Leslie Ross; or, Fond of a Lark — Reading Companion

Why Leslie Ross was Sent to School, 5

Leslie's Introduction to Ascot House, 17

Pea-Shooting, and What Came of it, 29

A Memorable Holiday, 55

WHY LESLIE ROSS WAS SENT TO SCHOOL.

If ever a boy had kind parents and a happy home, that boy was Leslie Ross. He was an only child, and as such the love and care of both father and mother centered upon and surrounded him. He had once had a baby sister, whom he recollected to have kissed several times--and once when her cheeks were very, very cold and pale--but in a few days she had faded away; and now the love which she would have shared was all his, and the care which she would have demanded was expended upon him.

Never were parents so careful that the childhood of a son should be surrounded by pleasant associations and memories, as were Mr and Mrs Ross. They would whisper to each other, while labouring to procure some fresh pleasure for Leslie, "We do not know what his future life may be; it may be a rough and rugged one; it may not be a very happy one; we shall be unable to smooth his path then; so let us make his childhood and boyhood as happy as possible, that he may always look back upon it as the freshest and greenest spot in his life, and carry the recollection of our love in his heart all his days."

With parents labouring to carry out such an idea, it need scarcely be added that Leslie was a happy boy; such, indeed, he was. One circumstance, which formed a large item in his sum of happiness, consisted in the fact that his home was close to the sea shore. The restless sea could be seen from the windows of the house; and the sound of its waves, as they fell gently or dashed violently on to the shingly beach, could be heard in the warm, cosy parlour, or the silent bedrooms.

As soon as he could walk, Leslie manifested a decided preference for the beach as his playground, and aquatic pursuits as his pleasures; and his daily explorations among the boats and fishing-smacks soon procured for him the notice and friendship of several of the boatmen and fishermen, who almost always take a liking to those who interest themselves in their pursuits; and Leslie did this, for he loved to watch the men, as, waist deep in the sea, they dredged for shrimps; to catch hold of one end of a net and help haul it ashore; to carry the oars of a boat which was about to be launched, and even to add his tiny strength to that of the sturdy men in the attempt to float a fishing smack, while his shrill "_heave ho!_" could be distinctly heard mingling with the gruff tones of the fishers.

With the sanction of Mr Ross, one of the boatmen taught him to swim at a very early age; while a second manufactured and taught him how to handle a pair of oars; so that by the time Leslie was ten years of age, he could both row and swim very creditably, much to his own satisfaction and delight, and to the contentment of his parents who were happy in their son's happiness; they were, however, too mindful of the risk he ran to allow him to venture on the water unattended, and had strictly enjoined him to observe this rule, and although at times strongly tempted to disobey, Leslie never violated the command.

There was but one trait in the character of their son which gave Mr and Mrs Ross any concern; he was truthful, honest, and brave, but he was fond of what he called "_a lark!_" which was the name Leslie gave to the successful accomplishment of a piece of mischief. He did not actually intend mischief, or intend doing any harm, but his love for "_a lark_" led him farther than at the time he had any idea, and the expression "_what a lark!_" seemed in his eyes an ample compensation for all the discomforts he inflicted upon others.

Thus he thought it no end of "_a lark_" when, one Sunday morning, he put the long hand of all the clocks in the house back, so that his father, who was a clergyman, and very punctual in the performance of his duties, was ten minutes behind time, and found all the assembled congregation anxiously waiting his arrival. And one night when he could not sleep, he stole softly to the door of the servants' bedroom, where he shouted, "Murder! Thieves! Fire!" frightening the poor women out of their first sleep and half out of their senses.

When, however, his father pointed out the consequences of indulging in such a course of action, Leslie would express, and for the moment feel, penitence; but an hour after he would be as ripe for mischief as ever, did any opportunity offer.

How to destroy this fault in their son gave Mr and Mrs Ross many hours of thought. If children did but consider how much pain and trouble their thoughtless and wilful conduct gave to their parents, they would surely think twice before they performed any action they knew would grieve them.

"I think, my dear," said Mr Ross one day to his wife, "I think the only way we can cure Leslie of his fault will be by sending him to school."

"But do you not think," replied Mrs Ross, "that associating with other boys will be more likely to foster it?"

"No, I think not, for among a number of boys there must be many who would view the consequences likely to arise from indulging in a senseless piece of mischief; these would control the more thoughtless and reckless of their number. Besides, in a good school, and subject to wholesome school rules and discipline, there would be less time and fewer opportunities for gratifying any particular propensity."

"I wish," said Mrs Ross, with a sigh, "some other plan could be adopted. I do not like the idea of his going away from home and home influences, and being subject to others of which we know nothing."

"I can think of no other," said Mr Ross; "school life will do Leslie a world of good; he is too much alone now, and mixes so little with companions of his own age, that he entertains too great an idea of his own powers and capacities; school life will teach him to moderate this. I think he will have to go, my dear."

At that moment Leslie burst into the room, full of life and spirits, shouting, "Good-bye, ma, good-bye papa, I'm off for a row with old Crusoe."

"Well, be careful, Leslie; and mind, no larks," said Mr Ross, holding up a finger.

"Careful, papa! Oh, you can't think how careful I am; and as for rowing, why, I shall beat Crusoe soon," replied Leslie, as, with a merry laugh, he left the room.

"How bright," said Mrs Ross; "no care sets on his heart."

"No, and his one great fault arises from thoughtlessness; how true are the poet's words:--

'Evil is wrought by want of thought As well as want of heart.'"

Meanwhile Leslie had made his way to the beach, where he was saluted by a weather-beaten old sailor, who, in his old age, had turned boatman; this was Crusoe, a name Leslie had bestowed upon him because he had visited so many parts of the globe.

"Good morning, sir; are you going to have a row this morning, Master Leslie?"

"Yes, Crusoe, I came on purpose--a good long row, for I feel as strong as a lion," replied Leslie, taking off his jacket and turning up his shirt sleeves.

"Shall it be the 'Lively Nancy,' or 'My Mary?'"

"Oh, the 'Lively Nancy,' she's as light as a feather."

The light and gaily-painted boat was soon skimming over the sparkling waves, which were laughing in the sunshine, and Leslie rowed with a will, the cool breeze fanning his cheeks and lifting the masses of curly black hair. Old Crusoe steered. For more than an hour Leslie kept his place at the oars; but when the boat's head was turned homeward, he resigned it to Crusoe and took his place at the tiller.

All would have gone well, and the boat would have reached the shore, if Leslie's eyes had not chanced to alight upon the plug used by Crusoe to let the water free after cleaning the boat. "What a lark it would be to frighten Crusoe," he thought; and no sooner had the thought flashed across his mind than he drew the plug, and quietly dropped it into the water.

All unconscious of the invading sea, Crusoe continued to row in silence, until he felt something cool creeping round his boots, and looking down he perceived he was ankle deep in water. "Hallo," he shouted, "What's this? Why, the boat hasn't started a plank, has she? Why, we shall sink!"

"No fear of that," said Leslie.

"No fear! why, it will take us very nearly an hour to get to shore, and she'll sink in less than ten minutes."

"You don't mean it, Crusoe?" cried Leslie, in a startled voice; "why, I've pulled out the plug."

"What?" cried the horrified boatman; "here, take this boat-hook and hoist your hat on it as a signal to those ashore, it's our only hope."

Leslie did as he was desired, and both he and Crusoe shouted with all the power of their lungs, but apparently in vain, for no boat was seen to put off from the beach.

"We must swim for this," said Crusoe, "although I much doubt if we shall ever be able to reach dry land again. Pull off your boots and your jacket, and put one of these oars under your arms, it will help to keep you up."

Leslie mechanically followed Crusoe's directions. He was too frightened at the result of his thoughtless folly to have the presence of mind to think for himself. The boat soon sank from under them, leaving them to buffet alone and unaided with the waves.

Never before had Leslie attempted, or even dreamt of swimming the distance which now intervened between him and the shore; he felt he should never be able to accomplish it. However, he struggled bravely, occasionally cheered by an encouraging word from Crusoe. How bitterly he repented his foolish act; and as he felt his strength diminishing, his thoughts rapidly travelled to his home and his parents, and in imagination he saw their sorrowful faces, as they bent over his lifeless body as the waves washed it ashore. What would he not have given for the power to undo his folly. But an action once done, however good or however bad it may be, can never be undone. This should make us thoughtful.

"I can't struggle any longer, Crusoe," said Leslie, in a faint voice.

"Throw one arm on my back, don't clutch," said Crusoe.

Leslie felt himself growing fainter and fainter; the sea and sky seem to mingle and go rapidly round and round; he relinquished his hold of the oar, which floated away, and he gradually sank deeper and deeper into the water; and just as he heard a confused sound as of voices shouting, he relaxed his hold of Crusoe and sank into total unconsciousness.

When Leslie again returned to consciousness, he found himself lying in his own bed, with his father and mother seated by its side. "Where am I?" he murmured.

"Thank God, he is safe," said Mrs Ross, turning away to hide her tears.

"Oh, father, I'm so sorry," cried Leslie, as the recollection of what he had done flashed across his mind.

"There, there, you must not talk now, you must try and go to sleep;" and, silently kissing him, both Mr and Mrs Ross left the room.

The next morning Leslie felt no ill effects from his long immersion in the water,--youth, a good constitution, and a sound sleep soon restored him to his wonted state of health. He learnt at the breakfast table, that just as he let go his hold of Crusoe and sank, a boat hove in sight, which had put off from the shore to their rescue, the accident having been witnessed. Crusoe immediately dived, and brought him again to the surface, when they were both hauled into the boat and safely conveyed to shore.

"And now, Leslie," said Mr Ross, after detailing the above events, "I have some news to tell you. I am going to send you to school."

"To school, papa!" said Leslie, in surprise.

"Yes, I have thought of doing so for some time past, and the events of yesterday have quite decided me. Not all mine, or your mamma's counsels and warnings can cure you of a very foolish yet dangerous practice. I am going to try if school discipline will."

"And when am I to go, papa," said Leslie, ready to cry.

"As soon as I can find a school suitable."

"But, papa, I don't want to go."

"Perhaps not, but I cannot afford to pay for all the consequences of your love for '_a lark_;' neither can I or your mamma bear to see our son brought lifeless to the door every day."

"Oh, papa, I'm so sorry."

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but your sorrow will not bring Crusoe's boat up from the bottom of the sea. Recollect, my boy, that _if you do wrong, punishment will always follow_; and I want to teach you this before you go out into the world, for your punishment there will not be so merciful as I or your mamma would inflict."

And this is why Leslie Ross was sent to school.

LESLIE'S INTRODUCTION TO ASCOT HOUSE.

A few days after his adventure with old Crusoe, Leslie bade farewell to home and all its delights. He tried to be brave and not cry, but in spite of all his efforts he continually felt a kind of choking sensation in the throat, and when he kissed his mother for the last time, he fairly burst into tears, and did not again recover his calmness until he found himself seated by his papa in a first-class carriage, and being whirled to London as fast as an express train could whirl him.

"Come, Leslie," said Mr Ross, "dry up your tears and be a man, you will not find school life so unpleasant as you imagine; after the first few days, you will settle down and soon make friends."

The school to which Mr Ross was conveying Leslie was situated about fifty miles the opposite side of London to that of his own home, and was known by the name of _Ascot House_, and had the reputation of being one of the best private schools in its county; Mr Ross, however, had chiefly selected it from the fact that its principal, Dr Price, had been an old college companion and friend, and he knew him to be a man of probity and honour, and one to whom he could safely intrust both the moral and mental education of his son.

The school-house was a large building, and contained ample accommodation for many more than the number of scholars the doctor undertook to educate, and was situated a few hundred yards from the banks of a broad, but somewhat sluggish stream; in fact, the school-house seemed much too near to the river to be pleasant, especially when it was known that the building itself was below its level; but as no inundations had ever been known, and all dangerous parts had been well dammed up, and every precaution taken against its overflow, no danger was apprehended. On this river the boys were allowed to row, and in it they were allowed to bathe. To the scholars generally it formed a great feature of attraction.

"See, Leslie," said Mr Ross, as they neared the school, "you will still have your favourite element on which to exhibit your prowess."

"Yes, I see, papa, but it is nothing compared to the sea."

It was near noon of a beautiful summer day that they drove up to the private entrance of the school-house; the sun was shining brightly, and every flower in the garden was alive with beauty and colour.

"If your school career is as bright as this day is, Leslie, it will do."

"I will try and make it so, papa."

"Do, my son; mine and your mamma's thoughts will be constantly travelling to Ascot House."

"And mine travelling home, papa."

"So I believe, my dear boy; but life is always full of partings, and absence from those we love."

Mr Ross and his son were ushered into the doctor's library, where they found the doctor himself ready to receive them, who, after shaking hands with his old college friend, placed one on Leslie's head, saying, "This, then, is the young gentleman concerning whom you wrote."

"Yes, doctor, he is my only son."

"Well, I trust we shall work well and pleasantly together, and that I may always have a good account to transmit to you concerning him."

Leslie murmured something in reply, but what, he scarcely knew. He was glancing round the doctor's library, to ascertain if there were any instruments of punishment to be seen, his ideas of school discipline and punishment being almost one and the same.

"You will, of course, stop and dine with me, Ross, and be introduced to my wife and child; your son also, will like to have one more meal with you; meanwhile I will introduce him to his future companions, with whom he has both to work and play."

"Then I will bid you farewell till dinner time, Leslie," said Mr Ross, as the doctor took his son by the hand to lead him away.

As they approached the school-room door a confused buz of many voices fell upon Leslie's ear, which was hushed, complete silence reigning, as they entered. It was a long and lofty room, containing as many as eighty or ninety boys of various size and age, from the little urchin of nine years in knickerbockers, to the youth of eighteen sporting his first tailed-coat. Leslie gave one hasty look round the room and then lowered his glance, fixing it upon the floor, being unable to withstand the battery of so many eyes, all of which were fixed scrutinisingly upon himself.

"Boys," said the doctor, "I introduce to you a new companion, who, being a stranger, I hope you will treat with all kindness and courtesy. Hall, I place him beneath your care and protection, make him familiar with the ways of the school. It is my custom, you know, boys," continued the doctor, "to indulge you with a half-holiday whenever a new boy enters the school; we will therefore resume our studies at half-past eight to-morrow morning."

"Hurrah! one cheer for the doctor," cried a boy, jumping on a form and waving a large dictionary in the air. "Hip! hip! hip! hurrah!" was the deafening response. "Now then, one more for the new boy."

"Hip! hip! hip! hurrah!" was again heartily shouted, in the middle of which the large dictionary slipped from the hand which held it, falling with a crash upon the head of a boy who was just rising to leave his desk.

"You, Johnnie Lynch," cried the boy, rubbing his head, "just be careful where you throw your books."

"I beg pardon," replied Lynch, laughing; "it was quite an accident, I assure you."

"It is all very well saying so now it is done; I never had so many words thrown at me before."

"Well, never mind, words are but wind."

"Wind, I found them anything but wind."

"Besides, Lynch," chimed in another boy, "your dictionary struck him in his weakest part."

"Come, Mr Sharp-tongue, you had better make yourself scarce," said the boy, making a grab at the last speaker, who, however, was too nimble, for, eluding his grasp, he made his way to where Leslie was standing, and introduced himself as Arthur Hall, to whose protection the doctor had confided him. Hall was a bright, merry-looking boy, about fourteen years of age.

"Well, youngster, what is you name?" commenced Hall.

"Is this your first school?"

"Yes, my father has educated me until now."

"Why does he send you to school?"

"Because I nearly drowned myself and old Crusoe."

"Oh, I say, you're a lively fellow, I hope you won't try it on any of us. I for one don't want my friends to go into mourning on my account," said one boy from the group which had clustered round Leslie.