CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
THE SUMMER HOLIDAYS--A PIC-NIC AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
An event which made us all very sad took place at the end of that half-year. I remember it as well as if it were yesterday. It was the departure from the school of Monsieur Malin; yet for his sake we ought not to have been sorry. He was going to quit a position which was undoubtedly very irksome to a gentleman, and to return to La Belle France to take possession of a property which had unexpectedly been left him. He announced the fact to each of the cla.s.ses as they came up to him during the morning, and all heard the information with signs of evident sorrow. Ellis burst into tears.
"Going away, Monsieur Malin; you, my kindest friend, going!" he exclaimed, and his whole look and manner showed that he had an affectionate and grateful heart.
The feeling was infectious. A number of the little fellows, who did not even learn French, and had very little to do with Monsieur Malin, cried.
Some, however, had reason to be sorry at his going away, for often had his watchful eye saved them from being bullied by the big boys; they, too, felt that they were about to lose a friend and protector. Why, it may well be asked, should the French master have gained so much more influence among the boys, and be so much more generally liked than any of the English masters? It was simply because he exhibited so much more sympathy for others. He made himself one of them. It was not that he now and then played a grand game of cricket with them, but that he entered into all their minor sports and amus.e.m.e.nts. He could show them how to make models of all sorts; he manufactured carriages with cardboard, or cut out boats, or carved animals in wood, or made little grottoes with sh.e.l.ls; indeed it is impossible to describe all the ingenious things he could do, and how kindly and patiently he taught the boys how to do them. It made some of the English masters quite jealous when they observed the sorrow which Monsieur Malin"s departure caused among the boys. The Doctor remarked upon it, and said that it was the best compliment any master could desire to have paid him, and he trusted that whoever succeeded him might as richly deserve it.
"Bracebridge, I wonder that you are not more sorry than you appear to be at Monsieur Malin"s going," observed b.u.t.tar, the day that the event was announced; "I thought that you were always one of his greatest favourites."
"I believe that there are no fellows like him better than I do,"
answered Ernest; "I am very, very sorry, for my own sake, that he is going; but really, when we come to consider that he is going away from the bother, and trouble, and noise of a school, to go and live on a beautiful property of his own, in a delightful climate like that of France, I cannot but be truly glad to hear of his good fortune. He has been telling me all about the place, and how happy his mother and sister will be to go and live with him; and he has invited me, during some holidays, or when I leave school, to go and pay him a visit; and when I told him that I was afraid he would forget me, he a.s.sured me that he would not. Really he is a kind-hearted, good-natured fellow, and I do feel excessively happy at his good fortune."
b.u.t.tar agreed that Ernest saw the matter in its true light, and so did Ellis, and then they bethought them how they could show him their regard. Unfortunately, as it was the end of the half, none of them had any store of pocket-money remaining; so one proposed offering him a penknife, and another a pocket-comb, and a third an inkstand; indeed, there was no end of the number of small gifts which Monsieur Malin had pressed upon him. He was in a dilemma about the matter.
"You see, my dear young friends, that I do not like to refuse, and I do not like to deprive you of these things; yet I am truly grateful to you for this mark of your regard. What I will do is this; I will make a list of your names, and of all the things you desire to give me. You shall keep the articles, all of which you can use, but I could not; and I will keep the list, and when I look at it, I shall be fully reminded of you all, of your generosity, and of your kindly regard towards me."
Monsieur Malin had to go away a week or so before the school broke up.
Just about that time Ernest wrote home, giving an account of the story he had heard about Ellis, of the injustice that he felt that he himself had done him, of the strong evidence he had discovered in his favour, and consequently of his wish to make him all the amends in his power.
By return of post he received a letter from his father, enclosing one to Ellis, warmly inviting him to spend a portion of his holidays at Oakland Ellis could not fail to be gratified, as were his parents, who gave him leave to accept the invitation. b.u.t.tar"s family were spending the summer in the neighbourhood; and curiously enough, Tom Bouldon and Gregson had been invited to visit some friends living not far off. The schoolfellows thus found themselves near together during the early part of the summer holidays. No long time pa.s.sed before they all met. How they did talk of fishing expeditions, of cricket-matches, of boating, of pic-nics, of riding, of archery meetings, of bathing, of sports of all sorts, in the water and out of the water, on sea and on land! Ellis talked a great deal of yachting also, but they were too far from the sea to have any hopes of indulging in the amus.e.m.e.nt. He was much more at home in a boat than on horseback, for riding was not an accomplishment which he had enjoyed any opportunity of practising. One of the first amus.e.m.e.nts which Mrs Bracebridge had arranged for her young guest, and the other friends of her son, was a pic-nic to Barton Forest, a large and picturesque wood in the neighbourhood. There were long open glades, and green shady walks, through which the deer alone were in general wont to pa.s.s, except on such an occasion as that at present in contemplation, or when an adventurous couple strayed into its retired precincts. I ought to have spoken of the cordial way in which Ellis was received, not only by Mr Bracebridge, but by Mrs Bracebridge and all the family, and the wish they exhibited of placing him at his ease, and making him quite at home. He showed how much he valued their kindness by looking far more lively and happy than he had done for a long time. The day of the proposed pic-nic broke bright and fair, with every prospect of the continuance of fine weather. Several families joined in it from far and near, and all sorts of vehicles were put in requisition: barouches, and pony carriages, and gigs, and even carts and waggons. The merriest, and certainly the most noisy party, went in a long spring waggon, and to their charge were entrusted several hampers, containing part of the provender for the rural feast. Ellis, Bouldon, b.u.t.tar, and others were of this party. Ernest, with his brother Charles, rode, and frequently came up alongside to have a talk with their friends. The boys gave way heartily to the excitement of the scene; they laughed they sang, they shouted to their heart"s content--no one hindering them. Never, perhaps, have a merrier party ever collected in a waggon. Tom Bouldon, and one or two others, only regretted that they had not pea-shooters with them, as he said, to pepper the pa.s.sengers in their progress, but Ellis cried out against this.
"No, no!" he exclaimed; "it may, or may not, be all very well on a high road, where people expect such things when they see a parcel of schoolboys together, and if they don"t like it, will not stand on ceremony about heaving stones in return; but in a country district they take us for young gentlemen, and would never dream of throwing anything at us in return. The cottagers would only wonder what had come over us--perhaps would think us gone mad; at all events it would be very cowardly to attack them."
b.u.t.tar agreed with Ellis, and they soon won over the rest to their view of the case. They, however, found plenty to amuse them as they drove along. The early days of the holidays are generally very jolly days-- all the fun is to come; the amus.e.m.e.nts in store are almost uncountable; and though they may have been disappointed during a former summer, they are sure, so they think, not to be this. If they are, they will make amends for it next year. At last the pic-nickers reached the ground.
Carriages drove up, and ladies and gentlemen, the fathers and mothers, and elder brothers and sisters of the schoolboys. Some ladies and gentlemen came on horseback and ponyback, and several even, besides the boys, in waggons, while the provisions and servants arrived in spring-carts and dog-carts, and altogether there was a very vast a.s.semblage. It was arranged that, having walked about a little, and seen some of the views which the wood afforded, and some old ruins within its borders, the party should dine, and then that various sports should take place, pony races, archery, quoits, nine-pins, skittles, throw-sticks or batons, single-stick; indeed, more than I can well remember; while swings were hung up between the trees, and two or three long planks had been placed on some felled trees, to serve as see-saws, so that all ranks and ages could find amus.e.m.e.nt. Never were better arrangements made. People may wander the world around and not find more pleasing, heart-enlivening scenery than England affords--scenery more rich or full of fertile spots, or which should make its inhabitants grateful to Heaven for having placed them in such a land. There were fields already waving with corn, and bright green meadows full of fine cattle, some grazing, others standing under trees chewing the cud, or in shallow bends of the river, or in reedy ponds; there were sheep scattered thickly over sunny hills, and still further off downs; and there were copses of hazel, and alder, and willow, and woods of beech, and oak, and birch, and tall elms dividing fields and orchards innumerable, among which peeped many a white-washed cottage; and here and there were pretty hamlets, with their village green or common; there was a bright sparkling stream, swelling as it advanced into the dimensions of a river, and high hills, and valleys, and glens branching off in all directions.
"A fair and truly attractive scene," said Ellis, turning to Ernest, who cordially agreed with him as they gazed at it together.
A gentleman who stood by turned round and watched the countenance of the speaker. "That is not a common boy, I am certain," he observed to a friend. "He is capable of doing much in the world, and I suspect will do it."
Ellis could not help hearing the last remark, and it gave him great encouragement.
Now came the time to prepare for the rural banquet. It was great fun unpacking the hampers, and carrying their contents to the tablecloths which had been spread on the gra.s.s. What number of chicken-pies, and veal-pies, and rounds of beef, and hams and tongues, and cold chickens and veal, and fruit-tarts and pies, and cakes of all shapes and sorts, and what heaps of fruit, strawberries and gooseberries, and currants and raspberries! indeed there was no lack of anything; and what was most wonderful, nothing was forgotten, and there was a fair proportion of each joint or dish. I have been at a pic-nic where, from want of a preconcerted plan, everybody brought veal-pies, or chicken-pies, or hams, and there was no bread, or salt, or mustard. Somebody had a French horn or cornopean, and at its sound people came trotting pretty quickly in from all directions through the woodland glades and up the avenues leading from the ruins, or bypaths coming from the side of the stream. The long drive and the exercise they had since taken had given them good appet.i.tes, and none lingered behind. The boys, especially, were in good time, and in the course of a few minutes everybody was seated in every possible att.i.tude convenient for carrying food down their throats. Not that anybody sat quiet many minutes together.
Somebody was always jumping up to help somebody else, or to go in search of some tongue for their chicken, or some chicken for their tongue, or for a gla.s.s of ale or wine, or for a piece of bread, or for some mustard or salt; indeed it seemed wonderful how many things were wanted to make out a dinner which are procured with so much ease in a dining-room, as things of course, that no one ever thinks about them. In this way the first course lasted a long time. Just at the end of it the servants brought some dishes of hot potatoes, which had been cooked gipsy fashion, and then several people began again for the sake of eating them. The tarts and fruit-pies were very good, but the juice of some had run out, and one or two had been tumbled into, and Tom Bouldon, in jumping across the tablecloth, had stepped exactly into the middle of one of them, splashing his trousers all over with currant juice, and considerably damaging the pie itself. It was in consequence the last consumed, but a facetious gentleman helped it out to the people who sat at the further end of the tablecloths, and knew nothing of the catastrophe. Then there was champagne, which some of the boys in their innocence called very good gooseberry wine, greatly to the disgust of the gentleman who brought it: the truth being, however, that they liked gooseberry wine just as much as the finest champagne to be procured.
Healths were drunk, and toasts were given, and sentiments and speeches were made, which, if not very witty, caused a good deal of merriment and laughter; and at last the dinner part of the pic-nic came to a conclusion. Then, of course, the servants had to dine, which they did at a little distance from the spot their masters had chosen, and seemed to enjoy the fun, for they also drank toasts in ale, made speeches, and laughed heartily at all their jokes. The ladies and gentlemen, meantime, walked about, or sat down and admired the scenery, and the boys got ready for their games. Targets had already been erected.
After the grown-up people began to get tired of looking at the views, the gentlemen marked off the distance, and the ladies taking their bows, shooting began. Ernest, b.u.t.tar, and some of the bigger boys joined them, but they soon voted it very slow work, and Bouldon proposed taking a roving expedition.
"We have not much time, so let us be off at once," said Ernest. "Nine shall be the game. Are you all provided with blunt-headed arrows? That is right. Twelve a-piece we should have. Let us take half-an-hour"s turn round the wood, and then be back for the races. By that time the servants will have the dinner things cleared away and the ponies saddled for racing."
Away went the party whom Ernest had enlisted right merrily. First they fixed on an old oak-tree for their b.u.t.t, and at a word given by b.u.t.tar, who was chosen leader, every one shot from the spot where they were standing. Some shafts. .h.i.t the tree, others just glanced off, and others flew altogether wide of it. b.u.t.tar had his note-book out, and the distance each shaft had fallen from the tree was measured by the length of the bows, every boy measuring with his own, and noted in the book.
They again ran on. "Halt!" said b.u.t.tar. "That elm, the third from the gate, shall be our target. Shoot!" Every one shot his best, but Ernest and b.u.t.tar only hit; Bouldon"s arrow glanced off; no one else struck the tree. The distances being measured and noted, on again they went. A white post at a considerable distance was next fixed on as the mark.
Ellis. .h.i.t it, Ernest went near, and the shafts of the rest of the party flew wide or short of it.
"Ah, I calculated the range," observed Ellis. "I shot my arrow with a considerable curve, for I saw that the mark was further than my bow could send it at point-blank range."
"Why, Ellis, you will make a good artillery officer," said b.u.t.tar, laughing. "Whenever we shoot with sides, I shall know who to choose. I had no idea you were a scientific archer."
"I very seldom have shot before, but directly I got a bow I began to study the subject, and to learn all that has been said about it,"
answered Ellis. "I always read what I can about it when I begin anything which is new to me."
The half-hour spent in roving pa.s.sed very quickly away. Those who had never shot before in that way agreed that it was far more amusing than shooting at a target, and that they found they learned to measure distances much better in the former than in the latter way. When they got back they found a variety of other sports going on. Some of their friends were playing quoits. It is a capital game for exercising the arms. Two iron pins or hobs were stuck in the ground, about eighteen yards apart. Quoits, as everybody ought to know, were derived from the ancient game of discus. They are circular plates of iron, with a hole in the centre, one side being flat and the other rounded. The game is played often with sides. The aim of each player is to pitch his quoit on the hob, or, if he cannot do that, as near it as possible, the parties throwing from one hob to another. Charles Bracebridge and Lemon were playing on opposite sides when the archers came up. First Charles threw. One quoit was close to the hob, and the other quoits he sent were within a few inches of it, and of each other. Then Lemon threw.
His first quoit was just outside Charles", but nearer than any of his other quoits, but his other quoits fell outside the rest. Thus both only counted one. Had a second quoit of Lemon"s fallen close to Charles" first, Lemon would have counted two, though his other quoits might have fallen to a greater distance. The nearest, it will be understood, count and cut out all outside them. The servants were amusing themselves during the interval with skittles and nine-pins, so that everybody of the party, high and low, old and young, were engaged; and in that I consider consists the chief zest of a pic-nic of the sort.
Sometimes a pic-nic may take place at a spot of peculiar interest, where the party may find abundant matter of amus.e.m.e.nt without games of any sort; or in other instances people merely meet in a pretty spot, to dine in a pleasant unrestrained way in the open air, and generally manage to become better and more quickly acquainted than they can at a formal dinner-party. The boys, however, were most interested in the proposed pony races, and a general cry of "The race!--the race!--the race!" rose among them. It was echoed by others, both ladies and gentlemen, and all the ponies, and horses, and, we may say, four-legged animals the party could muster, were brought forth. As the race was entirely impromptu, no arrangements had before been made. It was first settled that everything was to run. The larger riding-horses were to have a longer distance to run, and were not to start so soon as the others; the carriage-horses came next, then the ponies, then the cart-horses, and lastly the donkeys. One very big, stout gentleman, who pleaded that he was not fit to be a jockey, and that his horse would run away with a lighter weight on him, undertook to clear the course. That was settled. Then came the question as to who were to be the riders.
"All the boys, except a few of the little ones," cried a sporting gentleman. "Of course they can all ride. Come up, youngsters. Mount-- mount! let us see what you can do. You must have your proper colours.
We can find scarfs and handkerchiefs enough to fasten round your caps."
No one liked to say that he could not ride. Much less did Ellis, though he had only mounted a quiet pony"s back a few times in his life: still he thought that he could manage to stick on for a short distance, and was unwilling to confess how little experience he had had.
"I congratulate you, Ellis," said Ernest, nodding to him when he saw him mounted. "You seem to have got hold of a clever little animal. He"ll go, depend on that. If I had not my own little Mousey to ride, I should like to have had that pony. He belongs to Mr Seagrave, does he? Oh!
he always has good animals. If you do not win, you"ll be in one of the first, I"m pretty certain of that." So Ernest ran on.
b.u.t.tar came up and congratulated Ellis in the same way, and gave him a hint or two how to sit and manage his steed, which he saw that he wanted.
"Ah, ah, capital, capital!" exclaimed Tom Bouldon, as he rode up on a big carriage-horse. "Really, Ellis, you are to be envied. That is just the little beast I should like to have had. How I am ever to make my fellow go along I don"t know. You won"t change, will you?"
Ellis laughed. He certainly did not wish to change. At the same time, had it not been for the observations of his friends, he felt that it would have been wise not to have ridden the race at all.
Instead of a bell, a horn was used to guide the proceedings. The horn sounded, and the steward of the course requested the spectators to arrange themselves on either side of a wide, open glade, at the further end of which there was a clump of trees. Round this clump the racers were to go, and to come back to a tree near where the party had dined, which was to represent the winning-post. The next thing was to place the racers at their proper distances. All were at last arranged.
Ernest, b.u.t.tar, and Bouldon, who could ride well, were in high glee, and it must be confessed that they thought very little about poor Ellis.
The gigantic steward of the course having ridden over it, to see that all was clear, retired on one side, and taking his horn, blew a loud blast; that was for the donkeys to start. Away they went, kicking up their heels, but making good progress. Two blasts started the cart-horses, three the carriage-horses, four the ponies. They, of course, afforded the chief amus.e.m.e.nt. Whips and heels were as busy in urging them on as if the safety of a kingdom depended on their success.
The riding-horses came last. The owners had entered them more for the sake of increasing their numbers than for any wish to beat the rest, which they believed they could easily do. Away, away they all went; if not as fleet as the racers at the Derby, affording far more amus.e.m.e.nt, and as much excitement, in a much more innocent way. The pony on which Ellis was mounted did not belie the good opinion Ernest and the rest had formed of him. As soon as the horn, the signal of the ponies to start, was sounded, off he set, and very soon distanced all, except Ernest"s and b.u.t.tar"s steeds, which kept up close behind him.
"Bravo," shouted Ernest, delighted at his friend"s success. "Keep him up to it, and you"ll win the prize. I knew you"d ride well when you tried."
Ernest was, however, not quite right in his conjectures. Ellis stuck on very well, but as to guiding the pony, he had no notion of it. As long, however, as the donkeys, and cart and carriage-horses, were before them, he went very well, but they were caught up before they reached the clump of trees round which they were to turn. They reached the clump, but Ellis, to his friend"s dismay, shot past it. The pony"s home lay in that direction, and seeing a long green glade right before him, he got his bit between his teeth, and away he went, scampering off as hard as he could lay his feet to the soft springy gra.s.s. Ellis held on with all his might. He in vain tried to turn the pony"s head. He felt that he was run away with, and had lost all control over the animal.
Ernest saw the pony bolt. At first he was inclined to laugh. Then he recollected with dismay that there was a very steep hill just outside the wood, and a little beyond it a deep chalk-pit, with precipitous sides, down which he feared that the pony, if it became alarmed by anything, might in its excitement plunge. How to stop Ellis was the question! To follow him he knew would only increase the speed of the pony. There was, he remembered, a short cut to the precipice through a green narrow path to the right. Without a moment"s hesitation he galloped down it. b.u.t.tar, divining his object, followed. The rest, not seeing where they had gone, fancied that they had turned the clump, and continued the race.
Mousey, Ernest"s pony, behaved magnificently. On he galloped, as if he knew that a matter of importance depended on his speed. Some boys running out of the wood fancied that he was running away, and, clapping their hands, tried to turn him aside, but he heeded them not. The wood was at length cleared. Ernest looked up the road to his left, in the hopes of seeing Ellis coming along it, but he was afraid that he had already pa.s.sed. On the ground were the marks of hoofs, which looked, he thought, very like those made by a pony at full speed; so he and b.u.t.tar galloped along the road they thought he must have taken. Down the steep hill they went at full speed, keeping a tight rein, however, on the mouths of their little steeds. They thought they made out poor Ellis in the distance.
"He sticks on bravely, at all events," cried Ernest. "He"s a fellow to be proud of as a friend. Oh! he must not come to harm."
Away they went. They thought that they were too far off to frighten Ellis"s pony, and as Ernest knew the country well, he hoped that they might still overtake him by cutting across some fields. The gate leading into them was shut, so they knew that Ellis had not gone that way. A boy was sitting whistling on a stile hard by. Ernest asked him if he had seen a young gentleman on a pony going fast along the road.
He nodded, made a sign that he was going very fast indeed, but showed that it had never entered his head to try to stop the pony. Ernest forced open the gate without waiting for the lout to do so, and they galloped through and along over the turf. There were two or three slight hedges, but they forced their way through them. The road, after winding considerably, crossed directly before the path they were taking.
They heard a horse"s hoofs come clattering along the hard road. They were just in time to be too late to meet Ellis. He pa.s.sed them a moment before they could open the gate. His cap had fallen off; his hair was streaming wildly, and he was holding on by the mane with one hand, though he still tugged at the rein with the other. He saw them. He did not shout or cry for help, but his eye showed that he understood their object. Now was the most dangerous time. They were approaching the chalk-pit. If they followed too close they might frighten the pony, and produce the catastrophe they were anxious to avert. With great presence of mind they pulled suddenly up, and Ernest believed that their so doing had the effect of decreasing the speed of the runaway pony. They then trotted slowly on, till they trusted that Ellis had pa.s.sed the point of extreme danger. Once more they put their ponies to their full speed.
They almost dreaded to approach the spot, lest what they feared might have occurred. Ernest rode close to the brink of the pit. To his joy, there was no sign of the pony having gone near it, and they thought that they saw him in the distance. On they pushed after him.
Ellis himself, when he found that he was run away with, determined to do his best to stick on, hoping that by going up some hill or other the pony might be brought up. He forgot how high the forest was situated, and that it was chiefly downhill the pony would have to go. He did stick on, and bravely too, but very frequently he thought it would be in vain, and that he must be thrown off. He felt happier when he saw the attempts made by his friends to overtake him, even though they failed to accomplish their object.
At last Ernest despaired of catching the runaway, when he saw him at the commencement of a long straight road, with no short cut to it, by which he could hope to get ahead of Ellis. Still he and b.u.t.tar pursued.
Ellis went on, how many miles he could not possibly tell; he thought a great number. He was getting very weary; his knees ached; so did his shoulders. The road was picturesque, overhanging with trees. There were houses ahead--a village, he thought. A boy in a field heard the pony coming along the road. He had on a white pinafore. As he jumped over the gate, it fluttered in the pony"s face: that made him start, and poor Ellis was thrown with considerable violence against some palings on the opposite side of the road. His foot remained in the stirrup. On he was dragged, when a gentleman, hearing the cry of the little boy with the pinafore, came to the gate at the moment the pony was pa.s.sing, and caught his head. The little country-lad came to a.s.sist, and held the pony while the gentleman disengaged Ellis"s foot, and carried him into his cottage, which stood near the road. Not long after, Ernest and b.u.t.tar rode by.
"Are you companions of a young gentleman whose pony ran away just now?"
asked a voice from the shrubbery.
They said yes, and were requested to come in.