"Once
to every man and nation comes
the moment
to decide,
In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side:
Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside,
Doubting in his abject spirit, till his Lord is crucified."
LOWELL.
The turning-point in our hero's
school career had now come,
and the manner of it was as
follows. On the evening of
the first day of the next half-year,
Tom, East, and another School-house
boy, who had just been dropped
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 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 indifferently
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!" cries
Mary, at last getting in a
word; "why, you'll shake
me to death. There, now, do
go away up to the housekeeper's
room and get your suppers;
you know I haven't time to
talk. You'll find plenty more
in the house. - Now, Master
East, do let those things alone.
You're mixing up three new
boys' things." And she
rushed at East, who escaped
round the open trunks holding
up a 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 stitching
with aching hearts little thought
of the trouble they might be
bringing on the young head
for which they were meant.
The little matron was wiser,
and snatched the caps from
East before he could look at
the name on them.
"Now, Master East, I
shall be very angry if you
don't go," said she; "there's
some capital cold beef and
pickles upstairs, and I won't
have you old boys in my room
first night."
"Hurrah
for the pickles! Come along,
Tommy - come along,
Smith. We shall find out who
the young count is, I'll be
bound. I hope he'll sleep in
my room. Mary's always vicious
first week."
As the boys
turned to leave the room,
the matron touched
Tom's arm, and said, "Master
Brown, please stop a minute;
I want to speak to you."
"Very
well, Mary. I'll come in
a minute, East. Don't
finish the pickles."
"O 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 public school would be
misery to himself if he were
left alone, or constant anxiety
to any one who meant to see
him through his troubles. Tom
was too honest to take in the
youngster, and then let him
shift for himself; and if he
took him as his chum instead
of East, where were all his
pet plans of having a bottled-beer
cellar under his window, and
making night-lines and slings,
and plotting 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 like
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'll go and have
some supper, and then I'll
show you our study."
"His name's George Arthur," said
the matron, walking up to him
with Tom, who grasped his little
delicate hand as the proper
preliminary to making a chum
of him, and felt as if he could
have blown him away. "I've
had his books and things put
into the study, which his mamma
has had new papered, and the
sofa covered, and new green-baize
curtains over the door" (the
diplomatic matron threw this
in, to show that the new boy
was contributing largely to
the partnership comforts). "And
Mrs. Arnold told me to say," she
added, "that she should
like you both to come up to
tea with her. You know the
way, Master Brown, and the
things are just gone up, I
know."
Here was an announcement for
Master Tom! He was to go up
to tea the first night, just
as if he were a sixth or fifth
form boy, and of importance
in the School world, instead
of the most reckless young
scapegrace amongst the fags.
He felt himself lifted on to
a higher social and moral platform
at once. Nevertheless he couldn't
give up without a sigh the
idea of the jolly supper in
the housekeeper's room with
East and the rest, and a rush
round to all the studies of
his 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 prepostors
slept. However, Tom consoled
himself with thinking that
he couldn't have done all this
with the new boy at his heels,
and so marched off along the
passages to the Doctor's private
house with his young charge
in tow, in monstrous good-humour
with himself and all the world.
It is needless, and would
be impertinent, to tell how
the two young boys were received
in that drawing-room. The lady
who presided there is still
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 learnt there.
Besides Mrs. Arnold and one
or two of the elder children,
there were one of the younger
masters, young Brooke (who
was now in the sixth, and had
succeeded to his brother's
position and influence), and
another sixth-form boy, talking
together before the fire. The
master and young Brooke, now
a great strapping fellow six
feet high, eighteen years old,
and powerful as a coal-heaver,
nodded kindly to Tom, to his
intense glory, and then went
on talking. The other did not
notice them. The hostess, after
a few kind words, which led
the boys at once and insensibly
to feel at their ease and to
begin talking to one another,
left them with her own children
while she finished a letter.
The 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 young Brooke
shake hands, and look one another
in the face; and he didn't
fail to remark that Brooke
was nearly as tall and quite
as broad as the Doctor. And
his cup was full when in another
moment his master turned to
him with another warm shake
of the hand, and, seemingly
oblivious of all the late scrapes
which he had been getting into,
said, "Ah, Brown, you
here! I hope you left your
father and all well at home?"
"Yes,
sir, quite well."
"And
this is the little fellow
who is to share your
study. Well, he doesn't look
as we should like to see him.
He wants some Rugby air, and
cricket. And you 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
didn't the Doctor know? And
what a noble use he always
made of it! He almost resolved
to abjure rook-pies and night-lines
for ever. The tea went merrily
off, the Doctor now talking
of holiday doings, and then
of the prospects of the half-year
- what chance there was for
the Balliol scholarship, whether
the eleven would be a good
one. 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 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?"
The poor boy
was trembling and hesitating.
Tom struck
in - "You be hanged, Tadpole.
He'll have to sing, whether
he can or not, Saturday twelve
weeks, and that's long enough
off yet."
"Do you
know him at home, Brown?"
"No;
but he's my chum in Gray's
old study, and it's
near prayer- time, and I haven't
had a look at it yet. - Come
along, Arthur."
Away went the two, Tom longing
to get his 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 cozy! But look here now;
you must answer straight up
when the fellows speak to you,
and don't be afraid. If you're
afraid, you'll get bullied.
And don't you say you can sing;
and don't you ever talk about
home, or your mother and sisters."
Poor little Arthur looked
ready to cry.
"But, please," said
he, "mayn't I talk about
- about home to you?"
"Oh yes;
I like it. But don't talk
to boys you don't
know, or they'll call you home-sick,
or mamma's darling, or some
such stuff. What a jolly desk!
Is that yours? And what stunning
binding! Why, your school-books
look like novels."
And Tom was soon deep in Arthur's
goods and chattels, all new,
and good enough for a fifth-form
boy, and hardly thought of
his friends outside till the
prayer-bell rang.
I have already described the
School-house prayers. They
were the same on the first
night as on the other nights,
save for the gaps caused by
the absence of those boys who
came late, and the line of
new boys who stood all together
at the 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 upstairs
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 discipline
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 years
old, and were all bound to
be up and in bed by ten. The
sixth-form boys came to bed
from ten to a quarter-past
(at which time the old verger
came round to put the candles
out), except when they sat
up to read.
Within a few minutes therefore
of their entry, all the other
boys who slept in Number 4
had come up. The little fellows
went quietly to their own beds,
and began undressing, and talking
to each other in whispers;
while the elder, amongst whom
was Tom, sat chatting about
on one another's beds, with
their jackets and waistcoats
off. Poor little Arthur was
overwhelmed with the novelty
of his position. The idea of
sleeping in the room with strange
boys had clearly never crossed
his mind before, and was as
painful as it was strange to
him. He could hardly bear to
take his jacket off; however,
presently, with an effort,
off it came, and then he paused
and looked at Tom, who was
sitting at the bottom of his
bed talking and laughing.
"Please, Brown," he
whispered, "may I wash
my face and hands?"
"Of course, if you like," said
Tom, staring; "that's
your washhand-stand, under
the window, second from your
bed. You'll have to go down
for more water in the morning
if you use it all." And
on he went with his talk, while
Arthur stole timidly from 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 didn'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 didn't see what
had happened, and looked up
in wonder at the sudden silence.
Then two or three boys laughed
and sneered, and a big, brutal
fellow who was standing in
the middle of the room picked
up a slipper, and shied it
at the kneeling boy, calling
him a snivelling young shaver.
Then Tom saw the whole, and
the next moment the boot he
had just pulled off flew straight
at the head of the bully, who
had just time to throw up his
arm and catch it on his elbow.
"Confound you, Brown!
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 another word could
be said. Tom and the rest rushed
into bed and finished their
unrobing there, and the old
verger, as punctual as the
clock, had put out the candle
in another minute, and toddled
on to the next room, shutting
their door with his usual "Good-night,
gen'lm'n."
There were many boys in the
room by whom that little scene
was taken to heart before they
slept. But sleep seemed to
have deserted the pillow of
poor Tom. For some time his
excitement, and the flood of
memories which chased one another
through his brain, kept him
from thinking or resolving.
His head throbbed, his heart
leapt, 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, even
at Rugby. A few years later,
when Arnold's manly piety had
begun to leaven the School,
the tables turned; before he
died, in the School- house
at least, and I believe in
the other house, 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 didn't
matter whether he was kneeling,
or sitting, or lying down.
And so it had come to pass
with Tom, as with all who will
not confess their Lord before
men; and for the last year
he had probably not said his
prayers in earnest a dozen
times.
Poor Tom!
the first and bitterest feeling
which was like to break
his heart was the sense of
his own cowardice. The vice
of all others which he loathed
was brought in and burnt 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 burdens for
the good deed done that night.
Then he resolved to write home
next day and tell his mother
all, and what a coward her
son had been. And then peace
came to him as he resolved,
lastly, to bear his 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 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 I do so,
and trying to lead them to
it, while in public at least
I should go on as I have done?" However,
his good angel was too strong
that night, and he turned on
his side and slept, tired 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 room - 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; and
that other one which the old
prophet learnt 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 one all
the other boys but three or
four followed the lead. I fear
that this was in some measure
owing to the fact that Tom
could probably have thrashed
any boy in the room except
the prepostor; at any rate,
every boy knew that he would
try upon very slight provocation,
and didn't choose to run the
risk of a hard fight because
Tom Brown had taken a fancy
to say his prayers. Some of
the small boys of Number 4
communicated the new state
of things to their chums, and
in several other rooms the
poor little fellows tried it
on - in one instance or so,
where the prepostor heard of
it and interfered very decidedly,
with partial success; but in
the rest, after a short struggle,
the confessors were bullied
or laughed down, and the old
state of things went on for
some time longer. Before either
Tom Brown or Arthur left the
School-house, there was no
room in which it had not become
the regular custom. I trust
it is so still, and that the
old heathen state of things
has gone out for ever.
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