
I bow myself in the house of Rimmon : when I bow myself in 
the house of Rimmon, the Lord pardon thy servant in this 
thing. 2)cr @)ott Summon (RTm'm5n), bet ctnen %tmptl in 2)amagcu8 
^attz, f(]^cint cine ^crfontfifation ber frud^tbarcn ^iatur getoefcn ju 
fcin, inbem fein 9iame na(]^ cintgcn eincn ®t(matcH)fcl bcbcutet, toSi^rcnb 
®efenlu8 bcnfelbcn crflilrt: Deus summus. 

3 with a shell on your head : nod^ mit ber (Sierfd^ole auf htm 

Tom Brovm*s School Dayu //. « '^ 

34 TOM brown's school days. 

half from conviction. "How do you know he didn't 
think better of it? how do you know his master was 
a scoundrel? His letter don't look like it, and the 
book don't say so." 

"I don't care," rejoined Tom; "why did Naaman 
talk about bowing down, then, if he didn't mean to 
do it? He wasn't likely to get more in earnest when 
he got back to court, and away from the prophet." 

"Well but, Tom," said Arthur, "look what Elisha 
says to him, *Go in peace.' He wouldn't have said 
that if Naaman had been in the wrong." 
206 "I don't see that that means more than saying, 
* You're not the man I took you for.'" 

"No, no, that won't do at all," said East; "read 
the words fairly, and take men as you find them. I 
like Naaman, and think he was a very fine fellow." 

"I don't," said Tom, positively. 

"Well, I think East is right," said Arthur; "I 
can't see but what it's right to do the best you can, 
though it mayn't be the best absolutely. Every man 
isn't bom to be a martyr." 

"Of course, of course," said East; "but he's on 
one of his pet hobbies. How often have I told you^ 
Tom, that you must drive a nail where it'll go^" 

"And how often have I told you," rejoined Tom, 
"that itil always go where you want, if you only 
stick to it and hit hard enough. I hate half measures 
and compromises." 

"Yes, he's a whole-hog man^, is Tom 3. Must have 

^ drive a nail where it will go : fd^Iage bcrt ^a^tl in hit rid^s 
tigc tJuge; QtM^nli^n drive the nail that will go. ©Bcnfo @. 302. 

2 a whole-hog man: cin SKonn t)on burd^eifcnben (rabifolcn) 
SJJafercgcIn. To go the whole hog = to go all lengths (not 
sticking at trifles, not doing things by halves), to go through 
thick and thin (through fire and water). @tatt bicfct ©cnbung, 
ble guriidauf u^rcn ift Quf the whole hog or none, fagt man f^crjl^aft 
to go the entire animal, to go the complete swine. 

3 is Tom: bicfcr Xom; cine bcr familiarcn (Spm^ angcljbrige 
2Benb«ng, ftatt \>txm aud^ ftel^en !onnte Tom is. 


the whole anunal, hair and teeth, claws and tail," 
laughed East "Sooner have no bread any day than 
half the loaf ^" 

"I don't know," said Arthur, "it's rather puzzling; 
but ain't most right things got by proper compromisesi 
I mean where the principle isn't given up?" 

"That's just the point," said Tom; "I don't object 
to a compromise where you don't give up your 

"Not you," said East, laughingly. "I know him 
of old, Arthur, and you'll find him out some day. 
There isn't such a reasonable fellow in the world, to 
hear him talk. He never wants anything but what's 
right and fair; only when you come to settle what's 
right and fair, it's everything that he wants, and no- 
thing that you want. And that's his idea of a com- 
promise. Give me the Brown compromise when I'm 
on his side." 

"Now, Harry," said Tom, "no more chaff— Fm 
serious. Look here — this is what makes my blood 
tingle^;" and he turned over the pages of hds Bible 207 
and read, "Shadrach3, Meshach, and Abednego an- 
swered and said to the king, *0 Nebuchadnezzar, we 
are not careful to answer thee in this matter. If it 
be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us 
firom the burning fiery furnace, and He will deliver 
us out of thine hand, O king. But if not, be it 
known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy 
gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast 

^ Sooner have no bread, etc. 2)a« @^rid^tt)ort loutct gcto31^n« 
lid^ half a loaf is better than no bread: Beffer etma^ al^ gar nid^td. 

* this is what makes my blood tingle: gcrabe bicg bringt mcin 
SBIut in 3SalIimg. To tingle, fd^tr&d^re 9'icbcnfotm Don to tinkle, 
toirb nid^t BI06 born Mingen ber Ol^rcn (my ears tingle), fonbentau^ 
t)on einem ©cfiil^I ber 9'icri)cn gcbraud^t , ba§ ben ^br^jer burd^bringt 
(the pain tingles up to my fingers). My blood tingles = my 
blood is up. 

3 Shadrach (sh^'dr^k), Mesha<::h (me'sh&k)) and Abednego 
(^bSd'nSgo). Dan. 3, 16 ff. Nebuchadnezzar (nSbGkSldiil^e'zUrV 


36 TOM bi^own's school days. 

set up/" He read the last verse twice, emphasizing' 
the nots, and dwelling on them as if they gave him 
actual pleasure, and were hard to part with. 

They were silent a minute, and then Arthur said, 
"Yes, that's a glorious story, but it don't prove your 
point, Tom, I think. There are times when there is 
only one way, and that the highest, and then the 
men are found to stand in the breach." 

"There's always a highest way, and it's always 
the right one," said Tom. "How many times has the 
Doctor told us that in his sermons in the Icist year, 
I should like to know?" 

"Well, you ain't going to convince us, is he, 
Arthur? No Brown compromise to-night," said East, 
looking at his watch. "But it's past eight, and we 
must go to first lesson ^ What a bore!" 

So they took down their books and fell to work: 
but Arthur didn't forget, and thought long and ofter. 
over the conversation. 

Chapter III. 
Arthur makes a Friend. 

"Let Nature be your teacher: 
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; 
Our meddling intellect 
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things. 
We murder to dissect — 
Enough of Science and of Art; 
Close up those barren leaves; 
Come forth, and bring with you a heart 
That watches and receiyes." — Wordsworth^. 

208 About six weeks after the beginning of the half, 
as Tom and Arthur were sitting one night before 
supper beginning their verses, Arthur suddenly 

* go to first lesson: an bie (SBorbereitmig auf bie) crfte Seftion 

* Wordsworth, The Tables Turned. Poems of Sentiment 
and Reflection. 


stopped, and looked up, and said, "Tom, do you 
know anything of Martin?" 

"Yes," said Tom, taking his hand out of his back 
hair, and delighted to throw his Gradus ad Pamas- 
sum^ on to the sofa; "I know him pretty well. He's 
a very good fellow, but as mad as a hatter*. He's 
called Madman, you know. And never was such a 
fellow for3 getting all sorts of rum things about him. 
He tamed two snakes last half, and used to carry 
them about in his pocket, and 111 be bound4 he's got 
some hedgehogs and rats in his cupboard now, and 
no one knows what besides." 

"I should like very much to know him," said 
Arthur; "he was next to me in the form to-day, and 
he'd lost his book and looked over mine, and he 
seemed so kind and gentle, that I liked him very 

"Ah, poor old Madman, he's always losing his 
books," said Tom, "and getting called up and floored 5 
because he hasn't got them." 

"I like him all the better," said Arthur. 

"Well, he's great fun, I can tell you," said Tom, 

* Gra'dds ad Pamis'stim (baS erftc a toit in far): @tufc ^itm 
$amag, l^eigt in (Snglanb tvie bei vm^, ba bet $antag bent ^ollo nnb 
ben SJluf en getveil^t tt^ar, ein $iilf dtt^brterbud^ jur ^nfertigtutg lateinif 4er 
ober gried^ifd^er SBerfe, bad auger Wngabe bet Cluantitdt (iBftnge unb 
^rge ber ©ilben) filr jebed SBort ftnnDem^anbte Studbriide, jum 
Sd^mud bienenbe ^bjeftiDe unb |)oetifd^e ^enbungen barbietet. 

* as mad as a hatter: fud^dtoll. ©onft fagt man, tt)ie (S. 236, 
as mad as a march-hare. 

3 such a fellow for, ftel^e ©. 3. 

4 ril be bound, ftel^e 6. 182. 

5 to be floored: im Olingen ju S3oben gefttedt, beim S3ojen ju 
S3oben gefd^Iagen twcrben, bann in einer 3)ebattc auS bem fjelbe ge* 
fd^Iagen unb junt Sd^tveigen gebrad^t n^erben, in ber Piaffe ben le|ten 
^lafe erl^alten, bei ©c^ulleiftungen ober im ©jamen abfaHen (obftiir^en), 
iiberl^au^t im iBerl^dltnid ju anberen fd^Ied^t tveglommen, gefagt tverben. 
gn berfelben SSerbinbung mit to be called up : Dom fiel^rer aufgerufen 
tverben, @. 224: You'll be called up and floored when master 
sees what state you're in. j^ergl. (S. 225 u. 278. 

38 TOM brown's school days. 

209 throwing himself back on the sofa, and chuckling at 
the remembrance. "We had such a game with him 
one day last half. He had been kicking up^ horrid 
stinks for some time in his study, till I suppose some 
fellow told Mary, and she told the Doctor. Anyhow, 
one day a little before dinner, when he came down 
from the library, the Doctor, instead of going home^ 
came striding into the Hall. East and I and five or 
six other fellows were at the fire, and preciously we 
stared, for he don't come in like that once a-year, 
unless it is a wet day and there's a fight in the Hall. 
*East,' says he, 'just come and show me Martinis 
study.' *0h, here's a game,' whispered the rest of 
us, and we all cut upstairs after the Doctor, East 
leading. As we got into the New Row^, which was 
hardly wide enough to hold the Doctor and his gown, 
click, click, click we heard in the old Madman's den. 
Then that stopped all of a sudden, and the bolts 
went to like fun: the Madman knew East's step^ 
and thought there was going to be a siege. 

"'It's the Doctor, Martin. He's here and w^nts 
to see you,' sings out East. 

"Then the bolts went back slowly, and the door 
opened, and there was the old Madman standing, 
looking precious scared; his jacket off, his shirt- 
sleeves up to his elbows, and his long skinny arms 
all covered with anchors and arrows and letters, 
tattooed in with gunpowder like a sailor-boy's, and 
a stink fit to knock you down coming out. 'Twas 
all the Doctor could do 3 to stand his ground, and 
EcLst and I, who were looking in under his arms, 
held our noses tight The old magpie was standing 

* kicking up a stink, nad^ Analogic toon kicking up a dust 
Uttb kicking up a row, a shindy (slang); stink, uneblcr SluSbrurf 
fttt stench, smell. 

• row (fonft 6cfottber3 a row of houses, a row of rooms) fitt 
passage: ^orribor. @. 211: the Sick-room row. 

3 Twas all the Doctor could do, [xtf)t @. 171. .- 


on the window-sill, all his feathers drooping, and 
looking disgusted and half-poisoned. 

"*What can you be about, Martin?' says the 
Doctor; *you really mustn't go on in this way — you're 
a nuisance^ to the whole passage.' 

"'Please, Sir, I was only mixing up this powder, 210 
there isn't any harm in it;' and the Madman seized 
nervously on his pestle and mortar, to show the 
Doctor the harmlessness of his pursuits, and went ofif 
pounding; click, click, click; he hadn't given six clicks 
before, puff! up went the whole into a great blaze, 
away went the pestle and mortar across the study, 
and back we tumbled into the passage. The magpie 
fluttered down into the court, swearing^, and the 
Madman danced out, howling, with his fingers in his 
mouth. The Doctor caught hold of him, and called 
to us to fetch some water. 'There, you silly fellow," 
said he, quite pleased though to find he wasn't much 
hurt, *you see you don't know the least what you're 
doing with all these things; and now, mind, you must 
give up practising chemistry by yourself.' Then he 
took hold of his arm and looked at it, and I saw he 
had to bite his lip, and his eyes twinkled; but he 
said, quite grave, *Here, you see, you've been mak- 
ing all these foolish marks on yourself, which you 
can never get out, and you'll be very sorry for it in 
a year or two: now come down to the housekeeper's 
room, and let us see if you are hurt' And away 
went the two, and we all stayed and had a regular 
tumK)ut3 of the den, till Martin came back with his 
hand bandaged and turned us out. However, I'll 

* nuisance, ftd^e (3. 40. 

* swearing; freifd^cnb; fonft Domfjaud^cn (spitting) cincr^afec. 
3 a regular turn-out: cln gel^brigeS Umunbumfcftren, entfprcd^cnb 

ben SluSbrilden to turn out casks : fjaffcr ftiirjcn unb Iccrcn, to turn 
out the loading: umlabcn (auS tintttt @(3^iff in ein attbcreS), bcnufet 
jtt dnem SBottfpiel mit till Martin turned us out: »ir fc^miffcn 
ttSed in \>tm Sod^e van unb urn, bid SJ^artin Ufi# Qemtt«^<j^mi%. 


40 TOM brown's school days. 

go and see what he's after, and tell him to come in 
after prayers to supper." And away went Tom to 
find the boy in question, who dwelt in a little study 
by himself, in New Row. 

The aforesaid Martin, whom Arthur had taken 
such a fancy for, was one of those imfortunates who 
were at that time of day (and are, I fear, still) quite 
out of their places at a public school. If we knew 
how to use our boys, Martin^ would have been seized 
upon and educated as a natural philosopher. He had 
a pcLSsion for birds, beeists, and insects, and knew 
more of them and their habits than any one in Rugby; 
211 except perhaps the Doctor, who knew ever3rthing'. 
He was also an experimental chemist on a small 
scale ^, and had made unto himself an electric machine, 
fi-om which it was his greatest pleasure and glory to 
administer small shocks to any small boys who were 
rash enough to venture into his study. And this 
was by no means an adventure fi-ee fi-om excitement; 
for, besides the probabiliy of a snake dropping on to 
your head or twining lovingly up your leg, or a rat 
getting into your breeches-pocket in search of food, 
there was the animal and chemical odour to be faced, 
which always hung about the den, and the chance 
of being blown up in some of the many experiments 
which Martin was always tr3dng, with the most 
wondrous results in the shape of explosions and 
smells that mortal boy ever heard of. Of course, 
poor Martin, in consequence of his pursuits, had be- 
come an Ishmaelite in the house. In the first place, 
he half-poisoned all his neighbours, and they in 
turn were always on the look-out to pounce upon 3 

' the Doctor, who knew everything, nad^ ber Stnjtd^t bet 
(Sd^uler. 3n SBirflid^feit mx ^molb !cltt ^ol^l^iftor. 

* on a small scale: im Heincn, in aJJiniatur. 

3 to pounce upon: ^crfaEcn ilber; t)om ^erabfd^icfeen eineS 
$Haubt)ogdd l^ergenontmen. 


any of his numerous live-stock S and drive him 
frantic^ by enticing his pet old magpie out of his 
window into a neighbouring study, and making the 
disreputable old bird drunk on toast soaked in beer 
and sugar. Then Martin, for his sins, inhabited a 
study looking into a small court some ten feet across, 
th^ window of which was completely commanded by 
those of the studies opposite in the Sick-room Row, 
these latter being at a slightly higher elevation. 
East, and another boy of an equally tormenting and 
ingenious turn of mind, now lived exactly opposite, 
and had expended huge pains and time in the pre- 
paration of instruments of annoyance for the behoof 
of Martin and his live colony. One morning an old 
basket made its appearance, suspended by a short 
cord outside Martin's window, in which were depo- 
sited an amateur nest 3 containing four young hungry 
jackdaws, the pride and glory of Martin's Kfe for the 
time being, and which he was currently asserted to 212 
have hatched upon his own person. Early in the 
morning, and late at night he was to be seen half 
out of window, administering to the varied wants of 
his callow brood. After deep cogitation. East and 
his chum had spliced a knife on to the end of a 
fishing-rod; and having watched Martin out, had, 
after half-an-hour's severe sawing, cut the string by 
which the basket was suspended, and tumbled it on 
to the pavement below, with hideous remonstrance 
from the occupants. Poor Martin, returning from 
his short absence, collected the fragments and re- 
placed his brood (except one whose neck had been 
broken in the descent) in their old location, suspend- 
ing them this time by string and wire twisted to- 
gether, defiant of any sharp instrument which his 

' live-stock: leBctibcS S^^tjcntar; gldd^ barauf his live colony. 
' to drive frantic: jum tollftcn feal^ttfmn treibcn; ftSrfcr alS 
boS geloBl^nlid^e to drive mad. 

3 an amateur nest: tin bilett0tttif(3^e§, b. % tyxu\\l\!^<t^ '^'^^ 

42 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

persecutors could command. But, like the Russian 
engfineers at SebastopolS East and his chum had an 
answer for every move of the adversary; and the 
next day had mounted a gun in the shape of a pea- 
shooter upon the ledge of their window, trained so 
as to bear exactly upon the spot which Martin had 
to occupy while tending his nurselings. The moment 
he began to feed, they began to shoot; in vain did 
the enemy himself invest^ in a pea-shooter, and 
endeavour to answer the fire while he fed the young 
birds with his other hand; his attention was divided, 
and his shots flew wild, while every one of tiieirs 
told on 3 his face and hands, and drove him into 
howlings and imprecations. He had been driven to 
ensconce the nest in a comer of his already too 
well-filled den. 

His door was barricaded by a set of ingenious 
bolts of his own invention, for the sieges were fi'equent 
by the neighbours when any unusually ambrosial 
odour spread itself from the den to the neighbouring 
studies. The door panels were in a normal state of 
smctsh, but the fi-ame of the door resisted all be- 
siegers, and behind it the owner carried on his vauied 
pursuits; much in the same state of mind, I shoul4 
213 fancy, as a Border-farmer^ lived in, in the days of 

* like the Russian engineers at Sebastopol. ^dl^renb bet 
faft cin 3al^r bauemben iBelagcrung bcr Sfeftung @ebafto|)oI \m ^hrim* 
f rlcge burd^ bie mit bctt ^itrf en ijerbiinbctcn ©nglRnbcr unb fjronjofcn, 
tueld^e mit bet ^inna^me bed SJ^alafom am 8. @e))tember 1855 enbete, 
tmtrben ))it SSerteibigungdarbeiten t)on btm General ©tafen Xoblebm 

* to invest, intronfitit) : cine ^(H)italanlagc in einem ^laixci^t 
madden, b. 1^. ftd^ ein fold^eS befd^affen. 

3 to tell on, fiel^e 6. 202. 

^ a Border-farmer: einSanbmann beiJ englifci^en ©renjftrelfcniJ 
(the borders), bet Dor ben StSubereien ber @d)otten nie ftci^er tnar. 
SSergl. @. 39 u. 238. Mosstroopers (trooping over the moss = 
moor) be^eid^net bie SBanben ber gfreibeuter; hold, getobl^nlid^ fitr 
stronghold, fefter $Ia|, l^iet einfad^ SBol^nft^, \>m man fid^, fo gut ed 
ge^m tooUtt, befefttgt DorfteSen W^. 


the old mosstroopets, when his hold might be sum- 
moned or his cattle carried off at afiy minute of night 
or day. 

"Open, Martin, old boy — it's only I, Tom Brown." 

"Oh, very well, stop a moment" One bolt went 
back. "You're sure East isn't there?" 

"No, no, hang it, open." Tom gave a kick, the 
other bolt creaked, and he entered the den. 

Den indeed it was, about five feet six inches long 
by five wide, and seven feet high. About six tattered 
schoolbooks, and a few chemical books, Taxidermy S 
Stanley on Birds*, and an odd volume of Bewick 3, 
the latter in much better preservation, occupied the 
top shelves. The other shelves, where they had not 
been cut away and used by the owner for other pur- 
poses, were fitted up for the abiding places of birds, 
beeists and reptiles. There was no attempt at 4 carpet 
or curtain. The table was entirely occupied by the 
great work of Martin, the electric machine, which 
was covered carefiilly with the remains of his table- 
cloth. The jackdaw cage occupied one wall, and 
the other w£is adorned by a small hatchet, a pair of 
climbing irons 5, and his tin candle-box, in which he 
was for the time being endeavouring to raise a hope- 
ful young family of field-mice. As nothing should 

* Taxideraiy (fd^Icd^t gcnug gcMbet au8 rd^ig unb dsQfia): baS 
m^f>dm ^^'^ 5(ugfto|)fcrt toon Xiercn. %l^ SBii^crtitel ift bcr 5(tt§* 
hmd nod^ iiBIid^. Taxidermy; or bird-and animal stuffing made 
easy. 12°. London 1858. 

* Stanley on Birds. Edward Stanley, D. D., S3ifd^of Don 
iRortt)i^, 1779 — 1849, ttmr SScrfaffer be§ 9Ser!c§ A Familiar History 
of Birds. II vols. iS^o, 1835, feitbcm oft toiebcr aufgclcgt. 

3 Thomas Bewick (bu'tk), 1753 — 1828, "the reviver of 
wood engraving," tJcrSffentlid^te, aufecr SUuftrationen ju SXd^ter^s 
IDcrlcn unb gfabein, A General History of Quadrupeds, A History 
of British Birds, fowtc British Fishes, fiber fein ^au^tmctf , bic 
britttfd^cn S6gcl (jucrft 1797), tocrgl. Jane Eyre, I, 2 ff. 

4 no attempt at. (S3 toar nid^t cintnal cin SBcrfud^ gctttad^t, 
cincn Ztppid^ obcr ©orbinen anjubringen. 

5 climbing irons, fiel^e @. 80. 

44 TOM brown's school days. 

be let to lie useless, it was well that the candle-box 
was thus occupied, for candles Martin never had. A 
pound was issued to him weekly, as to the other 
boys, but as candles were available capital, and 
easily exchangeable for birds'-eggs or young birds, 
Martin's pound invariably found its way in a few 
hours to Howlett's^ the bird-fancier's, in the Bilton 
Road^, who would give a hawk's or nightingale's 
egg pr young linnet in exchange. Martin's ingenuity 
was therefore for ever on the rack 3 to supply him- 
self with a light; just now he had hit upon a grand 
invention, and the den was lighted by a flaring cot- 
214 ton-wick issuing from a ginger-beer bottle full of 
some doleful composition. When light altogether 
failed him, Martin would loaf about by the fires in 
the passages or Hall, after the manner of Diggs, and 
try to do his verses or learn his lines by the fire- 


"Well, old boy, you haven't got any sweeter in 
the den this half. How that stuff in the bottle stinks. 
Never mind, I ain't going to stop, but you come up 
after prayers to our study; you know young Arthur; 
we've got Gray's study. We'll have a good supper 
and talk about birds'-nesting." 

Martin was evidently highly pleased at the invi- 
tation, and promised to be up without fail. 

As soon as prayers were over, and the sixth and 
fifth-form boys had withdrawn to the aristocratic 
seclusion of their own room, and the rest, or demo- 
cracy, had sat down to their supper in the Hall, Tom 
and Arthur, having secured their allowances of bread 

* Hewlett (fiir owlet), red^t l^iibfd^cr 9'^ame fiir einen SBoget 
l^anblcr. Bird-fancier, loie dog-fancier: ^unbeDcrfttufcr. 

^ the Bilton Road, in geringcr (Sntfemimg meftlid^ toon bcr 
©d^ulc, fii^rt nad^ SBilton, cincm 3)orf fiibtoeftlid^ Don SRugb^ hi bet 
©ntfcmung toon cincr englifd^cn WltxU. 

3 on the rack (set on the rack); auf bie ^Joltcr gefpannt, an^ 
gtjpQxmi. SScrgl. to rack one's brains. 


and cheese, started on their feet^ to catch the eye 
of the praepostor of the week, who remained in 
charge during supper, walking up and down the 
Hall. He happened to be an easy-going ^ fellow, so 
they got a pleasant nod to their "Please may I go 
out?" and away they scrambled to prepare for Martin 
a sumptuous banquet. This Tom had insisted on, 
for he was in great delight on the occasion; the 
reason of which delight must be expounded. The 
fact was, this was the first attempt at a fiiendship of 
his own which Arthur had made, and Tom hailed it 
as a grand step. The ease with which he himself 
became hail-fellow-well-met3 with anybody, and 
blundered into and out of twenty friendships a half- 
year, made him sometimes sorry and sometimes 
angry at Arthur's reserve and loneliness. True, 
Arthur was always pleasant, and even jolly, with 
any boys who came with Tom to their study; but 
Tom felt that it was only through him, as it were, 
that his chum cissociated with others, and that but 
for him Arthur would have been dwelling in a wilder- 
ness. This increased his consciousness of respon- 215 
sibility; and though he hadn't reasoned it out and 
made it clear to himself, yet somehow he knew that 
this responsibility, this trust which he had taken on 
him without thinking about it, head-over-heels 4 in 
fact, was the centre and turning-point of his school- 
life, that which was to make him or mar 5 him; his 

^ started on their feet: mad^tcn fid^ auf bie SBcinc. 

* easy-going, fiel^e @. 99. 

3 hail-fellow-well-met, aug cinem S^tuf (hail fellow! well 
met! l^eil ©cfell! fd^Sn, bag loir imS gctroffcn l^aBcn!) ju cinctn 5lb= 
jeftib getuorben unb regcltnafeig tocrbimbcn mit with al§ ©ejeid^nung 
ber ^efelligfcit; to be (become) hail-fellow-well-met with any- 
body: cin ^EcriDcItSfrcunb fcin (locrben). 

^ head-over-heels (heels over head): in toUem^SBirbel ^aU 
uber ^opl to^xtnh headlong ^^Ubcrftiirjung" bcbeutet. 

5 to make him or mar him: gu fcincm ^ol^I obcr ^el^e; cine 
6ei @^affpcare ^ujtge gufammcnftcllung. 

46 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

appointed work and trial for the time being. And 
Tom was becoming a new boy, though with frequent 
tumbles in the dirt^ and perpetual hard battle with 
himself, and was daily growing in manfiilness and 
thoughtfulness, as every high-couraged and well- 
principled boy must, when he finds himself for the 
first time consciously at grips with^ self and the 
devil. Already he could turn almost without a sigh, 
firom the school-gates, firom which had just scampered 
off East and three or four others of his own particular 
set, bound for some jolly lark not quite according to 
law, and involving probably a row with louts, keepers, 
or farm-labourers, the skipping 3 dinner or calling- 
over, some of Phoebe Jennings* 4 beer, and a very 
possible flogging at the end of all as a relish. He 
had quite got over the stage 5 in which he would 
grumble to himself, "Well, hang it, it's very hard of 
the Doctor to have saddled me with Arthur^. Why 
couldn't he have chummed him with Fogey 7, or 
Thomkin, or any of the fellows who never do any- 
thing but walk round the close, and finish their 
copies^ the first day they're set?" But although all 

* though with frequent tumbles in the dirt: oBglcid^ er mand^s 
mal toicbcr in ben ^ot fanf. SScrgl. to trample a thing in the dirt: 
ctttJaS mil 2fii^ctt treten, in ben ^ot jtel^cn. 

^ at grips with, grappling (fighting hand to hand) with, 
eigcntlic^: ftd^ faffcnb tnit (grip: ©riff beim diinQtn); iibcrtragen alls 
gemeiner: in ^eftigem ^atn))fe tnit. SSergl. @. 227: The grip of 
their arms wasn't enough to keep them up. 

3 to skip dinner: beim SOJittagSeffen auSblciben. To skip a 
line: eine 3^iJ« iibcrfprmgen, au^Iaffcn; to skip a chapter: cin 
^^(tpitel iiberfd^Iagcn. 

4 Phoebe (fg'be) Jennings : cine ©d^enfwirtin in 9htgb^. 

5 got over the stage: liber \>k @tufc ber (Snttoidflung, iiber ben 
©tanbpunft l^inaug. SBcrgl. im folgenben although all this was p^st. 

^ to have saddled me with Arthur: mir 5lrt^ur aufge|}adt ju 
l^aben. Saddled with the expense of bridges and highways. 

7 Fogey (alter ^x\pptn\t^tx) txtotdt bie 95orftelIung beS ^ItcrS, 
ber 3)attielei nvb fidd^erlid^feit, Thomkin bie elnei^ fleinen ^ir<)fe3. 

^ copies, fie^e 6. 137. 


this was past, he often longed, and felt that he was 
right in longing, for more time for the legitimate 
pastimes of cricket, fives, bathing, and fishing within 
bounds, in which Arthur could not yet be his com- 
panion; and he felt that when the young 'un (as he 
now generally called him) had found a pursuit and 
some other fiiend for himself, he should be able to 
give more time to the education of his own body 
with a clear conscience. 

And now what he so wished for had come to 
pass; he almost hailed it as a special providence (as 216 
indeed it was, but not for the reasons he gave for it 
— what providences are?) that Arthur should have 
singled out Martin of all fellows for a fiiend. "The 
old Madman is the very fellow," thought he; "he 
will take him scrambling over half the country after 
birds' eggs and flowers, make him run and swim 
and climb like an Indian, and not teach him a word 
of an3rthing bad, or keep him fi-om his lessons. What 
luck!" And so, with more than his usual heartiness, 
he dived into his cupboard, and hauled out an old 
knuckle-bone of ham, and two or three bottles of 
beer, together with the solemn pewter^ only used 
on state occasions; while Arthur, equally elated at 
the easy accomplishment of his first act of volition 
in the joint establishment, produced fi-om his side a 
bottle of pickles and a pot of jam ^, and cleared the 
table. In a minute or two the noise of the boys 
coming up from supper was heard, and Martin 
knocked and was admitted, bearing his bread and 
cheese, and the three fell to with hearty good-will 
upon the viands, talking faster than they ate, for all 
shyness disappeared in a moment before Tom's bottled 

^ pewter: cin ^rug an* ^artjiim, einer bcm fdntannia^^WltiaU 
a^nliti^cn ^ttq)ofttion. Dick. Pickw. CI. Vol. U. Ch. 9: The beer 
being served up, as Mr. Sawyer remarked, "in its native pewter.*' 

* jam: muSartigc^ ©ingemad^tei^; bie gciod^nlid^ftc @ortc ift 
gooseberry jam: @tad^cl6cermug. 

48 TOM brown's school days. 

beer and hospitable ways. "Here's Arthur, a regfular 
young town mouse S with a natural taste for the 
woods, Martin, longing to break his neck climbing 
trees, and with a passion for young snakes." 

"Well, I say," sputtered out Martin, eagerly, "will 
you come to-morrow, both of you, to Caldecott's 
Spinney, then, for I know of a kestrel's^ nest, up a 
fir-tree — I can't get at it without help; and. Brown, 
you can climb against any one 3." 

"Oh yes, do let us go," said Arthur; "I never 
saw a hawk's nest, nor a hawk's egg" 

"You just come down to my study then, and 111 
show you five sorts," said Martin. 

"Ay, the old Madman has got the best collection 
217 in the house, out-and-out," said Tom; and then Mar- 
tin, warming with unaccustomed good cheer and the 
chance of a convert, launched out into a proposed 
birds'-nesting campaign, betraying all manner of im- 
portant secrets; a golden-crested wren's 4 nest near 
Butlin's Mounds, a moor-hen that was sitting on 
nine eggs in a pond down the Barby Road^, and a 
kingfisher's nest in a comer of the old canal above 
Brownsover Mill 7. He had heard, he said, that no 
one had ever got a kingfisher's^ nest out perfect, 

* town mouse: @tabt!tnb. ^fcjfcr. ^Tnfpiclimg auf bie gabel 
toon ber Sanbmau§ unb ©tabtmauS. Fabulae Aesopicae ed. Halm, 
297. Hor. Sat. II, 6, 79 if, 3)icfcr6e l^at in ©nglanb eine bcfonbere 
SBcril^mtl^cit crlangt burd^ bie 1687 crfi^icnenc SBel^anblung toon Mat- 
thew Prior, 1664— 1 72 1, unb Charles Montague (fpfiter Earl of 
Halifax), 1 661— 171 5, The Hind and the Panther Transversa to 
the Story of the Country Mouse and the City Mouse. 

* kestrel: bcr 2^urmfdl (tinnunculus alaudarius). 

3 you can climb against any one : bu fannft cS im ^Icttcm 
mit jebctn aufnd^men. 

^ golden-crested wren: bag QJoIbl^a^nd^cn (motacilla regulus). 

5 Butlin's Mound, DicIIcid^t eitt ^UncngraB, ettua 300 ajJeter Don 
ber ©d^ule entfemt, an bernad^ SBeften fii^renben ©trageLawford road. 

^ the Barby Road: an bcr Oftfeite t)on School-close entlang 
nad^ Barby {@. 125.) 7 Brownsover Mill, ftcl^e @. 183. 

^kingfisher: ber euro))fti{^e (Sid\}o^eIf alcedo ispida. 


and that the British Museum, or the Government, or 
somebody, had offered ^^loo to any one who could 
bring them a nest and eggs not damaged. In the 
middle of which astounding announcement, to which 
the others were listening with open ears, already 
considering the application of the ^^loo, a knock 
came at the door, and East's voice was heard crav- 
ing admittance. 

"There's Harry," said Tom; "well let him in — I'll 
keep him steady, Martin. I thought the old boy 
would smell out the supper." 

The fact was that Tom's heart had already smitten 
him for not asking his "fidus Achates^" to the feast, 
although only an extempore affair; and though pru- 
dence and the desire to get Martin and Arthur to- 
gether alone at first had overcome his scruples, he 
was now heartily glad to open the door, broach 
another bottle of beer, and hand over the old ham- 
knuckle to the searching of his old fi-iend's pocket- 

"Ah, you greedy vagabonds," said East, wdth his 
mouth full; "I knew there was something going on 
when I saw you cut off out of Hall so quick with 
your suppers. What a stunning tap ^, Tom! you are 
a wunnerS for bottling the swipes." 

"I've had practice enough for the sixth in my 
time, and it's hard if I haven't picked up a wrinkle 4 
or two for my own benefit." 

"Well, old Madman, how goes the birds'-nesting 218 
campaign? How's Hewlett? I expect the young 

' fidus Achates ; citt trcucr Segleiter beS '&nta^, Verg. Aen, 
VI, 158 (unb fonft). 

* tap: %x\ii6) (uom gagbicr), QJebrSu iiberl^am)t. Stunning, 
fiel^c @. 97. 

3 a wunner (a oner, a one-er), a stunner: ein ^aitptfcrl. 
Swipes, eigentlW^: 3)imnbier, bonn im slang aud^ Don beffercm 93ier; 
bcfonberS @d^itlau8brucf. 

4 a wrinkle, fic^e @. 172. 

Tom Brown* s School Days. II, \ 

50 TOM brown's school days. 

rooks'U be out in another fortnight, and then my 
turn comes." 

"There'll be no young rooks fit for pies for a 
month yet; shows how much you know about it," 
rejoined Martin, who, though very good friends with 
East, regarded him with considerable suspicion for 
his propensity to practical jokes. 

"Scud knows nothing and cares for nothing but 
grub^ and mischief," said Tom; "but young rook pie, 
specially when you've had to climb for them, is very 
pretty eating. However, I say. Scud, we're all going 
after a hawk's nest to-morrow, in Caldecott's Spinney; 
and if you'll come and behave yourself, we'll have a 
stunning climb." 

"And a bathe in Aganippe 2. Hooray! I'm your 

"No, no; no bathing in Aganippe; that's where 
our betters go." 

"Well, well, never mind. I'm for the hawk's nest 
and anything that turns up." 

And the bottled-beer being finished, and his 
hunger appeased. East departed to his study, "that 
sneak Jones 3," as he informed them, who had just 
got into the sixth and occupied the next study, hav- 
ing instituted a nightly visitation upon East and his 
chum, to their no small discomfort. 

When he was gone, Martin rose to follow, but 
Tom stopped him. "No one goes near New Row," 
said he, "so you may just as well stop here and do 
your verses, and then we'll have some more talk. 
We'll be no end quiet; besides, no praepostor comes 
here now — we haven't been visited once this half" 

* grub, ftel^e @. 98. 

2 Aganippe: btn SUlufen f)eUige ClucIIe am fju^e be§ §e(ifon in 
S85oticn. SOfJan l^atte ben 9?amen cinem Don Dr. 5(rnolb , nid^t Don 
htn ©d^iUcrn benu^ten 93abe}3lat im 9(Don am SSegc nad^ Brownsover 

•? Jonesy fiel^e ©. 196. 


So the table was cleared, the cloth restored, and 
the three fell to work with Gradus and dictionary 
upon the morning's vulgus^ 

They were three very fair examples of the way 219 
in which such tasks were done at Rugby, in the 
consulship of Plancus^. And doubtless the method 
is little changed, for there is nothing new under the 
sun, especially at schools. 

Now be it known unto all you boys who are at 
schools which do not rejoice in the time-honoured 
institution of the Vulgus, (commonly supposed to 
have been established by William of Wykeham3 at 
Winchester, and imported to Rugby by Arnold, more 
for the sake of the lines which were learnt by heart 
with it, than for its own intrinsic value, as IVe 
always understood,) that it is a short exercise, in 
Greek or Latin verse, on a given subject, the mini- 
mum number of lines being fixed for each form. 
The master of the form gave out at fourth lesson on 
the previous day the subject for next morning's 
vulgus, and at first lesson each boy had to bring his 
vulgus ready to be looked over; and with the vulgus, 
a certain number of lines from one of the Latin or 
Greek poets then being construed 4 in the form had 
to be got by heart. The master at first lesson called 
up each boy in the form in order, and put him on 5 
in the lines. If he couldn't say them, or seem to 
say them, by reading them off the master's or some 
other boy's book who stood near, he was sent back^, 

^ vulgus, Dom Iatemifrf)en vulgus : ba§ gemeinc SSoff, finbet feme 
(Srf Wrung @. 219. 

2 Plancus, ftcl^c @. 89. 

3 William of (de) Wykeham (wTlc'Sm), 1324— 1404, JBifd^of 
Don SQSind^eftcr unb kan^Ier be§ DfJeirf)^ unter 9?ici^arb II., griinbetc bic 
(B^vdt Don SSind^efter, fotoic New College in Djcforb (urfpriinglid^ 
gcnannt St. Mary College of Winchester). Dr. 5(molb I)atte feine 
le^te SSorbcTcitnng j^ur UniDerfitat in SSinc^efter em^jfangen. 

4 to construe, ftc^e @. 120. 5 to put on, fiel)c @. 140. 

^ to send back: htn @(^U(cr, ber ^unt 5(uf(a^cn an ba§ Slat^li^x: 

52 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

and went below all the boys who did so say or seem 
to say them; but in either case his vulgus was looked 
over by the master, who gave and entered in his 
book, to the credit or discredit of the boy, so many 
marks ^ as the composition merited. At Rugby 
vulgus and lines were the first lesson every other 
day in the week, or Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Satur- 
days; and as there were thirty-eight weeks ^ in the 
school year, it is obvious to the meanest capacity 
that the master of each form had to set one hundred 
and fourteen subjects every year, two hundred and 
twenty-eight every two years, and so on. Now to 
persons of moderate invention this was a consider- 
220 able task, and human nature being prone to repeat 
itself, it will not be wondered that the masters gave 
the same subjects sometimes over again after a 
certain lapse of time. To meet and rebuke this bad 
habit of the masters, the school-boy-mind, with its 
accustomed ingenuity, had invented an elaborate 
system of tradition. Almost every boy kept his own 
vulgus written out in a book, and these books were 
duly handed down from boy to boy, till (if the tra- 
dition has gone on till now) I suppose the popular 
boys, in whose hands bequeathed vulgus-books have 
accumulated, are prepared with three or four vulguses 
on any subject in heaven or earth, or in "more 
worlds than one 3," which an unfortunate master can 
pitch upon. At any rate, such lucky fellows had 
generally one for themselves and one for a friend in 
my time. The only objection to the traditionary 

l^erangetretcn ift, auf feinen ^(a^ juriid^fci^idEen. @. 221 : He wouldn't 
be sent back. (S. 223 : The next morning at first lesson Tom 
was turned back in his lines. 

^ marks, good (or bad) marks : joints. 

2 thirty-eight weeks. S)a§ cnglifd^c (Sd^uljal^r (school-year) 
ift ettoaS fiii'scr aU boS imfrigc. 

3 more worlds than one, 5(nfpie(ung auf baS SSerf bc8 ^^^ftferS 
@ir 3)at)ib SSretofter (1781— 1868), More Worlds than One, the 
Creed of the Philosopher and the Hope of the Christian. 


method of doing your vulguses was, the risk that 
the successions might have become confused, and so 
that you and another follower of traditions should 
show up the same identical vulgus some fine morn- 
ing; in which case, when it happened, considerable 
grief was the result — but when did such risk hinder 
boys or men from short cuts^ and pleasant paths? 

Now in the study that night, Tom was the up- 
holder of the traditionary method of vulgus doing. 
He carefully produced two large vulgus-books, and 
began diving into them, and picking out a line here, 
and an ending there (tags^, as they were vulgarly 
called), till he had gotten all that he thought he 
could make fit. He then proceeded to patch his, 
tagfs together with the help of his Gradus, producing 
an incongruous and feeble result of eight elegiac 
lines 3, the minimum quantity for his form, and finish- 
ing up with two highly moral lines extra, making 
ten in all, which he cribbed 4 entire from one of his 
books, beginning "O genus humanumS," and which 
he himself must have used a dozen times before, 
whenever an unfortunate or wicked hero, of what- 
ever nation or language under the sun, was the sub- 221 
ject Indeed, he began to have great doubts whether 
the master wouldn't remember them, and so only 
threw them in as extra lines, because in any case 
they would call off attention from the other tags, 
and if detected, being extra lines, he wouldn't be 
sent back to do two more in their place, while if 

^ short cut: cin Sfttd^ttoeg. 

* tags: Heme ©tucfc^cn, SBrodEen, ftl^nlid^ toie fag-ends: S^aiu 
enbcn, odds and ends: 5(6fftlle. 5(ug bent ^ier unb ba ^erauSs 
geriffenen wctben SBerfe ^ufammengefficlt (patched together). 

3 elegiac lines (elegiacs): 3)iftid^cn in elegifd^em SBerSmafe 
(^ejametcr unb pentameter). 

4 to crib: maufen, I)ier: abfci^reiben. SBergl. the crib, @. 263. 

5 O genus humanum: 3Renf«f)engefd^Ic(j^t. 3)er jum tJKcImerl 
bcftimmte l^od^trabcnbe 5(u§ruf ^u ^infong cineS ^ejameterg ift tool^t 
entlel^nt cmS Lucr. V, 1192: o genus infelix humanum. 

54' TOM brown's school days. 

they passed muster again he would get marks for 

The second method pursued by Martin may be 
called the dogged S or prosaic method. He, no more 
than Tom, took any pleasure in the task, but having 
no old vulgus-books of his own, or any one's else, 
could not follow the traditionary method, for which 
too, as Tom remarked, he hadn't the genius. Martin 
then proceeded to write down eight lines in English, 
of the most matter-of fact kind, the first that came 
into his head; and to convert these, line by line, by 
main force of Gradus and dictionary, into Latin that 
would scan^. This was all he cared for, to produce 
eight lines with no false quantities or concords 3: 
whether the words were apt, or what the sense was, 
mattered nothing; and, as the article was all new, 
not a line beyond the minimum did the followers of 
the dogged method ever produce. 

The third, or artistic method, was Arthur's. He 
considered first what point in the character or event 
which was the subject could most neatly be brought 
out within the limits of a vulgus, trying always to 
get his idea into the eight lines, but not binding 
himself to ten or even twelve lines if he couldn't do 
this. He then set to work, as much as possible with- 
out Gradus or other help, to clothe his idea in ap- 
propriate Latin or Greek, and would not be satisfied 
till he had polished it well up with the aptest and 
most poetic words and phrases he could get at. 

A fourth method indeed was used in the school, 
but of too simple a kind to require a comment. It 

^ dogged, ctiua: biiffelartig; SBcjeid^nung bcr ^attnftcfigfcit. 

2 that would scan: ba§ ftd^ tDiirbe ffanbiercn laffen, ba§ eincn 
SScrS bilbcte. 

3 concord: fibcreinftimmuiig ber ©a^teile, bic fti na(j^ cinanber 
rid^tctt, tDtc itbereinftimmung beS ^IbjeftibS mil bcm ©ubftantit), ju 
bcm c§ gel^Brt, in 6Jenu§, ^umtvu^ unb ^afu§, ober UBereinftimntung 
beg SSerbuntg mil bem @ubj[e!t im 9?umerug unb in ber ^erfon, 


may be called the vicarious method', obtained 222 
amongst big boys of Ictzy or bullying habits, and 
consisted simply in making clever boys whom they 
could thrash do their whole vulgus for them, and 
construe it to them afterwards; which latter is a 
method not to be encouraged, and which I strongly 
advise you all not to practise. Of the others, you 
will find the traditionary most troublesome, unless 
you can steal your vulguses whole (experto erode ^), 
and that the artistic method pays 3 the best both in 
marks and other ways. 

The vulguses being finished by nine o'clock, and 
Martin having rejoiced above measure in the abun- 
dance of light, and of Gradus and dictionary, and 
other conveniences almost unknown to him for get- 
ting through the work, and having been pressed by 
Arthur to come and do his verses there whenever 
he liked, the three boys went down to Martin's den, 
and Arthur was initiated into the lore of bird's-eggs, 
to his great delight. The exquisite colouring and 
forms astonished and charmed him who had scarcely 
ever seen any but a hen's egg or an ostrich's, and 
by the time he was lugged away to bed he had 
learned the names of at least twenty sorts, and 
dreamt of the glorious perils of tree-climbing and 
that he had found a roc's egg^ in the island as 
big as Sindbad's and clouded like a tit-lark's, in 

^ vicarious method: blc SWetl^obe bed SBiMrlatS^toangeS. 

* experto crede, cln au8 Verg. Aen. XI, 283', experto cre- 
dite, cntle^nteS unb im 3WitteIaIter ^u experto crede Roberto um^ 
gemonbcltcg §(IItag8tDort. SBergl. SBiic^ntann, (5Jef(iigclte SSortc, i5.§(uf(. 
@. 276 f. 

3 to pay: pd^ bc^ap madden, fid^ Dernjerten laffen, ctmaS cm* 
bringcn; ftcl^cnbcr §(uSbrucI Don ficlftungcn auf bcr ©d^ulc, Unittcrfitat 
unb im ©famen. 

4 a roc's egg: ein SRiefenei bed SRicfcnDogciS roc, luirb Don 
Sindbad the Sailor auf feiner jloeiten ©cefal^rt in The Arabian 
Nights' Entertainments ntlt ben SSorten befd^rieben: "The circum- 
ference might be about fifty paces." 

56 TOM brown's school days. 

blowing^ which Martin and he had nearly been 
drowned in the yolk. 

Chapter IV. 
The Bird -Fanciers. 

"I have found out a gift for my fair, 

I have found where the wood-pigeons breed: 
But let me the plunder forbear, 

She would say *twas a barbarous deed.*' 

"And now, my lad, take them five shilling. 
And on my advice in future think; 
So Billy pouched them all so willing, 
And got that night disguised in drink." 

MS. Ballad. 

223 The next morning at first lesson Tom was turned 
back^ in his lines, and so had to wait till the second 
round 3, while Martin and Arthur said theirs all right 
and got out of school at once. When Tom got out 
and ran down to breakfast at Harrowell's they were 
missing, and Stumps informed him that they had 
swallowed down their breakfasts and gone oflF to- 
gether, where, he couldn't say. Tom hurried over 
his own breakfast, and went first to Martin's study 
and then to his own, but no signs of the missing 
boys were to be found. He felt half angry and 
jealous of Martin — where could they be gone? 

He learnt second lesson with East and the rest 
in no very good temper, and then went out into the 
quadrangle. About ten minutes before school Martin 
and Arthur arrived in the quadrangle breathless; 
and, catching sight of him, Arthur rushed up all ex- 
citement and with a bright glow on his face. 

^ to blow; (ein @i) au§6(afen. 

* turned back, fie^c ©. 219. In his lines: bcim Sluffagen 
feiner SBcrfe. 

•? till the second round: bi§ Me $Heil^c tuiebcr an i^n fam. 


"Oh, Tom, look here," cried he, holding out three 
moor-hen's eggs; "we've been down the Barby Road 
to the pool Martin told us of last night, and just see 
what we've got" 

Tom wouldn't be pleased, and only looked out 224 
for something to find fault with. 

"Why, yoimg un," said he, "what have you 
been after? You don't mean to say you've been 

The tone of reproach made poor little Arthur 
shrink up in a moment and look piteous, and Tom 
with a shrug of his shoulders turned his anger on 

"Well, I didn't think, Madman, that you'd have 
been such a mufF^ as to let him be getting wet 
through at this time of day. You might have done 
the wading yourself." 

"So I did, of course, only he would come in too 
to see the nest. We left six eggs in; they'll be 
hatched in a day or two." 

"Hang the eggs!" said Tom; "a fellow can't turn 
his back for a moment but all his work's undone. 
Hell be laid up for a week for this precious lark, 
111 be bound." 

"Indeed, Tom, now," pleaded Arthur, "my feet 
ain't wet, for Martin made me take off my shoes and 
stockings and trousers." 

"But they are wet and dirty, too — can't I se.e?" 
answered Tom; "and you'll be called up and floored^ 
when the master sees what a state you're in. You 
haven't looked at second lesson, you know." Oh 
Tom, you old humbug 3! you to be upbraiding any 

^ muff, ftel^c @. 109. 

* floored, ftd^e @. 208. 

3 you old humbug! \>u alter ^cuc^Icr! Humbug: Sd^toinbcl 
((S. 155) bcjcid^ttct in bcr SRcgel ctmaS Unfolibcgunb UnrccHeS. ^icr, 
xoxt oft, t)on einet $etfon gelbtaud^t, liege ed \\di etfe^en bur(j^ quack: 

58 TOM brown's school days. 

one with not learning their lessons! If you hadn't 
been floored yourself now at first lesson, do you 
mean to say you wouldn't have been with them? 
and youVe taken away all poor little Arthur's joy 
and pride in his first birds' eggs; and he goes and 
puts them down in the study, and takes down his 
books with a sigh, thinking he has done something 
horribly wrong, whereas he has learnt on in advance 
much more than will be done at second lesson. 

But the old Madman hasn't, and gets called up 
and makes some fiightful shots ^, losing about ten 
225 places^, and all but getting floored. This somewhat 
appeases Tom's wrath, and by the end of the lesson 
he has regained his temper. And afterwards in their 
study he begins to get right again 3, as he watches 
Arthur's intense joy at seeing Martin blowing the 
eggs and glueing them carefully on to bits of card- 
board, and notes the anxious loving looks which the 
little fellow casts sidelong at him. And then he 
thinks, "What an ill-tempered beast I am! Here's 
just what I was wishing for last night come about, 
and I'm spoiling it all," and in another five minutes 
has swallowed the last mouthful of his bile 4, and is 
repaid by seeing his little sensitive -plant expand 
again, and sun itself in his smiles. 

After dinner the Madman is busy with the pre- 
parations for their expedition, fitting new straps on 
to his climbing irons 5, filling large pill-boxes with 
cotton wool, and sharpening East's small axe. They 

Cluarffal6er, ber anberen etnja^ borfd^tDinbelt; 3^om rebet ft(j^ feI6ft ctiuaS 
\)ox, n)a§ i^m eigenKic^ fern liegt. 

^ shot: ein (S(j^u6 aufS GJeratetDO^I; frightful shots: entfe^Itt^c 
fje^lf(j^uffe. ^ losing about ten places : toobei er etlca jel^n ^(ft^c 

3 to get right again: njieber tiemiinftig tuerben. 

^ has swallowed the last mouthful of his bile: ^at fcinc 
(SJaHc (feinen ^rger) wic SD^ebijtn 6i§ jjum (e^ten SSifei^en l^eruntcrs 

5 chmhing irons, fie^c @. 80. Cotton-wool, fte^c (S. 195. 


carry all their munitions into calling-over S and 
directly afterwards, having dodged such praepostors 
as are on the look-out for fags at cricket, the four 
set off at a smart trot down the Lawford footpath^ 
straight for Caldecott's Spinney and the hawk's nest. 

Martin leads the way in high feather 3; it is quite 
a new sensation to him getting companions, and he 
finds it very pleasant, and means to show them all 
manner of proofs of his science and skill. Brown 
and Eeist may be better at cricket and football and 
games, thinks he, but out in the fields and woods 
see 4 if I can't teach them something. He has taken 
the leadership already, and strides away in front 
with his climbing-irons strapped under one arm, his 
pecking-bagS under the other, and his pockets and 
hat full of pill-boxes, cotton wool, and other etceteras. 
Each of the others carries a pecking-bag, and East 
his hatchet. 

When they had crossed three or four fields with- 
out a check, Arthur began to lag, and Tom seeing 
this shouted to Martin to pull up^ a bit: "We ain't 226 
out Hare-and-hounds7 — what's the good of grinding 
on^ at this rate?" 

"There's the Spinney," said Martin, pulling up on 
the brow of a slope at the bottom of which lay 
Lawford brook, and pointing to the top of the op- 

^ calling over, fte^e ©. 79. To dodge, tranfitiD: jemanbem 
eitt <B6)n\pp<ii)tn fd^lagen (augmeid^en). 

* Long Lawford liegt ettcaS iiber einc englifd^e 9Kei(e lueftlid^ 
Don 9htg69 an ber (Sifenbal^n. Caldecott's Spinney, fie^e @. 183. 

3 in high feather: in gel^obener ©timmung, obenaug; don einem 
geberbufc^ entlel^nt. ^ see : tDoHen n)ir fc^en. 

5 pecking-bag: (Sammeltafci)e. X^iem. 

^ to pull up, njtc @. 233: ^alt madden; eigentliij^ Dont ^(njiel^cn 

ber 3%^- ^^^9^- ®- 75- 

7 Hare-and-hands, ftel^c @. 106, 124 ff. 

® to grind on : wciter Kabaftem. To grind, intranfttit) : ft(j^ in 

ciner Xretmii^Ie abarbeiten, oc^fen, biiffein (@c§uIau3brudE) , toit 

@. 239: always ready to leave the grind, as he called it; fcmer 

Don fd^arfcm JRciten u. bergl 

6o TOM brown's school days. 

posite slope; "the nest is in erne of those high fir- 
trees at this end. And down by the brook there, I 
know of a sedge-bird's^ nest; we'll go and look at 
it coming back." 

"Oh, come on, don't let us stop," said Arthxir, 
who was getting excited at the sight of the wood; 
so they broke into a trot again, and were soon 
across the brook, up the slope, and into the Spinney. 
Here they advanced £ls noiselessly as possible, lest 
keepers or other enemies should be about, and 
stopped at the foot of a tall fir, at the top of which 
Martin pointed out with pride the kestrel's nest, the 
object of their quest. 

"Oh where! which is it?" asks Arthur, gaping up 
in the air, and having the most vague idea of what 
it would be like. 

"There, don't you see?" said East, pointing to a 
lump of misletoe in the next tree, which was a beech: 
he saw that Martin and Tom were busy with the 
climbing-irons, and couldn't resist the temptation of 
hoaxing. Arthur stared and wondered more than 

"Well, how curious! it doesn't look a bit like 
what I expected," said he. 

"Very odd birds, kestrels," said East, looking 
waggishly at his victim, who was still star-gazing. 

"But I thought it was in a fir-tree?" objected 

"Ah, don't you know? that's a new sort of fir, 
which old Caldecott brought from the Himalayas." 

"Really!" said Arthur; "I'm glad I know that— 
how unlike our firs they are! They do^ very well 
too here, don't they? the wSpinney's full of them." 
227 "What's that humbug he's telling you?" cried 

^ sedge-bird, sedge-warbler: ber Ufcrfd^Uffttngcr, calamodyta 

^ to do: gebei^cn, fortlommen. 


Tom, looking up, having caught the word Himalayas, 
and suspecting what East was after. 

"Only about this fir," said Arthur, putting his 
hand on the stem of the beech. 

"Fir!" shouted Tom, "why, you don't mean to 
say, young 'un, you don't know a beech when you 
see one?" 

Poor little Arthur looked terribly ashamed, and 
East exploded in laughter which made the wood ring. 

"I've hardly ever seen any trees," faltered Arthur. 

"What a shame to hoax him. Scud!" cried Martin. 
"Never mind, Arthur, you shall know more about 
trees than he does in a week or two." 

"And isn't that the kestrel's nest, then?" asked 

"That! why, that's a piece of mistletoe. There's 
the nest, that lump of sticks up this fir." 

"Don't believe him, Arthur," struck in the incor- 
rigible East; "I just saw an old magpie go out of it." 

Martin did not deign to reply to this sally, ex- 
cept by a grunt, as he buckled tiie last buckle of his 
climbing-irons; and Arthur looked reproachftiUy at 
East without speaking. 

But now came the tug of war^ It was a very 
difficult tree to climb until the branches were reached, 
the first of which was some fourteen feet up, for the 
trunk was too large at the bottom to be swarmed^; 
in fact, neither of the boys could reach more than 
half round it with their arms. Martin and Tom, both 
of whom had irons on, tried it without success at 
first; the fir bark broke away where they stuck the 
irons in as soon as they leant any weight on their 
feet, and the grip of their arms wasn't enough to 

* the tug of war: bcr 9hicf be§ ^ege§, bcr l^eigcftc ^atiUjf. 
Nathaniel Lee (1650— 1690), Alexander the Great, Act IV, Sc. 2 : 
When Greeks joinM Greeks, there was the tug of war. 

^ to swarm a tree, familiar: einen 99aum burd^ Umf^janncn mit 
bin ^rmcn unb ^ieen erflettem. 

62 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

keep them up; so, after getting up three or four feet, 
down they came slithering to the ground, barking^ 
their arms and faces. They were ftirious, and East 
228 sat by laughing and shouting at each failure, "Two 
to one^ on the old magpie!" 

"We must try a pyramid 3," said Tom at last 
"Now, Scud, you lazy rascal, stick yourself against 
the tree!" 

"I dare say 4! and have you standing on my 
shoulders with the irons on: what do you think my 
skin's made of?" However, up he got, and leant 
against the tree, putting his head down and clasping 
it with his arms as far as he could. "Now then, 
Madman," said Tom, "you next." 

"No, Fm lighter than you; you go next." So 
Tom got on East's shoulders, and grasped the tree 
above, and then Martin scrambled up on Tom's 
shoulders, amidst the totterings and groanings of the 
pyramid, and, with a spring which sent his supporters 
howling to the ground, clasped the stem some ten 
feet up, and remained clinging. For a moment or 
two they thought he couldn't get up, but then, hold- 
ing on with arms and teeth, he worked first one iron, 
then the other, firmly into the bark, got another grip 
with his arms, and in another minute had hold of 
the lowest branch, 

"All up with 5 the old magpie now," said East; 
and, after a minute's rest, up went Martin, hand over 
hand^, watched by Arthur with fearful eagerness. 

^ barking, bom 5(6fd^ft(ett ber SBftumc auf ba§ ©d^inben bcr ^aut 

^ Two to one: ^toti gegen em§ (getuettet); on the old magpie: 
auf hit a^ancm ber alten ©Ifter, b. f). ba^ i^r ba§ 9?cft nic^t augne^t. 

3 a pyramid. 3)ic ©rf Wrung folgt; ftc ftellen ftd^ ciner auf bie 
@(j^ultem bc3 anbem, tuie bei ber ^ilbung einer ^^ramibe im ©irfuS. 

4 I dare say: ei freidd^, baS glaube ic^ fe^on tt)iirbe cud^ ^affen, 
ba§ njftre fc^5n. 

5 All up with: eg ift aug mil ber alten ©Ifter, fie ift futfd^. 
^ hand over hand: ®riff iiber ©riff, ^feffer. 


"Isn't it very dangerous?" said he. 

"Not a bit," answered Tom; "you can't hurt if 
you only get good hand-hold ^ Try every branch 
with a good pull before you trust it, and then up 
you go." 

Martin was now amongst the small branches 
close to the nest, and away dashed the old bird, and 
soared up above the trees, watching the intruder. 

"All right — four eggs!" shouted he. 

"Take 'em all!" shouted East; "that'll be one 

"No, no! leave one, and then she 3 won't care," 
said Tom. 

We boys had an idea that birds couldn't count, 229 
and were quite content as long as you left one egg. 
I hope it is so. 

Martin carefiiUy put one egg into each of his 
boxes and the third into his mouth, the only other 
place of safety, and came down like a lamplighter 4. 
All went well till he was within ten feet of the 
ground, when, as the trunk enlarged, his hold got 
less and less firm, and at last down he came with a 
run 5, tumbling on to his back on the turf, splutter- 
ing and spitting out the remains of the great egg, 
which had broken by the jar^ of his fall. 

"Ugh 7, ugh — something to drink — ugh! it was 
addled," spluttered he, while the wood rang again 
with the merry laughter of East and Tom. 

^ to get good hand-hold: feft ^ufaffen. 

* apiece, gelub^nlid^ a-piece : einS fiir jebcn. 

3 she: bic TOc. X^iem. 

^ like a lamplighter, quick as a lamplighter; ha bcr Satemciu 
anftcdcr ftctS im ixabt ift. 2Bir fagen: mil ber gijiQ^cit eineS gag* 

5 with a run : im ©d^ufe. 

^ jar: ©rfci^iitterung; getofi^nlic^ mirb baS SQSort Dom ^nancn 
(cincr ^iir), obcr Don 3ufammcnfto6 unb Stoi^t gcbraud^t. . 

7 Ugh (Q), and) whew: l^u; 5(ugnif beS (£rftaunen8, SQSibcrwillcng 

64 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

Then they examined the prizes, gathered up their 
things, and went off to the brook, where Martin 
swallowed huge draughts of water to get rid of the 
taste; and they visited the sedge-bird's nest, and 
from thence struck across the country in high glee, 
beating^ the hedges and brakes as they went along; 
and Arthur at last, to his intense delight, was allowed 
to climb a small hedgerow oak for a magpie's nest 
with Tom, who kept all round him like a mother, 
and showed him where to hold and how to throw 
his weight^; and though he was in a great fright, 
didn't show it; and was applauded by all for his 

They crossed a road soon afterwards, and there 
close to them lay a heap of charming pebbles. 

"Look here," shouted East, "here's luck! I've been 
longing for some good honest pecking3 this half 
hour. Let's fill the bags, and have no more of this 
foozling4 bird's-nesting." 

No one objected, so each boy filled the fristian 
bag he carried fiill of stones: they crossed into the 
next field, Tom and East taking one side of the 
hedges, and the other two the other side. Noise 
230 enough they made certainly, but it was too early in 
the season for the young birds, and the old birds 
were too strong on the wing for our young marks- 
men, and flew out of shot after the first discharge. 
But it was great fim, rushing along the hedgerows, 
and discharging stone after stone at blackbirds and 
chaffinches, though no result in the shape of 
slaughtered birds was obtained: and Arthur soon 
entered into it, and rushed to head back 5 the birds, 

^ to beat: ftel^c @. 174. 

* how to throw his weight: toic er ben @c^tt)erj)un!t nid^t 

3 to peck, ^jroDinjicH fiir: fd^mcigen (to pitch). 

4 foozling: bdmlid^, tangtoeilig; cigcntUd^: bimim mad^cnb. 

•5 to bead back: ijorlaufcn imb juriiclfd^eud^en. §o|)|)c. 3m 


and shouted, and threw, and tumbled into ditches 
and over and through hedges, as wild as the Mad- 
man himself. 

Presently the party, in full cry after ^ an old 
blackbird (who was evidently used to the thing and 
enjoyed the ftin, for he would wait till they came 
close to him and then fly on for forty yards or so, 
and, with an impudent flicker^ of his tail, dart into 
the depths of the quickset), came beating down a 
high double hedge, two on each side. 

•* There he is again," "Head him," •'Let drive 3," 
"I had him there," "Take care where you're throw- 
ing. Madman," the shouts might have been heard a 
quarter of a mile off. They were heard some two 
hundred yards off by a farmer and two of his 
shepherds, who were doctoring sheep in a fold in 
the next field. 

Now, the farmer in question rented a house and 
yard situate at the end of the field in which the 
young bird-fanciers had arrived, which house and 
yard he didn't occupy or keep any one else in. 
Nevertheless, like a brainless and imreasoning Briton, 
he persisted in maintaining on the premises a large 
stock of cocks, hens, and other poultry. Of course, 
all sorts of depredators visited the place firom time 
to time: foxes and gipsies wrought havoc in the 
night; while in the day time, I regret to have to 
confess that visits from the Rugby boys, and con- 
sequent disappearances of ancient 4 and respectable 
fowls, were not unfrequent. Tom and East had dur- 
ing the period of their outlawry visited the bam in 

folgenben head him = head him back. ^ergl. to head off: gu« 

* in full cry after: in toUcr Qagb nac^. ^feffcr. 3)er ?(u3brudf 
ift t)om SSeHcn unb ^culen bcr SD^eute cntlel^nt. 

* flicker, l^ict Don SBettJegimg beS ©c^toanjeiJ, fonft Dom ©d^Iogen 
mit \>m Srliigcln ol^ne glug. 

3 Let drive, tt)ic fonft let fly: fd^iej loS, »irf jit. 

* ancient: itralt. Mac. W. Hast 295: two axvcvwA \satw, 

Tom Bravm'i School Days. II, \ 

66 TOM brown's school days. 

231 question for felonious purposes, and on one occasion 
had conquered and slain a duck there, and borne 
away the carcase triumphantly, hidden in their hand- 
kerchiefs. However,\ they were sickened oP the 
practice by the trouble and anxiety which the 
wretched duck's body caused them. They carried it 
to Sally Harrowell's in hopes of a good supper; but 
she, after examining it, made a long face, and refused 
to dress or have anything to do with it. Then they 
took it into their study, and began plucking it them- 
selves; but what to do with the feathers, — where to 
hide them? 

"Good gracious, Tom, what a lot of feathers a 
duck has!" groaned East, holding a bagful in his 
hand, and looking disconsolately at the carcase, not 
yet half plucked. 

"And I do think he's getting high^ too, already," 
said Tom, smelling at him cautiously, "so we must 
finish him up soon." 

"Yes, all very well; but how are we to cook 3 
him? I'm sure I ain't going to try it on in the hall 
or passages; we can't afford to be roasting ducks 
about 4, our character's too bad." 

"I wish we were rid of the brute," said Tom, 
throwing him on the table in disgust. And after a 
day or two more it became clear that got rid of he 
must be; so they packed him and sealed him up in 
brown paper, and put him in the cupboard of an 
unoccupied study, where he was found in the holi- 
days by the matron, a grewsomeS body. 

' sickened of: iiberbrilffig. 

^ he's getting high : fie ift fd^on ongegongcn. High toom kmU- 
gout be§ SSi(b6ret3. 

3 to cook, allgemeiner 5(u§brudf, au6) Dont SBraten gebraud^t. 

4 we can't afford to be roasting ducks about (ntit ^a6^ 
ftellung bcr ^rft^jofitton ftatt to be about roasting ducks): imr 
tonnm un§ nic^t eriauben (eigentlic^ : eS un§ nic^t leiften) , ung nrit 
Sraten tjon ©nten abgugcbcn. 

^ grewsome, ficl^c ©. 12. 


They had never been duck-hunting there since, 
but others had, and the bold yeoman was very sore 
on the subject, and bent on making an example of 
the first boys he could catch. So he and his shepherds 
crouched behind the hurdles, and watched the party, 
who were approaching all unconscious. 

Why should that old g^uinea-fowl be lying out in 
the hedge just at this particular moment of all the 
year? Who can say? Guinea-fowls always are — so 232 
are all other things, animals, and persons, requisite 
for getting one into scrapes, always ready when any 
mischief can come of them. At any rate, just imder 
Easfs nose popped out the old guinea-hen, scuttling 
along and shrieking "Come back, come back," at the 
top of her voice. Either of the other three might 
perhaps have withstood the temptation, but East first 
lets drive the stone he has in his hand at her, and 
then rushes to turn her into the hedge again. He 
succeeds, and then they are all at it for dear life, up 
and down the hedge in full cry, the "Come back, 
come back," getting shriller and fainter every minute. 

Meantime, the farmer and his men steal over the 
hurdles and creep down the hedge towards the scene 
of action. They are almost within a stone's throw 
of Martin, who is pressing the unlucky chase hard, 
when Tom catches sight of them, and sings out, 
"Louts, 'ware^ louts, your side! Madman, look 
ahead^!" and then catching hold of Arthur, hurries 
him away across the field towards Rugby as hard 
as they can tear3. Had he been by himself, he 
would have stayed to see it out 4 with the others. 

* 'ware : beware. Louts, fte^e S. 77. 

* look ahead (look out afore): Dom oufgepQ^t, fic§ hid) Dor. 
Ahead ift cin Sccmann^auSbrurf; o5 ober look ahead 9(udruf bed 
^Qd^e ^abenbeu ^atrofen tm ^aftforb ift, mie $feffer angtebt, ntbc^te 
id^ bqioeifeln. 

3 to tear: audfra^en, mie int folgeubeu to pelt. 

4 to see it out: nit^t blofe ben ?(u§gQng abjuwartcn, fonbcm ^ 

68 TOM brown's school days. 

but now his heart sinks and all his pluck goes. The 
idea of being led up to the Doctor with Arthur for 
bagging fowls, quite unmans and takes half the run^ 
out of him. 

However, no boys are more able to take care of 
themselves than East and Martin; they dodge the 
pursuers, slip through a gap, and come pelting after 
Tom and Arthur, whom they catch up in no time; 
the farmer and his men are making good running^ 
about a field behind. Tom wishes to himself that 
they had made oflF in any other direction, but now 
they are all in for it together, and must see it out 
**You won't leave the young 'im, will you?" says he, 
as they haul poor little Arthur, already losing wind 
233 from the Sight, through the next hedge. "Not we," 
is the answer fi-om both. The next hedge is a stiff 
one; the pursuers gain horribly on them, and they 
only just pull Arthur through, with two great rents 
in his trousers, as the foremost shepherd comes up 
on the other side. As they start into the next field, 
they are aware of two figures walking down the 
footpath in the middle of it, and recognise Holmes 
and Diggs taking a constitutional 3. Those good- 
natured fellows immediately shout "On." "Let's go 
to them and surrender," pants Tom. — Agreed. — And 
in another minute the four boys, to the great astonish- 
ment of those worthies, rush breathless up to Holmes 
and Diggs, who pull up to see what is the matter; 
and then the whole is explained by the appearance 
of the farmer and his men, who unite their forces 
and bear down on 4 the knot of boys. 

mit burd^jufiil^ren, ttJic im folgenben we are in for it, and must see 
it out. 

^ the run, fiel^e ©.95. 

* to make good running: eincn guten Souf mad^ejt. 

3 taking a constitutional: bic il^ren tfiglic^cn ©Jjajiergong (jur 
fJBrberung bcr QJefunbl^cit) madden. 

4 to bear down on: loSftiirjen auf; eigcntUd^: gcrabc auf ben 
ifeinb to^jtgtin. 


There is no time to explain, and Tom's heart 
beats frightfully quick, as he ponders, "Will they 
stand by us?" 

The farmer makes a rush at East and collars 
him; and that young gentleman, with imusual discre- 
tion, instead of kicking his shins, looks appealingly 
at Holmes, and stands still. 

"Hullo there, not so fast," says Holmes, who is 
bound to stand up for them till they are proved in 
the wrong. "Now what's all this about?" 

"Fve got the young varmint^ at last, have I," 
pants the farmer; "why they've been a skulking 
about my yard and stealing my fowls, that's were 
'tis; and if I doan't have they flogged for it, every 
one on 'em, my name ain't Thompson." 

Holmes looks grave, and Diggs's face falls. They 
are quite ready to fight, no boys in the school more 
so; but they are praepostors, and understand their 
office, and can't uphold xmrighteous causes. 

"I haven't been near his old bam this half," cries 
East. "Nor I," "Nor I," chime in Tom and Martin. 234 

"Now, Willum, didn't you see'm there last week?" 

"Ees^, I seen 'em sure enough," says Willum, 
grasping a prong he carried, and preparing for action. 

The boys deny stoutly, and Willum is driven to 
admit that, "if it wom't they, 'twas chaps as like 
'em as two peas'n^;" and "leastways he'll swear he 
see'd them two in the yard last Martinmas 4," in- 
dicating East and Tom. 

Holmes had time to meditate. "Now, sir," says 
he to Willum, "you see you can't remember what 
you have seen, and I believe the boys." 

^ varmint (vermin); bic Untiere; oft uUid) olg @(J^inH)ftt)ort. 

* Ees: yes. 3 peas'n: peas. As like as two peas: fo 

ai^nlit^ mic cln @i bent anbcren. 

4 Martinmas (Martlemas); ber aJlartinStag (11. ^ot)mbtx) l^at 
fiir bQ8 fianbuolf S3cbeutung, ba man nad^ alter @itte an biefem S^age 
cingefaljeneg fjteifd^ 5um SRftud^em auf^Sngt. 

70 TOM brown's school days. 

"I doan't care," blusters the farmer; "they was 
arter my fowls to-day, that's enough for I. Willum, 
you catch hold o' t'other chap. They've been a 
sneaking about this two hours, I tells 'ee," shouted 
he, as Holmes stands between Martin and Willum, 
"and have druv a matter of a dozen ^ young pullets 
pretty nigh to death." 

"Oh, there's a whacker^!" cried East; "we haven't 
been within a hundred yards of his barn; we haven't 
been up here above ten minutes, and we've seen no- 
thing but a tough old guinea-hen, who ran like a 

"Indeed, that's all true. Holmes, upon my honour," 
added Tom; "we weren't after his fowls; the guinea- 
hen ran out of the hedge under our feet, and we've 
seen nothing else." 

"Drat 3 their talk. Thee catch hold o' t'other, 
Willum, and come along wi 'un." 

"Farmer Thompson," said Holmes, warning oflF 
Willum and the prong with his stick, while Diggs 
faced the other shepherd, cracking his fingers like 
pistol shots, "now listen to reason — the boys haven't 
been after your fowls, that's plain." 

"Tells 'ee I see'd 'em 4. Who be you, I should 
like to know?" 

"Never you mind. Farmer," answered Holmes. 
"And now I'll just tell you what it is — you ought to 
235 be ashamed of yourself for leaving all that poultry 
about, with no one to watch it, so near the School. 
You deserve to have it all stolen. So if you choose 
to come up to the Docter with them, I shall go with 
you, and tell him what I think of it." 

The farmer began to take Holmes for a master; 

* druv (drove): driven. A matter of, Dulgdr fiir about: 
fo^n 3)utenb. 

2 a whacker: eine ©r^Iiigc, foloffole fiiige, slang. 

3 Drat, pc^c @. 20. 

^ Tells 'ee I see'd 'em: I tell ye I saw them. 


besides, he wanted to get back to his flock. Corporal 
punishment was out of the question, the odds were 
too great; so he began to hint at paying for the 
damage. Arthur jumped at this', offering to pay 
anything, and the farmer immediately valued the 
gfuinea-hen at half-a-sovereign. 

"Half-a-sovereign!" cried East, now released from 
the farmer's grip; "well, that is a good one^! the hen 
ain't hurt a bit, and she's seven years old, I know, 
and as tough as whipcord 4; she couldn't lay another 
egg to save her life." 

It was at last settled that they should pay the 
farmer two shillings, and his man one shilling, and 
so the matter ended, to the unspeakable relief of Tom, 
who hadn't been able to say a word, being sick at 
heart at the idea of what the Doctor would think of 
him: and now the whole party of boys marched off 
down the footpath towards Rugby. Holmes, who 
was one of the best boys in the School, began to 
improve the occasion 4. "Now, you youngsters," said 
he, as he marched along in the middle of them, 
"mind this; you're very well out of this scrape. 
Don't you go near Thompson's bam again; do you 

Profuse promises from all, especially East 

"Mind, I don't ask questions," went on Mentor 5, 
"but I rather think some of you have been there 

^ jumped at this : griff ntit bcibcn ^clnben ju. 

^ that is a good one: ba§ ift nid^t iibel, boS fonn bod^ fein 
©rnft fcin. 

3 as tough as whipcord: fo ^H^ tt)ic ©o^fcnleber. 

* to improve the occasion (the moment) : fid^ bic ©elegenl^cit 
(ben 5lugenblicf) ju nu^c madden. SKon fagt Qud^ to improve the 
shining hour, noci^ bcm fiiebe tjon Isaac Watts: How doth the 
little busy bee Improve each shining hour. 

5 Mentor, JJreunb be3 Dbl)ffcuS, beffcn ©eftolt ^It^cnc onnol^m, 
al8 ftc ^elcmad^oS Quf bcr gal^vt nad^ $l)Io3 in fiafebftmon begfcitetc, 
ift l^crfSmmlid^e SBe^eid^nung eineS mirflic^en SRotgeberg geworbcn burd^ 
T^Umaque t)on Fenekm (1651— -1715). 

72 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

before this after his chickens. Now, knocking over 
other people's chickens, and running oflF with them, 
is stealing. It's a nasty word, but that's the plain 
English of it. If the chickens were dead and lying 
in a shop, you wouldn't take them, I know that, any 
more than you would apples out of Griffith's^ basket; 
236 but there's no real difference between chickens run- 
ning about and apples on a tree, and the same articles 
in a shop. I wish our morals were sounder in such 
matters. There's nothing so mischievous as these 
school distinctions, which jumble up right and wrong, 
and justify things in us for which poor boys would 
be sent to prison." And, good old Holmes delivered 
his soul on the walk home of many wise sayings, 
and, as the song says — 

"GeeM 'em a sight of good advice" — 
which same sermon sank into them all, more or less, 
and very penitent they were for several hours. But 
truth compels me to admit that East at any rate 
forgot it all in a week, but remembered the insult 
which had been put upon him by Farmer Thompson, 
and with the Tadpole and other harebrained^ 
youngsters, committed a raid 3 on the bam soon 
afterwards, in which they were caught by the 
shepherds and severely handled, besides having to 
pay eight shillings, all the money they had in the 
world, to escape being taken up to the Doctor. 

Martin became a constant inmate in the joint 
study from this time, and Arthur took to him so 
kindly 4, that Tom couldn't resist slight fits of jealousy, 
which, however, he managed to keep to himself. 

^ Griffith, fie^c ©. 93. 

* harebrained: imbefonncn, leid^tfinnig, toilb imb toll. 3Katt 
fagt as mad as a March-hare, tocil bcr §a(e in ber Sflammeljcit 
i)o(fierli(J^c SD^ftnnd^cn mad^t. 

3 raid, fd^ottifd^ fiir inroad. 

4 took to him kindly: getob^ntc ftd^ freunblid^ an il^n. A horse 
takes kindly to the bridle. SSergl. @. 198. 


The kestrel's eggs had not been broken, strange to 
say, and formed the nucleus of Arthur's collection, 
at which Martin worked heart and soul; and intro- 
duced Arthur to Howlett the bird-fancier, and in- 
structed him in the rudiments of the art of stuffing. 
In token oP his gratitude, Arthur allowed Martin 
to tattoo a small anchor on one of his wrists, which 
decoration, however, he carefully concealed from 
Tom. Before the end of the half year he had trained 
into^ a bold climber and good runner, and, as Martin 
had foretold, knew twice as much about trees, birds, 
flowers, and many other things, as our good-hearted 
and facetious young friend Harry East. 

Chapter V. 

The Fight. 

"Surgebat Macnevisius 
Et mox jactabat ultro, 
Pugnabo tua gratia 
Feroci hoc Mactwoltro.'* — Etonian^, 

There is a certain sort of fellow — we who are 
used to stud3dng boys all know him well enough — 237 

' In token of: alg SBchJcig, urn ju betoeifcn; berf d^ieben toon by 
token (@. 11): qI3 Schjcig, auf ®runb toon. 

* had trained into: l^attefid^ enttoidtelt ju; feltencr ©ebrauc^ bc§ 
fonft ttQnfttiuen SSerbumS. 

3 The Etonian ift bcr ^omt einer in Eton College l^erauS* 
gegcBcnen Scitfd^rift. gm ^meitcn SBanbe @. 29 finbet fid^ ein ^tuffa^: 
Musae CConnorianae, ber t?on ber Uberfe^ung ixifc^er unb Qnbcrer 
iOieber inS fiatetntfd^c obcr QJried^ifd^e ^anbelt. ^ie l^ter angefii^rte 
@tro})]^e tt)irb, toie eg aud^ bei anbcrcn ^roben gefd^iel^t, gugleid^ im 
Original gcgeben: 

Mac Nevis leaped up from his seat, 
And made his bow, and told her: 
"Kathleen, I'll fight for your dear sake 
Along with fierce Mac Twolter. 
@S folgt cine ouSful^rUd^e SBefd&reibung be§ ^ampfc^ , in tueld^em ber 
toeniger renommiftifd^e 9JJqc Xtuolter fd^Iiefeli^ ficgt. SSal^rfd^einlid^ 
riil^rt hd^ ©ebi^t Don beni SSerfafjer beS Sluffajeg felbft l^er. 

74 TOM brown's school days. 

of whom you can predicate with ahnost positive 
certainty, after he has been a month at school, that 
he is sure to have a fight, and with almost equal 
certainty that he will have but one. Tom Brown 
was one of these; and as it is our well-weighed in- 
tention to give a ftill, true, and correct account of 
Tom's only single combat with a school-fellow in the 
manner of our old friend Bell's Life^, let those 
young persons whose stomachs are not strong, or 
who think a good set-to^ with the weapons which 
God has given us all, an uncivilized, unchristian, or 
ungentlemanly aflFair, just skip this chapter at once, 
for it won't be to their taste. 

It was not at all usual in those days for two 
School-house boys to have a fight. Of course there 
were exceptions, when some cross -grained 3 hard- 
headed fellow came up who would never be happy 
unless he was quarrelling with his nearest neigh- 
bours, or when there was some class-dispute, between 
the fifth-form and the fags for instance, which re- 
quired blood-letting; and a champion was picked 
out on each side tacitly, who settled the matter by a 
good hearty mill 4. But for the most part the con- 
stant use of those surest keepers of the peace, the 
boxing -gloves 5, kept the School-house boys fi-om 
fighting one another. Two or three nights in every 
week the gloves were brought out, either in the hall 

^ Bell's Life in London, txw, befannteS SSod^enblQtt, mcId^cS 
allcg Quf sport SBejiiglic^c bringt, j. SB. SBeric^te iiber Settrcnnen unb 
®ricfet=^artieen. Prize fights ttjcrben barin mit ejjifc^er ©enauigfeit 
xmb in eincr toa^rl^aft Koffifc^en SBcifc befd^rieben, oft ntit gcntdcn 
SBenbungen, bie ntit ber SBibertuartigfcit bc§ JJnl^altS fcltfam fontrafticrcn. 

^ a set-to, fid^e @. 31 : a spell at backswording. 

3 cross-grained, \v^t ©. 86. Hard-headed, ^ugleid^ l^art* 
!b<)flg, bidtiipftg, ftarrfinnig xinb fait iiberlcgenb. 

4 mill: tJauftfampf, set-to. 

5 boxing-gloves: bicf gc^olfterte ^onbfc^ul^e fiir Ubungen im 
SBojen. 3)ic 9liDQlttat fii^rt oft ju ^ftrnpfcn mit folc^cn ©d^u^toaffcn, 
mie bei un^ 5U „9l(i|)ierjiungen." 


or fifth-form room; and every boy who was ever 
likely to fight at all knew all his neighbours* prowess 238 
perfectly well, and could tell to a nicety ^ what chance 
he would have in a stand-up fight ^ with any other 
boy in the house. But of course no such experience 
could be gotten as regarded boys in other houses; 
and as most of the other houses were more or less 
jealous of the School-house, collisions were fi-equent 

After all, what would life be without fighting, I 
should like to know? From the cradle to the grave, 
fighting, rightly understood, is the business, the real, 
highest, honestest business of every son of man. 
Every one who is worth his salt 3 has his enemies, 
who must be beaten, be they evil thoughts and 
habits in himself, or spiritual wickedness in high 
places, or Russians, or Border-ruffians 4, or Bill, Tom, 
or Harry, who will not let him live his life in quiet 
till he has thrashed them. 

It is no good for Quakers 5, or any other body 
of men, to uplift their voices against fighting. Human 
nature is too strong for them, and they don't follow 
their own precepts. Every soul of them is doing 
his own piece of fighting, somehow and somewhere. 
The world might be a better world without fighting, 
for anything I know, but it wouldn't be our world; 
and therefore I am dead against^ crying peace when 
there is no peace, and isn't meant to be. I am as 

^ to a nicety; btS auf§ ^aar. * a stand-up fight (a stand- 
up): cin cmftlic^cr unb fiartnftdfigcr gawftfampf. 

3 worth one's salt: feineS fiol^neS tuert, tnbcm Salj, h)ic in 
(Salj unb S3rot, al§ cinfad^eS unb tjottoenbigcS fiebcnSbebiirfniS gait. 
SScrgl. salary (salarium). 

4 Border-ruffians, fiel^e @. 39 u. 213. 

5 Quakers, ^ic Cluftfer, tvtldjt ftd^ felbft Society of Friends 
nennen, htn ^rieg ucrtuerfen unb ben ^eg§bicnft Dcrnjeigcm, cr^icltcn 
il^ren 9?amen 1650, al§ t^r ©tifter George JJof, 1624— 169 1, tn^crb^ 
Dor ben Slid^tcr gcftellt wurbc, "who was the first that called us 
Quakers, because I bid them tremble at the Word of the Lord." 

^ dead against: ein ^obfeinb Don; dead to: obgeftorben gcgen. 

76 TOM brown's school days. 

sorry as any man to see folk fighting the wrcmg 
people and the wrong things, but Fd a deal sooner 
see them doing that, than that they should have no 
fight ^ in them. So having recorded, and being about 
to record, my hero's fights of all sorts, with all 
sorts of enemies, I shall now proceed to give an 
account of his passage-at-arms^ with the only one 
of his school-fellows whom he ever had to encounter 
in this manner. 

It was drawing towards the close of Arthur^s 
first half-year, and the May evenings were leng^then- 
ing out Locldng-up was not till eight o'clock, and 
everybody was beginning to talk about what he 
239 would do in the holida)^. The shell, in which form 
all our dramatis personae3 now are, were reading 
amongst other things the last book of Homer's 
"Iliad 4," and had worked through it as far as the 
speeches of the women over Hector's body. It 
is a whole school -day, and four or five of the 
School -house boys (amongst whom are Arthur, 
Tom, and East) are preparing third lesson together. 
They have finished the regulation forty lines 5, and 
are for the most part getting very tired, notwith- 
standing the exquisite pathos of Helen's lamenta- 
tion. And now several long four-syllabled words^ 

' fight: ^taft imb ^ampfluft, ^upg in ben ^enbungento show 
fight, he has some fight left in him. S. 250: heaps of fight in 
him. 3. 246 : he'll hit all the fight out of you. 

^ a passage-at-arms, un pas eParmes: ein Saffengang; tHm 
ben alten Tumicrfpielen ^"tammenb. 

3 dramatis personae: bie l^onbelnben ^erfonen, bie ^erfonenbed 
Stiicfc^; regelmfifeige Uberfdirift in bramatifc^en Serfen. 

4 the last book of Homer's " Iliad." 3m 24. ^d^ bcr Slk* 
ttjtrb gefc^ilbert, tuie ^riomo^ ben Seidinam §e!tor§ auSlofi imb ht^ 
ftattcn Ifi^t Tie folgenben ©orte bejie^en ficb auf bie ^e^Bogen ber 
f^rauen um hm ^efaHenen, inbem Sfnbromac^, ^etuba imb ^cna 
i^n ber SJei^c noc^ beweincn, v. 725 ff. 

5 the regulation forty lines, ue^ 8. 77. SergL S. 243. 

^ several long four-syllabled words. S. 242 : That he had 
broken down just in the middle of all the long words. 


oome together, and the boy with the dictionary strikes 

"I am not going to look out any more words," 
says he; "we've done the quantity. Ten to one we 
stum't get so far. Let's go out into the close." 

"Come along, boys," criest East, always ready to 
leave the grind ^ as he called it; "our old coach ^ is 
laid up, you know, and we shall have one of the new 
masters, who's sure to go slow and let us down easy." 

So an adjournment to the close was carried vem. 
con,^, little Arthiu: not daring to uplift his voice; 
but, being deeply interested in what they were read- 
ing, stayed quietly behind, and learnt on for his own 

As East had said, the regular master of the form 
was unwell, and they were to be heard by one of 
the new masters, quite a young man, who had only 
just left the university. Certainly it would be hard 
lines "*, if, by dawdling as much as possible in coming 
in and taking their places, entering into long-winded 
explanations of what was the usual course of the 
regidar master of the form, and others of the stock 
contrivances 5 of boys for wasting time in school, 
they could not spin out the lesson so that he should 
not work them through more than the forty lines; 
as to which quantity there was a perpetual fight 

' the grind, ftcl^c @. 226. 

* coach, tt)ie crammer: (£inpau!cr gum ©yQmcn, l^icr: ficl^rcr 
bet Sd^ule. 3)cr bilblidje §lu§brurf tt)irb fortgefii^rt in to go slow (a 
slow coach: ein 9^6Ipcter, $oppc) unb to let us do>Mi easy: Ici^t 
a^c|cn ((ci(^t bur^Iaffcn, ^feffcr). 

3 nefii. con.: nemine contradicente : o^ne SBibcrfprud^ , ciiis 

♦ it would be hard lines : c§ miifete fc^limm gugc^en. 3)ie S5c= 
beutung \>on hard lines : ein fc^IimmeS 2o^, Ungemad^, fc^lieftt fic^ an 
Psalm, 16, 6: The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places, 
funes ceciderunt mihi in praeclaris. 3)ie 3)kBfd^nur pel mir in 
liebli^r ©egenb, imb ba^ S^efittum gcfdHt ntir. 3)e 3Settc. 

5 stock contrivances: ^niffe, roelc^e bie ^aben Dorrfitig obcr 
auf bent Soger l^aben. $ergl. @. 78: the stock questions. 

78 TOM brown's school days. 

going on between the master and his form, the 
240 latter insisting, and enforcing by passive resistance, 
that it was the prescribed quantity of Homer for a 
shell lesson, the former that there was no fixed 
quantity, but that they must always be ready to go 
on to fifty or sixty lines if there were time within 
the hour. However, notwithstanding all their efforts, 
the new master got on horribly quick; he seemed to 
have the bad taste to be really interested in the 
lesson, and to be trying to work them up into some- 
thing like appreciation of it, giving them good 
spirited English words, instead of the wretched bald 
stuffs into which they rendered poor old Homer; 
and construing over each piece himself to them, after 
each boy, to show them how it should be done. 

Now the clock strikes the three-quarters; there is 
only a quarter of an hour more; but the forty lines 
are all but done. So the boys, one after another, 
who are called up, stick more and more, and make 
balder and ever more bald work of it. The poor 
young master is pretty near beat^ by this time, and 
feels ready to knock his head against the wall, or 
his fingers against somebody else's head. So he 
gives up altogether the lower and middle parts of 
the form, and looks round in despair at the boys on 
the top bench, to see if there is one out of whom he 
can strike a spark or two, and who will be too 
chivalrous to murder the most beautifiil utterances 
of the most beautifiil woman of the world. His eye 
rests on Arthur, and he calls him up to finish con- 
struing Helen's speech. Whereupon all the other 
boys draw long breaths, and begin to stare about 
and take it easy. They are all safe; Arthur is 
the head of the form, and sure to be able to con- 

^ bald stuff: elenbc§ S^Wt ^^ folgenben to make bald work 
of something: etmaS Uer^unjen. 9tn bic $8ebcutung: fd^mU(fIo8, 
jjrofaifd^, fc^^Iiefet fid^ Qn: jtomcrlid^, tjom ©til gefagt. 

2 beat, beat out of coimtenance: aufeer fjaffimg geBrad^t. 


strue, and that will tide on' safely till the hour 

Arthur proceeds to read out the passage in Grreek 
before construing it, as the custom is. Tom, who 
isn't paying much attention, is suddenly caught by 
the falter in his voice as he reads the two lines — 

dXXa av tov y' meeaai JzaQaiq^d/nevog xateQVxeg, 241 

2fj t' dyavofpQoavvjj xai aoTg dyavoXg eneeaaiv^. 

He looks up at Arthur. "Why, bless us," thinks he, 
"what can be the matter with the young 'un? He's 
never going to get floored. He's sure to have learnt 
to the end." Next moment he is reassured by the 
spirited tone in which Arthur begins construing, and 
betakes himself to drawing dogs' heads in his note- 
book, while the master, evidently enjoying the change, 
turns his back on the middle bench and stands be- 
fore Arthur, beating a sort of time with his hand 
and foot, and saying, "Yes, yes," "very well," as 
Arthur goes on. 

But as he nears the fatal two lines, Tom catches 
that falter and again looks up. He sees that there 

\ is something the matter — Arthur can hardly get on 
\at alL What can it be? 

\ Suddenly at this point Arthur breaks down 3 al- 
\ether, and fairly bursts out cr3mig, and dashes 

— ^.., cuff of his jacket across his eyes, blushing up to 
the roots of his hair, and feeling as if he should like 
to go down suddenly through the floor. The whole 
form are taken aback 4; most of them stare stupidly 
at him, while those who are gifted with presence of 
mind fiind their places and look steadily at their 
books, in hopes of not catching the master's eye and 
getting called up in Arthur's place. 

^ to tide on: meiterputen, toeitcrgel^en unb bauem. 

* Ilias 24, 771 f. ifl(x6) bcr Ubcrfc^ung Don SSog: 
gmmer befdnftigteft bu unb rebetcft intmer ^um guten 
S)urd^ bcin frcunblid^e^ ^erj unb beinc frcunbUd^cn 5Borte. 

3 breaks down: bttd^t jufammen. ^ taken aback: Derblilfft 


The master looks puzzled for a moment, and then 
seeing, as the fact is, that the boy is really affected 
to tears by the most touching thing in Homer, per- 
haps in all profane poetry put together, steps up to 
him and lays his hand kindly on his shoulder, saying, 
"Never mind, my little man, youVe construed very 
well. Stop a minute, there's no hurry." 

Now, as luck would have it S there sat next above 
Tom that day, in the middle bench of the form, a 
242 big boy, by name Williams, generally supposed to 
be the cock^ of the shell, therefore of all the school 
below the fifths. The small boys, who are great 
speculators on the prowess of their elders, used to 
hold forth 3 to one another about William's great 
strength, and to discuss whether East or Brown 
would take a licking fi-om him. He was called 
Slogger4 Williams, from the force with which it was 
supposed he could hit. In the main, he was a rough 
good-natured fellow enough, but very much alive to 
his own dignity. He reckoned himself the king of 
the form, and kept up his position with a strong 
hands, especially in the matter of forcing boys not 
to construe more than the legitimate forty lines. He 
had already gnmted and grumbled to himself, when 
Arthur went on reading beyond the forty lines. But 
now that he had broken down just in the middle of 
all the long words, the Slogger's wrath was fairly 

"Sneaking little brute," muttered he, regardless 
of prudence, "clapping on the waterworks^ just in 

^ as luck would have it. SSergl. (3. 170. 

* cock, ficl^c <B. 83. The fifths: the first and the second 
division of the fifth. 3 to hold forth : Dorprebigen. 

^ Slogger: ^(opff center, $au!er. To slog, to beat or baste, 
to fight. Slang Diet. 

5 with the (a) strong hand : burd^ fjauftred^t. Mac. Hist. II, 

146: In Scotland, where he who did not right himself by 

the strong hand was not likely to be righted at all. 

^ clapping on the waterworks : Me Saffcrleitung (SSofferhinft) 


the hardest place; see if I don't punch his head after 
fourth lesson." 

"Whose?" said Tom, to whom the remark seemed 
to be addressed. 

** Why, that little sneak Arthur's," replied Williams. 

"No, you shan't," said Tom. 

"Hullo!" exclaimed Williams, looking at Tom w4th 
great surprise for a moment, and then giving him a 
sudden dig in the ribs^ with his elbow, which sent 
Tom's books flying on the floor, and called the at- 
tention of the master, who turned suddenly round, 
and seeing the state of things, said — 

"Williams, go down three places, and then go on." 

The Slogger found his legs^ very slowly, and 
proceeded to go below Tom and two other boys 
with great disgfust, and then, turning round and fac- 
ing the master, said, •*! haven't learnt any more, sir; 243 
our lesson is only forty lines." 

"Is that so?" said the master, appealing generally 
to the top bench. No answer. 

"Who is the head boy of the form?" said he, 
waxing wroth. 

"Arthur, sir," answered three or four boys, in- 
dicating our friend. 

"Oh, your name's Arthur. Well now, what is 
the length of your regular lesson?" 

Arthur hesitated a moment, and then said, "We 
call it only forty lines, sir." 

"How do you mean, you call it?" 

"Well, sir, Mr. Graham says we ain't to stop 
there, when there's time to construe more." 

"I understand," said the master. "Williams, go 
down three more places, and write me out the lesson 

lo^Iaffen (in ^eiocgung fcjcn); fci^crg^aftcr 9(uSbrud fiir ^plftrrcn." 
To clap on all the (more) sails : attc (mel^r) @cgel bcifef en. 

* a dig in the ribs: cin SUppcnftofe. 

* found his legs very slowly: cr ^atte crft !einc Seine, b. ^. et 
r&^rte ftd^ laum. 

Tom Brovm' 9 School Days. II, 6 

82 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

in Greek and English. And now, Arthur, finish con- 

"Oh! would I be in Arthur's shoes ^ after fourth 
lesson?" said the little boys to one another; but 
Arthur finished Helen's speech without any further 
catastrophe, and the clock struck four, which ended 
third lesson. 

Another hour was occupied in preparing and say- 
ing fourth lesson, during which "Williams was bottling 
up his wrath ^ ; and when five struck, and the lessons 
for the day were over, he prepared to take summary 
vengeance on the innocent cause of his misfortune. 

Tom was detained in school a few minutes after 
the rest, and on coming out into the quadrangle, the 
first thing he saw was a small ring of boys, applaud- 
ing Williams, who was holding Arthur by the collar. 

"There, you young sneak," said he, giving Arthur 
a cuff on the head with his other hand, "what made 
you say that" — 
244 "Hullo!" said Tom, shouldering 3 into the crowd, 
"you drop that, Williams; you shan't touch him." 

"Who'll stop me?" said the Slogger, raising his 
hand again. 

"I," said Tom; and suiting the action to the word, 
struck the arm which held Arthur's arm so sharply, 
that the Slogger dropped it with a start, and turned 
the fiill current of his wrath on Tom. 

"Will you fight?" 

"Yes, of course." 

"Huzza, there's going to be a fight between 
Slogger Williams and Tom Brown!" 

^ would I be in Arthur's shoes: id^ mbdjit mdji an feincr 
©telle fein, nid|t in feiner $)QUt ftcdfen, I would not be in his skin. 
To stand (walk) in the shoes of some one ttjirb fonft and) gc* 
braud^t fixr to stand in the stead of some one : jetnanb Dertrcten. 

* was bottling up his wrath: fraft feinen Qom in [id), um i^n 
fpfttcr auSjuIaffen. 

3 shouldering: ftd^ l^incinbrSngenb. 


The news ran like wild-fire^ about, and many 
boys who were on their way to tea at their several 
houses turned back, and sought the back of the 
chapel, where the fights come off^. 

"Just run and tell East to come and back 3 me," 
said Tom to a small School-house boy, who was off 
like a rocket 4 to Harrowell's, just stopping for a 
moment to poke 5 his head into the School-house 
hall, where the lower boys were already at tea, and 
sing out^ "Fight! Tom Brown and Slogger Wil- 

Up start half the boys at once, leaving bread, 
eggs, butter, sprats, and all the rest to take care of 
themselves. The greater part of the remainder follow 
in a minute, after swallowing their tea, carrying their 
food in their hands to consume as they go. Three 
or four only remain, who steal the butter of the 
more impetuous, and make to themselves an imctuous 7 

In another minute East and Martin tear through 
the quadrangle carrying a sponge, and arrive at the 
scene of action just as the combatants are beginning 
to strip. 

Tom felt he had got his work cut out for him^, 

* to run (spread) like wild -fire: [id) toic ein fiaitffcitcr Dcr* 
Brcitcn; Dom gricd^if(]^cn greuer (wild-fire, Greek fire) l^crgcnomtnen. 

^ to come off, oft faum Dcrfd^ieben Don to take place, obglcid^ 
itmner mit einer §(nbeutung, bag ettoaS toirflid^ guftanbc fomtnt. 

3 to back one: einem beim grQuftfampf fefunbicren; backer; 
ber ©chmbant. 

4 off like a rocket: baDon toie ber 3311^; fonft aitd^ to go off 
like a shot (quick as lightning, quick as an arrow). 

5 to poke (in) : l^ineinftedEen. 

^ to sing out: Qitfftngen; Dom S3oot§tnann ober Don einem 
9Rattofen gefagt, ttjenn er bitrd^ ftngenbcn 5(u§ruf ba§ S^^^^ 5^ 
glcic]^jeitigcm 5lnjte§en eine§ XaiteS giebt. 6. 247: "Now then, 
Tom," sings out East. 

7 unctuous: ii|)|)ig. SSergl. 6. 56. 

* he had got his work cut out for him: e§ toax i^m fctne 
(ge^Stigc) ?(ufgabe gucrteilt; Dom g^fci^nciben ber 5lrBeit entlel^nt. 


84 TOM brown's school days. 

245 as he stripped off his jacket, waistcoat, and braces. 
East tied his handkerchief round his waist, and rolled 
up his shirt-sleeves for him: "Now, old boy, don't 
you open your mouth to say a word, or try to help 
yourself a bit, we'll do all that; you keep all your 
breath and strength for the Slogger." Martin mean- 
while folded the clothes, and put them under the 
chapel rails; and now Tom, with East to handle' 
him and Martin to give him a knee^, steps out on 
the turf, and is ready for all that may come: and 
here is the Slogger too, all stripped, and thirsting 
for the fray. 

It doesn't look a fair match at first glance: "Wil- 
liams is nearly two inches taller, and probably a 
long 3 year older than his opponent, and he is very 
strongly made about the arms and shoulders; "peels 
welH," as the little knot of big fifth-form boys, the 
amateurs, say; who stand outside the ring of little 
boys, looking complacently on, but taking no active 
part in the proceedings. But down below he is not 
so good by any means; no spring 5 from the loins, 
and feebleish, not to say shipwrecky, about the knees. 
Tom, on the contrary, though not half so strong in 
the arms, is good all over, straight, hard, and springy 
from neck to ankle, better perhaps in his legs than 

Dick. Christm. Car. p. 47 : with a good stiff piece of work cut 
out for them. 

^ to handle one: etnem htm 5auftfattH)f fcfunbicren; hander: 
ber Schtnbant. 

^ to give (offer) one a knee, toon einem ber beiben ©chmbonten 
gefagt, ber nadj 93cenbigung jebeS ©angeS (round) fid^ auf etn ^ie 
nieberlclfet, um bag anbere ^oc^fte^enbe feinem ^ftmpfer alS ©ig ^vim 
9(ugru^en wHl^renb ber geftatteten 3Kinute ^aufe ju bietcn. ^oppt. 
The turf, fonft toon ber dimnbai)n, f)m toom ^^am^f^)Iat. 

3 a long year : ein tooIIeS Sal^r. 

4 peels well: er f^dlt fid) tiirf)tig l^erauS, b. f), beim ©nttteiben 
(peeling = stripping) ^eigt ftd^ ein frdftiger ^5r|)erbau. 

5 spring: ©c^neHfraft; im folgenben Tom— is good all over, 
sraight, hard, and springy from neck to ankle. $8ergl. @. 74 : 
he goes from his hips. 


anywhere. Besides, you can see by the clear white 
of his eye and fresh bright look of his skin, that he 
is in tip-top training ^ able to do all he knows; while 
the Slogger looks rather sodden^, as if he didn't take 
much exercise and ate too much tuck 3. The time- 
keeper "^ is chosen, a large ring made, and the two 
stand up opposite one another for a moment, giving 
us time just to make our little observations. 

"If Tomll only condescend to fight with his head 
and heels," as East mutters to Martin, "we shall do." 

But seemigly he won't, for there he goes in, 
making play 5 with both hands. Hard all, is the 
word^; the two stand to one another like men; rally 7 
follows rally in quick succession, each fighting as if 246 
he thought to finish the whole thing out of hand. 
"Can't last at this rate," say the knowing ones, while 
the partisans of each make the air ring with their 
shouts and counter-shouts, of encouragement, ap- 
proval, and defiance. 

"Take it easy, take it easy — keep away, let him 
come after you," implores East, as he wipes Tom's 
face after the first round with wet sponge, while he 
sits back on Martin's knee, supported by the Mad- 
man's long arms, which tremble a little from ex- 

"Time's up^," calls the time-keeper. 

' in tip-top training, ftel^c @. 161. 

^ sodden: fcj^ttjamtntg; )Dom hmd^nH^tm SBoben (a sodden soil) 

3 tuck, fic^e 6. 98. 

* The time-keeper: bcr Un^arteiifd^c, fo gcnamtt, mcil er mit 
bee U^ in bet ^anb bie $aufen abtntgt. 

5 making play, fte^e @. 126. 

^ Hard all, is the word: fcft brauf ! ift bie fiofung. Hard all 
(one mam in bie 9Wcmen, ^feffer), ^ornmanbo gut ftttrfften ^n^ 
fircngung Beim Sfhtbem. ^oppt. Hard toirb auf ber 8ee ijiel ge^ 
hxand^i, g. S3, hard a lee : l^olt bid^t betni SBinb , hold hard = stop. 

7 rally: cin frifd^er Stnlauf ober Sfatgriff, cigentlic^ nad^ @amms 
lung ber ^aft, tote @. 251 : a short rally at close quarters. 

* Time's up : fiel^e @. 66. 

86 TOM brown's school days. 

"There he goes again, hang it all!" growls East 
as his man is at it again as hard as ever^ A very 
severe round follows, in which Tom gets out and 
out the worst of it, and is at last hit clean off his 
legs, and deposited on the grass by a right-hander^ 
from the Slogger. 

Loud shouts rise from the boys of Slogger's house, 
and the School-house are silent and vicious 3, ready 
to pick quarrels anyivhere. 

"Two to one 4 in half-crowns on the big 'un," says 
Rattle, one of the amateurs, a tall fellow, in thunder- 
and-lightningS waistcoat, and puffy, good-natured face. 

"Done!" says Groove, another amateur of quieter 
look, taking out his note-book to enter it — for our 
friend Rattle sometimes forgets these little things. 

Meantime East is freshening up Tom with the 
sponges for next round, and has set two other boys 
to rub his hands. 

"Tom, old boy," whispers he, "this may be fun 
for you, but ifs death to me^. He'll hit all the fight 
out of you in another five minutes, and then I shall 
go and drown myself in the island ditch. Feint him 
— use your legs! — draw him about! he'll lose his wind 
then in no time, and you can go into him. Hit at 
his body too; we'll take care of his frontispiece 7 by 
and by." 

^ as his man is at it again as hard as ever: inbem fein 
^aufant tcicber cbenfo l^eftig barauf Io§ gel^t. 

^ a right-hander: ein (Sc^Iag tnit ber 9fied^ten; ©. 250: by some 
heavy right-handed blow. 

3 vicious: tiicfifd^, eigentlid^ toon ^ferben gefagt. 

4 Two to one, etc. : idj tuette jttjei l^albe ^oncn gegen cine auf 
ben ©rofeen. 3)ie 5(ntttJort lautet done, to^^, eS gilt. Rattle 
ertnnert an to rattle away : in§ (SJelag l^ineinf^red^en. 

5 thunder-and-lightning: ^feffer unb ©al^, fd^ttjarj imb tt)ei6 

^ fun for you, but death to me. 3n ber fjabel The Boys 
and the Frogs fagt ein grofd^ ju ben mutttJittig tnit ©teinen werfenben 
^aben: Though this may be sport to you, it is death to us. 

7 frontispiece: &t[x(i)i; gel^Brt ju htn in Bell's Life in London 


Tom felt the wisdom of the counsel, and saw 247 
already that he couldn't go in and finish the Slogger 
off at mere hammer and tongs ^ so changed his 
tactics completely in the third round. He now fights 
cautious, getting away fi-om and parrying the 
Slogger's lunging hits 2, instead of trying to counter, 
and leading his enemy a dance all round the ring 
after him. "He's fimking3; go in, Williams," "Catch 
him up," "Finish him off," scream the small boys of 
the Slogger pcirty. 

"Just what we want," thinks East, chuckling 
to himself, as he sees Williams, excited by these 
shouts, and thinking the game in his own hands, 
blowing himself in his exertions to get to close 
quarters "^ again, while Tom is keeping away with 
perfect ease. 

They quarter over the ground 5 again and again, 
Tom always on the defensive. 

The Slogger pulls up at last for a moment, fairly 
blown ^. 

"Now then, Tom," sings out East, dancing with 
delight. Tom goes in in a twinkling, and hits two 
heavy body blows, and gets away again before the 
Slogger can catch his wind; which when he does he 
rushes with blind fiiry at Tom, and being skilfully 

ublic^ SSenbungen, nrie j. 35. aud^ tapping the Falemian fur 
drawing blood. We'll take care : inbcm ber Scfunbant pc^ mit bem 
^ottfonten iboitip^tcrt, »ic S. 248 : we've got the last. 

* at mere hammer and tongs : mit bloB p^^ftf(^cn ^aftmittelit. 

* to lunge: au»fattcn, the lunge: bcr ^CuSfaQ; ^ gfec^tou^ 
bntd ; baneben toerben om&^ bie [^rmen lounge, longe mit berfelben 
Sttdfprac^ (ti) gebrouc^t. 

5 He's fimking: er fncift, ^at Sc^— . 

* close quarters, oft Dom t^affen bc§ ^gncr§, ^ier Dom ^oitb^ 
gemeiiuperben im @egenfa|i gu gfintcn. 

5 They quarter over the ground, toie S. 250: fie ft^citcii 
iiber ben ^ompfplo^ 

^ fairly blown: ge^orig ouSer 5(tem; fuQ twtl^er blowing 

88 TOM brown's school days. 

parried and avoided, over-reaches himself^ and falls 
on his face, amidst terrific cheers from the School- 
house boys. 

"Double^ your two to one?" says Groove to 
Rattle, note-book in hand. 

"Stop a bit," says that hero, looking uncomfort- 
ably at Williams, who is puffing away on his second's 
knee, winded 3 enough, but little the worse in any 
other way. 

After another round the Slogger too seems to 
see that he can't go in and win right off, and has 
met his match or thereabouts. So he too begins to 
use his head, and tries to make Tom lose patience 
248 and come in before his time. And so the fight sways 
on 4, now one, and now the other, getting a trifling 
pull 5. 

Tom's face begins to look very one-sided — there 
are little queer bumps on his forehead, and his 
mouth is bleeding; but East keeps the wet sponge 
going so scientifically^, that he comes up looking as 
fresh and bright as ever. Williams is only slightly 
marked in the face, but by the nervous movement 
of his elbows you can see that Tom's body blows 
are telling. In fact, half the vice 7 of the Slogger's 
hitting is neutralized, for he daren't lunge out freely 
for fear of exposing his sides. It is too interesting 
by this time for much shouting, and the whole ring 
is very quiet. 

^ over-reaches himself: iiberftiir^t fici^ rnib ftol^crt. To over- 
reach, )Don ^ferbcn: in bie ®ifen l^ouen. 
^ Double: will you double? 

3 winded: aujjer ^Ctetn, l^ergenomtnen Don to wind a horse, 
ttjaS foiDO^I ^tx^U aufeer 9Xtem jagen, al§: ftd^ berfd^naufen laffen. 

4 the fight sways on : ber ^am^f f^toanft weiter Don eincr ©cite 
5Ur anbeni. s a pull, fiel^e @. 116. 

^ scientifically: ft)ftematif(]^ , funftfertig. (S. 253: the lovers 
of the science (of fighting). 

7 vice, cigentli(]^ bte Xiicfc (vicious, @. 246): bie B5gartige 
SSud^t ber ©d^lftge; einfad^: il^re ^aft. 


"AH right, Tommy," whispers East; "hold on's* 
the horse that's to win. We've got the last Keep 
your head, old boy." 

But where is Arthur all this time? Words can- 
not paint the poor little fellow's distress. He couldn't 
muster coun^ to come up to the ring, but wandered 
up and down from the great fives'-court to the comer 
of the chapel rails. Now trying to make up his 
mind to throw himself between them, and try to stop 
them; then thinking of running in and telling his 
friend Marj% who he knew would instantly report to 
the Doctor. The stories he had heard of men being 
killed in prize-fights rose up horribly before him. 

Once only, when the shouts of "Well done, 
Rown!" "Huzza for the School-house!" rose higher 
than ever, he ventured up to the ring, thinking the 
victory was won. Catching sight of Tom's face in 
Ae state I have described, all fear of consequences 
vanishing out of his mind, he rushed straight o£F to 
the matron's room, beseeching her to get the fight 
stopped, or he should die. 

But it's time for us to get back to the dose. 
What is this fierce tumult and conftision? The ring 
is broken, and high and angry words are being 249 
bandied^ about; "It's all fair,"— "It isn't,"— "Xo 
hugging;" the fight is stopped. The combatants, 
however, sit there quietly, tended by their seconds, 

' hold on! bolt an! nid^t ^u ^i^g! Xer 3inn ber fprit^tDOTt^ 
(ic^ ^Sfitbung in: Bcfaommg ber ^rafte Derburgt ben Bieg. Hold 
on buifte Smperatio iein: cbenfo in ben 3pn(6rodrtent bear and for- 
bear is good philosophy, let alane maks mony a loon. Toc^ 
fommt audi ber altertihnlic^e ^nfinitiD offnt to Dor. Shak. John, I, 
I, 173: Have is have. T. Brown at Oxf. Ch. 2: That it is 
henceforth to be all give and no take. Ch. 41 : It was touch 
and go. 

^ bandied, ^er ^u^bnuf ftommt f^tt twn bent olten 3piel 
bandy ober bandy-ball, in todd^tm babt ^arteten einen ^U mtt 
mitcit gefnhnmten €td6en ^bandies) noc^ etnanber gegcniiberfte^enben 
3iclen fc^lugen. 

90 TOM brown's school days. 

while their adherents wrangle in the middle. East 
can't help shouting challenges to two or three of the 
other side, though he never leaves Tom for a mo- 
ment, and plies the sponges as fcist as ever. 

The fact is, that at the end of the last round, 
Tom seeing a good opening, had closed with' his 
opponent, and after a moment's struggle had throivn 
him heavily, by the help of the fall he had learnt 
from his village rival in the vale of White Horse. 
Williams hadn't the ghost of a chance^ with Tom 
at wrestling; and the conviction broke at once on the 
Slogger faction, that if this were allowed their man 
must be licked 3. There was a strong feeling in the 
school against catching hold and throwing, though 
it was generally ruled all fair 4 within certain limits; 
so the ring was broken and the fight stopped. 

The School-house are over-ruled — the fight is on 
aguin, but there is to be no throwing; and East in 
high wrath threatens to take his man away after 
next round (which he don't mean to do, by the way), 
when suddenly young Brooke comes through, tiie 
small gate at the end of the chapeL The School- 
house faction rush to him. "Oh, hurra! now we 
shall get fair play." 

"Please, Brooke, come up, they won't let Tom 
Brown throw him." 

"Throw whom?" says Brooke, coming up to the 
ring. "Oh! Williams, I see. Nonsense! of course 
he may throw him if he catches him fairly above 
the waist" 

Now, young Brooke, you're in the sixth, you 

' to close with: fic^ fafjen mit. SScrgL 8. 247: close quarters. 
Fall, fie^c 8. 51. 

^ not the ghost (no ghost) of a chance : fcin ^Bdpmmtt (tetne 
^pux) )Don ^[usfic^t auf 6icg, slang. 

3 licked, beaten, befonberS Sc^ulaudbrud. 

4 ruled all fair: filt gan^ SuISfftg ertl&rt. To rule t>on ben 
drfldnrngen eincg QJcric^ts^of^; ocrgL to overrule: ilberftinraten, im 


know, and you ought to stop all fights. He looks 
hard at^ both boys. "Anything wrong?" says he 
to East, nodding at Tom. 

"Not a bit" 

"Not beat at all?" 250 

"Bless you, no! heaps of fight in him. Ain't 
there, Tom?" 

Tom looks at Brooke and grins. 

"How's he?" nodding at Williams. 

"So, so; rather done^, I think, since his last falL 
He won't stand above two more." 

"Time's up!" the boys rise again and face one 
another. Brooke can't find it in his heart to stop 
them just yet, so the round goes on, the Slogger 
waiting for Tom, and reserving all his strength to 
hit him out should he come in for the wrestling dodge 
again, for he feels that that must be stopped, or his 
sponge will soon go up in the air 3. 

And now another new comer appears on the field, 
to wit, the under-porter, with his long brush and 
great wooden receptacle for dust under his arm. He 
has been sweeping out the schools. 

"You'd better stop, gentlemen," he says; "the 
Doctor knows that Brown's fighting — hell be out in 
a minute." 

"You go to Bath 4, Bill," is all that that excellent 
servitor gets by his advice. And being a man of 
his hands 5, and a staimch upholder of the School- 

* to look hard at: f^arf anfd&cn. 

* done : f crtig, c§ gd^t mit il^m ^u (Snbc. 9?oc6 ftarfcr ift done up. 
3 his sponge will soon go up in the air : cr nui^ ftc§ fur bcficgt 

crflSten. 2)ic ^Jicbcrlagc tcirb oncrfoimt, tnbcm bcr 6ehmbant hm 
(Sd^tDomm, mit bcm cr bi§ bal&in bag ©cftd^t fcinc§ ^Snt^fcrS gerdnigt 
1^ olS iibcrflufftg in hit Suft nrirft. 

* You go to Bath : gcl^' bu ^in, »o bcr ^fcffcr ipo^ft, gd^' jum 
^enfer. (fCb nad^ ^affel!) 6onft go to Jericho. (I wish you were 
in Jericho, to send to Jericho.) 

5 a man of his hands: dn 2Slcam, ber ftd^ auf feme ^finbe tKt^ 
laffeit ham, m til^tiger gfaup&m^fer. fy>ppi, 

92 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

house, can't help stopping to look on for a bit, and 
see Tom Brown, their pet craftsman ^ fight a round. 

It is grim earnest now, and no mistake. Both 
boys feel this, and summon every power of head, 
hand, and eye to their aid. A piece of luck on either 
side, a foot slipping, a blow getting well home^, or 
another fall, may decide it. Tom works slowly 
round for an opening; he has all the legs 3, and can 
choose his own time: the Slogger waits for the at- 
tack, and hopes to finish it by some heavy right- 
handed blow. As they quarter slowly over the 
ground, the evening sun comes out from behind a 
251 cloud and falls ftill on William's face. Tom darts in; 
the heavy right-hand is delivered, but only grazes 
his head. A short rally at close quarters 4, and they 
close; in another moment the Slogger is thrown 
again heavily for the third time. 

"I'll give you three to two on the little one in 
half-crowns," said Groove to Rattle. 

"No, thank'ee," answers the other, diving his 
hands ftirther into his coat-tails. 

Just at this stage of the proceedings, the door of 
the turret which leads to the Doctor's library sud- 
denly opens, and he steps into the close, and makes 
straight for the ring, in which Brown and the Slogger 
are both seated on their seconds' knees for the last 

"The Doctor! the Doctor!" shouts some small 
boy who catches sight of him, and the ring melts 
away in a few seconds, the small boys tearing off, 
Tom collaring his jacket and waistcoat, and slipping 

^ their pet craftsman : i^r ^ait^ttnudfer; craftsman; bctSWann 
i)om gad^, l^ier SBojer. 

^ a blow getting well home: tin ^B^laQ, ber ben rcd^ten glccf 
trifft. SSergl. 6. 94- 

3 he has all the legs : er ^Qt htn SBorteil ber Seine, ber ©d^neH^ 

4 A short rally at close quarters, fiel^e ©. 245.^ At: lofal, 
nid^t SBejeiddnung beg QkU, 


through the little gate by the chapel, and round the 
corner to Harrowell's with his backers, as lively as 
need be; Williams and his backers making off not 
quite so fast across the close; Groove, Rattle, and 
the other bigger fellows tr5dng to combine dignity 
and prudence in a comical manner, and walking off 
fast enough, they hope, not to be recognised, and 
not fast enough to look like running away. 

Young Brooke alone remains on the ground by 
the time the Doctor gets there, and touches his hat^, 
not without a slight inward qualm. 

"Hah! Brooke. I am surprised to see you here. 
Don't you know that I expect the sixth to stop 

Brooke felt much more uncomfortable than he 
had expected, but he was rather a favourite with the 
Doctor for his openness and plainness of speech; so 
blurted out, as he walked by the Doctor's side, who 
had already turned back — 

"Yes, sir, generally. But I thought you wished 
us to exercise a discretion in the matter too — not to 252 
interfere too soon." 

"But they have been fighting this half-hour and 
more," said the Doctor. 

"Yes, sir; but neither was hurt. And they're the 
sort of boys who'll be all the better fiiends now, 
which they wouldn't have been if they had been 
stopped any earlier — before it was so equal." 

"Who was fighting with Brown?" said the Doctor. 

"Williams, sir, of Thompson's^. He is bigger 
than Brown, and had the best of it at first, but not 
when you came up, sir. There's a good deal of 
jealousy between our house and Thompson's, and 

^ touches his hat : fafet an ben §ut, iiblic^er (SJrufe auf ber (Sd^ule. 
@onft faftt man beim ©rii^en toon ^erren nic^t einmal an ben ^ut unb 
nintmt benfelben nur toor 3)amen ab. 

^ Thompson's (house) : ^enfionat unter Seitung cineg fiel^rerg 
biefeg 9'iamen^, 

94 TOM brown's school days. 

there would have been more fights if this hadn't been 
let go on, or if either of them had had much the 
worst of it." 

"Well but, Brooke," said the Doctor, "doesn't 
this look a little as if you exercised your discretion 
by only stopping a fight when the School-house boy 
is getting the worst of it?" 

Brooke, it must be confessed, felt rather gravelled K 

"Remember," added the Doctor, as he stopped 
at the turret-door, "this fight is not to go on — you'll 
see to that. And I expect you to stop all fights in 
fiiture at once." 

"Very well, sir," said young Brooke, touching his 
hat, and not sorry to see the turret-door close behind 
the Doctor's back. 

Meantime Tom and the staunchest of his adherents 
had reached Harro well's, and Sally was bustling 
about to get them a late tea, while Stumps had been 
sent off to Tew the butcher, to get a piece of raw 
beef^ for Tom's eye, which was to be healed off- 
hand, so that he might show well in the morning. 
He was not a bit the worse except a slight difficulty 
in his vision, a singing in his ears, and a sprained 
253 thumb, which he kept in a cold-water bandage, while 
he drank lots of tea, and listened to the Babel of 
voices talking and speculating of nothing but the 
fight, and how Williams would have given in after 
another fall (which he didn't in the least believe), 
and how on earth the Doctor could have got to 
know of it, — such bad luck! He couldn't help think- 
ing to himself that he was glad he hadn't won; he 
liked it better as it was, and felt very friendly to the 
Slogger. And then poor little Arthur crept in and 
sat down quietly near him, and kept looking at him 

^ gravelled : auf ben (Sanb gefe^t. SRicbl. §8om toirflid^en ^m* 
ftreden iibertragen auf: SSerfe^itng in SSerlegenlfteit. 

* raw beef. SRo^eS Stinbffeifci^ loirb auf CluetfcJ^ungcn unb 
SBeuIcn gclegt. 


and the raw beef with such plaintive looks, that Tom 
at last burst out laughing. 

"Don't make such eyes, young 'un," said he, 
"there's nothing the matter." 

"Oh but, Tom, are you much hurt? I can't bear 
thinking it was all for me." 

"Not a bit of it, don't flatter yourself. We were 
sure to have had it out^ sooner or later." 

"Well, but you won't go on, will you? You'll 
promise me you won't go on?" 

"Can't tell about that — all depends on the houses. 
We're in the hands of our countrymen^, you know. 
Must fight for the School-house flag, if so be." 

However, the lovers of the science were doomed 
to disappointment this time. Directly after locking- 
up one of the night fags knocked at Tom's door. 

"Brown, young Brooke wants you in the sixth- 
form room." 

Up went Tom to the summons, and found the 
magnates sitting at their supper. 

"Well, Brown," said young Brooke, nodding to 
him, "how do you feel?" 

"Oh, very well, thamk you, only I've sprained 
my thumb, I think." 

"Sure to do that in a fight. Well, you hadn't 254 
the worst of it, I could see. Where did you learn 
that throw?" 

"Down in the country, when I was a boy." 

"Hullo! why what are you now? Well, never 
mind, you're a plucky fellow. Sit down and have 
some supper." 

Tom obeyed, by no means loth. And the fifth- 

* to have it out (with one): etttjaS au^madien, fci c§ burd^ 
rud^altlofcg SCu§f))red^cn, obet buret) ^om^f. 3)er Snftnitio bet SSet* 
gangcn^eit (to have had), toeil baS verbum finitum fcin wiirbc we 
should have had it out. 

* We're in the hands of our countrymen; gro|fJ)reci^erifcl^, 
bie (gntf(^cibimg fte^t bci bcnen, midi^t toir Dertrctcn. 


form boy next him filled him a tumbler of bottled- 
beer, and he ate and drank, listening to the pleasant 
talk, and wondering how soon he should be in the 
fifth, and one of that much-envied society. 

As he got up to leave, Brooke said, '*You must 
shake hands ^ to-morrow morning; I shall come and 
see that done after first lesson." 

And so he did. And Tom and the Slogger shook 
hands with great satisfaction and mutual respect 
And for the next year or two, whenever fights were 
being talked of, the small boys who had been pre- 
sent shook their heads wisely, sa)dng, "Ah! but you 
should just have seen the fight between Slogger 
Williams and Tom Brown!" 

And now, boys all, three words before we quit 
the subject I have put in this chapter on fighting 
of malice prepense^, partly because I want to give 
you a true picture of what every-day school life was 
in my time, and not a kid-glove and go-to-meeting- 
coat picture 3; and partly because of the cant* and 
twaddle that's talked of boxing and fighting with 
fists now-a-days. Even Thackeray has given in to 
it; and only a few weeks ago there was some 
rampants stuff in the Times on the subject, in an 
article on field sports. 

' shake hands : '^tx^s^tn, bag bte ^dm^fer bie @acl^e old beigelegt 
anfc^cn unb fcincn ®rott mel^r gcgcn cinanbcr ^cgen. 3(u(^ na«5 
©tubentcnmcnfurcn ppcgcn ftd^ bic ^aufontcn bic $anb gu gebcn. 

* of malice prepense: mit SSorbcbad^t, oft gebroud^t loic of 
one's own accord, cigcntUc^ t)on bosiuiHigcm SSorbcbac^t, tn^befottbere 
Don ^tfc^lag mit SSorbebac^t. 

3 a kid-glove and go-to-meeting-coat picture: cin S5ilb Don 
fieutd^en vx fjrarf iinb in GJIacd^anbfc^ul^cn. SScrgl. S. 77 : his go- 
to-meeting roof, @. 276: a go-to-meeting shop. 

4 cant, ma^rfd^etnlid^ t?om lateinifc^en cantare unb t)om toetnets: 
lichen ^on be§ Settlers ^ergenontmen, bejetd^net fotoo^I ba3 SHotaelfd^ 
bcr gigcuncr unb bic @auncrfj)rad^c, al3 anbcrcrfcitS ben Sargott ber 

5 rampant: itbertricbcn imb barum unfinnig. 3)ic ^bjectttm auf 
-ant ftnb befonber^ gebrduc^Iic^ in ber ^erolbi!; a lion rampant: vox 


Boys will quarrel, and when they quarrel will 
sometimes fight. Fighting with fists is the natural 
and English way for English boys to settle their 
quarrels. What substitute for it is there, or ever was 
there, amongst any nation under the sun? What 
would you like to see take its place? 

Learn to box, then, as you learn to play cricket 
and football. Not one of you will be the worse, but 255 
very much the better for learning to box well. Should 
you never have to use it in earnest, there's no exer- 
cise in the world so good for the temper, and for the 
muscles of the back and legs. 

As to fighting, keep out of it if you can, by all 
means. When the time comes, if it ever should, 
that you have to say "Yes" or "No" to a challenge 
to fight, say "No" if you can, — only take care you 
make it clear to yourselves why you say "No." It's 
a proof of the highest courage, if done from true 
Christian motives. It's quite right and justifiable, if 
done fi-om a simple aversion to physical pain and 
danger. But don't say "No" because you fear a 
licking, and say or think it's because you fear God, 
for that's neither Christian nor honest. And if you 
do fight, fight it out; and don't give in while you 
can stand and see. 

aufftctgcnbcr fiSwe, luic anbcrerfcitS a lion passant, couchant, dor- 
manty regardant. 

Tom Brown* 5 School Days. II. 

98 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

Chapter VL 
Fever in the School. 

"This our hope for all that's mortal, 
And we too shall burst the bond; 
Death keeps watch beside the portal, 
But *tis life that dwells beyond." 

John Sterling^. 

Two years have passed smce the events recorded 
m the last chapter, and the end of the summer half- 
year is again drawing on. Martin has left and gone 
on a cruise in the South Pacific, in one of his uncle's 
ships; the old magpie, as disreputable as ever, his 
last bequest to Arthur, lives in the joint study. 
Arthur is nearly sixteen, and is at the head of the 
twenty ^, having gone up the school at the rate of a 
form a half-year. East and Tom have been much 
more deliberate in their progress, and are only a little 
256 way up the fifth form. Great strapping boys they 
are, but still thorough boys, filling about the same 
place in the House that young Brooke filled when 
they were new boys, and much the same sort of 
fellows. Constant intercourse with Arthur has done 
much for both of them, especially for Tom; but much 
remains yet to be done, if they are to get all the 
good out of Rugby which is to be got there in these 
times. Arthur is still frail and delicate, with more 
spirit than body; but, thanks to his intimacy with 
them and Martin, has learned to swim, and run, and 
play cricket, and has never hurt himself by too much 

One evening, as they were all sitting down to 

^ S)ie SBcrfe finben ftt^ in cinem ©cbic^t Abelard to Heloise 
(@. 209) ber 1839 erfc^ienenen ©ammlung Poems by John Sterling. 
S)cr S)id^ter (1806— 1844) ^at aufeerbem cinen Dtoman Arthur 
Coningsby, ein IcingereS fatirifd^cS ©ebit^t The Election unb cine 
Xragobie Strafford Derfa^t. ^a6) feinem Xobe finb Essays unb Tales 
\)on i^nt erf (^ienen. Thomas Carlyle, Life of John Sterling. 1851. 

* the twenty, fie^e ©inleitung (S. XXII. 


supper in the fifth-form room, some one started a 
report' that a fever had broken out at one of the 
boarding-houses; "they say," he added, "that Thomp- 
son is very ill, and that Dr. Robertson has been sent 
for fi-om Northampton^." 

"Then we shall all be sent home," cried another. 
"Hurrah! five weeks' extra holidays, and no fifth- 
form examination!" 

"I hope not," said Tom; "there'll be no Mary- 
lebone match 3 then at the end of the half." 

Some thought one thing, some another, many 
didn't believe the report; but the next day, Tuesday, 
Dr. Robertson arrived, and stayed all day, and had 
long conferences with the Doctor. 

On Wednesday morning, after prayers, the Doctor 
addressed the whole School. There were several 
cases of fever in different houses, he said; but Dr. 
Robertson, after the most careful examination, had 
assured him that it was not infectious, and that if 
proper care were taken, there could be no reason for 
stopping the school work at present. The examina- 
tions were just coming on, and it would be very 
unadvisable to break-up now. However, any boys 
who chose to do so were at liberty to write home, 
and, if their parents wished it, to leave at once. He 257 
should send the whole School home if the fever spread. 

* to start a report : tin ©erild^t aufbringcn , eine S^ac^rit^t tier* 

^ Northampton, bie ^eiSftabt bet ©raffd^aft 9?ortt)amptonff)tre, 
66 cnglifc^c 9Keilen norbmcftlid^ Don fionbon unb ungefaf)r 20 fiibttjeftlid) 
l)on fRuQht), ^atte ju ber i^eit, al§ nadj ber ©r^tt^Iung ba§ ^ieber in ber 
@c^n(c an^bxad), etttja^ u6er 21000 ©inmo^ner. SSegcn ber anfter' 
gctod^nlidftenOJefal^r miirbe ein Bebeutenber^lrjt aii§ ber gente fonfultiert. 

3 Marylebone match, cine CTricfets^ortie gegcn \>m Marylebone 
Cricket Club, fo gcnannt uon einem ©tnbtteil fionbon§ mit ber ^irci^e 
Marylebone (eigentlid^ Mary le bourne) ; berfclOe gren^t filbltd^ an 
SBefhninfter unb bftlid^ an ginSBuri) an. 3)er mxib ift ini S3efi|j Don 
Lord's Cricket Ground, rtjo tftglic^ ©piele ftattfinben, unb gilt al8 
^dc^fte 5lutoritat in betrcff ber IRegcIn M ©pielS. aWitglieber beg 
klnh^ ne^men l^duftg an ^articen in anbercn ^egenben beS fianbeS tci(. 

lOO TOM brown's school DAYS. 

The next day Arthur sickened, but there was no 
other case. Before the end of the week thirty or 
forty boys had gone, but the rest stayed on. There 
was a general wish to please the Doctor, and a feel- 
ing that it was cowardly to run away. 

On the Saturday Thompson died, in the bright 
afternoon, while the cricket-match was going on as 
usual on the big-side ground^: the Doctor coming 
from his death-bed, passed along the gravel-walk at 
the side of the close, but no one knew what had 
happened till the next day. At morning lecture it 
began to be rumoured, and by afternoon chapel was 
known generally; and a feeling of seriousness cind 
awe at the actual presence of death among them 
came over the whole School. In all the long years 
of his ministry the Doctor perhaps never spoke words 
which sank deeper than some of those in that day's 
sermon. "When I came yesterday from visiting all 
but the very death-bed of him who has been taken 
from us, and looked around upon all the familiar 
objects and scenes within our own ground, where 
your common amusements were going on, with your 
common cheerfulness and activity, I felt there was 
nothing painftil in witnessing that; it did not seem in 
any way shocking or out of tune with^ those feel- 
ings which the sight of a dying Christian must be 
supposed to awaken. The unsuitableness in point of 
natural feeling between scenes of mourning and scenes 
of liveliness did not at all present itself But I did 
feel that if at that moment any of those faults had 
been brought before me which sometimes occur 
amongst us; had I heard that any of you had been 
guilty of falsehood, or of drunkenness, or of any other 
such sin; had I heard from any quarter the language 
of profaneness, or of unkindness, or of indecency; 

^ the big-side ground, ftel^e (3. 95. 
2 out of tune with: im aj^ifeHang mit. 


had I heard or seen any signs of thaVvijretchcd folly 258 
which courts ' the laugh of fools by afecjting not to 
dread evil and not to care for good, tliren the un- 
suitableness of any of these things with ifuy scene I 
had just quitted would indeed have been -most in- 
tensely painful. And why? Not because such; things 
would really have been worse than at any othct 
time, but because at such a moment the eyes '-re- 
opened really to know good and evil, because we ..' 
then feel what it is so to live as that death ^ becomes 
an infinite blessing, and what it is so to live also, 
that it were good for us if we had never been bom." 

Tom had gone into chapel in sickening anxiety 
about Arthur, but he came out cheered and strength- 
ened by those grand words, and walked up alone to 
their study. And when he sat down and looked 
round, and saw Arthur's straw-hat and cricket-jacket 
hanging on their pegs, and marked all his little neat 
arrangements, not one of which had been disturbed, 
the tears indeed rolled down his cheeks; but they 
were calm and blessed tears, and he repeated to 
himself, "Yes, Geordie's^ eyes are opened — he knows 
what it is so to live as that death becomes an infinite 
blessing. But do I? Oh, God, can I bear to lose 

The week passed mournfully away. No more 
boys sickened, but Arthur was reported worse each 
day, and his mother arrived early in the week. Tom 
made many appeals to be allowed to see him, and 
several times tried to get up to the sick-room; but 
the housekeeper was always in the way, and at last 
spoke to the Doctor, who kindly, but peremptorily, 
forbade him. 

Thompson was buried on the Tuesday; and the 

* to court: ju gctDinncn fud^en. 

^ so to live as that death; as cntfprid^t bcm so, ift abet uBcr= 
Pfifftg t)or that. 

3 Geordie, ncbcn Georgie, Georgy, ^ofcform filr George. 

I02 fOM .brown's school DAYS. 

burial service,' 'so soothing and grand always, but 
beyond all ttrords solemn when read over a boy's 
grave tp,'.his' companions, brought him much comfort, 
and many, strange new thoughts and longings. He 
259 went.Vack to his regular life, and played cricket and 
bat?ied*as usual: it seemed to him that this was the 
right thing to do, and the new thoughts and longings 
, -became more brave and healthy for the effort The 
, * -'"Onsis came on Saturday, the day week that Thompson 
•••.'■•had died; and during that long afternoon Tom sat in 
•• his study reading his Bible and going every half- 
hour to the housekeeper's room, expecting each time 
to hear that the gentle and brave little spirit had 
gone home. But God had work for Arthur to do': 
the crisis passed — on Sunday evening he was declared 
out of danger; on Monday he sent a message to Tom 
that he was almost well, had changed his room^ and 
was to be allowed to see him the next day. 

It was evening when the housekeeper summoned 
him to the sick-room. Arthur was Is^ing on the sofa 
by the open window, through which the rays of the 
western sun stole gently, lighting up his white face 
and golden hair. Tom remembered a German pic- 
ture of an angel which he knew; often had he thought 
how transparent and golden and spirit-like it was; 
and he shuddered to think how like it Arthur looked, 
and felt a shock as if his blood had all stopped short, 
as he realized how near the other world his friend 
must have been to look like that. Never till that mo- 
ment had he felt how his little chum had twined himself 
round; his heartstrings ^ and as he stole gently across 

^ God had work for Arthur to do. ©oetl^c, SP^^Q^^i^f 11> ^ • 
2)ic ®i5tter braud^en vxoxi^tn guten 9Kann 3^ intern S)ienft auf bicfcr 
tDcitcn ©rbc. 

^ heartstrings: bie fJiBern bc8 ^et^enS, ift ein @l^a!cf^carcfd^cr 
5lu§brutf (Gent. IV, 2, 62: he grieves my very heartstrings); 
obtDol^l bie fonft xCvi^X ungemo^nlit^e SScrbinbung, to cut the heart- 
strings: inS $et^ einfd^ncibcn, fld^ \>^ @^a!cf^earc nic^t fmbet 


the room and knelt down, and put his arm round 
Arthur's head on the pillow, he felt ashamed and 
half angry at his own red and brown face, and the 
bounding^ sense of health and power which filled 
every fibre of his body, and made every movement 
of mere living a joy to him. He needn't have troubled 
himself; it was this very strength and power so dif- 
ferent from his own which drew Arthur so to him. 

Arthur laid his thin white hand, on which the 
blue veins stood out so plainly, on Tom's great brown 
fist, and smiled at him; and then looked out of the 260 
window again, as if he couldn't bear to lose a moment 
of the sunset, into the tops of the great feathery elms, 
round which the rooks were circling and clanging^, 
returning in flocks from their evening's foraging 
parties. The elms rustled, the sparrows in the ivy 
just outside the window chirped and fluttered about, 
quarrelling and making it up 3 again; the rooks young 
and old talked in chorus; and the merry shouts of 
the boys, and the sweet click of the cricket-bats, 
came up cheerily firom below. 

"Dear George," said Tom, "I am so glad to be 
let up to see you at last. I've tried hard to come so 
often, but they wouldn't let me 4 before." 

"Oh, I know, Tom; Mary has told me every day 
about you, and how she was obliged to make the 
Doctor speak to you to keep you away. I'm very- 
glad you didn't get up, for you might have caught 
its, and you couldn't stand being ill with all the 
matches going on. And you're in the eleven^ too, 
I hear — I'm so glad." 

aScrgl. SBatt. %o\>, III, 18: (gin Sicbcgnc^ ^h' id) urn hx6) gcf|)Ottnen; 
3errei6' c^, tomn bu fannft. * bounding: Icb^aft iinb Inciter. 

* clanging (cawing) : fril(]^5cnb. 

3 to make it up ; eg tt)iebcr gut madden, fid^ wieber tocrtragcn. 

^ let me: let me come. 

5 to catch it, nx6)i tt)ic (5. 22, fonbem to catch the contagion. 

^ the eleven: blc elf $au))t*®ndtetf^)leler ber ©c^ulc. 


"Yes, ain't it jolly?" said Tom proudly; "Fm 
ninth too. I made forty at the last pie-match^ cind 
caught three fellows out. So I was put in above 
Jones and Tucker. Tucker's so savage^, for he was 
head of the twenty-two 3." 

"Well, I think you ought to be higher yet," said 
Arthur, who was as jealous for the renown of Tom 
in games, as Tom was for his as a scholar. 

"Never mind, I don't care about cricket or any- 
thing now you're getting well, Geordie; and I shouldn't 
have hurt, I know, if they'd have let me come up, — 
nothing hurts me 4. But you'll get about now directly, 
won't you? You won't believe how clean I've kept 
the study. All your things are just as you left 
them; and I feed the old magpie just when you 
used, though I have to come in from big-side for 
him, the old rip 5. He won't look pleased all I can 
261 do^, and sticks his head first on one side and then on 
the other, and blinks at me before he'll begin to eat, 
till I'm half inclined to box his ears. And whenever 
East comes in, you should see him hop off to the 
window, dot and go one 7, though Harry wouldn't 
touch a feather of him now." 

^ pie-match, Qt\pidt urn ein gni^ftiirf beim ^onbitor, baS bic 
^artci, ttjcld^e tjcrlorcn ^at, be^a^lcn mug, wo^I nur in 9higb^ iiblid^. 
Caught out; ein ©c^Iftgcr ift out, luenn eincr ber ©cgcnj)artci fcinen 
93aII fangt. ^ savage : fucft^milb, wiitenb. 

3 the twenty-two: cine ©cfellfd^aft , bit an SRang unmittdbat 
Winter ben Eleven fte^t. @ic bilbcn eine ungetciltc ©efamt^cit wnb 
tragen jcjjt beim (SricfetfpicI eine bim!elblaue fJlaneHmiite, lofi^rcnb bie 
ber Eleven ^ellblau ift. ** nothing hurts me: nic^tS fic^t mic^ an; 
Uon ^nfteching. Unmittelbar uorl^er I shouldn't have hurt, tntrons 
fitit): id^ l^citte nic^tS abbefommen, e§ Ij'dttt mix ni(]^t gcfd^abet 

5 the old rip : ber altc @iinber, abgefiir^t au§ reprobate. 

^ all I can do: maS ic^ auc^ tt)nn mag, whatever I do. 

7 dot and go one. Ingoldsby Leg. Lay of St. Nicholas. 
Limping *dot and go one.' Qu limping ift dot and go one, toit 
in iinferer 8teIIe ju hop off, al§ (Srfldrung, eigentlid) im 3mperatiu, 
l^in^ugefe^t, = so as to dot and go one. Dot and go one aUetn be* 
jeidinet fd^on eincn ^umpelnben, beffen ®ang no6) c^arafteriftifd^er bei 


Arthur laughed. "Old Gravey^ has a good 
memory; he can't forget the sieges of poor Martin's 
den in old times." He paused a moment, and then 
went on. "You can't think how often I've been 
thinking of old Martin since I've been ill; I suppose 
one's mind gets restless, and likes to wander off to 
strange unknown places. I wonder what queer new 
pets the old boy has got; how he must be revelling 
in the thousand new birds, beasts, and fishes." 

Tom felt a pang of jealousy, but kicked it out in 
a moment. "Fancy him on a South-Sea island, with 
the Cherokees^ or Patagonians, or some such wild 
niggers;" (Tom's ethnology and geography were 
faulty, but sufficient for his needs;) "they'll make 
the old Madman cock medicine-man 3 and tattoo him 
all over. Perhaps he's cutting about 4 now all blue, 
and has a squaw and a wigwam. He'll improve their 
boomerangs 5, and be able to throw them too, with- 
out having old Thomas sent after him by the Doctor 
to take them away." 

Arthur laughed at the remembrance of the 

cinem ©tcljfufe l^ertjortritt. 2)er ©teljfufe mad)t jcbc§mal cinen feftcn 
$unft, bag anbcre ©cin bcmegt ftc^ weiter; fo folgt bcim ©iimpelu 
bcm ^ritt (cinem feften 9(uftritt) ein ©^ritt (weiter DorrtjftrtS). Un« 
ift toicttcic^t (ftatt iritt unb ©d^ritt) cine anbcre bilblirfie 9(u§brucf8n)ctfc 
bequcmer: im QambuStaft, fur;^, lancj. S)cr &thtan6) \)on dot and go 
(carry) one bcim 9lcd)ncn ^ai mit bcm ^icr Dorliegcnben ni^tS ju tl^un. 

^ Old Gravey: bet olte Gftrpuffel, bic (Sifter, freie SBilbimg Don 
gfrave, tt)ie ©. 262, blackies: fd^njar^e ©efcllen, ©. 113: Whitey 
Brown. SSergl. brownie (ber ^obolb), dummy, ninny u. bcrgl. 

^ the Cherokees. 3)ie (T^erofefen ju beiben ©eiten ber ^ipa{ad)m 
tperben toon 2^om (whose ethnology and geography were fault)') 
ergSfttd^ mit ^atagoniem unb 9^cgcm jufammengeworfen. 

3 cock medicine-man: ^aupt^Qanbtx^^ohoi ($ffafter!aften). 
fiber ben medicine-man, ber hti ben Snbianem in 9'^orbamerifa ^Iv^i 
unb Qauhtxtx in cine r ^erfon ift, DergL bic ©d^ilberung Don Bancroft, 
the Aborigines of America, in Herrig's Brit. Class. Auth. p. 670. 
59*i» ed. fiber cock fte^e ©. 83. 

^ cutting about, fie^e @. loi ; all blue: ganj blau tfitotoicrt 

5 boomerang (boomarang): ber 95innercmg, cine fnicfSrmtg gc* 
bogene ^Burftoaffe ber ^uftralter, oud l^artem ^ol^ 

io6 TOM brown's school days. 

boomerang story, but then looked grave again, and 
said, "He^l convert all the island, I know." 

"Yes, if he don't blow it up first." 

"Do you remember, Tom, how you and East used 
to laugh at him and chaff him, because he said he 
was sure the rooks all had calling-over or prayers, 
or something of the sort, when the locking-up bell 
rang? Well, I declare ^" said Arthur, looking up 
seriously into Tom's laughing eyes, "I do think he 
was right. Since IVe been lying here, IVe watched 
them every night; and do you know, they really do 
262 come, and perch all of them just about locking-up 
time; and then first there's a regular chorus of caws, 
and then they stop a bit, and one old fellow, or per- 
haps two or three in different trees, caw solos, and 
then off they all go again, fluttering about and caw- 
ing anyhow till they roost." 

"I wonder if the old blackies do talk," said Tom, 
looking up at them. "How they must abuse me and 
East, and pray for the Doctor for stopping the 

"There! look, look!" cried Arthur; "don't you 
see the old fellow without a tail coming up? Martin 
used to call him the * clerk.' He can't steer himself. 
You never saw such fun as he is in a high wind, 
when he can't steer himself home, and gets carried 
right past the trees, and has to bear up again and 
again before he can perch." 

The locking-up bell began to toll, and the two 
boys were silent, and listened to it. The sound soon 
carried Tom off to the river and the woods, and he 
began to go over in his mind the many occasions on 
which he had heard that toll coming faintly down 
the breeze, and had to pack up his rod in a hurry, 
and make a run for it, to get in before the gates 
were shut. He was roused with a start from his 

* I declare: meincr 2^reu', toie I say, @. 76. 


memories by Arthur*s voice, gentle and weak from 
his late illness. 

"Tom, will you be angry if I talk to you very 

"No, dear old boy, not I. But ain*t you faint, 
Arthur, or ill? What can I get you? Don*t say 
anything to hurt yourself now — you are very weak; 
let me come up again." 

"No, no, I shan't hurt myself: I'd sooner speak 
to you now, if you don't mind. I've asked Mary to 
tell the Doctor that you are with me, so you needn't 
go down to calling-over; and I mayn't have another 
chance, for I shall most likely have to go home for 
change of air to get well, and mayn't come back 
this half" 

"Oh, do you think you must go away before the 
end of the half? I'm so sorry. It's more than five 263 
weeks yet to the holidays, and all the fifth-form 
examination and half the cricket-matches to come 
yet. And what shall I do all that time alone in our 
study? Why, Arthur, it will be more than twelve 
weeks before I see you again. Oh, hang it, I can't 
stsmd that! Besides, who's to keep me up to work- 
ing at the examination books ^? I shall come out 
bottom of the form^ as sure as eggs is eggs 3." 

Tom was rattling on 4, half in joke, half in earnest, 
for he wanted to get Arthur out of his serious vein, 
thinking it would do him harm; but Arthur broke in — 

^ the examination books: bie fixr baS (Sjamen beftimmten 
m^tx mh 5r6fc^nitte, auf mi^t fi^ bie ^riifung Bef^rftnlt. 

2 bottom of the form: aU letter ber piaffe; eigentlid^ at the 
bottom. iBcrgl. ©.91: are the colour. 

3 as sure as eggs is eggs, abgefiitjt as sure as eggs : fo jtd^cr 
tt)ic nur toa^, fo fidget tote ba§ ©inmalcinS. Ingoldsby Leg. Misadv. 
at Margate. Then Bogey 'd have you, as sure as eggs are eggs. 
(As sure as X is X?) (Sonft fagt man as sure as fate, as sure as 
a gun, as sure as death and taxes, as sure as sure u. a. m. 

4 to rattle on; Wetter f(]^tt)a^en, plappmi (t)on f(]^nellem 

io8 TOM brown's school days. 

"Oh, please, Tom, stop, or you'll drive all I hai 
to say out of my head. And I'm already horriby 
afraid I'm going to make you angry." 

"Don't gammon, young 'un," rejoined Tom (tie 
use of the old name, dear to him from old recollec- 
tions, made Arthur start and smile, and feel quite 
happy); "you know you ain't afraid, and you've nc/er 
made me angry since the first month we chumxied 
together. Now I'm going to be quite sober for a 
quarter of an hour, which is more than I am once 
in a year; so make the most of it; heave ahead S and 
pitch into me right and left^." 

"Dear Tom, I ain't going to pitch into you/' said 
Arthur piteously; "and it seems so cocky 3 in me to 
be advising you, who've been my backbone 4 ever 
since I've been at Rugby, and have made the school 
a paradise to me. Ah, I see I shall never do it, un- 
less I go head-over-heels at once, as you said when 
you taught me to swim. Tom, I want you to give 
up using vulgus-books and cribs 5." 

Arthur sank bacl^ on to his pillow with a sigh, 
as if the effort had been great; but the worst was 
now over, and he looked straight at Tom, who was 
evidently taken aback ^. He leant his elbows on his 
264 knees, and stuck his hands into his hair, whistled a 
verse of "Billy Taylor 7," and then was quite silent 
for another minute. Not a shade crossed his face, 
but he was clearly puzzled. At last he looked up 
and caught Arthur's anxious look, took his hand, 
and said simply — 

^ heave ahead, get on with you. 

^ pitch into me right and left: gicB mir'S geprig, ^aucgu toon 
Bciben ©eitcn. 

3 cocky: unDerfd^ilmt, frec^, slang. SBergl. coxy, ©. 156. 

4 my backbone: ntein feftcr $alt. 

5 a crib: cine @f elsbriitf c , englifd^c ftberfe^ung cincg flafftfd^cn 
@(]^riftftcllcr§. SBcrgl. to crib, (S. 220. 

^ taken aback, ftel^e @. 241. 

7 Billy Taylor, fiel^c ^nl^cmg jum erften 2^ctl, @. 262, 


"Why, young 'un?" 

"Because you're the honestest boy in Rugby, and 
that ain't honest." 

"I don't see that." 

"What were you sent to Rugby for?" 

"Well, I don't know exactly — nobody ever told 
me. I suppose because all boys are sent to a public 
school in England." 

"But what do you think yourself? What do you 
"want to do here, and to carry away?" 

Tom thought a minute. "I want to be A i ^ at 
cricket and football, and all the other games, and to 
make my hands keep my head against any fellow, 
lout or gentleman. I want to get into the sixth be- 
fore I leave, and to please the Doctor; and I want 
to carry away just as much Latin and Greek as will 
take me through Oxford respectably. There now, 
young 'un, I never thought of it before, but that's 
pretty much about my figure^. Ain't it all on the 
square 3? What have you got to say to that?" 

"Why, that you are pretty sure to do all that 
you want, then." 

"Well, I hope so. But you've forgot one thing, 
what I want to leave behind me. I want to leave 
behind me," said Tom, speaking slow, and looking 
much moved, "the name of a fellow who never 
bullied a little boy, or turned his back on 4 a big one." 

^ A I (a one): S'htmmcr cinS ((£in§ a, (£in§ mit §(u§jeid^nung), 
Mc ^dd^fte Sfhmtmer eincr ©cnfur, ^ter, ttjic oft: ber crfte (first rate). 

^ that's pretty much about my figure : ba§ ift fo emigcrma^en 
(ungcfai^r) mein ^Infc^lag, meinc SRe^nung. About ift abtJcrbieU mit 
pretty much p Derbinbcn, cine familifire SSenbung; figure, tjom 
$rcifc entlc^nt, tt)ic a high figure, what is the figure? 

3 on the square, im Slang Diet, erflttrt fair and strictly 
honest, cigcntlic^: nadt) bem 3fhd^tnta6, b. :^. in gcl^briger Drbnung. 
2:§icm ful^rt ben ebenfo gebraud^ten ©eemanngaugbnitf ,,t)ierfant" 
(toierfantig) an. 5BergI. dvrjQ tstgdycovos. 

^ to turn one's back on, gett)5l^nli(^ : cineni ben SRutfen fel^ren, 
toaS aug Xlnoc^tfamfeit obcr S'^ad^iaffigfeit gcfd^e^en !ann, abcr aud^ 

I I O TOM brown's school DAYS. 

Arthur pressed his hand, and after a moment's 

silence went on; "You say, Tom, you want to please 

265 the Doctor. Now, do you want to please him by 

what he thinks you do, or by what you really do?" 

"By what I really do, of course." 

"Does he think you use cribs and vulgus-books?" 

Tom felt at once that his flank was turned ^ but 
he couldn*t give in. "He was at Winchester him- 
self^," said he; "he knows all about it." 

"Yes, but does he think you use them? Do you 
think he approves of it?" 

"You young villain!" said Tom, shaking his fist 
at Arthur, half vexed and half pleased, "I never think 
about it. Hang it — there, perhaps he don't. Well, I 
suppose he don't." 

Arthur saw that he had got his point 3; he knew 
his fiiend well, and was wise in silence, as in speech. 
He only said, "I would sooner have the Doctor's 
good opinion of me as I really am than any man's 
in the world." 

After another minute, Tom began again: "Look 
here, young 'un; how on earth am I tb get time to 
play the matches this half, if I give up cribs? We're 
in the middle of that long crabbed chorus in the 
*Agamemnon4;' I can only just make head or tail 
of it with the crib. Then there's Pericles' speech 

iBerad^tung auSbriicft; l^ier fte^t e§ fiir baS fonft iiBIic^e to turn one's 
back to (= to show one's back to) : eincm ben [Riicfen jeigcn, b. \ 
fit^ feige Dor i^m ^uriidfjiel^en. 

^ his flank was turned : ber ©egner pel i^m in bie fjlanfe. To 
turn {tourn^r) : htn geinb umgel^en unb im D^iirf en angreifen. 

^ He was at Winchester himself. SBergl. (5. 219. 

3 to get (gain) one's point: feinengrtjed erreid^en, gewonnene^ 
(Bpkl l^oben (^icm). 

^ that chorus in the Agamemnon, ©emeint ift tDoftl baS 
jtDcite ©tafimum, v. 352 ff., in ber ^ragijbie Agamemnon Don ^fc^^luS 
(5lif(]^^(o§), 525 — 456. To make head or tail of something: ben 
@inn ^erou^befommen, entlel^nt Don tossing up (head or tail: ^ot)f 
ober ©thrift). iBergl. @, 88. 


coming on in ThucydidesS and *The Birds ^' to get 
up for the examination, besides the Tacitus 3." Tom 
groaned at the thought of his accumulated labours. 
"I say, young 'un, there's only five weeks or so left 
to holidays; mayn't I go on as usual for this half? 
I'll tell the Doctor about it some day, or you may." 

Arthur looked out of window; the twilight had 
come on and all was silent. He repeated, in a low 
voice, "In this thing 4 the Lord pardon thy servant, 
that when my master goeth into the house of Rim- 
mon to worship there, and he leaneth on my hand, 
and I bow myself in the house of Rimmon: when I 
bow down myself in the house of Rimmon, the Lord 
pardon thy servant in this thing." 

Not a word more was Sciid on the subject, and 266 
the boys were again silent — one of those blessed, 
short silences in which the resolves which colour a 
life are so often taken. 

Tom was the first to break it. "You've been 
very ill indeed, haven't you, Geordie?" said he, with 
a mixture of awe and curiosity, feeling as if his friend 
had been in some strange place or scene, of which 
he could form no idea, and fiiU of the memory of 
his own thoughts during the last week. 

"Yes, very. I'm sure the Doctor thought I was 
going to die. He gave me the sacrament last Sun- 
day, and you can't think what he is when one is ill. 

* PSr'Icles' (s = z) speech in Thucyd'Tdes (c = s, s = z). 
2:§uc^bibeg (X^uf^bibeg) , 47i(?) — 40i(?), f^rieB eine &t\6)i6jit beg 

S)ie beriil^mtc Seid^enrebe be3 ^crifleg fte^t II, 35—46. 

^ The Birds, eine ber beriil^mteften ^omobien beg ^Ixi^top^am^, 
444(?) — 38o(?), toeld^e 414 in ^t^en aufgefii'^rt tourbe. 

3 Tacitus (Tas'sMs). P. Cornelius Tacitus, 54(?) — ii7(?), 
fd^xieb au6er einent 3)iaIog iiber ffithntx ber ^aiferjeit ha^ Seben feineg 
©d^ttJiegertjaterg ^Igricola, eine (Sd^ilberung ©ermanieng nnb jtoet 
grfigere l^iftoxifd^e 9Ser!e Historiae nnb Annales (rid^tiger bejcid^net 
ab excessu divi Augusti). To get up : fid^ einpanfen. 

4 In this thing etc. SSergL @. 205. 

112 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

He said such brave, and tender, and gentle things 
to me; I felt quite light and strong after it, and 
never had any more fear. My mother brought our 
old medical man, who attended me when I was a 
poor sickly child; he said my constitution was quite 
changed, and that I'm fit for anything now. If it 
hadn't, I couldn't have stood three days of this ill- 
ness. That's all thanks to you, and the games you've 
made me fond of." 

"More thanks to old Martin," said Tom; "he's 
been your real friend." 

"Nonsense, Tom; he never could have done for 
me what you have." 

"Well, I don't know; I did little enough. Did 
they tell you — you won't mind hearing it now, I 
know, — that poor Thompson died last week? The 
other three boys are getting quite round S like you." 

"Oh, yes, I heard of it" 

Then Tom, who was quite ftill of it, told Arthur 
of the burial-service in the chapel, and how it had 
impressed him, and he believed all the other boys. 
"And though the Doctor never said a word about 
it," said he, "and it was a half-holiday and match- 
day, there wasn't a game played in the close all the 
afternoon, and the boys all went about as if it were 
267 "I'm very glad of it," said Arthur. "But, Tom, 
I've had such strange thoughts about death lately. 
I've never told a soul of them, not even my mother. 
^ Sometimes I think they're wrong; but, do you know, 
I don't think in my heart I could be sorry at the 
death of any of my friends." 

Tom was taken quite aback. "What in the world 
is the young 'un after now?" thought he; "I've 
swallowed^ good many of his crotchets, but this 

* to get round, getoSl^nlid^cr to come round: iDteber wol^l 
iDcrbcn, fid^ crl^olen. 

2 to swallow: l^inunterfd^Iudcn, ettoag Unfinnigcg l^mncl^tticn 


altogetfaer beats me. He can*t be quite right in his 
head.** He didn't want to say a word, and shifted 
about uneasily in the dark; however, Arthur seemed 
to be waiting for an answer, so at last he said, "I 
don't think I quite see what you mean, Greordie. 
One's told so often to think about death, that I've 
tried it on ' sometimes, especially this last week. But 
we won't talk of it now. I'd better go — you're get- 
ting tired, and I shall do you harm." 

"No, no, indeed I ain't, Tom; you must stop till 
nine, there's only twenty minutes. I've settled you 
shall stop till nine. And oh! do let me talk to you 
— I must talk to you. I see it's just as I feared. 
You think I'm half mad — don't you now?" 

** Well, I did think it odd what you said, Greordie, 
as you ask me." 

Arthiu* paused a moment, and then said quickly, 
**ni tell you how it all happened. At first, when I 
was sent to the sick room, and found I had really 
got the fever, I was terribly frightened. I thought I 
should die, and I could not face it for a moment I 
don't think it was sheer cowardice at first, but I 
thought how hard it was to be taken away from my 
niother and sisters, and you all, just as I was be- 
ginning to see my way to many things, and to feel 
that I might be a man and do a man's work. To 
die without having fought, and worked, and g^ven 
one's life away, was too hard to bear. I got terribly 
impatient, and accused Grod of injustice, and strove 
to justify myself; and the harder I strove the deeper 268 
I sank. Then the image of my dear father often 
came across me, but I turned from it Whenever it 
came, a heavy numbing throb seemed to take hold 
of my heart and say, 'Dead — dead — dead.' And I cried 

(ftt^ gefallcn laffcn). This beats me: bie§ Wlfigt mid^ aug bcm 
Jfelbe, bieS iibcrftcigt ntcine SBegriffc 

* to try on, eigcntlic^: ^IcibxmgSftiicfe aiH)affen, fiir cinfac^e^ 
to try. 

Tern Br<mm*s School Days, II. 8 

114 "^^^ brown's school days. 

out, *The living, the living shall praise Thee, O Grod; 
the dead cannot praise Thee. There is no work in the 
grave; in the night no man can work. But I can 
work. I can do great things. I will do great things. 
Why wilt Thou slay me?' And so I struggled and 
plunged, deeper and deeper, and went down into a 
living black tomb. I was alone there, with no power 
to stir or think; alone with myself; beyond the reach 
of all human fellowship; beyond Chrisfs reach, I 
thought, in my nightmare. You, who are brave and 
bright and strong, can have no idea of that agony. 
Pray to God you never may. Pray as for your life." 

Arthur stopped — from exhaustion, Tom thought; 
but what between' his fear lest Arthur should hurt 
himself, his awe, and longing for him to go on, he 
couldn't ask, or stir to help him. 

Presently he went on, but quite calm and slow. 
"I don't know how long I was in that state. For 
more than a day, I know; for I was quite conscious, 
and lived my outer life all the time, and took my 
medicine, and spoke to my mother, and heard what 
they said. But I didn't take much note of time; I 
thought time was over for me, and that that tomb 
WcLS what was beyond. Well, on last Sunday morning, 
as I seemed to lie in that tomb, alone, as I thought, 
for ever and ever, the black dead wall was cleft 
in two, and I was caught up and borne through into 
the light by some great power, some living mighty 
spirit. Tom, do you remember the living creatures 
and the wheels in Ezekiel? It was just like that: 
*when they went^ I heard the noise of their wings, 
like the noise of great waters, as the voice of the 
269 Almighty, the voice of speech, as the noise of an 
host; when they stood they let down their wings' — 
*and they went every one straight forward; whither 

^ what between, fic^e (S. 70. 

* when they went, etc. Ezek. i, 24. — And they went, etc. 
I. 12. 


the spirit was to go they went, and they turned not 
when they went' And we rushed through the 
bright air, which was full of m3rriads of living 
creatures, and paused on the brink of a great river. 
And the power held me up, and I knew that that 
great river was the grave, and death dwelt there; 
but not the death I had met in the black tomb — that 
I felt was gone for ever. For on the other bank of 
the great river I saw men and women and children 
rising up pure and bright, and the tears were wiped 
from their eyes, and they put on glory and strength, 
and all weariness and pain fell away. And beyond 
were a multitude which no man could number, and 
they worked at some great work; and they who rose 
from the river went on and joined in the work. They 
all worked, and each worked in a diflFerent way, but 
all at the same work. And I saw there my father, and 
the men in the old town whom I knew when I was 
a child; many a hard stem man, who never came to 
church, and whom they called atheist and infidel. 
There they were, side by side with my father, whom 
I had seen toil and die for them, and women and 
little children, and the seal ^ was on the foreheads of 
alL And I longed to see what the work was, and 
could not; so I tried to plunge in the river, for I 
thought I would join them, but I could not. Then 
I looked about to see how they got into the river. 
And this I could not see, but I saw myriads on this 
side, and they too worked, and I knew that it was 
the same work; and the same seal was on their fore- 
heads. And though I saw that there was toil and 
angfuish in the work of these, and that most that 
were working were blind and feeble, yet I longed 
no more to plunge into the river, but more and more 
to know what the work was. And as I looked I 

* the seal. Rev. 9, 4. Those men which have not the seal 
of God in their foreheads. 

1 1 6 TOM brown's school days. 

saw my mother and my sisters, and I saw the Doctor, 
and you, Tom, and hundreds more whom I knew; 
270 and at last I saw myself too, and I was toiling and 
doing ever so little a piece of the great work. Then 
it all melted away, and the power left me, and as it 
left me I thought I heard a voice say, *The vision is 
for an appointed time^; though it tarry, wait for it, 
for in the end it shall speak and not lie, it shall 
surely come, it shall not tarry.' It was early morn- 
ing I know then, it was so quiet and cool, and my 
mother was fast asleep in the chair by my bedside; 
but it wasn't only a dream of mine. I know it wasn't 
a dream. Then I fell into a deep sleep, and only 
woke after afternoon chapel; and the Doctor came 
and gave me the sacrament, as I told you. I told 
him and my mother I should get well — I knew I 
should; but I couldn't tell them why. Tom," said 
Arthur, gently, after another minute, "do you see 
why I could not grieve now to see my dearest friend 
die? It can't be — it isn't, all fever or illness. God 
would never have let me see it so clear if it wasn't 
true. I don't understand it all yet — it will take me 
my life and longer to do that — to find out what the 
work is." 

When Arthur stopped there was a long pause. 
Tom could not speak, he was almost afi*aid to breathe, 
lest he should break the train of Arthur's thoughts. 
He longed to hear more, and to ask questions. In 
another minute nine o'clock struck, and a gentle tap 
at the door called them both back into the world 
again. They did not answer, however, for a moment, 
and so the door opened and a lady came in carrying 
a candle. 

She went straight to the sofa, and took hold of 
Arthur's hand, and then stooped down and kissed him. 

"My dearest boy, you feel a little feverish again. 


^ The vision, etc. Habakkuk, 2, 3; irid^t tt)6rtl^ angefiil^rt. 


Why didn't you have lights? You've talked too 
much and excited yourself in the dark." 

"Oh, no, mother; you can't think how well I feel. 
I shall start with you to-morrow for Devonshire. 
But, mother, here's my friend, here's Tom Brown — 
you know him?" 

"Yes, indeed, I've known him for years," she said, 271 
and held out her hand to Tom, who was now stand- 
ing up behind the sofa. This was Arthur's mother. 
Tall and slight and fair, with maisses of golden hair 
drawn back from the broad white forehead, and the 
calm blue eye meeting his so deep and open — the 
eye that he knew so well, for it was his friend's over 
again, and the lovely tender mouth that trembled 
while he looked. She stood there a woman of 
thirty-eight, old enough to be his mother, and one 
whose face showed the lines which must be written 
on the faces of good men's wives and widows — but 
he thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. 
He couldn't help wondering if Arthur's sisters were 
like her. 

Tom held her hand, and looked on straight in her 
face; he could neither let it go nor speak. 

"Now, Tom," said Arthur, laughing, "where are 
your manners? you'll stare my mother out of counte- 
nanced" Tom dropped the little hand with a sigh. 
"There, sit down, both of you. Here, dearest mother, 
there's room here; — " and he made a place on the 
sofa for her. "Tom, you needn't go; I'm sure you 
won't be called up at first lesson." Tom felt that he 
would risk being floored at every lesson for the rest 
of his natural school-Ufe^ sooner than go, so sat down. 
"And now," said Arthur, "I have realized one of the 
dearest wishes of my life — to see you two together." 

' to stare out of countenance : burd^ 5lnftarrcn auS bcr Sr^ffuttg 
Bringen. Goldsm. Vic. of Wak. p. 17. Looking presumption 
out of countenance. ^ his natural school-life : bet natiitli(!^e 

9$erlauf feined @d^eBend. 

ii8 TOM brown's school days. 

And then he led away the talk to their home in 
Devonshire, and the red bright earth ', and the deep 
green combes^, and the peat streams like cairngorm 3 
pebbles, and the wild moor with its high cloudy 
Tors 4 for a giant background to the picture — till 
Tom got jealous, and stood up for the clear chalk 
streams, and the emerald water meadows 5 and great 
elms and willows of the dear old Royal county, as 
272 he gloried to call it. And the mother sat on quiet 
and loving, rejoicing in their life. The quarter-to-ten 
struck, and the bell rang for bed before they had 
well begun their talk, as it seemed. 

Then Tom rose with a sigh to go. 

"Shall I see you in the morning, Geordie?" said 
he, as he shook his friend's hand. "Never mind 
though; you'll be back next half, and I shan't forget 
the house of Rimmon." 

Arthur's mother got up and walked with him to 
the door, and there gave him her hand again, and 
again his eyes met that deep loving look, which was 
like a spell upon him. Her voice trembled slightly 
as she said, "Good night — you are one who knows 
what our Father has promised to the friend of the 
widow and the fatherless^. May He deal with you 
as you have dealt with me and mine!" 

^ the red bright earth. 2)ci)onf^ire l^at auSgebel^ntc Sagcr Don 
totem 9KergeI. S^icm Dcrgletdftt tie SBe^eid^nung SBcftfalcnS aU „Sanb 
bet roten @rbc". ^ combe, la combe, tin SSort fclttfd^en Urf^jrungS, 
bejeidftnet cine X^alf(3^1ud^t unb finbet ftd^ oft in Si^amcn, wit Ilfra- 
combe in S)cDonf§ire ; peat streams .;^ SBftd^e ntit 9)loorbobcn. 

3 cairngorm, cin na^e an 5000 gug l^o^er S3erg (Cairn-gorm 
mountain), auc^ einc SBerggm^pe (Cairn-gorm mountains) bet f(]^ot= 
tif(3^en Grampians im S^orftweften be§ @ee§ Avon, an beffen (Sixbfeite 
Ben Mac Dhui cntporragt. ©§ finbet fid^ bort ein ffiaudjto)(>a^ , ge* 
too^nlid^ bejeic^net Cairngorm stones. 

4 Tor, feltifd^en llrf:pmng§, bebeutet einen Dorfj}ringenben gfclfen 
unb finbet fid^ l^ftufig in Seamen, ttJie Torbay. 

5 water meadows: ©d^toemmwiefen; the Royal county, in 
©rinncrung an Sllfreb ben ©rogen. SBergl. (5. 9 f. 

^ what Our Father has promised, etg. St. James, i, 27: 


Tom was quite upset; he mumbled something 
about owing everything good in him to Geordie — 
looked in her face again, pressed her hand to his 
lips, and rushed downstairs to his study, where he 
sat till old Thomas came kicking at the door» to tell 
him his allowance would be stopped if he didn't go 
ofF to bed. (It would have been stopped anyhow, 
but that he was a great favourite with the old gentle- 
man, who loved to come out in the afternoons into 
the close to Tom's wicket S and bowl slow twisters^ 
to him, and talk of the glories of bygone Surrey 3 

Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, 
To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to 
keep himself unspotted from the world, ^cr i?ol)n unvb iiidjt im 
9nf(l^(uB an bicfc ©ortc ncr^ciBCJt; bocft ucrgl. v. 12: He shall receive 
the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that 
love him. • 

* ticket, eigciitlic^: ^fbrtcften, ^cbilbct qui? bvci nmbcii, uutcn 
jugefpt^ten Stfiben (stumps) \>on ciner ^ii^c uoii 3 JVnfi 2 ^]oW, u^clcbc 
i« 3^« -S^tt »)on einanber cntfenit Qufved)t in ben S^obcn geftcrft wcibcu. 
3tt>if4cn bem mittleren uitb ben beiben iiuf^ercn luirb jebe^mal eiti 
Qemed CUier^oI^ (bail) oben lofe aufgelegt. Gin folcftev^ wicket , ba>J 
Dom @4lfiger (batsman) uerteibigt wirb, fudjt ber (i>ec^ncv (^bowler) 
im cricket mit feincm S^att uni^uiperfen. ^ei eiiicv vegelmftftigeu 
$artte (cricket-match) geljoren 3U beiben sBciten je 11 spieler ; bocb 
fommen au4 ^btoetc^ungen toor, ivie 3. $. single wicket, bQ<S^ in ber 
9iegel Don jtoci ^orteien 511 je 5 gefpielt wirb. 3ni borliegenben JyaHe 
^anbelt ed fit^ um blogeS ilben, luobei Xom fid) ein wicket aufpflan^t 
unb Don cincm ©cgner "33iille ^um ^w'^irffc^Iagen jumerfen Iftfet. 

^ slow twisters, ^ei bem ^erfen (bowling) im cricket mttcv= 
{d^eibet man slow bowling imb fast bowling; jcne^ x)t ein throwing 
imderhand, inbem bie ^altung ber ^anb aU holding underhand 
bqetc^net toirb, b. 1^. ber ^aU ru^t ouf ber ^anb unb luirb etioa ge= 
toorfen toie Bei einem ^iftolettiuurf im ^egeln. ^en eigentlici^en 
®egenfa( ju biefcr ^(rt bed ©urf§ be^eicftnet round hand (round 
arm) bowling, toobci ber 5(rm bc«5 'Serfcnbcn einen ^ogen Don recl^td 
na(^ linfS befc^reibt, inbem bie ^onb bid ^ut ec^ulter^b^e er^oben 
loirb. Gin twister, fo genannt Don twist, ciner bem ^ott gcgebcnen 
S)re]^iuig, fliegt beim ^luffc^logen (pitch) Dor bem wicket etrood )cit= 
to&Ttd, unb ift baber ntc^t gan^ leic^t gu bere(]^nat. S)iefe gon^e 9(rt 
bed SBerfend gilt im aUgemeinen fiir etmad oltmobifcb, toirb aber, loie 
@- 303* iw befonberen Sweden ongen^onbt. 

3 Surrey, Q^raffc^oft ^loifc^en ^ibblefq: hn 9fa>tbett mb ®itf{C( 

I20 TOM brown's SCHOOL DAYS. 

heroes, with whom he had played in former genera- 
tions.) So Tom roused himself, and took up his 
candle to go to bed; and then for the first time was 
aware of a beautiful new fishing-rod, with old Eton's ^ 
mark on it, and a splendidly bound Bible, which lay 
on his table, on the title-page of which was written — 
"Tom Brown, fi-om his affectionate and grateful 
fiiends, Frances Jane Arthur; George Arthur." 

I leave you all to guess how he slept, and what 
he dreamt of 

Chapter VII. 
Harry East's Dilemmas and Deliverances. 

"The Holy Supper is kept indeed, 
In whatso we share with another's need — 
Not that which we give, but what we share, 
For the gift without the giver is bare: 
Who bestows himself with his alms feeds three, 
Himself, his hungering neighbour, and Me." 

Lowell, The Vision of Sir L/iunfal^, 

273 The next morning, after breakfast, Tom, East, and 
Gower met as usual to learn their second lesson to- 
gether. Tom had been considering how to break 3 
his proposal of giving up the crib to the others, and 
having no better way (as indeed none better can 
ever be found by man or boy), told them simply what 
had happened; how he had been to see Arthur, who 
had talked to him upon the subject, and what he had 
said, and for his part he had made up his mind, and 
wasn't going to use cribs any more: and not being 

im (Siibcn, gantpf^ire im SBeftcn unb £ent im Often. ©8 gd^iJrcn 
baju bic (Stabttcilc SonbonS fiiblic^ toon bcr 3:i^cmfe. 

^ Eton, jebcnfallS bcr S'iante beS fJaBrifanten. 

^ %vt SScrfe bilbcn ben (Sd^Iu^ bc3 8. OJcbid^tg im jttjeitcn %vi 
toon The Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell. Lond. 
Macmillan, 1883, p. 122. 

3 to break (something to some one): cinem bel^utfam etwaS 
mitteilen, eriJffncn. 


quite sure of his ground ^ took the high and pathetic 
tone, and was proceeding to say, "how that having 
learnt his lessons with them for so many years, it 
would grieve him much to put an end to the arrange- 
ment, and he hoped at any rate that if they wouldn't 
go on with him, they should still be just as good 
friends, and respect one another's motives — but — " 

Here the other boys, who had been listening with 
open eyes and ears, burst in — 

"StufF^ and nonsense!" cried Gower. "Here, East, 
get down the crib and find the place." 

"Oh, Tommy, Tommy!" said East, proceeding to 
do as he was bidden, "that it should ever have come 
to this 3. I knew Arthur 'd be the ruin of you some 
day, and you of me. And now the time's come," — 
and he made a doleful face. 

"I don't know about ruin," answered Tom; "I 274 
know that you and I would have had the sack 4 long 
ago, if it hadn't been for him. And you know it as 
well as L" 

"Well, we were in a baddishS way before he 
came, I own; but this new crotchet of his is past a 

"Let's g^ve it a trial^, Harry; come — you know 
how often he has been right and we wrong." 

"Now, don't you two be jawing away 7 about 

' not being quite sure of his ground: ha er feinen gan^ fid^crcn 
Soben unter ben giigcn ful^Itc. 

* Stuff: SBIcc^, bummed 3eug. 

3 that it should ever have come to this: ba^ c<J je bal^in (fo 
»eit) l^at fommen miiffen (gcfommen ift) ; should locgen eineS gu er= 
gftjijenben un|)crf8nlic^cn ^au^tfafeS (it is a pity). 

♦ would have had the sack: ha% man imd Qcf^a^t l^ftttc (©d^ul* 
audbrucf). ©igentlic^ ttjerbcn to get the sack, to give the sack 
Don (gntlaffxmg aud bcm 3)icnftc gebraud^t, l^ergcnommen Don to have 
to pack up : fcine ^abfcligf eiten gufammenpacf en miiffen. 

5 baddish, rather bad. 

^ Let's give it a trial: la^ wn3 einen SBerfud^ baran ttjenben. 
7 to jaw away: fd^naujen, quaffeln. Square-toes, ftel^e Pref. 
p. XXXII. No end of, fie^e @. 187. Sucldng: unreif, noc^ nid^t 

122 TOM brown's SCHOOL DAYS. 

young Square-toes," struck in Gower. "He's no end 
of a sucking wiseacre, I dare say, but we've no time 
to lose, and IVe got the fives'-court at half-past nine." 

"I say, Gower," said Tom, appealingly, "be a 
good fellow, and let's try if we can't get on without 
the crib." 

"What! in this chorus? Why, we shan't get 
through ten lines." 

"I say, Tom," cried East, having hit on a new 
idea, "don't you remember, when we were in the 
upper fourth, and old Momus ^ caught me construing 
off the leaf of a crib which I'd torn out and put in 
my book, and which would float out on to the floor, 
he sent me up to be flogged for it?" 

"Yes, I remember it very well." 

"Well, the Doctor, after he 'd flogged me, told 
me himself that he didn't flog me for using a trans- 
lation, but for taking it into lesson, and using it there 
when I hadn't lectmt a word before I came in. He 
said there was no harm in using a translation to get 
a clue^ to hard passages, if you tried all you could 
first to make them out without." 

"Did he, though?" said Tom; "then Arthur must 
be wrong." 

"Of course he is," said Gower, "the little prig3. 
We'll only use the crib when we can't construe with- 
out it. Go ahead, Ectst." 

And on this agreement they started: Tom satis- 
275 fied with having made his confession, and not sorry 
to have a locus pcenttenttce^, and not to be deprived 
altogether of the use of his old and faithful friend. 

l^lntcr ben Dl^ren troden; ^crgenommcn Don ^lugbriiden ttjle a sucking 
child, lamb, pig; ftj^cr^l^aft Shak. Mids. I, 2, 85 : as gentie as any 
sucking dove. 

* Momus ((SJott be§ (Spotted) : @<)ifename cine§ fiel^rerS. 

^ to get a clue : einen ^(nl^altg^junf t gctoinncn. S^iem. Clue : 
bet ficitfaben, in bcr eigcntltd^en SScbeutimg beS 2Bortc§. 

3 prig, pe^c Pref. p. XXXIV. 

4 lo(Ms pcenitenticB, place of repentance: dtanvx jur SBtt^e. 


The boys went on as usual, each taking a sen- 
tence in turn, and the crib being handed to the one 
whose turn it was to construe. Of course Tom couldn't 
object to this, as, was it not simply lying there to be 
appealed to in case the sentence should prove too 
hard altogether for the construer? But it must be 
owned that Gower and East did not make very 
tremendous exertions to conquer^ their sentences 
before having recourse to its help. Tom, however, 
with the most heroic virtue and gallantry rushed into 
his sentence, searching in a high-minded manner for 
nominative and verb, and turning over his dictionary 
frantically for the first hard word that stopped him. 
But in the meantime Gower, who was bent on get- 
ting to fives, would peep quietly into the crib, and 
then suggest, "Don't you think this is the meaning?" 
"I think you must take it this way. Brown;" and as 
Tom didn't see his way to not profiting^ by these 
suggestions, the lesson went on about as quickly as 
usual, and Gower was able to start for the fives'- 
court within five minutes of the half-hour. 

When Tom and East were left face to face, they 
looked at one another for a minute, Tom puzzled, 
and East chock-ftill of ftm, and then burst into a 
roar of laughter. 

"Well, Tom," said East, recovering himself, "I 
don't see any objection to the new way. It's about 
as good as the old one, I think; besides the advantage 
it gives one of feeling virtuous, and looking down 
on one's neighbours." 

Epistola ad Hebraeos, 12, 17. Non invenit poenitentiae locum: 
(gr fanb fcincn diaum ^m SBugc. fiutl^cr. ©ir fagcn gcmSl^nlid^ „cmc 

* to conquer: bc»a(ttgcn. 

^ Tom didn't see his way to not profiting: l^om ttJUgte md^i, 
Wit er eg tocrmeibcn foUte (b. \). er foimtc ni(3^t um^in), \\d) ^u nu^e ju 
mac^en. @. 276: it's hard enough to see one's way: man fid^t 
mc^t Iet(^t ben ^eg tiax Dor [i<f). 

124 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

Tom shoved his hand into his back hair^. "I 
ain't so sure," said he; "you two fellows carried me 
off my legs^: I don't think we really tried one sen- 
tence fairly. Are you sure you remember what the 
Doctor said to you?" 

"Yes. And I'll swear I couldn't make out one 
276 of my sentences to-day. No, nor ever could. I really 
don't remember," said Ectst, speaking slowly and im- 
pressively, "to have come across one Latin or Grreek 
sentence this half, that I could go and construe by 
the light of nature 3. Whereby I am sure Providence 
intended cribs to be used." 

"The thing to find out," said Tom meditatively, 
"is how long one ought to grind 4 at a sentence 
without looking at the crib. Now I think if one 
fairly looks out all the words one don't know, and 
then can't hit it, that's enough." 

"To be sure. Tommy," said East demurely, but 
with a merry twinkle in his eye. "Your new doctrine 
too, old fellow," added he, "when one comes to think 
of it, is a cutting at the root of all school morality. 
You'll take away mutual help, brotherly love, or in 
the vulgar tongue, giving construes 5, which I hold 
to be one of our highest virtues. For how can you 
distinguish between getting a construe from another 
boy, and using a crib? Hang it, Tom, if you're 
going to deprive all our school-fellows of the chance 
of exercising Christian benevolence and being good 
Samaritans, I shall cut the concern^." 

* Tom shoved his hand into his back hair. @. 196: Tom 
stuck his hand in his back hair for a scratch. 

^ you carried me off my legs : iJ^r ^dbi micft gum SBonfm gc* 
brad^t, nteine guten SSorfd^c iiber ben ^aufen gcworfcn. 

3 by the light of nature: burd^ natiirlic^c Dffcnbarung, b. 1^. 
ol^ne ©felSbritde. S)ie SBenbung tft nid^t 6tblifd&, oBgleic^ light in bev 
SBibel oft ©rleud^tung bcbeutct. 

* to grind, fie^c @. 226. 

5 giving construes : SD^ittetlung bcr ^PrS^jaration auf bie 2tWm, 
\\tf)t @. 139. ^ cut the concern, fiel^e @. 2. 


"I wish you wouldn't joke about it, Harry; it's 
hard enough to see one's way, a precious sight ^ 
harder than I thought last night But I suppose 
there's a use and an abuse of both, and onell get 
straight enough somehow. But you can't make out 
anyhow that one has a right to use old vulgus-books 
and copy-books." 

"Hullo, more heresy! how fctst a fellow goes down 
hill when he once gets his head before his legs^. 
Listen to me, Tom. Not use old vulgus-books? — 
why, you Goth! ain't we to take the benefit of the 
wisdom, and admire and use the work of past genera- 
tions? Not use old copy-books! Why you might 
as well say we ought to pull down Westminster 
Abbey 3, and put up a go-to-meeting-shop 4 with 
churchwarden windows 5; or never read Shakespere, 277 
but only Sheridan Kjiowles^. Think of all the work 
and labour that our predecessors have bestowed on 
these very books; and are we to make their work 
of no value?" 

"I say, Harry, please don't chaff 7; Tm really 

"And then, is it not our duty to consult the 

*. a precious sight: BefonberS in biefcr SBcrBinbung. SBcrgl. 
@. 13. 

* when he once gets his head before his legs: tocim er erft 
eimnal fopfiiber fd^iejt. SBergl. @. 215: head over heels. 

3 Westminster Abbey, fcit 1245 neu oufgefiil^rt t)on ^tinxid^ III. 
on ©telle ber alten toon ©buarb bem S3e!enner l^errii^renben ^ctpelle, 
jum %^ loieber umgcbawt toon |yeinrid^ VII., unb toon (Sir ©Wftopl^er 
SBten (1632— -1723) toollenbet. 

4 a go-to-meeting shop : cine ^ontoentifelsSBube. SSergl. @. 77 
u. 254. 

5 churchwarden windows: l^SB^ci&e toieredige gf^nfter beS 17. 
unb 18. 3a]^r^unbert8, in gotifd^e fjenftcr ^ineingcbaut unb fo genannt, 
roeil bamolS SBau unb Sle^paratur toon ^r(3^en in ben ^dnben ber 
churchwardens tt)ar, bie feinen arc^iteftonifd^en &t\^mad befafeen. 

^ James Sheridan Knowles (nSlz), 1794 — 1862, befonber§be= 
fount burd^ bie 3)ramen Virginius unb William Tell. SSergl. @. 143. 
7 to chaff, fiel^e @. 30. 

126 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

pleasure of others rather than our own, and above 
all that of our masters? Fancy then the di£Ference 
to them in looking over a vulgus which has been 
carefully touched and retouched by themselves and 
others, and which must bring them a sort of dreamy 
pleasure, as if they'd met the thought or expression 
of it somewhere or another^ — before they were bom 
perhaps; and that of cutting up, and making picture- 
frames^ round all your and my false quantities, and 
other monstrosities. Why, Tom, you wouldn't be so 
cruel as never to let old Momus hum over the *0 
genus humanum3,' again, and then look up doubt- 
ingly through his spectacles, and end by smiling and 
giving three extra marks for it: just for old sake's 
sake 4, I suppose." 

"Well," said Tom, getting up in something as 
like a huff 5 as he was capable of, "it's deuced hard 
that when a fellow's really trying to do what he 
ought, his best friends '11 do nothing but chaff him 
and try to put him down^." And he stuck his books 
under his arm and his hat on his head, preparatory 
to rushing out into the quadrangle, to testify with 
his own soul of the faithlessness of friendships. 

"Now don't be an ass 7, Tom," said East, catching 
hold of him, "you know me well enough by this 
time; my bark's worse than my bite^. You can't 
expect to ride your new crotchet 9 without anybody's 

^ somewhere or another, fiel^e @. 43. 

^ making picture-frames round: (Strtd^e im SSiered l^enmt? 

3 O genus humanum, \itf)t (5. 220. 

+ for old sake's sake, fie^e @. 42. 

5 in something as like a huff, etc.: er fal^ fo berfd^cudftt (fo 
bitterbofe) aug, loie nut irgeitb mbgtid^. HufF: bet 3luSbrud^ bc8 3oni8. 

^ to put down: buden. 7 ass, fie^c Pref. p. XXVI. 

^ my bark's worse than my bite : id^ fnurre mel^r, alS baft id^ 
beifte; i^ bin in ber X^at nid^t fo fd^Iimm, aU in SBorten. Barking 
dogs seldom bite. 

9 to ride your new crotchet: betn toerriitfteS ncueS ^Prtnjip ^u 


trying to stick a nettle under his tail and make him 
kick you oflF: especially as we shall all have to go 
on foot still. But now sit down and let's go over it 
again. Ill be as serious as a judge ^" 

Then Tom sat himself down on the table, and 
waxed eloquent about all the righteousness and ad- 278 
vantages of the new plan, as was his wont whenever 
he took up anything; going into it as if his life de- 
pended upon it, and sparing no abuse which he could 
think of of the opposite method, which he denounced 
as ungentlemanly, cowardly, mean, lying, and no 
one knows what besides. "Very cool of Tom," as 
East thought, but didn't say, "seeing as how he only 
came out of Egypt ^ himself last night at bed-time." 

"Well, Tom," said he at last, "you see, when you 
and I came to school there were none of these sort 
of notions. You may be right — I dare say you are. 
Only what one has always felt about the masters is, 
that it's a fair trial of skill and last 3 between us 
and them — like a match at football, or a battle. 
We're natural enemies in school, that's the fact. 
We've got to learn so much Latin and Greek and 
do so many verses, and they've got to see that we 
do it. If we can slip the collar 4 and do so much 

teitctt, nad^ Slnalogie Don to ride one's hobby. 3)a§ SBitb loirb 
gcnaucr auggeful^rt. 

" as serious as a judge: mit StmtSemft, geiub^nlid^ as grave 
as a judge, as sober as a judge. 

* seeing as how, considering that: in ^n6etrad)t ba^. Out 
of Egypt, out of Egyptian darkness. 3)iefe JRebeiueife gel^t juriicf 
auf Exod. 10, 21 f.: Stretch out thine hand toward heaven, that 
there may be darkness over the land of Egypt; even darkness 
which may be felt. To come out of Egypt Ift^t fid^ aber aud^ 
faffcn: auS %l)pten errettet hjerben. 

3 last: ^u^havitx, gelDol^nlid^er lasting, im GJegenfa^ 5U skill. 

4 to slip the collar Icl^t loeniger an baS feftfi^enbe ^ferbefummet 
bcnfcn, tt)ie settling to the collar, @. 115, aU an bag leid^t ab^u* 
ftrcifcnbc §alsbanb bet §unbe. 3)ie SBenbung unterfd^cibet ftd^ t)on 
shaking off the yoke babutd^, baft jte nid^t einc getoaltfamc Kn* 
fttengung onbeutet. 


less without getting caught, that's one to us^. If 
they can get more out of us, or catch us shirking, 
that's one to them. All's fair in war, but lying. If 
I run my luck^ against theirs, and go into school 
without looking at my lessons, and don't get called 
up, why am I a snob 3 or a sneak? I don't tell the 
master I've learnt it. He's got to find out whether 
I have or not; what's he paid for? If he calls me 
up, and I get floored, he makes me write it out in 
Greek and English. Very good, he's caught me, 
and I don't grumble. I grant you, if I go and snivel 
to him 4, and tell him I've reaUy tried to learn it but 
found it so hard without a translation, or say I've 
had a toothache, or any humbug of that kind, I'm a 
snob. That's my school morality; it's served me — 
and you too, Tom, for the matter of that 5 — these 
five years. And it's all clear and fair, no mistake 
about it. We understand it, and they understand it, 
and I don't know what we're to come to with any 
279 Tom looked at him pleased, and a little puzzled. 
He had never heard East spesJ^ his mind seriously 

' that's one to us; ein ^oint fiir unS, mit SBc^ug auf bie Dorl^ers 
ge^enben SBortc like a match at football. 

* If I run my luck: toenn ici^ mein &ivLd toerfuci^e; fel^r gctobl^ 
Ud^ ift bic SBenbung the run of luck: bie Siif^ttigfeit. 

3 snob, l^ier: ©d^tomblcr, ein SBort norbifd^cn Urfl)rung^ imb 
^erfommenb toon pxot>mi\t\ltn SBejeid^nungen gemciner Scute, bilbet, 
obgleic^ nic^t tUm entftanben au3 s. nob. (sine nobilitate), eincn 
©egenfa^ 5U nob (noble) unb Be^eic^nete friil^er hm ^oten feiner 
gemeinen (SJefinnung nac^. Thackeray, Book of Snobs, l^at ben 
SBegriff mit ^eruorl^ebung einer @ette fiyiert : a snob is that man or 
woman who is always pretending to be something better — 
especially richer or more fashionable — than they are. Snob ift 
alfo l^ier ber 6c^iiler, ber fic^ einen guten tofij^ein ju geben fuc^t, in^ 
bem er bem fiel^rer etiuag toorfci^iDinbelt, todi)l ju imterfd^eiben t)on 
sneak, bet fic^ an ben fieftrer anfd^miert. SSergl. @. 57. 

4 if I snivel to him: toenn id^ il^m loag Dotlamenticrc; mit ^Tn* 
beuhing beS ^ried^enben. SSergL @. 148. 

5 for the matter of that, ftel^e @. 121. 


before, and couldn't help feeling how completely he 
had hit his own theory and practice up to that time. 

"Thank you, old fellow," said he. "You're a 
good old brick to be serious, and not put out with 
me'. I said more than I meant, I dare say, only 
you see I know I'm right: whatever you and Gower 
and the rest do, I shall hold on — I must. And as 
it's all new and an up-hill game, you see, one must 
hit hard and hold on tight at first." 

"Very good," said East; "hold on and hit away, 
only don't hit under the line^." 

"But I must bring you over, Harry, or I shan't 
be comfortable. Now, I allow all you've said. We've 
always been honourable enemies with the masters. 
We found a state of war when we came, and went 
into it of course. Only don't you think things are 
altered a good deal? I don't feel as I used to the 
masters. They seem to me to treat one quite dif- 

"Yes, perhaps they do," said East; "there's a new 
set, you see, mostly, who don't feel sure of themselves 
yet. They don't want to fight till they know the 

"I don't think it's only that," said Tom. "And 
then the Doctor, he does treat one so openly, and 
like a gentleman, and as if one was working with him." 

"Well, so he does," said East; "he's a splendid 
fellow, and when I get into the sixth I shall act ac- 
cordingly. Only you know he has nothing to do 
with our lessons now, except examining us. I say, 
though," looking at his watch, "it's just the quarter. 
Come along." 

* not put out with me : boft bu itid^t ftrgerlid^ auf mid^ bift. 

* don't hit under the line , faitn fottjol^l Dom SSaUfpiel fives 
(@. 82) entlel^nt fein, olS torn SBoyen, njobei ein @d^Iag nod^ bcm 
Unter!3r^)cr (under the line) aU un!ommentma6i9 (o^ ©oii^ieb) gilt. 
Up-hill: miil^fatti, befd^njcrlid^ , fann nic^t cntfd^eibcnb fcin; aber to 
hold on tight J)a6t bcffer jum SSojen. 

Tom Brown* s School Days, II, ^ 

I30 TOM brown's school days. 

As they walked out they got a message to say ', 
"that Arthur was just starting and would like to say 
good-bye;" so they went down to the private entrance 
280 of the School-house, and found an open carriage, 
with Arthur propped up with pillows in it, looking 
already better, Tom thought. 

They jumped up on to the steps to shake hands 
with him, and Tom mumbled thanks for the presents 
he had found in his study, and looked round anxiously 
for Arthur's mother. 

East, who had fallen back into his usual humour 
looked quaintly at Arthur, and said — 

"So youVe been at it again ^, through that hot- 
headed convert of yours there. He's been making 
our lives a burthen to us all the morning about using 
cribs. I shall get floored to a certainty at second 
lesson, if Tm called up." 

Arthur blushed and looked down. Tom struck 
in — 

"Oh, it's all right. He's converted already; he 
always comes through the mud after us, grumbling 
and sputtering." 

The clock struck, and they had to go oflF to 
school, wishing Arthur a pleasant holiday; Tom 
lingering behind a moment to send his thanks and 
love to Arthur's mother. 

Tom renewed the discussion after second lesson, 
and succeeded so far as to get East to promise to 
give the new plan a fair trial. 

Encouraged by his success, in the evening, when 
they were sitting alone in the large study, where 
East lived now almost, "vice 3 Arthur on leave," after 
examining the new fishing-rod, which both pronounced 

^ to say: be§ gnl^altg. X^iem. 

^ So you've been at it again: bu fiaft alfo loieber barauf (Quf 
bag, toag hu bir toorgefe^t ^aft) l^ingearbeitet, l^iitge^telt; at njie in bet 
SScnbimg what are you at? toaS ^aft bu toor? 

3 vice (vfsy), instead of: alk @tcllt)crtrcter. 


to be the genuine article ^ ("play enough* to throw 
a midge 3 tied on a single hair against the wind, and 
strength enough to hold a grampus,") they naturally 
begran talking about Arthur. Tom, who Weis still 
bubbling over with last night's scene, and all the 
thoughts of the last week, and wanting to clinch and 
fix the whole in his own mind, which he could never 
do without first going through the process of be- 
labouring somebody else with it all, suddenly rushed 281 
into the subject of Arthur's illness, and what he had 
said about death. 

East had given him the desired opening: after a 
serio-comic grumble, "that life wasn't worth having 
now they were tied^ to a young beggar who W2is 
always * raising his standard;' and that he. East, was 
like a prophet's donkey 5, who was obliged to struggle 
on after the donkey-man who went after the prophet; 
that he had none of the pleasure of starting the new 
crotchets, and didn't half understand them, but had 
to take the kicks and carry the luggage as if he had 
all the fiin" — he threw his legs up on to the sofa, 
and put his hands behind his head, and said — 

"Well, after all, he's the most wonderful little 
fellow I ever came across. There ain't such a meek, 

^ the genuine article: eiit 3)ing, tok eS fcin mu6 (comme il 
fauf), ober, toxt |>op<)c tjorfci^iagt : bet toa^xt 3af ob. 

^ play enough (with play enough) ; leld^t unb beweglid^ genug, 
ittbem play, fowol^I alg ©ubftantit) toxt al3 SSerbum, t?om ^reibcn eincr 
aKafc^ine, 5. SB. toon SRftbem, gebtaud^t xoixh, ble fid^ frei imb mil 
Seid^tigfeit beioegen. 

3 midge (baSfelbe SSort m 9Kudfe), eine ^Mtnaxt (Sudmiicfc, 
chironomus), \^x jart gebaut unb mil futjem (Saugriiffel. Gram- 
pus: bcr a3ut3!o:pf, ©d^toertfifd^ (orcinus orca), ^u ben %^^^x[^n 
ge^i5rig, erreid^t eine fidnge toon 20, ja 30 gfujg. 

^ now they were tied, now that they were tied. Raising his 
standard: ber immer fein ^Banner attf:|)flan5te unb fie ju folgen nStigte; 
nic^t in ber SBebeutung toon standard loie @. 141. 

5 hke a prophet's donkey: eine freie unb felbftanbige SBe^eid^s 
nung be« @d^riftfteller8 o^ne ettoaige 3lnfi)ielung auf eine ©telle \>^!S^ 
TOen Xcftamentg. The donkey-man gel^t auf Sow. 


132 ' TOM brown's school DAYS. 

humble boy in the School. Hanged if I don't think 
now really, Tom, that he believes himself a much 
worse fellow than you or I, and that he don't think 
he has more influence in the house than Dot Bowles ^, 
who came last quarter, and ain't ten yet. But he 
turns you and me round his little finger, old boy — 
there's no mistake about that." And East nodded at 
Tom sagaciously. 

"Now or never!" thought Tom; so shutting his 
eyes^ and hardening his heart, he went straight at 
it, repeating all that Arthur had said, as near as he 
could remember it, in the very words, and all he had 
himself thought. The life seemed to ooze out of it 3 
as he went on, and several times he felt inclined to 
stop, give it all up, and change the subject. But 
somehow he was borne on; he had a necessity upon 
him to speak it all out, and did so. At the end he 
looked at East with some anxiety, and was delighted 
to see that that young gentlerpan was thoughtful 
and attentive. The fact is, that in the stage of his 
inner life at which Tom had lately arrived, his in- 
timacy with and friendship for East could not have 
lasted if he had not made him aware of, and a sharer 
282 in, the thoughts that were beginning to exercise 4 
him. Nor indeed could the friendship have lasted 
if East had shown no sympathy with these thoughts; 

' Dot: 3)aumling (^ir<)3, X^icm), loirb ber flcinftc @^ulet 
Bowles loegen feinet minjigcn ©eftalt genannt; er ift gteid^fam tin 
blofteS ^unftd^en. 

2 shutting his eyes : inbcm er bie ?lugcn ^uhteift imb blinblingS 
braufloggel^t. Hardening his heart, l^ier nid^t toon ©eful^IIoflgfcit, 
fonbem in ber SBebeutimg: bajg er fein §crj ftai^It, inbem er ftd^ ®e»aU 
antl^un mug. 

3 The life seemed to ooze out of it: ber lebenbige jQueH fd^ien 
ftd^ tro:|)fenn)eig 5U Derlieren. 

4 to exercise: unaufl^Srlidft befd^ttftigen, nid^t rul^en laffen. 

@. 289: Arthur's theory by which he was much exercised. 

Milt. P. L. II, 87 f. : Where pain of unextinguishable fire Must 
exercise us without hope of end. 


SO that it was a great relief to have unbosomed him- 
self, and to have found that his friend could listen. 

Tom had always had a sort of instinct th^t East's 
levity was only skin-deep; and this instinct was a 
true one. East had no want of reverence for any- 
thing he felt to be real: but his was one of those 
natures that burst into what is generally called reck- 
lessness and impiety the moment they feel that any- 
thing is being poured upon them for their good, 
which does not come home to their inborn sense of 
right, or which appeals to anything like self-interest 
in them. Daring and honest by nature, and out- 
spoken to an extent which alarmed all respectabilities ', 
with a constant fund of animal health and spirits^ 
which he did not feel bound to curb in any way, he 
had gained for himself with the steady part of the 
School ^eluding as well those who wished to appear 
steady as those who really were so), the character 
of a boy whom it would be dangerous to be intimate 
with; while his own hatred of everything cruel, or 
underhand, or false, and his hearty respect for what 
he could see to be good and true, kept off the rest 

Tom, besides being very like East in many points 
of character, had largely developed in his composi- 
tion the capacity for taking the weakest side 3. This 
is not putting it strongly enough 4; it was a necessity 
with him; he couldn't help it any more than he could 
eating or drinking. He could never play on the 
strongest side with any hearts at foot-ball or cricket, 

" respectabilities, fid^ @. 165. 

^ animal health and spirits, fte^e 8. Pref. @. XXVI. 

3 to take the weakest side: bie $artei bed S^tvfid^fhn tts 
gretfen, ftcb auf fetne @ette fteHen. 

4 This is not putting it strong enough : Med 6e§eid^et ed gar 
itic^t ftot! genug, britcft ed ito^ rnd^t erninal aud. ^m tiKir nic^t 
hU>i hit ftcmbe, fic^ ber @d§mfid§eren oitjunel^inen , fonbent ed mot fur 
i^ erne 9^otiDettbig!ett 

5 with any heart: mil l^erjlid^ fjreube, mit irgenb mel^er S5e= 

134 TOM brown's school days. 

and was sure to make friends with any boy who was 
unpopular, or down on his luck^. 

Now though East was not what is generally 
called unpopular, Tom felt more and more every day, 
as their characters developed, that he stood alone, 
283 and did not make friends among their contemporaries, 
and therefore sought him out. Tom was himself 
much more popular, for his power of detecting hum- 
bug was much less acute, and his instincts were 
much more sociable. He was at this period of his 
life, too, largely given to taking people for what they 
gave themselves out to be; but his singleness of 
heart, fearlessness and honesty were just what East 
appreciated, and thus the two had been drawn into 
greater intimacy. 

This intimacy had not been interrupted by Tom's 
guardianship of Arthur. 

East had often, as has been said, joined them in 
reading the Bible; but their discussions had almost 
always turned upon the characters of the men and 
women of whom they read, and not become personal 
to themselves. In fact, the two had shrunk from 
personal religious discussion, not knowing how it 
might end; and fearful of risking a friendship very 
dear to both, and which they felt somehow, without 
quite knowing why, would never be the same, but 
either tenfold stronger or sapped at its foundation, 
after such a communing together. 

What a bother all this explaining is! I wish we 
could get on without it. But we can't. However, 
you'll all find, if you haven't found it out already, 
that a time comes in every human friendship, when 
you must go down into the depths of yourself, and 
lay bare what is there to your friend, and wait in 
fear for his answer. A few moments may do it; and 

^ down on his luck: in ntipd^er Sage; fonft: l^eruntcrgelommcn, 
abet aud^: niebergefd^lagen. 


it may be (most likely will be, as you are English 
boys) that you never do it but once. But done it 
must be, if the friendship is to be worth the name. 
You must find what is there, at the very root and 
bottom of one another's hearts; and if you are at 
once there, nothing on earth can, or at least ought 
to sunder you. 

East had remained lying down until Tom finished 
speaking, as if fearing to interrupt him; he now sat 
up at the table, and leant his head on one hand, tak- 284 
ing up a pencil with the other, and working little 
holes with it in the table-cover. After a bit he 
looked up, stopped the pencil, and said, "Thank you 
very much, old fellow; there's no other boy in the 
house would have done it for me but you or Arthur. 
I can see well enough," he went on after a pause, "all 
the best big fellows look on me with suspicion; they 
think I'm a devil-may-care^, reckless young scamp. 
So I am — eleven hours out of twelve — but not the 
twelfth. Then all of our contemporaries worth know- 
ing follow suit^, of course; we're very good friends 
at games and all that, but not a soul of them but 
you and Arthur ever tried to break through the 
crust, and see whether there was anything at the 
bottom of me; and then the bad ones I won't stand, 
and they know that" 

^ a devil-may-care, reckless young scamp: cin jiiin 3^eufcl 
ft(6 an nid^t^ fc^rcnbcr, rudffi(i^t§Iofer jimger Xaugcmd^td. Devil- 
may-care dig 2(bje!tit), ttJtc Quc^ devil-may-carish, biSioeilcn ber 
Puc^tigen 5(u8f^)rac^c entf^)re(j^enb gefd^rieben devil-me-care, devil- 
me-carish, entftanben au8 the devil may care, I don't = I care 
the devil a bit (for it), bejeid^net cinen @Jrab bcr GJleid^giiltigfcit unb 
Ungcreimt^eit, wclc^cr an grcd^^eit grcnjt. Scamp, jufammcnl^angenb 
mit to decamp, bcbeutete ur|>riinglid^ gliid^tling, 3Sagabunb, tourbc 
bann fiir 3)ieb unb ©trafeenraubcr gebraud^t, ift jcf t aber meiftcn^ nur 
Xaugcnid^tg, Sd^IingcI {t)on ^nobcn). 

* to follow suit: bebicncn (im ^artcnfpicO, b. f). einc ^arte Don 
ber JJarbc bcr auggcfl)iclten baraufgcbcn; baiter: bem ^eifl)icl jcmanbcg 
folgen^ ed mac^en tme tin onberer. 

136 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

"Don't you think that's half fancy, Hairy?" 

"Not a bit of it," said East bitterly, pegging away 
with his penciL "I see it all plain enough. Bless 
you, you think everybody's as straightforward and 
kind-hearted as you are." 

"Well, but what's the reason of it? There must 
be a reason. You can play all the games as well as 
any one, and sing the best song, and are the best 
company in the house. You fancy you're not liked, 
Harry. It's all fancy." 

"I only wish it was, Tom. I know I could be 
popular enough with all the bad ones, but that I 
won't have, and the good ones won't have me." 

"Why not?" persisted Tom; "you don't drink or 
swear, or get out at night; you never bully, or cheat 
at lessons. If you only showed you liked it, you'd 
have all the best fellows in the house running after 

"Not I," said East. Then with an eflfort he went 
on, "I'll tell you what it is. I never stop the Sacra- 
ment^. I can see, from the Doctor downwards, how 
that tells against me." 
285 "Yes, I've seen that," said Tom, "and I've been 
very sorry for it, and Arthur and I have talked about 
it. I've often thought of speaking to you, but it's 
so hard to begin on such subjects. I'm very glad 
you've opened it. Now, why don't you?" 

"I've never been confirmed," said East. 

"Not been confirmed!" said Tom in astonishment. 
"I never thought of that. Why weren't you con- 
firmed with the rest of us nearly three years ago? 
I always thought you'd been confirmed at home." 

"No," answered East sorrowfiilly; "you see this 
was how it happened. Last Confirmation was soon 

' I never stop the Sacrament : id^ bicibc nie am @^Iuf[c bcS 
®ottcgbienfteS ^um 5Cbenbmal^I. @. 285: No boy got on who 
didn't stay the Sacrament. 3)cr ?lccufatU) toic in to stay dinner 
(supper). @. 315: Don't you and Herbert wait supper for me. 


after Arthur came, and you were so taken up with 
him, I hardly saw either of you. Well, when the 
Doctor sent round for us about it, I was living mostly 
with Green's set — you know the sort They all went 
in — I dare say it was all right, and they got good 
by it; I don't want to judge them. Only all I could 
see of their reasons drove me just the other way. 
Twas 'because the Doktor liked it;' *no boy got on 
who didn't stay the Sacrament;' *it was the correct 
thing,' in fact, like having a good hat to wear on 
Sundays. I couldn't stand it I didn't feel that 
I wanted to lead a different life, I was very well 
content as I was, and I wasn't going to sham 
religious^ to curry favour with the Doctor, or any 
one else." 

East stopped speaking, and pegged away more 
diligently than ever with his pencil. Tom was ready 
to cry. He felt half sorry at first that he had been 
confirmed himself. He seemed to have deserted his 
earliest fiiend, to have left him by himself at his 
worst need for those long years. He got up and 
went and sat by East and put his arm over his 

"Dear old boy," he said, "how careless and selfish 
I've been. But why didn't you come and talk to 
Arthur and me?" 

"I wish to heaven I had," said East, "but I was 286 
a fooL It's too late talking of it now." 

"Why too late? You want to be confirmed now, 
don't you?" 

"I think so," said East "I've thought about it a 
good deal; only often I fancy I must be changing, 
because I see it's to do me good here, just what 
stopped me last time. And then I go back again." 

"I'll tell you now how 'twas with me," said Tom 

' to sham religious: md^ froimn ju fteHcn; tronfttiD to sham 

138 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

warmly. "If it hadn't been for Arthur, I should have 
done just as you did. I hope I should. I honour 
you for it. But then he made it out just as if it was 
taking the weak side before all the world-^going in 
once for all against everything that's strong and rich 
and proud and respectable, a little band of brothers 
against the whole world. And the Doctor seemed 
to say so too, only he said a great deal more." 

"Ah!" groaned East, "but there again, that's just 
another of my difficulties whenever I think about 
the matter. I don't want to be one of your saints, 
one of your elect, whatever the right phrase is. My 
sympathies are all the other way; with the many, 
the poor devils who run about the streets and don't 
go to church. Don't stare, Tom; mind, I'm telling 
you all that's in my heart — as far as I know it — but 
it's all a muddle ^ You must be gentle with me if 
you want to land me 2. Now I've seen a deal of 
this sort of religion; I was bred up in it, and I can't 
stand it. If nineteen-twentieths of the world are to 
be left to uncovenanted mercies 3, and that sort of 
thing, which means in plain English to go to hell, 
and the other twentieth are to rejoice at it all, why " 

"Oh! but, Harry, they ain't, they don't," broke in 
Tom, really shocked. "Oh, how I wish Arthur 
hadn't gone! I'm such a fool about these things. 
But it's all you want too. East; it is indeed. It cuts 

^ it's all a muddle: e§ ift alleS triibe ©fining, SSimoarr bcr 
©ebanfcn. 5BergI. Pref. S. XXXV. 

^ to land me : mid) auf f cftcn SBobcn, obcr in ©id^crl^eit ju bringcn. 

3 to be left to uncovenanted mercies : nur angcwiefcn fein anf 
®nabe, bic nic^t burc^ ben S3imb GJotteS mit ben (Seincn ^ugejid^ert ift. 
Gen. 1 7, 7 : And I will establish my covenant between me and 
thee and thy seed after thee in their generations for an ever- 
lasting covenant, to be a God unto thee, and to thy seed after 
thee. Haggai, 2, 5 : According to the word that I covenanted 
with you when you came out of Egypt, so my spirit remaineth 
among you : fear ye not 3)a^er the covenant of grace : bic 3Ser= 
^et^g htt ©nabe fiir bie @)Ifiubtgen. 


both ways' somehow, being confirmed and taking 287 
the Sacrament. It makes you feel on the side of all 
the good and all the bad too, of everybody in the 
world. Only there's some great dark strong power, 
which is crushing you and everybody else. That's 
what Christ conquered, and we've got to fight 
What a fool I am! I can't explain. If Arthur were 
only here!" 

"I begin to get a glimmering of what you mean," 
said East 

"I say now," said Tom eagerly, "do you remember 
how we both hated Flashman?" 

"Of course I do," said East; "I hate him stilL 
What then?" 

"Well, when I came to take the Sacrament, I 
had a great struggle about that I tried to put him 
out of my head; and when I couldn't do that, I tried 
to think of him as evil, as something that the Lord 
who was loving me hated, and which I might hate 
too. But it wouldn't do. I broke down: I believe 
Qirist himself broke me down; and when the Doctor 
gave me the bread and wine, and leant over me 
praying, I prayed for poor Flashman, as if it had 
been you or Arthur." 

East buried his face in his hands on the table. 
Tom could feel the table tremble. At last he looked 
up, "Thank you again, Tom," said he; "you don't 
know what you may have done for me to-night I 
think I see now how the right sort of sympathy with 
poor devils is got at'* 

"And you'll stop the Sacrament next time, won't 
you?" said Tom. 

"Can I, before I'm confirmed?" 

"Go and ask the Doctor." 

"I will." 

' It cuts both ways; c8 ift ^toeifd^cibig, c» l^at jtoci Sciten. It 
makes you feel, etc. « 

140 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

That very night, after prayers, East followed the 
Doctor and the old Verger bearing the candle, up- 
stairs. Tom watched, and saw the Doctor turn 
288 round when he heard footsteps following him closer 
than usual, and say, "Hah, East! Do you want to 
speak with me, my man^?" 

"If you please, sir;" and the private door closed 
and Tom went to his study in a state of great trouble 
of mind. 

It was almost an hour before East came back: 
then he rushed in breathless. 

"Well, it's all right," he shouted, seizing Tom by 
the hand. "I feel as if a ton-weight were oflF my 

"Hurra," said Tom. "I knew it would be; but 
tell us all about it!" 

"Well, I just told him all about it You can't 
think how kind and gentle he was, the great grim 
man, whom IVe feared more than anybody on earth. 
When I stuck, he lifted me, just as if I had been a 
little child. And he seemed to know all Fd felt, and 
to have gone through it all. And I burst out crying 
— more than IVe done this five years; and he sat 
down by me, and stroked my head; and I went 
blundering on, and told him all; much worse things 
than IVe told you. And he wasn't shocked a bit, 
and didn't snub 3 me, or tell me I was a fool, and it 
was all nothing but pride or wickedness, though I 
dare say it was. And he didn't tell me not to follow 
out my thoughts, and he didn't give me any cut- 

* my man : mcttt 3wnge, mcin ^crldften. 

^ as if a ton-weight were off my mind: alS oh cine ©cntners 
loft (cin (Stein) Don meinem ^tx^m getoftljt toftre. Dick. Christm. 
Car. 68 : The weight was off her mind. I have a weight on my 
mind ift gehjSl^nlid^er al§ something lies heavy on my heart. 
SSergl. <B. 289: Which ill-luck however did not sit heavily on 
either of their souls. 

3 to snub: anf^naujen, onfol^ten, f^niJbe juriicftoeifen. 


and-dried' explanation. But when I'd done he just 
talked a bit — I can hardly remember what he said 
yet; but it seemed to spread round me like healing, 
and strength, and light; and to bear me up, and plant 
me on a rock, where I could hold my footing, and 
fight for myself. I don't know what to do, I feel so 
happy. And it's all owing to you, dear old boy!" 
and he seized Tom's hand again. 

"And you're to come to the Communion^?" said 

"Yes, and to be confirmed in the holidays." 

Tom's delight was as great as his fiiend's. But 
he hadn't yet had out all his own talk, and was bent 
on improving the occasion: so he proceeded to pro- 289 
pound Arthur's theory about not being sorry for his 
fiiends* deaths, which he had hitherto kept in the 
background, and by which he was much exercised; 
for he didn't feel it honest to take what pleased him 
and throw over the rest, and was tr3ring vigorously 
to persuade himself that he should like all his best 
fiiends to die off-hand. 

But East's powers of remaining serious were ex- 
hausted, and in five minutes he was sa3ring the most 
ridiculous things he could think of, till Tom was 
almost getting angry again. 

Despite of himself, however, he couldn't help 
laughing and giving it up, when East appealed to 
him with "Well, Tom, you ain't going to punch my 
head, I hope, because I insist upon being sorry when 
you got to earth^?" 

' cut-and-dried: fij unb fertig, f(!^on toorrfttig. 

^ to come to the Communion. (Saft tmrb junt StBenhnol^I ju^ 
gelaffen imb na(!^trSgIt(!^ fonftnmert, fo tme ^molb bt§toeiIen ^nabeit, 
bte ttod^ nt(!^t fonftnntert toaren, htn @enuf; be§ 9benbma^(S geftottete. 
Stanley, Life of Arnold, I, 161: And when — especially to the 
very young boys, who sometimes partook of the Communion — 
he bent himself down with looks of fatherly tenderness, etc. 

3 to get to earth, to get beneath the sod: begroben loerben; 

142 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

And so their talk finished for that time, and they 
tried to learn first lesson; with very poor success* as 
appeared next morning, when they were called up 
and narrowly escaped being floored, which ill-luck, 
however, did not sit heavily on either of their souls. 

Chapter VUL 

Tom Brown's last Match. 

"Heaven grant the manHer heart, that timely, ere 
Youth fly, with hfe's real tempest would be coping; 
The fruit of dreamy hoping 
Is, waking, blank despair." 

Clough. Anibarvalia ". 

The curtain now rises upon the last act of our 
little drama — for hard-hearted publishers warn me 
that a single volimie must of necessity have an end. 
Well, well! the pleasantest things must come to an 
end. I little thought last long vacation^, when I 

itid^t etma: jur Gibe toerben, nmS au^ebriicft toihrbe ntit dust. Gen. 
3, 19: Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return. 

^ 9rt^ur ^ug^ 6loug^ (fpr. cluff), am i. 3anuar 1819 gu fiioo 
))oo( geboren imb am 13. 9Zot)eitiber 1861 ^u fyloreng gefh>r6en, tDOi 
ein Siebling^fc^iileT 9tno(b§ in 9fhigbt). 6ine 1849 erfc^enene Santni^ 
lung fc^ cmftCT I^rifc^cr ©cbic^tc fii^rt ben Jitcl Ambar\'alia nac^ 
cincm altromtfcficn Sci^cfcft, \y(i^ vex §rii6jahr ju d^ren ber (letter bed 
^derbaueS gefeiert luurbe, inbem man ein 3iibneo|)fer urn bie grluten 
^erumfil^Tte. 2)ie Ambarvalia pnben fic^ mit %t§(QJ|imgen, bie ber 
SScrf offer noc^ fclbft Beftimmt ^at, in ber (^fomtau^abe Poems by 
A. H. Clough, 2nd ed. Cambr. 1863. 3^ie angefii^rten Serfe fari> 
einem auS bem So^re 1841 ^erftammenben Gkbic^t entnommen, bad 
8. 14 ber 3ammlung fte^t 

* long vacation. 3)ie eifungd^eiten ber ©eric^tS^ofe finb Hi- 
lar\' term (Dom 11. bid 31. gonuor), Easter term (toom 15. Stfrril 
bid 8. SRoi), Trinity term (Dom 22. 5Kai bid 12. 3"Ki) imb >Iichael- 
mas term (Dom 2. bid 25. ^Rooember). 5^ic langeren ^aufen ^mift^ 
benfelben toerben old vacations, ©eric^tdfcricn, be^c^et, unb \At 
Idngfle, 4* , SKonat betragenbe 3roifc^en^t jroifc^en Trinity term unb 
Michaelmas term ^gt long vacation. 

TOM brown's last MATCH. 1 43 

began these pages to help while away' some spare 290 
time at a watering-place, how vividly many an old 
scene, which had lain hid away for years in some 
dusty old comer of my brain, would come back 
again, and stand before me as clear and bright as if 
it had happened yesterday. The book has been a 
most grateful task to me, and I only hope that all 
you, my dear young friends who read it, (friends 
assuredly you must be, if you get as far as this,) will 
be half as sorry to come to the last stage as I am. 

Not but what^ there has been a solemn and a 
sad side to it As the old scenes became living, and 
the actors in them became living too, many a grave 
in the Crimea and distant India, as well as in the 
quiet churchyards of our dear old coimtry, seemed 
to open and send forth their dead, and their voices 
and looks and ways were again in one's ears and 
eyes, as in the old school-days. But this was not 
sad; how should it be, if we believe as our Lord has 
taught us? How should it be, when, one more turn 
of the wheels, and we shall be by their sides again, 
learning from them again, perhaps, as we did when 
we were new boys? 

Then there were others of the old faces so dear 
to us once, who had somehow or another 4 just gone 
clean out of sight — are they dead or living? We 
know not; but the thought of them brings no sad- 
ness with it Wherever they are, we can well believe 
they are doing God's work and getting His wages. 

But are there not some, whom we still see some- 
times in the streets, whose haimts and homes we 

' to help while away. 3)cr einfad^c 3nfmitit) o^nc to nac^ to 
help ift ouS ber diteren S^rad^e in ben gen)i)^nltc^en @{)rad^gebrauc^ 

* Not but what: nic^t al§ ob nic^t, abgcfe^en batjon bafi, obgleid^, 
ettoaS altertiimlic^ ftatt not but that, toie but what fiir but that 

^ turn of the wheel, fteftc (3. 2. 

^ somehow or another, ftc^e (3. 43. 

144 "^^^ brown's school days. 

know, whom we could probably find almost any day 
in the week if we were set to do it, yet from whom 
we are really farther than we are from the dead^ 
and from those who have gone out of our ken? Yes, 
there are and must be such; and therein lies the 
sadness of old School memories. Yet of these our 
old comrades, from whom more than time and space 
291 separate us, there are some, by whose sides we can 
feel sure that we shall stand again when time shall 
be no more. We may think of one another now as 
dangerous fanatics or narrow bigots, with whom no 
truce is possible, from whom we shall only sever 
more and more to the end of our lives, whom it 
would be our respective duties to imprison or hang, 
if we had the power. We must go our way, and 
they theirs, as long as flesh and spirit hold together; 
but let our own Rugby poet^ speak words of heal- 
ing for this trial: — 

"To veer how vain! on, onward strain, 
Brave barks! in light, in darkness too; 
Through winds and tides one compass guides. 
To that, and your own selves, be true. 

"But, O blithe breeze! and O great seas! 
Though ne'er that earliest parting past. 
On your wide plain they join again, 
Together lead them home at last 

"One port, methought, alike they sought, 
One purpose hold where'er they fare. 
O bounding breeze ! O rushing seas ! 
At last, at last, unite them there."* 

' our own Rugby poet; fie^e ©. 289. 

* Clough, Ambarvaliu. 3)a§ ©cbid^t mit ber Uberfd^rift Qua 
cursum ventus (Poems, p. 27 f.) fij^ifbcrt, toxt Sd^iffc, bic htx bcr 
SBinbftillc beg ^bcnbg no^c jufommen lagen, nod^tS im ©turmc mcit 
Don cinonber fortgetrieben werbcn. 9^Q(3^bem bag SBilb bol^in gebcutet 
ift, \>0i% ayienfij^cn, bie frii^er in i^ren S3eftrebungen iibereinftimmtcn, 
\\6) bcitn SSieberbegegnen itod^ eiiter ^^rennuitg gonj tjeranbcrt finbcn, 
folgen bie angefii^rten SSerfe. 

TOM brown's last BiATCH. I45 

This is not mere longing, it is prophecj\ So over 
these two, our old friends who are friends no more, 
we sorrow not as men without hope. It is only for 
those who seem to us to have lost compass and pur- 
pose, and to be driven helplessly on rocks and quick- 
sands; whose lives are spent in the service of the 
world, the flesh, and the devil; for self alone, and not 
for their fellow-men, their country, or their Grod, that 
we must mourn and pray without sure hope and 
without light; trusting only that He, in whose hands 
they as weD as we are, who has died for them as 
wen as for us, who sees all His creatures 

"With larger, other eyes than ours. 
To make allo^-ance for us all,' 


will, in His own way and at His own time, lead them 292 
also home. 

. • • • . 

Another two years ^ have passed, and it is again 
the end of the summer half-year at Rugby; in fact, 
the School has broken up*. The fifth-form examina- 
tions ^ were over last week, and upon them have 
followed the Speeches 4, and the sixth-form examina- 
tions for Exhibitions 5; and they too are over now. 
The boys have gone to all the winds of heaven, ex- 

^ Another two years have passed, grammatif(j^ ungcnau. 
^ broken up : ficl^c ©. 48. 

3 The fifth-form examinations: boS Dom 3)lre!tor aitgcftcHtc 
©c^Iugejamen bcr Piaffe. @. 279 : Only you know he (the Doctor) 
has nothing to do with our lessons now, except examining us. 
SSergl. the monthly examinations, (S, 139. 

4 the Speeches (speech-day): bcr §(ftu8 mit SSortrRgen ber 

5 the sixth-form examinations for exhibitions. (£d toerben 
in 9htgb^ iiH&rlid^ im Sw^^i ^^^^ grfi^erc llniuerfitfttSftipcnbien (major 
exhibitions) im SBctrag Don 60 $funb, unb Diet fleinerc (minor ex- 
hibitions) Don 30 $funb auf Diet ^a^xt Derlic^cn. 8u bem (Sjamen, 
bag mit hm S3e»crbcm angeftellt iDirb, njerbcn Si^fii^^Q^ ^^^ olberftcn 
piaffe (sixth form) jugelaffen, »eld^e bic @d^ule brel 3al^tc lang be^ 
fud^t l^aben. 

Tom Brown^ s School Days* 11. 10 

146 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

cept the town boys and the eleven, and the few 
enthusiasts besides who have asked leave to stay in 
their houses to see the result of the cricket-matches. 
For this year the Wellesbum return match ' and the 
Marylebone match ^ are played at Rugby, to the 
great delight of the town and neighbourhood, and 
the sorrow of those aspiring young cricketers who 
have been reckoning for the last three months on 
showing off at Lord's ground. 

The Doctor started for the Lakes 3 yesterday 
morning, after an interview with the captain of the 
eleven, in the presence of Thomas 4, at which he 
arranged in what School the cricket dinners were to 
be, and all other matters necessary for the satisfactory 
carrying out of the festivities; and warned them as 
to keeping all spirituous liquors out of the close, and 
having the gates closed by nine o'clock. 

The Wellesbum match was played out with great 
success yesterday, the School winning by three 

' the Wellesbum return match: tie iRet)and^c-^artle ($op^)c) 
mit ben ©pielcm be§ ^luBg tjon Wellesbum (Wellesboume Hast- 
ings) in SBartoidfl^ire, fiinf cnglifd^e SJleilcn iJftlid^ t)on Stratford-on- 

* the Marylebone match: ein SSctt!attH)f mit bcm Marylebone 
Cricket Club, bem angefcl^enften berartigcn ^Iu6 in ©nglanb, ber ate 
bie W^\it ?tutoritat filr aUcg bag 8^iel Setreffcnbc gilt, ©r l^at feincn 
^amtn toon bcm norbweftUd^cn (Stabtteil SonbonS, fo gcnannt nad^ 
ber ^ird^e Marylebone (eigentlid^ St. Mary le bourne), ^t^m ge^rt 
Lord's cricket ground am St. John's wood road toeftli^ Don 
Regent's Park. 

3 the Lakes: bie (Seen oon SSeftmorelanb , bercn bebeutcnbftcr, 
the Lake of Windermere, jloifd^cn jener ^Jraffd^aft unb bem ndrb^ 
li^ften SCeil oon Sancafl^ire liegenb, fid^ burd^ hm Leven in int More- 
cambe Bay ergiegt. 9^5rbUd^ toon jenen @een liegt Rydal, norb* 
Weftli^ Ambleside, jmifd^en beiben Orten Fox Howe, hit SSeftJung 
Dr. ^molbs. SSergl. @. 185. 3n Rydal Mount lieg ft^ 1813 
SBorb^toortl^ nieber, unb toon feinem Slufent^alt in biefer @kgcnb l^t 
er mit feinen f^reunben ©oleribge unb ©outl^e^ hit SSejeid^mmg the 
Lakists ober the Lake School erl^alten. ^ud^ be Clnince^ mtb 
SSilfon jftl^It mcai no^ ju biefer @d^ule. 

4 Thomas, fiel^e @. 133. 

TOM brown's last MATCH. 1 47 

wickets'; and to-day the great event of the cricket- 
ing year, the Marylebone match, is being played. 
What a match it has been! The London eleven 
came down by an afternoon train yesterday, in time 
to see the end of the Wellesbum match; and as soon 
as it was over, their leading men and umpire* in- 
spected the ground, criticising it rather unmercifully. 
The Captain of the School eleven, and one or two 
others, who had played the Lord's match before, and 293 
knew old Mr. Aislabie^ and several of the Lord's 
men, accompanied them: while the rest of the eleven 
looked on from under the Three Trees with admir- 
ing eyes, and asked one another the names of the 
illustrious strangers, and recounted how many runs 
each of them had made in the late matches in Bell's 
Life^, They looked such hard-bitten, wiry, whiskered 
fellows, that their young adversaries felt rather de- 
sponding as to the result of the morrow's match. 
The ground was at last chosen, and twp men set to 
work upon it to water and roll; and then, there 
being yet some half-hour of daylight, some one had 
suggested a dance on the turf The close was half 
full of citizens and their families, and the idea was 
hailed with enthusiasm. The cornopean-player 5 was 
still on the ground; in five minutes the eleven and 
half-a-dozen of the Wellesbum and Marylebone men 
got partners somehow or another, and a merry 
country-dance^ was going on, to which every one 
flocked, and new couples joined in every minute, till 
there were a hundred of them going down the 

' by three wickets, fid^e ben ^btJ^ong. 
* umpire, fid^e ben Slnl^ang. 

3 Mr. Aislabie toar p Slnfang bcr 40cr %'^xt Secretary of 
the Marylebone Cricket Club. 

4 Bell's Life, fiel^e @. 237. 5 cornopean, fte^e @. 133. 

^ country-dance: Slitglaife. 3)ie ®^ara!teriftif down the middle 
(jtDtfd^en ben Km gtoci "Stt^vn dnanber gegcniiberfte^cnben $errcn unb 
a)amcn) and up again pnbcn ftc^ ebcnfo Dick. Christm. Car. p. 46. 
To cross hands, im fogenonnten SD'louIinet. 


148 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

middle and up again — and the long line of School 
buildings looked gravely down on them, every window 
glowing with the last rays of the western sun, and 
the rooks clanged about in the tops of the old elms, 
greatly excited, and resolved on having their country- 
dance too, and the great flag' flapped lazily in the 
gentle western breeze. Altogether it was a sight 
which would have made glad the heart of our brave 
old founder, Lawrence Sheriff*, if he were half as 
good a fellow as I take him to have been. It was 
a cheerful sight to see; but what made it so valuable 
in the sight of the Captain of the School eleven was, 
that he there saw his young hands 3 shaking off their 
shyness and awe of the Lord's men, eis they crossed 
hands and capered about on the grass together; for 
the strangers entered into 4 it all, and threw away 
their cigars, and danced and shouted like boys; 
294 while old Mr. Aislabie stood by looking on in his 
white hat, leaning on a bat, in benevolent enjoyment 
"This hop will be worth thirty runs 5 to us to-morrow, 
and will be the making of ^ Raggles and Johnson," 
thinks the young leader, as he revolves many things 
in his mind, standing by the side of Mr. Aislabie, 
whom he will not leave for a minute, for he feels 
that the character of the School for courtesy 7 is rest- 
ing on his shoulders. 

^ the great flag, ttjeld^c auf bem %\ma cineg ©(J^uIgcMwbcS 
(Sixth School Tower) ju Pattern l)Pegtc. 

^ Lawrence Sheriff, fid^e (Sinleitung @. XX f. 

3 young hands (toie @. 294): junge aJlonnfd^aft, jungc @^)iclcr. 
SSergl. ©. 203. 

4 to enter into: auf ettoaS eingel^crt. 

5 will be worth thirty runs: toirb breigig joints einbringcn, 
ni^t fowo^l wegen ber ©rmiibung bet ®egner t)om ^onjcn, olS mctl 
bic jimgen (Bpkkx im freicn gefcHigcn SSerfe^r mit jcnen ©clBftbctoiiJts 
feiit genjiratcn. @. 293 : He there saw his young hands shaking 
off their shyness and awe of the Lord's men. 

^ will be the making of: mirb i^re ©tettmtg bcgrimben. 
7 the character of the School for courtesy: bcr gute 9hif 
(@. 136) bcr (5^ule in betreff bcr ^ufmcrffanrfcit gcgcn ©ftfte. 

TOM brown's last MATCH. 1 49 

But when a quarter-to-nine struck, and he saw 
old Thomas beginning to fidget about with the keys 
in his hand, he thought of the Doctor's parting moni- 
tion, and stopped the cornopean at once, notwith- 
standing the loud-voiced remonstrances from all 
sides; and the crowd scattered away from the close, 
the eleven all going into the School-house, where 
supper and beds were provided for them by the 
Doctor's orders. 

Deep had been the consultations at supper as to 
the order of going in^ who should bowl the first 
over^, whether it would be best to play steady or 
fireely^; and the youngest hands declared that they 
shouldn't be a bit nervous, and prciised their opponents 
as the joUiest fellows in the world, except perhaps 
their old friends the Wellesbum men. How far a 
little good-nature firom their elders will go with the 
right sort of boys! 

The morning had dawned bright and warm, to 
the intense relief of many an anxious youngster, up 
betimes to mark the signs of the weather. The 
eleven went down in a body before breakfast, for a 
plunge in the cold bath in the comer of the close 4. 
The ground was in splendid order, and soon after 
ten o'clock, before spectators had arrived, all was 
ready, and two of the Lord's men took their places 
at the wicket; the School, with the usual liberality 

' the order of going in. SSci bcr ^ortci, toeld^c hit innings 
^ai, lonnnt toici barouf an, in mel^er Orbnung fie i^rc ©^ielcr jitm 
batting ^ineinfd^idft. @. 300: Whose turn is it to go in? 

* the first over: ber erfte Umgang, bic erftcn Diet SBftffe, biS 
over gcrufen toirb. 

3 freely, im ©cgcnfaj ju bcm ft^ercn m\h bcbftcJ^tigcn ^pid (to 
play steady), bejcicJ^nct ein ctwaS riSficrteS @piel qu§ freier §cmb 
(oflf-hand), ha^ jttjar tnt gatt beg ©elingenS grbfeercn ©ettJinn bringt, 
abet cbenfo Icid^t bic ©l^anccn bcS ®egnerg erpi^en fann. 

4 the cold bath in the corner of the close, bcfonb pd^ an ber 
ttjeftli^cn (Seite Don school close, wo Dunchurch road l^infii^rt, in 
ber 92d^e be§ jie^igen ©d^toimntbobeS, 

150 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

295 of young hands S having put their adversaries in first 
Old Bailey 2 stepped up to the wicket, and called 
play, and the match has begun, 

• • • • • 

"Oh, well bowled! well bowled, Johnson!" cries 
the captain 3, catching up the ball and sending it 
high above the rook trees, while the third Marylebone 
man walks away from the wicket, and old Bailey 
gravely sets up the middle stump again and puts 
the bails on. 

"How many runs?" Away scamper three boys 
to the scoring-table, and are back again in a minute 
amongst the rest of the eleven, who are collected 
together in a knot between wicket "Only eighteen 
runs, and three wickets down!" "Huzza for old 
Rugby!" sings out^ Jack Raggles the long-stop 5, 
toughest and burliest of boys, commonly called 

^ with the usual liberality of -young hands. (Sie bcrji(3^tctt 
barauf, baft baS ?lnf^tel (the first innings) burd^ tossing up ((S. 88) 
cntfd^tcben lolrb. 

* Old Bailey, cin otter ^err an^ Sonbon, tritt alS umpire an 
ha^ wicket ^ran unb erSffnet bag @piel, inbcm cr play ouSruft 

3 the captain. S)er 8fiil§rer (captain) bcr out -party fyit, 
wai^renb aitbere ben SBatt fd^Ieubem , bie toicJ^tigc StoUc beS wicket- 
keeper l^intcr htm wicket iibcmommen. ifla^htm gol^nfon ctnen 
glildlid^ctt 28urf getl^an f)at, \o ha^ ber (Scgner obtrcten muft (while 
the third Marylebone man walks away from the wicket), fSngt 
jener ben SBall l^intcr bem wicket auf (catching up the bzJl) vmb 
wirft i^n, toit bk^ iiblid^ ift, triuttH)^ierenb in bie 2Ai\t (sending it 
high above the rook trees). 3)er (Sd^iebSrit^ter ftefft baS um^ 
geworfenc wicket wteber f)tx; er rid^tet, ba ber SBatt gerabe l^inburd^s 
gegangen ift, ben iDlittelftab (the middle stump) mieber auf unb legt 
bie beibcn Cluer^BIjer (bails) auf bie @tabe. SSetgl. (S. 272. Gravely 
beutet an, baft ber biS^erige ©rfolg ber ©d^iilcr toon 9htgb^ il^n beben!= 
lid^ mad^t. 3n ber eingetretencn ^aufe ftnb (Bpidtx ber out-party in 
ber Tliitt ber SBurfba^n (between wicket) jufammengetreten, tod^rcnb 
brei toon il^nen ju ber SCafel tnit ben joints (scoring-table) l^intraben. 

4 sings out, ftel§e @. 244. 

5 long-stop: ^intermann, ift ber ^oftcn l^inter bcm ^:^UHn:t 
(wicket-keeper) in ettoaS toeiterer ®ntfetnung. 

TOM brown's last MATCH. 151 

'Swiper^ Jack;' and forthwith stands on his head, 
and brandishes his legs in the air in triumph, till the 
next boy catches hold of his heels, and throws him 
over on to his back. 

"Steady there, don't be such an 2iss, Jack," says 
the captain; "we haven't got the best wicket yet^. 
Ah, look out now at cover-point 3," adds he, as he 
sees a long-armed, bare-headed 4, slashing-looking 5 
player coming to the wicket. "And, Jack, mind 
your hits^; he steals more runs 7 than any man in 

And they all find that they have got their work 
to do now: the new-comer's off-hitting^ is tremendous, 
and his running like a flash of lightning. He is 
never in his ground, except when his wicket is down 9. 

' Swiper: bet §auer. Swipe (swiping) m cricket toon etncm 
ouggel^oltcn mad^tigen ^eml^ieb auf gut ©liid o^ne genaue SBered^nung. 

* we haven't got the best wicket yet: bcr Bcftc ©d^Idger 
(wicket = batsman) bcr ®egnet ift nod^ nid^t bran gctocfen. 

3 cover-point: bcr $oftcn in ciner Sinic mit bem angegriffcncn 
wicket jur Slcd^tcn bcSfcIben in ciner ©ntfemung tjon etttja 15 9Ketem. 

4 bare-headed: wft^renb bic (Spicier fonft cine fleine leid^te 
SRiitc, ober au6) tooiji cincn ©tro^l^ut p tragcn ^iflegcn. 

5 slashing-looking: nacfi^aftl^iebenauSfc^cnb. Slashing, nid^t 
blojs brouflog l^aucnb, fonbcm iiberl^anpt tiid^tig unb frftfttg, bcr ober 
bag ©rfte in feiner Wd. 

^ mind your hits : fte§ bid^ Dor, »eld^e (Sd^Wge bu i^m giebft. 

7 he steals more runs. To steal: toerftol^Ienerloeife, burd^ 
red^tjeitigeS (Sintrcten, burd^ ©d^ncttigfeit einem etroaS abgcwinncn, 
fonft befonberS iibltd^ in ber SBenbung to steal a march upon the 
enemy: bnrd^ fd^neHeg ?(u§riiden eincn SSorfprung gewinnen. SBeint 
{Ixidtt tt)trb eg gefagt, wcnn bie ©d^Iftgcr einen ^oint burd^ einen Sauf 
gewinnen, o^ne baft fie eigentlid^ burd^ ^inlftngftd^ ttjciteg gortfd^Iagen 
be8 SBaffeg gcniigcnben ^tnlaft ^abcn, eg ju rigftcren, in fJfiHen toon 
bencn man fagcn fann: ©efd^minbigfeit ift feine ^cjerei. 

® off-hitting. Snbem beim gal^rcn ha^ re^te ^ferb off-horse 
l^eiftt, mirb ber Slugbrudf off-side toon ber red^ten 6eite (j. SB. cineS 
^aufeS) gcbrauc^t. 3m ©ridfet ift oflf-side (5lbfeite) bie ©cite red^tg 
toom ©d^Iftger, alfo linfg toom SSerfenben au8. OfF-hitting bejeid^net 
alfo ein ©d^Iagen bc^ SBallg nad^ red^tg, moju befonberc^ ©efd^idf 

9 except when his wicket is down. S'hn; fo oft fcin wicket 

152 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

Nothing in the whole game so trying to boys; he 
has stolen three byes^ in the first ten minutes, and 
Jack Raggles is furious, and begins throwing over 
savagely to the further wicket*, until he is sternly 
stopped by the captain. It is all that young gentle- 
man can do to keep his team steady, but he knows 
296 that everything depends on it, and faces his work 
bravely. The score creeps up to fifty, the boys begin 
to look blank, and the spectators, who are now 
mustering strong, are very silent The ball flies off 
his bat to all parts of the field, and he gives no rest 
and no catches 3 to any one. But cricket is full of 
glorious chances, and the goddess who presides over 
it loves to bring down the most skilful players. 
Johnson, the young bowler, is getting wild, and bowls 
a ball almost wide to the off 4; the batter steps out 

itmgcttjorfcn, ober mit bent SSatt beriil^rt toixb, ift er pr @tcttc, fo bog 
bie ®egner fetnen SSortcil batoon f^ahtn, SSenn bcr batsman nid^t alS 
3)crfimg tjor bem wicket ftd^t (is not at home, is not in his ground), 
!5nnen hit (Bpidtx ber out-party auf bic angcgebcne SScife il^n jum 
W)ixtttn Bringen. f&tm^xm fie abcr im (gifer beg ®ef ed^tg bag wicket 
tnit bem SBatt, nad^bem er feine ©tellmtg tjor bemfelben eingcnommcn 
f^ai, fo bleibt e8 6f)nt SSirhing. 

' he has stolen three byes. Bye (bye-ball) ift trn ball, ber 
am wicket tjorbei ober ixBer baSfcIbe l^intoegptegt unb t)om batsman 
ntd^t gefd^Iagen wirb. 3)iefer barf eincn Sauf madden, ber il^m nad^ 
(Srflfirung beg SBattg fiir bye bur^ hm Un^artciifd^en olg bye (ob^ 
gefiirjt b) angefc^rieben toirb. To steal a bye be^eid^net, ho^ ber 
batsman, o^e bag ettoaige ^luffangcn eineg fold^en SSallg Winter bem 
wicket abjuioartcn, ju laufen rigfiert, inbem er toeijs, ha^ ber onbere 
©d^iaget i^m ^albtoegg entgegen fommt. 

* begins throwing over savagely to the further wicket, (£r 
»irft hm S3aII feiiten iDlitf^icIem am femeren wicket ju, m ber $off* 
nung, ha}^ fie bicg imgeberft bamit berii^ren f5nnen. (5g Idjt ftd^ t)or- 
augfe^en, ha% bieg Don toom^erein alg un<)raftif^ geltenbe SKan3Der 
nid^tg l^ilft; balder mad^t ber giil^rer (captain) bemfelben ein (gnbe. 

3 catch: ein fJfongbaU, ber bag ^treten beg ©c^Uigerg jur 
golge ^t. 

4 almost wide to the off: fo bag fid^ ber S3att faft nad^ linfg 
t)om SSerfenben aug (tjom ©c^Iftger aug red^tg) tjerlftuft 3^ beiben 
©elten beg 5»ei Tltttx longcn ©d^orfmalg (bowling crease), in beffen 

TOM brown's last MATCH. 153 

and cuts it beautifully to where cover-point is stand- 
ing very deep, in fact almost off the ground'. The 
ball comes skimming and twisting along about three 
feet from the ground; he rushes at it, and it sticks 
somehow or other in the fingers of his left hand, to 
the utter astonishment of himself and the whole field. 
Such a catch hasn't been made in the dose for years, 
and the cheering is maddening ** Pretty cricket ^j** 
says the captain, throwing himself on the ground by 
the deserted wicket with a long breath; he feels that 
a crisis has passed. 

I wish I had space to describe the whole match; 
how the captain stumped the next man off a leg- 
shooter 3, and bowled slow lobs 4 to old Mr. Aislabie, 

9)i^ttte bad ZJpt (wicket) fte^, fttib fmfre^ boju Stnien ge^en 
(return creases), mn Sfillc ju marficrcn, vodd^ ber Sdji\Si%tt tdd^t 
gut errd^en tamu (Etn ^ddSi, ber fdtiodrtd m>n emer berfelbcn ft^ 
oedfiuft, ^etftt a wide (em loetter Sad) imb bringt ber 8(^lag|>artd 
etnen $oint etn ; jcbix^ barf ber 8(^Ifiger i^ fortf c^Iagen. 3iit r>ou 
liegenben ^Ile t>erlSitft ft(^ ber ^H faft luu^ ret^td xmm Sc^ISger, 
f oba^ btef er genotigt tft, etnen Sc^ritt ^ ntai!^, mn i^ ^ treff en. Gr 
ff^ifigt hm ^H gerabe feitnidrtd (cuts it) bent xtdjit^ \>om wicket 
^e^enben cover-point ju. 

' deep: n>ettab mnn wicket. 

^ Pretty cricket: f(^ed Spiel, Sneitennung bed obgetretenen 
(Begnerd (the deserted wicket). 

^ how the Captain stumped the next man off a leg-shooter, 
^er Captain, ^er nfk§ wicket-keeper, maifU hm n^ften 8|HeIer 
(SSerfer) and (stumped the next man), inbent er nad^ etnem ton 
btefem begangenen S^Ier bad tnfolge beffen aid t)erteibtgnngdIod 
geltenbe wicket ntit ban aufgefangenen ^3an beru^rte. To stump 
(stump out), etgentI4 torn Umfdit^ ber stumps, ober 9bfto^ ber 
bails l>t^ nngebecften wicket ntit bent ni^ poxitttm ^ddSit, <Statt t)^ 
Unin>eif end gift aid genugenb bie S3erii^mng ber stumps ntit bem ^He 
in ber ^anb. Shooter ffd^H etn ^H, ber nac^ bem 9nff(^Iag anf bm 
t3oben (pitch) ni^ tm S3ogat $)nrtngt, fonbent am t3obat itac^ bem 
3iele metter fc^e^ (shoots), ^a leg-side Me Itnfe Sette l>t^ @<^iagerd 
b^c^et, ift leg-shooter etn anf biefe €ette ^urollenber 33aII. gnbem 
berfelbe ni^t pantct, barni aber t)om wicket-keeper anfgefangen nnrb, 
fyxi biefer bad 9ttdfi, bad wicket banttt ^ beri^^ren. Off be^et^et 
stumping aid upshot ht^ begangenen gfe^erd. 

^ bowled slow lobs. 3)er Captain fyd je|t bad bowling vJbtts 

154 TOM brown's school days. 

who came in for the last wicket. How the Lord's 
men were out by half-past twelve o'clock for ninety- 
eight runs^ How the Captain of the School eleven 
went in 2 first to give his men pluck, and scored 
twenty-five in beautifiil style; how Rugby was only 
four behind in the first innings 3. What a glorious 
dinner they had in the fourth-form School, and how 
the cover-point hitter 4 sang the most topping 5 comic 
songs, and old Mr. Aislabie made the best speeches 
that ever were heard, afterwards. But I haven't 
space, that's the fact, and so you must fancy it all, 
and carry yourselves on to half-past seven o'clock, 
when the School are again in, with five wickets down 
and only thirty-two runs to make to win. The 
Marylebone men played carelessly in their second 
297 innings, but they are working like horses now to 
save the match. 

There is much healthy, hearty, happy life scat- 
tered up and down the close; but the group to which 
I beg to call your especial attention is there, on the 
slope of the island^, which looks towards the cricket- 
ground. It consists of three figures; two are seated 
on a bench, and one on the ground at their feet. 
The first, a tall, slight, and rather gaunt man with a 
bushy eyebrow and a dry humorous smile, is evi- 

nomtnen itnb ma^t augna^mStocife langfomc S3&lle (underhand) mit 
l^o^er 2Burf!urt)c, lt)a§ bet ©egncr getoB^nlid^ nid^t erwartct, ha fast 
bowling jictnlid^ allgemcin iibli^ ift. SScrgL @. 272 : to bowl slow 

' for ninety-eight runs : tnit 98 joints, eigentlid^ aitf @nmb 

* went in. To go in: cintrctcn, ftd^enbcr Slu^brud toon ben 
batsmen ber in-party. 

3 the first innings: ber erfte ®ang, ba8 erfte <Bpid (olS in- 
party). $Bei etnem match l^at jebe Cartel jtoei innings. 

^ the cover-point hitter, toon bem eS l^iefe the batter steps 
out and cuts it beautifully to where cover-point is standing, etc. 

5 topping: uniibertrefflid^. 

^ the island, fiel^e (S. 82, 

TOM brown's last MATCH. 1 55 

dently a clergyman. He is carelessly dressed, and 
looks rather used up^ which isn't much to be 
wondered at, seeing that he has just finished six 
weeks of examination work^; but there he basks, 
and spreads himself out in the evening sun, bent on 
enjoying life, though he doesn't quite know what to 
do with his arms and legs. Surely it is our friend 
the young master 3, whom we have had glimpses of 
before, but his face has gained a great deal since we 
last came across him. 

And by his side, in white flannel shirt and trousers, 
straw hat, the captain's belt 4, and the untanned 
yellow cricket shoes which all the eleven wear, sits 
a strapping figure near six feet high, with ruddy 
tanned face and whiskers, curly brown hair and a 
laughing dancing eye. He is leaning forward with 
his elbows resting on his knees, and dandling his 
favourite bat, with which he has made thirty or forty 
runs to-day, in his strong brown hands. It is Tom 
Brown, grown into a young man nineteen years old, 
a praepostor and captain of the eleven, spending his 
last day as a Rugby boy, and let us hope as much 
wiser as he is bigger since we last had the pleasure 
of coming across him. 

* used up, cigcnttiti^ slang: abgefponnt, mitgcnommcn (worn 

* six weeks of examination work, ^ic 0affcn ttJcrben am 
@d^Iu6 bcS @emcftcr8 toon bcm 3)lrcftot fclbft, obcr toon Sd^rem, bcncn 
er hk^ ilbcrtragt, in i^rcn ^cnfcn cjaminicrt. ^ftufig Wfet man baju 
audi Secret anbcrcr ©c^ulcn ober ©clc^rtc bcr Unitoctfitat lommcn. 

3 the young master, jlcl^e @. 179 f. 

4 the captain's belt S)er guJ^rcr uvh Setter ber eleven, bet 
biefe ©tellimg bauemb be]^ait))tet, alfo nid^t p einem ein^elnen match 
gewa^lt ttJirb, trifft affe Slnorbnungen fiir baS (Bpitl feiner $artei itnb 
teilt au^ bie erf orberti(j^en 9tiiffe( aud, fo gut toie ber $au))tmann etner 
^om^onie. (Sr trftgt alS ^Ibjeit^cn feiner 2Biirbe cinen ftattliti^en, oft 
geftidten ©ilrtel, ber i^m in ber Slegel toegen feiner SSerbienfte bebi^iert 
ift. ^n ben SSer^ei^niffen ber cricket requisites merben attfgefii^rt 
belts (gewb^nlid^e ©iirtel fiir ®ri(!et=@j)ieler) unb belts for presen- 

156 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

And at their feet on the warm dry ground, 
similarly dressed^ sits Arthur, Turkish fashion^, with 
his bat across his knees. He too is no longer a boy, 
less of a boy in fact than Tom, if one may judge 
298 from the thoughtfiilness of his face, which is some- 
what paler too than one could wish; but his figure, 
though slight, is well knit^ and active, and all his 
old timidity has disappeared, and is replaced by silent 
quaint fun, with which his face twinkles all over, as 
he listens to the broken talk between the other two, 
in which he joins every now and then. 

All three are watching the game eagerly, and 
joining in the cheering which follows every good 
hit. It is pleasing to see the easy, fiiendly footing 
which the pupils are on with their master, perfectly 
respectful, yet with no reserve and nothing forced in 
their intercourse. Tom has clearly abandoned the 
old theory of "natural enemies 3," in this case at 
any rate. 

But it is time to listen to what they are saying, 
and see what we can gather out of it 

"I don't object to your theory," says the master, 
"and I allow you have made a fair case for yourself. 
But now, in such books as Aristophanes for instance, 
you Ve been reading a play this half with the Doctor, 
haven't you?" 

"Yes, the Knights '^," answered Tom. 

"Well, I'm sure you would have enjoyed the 
wonderful humour of it twice as much if you had 
taken more pains with your scholarships." 

' Turkish fashion; after the Turkish fashion: h)lc citt ^iirlc 
mit utttcrgefc^Iagcttcn SBcincn. * well knit: fcft gefugt, flarl gcbaut, 
cin urf^)riinglic^ ©l^afcf^jearcfd^er, abcr fcl^r gctoijl^nlld^cr 3lu«brud. 

3 natural enemies, ftel^c (S. 278, too ©aft bicfc 3lnftd^t olS cine 
t)on ^m friil^er mit i^nt gcteilte mitoiddt 

4 the Knights: bie Olittcr, ^omi5bie beg Slrifto^jl^atteg (ficl^e 
(S. 265), bie 424 in ^t^en aufgefii^rt tourbc. 

5 scholarship: ip^ilologifd^e ^clcl^rfamfcit, grammatifd^eS SBlffcn 
unb barauf Beru:^enbe8 SSerftclnbniS, alfo^ierjuiiberfeten: ©ranimatif. 

TOM brown's last MATCH. 157 

"Well, sir, I don't believe any boy in the form 
enjoyed the sets-to between Cleon and the Sausage- 
seller' more than I did — eh, Arthur?" said Tom, 
giving him a stir with his foot 

"Yes, I must say he did," said Arthur. "I think, 
sir, youVe hit upon the wrong book there." 

"Not a bit of it," said the master. "Why, in 
those very passages of arms ^, how can you thoroughly 
appreciate them unless you are master of the weapons? 
and the weapons are the language, which you, Brown, 
have never half worked at; and so, as I say, you 299 
must have lost all the delicate shades of meaning^ 
which make the best part of the fim." 

"Oh! well played — bravo, Johnson!" shouted 
Arthur, dropping his bat and clapping furiously, and 
Tom joined in with a "Bravo, Johnson!" which might 
have been heard at the chapeL 

"Eh! what was it? I didn't see," inquired the 
master; "they only got one run, I thought?" 

"No, but such a ball, three-quarters length and 
coming straight for his leg bail 4. Nothing but that 

' Qeon and the Sausage-seller. 3n ben e6en ertod^en gegen 
Stitm geric^teten „9httem'' ge^t ^riftop^oned baDon cat^, bag bie rud^ 
ftc^dlofe ^emofratie biefeS ^oime^ nut geftiitjt toerben fihme, toetm 
\ffm ^ no(!^ gememerer 2)emagoge entgegentrete unb i^m bie (Shmft bed 
doffed ftreitig mac^e. (^en folc^en fteUt ber ^d^ter i^m gegettuber 
m ber ^erfon ehted SS^rft^anblerd, m\h beibe uberbieten [td^ Dor bent 
perfonipjierten ^olfe teild in ^erffnrec^gen unb ®ef(!^en!en, teild in 
gegenfeitigen ^trflogen unb ^erleumbungen, 6i§ ^leon unterliegt. 
^molb ^atte longe mt ftarfe ^Ibneigung gegen %xi\topfymt^, Ia§ felbft 
beffen 93erfe erft int ^oifyct 1835 m^ f^ttt fte md^ ]p^itt pxm ^ 
old Sd^nUeftiire em, »ad fibrigend filglid^ ^tte unterbleiBen fdnnen. 

^ passages of arms: ^affengSnge; sets-to: StMp^t (allge^ 

3 the delicate shades of meaning: bie feinen 9^ancen bed 
^ebonfend. ^ergL tt)eiter unten the delicate play. 

* three -quarter's length and coming straight for his leg 
bail 2)er Satt n^ar gonj regelmS^ brei ^iertel ber Strede n^eit junt 
9uffe^ (pitch) gefc^Ieubert unb fprong bonn gerabe auf bad Cuer^ 
l^Bl^en (bail) jut £tnfen bed Sc^Iogenben (leg-side) lod. 

158 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

turn of the wrist could have saved him, and he drew 
it away to leg^ for a safe one. Bravo, Johnson!" 

"How well they are bowling, though," said Arthur; 
"they don't mean to be beat, I can see," 

"There^now," struck in the master, "you see that's 
just what I have been preaching this half-hour. The 
delicate play is the true thing. I don't understand 
cricket, so I don't enjoy those fine draws ^ which you 
tell me are the best play, though when you or 
Raggles hit a ball hard away for six I am as delighted 
as any one. Don't you see the analogy?" 

"Yes, sir," answered Tom, looking up rogfuishly, 
"I see; only the question remains whether I should 
have got most good by understanding Greek particles 
or cricket thoroughly. I'm such a thick 3, I never 
should have had time for both." 

"I see you are an incorrigible," said the master 
with a chuckle; "but I refute you by an example. 
Arthur there has taken in 4 Greek and cricket too." 

"Yes, but no thanks to him 5; Greek came natural 
to him. Why, when he first came I remember he 
used to read Herodotus^ for pleasure as I did Don 

" he drew it away to leg: cr loanbtc ben SBatt nad^ ItnliJ, 
ittbem cr, ftatt p fc^Iagen, nur ba« SSafll^oIj in ^arabe entgcgcn^iclt, 
bctt SSall bagcgcn anf^jringcn Itc6 unb tl^n burd^ 3)re^ung bc8 ^^omh^ 
gelenfcg (turn of the wrist), bic fid^ bent SSalD^oIj ntittetlte, nad^ ImU 
ablenfte. For a safe one liejje ftd^ faffcn: al8 ftd^erer ^unbe (um 
[\d)tx ju gel^en); bod^ Uegt beim cricket nill^er ber ©ebroud^ toit tm 
folgenben for six (runs), (S. 303 : for five. ©§ fommt baju, ba^ ber 
^udbrud a safe one (gen)5^nUd^ gefiprod^en a safe un) and bent 
SBettrennen l^er gelSufig ift; berfelbe bebeutet etn $ferb, gegcn baS man 
fid^er toettet, toed man in^gel^etm Siiad^rid^t er^altcn, bag e8 am SRennen 
ntd^t teilnimmt. 

* fine draws; felne 5Senbimgen, bem SSerbnm to draw cnt^ 

3 a thick, fiel^e @. 128. 

4 to take in: teilnelftmcn, ftd^ beteiligen an einem (fafuItatiDcn) 

5 no thanks to him: er )}erbient gar !etn 2ob be^l^alb. 

^ Hgrbd'otUs, ein gried^ifd^er ^iftoriter um 440 tj. (J^r., bej fid^ 

TOM brown's last MATCH. 1 59 

Quixote', and couldn't have made a false concord^ 
tf he'd tried ever so hard — and then I looked after 
his cricket" 

**Out! Bailey has given him out3 — do you see, 300 
Tom?** cries Arthur. "How foolish of them to run 
so hard.** 

"Well, it can't be helped, he has played very 
welL Whose turn is it to go in^?" 

"I don't know; they've got your list in the tent" 

*-Lefs go and see," said Tom, rising; but at this 
moment Jack Raggles and two or three more came 
running to the island moatS. 

"Oh, Brown, mayn't I go in next?" shouts the 

"Whose name is next on the list?" says the 

"Winter's, and then Arthur's," answers the boy 
who carries it; "but there are only twenty-six runs 
to get, and no time to lose. I heard Mr. Aislabie 
say that the stumps must be drawn^ at a quarter 
past eight exactly." 

"Oh, do let the Swiper go in," chorus^ the boys: 
so Tom yields against his better judgment 

"I dare say now I've lost the match by this non- 
sense," he says, as he sits down again; "theyll be 
sure to get Jack's wicket in three or four minutes; 

in fdneti ita4 bat nemt Shtfen betumnteti &t\iSj^d^i^buditm M 
ioid^dftn ^alcftd BeMeitt fyd imb hoibmd^ %if Sngeni rwdf befonbere 
^(i^totcngtdtcn borbtftft. 

' Don Quixote (kwlk'silt), fatirifc^ 9Htterroinan tnm TUq^d 
be (Eennntted ©om^ebra (1547—1616). 

* concord, ftc^ @. 221. 

3 Out! Bailey has given him out: dhr ift ob ober an^ (mug 
obtreten); Soilep old Unpartdtfc^ 1^ t^ fih audtretenb etfiSit 
To give out, fte^eitber fbi^bmd mm ben Sntfc^etbungen betnt cricket. 

^ to go in, fte^ @. 294. ^ the island moat, fte^ @. 297. 

^ the stumps must be draiit-n: bte @t&be ber wickets nuffen 
tenntSgcsogen, bad &pki alfo etngefteDt »eiben. 

7 to chorus: tm (Sfy>x fc^en. 

i6o TOM brown's school days. 

however, you'll have the chance, sir, of seeing a hard 
hit or two," adds he, smiling, and turning to the 

"Come, none of your irony, Brown," answers the 
master. "Fm beginning to understand the game 
scientifically. What a noble game it is too!" 

"Isn't it? But it's more than a game. It's an 
institution^," said Tom. 

"Yes," said Arthur, "the birthright of British 
boys, old and young, as habeas corpus^ and trial by 
jury are of British men." 

"The discipline and reliance on one another which 
it teaches is so valuable, I think," went on the master, 
"it ought to be such an unselfish game. It merges 
the individual in the eleven; he doesn't play that he 
may win, but that his side may." 
301 "That's very true," s^d Tom, "and that's why foot- 
ball and cricket, now one comes to think of it, are such 
much better games than fives' or hare-and-hounds, or 
any others where the object is to come in first or to 
win for oneself, and not that one's side may win." 

"And then the Captcdn of the eleven!" said the 
master, "what a post is his in our School-world! 
almost as hard as the Doctor's; requiring skill and 
gentleness and firmness, and I know not what other 
rare qualities." 

"Which don't he wish he may get 3?" said Tom, 
laughing; "at any rate he hasn't got them yet, or he 
wouldn't have been such a flat to-night as to let 
Jack Raggles go in out of his turn." 

' an institution: einc SSoI!§eittrid^tttttg. 

* 3)ic Habeas Corpus Act qu§ bem 3^^ 1679 Beftimmt, baft 
niemonb ol^ne rid^terltd^en S3efe]^I )}er]^aftet n)erben barf, unb \i^ bet 
^erl^aftete innerl^alb enter befttntmten ^rift Dor %mib/i gefteUt toerben 
muft. Trial by jiury ; Stbitrteilung biird^ ©efc^wome, furjcr: ©(i^tmtrs 

3 Which don*t he wish, etc.: bie jtt erlangcn er gaitj fro^ fein 
KJnnte. SBergL @. 109. 

TOM brown's last MATCH. l6l 

"Ah! the Doctor never would have done that,** 
said Arthur, demurely. "Tom, you've a great deal 
to learn yet in the art of ruling." 

"Well, I wish you'd tell the Doctor so, then, and 
get him to let me stop till I'm twenty. I don't want 
to leave, I'm sure." 

"What a sight it is," broke in the master, "the 
Doctor as a ruler. Perhaps ours is the only little 
comer of British Empire which is thoroughly, wisely, 
and strongly ruled just now. I'm more and more 
thankful every day of my life that I came here to be 
under him." 

"So am I, I'm sure," said Tom; "and more and 
more sorry that I've got' to leave." 

"Every place and thing one sees here reminds 
one of some wise act of his," went on the master. 
"This island now — you remember the time. Brown, 
when it was laid out in small g^ardens, and cultivated 
by frost-bitten fags in February and March?" 

"Of course I do," said Tom; "didn't I hate spend- 
ing two hours in the afternoons g^nibbing in the tough 
dirt with the stump of a fives'-bat*? But turf-cart 3 
was good ftm enough." 

"I dare say it was, but it was always leading to 302 
fights with the townspeople; and then the stealing 
flowers out of all the gardens in Rugby for the 
Easter show* was abominable." 

"Well, so it was," said Tom, looking down, "but 
we fags couldn't help ourselves. But what has that 
to do with the Doctor's ruling?" 

"A great deal, I think," said the master; "what 
brought island fagging to an end?" 

"Why, the Easter Speeches were put off till Mid- 

' that Pve got to leave: that I have to leave. 

* a fives'-bat, ftcl^e (S. 161. 

3 turf-cart: bad 9^afeitfarreit (in a cart). 

^ Easter-show = Easter Speeches, fie^e @. 292. 

ThmBrvmn't School Dayt, II, II 

1 62 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

summer," said Tom, "and the sixth had the gymnastic 
poles ^ put up here." 

"Well, and who changed the time of the Speeches, 
and put the idea of gymnastic poles into the heads 
of their worships the sixth form^?" said the master. 

"The Doctor, I suppose," said Tom. "I never 
thought of that." 

"Of course you didn't," said the master, "or else, 
fag as you were, you would have shouted with the 
whole school again3t putting down old customs. And 
that's the way that all the Doctor's reforms have 
been carried out when he has been left to himself — 
quietly and naturally, putting a good thing in the 
place of a bad, and letting the bad die out; no 
wavering and no hurry — the best thing that could 
be done for the time being, and patience for the rest" 

"Just Tom's own way," chimed in Arthur, nudg- 
ing Tom with his elbow, "driving a nail where it 
will go3;" to which allusion Tom answered by a 
sly kick. 

"Exactly so," said the master, innocent of the 
allusion and bye-play 4. 

Meantime Jack Raggles, with his sleeves tucked 

up above his great brown elbows, scorning pads^ 

and gloves, has presented himself at the wicket; and 

having run one for a forward drive ^ of Johnson's, is 

303 about to receive his first ball. There are only twenty- 

^ gymnastic poles, XurngerSt. Sluf ber mit SBaumcn httoad)^ 
fencn fogettatmten Qnfcl ((S. 82) fal^ man nod^ Qpuxtn ht^ frill^ercn 

* their worships the sixth form ; bic gcfttcngcn ^erren ^rtmmter. 

3 driving a nail, etc. SSergl. @. 206. 

4 bye-play (by-play): fhuntncS @^)icl (auf bcr SBiil^ne). 

5 pad: cine gc^)oIfterte SBcinfc^icnc, beren ftd^ ber ©d^ISger ge? 
wijl^nltd^ nebft ^anbfd^ul^en bebient. 

^ for a forward drive: auf ®runb tint^ nadf toom auf hm 
5Scrfenben ju gefd^Iagenen SSalleg. SSeibe ©d^fiigcr ffaib eiranol ge? 
laufcn (having run one = one run), fo ba^ ^ad Slaggleg jjcftt an3 
8d^Iagen fonunt. 

TOM brown's last MATCH. 1 63 

four runs to make, and four wickets to go down; a 
winning match' if they play decently steady. The 
ball is a very swift one, and rises fast, catching Jack 
on the outside of the thigh, and bounding away as 
if from india-rubber, while they run two for a leg- 
bye^ amidst great applause, and shouts from Jack's 
many admirers. The next ball is a beautifully 
pitched ball for the outer stump 3, which the reckless 
and unfeeling Jack catches hold of, and hits right 
roimd to leg for five, while the £q>plause becomes 
deafening: only seventeen runs to get with four 
wickets — the game is all but ovucsl 

It is "over4" now, and Jack walks swaggering 
about his wicket, with the bat over his shoulder, 
while Mr. Aislabie holds a short parley with his men. 
Then the cover-point hitter, that cunning man, goes 
on to bowl slow twisters. Jack waves his hand 
triumphantly towards the tent, as much as to say, 
"See if I don't finish it all ofiF now in three hits." 

Alas, my son Jack! the enemy is too old for 
thee. The first ball of the over Jack steps out and 
meets 5, swiping with all his force. If he had only 
allowed for^ the twist! but he hasn't, and so the ball 

' a winning match: eine $artte, bie getpotmen tDCxben smt|. 

* for a leg-bye. JJubem bcr nid^t m gcraber Sintc auf hai 3Ral 
ju gc»orfcnc 93att bag 93cin beg ©c^iagcrS trifft, toixh tt ju cincm 
leg-bye, ouf ®runb bcffen (for, toit fo cben for a forward drive) 
Bcibe laufm. 

3 the outer stump. f&U off bejeid^net outer bie @eite xtd^i^ 
t)om ©c^Ittger old bie iiujsere ober femere; bm auf bm red^ten @taB 
bed SJ^oIed 5uf{)ringenben 93aU fd^Idgt ber ^erteibtger im Sogen 
(round) na6) UnU,\o hafi ein fimfmaliger fiauf (for five) geiooraicn toirb. 

4 over, uergl. @. 294. ^ad^btm t>kx SBiirfe get^an ftnb, erfolgt 
cm Umgang, inbem ber ©erfer mtt ber ganjen out-party nac^ ber 
anbercn ©cite l^iibcrgcl^t. 3)er fc^on gcfd^ilberte gcfft^id^ ©egncr 
tritt auf (goes on) unb tjcrfud^t e8 mit slow twisters, fiel^c @. 272. 

5 The first ball — meets. Snbcm ^ad t>ovtdtt, pmtxt tc hm 
erftcn ber tHcr neucn SSHirfc (the first ball of the over) ntit tmui^tigem 
@(^Iag. (Swiping, jie^e @. 295.) 

^ allowed for^ made an sdlowance for: toenn ec nut auf bie 


1 66 TOM brown's school days, 

back into the close, and everybody was beg^inning 
to cry out for another country-dance, encouraged by 
the success of the night before, the young master, 
who was just leaving the close, stopped him, and 
asked him to come up to tea at half-past eight, 
adding, "I won't keep you more than half-an-hour, 
and ask Arthur to come up too." 

"I'll come up with you directly, if you'll let me," 
said Tom, "for I feel rather melancholy, and not quite 
up to^ the country-dance and supper with the rest" 

"Do by all means," said the master; "I'll wait 
here for you." 

So Tom went off to get his boots and things* 
from the tent, to tell Arthur of the invitation, and to 
speak to his second in command about stopping the 
dancing and shutting up the close as soon as it grew 
dusk. Arthur promised to follow as soon as he had 
had a dance. So Tom handed his things over to the 
man in charge of the tent, and walked quietly away 
to the gate where the master was waiting, and the 
two took their way together up the Hillmorton road 3. 

Of course they found the master's house locked 
up, and all the servants away in the close, about this 
time no doubt footing it away'^ on the grass with 
extreme delight to themselves, and in utter oblivion 
of the unfortunate bachelor their master, whose one 
enjoyment in the shape of meals was his "dish of 
tea" (as our grandmothers called it) in the evening; 
and the phraise was apt in his case, for he always 
poured his out into the saucer before drinking. Great 

^ up to : auf gclcgt ju, ^f cffer. 

* to get his boots and things. Qm 3^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ (SxidtU 
!oftiim angelegt. 

3 Hilhnorton (Hill Morton) road, bic t>on ber S'iorbfette bcr 
(B6)vlU aug nac^ Often fiil^rt. SSergl. ©. 93, ^o fiibfiftlid^, ftatt fiib* 
toeftlid^f P t)crbc(fem ift. 

4 footing it away: barauf Io8 tonjenb. Hjbtx it t)ergl. @. 117: 
go it. 

TOM brown's last MATCH. 1 67 

WcLS the good man's horror at finding himself shut 
out of his own house. Had he been alone, he would 
have treated it as a matter of course, and would have 306 
strolled contentedly up and down his gravel-walk 
until some one came home; but he was hurt at the 
stain on his character of host, especially as the guest 
was a pupil. However, the g^est seemed to think 
it a great joke, and presently as they poked about 
round the house, mounted a wall, from which he 
could reach a passage window: the window, as it 
turned out, was not bolted, so in another minute Tom 
was in the house and down at the front door, which 
he opened from inside. The master chuckled grimly 
at this burglarious entry, and insisted on leaving the 
hall-door and two of the front windows open, to 
fiighten the truants on their return; and then the 
two set about foraging for tea, in which operation 
the master was much at fault ^, having the faintest 
possible idea of where to find anything, and being 
moreover wondrously short-sighted; but Tom by a 
sort of instinct knew the right cupboards in the 
kitchen and pantry, and soon managed to place on 
the snuggery^ table better materials for a meal than 
had appeared there probably during the reign of his 
tutor, who was then and there initiated, amongst 
other things, into the excellence of that mysterious 
condiment, a dripping-cake 3. The cake was newly 
baked, and all rich and flaky; Tom had found it re- 
posing in the cook's private cupboard, awaiting her 
return; and as a warning to her, they finished it to 
the last crumb. The kettle sang away merrily on 
the hob "^ of the snuggery, for, notwithstanding the 

^ to be at fault: in SBcrlcgcnl^clt fcin, ftd^ nic^t p l^clfcn miff en; 
cigcntltd^ Don S^^Q^'^wnben: auf falfd^cr t^iivtt fcin. 

* snuggery: btc SBol^nftubc, aU gemutlid^er ^ufentl^olt. 

3 a dripping cake: eitt ©c^malafud^en ($oj)J)c). ih^id^ ift 
muffins^ @. 67. Rich: fctt. 

4 hobs (des plaques de cheminee): ^ammt)0tf<)riiii9C, ^todfixim 


time of year, they lighted a fire, throwing both the 
windows wide open at the same time. The heap of 
books and papers were pushed away to the other 
end of the table, and the great solitary engraving 
of King's College Chapel ^ over the mantelpiece 
looked less stiff than usual, as they settled them- 
selves down in the twilight to the serious drinking 
of tea. 

After some talk on the match, and other indif- 
ferent subjects, the conversation came naturally back 
307 to Tom's approaching departure, over which he be- 
gan again to make his moan. 

"Well, we shall all miss you quite as much as 
you will miss us," said the master. "You are the 
Nestor^ of the School now, are you not?" 

"Yes, ever since East left," answered Tom. 

"By the bye 3, have you heard from him?" 

"Yes, I had a letter in February, just before he 
started for India to join his regiment." 

"He will make a capital officer." 

"Aye, won't he!" said Tom, brightening; "no 
fellow could handle boys better, and I suppose soldiers 
are very like boys. And he'll never tell them to go 
where he won't go himself. No mistake about that 
— a braver fellow never walked." 

"His year in the sixth will have taught him a 
good de^ that will be usefiil to him now." 

"So it will," said Tom, staring into the fire. "Poor 
dear Harry," he went on, "how well I remember the 
day we were put out of the twenty 4. How he rose 

l^erbartige (Sr^bl^ungen an hm inneren Setlentodnben bed ^atnut^^ 
gmifc^cn bencn fic^ bcr ^tmvco^t (grate) befinbet. 

^ King's College Chapel. 3)ic ju King's College gd^iJrcnbe 
^ird^c ift bag fc^dnftc gotifd^e ©cbftube in ©ambrtbge. 

* Nestor: ber l^od^beja^rtefte, b. 1^. cinfad^: bcr illtefte ©c^iUcr. 

3 By the bye, apropos: toaS i4 nod^ fagen toollte, eg fftHt rriir 
gerabe tin, 

4 put out of the twenty: au§ ber Unter^)rima in bie Ober))rima 
mfe^t. Sergl. etnleitung @. XXII. 

TOM brown's last MATCH. 1 69 

to the situation, and burnt his cigar-cases, and gave 
away his pistols, and pondered on the constitutional 
authority of the sixth, and his new duties to the 
Doctor, and the fifth form, and the fags. Aye, and 
no fellow ever acted up to them better, though he 
was always a people's man — for the fags, and against 
constituted authorities. He couldn't help that, you 
know. I'm sure the Doctor must have liked him?" 
said Tom, looking up inquiringly. 

"The Doctor sees the good in every one, and 
appreciates it," said the master, dogmatically^; "but 
I hope East will get a good colonel. He won't do 
if he can't respect those above him. How long it 
took him, even here, to learn the lesson of obeying." 

"Well, I wish I were alongside of him," said 
Tom. "If I can't be at Rugby, I want to be at 308 
work in the world, and not dawdling away three 
years at Oxford." 

"What do you mean by *at work in the world?'" 
said the master, pausing, with his lips close to his 
saucerftil of tea, and peering at Tom over it 

"Well, I mean real work; one's profession; what- 
ever one will have really to do, and make one's 
living by. I want to be doing some real good, feel- 
ing that I am not only at play in the world," an- 
swered Tom, rather puzzled to find out himself what 
he really did mean. 

"You are mixing up two very different things in 
your head, I think, Brown," said the master, putting 
down the empty saucer, "and you ought to get clear 
about them. You talk of 'working to get your liv- 
ing,' and * doing some real good in the world,' in the 
same breath. Now, you may be getting a very good 
living in a profession, and yet doing no good at all 
in the world, but quite the contrary, at the same 
time. Keep the latter before you as your only ob- 

' dogmatically: Beftimmt. 

170 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

ject, and you will be right, whether you make a liv- 
ing or not; but if you dwell on the other, you'll very 
likely drop into mere money-making, and let the 
world take care of itself for good or evil. Don't be 
in a hurry about finding your work in the world for 
yourself; you are not old enough to judge for your- 
self yet, but just look about you in the place you 
find yourself in, and try to make things a little better 
and honester there. You'll find plenty to keep your 
hand in ^ at Oxford, or wherever else you go. And 
don't be led away to think this part of the world 
important, and that unimportant. Every comer of 
the world is important. No man knows whether 
this part or that is most so, but every man may do 
some honest work in his own comer." And then 
the good man went on to talk wisely to Tom of the 
sort of work which he might take up as under- 
graduate^; and warned him of the prevalent Uni- 
309 versity sins, and explained to him the many and 
great differences between University and School 
life; till the twilight changed into darkness, and they 
heard the truant servants stealing in by the back 

"I wonder where Arthur can be," said Tom at 
last, looking at his watch: "why, it's nearly half-past 
nine already." 

"Oh, he is comfortably at supper with the eleven, 
forgetfiil of his oldest ftiends," said the maister. "No- 
thing has given me greater pleasure," he went on, 
"than your fiiendship for him; it has been the mak- 
ing of you both." 

"Of me, at any rate," answered Tom; "I should 
never have been here now but for him. It was the 
luckiest chance in the world that sent him to Rugby, 
and made him my chum." 

^ to keep your hand in, ftcl^c @. 161. 
2 undergraduate: ©tubcttt, tm Unterfd^icb t>on hm ©robttiertcn 

TOM brown's last MATCH. I7I 

"Why do you talk of lucky chances?" said the 
master; "I don't know that there are any such things 
in the world; at any rate there was neither luck nor 
chance in that matter." 

Tom looked at him inquiringly, and he went on. 
"Do you remember when the Doctor lectured you 
and East at the end of one half-year, when you were 
in the shell, and had been getting into all sorts of 

"Yes, well enough," said Tom; "it was the half- 
year before Arthur came." 

"Exactly so," answered the master. "Now, I was 
with him a few minutes afterwards, and he was in 
great distress about you two. And, after some talk, 
we both agreed that you in particular wanted some 
object in the School beyond games and mischief; 
for it was quite clear that you never would make 
the regular school work your first object. And so 
the Doctor, at the beginning of the next half-year, 
looked out the best of the new boys, and separated 
you and East, and put the yoimg boy into your 
study, in the hope that when you had somebody to 310 
lean on you, you would begin to stand a Uttle 
steadier yourself, and get manliness and thoughtful- 
ness. And I can assure you he has watched the 
experiment ever since witii great satisfaction. Ah! 
not one of you boys will ever know the anxiety you 
have given him, or the care with which he has 
watched over every step in your school lives." 

Up to this time, Tom had never wholly given in 
to' or understood the Doctor. At first he had 
thoroughly feared him. For some years, as I have 
tried to show, he had learnt to regard him with love 
and respect, and to think him a very great and wise 
and good man. But, as regarded his own position 

' given in to : fici^ ttnbcrftanbSfoS unb mtt gmt^cr @ede l^ingegeben. 

172 TOM brown's school DAYS, 

in the School, of which he was no little ^ proud, Tom 
had no idea of giving any one credit for it but him- 
self^; and, truth to tell, was a very self-conceited 
young gentleman on the subject He was wont to 
boast that he had fought his own way fairly up the 
school, and had never made up to 3, or been taken 
up by any big fellow or master, and that it was now 
quite a different place from what it was when he 
first came. And, indeed, though he didn't actually 
boast of it, yet in his secret soul he did to a great 
extent believe, that the great reform in the School 
had been owing quite as much to himself as to any 
one else. Arthur, he acknowledged, had done him 
good, and taught him a good deal; so had other 
boys in different ways, but they had not had the 
same means of influence on the School in general; 
and as for the Doctor, why, he was a splendid master, 
but every one knew that masters could do very little 
out of school hours. In short, he felt on terms of 
equality with his chief, so far as the social state of 
the School was concerned, and thought that the 
Doctor would find it no easy matter to get on with- 
out him. Moreover, his school Torjdsm^ was still 
strong, and he looked still with some jealousy on the 
Doctor, as somewhat of a fanatic in the matter of 
311 change; and thought it very desirable for the School 
that he should have some wise person (such as him- 
self) to look sharply after vested School-rights, and 
see that nothing was done to the injury of the 
republic without due protest. 

It was a new light to him to find, that, besides 

^ no little, imgcJDb^nlid^ ftatt not a little. 

^ Tom had no idea of giving any one credit for it but him- 
self: 2:ont bac^tc gar nid^t baran, ba^ cr fcinc ©tellung in bcr @d^Ie 
irgenb jctnanb bcrbanftc (jufd^rciben mugtc), al8 ftd^ fclbft. 

3 to make up to one: ftc^ an jemanb l^cranfd^meigcn (l^erans 
madden). To take up : l^eran jicl^cn. 

4 school Toryism: fottfcrt)atiuer @tanb^)unft ate @(i^iUer, 

TOM brown's last BCATCH. 1 73 

teaching the sixth, and governing and g^ding the 
whole School, editing classics, and writing histories, 
the great Head-master had found time in those busy 
years to watch over the career even of him, Tom 
Brown, and his particular friends, — and, no doubt, of 
fifty other boys at the same time; and all this with- 
out taking the least credit to himself, or seeming to 
know, or let anyone eke know, that he ever thought 
particularly of any boys at alL 

However, the Doctor's victory was complete from 
that moment over Tom Brown at any rate. He gave 
way at all points, and the enemy marched right over 
him, cavalry, infantry, and artillery, the land transport 
corps', and the camp followers^. It had taken eight 
long years to do it, but now it was done thoroughly, 
and lliere wasn't a comer of him left which didn't 
believe in the Doctor. Had he returned to school 
again, and the Doctor begun the half-year by abolish- 
ing fagging, and foot-ball, and the Saturday half- 
holiday, or all or any of the most cherished school 
institutions, Tom would have supported him with 
the blindest faith. And so, after a half confession 
of his jw^vious shortcomings, and sorrowftil adieus 
to his tutor, from whom he received two beautiftilly 
boimd volumes of the Doctor's Sermons, as a parting 
present, he marched down to the School-house, a 
hero-worshipper^, who would have satisfied the soul 
of Thomas Carlyle himself. 

There he found the eleven at high jinks 4 after 
supper. Jack Raggles shouting comic songs, and per- 
forming feats of strength; and was greeted by a 
chorus of mingled remonstrance at his desertion, and 312 
joy at his reappearance. And falling in withS the 

' the land transport corps: bad ^[tmeeful^rtoefen, bet ^toin. 
' the camp followers: bet %xo%, bie @(i^la(i^tenbit]ninler. 

3 a hero-worshipper: ftel^e @. 2. 

4 at high jinks: in ^dd^fter ^bdim. 
s to fall in with: einftimmen in. 

1 74 TOM brown's school days. 

humour of the evening, was soon as great a boy as 
all the rest; and at ten o'clock was chaired' round 
the quadrangle, on one of the hall benches, borne 
aloft by the eleven, shouting in chorus, "For he's a 
jolly good fellow^," while old Thomas; in a melting 
mood, and the other School-house servants, stood 
looking on. 

And the next morning after breakfast he squared 
up all the cricketing accounts, went round to his 
tradesmen and other acquaintance, and said his hearty 
good-byes, and by twelve o'clock was in the train 3, 
and away for London, no longer a school-boy; and 
divided in his thoughts between hero-worship, honest 
regrets over the long stage of his life which was now 
slipping out of sight behind him, and hopes and re- 
solves for the next stage, upon which he was enter- 
ing with all the confidence of a young traveller. 

Chapter ES.. 


"Strange fiiend, past, present, and to be; 
Loved deeplier, darklier understood; 
Behold, I dream a dream of good, 
And mingle all the world with thee." 

Tennyson 4. 

In the summer of 1842, our hero stopped once 
agciin at the well-known station: and, leaving his 
bag and fishing-rod with a porter, walked slowly and 

^ to chair: auf eincm ©tittle ftier auf ctner SBonl, Me auf ben 
(B6)ulitm m^t) §o(^ im ^iriutnp:^ um^ertragen. 

* For he's a jolly good fellow, And so are all of us : iiblid^er 
e^orgefang ttad^ einem ^aft, ber benu^t ift in hm ©d^lnjtjerfen beS 
Siebe§ A Glass is Good. 

3 in the train. %i^ ber $elb unferer (gr^a^Iung juerft nad^ 
9higbt) fu^T, l^atte biefe Stabt nod^ feine ©ifcnba^nt^erb^bnng mlt 
Sonbon. @eitbem war bie London and North Western Railway 

4 Tennyson, in Memoriam, ©d^Inft beg ©ebid^tg 119. 

FINIS. 175 

sadly up towards the town^ It was now July. He 
had rushed away from Oxford the moment that 
term^ was over, for a fishing ramble in Scotland 
with two college friends 3, and had been for three 
weeks living on oatcake 4, mutton-hams, and whiskey, 
in the wildest parts of Skye. They had descended 
one sultry evening on the little inn at Kyle Rhea 313 
ferry 5, £ind while Tom and another of the party put 
their tackle together and began exploring the stream 
for a sea-trout for supper, the third strolled into the 
house to arrange for their entertainment. Presently 
he came out in a loose blouse^ and slippers, a short 
pipe in his mouth, and an old newspaper in his hand, 
and threw himself on the heathery scrub which met 
the shingle 7, within easy hail of the fishermen. There ^ 
he lay, the picture of free-and-easy, loafing, hcind-to- 
mouth young England^, "improving his mind," as he 
shouted to them, by the perusal of the fortnight-old 
weekly paper, soiled with the marks of toddy-glasses 9 

^ the town, 9fhtgBt|. 

^ term; Trinity term ; baS ©ommertrimcftct BiS gum i. 3)ienftag 
im 3uU. aScrgl. @. 5. 

3 college friends: Unitocrfttcltgfrcunbe, ba jebc bet bciben alien 
Satibc^unitjerfttaten au3 (autcr fclbftftnbigen colleges Bcftcl^t. iOjforb 
jftl^It bcren 19, unb oujerbcm 4 fogcnaraitc halls. 

^ oatcake (oatmeal cakes) : ganj biinner, in bcr 5lfd^e gcBac!cner 
^ud^en auS ^afermel^I, bem jiibifd^cn SKaJcn a^nlid^, bcr in ©d^ottlonb 
nid^t nur toon ben ^rmeren gcgeffcn toirb. ®^ ^eiftt batoon the land 
of cakes. Mutton-hams: gerftud^ette ^ammelfeulen, unb whiskey: 
fel^r ftarfet ^ombrannttoein, ge^iJtcn glcit^fattS ju htn fd^ottifd^en 

5 Kyle Rhea ferry, an bcr iJftlid^ftcn ^pii^t bcr gnfcl @!^c, m 
fte nnr burd^ einen fd^malcn fKccreSarm Don ©d^ottlanb getrcnnt ift. 
Tackle: ^ngclgcrftt, fid^c @. 171. 

^ blouse, la blouse. A short pipe : cine furje 2^on|)feifc. 

7 which met the shingle : bag ^eibegeftrii^^), hjclt^e^ fid^ bi3 an 
bag ©crott crftrcdftc. Within easy hail: in bequcmcr Sftufloeitc. 

® free-and-easy, etc.: bag ungcniertc, lanbburd^ftrcifcnbc, flott 
in ben Xag l^ineinlcbcnbc S^ngs^nglanb. Improving his mind : bm 
®eift bilbcnb. 

9 toddy: ein urfj)rimgUd^ inbifd^er, toom $olmtt)cin gcbtoud^ter 

176 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

and tobacco-ashes, the legacy of the last traveller, 
which he had hunted out from the kitchen of the 
little hostehy ; and being a youth of a communicative 
turn of mind, began imparting the contents to the 
fishermen as he went on. 

"What a bother they are making' about these 
wretched Corn-laws*, here's three or four columns 
full of nothing but sliding-scales and fixed duties^. — 
Hang this tobacco, it's always going out! — Ah, here's 
something better — a splendid match between Kent 
and England^, Brown! Kent winning by three 
wickets. Felix fifty-six runs without a chance, and 
not out!" 

Tom, intent on a fish which had risen at him 5 
twice, answered only with a grunt 

"Anything about the Goodwood^?" called out the 
third man. 

"Rory-o-More drawn^. Butterfly colt amiss," 
shouted the student 

"Just my luck," grumbled the inquirer, jerking his 

§lu3bruc!, ift in @d§ottlanb ublt(i^ fiir grog; mm fagt getoiJl^nlid^ 
whiskey-toddy, gin-toddy. To hunt out; aufgabeln. 

^ What a bother they are making: toaS fur S^tm pe 

2 Corn-laws, ©egen ben ntit biefcm fftamm bcjeid^nctcn @d^u^ 
30II auf ©etreibc, bet au^ bem S^tc 1828 l^erriil^rtc, bilbetc fid^ 1839 
cin SSercitt ber greil^dnbler, Anti-Com-Law League, bcffcn Slgttottott 
fd^Iicpd^ 1846 ju ber Stuf^ebung bcS ^ornjoHS imtcr bem SDWniftcrium 
@ir Sbbert ^eel fu^rte. 

3 sliding-scales and fixed duties. @tatt bc§ urf))runglid§en 
feften ©ingcmgSsotteS auf ©etreibc (fixed duty) wurbe 1838 eine nad^ 
hm @(etretbe^retfen k^ariterenbe @!ala (sliding scale) eingefiH^ unb 
1842 bei ©rmajtg^g ^^^ ^omjbtte be^el^olten. 

4 a match between Kent and England: eine (Sxidtipavtxt ber 
©raffd^aft ^ent gegen gonj ®nglanb. 

5 risen at him, fiel^e @. 173. 

^ the Goodwood races. 3)iefe tocrbcn jftl^rlid^ in ©uffej in ber 
Ml^e Don Goodwood Park, einer Sep Jung beS ©erjogg ton 0K(^s 
monb, obgel^aften. 

7 drawn: jurildCgejogen. Amiss: fronl. 

FINIS. 177 

flies off the water, and throwing ' again with a heavy 
sullen splash, and frightening Tom's fish. 

"I say, can't you throw lighter over there? we 
ain't fishing for grampuses*," shouted Tom across 
the stream. 

"Hullo, Brown! here's something for you," called 314 
out the reading man next moment "Why, your old 
master, Arnold of Rugby, is dead." 

Tom's hand stopped half-way in his cast, and his 
line and flies went all tangling roimd and roimd his 
rod; you might have knocked him over with a feather. 
Neither of his companions took any notice of him 
luckily; and with a violent effort he set to work 
mechanically to disentangle his line. He felt com- 
pletely carried off his moral and intellectual legs 3, 
as if he had lost his standing-point in the invisible 
world. Besides which, the deep loving loyalty which 
he felt for his old leader made the shock intensely 
painfiiL It was the first great wrench of his life, the 
first gap which the angel Death had made in his 
circle, and he felt numbed, and beaten down, and 
spiritless. Well, well! I believe it was good for him 
and for many others in like case; who had to learn 
by that loss, that the soul of man cannot stand or 
lean upon any human prop, however strong, and 
wise, and good; but that He upon whom alone it can 
stand and lean will knock away all such props in 
His own wise and merciful way, until there is no 
groimd or stay left but Himself, the Rock of Ages 4, 
upon whom alone a sure foimdation for every soul 
of man is laid. 

As he wearily laboured at his line, the thought 

' throwing, his fly: feme !ihtftlid§e Sfliege. 

* grampus, fiel^e @. 280. 

3 carried off his moral and intellectual legs : et toax geifttg 
mtb ftttlt(j^ tocadtxib getootben. 

^ the Rock of Ages. Psalm, 18, 2: The Lord is my rock, 
and my fortress, and my deliverer* 

Tom Brown* 9 SchcQl Days, II, 12 


struck him, "It may all be false, a mere newspaper 
lie," and he strode up to the recumbent smoker, 

"Let me look at the paper," said he. 

"Nothing else in it," answered the other, handing 
it up to him listlessly. — "Hullo, Brown! what's the 
matter, old fellow — ain't you well?" 

"Where is it?" said Tom, turning over the leaves, 
his hands trembling, and his eyes swimming, so that 
he could not read. 
315 "What? What are you looking for?" said his 
friend, jumping up and looking over his shoulder. 

"That — about Arnold," said Tom, 

"Oh, here," said the other, putting his finger on 
the paragraph. Tom read it over and over again; 
there could be no mistake of identity, though the 
account was short enough. 

"Thank you," Scdd he at last, dropping the paper. 
"I shall go for a walk: don't you and Herbert wait 
supper^ for me." And away he strode, up over the 
moor at the back of the house, to be alone, and 
master his grief if possible. 

His fiiend looked after him, sympathising and 
wondering, and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, 
walked over to Herbert. After a short parley, they 
walked together up to the house. 

"I'm afraid that confounded newspaper has spoiled 
Brown's fun for this trip." 

"How odd that he should be so fond of his old 
master," said Herbert. Yet they also were both 
public-school men. 

The two, however, notwithstanding Tom's pro- 
hibition, waited supper for him, and had everything 
ready when he came back some half-an-hour after- 
wards. But he could not join in their cheerfiil talk, 
and the party was soon silent, nothwithstanding the 
efforts of all three. One thing only had Tom re- 

^ wait supper, \i^t @. 284, 

FINIS. 179 


solved, and that was, that he couldn't stay in Scot- 
land any longer; he felt an irresistible longing to get 
to Rugby, and then home, and soon broke it to the 
others, who had too much tact to oppose. 

So by daylight the next morning he was march- 
ing through Ross-shire S and in the evening hit the 
Caledonian canal, took the next steamer, and travelled 
as fast as boat and railway could carry him to the 
Rugby station. 

As he walked up to the town, he felt shy and 
afraid of being seen, and took the back streets; why, 316 
he didn't know, but he followed his instinct. At the 
school-gates he made a dead pause; there was not a 
soul in the quadrangle— all was lonely, and silent, 
and sad. So with another eJBFort he strode through 
the quadrangle, and into the School-house offices. 

He found the little matron in her room in deep 
mourning; shook her hand, tried to talk, and moved 
nervously about: she was evidently thinking of the 
same subject as he, but he couldn't begin talking. 

"Where shall I find Thomas?" said he at last, 
getting desperate. 

"In the servants' hall, I think, sir. But won't you 
take anything?" said the matron, looking rather dis- 

"No, thank you," said he, and strode ojBF again to 
find the old Verger^, who was sitting in his little 
den as of old, puzzling over hieroglyphics. 

He looked up through his spectacles, as Tom 
seized his hand and wrung it. 

"Ah! you've heard all about it, sir, I see," 
said he. 

Tom nodded, and then sat down on the shoe- 

* Ross-shire. 3)ic Oftf<)i^c ber 3nfcl (Sf^e licgt gegeniibcr ber 
©renje tjon SJoJf^irc im ^oxbm unb 3ntocmc|fttTc im ©iibcn; bic 
crfterc ©raffd^aft teid^t big an SRora^ {Ttrmati) gritl^ , wcld^c S3ud^t 
burd^ ben ^alebonifd^en ^anal mit ber 3^fd^«^ @«^ tierBunbcn toixb, 

* Verger, fie^e @. 81. 


i8o TOM brown's school days. 

boards while the old man told his tale, and wiped 
his spectacles, and fairly flowed over with quaint 2, 
homely, honest sorrow. 

By the time he had done, Tom felt much better. 

"Where is he buried, Thomas?" said he at last 

"Under the altar in the chapel, sir," answered 
Thomas. "You'd like to have the key, I dare say.'* 

"Thank you, Thomas — Yes, I shoidd very much." 
And the old man fumbled 3 among his bunch, and 
then got up, as though he would go with him; but 
after a few steps stopped short, and said, "Perhaps 
you'd like to go by yourself, sir?" 

Tom nodded, and the bunch of keys were handed 
317 to him, with an injunction to be sure and lock the 
door after him, and bring them back before eight 

He walked quickly through the quadrangle and 
out into the close. The longing which had been 
upon him and driven him thus far, like the gad-fly 
in the Grreek legends 4, giving him no rest in mind 
or body, seemed all of a sudden not to be satisfied, 
but to shrivel up, and pall. "Why should I go on? 
If s no use," he thought, and threw himself at fiill 
lengrth on the turf, and looked vaguely and listlessly 
at all the well-known objects. There were a few of 
the town boys playing cricket, their wicket pitched 
on the best piece in the middle of the big-side ground 
a sin about equal to sacrilege in the eyes of a captain 
of the eleven. He was very nearly getting up to go 

* shoe-board: 93anl jum ©ticfclpujcn. 23^icm. 

* quaint; nab, ntit cigentuttilid^cm unb cttoag fcltfamcm S(u8brud. 

3 fumbled: ftil^Ite nv^tv, t)on chwag imgcfd^irftcm Sudden. 
Bunch (of keys), ©^(iiffclbunb. 

4 the gad-fly in the Greek legends : bic SBrcmfc \n bcr ©age 
toon 30, bcr S:o(^ter beS 3nad^o3 unb ©elicbtcn beS 3ctt^» todd^t, in 
tint ^ t)crtt)anbelt, nad^bcm i^x filter ^IrgoS toon ©ermeS crf(i^Iagcn 
ift, auf SScranftaltung bcr gcrc toon eincr SSicl^brcmfc jur fBut gctriebcn 
unb toon Sknh ju 2ca\h gejagt toirb, bid fie ant %1 ffbO^t ftnbet, il^e 
ntenfd^Iid^e ©eftalt miebergetoinnt unb beni^^l^oi^ gebiert. 

FINIS. l8l 

and send them ojBF. "Pshaw! they won't remember 
me. They've more right there than I," he muttered. 
And the thought that his sceptre had departed, and 
his mark was wearing out', came home to him for 
the first time, and bitterly enough. He was lying 
on the very spot where the fights came off; where 
he himself had fought six years ago his first and last 
battle. He conjured up the scene till he could almost 
hear the shouts of the ring, and Easf s whisper in his 
ear; and looking across the close to the Doctor's 
private door, half expected to see it open, and the 
tall figure in cap and gown come striding under the 
elm-trees towards him. 

No, no! that sight could never be seen again. 
There was no flag flying on the round tower ^! the 
School-house windows were all shuttered up: and 
when the flag went up again, and the shutters came 
down, it would be to welcome a stranger. All that 
was left on earth of him whom he had honoured, 
was lying cold and still imder the chapel floor. He 
would go in and see the place once more, and then 
leave it once for alL New men and new methods 
might do for other people; let those who would 
worship the rising star3; he at least would be faith- 318 
fill to the Sim which had set And so he got up 
and walked to the chapel door and unlocked it, fancy- 
ing himself the only mourner in all the broad land, 
and feeding on his own selfish sorrow. 

He passed through the vestibule, and then paused 
for a moment to glance over the empty benches. 
His heart was still proud and high, and he walked 

* his mark was wearing out: bic ^pnxm feinc^ SSirfcnS 
tourben itnbeutUd^. Wlcrn l^at todffl, hd bent Bilbltdften ^udbrudE an etn 
^ten^id^en, ober ubtt^anpi on ^ejeid^nung be<S @igentunt<S ju benfenf 
tt)ie in Harry East his mark, @. 167. 

* no flag flying on the round tower, pcl^e @, 293. 

3 the rising star: the rising sun. Milt. Lye. 168. The day- 
star. P. L. X9 io69^Xhi6 diurnal star. 

1 82 TOM brown's school DAYS. 

up to the seat which he had last occupied as a sixth- 
form boy, and sat himself down there to collect his 

And, truth to tell, they needed collecting and 
setting in order not a little. The memories of eight 
years were all dancing through his brain, and carry- 
ing him about whither they would; while beneath 
them all, his heart was throbbing with the dull sense 
of a loss that could never be made up to him. The 
rays of the evening sun came solemnly through the 
painted windows above his head, and fell in gorgeous 
colours on the opposite wall, and the perfect stillness 
soothed his spirit by little and little. And he turned 
to the pulpit, cind looked at it, cind then, leaning for- 
ward with his head on his hands, groaned aloud. 
"If he could only have seen the Doctor again for 
one five minutes; have told him all that was in his 
heart, what he owed to him, how he loved and 
reverenced him, and would by God's help follow his 
steps in life and death, he could have borne it all 
without a murmur. But that he should have gone 
away for ever without knowing it all, was too much 
to bear." — "But am I sure that he does not know it 
all?" — the thought made him start — "May he not 
even now be near me, in this very chapel? If he be, 
am I sorrowing as he would have me sorrow — as I 
should wish to have sorrowed when I shall meet 
him again?" 

He raised himself up and looked round; cind after 
a minute rose and walked humbly down to the 
lowest bench, and sat down on the very seat which 
319 he had occupied on his first Sunday at Rugby. And 
then the old memories rushed back again, but softened 
and subdued, and soothing him as he let himself be 
carried away by them. And he looked up at the 
great painted window above the altar, and remem- 
bered how when a little boy he used to try not to 
look through it at the elm-trees and the rooks, be- 

FINIS. 183 


fore the painted glass came — and the subscription 
for the painted glass, and the letter he wrote home 
for money to give to it And there, down below, 
was the very name of the boy who sat on his right 
hand on that first day, scratched rudely in the oak 

And then came the thought of all his old school- 
fellows; and form after form of boys, nobler, and 
braver, and purer than he, rose up and seemed to 
rebuke him. Could he not think of them, and what 
they had felt and were feeling, they who had 
honoured and loved from the first, the man whom 
he had taken years' to know and love? Could he 
not think of those yet dearer to him who was gone, 
who bore his name and shared his blood, and were 
now without a husband or a father? Then the g^ef 
which he began to share with others became gentle 
and holy, and he rose up once more, and walked up 
the steps to the altar; and while the tears flowed 
freely down his cheeks, knelt down humbly and 
hopefiilly, to lay down there his share of a burden 
which had proved itself too heavy for him to bear in 
his own strength. 

Here let us leave him — where better could we 
leave him, than at the altar, before which he had first 
caught a glimpse of the glory of his birthright, and 
felt the drawing of the bond^ which links all living 
souls together in one brotherhood — at the grave 
beneath the altar of him, who had opened his eyes 
to see that glory, and softened his heart till it could 
feel that bond? 

And let us not be hard on him, if At that moment 
his soul is fiiller of the tomb and him who lies there, 320 
than of the altar and Him of whom it speaks. Such 

' he had taken years: er l^atte ^af)xt gebraud^t; fonft au^ it 
had taken him years: e« l^atte 3<*^^« gefoftet. 

* the drawing of the bond: ipie baS SBanb (Mc ©d^Iiwge) feftet 
(utge^ogen tourbe. 

184 ^nl^ang. 

stages have to be gone through, I believe, by all 
young and brave souls, who must win their way 
through hero-worship, to the worship of Him who is 
the King and Lord of heroes. For it is only through 
our mysterious human relationships, through the 
love and tenderness and purity of mothers, and 
sisters, and wives, through the striength and courage 
and wisdom of fathers, cind brothers, and teachers, 
that we can come to the knowledge of Him, in whom 
alone the love, and the tenderness, and the purity, 
and the strength, and the courage, and the wisdom 
of all these dwell for ever and ever in perfect fulness. 

^ tt M tt g. 


^ad cricket obet ^^otbaIIf)}ieI, toeld^ed in (Snglonb nationole 
S3ebeutung ^at, ift feincgioeg^, wie man tneUeid^t toermuten biirftc, fd^r 
alt, obgleid^ ed aUerbingd and bent fd^on tnt 14. S^al^t^unbert befannten 
club-ball ]^crt)orgegangcn p fcin fd^cint. 3)er 9ianie l^at fi(i^ crft au^ 
bent ^oifyct 1750 nad^ioetfcn laffcn; berfelbc betwixt nid^t, tt)ic man bi^s 
totilm ongegeben finbet, ouf einer 3ufammenjiel^ung an^ cross-wicket, 
fonbcm ent^ait tin mit bet SDiminutttocnbung -et uerfel^eneS alt? 
cnglifd^eS SSort crice, Stab, nnfer ,,trurfe". SBie Me bentfc^e SBejcid^^ 
nung anbentet, l^anbelt eg ftd^ nm bie IBerteibigung eined tl^ordl^nlid^en 
TlaU^ mit bem ^aUl^oIj gegen hm, ml6)tx e$ burd^ ^Qtorf mit htm 
SBall angrcift. 

S)ie S3aEe fmb groft, feft unb elaftifd^; fie l^aben ein ©etpid^t Donlun* 
gefdl^r 160 ®ramm, etioa 23 Centimeter im Umfang ober 7 d^cntimeter 
3)nrd^meffcr, befte^en au3 juf ammenge^rejtcn Seberftiirfcn, in ber 3lcgel 
mit gieid^fatt^ ^ufammengeprejtem ^orf M ^em, unb ftnb mit birfem 
Seber ubetjogen. ^aS ©d^lagl^olj (bat) in einer $i5^e Don jiemlid^ einem 
3»eter (^5d^ftenS 0,05 3»ctcr), mu6 Sfeftigfcit mit mdglid^fter Seid^tigfeit 
k)ereinigen. ^al^er t)erf ertigt man ed and SBeibenl^oI^, bad aber juf ommen^ 
ge^dmmert mirb, um i^ 9Q3iberftanbdfd]^ig!eit ju k^erleil^en. ^er imtere, 
einen decimeter breite ^eil (bad Sd^tagenbe) l^at leid^t gemdibte ©eiten^ 

Sfttl^ang. 185 

Pdd^en unb tft am (Snbe oBgerunbet. ^er ®rijf l^at eine fidnge, bte ettoad 
me^r old bte ^illfte bei^ 6(i^Iagenbe$ betrdgt, imb eine @ta^e, fo bag 
er Sequent gefagt merben team; ec mirb oft aud Sbl^t gentad^t unb in 
biefem i^aUe in bad @(i^Iagenbe eingefitgt, ftetg abet, urn feft in bet 
^(wb 5U liegen, mtt iBinbfaben ummicfelt. 

^r ^oben bed @^iel))la^e$ mug mbglid^fi eben unb ^orijontal 
fein; man toftl^It baju eine toeite glft^e mit furj gefd^orencm iRafen, 
ber jebedmal, tovm eS ettoaS gilt, uorl^er befj)rengt imb geioaljt gu 
loerben ^jlegt @§ toirb nim ein ^amp^pioi^ k)on etma 100 SJleter im 
CUtabrat abgeftedt, unb burd§ ^uf)}flan^en t>on Sftaggen an ben ©den 
ben Sn\6)amm bebeutet, bag fte ftd^ mdl^renb bed @^ield augerl^alB 
ber ©renjen ju l^alten l^aben. JJn ber SJhtte bed -Slaumeg ^ie^t man 
gttjei parattele Sinien in einer ©ntfcmimg toon 20 3JJeter unb p\i(ai^i 
auf bcnfelben einanber gerabe gegeniiSer bie fogcnannten wickets 
(^re) auf. 3^ ^^^ SBilbung eined fold^en ge]^5ren brei rmtbe, unten 
jugef^ifete (StSBe (stumps), bie neben einanber fenfred^t in ben S3oben 
geftogen loerben, fo bag fte 68 S^entimeter l^ert)orragen. 6ie ^Ben oben 
cinen Heinen ©inft^nitt, ber baju beftimmt ift, bag man jtoei Heine 
Cluerl^SIjer (bails), beren Sftnge je einen 3)ecimeter betrftgt, auf biefelben 
legt. ©0 ttjirb alfo eine §lrt '^ox l^ergeftettt, burd^ beffen Stftbe ber 
f&aU ni^i l^inburd^fliegen farai, o^ne fie umjureigen. fjixr bad rid^tige 
Sluf^ftanjen ber wickets ujirb @orge getragen Don jtoei Unt)arteiif(^en 
(umpires), hk pgleid^ bariiber toad^en, bag bie @j)ielregeln beobad^tet 
loerben, uni in atten ftreitigen gflllen bie ©ntfd^eibimg l^aben. 

3u einem regelmftgigen 6)ridetfj)iel mit jioei 2:^oren (double 
wicket) ge^iJren jtoei ^arteien Don je elf ^pidtm, toon hmvx bie ber 
SSerteibigcr obcr ©d^Iftger aid in-party, bie ber Hngreifenben aid out- 
party bejeid^net loirb. 3ebe berfelben l^at il^ren fjiii^rer (captain), 
ber htn <Sd^Iad^t|)Ian entioirft ttnb bie ©treitfrftfte je nad^ il^ren be* 
fonberen ^l^igfeitcn toerteilt. gu Slnfang bt^ (Shield finbet ein fiofen 
(tossing up, @. 88) ftatt; bie gettiratenbe ^artei barf tottl^Ien, ob fie 
angreifen ober oerteibigen loill. 3« ^^ ^tQti to'6^lt fie hit SSerteibis 
gimg ber wickets, loirb alfo in-party imb l^at bad erfte @d^lagf^iel 
(the first innings). SBei einem ^ettfj)iel (match) erl^ftlt jebe ?Partei 
jUiei innings. 

SSon ber in-party fommen jebedmal nur gtoei aid ©d^Iftger 
(batsmen, strikers) oxi^ @piel, toon btntn jeber pd^ toor htm toon il^m 
ju toerteibigenben 2:^ore aufftellt. 3)ie burd^ badfelbe l^inburd^Iaufenbe 
Sinie, in beren SDWtte ed alfo aufge^flattjt ift, l^at eine fiftnge toon jioei 
SDleter; fie l^eigt bowling crease (©d^odCmal, toon bem mit @d^odlourf 
tt)iebergegebenen bowling), inbem fie bie ©renje bejeid^net, iiber loeld^e 
ber SBerfenbe beim SBurf nid^t toortreten barf. 3eber @iib^)imft berfelben 
ift tt)ieber burd^ tint baju fen!red§te, riidlDftrtd gel^enbe Sinie (return 
crease) bejeid^net, itber tteld^e ber (Bd^Iftger fid^ nid^t f eitiottrtd entf emen 
barf. S8or bem ©d^odhnal Iduft ^nxrallel bamit in einer ©ntfemung toon 
toter ijug eine anbere Sinie (popping crease, bad ©d^Iagmal). Sin biefem 

i86 ^ttl^ang. 

ftellt jt4 bcr ©d^Iftgct mit ber linfen 6c^ulter nad§ betn anberen 9Jla(e jit 
auf , fo ha^ ber rc^te fjuft bi^t l^tntct bcm @d^lagmal imb in bcff en fRi^s 
tung aufgefe^t ift, hjftl^renb ber linfe guft ettoa red^ttotnflig p jenem 
\mb in einer ©ntfemimg toon 1—2 fju^ toorgeftredt wirb (^arbftellung). 
3n geraber Slid^tung toon bem wicket l^at bcr ©^ISger p^ cin S^Iag* 
^eid^cn (block) gemad^t, in toeld^eS er ba8 SSalT^oIj Mm TOtoarten 
be§ 3Surf§ fe^t, itoorin er e§ aud^ l^ftlt, loenn er ben S5aE ntd^t forfc= 
fd^Iagen, fonbem nur pamxm unb fcin Slnf^ringen gegen ba§ wicket 
^inbem itoiff. SSeim @^Iage ftellt er ganj gerabe vmh fii^rt benfelBen 
gettofi^nltd^, inbem er toom wicket l^er augl^olt. S)te erfte 5tufgabe 
be§ ©d^IftgerS ift SBertetbigung fctneS SJlaleS; benn toirb baSfelbc 
toom SBall gctrojfen, fo mnf er aBtreten. 3Bir!ftd^en SBortctI bringt er 
fetncr ^artei abcr nitr bnrd^ fjortfd^lagen be§ 95aII§, toobei er ftd^ Jebod^ 
l^iitcn mn^, hm ©cgncm ©clegenl^cit jum fjangen gu geBen, Weil er 
felbft in biefcm fjalle gleid^fattS ah (out) fein toiirbe. 3)er SSatt fann 
nad^ attcn SHd^timgen be§ fJelbeS l^ingefd^Iagcn toerben, unb e§ !ommt 
barauf an, tl^n fo ju fi^Iagen, bafe bic ®cgncr il^n nid^t ju balb toieber 
in hit ^finbe bcfommen. 3)a§ 9JlaI gilt al§ gebedt, wenn ber ©d^Ifiger 
fcin bat l^inter bcm popping crease auf htn SSoben l^ftlt obcr bariiber 
fte^t; fonft barf einer ber ©cgcnpartci eg mit bem S3atte umioerfen. 
(So langc ber ©d^Idger bieS nid^t ju befiird^ten l^at, Iduft er na(i) er* 
folgtem Sd^Iagc toon feinem 9KaIc nad^ htm gegenilberftel^enben imb 
mieber ^mnd, inbem fein 9Kitf|)ieIcr, ber SBertcibiger beS anberen 9JlaIc§, 
baSfelbe tl^ut. ^^tt Sauf (run), htn beibe auf biefc SSeife betocrfs 
ftelligen, bringt ber ^artei cinen ^oint cin, unb nad^ ber gal^I ber 
fidufe auf Mhtn ©citen entfd^eibet ftd^ baS (Bpitl ju ^unften bcr cinen 
ober bcr anberen ^artei. 

3)a§ 3Bcrfen be§ S5attc§ (bowling, bcr @d^o(f tourf) erfolgt eigentfid^ 
in Sl^nlid^cr SSeife, toit tin $iftoIctttt)urf beim ^egcln, nur baft etwaS 
ttociter auSgcl^oIt mirb. 3)er SSatt rul^t auf ber toit beim ^cgeln 
barunter gc^altenen §anb unb toirb toom ©d^odhnal au§ in jicmlid^ 
geraber Stid^timg auf ba§ gcgeniibcrftel^cnbc wicket ju gcfd^Icubcrt, 
fo ba6 er ettoa bret SSiertel ber ©trede im S5ogen burd^fliegt, bonn auf 
ben S5oben auffe^t nnh gegen ba§ Wlal an^rafft. @S ift jcbodft nid^t 
notwenbig, baj ber Sail auf htn SBoben auffd^Ifigt, aud^ barf er ben* 
fclbcn mcl^r alg einmal beriil^ren. 3)en cigentlid^cn ©cgenfa^ ju jener 
5lrt be§ 3Scrfen§ (underhand bowling) bejeid^nct round hand 
(rid^tiger round arm) bowling, toobei bcr 9lrm bc§ 3Scrfenbcn einen 
S5ogcn toon ^nttn nad^ toom befd^rcibt, inbem bic §anb US jur 
©d^uItcr^Sl^c crl^obcn toirb. 3)er 3Berfcr nimmt toit beim ^egeln einen 
Slnlauf, mug abcr jmifd^en ben beiben ©citcnlinien, fo toic mit einem 
iJuge l^inter bem ©d^odfmal (bowling crease) bleiben. 

3)ie angrctfenbe ^artci fii^rt il^re fSmtlid^cn elf @j)ieler in8 gfclb. 
@iner berfclben ift 3Scrf er unb ^ai l^intcrcinonber toier SBiirfc. @r bleibt 
mai^rcnb bicfer SSiirfe auf berfclben ©telle imb greift baSfclibc wicket an, 
l^at alfo aud^ benfclbcn ©d^lSger fid^ gcgeniiber, toofem nid^t burd^ efne 

Wnl^ang. 187 

ungerabe S^V^ ^^^ fidufen bie ©d^Idger il^ren $often toe(i^feIn. ^e 
iibrigen jefen Spicier ftnb 5lufpaffer (fielders) m\b l^en bie Kufgabe, 
ftd^ beS toom ©d^Iftgcr getrojfcncn (ober aud^ ni^t gctroffcncn) S5atte§ 
moglid^ft 6alb ju bcmftd^tigcn unb ju Derl^inbcm, baj bit beibcn ©d^Ittger 
Sftufc madden. @ic locrbcn tion bem fjul^rcr bet ^artei (captain) 
jc na(i^ listen bcfonbcren Setfhmgen auf ^often gcftcttt, bie ein fiir 
allemal beftimmt finb. Unmittelbar l^ter bem anjugreifcnben SWoIe 
ftel^t ber Sil^orwart (wicket-keeper), getobl^nlid^ ber captain felbft, 
toenn er ni^t gctabe am SBurfe ift; biefer fud^t bie t)om S^'^dger burets 
gelaffenen SBfttte abjufangen. 3« bemfelben 3tt>^tf« ^t ^ w>^ «i«wi 
gintermcmn (long stop) in toeiterer ©ntfermmg tmn bem SWoIe. 3)ie 
anbcren $often ergeben fi^ au8 bem @ituation8<)lan. 

^a(i) tjier SSiirfen (aud^ tool^I fiinf ober fet^S, je nad^ befonberer 
iibercinhinft) pnbet tin Umgang ftatt, looju bet Un^jarteiifd^ burd^ 
htn 9hif over aufforbcrt. 3)a8 SSerfen crfolgt nun uon bem biS jejt 
ongegriffenen 3KaIe au§ auf ba3 gegenilbcrftel^enbe, unb bie 5(uft)affer 
miiffen ba^er ju bem te^teren biefelbc ©tettimg toit Dorl^er %n btm 
anbercn eimtel^mcn. S^bem ein anbetcr ©ptelcr anS SSerfen fommt, 
tritt ber bi^l^erige SSerfer anberSWo ein; oft iibemimmt er htn Soften 
beS X^ortoartS. 

^ommt ein ©d^Idger burd^ S^ngen beS gefd^Iagenen 93atte«, el^e 
er ben S5oben beril^rt l^at, ober burd§ gerftbren feine3 3KaIe§ ab, fei 
e§ nun, baft er ben SBaH ntd^t J)ariert, ober ha^ bag imgeberfte Ttoi 
tod^renb beS fiaufen^ tjon einem (Bpitkx ber ®cgen<)artci mit bem aufs 
gefangenen 93aIIe umgetoorfen, ober aud§ nur beril^rt loirb; fo tritt ein 
anberer ©d^ldger an feine @tcttc. ^tnn fd^on bie beiben le^ten 
©d^Iftger am (Sd^Iagen ftnb unb einer berfelben abfommt, fo ift ber 
©ang (innings) beenbet, unb bie biSl^erigc out-party loed^felt il^re 
SRotte, ober ^at il^re innings. 3^ ^^^^ regelmftjigen $artie ober 
einem SSettfanipf (match) gePren nad^ bem f(|on Slngegebcnen, loenn 
nid^t ein befonbereS flbcreinfommen gctroffen loirb, je jloei innings 
ber beiben ^arteien. 3)iejcnige getoinnt, toeld^e in beiben innings ju* 
fammen bie meiflen Sdufe mad^t. 

3)ie ©ridetf^ieler l^abcn tin eigeneS ^oftilm. @ie tragcn toeifee 
fJlanelT^of en unb loeije ober bunte ^emben, gleid^f attS auS glaneE ober 
au§ ^ammgam (jersey, @. 87), iiber bie aud^ eine gadfe ober ein furjer 
9^c! gcjogcn toerbcn fann, enblid^ in ber 9tegel cine leid^te, meift farbige 
3^ud^mii|e mit fur^cm Sd^irm. SSiele fejen aber aud^ eUten (Strol^l^ut 
ober runben giljl^ut auf. S)a5U fommen nod^ berbe ©d^ul^c Don toeijem 
ober imgefdrbtem Seber mit ftarfcn S^dgeln, oft aud§ mit (Bpiitn. 3)ag 
2;ragen tion befonbercn 6^ric!etgiirteln fommt immer mel^r ab. 3)er 
wicket-keeper l^at ^anbfd^ii^e mit furjem (BMpf hit jum Xcil ges 
^polftert ftnb (wicket-keeping gloves, gauntlets); bie ber ©d^Idger 
(batting gloves) ftnb auften mit ^autfd^uf befejt, laffen aber burd^ 
cinen SluSfd^nitt hit ©anbfldd^e frei jum feftcren ^alten be§ SBatt* 
l^oI^eS. 3)iefe Sd^Idger tragen ou^erbem nod^ gef olfterte Seberfd^icnen 

i88 ^ttl^ang. 

fiir beibt Unterfd^enlel (pads or guards), gum %Hfi m\b ^u^Heiben 
i)Pcgt ein 3clt aufgefd^Iagcn §u tocrben. 

Stt betrejf be§ @ituatiott8<)Iang, ciner ^o<)ie beg jtociten 3)ias 
grammg in Routledge's Handbook of Cricket, by Edmund 
Routledge, ift gu betncrfcn, bafe bit ^ufftcHung bet fielders ettuag 
i)crf(3^icbcn ift fiir fast roundarm bowling imb slow underhand 
bowling, ^(ugcrbctti fjjart man l^Sufig hm ^often beg longstop 
burd^ 5tuffj)annen eineg 9fie|e§ l^inter bem wicket-keeper vmb fteHt 
in biefem ^^^e einen anbem ^often, square leg, auf jwifd^en leg 
unb mid-wicket on, in berfelben (Sntfemung bom ERale toie long on. 








^---N -ID- 









f^ N;r 

S. Striker, ©d^tftger. 6. Long Slip, SBeitab. 

1. Bowler, SSerfer. 7. Long On, SSeitan. 

2. Wicket-keeper, ^ortoart. 8. Long Off, SBeitab. 

3. Long Stop, |)intermQnn. 9. Cover Point, 9JJittenab. 

4. Short Slip, Cluerab. 10. Mid-wicket on, 3JMttenan. 

5. Point, ^Tjab. 11. Leg, ©d^rftgab. 

U. Umpire. 

I6er6efferttngett unb 9{a(^trclge. 

©.183. Caldecott's Spinney. @tatt fubwcftlid^ mug eg l^eigen 
norbhjcftlid^. @g ift ein ©ebilfd^ auf cinctn TOl^ang am §(t)on, ctwag 
mcl^r alg einc englifd^e 3Rei(e toon ber ©d^ute unb bic^t bci Holbrook 
Grange, too cin 8^^i9 ^^^^^ fjamilie Caldecott lebt. "Old Calde- 
cott (@. 226) was Mr. John Caldecott, Lord of the Manor of 

@. 223. 3)em ©itat I have found out a gift for my fair ift 
im Original beg SSerfeg alg SSerfaffer Rowe faifd^Iic^ l^injugefiigt. S)ic 
SSerfe fmb toon William Shenstone (17 14—1764) imb pnben ftc^ in 
A Pastoral, In Four Parts. II. Hope, fie^tereg ©ebid^t ftel^t in 
mel^reren ©ammlungen, g. S3, in Selections from the Works of the 
British Classical Poets from Shakespeare to Shelley, by Maria 
Mary Martinack. Leipz. 1861. 3)ag ©an^e ift gegeben toon K, 
Chambers in ber Cyclopaedia of English Literature. 

@. 236. Gee'd 'em a sight of good advice ift ber Ms. Ballad 
entle^nt, aug ber ein ©itat ju §(nfang beg 4. ^o^jitelg (<S. 223) ftel^t. 
Uber biefelbe fiat mir ^ttt ©eorge <StaIIarb in 9htgb^ auf ®runb einer 
9J?itteiIung toon S^fiomag ©ugl^eg folgenbeg gefd^rieben: "It was written 
by his father at Oriel.* in 181 3 on a scout {i.e. college servant) 
who used to rob there, and was sent to prison for stealing a 
tutor's shoes. His name was WiUiam Taylor, and so of course 
the "Billy Taylor" metre* was adopted. The passage was 
(the tutor is the hero): 

Next mom he com'd unto the Castle 

And got poor Billy off in a trice. 
And then he talked like any Apostle, 

And ge'd 'm a sight of good advice. 

Sez he, "you've scaped from transportation 

All upon the briny main. 
And so beware of all temptation. 

And dont't get drunk or prig again. 

If you would but keep your noddle sober, 
And your hands from theft and stealth. 


S3e!annteg college in Ojforb. 
SSergl. Part I, ^(nl^ang, @. 262. 

IQO SerBefferuttgett unh Stad^trftge. 

You might be churchwarden before all's over. 
And so arrive at fame and wealth. 

And now, my lad, take them five shilling, 

And on my advice in future think;" 
So BiUy pouched them all so willing. 

And got that night disguised in drink. 

@. 296. Almost wide to the off. fiber bic return creases 
bergl. httt ?lnl^ang, ©. 186. Ob tin SBall a wide iff, wirb tjom Un= 
))aTteiifd^en cntfd^teben. 

3)urd^ eitt SSerfel^en iff itn ^n^ng gum crften %tii foIgenbeS fitcb 

A wet sheet and a flowing sea, 
by Allan Cunningham. (@. 102.) 

A wet sheet and a flowing sea, 

A wind that follows fast. 
And fills the white and rustling sail. 

And bends the gallant mast; 
And bends the gallant mast, my boys, 

While, like the eagle free. 
Away the good ship flies, and leaves 

Old England on the lea. 

Oh, for a soft and gentle wind! 

I heard a fair one cry. 
But give to me the snoring breeze. 

And white waves heaving high; 
And white waves heaving high, my boys. 

The good ship tight and free — 
The world of waters is our home. 

And merry men are we. 

There's tempest in yon homed moon. 

And lightning in yon cloud; 
And hark the music, mariners. 

The wind is piping loud; 
The wind is piping loud, my boys. 

The lightning flashing free — 
While the hollow oak our palace is. 

Our heritage the sea. 

Offiaitt bet SerlagSl^attblUttg. 

Fcbrimr i8S8. 
ifK (Lord Lvtton). The Lady of Lvons, Von Dr. 
// Erster Leiij-cv nni LehrurinnEn-Seminni- nviA iler AuctsIbl- 
ilm br .^o,so. kafl. ^□.eo. 
TtikKkicjn op Terror (French Revoliilion). Von Dr. 
I Prof »lnlcrK,KrTegs-Akadcmieiii Bcrliii. ht, Jil.oa. 

TiiVit'SerieB. Von Dr. .4. Hcffe, Prof, an 

I I iyH-)mna->„mramt!raueuKlosler. br..Ai,2D. U<i,>Iil.30. 
— - s II I sciies Von Dr. A. Hofp.: brasch. ^ i,^o, knrt. JK i.SO. 
CtoRGhEiTOi ThkMili on the Floss. Van Dr. //. toH™,/, orU. Lehvet 

a d h. HanptkaileutninsliiiiwLidilerfelde. bi'. ^ 1.70. kart, JK i.So 
EuwAED Frithman rHREB HISTORICAL EsSAVs. Von Dr. C. Saittif, 

Prof aro R ![,> mnasium ,n Eisenach, br. JL 0.70, kart. ^ o.Stf:^ ■ 
Bret Haktf Fm es of twe Argonauts. Von Dr. G. n»gir, »n der 

Liusenald.Iti#lieti ObeireaJscliule /u Berlin, br. ^ 1,40. kart, j<! 1,50 
Tiios. Huches, Tom Brown's- School Davs. Von Ur. Immanutl SeAmii//, 

Professor an der K. HauptkH<iellcnanstalt r.u lichlerfolde. 2 Paris. 

br. ^ 3,o'>. karl. Ji 3,20. Pan I. br. Ji 1,70. kart. Ji 1,80. 

I an II. br. Ji 1,30. kart. jK i.ljo. 
H. \V. LoNGFE<-Lo\(-. Tales of a Wavside Im*. Von Dr. ff r.!>-fAne^„, 

P™r.nrdt I' ii"e(^itntwErh,nsom aHgnde, br.^a.oo. 'iart «-so 

l.Iian. l.i .jCi.Oo. ^rL>!::,io. 2. UanJ br.' jH t,oo. t-rt. .,!! 1,10. 
LOKD Ma^.lU;,.vV, ENt;i-*.ND BKFORE TKB RtSTOBATlON. (Hi^lOrl- of 

England. Chapter I.) Von Dr. m Ihne, Prof, an der Universitai in 
Heidelberg, br. Jio.^o. kart. ^0.80. 

~ England dndkk Ckarlbs the Second. (History of EoeUmd 

Chapter II. ) Von Dr. (F. W«,. br. ^ 1,00, kart. ^i. 10. 

Lofin CLtVE. (Historical Eesrv.) Von Prof. Dr. J^. TImm, Direktnr 

der Rea!scliuleznReiclieiibaehi./V. btosch. ^ 1,40. kart. >; 1.50 

Raske's History of the Popes, Von- Prof. Dr A' Thum 

br. ^ o 60 kart JC o, 70. 

A\ Aii N Hastings (Hislorica! Essay.) Von Prof. Dr. R, Tlnmu 

1 r >'i i;o kart ^ 1.60, 
J 1^ ■v The Indian Mt;TiVT. (L'!iai>, 32—31; of "A Hisiory 

n r mei. J Von Dr. Albert ftammiii, Oberlelircr an der 
I n Bcr n br. J(, 0,60. karl, Jt 0,70. 

■■ '' TT Tt E Talisman. Von Dr. R, D^esseJ, Oberlehrer am 

J [; n nas n ™ Berlin, br. Jt. 1,60. kart. JL 1,70, 
~ 1 L ot aCrandfathkr. FirstSeriea. VonDr,.ff:Z^ri-^AiJr«,ord. 
lehrtramAnd eTsRealeymnflairnninBerlin, br.^i,so. karl.JC i.fe. 
— Seco ul Ser cs \ on Dr. H. ZSsckhurn. br. JL 1.70. kart. X 1 So 
\\ Li\\( SirAKE^PKARL Twelftk Night; OB. What von WILL. Von 
Pr Iff^, n Co ir I, 01.1. Lehi'er an der K. Hanplkadetlenanstalt ra 
1 icliterfeliie. br. JL 1,40. karl. uK 1,50. 
Ea-l Stanhopk (Lokd Mahon), Peisck Charles Stuart, (History 
of EitglaLid from the Peace of Utrecht to the Peace of Versailles. 
1713-1753-) V.,n Dr. Mmlin Knimmocher, Direklor der hoheren 
MadcheiiRclmle ri K:u,<d. br. JL l,ao. karL JL 1,30. 
Lokd TfWNYSoN, Enu^ii Akden and oThek I'okms, Von Dr. Albert 
J/,i'nanH, Obcrlchref an dor Luiscnsehule -m Berlin, Hon. Master of 
-Xi^oflheUniversiiyorOjforil, br. ^0,70. kart, ,.<!! 0,80. 


Diamond. Von GtorgeBoylr, Prof, an der K. prenss. Ariillerie- und 
In^emeur-Schule t\\ Chariot lenbnrg. br. JL 1,20. kart. JL 1 30