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THE GIFT OT

R-Or., F. N, Scott.

^ -?

_^*

I f -*

TOM BROWN'S
SCHOOL-DAYS

Br
THOMAS HUGHES

New Tork : 46 East Fodrtekittb Street

THOMAS Y. CROWELL AND COMPANY

Boston : 100 Pdbcbase Stbibt

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.

ix-ii-^r

v.-^ MRS. ARNOLD,

OF FOX HOWE,

THIS BOOK IS, WITHOUT HEK PERMISSION,

DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR^

WHO OWES MORS THAN HE CAN EVER AC KNOWLEDGE
OR FORGET TO HEE AND HERS.

PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION.

I RECEIVED the following letter from an old friend
soon after the last edition of this book was published,
and resolved, if ever another edition were called for, to
print it; for it is clear from this and other like com-
ments, that something more should have been said ex-
pressly on the subject of bullying, and how it is to
be met.

My dear : I blame myself for not having earlier

siiggested whether you could not, in another edition of Tom
Brown, or another story, denounce more decidedlv the evils
of bullying at schools. You have indeed done so, and in
the best way, — by making Flash^ian, the bully, the most
contemptible character ; but in that scene of the tossing, and
similar passages, you hardly suggest that such things should
be stopped, and do not suggest any means of putting an
end to them.

This subject has been on my mind for years. It fills
me with grief and misery to think what weak and nervous
children go through at school, — how their health and charac-
ter for life are destroyed by rough and brutal treatment.

It was some comfort to be under the old delusion that fear
and nervousness can be cured by violence, and that knocking
about will turn a timid boy into a bold one. But now we
know well enough that is not true. Gradually training a

Viii PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION.

timid child to do bold acts would be most desirable ; but
frightening him and ill-treating him will not make him coui-
ageous. Every medical map knows the fatal effects of terror
or agitation or excitement, to nerves that are over-sensitive.
There are different kinds of courage, as you have shown in
your character of Arthur.

A boy may have moral courage, and a finely-organized
brain and nervous system. Such a boy is calculated, if
judiciously educated, to be a great, wise, and useful man,
but he may not possess animal courage; and one night's
tossing^ or bullying, ^may produce such an injury to his brain
and nerves that his usefulness is spoiled for life. I verily
believe that hundreds of noble organizations are thus de-
stroyed every year. Horse-jockeys have learned to be wiser ;
they know that a highly nervous horse is utterly destroyed
by harshness. A groom who tried to cure a shying horse by
roughness and violence, would be discharged as a brute and a
fool. A man who would regulate his watch with a crowbar
would be considered an ass. But the person who thinks a
child of delicate and nervous organization can be made bold
by bullying is no better.

He can be made bold by healthy exercise and games
and sports; but that is quite a different thing. And even
these games and sports should bear some proportion to his
strength and capacities.

I very much doubt whether small children should play
with big ones. The rush of a set of great fellows at foot-
ball, or the speed of a cricket-ball sent by a strong hitter,
must be very alarming to a mere child, — to a child who
might stand up boldly enough among children of his own
size and height.

Look at half a dozen small children playing cricket by
themselves ; how feeble are their blows, how slowly they
bowl. You can measure in that way their capacity.

Tom Brown and his eleven were bold enough playing
against an eleven of about their own calibre ; but I suspect

PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION. ix

they would have been in a precioas funk if they had played
against eleven giants, whose bowling bore the same propor-
tion to theirs that theirs does to the small children's above.

To return to the tossing. I must say I think some
means might be devised to enable schoolboys to go to bed in
quietness and peace, and that some means ought to be
devised and enforced. No good (moral or physical) to those
who bully or those who are bullied, can ensue from such
scenes as take place in the dormitories of schools. I suspect
that British wisdom and ingenuity are sufficient to discover a
remedy for this evil, if directed in the right direction.

The fact is, that the condition of a small boy at a large
school is one of peculiar hardship and suffering. He is en-
tirely at the mercy of proverbially the roughest things in the
universe, — great schoolboys ; and he is deprived of the pro-
tection which the weak have in civilized society, for he may
not complain ; if he does, he is an outlaw. He has no pro-
tector but public opinion, and that a public opinion of the very
lowest grade, — the opinion of rude and ignorant boys.

What do schoolboys know of those deep questions of moral
and physical philosophy, of the anatomy of mind and body,
by which the treatment of a child should be regulated ?

Why should the laws of civilization be suspended for
schools? Why should boys be left to herd together with
no law but that of force or cunning ? What would become
of society if it were constituted on the same principles ? It
would be plunged into anarchy in a week.

One of our judges not long ago refused to extend the
protection of the law to a child who had been ill-treated at
school. If a party of navvies had given him a licking, and
he had brought the case before a magistrate, what would he
have thought if the magistrate had refused to protect him,
on the ground that if such cases were brought before him he
might have fifty a-day from one town only ?

Now I agree with you that a constant supervision of
the master is not desirable or possible, and that telling

X PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION.

tales or constantly referring to the master for protection
would only produce ill-will and worse treatment.

If I rightly understand your book, it is an effort to
improve the condition of schools by improving the tone of
morality and public opinion in them. But your book con-
tains the most indubitable proofs that the condition of the
younger boys at public schools, except under the rare dic-
tatorship of an Old Brooke, is one of great hardship and
suffering.

A timid and nervous boy is from morning till night in a
state of bodily fear. He is constantly tormented when try-
ing to learn his lessons. His play-hours a^ occupied in
fagging, in a horrid funk of cricket-balls and foot-balls,
and the violent sport of creatures who, to him, are giants.
He goes to his bed in fear and trembling, — worse than
the reality of the rough treatment to which he is perhaps
subjected.

I believe there is only one complete remedy. It is not
in magisterial supervision ; nor in telling tales ; nor in rais-
ing the tone of public opinion among schoolboys, but in the
separation of hoys of different ages into different schools.

There should be at least three different classes of schools,
— the first for boys from nine to twelve ; the second for
boys from twelve to fifteen ; the third for those above fifteen.
And these schools should be in different localities.

There ought to be a certain amount of supervision by
the master at those times when there are special occasions
for bullying, — e. g, in the long winter evenings, and when
the boys are congregated together in the bedrooms. Surely
it cannot be an impossibility to keep order, and protect
the weak at such times. Whatever evils might arise from
supervision, they could hardly be greater than those pro-
duced by a system which divides boys into despots and
slaves.

Ever yours, very truly, F. D.

PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION. xi

The question of how to adapt English public-school
education to nervous and sensitive boys (often the
highest and noblest subjects which that education has
to deal with) ought to be looked at from every point of
view.^ I therefore add a few extracts from the letter of
an. old friend and schoolfellow, than whom no man in
England is better able to speak on the subject : —

" What's the use of sorting the boys by ages, unless you
do so by strength ? And who are often the real bullies ? The
strong young dog of fourteen, while the victim may be one
year or two years older. ... I deny the fact about the
bedrooms. There is trouble at times, and always will be ;
but so there is in nurseries. My little girl, who looks like
an angel, Vas bullying the smallest twice to-day.

" Bullying must be fought with in other ways, — by get-
ting not only the Sixth to put it down, but the lower fellows
to scorn it, and by eradicating mercilessly the incorrigible ;
and a master who really cares for his fellows is pretty sure
to know instinctively who in his house are likely to be
bullied, and knowing a fellow to be really victimized and
harassed, I am sure that he can stop it if he is resolved.
There are many kinds of annoyance — sometimes of real
cutting persecution for righteousness' sake — that he can't
stop ; no more could all the ushers in the world : but he can
do very much in many ways to make the shafts of the
wicked pointless.

1 Fop those who helieve with me in public-school education, the fact
stated in the following extract from a note of Mr. G. De Bunsen, will be
hailed with pleasure, especially now that our alliance with Prussia (the
most natural and healthy European alliance for Protestant England) is
likely to be so mucli stronger and deeper tlian heretofore. Speaking o!
this book, he says, — " The author is mistaken in saying that public
schools, in the English sense, are peculiar to England. Schul Pforte in
the Prussian province of Saxony is similar in antiquity and institutions.
I like his book all the more for having been there for five years/'

XU PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION.

" But though, for quite other reasons, I don't like to see
very young boys launched at a public school, and though I
don't deny (I wish I could) the existence from time to time
of bullying, I deny its being a constant condition of school
life, and still more, the possibility of meeting it by the
means proposed. . . .

" I don't wish to understate the amount of bullying that
goes on ; but my conviction is that it must be fought, like all
school evils, but it more than any, by dynamics rather than
mechanics^ — by getting the fellows to respect themselves
and one another, rather than by sitting by them with a thick
stick."

And now, having broken my resolution never to write
a Preface, there are just two or three things which I
should like to say a word about,
^^..-^everal persons for whose judgment I have the high-
est respect, while saying very kind things about this
book, have added that the great fault of it is, " too
much preaching ; " but they hope I shall amend in this
matter should I ever write again. Now this I most dis-
tinctly decline to do. Why, my whole object in writing
at all was to get the chance of preaching ! When a man
comes to my time of life and has his bread to make, and
very little time to spare, is it likely that he will spend
almost the whole of his yearly vacation in writing a
story just to amuse people ? I think not. At any rate,
I would n't do so myself.

The fact is, that I can scarcely ever call on one of my
contemporaries nowadays without running across a boy
already at school, or just ready to go there, whose bright
looks and supple limbs remind me of his father, and our
first meeting in old times. I can scarcely keep the

PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION. xiii

Latin Grammar out of my own house any longer ; and
the sight of sons, nephews, and godsons playing trap-
bat-and-ball and reading " Robinson Crusoe " makes
one ask oneself whetlier there is n't something one
would like to say to them before they take their first
plunge into the stream of life, away from their own
homes, or^idiile they are yet shivering after the first
plunge./My sole object in writing was to preach to
boys ; if ever I write again, it will be to preach to some
other age. I can't see that a man has any business to
write at all unless he has something which he thoroughly
believes and wants to preach about. If he has this, and
the chance of delivering himself of it, let him by all
means put it in the shape in which it will be most likely
to get a hearing ; but let him never be so carried away
as to forget that preaching is his object^

A black soldier in a West Indian regiment, tied up
to receive a couple of dozen for drunkenness, cried out
to his captain, who was exhorting him to sobriety in
future, " Cap*n, if you preachee, preachee, and if floggee,
floggee ; but no preachee and floggee too ! " to which his
captain might have replied, " No, Pompey, I must preach
whenever I see a chance of being listened to, which I
never did before ; so now you must have it all together,
and I hope you may remember some of it."

There is one point which has been made by several of
the Reviewers who have noticed this book, and it is one
which, as I am writing a Preface, I cannot pass over.
They have stated that the Rugby undergraduates they
remember at the Universities were " a solemn array,"
"boys turned into men before their time," "a semi-

XIV PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION.

political, semi-sacerdotal fraternity," etc., giving the
idea that Arnold turned out a set of young squaretoes,
who wore long-fingered black gloves and talked with a
snuffle. I can only say that their acquaintance must
have been limited and exceptional ; for I am sure that
every one who has had anything like large or continuous
knowledge of boys brought up at Rugby from the times
of which this book treats down to this day, will bear me
out in saying, that the mark by which you may know
them is their genial and hearty freshness and youthful-
ness of character. They lose nothing of the boy that is
worth keeping, but build up the man upon it. This is
their differentia as Rugby boys ; and if they never had
it, or have lost it, it must be not because they were at
Rugby, but in spite of their having been there. The
stronger it is in them the more deeply you may be sure
have they drunk of the spirit of their school.

But this boyishness in the highest sense is not incom-
patible with seriousness, — or earnestness, if you like
the word better.^ Quite the contrary. And I can well
believe that casual observers, who have never been inti-
mate with Rugby boys of the true stamp, but have met
them only in the every-day society of the Universities, —
at wines, breakfast-parties, and the like, — may have seen
a good deal more of the serious or earnest side of their
characters th^n of any other. For the more the boy
was alive in them the less will they have been able to
conceal their thoughts, or their opinion of what was

^ To him [Arnold] and his admirers we owe the substitution of the
word "earnest" for its predecessor "serious/' — Edinburgh Review^ No.
217, p. 183.

PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION. XV

taking place under their noses ; and if the greater part
of that didn't square with their notions of what was
right, very likely they showed pretty clearly that it did
not, at. whatever risk of being taken for young prigs.
They may be open to the charge of having old heads on
young shoulders; I think they are, and always were, as
long as I can remember. But so long as they have young
hearts to keep head and shoulders in order, I, for one,
must think this only a gain.

And what gave Rugby boys this character, and has
enabled the School, I believe, to keep it to this day ? I
say, fearlessly, — Arnold's teaching and example ; above
all, that part of it which has been, I will not say sneered
at, but certainly not approved, — his unwearied zeal in
creating " moral thoughtfulness " in every boy with
whom he came into personal contact.

He certainly did teach us — thank God for it ! — that
we could not cut our life into slices and say, " In this
slice your actions are indifferent, and you need n't
trouble your heads about them one way or another ; but
in this slice mind what you are about, for they are
important.*' A pretty muddle we should have been in
had he done so. He taught us that in this wonderful
world no boy or man can tell which of his actions is
indifferent and which not ; that by a thoughtless word
or look we may lead astray a brother for whom Christ
died. He taught us that life is a whole, made up of
actions and thoughts and longings, great and small,
noble and ignoble ; therefore the only true wisdom for
boy or man is to bring the whole life into obedience to
Him whose world we live in, and who has purchased us

xvi PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION.

with His blood ; and that whether we eat or drink, or
whatsoever we do, we are to do all in His name and to
His glory; in such teaching, faithfully, as it seems to
me, following that of Paul of Tarsus, who was in the
habit of meaning what he said, and who laid down this
standard for every man and boy in his time. I think
it lies with those who say that such teaching will not
do for us now, to show why a teacher in the nineteenth
century is to preach a lower standard than one in the
first.

However, I won't say that the Reviewers have not a
certain plausible ground for their dicta. For a short
time after a boy has taken up such a life as Arnold
would have urged upon him, he has a hard time of it.
He finds his judgment often at fault, his body and
intellect running away with him into all sorts of pit-
falls, and himself coming down with a crash. The
more seriously he buckles to his work the oftener these
mischances seem to happen ; and in the dust of his
tumbles and struggles, unless he is a very extraordinary
boy, he may often be too severe on his comrades, may
think he sees evil in things innocent, may give oflFencc
when he* never meant it. At this stage of his career, I
take it, our Reviewer comes across him, and not looking
below the surface (as a Reviewer ought to do), at once
sets the poor boy down for a prig and a Pharisee, when
in all likelihood he is one of the humblest and truest
and most childlike of the Reviewer's acquaintance.

But let our Reviewer come across him again in a year
or two, when the " thoughtful life *' has become habitual
to him, and fits him as easily as his skin, and if he be

PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION. xvil

honest, I think he will see cause to reconsider his judg-
ment. For he will find the boy grown into a man,
enjoying e very-day life as no man can who has not
found out whence comes the capacity for enjoyment,
and who is the Giver of the least of the good things of
this world ; humble as no man can be who has not
proved his own powerlessness to do right in the smallest
act which he ever had to do ; tolerant as no man can
be who does not live daily and hourly in the knowledge
of how Perfect Love is forever about his path, and
bearing with and upholding him.

CONTENTS.

PART I.

Chaptbr Paos

Preface to the Sixth Edition vii

I. The Brown Family 3

II. The »*Vea8t'' 22

III. Sundry Wars and Alliances 44

IV. The Stage-coach 67

V. Rugby and Football . 85

VI. After the Match 110

VII. Settling to the Collar 131

VIII. The War of Independence 155

IX. A Chapter of Accidents ........ 180

PART II.

I. How the Tide Turned 209

II. The New Boy 224

III. Arthur Makes a Friend 240

IV. The Bird-fanciers 267

V. The Fight 274

VI . Fever in the School 294

VII. Harry East's Dilemmas and Deliverances . 315

VIII. Tom Brown's Last Match 335

IX. Finis « .... 361

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Paai

Farmer Ives Frontispiece

Initial Letter 3

White Horse HUl 10

^* There was the canal which supplied the country-side with coal ** 20

Initial Letter 22

'^ Bless his little heart I I must gi' uu a kiss " 32

Initial Letter 44

*' Tom watched with all his eyes, and first challenged one of

the less scientific " 57

Initial Letter 67

" I '11 try, father " 69

*' A good run to you ! " says the sportsman to the pinks • . 77

Initial Letter 85

Rugby Gate 86

" And heark'ee, Cooey, it must be up in ten minutes " . . 88

A Scrummage 101

Initial Letter 110

" Prom Porter's they adjourned to Sally HarrowelFs " . . 112

" Once, twice, thrice, and away I " 129

Initial Letter 131

" They hear faint cries for help from the wretched Tadpole " 145

**Tom turned the handle" 149

Initial letter 155

"PoorDiggs'' 1^9

" At the head of one of the long tables stood the sporting

interest'' ^'^^

• •

XXU LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Paqb

Initial Letter 180

** He 's bleeding awfully ** 185

** I say, keeper'' 199

** Not for twenty, neither'' 199

Initial Letter 209

Doorway of the Headmaster's house 213

*' Never mind what I mean," said Tom 220

Initial Letter 224

The Quadrangle .' 227

Initial Letter 24(J

Martin 242

^* After deep cogitation," etc 244

Initial Letter 257

** For a moment or two they thought he could n't get up " . 262

** I've got the young varmint at last" 270

Initial Letter 274

** Arthur can hardly get on at all*' 278

'* It is grim earnest now, and no mistake." 289

Initial Letter 294

^*The cricket match was going on as usual" 296

** Presently he went on, but quite calm and slow " . . . . 308

" A lady came in carrying a candle "... 311

Initial Letter 315

** I only wish it was, Tom " 328

" BEah, East ! Do you want to speak with me, my man? " . 332

Initial Letter 335

** Meantime Jack Raggles, with his sleeves tucked up " . . 349

" For he 's a jolly good fellow " 359

Initial Letter 361

** Tom nodded, and then sat down on the shoe-board, while

the old man told his tale " . • 365

Tailpiece. . . . ^ 369

TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

PART I,

TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

BY AN OLD BOY.

" 1 'm the Poet of White Horse Vale, lir.
With libersl notions under m; c&p."

FUllad.

come illus-
Thackeray
lyle within
oung gen-
matricula-
ies. Not-
ell-merited
now fallen
upon them, any one at all acquainted
with the family must feel that much has yet to be writ-
ten and said before the British nation will be properly
sensible of. how much of its greatness it owes to the
Brown^ For centuries, in their quiet, dogged, home-

4 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

spun way, they have been subduing the earth in most
English counties, and leaving their mark in American
forests and Australian uplands^ ^Wherever the fleets
and armies of England have won renown, there stal-
wart sons of the .Browns have done yeoman's work.
With the yew-bow and cloth-yard shaft at Cressy and
Agincourt, with the brown bill and pike under the
brave Lord Willoughby, with culverin and demi-cul-
verin against Spaniards and Dutchmen, with hand-
grenade and sabre and musket and bayonet, imder
Rodney and St. Vincent, Wolfe and Moore, Nelson and
Wellington, they have carried their lives in their hands,
getting hard knocks and hard work in plenty, — which was
on the whole what they looked for, and the best thing
for them, — and little praise or pudding, which indeed
they and most of us are better without. Talbots and
Stanleys, St. Maurs, and such-like folk, have led armies
and made laws time out of mind ; but those noble fami-
lies would be somewhat astounded — if the accounts ever
came to be fairly taken — to find how small their work
for England has been by the side of that of the Browns.
These latter, indeed, have until the present generation
rarely been sung by poet or chronicled by sage. They
have wanted their sacer vates, having been too solid
to rise to the top by themselves, and not having been
largely gifted with the talent of catching hold of and
holding on tight to whatever good things happened to
be going, — the foundation of the fortunes of so many
noble families. But the world goes on its way, and the
wheel turns, and the wrongs of the Browns, like other
wrongs, seem in a fair way to get righted. And this
present writer, having for many years of his life been a
devout Brown-worshipper, and moreover having the
honor of being nearly connected with an eminently

THE BROWN FAMILY. 5

respectable branch of the great Brown family, is anx-
ious, so far as in him lies, to help the wheel over, and
throw his stone on to the pile.

However, gentle reader, or simple reader, whichever
you may be, lest you should be led to waste your pre-
cious time upon these pages, I make so bold as at once
to tell you the sort of folk you '11 have to meet and put
up with, if you and I are to jog on comfortably together.
You shall hear at once what sort of folk the Browns
are, at least my branch of them ; and then if you don't
like the sort, why, cut the concern at once, and let
you and I cry quits before either of us can grumble at
the other.

y^ln the first place, the Browns are a fighting family.
One may question their wisdom or wit or beauty, but
about their fight there can be no question.. Wherever
hard knocks of any kind, visible or invisible, are going,
there the Brown who is nearest must shove in his car-
cass. And these carcasses for the most part answer
very well to the characteristic propensity ; they are a
square-headed and snake-necked generation, broad in
the shoulder, deep in the chest and thin in the flank,
carrying no lumber. Then for clanship, they are as bad
as Highlanders ; it is amazing the belief they have in
one another. With them there is nothing like the
Browns, to the third and fourth generation. " Blood is
thicker than water,'.' is one of their pet sayings. They
can't be happy unless they are always meeting one an-
other. Never were such people for family gatherings,
which, were you a stranger, or sensitive, you might
think had better not have been gathered together. For
during the whole time of their being together, they luxu-
riate in telling one another their minds on whatever
subject turns up ; and their minds are wonderfully an-

6 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

tagonist, and all their opinions are downright beliefs.
Till you've been among them some time and imder-
stand them, you can't think but that they are quarrel-
ling. Not a bit of it ; they love and respect one another
ten times the more after a good set family arguing bout,
and go backi one to his curacy, another to his chambers,
and another to his regiment, freshened for work, and
more than ever convinced that the Browns are the
height of company.

This family training too, combined with their turn for
combativeness, makes them eminently quixotic*^ They
can't let anything alone which they think going wrong.
They must speak their mind about it, annoying all easy-
going folk, and spend their time and money in having
a tinker at it, however hopeless the j6by-^t is an im-
possibility to a Brown to leave the most disreputable
lame dog on the other side of a stile. Most other folk
get tired of such work. The old Browns, with red faces,
white whiskers, and bald heads go on believing and fight-
ing to a green old age. They have always a crotchet
going, till the old man with the scythe reaps and gar-
ners them away for troublesome old boys as they are.

And the most provoking thing is, that no failures
knock them up or make them hold their hands, or think
you or me or other sane people in the right. Failures
slide oflf them like July rain off a duck's back feathers.
Jem and his whole family turn out bad, and cheat them
one week, and the next they are doing the same thing
for Jack ; and when he goes to the treadmill, and his
wife and children to the workhouse, they will be on the
look-out for Bill to take his place.

However, it is time for us to get from the general to
the particular; so, leaving the great army of Browns,
who are scattered over the whole empire on which the

THE BROWN FAMILY. 7

sun never sets, and whose general diffusion I take to be
the chief cause of that empire's stability, let us at once
fix our attention upon the small nest of Browns in
which our hero was hatched, and which dwelt in that
portion of the royal county of Berks which is called the
Vale of White Horse.

Most of you have probably travelled down the Great
Western Railway as far as Swindon. Those of you who
did so with their eyes open, have been aware, soon after
leaving the Didcot station, of a fine range of chalk hills
running parallel with the railway on the left-hand side as
you go down, and distant some two or three miles, more
or less, from the line. The highest point in the range is
the White Horse Hill, which you come in front of just
before you stop at the Shrivenham station. If you love
English scenery, and have a few hours to spare, you
can't do better, the next time you pass, than stop at the
Parringdon-road or Shrivenham station, and make your
way to that highest point. And those who care for the
vague old stories that haunt country-sides all about Eng-
land, will not, if they are wise, be content with only a
few hours' stay ; for, glorious as the view is, the neigh-
borhood is yet more interesting for its relics of bygone
times. I only know two English neighbourhoods thor-
oughly, and in each, within a circle of five miles, there
is enough of interest and beauty to last any reasona-
ble man his life. I believe this to be the case almost
throughout the country ; but each has a special attrac-
tion, and none can be richer than the one I am speaking
of and going to introduce you to very particularly (for
on this subject I must be prosy) so those that don't care
for England in detail may skip the chapter.

young England! young England! — you who are
born into these racing railroad times, when there's a

8 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

Great Exhibition, or some monster sight, every year,
and you can get over a couple of thousand miles of
ground for three pound ten, in a five weeks' holiday,
why don't you know more of your own birthplaces ?
You 're all in the ends of the earth, it seems to me, as
soon as you get your necks out of the educational collar,
for midsummer holidays, long vacations, or what not.
Going round Ireland, with a return ticket, in a fort-
night; dropping your copies of Tennyson on the tops
of Swiss mountains; or pulling down the Danube in
Oxford racing-boats. And when you get home for a
quiet fortnight, you turn the steam oflf, and lie on your
backs in the paternal garden, surrounded by the last
batch of books from Mudie's library, and half bored to
death. Well, well ! I know it has its good side. You
all patter French more or less, and perhaps German;
you have seen men and cities, no doubt, and have your
opinions, such as they are, about schools of painting,
high art, and all that ; have seen the pictures at Dres-
den and the Louvre, and know the taste of sour-krout.
All I say is, you don't know your own lanes and woods
and fields. Though you may be chock-full of science,
not one in twenty of you knows where to find the wood-
sorrel or bee-orchis which grows in the next wood or
on the down three miles off, or what the bog-bean and
wood-sage are good for. And as for the country legends,
the stories of the old gable-ended farmhouses, the place
where the last skirmish was fought in the civil wars,
where the parish butts stood, where the last highway-
man turned to bay, where the last ghost was laid by the
parson, — they 're gone out of date altogether. ,

Now, in my time, when we got home by^e old coach
which put us down at the cross-roads with our boxes,
the first day of the holidays, and had been driven off by

THE BRbWN FAMILY. 9

the family coachman, singing " Dulce Domum " at the
top of our voices, there we were, fixtures, till black Mon-
day came round. We had to cut out our own amuse-
ments within a walk or ride of home ; and so we got
to know all the country folk, and their ways and songs
and stories by heart, and went over the fields ai^d
woods and hills again and again till we made friends
of them all. We were Berkshire or Gloucestershire or
Yorkshire boys ; and you 're young cosmopolites, belong-
ing to all counties and no countries. No doubt it 's all
right, — I dare say it is. This is the day of large views
and glorious humanity, and all that ; but I wish back-
sword play had n't gone out in the Vale of White Horse,
and that that confounded Great Western had n't carried
away Alfred's Hill to make an embankment.

But to return to the said Vale of White Horse, the
country in which the first scenes of this true and inter-
esting story are laid. As I said, the Great Western now
runs right through it, and it is a land of large rich
pastures, bounded by fox-fences, and covered with fine
hedgerow timber, with here and there a nice little gorse
or spinney, where abideth poor Charley, having no other
cover to which to betake himself for miles and miles,
when pushed out some fine November morning by the
Old Berkshire. Those who have been there, and well
mounted, only know how he and the stanch little pack
who dash after him — heads high and sterns low with
a breast-high scent — can consume the ground at such
times. There being little plough-land and few woods,
the vale is only an average sporting country, except
for hunting. The villages are straggling, queer, old-
fashioned places, the houses being dropped down with-
out the least regularity, in nooks and out-of-the-way
corners by the sides of shadowy lanes and footpaths,

10 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

each with its patch of garden. They are built chiefly
of good gray stone, and thatched; though I see that
within the last year or two the red-brick cottages are
multiplying, for the vale is beginning to manufacture
largely both brick and tiles. There are lots of waste
ground by the side of the roads in every village, amount-
ing often to village greens, where feed the pigs and gan-
ders of the people ; and these roads are old-fashioned,
homely roads, very dirty and badly made, and hardly
endurable in winter, but still pleasant, jog-trot roads
running through the great pasture-lands, dotted here
and there with little clumps of thorns where the sleek
kine are feeding, with no fence on either side of them,
and a gate at the end of each field, which makes you
get out of your gig (if you keep one), and gives you a
chance of looking about you every quarter of a mile.

One of the moralists whom we sat under in my youth
(was it the great Richard Swiveller, or Mr. Stiggins?)
says, " We are born in a vale, and must take the con-
sequences of being found in such a situation." These
consequences, I, for one, am ready to encounter. I pity
l)eople who were n't born in a vale. I don't mean a flat
country, but a vale ; that is, a flat country bounded
.by hills. The having your hill always in view, if you
choose to turn towards him, that 's the essence of a
vale. There he is forever in the distance, your friend
and companion ; you never lose him as you do in hilly
districts.

And then what a hill is the White Horse Hill ! There
it stands right up above all the rest, nine hundred feet
above the sea, and the boldest, bravest shape for a chalk
hill that you ever saw. Let us go up to the top of him,
and see what is to be found there. Ay, you may well
wonder, and think it odd you never heard of this before :

WHITE- HORSE HILL.

or
AfcK

THE BROWN FAMILY. 11

but wonder or not, as you please, there are hundreds
of such things lying about England, which wiser folk
than you know nothing of, and care nothing for. Yes ;
it's a magnificent Roman camp, and no mistake, with
gates and ditch and mounds, all as complete as it was
twenty years after the strong old rogues left it. Here,
right up on the highest point (from which they say you
can see eleven counties) they trenched round all the
table-land, some twelve or fourteen acres, as was their
custom, for they couldn't bear anybody to overlook
them, and made their eyry. The ground falls away
rapidly on all sides. Was there ever such turf in the
whole world? You sink up to your ankles at every
step, and yet the spring of it is delicious. There is
always a breeze in the " camp," as it is called ; and
here it lies just as the Romans left it, except that cairn
on the east side left by her Majesty's corps of Sappers
and Miners the other day, when they and the Engineer
officer had finished their sojourn there, and their sur-
veys for the Ordnance map of Berkshire. It is alto-
gether a place that you won't forget, — a place to open
a man's soul and make him prophesy, as he looks down
on that great Vale spread out as the garden of the Lord
before him, and wave on wave of the mysterious downs
behind, and to the right and left the chalk hills run-
ning away into the distance, along which he can trace
for miles the old Roman road, the Ridgeway ("the
Rudge," as the country folk call it), keeping straight
along the highest back of the hills, — such a place as
Balak brought Balaam to, and told him to prophesy
against the people in the valley beneath. And he could
not, neither shall you, for they are a people of the Lord
who abide there.

And now we leave the camp, and descend towards

12 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

the west, and are on the Ashdown. We are treading
on heroes. It is sacred ground for Englishmen, more
sacred than all but one or two fields where their bones
lie whitening; for this is the actual place where our
Alfred won his great battle, the battle of Ashdown
("^scendum" in the chroniclers), which broke the
Danish power, and made England a Christian land.
The Danes held the camp and the slope where we are
standing, — the whole crown of the hill, in fact. " The
heathen had beforehand seized the higher ground," as
old Asser says, having wasted everything behind them
from London, and being just ready to burst down on
the fair vale, Alfred's own birthplace and heritage.
And up the heights came the Saxons, as they did at
the Alma. " The Christians led up their line from the
lower ground. There stood also on that same spot a
single thorn-tree, marvellous stumpy, which we our-
selves with our very own eyes have seen." Bless the
old chronicler! does he think nobody ever saw the
'' single thorn-tree " but himself ? Why, there it stands
to this very day, just on the edge of the slope, and I
saw it not three weeks since, — an old single thorn-tree,
"marvellous stumpy." At least if it isn't the aame
tree, it ought to have been, for it's just in the place
where the battle must have been won or lost, — " around
which, as I was saying, the two lines of foemen came
together in battle with a huge shout. And in this place,
one of the two kings of the heathen, and five of his
earls fell down and died, and many thousands of the

heathen side in the same place." ^ After which crown-

^ Pagani editiorem locum praeoccupaverant. Chiistiani ab inferiori
loco aciem dirigebant. Erat quoque in eodem loco uniea spiBpsa arbor,
brevis admodum (quam nos ipsi nostris propriis oculis vidimasy. Circa
quam ergo hostiles inter se acies cum ingenti clamore hoitiliter cOnveni-

I
/

THE BROWN FAMILY. 18

ing mercy, the pious king, that there might never be
wanting a sign and a memorial to the comitry-side,
carved out on the northern side of the chalk hill, under
the camp, where it is almost precipitous, the great
Saxon white horse, which he who will may see from
the railway, and which gives its name to the vale, over
which it has looked these thousand years and more.

Right down below the White Horse is a curious deep
and broad gully called " the Manger," into one side of
which tiie hills fall with a series of the most lovely
sweeping curves, known as " the Giant's Stairs ; " they
are not a bit like stairs, but I never saw anything like
them anywhere else, with their short green turf and
tender blue-bells, and gossamer and thistle-down gleam-
ing in the sun, and the sheep-paths running along theh*
sides like ruled lines.

The other side of the Manger is formed by the Dra-
gon's Hill, a curious little round self-confident fellow,
thrown forward from the range, and utterly unlike
everything round him. On this hill some deliverer of
mankind, Saint George, the country folks used to tell me,
killed a dragon. Whether it were Saint George, I cannot
say ; but surely a dragon was killed there, for you may
see the marks yet where his blood ran down, and more
\y token, the place where it ran down is the easiest way
up the hillside.

Passing along the Ridgeway to the west for about a
mile, we come to a little clump of young beech and firs,
with a growth of thorn and privet underwood. Here

UBt. Qao in loco alter de duobns Paganorum regibus et quinqne comites
. occisi occubnerunt, et multa millia Paganae partis in eodem loco. Cecidit
illic ergo Boegsc^ Rex, et Sidroc ille senex comes, et Sidroc Junior comes,
et Obsbem comes, &c. — Annales JRerum Gestantm ^Ifiredi Magniy Auetore
Asaeino. Becensuit Franciacus Wise, Oxford, 1722, p. 23.

14 TOM BBOWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

you may find nests of the strong down partridge and
peewit, but take care that the keeper is n't down upon
you; and in the middle of it is an old cromlech, — a
huge flat stone raised on seven or eight others, and led
up to by a path, with large single stones set up on each
side. This is Wayland Smith's cave, a place of classic
fame now ; but as Sir Walter has touched it, I may as
well let it alone, and refer you to "Kenilworth" for
the legend.

The thick, deep wood which you see in the hollow
about a mile oflf, surrounds Ashdown Park, built by
Inigo Jones. Four broad alleys are cut through the
wood from circumference to centre, and each leads to
one face of the house. The mystery of the downs hangs
about house and wood, as they stand there alone, so
unlike all around, with the green slopes studded with
great stones just about this part, stretching away on all
sides. It was a wise Lord Craven, I think, who pitched
his tent there.

Passing along the Ridgeway to the east, we soon
come to cultivated land. The downs, strictly so called,
are no more ; Lincolnshire farmers have been imported,
and the long fresh slopes are sheep-walks no more, but
grow famous turnips and barley. One of those im-
provers lives over there at the " Seven Barrows " farni,
another mystery of the great downs. There are the
barrows still, solemn and silent, like ships in the calm
sea, the sepulchres of some sons of men. But of whom ?
It is three miles from the White Horse, too far for the
slain of Ashdown to be buried there. Who shall say
what heroes are waiting there ? But we must get ^own
into the vale again, and so away by the Great Western
Railway to town ; for time and the printer's devil press,
and it is a terrible long and slippery descent, and a

THE BROWN FAMILY. 15

shocking bad road. At the bottom, however, there is
a pleasant public, whereat we must really take a modest
quencherj for the down here is a provocative of thirst.
So we pull up under an old oak which stands before the
door.

" What is the name of your hill, landlord ? "

" Blawing-STWUN Hill, sir, to be sure."

[Reader. " Sturm f " Author. '' Stone^ stupid — the
Blowingn8^(?w6."]

" And of your house ? I can 't make out the sign."

" Blawing-stwun, sir," says the landlord, pouring out
his old ale from a Toby Philpot jug, with a melodious
crash, into the long-necked glass.

"What queer names!" say we, sighing at the end
of our draught, and holding out the glass to be
replenished.

"Bean't queer at all, as I can.see, sir," says mine
host, handing back our glass, " seeiag as this here is the
Blawing-stwiin his self," putting his hand on a square
lump of stone some three feet and a half high, perfor-
ated with two or three queer holes like petrified ante-
diluvian rat-holes, which lies there close under the oak,
under our very nose. We are more than ever puzzled,
and drink our second glass of ale wondering what will
come next. "Like to hear un, sir?" says mine host,
setting down Toby Philpot on the tray, and resting
both hands on the "stwun." We are ready for any-
thing ; and he, without waiting for a reply, applies his
mouth to one of the rat-holes. Something must come
of it, if he does n't burst. Good heavens ! I hope he
has no apoplectic tendencies. Yes, here it comes, sure
enough, a grewsome sound between a moan and a roar,
and spreads itself away over the valley, and up the
hillside, and into the woods at the back of the house,

16 TOM BROWN^S SCHOOL-DAYS.

— a ghost-like, awful voice. "Uin do say, sir," says
mine host rising purple-faced, while the moan is still
coming out of the " stwun," " as they used in old times
to warn the country-side, by blawing the stwun when
the enemv was a-comin', and as how folks could make
un heered them for seven mile round, — leastways, so
1 've heered Lawyer Smith say, and he knows a smart
sight about them old times." — We can hardly swallow
Lawyer Smith's seven miles ; but could the blowing of
the stone have been a summons, a sort of sending the
fiery cross round the neighborhood in the old times ?
What old times ? Who knows ? We pay for our beer,
and are thankful.

"And what's the name of the village just below,
landlord ? "

" Kingstone Lisle, sir,"

"Pine plantations you've got here."

" Yes, sir ; the squire 's 'mazin' fond of trees and
such like."

" No wonder. He 's got some real beauties to be fond
of. Good day, landlord."

" Good day, sir, and a pleasant ride to 'e."

And now, my boys, you whom I want to get for
readers, have you had enough ? Will you give in at
once, and say you're convinced, and let me begin my
story, or will you have more of it ? Remember, I 've
only been over a little bit of the hillside yet, — what
you could ride round easily on your ponies in an hour.
I'm only just come down into the vale by Blowing-
stoue Hill, and if I once begin about the vale, what 's
to stop me? You'll have to hear all about Wantage
(the birthplace of Alfred) and Farringdon, which held
out so long for Charles the First : the vale was near
Oxford, and dreadfully malignant; full of Throgmor-

THE BROWN FAMILY. 17

tons, Puseys, and Pyes, and such like, and their brawny
retainers. Did you ever read Thomas Ingoldsby's
" Legend of Hamilton Tighe " ? If you haven 't you
ought to have. Well, Parringdon is where he lived
before he went to sea; his real name was Hampden
Pye, and the Pyes were the great folk at Parringdon.
Then there 's Pusey, you 've heard of the Pusey horn,
which King Canute gave to the Puseys of that day,
and which the gallant old squire, lately gone to his
rest (whom Berkshire freeholders turned out of last
Parliament, to their eternal disgrace, for voting accord-
ing to his conscience), used to bring out on high
days, holidays, and bonfire nights ; and the splendid
old cross church at Uffington, the Uflftngas town, —
the whole country-side teems With Saxon names and
memories ; and the old moated grange at Compton,
nestled close under the hillside, where twenty Marianas
may have lived, with its bright water-lilies in the moat,
and its yew-walk, " the cloister walk," and its peerless
terraced gardens. There they all are, and twenty things
besides, for those who care about them, and have eyes.
And these are the sort of things you may find, I be-
lieve, every one of you, in any common English country
neighborhood.

Will you look for them under your own noses, or will
you not ? Well, well ; I 've done what I can to make
you, and if you will go gadding over half Europe now
every holidays, I can't help it. I was born and bred a
west-countryman, thank God! — a Wessex man, a citi-
zen of the noblest Saxon kingdom of Wessex, a regu-
lar " Angular Saxon," the very soul of me adserlptua
glebe. There's nothing like the old country-side for
me, and no music like the twang of the real old Saxon
tongue, as one gets it fresh from the veritable chaw in

18 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYa

the White Horse Vale ; and I say with " Gaarge Ridler,"
the old west-country yeoman,

' ' Throo aall the waarld owld Gaarge would bwoast.
Commend me to merry owld England mwoast ;
While V00I3 gwoes prating vur and nigh,
We stwops at whum, my dog and I."

Here at any rate lived and stopped at home, Squire
Brown, J. P. for the county of Berks, in a village near
the foot of the White Horse Range. And here he dealt
out justice and mercy in a rough way, and begat sons
and daughters, and hunted the fox, and grumbled at the
badness of the roads and the times. And his wife dealt
out stockings and calico shirts and smock-frocks and
comforting drinks to the old folks with the " rheumatiz,"
and good counsel to all, and kept the coal and clothes
clubs going for yule-tide, when the bands of mummers ~
came round, dressed out in ribbons and colored paper
caps, and stamped round the Squire's kitchen, repeat-
ing in true sing-song vernacular the legend of Saint
George and his fight, and the ten-pound doctor who
plays his part at healing the saint, — a relic, I believe,
of the old middle-age mysteries. It was the first dra-
matic representation which greeted the eyes of little
Tom, who was brought down into the kitchen by his
nurse to witness it, at the mature age of three years.
Tom was the eldest child of his parents, and from his
earliest babyhood exhibited the family characteristics in
great strength. He was a hearty, strong boy from the
first, given to fighting with and escaping from his nurse,
and fraternizing with all the village boys, with whom
he made expeditions all round the neighborhood. And
here in the quiet old-fashioned country village, imder
the shadow of the everlasting hills, Tom Brown was
reared, and never left it till he went first to school when

THE BROWN FAMILY. 19

nearly eight years of age, — for in those days change of
air twice a year was not thought absolutely necessary
foi>the health of all Her Majesty's lieges.

have been credibly informed, and am inclined to
believe, that the various boards of directors of railway,
companies, those gigantic jobbers and bribers, while
quarrelling about everything else, agreed together some
ten years back to buy up the learned profession of
medicine body and soul. To this end they set apart
several millions of money, which they continually dis*
tribute judiciously amongst the doctors, stipulating only
this one thing, — that they shall prescribe change of air
to every patient who can pay, or borrow money to pay>
a railway fare, and see their prescription carried out.
If it be not for this, whv is it that none of us can be
well at home for a year together ? It was n't so twenty
years ago, — not a bit of it^ The Browns did n't go out
of the county once in five years. A visit to Reading
or Abingdon twice a year, at Assizes or Quarter Ses-
sions, which the Squire made on his horse with a pair
of saddle-bags containing his wardrobe, a stay of a
day or two at some country neighbor's, or an expedi-
tion to a county ball, or the yeomanry review made
up the sum of the Brown locomotion in most years.
A stray Brown from some distant county dropped in
every now and then, or from Oxford on grave nag an
old don, contemporary of the Squire, and were looked
upon by the Brown household and the villagers with the
same sort of feeling with which we now regard a man
who has crossed the Rockv Mountains, or launched a
boat on the Great Lake in Central Africa. The White
Horse Vale, remember, was traversed by no great road ;
nothing but country parish roads, and these very bad.
Only one coach ran there, and this one only from Wan-

20 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS

tage to London, so that the western part of the Vale
was without regular means of moving on, and certainly
didn't seem to want them. There was the canal, by
the way, which supplied the country-side with coal, and
up and down which continually went the long barges,

" There was the canal which snpplied the country-side with co«J."

with the big, black men lounging by the side of the
horses along the towing-path, and the women in bright
colored handkerchiefs standing in the stems steering.
Standing 1 say ; but you could never see whether they
were standing or sitting, all but their heads and shoul-
ders being out of sight in the cosey little cabins which
occupied some eight feet of the stern, and which Tom
Brown pictured to himself as the most desirable of
residences. His nurse told him that those good-natured-
looking women were in the constant habit of enticing
children into the barges and taking them up to London

THE BROWN FAMILY. 21

and selling them, which Tom wouldn't believe, and
which made him resolve as soon as possible to accept
the oft-proffered invitation of these sirens to "young
master," to come in and have a ride. But as yet the
nurse was too much for Tom.

Yet why should I after all abuse the gadabout pro-
pensities of my countrymen ? We are a vagabond nation
now, that 's certain, for better for worse. I am a vaga-
bond ; I have been away from home no less than five
distinct times in the last year. The Queen sets us the
example, — we are moving on from top to bottom. Lit-
tle dirty Jack, who abides in Clement's Inn gateway,,
and blacks my boots for a penny, takes his month's
hop-picking every year as a matter of course. Why
should n't he ? I 'm delighted at it. I love vagabonds,
only I prefer poor to rich ones; couriers and ladies'
maids, imperials and travelling carriages, are an abomi-
nation unto me — I cannot away with them. But for
dirty Jack, and every good fellow who, in the words of
the capital French song, moves about

** Com me le lima^on,
Portant tout son bagage,
Ses meubles, sa maisou, **

on his own back, why, good luck to them, and many a
merry road-side adventure and steaming supper in the
chimney-corners of road-side inns, Swiss chalets, Hot-
tentot kraals, or wherever else they like to go. So
having succeeded in contradicting myself in my first
chapter (which gives me great hopes that you will all
go on, and think me a good fellow notwithstanding my
crotchet) I shall here shut up for the present, and con-
sider my ways, having resolved to " sar' it out, " as we
say in the Vale, "holus-bolus" just as it comes, and
then you '11 probably get the truth out of me.

CHAPTER 11.

THE " TEAST."

"And the £u]g commandetb and Torbiddeth that from henceforth
neither fain nor niurkets be kept in cbuKhjard!, for the hoiior of the
church. " — Statutes: 13 £diix>rd I. Slot II. chop, vi.

but don't read often) most truly Baj's,
" the child is father to the man ; " d fortiori, therefore, he
must be father to the boy. So, as we are going at any
rate to see Tom Brown through his boyhood, supposing
we never get any further (which, if you show a proper
sense of the value of this history, there is no knowing
but what we may), let us have a look at the life and
environments of the child, in the quiet country village
to which we were introduced in the last chapter.

THE "VEAST." 2S

Tom, as has been already said, was a robust and com-
bative urchin, and at the age of four began to struggle
against the yoke and authority of his nurse. That
functionary was a good-hearted, tearful, scatter-brained
girl, lately taken by Tom's mother, Madain_Bro\yn, as
she was called, from the village school to be trained as
nurserymaid. Madam Brown was a rare trainer of ser-
vants, and spent herself freely in the profession ; for /-
profession it was, and gave her more trouble by half >-' * -^
than many people take to earn a good income. Her
servants were known and sought after for miles round.
Almost all the girls who attained a certain place in the
village school were taken by her, one or two at a time,
as housemaids, laundrymaids, nurserymaids, or kitchen-
maids, and after a year or two's drilling, were started in
life amongst the neighboring families, with good prin-
ciples and wardrobes. One of the results of this system
was the perpetual despair of Mrs. Brown's cook and own
maid, who no sooner had a notable girl made to their
hands than Missus was sure to find a good place for her
and send her off, taking in fresh importations from the
school ; another was, that the house was always full of
young girls, with clean shining faces, who broke plates
and scorched linen, but made an atmosphere of cheerful
homely life about the place, good for every one who
came within its influence. Mrs. Brown loved young
people, and in fact human creatures in general, above
plates and linen. They were more like a lot of elder
children than servants, and felt to her more as a mother
or aunt than as a mistress.

Tom's nurse was one who took in her instruction very
slowly, — she seemed to have two left hands and no
head ; and so Mrs. Brown kept her on longer than usual,
that she mi^ht expend her awkwardness and forgetful-

24 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

ness upon those who would not judge and punish her too
strictly for them.

parity Lamb was her name. It had been the im-
memorial habit of the village, to christen children either
by Bible names or by those of the cardinal and other
virtues ; so that one was forever hearing in the village
street or on the green, shrill sounds of "Prudence!
Prudence ! thee cum out o' the gutter ; " or, " Mercy !
drat the girl, what bist. thee a-doin' wi' little Faith ? "
and there were Ruths, Rachels, Keziahs, in every cor-
ner. The same with the boys; they were Benjamins,
Jacobs, Noahs, Enochs. I suppose the custom has come
down from Puritan times ; there it is at any rate, very
strong still in the Vale.

Well, from early morn till dewy eve, when she had
it out of him in the cold tub before putting him to
bed. Charity and Tom were pitted against one another.
Physical power was as yet on the side of Charity, but
she had n't a chance with him wherever head-work was
wanted. This war of independence began every morn-
ing before breakfast, when Charity escorted her charge
to a neighboring farm-house which supplied the Browns,
and where, by his mother's wish, Master Tom went to
drink whey before breakfast. Tom had . no sort of ob-
jection to whey, but he had a decided liking for curds,
which were forbidden as unwholesome ; and there was
seldom a morning that he did not manage to secure a
handful of hard curds, in defiance of Charity and of
the farmer's wife. The latter good soul was a gaunt
angular woman, who with an old black bonnet on the
top of her head, the strings dangling about her shoul-
ders, and her gown tucked through her pocket-holes,
went clattering about the dairy, cheese-room, and yard,
in high pattens. Charity was some sort of niece of the

THE "VEAST." 25

old lady's, and was consequently free of the farm-house
and garden, into which she could not resist going for
the purposes of gossip and flirtation with the heir-
apparent, who was a dawdling fellow, never out at work
as he ought to have been. The moment Charity had
found her cousin, or any other occupation, Tom would
slip away ; and in a minute shrill cries would be heard
from the dairy, ^* Charity, Charity, thee lazy huzzy,
where bist ? " and Tom would break cover, hands and
mouth full of curds, and take refuge on the shaky sur-
face of the great muck reservoir in the middle of the
yard, disturbing the repose of the great pigs. Here he
was in safety, as no grown person could follow with-
out getting over their knees ; and the luckless Charity,
while her aunt scolded her from the dairy door for be-
ing " alius hankering about arter our^Willum. instead
of minding Master Tom," would descend from threats
to coaxing, to lure Tom out of the muck which was
rising over his shoes and would soon tell a tale on his
stockings, for which she would be sure to catch it from
Missus's maid.

Tom had two abettors in the shape of a couple of old
boys (Noah and Benjamin by name) who defended him
from Charity, and expended much time upon his edu-
cation. They were both of them retired servants of
former generations of the Browns. Noah Crooke was
a keen, dry old man of almost ninety, but still able to
totter about. He talked to Tom quite as if he were one
of his own family, and indeed had long completely iden-
tified the Browns with himself. In some remote age
he had been the attendant of a Miss Brown, and had
conveyed her about the country on a pillion. He had
a little round picture of the identical gray horse, capari-
soned with the identical pillion, before which he used to

26 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

do a sort of fetish worship, and abuse turnpike-roads and
carriages. He wore an old full-bottomed wig, the gift
of some dandy old Brown whom he had valeted in the
middle of last century, which habiliment Master Tom
looked upon with considerable respect, not to say fear ;
and indeed his whole feeling towards Noah was strongly
tainted with awe ; and when the old gentleman was
gathered to his fathers, Tom's lamentation over him
was not unaccompanied by a certain joy at having seen
the last of the wig : " Poor old Noah, dead and gone,"
said he, " Tom Brown so sorry ! Put him in the coflin,
wig and all."

But old Benjy was young Master's real delight and
refuge. He was a youth by the side of Noah, scarce
seventy years old. A cheery, humorous, kind-hearted
old man, full of sixty years of Vale gossip, and of all
sorts of helpful ways for young and eld, but above all
for children. It was he who bent the first pin with
w^hich Tom extracted his first stickleback out of Pebbly
Brook, the little stream which ran through the village.
The first stickleback was a splendid fellow, with fabu-
lous red and blue gills. Tom kept him in a small basin
till the day of his death, and became a fisherman from
that day. Within a month from the taking of the first
stickleback, Benjy had carried off our hero to the canal,
in defiance of Charity, and between them, after a whole
afternoon's popjoying, they had caught three or four
small, coarse fish and a perch, averaging perhaps two
and a half ounces each, which Tom bore home in rapt-
ure to his mother as a precious gift, and she received
like a true mother with equal rapture, instructing the
cook nevertheless, in a private interview, not to prepare
the same for the Squire's dinner. Charity had appealed
against old Benjy in the mean time, representing the

THE "VEAST." 27

dangers of the canal banks ; but Mrs. Brown, seeing the
boy's inaptitude for female guidance, had decided in
Benjy's favor ; and from thenceforth the old man was
Tom's dry-nurse. And as they sat by the canal watch-
ing their little green and white float, Benjy would instruct
him in the doings of deceased Browns, — how his grand-
father, in the early days of the great war, when there
was much distress and crime in the Vale, and the
magistrates had been threatened by the mob, had ridden
in with a big stick in his hand, and held the Petty Ses-
sions by himself ; how his great uncle, the Rector, had
encountered and laid the last ghost, who had frightened
the old women (male and female) of the parish out of
their senses, and who turned out to be the blacksmith's
apprentice, disguised in drink and a white sheet. It was
Benjy too, who saddled Tom's first pony and instructed
him in the mysteries of horsemanship, teaching him to
throw his weight back and keep his hand low, and who
stood chuckling outside the door of the girls' school
when Tom rode his little Shetland into the cottage and
round the table where the old dame and her pupils
were seated at their work.

Benjy himself was come of a family distinguished in
the Vale for their prowess in all athletic games. Some
half-dozen of his brothers and kinsmen had gone to the
wars, of whom only one had survived to come home,
with a small pension, and three bullets in different parts
of his body. He had shared Benjy's cottage till his death,
and had left him his old dragoon's sword and pistol,
which hung over the mantel-piece, flanked by a pair of
heavy single-sticks with which Benjy himself had won
renown long ago as an old gamester, against the picked
men of Wiltshire and Somersetshire, in many a good
bout at the revels and pastime of the country-side ; for

28 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

he had been a famous backsword man in his young
days, and a good wrestler at elbow and collar.

Back-swording and wrestling were the most serious

holiday pursuits of the Vale — those by which men

^attained fame — and each village had its champion. I

\ suppose that on the whole, people were less worked then

V ^'V-'l* ^^^^ ^^^y ^^^ ^^^ ' ^* ^^y ^^*^' *^^y seemed to have
I more time and energy for the old pastimes. The great

times for backswording came round once a year in each

village, at the feast. The Vale *' veasts " were not the

common statute feasts, but much more ancient business.

They are literally, so far as one can ascertain, feasts of

the dedication, — i. e, they were first established in the

churchyard on the day on which the village church was

opened for public worship, which was on the wake or

festival of the patron saint, and have been held on the

same day in every year since that time.

There was no longer any remembrance of why the

" veast " had been instituted, but nevertheless it had e

pleasant and almost sacred character of its own ; for it

was then that all the children of the village, wherever

they were scattered, tried to get home for a holiday to

visit their fathers and mothers and friends, bringing

with them their wages or some little gift from up the

country for the old folk. Perhaps for a day or two

before, but at any rate on "veast-day" and the day

after in our village, you might see strapping, healthy

young men and women from all parts of the country

going round from house to house in their best clothes,

and finishing up with a call on Madam Brown, whom

they would consult as to putting out their earnings to

the best advantage, or how to expend the same best for

the benefit of the old folk. Every household, however

poor, managed to raise a "feast-cake'' and bottle of

THE "VEAST." 29

ginger or raisin wine, which stood on the cottage table
ready for all comers, and not unlikely to make them
remember feast-time, — for feast-cake is very solid and
full of huge raisins. Moreover feast-time was the day
of reconciliation for the parish.* If Job Higgins and
Noah Ereeman had n't spoken for the last six months,
their " old women " would be sure to get it patched up
by that day. And though there was a good deal of
drinking and low vice in the booths of an evening, it
was pretty well confined to those who would have been
doing the like, " veast or no veast ; " and on the whole,
the effect was humanizing and Christian. In fact, the
only reason why this is not the case still, is that gentle-
folk and farmers have taken to other amusements, and
have, as usual, forgotten the poor. They don't attend
the feasts themselves, and call them disreputable ; where-
upon the steadiest of the poor leave them also, and they
become what they are called. Class amusements, be
they for dukes or plough-boys, always become nuisances
and curses to a country. The true charm of cricket
and hunting is, that they are still more or less sociable
and universal ; there 's a place for every man who will
come and take his part.

No one in the village enjoyed the approach of " veast-
day " more than Tom, in the year in which he was
taken under old Benjy's tutelage. The feast was held
in a large green field at the lower end of the village.
The road to Farringdon ran along one side of it, and
the brook by the side of the road ; and above the
brook was another large gentle sloping pasture-land,
with a footpath running down it from the churchyard ;
and the old church, the originator of all the mirth,
towered up with its gray walls and lancet windows,
overlooking and sanctioning the whole, though its own

30 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

share therein had been forgotten. At the point where
the footpath crossed the brook and road and entered on
the field where the feast was held, was a long, low, road-
side inn, and on the opposite side of the field was a
large, white, thatched farmhouse, where dwelt an old
sporting farmer, a great promoter of the revels.

Past the old church, and down the footpath, pottered
the old man and the child hand-in-hand early on the
afternoon of the day before the feast, and wandered all
round the ground, which was already being occupied by
the " cheap Jacks," with their green covered carts and
marvellous assortment of wares, and the booths of more
legitimate small traders with their tempting arrays of
fairings and eatables, and penny peep-shows and other
shows, containing pink-eyed ladies and dwarfs and
boa-constrictors and wild Indians. But the object of
most interest to Benjy, and of course to his pupil also,
was the stage of rough planks some four feet high,
which was being put up by the village carpenter for
the backswording and wrestling; and after surveying
the whole tenderly, old Benjy led his charge away to the
road-side inn, where he ordered a glass of ale and a
long pipe for himself, and discussed these unwonted
luxuries on the bench outside in the soft autumn eve-
ning with mine host (another old servant of the Browns),
and speculated with him on the likelihood of a good
show of old gamesters to contend for the morrow's
prizes, and told tales of the gallant bouts of forty years
back, to which Tom listened with all his ears and eyes.

But who shall tell the joy of the next morning, when
the church bells were ringing a merry peal, and old
Benjy appeared in the servants' hall, resplendent in a
long blue coat and brass buttons, and a pair of old
yellow buckskins and top-boots (which he had cleaned

THE "VEAST." 31

for and inherited from Tom's grandfather), a stout
thorn-stick in his hand, and a nosegay of pinks and
lavender in his button-hole, and led away Tom in his
best clothes, and two new shillings in his breeches-
pockets? Those two, at any rate, look like enjoying
the day's revel.

They quicken their pace when they get into the
churchyard ; for already they see the field thronged with
country folk, the men in clean white smocks or velve-
teen or fustian coats, with rough plush waistcoats of
many colors, and the women in the beautiful long
scarlet cloak (the usual out-door dress of west-country
women in those days, and which often descended in
families from mother to daughter), or in new-fashioned
stuff shawls, which, if they would but believe it, don't
become them half so well. The air resounds with the
pipe and tabor, and the drums and trumpets of the
showmen shouting at the doors of their caravans, over
which tremendous pictures of the wonders to be seen
within hang temptingly; while through all rises the
shrill " root-too-too-too " of Mr. Punch, and the unceas-
ing pan-pipe of his satellite.

" Lawk 'a' massey, Mr. Benjamin," cries a stout
motherly woman in a red cloak, as they enter the
field, "be that you? Well, I never! you do look
purely. And how's the Squire and Madam and the
family ? ''

Benjy graciously shakes hands with the speaker (who
has left our village for some years, but has come over
for " veast-day " on a visit to an old gossip) and gently
indicates the heir-apparent of the Browns.

" Bless his little heart ! I must gi' un a kiss. Here
Susannah, Susannah ! " cries she, raising herself from
the embrace, " come and see Mr. Benjamin and young

32 TOM BROWNS SCHOOL-DAYS.

Master Tom, You miiidB our Sukev, Mr, Benjamin,
she be growed a rare slip of a wench since you seen
her, tho' her '11 be sixteen come Martinmas. I do aim
to take her to aee Madam to get her a place,"

" Blosa his little heart r I mtiirt gi' nn a Mw."

And Sukey comes bouncing away from a knot of old
school-fellows, and drops a. conrtesy to Mr. Benjamin.
And elders come np from all pnrts to salute Benjy, and
girls who have been Madam's pupils to kiss Master Tom,
and they carry him off to load him with fairings ; and
he returns to Benjy, his hat and coat covered with
ribbons, and his pockets crammed with wonderfiil bo"R

THE "VEAST." 38

which open upon ever new boxes and boxes, and pop-
guns and trumpets and apples, and gilt gingerbread
from the stall of Angel Heavens, sole vendor thereof,
whose booth groans with kings and queens and ele-
phants and prancing steeds, all gleaming with gold.
There was more gold on Angel's cakes than there is
ginger in those of this degenerate age. Skilled diggers
might yet make a fortune in the churchyards of the
Vale, by carefully washing the dust of the consumers of
Angel's gingerbread. Alas ! he is with his namesakes,
and his receipts have, I fear, died with him.

And then they inspect the penny peep-show, at least
Tom does, while old Benjy stands outside and gossips,
and walks up the steps, and enters the mysterious doors
of the pink-eyed lady and the Irish Giant, who do not
by any means come up to their pictures ; and the boa
will not swallow his rabbit, but there the rabbit is wait-
ing to be swallowed — and what can you expect for
tuppence? We are easily pleased in the Vale. Now
there is a rush of the crowd, and a tinkling bell is
heard, and shouts of laughter ; and Master Tom mounts
on Benjy's shoulders and beholds a jingling-match in
all its glory. The games are begun, and this is the
opening of them. It is a quaint game, immensely
amusing to look at ; and as I don't know whether it is
used in your counties, I had better describe it. A large
roped ring is made, into which are introduced a dozen
or so of big boys and young men who mean to play ;
these are carefully blinded and turned loose into the
ring, and then a man is introduced not blindfolded, with
a bell hung round his neck, and his two hands tied
behind him. Of course every time he moves, the bell
must ring, as he has no hand to hold it, and so the
dozen blindfolded men have to catch him. This they

84 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

cannot always manage if he is a lively fellow> but half
of them always rush into the arms of the other half, or
drive their heads together, or tumble over ; and then
the crowd laughs vehemently, and invents nicknames
for them on the spur of the moment, and they, if they
be choleric, tear off the handkerchiefs which blind
them, and not unfrequently pitch int(5 one another, each
thinking that the other must have run against him on
purpose. It is great fun to look at a jingling-match
certainly ; and Tom shouts, and jumps on old Benjy's
shoulders at the sight, until the old man feels weary,
and shifts him to the strong young shoulders of the
groom, who has just got down to the fun.

And now, while they are climbing the pole in another
part of the field, and muzzling in a flour-tub in another,
the old farmer whose house, as has been said, overlooks
the field, and who is master of the revels, gets up the
steps on to the stage, and announces to all whom it may
concern that a half-sovereign in money will be forth-
coming for the old gamester who breaks most heads ;
to which the Squire and he have added a new hat.

The amount of the prize is sufficient to stimulate the
men of the immediate neighborhood, but not enough to
bring any very high talent from a distance ; so after a
glance or two round, a tall fellow, who is a down shep-
herd, chucks his hat on to the stage and climbs up the
steps looking rather sheepish. The crowd of course
first cheer and then chaff as usual, as he picks up
his hat and be^ns handling the sticks to see which will
suit him.

" Wooy, Willum Smith, thee cans't plaay wi' he arra
daay," says his companion to the blacksmith's apprentice,
a stout young fellow of nineteen or twenty. Willum's
sweetheart is in the " veast " somewhere, and has strictly

THE ^'VEAST." 85

enjoined him not to get his head broke at backswording,
on pain of her highest displeasure ; but as she is not to
be seen (the women pretend not to like to see the back-
sword play, and keep away from the stage), and as his
hat is decidedly getting old, he chucks it on to the stage,
and follows himself, hoping that he will only have to
break other people's heads, or that after all Rachel
won't really mind.

Then follows the greasy cap lined with fur of a half-
gypsy, poaching, loafing fellow, who travels the Vale
not for much good, I fancy : —

** Full twenty times was Peter feared
For once that Peter was respected,"

in fact. And then three or four other hats, including
the glossy castor of Joe Willis, the self-elected and
would-be champion oT the neighborhood, a well-to-do
young butcher of twenty-eight or thereabouts, and a
great strapping fellow, with his full allowance of blus-
ter. This is a capital show of gamesters, considering
the amount of the prize; so while they are picking
their sticks and drawing their lots, I think I must tell
you, as shortly as I can, how the noble old game of
backsword is played ; for it is sadly gone out of late,
even in the Vale, and maybe you have never seen it.

The weapon is a good stout ash-stick with a large
basket handle, heavier and somewhat shorter than a
common single-stick. The players are called " old
gamesters," — why I can't tell you, — and their object
is simply to break one another's heads ; for the moment
that blood runs an inch anywhere above the eyebrow
the old gamester to whom it belongs is beaten, and has
to stop. A very slight blow with the sticks will fetch
blood ; so that it is by no means a punishing pastime, if
the men don't play on purpose, and savagely, at the

86 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

body and arms of their adversaries. The old gamester
going into action only takes off his hat and coat, aild
arms himself with a stick ; he then loops the fingers of
his left hand in a handkerchief or strap which he fastens
round his left leg, measuring the length, so that when
he draws it tight with his left elbow in the air, that
elbow shall just reach as high as his crown. Thus you
see, so long as he chooses to keep his left elbow up,
regardless of cuts, he has a perfect guard for the left
side of his head. Then he advances his right hand
above and in front of his head, holding his stick across
so that its point projects an inch or two over his left
elbow, and thus his whole head is completely guarded ;
and he faces his man armed in like manner, and they
stand some three feet apart, often nearer, and feint,
and strike, and return at one another's heads, until one
cries " hold," or blood flows. In the first case they are
allowed a minute's time, and go on again ; in the latter
another pair of gamesters are called on. If good men
are playing, the quickness of the returns is marvellous ;
you hear the rattle like that a boy makes drawing
his stick along palings, only heavier, and the closeness
of the men in action to one another gives it a strange
interest and makes a spell at backswording a very noble
sight.

They are all suited now with sticks, and Joe Willis
and the gypsy man have drawn the first lot. So the rest
lean against the rails of the stage, and Joe and the dark
man meet in the middle, the boards having been strewed
with sawdust ; Joe's white shirt and spotless drab
breeches and boots contrasting with the gypsy's coarse
blue shirt and dirty green velveteen breeches and leather
gaiters. Joe is evidently turning up his nose at the
other, and half insulted at having to break his head.

THE "VEAST." 87

The gypsy is a tough, active fellow, but not very
skilful with his weapon, so that Joe's weight and
strength tell in a minute ; he is too heavy metal for
him. Whack, whack, whack, come his blows, breaking
down the gypsy's guard, and threatening to reach his
head every moment. There it is at last. " Blood,
blood ! " shout the spectators, as a thin stream oozes
out slowly from the roots of his hair, and the umpire
calls' to them to stop. The gypsy scowls at Joe under
his brows in no pleasant manner, while Master Joe swag-
gers about, and makes attitudes, and thinks himself,
and shows that he thinks himself, the greatest man in
the field.

Then follow several stout sets4o between the other
candidates for the new hat, and at last come the shep-
herd andWillum Smith. This is the crack set-to of
the day. They are both in famous wind, and there is
no crying " hold." The shepherd is an old hand and up
to all the dodges. He tries them one after another, and
very nearly gets at Willum's head by coming in near,
and playing over his guard at the half-stick ; but some-
how Willum blunders through, catching the stick on
his shoulders, neck, sides, every now and then (any-
where but on his head), and his returns are heavy and
straight ; and he is the youngest gamester and a favorite
in the parish, and his gallant stand brings down shouts
and cheers, and the knowing ones think he '11 win if he
keeps steady, and Tom on the groom's shoulder holds his
hands together, and can hardly breathe for excitement.

Alas for Willum ! his sweetheart getting tired of
female companionship has been hunting the booths to
see where he can have got to, and now catches sight
of him on the stage in full combat. She flushes, and
turns pale; her old aunt catches hold of her, saying,

38 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" Bless'ee, child, doan't'ee go a'nigst it ; " but she
breaks away and runs towards the stage calling his
name. Willum keeps up his guard stoutly, but glances
for a moment towards the voice. No guard will do it,
Willum, without the eye. The shepherd steps round
and strikes, and the point of his stick just grazes Wil-
lum's forehead, fetching off the skin, and the blood flows,
and the umpire cries " Hold, " and poor Willum's chance
is up for the day. But he takes it very well, and puts
on his old hat and coat, and goes down to be scolded by
his sweetheart, and led away out of mischief. Tom
hears him say coaxingly , as he walks off, —

" Now doan't'ee, Rachel ! I would n't ha' done it, only
I wanted summut to buy'ee a fairing wi', and I be as
vlush o' money as a twod o' veathers."

" Thee mind what I tells'ee," rejoins Rachel saucily,
"and doan't'ee kep blethering about fairings." Tom
resolves in his heart to give Willum the remainder of
his two shillings after the backswording.

Joe Willis has all the luck to-day. His next bout
ends in an easy victory, while the shepherd has a tough
job to break his second head ; and when Joe and the
shepherd meet, and the whole circle expect and hope to
see him get a broken crown, the shepherd slips in the
first round and falls against the rails, hurting himself
so that the old farmer will not let him go on, much as
he wishes to try. And that imposter Joe (for he is cer-
tainly not the best man) struts and swaggers about the
stage the conquering gamester, though he has n't had
five minutes really trying play.

Joe takes the new hat in his hand, and puts the
money into it ; and then as if a thought strikes him and
he does n't think his victory quite acknowledged down
below, walks to each face of the stage and looks down.

THE "VEAST.'' 89

shaking the money, and chaffing as how he 11 stake hat
and money and another half-sovereign " agin any game-
ster as has n't played already." Cunning Joe ! he thus
gets rid of Willum and the shepherd, who is quite fresh

again.

No one seems to like the offer ; and the umpire is just
coming down, when a queer old hat, something like a
Doctor of Divinity's shovel, is chucked on to the stage,
and an elderly quiet man steps out, who has been watch-
ing the play, saying he should like to cross a stick " wi*
the prodigalish young chap."

The crowd cheer and begin to chaff' Joe, who turns up
his nose and swaggers across to the sticks. " Imp'dent
old wosbird ! " says he, " I '11 break the bald head on un
to the truth."

The old boy is very bald certainly, and the blood will
show fast enough if you can touch him, Joe.

He takes off his long flapped coat, and stands up in
a long flapped waistcoat which Sir Roger de Coverley
might have worn when it was new, picks out a stick,
and is ready for Master Joe, who loses no time, but
begins his old game, whack, whack, whack, trying to
break down the old man's guard by sheer strength.
But it won't do; he catches every blow close by the
basket; and though he is rather stiff in his returns,*
after a minute walks Joe about the stage, and is clearly
a stanch old gamester. Joe now comes in, and making
the most of his height, tries to get over the old man's
guard at half-stick, by which he takes a smart blow in
the ribs and another on the elbow and nothing more.
And n6w he loses wind and begins to puff, and the crowd
laugh : " Cry ' hold, ' Joe ; thee'st met thy match ! "
Instead of taking good advice and getting his wind, Joe
loses his temper, and strikes at the old man's body.

40 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" Blood, blood ! " shout the crowd, " Joe's head 's
broke!"

Who 'd have thought it ? How did it come ? That
body-blow left Joe's head unguarded for a moment,
and with one turn of the wrist the old gentleman has
picked a neat little bit of skin off the middle of his
forehead, and though he won't believe it, and hammers
on for three more blows despite of the shouts, is then
convinced by the blood trickling into his eye. Poor Joe
is sadly crestfallen, and fumbles in his pocket for the
other half-sovereign, but the old gamester won't have it.
" Keep thy money, man, and gi's thy hand," says he, and
they shake hands ; but the old gamester gives the new
hat to the shepherd, and soon after the half-sovereign
to Willum, who thereout decorates his sweetheart with
ribbons to his heart's content.

" Who can a be ? " " Wur do a cum from ? " ask the
crowd. And it soon flies about that the old west^
country champion who played a tie with Shaw the
life-guardsman at " Vizes " twenty years before, has
broken Joe Willis's crown for him.

How my country fair is spinning out ! I see I must
skip the wrestling, and the boys jumping in sacks and
rolling wheelbarrows blindfolded, and the donkey-
race, and the fight which arose thereout, marring the
otherwise peaceful " veast," and the frightened scurry-
ing away of the female feast-goers, and descent of Squire
Brown, summoned by the wife of one of the combatants
to stop it, — which he would n't start to do till he had got
on his top-boots. Tom is carried away by old Benjy,
dog-tired and surfeited with pleasure, as the evening
comes on and the dancing begins in the booths; and
though Willum and Rachel in her new ribbons and
many another good lad and lass don't come away just

THE "VEAST." 41

yet, but have a good step out, and enjoy it, and get no
harm thereby, yet we, being sober folk, will just stroll
away up through the churchyard and by the old yew-
tree and get a quiet dish of tea and a parle with our
gossips, as the steady ones of our village do, and so
to bed.

That 's the fair, true sketch, as far as it goes, of one of
the larger village feasts in the Vale of Berks when I
was a little boy. They are much altered for the worse,
I am told. I have n't been at one these twenty years ;
but I have been at the statute fairs in some west-country
towns, where servants are hired, and greater abomina-
tions cannot be found. What village feasts have come
to, I fear, in many cases, may be read in the pages of
" Yeast" (though I never saw one so bad — thank God !)
Do you want to know why? It is because, as I said
before, gentlefolk and farmers have left off joining or
taking an interest in them. They don't either subscribe
to the prizes, or go down and enjoy the fun.

this a good or a bad sign ? I hardly know. Bad,
sure enough, if it only arises from the further separation
of classes consequent on twenty years of buying cheap
and selling dear, and its accompanying over-work ; or
because our sons and daughters have their hearts in
London club-life, or so-called society, instead of in the
old English home duties ; because farmers' sons are
aping fine gentlemen, and farmers' daughters caring
more to make bad foreign music than good English
cheeses. Good, perhaps, if it be that the time for the
old "veast " has gone by, that it is no longer the healthy
sound expression of English country holiday-making ;
that, in fact, we as a nation have got beyond it, and are
in a transition state, feeling for and soon likely to find
some better substitute.

42 TOM BBOWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

Only I have just got this to say before I quit the text :
Don't let reformers of any sort think that they are going
really to lay hold of the working boys and young men
[Jlu. , .^\.a— ^'Qf England by any educational grapnel whatever, which
has n't some bona fide equivalent for the games of the
old country " veast " in it ; something to put in the
^^^, place of the backs wording and wrestling and racing;
something to try the muscles of men's bodies and tfie
endurance of their hearts, and to make them rejoice in
their strength. In all the new-fangled comprehensive
plans which I see, this is all left out ; and the conse-
quence is, that your great Mechanics' Institutes end in
intellectual priggism, and your Christian Young Mens'
Societies in religious Pharisaism.

Well, well, we must bide our time. Life isn't all
beer and skittles ; but beer and skittles, or something
better of the same sort, must form a good part of every
Englishman's education. If I could only drive this into
the heads of you rising Parliamentary Lords and young
swells, who " have your ways made for you," as the
saying is, — you who frequent palaver houses and West-
end clubs, waiting always ready to strap yourselves on
to the back of poor dear old John, as soon as the present
used-up lot (your fathers and uncles), who sit there on
the great Parliamentary-majorities' pack-saddle, and
make belief they 're guiding him with their red-tape
bridle, tumble, or have to be lifted off !

I don't think much of you yet (I wish I could),
though you do go talking and lecturing up and down
the country to crowded audiences, and are busy with
all sorts of philanthropic intellectualism and circulating
libraries and museums and Heaven only knows what
besides, and try to make us think through newspaper
reports that you are, even as we, of the working classes.

THE "VEAST." 48

But, bless your hearts, we " ain't so green," though lots
of us, of all sorts, toady you enough certainly, and try to
make you think so.

I '11 tell you what to do now ; instead of all this trum-
peting and fuss — which is only the old Parliamentary-
majority dodge over again — just you go each of you
(you've plenty of time for it, if you '11 only give up
t'other line) and quietly make three or four friends,
real friends, among us. You '11 find a little trouble in
getting at the right sort, because such birds don't come
lightly to your lure, but found they may be. Take, say,
two out of the professions, — lawyer, parson, doctor — v
which you will ; one out of trade, and three or four out
of the working classes, — tailors, engineers, carpenters,
engravers, — there's plenty of choice. Let them be men
of your own ages, mind, and ask them to your homes ;
introduce them to your wives and sisters, and get intro
duced to theirs ; give them good dinners, and talk to
them about what is really at the bottom of your heart,
and box and run and row with them when you have a
chance. Do all this honestly, as man to man, and by the
time you come to ride old John, you '11 be able to do
something more than sit on his back, and may feel his
mouth with some stronger bridle than a red-tape one.

Ah, if you only would! But you have got too far
out of the right rut, I fear. Too much over-civilization,
and the deceitfulness of riches. It is easier for a camel
to go through the eye of a needle. More's the pity.
I never came across but two of you who could value
a man wholly and solely for what was in him, who
thought themselves verily and indeed of the same flesh
and blood as John Jones the attorney's clerk and
Bill Smith the costermonger, and could act as if they
thought so.

CHAPTER III.

BDNDRT WABS AND ALUANCE3.

a scurvier trick than in laying thee by the
heels, when thou wast yet in a green old age. The
enemy which had long been carrying on a sort of
border warfare, ajid trying his strength against Benjy's
on the battle-field of his hands and legs, now muster-
ing all his forces began laying siege to the citadel and
overrunning the whole country. Benjy was seized in
the back and loins ; and though he made strong and
brave fight, it was soon clear enough that all which
could be beaten of poor old Benjy would have to give
in before long.

It was as much as he could do now, with the help of
his big stick and frequent stops, to hobble down to the

SUNDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES. 45

canal with Master Tom, and bait his hook for him and
sit and watch his angling, telling him quaint old country
stories ; and when Tom had no sport, and detecting a
rat some hundred yards or so off along the bank, would
rush off with Toby the turnspit terrier, his other faithful
companion, in bootless pursuit, he might have tumbled
in and been drowned twenty times over before Benjy
could have got near him.

Cheery and immindful of himself as Benjy was, this
loss of locomotive power bothered him greatly. He had
got a new object in his old age, and was just beginning
to think himself useful again in the world. He feared
much, too, lest Master Tom should fall back again into
the hands of Charity and the women, so he tried
everything he could think of to get set up. He even
went an expedition to the dwelling of one of those queer
mortals, who — say what we will, and reason how we
will — do cure simple people of diseases of one kind or
another without the aid of physic, and so get to them-
selves the reputation of using charms, and inspire for
themselves and their dwellings great respect, not to say
fear amongst a simple folk such as the dwellers in the
Vale of White Horse. Where this power, or whatever
else it may be, descends upon the shoulders of a man
whose ways are not straight, he becomes a nuisance to
the neighborhood ; a receiver of stolen goods, giver of
love-potions, and deceiver of silly women ; the avowed
enemy of law and order, of justices of the peace, head-
boroughs, and gamekeepers. Such a man in fact as
was recently caught tripping, and deservedly dealt with
by the Leeds justices, for seducing a girl who had come
to him to get back a faithless lover, and has been con-
victed of bigamy since then. Sometimes, however, they
are of quite a different stamp, — men who pretend to

46 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

nothing, and are with difficulty persuaded to exercise
their occult arts in the simplest cases.

Of this latter sort was old Farmer Ives, as he was
called, the " wise man " to whom Benjy resorted (tak-
ing Tom with him as usual) in the early spring of the
year next after the feast described in the last chapter.
Why he was called " farmer" I cannot say, unless it be
that he was the owner of a cow, a pig or two, and some
poultry, which he maintained on about an acre of land
enclosed from the middle, of a wild common, on which
probably his father had squatted before lords of manors
looked as keenly after their rights as they do now.
Here he had lived no one knew how long, a solitary
man. It was often rumored that he was to be turned
out and his cottage pulled down, but somehow it never
came to pass ; and his pigs and cow went grazing
on the common, and his geese hissed at the passing
children and at the heels of the horse of my lord's
steward, who often rode by with a covetous eye on the
enclosure, still unmolested. His dwelling was some
miles from our village ; so Benjy, who was half ashamed
of his errand, and wholly unable to walk there, had to
exercise much ingenuity to get the means of transport-
ing himself and Tom thither without exciting suspicion.
However, one fine May morning he managed to borrow
the old blind pony of our friend the publican, and Tom
persuaded Madam Brown to give him a holiday to spend
with old Benjy, and to lend them the Squire's light
cart, stored with bread and cold meat and a bottle
of ale. And so the two in high glee started behind
old Dobbin, and jogged along the deep-rutted, plashy
roads, which had not been mended after their winter's
wear, towards the dwelling of the wizard. About noon
they passed the gate which opened on to the large com-

SUNDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES. 47

mon, and old Dobbin toiled slowly up the hill while
Benjy pointed out a little deep dingle on the left, out of
which welled a tiny stream. As they crept up the hill
the tops of a few birch-trees came in sight, and blue
smoke curling up through their delicate light boughs
and then the little white thatched home and patch of
enclosed groimd of Farmer Ives, lying cradled in the
dingle, with the gay gorse common rising behind and
on both sides ; while in front, after traversing a gentle
slope, the eye might travel for miles and miles over the
rich vale. They now left the main road and struck
into a green tract over the common marked lightly
with wheel and horse-shoe, which led down into the
dingle and stopped at the rough gate of Farmer Ives.
Here they found the farmer, an iron-gray old man, with
a bushy eyebrow and strong aquiline nose, busied in one
of his vocations. He was a horse and cow doctor, and
was tending a sick beast which had been sent up to be
cured. Benjy hailed him as an old friend, and he re-
turned the greeting cordially enough, looking however
hard for a moment both at Benjy and Tom, to see
whether there was more in their visit than appeared at
first sight. It was a work of some difficulty and dan-
ger for Benjy to reach the ground, which however he
managed to do without mishap; and then he devoted
himself to unharnessing Dobbin, and turning him out
for a graze ("a rim " one could not say of that virtuous
steed) on the common. This done, he extricated the
cold provisions from the cart, and they entered the
farmer's wicket; and he, shutting up the knife with
which he was taking maggots out of the cow's back
and sides, accompanied them towards the cottage. A
big old lurcher got up slowly from the door-stone,
stretching first one hind le^ and then the other, and

48 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

taking Tom's caresses and the presence of Toby, who
kept however at a respectful distance, with equal
indifference.

" Us be cum to pay'e a visit. I 've a been long minded
to do't for old sake's sake, only I vinds I dwont get
about now as I 'd use to't, — I be so plaguy bad wi' th'
rumatiz in my back." Benjy paused, in hopes of draw-
ing the farmer at once on the subject of his ailment
without further direct application.

" Ah) I see as you bean't quite so lissom as you was,"
replied the farmer with a grim smile, as he lifted the
latch of his door ; " we bean't so young as we was,
nother on us, wuss luck."

The farmer's cottage was very like those of the better
class of peasantry in general. A snug chimney-corner
with two seats, and a small carpet on the hearth, an old
flint gun and a pair of spurs over the fireplace, a dresser
with shelves on which some bright pewter plates and
crockery-ware were arranged, an old walnut table, a few
chairs and settles, some framed samplers and an old
print or two, and a bookcase with some dozen volumes
on the walls, a rack with flitches of bacon, and other
stores fastened to the ceiling, and you have the best
part of the furniture. No sign of occult art is to be
seen, unless the bundles of dried herbs hanging to the
rack and in the ingle, and the row of labelled phials on
one of the shelves betoken it.

Tom played about with some kittens who occupied
the hearth, and with a goat who walked demurely in at
file open door, while their host and Benjy spread the
table for dinner, and was soon engaged in conflict with
the cold meat, to which he did much honor. The two
old men's talk was of old comrades and their deeds, —
mute inglorious Miltons of the Vale, — and of the doings

SUNDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES. 49

thirty years back, which didn't interest him much,
except when they spoke of the making of the canal,
and then indeed he began to listen with all his ears,
and learned to his no small wonder that his dear and
wonderful canal had not been there always, — was not in
fact so old as Benjy or Farmer Ives, which caused a
strange commotion in his small bmin.

After dinner Benjy called attention to a wart which
Tom had on the knuckles of his hand, and which the
family doctor had been trying his skill on without sue*
cess, and begged the farmer to charm it away. Farmer
Ives looked at it, muttered something or another over
it, and cut some notches in a short stick which he
handed to Benjy, giving him instructions for cutting it
down on certain days, and cautioning Tom not to meddle
with the wart for a fortnight. And then they strolled
out and sat on a bench in the sun with their pipes, and
the pigs came up and grunted sociably and let Tom
scratch them; and the farmer, seeing how he liked
animals, stood up and held his arms in the air and gave
a call which brought a flock of pigeons wheeling and
dashing through the birch-trees. They settled down in
clusters on the farmer's arms and shoulders, making
love to him, and scrambling over one another's backs to
get to his face ; and then he threw them all off, and
they fluttered about close by, and lighted on him again
and again when he held up his arms. All the creatures
about the place were clean and fearless, quite unlike
their relations elsewhere ; and Tom begged to be taught
how to make all the pigs and cows and poultry in our
village tame, at which the farmer only gave one of his
grim chuckles.

It wasn't till they were just ready to go, and old
Dobbin was harnessed, that Benjy broached the subject

50 TOM BROWN^S SCHOOL-DAYS.

of his rheumatism again, detailing his symptoms one
by one. Poor old boy ! He hoped the farmer could
charm it away as easily as he could Tom's wart, and
was ready with equal faith to put another notched stick
into his other pocket, for the cure of his own ailments.
The physician shook his head, but nevertheless produced
a bottle and handed it to Benjy with instructions for
use. " Not as 't'U do'e much good, — leastways I be
afeared not," shading his eyes with his hand and look-
ing up at them in the cart ; " there 's only one thing as
I knows on, as '11 cure old folks like you and I o' th'
rhumatiz."

" Wot be that, then, farmer ?" inquired Benjy.

" Churchyard mould," said the old iron-gray man,
with another chuckle. And so they said their good-bys
and went their ways home. Tom's wart was gone in a
fortnight, but not so Benjy's rheumatism, which laid
him by the heels more and more. And though Tom
still spent many an hour with him, as he sat on a
bench in the sunshine, or by the chimney-corner when
it was cold, he soon had to seek elsewhere for his
regular companions.

Tom had been accustomed often to accompany his
mother in her visits to the cottages, and had thereby
made acquaintance with many of the village boys of his
own age. There was Job Rudkin, son of widow Rudkin,
the most bustling woman in the parish. How she could
ever have had such a stolid boy as Job for a child must
always remain a mystery. The first time Tom went to
their cottage with his mother. Job was not in-doors ; but
he entered soon after, and stood with both hands in his
pockets, staring at Tom. Widow Rudkin who would
have had to cross Madam to get at young Hopeful — a
breach of good manners of which she was wholly inca*

SUNDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES. 51

pable — began a series of pantomime signs, which only
puzzled him, and at last, unable to contain herself
longer, burst out with, " Job ! Job ! where 's thy cap ? "

"What! bean't'e on ma' head, mother?" replied
Job, slowly extricating one hand from^ a pocket and
feeling for the article in question, which he found on
his head sure enough, and left there, to his mother's
horror and Tom's great delight.

Then there was poor Jacob I)obsi)n, the half-witted
boy, who ambled about cheerfully, undertaking messages
and little helpful odds and ends for every one, which,
however, poor Jacob managed always hopelessly to
embrangle. Everything came to pieces in his hands,
and nothing would stop in his head. They nicknamed
him Jacob Doodle-calf.

But above all there was Harry Winburn, the quickest
and best boy in the parish. He might be a year older
than Tom, but was very little bigger, and he was the
Crichton of our village boys. He could wrestle and
climb and run better than all the rest, and learned all
that the schoolmaster could teach him faster than that
worthy at all liked. He was a boy to be proud of,
with his curly brown hair, keen gray eye, straight active
figure, and little ears and hands and feet, " as fine as a
lord's," as Charity remarked to Tom one day, talking as^
usual great nonsense. Lords' hands and ears and feet
are just as ugly as other folks' when they are children,
as any one may convince themselves if they like to look.
Tight boots and gloves, and doing nothing with them, I
allow, make a difference by the time they are twenty.

Now that Benjy was laid on the shelf, and his young
brothers were still under petticoat government, Tom, in
search of companions, began to cultivate the village
boys generally more and more. Squire Brown, be it

52 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

said, was a true blue Tory to the backbone, and believed
honestly that the powers which be were ordained of
God, and that loyalty and steadfast obedience were
men's first duties. Whether it were in consequence or
I in spite of his political creed, I do not mean to give an
' opinion (though I have one), but certain it is, that he
held therewith divers social principles not generally
supposed to be true blue in color. Foremost of these,
and the one which the Squire loved to propound above
all others, was the belief that a man is to be valued
wholly and solely for that which he is in himself, for
\ that which stands up in the four fleshly walls of him,

apart from clothes, rank, fortune, and all externals
whatsoever; which belief I take to be a wholesome
corrective of all political opinions, and, if held sincerely,
to make all opinions equally harmless, whether they be
blue, red, or green. As a necessary corollary to this
belief. Squire Brown held further that it did n't matter
a straw whether his son associated with lords' sons or
ploughmen's sons, provided they were brave and honest.
He himself had played football and gone birds'-nesting
with the farmers whom he met at vestry and the labor-
ers who tilled their fields, and so had his father and
grandfather with their progenitors. So he encouraged
Tom in his intimacy with the boys of the village, and
forwarded it by all means in his power, and gave them
the run of a close for a playground, and provided bats
and balls and a football for their sports.

Our village was blessed amongst other things with
a well-endowed school. The building stood by itself,
apart from the master's house, on an angle of ground
where three roads met, — an old gray stone building with
a steep roof and muUioned windows. On one of the op-
posite angles stood Squire Brown's stables and kennel.

SUNDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES. 53

with their backs to the road, over which towered a great
ebn-tree ; on the third stood the village carpenter and
wheelwright's large open shop, and his house and the
schoolmaster's, with long low eaves under which the
swallows built by scores.

The moment Tom's lessons were over, he would now
get him down to this corner by the stables, and watch
till the boys came out of school. He prevailed on the
groom to cut notches for him in the bark of the elm,
so that he could climb into the lower branches, and
there he would sit watching the school door, and specu-
lating on the possibility of turning the elm into a
dwelling-place for himself and friends after the manner
of the Swiss Family Robinson. But the school hours
were long and Tom's patience short, so that soon he
began to descend into the street, and go and peep in at
the school door and the wheelwright's shop, and look
out for something to while away the time. Now the
wheelwright was a choleric man, and, one fine after-
noon, returning from a short absence, found Tom oc-
cupied with one of his pet adzes, the edge of which was
fast vanishing under our hero's care. A speedy flight
saved Tom from all but one soimd cuff on the ears ;
but he resented this unjustifiable interruption of his
first essays at carpentering, and still more the further
proceedings of the wheelwright, who cut a switch and
hung it over the door of his workshop, threatening to
use it upon Tom if he came within twenty yards of his
gate. So Tom, to retaliate, commenced a war upon
tlie swallows who dwelt under the wheelwright's eaves,
whom he harassed with sticks and stones, and being
fleeter of foot than his enemy, escaped all punishment
and kept him in perpetual anger. Moreover his pres-
ence about the school door began to incense the master,

54 TOM BROWN^S SCHOOL-DAYS.

as the boys in that neighborhood neglected their lessons
in consequence ; and more than once he issued into the
porch, rod in hand, just as Tom beat a hasty retreat.
And he and the wheelwright, laying their heads together,
resolved to acquaint the Squire with Tom's afternoon
occupations ; but in order to do it with effect, deter-
mined to take him captive and lead him away to judg-
ment fresh from his evil doings. This they would have
found some difficulty in doing, had Tom continued the
war single-handed, or rather single-footed, for he would
have taken to the deepest part of Pebbly Brook to es-
cape them ; but, like other active powers, he was ruined
by his alliances. Poor Jacob Doodle-calf could not go
to school with the other boys ; and one fine afternoon
about three o'clock (the school broke up at four) Tom
found him ambling about the street, and pressed him
into a visit to the school porch. Jacob, always ready
to do what he was asked, consented, and the two stole
down to the school together. Tom first reconnoitred
the wheelwright's shop, and seeing no signs of activity
thought all safe in that quarter, and ordered at once an
advance of all his troops upon the school porch. The
door of the school was a-jar ; and the boys seated on the
nearest bench at once recognized and opened a corres-
pondence with the invaders. Tom waxing bold, kept
putting his head into the school and making faces at
the master when his back was turned. Poor Jacob, not
in the least comprehending the situation, and in high
glee at finding himself so near the school (which he had
never been allowed to enter), suddenly, in a fit of enthu-
siasm, pushed by Tom, and ambling three steps into the
school, stood there, looking round him and nodding with
a self-approving smile. The master, who was stooping
over a boy's slate, with his back to the door, became

SmfDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES. 55

aware of something unusual, and turned quickly round.
Tom rushed at Jacob, and began dragging him back by
his smock-frock, and the master made at them, scatter-
ing forms and boys in his career. Even now they might
have escaped, but that in the porch, barring retreat, ap-
peared the crafty wheelwright, who had been watching
all their proceedings. So they were seized, the school
dismissed, and Tom and Jacob led away to Squire Brown
as lawful prize, the boys following to the gate in groups,
and speculating on the result.

The Squire was very angry at first ; but the interview,
by Tom's pleading, ended in a compromise. Tom was
not to go near the school till three o'clock, and only
then if he had done his own lessons well, in which case
he was to be the bearer of a note to the master from
Squire Brown ; and the master agreed in such case to
release ten or twelve of the best boys an hour before
the time of breaking up, to go off and play in the close.
The wheelwright's adzes and swallows were to be for-
eyer respected ; and that hero and the master withdrew
to the servants' hall, to drink the Squire's health, well
satisfied with their day's work.

The second act of Tom's life ftiay now be said to have
begun. The war of independence had been over for
some time ; none of the women now, not even his
mother's maid, dared offer to help him in dressing or
washing. Between ourselves, he had often at first to
run to Benjy in an unfinished state of toilet. Charity
and the rest of them seemed to take a delight in putting
impossible buttons and ties in the middle of his back ;
but he would have gone without nether integuments
altogether, sooner than have had recourse to female
valeting. He had a room to himself, and his father
gave him sixpence a week pocket-money. All this he

56 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

had achieved by Benjy's advice and assistance; but
now he had conquered another step in life, the step
which all real boys so long to make, — he had got amongst
his equals in age and strength, and could measure him-
self with other boys; he lived with those whose pur-
suits and wishes and ways were the same in kind as
his own.

The little governess who had lately been installed in
the house found her work grow wondrously easy ; for
Tom slaved at his lessons in order to make sure of his
note to the schoolmaster. So there were very few days
in the week in which Tom and the village boys were
not playing in their close by three o'clock. Prisoner's
base, rounders, high-cock-a-lorum, cricket, football, — he
was soon initiated into the delights of them all ; and
^-^ ''\ though most of the boys were older than himself , he
managed to hold his own very well. He was naturally
active and strong, and quick of eye and hand, and had
the advantage of light shoes and well-fitting dress ; so
that in a short time he could run and jump and climb
with any of them.

They generally finished their regular games half an
hour or so before tea-time, and then began trials of
skill and strength in many ways. Some of them
would catch the Shetland pony who was turned out in
the field, and get two or three together on his back ;
and the little rogue, enjoying the fun, would gallop off
for fifty yards and then turn round, or stop short and
shoot them on to the turf, and then graze quietly on
till he felt another load. Others played peg-top or
marbles, while a few of the bigger ones stood up for a
bout at wrestling. Tom at first only looked on at this
pastime ; but it had peculiar attractions for him, and he
could not long keep out of it. Elbow and collar

SUHDET WARS AND ALLIANCES. 57

wreBtling as practised in the western counties was,
next to backs wording, the way to fame for the youth of
the Vale ; and all the boys knew the rules of it, and
were more or less expert. But Job Rudkin and Harry
Winbura. were the stars ; the former stiff and sturdy,
with legs hke small towers, the latter pliant as india-
rubber, and quick as lightning. Day after day they

le of the lew

stood foot to foot, and offered first one hand and then
the other, and grappled and closed and swayed and
strained, till a well-aimed crook of the heel or thrust
of the loin took effect, and a fair back-fall ended the
matter. And Tom watched with all his eyes, and first
challenged one of the less scientific, and threw him ; and
so one by one wrestled his way up to the leaders.

Then indeed for months he had a poor time of it. It
was not long indeed before he could manage to keep
his legs against Job, for that hero wis slow of offence,
and gained his victories chiefly by allowing others to

58 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

throw themselves against his immovable legs and loins ;
but Harry Winburn was undeniably his master. From
the first clutch of hands when they stood up, down
to the last trip which sent him on his back on the turf,
he felt that Harry knew more and could do more than
he. Luckily, Harry's bright unconsciousness, and Tom's
natural good temper, kept them from ever quarrelling ;
and so Tom worked on and on, and trod more and
more nearly on Harry's heels, and at last mastered all
the dodges and falls except one. This one was Harry's
own particular invention and pet ; he scarcely ever used
it except when hard pressed, but then out it came, and
as sure as it did, over went poor Tom. He thought
about that fall at his meals, in his walks, when he lay
awake in bed, in his dreams, — but all to no purpose
until Harry one day in his open way suggested to him
how he thought it should be met ; and in a week from
that time the boys were equal, save only the slight dif-
ference of strength in Harry's favor which some extra
ten months of age gave. Tom had often afterwards
reason to be thankful for that early drilling, and above
all for having mastered Harry Winbui*n's fall.

Beside their home games, on Saturdays the boys
would wander all over the neighborhood, — sometimes
to the downs, or up to the camp, where they cut their
initials out in the springy turf, and watched the hawks
soaring, and the " peert " bird, as Harry Winburn called
the gray plover, gorgeous in his wedding feathers, and
so home, racing down the Manger with many a roll
among the thistles, or through Uffington wood to watch
the fox-cubs playing in the green rides ; sometimes to
Rosy Brook, to cut long whispering reeds which grew
there, to make* pan-pipes of ; sometimes to Moor Mills,
where was a piece of old forest land, with short browsed

SUNDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES. 59

turf and tufted bramblv thickets stretching tinder the
oaks, amongst which rumor declared that a raven, last
of his race, still lingered ; or to the sand-hills in vain
quest of rabbits ; and birds'-nesting in the season, any-
where and everywhere.

The few neighbors of the Squire's own rank every
now and then would shrug their shoulders as they drove
or rode by a party of boys with Tom in the middle,
carrying along bulrushes or whispering reeds, or great
bundles of cowslip and meadow-sweet, or young star-
lings or magpies, or other spoil of wood, brook, or
meadow ; and Lawyer Red-tape might mutter to Squire
Straightback at the Board, that no good would come of f '
the young Browns if they were let run wild with all
the dirty village boys, whom the best farmers' sons
even would not play with. And the Squire might reply
with a shake of his head, that lii% sons only mixed with
their equals, and never went into the village without
the governess or a footman. But luckily Squire
Brown was full as stiff-backed as his neighbors, and so
went on his own way ; and Tom and his yoimger
brothers as they grew up went on playing with the
village boys, without the idea of equality or inequality
(except in wrestling, running, and climbing) ever enter-
ing their heads, as it does n't till it 's put there by Jack
Nastys or fine ladies' maids.

I don't mean to say it would be the case in all vil-
lages, but it certainly was so in this one. The village
boys were full as manly and honest, and certainly purer,
than those in a higher rank ; and Tom got more harm
from his equals in his first fortnight at a private school,
where he went when he was nine years old, than he had
from his village friends from the day he left Charity's
apron-strings.

60 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

Great was the grief amongst the village schoolboys
when Tom drove off with the Squire one August morn-
ing to meet the coach, on his way to school. Each of
them had given him some little present of the best that
he had ; and his small private box was full of peg-tops,
white marbles (called " alley-taws " in the Vale), screws
birds'-eggs, whip-cord, jews-harps, and other miscella-
neous boys' wealth. Poor Jacob Doodle-calf, in floods
of tears, had pressed upon him with spluttering earnest-
ness his lame pet hedgehog (he had always some poor
broken-down beast or bird by him) ; but this Tom had
been obliged to refuse by the Squire's order. He had
given them all a great tea under the big elm in their
playground, for which Madam Brown had supplied the
biggest cake ever seen in our village; and Tom was
really as sorry to leave them as they to lose him, but
his sorrow was not unmixed with the pride and excite-
ment of making a new step in life.

And this feeling carried him through his first parting
with his mother better than could have been expected.
Their love was as fair and whole as human love can be ;
perfect seK-sacrifice on the one side meeting a young
and true heart on the other. It is not within the scope
of my book however to speak of family relations, or
I should have much to say on the subject of English
mothers, — ay, and of English fathers and sisters and
brothers too.

Neither have I room to speak of our private schools ;
what I have to say is about public schools, — those much-
abused and much-belauded institutions peculiar to Eng-
land. So we must hurry through Master Tom's year at
a private school as fast as we can.

It was a fair average specimen, kept by a gentleman,
with another gentleman as second master; but it was

SUNDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES. Bl

little enough of the real work they did, — merely coming
into school when lessons were prepared and all ready to
be heard. The whole discipline of the school out of
lesson hours was in the hands of the two ushers, one of
whom was always with the boys in their playground, in
the school, at meals, — in fact at all times, and every-
where, till they were fairly in bed at night.

Now the theory of private schools is (or was) con-
stant supervision out of school ; therein differing funda-
mentally from that of public schools.

It may be right or wrong; but if right, this super-
vision surely ought to be the especial work of the head-
master, the responsible person. The object of all schools
is not to ram Latin and Greek into boys, but to make
them good English boys, good future citizens; and by\
far the most important part of that work must be done,
or not done, out of school hours. To leave it therefore
in the hands of inferior men, is just giving up the
highest and hardest part of the work of education.
Were I a private schoolmaster, I should say, let who
will hear the boys their lessons, but let 'me live with
them when they are at play and rest.

The two ushers at Tom's first school were not gentle-
men, and very poorly educated, and were only driving
their poor trade of usher to get such living as they
could out of it. They were not bad men, but had little
heart for their work, and of course were bent on making
it as easy as possible. One of the methods by which
they endeavored to accomplish this, was by encouraging
tale-bearing, which had become a frightfully common
vice in the school in consequence, and had sapped all
the foundations of school morality. Another was by
favoring grossly the biggest boys, who alone could have
given them much trouble ; whereby those young gentle-

62 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

men became most abominable tyrants, o})pressing the
little boys in all the small, mean ways wliich prevail in
private schools.

Poor little Tom was made dreadfully unhappy in his
first week by a catastrophe which happened to his first
letter home. With huge labpr he had on the ver}
evening of his arrival managed to fill two sides of a
sheet of letter-paper with assurances of his love for dear
mamma, his happiness at school, and his resolves to do
all she would wish. This missive, with the help of the
boy who sat at the desk next him, also a new arrival,
he managed to fold successfully ; but this done, they
were sadly put to it for means of sealing. Envelopes
were then unknown, they had no wax, and dared not
disturb the stillness of the evening schoolroom by get-
ting up and going to ask the usher for some. At length
Tom's friend, being of an ingenious turn of mind, sug-
gested sealing with ink ; and the letter was accordingly
stuck down with a blob of ink, and duly handed by
Tom on his way to bed to the housekeeper to be posted.
It was not till four days afterwards that that good dame
sent for him, and produced the precious letter and some
wax, saying, "Oh, Master Brown, I forgot to tell you
before, but your letter isn't sealed." Poor Tom took
the wax in silence and sealed his letter, with a huge
lump rising in his throat during the process, and then
ran away to a quiet corner of the playground and burst
into an agony of tears. The idea of his mother waiting
day after day for the letter he had promised her at
once, and perhaps thinking him forgetful of her, when
he had done all in his power to make good his promise,
was as bitter a grief as any which he had to undergo
for many a long year. His wrath then was propor-
tionately violent when he was aware of two boys, who

SUNDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES. 63

stopped close by him, and one of whom, a fat gaby
of a fellow, pomted at him and called him "Young
Mammy-sick ! " Whereupon Tom arose, and giving
vent thus to his grief and shame and rage, smote his
derider on the nose, and made it bleed, — which sent
that young worthy howling to the usher, who reported
Tom for violent and unprovoked assault and battery.
Hitting in the face was a felony punishable with flog-
ging, other hitting only a misdemeanor, — a distinction
not altogether clear in principle. Tom however escaped
the penalty by pleading primum tempus ; and having
written a second letter to his mother, enclosing some
forget-me-nots which he picked on their first half-
holiday walk, felt quite happy again, and began to enjoy
vastly a good deal of his new life.

These half-holiday walks were the great events of the
week. The whole fifty boys started after dinner with
one of the ushers for Hazeldown, which was distant
some mile or so from the school. Hazeldown measured
some three miles round, and in the neighborhood were
several woods full of all manner of birds and butterflies.
The usher walked slowly round the down with such boys
as liked to accompany him ; the rest scattered in all direc-
tions, being only bound to appear again when the usher
had completed his round, and accompany him home.
They were forbidden however to go anywhere except on
the down and into the woods, the village being especially
prohibited, where huge bulls'-eyes and unctuous toflfy
might be procured in exchange for coin of the realm.

Various were the amusements to which the boys then
betook themselves. At the entrance of the down there
was a steep hillock, like the barrows of Tom's own
downs. This mound was the weekly scene of terrific
combats at a game called by the queer name of " mud-

64 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

patties." The boys who played, divided into sides under
different leaders, and one side occupied the mound.
Then, all parties having provided themselves with many
sods of turf, cut with their bread-and-cheese knives, the
side which remained at the bottom proceeded to assault
the mound, advancing upon all sides under cover of a
heavy fire of turfs, and then struggling for victory with
the occupants, which was theirs as soon as they could,
even for a moment, clear the summit, when they in turn
became the besieged. It was a good, rough, dirty game,
and of great use in counteracting the sneaking tenden-
cies of the school. Then others of the boys spread
over the downs, looking for the holes of humble-bees
and mice, which they dug up without mercy, often (I
regret to say) killing and skinning the unlucky mice,
and (I do not regret to say) getting well stung by the
humble-bees. Others went after butterflies and birds'-
eggs in their seasons ; and Tom found on Hazeldown,
for the first time, the beautiful little blue butterfly with
golden spots on his wings, which he had never seen on
his own downs, and dug ou^ his first sand-martin's nest.
This latter achievement resulted in a flogging, for the
sand-martins built in a high bank close to the village,
consequently out of bounds ; but one of the bolder
spirits of the school, who never could be happy unless
he was doing something to which risk attached, easily
persuaded Tom to break bounds and visit the martin's
bank. From whence, it being only a step to the toffy-
shop, what could be more simple than to go on there
and fill their pockets ; or what more certain than that
on their return, a distribution of treasure having been
made, the usher should shortly detect the forbidden
smell of bulls'-eyes, and a search ensuing, discover the
state of the breeches-pockets of Tom and his ally ?

SUNDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES. 65

This ally of Tom's was indeed a desperate hero in
the sight of the boys, and feared as one who dealt
in magic, or something approaching thereto, which
reputation came to him in this wise. The boya went
to bed at eight, and of course consequently lay awake
in the dark for an hour or two, telling ghost-stories by
turns. One night when it came to his turn, and he
had dried up their souls by his story, he suddenly
declared that he would make a fiery hand appear on
the door ; and to the astonishment and terror of the
boys in his room, a hand, or something like it, in pale
light did then and there appear. The fame of this
exploit having spread to the other rooms, and being
discredited there, the young necromancer declared that
the same wonder would appear in all the rooms in turn,
which it accordingly did ; and the whole circumstances
having been privately reported to one of the ushers as
usual, that functionary, after listening about at the
doors of the rooms, by a sudden descent caught the
performer in his night^shirt with a box of phosphorus
in his guilty hand. Lucifer-matches and all the present
facilities for getting acquainted with fire were then
unknown ; the very name of phosphorus had something
diabolic in it to the boy-mind. So Tom's ally at the cost
of a soimd flogging earned what many older folk covet
much, — the very decided fear of most of his companions.

He was a remarkable boy, and by no means a bad
one. Tom stuck to him till he left, and got into many
scrapes by so doing; but he was the great opponent
of the tale-bearing habits of the school, and the open
enemy of the ushers, and so worthy of all support.

Tom imbibed a fair amount of Latin and Gfreek at
the school, but somehow on the whole it did n't suit
him, or he it ; and in the holidays he waa constantly

66 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

working the Squire to send him at once to a public
school. Great was his joy then, when in the middle
of his third half-year, in October, 183-, a fever broke
out in the village, and the master having himself slightly
sickened of it, the whole of the boys were sent off at a
day's notice to their respective homes.

The Squire was not quite so pleased as Master Tom
to see that young gentleman's brown merry face appear
at home, some two months before the proper time, for
Christmas holidays ; and so after putting on his thinking
cap, he retired to his study and wrote several letters,
the result of which was that one morning at the
breakfast-table, about a fortnight after Tom's return,
he addressed his wife with, — " My dear, I have arranged
that Tom shall go to Rugby at once, for the last six
weeks of this half-year, instead of wasting them riding
and loitering about home. It is very kind of the Doctor
to allow it. Will you see that his things are all ready
by Friday, when I shall take him up to town and send
him down the next day by himself."

Mrs. Brown was prepared for the announcement, and
merely suggested a doubt whether Tom were yet old
enough to travel by himself. However, finding both
father and son against her on this point, she gave in
like a wise woman, and proceeded to prepare Tom's kit
ior his launch into a public school.

CHAPTER TV.

THE STAGtW;OACH.

" IM the steam-pot hiss till it 'e hot,
iiiye ms the speed of the Tantivy trot."

K. E. Waiiburton : Caching S

ho coach for Leicester Ml be round in half an hour, and
don't wait for nobody." So spake the boots of the Pea-
cock Inn, Islington, at half-past two o'clock on the
morning of a day in the early part of November, 18S-,
giving Tom at the same time a shake by the shoulder,
and then putting down a candle and carrying off his
shoes to clean.

Tom and his father had arrived in town from Berk-
shire the day before, and finding on inquiry that the
Birmingham coaches which ran from the city did not
pass through Rugby, but deposited their passengers at
Dunchurch (a village three miles distant on the main
road, where said passengers had to wait tor the Ox-

68 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

ford and Leicester coach in the evening, or to take a
post-chaise), had resolved that Tom should travel down
by the tally-ho, which diverged from the main road and
passed through Rugby itself. And as the tally-ho
was an early coach, they had driven out to the Peacock
to be on the road.

Tom had never been in London, and would have
liked to have stopped at the Belle Sauvage, where they
had been put down by the Star just at dusk, that he
might have gone roving about those endless, mysterious,
gas-lit streets, which with their glare and hum and
moving crowds excited him so that he couldn't talk
even. But as soon as he found that the Peacock
arrangement would get him to Rugby by twelve o'clock
in the day, whereas otherwise he wouldn't be there
till the evening, all other plans melted away, — his one
absorbing aim being to become a public schoolboy as
fast as possible, and six hours sooner or later seeming
to him of the most alarming importance.

Tom and his father had alighted at the Peacock at
about seven in the evening; and having heard with
unfeigned joy the paternal order at the bar, of steaks
and oyster-sauce for supper in half an hour, and seen his
father seated cosily by the bright fire in the coffee-room
with the paper in his hand, Tom had run out to see
about him, had wondered at all the vehicles passing
and repassing, and had fraternized with the boots and
ostler, from whom he ascertained that the tallv-ho was
a tip-top goer, ten miles an hour including stoppages,
and so punctual that all the road set their clocks by
her. Then being summoned to supper, he had regaled
himself in one of the bright little boxes of the Peacock
coffee-room on the beef-steak and imlimited oyster-
sauce and brown stout (tasted then for the first time,

THE STAGE-COACH.

— a day to be marked forever bj To-
stone), — had at firgt attendfH
which h

h
ht.
ast

cboi

fatht
As

looket
"I
«Y
«A

«a:

Boots

THE STAGE-COACH. 69

--a day to be marked forever by Tom with a white
stone), — had at first attended to the excellent advice
which his father was bestowing on him from over his
glass of steaming brandy and water, and then begun
nodding from the united effects of the stout, the fire,
and the lecture, till the Squire observing Tom's state,
and remembering that it was nearly nine o'clock, and
that the tally-ho left at three, sent the little fellow off
to the chambermaid, with a shake of the hand (Tom
having stipulated in the morning before starting that
kissing should now cease between them) and a few
parting words.

" And now, Tom, my boy," said the Squire, "remem-
ber you are going, at your own earnest request, to be
chucked into this great school (like a young bear with
all your troubles before you) earlier than we should
have sent you perhaps. If schools are what they were
in my time, you '11 see a great many cruel blackguard
things done, and hear a deal of foul, bad talk. But
never fear. You tell the truth, keep a brave and kind
heart, and never listen to or say anything you would n't
have your mother and sister hear, and you '11 never feel
ashamed to come home, or we to see you."

The allusion to his mother made Tom feel rather
chokey, and he would have liked to have hugged his
father well, if it. had n't been for the recent stipulation.

As it was, he only squeezed his father's hand, and
looked bravely up and said, " I '11 try, father."

"I know you will, my boy. Is your money all safe ?"

" Yes," said Tom, diving into one pocket to make sure.

" And your keys ? " said the Squire.

" All right," said Tom, diving into the other pocket.

" Well then, good nighto God bless you ! I '11 tell
Boots to call you, and be up to see you off."

70 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

Tom was carried off by the chambermaid in a brown
study, from which he was roused in a clean little attic
by that buxom person calling him a little darling, and
kissing him as she left the room, which indignity he
was too much surprised to resent. And still thinking
of his father's last words, and the look with which they
were spoken, he knelt down and })rayed that come what
might, he might never bring shame or sorrow on the
dear folk at home.

Indeed, the Squire's last words deserved to have their
effect, for they had been the result of much anxious
thought. All the way up to London he had pondered
what he should say to Tom by way of parting advice,
something that the boy could keep in his head ready for
use. By way of assisting meditation, he had even gone
the length of taking out his flint and steel and tinder,
and hammering away for a quarter of an hour till he
had manufactured a light for a long Trichinopoli che-
root, which he silently puffed, — to the no small wonder
of Coachee, who was an old friend, and an institution on
the Bath road, and who always expected a talk on the
prospects and doings, agricultural and social, of the
whole county when he carried the Squire.

To condense the Squire's meditation, it was some-
what as follows : " I won't tell him to read his Bible
and love and serve God; if he don't do that for his
mother's sake and teaching, he won't for mine. Shall
1 go into the sort of temptations he '11 meet with ? No.
I can't do that. Never do for an old fellow to go into
Huch things with a boy. He won't understand me. Do
him more harm than good, ten to one. Shall I tell him
to mind his work, and say he 's sent to school to make
himself a good scholar ? Well, but he is n't sent to
school for that — at any rate, not for that mainly. I

THE STAGE-COACH. 71

don't care a straw for Greek particles, or the digamma,
no more does his mother. What is he sent to school
for ? Well, partly because he wanted so to go. If he '11
only turn out a brave, helpful, truth-telling Englishman
and a gentleman and a Christian, that 's all I want,"
thought the Squire ; and upon this view of the case
framed his last words of advice to Tom, which were well
enough suited to his purpose.

For they were Tom's first thoughts as he tumbled
out of bed at the summons of Boots, and proceeded
rapidly to wash and dress himself. At ten minutes to
\hree he was down in the coffee-room in his stockings,
carrying his hat-box, coat, and comforter in his hand ;
and there he found his father nursing a bright fire, and
a cup of hot coffee and a hard biscuit on the table.

" Now then, Tom, give us your things, here, and drink
this ; there 's nothing like starting warm, old fellow."

Tom addressed himself to the coffee, and prattled
away while he worked himself into his shoes and his
great-coat, well warmed through, — a Petersham coat
with velvet collar, made tight, after the abominable
fashion of those days. And just as he is swallowing
his last mouthful, winding his comforter round his
throat, and tucking the ends into the breast of his coat,
the horn sounds, Boots looks in and says, " Tally-ho,
sir ; " and they hear the ring and the rattle of the four
fast trotters and the town-made drag, as it dashes up
to the Peacock.

" Anything for us. Bob ? " says the burly guard, drop-
ping down from behind, and slapping himself across
the chest.

" Young genl'm'n, Rugby ; three parcels, Leicester ;
hamper o' game, Rugby," answers Hostler.

" Tell yomig gent to look alive," says Guard, opening

72 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

the hind boot and shooting in the parcels after examin-
ing them by the lamps. " Here, shove the portmanteau
up a-top ; I'll fasten him. presently. Now then, sir,
jump up behind."

" Good-by, father, — my love at home." A last shake
of the hand. Up goes Tom, the guard catching his
hat-box and holding on with one hand, while with the
other he claps the horn to his mouth. Toot, toot, toot !
The hostlers let go their heads, the four bays plunge at
the collar, and away goes the tally-ho into the dark-
ness, forty-five seconds from the time they pulled up ;
Hostler, Boots, and the Squire stand looking after them
under the Peacock lamp.

" Sharp work ! " says the Squire, and goes in again to
his bed, the coach being well out of sight and hearing.

Tom stands up on the coach and looks back at his
father's figure as long as he can see it ; and then the
guard, having disposed of his luggage, comes to an anchor,
and finishes his buttonings and other preparations for
facing the three hours before dawn, — no joke for those
who minded cold on a fast coach in November, in the
reign of his late Majesty.

I sometimes think that you boys of this generation
are a deal tenderer fellows than we used to be. At any
rate, you 're much more comfortable travellers, for I see
every one of you with his rug or plaid, and other dodges
for preserving the caloric, and most of you going in
those fuzzy, dusty, padded first-class carriages. It was
another affair altogether, a dark ride on the top of the
tally-ho, I can tell you, in a tight Petersham coat, and
your feet dangling six inches from the floor. Then you
knew what cold was, and what it was to be without legs ;
for not a bit of feeling had you in them after the first
half-hour. But it had its pleasures, the old dark ride.

THE STAGE-COACH. 78

First there was the consciousness of silent endurance
(so dear to every Englishman) — of standing out against
something and not giving in. Then there was the music
of the rattling harness, and the ring of the horses' feet
on the hard road, and the glare of the two bright lamps
through the steaming hoarfrost, over the leaders' ears,
into the darkness ; and the cheery toot of the guard's
horn, to warn some drowsy pikeman or the hostler at
the next change ; and the looking forward to daylight ;
and last, but not least, the delight of returning sensation
in your toes.

Then the break of dawn and the sunrise ; where can
they be ever seen in perfection but from a coach roof ?
You want motion and change and music to see them in
their glory ; not the music of singing-men and singing-
women, but good silent music, which sets itself in your
own head , — the accompaniment of work and getting over
the ground.

The tally-ho is past St. Alban's ; and Tom is enjoying
the ride, though half frozen. The guard, who is alone
with him on the back of the coach, is silent, but has
muffled Tom's feet up in straw, and put the end of an
oat-sack over his knees. The darkness has driven him
inwards ; and he has gone over his little past life, and
thought of all his doings and promises, and of his mother
and sister, and his father's last words, and has made
fifty good resolutions, and means to bear himself like a
brave Brown as he is, though a young one.

Then he has been forward into the mysterious boy-*
future, speculating as to what sort of a place Rugby is,
and what they do there, and calling up all the stories of
public schools which he has heard from big boys in the
holidays. He is chock-full of hope and life, notwith-
standing the cold, and kicks hi? heels against the back

74 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

board, and would like to sing, only he doean't know how
his friend the silent guard might take it.

And now the dawn breaks at the end of the fourth
stage, and the coach pulls up at a little road-side inn
with huge stables behind. There is a bright fire gleam-
ing through the red curtains of the bar-window, and
the door is open. The coachman catches his whip into
a double thong, and throws it to the hostler ; the steam
of the horses rises straight up into the air. He has put
them along over the last two miles, and is two minutes
before his time ; he rolls down from the box and into
the inn. The guard rolls off behind. " Now, sir," says
he to Tom, " you just jump down, and I '11 give you a
drop of something to keep the cold out."

Tom finds a difficulty in jumping, or indeed in finding
the top of the wheel with his feet, which may be in the
next world for all he feels ; so the guard picks him off
the coach-top, and sets him on his legs, and they stump
off into the bar, and join the coachman and the other
outside passengers.

Here a fresh-looking barmaid serves them each with
a glass of early purl as they stand before the fire, coach-
man and guard exchanging business remarks. The purl
warms the cockles of Tom's heart, and makes him cough.

'* Rare tackle, that, sir, of a cold morning," says the
coachman, smiling. " Time 's up." They are out again
and up ; Coachee the last, gathering the reins into his
hands and talking to Jem the hostler about the mare's
shoulder, and then swinging himself up on to the box, —
the horses dashing off in a canter before he falls into his
seat. Toot-toot-tootle-too goes the horn, and away they
are again, five-and-thirty miles on their road (nearly
half way to Rugby, thinks Tom), and the prospect of
breakfast at the end of the stage.

THE STAGE-COACH. 76

And now they begin to see, and the early life of the
country-side comes out, — a market-cart or two, men in
smock-frocks going to their work, pipe in mouth, a whiff
of which is no bad smell this bright morning. The sun
gets up, and the mist shines like silver gauze. They pass
the hounds jogging along to a distant meet at the heels
of the huntsman's hack, whose face is about the color of
the tails of his old pink, as he exchanges greetings with
coachman and guard. Now they pull up at a lodge, and
take on board a well-muffled-up sportsman, with his gun-
case and carpet-bag. An early up-coach meets them,
and the coachmen gather up their horses, and pass one
another with the accustomed lift of the elbow, each team
doing eleven miles an hour, with a mile to spare behind
if necessary. And here comes breakfast.

" Twenty minutes here, gentlemen," says the coach-
man as they pull up at half-past seven at the inn door.

Have we not endured nobly this morning, and is not
this a worthy reward for much endurance ? There is
the low dark wainscoted room hung with sporting
prints ; the hat-stand (with a whip or two standing up
in it belonging to bagmen who are still snug in bed)
by the door ; the blazing fire, with the quaint old glass
over the mantelpiece, in which is stuck a large card
with the list of the meets for the week of the county
hounds; the table covered with the whitest of cloths
and of china, and bearing a pigeon-pie, ham, round of
cold boiled beef cut from a mammoth ox, and the great
loaf of household bread on a wooden trencher. And here
comes in the stout head-waiter, puffing under a tray
of hot viands, — kidneys and a steak, transparent rashers
and poached eggs, buttered toast and muffins, coffee
and tea, all smoking hot. The table can never hold
it all; the cold meats are removed to the sideboard, —

76 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

they were only put on for show and to give us an ap-
petite. And now fall on, gentlemen all. It is a well-
known sporting-house, and the breakfasts are famous.
Two or three men in pink, on their way to the meet,
drop in, and are very jovial and sharp-set, as indeed we
all are.

" Tea or coffee, sir ? " says Head-waiter, coming round
to Tom.

" Coffee, please," says Tom, with his mouth full of
muflBn and kidney. Coffee is a treat to him, tea is not.

Our coachman, I perceive, who breakfasts with us,
is a cold-beef man. He also eschews hot potations, and
addicts himself to a tankard of ale, which is brought
him by the barmaid. Sportsman looks on approvingly,
and orders a ditto for himself.

Tom has eaten kidney and pigeon-pie, and imbibed
coffee, till his little skin is as tight as a drum; and
then has the further pleasure of paying Head-waiter out
of his own purse, in a dignified manner, and walks out
before the inn door to see the horses put to. This is
done leisurely and in a highly finished manner by the
hostlers, as if they enjoyed the not being hurried.
Coachman comes out with his way-bill, and pulBBng
a fat cigar which the sportsman has given him. Guard
emerges from the tap, where he prefers breakfasting,
licking round a tough-looking doubtful cheroot, which
you might tie round your finger, and three whiffs of
which would knock any one else out of time.

The pinks stand about the inn door lightine cigars
and waiting to see us start, while their hacks are led
up and down the market-place on which the inn looks.
They all know our sportsman, and we feel a reflected
credit when we see him chatting and laughing with
them.

THE STAGE-COACH. 77

" Now, sir, jjleasc;," says the coachman. All the rest
of the passengers are up ; the guard is lockii^ the hind
boot,

' " A good run to you ! " says the sportsman to the
pink», and is by the coachman's side in no time.

" A i;ood run to you ! " says the sportsman to the pinfai.

" Let 'em go, Dick ! " The hostlers fly back, drawing
off the cloths from their glossy loins, and away we go
through the market-place and down the High Street,
looking in at the first-floor windows, and seeing several
worthy burgesses shaving thereat ; while all the shop-
boys who are cleaning the windows, and housemaids
who are doing the steps, stop and look pleased as we

78 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

rattle past, as if we were a part of their legitimate morn-
ing's amusement. We clear the town, and are well
out between the' 'hedgerows again as the town clock
strikes eight. , >

The sun shines almost warmly, and breakfast has
oiled all springs and loosened all tongues. Tom is en-
couraged by a remark or two of the guard's between the
puffs of his oily cheroot, and besides is getting tired of not
talking ; he is too full of his destination to talk about
anything else, and so asks the guard if he knows Rugby/

" Goes through it every day 'of my life. Twenty
minutes afore twelve down, ten o'clock up."

" What sort'of a place is it, please ? " says Tom.

Guard looks at him with a comical expression.
"Werry out-o'-the-way place, sir; no paving to the
streets nor no lighting. 'Mazin' big horse and cattle
fair in autumn ; lasts a week. Just over now. Takes
town a week to get clean after it. Fairish hunting
country, but slow place, sir, slow place. Off the main
road, you see; only three coaches a day, and one on
*em a two-*oss wan, more like a hearse nor a coach, —
Regulator^ comes from Oxford. Young genl'm'n at
school calls her Pig and Whistle, and goes up to college
by her (six miles an hour) when they goes to enter.
Belong to school, sir ? "

"Yes," says Tom, not unwilling for a moment that
the guard should think him an old boy. But then hav-
ing some qualms as to the truth of the assertion, and
seeing that if he were to assume the character of an old
boy he could n't go on asking the questions he wanted,
added, " That is to say, I 'm on my way there. I 'm a
new boy."

The guard looked as if he knew this quite as well
as Tom.

THE STAGE-COACH. 79

" You 're werry late, sir," says the guard ; " only six
weeks to-day to the end of the half." Tom assented.
" We takes up fine loads this day six weeks, and
Monday and Tuesday arter. Hopes we shall have the
pleasure of carrying you back."

Tom said he hoped they would ; but he thought within
himself that his fate would probably be the Pig and
Whistle. '

"It pays uncommon, cert'nly,"#coutinues the guard..
" Werry free with their cash is the young genl'm'n.
But, Lor' bless you, we gets into such rows all 'long
the road, what wi' their pea-shooters, and long whips,
and hollering, and upsetting every one as comes by.
I 'd a sight sooner carry one or two on 'em, sir, as I may
be a-carryin' of you now, than a coach-load."

" What do they do with the pea-shooters ? " inquires
Tom.

" Do wi' 'em ! Why, peppers every one's faces as we
come near, 'cept the young gals, and breaks windows
wi' 'em too, some on 'em shoots so hard. Now 't was
just here last June, as we was a-driving up the first-
day boys, they was mendin' a quarter-mile of road, and
there was a lot of Irish chaps, reg'lar roughs, a-breaking
stones. As we comes up, ' Now, boys,' says young gent
on the box (smart young fellow and desper't reckless),
' here 's fun ! Let the Pats have it about the ears.'
' God's sake, sir ! ' says Bob (that 's my mate the coach-
man),* don't go for to shoot at 'em, they'll knock us
off the coach.' * Damme, Coachee,' says young my-
lord, ' you ain't afraid ; hoora, boys ! let 'em have it.'
* Hoora ! ' sings out the others, and fills their mouths
chock-full of peas to last the whole line. Bob seeing
as 't was to come, knocks his hat over his eyes, hollers
to his 'osses, and shakes 'em up, and away we goes up

80 TOM BROWN^S SCHOOL-DAYS.

to the line on 'em, twenty miles an hour. The Pats
begin to hoora too, thinking it was a runaway, and first
lot on 'em stands grinnin' and wavin' their old hats as
we comes abreast on 'em ; and then you 'd ha' laughed
to see how took aback and choking savage they looked
when they gets the peas a-stinging all over 'em. But
bless you, the laugh were n't all of our side, sir, by a
long way. We was going so fast, and they was so took
aback that they did n't take what was up till we was
half-way up the line. Then 'twas ' look out all,' surely.
They howls all down the line fit to frighten you, some
on 'em runs arter us and tries to clamber up behind,
only we hits 'em over the fingers and pulls their hands
off ; one as had had it very sharp, act'ly runs right at the
leaders, as though he 'd ketch 'em by the heads, only
luck'ly for him he misses his tip, and comes over a heap
o' stones first. The rest picks up stones, and gives it
us right away till we gets out o' shot, the young gents
holding out werry manful with the pea-shooterfl and such
stones as lodged on us ; and a pretty many there was
too. Then Bob picks hisself up again, and looks at
young gent on box werry solemn. Bob 'd had a rum un
in the ribs, which 'd like to ha' knocked him off the box,
or made him drop the reins. Young gent on box picks
hisself up, and so does we all, and looks round to count
damage. Box's head cut open and his hat gone ; *nother
young gent's hat gone; mine knocked in at the side,
and not one on us as was n't black and blue somewheres
or another; most on 'em all over. Two-pound-ten to
pay for damage to paint, which they subscribed for there
and then, and give Bob and me a extra half-sovereign
each ; but I would n't go down that line again njot for
twenty half-sovereigns." And the guard shook his head
slowly, and got up and blew a clear brisk toot-toot.

THE STAGE-COACH. 8l

" What fun ! " said Tom, who could scarcely contain
his pride at this exploit of his future schoolfellows.
He longed already for the end of the half, that he
might join them.

" 'T ain't such good fun though, sir, for the folk as
meets the coach, nor for we who has to go back with it
next day. Them Irishers last summer had all got
stones ready for us, and was all but letting drive, and
we 'd got two reverend gents aboard too. We pulled
up at the beginning of the line, and pacified them,
and we 're never going to carry no more pea-shooters
unless they promises not to fire where there 's a line
of Irish chaps a-stone-breaking." The guard stopped
and pulled away at his cheroot, regarding Tom be-
nignantly the while.

" Oh, don't stop ! Tell us something more about the
pea^hooting."

" Well, there 'd like to have been a pretty piece of
work over it at Bicester, a while back. We was six
mile from the town, when we meets an old square-
headed, gray-haired yeoman chap, a-jogging along
quite quiet. He looks up at the coach, and just then
a pea hits him on the nose, and some ketches his cob
behind and makes him dance up on his hind legs. I
see'd the old boy's face flush and look plaguy awkward,
and I thought we was in for somethin' nasty.

" He turns his cob's head, and rides quietly after
us just out of shot. How that 'ere cob did step ! We
never shook him off not a dozen yards in the six mile.
At first the young gents was werry lively on him ; but
afore we got in, seeing how steady the old chap come
on, they was quite quiet, and laid their heads together
what they should do. Some was for fighting, some for
axing his pardon. He rides into the town close after

82 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

US, comes up when we stops, and says the two as shot
at him must come before a magistrate ; and a great
crowd comes round, and we could n't get the 'osses to.
But the young uns, they all stand by one another, and
says all or none must go, and as how they 'd fight it
out, and have to be carried. Just as 'twas gettin'
. serious, and the old boy and the mob was goin' to pull
'em off the coach, one little fellow jumps up and says,
' Here, I '11 stay, I 'm only going three miles further.
My father's name 's Davis ; he 's known about here, and
1 '11 go before the magistrate with this gentleman.' '
' What, be thee parson Davis's son ? ' says the old boy.
' Yes,' says the young un. ' Well, I be mortal sorry to
meet thee in such company, but for thy father's sake
and thine (for thee bi'st a brave young chap) I '11 say
no more about it." Did n't the boys cheer him, and the
mob cheered the young chap; and then one of the
biggest gets down and begs his pardon werry gentle-
manly for all the rest, saying as they all had been
plaguy vexed from the first, but did n't like to ax his
pardon till then, 'cause they felt they had n't ought to
shirk the consequences of their joke. And then they
all got down and shook hands with the old boy, and
asked him to all parts of the country to their homes ;
and we drives off twenty minutes behind time, with
cheering and hollering as if we was county members.
But, Lor' bless you, sir," says the guard, smacking his
hand down on his knee and looking full into Tom's
face, "ten minutes arter thev was all as bad as ever."

Tom showed such undisguised and open-mouthed in-
terest in his narrations, that the old guard rubbed up
his memory, and launched out into a graphic history of
all the performances of the boys on the road for the
last twenty years. Off the road he could n't go ; the

THE STAGE-COACH. 88

exploit must have been connected with horses or ve-
hicles to hang in the old fellow's head. Tom tried him
off his own gromid once or twice, but found he knew
nothing beyond, and so let him have his head, and the
rest of the road bowled easily away ; for old Blow-hard
(as the boys called him) was a dry old file, with much
kindness and humor, and a capital spinner of a yarn
when he had broken the neck of his day's work and got
plenty of ale under his belt.

What struck Tom's youthful imagination most was
the desperate and lawless character of most of the
stories. Was the guard hoaxing him? He couldn't
help hoping that they were true. It 's very odd how
almost all English boys love danger ; you can get ten
to join a game, or climb a tree, or swim a stream when
there's a chance of breaking their limbs or getting
drowned, for one who *11 stay on level groimd, or in his
depth, or play quoits or bowls.

The guard had just finished an account of a desperatev x
fight which had happened at one of the fairs between
the drovers and the farmers with their whips, and the
boys with cricket-bats and wickets, which arose out of ;
a playful but objectionable practice of the boys going
round to the public-houses and taking the linch-piiis out
of the wheels of the gigs, and was moralizing upon the
way in which the Doctor, " a terrible stern man he 'd
heard tell," had come down upon several of the per-
formers, " sending three on 'em off next morning, each
in a po-chay with a parish constable," when they turned
a corner and neared the milestone, the third from Rugby.
By the stone two boys stood, their jackets buttoned tight,
waiting for the coach.

" Look here, sir," says the guard, after giving a sharp
toot-toot, " there 's two on 'em ; out and out runners

84 TOM BROWK'S SCHOOL-DATS.

they be. They come out about twice or three times a
week, and spirts a mile alongside of us."

And as they came up, sure enough, away went two
boys along the footpath, keeping up with the horses ;
the first a light clean-made fellow going on springs, the
other stout and round-shouldered, laboring in his pace,
but going as dogged as a bull-terrier.

Old Blow-hard looked on admiringly. " See how
beautiful that there un holds hisseK together, and goes
from his hips, sir," said he ; he 's a 'mazin' fine runner.
Now, many coachmen as drives a first-rate team 'd put it
on and try and pass 'em. But Bob, sir, bless you, he 's
tender-hearted; he'd sooner pull in a bit if he see'd
'em a gettin' beat. I do b'lieve too as that there un 'd
sooner break his heart than let us go by him afore next
milestone."

At the second milestone the boys pulled up short
and waved their hats to the guard, who had his watch
out and shouted, "4.56," thereby indicating that the
mile had been done in four seconds under the five
minutes. They passed several more parties of boys,
all of them objects of the deepest interest to Tom, and
came in sight of the town at ten minutes before twelve.
Tom fetched a long breath, and thought he had never
spent a pleasanter day. Before he went to bed he had
quite settled that it must be the greatest day he should
ever spend, and did n't alter his opinion for many a long
year — if he has yet.

.CHAPTER V.

RUGBY AND FOOTBALL.

" — Foot and eye opposed

In dubious strife."

Scott.

-^ND so here 's Rugby, sir, at last,
and you '11 be in plenty of time for
dinner at the Schoolhouse, as I
tell'd you," said the old guard,
pulling his horn out of its case,
and tootle-tooing away ; while the
coachman shook up his horses
and carried them along the side
of the school close, round Dead-
man's Corner, past the school
gates, and down the High Street
to the Spread Eagle ; the wheelers
in a spanking trot, and leaders
cantering in a style which would
not have disgraced " Cherry Bob," " ramping, stamping,
tearing, swearing Billy Harwood," or any other of the
old coaching heroes.
/Tom's heart beat quickly as he passed the great school
field, or close, with its noble elms, in which several
• games at football were going on, and tried to take in
at once the long line of gray buildings, beginning with
the chapel, and ending 'with the Schoolhouse, the resi-
dence of the head-master, where the great flag was

86 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS

lajEily waving from tlie highest round tower. And he
began already to be proud of being a Rugby boy, as he
passed the schoolgatea. v.-ith the oriel-window above,
and saw the boys standing there, looking as if the town

Rugby Gate.

belonged to them, and nodding in a familiar manner to
the coachman, as if any one of them would be quite
equal to getting on the box and working the team down-
street as well as he.

One of the youilg heroes, however, ran out from the
rest, and scrambled up behind ; where, having righted
himself and nodded to the guard with " How do, Jem ? "

RUGBY AND FOOTBALL. 87

he turned short round to Tom, and, after looking him
over for a minute, began —

" I say, you fellow, is your name Brown ? "

^ Yes," said Tom, in considerable astonishment ; glad,
however, to have lighted on some one already who
seemed to know him.

" Ah, I thought so ; you know my old aimt, Miss East ;
she lives somewhere down your way in Berkshire. She
wrote to me that you were coming to-day, and asked me
to give you a lift."

Tom was somewhat inclined to resent the patronizing
air of his new friend — a boy of just about his own height
and age, but gifted with the most transcendent coolness
and assurance, which Tom felt to be aggravating and
hard to bear, but couldn't for the life of him help
admiring and envying — especially when young my-lord
begins hectoring two or three long, loafing fellows,
half porter, half stableman, with a strong touch of the
blackguard, and in the end arranges with one of them,
nicknamed Cooey, to carry Tom's luggage up to the
Schoolhouse for sixpence.

" And heark'ee, Cooey, it must be up in ten minutes,
or no more jobs from me. Come along. Brown." And
away swaggers the young potentate, with his hands in
his pockets, and Tom at his side.

" All right, sir," says Cooey, touching his hat, with a
leer and a wink at his companions.

" Hullo, though," says East, pulling up, and taking
another look at Tom, " this '11 never do — have n't you
got a hat ? We never wear caps here. Only the louts
wear caps. Bless you, if you were to go into the quad-
rangle with that thing on, I — don't know what 'd
happen." The very idea was quite beyond young
Master East, and he looked unutterable things.

TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

Tom thought his cap a very knowing affair, but con-

" feased that he had a hat in his hat-box ; which was

accordingly at once extracted from the hind boot, and

Tom equipped in his go-to-meeting roof, as his new

" And henrk'i^e, Cooey, it mast be up in ten minntea."

friend called it. But this did n't quite suit his fastidious
taste in another minute, being too shiny ; so, as they
walk up the town, they dive into Nixon's, the hatter's,
and Tom is arrayed, to hia utter astonishment, and
without paying for it, in a regulation cafc^kin at seven-
and-sixpence ; Nixon undertaking to send the best hat

RUGBY AND FOOTBALL. 89

up to the matron's room, Schoolhouse, in half an
hour.

" You can send in a note for a tile on Monday, and
make it all right, you know," said Mentor ; " we 're
allowed two seven-and-sixers a half, besides what we
bring from home."

Tom by this time began to be conscious of his new
social position and dignities, and to luxuriate in the
realized ambition of being a public-school boy at last,
with a vested right of spoiling two seven-and-sixers in
half a year.

" You see," said his friend, as they strolled up towards
the school gates, in explanation of his conduct — "a
great deal depends on how a fellow cuts up at first.
If he 's got nothing odd about him, and answers straight-
forward and holds his head up, he gets on. Now you '11
do very well as to rig, all but that cap. You see I 'm
doing the handsome thing by you, because my father
knows yours ; besides, I want to please the old lady. She
gave me a half-a-sov. this half, and perhaps '11 double it
next, if I keep in her good books."

There 's nothing for candor like a lower-school boy ;
and East was a genuine specimen — frank, hearty, and
good-natured, well satisfied with himself and his posi-
tion, and chock-full of life and spirits, and all the Rugby
prejudices and traditions which he had been able to get
together, in the long course of one half-year, during
which he had been at the Schoolhouse.

And Tom, notwithstanding his bumptiousness, felt
friends with him at once, and began sucking in all his
ways and prejudices, as fast as he could understand
them.

East was great in the character of cicerone; he
carried Tom through the great gates, where were only

90 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

two or three boys. These satisfied themselves with the
stock questions, — " You fellow, what 's your name ?
Where do you come from ? How old are you ? Where
do you board ? What form are you in ? " and so
they passed on through the quadrangle and a small
courtyard, upon which looked down a lot of little win-
dows (belonging, as his guide informed him, to some of
the Schoolhouse studies), into the matron's room, where
East introduced Tom to that dignitary ; made him give
up the key of his trunk that the matron might unpack
his linen, and told the story of the hat and of his own
presence of mind ; upon the relation whereof the matron
laughingly scolded him, for the coolest new boy in the
house ; and East, indignant at the accusation of newness,
marched Tom off into the quadrangle, and began show-
ing him the schools, and examining him as to his literary
attainments; the result of which was a prophecy that
they would be in the same form, and could do their
lessons together.

" And now come in and see my study ; we shall have
just time before dinner ; and afterwards, before calling
over, we '11 do the close."

Tom followed his guide through the Schoolhouse
hall, which opens into the quadrangle. It is a great
room thirty feet long and eighteen high, or thereabouts,
with two great tables running the whole length, and two
large fireplaces at the side, with blazing fires in them,
at one of which some dozen boys were standing and
lounging, some of whom shouted to East to stop; but
he shot through with his convoy, and landed him in the
long dark passages, with a large fire at the end of each,
upon which the studies opened. Into one of these, in
the bottom passage, East bolted with our hero, slamming
and bolting the door behind them, in case of pursuit

RUGBY AND FOOTBALL. 91

from the hall, and Tom was for the first time in a Rugbj
boy's citadel.

He had n't been prepared for separate studies, and was
not a little astonished and delighted with the palace in
question.

It wasn't very large certainly, being about six feet
bng by four broad. It could n't be called light, as there
were bars and a grating to the window ; which little
precautions were necessary in the studies on the ground
floor looking out into the close, to prevent the exit of
small boys after locking-up, and the entrance of contra-
band articles. But it was uncommonlv comfortable to
look at, Tom thought. The space under the window at
the further end was occupied by a square table covered
with a reasonably clean and whole red and blue check
tablecloth; a hard-seated sofa covered with red stufif
occupied one side, running up to the end, and making a
seat for one — or, by sitting close, for two — at the table •
and a good stout wooden chair afforded a seat to another
boy, so that three could sit and work together. The
walls were wainscoted half-way up, the wainscot being
covered with green baize, the remainder with a bright-
patterned paper, on which hung three or four prints of
dogs' heads, Grimaldi winning the Aylesbury steeple-
chase. Amy Robsart, the reigning Waverley beauty of
the day, and Tom Crib in a posture of defence, which
did no credit to the science of that hero, if truly repre-
sented. Over the door were a row of hat-pegs, and
on each side bookcases with cupboards at the bottom ;
shelves and cupboards being filled indiscriminately with
school-books, a cup or two, a mouse-trap, and brass can-
dlesticks, leather straps, a fustian bag, and some curious-
looking articles, which puzzled Tom not a little until
his friend explained that they were climbing-irons, and

92 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

showed their use. A cricket-bat and small fishing-rod
stood up in one corner.

This was the residence of East and another bov in
the same form, and had more interest for Tom than
Windsor Castle, or any other residence in the British
Isles. For was he not about to become the joint owner
of a similar home, the first place which he could call
his own ? One's own ! What a charm there is in the
words! How long it takes boy and man to find out
their worth ! How fast most of us hold on to them ! —
faster and more jealously the nearer we are to that
general home into which we can take nothing, but
must go naked as we came into the world. When
shall we leaioi that he who multiplieth possessions mul-
tiplieth troubles, and that the one single use of things
which we call our own is that they may be his who
hath need of them?

" And shall I have a study like this too ? " said
Tom.

" Yes, of course, you '11 be chummed with some fellow
on Monday, and you can sit here till then."

" What nice places ! "

" They 're well enough," answered East patronizingly,
" only uncommon cold at night sometimes. Gower
(that's my chum) and I make a fire with paper on
the floor after supper generally, only that makes it so
smoky."

" But there 's a big fire out in the passage,'* said
Tom.

" Precious little good we get out of that though," said
East ; " Jones the praepostor has the study at the fire
end, and he has rigged up an iron rod and green baize
curtain across the passage, which he draws at night, and
sits there with his door open, so he gets all the fire, and

RUGBY AND FOOTBALL. 98

hears if we come out of our studies after eight, or make
a noise. However, he 's taken to sitting in the fifth-
form room lately, so we do get a bit of fire now some-
times ; only to keep a sharp lookout that he don't
catch you behind his curtain when he comes down —
that's all."

A quarter-past one now* struck, and the bell began
tolling for dinner, so they went into the hall and took
their places, Tom at the very bottom of the second
table, next to the praepostor (who sat at the end to keep
order there), and East" a few paces higher. And now
Tom for the first time saw his future schoolfellows in a
body. In they came, some hot and ruddy from football
or long walks, some pale and chilly from hard . reading
in their studies, some from loitering over the fire at the
pastrycook's, — dainty mortals, — bringing with them
pickles and sauce-bottles to help them with their dinners.
And a great big-bearded man, whom Tom took for a mas-
ter, began calling over the names, while the great joints
were being rapidly carved on a third table in the corner
by the old verger and the housekeeper. Tom's turn
came last, and meanwhile he was all eyes, looking first
with awe at the great man who sat close to him and
was helped first, and who read a hard-looking book all
the time he was eating ; and when he got up and walked
off to the fire, at the small boys round him, some of
whom were reading, and the rest talking in whispers to
one another, or stealing one another's bread, or shooting
pellets, or digging their forks through the tablecloth.
However, notwithstanding his curiosity, he managed to
make a capital dinner by the time the big man called,
" Stand up ! " and said grace.

As soon as dinner was over, and Tom had been ques-
tioned by such of his neighbors as were curious as to his

94 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

birth, parentage, education, and other like matters, East
who evidently enjoyed his new dignity of patron and
Mentor, proposed having a look at the close, which Tom,
athirst for knowledge, gladly assented to, and they went
out through the quadrangle and past the big fives'-court,
into the great playground.

" That 's the chapel, you See," said East, " and there
just behind it is the place for fights ; you see it 's most
out of the wav of the masters, who all live on the other
side and don't come by here after first lesson or callings-
over. That 's when the fights come off. And all this
part where we are is the little side-ground, right up to
the trees, and on the other side of the trees is the big
side-ground, where the great matches are played. And
there 's the island in the furthest corner ; you '11 know
that well enough next half, when there 's island fagging.
I say, it 's horrid cold, let 's have a run across," and
away went East, Tom close behind him. East was
evidently putting his best foot foremost, and Tom, who
was mighty proud of his running, and not a little anxious
to show his friend that although a new boy he was no
milksop, laid himself down to the work in his very best
style. Right across the close they went, each doing all
he knew, and there was n't a yard between them when
they pulled up at the island moat. ^

" I say," said East, as soon as he got his wind, look-
ing with much increased respect at Tom, " you ain't a
bad scud, not by no means. Well, I 'm as warm as a
toast now."

" But why do you wear white trousers in November ? "
said Tom. He had been struck by this peculiarity in
the costume of almost all the Schoolhouse boys.

" Why, bless us, don't you know ? — No, I forgot.
Why, to-day's the Schoolhouse match. Our house

RUGBY AND FOOTBALL. 96

plays the whole of the School at football. And we all
wear white trousers, to show 'em we don't care for hacks.
You 're in luck to come to-day. You just will see a
match ; and Brooke 's going to let me play in quarters.
That 's more than he '11 do for any other lower-school
boy, except James, and he 's fourteen."

" Who 's Brooke V "

'' Why, that big fellow who called over at dinner, to
be sure. He 's cock of the School, and head of the
Schoolhouse side, and the best kick and charger in
Rugby."

" Oh, but do show me where they play ! And tell me
about it. I love football so, and have played all my
life. Won't Brooke let me play ? "

" Not he," said East, with some indignation ; " why,
you don't know the rules — you '11 be a month learning
them. And then it 's no joke playing-up in a match, I
can tell you. Quite another thing from your private
school games. Why, there's been two collar-bones
broken this half, and a dozen fellows lamed. And last
year a fellow had his leg broken."

Tom listened with the profoundest respect to this
chapter of accidents, and followed East across the level
ground till they came to a sort of gigantic gallows of
two poles eighteen feet high, fixed upright in the ground
some fourteen feet apart, with a cross-bar running from
one to the other at the height of ten feet or thereabouts.

*' This is one of the goals," said East, " and you see
the other across there, right opposite, under the Doctor's
wall. Well, the match is for the best of three goals ;
whichever side kicks two goals wins ; and it won't do,
you see, just to kick the ball through these posts, it must
go over the cross bar ; any height '11 do, so long as it 's
between the posts. You'll have to stay in goal to touch

96 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

the ball when it rolls behind the posts, because if the
other side touch it they have a try at goal. Then we
fellows in quarters, we play just about in front of goal
here, and have to turn the ball and kick it back before
the big fellows on the other side can follow it up. And
in front of us all the big fellows play, and that 's where
the scrummages are mostly."

Tom's respect increased as he struggled to make out
his friend's technicalities, and the other set to work to
explain the mysteries of " off your side," " drop-kicks,"
" punts," " places," and the other intricacies of the great
science of football.

" But how do you keep the ball between the goals ? "
said he. " I can't see why it might n't go right down to
the chapel."

" Why, that 's out of play," answered East. " You
see this gravel walk running down all along this side of
the playing-ground, and the line of elms opposite on the
other ? Well, they 're the bounds. As soon as the ball
gets past them, it 's in touch, and out of play. And
then whoever first touches it has to knock it straight
out amongst the players-up, who make two lines with a
space between them, every fellow going on his own side.
Ain't there just fine scrummages then ! And the three
trees you see there which come out into the play, that 's
a tremendous place when the ball hangs there, for you
get thrown against the trees, and that 's worse than any
hack."

Tom wondered within himself as they strolled back
again towards the fives'-court, whether the matches were
really such break-neck affairs as East represented, and
whether, if they were, he should ever get to like them
and play-up well.

He had n't long to wonder, however, for next minute

RUGBY AKD FOOTBALL. 97

East cried out, " Hurra ! here 's the punt-about, — come
along and try your hand at a kick." The punt-about
is the practice-ball, which is just brought out and
kicked about anyhow from one boy to another before
callings-over and dinner, and at other odd times. They
joined the boys who had brought it out, all small School-
house fellows, friends of East ; and Tom had the pleas-
ure of trying his skill, and performed very creditably,
after first driving his foot three inches into the ground,
and then nearly kicking his leg into the air, in vigorous
efforts to accomplish a drop-kick after the manner of
East.

Presently more boys and bigger came out, and boys
from other houses on their way to calling-over, and
more balls were sent for. The crowd thickened as
three o'clock approached ; and when the hour struck,
one hundred and fifty boys were hard at work. Then
the balls were held, the master of the week came down
in cap and gown to calling-over, and the whole school
of three hundred boys swept into the big school to
answer to their names.

" I may come in, may n't I ? " said Tom, catching
East by the arm and longing to feel one of them.

" Yes, come along, nobody '11 say anything. You
won't be so eager to get into calling-over after a
month," replied his friend ; and they marched into the
big school together, and up to the farther end, where
that illustrious form, the lower fourth, which had the
honor of East's patronage for the time being, stood.

The master mounted into the high desk by the door,
and one of the praepostors of the week stood by him
on the steps, the other three marching up and down
the middle of the school with their canes, calling out,
^ Silence, silence ! " The sixth form stood close by

98 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

the door on the left, some thirty in number, mostly
great big grown men, as Tom thought, surveying them
from a distance with awe ; the fifth form behind them,
twice their number and not quite so big. These on
the left ; and on the right the lower fifth, shell, and
all the junior forms in order ; while up the middle
marched the three praepostors.

Then the praepostor who stands by the master calls
out the names, beginning with the sixth form, and as
he calls, each boy answers " Here " to his name, and
walks out. Some of the sixth stop at the door to turn
the whole string of boys into the close ; it is a great
match-day, and every boy in the School, will-he, nill-he,
must be there. The rest of the sixth go forwards into the
close, to see that no one escapes by any of the side gates.

To-day, however, being the Schoolhouse match, none
of the Schoolhouse praepostors stay by the door to
watch for truants of their side; there is carte blanche
to the Schoolhouse fags to go where they like. " They
trust to our honor," as East proudly informs Tom;
" they know very well that no Schoolhouse boy would
cut the match. If he did, we'd very soon cut him, I
can tell you."

The master of the week being short-sighted, and the
praepostors of the week small and not well up to their
work, the lower-school boys employ the ten minutes
which elapse before their names are called in pelting
one another vigorously with acorns, which fly about in
all directions. The small praepostors dash in every now
and then, and generally chastise some quiet, timid boy
who is equally afraid of acorns and canes, while the
principal performers get dexterously out of the way;
and so calling-over rolls on somehow, much like the big
world, punishments lighting on wrong shoulders, and

RUGBY AND FOOTBALL. 99

matters going generally in a queer, cross-grained way,
but the end coming somehow, which is after all the
great point. And now the master of the week has
finished, and locked up the big school ; and the prae-
postors of the week come out, sweeping the last remnant
of the School fags — who had been loafing about the
corners by the fives'-court, in hopes of a chance of
bolting — before them into the close.

" Hold the punt-about ! " " To the goals ! " are the
cries, and all stray balls are impounded by the authori-
ties; and the whole mass of boys moves up towards
the two goals, dividing as they go into three bodies.
That little band on the left, consisting of from fifteen to
twenty boys, Tom amongst them, who are making for
the goal under the Schoolhouse wall, are the School-
house boys who are not to play-up, and have to stay in
goal. The larger body moving to the island goal, are
the schoolboys in a like predicament. The great mass
in the middle are the players-up, both sides mingled
together ; they are hanging their jackets, and, all who
mean real work, their hats, waistcoats, neck-handker-
chiefs, and braces, on the railings around the small
trees ; and there they go by twos and threes up to their
respective grounds. There is none of the color and
tastiness of get-up, you will perceive, which lends such
a life to the present game at Rugby, making the dull-
est and worst-fought match a pretty sight. Now each
house has its own uniform of cap and jersey, of some
lively color ; but at the time we are speaking of, plush
caps have not yet come in or uniforms of any sort, ex-
cept the Schoolhouse white trousers, which are abomi-
nably cold to-day ; let us get to work, bare-headed and
girded with our plain leather straps, — but we mean
business, gentlemen.

100 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

And now that the two sides have fairly sundered,
and each occupies its own ground, and we get a good
look at them, what absurditv is this ? You don't mean
to say that those fifty or sixty boys in white trousers,
many of them quite small, are going to play that huge
mass opposite ? Indeed I do, gentlemen ; they 're going
to try, at any rate, and won't make such a bad fight of
it either, mark my word ; for has n't old Brooke won
the toss, with his lucky half-penny, and got choice of
goals and kick-off ? The new ball you may see lie there
quite by itself, in the middle, pointing towards the
school or island goal ; in another minute it will be well
on its way there. Use that minute in remarking how
the Schoolhouse side is drilled. You will see in the
first place, that the sixth-form 'boy, who has the charge
of goal, has spread his force (the goal-keepers) so as to
occupy the whole space behind the goal-posts, at dis-
tances of about five yards apart ; a safe and well-kept
goal is the foundation of all good play. Old Brooke is
talking to the captain of quarters ; and now he moves
away ; see how that youngster spreads his men (the light
brigade) carefully over the ground, half-way between
their own goal and the body of their own players-up
(the heavy brigade). These again play in several bodies ;
there is young Brooke and the bull -dogs, — mark them
well, — they are the " fighting brigade," the " die-hards,"
larking about at leap-frog to keep themselves warm, and
playing tricks on one another. And on each side of old
Brooke, who is now standing in the middle of the ground
and just going to kick off, you see a separate wing of
players-up, each with a boy of acknowledged prowess
to look to, — here Warner, and there Hedge; but over
all is old Brooke, absolute as he of Russia, but wisely
and bravely ruling over willing and worshipping sub-

WW •

>- I. w X
- w b w

\ SCRUMMAGE. — 5^( Pagi ,

RUGBY AND FOOTBALL. 101

jects, a true football king. His face is earnest and care-
ful as he glances a last time over his array, but full of
pluck and hope, the sort of look I hope to see in my
general when I go out to fight.

The School side is not organized in the same way.
The goal-keepers are all in lumps, anyhow and nohow ;
you can't distinguish between the players-up and the
boys in quarters, and there is divided leadership ; but
with such odds in strength and weight it must take
more than that to hinder them from winning ; and so
their leaders seem to think, for they let the players-up
manage themselves. ^ \ ,

But now look, there is a slight move forward of the
Schoolhouse wings ; a shout of " Are you ready ? " and
loud affirmative reply. Old Brooke takes half-a-dozen
quick steps, and away goes the ball spinning towards
the School goal ; seventy yards before it touches ground,
and at no point above twelve or fifteen feet high, a model
kick-off ; and the Schoolhouse cheer and rush on ;
the ball is returned, and they meet it and drive it back
amongst the masses of the School already in motion.
Then the two sides close, and you can see nothing for
minutes but a swaying crowd of boys, at one point
violently agitated. That is where the ball is, and there
are the keen players to be met, and the glory and the
hard knocks to be got : you hear the dull thud, thud of
the ball, and the shouts of " Off your side ! " " Down
with him ! " " Put him over ! " " Bravo ! " This is what
we call a scrummage, gentlemen, and the first scrum-
mage in a Schoolhouse match was no joke in the
consulship of Plancus.

But, see ! it has broken ; the ball is driven out on the
Schoolhouse side, and a rush of the School carries it
past the Schoolhouse players-up. " Look out in quar-

102 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

ters! " Brooke's and twenty other voices ring out. No
need to call, though ; the Schoolhouse captain of quarters
has caught it on the bound, dodges the foremost school-
boys, who are heading the rush, and sends it back with
a good drop-kick well into the enemy's country. And
then follows rush upon rush, and scrummage upon
scrummage, the ball now driven through into the
Schoolhouse quarters, and now into the School goal ;
for the Schoolhouse have not lost the advantage which
the kick-off and a slight wind gave them at the outset,
and are slightly " penning " their adversaries. You say
you don't see much in it all, — nothing but a struggling
mass of boys, and a leather ball which seems to excite
them all to great fury, as a red rag does a bull. My
dear sir, a battle would look much the same to you,
except that the boys would be men, and the balls iron ;
y «^, ; \ but a battle would be worth your looking at, for all that,
arid so is a football match. You can't be expected to
appreciate the delicate strokes of play, the turns by
which a game is lost and won, — it takes an old player
to do that ; but the broad philosophy of football you can
understand if you will. Come along with me a little
nearer, and let us consider it together.

The ball has just fallen again where the two sides
are thickest, and they close rapidly around it in a
scrummage-; it must be driven through now by force or
skill, till it flies out on one side or the other. Look how
differently the boys face it ! Here come two of the bull-
dogs, bursting through the outsiders ; in they go, straight
to the heart of the scrummage, bent on driving that
ball out on the opposite side. That is what they mean
to do. My sons, my sons, you are too hot; you have
gone past the ball, and must struggle now right through
the scrummage, and get round and back again to your

RUGBY AND FOOTBALL. 108

own side, before you can be of any further use. Here
comes young Brooke ; he goes in as straight as you,
but keeps his head, and backs and bends, holding him-
self still behind the ball, and driving it furiously when
he gets the chance. Take a leaf out of his book, you
young chargers. Here come Speedicut and Flashman,
the Schoolhouse bully, with shouts and great action.
Won't you two come up to young Brooke, after locking
up, by the Schoolhouse fire, with, " Old fellow, was n't
that just a splendid scrummage by the three trees ! "
But he knows you, and so do we. You don*t really
want to drive that ball through that scrummage, \
chancing all hurt for the glory of the Schoolhouse,
but to make us think that 's what you want, — a vastly
different thing ; and fellows of your kidney will never
go through more than the skirts of a scrummage, where
it 's all push and no kicking. We respect boys who keep
out of it and don't sham going in ; but you — we had
rather not say what we think of you.

Then the boys who are bending and watching on the
outside, mark them ! They are most useful players, the
dodgers, who seize on the ball the moment it rolls out
from amongst the chargers, and away with it across to
the opposite goal ; they seldom go into the scrummage,
but must have more coolness than the chargers. As end-
less as are boys' characters, so are their ways of facing
or not facing a scrummage at football.

Three quarters of an hour are gone ; first winds are
failing, and weight and numbers beginning to tell. Yard
by yard the Schoolhouse have been driven back, con-
testing every inch of ground. The bull-dogs are the
color of mother earth from shoulder to ankle, except
young Brooke, who has a marvellous knack of keeping
his legs. The Schoolhouse are being penned in their

\-l ^ A*A

104 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

turn, and now the ball is behind their goal, under the
Doctor's wall. The Doctor and some of his family are
there looking on, and seem as anxious as any boy for
the success of the Schoolhouse. We get a minute's
breathing-time before old Brooke kicks out, and he gives
the word to play strongly for touch, by the three trees.
Away goes the ball, and the bull-dogs after it ; and in
another minute there is a shout of " In touch ! " " Our
ball ! " Now 's your time, old Brooke, while your men
are still fresh. He stands with the ball in his hand,
while the two sides form in deep lines opposite one an-
other ; he must strike it straight out between them.
The lines are thickest close to him, but young Brooke
and two or three of his men are shifting up farther,
where the opposite line is weak. Old Brooke strikes it
out straight and strong, and it falls opposite his brother.
Hurra ! that rush has taken it right through the school
line, and away past the three trees, far into their quar-
ters, and young Brooke and the bull-dogs are close upon
it. The School leaders rush back shouting, " Look out in
goal ! " and strain every nerve to catch him ; but they are
after the fleetest foot in Rugby. There they go, straight
for the School goal-posts, quarters scattering before them.
One after another the bull-dogs go down, but young
Brooke holds on. " He is down ! " No, a long stagger,
and the danger is past, — that was the shock of Crew,
the most dangerous of dodgers. And now he is close to
the School goal, the ball not three yards before him.
There is a hurried rush of the School fags to the spot,
but no one throws himself on the ball, — the only chance,
— and young Brooke has touched it right under the School
goal-pogts.

The School leaders come up furious, and administer
toco to the wretched fags nearest at hand ; they may

RUGBY AND FOOTBALL. 105

well be angry, for it is all Lombard Street to a china
orange that the Schoolhouse kick a goal with the ball
touched in such a good place. Old Brooke of course
will kick it out ; but who shall catch and place it ? Call
Crab Jones. Here he comes, sauntering along with a
straw in his mouth, the queerest, coolest fish in Rugby ;
if he were tumbled into the moon this minute, he would
just pick himself up without taking his hands out of his
pockets or turning a hair. But it is a moment when
the boldest charger's heart beats quick. Old Brooke
stands with the ball under his arm, motioning the School
back ; he will not kick out till they are all in goal,
behind the posts. They are all edging forwards, inch by
inch, to get nearer for the rush at Crab Jones, who
stands there in front of old Brooke to catch the ball. If
they can reach and destroy him before he catches, the
danger is over ; and with one and the same rush they
will carry it right away to the Scihoolhouse goal. Fond
hope! it is kicked out and caught beautifully. Crab
strikes his heel into the ground, to mark the spot where
the ball was caught, beyond which the School line may
not advance ; but there they stand, five deep, ready to
rush the moment the ball touches the ground. Take
plenty of room ; don't give the rush a chance of reaching
you ; place it true and steady ! Trust Crab Jones, — he
has made a small hole with his heel for the ball to lie on,
by which he is resting on one knee, with his eye on old
Brooke. " Now ! " Crab places the ball at the word,
old Brooke kicks, and it rises slowly and truly as the
School rush forward.

Then a moment's pause, while both sides look up at
the spinning ball. There it flies, straight between the
two posts, some five feet above the cross-bar, — an unques-
tioned goal ; and a shout of real, genuine joy rings out

106 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

from the Schoolhouse players-up, and a faint echo of it
comes over the close from the goal-keepers under the
Doctor's wall. A goal in the first hour ! — such a thing
has n't been done in the Schoolhouse match this five
vears.

" Over ! " is the cry. The two sides change goals, and
the Schoolhouse goal-keepers come threading their way
across through the masses of the School, the most
openly triumphant of them, amongst whom is Tom, a
Schoolhouse boy of two hours' standing, getting their
ears boxed in the transit. Tom indeed is excited be-
yond measure, and it is all the sixth-form boy, kindest
and safest of goal-keepers, has been able to do, to keep
him from rushing out whenever the ball has been near
their goal. So he holds him by his side, and instructs
him in the science of "touching."

At this moment Griffith, the itinerant vender of
oranges from Hill Morton, enters the close with his
heavy baskets. There is a rush of small boys upon the
little pale-faced man, the two sides mingling together,
subdued by the great Goddess Thirst, like the English
and French bv the streams in the Pvrenees. The
leaders are past oranges and apples, but some of them
visit their coats, and apply innocent-looking ginger-beer
bottles to their mouths. It is no ginger-beer though,
I fear, and will do you no good. One short, mad rush,
and then a stitch in the side, and no more honest play :
that 's what comes of those bottles.

But now Griffith's baskets are empty, the ball is
placed again midway, and the School are going to kick
off. Their leaders have sent their lumber into goal,
and rated the rest soundly ; and one hundred and twenty
picked players-up are there, bent on retrieving the game.
They are to keep the ball in front of the Schoolhouse

RUGBY ANIf FOOTBALL. 107

goal, and then to drive it in by sheer strength and
weight. They mean heavy play and no mistake, and
so old Brooke sees, and places Crab Jones in quarters
just before the goal, with four or five picked players
who are to keep the ball away to the sides, where a try
at goal, if obtained, will be less dangerous than in front.
He himself, and Warner and Hedge, who have saved
themselves till now, will lead the charges.

" Are you ready ? " " Yes." And away comes the
ball, kicked high in the air to give the School time to
rush on and catch it as it falls. And here they are
amongst us. Meet them like Englishmen, you School-
house boys, and charge them home. Now is the time
to show what mettle is in you; and there shall be a
warm seat by the hall fire, and honor, and lots of bottled
beer to-night, for him who does his duty in the next
half-hour. And they are well met. Again and again
the cloud of their players-up gathers before our goal,
and comes threatening on, and Warner or Hedge, with
young Brooke and the relics of the bull-dogs, break
through and carry the ball back ; and old Brooke ranges
the field like Job's war-horse, the thickest scrummage
parts asunder before his rush, like the waves before a
clipper's bows, his cheery voice rings over the field, and
his eye is everywhere. And if these miss the ball, and
it rolls dangerously in front of our goal. Crab Jones
and his men have seized it, and sent it away towards the
sides with the unerring drop-kick. This 13 worth living
for ; the whole sum of schoolboy existence gathered up
into one straining, struggling half-hour, — a half-hour
worth a year of common life.

The quarter to five has struck, and the play slackens
for a minute before goal ; but there is Crew, the artful
dodger, driving the ball in behind our goal, on the island

108 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

side, where our quarters are weakest. la there no one to
meet him ? Yes ! look at little East ! The ball is juat
at equal distances between the two, and they rush to-
gether, the young man of seventeen and the boy of
twelve, and kick it at the same moment. Crew passes
on without a stagger; East is hurled forward by the
shock, and plunges on his shoulders as if he would
bury himself in the ground, but the ball rises straight
into the air and falls behind Crew's back, while the
*' bravos " of the Schoolhouse attest the pluckiest charge
of all that hard-fought day. Warner picks East up,
lame -and half stunned ; and he hobbles back into goal
conscious of having played the man.

And now the last minutes are come, and the School
gather for their last rush, — every boy of the hundred and
twenty who has a run left in him. Reckless of the de-
fence of their own goal, on they come across the level
big-side ground (the ball well down among them) straight
for our goal, like the column of the Old Guard up the
slope at Waterloo. All former charges have been child's
play to this. Warner and Hedge have met them, but
still on they come. The bull-dogs rush in for the last
time ; they are hurled over or carried back, striving
hand, foot, and eyelids. Old Brooke comes sweeping
round the skirts of the play, and turning short round,
picks out the very heart of the scrummage, and plunges
in. It wavers for a moment — he has the ball ! No, it
has passed him, and his voice rings out clear over the
advancing tide, " Look out in goal ! " Crab Jones catches
it for a moment; but before he can kick, the rush is
upon him and passes over him, and he picks himself
up behind them with his straw in his mouth, a little
dirtier, but as cool as ever.

The ball rolls slowly in behind the Schoolhouse goal,

RUGBY AND FOOTBALL 109

not three yards in front of a dozen of the biggest School
players-up.

There stand the Schoolhouse praepostor, safest of
goal-keepers, and Tom Brown by his side, who has
learned his trade by this time. Now is your time, Tom !
The blood of all the Browns is up, and the two rush in
together, and throw themselves on the ball, under the
very feet of the advancing column ; the praepostor on
his hands and knees, arching his back, and Tom all
along on his face. Over them .topple the leaders of the
rush, shooting over the back of the praepostor, but
falling flat on Tom, and knocking all the wind out of his
small carcass. " Our ball ! " says the praepostor, rising
with his prize ; " but get up there, there 's a little fellow
under you." They are hauled and roll off him, and
Tom is discovered a motionless body.

Old Brooke picks him up. " Stand back, give him
air," he says ; and then feeling his limbs, adds, " No
bones broken. How do you feel, young un ? "

" Hah-hah," gasps Tom as his wind comes back,
" pretty well, thank you — all right."

" Who is he ? " says Brooke.

" Oh, it 's Brown. He 's a new boy ; I know him,"
says East, coming up.

" Well, he is a plucky youngster, and will make a
player," says Brooke.

And five o'clock strikes. " No side " is called, and
the first day of the Schoolhouse match is over.

CHAPTER VI.

AFTER THE MATCH.

" . . . Some food we had." — SHAKsnuKi.
ij( xirei WOi. — Thkocr. Id.

S the boys scattered away from the ground,
and East, leaning on Tom's arm and Kinp-

ing along, was beginning to consider what
luxury they should go and buy for tea, to
celebrate that glorious victory, 'the two Brookes came
striding by. Old Brooke caught sight of East, and
stopped, put his hand kindly on his shoulder, and said,
" Bravo, youngster, you played famously ; not much the
matter, I hope ? "

" No, nothing at all," said East ; " only a little twiat
from that charge."

AFTER THE MATCH. Ill

" Well, mind and get all right for next Saturday ; "
and the leader passed on, leaving East better for those
few words than all the opodeldoc in England would
have made him, and Tom ready to give one of his ears
for as much notice. Ah! light words of those whom
we love and honor, what a power ye are, and how
carelessly wielded by those who can use you ! Surely
for these things also God will ask an account.

" Tea 's directly after locking-up, you see," said East,
hobbling along as fast as he could, " so you come along
down to Sally Harrowell's ; that 's our Schoolhouse
tuck-shop. She bakes such stunning murphies ! We '11
have a penn'orth each for tea ; come along, or they '11
all be gone."

Tom's new purse and money burned in his pocket. He
wondered as they toddled through the quadrangle and
along the street whether East would be insulted if he
suggested further extravagance, as he had not sufficient
faith in a pennjrworth of potatoes. At last he blurted
out, —

"I say. East, can't we get something else besides
potatoes ? I 've got lots of money, you know."

" Bless us, yes, I forgot," said East, " you 've only just
come. You see all my tin's been gone this twelve
weeks. It hardly ever lasts beyond the first fortnight ;
and our allowances were all stopped this morning for
broken windows, so I have n't got a penny. I 've got
a tick at Sally's of course ; but then I hate running
it high, you see, towards the end of the half, 'cause
one has to shell out for it all directly one comes back,
and that 's a bore."

Tom did n't understand much of this talk, but seized
on the fact that East had no money, and was deny-
ing himself some little pet luxury in consequence.

112 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

"Wl'11, what shall I buy?" said 'he ; "I'm uncommon
hungry."

" I say," said East, stopping to look at him and rest
his leg, "you're a trump,- Brown. I'll do the same by
you next half. Let 's have a pound of sausages, then ;
that 'a the best grub for tea I know of."

" From Portfir'a they adjonmed to Sally Hnrrowflll's."

" Very well," said Tom, as pleased as possible ; " where
do they sell thrni ? "

*' Oh, over here, just o|»i)Ositc ; " and they crossed the
street and walked into the cleanest little front room of
a small house, half parlor, half shop, and bought a
pound of most particular saus^es. East talking pleas-
antly to Mrs. Porter while she put them in paper, and
Tom doing the paying part.

Prom Porter's they adjourned to Sally Harrowell's,

AFTEB THE MATCH. 113

where they found a lot of Schoolhouse boys waiting
for the roast potatoes, and relating their own exploits in
the day's match at the top of their voices. The street
opened at once into Sally's kitchen, — a low, brick-floored
room, with large recess for fire, and chimney-corner
seats. Poor little Sally, the most good-natured and
much enduring of womankind, was bustling about with
a napkin in her hand, from her own oven to those of
the neighbors' cottages, up the yard at the back of the
house. Stumps, her husband, a short, easy-going shoe-
maker, with a beery, humorous^ eye and ponderous calves,
who lived mostly on his wife's earnings, stood in a corner
of the room, exchanging shots of the roughest descrip-
tion of repartee with every boy in turn. " Stumps, you
lout, you 've had too much beer again to-day." " 'T was n't
of your paying for, then." " Stumps's calves are run-
ning down into his ankles ; they want to get to grass."
" Better be doing that, than gone altogether like yours,"
etc. Very poor stuff it was, but it served to make
time pass ; and every now and then Sally arrived in the
middle with a smoking tin of potatoes, which were
cleared ofif in a few seconds, each boy as he seized his
lot running ofif to the house with, " Put me down two-
penn'orth, Sally." "Put down three-penn'orth between
me and Davis," etc. How she ever kept the accounts so
straight as she did, in her head and on her slate, was a
perfect wonder.

East and Tom got served at last, and started back for
the Schoolhouse just as the locking-up bell began to ring ;
East on the way recounting the life and adventures of
Stumps, who was a character. Amongst his other small
avocations, he was the hind carrier of a sedan-chair, the
last of its race, in which the Rugby ladies still went out
to tea, and in which, when he was fairly harnessed and

114 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

carrying a load, it was the delight of small and mis-
chievous boys to follow him and whip his calves. This
was too much for the temper even of Stumps, and he
would pursue his tormentors in a vindictive and apo-
plectic manner when released, but was easily pacified by
twopence to buy beer with.

The lower schoolboys of the Schoolhouse, some fif-
teen in number, had tea in the lower-fifth school, and
were presided over by the old verger or head-porter.
Each boy had a quarter of a loaf of bread and pat of
butter, and as much tea as he pleased ; and there was
scarcely one who did n't add to this some further luxury,
such as baked potatoes, a herring, sprats, or something
of the sort. But few, at this period of the half-year,
could live up to a pound of Porter's sausages ; and East
was in great magnificence upon the strength of theirs.
He had produced a toasting-fork from his study, and
set Tom to toast the sausages, while he mounted guard
over their butter and potatoes; "'Cause,'* as he ex-
plained, " you 're a new boy, and they '11 play you some
trick and get our butter, but you can toast just as well
as I." So Tom, in the midst of three or four more
urchins similarly employed,- toasted his face and the
sausages at the same time before the huge fire, till the
latter cracked, when East from his watch-tower shouted
that they were done ; and then the feast proceeded, and
the festive cups of tea were filled and emptied, and Tom
imparted of the sausages in small bits to many neigh-
bors, and thought he had never tasted such good pota-
toes or seen such jolly boys. They on their parts
waived all ceremony, and pegged away at the sausages
and potatoes, and remembering Tom's performance in
goal, voted East's new crony a brick. After tea, and
while the things were being cleared away, they gathered

AFTER THE MATCH. 115

round the fire, and the talk on the match still went
on ; and those who had them to show, pulled up their
trousers and showed the hacks they had received in
the good cause.

They were soon, however, all turned out of the school,
and East conducted Tom up to his bedroom, that he
might get on clean things and wash himself before
singing.

" What 's singing ? '' said Tom, taking his head out of
his basin, where he had been plunging it in cold water.

" Well, you are jolly green," answered his friend
from a neighboring basin. " Why, the last six Satur-
days of every half we sing of course ; and this is the
first of them. No first lesson to do, you know, and lie
in bed to-morrow morning."

" But who sings ? "

" Why everybody, of course ; you '11 see soon enough.
We begin directly after supper, and sing till bedtime.
It ain't such good fun now though as in the summer
half, 'cause then we sing in the little fives'- court, under
the library, you know. We take our tables, and the big
boys sit round and drink beer, — double allowance on
Saturday nights, — and w6 cut about the quadrangle
between the songs, and it looks like a lot of robbers in
a cave. And the louts come and pound at the great
gates, and we pound back again, and shout at them.
But this half we only sing in the hall. Come along
down to my study."

Their principal employment in the study was to clear
out East's table, removing the drawers and ornaments
and table-cloth ; for he lived in the bottom passage, and
his table was in requisition for the singing.

Supper came in due course at seven o'clock, consist-
ing of bread and cheese and beer, which was all saved

116 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

for the singing ; and directly afterwards the fags went
to work to prepare the hall. The Schoolhouse hall,
as has been said, is a great, long, high room, with two
large fires on one side, and two large, iron-bound tables,
one running down the middle, and the other along the
wall opposite the fire-places. Around the upper fire
the fags placed the tables in the form of a horsenshoe,
and upon them the jugs with the Saturday night's allow-
ance of beer. Then the big boys used to drop in and
take their seats, bringing with them bottled beer and
song-books ; for although they all knew the songs by
heart, it was the thing to have an old manuscript book,
descended from some departed hero, in which they were
all carefully written out.

The sixth-form boys Had not yet appeared ; so, to fill
up the gap, an interesting and time-honored ceremony
was gone through. Each new boy was placed on the
table in turn, and made to sing a solo, under the penalty
of drinking a large mug of salt and water if he resisted
or broke down. However, the new boys all sing like
nightingales to-night, and the salt water is not in re-
quisition ; Tom, as his part, performing the old west-
country song of " The Leather Bott^l " with considerable
applause. And at the half-hour down come the sixth
and fifth form boys, and take their places at the tables,
which are filled up by the next biggest boys ; the rest,
for whom there is no room at the table, standing round
outside.

The glasses and mugs are filled, and then the fugle-
man strikes up the old sea song, —

** A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
And a wind that follows fast," etc.

(which is the invariable first song in the Schoolhouse),
and all the seventy voices join in, not mindful of har-

AFTER THE MATCH. 117

mony, but bent on noise, which they attain decidedly ;
but the general effect is n't bad. And then follow the
" British Grenadiers," " Billy Taylor," " The Siege of
Seringapatam," " Three Jolly Postboys," and other vo-
ciferous songs in rapid succession, including the " Chesa-
peake and Shannon," a song lately introduced in honor
of old Brooke ; and when they come to the words —

" Brave Broke he waved his sword, crying, * Now my lads, aboard !
And we 'U stop their playing Yankee-doodle-dandy oh 1 * "

you expect the roof to come down. The sixth and fifth
know that " brave Broke " of the " Shannon " was no sort
of relation to our old Brooke. The fourth form are un-
certain in their belief, but for the most part hold that
old Brooke was a midshipman then, on board his uncle's
ship. And the lower school never doubt for a moment
that it was our old Brooke who led the boarders, in what
capacity they care not a straw. During the pauses the
bottled-beer corks fly rapidly, and the talk is fast and
merry ; and thie big boys, at least all of them who have a
fellow-feeling for dry throats, hand their mugs over
their shoulders to be emptied by the small ones who
stand round behind.

Then Warner, the head of the house, gets up and
wants to speak, but he can't, for every boy knows what 's
coming. And the big boys who sit at the tables pound
them and cheer ; and the small boys who stand behind
pound one another, and cheer, and rush about the hall
cheering. Then silence being made, Warner reminds
them of the old Schoolhouse custom of drinking the
healths, on the first night of singing, of those who are
going to leave at the end of the half. " He sees that
they know what he is going to say already [loud
cheers] and so won't keep them, but only ask them to
treat the toast as it deserves. It is the head of the

118 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

eleven, the head of big-side football, their leader on this
glorious day, — Pater Brooke ! "

And away goes the pounding and cheering again (be-
coming deafening when old Brooke gets on his legs),
till, a table having broken down, and a gallon or so of
beer been upset, and all throats getting dry, silence
ensues, and the hero speaks, leaning his hands on
the table, and bending a little forwards. No action,
no tricks of oratory; plain, strong, and straight, like
his play.

" Gentlemen of the Schoolhouse ! I am very proud
of the way in which you have received my name, and
I wish I could say all 1 should like in return. But I
know I sha'n 't. However, I '11 do the best I can to say
what seems to me ought to be said by a fellow who 's
just going to leave, and who has spent a good slice of
his life here. Eight years it is, and eight such years
as I can never hope to have again. So now I hope
you '11 all listen to me [loud cheers of " that we will "],
for I 'm going to talk seriously. You 're bound to listen
to me ; for what 's the use of calling me ' pater,' and all
that, if you don't mind what I say ? And I 'm going
to talk seriously, because I feel so. It 's a jolly time,
too, getting to the end of the half, and a goal kicked
by us first day [tremendous applause] after one of
the hardest and fiercest day's play I can remember
in eight years [frantic shoutings]. The School played
splendidly too, I will say, and kept it up to the last.
That last charge of theirs would have carried away a
house. I never .thought to see anything again of old
Crab there, except little pieces, when I saw him tumbled
over by it [laughter and shouting, and great slapping
on the back of Jones by the boys nearest him]. Well,
but we beat 'em [cheers] ! Ay ;• but why did we

AFTER THE MATCH. 119

beat 'em? Answer me that [shouts of ''your play"].
Nonsense ! 'T was n't the wind and kick-off either ;
that would n't do it. 'T was n't because we 've half a
dozen of the best players in the school, as we have. I
wouldn't change Warner and Hedge and Crab and
the young un, for any six on their side [violent
cheers] ; but half a dozen fellows can't keep it up for
two hours against two hundred. Why is it, then ? I '11
tell you what I think. It 's because we 've more reliance
on one another, more of a house. feeling, more fellowship
than the school can have. Each of us knows and can
depend on his next hand man better, — that 's why we
beat 'em to-day. We 've union, they 've division, —
there's the secret [cheers]. But how's this to be
kept up ? How 's it to be improved ? That 's the
question. For I take it, we 're all in earnest about
beating the school, whatever else we care about. I
know I 'd sooner win two Schoolhouse matches run-
ning than get the Balliol scholarship any day [frantic
cheers].

" Now, I 'm as proud of the house as any one. I
believe it's the best house in the School, out-and-out
[cheers]. But it's a long way from what I want to see
it. First, there 's a deal of bullying going on. I know
it w^ell. 1 don't pry about and interfere; that only
makes it more underhand, and encourages the small
boys to come to us with their fingers in their eyes
telling tales, and so we should be worse off than ever.
It 's very little kindness for the sixth to meddle gener-
ally, — you youngsters, mind that. You '11 be all the ^ i
better football players for learning to stand it, and to ^- ' y
take your own parts, and fight it through ; but depend ^
on it, there 's nothing breaks up a house like bullying.
Bullies are cowards, and one coward makes many ;

120 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

80 good-by to the School house match if bullying gets
ahead here. [Loud applause from the small boys, who
look meaningly at Flashman and other boys at the
tables.] Then there 's fuddling about in the public-
houses, and drinking bad spirits and punch, and such
rot-gut stuff. That won't make good drop-kicks or
chargers of you, take my word for it. You get plenty
of good beer here, and that's enough for you; and
drinking isn't fine or manly, whatever some of you
may think of it.

" One other thing I must have a word about. A lot
of you think and say, for I 've heard you, * There 's this
new Doctor has n't been here so long as some of us, and
he's changing all the old customs. Rugby and the
Schoolhouse especially are going to the dogs. Stand
up for the good old ways, and down with the Doctor ! '
Now I 'm as fond of old Rugby customs and ways as
any of you, and I 've been here longer than any of you,
and I'll give you a word of advice in time, for I
should n't like to see any of you getting sacked. ' Down
with the Doctor I ' is easier said than done. You '11 find
him pretty tight on his perch, I take it, and an awk-
wardish customer to handle in that line. Besides now,
what customs has he put down ? There was the good
old custom of taking the linch-pins out of the farmers'
and bagmen's gigs at the fairs, and a cowardly black-
guard custom it was. We all know what came of it ;
and no wonder the Doctor objected to it. But, come
now, any of you, name a custom that he has put down."

"The hounds," calls out a fifth-form boy, clad in
a green cutaway with brass buttons and cord trousers,
the leader of the sporting interest, and reputed a
great rider and keen hand generally.

*' Well, we had six or seven mangey harriers and

AFTER THE MATCH. 121

beagles belonging to the house, I '11 allow, and had had
them for years, and that the Doctor put them down.
But what good ever came of them ? Only rows with
all the keepers for ten miles round ; and big-side Hare-
and-hounds is better fun ten times over. What else ? "

No answer.

^' Well, I won't go on. Think it over for yourselves ;
you 'II find, I believe, that he don't meddle with any
one that 's worth keeping. And mind now, I say again,
look out for squalls if you will go your own way, and
that way ain 't the Doctor's, for it '11 lead to grief. You
all know that I'm not the fellow to back a master
through thick and thin. If I saw him stopping foot-
ball or cricket or bathing or sparring, I 'd be as ready
as any fellow to stand up about it; but he don't, — he
encourages them. Did n*t you see him out to-day for
half an hour watching us [loud cheers for the Doctor] ?
And he 's a strong, true man, and a wise one too, and
a public-school man too [cheers]. And so let's stick
to him, and talk no more rot, and drink his health as
the head of the house [loud cheers]. And now I've
done blowing up, and very glad I am to have done. But
it 's a solemn thing to be thinking of leaving a place
which one has lived in and loved for eight years ; and
if one can say a word for the good of the old house at
such a time, why, it should be said, whether bitter or
sweet. If I had n't been proud of the house and you —
ay, no one knows how proud — I should n't be blowing
you up. And now let 's get to singing. But before 1
sit down I must give you a toast to be drunk with three-
times-three and all the honors. It 's a toast which I
hope every one of us, wherever he may go hereafter,
will never fail to drink when he thinks of the brave,
bright days of his boyhood . It 's a toast which should

\ V

122 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYfe.

bind us all together, and to those who 've gone before,
and who'll come after us here. It is the dear old
schoolhouse, — the best house of the best school in
England ! "
\ [My dear boys, old and young, you who have belonged
\. .c\V. or do belong to other schools and other houses, don't
begin throwing my poor little book about the room, and
abusing me and it, and vowing you'll read no more
when you get to this point. I allow you 've provocation
for it ; but, come now, would you, any of you, give a fig
for a fellow who did n't believe in and stand up for
his own house and his own school? You know you
wouldn't. Then don't object to my cracking up the
old Schoolhouse, Rugby. Have n't I a right to do it,
when I 'm taking all the trouble of writing this true
history for all your benefits ? If you ain't satisfied, go
and write the history of your own houses in your own
times, and say all you know for your own schools and
houses, provided it's true, and I'll read it without
abusing you.]

The last few words hit the audience in their weakest
place. They had been not altogether enthusiastic at
several parts of old Brooke's speech; but "the best
house of the best school in England" was too much
for them all, and carried even the sporting and drinking
interests off their legs into rapturous applause, and
(it is to be hoped) resolutions to lead a new life and
remember old Brooke's words ; which, however, they
didn't altogether do, as will appear hereafter. ^

But it required all old Brooke's popularity to carry
down parts of his speech, especially that relating to
the Doctor; for there are no such bigoted holders by
established forms and customs, be they never so foolish
or meaningless, as English schoolboys, — at least, as

AFr£H THE MATCH. 123

the schoolboy of our generation. We magnified into
heroes every boy who had left, and looked upon him
with awe and reverence when he revisited the place a
vear or so afterwards, on his wav to or from Oxford or
Cambridge ; and happy was the boy who remembered
him, and sure of an audience as he expounded what he
used to do and say, though it were sad enough stuff to
make angels, not to say head-masters, weep.

We looked upon every trumpery little custom and
habit which had obtained in the school as though it
had been a law of the Medes and Persians, and regarded
the infringement or variation of it as a sort of sacrilege.
And the Doctor, than whom no man or boy had a
stronger liking for old school customs which were good
and sensible, had, as has already been hinted, come
into most decided collision with several which were
neither the one nor the other. And as old Brooke
had said, when he came into collision with boys or
customs, there was nothing for them but to give in or
take themselves off, because what he said had to be
done, and no mistake about it ; and this was begin-
ning to be pretty clearly understood. The boys felt that
there was a strong man over them, who would have
things his own way, and hadn't yet learned that he
was a wise and loving man also. His personal charac-
ter and influence had not had time to make itself felt,
except by a very few of the bigger boys, with whom
he came more directly in contact, and he was looked
upon with great fear and dislike by the great majority
even of his own house; for he had found school and
schoolhouse in a state of monstrous license and mis-
rule, and was still employed in the necessary but
unpopular work of setting up order with a strong
hand.

124 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

However, as has been said, old Brooke triumphed,
and the boys cheered him and then the Doctor. And
then more songs came, and the healths of the other
boys about to leave, who each made a speech, one
flowery, another maudlin, a third prosy, and so on,
which are not necessary to be here recorded.

Half-past nine struck in the middle of the perform-
ance of " Auld Lang Syne," a most obstreperous pro-
ceeding, during which there was an immense amount
of standing with one foot on the table, knocking mugs
together and shaking hands, without which accom-
paniments it seems impossible for the youth of Britain
to take part in that famous old song. The under-porter
of the Schoolhouse entered during the performance,
bearing five or six long, wooden candlesticks with
lighted dips in them, which he proceeded to stick into
their holes in such part of the great tables as he could
get at, and then stood outside the ring till the end of
the song, when he was hailed with shouts.

"Bill, you old mufif, the half-hour hasn't struck,"
" Here, Bill, drink some cocktail," " Sing us a song, old
boy," "Don't you wish you may get the table?" Bill
drank the proffered cocktail not unwillingly, and put-
ting down the empty glass, remonstrated, "Now, gen-
tlemen, there 's only ten minutes to prayers, and we
must get the hall straight."

Shouts of " No, no ! " and a violent effort to strike
up " Billy Taylor " for the third time. Bill looked
appealingly to old Brooke, who got up and stopped the
noise. " Now then, lend a hand, you youngsters, and
get the tables back ; clear away the jugs and glasses.
Bill 's right. Open the windows, Warner." The boy
addressed, who sat by the long ropes, proceeded to pull
up the great windows, and let in a clear, fresh rush of

AFTER THE MATCH. 125

night air, which made the candles flicker and gutter,
and the fires roar. The circle broke up, each collaring
his own jug, glass, and song-book. Bill pounced on
the big table, and began to rattle it away to its place
outside the buttery door. The lower-passage boys
carried off their small tables, aided by their friends ;
while above all, standing on the great hall-table, a knot
of untiring sons of harmony made night doleful by a
prolonged performance of " God save the King." His
Majesty King William IV. then reigned over us, a
monarch deservedly popular amongst the boys addicted
to melody, to whom he was chiefly known from the
beginning of that excellent if slightly vulgar song in
which they much delighted, —

** Come, neighbors all, both great and small,
Perform your duties here,
And loudly sing * live Billy our King,'
For bating the tax upon beer."

Others of the more learned in songs also celebrated his
praises in a sort of ballad, which I take to have been
written by some Irish loyalist. I have forgotten all but
the chorus, which ran, —

*' God save our good King William, be his name for ever blessed ;
He 's the father of all his people, and the guardian of all the rest/*

In troth, we were loyal subjects in those days, in a
rough way. I trust that our successors make as much
of her present Majesty, and, having regard to the greater
refinement of the times, have adopted or written other
songs equally hearty, but more civilized, in her honor.

Then the quarter to ten struck, and the prayer-bell
rang. The sixth and fifth form boys ranged themselves
in their school order along the wall on either side of
the great fires, the middle fifth and upper-school boys
round the long table in the middle of the hall, and the

126 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

lower-school boys round the upper part of the second
long table, which ran down the side of the hall farthest
from the fires. Here Tom found himself at the bottom
of all, in a state of mind and body not at all fit for
prayers, as he thought ; and so tried hard to make him-
self serious, but could n't for the life of him do any-
thing but repeat in his head the choruses of some of the
songs, and stare at all the boys opposite, wondering at
the brilliancy of their waistcoats, and speculating what
sort of fellows they were. The steps of the head-porter
are heard on the stairs, and a light gleams at the door.
"Hush!" from the fifth-form boys who stand there,
and then in strides the Doctor, cap on head, book in one
hand, and gathering up his gown in the other. He
walks up the middle and takes his post by Warner,
who begins calling over the names. The doctor takes
no notice of anything, but quietly turns over his book
and finds the place, and then stands, cap in hand and
finger in book, looking straight before his nose. Ho
knows better than any one when to look, and when to
see nothing. To-night is singing night, and there 's been
lots of noise and no harm done, nothing but beer
drunk and nobody the worse for it, though some of
them do look hot and excited; so the Doctor sees
nothing, but fascinates Tom in a horrible manner as he
stands there, and reads out the Psalm in that deep,
ringing, searching voice of his. Prayers are over, and
Tom still stares open-mouthed after the Doctor's retiring
figure, when he feels a pull at his sleeve, and turning
round, sees East.

" I say, were you ever tossed in a blanket ?"

« No," said Tom ; " why ? "

" 'Cause there '11 be tossing to-night, most likely,
before the sixth come up to bed. So if you funk, you

APTER THE MATCH. 127

just come along and hide, or else they '11 catch you
and toss you."

" Were you ever tossed ? Does it hurt ? " inquired
Tom.

"Oh, yes, bless you, a dozen times," said East, as
he hobbled along by Tom's side up-stairs. " It don't
hurt unless you fall on the floor. But most fellows
don't like it"

They stopped at the fireplace in the top passage,
where were a crowd of small boys whispering together,
and evidently imwilling to go up into the bedrooms.
In a minute, however, a study door opened, and a
sixth-form boy came out, and off they all scuttled up
the stairs and then noiselessly dispersed to their dif-
ferent rooms. Tom's heart beat rather quick as he
and East reached their room, but he had made up his
mind. "I sha'n't hide, East," said he.

"Very tWell, old fellow,*' replied East, evidently
pleased ; " no more shall I. They '11 be here for us
directly."

The room was a great big one, with a dozen beds
in it, but not a boy that Tom could see, except East
and himself. East pulled off his coat and waistcoat,
and then sat on the bottom of his bed, whistling, and
pulling off his boots ; Tom followed his example.

A noise and steps are heard in the passage, the door
opens, and in rush four or five great fifth-form boys,
headed by Flashman in his glory.

Tom and East slept in the farther corner of the room,
and were not seen at first.

" Gone to ground, eh ? " roared Flashman. " Push
'em out then, boys ! Look under the beds ! " and he
pulled up the little white curtain of the one nearest
him. " Who-o-op," he roared, pulling away at the leg

128 TOM BKOWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS. Jl

of a small boy, who held on tight to the leg of the bed
and sung out lustily for mercy.

" Here, lend a hand, one of you, and help me pull out
this young, howling brute. Hold your tongue, sir, or
I '11 kill you."

" Oh, please, Plashman, please Walker, don't toss me ;
I '11 fag for you, I '11 do anything, only don't toss me."

" You be hanged," said Flashman, lugging the

wretched boy along, " 't wont hurt you, you !

Come along, boys, here he is."

"I say. Flashy," sung out another of the big boys,
" drop that ; you heard what old Pater Brooke said
to-night. 1 'II be hanged if we '11 toss any one against
their will. No more bullying. Let him go, 1 say ! "

Flashman, with an oath and a kick, released his
prey, who rushed headlong under his bed again, for
fear they should change their minds, and crept along
underneath the other beds till he got under tkat of the
sixth-form boy, which he knew they dare n't disturb.

" There 's plenty of youngsters don't care about it,"
said Walker. "Here, here's Scud East. You'll be
tossed, won 't you, young un ? " Scud was East's nick-
name, or Black, as we called it, gained by his fleetness
of foot.

" Yes," said East, " if you like, only hiind my foot."

" And here 's another who did n't hide. Hullo ! new
boy, what 's your name, sir ? "

" Brown."

" Well, Whitey Brown, you don't mind being tossed ? "

" No," said Tom, setting his teeth.

"Come along then, boys," sung out Walker; and
away they all went, carrying along Tom and East, to
the intense relief of four or five other small boys, who
crept out from under the beds and behind them.

AFTER THE MATCH. 129

" What a trump Scud is ! " said one. " They won't
come back here now."

" And that new boy, too ; he must be a good plucked
one."

"Ah! wait till he has been tossed on to the floor;
see how he '11 like it then ! "

Meantime the procession went down the passage to
Number 7, the largest room and the scene of tossing,
in the middle of which was a great open space. Here
they joined other parties of the bigger boys, each with
a captive or two, some willing to be tossed, some sullen,
and some frightened to death. At Walker's suggestion,
all who were afraid were let off, in honor of Pater
Brooke's speech.

Then a dozen big boys seized hold of a blanket
dragged from one of the beds. " In with Scud, quick !
there 's no time to*" lose." East was chucked into the
blanket. " Once, twice, thrice, and away ; " up he went
like a shuttlecock, but not quite up to the ceiling.

"Now, boys, with a will," cried Walker, "once,
twice, thrice, and away ! " This time he went clean
up, and kept himself from touching the ceiling with his
hand ; and so again a third time, when he was turned
out, and up went another boy. And then came Tom's
turn. He lay quite still, by East's advice, and didn't
dislike the "once, twice, thrice;" but the "away"
was n't so pleasant. They were in good wind now, and
sent him slap up to the ceiling first time, against which
his knees came rather sharply ; but the moment's
pause before descending was the rub, the feeling of
utter helplessness, and of leaving his whole inside be-
hind him sticking to the ceiling. Tom was very near
shouting to be set down when he found himself back
in the blanket, but thought of East, and didn't; and

180 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

80 took his three tosses without a kick or a crv, and
was called a young trump for his pains.

He and East, having earned it, stood now looking
on. No catastrophe happened, as all the captives were
cool hands, and didn't struggle. This didn't suit
Flashman. What your real bully likes in tossing, is
when the boys kick and struggle, or hold on to one
side of the blanket, and so get pitched bodily on to the
floor; it's no fun to him when no one is hurt or
frightened.

"Let's toss two of them together. Walker," sug-
gested he.

" What a cursed bully you are, Flashy ! " rejoined
the other. " Up with another one."

And so no two boys were tossed together, the
peculiar hardship of which is, that it's too much for
human nature to lie still then and Share troubles ; and
so the wretched pair of small boys struggle in the air
which shall fall a-top in the descent, to the no small
risk of both falling out of the blanket, and the huge
delight of brutes like Flashman.

But now there 's a cry that the praepostor of the room
is coming ; so the tossing stops, and all scatter to their
different rooms, and Tom is left to turn in, with the first
day's experience of a public school to meditate upon.

CHAPTER Til.

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR.

ftaya Giles, " 'T is mortal hard t« go ;

But if so bt'a I must,
1 means to fallow arter he

As goes hisself the fust."

Ballad.

suppoee, knows
licioua state in
eep, half awake,
egins to return
aiier a sounu nignt s rest in a new place
which we are glad to be in, following upon a day of un-
wonted excitement and exertion. There are few pleae-
anter pieces of life. The worst of it is that they last
such a short time ; for, nurae them as you will, by ly-
ing perfectly passive in mind and body, you can't make
more than five minutes or so of them. After which
time, the stupid, obtrusive, wakeful entity which we

182 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOI^DAYS.

call " I " as impatient as he is stiff-necked, spite of our
teeth will force himself back again, and take possession
of us down to our very toes.

It was in this state that Master Tom lay at half-
past seven on the morning following the day of his
arrival, and from his clean little white bed watched the
movements of Bogle (the generic name by which the
successive shoeblacks of the Schoolhouse were known),
as he marched round from bed to bed, collecting the
dirty shoes and boots, and depositing clean ones in
their places.

There he lay, half doubtful as to where exactly in
the universe he was, but conscious that he had made
a step in life which he had been anxious to make. It
was only just light as he looked lazily out of the wide
windows and saw the tops of the great elms, and the
rooks circling about and cawing remonstrances to the
lazy ones of their commonwealth before starting in a
body for the neighboring ploughed fields. The noise
of the room door closing behind Bogle, as he made his
exit with the shoe-basket under his arm, roused Tom
thoroughly, and he sat up in bed and looked round the
room. What in the world could be the matter with
his shoulders and loins ? He felt as if he had been
severely beaten all down his back, — the natural result
of his performance at his first match. He drew up his
knees and rested his chin on them, and went over all
the events of yesterday, rejoicing in his new life (what
he had seen of it) and all that was to come.

Presently one or two of the other boys roused them-
selves, and began to sit up and talk to one another in
low tones. Then East, after a roll or two, came to an
anchor also, and nodding to Tom, began examining
his ankle.

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. 133

"What a pull," said he, "that it's lie in bed; for I
shall be as lame as a tree, I think."

It was Sunday morning, and Sunday lectures had
not yet been established ; so that nothing but breakfast
intervened between bed and eleven o'clock chapel, — a
gap by no means easy to fill up ; in fact, though re-
ceived with the correct amount of grumbling, the first
lecture instituted by the Doctor shortly afterwards was
a great boon to the school. It was lie in bed, and no
one was in a hurry to get up, especially in rooms where
the sixth-form boy was a good-tempered fellow, as was
the case in Tom's room, and allowed the small boys to
talk and laugh, and do pretty much what they pleased,
so long as they did n't disturb him. His bed was a
bigger one than the rest, standing in the corner by the
fireplace with a washing-stand and large basin by the
side, where he lay in state, with his white curtains
tucked in so as to form a retiring place, — an awful sub-
ject of contemplation to Tom, who slept nearly opposite,
and watched the great man rouse himself and take a
book from under his pillow and begin reading, leaning
his head on his hand, and turning his back to the
room. Soon, however, a noise of striving urchins arose,
and muttered encouragements from the neighboring
boys, of " Go it. Tadpole ! " " Now, young Green ! "
" Haul away his blanket ! " " Slipper him on the
hands ! " Young Green and little Hall, commonly
called " Tadpole," from his great black head and thin
legs, slept side by side far away by the door, and were
forever playing one another tricks, which usually
ended, as on this morning, in open and violent collision ;
and now, unmindful of all order and authority, there
they were, each hsluling away at the other's bed-clothes
with one hand, and with the other, armed with a

134 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

slipper, belaboring whatever portion of the body of his
adversary came within reach.

" Hold that noise, up in the corner ! " called out the
praepostor, sitting up and looking round his curtains, —
and the Tadpole and young Green sank down into their
disordered beds, — and then, lookfng at his watch, added,
" Hullo, past eight. Whose turn for hot water ? "

[Where the praepostor was particular in his ablu-
tions, the fags in his room had to descend in turn to
the kitchen and beg or steal hot water for him; and
often the custom extended further, and two boys went
down every morning to get a supply for the whole
room.]

"East's and Tadpole's," answered the senior fag,
who kept the rota.

" I can't go," said East ; " I 'm dead lame."

" Well, be quick, some of you, that 's all," said the
great man, as he turned out of bed, and putting on his
slippers, went out into the great passage which runs
the whole length of the bedrooms to get his Sunday
habiliments out of his portmanteau.

" Let me go for you," said Tom to East, " I should
like it."

" Well, thank'ee, that 's a good fellow. Just pull on
your trousers, and take your jug and mine. Tadpole
will show you the way."

And so Tom and the Tadpole in night-shirts and
trousers started off downstairs, and through "Thos's
hole," as the little buttery where candles and beer and
bread and cheese were served out at night was called,
across the Schoolhouse court, down a long passage,
and into the kitchen, where, after some parley with
the stalwart, handsome cook, who declared that she had
filled a dozen jugs already, they got their hot water,

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. 185

and returned with all speed and great caution. As it
was, they narrowly escaped capture by some privateers
from the fifth-form rooms who were on the look-out
for the hot-water convoys, and pursued them up to the
very door of their room, making them spill half their
load in the passage. " Better than going down again
though," Tadpole remarked, " as we should have had to
do if those beggars had caught us."

By the time that the calling-over bell rang, Tom
and his new comrades were all down, dressed in their
best clothes, and he had the satisfaction of answering
" here " to his name for the first time, the praepostor of
the week having put it in at the bottom of his list. And
then came breakfast, and a saunter about the close and
town with East, whose lameness only became severe
when any fagging had to be done. And so they whiled
away the time until morning chapel.

It was a fine November morning, and the close soon
became alive with boys of all ages, who sauntered about
on the grass or walked round the gravel walk in
parties of two or three. East, still doing the cicerone,
pointed out all the remarkable characters to Tom as
they passed : Osbert, who could throw a cricket-ball
from the little-side ground over the rook trees to the
Doctor's wall ; Gray, who had got the Balliol scholar-
ship, and (what East evidently thought of much more
importance) a half-holiday for the School by his success ;
Thorne, who had run ten miles in two minutes over the
hour ; ^lack, who had held his own against the cock
of the town in the last row with the louts ; and many
more heroes, who then and there walked about and
were worshipped, all trace of whom has long since
vanished from the scene of their fame ; and the fourth-
form boy who reads their names rudely cut out on the

136 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

old hall tables, or painted upon the big side-cupboard
(if hall tables and big side-cupboards still exist), won-
ders what manner of boys they were. It will be the
same with you who wonder, my sons, whatever your
prowess may be in cricket or scholarship or football.
Two or three years, more or less, and then the steadily
1 advancing, blessed wave will pass over your names as it
,has passed over ours. Nevertheless, play your games
and do your work manfully ; see only that that be
done^^and let the remembrance of it take care of itself.
yi!\iQ chapel bell began to ring at a quarter to eleven ;
and Tom got in early and took his place in the lowest
row, and watched all the other boys come in and take
their places, filling row after row, and tried to con-
strue the Greek text which was inscribed over the door,
with the slightest possible success, and wondered which
of the masters who walked down the chapel and took
their seats in the exalted boxes at the end, would be
his lord. And then came the closing of the doors, and
the Doctor in his robes, and the service, which, however,
did n't impress him much, for his feeling of wonder and
"curiosity was too strong. And the boy on one side of
him was scratching his name on the oak panelling in
front, and he could n't help watching to see what the
name was, and whether it was well scratched ; and the
boy on the other side went to sleep and kept falling
against him ; and on the whole, though many boys
even in that part of the School were serious and atten-
tive,' the general atmosphere was by no means devo-
tional ; and when he got out into the close again, he
didn't feel at all comfortable, or as if he had been to
church, y

But at afternoon chapel it was quite another thing.
He had spent the time after dinner in writing home to

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. 187

his mother, and so was in a better frame of mind ; and

his first cm'iosity was over, and he could attend more
to the 8ervice,,X^s the hymn after the prayers was
being sung, and the chapel was getting a little dark,
he was beginning to feel that he had been really wor-
shipping; and then came that great event in his, as
in every Rugby boy's life of that day, — the first sermon
from the Doctor.

More worthy pens than mine have described that
scene. The oak pulpit standing out by itself above thd
School seats. The tall, gallant form, the kindling eye,V^
the voice, now soft as the low notes of a flute, now clear \ . A
and stirring as the call of the light infantry bugle, of
him who stood there Sunday after Sunday, witnessing
and pleading for his Lord, the King of righteousness
and love and glory, with whose spirit he was filled, and
in whose power he spoke. The long lines of young
faces rising tier above tier down the whole length of
the chapel, from the little boy's who had just left his
mother to the young man's who was going out next
week into the great world, rejoicing in his strength. It
was a great and solemn sight, and never more so than
at this time of year, when the only lights in the chapel
were in the pulpit and at the seats of the praepostors of
the week, and the soft twilight stole over the rest of
the chapel, deepehing into darkness in the high gallery
behind the organ.

But what was it afte^ all which seized and held these
three hundred boys, dragging them out of themselves,
willing or unwilling, for twenty minutes on Sunday
afternoon ? True, there always were boys scattered up
and down the School who in heart and head were
worthy to hear and able to carry away the deepest and
wisest words there spoken ; but these were a minority

138 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

always, generally a very small one, — often so small a one
as to be countable on the fingers of your hand. What
was it that moved and held us, the rest of the three
hundred reckless, childish boys, who feared the Doctor
with all our hearts, and very little besides in heaven
or earth, who thought more of our sets in the School
than of the Church of Christ, and put the traditions of
Rugby and the public opinion of boys in our daily life
above the laws of God ? We could n't enter into half
that we heard; we hadn't the knowledge of our own
hearts or the knowledge of one another, and little
enough of the faith, hope, and love needed to that end.
But we listened, as all boys in their better moods will
listen (ay, and men too, for the matter of that) to a
man whom we felt to be, with all his heart and soul and
strength, striving against whatever was mean and un-
manly and unrighteous in our little world. It was not
the cold, clear voice of one giving advice and warning
from serene heights to those who were struggling and
sinning below, but the warm, living voice of one who
was fighting for us and by our sides, and calling on us
to help him and ourselves and one another. And so,
wearily and little by little, but surely and steadily on
the whole, was brought home to the young boy for the
first time the meaning of his life, — that it was no fool's
or sluggard's paradise into which he liad wandered by
chance, but a battle-field ordained from of old, where
there are no spectators, but the youngest must take his
side, and the stakes are life and death. And he who
roused this consciousness in them showed them at the
same time by every word he spoke in the pulpit, and by
his whole daily life, how that battle was to be fought,
and stood there before them, their fellow-soldier and the
captain of their band. The true sort of captain too for

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. 189

a boy's army ; one who had no misgivings and gave no
uncertain word of command, and, let who would yield
or make a truce, would fight the fight out (so every boy
felt) to the last gasp and the last drop of blood. Other
sides of his character might take hold of and influence
boys here and there, but it was this thoroughness and
undaunted courage which more than anything else won
his way to the hearts of the great mass of those on
whom he left his mark, and made them believe first in
him and then in his Master.

It was this quality above all others which moved
such boys as our hero, who had nothing whatever
remarkable about him except excess of boyishness ; by
which I mean animal life in its fullest measure, good-
nature, and honest impulses, hatred of injustice r**^
meanness, and thoughtlessness enough to sink a three-
decker. And so during the next two years, in which
it was more than doubtful whether he would get good
or evil from the School, and before any steady purpose
or principle grew up in him, whatever his week's sins
and shortcomings might have been, he hardly ever left
the chapel on Sunday evenings without a serious resolve
to stand by and follow the Doctor, and a feeling that it
was only cowardice (the incarnation of all other sins in
such a boy's mind) which hindered him from doing so
with all his heart/"^

The next d^ Tom was duly placed in the third
form, and began his lessons in a corner of the big
School. He found the work very easy as he had been
well grounded, and knew his grammar by heart ; and
as he had no intimate companion to make him idle
(East and his other Schoolhouse friends being in the
lower fourth, the form above him), soon gained golden
opinions from his master, who said he was placed too

[ 140 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

low, and should be put out at the end of the half-year.
So all went well with him in school, and he wrote the
most flourishing letters home to his mother, full of his
success and the unspeakable delights of a public school.

In the house, too, all went well. The end of the
half-year was drawing near, which kept everybody in
a good humor, and the house was ruled well and
strongly by Warner and Brooke. True, the general
system was rough and hard, and there was bullying in
nooks and corners, — bad signs for the future ; but it
never got farther, or dared show itself openly, stalking
about the passages and hall and bedrooms, and making
the life of the small boys a continual fear.

Tom, as a new boy, was of right excused fagging for
*ho first month, but in his enthusiasm for his new life
this privilege hardly pleased him ; and East and others
of his young friends discovering this, kindly allowed
him to indulge his fancy, and take their turns at night
fagging and cleaning studies. These were the principal
duties of the fags in the house. Prom supper until
nine o'clock, three fag's taken in order stood in the
passages, and answered any praepostor who called " Fag,"
racing to the door, the last comer having to do the
work. This consisted generally of going to the buttery
for beer and bread and cheese (for the great men did
not sup with the rest, but had each his own allowance
in his study or the fifth-form room), clewing candle-
sticks and putting in new candles, toasting cheese,
bottling beer, and carrying messages about the house ;
and Tom, in the first blush of his hero-worship, felt it
a high privilege to receive orders from and be the
bearer of the supper of old Brooke. And besides this
night-work, each praepostor had three or four fags spe-
cially allotted to him, of whom he was supposed to be

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. 141

the guide, philosopher, and friend, and who in return
for these good offices had to clean out his study every
morning by turns, directly aft^r first lesson and before
he returned from breakfast. And the pleasure of seeing
the great men's studies, and looking at their pictures,
and peeping into their books, made Tom a ready sub-
stitute for any boy who was too lazy to do his own work ;
and so he soon gained the character of a good-natured,
willing fellow, who was ready to do a turn for any one.

In all the games too, he joined with all his heart,
and soon became well versed in all the mysteries of
football, by continued practice at the Schoolhouse little-
side, which played daily.

The only incident worth recording here, however,
was his first run at Hare-and-hounds. On the last
Tuesday but one of the half-year he was passing
through the Hall after dinner, when he was hailed
with shouts from Tadpole and several other fags, seated
at one of the long tables, the chorus of which was
" Come and help us tear up scent."

Tom approached the table in. obedience to the myste-
rious summons, always ready to help, and found the
party engaged in tearing up old newspapers, copy-books,
and magazines into small pieces, with which they were
filling four large canvas bags.

" It 's the turn of our house to find scent for big-side
Hare-and-hounds," exclaimed Tadpole ; " tear away,
there 's no time to lose before calling-over."

" I think it 's a great shame," said another small boy,
" to have such a hard run for the last day."

" Which run is it ? " said Tadpole.

"Oh, the Barby run, I hear," answered the other;
" nine miles at least, and hard ground, — no chance of
getting in at the finish, unless you 're a first-rate scud."

142 TOM BKOWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" Well, I 'm going to have a try," said Tadpole. " It 's
the last run of the half, and if a fellow gets in at the
end, big-side stands ale and bread and cheese, and a
bowl of punch ; and the Cock 's such a famous place
for ale."

"I should like to try too," said Tom.

" Well then, leave your waistcoat behind, and listen
at the door after calling-over, and you '11 hear where
the meet is,"

After calling-over, sure enough, there were two boys
at the door, calling out, " Big-side Hare-and-hounds
meet at White Hall ; " and Tom, having girded himself
with leather strap and left all superfluous clothing be-
hind, set off for White Hall, an old gable-ended house
some quarter of a mile from town, with East, whom he
had persuaded to join, notwithstanding his prophecy
that they could never get in, as it was the hardest run
of the year.

At the meet they found some forty or fifty boys, and
Tom felt sure, from having seen many of them nm at
football, that he and East were more likely to get in
than they.

After a few minutes' waiting, two well-known run-
ners, chosen for the hares, buckled on the four bags
filled with scent, compared their watches with those of
young Brooke and Thorne, and started off at a long
slinging trot across the fields in the direction of Barby.

Then the hounds clustered round Thorne, who ex-
plained shortly, "They're to have six minutes' law.
We run into the Cock, and every one who comes in
within a quarter of an hour of the hares '11 be counted
if he has been round Barby church." Then came a
minute's pause or so, and then the watches are pocketed,
and the pack is led through the gateway into the field

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. 148

which the hares had first crossed. Here they break
into a trot, scattering over the field to find the first
traces of the scent which the hares throw out as they
go along. The old hounds make straight for the likely
points, and in a minute a cry of " forward " comes
from one of them, and the whole pack quickehing their
pace make for the spot, while the boy who hit the scent
first and the two or three nearest to him are over the
first fence, and making play along the hedgerow in the
long grass-field beyond. The rest of the pack rush at
the gap already made, and scramble through, jostling
one another. " Forward " again, before they are half
through ; the pace quickens into a sharp run, the tail
hounds all straining to get up with the lucky leaders.
They are gallant hares, and the scent lies thick right
across another meadow and into a ploughed field, where
the pace begins to tell, and then over a good wattle
with a ditch on the other side, and down a large pasture
studded with old thorns, which slopes down to the first
brook ; the great Leicestershire sheep charge away
across the field as the pack comes racing down the
slope. The brook is a small one, and the scent lies
right ahead up the opposite slope, and as thick as ever ;
not a turn or a check to favor the tail hounds, who
strain on, now trailing in a long line, many a youngster
beginning to drag his legs heavily, and feel his heart
beat like a hammer, and the bad plucked ones thinking
that after all it is n't worth while to keep it up.

Tom, East, and the Tadpole had a good start, and
are well up for such young hands, and after rising the
slope and crossing the next field, find themselves up
with the leading hounds, who have over-run the scent
and are trying back ; they have come a mile and a half
in about eleven minutes, a pace which shows. that it is

144 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

' the last day. About twenty-five of the original starters
only show here, the rest having already given in •, the
leaders are busy making casts into the fields on the left
and right, and the others get their second winds.

Then comes the cry of " forward " again, from young
Brooke, from the extreme left, and the pack settles
down to work again steadily and doggedly, the whole
keeping pretty well together. The scent, though still
good, is not so thick ; there is no need of that, for in
this part of the run every one knows the line which
must be taken, and so there are no casts to be made,
but good downright running and fencing to be done.
All who are now up mean coming in, and they come
to the foot of Barby Hill without losing more than two
or three more of the pack. This last straight two miles
and a half is always a vantage ground for the hounds,
and the hares know it .well. They are generally viewed
on the side of Barby Hill, and all eyes are on the look-
out for them to-day ; but not a sign of them appears,
so now will be the hard work for the hounds, and there
is nothing for it but to cast about for the scent, for it is
now the hares' turn, and they may baffle the pack dread-
fully in the next two miles.

Ill fares it now with our youngsters that they are
Schoolhouse boys, and so follow young Brooke ; for he
takes the wide casts round to the left, conscious of his
own powers, and loving the hard work. For if you
would consider for a moment, you small boys, you would
remember that the Cock, where the run ends, and the
good ale will be going, lies far out to the right on the
Dunchurch road, so that every cast you take to the left
is so much extra work ; and at this stage of the run,
when the evening is closing in already, no one remarks
whether y^ou run a little cunning or not, so you should

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. 145

stick to those crafty hounds who keep edging away to
the right, and not follow a prodigal like young Brooke,
whose legs are twice as long as yours and of cast-iron,
wholly indifferent to two or three miles more or less.
However, they struggle after him, sobbing and plunging
along, Tom and East pretty close, and Tadpole, whose big
head begins to pull him down, some thirty yards behind.

" They hear Tidnt cries for help from the wretched Tadpole.''

Now comes a brook, with stiff, clay banks, from which
they can hardly drag their legs, and they hear faint
cries for help from the wretched Tadpole, who has
fairly stuck fast. But they have too little run left in
themselves to pull up for their own brothers. Three
fields more, and another check, and then " forward "
called away to the extreme right.

The two boys' souls die within them ; they can never
do it. Young Brooke thinks so too, and says kindly,

146 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DA Ya

" You '11 cross a lane after next field, keep down it, and
you'll hit the Dunchurch road below the Cock," and
then steams away for the run in, in which he 's sure to
be first, as if he were just starting. They struggle on
across the next field, the " forwards " getting fainter
and fainter, and then ceasing. The whole hunt is out
of ear-shot, and all hope of coming in is over.

" Hang it all ! " broke out East, as soon as he had
got wind enough, pulling off his hat and mopping at
his face, all spattered with dirt and lined with sweat,
from which went up a thick steam into the still, cold
air. " I told you how it would be. What a thick I was
to come ! Here we are dead beat, and yet I know we 're
close to the run in, if we knew the country."

" Well," said Tom mopping away, and gulping down
his disappointment, " it can 't be helped. We did our
best anyhow. Had n't we better find this lane, and go
down it, as young Brooke told us ? "

" I suppose so — nothing else for it," grunted East.
" If ever I go out last day again," growl — growl —
growl.

So they tried back slowly and sorrowfully, and found
the lane, and went limping down it, plashing in the
cold, puddly ruts, and beginning to feel how the run
had taken it out of them. The evening closed in fast,
and clouded over, dark, cold, and dreary.

" I say, it must be locking-up, I should think," re-
marked East, breaking the silence ; " it 's so dark."

" What if we 're late ? " said Tom.

" No tea, and sent up to the Doctor," answered East.

The thought did n't add to their cheerfulness. Pres-
ently a faint halloo was heard from an adjoining field.
They answered it and stopped, hoping for some compe-
tent rustic to guide them, when over a gate some twenty

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. 147

•

yards ahead crawled the wretched Tadpole in a state
of collapse ; he had lost a shoe in the brook, and been
groping after it up to his elbows in the stiff, wet clay,
and a more miserable creature in the shape of boy
seldom has been seen.

The sight of him, notwithstanding, cheered them, for
he was some degrees more wretched than they. They
also cheered him, as he was now no longer under the
dread of passing his night alone in the fields. And so
in better heart, the three plashed painfully down the
never-ending lane. At last it widened, just as utter dark-
ness set in, and they came out on to a turnpike-road and
there paused, bewildered ; for they had lost all bearings,
and knew not whether to turn to the right or left.

Luckily for them they had not to decide, for lumber-
ing along the road, with one lamp lighted, and two
spavined horses in the shafts, came a heavy coach, which
after a moment's suspense they recognized as the Jxford
coach, the redoutable Pig and Whistle.

It lumbered slowly up ; and the boys mustering their
last run, caught it as it passed, and began scrambling
up behind, in which exploit East missed his footing and
fell flat on his nose along the road. Then the others
hailed the old scarecrow of a coachman, who pulled up,
and agreed to take them in for a shilling; so there
they sat on the back seat, drubbing with their heels, and
their teeth chattering with cold, and jogged into Rugby
some forty minutes after locking-up.

Five minutes afterwards, three small, limping, shiver-
ing figures steal along through the Doctor's garden and
into the house by the servants' entrance (all the other
gates have been closed long since), where the first thing
they light upon in the passage is old Thomas, ambling
along, candle in one hand and keys in the other.

148 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

•

He stops and examines their condition with a grim
smile. " Ah ! East, Hall, and Brown, late for locking-
up. Must go up to the Doctor's study at once."

" Well, but, Thomas, may n't we go and wash first ?
You can put down the time, you know."

"Doctor's study d'rec'ly you come in — that's the
orders," replied old Thomas, motioning towards the
stairs at the end of the passage which led up into
the Doctor's house ; and the boys turned ruefully down
it, not cheered by the old verger's muttered remark,
" What a pickle they boys be in ! " Thomas referred
to their faces and habiliments, but they construed it as
indicating the Doctor's state of mind. Upon the short
flight of stairs they paused to hold counsel.

" Who '11 go in first ? " inquires Tadpole.

" You ; you 're the senior," answered East.

" Catch me ! Look at the state I 'm in," rejoined
Hall, showing the arms of his jacket. "I must get
behind you two."

"Well, but look at me," said East, indicating the
mass of clay behind which he was standing. " I 'm
worse than you, two to one ; you might grow cabbages
on my trousers."

" That 's all down below, and you can keep your legs
behind the sofa," said Hall.

" Here, Brown, you *re the show-figure ; you must
lead."

" But my face is all muddy," argued Tom.

" Oh, we 're all in one boat for that matter ; but come
on, we 're only making it worse, dawdling here."

" Well, just give us a brush then," said Tom ; and
they began trying to rub off the superfluous dirt from
each other's jackets. But it was not dry enough, and
the rubbing made it worse ; so in despair they pushed

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. 149

through tiie swing door at the head of the stairs, and
found themselves in the Doctor's hall,

"That's the library door," said East in a whisper,
pushing Tom forwards. The sound of merry voices
and laughing came from within, and his first hesitating
knock was unanswered ; but at the second, the Doctor's

"Tom turned the handle.'*

voice said, " Come in," and Tom turned the handle, and
he, with the others behind him, sidled into the room.
y^ The Doctor looked up from his task ; he was working
away with a great chisel at the bottom of a boy's sailing
boat, the lines of which he was no doubt fashioning on
the model of one of Nicias' galleys. Bound him stood
three or four children ; the candles burned brightly on a
large table, at the farther end covered with books and

\^ ^'

160 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

papers, and a great fire threw a ruddy glow over the
rest of the room. All looked so kindly and homely
and comfortable, that the boys took heart in a moment,
and Tom advanced from behind the shelter of the great
sofa. The Doctor nodded to the children, who went
out, casting curious, €Chd amused glances at the three
young scarecrows.

" Well, my Kttle fellows," began the Doctor, drawing
himself up with his back to the fire, the chisel in one
hand and his coat-tails in the other, and his eyes
twinkling as he looked them over, "what makes you
so late ? "

" Please, sir, we 've been out big-side Hare-and-hounds
and lost our way."

" Hah ! You could n't keep up, I suppose ? "

" Well, sir," said East, stepping out, and not liking
that the Doctor should think lightly of his running
powers, " we got round Barby all right, but then — "

" Why, what a state you 're in, my boy ! " interrupted
the Doctor, as the pitiful condition of East's garments
was fully revealed to him.

" That 's the fall I got, sir, in the road," said East,
looking down at himself ; " the Old Pig came by — "

" The what ? " said the Doctor.

" The Oxford coach, sir," explained Hall.

" Hah ! yes, the Regulator," said the Doctor.

" — and I tumbled on my face trying to get up
behind," went on East.

" You 're not hurt, I hope ? " said the Doctor.

" (Ml no, sir."

"Well now, run up-stairs, all three of you, and get
clean things on, and then tell the housekeeper to give
you some tea. You 're too young to try such long runs.
Let Warner know I 've seen you. Good-night."

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. 161

" Good-night, sir." And away scuttled the three
boys in high glee.

" What a brick, not to give us even twenty lines to
learn!" said the Tadpole, as they reached their bed-
room ; and in half an hour afterwards they were sitting
by the fire in the housekeeper's room at a sumptuous
tea, with cold meat, " twice as good a grub as we should
have got in the hall," as the Tadpole remarked with a
grin, his mouth full of buttered toast. All their griev-
ances were forgotten, and they were resolving to go out
the first big-side next half, and thinking Hare-and-
hounds the most delightful of games.

A day or two afterwards the great passage outside
the bedrooms was cleared of the boxes and portman-
teaus, which went down to be packed by the matron,
and great games of chariot-racing and cock-fighting
and bolstering went on in the vacant space, — the sure
sign of a closing half-year.

Then came the making-up of parties for the journey
home, and Tom joined a party who were to hire a coach,
and post with four horses to Oxford.

Then the last Saturday, on which the Doctor came
round to each form to give out the prizes, and hear the
masters' last reports of how they and their charges had
been conducting themselves ; and Tom, to his huge
delight, was praised, and got his remove into the lower
fourth, in which all his Schoolhouse friends were.

On the next Tuesday morning, at four o'clock, hot
coffee was going on in the housekeeper's and matron's
rooms ; boys wrapped in great coats and mufflers were
swallowing hasty mouthfuls, rushing about, tumbling
over luggage, and asking questions all at once of the
matron. Outside the School-gates were drawn up several
chaises and the four-horse coach which Tom's party

152 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOI^DAYS.

had chartered, the post-boys in their best jackets and
breeches, and a cornopean player, hired for the occa-
sion, blowing away "A southerly wind and a cloudy
sky," waking all peaceful inhabitants half-way down the
High Street.

Every minute the bustle and hubbub increased, por-
ters staggered about with boxes and bags, the corno-
pean played louder. Old Thomas sat in his den with
a great yellow bag by his side, out of which he was
paying journey money to each boy, comparing by the
light of a solitary dip the dirty, crabbed little list in his
own handwriting with the Doctor's list, and the amount
of his cash ; his head was on one side, his mouth screwed
up, and his spectacles dim,frQm early toil. He had pru-
dently locked the door, and earned on his operations
solely through the window, or he would have been driven
wild, and lost all his money.

" Thomas, do be quick, we shall never catch the High-
flyer at Dunchurch."

" That 's your money, all righf. Green."

" Hullo, Thomas, the Doctor said I was to have two-
pound-ten ; you 've only given me two pound." (I fear
that Master Green is not confining himself strictly to
truth.) Thomas turns his head more on one side than
ever, and spells away at the dirty list. Green is forced
away from the window.

" Here, Thomas, never mind him, mine 's thirty shil-
lings." " And mine too.," " and mine," shouted others.

One way or another, the party to which Tom belonged
dll got packed and paid, and sallied out to the gates,
the cornopean playing frantically " Drops of Brandy,"
in allusion, probably, to the slight potations in which
the musician and post-boys had been already indulging.
All luggage was carefully stowed away inside the coach

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. 153

and in the front and hind boots, so that not a hat-box
was visible outside. Five or six small boys with pea-
shooters, and the cornopean player, got up behind ; in
front the big boys, mostly smoking, — not for pleasure,
but because they are now gentlemen at large, and this
is the most correct public method of notifying the fact.

" Robinson's coach will be down the road in a minute,
it has gone up to Bird's to pick up; we'll wait till
they 're close, and make a race of it," says the leader
" Now, boys, half a sovereign apiece if you beat 'em into
Dunchurch by one hundred yards."

" All right, sir," shouted the grinning post-boys.

Down comes Robinson's coach in a minute or two
with a rival cornopean, and away go the two vehicles,
horses galloping, boys cheering, horns playing loud.
There is a special Providence over schoolboys as well
as sailors, or they must have upset twenty times in the
first five miles ; sometimes actuallv abreast of one
another, and the boys on the roofs exchanging volleys of
peas, now nearly running over a post-chaise which had
started before them, now half-way up a bank, now with
a wheel and a half over a yawning ditch, — and all this
in a dark morning, with nothing but their own lamps
to guide them. However, it 's all over at last, and they
have run over nothing but an old pig in Southam
Street. The last peas are distributed in the Corn Market
at Oxford, where they arrive between eleven and twelve,
and sit down to a sumptuous breakfast at the Angel,
which they are made to pay for accordingly. Here the
party breaks up, all going now different ways ; and Tom
orders out a chaise and pair as grand as a lord, though
he has scarcely five shillings left in his pocket, and more
than •twenty miles to get home.

" Where to, sir ? "

154 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" Red Lion, Farringdon," says Tom, giving Hostler a
shilling.

" All right, sir. Red Lion, Jem," to the post-boy,
and Tom rattles away towards home. At Farringdon,
being known to the innkeeper, he gets that worthy to
pay for the Oxford horses, and forward him in another
chaise at once ; and so the gorgeous young gentleman
arrives at the paternal mansion, and Squire Brown
looks rather blue at having to pay two pound ten
shillings for the posting expenses from Oxford. But
the boy's intense joy at getting home, and the wonderful
health he is in, and the good character he brings, and
the brave stories he tells of Rugby, its doings and
delights, soon mollify the Squire, and three happier
people did n't sit down to dinner that day in England
(it is the boy's first dinner at six o'clock at home,
great promotion already) than the Squire and his wife
and Tom Brown at the end of his first half-year at
Rugby.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE.

' They are slaves who will not chooai!
Hutred, scofflug, and aliuse,
Ratber than in silence shrink
From the truth they needs must think :
They are sUvea who dare not be
Id the right with two or three."

Lowell : Staiaiu on Frttdom.

school, and numbered upwards of forty
boye. Young gentlemen of all ages from nine to fifteen
were to be found there, who expended such part of their
energies as was devoted to Latin and Greek upon a book

156 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

of Livy, the Bucolics of Virgil, and the Hecuba of Eu-
ripides, which were ground out in small daily portions.
The driving of this unlucky lower fourth must have
been grievous work to the unfortunate master, for it
was the most unhappily constituted of any in the
school. Here stuck the great stupid boys, who for
the life of them could never master the accidence, —
the objects alternately of mirth and terror to the
youngsters, who were daily taking them up and laugh-
ing at them in lesson, and getting kicked by them
for so doing in play-hours. There were no less than
three unhappy fellows in tail coats, with incipient
down on their chins, whom the Doctor and the master
of the form were always endeavoring to hoist into
the upper school, but whose parsing and construing
resisted the most well-meant shaves. Then came the
mass of the form, — boys of eleven and twelve (the most
mischievous and reckless agd of British youth), of whom
East and Tom Brown were fair specimens. As full
of tricks as monkeys, and of excuses as Irish women,
making fun of their master, one another, and their
lessons, Argus himself would have been puzzled to keep
an eye on them ; and as for making them steady or
serious for half an hour together, it was simply hope-
less. The remainder of the form consisted of young
prodigies of nine and ten, who were going up the school
at the rate of a form a half-year, — all boys' hands and
wits being against them in their progress. It would
have been one man's work to see that the precocious
youngsters had fair play ; and as the master had a good
deal besides to do, they had n't, and were forever being
shoved down three or four places, their verses stolen,
their books inked, their jackets whitened, and their lives
otherwise made a burden to them.

THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 167

The lower fourth, and all the forms below it, were
heard in the great school, and were not trusted to pre-
pare their lessons before coming in, but were whipped
into school three quarters of an hour before the lesson
began by their respective masters, and there scattered
about on the benches, with dictionary and grammar,
hammered out their twenty lines of Virgil and Euripides
in the midst of Babel. The masters of the lower school
walked up and down the great school together during
this three quarters of an hour, or sat in their desks
reading or looking over copies, and keeping such order
as was possible. But the lower fourth was just now an
overgrown form, too large for any one man to attend
to properly, and consequently the elysium or ideal form
of the young scapegraces who formed the staple of it.

Tom, as has been said, had come up from the third
with a good character, but the temptations of the lower
fourth soon proved too strong for him, and he rapidly
fell away, and became as unmanageable as the rest.
For some weeks, indeed, he succeeded in maintaining
the appearance of steadiness, and was looked upon
favorably by his new master, whose eyes were first
opefx^ by the following little incident,
/besides the desk which the master himself occupied
there was another large unoccupied desk in the corner
of the great school, which was untenanted. To rush
and seize upon this desk, which was ascended- by three
steps, and held four boys, was the great object of ambi-
tion of the lower fourthers; and the contentions for
the occupation of it bred such disorder, that at last the
master forbade its use al.together. This of course was
a challenge to the more adventurous spirits to occupy
it, and as it was capacious enough for two boys to lie
hid there completely, it was seldom that it remained

158 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

empty, notwithstanding the veto. Small holes were
cut in the front, through which the occupants watched
the masters as they walked up and down ; and as lesson
time approached, one boy at a time stole out and down
the steps, as the masters' backs were turned, and pwn-
gled with the general crowd on the forms below^Tom
and East had successfully occupied the desk s<mie half-
dozen times, and were grown so reckless that they were
in the habit of playing small games with fives'-balls
inside, when the masters were at the other end of the
big school. One day, as ill-luck would have it, the
game became more exciting than usual, and the ball
slipped through East's fingers, and rolled slowly down
the steps, and out into the uxiddle of the school, just
as the masters turned in their walk and faced round
upon the desk. The young delinquents watched their
master through the look-out holes, march slowly down the
school straight upon their retreat, while all the boys in
the neighborhood of course stopped their work to look
on; and not only were they ignominiously drawn out,
and caned over the hand then and there, but their
characters for steadiness were gone from that time.
However, as they only shared the fate of some three
fourths of the rest of the form, this did not weigh
heavily upon them.

In fact, the only occasions on which they cared about
the matter were the monthly examinations, when the
Doctor came round to examine their form for one long,
awful hour, in the work which thev had done in the
preceding month. The second monthly examination
came round soon after Tom's fall, and it was with
anything but lively anticipations that he and the other
lower-fourth boys came in to prayers on the morning
of the examination day.

"once, twice, thkice, and away."

THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 159

Prayers and calling-over seemed twice as short as
usual ; and before they could get construes of a tithe of
the hard passages marked in the margin of their books,
they were all seated round, and the Doctor was stand-
ing in the middle, talking in whispers to the master.
Tom couldn't hear a word which passed, and never
lifted his eyes from his book ; but he knew by a sort
of magnetic instinct that the Doctor's under lip was
coming out, and his eye beginning to burn, and his
gown getting gathered up more and more tightly in
his left hand. The suspense was agonizing ; and Tom
knew that he was sure on such occasions to make an
example of the Schoolhouse boys. " H he would only
begin," thought Tom, " I should n't mind."

At last the whispering ceased, and the name which
was called out was not Brown. He looked up for a
moment, but the Doctor's face was too awful; Tom
wouldn't have met his eye for all he was worth, and
buried himself in his book again.

The boy who was called up first was a clever, merry
Schoolhouse boy, one of their set. He was some con-
nection of the Doctor's, and a great favorite, and ran
in and out of his house as he liked, and so was selected
for the first victim.

" Triste lupus, stabulis," began the luckless youngster,
and stammered through some eight or ten lines.

"There, that will do," said the Doctor; "now
construe."

On common occasions, the boy could have construed
the passage well enough probably, but now his head
was gone.

" Triste lupus, the sorrowful wolf," he began.

A shudder ran through the whole form, and the
Doctor's wrath fairly boiled over ; he made three steps

* 160 TOM BROW;^'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

up to the construer, and gave him a good box on the
ear. The blow was not a hard one, but the boy was so
taken by surprise that he started back ; the form caught
the back of his knees, and over he went on to the floor
behind. There was a dead silence over the whole
school ; never before, and never again while Tom was
at school did the Doctor strike a boy in lesson. The
provocation must have been great. However, the vic-
tim had saved his form for that occasion, for the Doc-
tor turned to the top bench, and put on the best boys
for the rest of the hour; and though, at the end of
the lesson, he gave them all such a rating as they
did not forget, this terrible field-day passed over without
any severe visitations in the shape of punishments or
floggings. Forty young scapegraces exj)ressed their
thanks to the "sorrowful wolf" in their different wavs
before second lesson.

But a character for steadiness once gone is not easily
recovered, as Tom found, and for years afterwards he
went up to the school without it, and the masters' hands
were against him, and his against them. And he
regarded them, as a matter of course, as his natural
enemies. Matters were not so comfortable either in the
house as they had been, for old Brooke left at Christ-
mas, and one or two others of the sixth-form boys at
the following Easter. Their rule had been rough, but
strong and just in the main, and a higher standard was
beginning to be set up ; in fact, there had been a short
foretaste of the good time which followed some years
later. Just now, however, all threatened to return into
darkness and chaos again. For the new praepostors
were either small, young boys, whose cleverness had
carried them up to the top of the school, while in
strength of body and character they were not yet fit

THK ^

tor a share in the
the wrong Bort, bo
a downward tendei
of their positioii an
BJbilities. So und
house began to i
boys, who were a i
to usurp power, ar
were praepostors,

showed signs of resistance. The bigger sort of sixth-
form boys just described soon made common cause with
the fifth, while the smaller sort, hampered by their
colleagues desertion to the enemy, could not make head
against them. So the fags were without their lawful
masters and protectors, and ridden over rough-shod by
a set of boys whom they were not bound to obey, and
whose only right over them stood in their bodily
powers ; and, as old Brooke had prophesied, the house
by degrees broke up into small sets and parties, and
lost the strong feeling of fellowship which he set so
much store by, and with it much of the prowess in
games and the lead in All school matters which he had
done so much to keep up.

In no place in the world has individual character"
more weight than at a public school. Remember this,
I beseech yon, all you boys who are getting into the
upper forms. Now is the time in all your lives, prob-
ably, when you may have more wide influence for good
or evil on the society you live in than you ever can
have again. Quit yourselves like men, then ; speak up,
and strike out if necessary for whatsoever is true, and
manly, and lovely, and of good report. Never try to be
popular, but only to do your duty and help others to do
theirs, and you may leave the tone of feeling in the

IffiROWN'S SCHOOL-DAVa

^^ou found it, and ao ho doing good

. '■ m measure, to generations of your

jrn. For boys follow one another

, for gqod or evil ; they hate thinking,

iny settled principles. Every school,

Nu traditionary standard of right and

,nnot be transgressed with impunity,

things as low and blackguard, and

) lawful and right. This standard in

ever varying, though it changes only slowly, and little

by little ; and subject only to such standard, it is the

leading boys for the time being who give the tone to all

the rest, and make the school either a noble institution

for the training of Christian Englishmen, or a place

where a young boy will get more evil than he would if

he were turned out to make his way in London sti'eets,

or anything between these two extremes.

The change for the worse in the Schoolhouse, how-
ever, did n't press very heavily on our youngsters for
some time. They were in a good bedroom, where slept
the only prsepostor left who was able to keep thorough
order, and their study was in his paseagi^ ; 80, though
they were fagged more or less, and occasionally kicked
or cuffed by the bullies, they were on the whole well
off ; and the fresh, bra4e school-life, so full of games.
adventures, and good fellowship, bo ready at forgettinjr,
so capacious at enjoying, sq bright at forecasting, out^
weighed a thousandfold their troubles with the master
of their form, and the occasional ill-usage of the big
boys in the house. It was n't till some year or so after
the events recorded above, that the pr^postor of their
room and passage left. None of the other sixth-form
boys would move into their passage, and to the disgust
and indignation of Tom and Blast, one moruii^ after

THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 168

breakfast they were seized upon by Flashman, and made
to carry down his books and furniture into the unoc-
cupied study, which he had taken. From this time they
began to feel the weight of the tyranny of Flashman
and his friends, and now that trouble had come home
to their own doors, began to look out for sympatljizers
and partners amongst the rest of the fags ; and meetings
of the oppressed began to be held, and murmurs to arise,
and plots to be laid as to how they should free them-
selves and be avenged on their enemies.

While matters were in this state. East and Tom
were one evening sitting in their study. They had
done their work for first lesson, and Tom was in a
brown study, brooding, like a young William Tell,
upon the wrongs of fags in general, and his own in
particular.

"I say. Scud," said he at last, rousing himself to
snuff the candle, " what right have the fifth-form boys
to fag us as they do?"

"No more right than you have to fag them," an-
swered East, without looking up from an early num-
ber of " Pickwick," which was just coming out, and
which he was luxuriously devouring, stretched on his
back on the sofa.

Tom relapsed into his brown study, and East went
on reading and chuckling. The contrast of the boys'
faces would have given infinite amusement to a looker-
on, the one so solemn and big with mighty purpose, the
other radiant, and bubbling over with fun.

" Do you know, old fellow, I 've been thinking it over
a good deal — " began Tom again.

" Oh yes, I know, fagging you are thinking of. Hang
it all ! — But listen here, Tom ; here 's fun. ' Mr. Winkle's
horse — ' "

164 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" — and I 've made up my mind," broke in Tom, " that
I won't fag except for the sixth."

" Quite right too, my boy," cried East, putting his
finger on the place and looking up ; " but a pretty
peck of troubles you 'II get into, if you 're going to play
that game. However, I 'm all for a strike myself, if we
can get others to join. It 's getting too bad."

" Can't we get some sixth-form fellow to take it
up ? " asked Tom.

" Well, perhaps we might ; Morgan would interfere,
I think. Only," added East, after a moment's pause,
" you see we should have to tell him about it, and that 's
against School principles. Don't you remember what
old Brooke said about learning to take our own parts ? "

" Ah, I wish old Brooke were back again ! It was all
right in his time."

" Why, yes, you see then the strongest and best fellows
were in the sixth, and the fifth-form fellows were afraid
of them, and they kept good order ; but now our sixth-
form fellows are too small, and the fifth don't care for
them, and do what they like in the house."

" And so we get a double set of masters," cried Tom,
indignantly ; " the lawful ones, who are responsible to
the Doctor at any rate, and the unlawful — the tyrants,
who are responsible to nobody."

" Down withthe tyrants ! " cried East ; " I 'm all for
law and order, and hurra for a revolution."

'^ I should n't mind if it were only for young Brooke,
now," said Tom, " he 's such a good-hearted, gentle-
manly fellow, and ought to be in the sixth ; I 'd do
anything for him. But that blackguard Flashman,
who never speaks to one without a kick or an oath — "

" The cowardly brute," broke in East, " how I hate
him ! And he knows it too ; he knows that you and I

THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 165

think him a coward. What a bore that he 's got a study
in this passage ! Don't you hear them now at supper in
his den ? Brandy punch going, I 'U bet. I wish tl\e
Doctor would come out and catch him. We must^^
change our study as soon as we can."

" Change or no change, I '11 never fag for him again,"
said Tom, thumping the table.

" Fa-a-a-ag ! " sounded along the passage from
Flashman's study. The two boys looked at one another
in silence. It had struck nine, so the regular night*-
fags had left duty, and they were the nearest to the
supper-party. East sat up and began to look comical, as
he always did under difficulties.

" Fa-a-a-ag ! " again. No answer.

" Here, Brown ! East ! you cursed young skulks,"
roared out Flashman, coming to his open door ; " I
know you 're in. No shirking ! "

Tom stole to their door and drew the bolts as noise-
lessly as he could ; East blew out the candle. " Barri-
cade the first," whispered he. " Now, Tom, mind, no
surrender ! " •

" Trust me for that," said Tom between his teeth.

In another minute they heard the supper-party turn
out and come down the passage to their door. They
held their breaths and heard whispering, of which they
only made out Flashman's words, " I know the young
brutes are in."

Then came summonses to open, which being un-
answered, the assault commenced. Luckily the door was

a good, strong oak one, and resisted the united weight of
Flashman's party. A pause followed, and they heard
a besieger remark, " They 're in, safe enough ; don't
you see how the door holds at top and bottom ? so the
bolts must be drawn. Wc should have forced the lock

166 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

long ago." East gave Tom a nudge to call attention to
this scientific remark.

Then came attacks on particular panels, one of which
at last gave way to the repeated kicks. But it broke
inwards, and the broken piece got jammed across (the
door being lined with green-baize), and couldn't easily
be removed from outside ; and the besieged, scorning
further concealment, strengthened their defences by
pressing the end of their sOfa against the door. So
after one or two more ineffectual efforts, Flashman and
Co. retired, vowing vengeance in no mild terms.

The first danger over, it only remained for the
besieged to effect a safe retreat, as it was now near
))edtime. They listened intently, and heard the sup-
per-party resettle themselves, and then gently drew
back first one bolt and then the other. Presently the
convivial noises began again steadily. " Now, then,
stand by for a run," said East, throwing the door wide
open and rushing into the passage, closely followed by
Tom. They were too quick to be caught ; but Flashman
was on the look-out, .and sent an empty pickle-jar
whizzing after them, which narrowly missed Tom's
head, and broke into twenty pieces at the end of the
passage. " He would n't mind killing one if he was n't
caught," said East, as they turned the corner.

There was no pursuit, so the two turned into the
Hall, where they found a knot of small boys round the
fire. Their story was told ; the war of independence
had broken out. Who would join the revolutionary
forces ? Several others present bound themselves not
to fag for the fifth form at once. One or two only
edged off, and left the rebels. What else could they
do ? "I 've a good mind to go to the Doctor straight,"
said Tom.

THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 167

-' That '11 never do. Don't you remember the levy of
the School last half ? " put in another.

In fact that solemn assembly, a levy of the School,
had been held, at which the captain of the School had
got up, and, after premising that several instances had
occurred of matters having been reported to the masters,
that this was against public morality and School tradi-
tion, that a levy of the sixth had been held on the
subject, and they had resolved that the practice must be
stopped at once, — had given out that any boy, in what-
ever form, who should thenceforth appeal to a master
without having first gone to some praepostor and laid
the case before him, should be thrashed publicly, and
sent to Coventry.

" Well, then, let 's try the sixth. Try Morgan,"
suggested another. " No use ; blabbing won't do," was
the general feeling.

" I '11 give you fellows a piece of advice," said a voice
from the end of the Hall. They all turned round with
a start, and the speaker got up from a bench on
which he had been lying unobserved, and gave himself
a shake ; he was a big, loose-made fellow, with huge
limbs which had grown too far through his jacket and
trousers. " Don't you go to anybody at all ; you just
stand out. Say you won't fag ; they '11 soon get tired of
licking you. I 've tried it on years ago with their fore-
runners."

" No ! did you ? Tell us how it was," cried a chorus
of voices, as they clustered round him.

*' Well, just as it is with you. The fifth form would
fag us, and I and some more struck, and we beat 'em.
The good fellows left off directly, and the bullies who
kept on soon got afraid."

" Was Flashman here then ? "

168 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOI/-DAYS.

" Yes ! and a dirty, little, snivelling, sneaking fellow
he was too. He never dared join us, and used to toady
the bullies by offering to fag for them, and peaching
against the rest of us."

" Why was n't he cut then ? " said East.

"Oh, toadies never get cut; they're too useful.
Besides, he has no end of great hampers from home,
with wine and game in them ; so he toadied and fed
himself into favor."

The quarter-to-ten bell now rang, and the small
boys went off up-stairs, still 'consulting together, and
praising their new counsellor, who stretched himself out
on the bench before the Hall fire again. There he lay,
a very queer specimen of boyhood, by name Diggs, and
familiarly called " the Mucker." He was young for his
size, and a very clever fellow, nearly at the top of the
fifth. His friends at home, having regard, I suppose,
to his age and not to his size and place in the School,
had n't put him into tails ; and even his jackets were
always too small ; and he had a talent for destroying
clothes, and making himself look shabby. He was n't
on terms with Flashman's set, who sneered at his dress
and ways behind his back, which he knew, and revenged
himself by asking Flashman the most disagreeable ques-
tions, and treating him familiarly whenever a crowd of
boys were round them. Neither was he intimate with
any of the other bigger boys, who were warned off by
his oddnesses, for he was a very queer fellow ; besides,
amongst other failings, he had that of impecuniosity
in a remarkable degree. He brought as much money as
other boys to school, but got rid of it in no time, no
one knew how. And then, being also reckless, bor-
rowed from any one, and when his debts accumulated
and creditors pressed, would have an auction in the

THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 169

Hall of everything he possessed in the world, selling
even his schoolbooks, candlestick, and study table.
For weeks after one of these auctions, having rendered
his study uninhabitable, he would live aHout in the
Rfth-form room and Hall, doing his verses on old letter-
backs and odd scraps of paper, and learning his lessons
no one knew how. He never meddled with any little

" Poor Diggs."

boy, and was popular with them, though they all looked
on him with a sort of compassion, and called him " poor
Diggs," not being able to resist appearances, or to
disregard wholly even the sneers of their enemy Flash-
man. However, he seemed equally indifferent to the
sneers of big boys and the pity of small ones, and lived
his own queer life with much apparent enjoyment to
himself. It is necessary to introduce Diggs thus par-
ticularly, us he not only did Tom and East good service

170 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

in their present warfare (as is about to be told), but
soon afterwards, when he got into the sixth, chose them
for his fags, and excused them from study-fagging,
thereby earning unto himself eternal gratitude from
them, and all who are interested in their history.

And seldom had small boys more need of a friend,
for the morning after the siege the storm burst upon
the rebels in all its violence. Flashman laid wait, and
caught Tom before second lesson, and receiving a point
blank '* No,'' when told to fetch his hat, seized him and
twisted his arm, and went through the other methods
of torture in use. " He could n't make me cry, though,"
as Tom said triumphantly to the rest of the rebels, " and
I kicked his shins well, I know." And soon it crept
out that a lot of the fags were in league, and Flashman
excited his associates to join him in bringing the young
vagabonds to their senses ; and the house was filled
with constant chasings and sieges and lickings of all
sorts ; and in return the bullies' beds were pulled to
pieces and drenched with water, and their names written
up on the walls with every insulting epithet which the
fag invention could furnish. The war in short raged
fiercely ; but soon, as Diggs had told them, all the
better fellows in the fifth gave up trying to fag them,
and public feeling began to set against Flashman and
his two or three intimates, and they were obliged to
keep their doings more secret, but being thorough bad
fellows, missed no opportunity of torturing in private.
Flashman was an adept in all ways, but above all in the
power of saying cutting and cruel things, and could often
bring tears to the eyes of boys in this way, which all the
thrashings in the world would n't have wrung from them.

And as his operations were being cut short in other
directions, he now devoted himself chiefly to Tom and

THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 171

East, who lived at his own door, and would force him-
self into their study whenever he found a chance, and
sit there, sometimes alone, sometimes with a compianion,
interrupting all their work, and exulting in the evident
pain which every now and then he could see he was
inflicting on one or the other.

The storm had cleared the air for the rest of the house,
and a better state of things now began than there had
been since old Brooke had left ; but an angry dark spot
of thunder-cloud still hung over the end of the passage
where Flashman's study and that of East and Tom lay.

He felt that they had been the first rebels, and that
the rebellion had been to a great extent successful ; but
what above all stirred the hatred and bitterness of his
heart against them was, that in the frequent collisions
which there had been of late, they had openly called
him coward and sneak, — the taunts were too true to be
forgiven. While he Was in the act of thrashing them,
they would roar out instances of his funking at foot-
ball, or shirking some encounter with a lout of half his
own size. These things were all well enough known
in the house, but to have his disgrace shouted out by
small boys, to feel that they despised him, to be unable
to silence them by any amount of torture, and to see
the open laugh and sneer of his own associates (who
were looking on and took no trouble to hide their scorn
from him, though they neither interfered with his bully-
ing, or lived a bit the less intimately with him) made
him beside himself. Come what might he would make
those boys' lives miserable. So the strife settled down
into a personal affair between Flashmati and our young-
sters ; a war to the knife, to be fought out in the little
cockpit at the end of the bottom passage.

Flashman, be it said, was about seventeen years old,

172 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

and big and strong of his age. He played well at all
games where pluck wasn't much wanted, and managed
generally to keep up appearances where it was ; and
having a bluff, off-hand manner, which passed for hearti-
ness, and considerable powers of being pleasant when
he liked, went down with the School in general for a
good fellow enough. Even in the Schoolhouse, by
dint of his command of money, the constant supply of
good things which he kept up, and his adroit toadyism,
he had managed to make himself not only tolerated,
but rather popular amongst his own contemporaries,
although young Brooke scarcely spoke to him, and one
or two others of the right sort showed their opinions
of him whenever a chance offered. But the wrong sort
happened to be in the ascendant just now, so Flashman
was a formidable enemy for small boys. This soon
became plain enough. Flashman left no slander un-
spoken and no deed undone which could in any way
hurt his victims, or isolate them from the rest of the
house. One by one most of the other rebels fell away
from them, while Flashman's cause prospered, and
several other fifth-form boys began to look black at
them and ill-treat them as they passed about the house.
By keeping out of bounds, or at all events out of the
house and quadrangle, all day, and carefully barring
themselves in at night. East and Tom managed to hold
on without feeling very miserable ; but it was as much
as they could do. Greatly were they drawn then towards
old Diggs, who, in an uncouth way, began to take a good
deal of notice of them, and once or twice came to their
study when Flashman was there, who immediately de-
camped in consequence. The boys thought that Diggs
must have been watching.

When therefore, about this time, an auction was one

THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 173

night announced to take place in the Hall, at which,
amongst the superfluities of other boys, all Diggs's Pen-
ates for the time being were going to the hammer, East
and Tom laid their heads together, and resolved to
devote their ready cash (some four shillings sterling)
to redeem such articles as that sum would cover.
Accordingly, they duly attended to bid, and Tom
became the owner of two lots of Diggs's things, — lot 1,
price one-and-threepence, consisting (as the auctioneer
remarked) of a " valuable assortment of old metals," in
the shape of a mouse-trap, a cheese-toaster without a
handle, and a saucepan ; lot 2, of a villanous dirty
table-cloth and a green-baize curtain. While East for
one-and-sixpence purchased a leather paper-case, with
a lock but no key, once handsome, but now much the
worse for wear. But they had still the point to settle
of how to get Diggs to take the things, without hurting
his feelings. This they solved by leaving them in his
study, which was never locked when he was out. Diggs,
who had attended the auction, remembered who had
bought the lots, and came to their study soon after, and
sat silent for some time, cracking his great red finger-
joints. Then he laid hold of their verses and began
looking over and altering them, and at last got up, and
turning his back to them, said, " You 're uncommon
good-hearted little beggars, you two. I value that
paper-case ; my sister gave it me last holidays — I
won't forget ; " and so tumbled out into the passage,
leaving them somewhat embarrassed, but not sorry that
he knew what they had done.

The next morning was Saturday, the day on which
the allowances of one shilling a week were paid, — an im-
portant event to spendthrift youngsters ; and great was
the disgust amongst the small fry to hear that all the

174 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

allowances had been impounded for the Derby lottery.
That great event in the English year, the Derby, was
celebrated at Rugby in those days by many lotteries.
It was not an improving custom, I own, gentle reader,
and led to making books and betting and other objec-
/^tionable results ; but when our great Houses of Palaver
(^ ^.v . I * ^ink it right to stop the nation's business on that day.
) and many of the members bet heavily themselves, can
you blame us boys for following the example of Our
betters ? At any rate we did follow it. First there
was the great School lottery, where the first prize was
six or seven pounds ; then each house had one ot more
separate lotteries. These were all nominally voluntary,
no boy being compelled to put in his shilling who did n't
choose to do so ; but besides Flashman, there were three
or four other fast sporting young gentlemen in the

Schoolhouse, who considered subscription a matter of
duty and necessity, and so, to make their duty come
easy to the* small boys, quietly secured the allowances in
a lump when given out for distribution, and kept them.
It was no use grumbling. So many fewer tartlets and
apples were eaten, and fives'-balls bought, on that Satur-
day ; and after locking-up, when the money would other-
wise have been spent, consolation was carried to many
a small boy by the sound of the night-fags shouting
along the passages, — " Gentlemen sportsmen of the
Schoolhouse, the lottery 's going to be drawn in the
Hall." It was pleasant to be called a gentleman sports-
man, — also to have a chance of drawing a favorite
horse.

The Hall was full of boys, and at the head of one of
the long tables stood the sporting interest with a hat
before them, in which were the tickets folded up. One
of them then began calling out the list of the house

THE WAR OF INDEPEKDEKCE. ITS

Each boy as hia name was called drew a ticket from the
hat and opened it ; and most of the bigger boys, after
drawing, left the Hail directly to go back to their studies
or the fifth-form room. The sporting interest had all
drawn blanks, and they were sulky accordingly ; neither
of the favorites had yet been drawn, and it had come

' ' At the hesil of one of the long tables stood the sporting Interest. "

down to the upper fourth. So now as each small boy
came up and drew his ticket, it was seized and opened
by Flashman, or some other of the atanders-by. But no
great favorite is drawn until it comes to the Tadpole's
turn, and he shuffles up and draws, and tries to make
off, but is caught, and his ticket is opened like the rest.

" Here you are ! Wanderer, the third favorite ! "
shouts the opener.

" I say, just give me my ticket, please," remonstrates
Tadpole.

" Hullo, don't be in a hurry," breaks in Flashmau ;
" what '11 you sell Wanderer for, now ?

176 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" I don't want to sell," rejoins Tadpole.

** Oh, don't you ! Now listen, you young fool. You
don't know anything about it; the horse is no use to
you. He won't win, but I want him as a hedge. Now
I '11 give you half a crown for him." Tadpole holds out,
but between threats and cajoleries at length sells half
for one shilling and sixpence, about a fifth of its fair
market value ; however, he is glad to realize anything,
and as he wisely remarks, " Wanderer may n't win, and
the tizzy is safe anyhow."

East presently comes up and draws a blank. Soon
after comes Tom's turn ; his ticket, like the others, is
seized and opened. " Here you are then," shouts the
opener, holding it up, " Harkaway ! By Jove, Flashy,
your young friend's in luck."

" Give me the ticket," says Flashman with an oath,
leaning across the table with open hand, and his face
black with rage.

" Would n't you like it ? " replies the opener, not a
bad fellow at the bottom, and no admirer of Flashman's.
" Here, Brown, catch hold," and he hands the ticket to
Tom, who pockets it ; whereupon Flashman makes for
the door at once, that Tom and the ticket may not
escape, and there keeps watch until the drawing is over
and all the boys are gone, except the sporting set of
five or six, who stay to compare books, make bets and
so on, Tom, who doesn't choose to move while Flash-
man is at the door, and East, who stays by his friend,
anticipating trouble.

The sporting set now gathered round Tom. Public
opinion would n't allow them actually to rob him of his
ticket, but any humbug or intimidation by which he
could be driven to sell the whole or part at an under-
value was lawful.

THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 177

"Now, young Brown, come, what '11 you sell me
Harkaway for ? I hear he is n't going to start. I '11
give you five shillings for him," begins the boy who had
opened the ticket. Tom, remembering his good deed,
and moreover in his forlorn state wishing to make a
friend, is about to accept the offer, when another cries
out, *" I '11 give you seven shillings." Tom hesitated,
and looked from one to the other.

"No, no!" said Flashman, pushing in, "leave me
to deal with him ; we '11 draw lots for it afterwards.
Now, sir, you know me ; you '11 sell Harkaway to us for
five shillings, or you '11 repent it."

" I won't sell a bit of him," answered Tom, shortly.

"You hear that, now!" said Flashman, turning to
the others. " He 's the coxiest young blackguard in
the house ; I always told you so. We 're to have all the
trouble and risk of getting up the lotteries for the
benefit of such fellows as he."

Flashman forgets to explain what risk they ran, but
he speaks to willing ears. Gambling makes boys selfish
and cruel as well as men.

" That 's true ! We always draw blanks," cried one.
" Now, sir, you shall sell half, at any rate."

" I won't," said Tom, flushing up to his hair, and
lumping them all in his mind with his sworn enemy.

" Very well, then, let 's roast him," cried Flashman,
and catches hold of Tom by the collar. One or two boys
hesitate, but the rest join in. East seizes Tom's arm
and tries to pull him away, but is knocked back by one
of the boys, and Tom is dragged along, struggling.
His shoulders are pushed against the mantelpiece, and
he is held by main force before the fire, Flashman draw-
ing his trousers tight by way of extra torture. Poor
East, in more pain even than Tom, suddenly thinks of

i78 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

Diggs, and darts off to find him. " Will you sell him
for ten shillings ? " said one boy, who is relenting.

Tom only answers by groans and struggles.

" I say, Flashy, he has had enough," says the same
boy, dropping the arm he holds.

" No, no ; another turn '11 do it," answers Flashman.
But poor Tom is done already, turns deadly pale, anQ his
head falls forward on his breast just as Diggs in frantic
excitement rushes into the Hall, with East at his heels.

" You cowardly brutes ! " is all he can say, as he
catches Tom from them and supports him to the Hall
table. " Good God, he 's dying ! Here, get some cold
water! Run for the housekeeper!"

Flashman and one or two others slink away ; the
rest, ashamed and sorry, bend over Tom or run for
water, while East darts off for the housekeeper. Water
comes, and they throw it on his hands and face, and
he begins to come to. " Mother " — the words came
feebly and slowly — " it 's very cold to-night." Poor old
Diggs is blubbering like a child. " Where am I ? " goes
on Tom, opening his eyes. " Ah ! I remember now,"
and he shut his eyes again and groaned.

" I say," is whispered, " we can't do any good, and
the housekeeper will be here in a minute," and all but
one steal away ; he stays with Diggs, silent and sorrowful,
and fans Tom's face.

The housekeeper comes in with strong salts, and
Tom soon recovers enough to sit up. There is a smell
of burning ; she examines his clothes, and looks up
inquiringly. The boys are silent.

" How did he come so ? " No answer.

" There 's been some bad work here," she adds, look-
ing very serious, " and I shall speak to the Doctor about
it." Still no answer.

THE WAB OF INDEPENDENCE. 179

"Hadn't we better carry him to the sick-room?''
suggests Diggs.

" Oh, I can walk now," says Tom ; and, supported
by East and the housekeeper, goes to the sick-room.
The boy who held his ground is soon amongst the rest,
who are all in fear of their lives. " Did he peach ? ''
" Does she know about it ? "

" Not a word ; he 's a stanch little fellow." And
pausing a moment he adds, " I 'm sick of this work ;
what brutes we 've been ! "

Meantime Tom is stretched on the sofa in the house-
keeper's room, with East by his side, while she gets
wine and water and other restoratives.

" Are you much hurt, dear old boy ? " whispers East.

"Only the back of my legs," answers Tom. They
are indeed badly scorched, and part of his trousers burned
through. But soon he is in bed with cold bandages.
At first he feels broken, and thinks of writing home and
getting taken away ; and the verse of a hymn he had
learned years ago sings through his head, and he goes
to sleep, murmuring, —

" Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest."

But after a sound night's rest the old boy-spirit comes
back again. East comes in reporting that the whole
house is with him, and he forgets everything except their
old resolve, never to be beaten by that bully Flashman.

Not a word could the housekeeper extract from either
of them ; and though the Doctor knew all that she knew
that morning, he never knew any more.

I trust and believe that such scenes are not possible. ,
now at school, and that lotteries and betting-books have^^
gone out ; but I am writing of schools as they were in
our time, and must give the evil with the good.

CHAPTER IX.

i. CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS.

" Whereio 1 [opeak] of inont disaatrouB chsnceB,
Of moving accidents by flood and field.
Of hairbreadth 'scapes."

Shakmpbarb.

HEN Tom came back into school after a
couple of days in the sick-room, he found matters much
changed for the better, as East had led him to expect.
Plashman's brutality had disgusted most even of his in-
timate friends, and his cowardice had once more been
made plain to the house ; for Diggs had encountered
him on the morning after the lottery, and after high
words on both sides, had struck him, and the blow was
not returned. However, Flashy was not unused to
this sort of thing, and had lived through as awkward
affairs before, and, as Di^;s had said, fed and toadied

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 181

himself back into favor again. Two or three of the
boys who had helped to roast Tom came up and begged
his pardon, and thanked him for not telling anything.
Morgan sent for him, and was inclined to take the
matter up warmly, but Tom begged him not to do it ;
to which he agreed on Tom's promising to come to him
at once in future, — a promise which I regret to say he
did n't keep. Tom kept Harkaway all to himself, and
won the second prize in the lottery (some thirty shil-
lings), which he and East contrived to spend in about
three days, in the purchase of pictures for their study,
two new bats and a cricket-ball (all the best that could
be got), and a supper of sausages, kidneys, and beef-
steak pies to all the rebels. Light come, light go ; they
wouldn't have been comfortable with money in their
pockets in the middle of the half.

The embers of Plashman's wrath, however, were still
smouldering, and burst out every now and then in sly
blows and taunts, and they both felt that they had n't
quite done with him yet. It was n't long, however,
before the last act of that drama came, and with it the
end of bullying for Tom and East at Rugby. They
now often, stole out into the Hall at nights, incited
thereto partly by the hope of finding Diggs there and
having a talk with him, partly by the excitement ^i
doing something which was against rules ; for, sad to
say, both of our youngsters, since their loss of character
for steadiness in their form, had got into the habit of
doing things which were forbidden, as a matter of ad-
venture ; just in the same way, I should fancy, as men
fall into smuggling, and for the same sort of reasons.
Thoughtlessness in the first place. It never occurred
to them to consider why such and such rules were laid
down ; the reason was nothing to them ; and they only

182 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOT^DAYS.

looked upon rules as a sort of challenge from the rule-
makers, which it would be rather bad pluck in them not
to accept; and then again, in the lower parts of the
School they had n't enough to do. The work of the form '
they could manage to get through pretty easily, keep-
ing a good enough place to get their regular yearly re-
move ; and not having much ambition beyond this, their
whole superfluous steam was available for games and
scrapes. Now, one rule of the house which it was a daily
pleasure of all such boys to break, was that after supper
all fags, except the three on duty in the passages, should
remain in their own studies until nine o'clock ; and if
caught about the passages or Hall, or in one another's
studies, they were liable to punishments or caning. The
rule was stricter than its observance ; for most of the
sixth spent their evenings in the fifth-form room, where
the library was, and the lessons were learned in com-
mon. Every now and then, however, a praepostor would
be seized with a fit of district visiting, and would make
a tour of the passages and Hall and the fags' studies.
Then, if the owner were entertaining a friend or two,
the first kick at the door and ominous " Open here,'*
had the effect of the shadow of a hawk oven a chicken-
yard ; every one cut to cover, — one small boy diving
under the sofa, another under the table, — while the owner
would hastily pull down a book or two and open them,
and cry out in a meek voice, " Hullo, who 's there ? "
casting an anxious eye round to see that no protruding
leg or elbow could betray the hidden boys. " Open, sir,
directly ; it 's Snooks."

"Oh, I'm very sorry; I didn't know it was you,
Snooks." And then, with well-feigned zeal, the door
would be opened, young hopeful praying that that beast
Snooks mightn't have heard the scuffle caused by his

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 188

coming. If a study was empty, Snooks proceeded to
draw the passages and Hall to find the truants.

Well, one evening in forbidden hours, Tom and East,
were in the Hall. They occupied the seats before the
fire nearest the door, while Diggs sprawled as usual
before the farther fire. He was busy with a copy of
verses, and East and Tom were chatting together in
whispers by the light of the fire, and splicing a favorite
old fives'-bat which had sprung. Presently a step came
down the bottom passage ; they listened a moment,
assured themselves that it was n't a praepostor, and
then went on with their work, and the door swung open,
and in walked Flashman. He didn't see Diggs, and
thought it a good chance to keep his hand in ; and as
the boys did n't move for him, struck one of them, to
make them get out of his way.

" What 's that for ? " growled the assaulted one.

" Because I choose. You 've no business here ; go to
your study."

" You can't send us."

" Can't I ? Then I '11 thrash you if you stay," said
Flashman, savagely.

"I sayy you two," said Diggs, from the end of the
Hall, rousing up and resting himself on his elbow,
" you '11 never get rid of that fellow till you lick him.
Go in at him, both of you. I '11 see fair play."

Flashman was taken aback, and retreated two steps.
East looked at Tom. " Shall we try ? " said he.

" Yes," said Tom, desperately. So the two advanced
on Flashman, with clenched fists and beating hearts.
They were about up to his shoulder, but tough boys of
their age, and in perfect training ; while he, though
strong and big, was in poor condition from his mon-
strous habits of stuffing and want of exercise. Coward

184 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

as he was, however, Flashman could n't swallow such an
insult as this ; besides, he was confident of having easy
work, and so faced the boys, saying, " You impudent
young blackguards ! — " Before he could finish his abuse,
they rushed in on him, and began })ommelling at all of
him which they could reach. He hit out wildly and
savagely, but the full force of his blows did n't tell ; they
were too near him. It was long odds, though, in point
of strength ; and in another minute Tom went spinning
backwards over a form, and Flashman turned to demol-
ish East, with a savage grin. But now Diggs jumped
down from the table on which he had seated himself.
" Stop there ! " shouted he, " the round 's over ; half-
minute time allowed."

" What the is it to you ? " faltered Flashman,

who began to lose heart.

" I 'm going to see fair, I tell you," said Diggs with a
grin, and snapping his great red fingers ; " 't ain't fair
for you to be fighting one of them at a time. Are you
ready. Brown ? Time 's up."

The small boys rushed in again. Closing they saw
was their best chance, and Flashman was wilder and
more flurried than ever ; he caught East by the throat,
and tried to force him back on the iron-bound table.
Tom grasped his waist, and remembering the old throw
he had learned in the Vale from Harry Winburn,
crooked his leg inside Flashman's, and threw his whole
weight forward. The three tottered for a moment, and
then over they went on to the floor, Flashman striking
his head against a form in the Hall.

The two youngsters sprang to their legs, but he lay
there still. They began to be frightened. Tom stooped
down, and then cried out, scared out of his wits, " He 's
bleeding awfully ; come here. East, Diggs, — ^he 's dying ! "

A CHAPTER OF ACCTDBNT8. 185

*• Not he," said Diggs, getting leisurely off the table :
" it 'a all sham He 's only afraid to fight -it out."

East was as frightened as Tom. Diggs lifted Flash-
juan's bead, and he groaned.

" What's the matter ?" shouted Diggs-

" He's bleeding awfully."

" My skull 'a fractured," sobbed Flashman.

" Oh, let me run for the housekeeper." cried Tom,
" What shall we do ? "

" Fiddlesticks ! it 's nothing but the skin broken," said
the relentle^ Diggs, feeling his head, " Cold water and
ii bit of rag's all he '11 want."

" Let me go," said Flashman, surlily, sitting up ; "I
don't want your help."

" We 're really very sorry," began East,

" Hang your sorrow " answered Flashman, holding his
handkerchief to tlie place ; " you shall pay for this, I can
tell you, both of you." And he walked out of the Hall,

186 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" He can't be very bad," said Tom with a deep sigh,
much relieved to see his enemy march so well.

" Not he, " said Diggs, " and you '11 see you won't be
troubled with him any more. But, I say, your head's
broken too, — your collar is covered with blood."

" Is it, though ? " said Tom, putting up his hand ; " I
did n't know it."

" Well, mop it up, or you '11 have your jacket spoiled.
And you have got a nasty eye, Scud ; you 'd better go
and bathe it well in cold water."

" Cheap enough too, if we 've done with our old friend
Flashy," said East, as they made ofif up-stairs to bathe
their wounds.

They had done with Flashman in one sense, for he
never laid finger on either of them again ; but what-
ever harm a spiteful heart and venomous tongue could
do them, he took care should be done. Only throw
dirt enough, and some of it is sure to stick ; and so it
was with the fifth form and the bigger boys in general,
with whom he associated more or less, and they no't at
all. Flashman managed to get Tom and East into dis-
favor, which did not wear off for some time after the
author of it had disappeared from the School world.
This event, much prayed for by the small fry in general,
took place a few months after the above encounter. One
fine summer evening Flashman had been regaling him-
self on gin punch, at Brownsover ; and having exceeded
his usual limits, started home uproarious. He fell in
with a friend or two coming back from bathing, pro-
posed a glass of beer, to which they assented, the
weather being hot and they thirsty souls, and unaware
of the quantity of drink which Flashman had already
on board. The short result was that Flashy became
beastly drunk. They tried to get him along, but could n't ;

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 187

SO they chartered a hurdle and two men to carry him.
One of the masters came upon them, and they naturally
enough fled. The flight of the rest raised the master's
suspicions, and the good angel of the fags incited him
to examine the freight, and after examination to con-
voy the hurdle himself up to the Schoolhouse ; and the
Doctor, who had long had his eye on Flashman, arranged
for his withdrawal next morning.

The evil that men, and boys too, do, lives after them ;
Flashman was gone, but our boys, as hinted above, still
felt the effects of his hate. Besides, they had been the
movers of the strike against unlawful fagging. The
cause was righteous, — the result had been triumphant
to a great extent ; but the best of the fifth, even those
who had never fagged the small boys, or had given up
the practice cheerfully, couldn't help feeling a small
grudge against the first rebels. After all, their form
had been defied, — on just grounds, no doubt ; so just,
indeed, that they had at once acknowledged the wrong
and remained passive in the strife. Had they sided with
Flashman and his set, the rebels must have given way
at once. They could n't help, on the whole, being glad
that they had so acted, and that the resistance had been
successful against such of their own form as had shown
fight ; they felt that law and order had gained thereby,
but the ringleaders they could n't quite pardon at once.
" Confoundedly coxy those young rascals will get, if we
don't mind," was the general feeling.

So it is, and must be always, my dear boys. If the
Angel Gabriel were to come down from heaven, and
head a successful rise against the most abominable and
unrighteous vested interest which this poor old world
groans imder, he would most certainly lose his charactei*
for many years, probably for centuries, not only with

188 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

upholders of said vested interest, but with the respecta-
ble mass of the people whom he had delivered. They
would n't ask him to dinner, or let their names appear
with his in the papers ; they would be very careful how
they spoke of him in the Palaver, or at their clubs.
What can we expect, then, when we have only poor gal-
lant blundering men like Kossuth, Garibaldi, Mazzini,
and righteous causes which do not triumph in their
hands, — men who have holes enough in their armor,
God knows, easy to be hit by respectabilities sitting
in their lounging-chairs, and having large balances at
their bankers ? But you are brave, gallant boys, who
hate easy-chairs, and have no balances or bankers.
You only want to have your heads set straight to take
the right side ; so bear in mind that majorities, especially
respectable ones, are nine times out of ten in the wrong ;
and that if you see a man or boy striving earnestly on
the weak side, however wrong-headed or blundering he
may be, you are not to go and join the cry against him.
If you can't join him and help him, and make him wiser,
at any rate remember that he has found something in
the world which he will fight and suffer for, which is just
what you have got to do for yourselves ; and so think
and speak of him tenderly.

So East and Tom, the Tadpole, and one or two more,
became a sort of young Ishmaelites, their hands against
every one, and every one's hand against them. It has
been already told how they got to war with the masters
and the fifth form, and with the sixth it was much the
same. They saw the prajpostors cowed by or joining
with the fifth, and shirking their own duties ; so they
did n't respect them, and rendered no willing obedience.
It had been one thing to clean out studies for sons of
heroes like old Brooke, but quite another to do the like

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 189

for Snooks and Green, who had never faced a good
scrummage at football, and could n't keep the passages
in order at night. So they only slurred through their
fagging just well enough to escape a licking, and not
always that, and got the character of sulky, unwilling
fags. In the fifth-form room, after supper, when such
matters were often discussed and arranged, their names
were forever coming up.

" I say, Green," Snooks began one night, " is n't that
new boy, Harrison, your fag ? "

" Yes ; why ? "

" Oh, I know something of him at home, and should
like to excuse him. Will you swop ? "

'*• Who will you give me ? "

" Well, let 's see ; there 's Willis, Johnson — No, that
won't do. Yes, I have it, — there 's young East ; I '11 give
you him."

" Don't you wish you may get it ? " replied Green.
" I '11 tell you what I '11 do, — I '11 give you two for Willis
if you like."

" Who, then ? " asks Snooks.

" Hall and Brown."

" Would n't have 'em at a gift."

" Better than East, though ; for they ain't quite so
sharp," said Green, getting up and leaning his back
against the mantelpiece. He was n't a bad fellow, and
couldn't help not being able to put down the unruly
fifth form. His eye twinkled as he went on, " Did I
ever tell you how the young vagabond sold me last
half?"

'*No; how?"

" Well, he never half cleaned my study out, only just
stuck the candlesticks in the cupboard, and swept the
crumbs on to the floor ; so at last I was mortal angry,

190 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

and had him up, made him go through the whole per-
formance under my eyes. The dust the young scamp
made nearly choked me, and showed that he hadn't
swept the carpet before. Well, when it was all finished,
' Now, young gentleman,' says I, ' mind, I expect this
to be done every morning, floor swept, table-cloth taken
off and shaken, and everything dusted.' 'Very well/
grunts he. Not a bit of it though ; I was quite sure in
a day or two that he never took the table-cloth off even.
So I laid a trap for him : I tore up some paper and put
half a dozen bits on my table one night, and the cloth
over them as usual. Nexl morning, after breakfast, up
I came, pulled off the cloth, and sure enough there was
the paper, which fluttered down on to the floor. I was
in a towering rage. ' I 've got you now,' thought I, and
sent for him, while I got out my cane. Up he came
as cool 88 you please, with his hands in his pockets.
' Did n't I tell you to shake my table-cloth every morn-
ing ? ' roared I. ' Yes,' says he. ' Did you do it this
morning ? ' ' Yes.' ' You young liar ! I put these
pieces of paper on the table last night, and if you 'd
taken the table-cloth off you 'd have seen them, so I 'm
going to give you a good licking.' Then my youngster
takes one hand out of his pocket, and just stoops down
and picks up two of the bits of paper, and holds them
out to me. There was written on each, in great, round
text, ' Harry East, his mark.' The young rogue had
found my trap out, taken away my paper, and put some
of his there, every bit ear-marked. I 'd a great mind
to lick him for his impudence, but after all, one has no
right to be laying traps, so I did n't. Of course I was
at his mercy till the end of the half ; and in his weeks
my study was so frowsy I could n't sit in it."

" They spoil one's things so, too," chimed in a third

A CHAFrER OF ACCIDENTS. 191

boy. " Hall and Brown were night-fags last week : I
called fag, and gave them my candlesticks to clean ;
away they went, and did n't appear again. When they 'd
had time enough to clean them three times over, I went
out to look after them. They were n't in the passages,
so down I went into the Hall, where I heard music,
and there I found them sitting on the table, listening
to Johnson, who was playing the flute, and my candle-
sticks stuck between the bars well into the fire, red-hot,
clean-spoiled ; they 've never stood straight since, and I
must get some more. Howei^^er, I gave them both a
good licking, that 's one comfort."

Such were the sort of scrapes they were always
getting into : and so, partly by their own faults, partly
from circumstances, partly from the faults of others,
they found themselves outlaws, ticket-of-leave men, or
what you will in that line : in short, dangerous parties,
and lived the sort of hand-to-moutb, wild, reckless life
which such parties generally have to put up with. Never-
theless, they never quite lost favor with young Brooke,
who was now the cock of the house, and just getting
into the sixth, and Diggs stuck to them like a man, and
gave them store of good advice, by which they never in
the least profited.

And even after the house mended, and law and order
had been restored, which soon happened after yoimg
Brooke and Diggs got into the sixth, they couldn't
easily or at once return into the paths of steadiness,
and many of the old wild out-of-bounds habits stuck to
them as firmly as ever. While they had been quite
little boys, the scrapes they got into in the School
had n't much mattered to any one ; but now they were
in the upper school, all wrong-doers from which were
sent up straight to the Doctor at once : so they began

192 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

to come under his notice ; and as thev were a sort of
leaders in a small way amongst their own contem-
poraries, his eye, which was everywhere, was upon
them.

, It was a toss-up whether they turned out well or ill,
and so they were just the boys who caused most anxiety
to such a master. You have been told of the first occa-
sion on which they were sent up to the Doctor, and the
remembrance of it was so pleasant that they had much
less fear of him than most boys of their standing had,
"It's all his look," Tom used to say to East, "that
frightens fellows : don't you remember, he never said
anything to us my first half-year, for being an hour late
for locking-up?"

The next time that Tom came before him, however,
the interview was of a very different kind. It happened
just about the time at which we have now arrived, and
was the first of a series of scrapes into which our hero
managed now to tumble.

The river Avon at Rugby is a slow and not very clear
stream, in which chub, dace, roach, and other coarse
fish are (or were) plentiful enough, together with a
fair sprinkling of small jack, but no fish worth six-pence
either for sport or food. It is, however, a capital river
for bathing, as it has many nice small pools and several
good reaches for swimming, all within about a mile of
one another, and at an easy twenty minutes' walk from
the school. This mile of water is rented, or used to be
rented, for bathing purposes, by the Trustees of the
kSchool, for the boys. The footpath to Brownsover
crosses the river by " the Planks," a curious old single-
plank bridge, running for fifty or sixty yards into the
flat meadows on each side of the river, — for in the
winter there are frequent floods. Above the Planks

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 198

were the bathing places for the smaller boys ; Sleath's,
the first bathing place where all new boys had to begin,
until they had proved to the bathing men (three steady
individuals who- were paid to attend daily through the
summer to prevent accidents) that they could swim
pretty decently, when they were allowed to go on to
Anstey's, about one hundred and fifty yards below. Here
there was a hole about six feet deep and twelve feet
across, over which the puffing urchins struggled to the
opposite side, and thought no small beer of themselves
for having been out of their depths. Below the Planks
came larger and deeper holes, the first of which was
Wratislaw's, and the last Swift's, a famous hole, ten or
twelve feet deep in parts, and thirty yards across, from
which there was a fine swimming reach right down to
the Mill. Swift's was reserved for the sixth and fifth
forms, and had a spring board and two sets of steps :
the others had one set of steps each, and were used in-
differently by all the lower boys, though each house ad-
dicted itself more to one hole than to another. The
Schoolhouse at this time affected Wratislaw's hole, and
Tom and East, who had learned to swim like fishes,
were to be found there as regular as the clock through
the summer, always twice, and often three times a

dav.

Now the boys either had, or fancied they had, a right
also to fish at their pleasure over the whole of this part
of the river, and would not understand that the right
(if any) only extended to the Rugby side. As ill luck
would have it, the gentleman who owned the opposite
bank, after allowing it for some time without interfer-
ence, had ordered his keepers not to let the boys fish on
his side ; the consequence of which had been, that there
had been first wranglings and then fights between the

194 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

keepers and boys ; and so keen had the quarrel become,
that the landlord and his keepers, after a ducking had
been inflicted on one of the latter, and a fierce fight en-
sued thereon, had been up to the great School at calling-
over to identify the delinquents, and it was all the
Doctor himself and five or six masters could do to keep
the peace. Not even his authority could prevent the
hissing ; and so strong was the feeling, that the four
praepostors of the week walked up the school with their
canes, shouting S-s-s-s-i-lenc-c-c-c-e at the top of their
voices. However, the chief offenders for the time were
flogged and kept in bounds, but the victorious party had
brought a nice hornets' nest about their ears. The land-
lord was hissed at the School gates as he rode past, and
when he charged his horse at the mob of boys, and tried
to thrash them with his whip, was driven back by
cricket-bats and wickets, and pursued with pebbles and
fives'-balls ; while the wretched keepers' lives were a
burden to them, from having to watch the waters so
closely.

The Schoolhouse boys of Tom's standing, one and all,
as a protest against this tyranny and cutting short of
their lawful amusements, took to fishing in all ways and
especially by means of night-lines. The little tackle-
maker at the bottom of the town would soon have made
his fortune had the rage lasted, and several of the
barbers began to lay in fishing-tackle. The boys had
this great advantage over their enemies, that they spent
a large portion of the day in nature's garb by the river
side, and so, when tired of swimming, would get out on
the other side and fish, or set nighWines till the keeper
hove in sight, and then plunge in and swim back and
mix with the other bathers, and the keepers were too
wise to follow across the stream.

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 195

While things were in this state, one day Tom and
three or four others were bathing at Wratislaw's, and
had, as a matter of course, been taking up and resetting
night-lines. They had all left the water, and were sit-
ting or standing about at their toilets, in all costumes
from a shirt upwards, when they were aware of a man
in a velveteen shooting-coat approaching from the other
side. He was a new keeper, so they did n't recognize or
notice him, till he pulled up right opposite, and began :

" I see'd some of you young gentlemen over this side
a fishing just now."

" Hullo, who are you ? what business is that of yours,
old Velveteens ? "

" I 'm the new under-keeper, and master 's told me to
keep a sharp look-out on all o' you young chaps. And
I tells'ee I means business, and you 'd better keep on
your own side, or we shall fall out."

" Well, that 's right. Velveteens — speak out, and let 's
know your mind at once."

" Look here, old boy," cried East, holding up a miser-
able coarse fish or two and a small jack, " would you
like to smell 'em and see which bank they lived
under ? "

" I '11 give you a bit of advice, keeper," shouted Tom,
who was sitting in his shirt paddling with his feet in the
river; "you'd better go down there to Swift's, where
the big boys are, they 're beggars at setting lines, and '11
put you up to a wrinkle or two for catching the five-
pounders." Tom was nearest to the keeper, and that
officer, who was getting angry at the chaff, fixed his
eyes on our hero, as if to take a note of him for future
use. Tom returned his gaze with a steady stare, and
then broke into a laugh, and struck into the middle of a
favorite Schoolhouse song, —

196 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

As I and my companions
Were setting of a snare.
The gamekeeper was watching us,

For him we did not care :
For we can wrestle and ^ht, my boys,
And jump out anywhere.

For it 'a my delight of a likely night,
In the season of the year.

The chorus was taken up by the other boys with
shouts of laughter, and the keeper turned away with a
grunt, but evidently bent on mischief. The boys thought
no more of the matter.

But now came on the may-fly season ; the soft hazy
summer weather lay sleepily along the rich meadows by
Avon side, and the green and gray flies flickered with
their graceful lazy up and down flight over the reeds
and the water and the meadows, in myriads upon my-
riads. The may-flies must surely be the lotus-eaters of
the ephemerae ; the happiest, laziest, carelessest fly that
dances and dreams out his few hours of sunshiny life by
English rivers.

Every little, pitiful, coarse fish in the Avon was on the
alert for the flies, and gorging his wretched carcass with
hundreds daily, the gluttonous rogues ! and every lover
of the gentle craft was out to avenge the poor may-flies.

So one fine Thursday afternoon, Tom having borrowed
East's new rod, started by himself to the river. He
fished for some time with small success, not a fish would
rise at him ; but, as he prowled along the bank, he was
presently aware of mighty ones feeding in a pool on the
opposite side, under the shade of a huge willow-tree.
The stream was-deep here, but some fifty yards below
was a shallow, for which he made off hot-foot ; and for-
getting landlords, keepers, solemn prohibitions of the
Doctor, and everything else, pulled up his trousers,

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 197

plunged across, and in three minutes was creeping along
on all fours towards the clump of willows.

It is n't often that great chub, or any other coarse fish
are in earnest about anything, but just then they were
thoroughly bent on feeding, and in half an hour Master
Tom had deposited three thumping fellows at the foot
of the giant willow. As he was, baiting for a fourth
pounder, and just going to throw in again, he became
aware of a man coming up the bank not one hundred
yards off. Another look told him that it was the under-
keeper. Could he reach the shallow before him ? No,
not carrying his rod. Nothing for it but the tree : so
Tom laid his bones to it, shinning up as fast as he could,
and dragging up his rod after him. He had just time
to reach and crouch along upon a huge branch some ten
feet up, which stretched out over the river, when the
keeper arrived at the clump. Tom's heart beat fast as
he came under the tree ; two steps more and he would
have passed, when, as ill luck would have it, the gleam
on the scales of the dead fish caught his eye, and he
made a dead point at the foot of the tree. He picked
up the fish one by one ; his eye and touch told him that
they had been alive and feeding within the hour. Tom
crouched lower along the branch, and heard the keeper
beating the clump. " If I could only get the rod hidden,"
thought he, and began gently shifting it to got it along-
side him ; " willow-trees don't throw out straight hickory
shoots twelve feet along, with no leaves, worse luck."
Alas ! the keeper catches the rustle, and then a sight of
the rod, and then of Tom's hand and arm.

" Oh, be up ther' be'ee ? " says he, running under the
tree. " Now vou come down this minute."

" Treed at last," thinks Tom, making no answer, -and
keeping as close as possible, but working away at the

198 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

rod, which he takes to pieces : " I 'm in for it, unless I
can starve him out." And then he begins to meditate
getting along the branch for a plunge and scramble to
the other side ; but the small branches are so thick,
and the opposite bank so difiBcult, that the keeper will
have lots of time to get round by the ford before he can
get out, so he gives J^hat up. And now he hears the
keeper beginning to scramble up the trunk. That will
never do; so he scrambles himself back to where his
branch joins the trunk, and stands with lifted rod.

" Hullo, Velveteens, mind your fingers if you come
any higher."

The keeper stops and looks up, and then with a grin
says, " Oh ! be you, be it, young measter ? Well, here 's
luck. Now I tells'ee to come down at once, and 't '11
be best for'ee."

"Thank'ee, Velveteens, I'm very comfortable," said
Tom, shortening the rod in his hand, and preparing for
battle.

" Werry well, please yourself," says the keeper, de-
scending however to the ground again, and taking his
seat on the bank ; " I bean't in no hurry, so you med
take your time. I '11 larn'ee to gee honest folk names
afore I 've done with'ee."

" My luck as usual," thinks Tom ; " what a fool I was
to give him a black. If I 'd called him ' keeper ' now 1
might get ofif. The return match is all his way."

The keeper quietly proceeded to take out his pipe, fill,
and light it, keeping an eye on Tom, who now sat dis-
consolately across the branch, looking at keeper — a
pitiful sight for men and fishes. The more he thought
of it the less he liked it. "It must be getting near
second calling-over," thinks he. Keeper smokes on
stolidly. " If he takes me up, I shall be flogged safe

A CHAPTER OF ACCmENTS. 199

enough. I can't sit here all night. Wonder if he'll
rise at silver."

" I say, keeper," Baid he meekly, " let me go for two
bob?"

" Not for twenty, neither," grunts hia pergecator.

And 80 they
sat on till long
past second call-
ing-over, and the
/' sun came slants
' ing in through the
willow - branches,
and telling of
locking up near
at hand.

" I 'm coming
down, keeper,"

'..w.* ._ , ...1. » said Tom at last

■'Not for twenty, neither. ,

with a sigh, fairly

tired out. " Now what are you going to do ? "

200 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" Walk'ee up to School, and give'ee over to the
Doctor ; them 's my orders," says Velveteens, knocking
the ashes out of his fourth pipe, and standing up and
shaking himself.

" Very good," said Tom ; " but hands off, you know.
I '11 go with you quietly, so no collaring or that sort
of thing."

Keeper looked at him a minute — " Werry good,"
said he at last ; and so Tom descended, and wended his
way drearily by the side of the keeper up to the School-
house, where they arrived just at locking-up. As they
passed the School gates, the Tadpole and several others
who were standing there caught the state of things,
and rushed out, crying " Rescue ! " but Tom shook his
head, so they only followed to the Doctor's gate, and
went back sorely puzzled.

How changed and stern the Doctor seemed from the
last time that Tom was up there, as the keeper told the
story, not omitting to state how Tom had called him
blackguard names. " Indeed, sir," broke in the culprit,
" it was only Velveteens." The Doctor only asked one
question.

" You know the rule about the banks, Brown ? "

" Yes, sir."

" Then wait for me to-morrow, after first lesson."

" I thought so," muttered Tom.

" And about the rod, sir ? " went on the keeper ;
" Master 's told we as we might have all the rods — "

" Oh, please, sir," broke in Tom, " the rod is n't mine."
The Doctor looked puzzled, but the keeper, who was a
good-hearted fellow, and melted at Tom's evident dis-
tress, gave up his claim. Tom was flogged next morn-
ing, and a few days afterwards met Velveteens, and
presented him with half a crown for giving up the rod

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 201

claim, and they became sworn friends ; and I regret to
say that Tom had many more fish from under the willow
that may-fly seasen, and was never caught again by
Velveteens.

It was n't three weeks before Tom, and now East by
his side, were again in the awful presence. This time,
however, the Doctor was not so terrible. A few days
before, they had been fagged at fives to fetch the balls
that went off the court. While standing watching the
game, they saw five or six nearly new balls hit on the
top of the School. " I say, Tom," said East, when they
were dismissed, " could n't we get those balls somehow ? "

" Let 's try, anyhow."

So they reconnoitred the walls carefully, borrowed a
coal-hammer from old Stumps, bought some big nails,
and after one or two attempts, scaled the Schools, and
possessed themselves of huge quantities of fives'-balls.
The place pleased them so much that they spent all
their spare time there, scratching and cutting their
names on the top of every tower ; and at last, having
exhausted all other places, finished up with inscribing
H. East, T. Brown, on the minute-hand of the great
clock. In the doing of which they held the minute-
hand, and disturbed the clock's economy. So next
morning, when masters and boys came trooping down
to prayers, and entered the quadrangle, the injured min-
ute-hand was indicating three minutes to the hour. They
all pulled up, and took their time. When the hour
struck, doors were closed, and half the school late-
Thomas being sent to make inquiry, discovers their
names on the minute-hand, and reports accordingly;
and they are sent for, a knot of their friends making
derisive and pantomimic allusions to what their fate will
be, as they walk off.

202 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

But the Doctor, after hearing their story, doesn't
make much of it, and only gives them thirty lines of
Homer to learn by heart, and a lecture on the likelihood
of such exploits ending in broken bones.

Alas ! almost the next day was one of the great fairs
in the town ; and as several rows and other disagreeable
accidents had of late taken place on these occasions, the
Doctor gives out, after prayers in the morning, that no
boy is to go down into the town. Wherefore East and
Tom, for no earthly pleasure except that of doing what
they are told not to do, start away, after second lesson,
and making a short circuit through the fields, strike a
back lane which leads into the town, go down it, and
run plump upon one of the masters as they emerge into
the High Street. The master in question, though a very
clever, is not a righteous man : he has already caught
several of his own pupils, and gives them lines to learn,
while he sends East and Tom, who are not his pupils,
up to the Doctor ; who, on learning that they had been
at prayers in the morning, flogs them soundly.

The flogging did them no good at the time, for the in-
justice of their captor was rankling in their minds;
but it was just at the end of the half, and on the next
evening but one, Thomas knocks at their door, and says
the Doctor wants to see them. They look at one an-
other in silent dismay. What can it be now ? Which
of their countless wrong-doings can he have heard of
officially ? However, it is no use delaying, so up they
go to the study. There they find the Doctor, not angry,
but very grave. " He has sent for them to speak very
seriously before they go home. They have each been
flogged several times in the half-year for direct and
wilful breaches of rules. This cannot go on. They are
doing no good to themselves or others, and now they are

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 208

getting up in the School, and have influence. ^TJiey
seem to think that rules are made capriciously, and fo>
the pleasure of the masters ; but this is not so, they are
made for the good of the whole School, and must and
shall be obeyed. Those who thoughtlessly or wilfully
break them will not be allowed to stay at the School.
He should be sorry if they had to leave, as the School
might do them both much good, and wishes them to
think very seriously in the holidays over what he has
said. Good-night."

And so the two hurry off horribly scared : the idea of
having to leave has never crossed their minds, and is
quite unbearable.

As they go out, they meet at the door old Holmes,
a sturdy, cheery praepostor of another house, who goes
in to the Doctor ; and they hear his genial hearty
greeting of the new-comer, so different to their own
reception, as the door closes-, and return to their study
with heavy hearts, and tremendous resolves to break no
more rules.

Five minutes afterwards the master of their form,
a late arrival and a model young master, knocks at the
Doctor's study-door. " Come in ! " and as he enters the
Doctor goes on, to Holmes — " you see I do not know
anything of the case officially, and if I take any notice
of it at all, I must publicly expel the boy. I don't
wish to do that, for I think there is some good in him.
There's nothing for it but a good soimd thrashing."
He paused to shake hands with the master, which
Holmes does also, and then prepares to leave.

" I understand. Good-night, sir."

" Good-night, Holmes. And remember," added the
Doctor, emphasizing the words, " a good sound thrashing
before the whole house."

204 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

Th^ door closed on Holmes ; and the Doctor, in
Answer to the puzzled look of his lieutenant, explained
shortly. " A gross case of bullying. Wharton the head
of the house, is a very good fellow, but slight and weak,
and severe physical pain is the only way to deal with
such a case ; so I have asked Holmes to take it up. He
is very careful and trustworthy, and has plenty of
strength. I wish all the sixth had as much. We must
' have it here, if we are to keep order at all."

Now I don't want any wiseacres to read this book ;
but if they should, of course they will prick up their
long ears, and howl, or rather bray, at the above story.
Very good, I don't object ; but what I have to add for
you boys is this : that Holmes called a levy of his house
after breakfast next morning, made them a speech on
the case of bullying in question, and then gave the bully
a " good sound thrashing ; " and that years afterwards,
that boy sought out Holmes, and thanked him, saying
it had been the kindest act which had ever been done
upon him, and the turning-point in his character ; and
a very good fellow he became, and a credit to his
School.

After some other talk between them, the Doctor said,
" I want to speak to you about two boys in your form.
East and Brown : I have just been speaking to them.
What do you think of them ? "

" Well, they are not hard workers, and very thought-
less and full of spirits — but I can't help liking them.
I think they are sound good fellows at the bottom."

"I'm glad of it. I think so too. But they make
me very uneasy. They are taking the lead a good deal
amongst the fags in my house, for they are very active,
bold fellows. I should be sorry to lose them, but I
sha 'n't let them stay if I don't see them gaining charac-

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS.

206

ter and manliuess. In another year they may do great
harm to all the younger boys."

"Oh, I hope you won't send them away," pleaded
their master.

" Not if I can help it. But now I never feel sure,
after any half-holiday, that I sha'n't have to flog one of
them next morning for some foolish, thoughtless scrape.
I quite dread seeing either of them."

They were both silent for a minute. Presently the
Doctor began again : —

" They don't feel that they have any duty or work to
do in the School, and how is one to make them feel it ? "

"I think if either of them had some little boy to
take care of, it would steady them. Brown is the most
reckless of the two, I should say ; East would n't get
into so many scrapes without him."

" Well," said the Doctor, with something like a sigh,
" I '11 think of it." And thev went on to talk of other
subjects.

TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS,

PART II.

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

Tennyson.

HOW THE TII>B TURNED,

" One* to every man and nntioa, comes the momeut to decide.
In the strife of Truth with Fal«ebood, for the good or evil side :

Then it b the brave man chooses, while Che coward stands aside.
Doubting in hi&alQect spirit, till his Lord is crucilied."

LOWKLI.

1 turning-point In

r hero's school ca-

er had now come,

id the manner of it

lows. On the eve-

;'8t day of the next

m, East, and an-

ouse hoy, who had

juBt been dropped 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.

" Well, Mrs, Wixie," shouted one, seizing on the

methodical, active little dark-eyed woman, who was busy

210 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

stowing away the linen of the boys who had already
arrived into their several pigeon-holes, "here we are
again, you see, as jolly as ever. Let us help you put
the things away."

" And, Mary," cried another (she was called indiffer-
ently by either name), "who's come back? Has the
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 Sally ? "

" Bless the boys I " cries Mary, at last getting in a
word, " why, you '11 shake me to death. There now, do
go away up to the housekeeper's room and get your sup-
pers ; you know I have n't time to talk — you '11 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 prize.

"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 work
of loving fingers in some distant country home. The
kind mother and sisters, who sewed that delicate stitch-
ing 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 uight."

HOW THE TIDE TURNED. 211

" Hurrah for the pickles ! Come along, Tommy ; come
along, Smith. We shall find out who the young Count
is, I '11 be bound : I hope he '11 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
stop a minute, I want to speak to you."

" Very well, Mary. I '11 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. He 's very delicate, and
has never been from home before. And I told Mrs.
Arnold I thought you 'd be kind to him, and see that
they don't bully 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 half."

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 corner 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 pub-
lic 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 him-
self ; 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 mating night-lines and

212 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

slings, and plotting expeditions to Brownsover Mills
and Caldecott's Spinney ? East and he had made up
their minds to get this study, and then every night
from locking-up till ten they would be together to talk
about fishing, drink bottled beer, read Marryat's novels,
and sort birds'-eggs. And this new boy would most
likely never go out of the close, and would be afraid of
wet feet, and always getting laughed at and called
^ Molly, or Jenny, or some derogatory feminine nickname.

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

" Well, well," burst in Tom, with something like a
sigh at the effort, "I suppose I must give up East.
Come along, young un. What 's your name ? We '11 go
and have some supper, and then I '11 show you our study."

" His name 's George Arthur," said the matron, walk-
ing 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 com-
forts). " 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."

HOW THE TIDE TURNED. 213

Here was an anuouaceinent for Master Tom ! He
was to go up to tea the first night, just as if he were a
sixth or fifth form hoy, and of importance in the school

Doorirfty of the Headmaater's bouse.

world, instead of the most reckless young scapegrace
amongst the fags. He felt himself lifted on to a higher
social and moral platform at once. Nevertheless, he

214 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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 friends
afterwards, to pour out the deeds and wonders of the
holidays, to plot fifty plans for the coming half-year,
and to gather news of who 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 could n'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 humor 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 living, and has
carried with her to her peaceful home in the North the
respect and love of all those who ever felt and shared
that gentle and high-bred hospitality. Ay, many is the
brave heart now doing its work and bearing its load
in country curacies, London chambers, under the Indian
sun, and in Australian towns and clearings, which looks
back with fond and grateful memory to that School-
house drawing-room, and dates much of its highest and
best training to the lessons learned there.

Besides Mrs. Arnold and one or two of the elder chil-
dren, there were one of the younger masters, young
Brooke — who was now in the sixth, and had 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 no-

HOW THE TIDE TURNED. 216

tice 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 young
ones got on fast and well, Tom holding forth about a
prodigious pony he had been riding out hunting, and
hearing 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 greeting to
the party by the fire ! It did Tom's heart good to see
him and yoimg Brooke shake hands, and look one an-
other 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, 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 does n't look as we should like to see
him. He wants some Rugby air, and cricket. And you
must take him some good long walks, to Bilton Grange
and Caldecott's Spinney, and show him what a little
pretty country we have about here."

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 did n't the Doctor know ? And what a
noble use he always made of it ! He almost resolved
to abjure rook-pies and night-lines forever. The tea
went merrily off, the Doctor now talking of holiday

216 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

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. Everybody was at
his ease, and everybody 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, 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 farther 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 recognized marching
down the passage.

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

" Oh, I 've been to tea with the Doctor," says Tom,
with great dignity.

" My eye ! " cried East. " Oh ! so that 's why Mary
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 you ? "

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 him in case
of need.

" Arthur, sir. I come from Devonshire.*'

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

" Thirteen."

" Can you sing ? "

HOW THE TIDE TURNED. 217

The poor boj was trembling and hesitating. Tom
struck in — " You be hanged, Tadpole. He '11 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 have n't had a look at it yet.
Come along, Arthur." • %

Away went the two, Tom longing to get his charge
safe under cover, where he might advise him on his
deportment.

"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 '11 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, " may n'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 '11 call you home-sick, or mamma's darling,
or some such stuff. What a jolly desk I Is that yours ?
And what stunning binding! why, your schoolbooks
look like novels!"

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

218 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

I have already described the Schoolhouse 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 farther table — of all sorts and sizes,
like young bears with all their 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 Number 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 farthest corner by the fireplace, occupied
by the sixth-form boy who was responsible for the dis-
cipline of the room, and the rest by boys 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 yeai*8 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 read.

Within a few minutes tlierefore 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

HOW THE TIDE TURNED. 219

him. He could hardly bear to take his jacket off ; how-
ever, 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.

" 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 '11 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 between 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 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 ; however, this time he did n't
ask Tom what he might or might not do, but dropped
on his knees by his bedside, 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 unlacing
his boots, so that his back was towards Arthur, and he
did n'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 kneeling boy, calling him a snivelling
young shaver. Then Tom saw the whole, and the next

220 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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, what 's 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 an-
other word could be said. Tom and the rest rushed
into bed and finished their unrobing there, and the old
verger, as pimctual as the clock, had put out the
candle in another minute, and toddled on to the next
room, shutting their door with his usual " G-ood-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 memo-
ries which chased one another through his brain, kept
him from thinking or resolving. His head throbbed,
his heart leaped, 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 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,

1
h

HOW THE TIDE TURNED. 22]

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 Schoolhouse 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
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 did n't matter whether he was kneeling, or sit-
tmg, 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 cow-
ardice. The vice of all others which he loathed was
brought in and burned in on his own soul. He 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 stand by that boy through thick
and thin, and cheer him, and help him, and bear his
])urdens, 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 testimony
next morning. The morning would be harder than the
night to begin with, but he felt that he could not afford
to let one chance slip. Several times he faltered, for

222 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

the devil showed him, first, all his old friends . calling
him " Saint " and " Square-toes " 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
influence, 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
1 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 of trying to reason, but resolved
to follow the impulse 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 roopi, — what were they all thinking of
him ? He was ashamed to go on kneeling, ashamed to
rise from his knees. At last, as it were from his inmost
heart, a still small voice seemed to breathe forth the
words of the publican, " God be merciful to me a
sinner ! " He repeated them over and over, clinging to
them as for his life, 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 ;

HOW THE TIDE TURNED. 228

and that other one which the old prophet learned in the
cave in Mount Horeb, when he hid his face, and the
still small 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.

He found too how greatly he had exaggerated 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 9ne 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 proba-
bly have thrashed any boy in the room except the prae-
postor ; at any rate, every boy knew that he would try
upon very slight provocation, and did n'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 decidedly, with partial
success ; but in the rest, after a short struggle, the con-
fessors 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 Schoolhouse, there was
no room in which it had not become the regular custom.
I trust it is so still, and that the old heathen state of
things has gone out forever.

CHAPTER IL

THE KBW B07,

oi tni8 naii-year, in nia new cnaracter
of bear-leader to a gentle little boy straight from home.
He seemed to himself to have become a new boy again,
without any of the long-suffering and meekness indis-
pensable 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 sehool after every lesson and every
calling-over ; watched that no tricks were played him,
and none but the regulation questions asked ; kept his
eye on his plate at dinner nnd breakfast, to see that no

THE NEW BOY. 226

unfair depredations were made upon his viands ; in short,
as East remarked, cackled after him like a hen with
(me chick.

Arthur took a long time thawing too, which made it
Jill 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 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 it might only frighten Arthur, and the
remembrance of the lesson he had learned from him on
his first night at Number 4. Then he would resolve to
sit 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 did n't and dog-
tired of sitting tongue-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 chafling 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, as they did every now and then, Tom was sorely
puzzled.

" Tell you what, Tommy," East would say, " you '11
spoil young Hopeful with too much coddling. Why
can't you let him go about by himself and find his own
level ? He '11 never be worth a button, if you go on
keeping him under your skirts."

226 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" Well, but he ain't fit to fight his own way yet ;
I'm trying to get him to it every day, but he's very
odd. Poor little beggar ! I can't make him out a bit.
He ain't a bit like anything I 've ever seen or heard of :
he seems all over nerves ; anything you say seems to
hurt him like a cut or a blow."

" That sort of boy 's no use here," said East, " he '11
only spoil. Now, I '11 tell you what to do. Tommy. Go
and get a nice large band-box made, and put him in
with plenty of cotton-wool, and a pap-bottle, labelled
' With care, — this side up,' and send him back to
mamma."

" I think I shall make a hand 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 '11 wash, ain't it, old Scud ? But how to
get at it and bring it out ? "

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, — his one method of invoking 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 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. Every
thing's a joke. If I was going to be flogged next
minute, I should be in a blue funk, but I could n't
help laughing at it for the life of me."

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

THE NEW BOV. 227

" Hullo, though, that 'a past a joke," broke out East,
springing at the young gentlemen who addressed them,
and catching him by the collar. " Here, Tommy, catch
hold of him t'other side belore he can holla."

Til.' Quadrangle.

The youth was seized, and dragged stru^ling ont of
the quadrangle into the Schoolhouse 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

228 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

them for everything ^ in this world and the next. One
of the avocations in which these young gentlemen took
particular delight, was in going about and getting fags
for their protectors, when those heroes were playing any
game. They carried about pencil and .paper with them,
putting down the names of all the boys they sent, alwa} s
sending five times as many as were wanted, and getting
all those thrashed who didn't go. The present youth
belonged to a house which was very jealous of the School-
house, and always picked out Schoolhouse fags when he
could find them. However, 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, took away his list, and
stood him up on the floor, while he proceeded leisurely
to examine that document.

" Let me out, let me go ! " screamed the boy in a fu-
rious passion. " I '11 go and tell Jones this minute, and
he '11 give you both the thrashing you ever had."

" 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, foaming

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 ; " 't aint improving
for little whipper-snappers like you to be indulging in
blasphemy ; so you stop that, or you '11 get something
you won't like."

^ A kind and wise critic, an old Rugboean, notes here in the margin :
The "small friend system was not so utterly bad from 1841-1847." Be-
fore that, too, there w^ere 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.

THE NEW BOY. 229

" I '11 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 Tom,
who had finished his examination of the list. "Now
you just listen here. We 've 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,
you 've got seven names down on your list besides ours,
and five of them Schoolhouse." Tom walked up to
him and jerked him on to his legs ; he was by this time
whining like a whipped puppy.

" Now just listen to me. We ain't going to fag for
Jones. If you tell him you 've sent us, we '11 each of us
give you such a thrashing as you '11 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 Schoolhouse, and picking
up our fags. You have n't got the sort of hide to take
a sound licking kindly ; " and he opened the door and
sent the young gentleman flying 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. " Thank goodness, no big fellow ever took to
petting me."

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

" Think he '11 tell Jones ? "

280 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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

" Nor I," said Tom. And they t^^ent 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, would n't
care three straws 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 gentle-
man, and would get over his shyness all in 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 d'lU
time of the year, 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 his fling,
going round to the studies of all his acquaintance,
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 arrangement,
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

THE NEW BOY. 281

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 arm 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, I 'm
very happy."

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

" Yes."

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

" Oh, it is n't that I 'm unhappy. But at home,
while my father was alive, we always read the les-
sons 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 understand
a great deal of what I do remember. But it all comes
back to me so fresh, that I can't help crying some-
times to think I shall never read them again with
him."

•L'

282 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

Arthur had never spoken of his home before, and
Tom had n't encouraged him to do so, as his blundering
schoolboy 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 as much as his own son did.

Arthur's father had been the clergyman of a parish
in the Midland Counties, 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 oflf and wandering 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 furni-
ture going to the pawn-shop. Children taken from
school, and lounging 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 yeo-
manry. There is no need here to dwell upon such
tales ; the Englishman 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.

THE NEW BOY. 288

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 fine
Utopian ideas about the perfectibility of mankind, glo-
rious humanity and such-like, knocked out of his head,
and a real wholesome Christian love for the poor, strug-
gling, 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, for which he never looked, and didn't care; no
sighs and praises of comfortable dowagers and well got-
up young women, who worked him slippers, sugared
his tea, and adored him as " a devoted man ; " but a
manly respect, wrung from 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
of women and children daily becoming more human and
more homely, a comfort to themselves and to their
husbands and fathers.

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, nor looking on himself as a
martyr, when he felt the wear and tear making him
feel old before his time, and the stifling air of fever-
dens telling on his health. His wife seconded him in
everything. She had been rather fon^ of society, and
much admired and run after before her marriage ; and

284 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

the London world, to which she had belonged, pitied
poor Fanny Evelyn when she married the young clergy-
man and went to settle in that smoky hole Turley, a
very nest of Chartism and Atheism, in a part of the
county which all the decent families had had to leave
for years. However, somehow or other she did n't seem
to care. If her husband's living had been amongst
green fields and near pleasant neighbors, she would
have liked it better, that she never pretended to deny.
But there they were : the air was n't bad after all ; the
people were very good sort of people, civil to you if you
were civil to them, after the first brush ; and they did n't
expect to work miracles, and 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 own rank. They
didn't feel that they were doing anything out of the
common way, and so were perfectly natural, and had
none of that condescension or consciousness of manner
which so outrages the independent poor. And thus
they gradually won respect and confidence; and after
sixteen years he was looked up to by the whole neigh-
borhood as the just man, the man to whom masters and
men could go in their strikes, and all in their quarrels
and diflSculties, and by whom the right and true word
would be said without fear or favor. 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 from his childhood; they
thought he had a tendency to consumption, and so he
had been kept at home and taught by his father, who

THE NEW BOY. 235

had made a companion of him, and from whom he had
gained good scholarship, and a knowledge 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 vear, 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, 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 Club, 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 coflBn,
than by anything else. Two of them were chosen, who
with six other laboring men, his own fellow-workmen
and friends, bore him to his grave, — a man who had
fought the Lord's fight even unto the death. The shops
were 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, hopeful, loving parson, and his wife, who had
lived to teach them mutual forbearance and helpfulness,
and had almost at last given them a glimpse of what

286 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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 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 trust.

After supper that night, and almost nightly for years
afterwards, Tom and Arthur, and by degrees East occa-
sionally, and sometimes one, sometimes another, of their
friends, read a chapter of the Bible together, and talked
it over afterwards. Tom was at first utterly astonished,
^nd 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 hap-
pened to fall on the chapters about the famine in Egypt,
and Arthur began talking about Joseph as if he were a
living statesman, — just as he might have talked about
Lord Grey and the Reform Bill, only that they were
much more living realities to him. The book was to
him, Tom saw, the most vivid and delightful history of
real people, who might do right or wrong, just like any
one who was walking about in Rugby, — the Doctor, or
the masters, or the sixth-form boys. But the astonish-
ment soon passed off, the scales seemed to drop from
his eyes, and the book became at once and forever to

THE NEW BOY. 287

him the great human and divine book, and the men
and women, whom he had looked upon as something
quite different from himself, 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 did n'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 oq your
head," struck in East, who always took the opposite
side to Tom, half from love of argument, half from
conviction. " How do you know he did n't tliink 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 did n't mean to do
it ? He was n'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."

" I don't see that that means more than saying.
' You 're not the man I took you for.' "

288 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" 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 tlie best you can,
though it may n't be the best absolutely. Every man
is n'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 it '11 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. Must have the
whole animal, 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 compromises,
— 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 principle."

" Not you," said East, laughingly. " I know him of
old, Arthur, and you '11 find him out some day. There
is n'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, ani nothing that
you want. And that 's his idea of a compromise. Give
me the Brown compromise when I 'm on his side."

" Now, Harry," said Tom, " no more chafif ; I 'm
serious. Look here ! this is what makes my blood

THE NEW BOY. 289

•

tingle ; " and he turned over the pages of his Bible and
read, " Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego answered and
said to the king, ' O 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 from the burning
fiery furnace, and He will deliver us out of thine hand,
king. But if not ^ be it known unto thee, king, that
we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden
image which thou hast 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 last 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 did n't forget, and thought long and often over
the conversation.

CHAPTER III.

ARTHDB MAKES A t'RIEND.

" Let Natnre be your teacher.

Sweet is the lore which Nature hrings ;
Oqt meddlmg intellect
Misshapes the beauteons forms of things : —
We murder to dissect.

Eoough of Science and of Art ;
Close up those barren leaves ;
Come forth, and hring with 70U a heart
That watches and receives."

WOKDSWOBTH.

BOUT six weeks after the be-
ginuiag of the half, as Tom
aud Arthur were sitting one
night before supper beginning
their verses, Arthur suddenly
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 Pamassum
on to the sofa, " 1 know him pretty well. He 's a very
good fellow, but as mad as a hatter. He 's called Mad-
man, you know. And never was such a fellow for get-
ting all sorts of rum things about him. He tamed
two snakes last half, and used to carry them about in
his pocket, and I '11 be bound he 's got some hedge-
hogs and rats in his cupboard now, and no one knows
what besides."

ARTHUR MAKES A FRIEND. 241

" 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 much."

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

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

" Well, he 's great fun, I can tell you," said Tom,
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 liome, came
striding into thei 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 Martin's study.' ' Oh,
here's a game,' whispered the rest of us, and we all
cut up-stairs 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 Mad-
man knew East's step, and thought there was going to
be a siege.

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

"Then the bolts went back slowly, and the door
opened, and there was the old Madman standing, look-
ing precious scared, his jacket oflf, his shirt-sleeves up

242 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

to his elbows, and his long skinny arms all covered with
anchors and arrows and letters, tattooed in with gun-
powder like a sailor-boy's, and a stink fit to knock you
down coming out. 'T was all the Doctor could do to
stand his ground, and East and I, who were looking in
under his arms, held our noses tight. The old magpie
was standing on the window-sill, all his feathers drooi>
ing, and looking disgusted and half-poisoned.

" ' What can you be about, Martin ? ' says the Doctor ;
' you really must n't go on in this way, — you 're a nui-
sance to the whole passage.'

" ' Please, sir, I was only mixing up this powder !
there is n'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 off 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 was n'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 making all these foolish marks on yourself,
which you can never get out, and you '11 be very sorry
for it in a year or two : now come down to the house-
keeper's room, and let us see if you are hurt.' And
away went the two, aiid we all stayed and had a regular

' ARTHUR MAKES A FRIEND. 243

turn-out of the den, till Martin came back with his hand
bandaged and turned us out. However, I '11 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 unfortunates 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 passion for birds,
beasts, and insects, and knew more of them and their
habits than any one in Rugby ; except perhaps the
Doctor, who knew everything. He was also an experi-
mental chemist on a small scale, and had made unto
himself an electric machine, from 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 adven-
ture free from excitement ; for, besides the probability
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
odor to be faced, which always hung about the den, and
the chance of being blown up in some of the many ex-
j)eriments which Martin was always trying, with the
most wondrous results in the shape of explosions and
smells that mortal boy ever heard of. Of course, poor
Martin, in consequence Y)f his pursuits, had become an
Ishmaelite in the house. In the first place, he half-
poisoned all his neighbors, and they in turn were always
on the look-out to pounce upon any of his numerous
live-stock, and drive him frantic by enticing his pet old

244 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

magpie out of his window Into a aeighboring 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,
the 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,

" After de»p cogitation," etc.
and another boy of an equally tormenting and ingenious
turn of mind, now lived exactly opposite, and had ex-
pended huge pains and time in the preparation of instru-
ments 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 deposited an amateur nest con-
taining four young hungry jackdaws, the pride and
glory of Martin's life for the time being, and which he
was currently asserted to 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 cogi-

ARTHUR MAKES A FRIEND. . 245

tation, 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 replaced his brood
(except one whose neck had been broken in, the descent)
in their old location, suspending them this time by
string and wire twisted together, defiant of any sharp
instrument which his persecutors could command. But,
like the Russian engineers at Sebastopol, 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 nurslings. The moment he
began to feed, they began to shoot ; in vain did the
enemy himself invest in a pea-shooter, and endeavor 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 theirs told on his face and
hands, and drove him into bowlings and imprecations.
He had been driven to ensconce the nest in a corner 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 frequent by
the neighbors when any unusually ambrosial odor spread
itself from the den to the neighboring studies. The
door panels were in a normal state of smash ; but the
frame of the door resisted all besiegers, and behind it
the owner carried on his varied pursuits, — much in the
same state of mind, I should fancy, as a border-farmer
lived in, in the days of the old moss-troopers, when his

246 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

hold might be summoned or his cattle carried off at any
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 is n'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
Bchoolbooks, and a few chemical books, Taxidermy,
Stanley on Birds, and an odd volume of Bewick, 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 purposes,
were fitted up for the abiding places of birds, beasts, and
reptiles. There was no attempt at carpet or curtain.
The table was entirely occupied by the great work of
Martin, the electric machine, which was covered care-
fully with the remains of his table-cloth. The jackdaw
cage occupied one wall, and the other was adorned by
a small hatchet, a pair of climbing irons, and his tin
candle-box, in which he was for the time being endea-
voring to raise a hopeful young family of field-mice.
As nothing should 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 Hewlett's, the bird-fancier's in the Bilton Road, who
would give a hawk's or nightingale's egg or young lin-
net in exchange. Martin's ingenuity was therefore for-
ever on the rack to supply himself with a light; just
now he had hit upon a grand invention, and the den was

ARTHUR MAKES A FRIEND. 247

lighted by a flaring cotton-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-light.

" Well, old boy, you have n'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 '11 have a good supper and
talk about birds'-nesting."

Martin was evidently highly pleased at the invitation,
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 democracy, had sat
down to their supper in the Hall, Tom and Arthur, hav-
ing secured their allowances of bread 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 in-
sisted 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 friendship 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-met with anybody, and blundered into
and out of twenty friendships a half-year, made him
sometimes sorry and sometimes angry at Arthur's re-
serve and loneliness. True, Arthur was always pleas-
ant, and even jolly, with any boys who came with Tom

\ -

248 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

to their study ; but Tom felt that it was only through
him, as it were, that his chum associated with others,
and that but for him Arthur would have been dwelling
in a wilderness. This increased his consciousness of re-
sponsibility ; and though he had n'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 in fact, was
the centre and turning-point of his school life, that which
was to make him or mar him, — his appointed work and
trial for the time being. And Tom was becoming a new
boy, though with frequent tumbles in the dirt and per-
petual hard battle with himself, and was daily growing
in manfulness and thoughtfulness, as every high-cour-
aged and well-principled boy must, when he finds him-
self for the first time consciously at grips with self and
the devil. Already he could turn almost without a sigh
from the School gates, from 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-laborers, the skipping dinner or calling-over, some
of. Phoebe Jennings's beer, and a very possible flogging at
the end of all as a relish. He had quite got over the
stage in which he would grumble to himself, " Well,
hang it, it 's very hard of the Doctor to have saddled me
with Arthur. Why could n't he have chummed him
with Fogey, or Thomkin, or any of the fellows who
never do anything but walk round the close, and finish
their copies the first day they 're set ? " But although
all this was past, he often longed, and felt that he was
right in longing, for more time for the legitimate past-
times of cricket, fives, bathing, and fishing within bounds,
in which Arthur could not yet be his companion ; and he

ARTHUR MAKES A FRIEND 249

felt that when the " young un " (as he now generally
called him) had found, a pursuit and some other friend
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 indeed it
was, but not for the reasons he gave for it — what provi-
dences are ? ) that Arthur should have singled out Martin
of all fellows for a friend. " 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 anything bad, or keep him from
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 from 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
«;ood-will upon the viands, talking faster than they ate,
for all shyness disappeared in a moment before Tom's
bottled beer and hospitable ways.

" Here 's Arthur, a regular young town-mouse, 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

250 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

get at it without help ; and, Brown, you can climb against
any one."

" 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 I '11 show
you five sorts," said Martin.

" Ay, the old Madman has got the best collection in
the house, out and out," said Tom ; and then Martin,
warming with unaccustomed good cheer and the chance
of a convert, launched out into a proposed birds'-nesting
campaign, betraying all manner of important secrets, — a
golden-crested wren's nest near Butlin's Mound, a moor-
hen that was sitting on nine eggs in a pond down the
Barby Road, and a kingfisher's nest in a corner of the
old canal above Brownsover Mill. He had heard, he
said, that no one had ever got a kingfisher's nest out
perfect, and that the British Museum, or the Govern-
ment, or somebody, had offered <£100 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 £100, a knock came at the door,
and East's voice was heard craving admittance.

" There 's Harry," said Tom ; " we '11 let him in ; 1 '11
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, al-
though only an extempore affair ; and though prudence
and the desire to get Martin and Arthur together alone
at first had overcome his scruples, he was now heartily
glad to open the door, broach another bottle of beer, and
hand 6ver the old ham-knuckle to the searching of his
old friend's pocket-knife.

ARTHUR MAKES A FRIEND. 261

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

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

" Well, old Madman, how goes the birds'-nesting
campaign ? How 's Howlett ? I expect the young
rooks '11 be out in another fortnight, and then my turn
comes."

" There '11 be no young rooks fit for pies for a month
yet ; shows how much you know about it," rejoined Mar-
tin, 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, 'speci-
ally 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 '11 come and behave yourself, we '11 have a stunning
climb."

" And a bathe in Aganippe. Hooray ! I 'm youi*
man ! "

" 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," as he informed them, who had just got into the
sixth and occupied, the next study, having instituted a

252 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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 '11 have some more talk. We '11 be no
end quiet ; besides, no praepostor comes here now, — we
have n't been visited once this half."

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 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-honored institution
of the vulgus (commonly supposed to have been es-
tablished by William of Wykeham at Winchester, and
imported to Rugby by Arnold, more for the sake of the
lines which were learned by heart with it, than for its
own intrinsic value, as I 've always understood), that it
is a short exercise, in Greek or Latin verse, on a given
subject, the minimum 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 morn-
ing'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 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 in the
lines. If he could n't say them, or seem to say them.

ARTHUR MAKES A FRIEND. 253

by reading them off the master's or some other boy's
book who stood near, he was sent back, 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 dis-
credit 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, Thurs-
days, and Saturdays; 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 considerable
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 mas-
ters, the schoolboy-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 tradition 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," 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 method of
doing your vulguses was, the risk that the successions
might have become confused, and so that you and an-
other follower of traditions should show up the same
identical vulgus some fine morning ; in which case,

;

254 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

, when it happened, considerable grief was the result:

but when did such risk hinder boys or men from short
L cuts and pleasant paths ?

Now in the study that night, Tom was the upholder
of the traditionary method of vulgus-doing. He care-
fully 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 tags together with the help of
his Gradus, producing an incongruous and feeble result
y of eight elegaic lines, the minimum quantity for his

form, and finishing up with two highly moral lines
extra, making ten in all, which he .cribbed entire from
one of his books, beginning " genus humanum," and
which he himself must have used a dozen times before,
whenever an unfortunate or wicked hero, of whatever
nation or language under the sun, was the subject. In-
deed, 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 would n't be sent back to do two more
in their place, while if they "passed muster again he
would get marks for them.

The second method, pursued by Martin, may be called
the dogged, 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 had n't the genius. Martin then pro-

ceeded 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

ARTHUR MAKES A FRIEND. 265

Gradus and dictionary, into Latin that would scan.
This was all he cared for, — to produce eight lines with
no false quantities or concords : 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 without Gradus or
other help, to clothe his idea in appropriate 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 may be
called the vicarious method, obtained amongst big boys
of lazy 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 after-
wards ; 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 crede)^ and that the artistic method pays the
best both in marks and other ways.

The vulguses being finished by nine o'clock, and
Martin having rejoiced above measure in the abundance
of light, and of Gradus and dictionary, and other con-
veniences almost unknown to him for getting through

256 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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 ini-
tiated into the lore of birds'-eggs, to his great de-
light. The exquisite coloring 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 dreamed of the glorious perils of tree-
climbing and that he had found a roc's-egg in the
island as big as Sinbad's and clouded like a tit-lark's,
in blowing which Martin and he had nearly been
drowned in the yolk.

CHAPTER IV.

THE BIRD-FANCIEBS.

" I have found out a gift for ray fair,

I have found where the wood- pigeons breed :
Bat let me the plunder forbear.
She would saj 't was a harbarona deed,"

ROWB.

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

MS. Ballad.

rne aecona roiinu, wmiu raaruu
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

268 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

gone off together, — where he couldn't say. Tom hur»
ried 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 learned second lesson with East and the rest in
no very good temper, and then went out into the quad-
rangle. About ten minutes before school, Martin and
Arthur arrived in the quadrangle breathless ; and,
catching sight of him, Arthur rushed up all excitement
and with a bright glow on his face.

" 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 for
something to find fault with.

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

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 Martin.

" Well, I did n'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 '11 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.
He '11 be laid up for a week for this precious lark, I '11
be bound."

" Indeed, Tom, now,'* pleaded Arthur, " my feet ain't

THE BIRD-FANCIERS. 259

wet, for Martin made me take off my shoes and stock-
ings and trousers."

" But they are wet and dirty, too, — can't I see ? "
answered Tom ; " and you '11 be called up and floored
when the master sees what a state you 're in. You
have n't looked at second lesson, you know." Oh Tom,
you old humbug! you to be upbraiding any one with
not learning their lessons ! If you had n't been floored
yourself now at first lesson, do you mean to say you
would n't have been with them ? And you 've taken
away all poor little Arthur's joy and pride in his first
bird's-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
learned on in advance much more than will be done at
second lesson.

But the old Madman has n't, and gets called up and
makes some frightful shots, losing about ten 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, as he watches Arthur's intense joy at
seeing Martin blowing the eggs and glueing them care-
fully on to bits of cardboard, 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, 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 prepara-
tions for their expedition, fitting new straps on to his
climbing-irons, filling large pill-boxes with cotton-wool,

260 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

and sharpening East's small axe. They carry all their
munitions into calling-over, 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 ; 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 East may
be better at cricket and football and games, thinks he,
but out in the fields and woods see 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-bag 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 without
a check, Arthur began to lag, and Tom seeing this
shouted to Martin to pull up a bit : " We ain't out
Hare-and-hounds : 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 opposite slope ;
" the nest is in one of those high fir-trees at this end.
And down by the brook there, I know of a sedge-bird's
nest ; we '11 go and look at it coming back."

" Oh, come on, don't let us stop," said Arthur, 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
as noiselessly as possible, lest keepers or other enemies

THE BIRD-FANCIERS. , 261

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 beecn ;
he saw that Martin and Tom were busy with the
climbing-irons, and could n't resist the temptation of
hoaxing. Arthur stared and wondered more than
ever.

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

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

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

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

" Really ! " said Arthur ;• " 1 'm glad I know that —
how unlike our firs they are ! They do very well too
here, don't they ? The Spinney 's full of them."

" What 's that humbug he 's telling you ? " cried 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.

TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" What a shame to hoax

" For a moment or two tjiey thought he eonld n't ffet np."

THE BIRD-FANCIERS. 268

corrigible East ; " I just saw an old magpie go out
of it."

Martin did not deign to reply to this sally, except by
a grunt, as he buckled the last buckle of his climbing-
irons ; and Arthur looked reproachfully 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
leaned any weight on their feet, and the grip of their
arms was n't enough to 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
furious, and East sat by laughing and shouting at each
failure, " Two to one on the old magpie ! "

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

" I dare say ! 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 leaned 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, I 'm 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 re-

264 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

mained clinging. For a moment or two they thought
he could n't get up, but then, holding 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 the old magpie now," said East ; and,
after a minute's rest, up went Martin, hand over hand,
watched by Arthur with fearful eagerness.

" Is n'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
apiece."

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

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

Martin carefully 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. 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, tumbling on to his back
on the turf, spluttering and spitting out the remains of
the great egg, which had broken by the jar of his fall.

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

THE BIRD-FANCIERS. 265

Then they examined the prizes, gathered up their
things, and went off to the brook, where Martin swal-
lowed 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, did n't show it, and was applauded by
all for his lissomeness.

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 pecking this half-hour.
Let 's fill the bags, and have no more of this foozling
birds'-nesting."

No one objected, so each boy filled the fustian bag
he carried full of stones : thev crossed into the next
field, Tom and Bast taking one side of the hedges, and
the other two the other side. Noise 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 marksmen, and flew out of shot
after the first discharge. But it was great fun, 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 the birds,
and shouted, and threw, and tumbled into ditches and
over and through hedges, as wild as the Madman
himself.

Presently the party, in full cry after an old blackbird

266 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

(who was evidently used to the thing and enjoyed the
fun, 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," " I
had him there," " Take care where you 're throwing.
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 doc-
toring 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 did n't
occupy or keep any one else in. Nevertheless, like a
brainless and unreasoning Briton, he persisted in main-
taining on the premises a large stock of cocks, hens,
and other poultry. Of course, all sorts of depredators
visited the place from time to time : foxes and gypsies
wrought havoc in the night, while in the daytime, I
regret to have to confess that visits from the Rugby
boys, and consequent disappearances of ancient and re-
spectable fowls, were not unfrequent. Tom and East
had during the period of their outlawry visited the barn
in question for felonious purposes, and on one occasion
had conquered and slain a duck there, and borne away
the carcass triumphantly, hidden in their handkerchiefs.
However, they were sickened of 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

THE BIRD-FANCIERS. 267

began plucking it themselves ; 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 carcass, not yet half
plucked.

" And T 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 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,
our character's too bad."

" I wish we were rid of the orute," said Tom, throw-
ing 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 holidays by the matron, — a grew-
some body.

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.

W\iy should that old guinea-fowl be lying out in the
hedge just at this particular moment of all the year ?
Who can say? Guinea-fowls always are — so 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 under East's nose
popped out the old guinea-hen, scuttling along and
shrieking, " Come back, come back," at the top of her

268 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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 tear.
Had he been by himself, he would have stayed to see it
out with the others, 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 rim 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 off in any other direction, but now they are all in
for it together, and must see it out. " You won't leave
the young un, will you ? " says he, as they haul poor
little Arthur, already losing wind from the fright,
through the next hedge. " Not we," is the answer
from 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

THE BIRD-FANCIERS. 269

foremost shepherd comes lip 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 recognize Holmes and Diggs taking a constitu-
tional. Those good-natured fellows immediately shout
u On ! " " Let 's go to them and surrender," pants Tom.
Agreed : and in another minute the four boys, to the
great astonishment 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 appear-
ance of the farmer and his men, who unite their forces
and bear down on the knot of boys.

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 unusual discretion, in-
stead 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 ? "

" I Ve got the young varmint at last, have 1 ? " pants
the farmer ; " why they 've been a-skulking about my
yard and stealing my fowls, — that 's where 't is ; 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 unrighteous causes.

"I haven't been near his old barn this half," cries
East. " Nor I," " Nor 1," chime in Tom and Martin.

" Now, Willmn, did n't you see 'em there last week ? "

270 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

" Ees, I Been 'em sure enough," says Willum, grasp-
ing a proug he carried, and preparing for action.

The boys deny stoutly, and Willum is driven to admit
that, " if it wom't they, 't was chaps as like 'em as two
peas'n ; " and *' leastways he '11 swear he see'd them two
in the yard last Martinmas," indicating East and Tom.

"I'n got the young Tarmint nt last."

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."

" 1 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 have n't
been within a hundred yards of his barn ; we have n't

THE BIRD-FANCIERS. 271

been up here above ten minutes, and we He seen nothing
but a tough old guinea-hen, who ran like a greyhound."

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

" Drat 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 have n't
been after your fowls, that's plain."

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

" Never you mind. Farmer," answered Holmes. " And
now I '11 just tell you what it is, — you ought to 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 Doctor with them, I shall go with you, and
tell him what I think of it."

The farmer began to take Holmes for a master ;
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 guinea-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 ; she could n't lay another egg to
save her life."

272 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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
had n'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 oflf down the foot-
path towards Rugby. Holmes, who was one of the
best boys in the School, began to improve the occasion.
" 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
barn again ; do you hear ? "

Profuse promises from all, especially East.

" Mind, I don't ask questions," went on Mentor, " but
I rather think some of you have been there before this
after his chickens. Now, knocking over other people's
chickens, and running off 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 would n't
take them, I know that, any more than you would apples
out of Griffith's basket ; but there 's no real diflferencr
between chickens running about and apples on a tree
and the same articles in a shop. I wish our morals
were soimder 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, —

** Gee'd '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

THE BIRD-FANCIERS. 273

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 yoimgsters committed
a raid on the barn 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 that
Tom could n't resist slight fits of jealousy, which, how-
ever, he managed to keep to himself. 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 i^roduced Arthur to
Howlett the bird-fancier, and instructed him in the
rudiments of the art of stuffing. In token of 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 rimner, 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 T.

THE FIGHT.

Surgebat Macnevisins
Etiuoxjactabat iiltro,
Pugnabo tui gratia
Feroci hoc Mactwoltro."
Etonian,

IE ia a certain sort

fellow — we who

e used to studying

lya all know him

enough — of whom

;an predicate with

aiuiuat positive certainty,

after he baa 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 intention to give a full, true,

and correct account of Tom's only single combat with a

schoolfellow in the manner of our old friend BeW»

lAfe, let those young persons whose stomachs are not

strong, or who think a good set-to with the weapons

which God has ^ven us all an uncivilized, unchristian,

or ungentlemanly affair, 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 excep-
tions, when some cross-grained hard-headed fellow came

THE FIGHT. 275

up who would never be happy unless he was quarrelling
with his nearest neighbors, or when there was some
class-dispute between the fifth form and the fags for
instance, which required blood-letting ; and a champion
was picked out on each side tacitly, who settled the
matter by a good hearty mill. But for the most part
the constant use of those surest keepers of the peace,
the boxing-gloves, kept the Schoolhouse boys from
fighting one another. Two or three nights in every
week the gloves were brought out, either in the Hall or
fifth-form room ; and every boy who was ever likely to
fight at all knew all his neighbors' prowess 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
Schoolhouse, collisions were frequent.

After all, what would life be without fightingj 1
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 i
one who is worth his salt has his enemies, who must 1

be beaten, be they evil thoughts and habits in himself, \

or spiritual wickedness in high places, or Russians, or j

border-ruffians, 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, 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 would n't be our world ; and therefore I am dead

276 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATa

against crying peace when there is no peace, and is n*t
meant to be. I am as sorry as any man to see folk
fighting the wrong people and the wrong things, but
I 'd 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
schoolfellows 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 lengthening out.
Locking-up was not till eight o'clock, and everybody
was beginning to talk about what he would do in the
holidays. The shell, in which form all our dramatis
person® now are, were reading amongst other things
the last book of Homer's Iliad, 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 Schoolhouse boys (amongst whom are Arthur, Tom,
and East) are preparing third lesson together. They
have finished the regulation forty lines, and are for
the most part getting very tired, notwithstanding the
exquisite pathos of Helen's lamentation. And now
several long four-syllabled words come together, and
the boy with the dictionary strikes work.

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

" Come along, boys," cries 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 nem.

THE FIGHT. 277

con., little Arthur not daring to uplift his voice, but, be
ing deeply interested in what they were reading, stayed
quietly behind, and learned on for his own pleasure.

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 explana-
tions of what was the usual course of the regular master
of the form, and others of the stock contrivances of
toys 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 going on between the master and
his form, the 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 something like apprecia-
tion of it, giving them good spirited English words
instead of the wretched bald stuff 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

278 TOM BEOWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

^. Is pretty near beat by this time, and feels ready to

/^ knock his head against the wall, or his fingers against

somehody else's head ; so he gives

"together the lower and mid-

irts of the form, and looks

in despair at the boys on

)p bench, to see if there is

ut of whom he can strike

■k or two, and who will be

livalrouB to murder the most

iful utterances of the most

iful woman of the old world.

ye rests on Arthur, and he

him up to finish construing

.'s speech. Whereupon all

her boys draw long breaths,

begin to stare about and

it easy. They are all safe ;

ir is the head of the form,

ure to be able to construe,

and that will tide on safely

till the hour strikes.

Arthur proceeds to

read out the passage in

Greek before construing

it, as the custom is.

Tom, who is n't paying
" Arthnr MB hardly get 00 St all." ,' ., ,. } ■^ f

much attention, is sud-
denly caught by the falter in his voice as he reads the
two lines —

oXXd ov TOP y* tTtitiTiii TTOpaifpafuifos KortpvKtS,
2h t' nyavo^porrvv^ au (roit ayavolt ijiiianr.

He looks up at Arthur. " Why, bless us," thinks he,
" what can be the matter with the young un ? He 's

THE FIGHT. 279

nerer going to get floored. He 's sure to have learned
to the end." Next moment he is reassured by the
spirited tone in which Arthur begins construing, and
betakes himself to drawing dog's heads in his note-book,
while the master, evidently enjoying the change, turns
his back on the middle bench and stands before Arthur,
beating a sort of time with his hand and foot, and say-
ing, " 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 some-
thing the matter, — Arthur can hardly get on at all.
What can it be?

Suddenly at this point Arthur breaks down altogether,
and fairly bursts out crying, and dashes the cuff -^^ his
jacket across his eyes, blushing up to the roots of his
hair, and feeling as if he should like to go down sud-
denly through the floor. The whole form are taken
aback ; most of them stare stupidly at him, while those
who are gifted with presence of mind find their places
and look steadily at their books, in hopes of not catch-
ing the master's eye and getting called up in Arthur's
place.

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, perhaps in
all profane poetry put together, steps up to him and
lays his hand kindly on his shoulder, saying, " Never
mind, my little man, you 've construed very well. Stop
a minute, there 's no hurry."

Now as luck would have it, there sat next above Tom
that day, in the middle bench of the form, a 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

280 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

their elders, used to hold forth to one another about
Williams's great strength, and to discuss whether East
or Brown would take a licking from him. He was called
Slogger Williams, from the force with which it was sup-
posed 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 hand, especially in the
matter of forcing boys not to construe more than the
legitimate forty lines. He had already grunted and
grumbled to himself when Arthur went on reading be-
yond 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 roused.

" Sneaking little brute," muttered he, regardless of
prudence, " clapping on the waterworks just in the hard-
est 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 sha'n't," said Tom.

" Hullo ! " exclaimed Williams, looking at Tom with
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 attention 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 disgust,
and then, turning round and facing the master, said, " I
have n't learned any more, sir ; our lesson is only forty
lines."

THE FIGHT. 281

** Is that 80 ? " 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, indicating
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 in Greek
and English. And now, Arthur, finish construing."

" Oh ! would I be in Arthur's shoes after fourth les-
son ? " 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 saying
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 applauding
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 — "

" Hullo ! " said Tom, shouldering into the crowd, " you
drop that, Williams ; you sha'n't touch him."

282 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" Who '11 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
full 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 ! "

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 me," said
Tom to a small Schoolhouse boy, who was oflf like a
rocket to Harrowell's, just stopping for a moment to
poke his head into the Schoolhouse Hall, where the
lower boys were already at tea, and sing out, " Fight !
Tom Brown and Slogger Williams."

Up start half the boys at once, leaving bread, eggs,
butter, sprats, and all the rest to take care of them-
selves. The greater part of the remainder follow in n
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 unctuous feast.

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 fell he had got his work cut out for him, 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

THE FIGHT. 28S

your mouth to say a word, or try to help yourself a bit,
we '11 do all that ; you keep all your breath and strength
for the Slogger." Martin meanwhile 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 does n't look a fair match at first glance : Williams
is nearly two inches taller, and probably a long year
older than his opponent, and he is very strongly made
about the arms and shoulders, — " peels well," as the
little knot of big fifth-form boys, the amateurs, say,
who stand outside the ring of little boys, looking com-
placently on, but taking no active part in the proceed-
ings. But down below he is not so good by any means,
— no spring 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 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 did n't take much exercise and ate too much tuck.
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 Tom '11 only condescend to fight with his head
and heels," as East mutters to Martin, " we shall do."

But seemingly he won't, for there he goes m, making
play with both hands. " Hard all " is the word ; the two
stand to one another like men ; rally follows rally in
quick succession, each fighting as if he thought to finish

284 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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, approval, 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 Madman's long arms,
which tremble a little from excitement.

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

" 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 oflf 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 Schoolhouse are silent and vicious, ready to
pick quarrels anywhere.

"Two to one in half-crowns on the big un," says
Rattle, one of the amateurs, a tall fellow, in thunder-
and-lightning waistcoat, and puflfy 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 it 's death to me. He '11 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 '11 lose his wind then in no
time, and you can go into him. Hit at his body too ;
we '11 take care of his frontispiece by-and-by."

THE FIGHT. 286

Tom felt the wisdom of the counsel, and saw already
that he could n'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
from and parrying the Slogger's lunging hits, instead of
trying to counter, and leading his enemy a dance all
round the ring after him. " He 's funking ; go in,
Williams ! " " Catch him up ! " "Finish him off ! " scream
the small boys of the Slogger party.

" 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 him-
self in his exertions to get to close quarters again, while
Tom is keeping away with perfect ease.

They quarter over the ground 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 fury at Tom, and being skilfully
parried and avoided, over-reaches himself and falls on
his face, amidst terrific cheers from the Schoolhouse
boys.

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

" Stop a bit," says that hero, looking uncomfortably
at Williams, who is puffing away on his second's knee,
winded 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 hia

286 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

match or thereabouts. So he too begins to use his head,
and tries to make Tom lose patience and come in before
his time. And so the fight sways on, now one, and now
the other, getting a trifling pull.

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 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 shout-
ing, and the whole ring is very quiet.

" 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 cannot
paint the poor little fellow's distress. He couldn't
muster courage to come up to the ring, but wandered
up and down from the great fives'-court to the corner 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 Mary,
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. Brown ! "
" Huzza for the Schoolhouse ! " rose higher than ever,
he ventured up to the ring, thinking the victory was
won. Catching sight of Tom's face in the state I have
described, all fear of consequences vanishing out of his
mind, he rushed straight off to the matron's room.

THE FIGHT. 287

beseeching her to get the fight stopped, or he should
die.

But it 's time for us to get back to the close. What
is this fierce tumult and confusion ? The ring is
broken, and high and angry words are being bandied
about : " It 's all fair ! " '' It is n't ! " " No hugging ! ''
The fight is stopped. The combatants, however, sit
there quietly, tended by their seconds, while their ad-
herents wrangle in the middle. East can't help shout-
ing challenges to two or three of the other side, though
he never leaves Tom for a moment, and plies the
sponges as fast 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 thrown him heavily,
by the help of the fall he had learned from his village
rival in the Vale of White Horse. Williams had n't the
ghost of a chance with Tom at wrestling ; and the con-
viction broke at once on the Slogger faction that if this
were allowed their man must be licked. There was a
strong feeling in the school against catching hold and
throwing, though it was generally ruled all fair within
certain limits ; so the ring was broken and the fight
stopped.

The Schoolhouse are over-ruled, — the fight is on
again, 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 the small gate at the end
of the chapel. The Schoolhouse 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

288 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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 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 ? "

^ 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.

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 : he '11 be out in
a minute."

" You go to Bath, Bill," is all that that excellent
servitor gets by his advice, — and being a man of his
hands, and a stanch upholder of the Schoolhouse, can't
help stopping to look on for a bit, and see Tom Brown,
their pet craftsman, fight a round.

THE FIGHT. 289

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, and can choose his own time : the
Slogger waits for the attack, 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 cloud and falls full on Williams's face. Tom darts
in ; the heavy right-hand is delivered, but only grazes
his head. A short rally at close quarters, and they
close ; in another moment the Slogger is thrown again
heavily for the third time.

" I '11 give you three to two on the little one in halt
crowns," said Groove to Rattle.

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

Just at this stage of the proceedings, the door of the
turret which leads to the Doctor's library suddenly
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 time.

" 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 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 trying to
combine dignity and prudence in a comical manner, and
walking off fast enough, they hope, not to be recognized,
and not fast enough to look like running away.

290 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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
fighting ? "

Brooke felt much more uncomfortable than he had
expected, but he was rather a favorite 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
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 '11 be all the better friends now, which
they would n'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 there would have been
more fights if this had n't been let go on, or if either of
them had had much the worst of it."

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

Brooke, it must be confessed, felt rather gravelled.

" Remember," added the Doctor, as he stopped at the
turret door, " this fight is not to go on, — you '11 see to

THE FIGHT.

that. And I expect you to stop all fid
once."

*' Very w ell^

hat.

thin
toh,
proQ

THE FIGHT. 291

that. And I expect you to stop all fights in future 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 stanchest of his adherents
had reached Harrowell's, and Sally was bustling about
to get them a late tea, while Stumps had been sent ofif
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 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 could n't help thinking to
himself that he was glad he had n'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 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 '11
promise me you won't go on?"

" Can't tell about that, — all depends on the houses*

292 TOM BROWN*S SCHOOL-DATS.

We're in the hands of our countrymen, you know.
Must fight for the Schoolhouse 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 mag-
nates sitting at their supper.

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

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

" Sure to do that in a fight. Well, you had n't 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 loath. And the fifth-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 present shook
their heads wisely, saying, " 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

THE FIGHT. 298

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 pic-
ture ; 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 rampant stuff in the Times
on the subject, in an article on field sports.

Boys will quarrel, and when they quarrel will some-
times 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 very V ,\.^
much the better, for learning to box well.. Should you \
never have to use it in earnest, there 's no exercise 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 from
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 Chris-
tian nor honest. And if you do fight, fight it out ; and
don't give in while you can stand and see.

CHAPTER VT.

PEVBR IN THE SCHOOL.

" This our hope for all tliat 's mortal.
And we too ehall burst the bond ;
Death keeps watch beside the portal.
But 'tis life that dwells beyond."

John SrsBLiNa

WO years have passed

since the events re-
corded in the last
chapter, and the end
mer half-year is again
drawing on, Martin has left and
gone on a cruise in the South Pacific, in one of hia
uncle's ships ; the old magpie, as disreputable as ever,
his last bequest to Arthur, lives in the joint study. Ar-
thur is nearly sixteen, and is at the head of the twenty,
having gone up the School at the rate of a form a half-

FEVER IN THE SCHOOL. 295

year. East and Tom have been much more deliberate
in their progress, and are only a little 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
spir?^; 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 reading.

One evening, as they were all sitting down to 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 Thompson is very ill, and
that Dr. Robertson has been sent for from 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 '11 be no Marylebone
match then at the end of the half."

Some thought one thing, some another ; many did n'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 examinations were just coming

296 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

on, and it would be very unadvisablc to bre&k up now.
However, any boys who choae to do bo were at liberty
to write home, and if their parents wished it, to leave
at once. He should send the whole School home if the
fever spread.

' ' The cricbet-match was going away.

onasuauftl." Qn the Saturday Thompson

died, in the bright afternoon,
while the cricltet-match was going on as usual on the
big-aide 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 rumored,
and by afternoon chapel was known generally ; and a
feeling of seriousness and awe at the actual presence

FEVEB IN THE SCHOOL. 297

of death among them came over the whole School. In
aU 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 cheerTulness and activity, I felt there was
nothing painful in witnessing that ; it did not seem in
any way shocking or out of tune with those feelings
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 live-
liness 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 1
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 ; had I heard or seen any
signs of that wretched folly which courts the laugh of
fools by affecting not to dread evil and not to care for
good, -^ then the unsuitableness of any of these things
with the scene I had just quitted would indeed have
been most intensely painful. And why ? Not because
such things would really have been worse than at any
other time, but because at such a moment the eyes are
opened really to know good and evil ; because we then
feel what it is so to live that death becomes an infinite
blessing, and what it is so to live also that it were good
for us i£ we had never been born."

Tom had gone into chapel in sickening anxiety about
Arthur, but he came out cheered and strengthened by

298 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

those grand words, and walked up alone to their study.
A.nd 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 him ? "

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 burial
service, so soothing and grand always, but beyond all
words solemn when read over a boy's grave to his com-
panions, brought him much comfort, and many strange
new thoughts and longings. He went back to his
regular life, and played cricket ^nd bathed 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 crisis came on Satur-
day, 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 eve-
ning he was declared out of danger ; on Monday he sent
a message to Tom that he was almost well, had changed

FEVER IN THE SCHOOL. 299

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 lying on the sofa by they v, y
open window, through which the rays of the western
sun stole gently, lighting up his white face and golden
hair. Tom remembered a German picture 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 moment had he felt how his little
chum had twined himself round his heartstrings ; and
as he stole gently across 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 need n't have troubled
himself ; it was this very strength and power so differ-
ent 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 window
again, as if he could n'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 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 from below.

300 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

" 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 would n't let me 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 it, and you
could n't stand being ill with all the matches going on.
And you 're in the eleven too, I hear, — I 'm so glad."

" Yes, ain't it jolly ? " said Tom, proudly ; " I 'm
ninth too. I made forty at the last pie-match and
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."

"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, 1 don't care about cricket or anything
now you 're getting well, Geordie ; and I should n't have
hurt, I know, if they 'd have let me come up, — nothing
hurts me. But you '11 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'T.eft 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.
He won't look pleased all I can do, and sticks his head
first on one side and then on the other, and blinks at
me before he '11 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, though
Harry would n't touch a feather of him now."

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.

FEVER IN THE SCHOOL. 801

" 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 suffi-
cient for his needs) ; " they '11 make the old Madman
cock medicine-man, and tattoo him all over. Perhaps
he 's cutting about now all blue, and has a squaw and a
wigwam. He '11 improve their boomerangs, and be able
to throw them too, without having old Thomas sent
after him by the Doctor to take them away."

Arthur laughed at the remembrance of the boomerang
story, but then looked grave again, and said, " He '11
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 some-
thing of the sort, when the locking-up bell rang ? Well,
1 declare," said Arthur, looking up seriously into Tom's
laughing eyes, " I do think he was right. Since I 've
been lying here, 1 've watched them every night ; and
do you know, they really do 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 perhaps two or three in different
trees, caw solos, and then off they all go again, flutter-
ing about and cawing anyliow till they roost."

" 1 wonder if the old blackies do talk," said Tom,

302 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

looking up at them. " How they must abuse me
and East, and pray for the Doctor for stopping the
slinging."

" 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 memories by Arthur's voice, gentle
and weak from his late illness.

" Tom, will you be angry if I talk to you very
seriously ? "

" No, dear old boy, not I. But ain't you faint,
Arthur, or ill ? What can I get you ? Don't say any-
thing to hurt yourself now, — you are very weak ; let
me come up again."

" No, no, I sha'n'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 need n'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 may n'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 weeks

FEVER IN THE SCHOOL. ^03

yet to the holidays, and all the fifth-form examination
and half the cricket-matches to come vet. 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 stand that ! Besides,
who 's to keep me up to working at the examination
books ? I shall come out bottom of the form as sure
as eggs is eggs."

Tom was rattling on, half in joke, half in earnest, for
he wanted to get Arthur out of his serious vein, think- 'i
ing it would do him harm ; but Arthur broke in —

"Oh, please, Tom, stop, or you'll drive all I had to
say out of my head ! And I 'm already horribly afraid .
I'm going to make you angry."

" Don't gammon, young un/' rejoined Tom (the use
of the old name, dear to him from old recollections,
made Arthur start and smile, and feel quite happy) ;
" you know you ain't afraid, and you 've never made
me angry since the first month we chummed 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, 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 in me to be ^
advising you, who've been my backbone ever since
I 've been at Rugby, and have made the School a para-
dise to me. Ah, I see I shall never do it, unless 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." ^■

Arthur sank back 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

804 TOM BROWl^'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

taken aback. He leaned his elbows on his knees, and
stuck his hands into his hair ; whistled a verse of " Billy
Taylor," 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, —

" 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 1 at cricket
l^. . . and football, and all the other games, and to make my

hands keep my head against any fellow, lout or gentle-
man. I want to get into the sixth before 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 ? 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 a big one."

Arthur pressed his hand, and after a moment's

FEVER m THE SCHOOL. 805

silence went on: "You say, Tom, you want to please
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
could n't give in. " He was at Winchester himself,"
said he; "he knows all about it."

"Yes, but does he think yoi6 jiae_Jiiem ? Do you
think he approves _Qf 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 ; he knew his
friend 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 to 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 ' Agamem-
non;' I can only just make head or tail of it with
the crib. Then there 's Pericles' speech coming on in
Thucydides, and ' The Birds ' to get up for the examina-
tion, besides the Tacitus." Tom groaned at the thought
of his accumulated labors. " I say, young un, there 's
only five weeks or so left to holidays ; may n't I go on
as usual for this half ? I '11 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 the Lord pardon thy servant, that when my

506 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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 down myself in
the house of Rimmon, the Lord pardon thy servant in
this thing."

Not a word more was said on the subject, and the
boys were again silent, — one of those blessed short
silences in which the resolves which color a life are
so often taken.

Tom was the first to break it. " You 've been very
ill indeed, have n'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 full 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 Sunday,
and you can't think what he is when one is ill. 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 had n't, I could n't have
stood three days of this illness. 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, like you."

"pBESENTLY HE WENT ON, BUT QUITE C

FEVER IN THE SCHOOL. 807

" Oh, yes, I heard of it."

Then Tom, who was quite full of it, told Arthur of
the burial service in the chapel, and how it had im-
pressed 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 was n't
a game played in the close all the afternoon, and the
boys all went about as if it were Sunday."

" 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. Some-
times I think they 're wrong ; but, do you know, I don't
think in my heart I could be sorry at the death of aiiy
of my friends."

Tom was taken quite aback. " What in the world is
the young un after now ? " thought he ^ " I 've swallowed
a good many of his crotchets, but this altogether beats
me. He can't be quite right in his head." He did n'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, Geordie. One 's told so often to think
about death that I Ve tried it on sometimes, especially
this last week. But we wont talk of it now. I 'd better
go, — you 're getting 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 I 'm half mad, — don't you now ? "

" Well, I did think it odd what you said, Geordie, as
you ask me."

Arthur paused a moment, and then said quickly, " I '11
tell you how it all happened. At first, when I was sent

308 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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 mother and sisters, and you
all, just as I was beginning 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 given one's life away, was too hard to bear. I got
terribly impatient, and accused God of injustice, and
strove to justify myself; and the harder I strove the
deeper 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
out, * The living, the living shall praise Thee, God !
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. T was alone there, with no power to stir or think;
alone with myself, beyond the reach of all human fel-
lowship, beyond Christ 's reach, I thought, in my night-
mare. 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 could n'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

FEVER IN THE. SCHOOL. 809

lived my outer life all the time, and took my medicine,
and spoke to my mother, and heard what they said.
But I did n't take much note of time ; I thought time
was over for me, and that that tomb was what was
beyond. Well, on last Sunday morning, as I seemed to
lie in that tomb, alone, as I thought, forever 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 remem-
ber 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 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 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 myriads 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 forever. 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 different 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,
stern man, who never came to church, and whom they

310 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DA Ya

called atheist and infidel. There they were, side by
side with my father, whom 1 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 1 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 foreheads.
And though I saw that there was toil and anguish in
the work of these, and that most that were working
were blind and. feeble, yet 1 longed no more to plunge
into the river, but more and more to know what the
work was. And as I looked I saw my mother and
my sisters, and I saw the Doctor, and you, Tom, and
hundreds more whom I knew ; 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 morning I know then, it was so quiet and cool,
and my mother was fast asleep in the chair by my bed-
side ; but it was n'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

FEVER IN THE SCHOOL. 811

have let me see it so clear if it was n't true. 1 don't
understaiid it all yet; it will take me taj life and
longer to do tiiat — to find out what the work is."

When Arthur stopped there was a long pause. Tom
could not speak ; he was almost afraid to breathe, lest he

" A lady came in cairyinji a condlo."

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.

812 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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.
Why did n'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,
and held out her hand to Tom, who was now standing
up behind the sofa. This was Arthur's mother. Tall
and slight and fair, with masses 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 any-
thing so beautiful. He could n'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 '11 stare my mother out of counte-
nance." 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 need n'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-life sooner than go, so sat down. " And

FEVER IN THE SCHOOL? 818

now/' said Arthur, " I have realized one of the dearest
wishes of my life, — to see you two together."

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
pebbles, and the wild moor with its high cloudy Tors
for a giant background to the picture, till Tom got
jealous, and stood up for the clear chalk streams, and
the emerald water meadows, and great elms and willows
of the dear old Royal county, as 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 '11 be back next half, and I sha'n'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 father-
less. May He deal with you as you have dealt with me
and mine ! "

Tom wag' 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 did n't go off to bed. (It would
have been stopped anyhow, but that he was a great

314 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOJ>DAYS.

favorite with the old gentleman, who loved to come out
in the afternoons into the close to Tom's wicket, and
bowl slow twisters to him, and *talk of the glories of
bygone Surrey heroes, with whom he had played in
former generations.) 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 titlepage of which was written,
" Tom Brown, from his affectionate and grateful friends,
Frances Jane Arthur ; George Arthur."

I leave you all to guess how he slept, and what he
dreamed of.

CHAPTER VII.

BARRY east's dilemmas AND DEUVERANCES.

" The Holy Supper is kept indeed.
In wliaUo wa share with another's need —
Not that which we give, but what we share.
For the gift without the givei is bare ;
Who beatow3 himself with hia nltns feeds three,
Himself, bis hungering ueighbor, and Me."

LowsLL : Tkt V'ision of Sir Laun/al, p. 11 .

HE next morning, after breakfast,
Tom, Elaat, and Gower met as
usual to learn their eecond lesson
together. Tom had been consider-
ing how to break hia proposal of giving up the crib to
the others, and having found 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 was n't going to use cribs any more ; and not

316 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

being quite sure of his ground, took the high and pa-
thetic tone, and was proceeding to say, " how that hav-
ing learned 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 would n'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. 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 know
that you and I would have had the sack long ago if
it hadn't been for him. And you know it as well
as I."

" Well, we were in a baddish way before he came, I
own ; but this new crotchet of his is past a joke."

" Let 's give it a trial, Harry ; come, you know how
often he has been right and we wrong."

" Now, don't you two be jawing away about 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 I 've 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 sha'n't get
through ten lines."

" I say, Tom," cried East, having hit on a new idea,

HARRY EASTS DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES. 317

" Don't you remember, when we w^e 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 did n't flog me for using a translation,
but for taking it into lesson, and using it there when
I hadn't learned a word before I came in. He said
there was no harm in using a translation to get a clew
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 prig.
We '11 only use the crib when we can't construe without
it. Go ahead, Bast."

And on this agreement they started, — Tom satisfied
with having made his confession, and not sorry to have
a locus poenit entice, and not to be deprived altogether
of the use of his old and faithful friend.

The boys went on as usual, each taking a sentence
in turn, and the crib being handed to the one whose
turn it was to construe. Of course Tom could n't ob-
ject 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

318 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

first hard word that stopped him. But in the mean
time Gower, who was bent on getting 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 did n't see his
w-ay 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-full of fun, 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
neighbors."

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 sentence fairly. Are
you sure you remember what the Doctor said to you ? "

" Yes. And I '11 swear I could n't make out one of
my sentences to-day. No, nor ever could. I really
don't remember," said East, speaking slowly and im-
pressively, "to have come across one Latin or Greek
sentence this half, that I could go and construe by the
light of nature. Whereby I am sure Providence in-
tended cribs to be used."

" The thing to find out," said Tom, meditatively, " is
how long one ought to grind 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."

HARRY EAST'S DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES. 319

" 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 '11
take away mutual help, brotherly love, or in the vulgar
tongue, giving construes, 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 benevo-
lence and being good Samaritans, I shall cut the
concern."

" I wish you would n'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 one '11 get straight enough some-
how. But you can't make out anyhow that one has a
right to use old vulgus-books and copy-books."

" Hullo, more heresy ! how fast 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 generations ? Not use
old copy-books ! Why you might as well say we ought
to pull down Westminster Abbey, and put up a go-to-
meeting-shop with churchwarden windows, or never
read Shakspeare, but only Sheridan Knowles. Think
of all the work and labor that our predecessors have
bestowed on these verv books ; and are we to make
their work of no value ? "

" I say, Harry, please don't chafif ; I 'm really serious."

" And then, is it not our duty to consult the pleasure
of others rather than our own, and above all that of
our masters ? Fancy then the difference to them in

320 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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 an-
other — before they were born 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 ' genus humanum,' again, and
then look up doubtingly through his spectacles, and end
by smiling and giving three extra marks for it, — just
for old sake's sake, I suppose."

" Well," said Tom, getting up in something as like a
huJBf 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 faithless-
ness of friendships.

" Now don't be an ass, 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 without anybody's trying to stick a
nettle under his tail and make him kick you off, espec-
ially as we shall all have to go on foot still. But now
sit down and let 's go over it again. I '11 be as serious
as a judge."

Th^n Tom sat himself down on the table, and waxed
eloquent about all the righteousnesses and advantages
of the new plan, as was his wont whenever he took up
anything ; going into it as if his life depended upon it,
and sparing no abuse which he could think of of the
opposite method, which he denounced as ungentlemanly,

HARRY EAST'S DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES. 821

cowardly, mean, lying, and no one knows what besides.
" Very cool of Tom," as East thought, but did n't say,
" seeing as how he only came out of Egypt himself last
night at bedtime."

" 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 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. K we can slip the collar and
do so much less without getting caught, that 's one to
us. If they can get more out of us, or catch us shirk-
ing, 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 or a sneak ? I don 't tell the master
I 've learned 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, and tell him I 've
really 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 — these five years. And it 's all clear and fair, no
mistake about it. We understand it, and they under-
stand it, and I don't know what we 're to come to with
any other."

Tom looked at him pleased, and a little puzzled. He
had never heard East speak his mind seriously before,

322 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

and could n'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 Bast ; " hold on and hit away, only
don't hit under the line."

" But I must bring you over, Harry, or I sha' n't be
comfortable. Now, 1 allow all you 've said. We 've
always been honorable 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 differently."

" Yes, perhaps they do," said Bast ; " 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
ground."

"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 accord-
ingly. 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."

As they walked out they got a message to say, " that
Arthur was just starting, and would like to say good-
by ; " so they went down to the private entrance of the

HARRY EASrS DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES. 328

Schoolhouse, 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.

Bast, who had fallen back into his usual humor,
looked quaintly at Arthur, and said, —

" So you 've been at it again, through that hot-headed
convert of yours there. He 's been making our lives a
burden to us all the morning about using cribs. I shall
get floored to a certainty at second lesson, if I 'm 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 off 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 Arthur on leave," after examining
the new fishing-rod, which both pronounced to be the
genuine article, ("play enough to throw a midge tied
on a single hair against the wind, and strength enough
to hold a grampus,") they naturally began talking about
Arthur. Tom, who was still bubbling over with last
night's scene, and all the thoughts of the last week, and

324 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

wanting to clinch and fix the whole in his own mind,
which he could never do without first going through the
process of belaboring somebody else with it all, suddenly
rushed 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 was n't worth having
now they were tied to a young beggar who was always
' raising his standard ; ' and that he. East, was like a
prophet's donkey, 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 did n't half understand them, but had to take the
kicks and carry the luggage as if he had all the fun," —
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, 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 aijd 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 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

HARRY EAST'S DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES. 826

anxiety, and was delighted to see that that young
gentleman was thoughtful and attentive. The fact is,
that in the stage of his inner life at which Tom had
lately arrived, his intimacy with and friendship for East
could not have lasted if he had not made him aware of,
and a sharer in, the thoughts that were beginning to
exercise him. Nor indeed could the friendship have
lasted if East had shown no sympathy with these
thoughts; so that it was a great relief to have un-
bosomed himself, and to have found that his friend
could listen.

Tom had always had a sort of instinct that East's
levity was only skin-deep ; and this instinct was a true
one. East had no want of reverence for anything he
felt to be real ; but his was one of those natures that
burst into what is generally called recklessness and
impiety the moment they feel that anything 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 outspoken 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 (including 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 ofiF
the rest.

Tom, besides being very like East in many points of
character, had largely developed in his composition the
capacity for taking the weakest side. This is not put-

326 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

ting it strongly enough : it was a necessity with him ;
he could n't help it any more than he could eating or
drinking. He could never play on the strongest side
with any heart at football or cricket, and was sure to
make friends with any boy who was unpopular, or down
on his luck.

Now, though Bast was not what is generally called
unpopular, Tom felt more and more every day, as their
characters developed, that he stood alone, and did not
make friends among their contemporaries, and there-
fore sought him out. Tom was himself much more
})opular, for his power of detecting humbug 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 read-
ing 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 '11
all find, if you have n't found it out already, that a time
comes in every human friendship when you must go

HARRY EAST'S DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES. 827

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 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 o^ one another's hearts ; and
if you are at once there, nothing on earth can, or at J
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 leaned his head on one hand, taking
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 contem-
poraries worth knowing 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."

" Don't you think that 's half fancy, Harry ? "

" 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

328 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

one, and sing the best Bong, and are the best company
in the house. You fancy you 're not liked, Harry. It 's
all fancy."
. " 1 only wish it was, Tom, 1 know 1 cotild be
popular enough with all the bad oiifs ; but that I won't
have, and the good ones won't have me."

"I only wish it was, Tom."

" Why not ? " persisted Tom ; " you don't drink or
swear, or get out at night ; von 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 you."

" Not I," said East. Then with an effort he went
on, " I '11 tell you what it is. I never stop the Sacra-
ment. I can see, from the Doctor downwards, how
that tells against me."

" Yes, I 've seen that," said Tom, " and T '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?"

HARRY EAST'S DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES. 829

" I 've never been confirmed," said East.

" Not been confirmed ! " said Tom in astonishment.
" I never thought of that. Why were n't you confirmed
with the rest of us nearly three years ago ? I always
thought you 'd been confirmed at home."

"No," answered East, sorrowfully; "you see this
was how it happened. Last Confirmation was soon
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. 'T was ' because the Doctor liked
it ; ' 'no boy got on who did n't stay the Sacrament ; '
' it was the correct thing,' — in fact, like having a good
hat to wear on Sundays. 1 could n't stand it. I did n't
feel that I wanted to lead a different life ; I was very well
content as I was, and I was n't going to sham religious
to curry favor with the Doctor, or any one else."

East stopped speaking, and pegged away more dili-
gentlj^ than ever with his pencil. Tom was ready to
cry. He felt half sorry at first that he had been con-
firmed himself. He seemed to have deserted his earliest
friend, to have left him by himself at his worst need for
those long years. He ^ot up and went and sat by East
and put his arm over his shoulder.

" Dear old boy," he said, " how careless and selfish
I Ve been ! But why did n't you come and talk to
Arthur and me ? "

"I wish to heaven I had," said East, "but I was a
fool. It's too late talking of it now."

" Why too late ? You want to be confirmed now,
don't you ? "

880 TOM BKOWN'8 SCHOOL-DAYa

" I think so," said East. " I Ve thought about it a
good deal ; only, often I fancy I must be changing, be-
cause I see it 's to do me good here : just what stopped
me last time. And then I go back again."

" I '11 tell you now how 't was with me," said Tom,
warmly. " If it had n't been for Arthur, I should have
done just as you did. I hope 1 should. I honor 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 sympa-
thies 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.
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, 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 T wish Arthur had n't
gone! I'm such a fool about these things. But it's
all you want, too. East ; it is indeed. It cuts both ways
somehow, being confirmed and taking the Sacrament.
It makes you feel on the side of all the good and all

HARRY EASTS DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES. 331

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 could n'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
would n't do. I broke down : I believe Christ himself
broke me down ; and when the Doctor gave me the
bread and wine, and leaned 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."

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 round when he

TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

"Hah, Eaat ! Do you want to siwak with me, my man!"

heard foofstepa following him closer than nsual, and
''say, " Hah, East ! Do you want to speak wjjh me,
my man ? "

HARRY EAST'S DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES. 333

" 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 off my
mind."

" Hurra ! " said Tom. " I knew it would be ; but tell
us all about it."

" Well, 1 just told him all about it. You can't think
how kind and gentle he was, — the great grim man whom
I've feared more thg^n anybody on earth. When I
stuck, he lifted me, just as if I had been a little child.
And he seemed to know all I 'd felt, and to have gone
through it all. And I burst out crying — more than
I 've 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 I 've told you. And
he was n't shocked a bit, and did n't snub me, or tell me
1 was a fool, and it was all nothing but pride or wicked-
ness, though I dare say it was. And he did n't tell me
not to follow out my thoughts, and he did n't give me
any cut-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. 1 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

Tom.

" Yes, and to be confirmed in the holidays."

834 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

Tom's delight was as great as his friend's. But he
had n't yet had out all his own talk, and was bent on
improving the occasion : so he proceeded to propound
Arthur's theory about not being sorry for his friends'
deaths, which he had hitherto kept in the background,
and by which he was much exercised ; for he did n't
feel it honest to take what pleased him and throw over
the rest, and was trying vigorously, to persuade himself
that he should like all his best friends to die off-hand.

But East's powers of remaining serious were ex-
hausted, and in five minutes he was saying the most
ridiculous things he could think of, till Tom was almost
getting angry again.

Despite of himself, however, he could n't help laugh-
ing 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?" !

And so their talk finished for that time, and they ;

tried to learn first lesson, — with very poor success, as I

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 VIII.

TOM brown's last match.

" Usaren grant tlie manlier beai-t, that timely, «re
Youth fly, with lift's real tempest would h* coping;
The fruit of dreamy hoping
Is, waking, blank despair."

Cuil'GH : Ambarralfa.

HE curtain now riees

upon the last act

of our little drama

— for hard-hearted

publishers warn me

that a single volume

must of necessity

have an end. Well, well ! the pleasantest things must

come to an end. I little thought last long vacation,

when I began these pages to help while away Home

spare time at a watering-place, how vividly many an old

scene which had lain hid away for years in some dusty

old corner of my brain would come back again, and

stand before me as clear and bright as if it had hap-

836 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

pened 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 church-
yards of our dear old country, 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 wheel 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 just gone clean out
of sight. Are they dead or living ? We know not ; but
the thought of them brings no sadness with it. Where-
ever 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 sometimes
in the streets, whose haunUs and homes we 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 memo-
ries. Yet of these our old comrades, from whom more
than time and space 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

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. 837

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 healing for this
trial : —

'* To veer how vaiu ! 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 blithe breeze ! and great seas !
Though ne'er that earliest parting past.
On your wide plain they joili again.
Together lead them home at last.

" One port, methought, alike they sought,
One purpose hold where'er they fare.
O bounding breeze ! rushing seas !
At last, at last, unite them there." i

This is not mere longing, it is prophecy. 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 purpose, and
to be driven helplessly on rooks and quicksands ; whosev
lives are spent in the service of the world, the flesh, and
the devil, — for self alone, and not for their fellowmen,
their country, or their God, — that we must mourn and
pray without sure hope and without light ; trusting only
that He, in whose hands they as well as we are, who
has died for them as well as^ for us, who sees all His
creatures

** With larger, other eyes than ours,
To make allowance for us all,"

1 Clouou : Ambarvaluu

838 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

will, in His own way and at his own time, lead them

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 examinations
were over last week, and upon them have followed the
Speeches and the sixth-form examinations for Exhibi-
tions ; and they too are over now. The boys have gone
to all the winds of heaven, except 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 Wellesburn
return match and the Marylebone match are played at
Rugby, to the great delight of the town and neighbor-
hood, 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 yesterday morning,
after an interview with the captain of the eleven, in the
presence of Thomas, 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 Wellesburn match was played out with great
success yesterday, the School winning by three wickets ;
and to-day the great event of the cricketing 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 Wellesburn match ; and as soon as it was over,
their leading men and umpire inspected the ground,

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. 839

criticising it rather unmercifully. The captain of the
School eleven, and one or two others, who had played
the Lord's match before, and 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 admiring 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 BelVs Life, They looked such hard-bitten,
wiry, whiskered fellows that their young adversaries
felt rather desponding as to the result of the morrow's
match. The ground was at last chosen, and two 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 i(Jea was hailed
with enthusiasm. The cornopean-player was still on
the ground ; in five minutes the eleven and half a dozen
of the Wellesburn 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 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

840 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

•

saw his young hands shaking off their shyness and awe
of the Lord's men, as they crossed hands and capered
about on the grass together ; for the strangers entered
into it all, and threw away their cigars, and danced and
shouted like boys, while old Mr. Aislabie stood by look-
ing on in his white hat, leaning on a bat, in benevolent
enjoyment. " This hop will be. worth thirty runs 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 is resting on
his shoulders.

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 monition, and
stopped the cornopean at once, notwithstanding the
loud-voiced remonstrances from all sides ; and the crowd
scattered away from the close, the eleven all going into
the Schoolhouse, 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 freely ; and the
youngest hands declared that they shouldn't be a bit
nervous, and praised their opponents as the joUiest fel-
lows in the world, except perhaps their old friends the
Wellesburn men. How far a little good-nature from
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 corner of the close. The ground was

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. 341

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 of young hands, having put

their adversaries in first. Old Bailey stepped up to the

wicket, and called play, and the match has begun.
• ••••••

" Oh, well bowled ! well bowled, Johnson ! " cries the
captain, 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 to-
gether in a knot between wicket. " Only eighteen runs,
and three wickets down ! '* " Huzza for old Rugby ! "
sings out Jack Raggles, the long-stop, toughest, and
burliest of boys, commonly called " 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 ass. Jack," says the
captain ; " we have n't got the best wicket yet. Ah,
look out now at cover-point," adds he, as he sees a long-
armed, bare-headed, slashing-looking player coming to
the wicket. " And, Jack, mind your hits ; he steals
more runs than any man in England."

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 ; nothing
in the whole game so trying to boys ; he has stolen
three byes in the first ten minutes, and Jack Raggles

842 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

is furious, and begins throwing over savagely to the
farther wicket, until he is sternly stopped by the
captain. It is all that young gentleman can do to
keep his team steady, but he knows 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 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; the
batter steps out and cuts it beautifully to where cover-
point is standing 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
close for years, and the cheering is maddening. " Pretty
cricket," 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, and
bowled slow lobs to old Mr. Aislabie, 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 cap-
tain of the School eleven went in first to give his men
pluck, and scored twenty-five in beautiful style; how
Rugby was only four behind in the first innings ; what
a glorious dinner they had in the fourth-form School, and
how the cover-point hitter sang the most topping comic

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. 348

songs, and old Mr. Aislabie made the best speeches that
ever were heard, afterwards. But I have n't space, that 's
the fact ; and so you must fancy it all, and carry your-
selves 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 innings, but they are working like horses
now to save the match.

There is much healthy, hearty, happy life scattered 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 con-
sists 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 evidently a clergyman. He is care-
lessly dressed, and looks rather used up, which is n'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 enjoy-
ing life, though he does n't quite know what to do with
his arms and legs. Surely, it is our friend the young
master, 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, 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 favorite 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

344 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

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.

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 from the thoughtful-
ness of his face, which is somewhat paler too than
one could wish ; but his figure, though slight, is well
knit and active, and all his old timidity has disap-
peared, 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, friendly footing which the
pupils are on with their master, — perfectly respectful,
yet with no reserve, and nothing forced in their inter-
course. Tom has clearly abandoned the old theory of
" natural enemies," 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,
have n't you ? "

" Yes, the Knights," answered Tom.

" Well, I 'm sure you would have enjoyed the wonder-
ful humor of it twice as much if you had taken more
pains with your scholarship."

" Well, sir, I don't believe any boy in the form

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. 345

enjoyed the sets-to between Oleon and the Sausage-
seller more than I did — eh, Arthur ? " said Tom,
ojivins: him a stir with his foot.

" Yes, 1 must say he did," said Arthur. " I think,
sir, you Ve 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 appre-
ciate 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 must have
lost all the delicate shades of meaning which make the
best part of the fun."

" 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 did n't see," inquired the
master ; " they only got one run, I thought ? "

" No ; but such a ball, three-quarters length and com-
ing straight for his leg bail. Nothing but that 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 Haggles 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 roguishly, " I
see ; only the question remains whether I should have
got most good by understanding Greek particles or

846 . TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

cricket thoroughly. 1 'm such a thick, I never should
have had time for both."

" I see you are an incorrigible," said the master with
a chuckle ; " but 1 refute you by an example. Arthur
there has taken in Greek and cricket too."

" Yes, but no thanks to him ; Greek came natural to
him. Why, when he first came I remember he used to
read Herodotus for pleasure as I did Don Quixote, and
could n't have made a false concord if he 'd tried ever
so hard ; and then I looked after his cricket."

*' Out ! Bailey has given him out — do you see, 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."

"Let's go and see," said Tom rising; but at this
moment Jack Haggles and two or three more came
running to the island moat.

" Oh, Brown, may n't I go in next ? " shouts the
Swiper.

" Whose name is next on the list ? " says the
captain.

" 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; "they'll be
sure to get Jack's wicket in three or four minutes ;
however, you '11 have the chance, sir, of seeing a hard hit
or two," adds he, smiling, and turning to the master.

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. 847

" Come, none of your irony. Brown," answers the
master. " I 'm 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 do6s n't play that he may
win, but that his side may."

" That 's very true," said 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 captain of the eleven ! " said the mas-
ter, " what a post is his in our School-world ! — almost
as hard as the Doctor's, requiring skill and gentle-
ness and firmness, and I know not what other rare
qualities."

" Which don't he wish he may get ? " said Tom,
laughing ; " at any rate he has n't got them yet, or he
would n't have been such a flat to-night as to let Jack
Raggles go in out of his turn."

" 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

Y:-

\^'

I I

848 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

Doctor as a ruler. Perhaps ours is the only little
comer of the 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 gardens, and cultivated by frost-
bitten fags in February and March ? "

" Of course I do," said Tom ; " did n't I hate spending
two hours in the afternoons grubbing in the tough dirt
with the stump of a fives'-bat ? But turf-cart was good
fun enough."

" I dare say it was, but it was always leading to
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 could n'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-
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 did n't," said the master, " or else,

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. 349

fag as you we~" — '^

have shouted v
school against
old customs. I
way that all th
forms have be<
when he has \»
self, — quietly
putting a good
place of a bad,
the had die out
ing and no hurr;
thing that coulc
the time being,
for the rest,"

" JuBt Tom's <
chimed in Arth
nudging Tom w:
his elbow, " driv-
ing a nail where
it will go ; " to
which allusion
Tom answered
by a sly kick.

" Exactly so,"
said the master.
the allusion and

Meantime Ja
with his sleevei
above his grea
bows, scorning

gloves, has presented him- ..M«intimW^k Raggi^ with
self at the wicket ; and hav- hia sleeves tacked up,"

ing run one for a forward

360 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

drive of Johnson's, is about to receive his first ball.
There are only twenty-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, which the reckless and
unfeeling Jack catches hold of, and hits right round to
leg for five, while the applause becomes deafening : only
seventeen runs to get with four wickets ; the game is
all but ours ! ^

It is " over " 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 to-
wards the tent, as much as to say, " See if I don't finish
it all off 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,
swiping with all his force. If he had only allowed for
the twist ! but he has n't, and so the ball goes spinning
up straight into the air, as if it would never come down
again. Away runs Jack, shouting and trusting to the
chapter of accidents ; but the bowler runs steadily under
it, judging every spin, and calling out " I have it," catches
it, and playfully pitches it on to the back of the stalwart
Jack, who is departing with a rueful countenance.

" I knew how it would be," says Tom, rising. " Come
along, the game 's getting very serious."

So they leave the island and go to the tent, and after
deep consultation Arthur is sent in, and goes off to the

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. 861

wicket with a last exhortation from Tom to play steady
and keep his bat straight. To the suggestions that
Winter is the best bat left, Tom only replies, " Arthur
is the steadiest, and Johnson will make the runs if the
wicket is only kept up.*'

" I am surprised to see Arthur in the eleven," said the
master, as they stood together in front of the dense
crowd, which was now closing in round the ground.

" Well, I 'm not quite sure that he ought to be in for
his play," said Tom ; " but I could n't help putting him
in. It will do him so much good, and you can't think
what I owe him."

The master smiled. The clock strikes eight, and the
whole field becomes fevered with excitement. Arthur,
after two narrow escapes, scores one ; and Johnson gets
the ball. The bowling and fielding are superb, and
Johnson's batting worthy the occasion. He makes here
a two, and there a one, managing to keep the ball to
himself, and Arthur backs up and runs perfectly : only
eleven runs to make now, and the crowd scarcely
breathe. At last Arthur gets the ball again, and actu-
ally drives it forward for two, and feels prouder than
when he got the three best prizes, at hearing Tom's
shout of joy, " Well played, well played, young un ! "

But the next ball is too much for a young hand,
and his bails fly different ways. Nine runs to make,
and two wickets to go down ; it is too much for human
nerves.

Before Winter can get in, the omnibus which is to
take the Lord's men to the train pulls up at the side of
the close, and Mr. Aislabie and Tom consult, and give
out that the stumps will be drawn after the next " over."
And so ends the great match. Winter and Johnson
carry out their bats ; and it being a one day's match, the

362 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

Lord's men are declared the winners, they having scored
the most in the first innings.

But such a defeat is a victory ; so think Tom and all
the School eleven, as they accompany their conquerors
to the omnibus, and send them oflp with three ringing
cheers, after Mr. Aislabie has shaken hands all round,
saying to Tom, " I must compliment you, sir, on your
eleven, and I hope we shall have you for a member if
you come up to town."

As Tom and the rest of the eleven were turning back
into the close, and everybody was beginning to cry out
for another country-dance, encouraged by the success of
the night before, the young master, who was just leav-
ing 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 aad supper with the rest."

" Do by all means," said the master ; " I '11 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.

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 un-

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. 853

fortunate bachelor, their master, whose one enjoyment

in the shape of meals was his "dish 'of tea" (as om'

grandmothers called it) in the evening ; and the phrase

was apt in his case, for he always poured his out into

the saucer before drinking. Great was 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 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 guest 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 imd 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 frighten 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. The cake was newly baked, and all rich and

flaky. Tom had found it reposing in the cook's private

cupboard, awaiting her return ;. and as a warning to

her, they finished it to the last crumb. The kettle

354 . TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

sang away merrily on the hob of the snuggery ; for,
notwithstanding' the 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 stifif than usual, as they settled themselves down in
the twilight to the serious drinking of tea.

After some talk on the match, and other indifferent
subjects, the conversation came naturally back to Tom's
approaching departure, over which he began 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, 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."

" Ay, 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
deal that will be useful 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 ! How he rose to
the situation, and burned 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. Ay, and no fellow ever acted

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. S56

up to them better, though he was always a people's man,
— for the fags, and against constituted authorities. He
could n't help that, you know. 1 'm sure the Doctor must
have liked him ? " said Tom, looking up inquiringly.

" The Doctor sees the good in every one, and appre-
ciates 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 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
saucerful 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, feeling that I
am not only at play in the world," answered 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 living,'
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 object, and you will
be right, whether you make a living or not ; but if you
dwell on the other, you '11 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

366 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOI^DAYS.

to judge for yourself 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 '11 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 corner 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 corner." And then the good man went
on to talk wisely to Tom of the sort of work which he
might take up as an undergraduate, and warned him
of the prevalent University 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 entrance.

" 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,
forgetful of his oldest friends," said the master. " Noth-
ing has given me greater pleasure," he went on, " than
your friendship for him ; it has been the making 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."

" 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

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. 357

at the end of one half-year, when you were in the shell,
and had been getting into all sorts of scrapes ? "

" 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 young boy into your study, in the hope that when
you had somebody to lean on you, you would begin to
stand a little steadier yourself, and get manliness and
thoughtfulness. And I can assure you he has watched
the experiment ever since with 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 hji^d learned 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 in the School, of which
he was no little proud, Tom had no idea of giving any
one credit for it but himself, 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 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

868 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

came. And, indeed, though he did n'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
without him. Moreoyer, his school Toryism was still
strong, and he looked still with some jealousy on the
Doctor, as somewhat of a fanatic in the matter of
change ; and thought it very desirable for the School
that he should have some wise person (such as himself)
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 teach-
ing the sixth, and governing and guiding 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 without taking the least
credit to himself, or seeming to know, or let any one
else 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

TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. 359

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
there was n't a comer of him left which did n't believe
in the Doctor. Had he returned to school again, and
the Doctor begun the half-year by abolishing fagging
and football and the Saturday half holiday, or all or
any of tlie most cherished School institutions, Tom

"For ha 'a a jolly Rood fellow."

would have supported htm with the blindest faith. And
so, after a half confession of his previous shortcomings,
and sorrowful adieus to his tutor, from whom he
received two beautifully bound volumes of the Doctor's
sei-mons as a parting present, he marched down to the
Schoolhouse a hero-worahipper, who would have satis-
fied the soul of Thomas Carlyle himself.

There he found the eleven at high jinks after supper,
Jack Raggles shouting comic songs,~and performing

360 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

feats of strength, and was greeted by a chorus of
mingled remonstrance at his desertion and joy at his
reappearance, and falling in with the humor 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 Schoolhouse
servants, stood looking on.

And the next morning after breakfast he squared up
all the cricketing accounts, went round to his trades-
men and other acquaintance and said his hearty good-
bys, and by twelve o'clock was in the train and away
for London, no longer a schoolboy, 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 resolves for the next
stage, upon which he was entering with all the confi-
dence of a young traveller.

CHAPTER IX.

" Strange friend, [last, present, and to U j
Ijoved deeplier, darklier undei-atood ;
Behold, I dream a dream of good.
And min^e all the world with thee."

Tenntsok.

slowly and sadly up towards the town. It was
now July. He had ruahed away from Oxford the mo-
ment that term was over, for a fishing ramble in Scot-
land with two college friends, and had been for three
weeks living on oatcake, mutton-hams, and whisltey, in
the wildest parts of Skye. They had descended one
sultry evening on the little inn at Kyle Khea ferry, and
while Tom and another of the party put their tackle to-
gether and began exploring the stream for a seartrout
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

362 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DATS.

an old newspaper in his hand, and threw himself on the
heathery scrub which met the shingle, within easy hail
of the fishermen. There he lay, the picture of free-and-
easy, loafing, hand-to-mouth /oung 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 and tobacco-ashes, the legacy of the last
traveller, which he had hunted out from the kitchen
of the little hostelry, and being* a youth of a commu-
nicative 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 some-
thing better, — a splendid match between Kent and Eng-
land, 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 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
flies off the water, and throwing again with a heavy,
sullen splash, and frightening Tom's fish.

" 1 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
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

FINIS. 363

line and flies went all tangling round and round 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 completely carried off his
moral and intellectual legs, as if he had lost his stand
ing-point in the invisible world. Besides which, the
deep loving loyalty which he felt for his old leader
made the shock intensely painful. 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 tc
learn by that loss that the soul of man cannot stand oi
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 ground or stay
left but Himself, the Rock of Ages, upon whom alone
a sure foundation for every soul of man is laid.

As he wearily labored at his line, the thought 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.

" 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

364 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

paragraph. Tom read it over and over again ; there
could be no mistake of identity, though the account
was short enough.

" Thank you," said 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 friend looked after him, sympathizing and won-
dering, 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 prohibition,
waited supper for him, and had everything ready when
he came back some half an hour afterwards. But he
could not join in their cheerful talk, and the party was j

soon silent, notwithstanding the efforts of all three. !

One thing only had Tom resolved, and that was that I

he could n't stay in Scotland 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 marching ]

through Ross-shire, and in the evening hit the Cale-
donian 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, he

'■'TOM NODDED, AND THEN SAT DOWN ON THE RHOE-BOARD.
WHILE THE OLD MAN TOLD HIS TALE."

FINIS. 365

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 effort he strode through the
quadrangle, and into the Schoolhouse 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 could n'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
disappointed.

" No, thank you," said he, and strode off 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-board,
while the old man told his tale, and wiped his specta-
cles, and fairly flowed over with quaint, 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 should very much."
And the old man fumbled 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 to

366 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

him, with an injunction to be sure and lock the door
after him, and bring them back before eight o'clock.

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 Greek
legends, 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 ? It 's no use," he
thought, and threw himself at full length 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 and send them off.
" 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 wear-
ing out, came home to him for the first time, and bit-
terly 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 East'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 honored, was lying cold and
still under the chapel floor. He would go in and see

FINIS. 367

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 star, he at least
would be faithful to the sun which had set. And so he
got up and walked to the chapel door and unlocked it,
fancying 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 up to the seat
which he had last occupied as a sixth-form boy, and sat
himself down there to collect his thoughts.

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 carrying 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 colors on the opposite wall,
and the perfect stillness soothed his spirit by little and
little ; and he turned to the pulpit, and looked at it,
and then, leaning forward 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 with-
out a murmur. But that he should have gone away
forever 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 sorrow-
ing as he would have me sorrow — as I should wish to
have sorrowed when I shall meet him again ? "

368 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

He raised himself up and looked round, and after
a minute rose and walked humbly down to the lowest
bench, and sat down on the very seat which he had
occupied on his first Sunday at Rugby. And then the
old memories rushed back again, but softened and sub-
dued, 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 remembered how when a
little boy he used to try not to look through it at the
elm-trees and the rooks, before 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 panelling.

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 honored
and loved from the first the man whom he had taken
vears 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 grief 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 hopefully, to lay down there his share
of a burden which had proved itself too heavy for him
Jto^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 fuller of the tomb and him who lies there
than of the altar and Him of whom it speaks. Such
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 strength and courage and wisdom of fathers and
brothers and teachers, that we can come to the knowl-
edge of Him in whom alone the love and the tender-
ness and the purity and the strength and the courage
and the wisdom of all these dwell forever and ever in
perfect fulness.

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