Life of a Scotch Naturalist 7

In a little while she was ready to 

Life of a Scotch Naturalist 7

go 

out. She took hold of her son by

the cuff of the neck, and took him down to the Green. When she reached

the school, for the purpose of imploring the master to take her son

back, she knocked at the door, and the master at once appeared. Before

she could open her mouth, the master abruptly began, “Don’t bring

that boy here! I’ll not take him back—not though you were to give me

twenty pounds! Neither I, nor my scholars, have had a day’s peace since

he came here.” And with that he shut the door in her face, before

she could utter a single word. She turned and came away, very much

vexed. She kept her grip on the boy, but, standing still to speak to

a neighbour, and her hold getting a little slacker, he made a sudden

bolt, and escaped.

 

As usual, he crept in late in the evening. His father was at home,

reading. On entering, Tom observed that he stopped, fixing his eyes

upon him over the top of his book, and looked at him steadily for some

time. Then, laying down his book, he said, “And where have you been,

sir?” The boy said nothing. “It’s no wonder that you’re dumb. You’ve

been putten out of your school a second time. You’ll be a disgrace to

all connected wi’ you. You’ll become an idler, a ne’er-do-well. You’ll

get into bad company. You’ll become a thief! Then you’ll get into gaol,

and end your days in misery and shame. Such is the case with all that

neglect their schooling, and disregard what their parents bid them.”

 

Tom was at last ashamed of himself. He said nothing until supper-time;

and then he asked for his supper, as he was hungry. “Perhaps you are,”

said his father; “and you shall get no supper this night, nor any other

night, until you learn to behave yourself better. Go to bed, sir, this

moment!” Tom slunk away, and got to bed as soon as possible. When the

lights were out, and all were thought to be abed, a light hand removed

the clothes from over Tom’s head, and put something into his hand. He

found it to be “a big dad o’ bread and butter.” It was so like the kind

motherly heart and hand to do this. So Tom had his supper after all.

 

[Sidenote: _SENT TO HIS THIRD SCHOOL._]

 

He was next sent to the Lancaster School in Harriet Street. There were

two masters in this school. The upper classes were in the highest

storey, the other classes in the lowest. The master of the lower class,

to which Tom belonged, knowing his weakness, ordered him, on entering,

not to bring any of his beasts to that school. He was to pay more

attention to his lessons than he had yet done, or he would be punished

severely. He did not bring anything but his school-books for a long

time, but at last his usual temptation befell him. It happened in this

way.

 

[Sidenote: _THE SPARROW’S NEST._]

 

On his way to and from school, along School Hill, he observed a

sparrow’s nest built in the corner part of a spout. He greatly envied

the sparrow’s nest. But he could only feast his longing eyes at a

distance. He tried to climb the spout once or twice, but it was too

high, and bulged out at the top. The clamps which held the spout to the

wall were higher at the top than at the bottom. He had almost given up

the adventure in despair, when one day, on going to school, he observed

two men standing together and looking up in the direction of the nest.

Boy-like, and probably thinking that he was a party concerned in the

affair, he joined them, and listened to what they were talking about.

He found that the nest interfered with the flow of water along the

spout, and that it must be removed; and that the whole waterway along

the spout must also be cleaned out.

 

Tom was now on the alert, and watched the spout closely. That day

passed, and nothing was done. The next day passed, and still the men

had not made their appearance. But on the third day, on his way to

school, he observed a man and a boy placing a long ladder against

the house. Tom stopped, and guessing what was about to be done, he

intended to ask the man for the nest and its contents. The man was

about to ascend the ladder, when, after feeling his pockets and finding

that something had been forgotten, he sent the boy back to the shed

for something or other,—most probably a trowel. Then, having struck

a light, and set fire to his pipe, the man betook himself to the

churchyard, which was near at hand.

 

[Sidenote: _THE NEST “HARRIED.”_]

 

A thought now struck Tom. Might he not take the nest himself without

waiting for it, and perhaps without getting it after all? He looked

about. He looked into the churchyard gate, nearly opposite. He saw

nobody. The coast was clear. Tom darted across the street, and went

rapidly up the ladder. Somebody shrieked to him from a window on the

other side. It staggered him at first. But he climbed upward; got to

the nest, and, after some wriggling and twisting, he pulled it away,

and got down before either the man or the boy had returned.

 

[Sidenote: _YOUNG SPARROWS AT SCHOOL._]

 

It was eggs that he wanted, but, lo and behold! here was a nest of five

well-fledged birds. Instead of taking the birds home, Tom was foolish

enough to take them with him to school. He contrived to get the nest

into the school unobserved, and put it below the form on which he was

seated, never thinking that the little things would get hungry, or

try to make their escape. All went on well for about an hour. Then

there was a slight commotion. A chirrup was heard. And presently

the throats of all were opened—“_Chirrup! chirrup!_” Before the

master could get the words “What’s that?” out of his mouth, the birds

themselves answered him by leaving their nest and fluttering round the

schoolroom,—the boys running after them! “Silence! Back to your seats!”

cried the master. There was now stillness in the school, except the

fluttering of the birds.

 

The culprit was called to the front. “This is more of your work,

Edward, is it not?” “Yes, sir.” “And did I not tell you to bring no

more of these things here.” “Yes, sir; but I only got them on my way

up, or I wouldn’t have brought them here.” “I don’t believe it,” said

the master. “Yes, it’s true, it’s true,” shouted some of the scholars.

“Silence! How do you know?” “We saw him harryin’ the nest as we came

up School Hill.” “How?” “He was on the top of a long ladder takin’ the

nest oot o’ a spoot.” “Well, sir,” he said to Edward, “you are one of

the most daring and determined little fellows that I have ever heard

of. It seems you will follow nobody’s advice. If you do not give up

your tricks, you will some day fall and break your neck. But as you

have told me the truth, I will forgive you this once. But remember!

it’s the last time. Now go, collect your birds, and take them away!”

 

Edward groped about to collect the birds, but few of them were left.

The windows having been let down, they had all escaped except one. He

got that one, and descended to the street. There he recovered two

other “gorbals.” He went home with his three birds; but, his sister

being ill, his mother told him to take them away, because they made

such a noise. In the course of the day he gave them to another boy, in

exchange for a little picture-book, containing “The Death and Burial of

Cock Robin.”

 

[Sidenote: _AT LANCASTER SCHOOL._]

 

Next morning he went back to school, and from that time forward he

continued to obey the master’s orders. He never brought any more

“beasts” there. He was at the Lancaster school about eighteen months,

though he was occasionally absent. He did not learn very much. The

Bible was used as the reading book, and when he left school he could

read it fairly. He could also repeat the Shorter Catechism. But he knew

very little of arithmetic, and nothing of grammar. He had only got

the length of the rule of two,—that is, he could add up two lines of

figures. He could not manage the multiplication table. He could only

multiply by means of his fingers. He knew nothing of writing.

 

We must mention the cause of his leaving his third and his last school.

He had entirely given up bringing “beasts” with him. But he had got

a bad name. It was well known that he had been turned out of all the

schools which he had formerly attended, on account of bringing his

“beasts” with him. Better kill a dog, it is said, than give him a bad

name. In Edward’s case, his bad name was attended with very serious

results.

 

[Sidenote: _A MAGGY MONNY FEET._]

 

One morning, when the boys were at their lessons and the master was

at his desk, a sudden commotion occurred. The master gave a loud

scream, and, jumping to his feet, he shook something from his arm, and

suddenly put his foot upon it. Then, turning in Edward’s direction, he

exclaimed, “This is some more of your work, Master Edward.” Not hearing

what he said, Edward made no reply. Another boy was called forward, and

both stooping down, they took up something and laid it on a sheet of

paper. On rising, the boy was asked what it was. “It’s a Maggy Monny

Feet,” he said. “Is its bite dangerous? Is it poisonous?” The boy could

not tell.

 

Edward was then called to the floor. “You’ve been at your old trade,

Edward, I see; but I’ll now take it out of you. I have warned you not

to bring any of your infernal beasts here, and now I have just found

one creeping up my arm and biting me. Hold up.” Edward here ventured to

say that he had not brought the beast, that he had not brought anything

for a long while past. “What! a lie too?” said the master: “A lie added

to the crime makes it doubly criminal. Hold up, sir!” Tom held up his

hand, and the master came down upon it very heavily with the taws. “The

other!” The other hand was then held up, and when Tom had got his two

hot hands, the master exclaimed, “That’s for the lie, and this for the

offence!” and then he proceeded to bring the taws heavily down upon his

back. The boy, however, did not cry.

 

[Sidenote: _EDWARD UNJUSTLY PUNISHED._]

 

“Now, sir,” said the master, when almost out of breath, “will you say

now that you did not bring it?” “I did not; indeed, sir, I did not!”

“Well then, take that,” giving him a number of tremendous lashes along

his back. “Well now?” “I did not!” The master went on again: “It’s your

own fault,” he said, “for not confessing your crime.” “But I did not

bring it,” replied Edward. “I’ll flog you until you confess.” And then

he repeated his lashes, upon his hands, his shoulders, and his back.

Edward was a mere mite of a boy, so that the taws reached down to his

legs, and smote him there. “Well now,” said the master, after he was

reduced to his last effort, “did you bring it?” “No, sir, I did not!”

 

The master sat down exhausted. “Well,” said he, “you are certainly a

most provoking and incorrigible devil.” The master had a reddish nose,

and a number of pimples on his face, which were of the same hue. When

he got into a rage, it was observed that the protuberances became much

brighter. On this occasion his organ became ten times redder than

before. It was like Bardolph’s lanthorn in the poop. Some of the boys

likened his pimples to large driblets of blood.

 

[Sidenote: _EXPELLED FROM HIS THIRD SCHOOL._]

 

After resting for a while in his chair, Edward standing before him,

he called to the boy whom he had first brought to his assistance,

“William, bring forward that thing!” The boy brought forward the paper,

on which lay a bruised centipede. “Now then,” said the master, “did

you not bring that venomous beast here?” “I did not, sir!” The whole

school was now appealed to. “Did any of you see Edward with that beast,

or any other beast, to-day or yesterday?” No answer. “Did any of you

see Edward with anything last week or the week before?” Still no

answer. Then, after a considerable pause, turning to Edward, he said,

“Get your slate. Go home, and tell your father to get you put on board

a man-of-war, as that is the best school for all irreclaimables such

as you.” So saying, he pointed to the door. Tom got his slate and his

books, and hurried down stairs. And thus Edward was expelled from his third and last school.