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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mithode. / errata id to It le pelure, 9on A n 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 BERT LLOYDS BOYHOOD. 1 " The whole crowd then precipitated themselves upon him, and proceed to pummel any part of his l)ody they could reach.'' — /'j'.i.'f.' 165. [ Front!, / BHRT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD B Stov\? from HAova Scotia r.v m, and procce. —ra^i^e 165. J. MACDONALD OXLEY, I.L.D 11777/ EICIIT I L7US7 RATIONS BY J . FINNEMORK HODDER AND STOUGHTON 27, PATERNOSTER ROW MDCCrXCII. \FroKt: 2 6 1 4 C 4 f 7 KDIMUKdH : I'KINIKI* hV l.dKIMKK AND (ill.LIKS, •;t ST. ANriKK\\ SIPIAKK. ^ stage 4 P R E F A C E. n^HERE is something so pleasing to the author of "*■ this volume — the first of several which have been kindly received by his American cousins — in the thought of being accorded the privilege of appear- ing before a new audience in the "old home," that the impulse to indulge in a foreword or two cannot be withstood. And yet, after all, there would seem to be but two things necessary to be said : — Firstly, that in attempt- ing a picture of boy life in Nova Scotia a fifth of a century ago, the writer had simply to fall back upon the recollections of his own school-days, and that in so doing he has striven to depart as slightly as possible from what came within the range of personal experience ; and, Secondly, while it is no doubt to be regretted that Canada has not yet attained that stage of development which would enable her to .^ n Preface, support a literature of her own, it certainly is no small consolation for her children, however ardent their patriotism, who would fain enter the literary arena, that not only across the Border, but beyond the ocean in the Motherland, there are doors of opportunity standing open through which they may find their way before the greatest and kindliest audience in the world. J. MACDONALD OXLEY. Ottawa, Canada, i^th Ajti^ust, 1892. 1? XV, . it no small 1 int their i y arena, i he ocean oortunity nd their ' CON r E N T S. ce in the 4 LXLEY. Tip CHAI IKK I'A(;k I. ilKKT IS INTRODUCED, 5 II. FIKK.MAN OR SOLDIKR, . . . . II III. NO. FIVE I-OR'i' S'lRKKT, . . . . 17 IV. OFF TO THE COUNTRV, . . . . 21 V. THE RIDE IN THE CO.VCH, . . . . . 29 VI. AT GRANDFATHER'.S, .... • 39 VII. COUNTRV EXPERIENCES, • 47 ■i VIII. TEMPTATION AND TRIUMPH, • 57 IX. LOST AND FOUND, .... . 67 X. in:RT GOES TO SCHOOL, . 8i SCHOOL LIFE AT MR. GARRISON'S, • 93 ■■i XII. ■ A QUESTION OF INFLUENCE, . 107 J XIII. liERT AT HOME, . 117 : XIV. AN HONOURABLE SCAR, . 127 1 XV. A CHANGE OF SCHOOL,. • 139 111 IV Contents. s ! ■ 11 i ! i CHAI'TEK XVI. IHE FIRST DAYS AT DR. JOHNSTON'S. XVII. THE HOISTING, XVIII. SCHOOL EXPERIENCES, . XIX. VICTORY AND DEFEAT,. XX. A NARROW ESCAPE, XXI. LEARNING TO SWIM, XXII. HOW HOISTING WAS ABOLISHED, XXIII. PRIZE WINNING AND LOSING, XXIV. A CHAPTER ON PONIES, XXV. ABOUT TWO KINDS OF PONIES, XXVI. VICTORY WON FROM DEFEAT, XXVII. ABOUT LITERATURE AND LAW, XXVIII. WELL DONE, BOYS ! XXIX. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW, XXX. HOME MISSIONARY WORK, . XXXr. NOT DEAD, BUT TRANSLATEI', XXXII. A BOY NO LONGER, 217 227 263 273 2S7 301 325 JJ3 349 1" TfiiCE • 163 ■ 175 • 187 • 203 217 227 239 253 . 263 • 273 . 287 . 301 • 315 . 325 • 335 . 549 CHAPTER J. BERT IS INTRODUCED. IF Cuthbcrt Lloyd had been born in the time of our great grandfathers, instead of a Httle later than the first half of the present century, the gossips would assuredly have declared that the good fairies had had it all their own way at his birth. To begin with, he was a particularly fine handsonie baby ; for did not all the friends of the family say so ? In the second place, he was an only son, which meant that he had no big brothers to bully him. Next, his birthplace was the stirring seaport of Halifax, where a sturdy, energetic boy, such as Cuthbert certainly gave good promise of being, need never lack for fun or adventure. Finally, he had plenty of relations in the country to whom he might go in the summer time to learn the secrets and delights of country life. Now, when to all these advantages are added two fond but sensible parents in comfortable circumstances, an elder sister who loved little Cuthbert with the whole strength of her warm unselfish heart, and a pleasant home in the best part of the city, they surely I ( 6 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood, make us as fine a list of blessings as the most benevolent fairy godmother could reasonably have been expected to bestow. And yet there was nothing about Master Cuthbert's early conduct to irdicate that he properly appreciated his good fortune. He was not half as well-behaved a baby, for instance, as red-headed little Patsey Shea, who, a few days after his first appearance, brought another hungry mouth to the already over-populated cottage of the milkwoman down in Hardhand's lane. As he grew older, it needed more whippings than the sum total of his own chubby fingers and toes to instil into him a proper understanding of parental authority. Sometimes his mother, who was a slight small woman, stronger of mind than of body, would feel downright discouraged about her vigorous, wilful boy, and wonder, half-despairingly, if she were really equal to the task of bringing him up in the way he should go. Cuthbert was in many respects an odd mixture. His mother often said that he seemed more like two boys of opposite natures rolled into one, than just one ordinary boy. When quite a little chap, he would at one time be as full of noise, action, and enterprise as the captain of an ocean steamer in a gale, and at another time be as sedate, thoughtful, and absent- minded as the ancient philosopher who made himself famous by walking into a well in broad daylight. Cuthbert, in fact, at the age of three, attracted attention l.> himself in a somewhat similar way. His ■m ■'■$ the most ably have Cuthbert's ppreciated behaved a tsey Shea, s, brought ■populated ind's lane. s than the ss to instil authority, ill woman, downright boy, and '/ equal to hould go. mixture. like two n just one would at :erprise as e, and at d absent- le himself ight. attracted vay. His Ber/ is hitrodiiced. 7 mother had taken him with her in making some calls, and at Mrs. Allen's, in one of his thoughtful moods, with his hands clasped behind him, he went wandering off unobserved. Presently he startled the whole household by tumbling from the top to the bottom of the kitchen stairs, having calmly walked over the edge in an absorbed study of his surroundings. The other side of his nature was brilliantly illus- trated a year later. Being invited to spend the day with a playmate of his own age, he built a big fire with newspapers in the bath room, turned on all the taps, pretending that they were the hydrants, and then ran through the hall, banging a dustpan and shouting '* fire " at the top of his voice. " He is such a perfect ' pickle,' I hardly know what to do with him, Robert," said Mrs. Lloyd to her husband, with a big sigh, one evening at dinner. " Don't worry, my dear, don't worry. He has more than the usual amount of animal spirits, that is all. Keep a firm hand on him and he'll come out all right," answered Mr. Lloyd, cheeringly. "It's easy enough to say, 'Keep a firm hand on him,' Robert, but my hand gets pretty tired some- times, I can assure you. I just wish you'd stay at home for a week and look after Bert, while I go to the office in your place. You 'd get a better idea of what your son is like than you can by seeing him for a little while in the morning and evening." " Thank you, Kate, I 'vc no doubt you might 8 Bei't Lloyd's Boyhood. [ 1 11 \ I \ 1 1 manage to do my work at the office, and that my clients would think your advice very good ; but I 'm no less sure that I would be a dismal failure in doing your work at home," responded Mr. Lloyd, with a smile, adding, more seriously : ** Anyway, I have too much faith in your ability to make the best of Beri: to think of spoiling your good work by clumsy inter- ference." "It's a great comfort to have you put so much faith in me," said Mrs. Lloyd, with a grateful look, " for it's more than Bert does sometimes. Why, he told me only this morning that he thought I wasn't half as good to him as Frankie Clayton's mother is to him, just because I wouldn't let him have the garden hose to play fireman with." "Just wait until he's fifteen, my dear," returned Mr. Lloyd, " and if he doesn't think then that he has one of the best mothers in the world, why — I '11 never again venture to prophesy, that's all. And here comes my little man to answer for himself," as the door opened suddenly and Bert burst in, making straight for his father. " Ha ! ha ! my boy, so your mother says you 're a perfect pickle. Well, if you 're only pickled in a way that will save you from spoiling, I shall be satisfied, and I think your mother may be, too." ]\Irs. Lloyd laughed heartily at the unexpected turn thus given to her complaint ; and Bert, seeing both his parents in such good humour, added a beaming fa hJ m^ ph wl ofl f ■» Bert is Introdticed. that my but I'm in doing , with a [lave too f Bert to sy inter- jch faith ''for it's told me ; half as to him, len hose eturned that he ly— I '11 nd here as the making o your you 're soiling, nay be, id turn ? both tammg face on his own account, although, of course, without having the slightest idea as to the cause of their merriment. Climbing up on his father's knee, Bert pressed a plump cheek lovingly against the lawyer's brown whiskers and looked, what indeed he was, the picture of happy content. " What sort of a man are you going to make, Bert?" asked Mr. Lloyd, quizzingly, the previous conversation being still in his mind. " I 'm going tc be a fireman," replied Bert, promptly ; " and Frankie 's going to be one too." " And why do you want to be a fireman, Bert ? " " Oh, because they wear such grand clothes and can make such a noise without anybody telling them to shut up," answered Bert, whose knowledge of fire- men was based upon a torchlight procession of them he had seen one night, and their management of a fire that had not long before taken place in the near neighbourhood, and of which he was a breathless spectator. Mr. Lloyd could not resist laughing at his son's naive reply, but there was no ridicule in his laugh, as Bert saw clearly enough, and he was encouraged to add : "Oh, father, please let me be a fireman, won't you ? " " We '11 see about it, Bert. If we can't find any- thing better for you to do than being a fireman, why lO Bert Lloyd's Boyhood, we'll try to make a good fireman of you, that's all. But never mind about that now ; tell me what was the best fun you had to-day." Thus invited, Bert proceeded to tell after his own fashion the doings of the day, with his father and mother an attentive audi- ence. It was their policy to always manifest a deep interest in everything ]^ert had to tell, and in this way they made him understand better perhaps than they could otherwise have done how thoroughly they sympathised with him in both the joys and sorrows of his little life. They were determined that the most complete confidence should be established between them and their only boy at the start, and Bert never appeared to such advantage as when, with eyes flash- ing and graphic gestures, he would tell about some- thing wonderful in his eyes that had happened to him that afternoon. By the time Bert had exhausted his budget and been rewarded with a lump of white sugar, the nurse appeared with the summons to bed, and after some slight demur he went off in good humour, his father saying, as the door closed upon him : " There 's not a better youngster of his age in Hali- fax, Kate, even if he hasn't at present any higher ambition than to be a fireman," n that *s all. what was ted, Bert doings of tive audi- : a deep d in this laps than ^hly they 1 sorrows the most between lert never yes flash- ut some- d to him get and he nurse er some is father in Hali- / higher CHAPTER II. FIREMAN OR SOLi:)IER. HALIFAX has already been mentioned as a par- ticularly pleasant place for a boy to be born in ; and so indeed it is. Every schoolboy knows, or ought to know, that it is the capital of Acadia, one of the Maritime Provinces of the Dominion of Canada. It has a great many advantages, some of which are not shared by any other city on the conti- nent. Situated right on the sea coast, it boasts a magnificent harbour, in which all the war vessels of the world, from the mightiest iron-clad to the tiniest torpedo boat, might lie at anchor. Beyond the har- bour, separated from it by only a short strait, well- named the " Narrows," is an immense basin that seems just designed for yachting and excursions ; while branching out from the harbour in different directions are two lovely fiords, one called the Eastern Passage, leading out to the ocean again, and the other running away up into the land, so that there is no lack of salt water from which cool breezes may blow on the torrid days. II I 2 Bert Lloyd s Boyhood. The city itself is built upon the peninsula that divides the harbour from the north-west arm, and beginning about half-a-mile from the point of the peninsula, runs northward almost to the Narrows, and spreads out westward until its farthest edge touches the shore of the arm. The " Point " has been wisely set aside for a public park, and except where a fort or two, built to command the entrance to the harbour, intrudes upon it, the forest of spruce and fir with its labyrinth of roads and paths and frequent glades of soft waving grass, extends from shore to shore, mak- ing a wilderness that a boy's imagination may easily people with Indians brandishing tomahawk and scalp- ing knife, or bears and wolves seeking whom they may devour. Halifax being the chief military and naval station for the British Colonies in America, its forts and bar- racks are filled with red-coated infantry or blue-coated artillery the whole year round. All summer long great iron-clads bring their imposing bulks to anchor off the Dockyard, and Jack Tars in foolish, merry, and alas ! too often vicious companies, swagger through the streets in noisy enjoyment of their day on shore. On either side of the harbour, on the little island which rests like an emerald brooch upon its bosom, and high above the city on the crown of the hill up which it wearily climbs, street beyond street, stand frowning fortresses with mighty guns thrusting their Fireman or Soldier. 13 a that d, and of the vs, and ouches wisely fort or irbour, /ith its ides of , mak- easily scalp- 1 they station d bar- coated long mchor merry, i^agger ir day island )osom, lill up stand their black muzzles through the granite embrasures. In fact, the whole place is pervaded by the influences of military life; and Cuthbert, whose home overlooked a disused fort, now serving the rather ignoble purpose of a dwelling-place for married soldiers, was at first fully persuaded in his mind that the desire of his life was to be a soldier ; '^nd it was not until he went to a military review, and realised that the soldiers had to stand up awfully stiff and straight, and dare not open their mouths for the world, that he dismissed the idea of being a soldier, and adopted that of being a fire- man. Yet there were times when he rather regretted his decision, and inclined to waver in his allegiance. His going to the Sunday school with his sister had something to do with this. A favourite hymn with the superintendent — who, by the way, was a retired officer — was — " Onward, Christian soldiers." The bright stirring tune, and the tremendous vigour with which the scholars sang it, quite took Cuth- bert's heart. He listened eagerly, but the only words he caught were the first, which they repeated so often : " Onward, Christian soldiers." Walking home with his sister, they met a small detachment of soldiers, looking very fine in their Sunday uniforms : ;,»^ H Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. "Arc those Christian soldiers, Mary?" he asked, looking eagerly up into her face. " Perhaps so, Bert, I don't know," Mary replied. " What makes you ask ? " " l^ccause we were singing about Christian soldiers, weren't we?" answered Bert. " Oh ! is that what you mean, Bert ? They may be, for all I know. Would you like to be a Christian soldier?" "Yes," doubtfully; then, brightening up — "but couldn't I be a Christian fireman, too?" '*Of course you could, Bert, but I'd much rather see you a Christian soldier. Mr. Hamilton is a Christ- ian soldier, you know." This reply of his sister's set Bert's little brain at work. Mr. Hamilton, the superintendent of the Sun- day school, was a tall, erect handsome man, with fine grey hair and whiskers, altogether an im.pressive gentleman ; yet he had a most winning manner, and Bert was won to him at once when he was welcomed by him warmly to the school. Bert could not imag- ine anything grander than to be a Christian soldier, ii it meant being like Mr. Hamilton. Still the fireman notion had too many attractions to be lightly thrown aside, and consequently for some time to come he could hardly be said to know his own mind as to his future. The presence of the military in Halifax was far from being an unmixed good. Of course, it helped bi pel m Fireman or Soldier, J5 e asked, replied. soldiers, ey may 'hristian )— " but rather Christ- rain at le Sun- th fine >ressive er, and corned imag- dier, u reman hrown TIC he to his as far lelped business, L^ave employment to many hands, imparted peculiar life and colour to society, and added many excellent citizens to the poi)ulation. At the same time it had very marked drawbacks. There was alwa}'s a f:jreat deal of drunkenness and other dissipa- tion amon^cj the soldiers and sailors. The officers were not the most improviiv^ of companions and models for the young men of the place, and in other ways the city was the worse for their presence. Mrs. Lloyd presently found tlie soldiers a source of danger to her boy. Just around the corner at the entrance to the old fort, already mentioned, was a guardhouse, and here some half-dozen soldiers were stationed day and night. They were usually jolly fellows, who were glad to get hold of little boys to play with, and thereby help to while away the time in their monotonous life. Cuthbert soon discovered the attrac- tions of this guardhouse, and, in spite of commands to the contrary, which he seemed unable to remember, wandered off thither very often. All the other little boys in the neighbourhood went there whenever they liked, and he could not understand why he should not do so too. He did not really mean to (}^' upon it all day, pouring in at the back windows in the morning and flooding the front ones with rich and rare splendour at evening. A quiet little street passed by the door, the gardens opposite being filled with noble trees that cast a grate- ful shade during the dog days. At the back of the house was the old fort, its turfed casemates sloping down to a sandy beach, from whose centre a stone wharf projected out into the plashing water. Look- ing over the casemates, one could see clear out to the lighthouse which kept watch at the entrance to the harbour, and could follow the ships as they rose slowly on the horizon or sped away with favouring breeze. A right pleasant house to live in was No. Five Fort Street, and right pleasant were the people who lived in it. Cuthbert certainly had no doubt upon either point, and who had a better opportunity of forming I ll"il'' i8 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. an opinion ? Mr. Lloyd, the head of the household, was also the head of one of the leading legal firms in Halifax. His son, and perhaps his wife and daughter, too, thought him the finest-looking man in the city. That was no doubt an extravagant estimate, yet it was not without excuse ; for tall, erect, and stalwart, with regular features, large brown eyes that looked straight at you, fine whiskers and moustache, and a kindly cordial expression, Mr. Lloyd made a very good appearance in the world. Especially did he, since he never forgot the neatness and good taste in dress of his bachelor days, as so many married men are apt to do. Cuthbert's mother was of quite a different type. Her husband used to joke her about her being good for a standard of measurement because she stood just five feet in height, and weighed precisely one hundred pounds. Bert, one day, seemed to realise what a mite of a woman she was ; for, after looking her all over, he said, very gravely : " What a little mother you are ! I will soon be as big as you, won't I ? " Brown of hair and eyes, like Mr. Lloyd, her face was a rare combination of sweetness and strength. Bert thought it lovelier than any angel's he had ever seen in a picture. Indeed, there was much of the angelic in his mother's nature. She had marvellous control over her feelings, and never by any chance gave way to temper openly, so that in all his young '* i^»N No. Five Fori Street. 19 )Usehold, firms in laughter, the city, te, yet it stalwart, Lt looked .che, and ie a very T did he, d taste in Tied men rent type. eing good tood just hundred e what a g her all 3on be as her face strength, had ever :h of the arvellous y chance lis voung life her boy had no remembrance of receiving from her a harsh word, or a hasty, angry blow. Not that she was weak or indulgent. On the contrary, not only Bert, but l^ert's playmates, and some of their mothers, too, thought her quite too strict at times, for she was a firm believer in discipline, and Master Bert was taught to abide by rules from the outset. Tlie third member of the household was the only daughter, Mary, a tall, graceful girl, who had inherited many of her father's qualities, together with her mother's sweetness. In Bert's eyes she was just simply perfect. She was twice as old as he when he had six years to his credit, and the difference in age made her seem like a second mother to him, except that he felt free to take more liberties with her than with his mother. But she did not mind this much, for she was passionately fond of her little brother, and was inclined to spoil him, if anything. As for Bert himself — well, he was just a stout, sturdy, hearty boy, with nothing very remarkable about him, unless, perhaps, it was his superabundant health and spirits. Nobody, unless it was that most partial judge, Mary, thought him handsome, but everybody admitted that he w^as good-looking in every sense of the term. He promised to be neither tall, like his father, nor short, like his mother, but of a handy, serviceable medium height, with plenty of strength and endurance in his tough little frame. Not only were both eyes and hair brown, as might be 20 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood, s i il 'I; expected, but his face, too, as might also be expected, seeing that no bounds were placed upon his being out of doors, so long as the day was fine, and he himself was keeping out of mischief Father, mother, daughter, and son, these four made up a very affectionate and happy family, pulling well together ; and, so far as the three older ones were concerned, with their faces and hearts set toward Jerusalem, and of one mind as to taking Bert along with them. Mr. Lloyd and his wife were thoroughly in accord with Dr. Austin Phelps as to this : — That the children of Christians should be Christian from the cradle. They accordingly saw no reason why the only son that God had given them should ever go out into sin, and then be brought back from a far off land. Surely, if they did their duty, he need never stray far away. That was the way they reasoned ; and although, of course, little Bert knew nothing about it, that was the plan upon which they sought to bring him up. The task was not altogether an easy one, as succeeding chapters of Bert's history will make plain. But the plan was adhered to, and the result justified its wisdom. W )ected, ig out Limself ■ made cr well s were toward ; along oughly —That ,n from vhy the - go out far off never isoned ; nothing sought ;her an ory will ind the CHAPTER IV. OFF TO THE COUNTRY. THE letter which came in such good time to relieve Mrs. Lloyd from the difficulty about Bert's fond- ness for the guardroom and its hurtful influences, was from her father, and contained an invitation so press- ing as to be little short of a demand, for her to pay him a long visit at the old homestead, bringing Bert with her. Mrs. Lloyd very readily and gladly accepted the invitation. Midsummer was near at hand. She had not visited her old home for some years. Her father and mother were ageing fast ; and then, naturally enough, she was eager to show them what a fine boy Bert was growing to be. When Bert heard of it he showed the utmost delight. Three years before, he had spent a summer at grandfather's ; but, then, of course, he was too young to do more than be impressed by the novelty of his surroundings. The huge oxen, the noisy pigs, the spirited horses, even the clumsy little calves, bewildered, if they did not alarm him. But now he 21 22 Bert Lloyd s Boyhood. \ ' ■. . felt old enough to enjoy them all ; and the very idea of going back to them filled him with joy, to which he gave expression after his own boisterous fashion. *' Mother, are we going to grandfather's to-morrow ?" he would eagerly ask, day after da}-, his little heart throbbing with impatience. " We 're going soon, Bert dear. You must be patient, you know," his mother would gently reply ; and the little fellow would make a very heroic effort to control himself. At length the day of departure arrived. Too full of importance and great expectations to manifest a proper amount of sorrow at leaving his father and sister, who felt very reluctant, indeed, to part with him, Master Bert took his place in the cab and drove up to the railway station. Hardly had he entered it than he made a dash for the train, climbed up on the rear platform with the agility of a monkey, much to the amusement of the conductor, whose proffer of assistance he entirely ignored ; and when Mr. Lloyd entered the train a minute later, he found his enter- prising son seated comfortably upon a central seat, and evidently quite ready for the train to start. " Would you go away without saying good-bye to your father and to Mary ? " asked ]\Ir. Llo}'d, in a deeply reproachful tone. Bert blushed violently on being thus reminded of his apparent selfishness, and, with the threat of a tear Off to the Country. 23 I very joy, to tc rolls •row ? ; heart ust be reply ; z effort 00 full lifest a ler and rt with \ drove ered it on the inch to )ffcr of Lloyd enter- al seat. -bye to d, in a ided of a tear '■•i' '% in his eye, was about to make some sort of a defence, when his father put him all right again b)' saying brightly : "Never mind, my boy. It isn't every day >-ou go off on a hundred-and-fifty-miles' journey. Mary and 1 will forgive you for forgetting us this time, won't we, Mary ? ' The luncli basket, the wraps, and their other belong- ings were placed on the scat, the engine whistled, " all aboard," the bell rang, the conductor shouted, affec- tionate farewells were hastily exchanged, and presently the train rolled noisily out of the dark station into the bright sunshine ; and Bert, leaning from the window, caught a last glimpse of his father and sister as the}- stood waving the handkerchiefs which one of them, at least, could not refrain from putting to another use, as the last car swept round the turn and vanished. But Bert was in no mood for tears. In fact, he never felt less like anything of the kind. He felt much more disposed to shout aloud for very joy, and probably would have done so, but for the restraining influence exercised by the presence of the other pas- sengers, of whom there were a good many in the car- riage. As it was, he gave vent to his excited feelings by being as restless as a mosquito, and asking his mother as many questions as his active brain could invent. "You'll be tired out by mid-day, Bert, if you go on at this rate," said his mother, in gentle warning. " Oh, no, I won't, mother ; I won't get tired. See : 24 Bej^t Lloyd's Boyhood, What 's that funny big thing with the long legs in that field ? " " That 's a frame for a hay stack, I think. You '11 see plenty of those at grandfather's." "And what's that queer thing with arms sticking out from that building ? " " That 's a wind-mill. When the wind blows hard those arms go round, and turn machinery inside the barn." " And has grandpapa got a wind-mill, mother ? " " Yes ; he has one on his big barn." '* Oh, I 'm so glad ; I can watch it going round, and stand quite close, can't I ? " ** Yes, but take care not to go too close to the ma- chinery. It might hurt you very much, you know." And so it went on all through the morning. Mrs. Lloyd would have liked very much to read a little in an interesting book she had brought with her, but what with watching Bert's restless movements, and answering his incessant questions, there seemed slight hope of her succeeding in this until, after they had been a couple of hours on their journey, a good- natured gentleman on the opposite seat, who had finished his paper, and had nothing particular to do, took in the situation and came to her relief " W^on't you come over and keep me company for a while, my little man ? " he said, pleasantly, leaning across the seat. " I will try and answer all your questions for you." ^^. Off to the Country, 25 in that You '11 ticking s hard ide the ir?" nd, and ;he ma- no w." Mrs. ittle in ler, but ts, and d slight ley had good- ho had r to do, )any for leaning lU your Bert looked curiously at the speaker, and then, the inspection proving satisfactory, inquiringly at his mother. She nodded her assent, so forthwith he ran over to his new friend, and climbed up beside him. He was given the corner next the window, and while his bright eyes took in everything as the train sped on, his tongue wagged no less swiftly as question followed question in quick succession. Mrs. Lloyd, thoroughly at ease now, returned to her book with a grateful sigh of relief, and an hour slipped away, at the end of which Bert's eyes grew heavy with sleep. He no longer was interested in the scenery ; and at last, after a gallant struggle, his curly head fell over on the cushion, and he went into a deep sleep, from which he did not waken until at mid-day the train drew up at the station, beyond which they could not go by rail. " Come, Bert, wake up ! We must get out here," cried his mother, shaking him vigorously. Rubbing his eyes hard, yawning as though he would put his jaws out of joint, and feeling very uncomfortable generally, Bert nevertheless managed to pull himself together sufficiently to thank the gentleman who had been so kind to him, before he followed his mother out of the car. They had dinner at Thurso, and by the time it was ready Bert was ready too. He had been altogether too much excited at breakfast time to eat much then, but he made up for it now. Mrs. Lloyd laughed as he asked again and again for more, but she did not 26 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. check him. She knew very well that the contented frame of mind produced by a good dinner was just the right thing with which to enter upon the second part of their journey. This was to be by coach, and as even the best of coaches is a pretty cramped sort of an affair unless you have it all to yourself, the quieter Bert was disposed to be the better for all concerned. " What are we to ride in now, mother ? " asked Bert, after the vacancy underneath his blue blouse had been sufficiently filled to dispose him to conversation. " In a big red coach, dear, with six fine horses to draw us," answered Mrs. Lloyd. " Oh, mother, won't that be splendid ? And may I sit up with the driver ? " " Perhaps you may, for a little while, anyway, if he will let you." " Hooray ! " cried Bert, clapping his hands with delight ; " I 'm sure the driver will let me, if you '11 only ask him. You will, won't you, mother ? " " Yes, I will, after we get out of the town. But you must wait until I think it's the right time to ask him." " I '11 wait, mother, but don't you forget." Forget ! There was much likelihood of Mrs. Lloyd forgetting with this lively young monkey before her as a constant reminder; They had just finished dinner, when, with clatter of hoofs, rattle of springs, and crush of gravel under the i OJ/' to the Country. 27 ontcntcd was just c second )ach, and ipcd sort rself, the jr for all ked Bert, had been :ion. horses to nd may I vay, if he inds with if you'll ,vn. But t time to [rs. Lloyd )efore her clatter of under the heavy wheels, the f^reat Concord coach drew up before the hotel door in dashinc^ style. Ik-rt was one of the first to *]^reet it. lie did not even wait to put on his hat, and his mother, following with it, found him in the forefront of the crowd that always leathers about the mail coach in a country town, gazing up at the driver, who sat in superb dignity upon his lofty seat, as though he had never beheld so exalted a being in his life before. There was something so impassive, so indifferent to his surroundings, about this big, bronzed, black-mous- tached, and broad-hatted driver, that poor Bert's heart sank within him. He felt perfectly sure that /ic could never in the world muster up sufficient courage to beg for the privilege of a seat beside so impressive a poten- tate, and he doubted if his mother could, either. Among the passengers Bert was glad to see the gentleman who had befriended him on the train, and when this individual, after having the audacity to hail the driver familiarly with, " Good-morning, Jack ; looks as if we were going to have a pleasant trip down," sprang up on the wheel, and thence to the vacant place beside Jack Davis, just as though it belonged to him of right, a ray of hope stole into Bert's heart. If his friend of the train, whose name, by the way, he told Bert, was Mr. Miller, was on such good terms with the driver, perhaps he would ask him to let a little boy sit up in front for a while. Taking much comfort from this thought, Bert, at a ! I 28 Bert Lloy(fs boyhood. call Uom his i]u»lhcr, who was already seated, cHnihcd lip into the coach, and hcini^ allowed the corner next the window, with head thrust forth as far as was safe he awaited eaj^erly the signal lo start. xl, cHnihcd onicr next is was safe CHAPTICR V. THK RIDI': IN TIIK COACFf. TI 11'^. last passcni^cr had taken his seat, the last trunk been strapped on behind, and the canvas coverini;" drawn ti^^htly over it, the mail baj^s safely Stowetl away in the capacious boot ; and then h'v^ Jack Davis, LjatheriuL,^ the reins of his six impatient steeds skilfully into one hand, and grasping the long- lashed whip in the other, sang out to the men who stood at the leaders' heads : " Let them go ! " The men dropped the bridles and sprang aside, the long lash cracked like a pistol shot, the leaders, a beautiful pair of grey ponies, perfectly matched, reared, curvetted, pranced about, and then would have dashed off at a wild gallop had not Jack Davis' strong hands, aided by the steadiness of the staider wheelers, kept them in check : and soon brought down to a spirited canter, they led the way out of the town. The coach had a heavy load. It could hold twelve passengers inside, and every seat was occupied on top. Besides Mr. Miller, who had the coveted box seat, 29 't?' vV A/7 /./ov(fs /)oy flood. . I thiTc were two other men perched upon the coacli l()[). ati, that had piled up in one division of the mow. His hasty movements were just what was needed to bring the whole mass toppling down in confusion to the bottom of the mow. Unfortrnatcly for him, he was involved in the overthrow, and without a *noment's warning was buried beneath a huge mass of hay. As he went sliding helplessly down he uttered a cry of terror, which startled httlc Rory Chisholm, w'ho sprang out from his hiding-place just in time to see poor Bert disappear. "Hi! Hi! boys — come here; Bert Lloyd's under the hay." The boys quickly gathered, ard with eager hands set to work, to rescue their imperiled playmate. ]Uit, vigorously though they toiled, it was slow progress they made ; and in the meantime the little fellow, pressed upon by many hundredweight of hay, was fast losing breath and consciousness. He could hear them very indistinctly, but could not make a sound himself. By a fortunate accident, one of the men happened ' •: :c a ncd Coitntry Experiences. 53 cil(»nL,s just as the boys were near givinj^ uj) the task- as too great for them. " Donald ! Donald ' Quick ! l^ert Lloyd 's under the hay. Dig him out, or he'll die," cried Rory, at the top of his voice. Seizing a pitchfork, Donald attacked the hay like a giant, getting more and more careful as he drew near the bottom of the ir.ow, until at last, with a shout of *' I 've got him," he stooped down and dragged the senseless form of Bert from the very bottom of the pile. Taking him in his arms, he ran with him to the house, and gave Aunt Sarah a great fright by suddenly plumping him into her lap, as she sat on the verandah reading, saying, breathlessly : "Here, miss, bring him to, and he'll be none the worse for it." Aunt Sarah screamed for hartshorn, spirits of wine, and the dear knows what, but I\Irs. Lloyd, bringing a glass of wate:, dashed it freely over her boy's pale face, and in a minute or two he opened his eyes again. As Donald said, he was none the worse for his experience, for no bones were broken, nor muscles strained ; vet all felt thankful that he had cs caped so we 11. It was not lonir after this that Bert had another adventure, which al.' costinir him his life. came near ly very fond of water, but as fearless ibout it as a Newfoundland puppy- JI e was not on The blue sea. calm as a mirror or flecked with w hitc cap; 54 Bert Lloyifs noy/iood. formed part of his earliest recollections, ilc woukl pla>' at its inar<^nn all clay lon<,^ builclinii^ forts out of sand for the advancini; biHows of the tide to storm and c]^er\vhelm. lie w.-.s never happier than when L;lidinj4 over it in his father's skiff. It was the last thin^i,^ in nature he looked upon before lying down at night, and the first thing to wliich he turned on awaking in the . corning. Thus he got so used to the great salt sea, that when he came to Maplebank and looked at the quiet stream, which glided along so noiselessly at the bottom of the slope before the house, he thought it a mere plaything, and could hardly bo made to understand that, innocent as the river appeared, there w^as water enough in it to drown him ten times over. One day some of the village folk came out to spend the day at Maplebank, and the w^eather being decidedly warm, Uncle Alec proposed that the men of the party should go with him for a bathe. They gladly assented, and Bert having begged to accom- pany them was given leave to do so. Uncle Alec took them to a lovely spot for a bath — a tempting nook in which one might almost have expected to surprise a water nymph or two, if you drew near quietly enough. On one side, the bank rose high and steep, affording perfect seclusion ; a narrow beach of gravel made a fine place for undressing. The river rolled gently along with plenty of depth, and beyond it was another beach, and then the swelling intervale. All undre as he his b;i (lived races tlic sh quite f lookini "Ila Not (Tclotl enough sprang strokes foamed throucrli he had had bei rcachinj you thi eyes hii throusjh get thci waiting wanted having just coo to walk CoiDitry I'.xpcricuccs, 55 Amid much laiii^litcr aiul excitement the nun inuhess'xl, Uncle Alec allowiiiL;- Bert to do the same, as he had promised to carry him across the river on his back. So soon as they were ready the batiicrs dived in ; and, with much splashing; and noise, swam races to the opposite b.mk, Icavinfr l^ert alone upon t!ie shore. Skylarkini;' with one another there they quite fori^ot their little companion until Uncle Alec lookiiiL'^ across, <;ave a start, and cried out : " 1 1 alio ! What 's become of the boy ? " Not a si^^n of liert was to be seen. Mis little pile (f clothes, with hat placed carefully on top, was plain en()UL,di hut no IkTt. Full of anxiety. Uncle Alec sprani^ into the water, and with ^reat swecpini^ strokes made for the other side. The water fairly foamed about his brcu^, white shoulders as he tore throui^h it. lie steered straight for the spot where he had seen Ikrt last. Three-fourths of the distance had been covered, when suddenly he stopped, and reaching down into the water, pulled up — What do you think ? Why, Ikrt, of course, whose big brown eyes had startled him as they looked up at him through the clear, cool water. Ikit how did Bert get there? Well, easily enough. lie had got tired waiting for his uncle to come back for him. He wanted to be over there where the men were all having such fun. He could not swim across, so he just coolly accepted the only alternative, and started to walk across ! When Uncle Alec found him there 56 Bert Lloyifs Hoy hood. was a clear foot of water over his liead. A step or two more a!id he would certainly have lost his f()()t^nL,^ been carried away by the current, and (h'owned perhaps before Uncle Alec could have found him. The men all voted him a young hero when they were told of his attempt, and Uncle Alec vowed he \\ teach him to swim the next time he paid a visit to Ma[)lcbank. Aunt Sarah was greatly excited when she heard of her darling licrt's second escape, and had Mrs. Lloyd taken her advice the poor boy would have been tied to somebody's apron strings for the rest of the summer. But Mrs. Lloyd thought it better to do no more than caution l^ert, and trust to the Providence that protects children to keep him from harm. He would have to learn to take care of him- self sooner or later, and the sooner the better. ri^] CIIAITER Vlll. TEMPTATION Ax\D TKIUMl'U. THE one day in the week that licrt did not like at Maplcbank was Suntlay ; and, indeed, under the circumstances, he was not without excuse. At home, the Lord's Day was always made as bright and cheerful as possible. The toys and playthinc^s of the week-days were of course put aside, and wading by the seashore or coasting down the lane was not to be thought of, but in their place Bert had his father's company, of which he never had enough, and Mr. Lloyd made it a point, whether he really felt in good spirits himself or not, to appear to be so to Bert ; and, in consequence, the little chap never thought his father quite so delightful as on the day of rest, that was so welcome to the lawyer, tired by a week's toil at his profession. Then mother had more leisure, too ; and besides the pleasure of going with his parents to church, dressed in his best clothes, a privilege Bert fully appreciated, there was the enjoyment of having her read to him wonderfully interesting stories from the 57 ss Bc7't Lloyd's Boyhood. Bible or Pilgrim's Progress, and explaining to him whatever puzzled his brain. If the day was fine, Mary would take him with her to the Sunday school, where, with a number of youngsters like himself, the hour would pass quickly enough, as Miss Brightley entertained them with song and story, and pictures bearing upon the lesson. And then, after Sunday school, in summer time, his father would lead him off to the old fort, where they would sit on the grassy ramparts, watching the white sailed ships cleaving the blue waters, that never seemed more beautiful than on Sunday afternoon. But at Maplebank it was all very different. Squire Stewart was a Presbyterian of the stern old Cove- nanter stock. To him the Lord's Day meant a day to be spent in unsmiling strictness of conversation and demeanour. No laughter, no bright talk, no semblance of joyousness was sanctioned ; nor, indeed, could have existed within the range of his solemn countenance. He was a grave and silent man at any time, but on Sunday the gravity of his appearance was little short of appalling. One meeting him for the first time would certainly have thought that he had just been visited by some overwhelming afflic- tion. Bert, on the morning of his first Sunday, coming out of his mother's room, after receiving the finishing touches to his dress, and dancing along the hall, in joyous anticipation of the drive in the big carriage to the village, ran right into his grandfather. Tonptation and Triumph. 59 Layin^^ a strong hand on the boy's shoulder, Squire Stewart looked down at him, with disapproval written on every line of his stern face. " My boy," said he, in his deepest tones, " know you not that this is the Sabbath day, and that you arc to keep it holy, and not be dancing along the hall ? " Poor Bert shrank away, with a trembling, " I didn't mean to, sir," and thenceforth avoided his grandfather as completely as though he were a criminal and the Squire was a policeman. Not only at the house, but at the church, did Bert find Sunday a day of dreariness. And here again, who could blame him ? He was only a boy and a very restless, active boy, at that, to whom one half-hour's sitting still was about as much as he could endure. How, then, could he be expected to be equal to four whole hours of stillness ? Yet that was what his grandfather required of him whenever he went to church. The order of the day was as follows: — Leaving the house about ten o'clock in the big covered carriage, of which the Squire felt duly proud, as being the only one in the county, they drove leisurely into the village, where the horses were put up, and after the ladies had dropped in at a friend's to make sure their bonnets and dresses were as they ought to be, they wended their way to the church, which, standing right in the centre of the village, was noisily sum- 6 o /)V;'/ IJoYifs novhood. \ I inDnini;" its wtirshippors lo its sc.ils us the hii; l)c*ll s\vun|.; h) and iVo \\y^\ up in the sUn^plc, rhc church service licsjan at eleven o'clock, aiul ^. w as of the most oUl-f.isln'oneil orthoilox t)pe. No orL;an hail \'et proianetl the sanctit}- K^{ that hoi)- place, but instead thereol', a (piartettcr of siiUHMs, selected seenn"nid\' more for the stieni'th than tiie sweetness o f th en* voices, occuniet d a h \x\y^. Dox 111 !-> lit under the pulpit, ami tluMice leil the congregation by a whole bar at lc\ist. in the rcMulerini;- of Tate and l^raih's metrical version t)f the Tsahns. V'er}' weird and sill row ful wcmc many k>{ the tunes. None were brii;ht and inspirini;' like those Hert was wont to lu\u- at home, and as choir and coni;rei;ation vied with one another in the viqour of their siuL^ini;", the little fellow was sometimes half-friL^htened at the bewilderin<' noise ihey matle. A saintlier pasti)r than the Reverend I\lr, (lood- man, D. D., few ci)nL;reL;ations possessed ; but only those members of his audience who were i)f like atie with himself thought him a i;ood ])reacher. lie hail, indeed, some i;ifts in expoundini;' the l>ible, and even Hert would be interested if the lesson happened to be one of those stirrim^ stories from the Old Testament which seem so full oi life and truth. lUit when it came to preachinp^ a sermon — well, it must be confessed there were then few dr\er preachers throui^hout the whole Province <<){ ^Vcadia. Bendini;' low over his manuscript, for his cyesiL^ht was poor, and liftini;- his Iciuplalio), afi(/ '/riitnip/i. ()\ licad only now and then to wipe his brow, or relieve his throat, with a (hy, liard cou'di, Mr. (ioochnaii pursued iiis way steach'ly and monotonously from " (irstl)' " to " lastl)' " every Sunday. /\nd not only once, hul twice on ever)' Siniday, l-'or 1)0 it unilerstood; that althou;.;Ii many ol the con- lived too Hi th ;h t( ik LM•e'^•lllon \\vii(\ too lar away irom tiK* cnurcn to make twoli"i[)s to it from their homes, the)- were not thereby qoiiiL; to be deprived of two services. /\cc(jrdin;^l)', after the morniiiL:^ service -which usually lasted until one o'clock — was over, a recess of one hour for lunch and fresh air followed, arid at two o'clock a second service, precisely similar in character, was entered upon, which occu[)ie(l two hours more. And then, havini;' thus laid in a supply of sound theoloj^y for the rest of the week, the i^ood peoi)le of Calvin cliurch, after indulL,dn^i^ in a little harmless f^^ossipin*^ at the church door — of wliich iiulul[;ence, by the way, Scpiire vStewart stront^ly disajjproved, and would have prohibited, had lie been able — harnessed up their hcjrses and drove away home. Four hours of church service of so unattractive a character, and that in mid-summer! Poor little liert ! He did not want to shock his errand father, or brini^ his mother's discipline into condemnation ; but really, how could he i)e all that the Scjuire, who, if he ever had been a boy himself, must have quite for^^^otten about it, expected him to be ? If he went to sleep, i\unt Sarah or Aunt Martha, in (obedience to sii^nals 62 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. from grandfather, shook or pinched him awake again. If he stayed awake, he felt that he must wriggle or die. Sometimes the temptation to scream out loud was so strong that it seemed little short of a miracle he did not yield to it. Mrs. Lloyd fully s}'mpathiscd with her son's troubles, but accustomed from infancy to obey her father unqucstioningly, she would not venture to do more than softly plead for Bert, now and then, when he was more restless than usual. Her pleadings were not altogether vain, and frequently they had the result of securing for Bert a boon that he highly appreciated. Squire Stewart was bothered by a troublesome chronic cough. He did not mind it very much when at home, but at church he felt it to be a nuisance both to himself and his neighbours. To ease it somewhat he ahvays carried to church with him a number of black currant lozenges, a supply of w^hich he kept in his big mahogany desk at home. Occasionally, either as en- couragement to him to try and be a better boy, or as a token of relenting for being over severe, he would pass Bert one of these lozenges, and Bert thought them the most delicious and desirable sweetmeat ever invented. Not that they were really anything wonder- ful, though they were very expensive ; but the circum- stances under which he received them gave them a peculiar relish ; and it was in regard to them that Bert fought and won the sharpest battle with the tempter of all his early boyhood. It happened in this way : Tojiptation and TrinmpJi. 63 ; I As already mentioned, Squire Stewart kept a supply of these lozen^^es in his bii^ maho^L,^iny desk, that had a table to itself in the parlour. This desk was always kept locked, and Bert had many a time, when alone in the room, gone up to it, and passed his hand over its polished surface, thinking to himself how nice it would be if the package of lozenges was in his pocket instead of shut up in there where nobody could get at it. One morning, as Bert was playing about the house, a message came that the Squire was wanted at once at the farthest barn, as one of the horses had been liurt by another. He went out hastily, and shortly after, l^ert, going into the parlour, saw the desk wide open, his grandfather having been looking for a paper when so suddenly called away. The moment his eyes fell upon the open desk, a thought flashed into his mind that set every nerve tingling. As though the old desk exerted some strange and subtle fascination, he drew near it ; slowl}', hesitatingly, almost on tip-toe, yet steadily. His heart beat like a trip-hammer, and his ears were straining to catch the slightest sound of any one's approach. The house was wonderfully quiet. He seemed to be quite alone in it ; and pre- sently he found himself close beside the desk. Although open, the inner lids were still shut, and ere Ikrt put out his hand to lift the one under which he thought the package of lozenges lay, the thought of the wrong he was doing came upon him so strongly as well-nigh 64 Bert Lloyd's BoyJiood. to conquer the temptation. For a moment he stood there irresolute ; and then a^^ain the hand that had ch'oppcd to his side was stretched forth. As it touched the desk lid a thrill shot throuL^li his heart ; and ac^aiii lie hesitated and drew back. It was really a tremendous struL;i^de, and one upon which great issues hunc^, so far as that boy, alone in that room with the tempter, was concerned. Bert fully rcalished how wrong it would be for him to touch the lozenges ; but, oh ! what a wonderful fascination they had for him ! Reaching forward again, he lifted up the desk lid, and there, fully exposed to view, lay the package temptingly wide open, displaying its toothsome con- tents. The crisis of the temptation had come. An instant more, and Bert would have yielded ; when suddenly his better nature got the upper hand, and with a quick resolution, the secret of which he never fully understood, he cried out : " No, I won't." And slamming down the desk lid, he tried to run out of the room, and ran right into the arms of his grandfather, who, unseen and un.:uspected, had witnessed the whole transaction from the door. Overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and terror at having been detected by the one person of all others whom he dreaded most, Bert sank down on the floor, sobbing as though his heart would break. But, strange to say, the stern old man had no harsh words for him now. On the contrary, he bent down and iiftinj. of dc( "N grand you w your c of you Scai throug there old cd pride, the firs Her came b right, seemed that m( ings the Temptation and TriiDnph. 6^ liftinij^ the little fellow gently to his feet said, iti tones of deepest tenderness : " No tears, laddie ; no tears. You 've fought a grand right, and glad am I that I was there to see you win it. God grant you like success to the end of your days. I 'm proud of you, Bert boy ; I 'm proud of you." Scarce able to believe his ears, Bert looked up through his tears into his grandfather's face. But there was no mistaking the expression of that rugged old countenance. It fairly beamed with love and pride, and throwing himself into his arms, Bert for the first time realised that his grandfather loved him. lie never forgot that scene. Many a time after it came back to him, and helped him to decide for the right. And many a time, too, when grandfather seemed unduly stern, did the remembrance of his face that morning in the parlour drive away the hard feel- ings that had begun to form against him. E rl'y III- iiiulcria tlid inoi iiK'thcr, strciii^tl; I rail, an the thoi came inl erect, i li- the i^ard were aln ripeness. Mrs. i: in one w SIic won place bci the thick iul into a CI I Am-: k rx. LOST AND I'OUNI). ^I> III'". suniiiKT daws passed vci*)' (iiiickly .' >.! I, ippily (or I^crt at I\Iaplcl)aiik, cs[)ccially aOcr mc siir- nrisiiiLT revelation ol tl ic love a lid t eiKh i jSs that underlay his i^randfather's stern exterior. No one tlid more for his comfort or happiness than his L;rand- inolher, and he lovetl her accordint^ly with the whole strength of his ycnnii,^ heart. She was so slii^ht and h'ail, and walked with such slow, identic ste[)s, that the thoui;ht of beint^ lier protector and lielper often came into his mind and caused him to put on a more erect, important bcarini^ as he walked beside her in the i^ardcii, or throui^h the orcliard where the apples were already be^inninL,^ t(» L;"ive i)romise of tlie comini^^ ripeness. Mrs. Stewart manifested her love for her grandson ^>' in one way that made a i^reat im[)ression upon J^M't. She would take lum over to the dairy, in its cool place beneath the trees, and, selectinc,^ the cooler with the thickest cream upon it, would skim off a tcaspoon- lul into a large spoon that was already half filled with 67 6S Bert L/oycfs Jioy/iood. new oatincal, and then pour the luscious mixture into tiic open mouth waiting expectantly beside her. "Is not that fine, l^crtie boy?" she would sa)-, pattini; him affectionately upon the head ; and IkM't, his mouth literally too full for utterance, would try to look the thanks he could not speak. Maplebank had many strange visitors. It stood a little way back from the junction of tliree roads, and the Squire's hospitality to wayfarers being unbounded, the consequence was that rarely did a night pass with- out one or more finding a bed in some corner of the kitchen. Sometimes it would be a shipwrecked sailor, slowly finding his way on foot to the nearest shipping port. Sometimes a young lad with pack on back, setting out to seek his fortune at the capital, or in the States beyond. Again it would be a travelling tinker, or tailor, or cobbler, plying his trade from house to house, and thereby making an honest living. lUit the most frequent visitors of all — real nuisances, though, they often made themselves — were the poor, simple folk, of whom a number of both sexes roamed ceaselessly about. Not far from Maplebank was what the better class called a " straglash district" — that is, a settlement composed of a number of people who had by constant intermarriage, and poor living, caused insanity of a mild type to be woefully common. Almost every family had its idiot boy or girl, and these poor creatures, being, as a rule, perfectly harm- less, were suffered to go at large, and were generally Lost (i)i(^ h\)!tud. 60 :o -as nd m- lly well treated 1)>' the iK'i<^hb()urs, upon whose kindness they were continual 1>' trcsl)assinL,^ The best known of them at the time of Hert's visit, was (Mie called " Cra/y Colin," a stranL;e beinj^s half wild, half civilised, with the frame of an athlete, and the mintl of a child. Althou^i^h more than thirty years of a^^e, he had never shiown much more sense than a two-year-old baby. lie even talked in a ([ueer i;ib- hcrish, such as was suitable to that sta<;c of childhood. I'A'crybod)' was kind to him. I fis clothes and his food were L;iven him. As for a roof, he needed nc^ie in summer save when it stormed, and in winter he found refuse among liis own people. His chief deli^i^ht was roaminc;' the woods and fields, talkinij^ vii^orousl)- to himself in his own language, and waving a long ash staff that was rarely out of his hands. Ilc^vould thus spend whole days in apparent content, rc'^urning onl}- when the pangs of hunger could be borne no longer. Bert took a ""reat deal of interest in these "strair- lash" people, and especially in Crazy Colin, who was a frequent visitor at the Squire's kitchen, for Airs. Stewart never refused him a generous bowl of porridge and milk, or a huge slice of bread and butter. At first he was not a little afraid of Crazy- Colin. But soon he got accustomed to him, and then, boy-like, presuming upon acquaintance, began to tease him a bit when he would come in for a " bite and sup." More than once the idiot's eyes flashed dangerously at Bert's pranks ; but, fool though he 'O Bert fjord's Inn'hood. Wiis, he had sense cn()U*^Mi to uiulerstaiul that an\' outbreak would mean liis prompt expulsion and l)anislnnent, and so lie would restrain himself. One memorable da\', however, when Hert least expected or invited it, the; demon of insanit\' broke loose in a manner that miL;ht havt." had serious conseciuences. It was on a Sunday. The whole family had j^^onc off to church, except licrt, who had been left at home in the chari^c of the cook. She was a strapping; bi,L,^ Scotch lassie, and very fond of l^ert. About an hour after the family left, Cra/.}- Colin sauntered alon^c^ and took his scat in the kitchen. Neither Kitty nor l^crt was by any means pleased to see liim, but the}- thou[j[ht it better to keep their fcclini^s to themselves, l^ert, indeed, made some effort to be entertaininu^, but Crazy Colin seemed in rather a sulky mood, an unusual thini^ for him, so Ikrt soon ij^ave it up, and went off into the garden. The roses were blooming beautifully there, and he picked several before returning to the kitchen. When he came back, he found the unwelcome visitor alone. Kitty having gone into the other part of the house, lie was sittinc: beside the table with his head bent forward upon his hands, apparently in deep dejection. Upon the table was a large knife which Kitty had just been using in preparing the meat for dinner. Thinking it would please poor Colin, Bert selected the finest rose in his bunch and handed it to him, moving off toward the door leading into the hall as Lost and Found. 71 lie (lid so. Colin lifted his head and ^n'aspcd the rose rudely. As his bii^ hand closed upon it, a thorn that hid under the white pet.''.is pierced deep into the hall of his thumb. In an instant the slee[)in,L; demon of insanity awoke. With eyes bla/ini;- aiul frame treni- hVuv^ with fur)', he sprang; to his feet, seized the knife, and with a hoarse, inarticulate shout, turned ui)on Hert, who, i)aralyscd with terror, stood rooted to the spot half-way between the idiot and the door. It was a moment of imminent peril, but ere Cra/y Colin could reach the boy, his hoarse cry was echoed by a shrill shriek from behind Bert, and two stout arms encirclins^ him, bore him off through the door and up the stairs, pausin<^ not until Squire Stewart's bedroom was gained and the door locked fast. Then depositini^ her burden upon the floor, brave, bii^ Kitty threw herself into a chair, cxclaimini^, breathlessly : "Thank God, Master Bert, we're safe now. The creature darscn't come up those stairs." And Kitty was right ; for although Crazy Colin raged and stormed up and down the hall, striking the wall with the knife, and talking in his wild, unintel- ligible way, he did not attempt to set foot upon the stairs. Presently he became perfectly quiet. "Has he gone away, Kitty?" asked Bert, eagerly, speaking for the first time. " He 's not making any noise now." Kitty stepped softly to the door, and putting her ear to the crack, listened intently for a minute. >^x 72 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. " There 's not a sound of him, Master Bert. Please God, he 's gone, but wc hadn't bettei go out of the room until the folks come home. He may be wait- ing in the kitchen." And so they stayed, keeping one another company through the long hours of the morning and afternoon until at last the welcome sound ot wheels crushincr the gravel told that the carriage had returned, and they might leave their refuge. The indignation of Squire Stewart when he heard v/hat had occurred was a sight to behold. Sunday though it was, be burst forth into an unrestrained display of his wrath, and had the cause of it ventured along at the time, he certainly would have been in danger of bodily injury. " The miserable trash ! " stormed the Squire. " Not one of them shall ever darken my threshold again. Hcch ! that 's what comes of being kind to such objects. They take you to be as big fools as them- selves, and act accordingly. The constable shall la}- his grip on that loon so sure as I am a Stewart." There were more reasons for the Squire's wrath, too, than the fright Crazy Colin had given Bert and Kitty, for no dinner awaited the hungry church-goers, and rejoiced as they all were at the happy escape of the two who had been left at home, that was in itself an insufucient substitute for a warm, well-cooked dinner. But Kitty, of course, could not be blamed, and there was nothing to be done but to make the best of the Lost and Found. 1 '» situation, and satisfy their hunf^cr upon such odds and ends as the larder afforded. As for poor Crazy CoHn, whetlier by some subtle instinct on coming to himself he realised ho,v gravel)- he had offended, or whether in some way or other he got a hint of the Squire's threats, carmot be said. Certain it was, that lie did not present himself at Maplcbank for many days after, and then he came under circumstances, which not only secured him com- plete forgiveness, but iriade him an actual hero, for the time, and won him a big place in the hearts of both Bert and his mother. Although Bert had been forbidden to leave the homestead, unless in company with some grown-up person, he had on several occasions forgotten this injunction, in the ardour of his play, but never so com- pletely as on the day that, tempted by Charlie Chis- holm, the most reckless, daring youngster in the neighbourhood, he went away off into the back-lands, as the woods beyond the hill pasture were called, in search of an eagle's nest, which the unveracious Charlie assured him was to be seen high up in a cer- tain dead monarch of the forest. It was a beautiful afternoon, toward the end of August, when Bert, his imagination fired b}' the thought of obtaining a young eagle, Charlie having assured him that this was entirel}- possible, broke through all restraints, and went off with his tempter. Unseen by any of the household, as it happened, they 74 Bert Lloyd's BoyJiood. passed throuc^h the milk yard, climbed the hill, hastened across the pasture, dotted with the fccdiiv^^ cows, and soon were lost to siL,dit in the woods that fringed the line of settlement on both sides of the valley, and farther on widened into the <;reat forest that was traversed only by the woodsman and the liunter. On and on they went, until at length Bert was tired out. "Aren't we far enough now, Charlie?" he asked, plaintively, throwing hiiriself down upon a fallen tree to rest a little. ''Not quite, Bert; but we'll soon be," answered Charlie. "Let's take a rest, and then go ahead," he added, following l^ert's example. Having rested a few minutes, Charlie sprang up saying : " Come along, Bert ; or wc '11 never get there." And somewhat reluctantly the latter obeyed. Deeper and deeper into the forest they made their wa}', Charlie going ahead confidently, and Bert following doubtfully ; for he was already beginning to repent of his rashness, and wisli that he was home again. Presently Charlie showed signs of being uncertain as to the rieht route. He would turn first to the right and then to the left, peering eagerly ahead, as if hoping to come upon the big dead tree at any moment. Finally he stopped altogether. " Sec here, Bert ; I guess we 're on the wrong track," said he, cooll}'. " I 've missed the tree somehow, and Lost and Found. / .■> it 's i^cttiiiif late, so \vc 'd better make for home. t?. We'll have a try some other clay." I'oor little l^ert, by this time thoroui^hly weary, was only too L;lad to turn homeward, and the relief at doino: this Lfave him new strens^th for a while. But it did not last very long, and soon, footsore and ex- hausted, he dropped down upon a bank of moss, and burst into tears. " Oh, Charlie, I wish we were home," he .sobbed. " I 'm so tired, and hungry, too." Charlie did not know just what to do. It was f^^ctting on toward sundown ; he had quite losi his way, and might be a good while finding it again, and he felt pretty well tired himself. But he put on a brave face and tried to be very cheerful, as he said : "Don't cry, Bert. Cheer up, my boy, and we'll soon get home." It was all very well to say ''cheer up," but it was another thing to do it. As for getting home soon, if there were no other way for Bert to get home than by walking the whole way, there was little chance of his sleeping in his own bed that night. How thoroughly miserable he did feel! His con- science, his legs, and his stomach, were all paining him at once. He bitterl}- repented of his disobe- dience, and vowed he would never err in the same way again. But that, while it was all very right and proper, did not help him homeward. At length Charlie grew desperate. He had no 76 Bert LloyiVs BoyJiood. idea of sncndi'nir the nicfht in tlic woods if he could '^) possibly help it, so he proposed a plan to ]5ert : "See here, Bert," said he, "you're too played out to walk any more. Now, I '11 tell you what I '11 do. 1 '11 run home as fast as 1 can, and saddle the old mare and brin^- her jiere, and then we'll ride back ac^ain toi^ethcr. What do you say ? " "Oh, don't leave me here alone?" pleaded Bert. " I '11 be awfully frightened." " Chut ! J^ert. There 's nothing to frighten you but some old crows. Stay just where you are, and I '11 be back inside of an hour." And without wait- ing to argue the point, Charlie dashed off into the woods in the direction he thought nearest home ; wl"iile J^ert, after crying out in vain for him to come back, buried liis face in the moss and gave himself up to tears. One hour, two hours, three hours passed, and still Bert was alone. The sun had set, the gloaming wel-- nigh passed, and the shadows of night drew near. All kinds of queer noises fell upon his ear, filling him with acute terror. He dared not move from the spot upon which Charlie had left him, but sat there, crouched up close against a tree, trembling with fear in QMr-ry nerve. At intervals he would break out into vcheuiont crying, and then he would be silent n^aiiL i. rcs'jp.tly the darkness enveloped him, and Slil iio SLiccoui came. ?I.ari'!-imo, there had been much anxiety at Maple- hank. made (juestic ill coir the hi Lloyd increa.' turous that s 15ut in men b supper heard supper. The Uncle hill, b> search all kne of thei enough Yet after 1 earnest at Map Mrs. but wh trol wl danger: Lost and Found. 11 bank. On Hcrt's bcin^" missed, diliL;"cnt inciuii'}' was made as to his whereabouts, and at lenc^th, after much qucstioninc;, some (^nc was found who had seen liim, \\\ company with CharUc Chishohn, L;oin^ up through the hill pasture toward the woods. When Mrs. Lloyd heard who his companion was, her anxiet)' increased, for she well knew what a reckless, adven- turous little fellow Charlie was, and she determined that search should be made for the boys at once. Ikit in this she was delayed by Uncle Alec and the men being off at a distance, and not returning until supper time. So soon as they did get back, and heard of Bert's disappearance, thv-^y swallowed their supper, and all started without delay to hunt him up. The dusk had come before the m^en — headed by Uncle Alec, and followed, as far as the foot of the hill, by the old Squire — got well started on their search ; but they were half-a-dozen in number, and all knew the country pretty wx^ll, so that th- )rospect of their finding the lost boy soon seer 1 bright enough. Yet the dusk deepened into darkncs- and hour after hour passed — hours of intense d xiety and earnest prayer on the part of the mother md others at Maplebank — without any token of success. Mrs. Lloyd was not naturally a nervous woman, but who could blame her if her feelings refused con- trol when her darling boy was thus exposed to dangers, the extent of uhich none could tell 78 Bert L/oyifs Boyhood. Tlic S(|uirc did his best to cheer her in his bkiff. blunt way : " Tut ! tut ! Kate. Don't worry so, Tlie child 's just fallen asleei) somewhere. He'll be found as soon as it 's licrt himself being able to tell no more than that while lying at the 8o Bert [Joy as Jioy/iood. foot of the tree, and (:r)'iiig pretty vii^orously, he licard a rustUnn amoii^ the trees that sent a chill of terror through him, and then the sound of Cra/y Colin's talk with himself, which he rccoij^niscd instantly. I^'ori^^cttinj^ all about the fright Colin had i;iven him a few days before, he shouted (jut his name. Ccjlin came to him at once, and sccmin^'" to understand the situation at a ijlancc, picked him up in his strouL,^ arms, fluni; him over his shoulder, and stiodc off toward INIaplcbank with him as thoui^di he were a mere feathcr-wcii^ht and not a sturdy boy. Dark as it was, Colin never hesitated, nor paused, except now and then to rest a moment, until he reached the red Ljate where Uncle Alec met him, and welcomed him so warmly. Mrs. Lloyd did not think it wise nor necessary to say very much to Picrt about his disobedience. If ever there was a contrite, humbled boy, it was he. lie had learned a lesson that he would be long in forgetting. As for his tempter, Charlie Chisholm, he did not turn up until the next morning, having lost himself completely in his endeavour to get home ; and it was only after many hours of wandering he found his way to an outlying cabin of the backwoods settlement, where he was given shelter for the night. CIIAP'ri'.R X. r.KRT r.OKS TO sniooi.. Wrrif tlic waninij^ of Miinmcr cainc tlic time for Mrs. Lloycl to return to the cit}-. l^oth she and l^ert felt very sorry to leave Maplehank, and the family there was unanimous in scekin^t^ to persuade her to allow Bert to remain for the winter. lUit this was not practicable, because, in the first place, Mr. Lloyd had been writing to say that he was cjuite tired of being without his boy, and would like to have him back again as soon as was convenient ; and, in the second place, Bert had reached the age when he ought to begin his schooling, and must return home for that purpose. So at length, after more than one postponement, the da}' of departure arrived. Grandmother and Aunt Martha, and Aunt Sarah, could not restrain their tears, and big, kind Kitt}-, was among the mourners too, as l^ert and his mother took their seats in the carriage beside the Squire and Uncle Alec, to drive in to the village where the coach would be met. With many a promise to come back ere very long, 8 1 F ^v*^.. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I UP 1^ 1^ 1^ 12.2 ^ JU^ 12.0 •^11 IIIIIM l.25||l.4 ,.6 ^ 6" ► m vl ^;; > > > V /; y Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) S72-4503 Ux \ % ^ 82 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. and many a fond *' Good-bye ! God bless you, my darling ! " the travellers started on their homeward journey. The village was reached in good time, the coach found awaiting its passengers, the trunks safely stowed behind, the last good-bye to grandfather and Uncle Alec said, and then, amid cracking of whips and waving of handkerchiefs, the big coach rolled grandly off, and Bert had really parted with dear, delightful Maplebank, where he had spent such a happy summer. The homeward journey was a very pleasant one, and marked by no exciting incidents. Jack Davis was in his place on the box, and, recognising Bert when the passengers got out at the first change of horses, hailed him with a hearty : " Holloa, youngster 1 Are you on board ? Would you like to come up on top with me again ? " It need hardly be said that Bert jumped at the invitation, and, his mother giving her consent, he rode on the box seat beside Davis the greater part of the day as happy as a bird. The weather was perfect, it being a cool, bright day in early September, and Bert enjoyed very much recognising and recalling the different things that had particularly interested him on the way down. " Black Rory " was as lively as ever, and seemed determined to run away and dash every- thing to pieces as they started out from his stable, but calmed down again after a mile or two, as usual, and trotted along amiably enough the rest of his distance. t Itl with V of attc their ways times, the wh them. "If said D treat know y lump of wonderi he'll fo] got folks and I th had to c you." Bert li est, for j getting h and show fided his for the CO need not \ The sun hotel at T Bert goes to School. S3 It happened that Davis had no one on the outside with whom he cared to talk, so he !" his surroundings. Mr. Garrison's school consisted of some fift}' boys, ranging in age from sixteen downward, Bert being about the youngest of them all. They all belonged to the better class, and were, upon the whole, a very pre- sentable lot of pupils. Scanning their countenances curiously as they sat at their desks or stood up in rows before the teacher to recite, liert noticed more than one face that he instinctively liked, and, being charmed with Mr. Garrison, and well pleased with his new friend " Shorty," his first impressions were decidedly favourable. He had, of course, nothing to do that morning, save to look about him, but Mr. Garrison gave him a list of books to be procured, and lessons to be learned in them before the school broke up for the day ; and with this in his pocket he went home in excellent spirits, to tell them all there, how well he had got on his first day in school. 1 what princ actcr was rcfori into 1 Th not £ tion adopi over so sc was i of te, throu Mr. I place he w; CIIAPTKR XI. , ». I SCHOOL \AVK AT MR. CAKKISON S. )IORT had not been lon^i^ at Mr. Garrison's school ^ before he iliscovcred that it was conducted on what mi^ht fairly be described as " go-as-you-plcasc " principles. A sad lack of system was its chief char- acteristic, lie meant well enough by his pupils, and was constantly making spurts in the direction of reform and improvement, but as often falling back into the old irregular ways. The fact of the matter was that he not only was not a schoolmaster by instinct, but he had no inten- tion of being one by profession. He had simply adopted teaching as a temporary expedient to tide over a financial emergency, and intended to drop it so soon as his object was accomplished. His heart was in his profession, not in his school, and the work of teaching was at best an irksome task, to be got through with each day as quickly as possible. Had Mr. Lloyd fully understood this, he would never have placed Bert there. But he did not ; and, moreover, he was interested in young Mr. Garrison, who had 93 94 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. had many difficulties to encounter in making his way, and he wished to help him. In the first place, Mr. Garrison kept no record of attendance, either of the whole school, or of the different classes into which it was divided. A boy might come in an hour after the proper time, or be away for a whole day without either his lateness or his absence being observed. As a consequence " meeching " — that Is, taking a holiday without leave from either parents or teacher — was shamefully com- mon. Indeed, there was hardly a day that one or more boys did not " meech." If by any chance they were missed, it was easy to get out of the difficulty by making some excuse about having been sick, or mother having kept them at home to do some work, and so forth. Schoolboys are always fertile in excuses, and, only too often, indifferent as to the quantity of truth these may contain. Another curious feature of Mr. Garrison's system, or rather lack of system, was that he kept no record of the order of standing in the classes ; and so, when the class in geography, for instance, was called to recite, the boys would come tumbling pell-mell out of their seats, and crowd tumultuously to the space in front of the desk, with the invariable result that the smaller boys would be sent to the bottom of the class, whether they deserved to be there or not. Then as to the hearing of the lesson, there was absolutely no rule about it. Sometimes the questions would be School Life at Mr. Garrisoiis. 95 divided impartially among the whole class. Some- times they would all be asked of a single boy, and if he happened to answer correctly, — which, however, was an extremely rare occurrence, — the class would be dismissed without one of the others being (jucstioncd. Another peculiarity of Mr. Garrison's was his going out on business for an hour or more at a time, and leaving the school in charge of one of the older boys, who would exercise the authority thus conferred upon him in a lax and kindly, or severe and cruel manner, according to his disposition. One of the boys gener- ally chosen for this duty was a big, good-hcartcd fellow named Munro ; another was an equally big, but sour-dispositioned chap named Sitcman ; and whenever Mr. Garrison showed signs of going out, there was always intense excitement among the boys, to see who would be appointed monitor, and lively satisfaction, or deep disappointment, according to the choice made. It was a little while, of course, before Bert found all this out, and in the meantime he made good head- way in the school, because his father took care that his lessons were well learned every evening before he went to bed ; and Mr. Garrison soon discovered that whoever else might fail, there was one boy in Bert's classes that could be depended upon for a right answer, and that was Bert himself. There was another person who noticed Bert's ready accuracy, and that was " Shorty " Bowser. 96 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. " Say, Bert," said he one day, " how is it that you ahvays have your lessons down so fine ? You never seem to trip up at all." " Because father always sees that I learn 'em," an- swered Bert. " If I don', learn 'em in the evening, I 've got to do it before breakfast in the morning." " I wish my dad 'ud do as much for me ; but he don't seem to care a cent whether I ever learn 'em or not," said poor Shorty, ruefully. For he was pretty sure to miss two out of every three questions asked him, and Mr. Garrison thought him one of his worst scholars. " Won't your mother help you, then ? " asked Bert, with interest. " Got no mother," was the reply, while Shorty's eyes shone suspiciously. "' Mother 's been dead this good while." " Oh, I 'm so sorry," said Bert, in tones of genuine sympathy that went right to Frank Bowser's heart, and greatly strengthened the liking he had felt from the first for his new schoolmate. It was not long before he gave proof of what he thought of Bert in a very practical way. They were for the most part in the same classes, and it soon became evident that Shorty felt very proud of his friend's accuracy at recitation. That he should remain at the foot while Bert worked his way up steadily toward the head of the class, did not arouse the slightest feeling of jealousy in his honest heart ; ScJiool Life at JMr. Garrison s. 97 but, on the contrary, a frank admiration that did him infinite credit. Ikit it was just the other way with Bob 15randon, an overgrown, lanky boy, who seemed to have taken a dislike to Bert from the first, and seized every opportunity of acting disagreeably toward him. Being so much smaller, Bert had to endure his slights as best he could, but he found it very hard, and par- ticularly so that Bob should prevent him from getting his proper place in his class. Again and again would Bert pass Bob, who, indeed, rarely knew his lessons ; but so sure as the class reassembled, ]5ob would roughly shoulder his way toward the top and Bert would have to take a lower position, unless Mr. Garrison happened to notice what was taking place and read- justed matters, which, however, did not often occur. This sort of thing had been going on for some time, until at last one day Bert felt so badly over it that when he went back to his seat he buried his head in his hands and burst out crying, much to the surprise of Shorty, who at once leaned over and asked, with much concern : " What 's the matter, Bert ? Missed your lesson ? " Bert checked his tears and told his trouble. " Sho ! that 's what 's the matter, hey ? I guess I '11 fix Bob as sure as my name 's Bowser." "What '11 you do?" asked Bert. "Tell the mas- ter ? " "No, sir. No tattling for me," replied Shorty, G 98 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood, vigorously. " I '11 just punch his head for him, see if I don't." And he was as good as his word. Immediately- after the dismissal of the school, while the boys still lingered on the playground. Shorty stalked up to Bob Brandon, and told him if he didn't stop shoving Bert Lloyd out of his proper place in the classes he would punch his head. Whereat Bob Brandon laughed contemptuously, and was rewarded with a blow on the face that fairly made him stagger. Then, of course, there was a fight, the boys forming a ring around the combatants, and Bert holding his cham- pion's coat and hat, and hardly knowing whether to cry or to cheer. The fight did not last long. Bob was the taller, but Frank the stouter of the two. Bob, )ike most bullies, was a coward, but Frank was as plucky as he was strong. Burning with righteous wrath, Frank went at his opponent hammer and tongs, and after a few minutes' ineffective parrying and dodg- ing, the latter actually ran out of the ring, thoroughly beaten, leaving Frank in possession of the field, to receive the applause of his companions, and particu- larly of Bert, who gave him a warm hug, saying gratefully : " Dear, good Shorty. I 'm so glad you beat him." That fight united the two boys in firmer bonds of friendship than ever, especially as it proved quite effective so far as Bob Brandon was concerned, as he needed no other lesson. It was curious how Bert and infli latt( to hi whal Bert and some lucky boys loiter those began standij at hon Frai He nature ally p: whole circum Bert, would : trouble long in The the pla excellei times Q\ he \\ School Life at Mr. Garrison s. 99 and Frank reacted upon one another. At first the influence proceeded mainly from Bert to Frank, the latter being much impressed by his friend's attention to his lessons and good behaviour in school, and some- what stirred up to emulate these virtues. But after Bert had been going to the school for some little time, and the novelty had all worn off, he began to lose some of his ardour and to imitate Frank's happy-go- lucky carelessness. Instead of being one of the first boys in the school of a morning, he would linger and loiter on the playground until he would be among those who were the last to take their places. He also began to take less interest in his lessons, and in his standing in the classes, and but for the care exercised at home would have gone to school very ill prepared. Frank Bowser was not by any means a bad boy. He had been carelessly brought up, and was by nature of rather a reckless disposition, but he gener- ally preferred right to wrong, and could, upon the whole, be trusted to behave himself under ordinary circumstances, at all events. His influence upon Bert, while it certainly would not help him much, would not harm him seriously. He did get him into trouble one day, however, in a way that Bert was long in forgetting. The winter had come, and over in one corner of the playground was a slide of unusual length and excellence, upon which the Garrison boys had fine times every day before and after school. Coming up TOO /)V;'/ Lloyd's noyliood. one niorniiii^ early, (^n purpose to ciijo\' this slide, l^ert was L;reatl\' disappointed to find it in possession of a erowd of roughs from the upper streets, who elearl)' intended to keep it all to themselves so lonj^ as they i>leased. While Hert, standinii^ at a safe distance, was watehini; the usurpers with loni^inj^ e\'es, Short}' came up, and, takin;^ in the situation, said : '* Let 'em alone, Hert ; I know of another slide just as i;(Kxl, a coui)le of squares off. Let s \^o over there." ** lUit, isn't it most school time?" objected l^crt. " Why, no," replied Shorty. " There's ten minutes yet. Come aloni;." Ami thus assured, IkMt com- plied. The slide was farther away than Shorty had said, but })roved to be very i^ood when they did reach it, and they enjoyed it so much that the time slipped away unheeded, until presently the town clock on the hill above them boomed out ten, in notes of solemn warnin<^. "IMvsakes!" exclaimed l^crt, in alarm. "There's ten o'clock. What will wc do ? " " Guess wc 'd better not '3 once I^>ank found out what a pleasant place the Sun- day school was, and how kind and nice Mr. Silver — his teacher there — was, he would want to f^o every Sunday. The Sunday school of Calvary l^aptist Church certainly had about as pleasant and cheery cjuarters as could be desired. Vox one thinj^, it was not held in a damp, dark, unventilated basement as so many Sunday schools are. And, oh, \v^hat a shame — what an extraordinary perversion of sense this condemninc,^ of the children to the cellars of the churches is ! Just as thoui^di anything were good enough for them, when in them lies the hope of the Church, and every possible means should be employed to twine th.eir young affections about it ! But these words do not apply to the Calvary Sunday School, for it was not held in a dingy basement, but in a separate building that united in itself nearly every good quality such an edifice should possess. It was of ample size, full of light and air, had free exposure to the sunshine, and was so arranged that every convenience was offered for the work of the school. Around the central hall were arranged rooms for the Bible classes, the infant class, and the library, so planned that by throwing up sliding doors they became part of the large room. The walls were hung with pictures illustrating P)ible scenes, and with mottoes founded upon Bible texts ; and finally, the benches were of a special make that was particularly comfortable. H 114 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. All this was quite a revelation to Frank when, after some little coaxinc^, Bert brought him to the school. His conception of a Sunday school was of going down into a gloomy basement, and being lectured about the Bible by a severe old man with a long grey beard. Instead of that, he found himself in one of the brightest rooms he had ever seen, and receiving a cordial welcome from a handsome young gentleman, to whom Bert had just said : "This is my friend Frank, Mr. Silver. He's going to come to school with me after this." "Very glad indeed to have you, Frank," said Mr. Silver, giving him a warm grasp of the hand. " Sit right down with Bert, and make yourself at home." And Frank sat down, so surprised and pleased with everything as to be half inclined to wonder if he was not dreaming. Then the fine singing, as the whole school, led by an organ and choir, burst forth into song, the bright pleasant remarks of the superintend- ent, Mr. Hamilton, Bert's ideal of a " Christian soldier," and the simple earnest prayer offered, — all impressed Frank deeply. No less interesting did he find Mr. Silver's teaching of the lesson. Mr. Silver attached great importance to his work in the Sunday school. Nothing was per- mitted to interfere with thorough preparation for it, and he always met his class brimful of information, illustration, and application, bearing upon the passage appointed for the day. And not only so, but by A Question of Injlucncc. 1 I shrewd qucstionin<^ and personal appeal he sent the precious words home to his youni; hearers and fixed tlieni deep in their memories. He was a rare teacher in many respects, and Bert was very fond of him. r'rank did not fail to be attracted by him. As he and 15ert left the school together, Ikrt asked : " Well, Frank, how do you like my Sunday school ? " " First rate," replied Frank, heartil}-. " Say, but isn't Mr. Silver nice ? Seems as though I'd known him for ever so long instead of just to-day." "Guess he is nice," said Bert. " He's just the best teacher in the school. You '11 come every Sunday now, won't you, Frank ? " " I think so," answered Frank ; " I might just as well be going there as loafing about on Sunday after- noon doing nothing." Mr, Lloyd was very much pleased when he heard of Bert's success in getting Frank to the Sunday school. He recognised in Bert many of those quali- ties which make a boy a leader among his compan- ions, and his desire was that his son's influence should always tell for that which was manly, pure, and upright. To get him interested in recruiting for the Sunday school was a very good beginning in church work, and Mr. Lloyd felt thankful accordingly. Neither was he alone in feeling pleased and thank- ful. Mr. John Bowser, Frank's father, although he showed great indifference to both the intellectual and ii6 Bert Lloyd's ]->oyhood. moral welfare of his boy, was, nevertheless, not opposed to others taking an interest in him. He cared too little about either church or Sunday school to see that Frank was a regular attendant. But he was very willing that somebody else should take an interest in the matter. Moreover, he felt not a little complacency over the fact that his son was chosen as a companion by Lawyer Lloyd's son. Engrossed as he was in the making of money, a big, burly, gruff, uncultured contractor, he found time somehow to acquire a great respect for Mr. Lloyd. He thought him rather too scrupulous and straightforward a man to be Jiis lawyer, but he admired him greatly, never- theless ; and, although he said nothing about it, secretly congratulated himself upon the way things were going. He had little idea that the circle of influence Bert had unconsciously started would come to include him before its force would be spent. I an CMAPTKR XIII. I3KKT AT HOME. IT was an article of faith in the Lloyd family that there was not a house in Halifax havin^jj a plcas- anter situation than theirs, and they certainly had very good grounds for their belief Something has already been told about its splendid view of the broad harbour, furrowed with white-capped waves, when of an afternoon the breeze blew in smartly from the great ocean beyond ; of its snug security from north- ern blasts ; of the cosy nook it had to itself in a quiet street ; and of its ample exposure to the sunshine. ]?ut, perhaps, the chief charm of all was the old fort whose grass-grown casemates came so close to the foot of the garden, that ever since Bert was big enough to jump, he had cherished a wild ambition to leap from the top of the garden fence to the level top of the nearest casemate. This old fort, with its long, obsolete, muzzle-loading thirty-two pounders, was associated with Bert's ear- liest recollection. His nurse had carried him there to play about in the long, rank grass underneath 117 m8 Bert Lloyd's JioyJiood. Ihc shade of the witlc-sprcadinc;- willows lliat crested tlie seaward slope before lie was able to walk ; and ever since, summer and winter, he had found it his favourite pla}'c,n'ound. The cannons were an unfailiuL;' source of delit^dit to him. IMounted hiL;h upon their cumbrous car- riaL,^es, with little p}'ramids of round iron balls that would never have any other use than that of orna- ment lyin^i^ beside them, they made famous playthin and kicking very vigorously, were two sturdy, mottled legs that she instantly recognised as belonging to her '-uJ'- " I'ortunately, a big soldier came alont;, and, slipping 1h)i1i hands as far up nn Bert's body as he Cduld reach, with a strong, steady jndl drew him out of the cannon,'' — Pnr^r 119. son, sou I in c situ; mat one carp 1V1 to p cffoi Hrni! lAoy soldi hanc gras] drew VV a sp( dowr chcel and j help griiTK black indee chimi worki tainl) Hcrt af I Io}JU\ 119 son, while from llic interior came stran<;c muriled sounds that showed the poor little fellow was scrcamiivj; in dire affrii^ht, as well he mij^ht in so distressing; a situation. Too yount; to be of any hel[), Hcrt's play- mates were j^athered about him cryini; lustily, only one of them havinij had the sense to run off to the carpenter's shop near by to secure assistance. Mrs. Lloyd at once grasped liert's feet and strove to pull him out, but found it no easy matter. In his efforts to free himself he had only stuck the more firmly, and was now too securely fastened for Mrs. Lloyd to extricate him. Fortunately, however, a bicj soldier came along at this juncture, and, slipping both hands as far up on Bert's body as he could reach, grasped him firmly, and with one strong, steady pull, drew him out of the cannon. When he got him out, Bert presented so comical a spectacle that his stalwart rescuer had to lay him down and lauij^h until the tears rolled down his cheeks. Mrs. Lloyd, too, relieved from all anxiety, and feeling a reaction from her first fright, could not help following his example. His face, black with grime, which was furrowed with tears, his hands even blacker, his nice clothes smutched and soiled, and indeed, his whole appearance suggested a little chimney-sweep that had forgotten to put on his working clothes before going to business, Bert cer- tainly was enough to make even the gravest laugh. Beyond a bruise or two, he was, however, not a I20 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. whit the worse for his curious experience, which had come about in this way : — While they were playing with the ball, one of the children had, out of nnischief, picked it up and thrown it into the cannon, where it had stayed. They tried to get it out by means of sticks, but could not reach it. Then Bert, always plucky and enterprising to the verge of rashness, undertook to go after the ball himself. The other boys at once joined forces to lift him up and push him into the dark cavern, and then alarmed by his cries and unavailing struggles to get out again, began to cry themselves, and thus brought Mrs. Lloyd to the scene. Mr. Lloyd was very much amused when he heard about Bert's adventure. " You 've beaten Shakespeare, Bert," said he, after a hearty laugh, as Mrs, Lloyd graphically described the occurrence. " For Shakespeare says a man does not seek the bubble reputation in the cannon's mouth, until he becomes a soldier, but you have found it, unless I am much mistaken, before you have fairly begun being a schoolboy." Bert did not understand the reference to Shake- speare, but he did understand that his father was not displeased with him, and that was a much more important matter. The next Sunday afternoon, when they went for their accustomed stroll in the fort, Bert showed his father the big gun vvhose d?.rk interior he had attempted to explore. Bert at Home. I 2 I " Oh, but father, wasn't I frii^htcncd when I i^ot in there and couldn't get out a^^ain I " said he earnestly, clasping his father's hand tightly, as the horror of the situation came back to him. " You were certainly in a tight place, little man," answered Mr. Lloyd, " and the next time your ball gets into one of the cannons you had better ask one of the artillerymen to get it out for you. He will find it a much easier job than getting you out." Bert loved the old fort and its cannons none the less because of his adventure, and as he grew older he learned to drop down into it from the garden fence, and climb back again, with the agility of a monkey. The garden itself was not very extensive, but Bert took a great deal of pleasure in it, too, for he was fond of flowers — what true boy, indeed, is not ? — and it contained a large number within its narrow limits, there being no less than two score rose bushes of different varieties, for instance. The roses were very plenteous and beautiful when in their prime, but at opposite corners of the little garden stood two trees that had far more interest for Bert than all the rose trees put together. These were two apple trees, planted, no one knew just how or when, which hn.d been allowed to grow up at their own will, with- out pruning or grafting, and, as a consequence, were never known to produce fruit that was worth eating. Every spring they put forth a brave show of pink and white blossoms, as though this year, at all events, Bert Lloyd's, Bpyhood. they were i^oini^ to do themselves credit, and every autumn the result appeared in half-a-dozen hard, small, sour, withered-up apples that hardly deserved tlie name. And yet, althoui^h these trees showed no signs of repentance and amendment, Bert, with the quenchless hopefulness of boyhood, never quite despaired of their bringing; forth an apple that he could eat without having his mouth drawn up into one tight pucker. Autumn after autumn he would watch the slowly developing fruit, trusting for the best. It always abused his confidence, however, but it was a long time before he finally gave it up in despair. At one side of the garden stood a neat little barn that was also of special interest to l^ert, for, besides the stall for the cow, there was another, still vacant, which Mr. Lloyd had promised should have a pony for its tenant so soon as Bert was old cnouirh to be trusted with such a playmate. Hardly a day passed that Bert did not go into the stable, and, standing by the little stall, wonder to himself how it would look with a pretty pony in it. Of course, he felt very impatient to have the pony, but Mr. Lloyd had his own ideas upon that point, and was not to be moved from them. He thouj^ht that when Bert was ten years old would be quite time enough, and so there was nothing to do but to wait, which Bert did, with as much fortitude as he could command. Jhrt at Home, 123 Whatever might be tlie weather outside, it seemed ahvays warm and sunny indoors at l^ert's home. The Lloyds lived in an atmosphere of love, both human and Divine. They loved one another dearly, but they loved God still more, and lived close to Ilim. Relit^ion was not so much expressed as implied in their life. It was not in the least obtrusive, yet one could never mistake rheir point of view. Next to its sincerity, the strongest characteristic of their religion was its chceriness. They saw no reason why the children of the King should go mourning all their days ; on the contrary, was it not rather their duty, as well as their privilege, to establish the joy of service ? ]kought up amid such influences, Bert was, as a natural consequence, entirely free from those strange misconceptions of the true character of religion which keep so many of the young out of the kingdom. lie saw nothing gloomy or repellent in religion. That he should love and serve God seemed as natural to him as that he should love and serve his parents. Of their love and care he had a thousand tokens daily. Of the Divine love and care he learned from them, and that they should believe in it was all the reason he required for his doing the same. He asked no further evidence. There were, of course, times when the spirit of evil stirred within him, and moved him to rebel against authority, and to wish, as he put it himself one day I2,| Hcrt [Jovifs Bovliood, wluMi rcMiiiiuIcil K^{ llic text, " Thou Gotl sccst mo," that " (loil would let him alone for a \vhilc\ and not \w al\va\-s lookinL^- at him." Hut then he wasn't an ani;el hy any means, hut simpl)' a lieart}', healthy, happy hoy, with a fair share of temper, and as much fondness for liavinq; his own wa)' as the averaij^e boy of his a,q;c. His parents were very proud of him. They would liave been queer parents if they were not. Yet thc\' were careful to disi^uisc it from him as far a:> possible. If there was one thin*^ more than another that Mr. Ivloyd disliked in children, and, therefore, dreaded for lu's boy, it was that forward, conscious air which comes of too much attention bcint;" paid them in the presence of their elders. " Little folks shouki be seen and not heard," he woultl say kindly but firmly to l^ert, when that }'ouni^ person was disposed to unduly assert him- self, and ]>ert rarely failed to take the hint. One trait of Ikrt's nature which i^avc his father irreat crratification was liis fondness for rcadincr. He never had to be taught to read. He learned, himself. Tiiat is, he was so caliper to learn that so soon as he had mastered the alphabet, he was always taking his picture books to his mother or sister, and gcttini^ them to spell the words for him. In this way he got over all his difficulties with surprising rapidity, and at five years of age could read quite easily. As he grew older, he showed rather an odd taste in his choice of books. One volume that he read from cover to cover /)V/'/ (if //oilic '25 before he was ci^ht )-ear.s oUl was Layard's "Nineveh." Just why this portly soinhre-luied vohinie, with its win<^^e<,l h'on stamped in t^old iij)on its hack, attracted him so stroni^Iy, it would not he cas)- to sa)-. 'I'he ilhistrations, of course, liad somethin.L,^ to do willi it, and then the fascinatioti of diL^^Lnni; down deep into th c ear th an d briuLfin!/ forth all sorts of stranire '.^ .^' thinirs no doubt influenced liiin. Another book that held a wonderful charm for him the I^ook of 1> :lat S( :fully did h( iveveiaiion. r^o careiuiiy end ne con this, which he thou;4ht the most i^dorious of all writini^s, that at one time he could recite many chapters of it word for word. Its marvellous imai^ery api)ealed to his imai^ination if it did nothing; more, and took such hold upon his mind that no part of the liible, not even the stories that shine like stars thrcnic^h the first books of the Old Testament, was more interesting to him. Not only was Bert's imai,nnation vivid, but his sympathies were also very quick and easily aroused. It was scarcely safe to read to him a pathetic tale, his tears were so certain to flow. The story (;f Gcllcrt's hound, faithful untcj death, well-nii^di broke his heart, and that perfect pearl, '• Rab and ilis Friends," bedewed his cheeks, althouc,di he read it ai^ain and again until he knew it almost by heart. No one ever laughed at his tenderness of heart. He was not taught that it was unmanly for a bc;y to weep. It is an easy thing to chill and harden an I 26 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. iinprcssioiKiblc nature. It is not so easy to soften it ai;ain, or to brini; softness to one tliat is too hartl lor its own i;()od. With such a lionic, licrt TJo)'d coukl hardly fail to be a happy bo)-, and no one that knew him would ever have thoui^ht of him as beiui; anything else. I le had his dull times, of course. What boy with all his faculties has not ? And he had his cranky spells, too. Ikit neither the one nor the other lasted very lont;, and the sunshine soon not only broke throui^h the clouds, but scattered them altogether. Happy arc those natures not given to brooding over real or fancied troubles. Gloom never mends matters : it can only make them worse. CIIAITKR XIV. AN IIONOURM'.LK SCAR. BERT was not learning very much at Mr. Garrison's school, lie had some glimmcrin^^ of this him- self, for he said to^ Frank one day, after they had returned to their seats from having gone through the form — for really it was nothing more — of saying one of their lessons : " It's mighty easy work getting through lessons at this school, isn't it. Shorty ? " And Shorty, being of the same opinion, as he had happened not to be asked any questions, and, therefore, had not made any mis- takes, promptly assented. " That 's so, Bert," said he, *' and the oftencr he asks Munro and you to say the whole lesson, and just gives me the go-by, the better I like it." But Bert was not the only one who noticed that his education was not making due progress. His father observed it too, and, after some thinking on the sub- ject, made up his mind that he v/ould allow Bert to finish the spring term at Mr. Garrison's, and then, after the summer holidays, send him to some other school. 127 128 Hcrl Lloyd's Hoy hood. The w. liter passed away and sprini^ drew near. S[)rini; is the most dilatory and provokini^ of all the seasons at Halifax. It advances and retreats, [)auses antl proL^rcsses, promises and fails to perform, until it really seems, som'^times, as though midsummer would be at hand and no sprini^ at all. With the boys it is a particularly tryini^ time of the year. The daily increas- VY^ heat of the sun has played havoc with the snow and ice, and winter sports are out of the question. Yet the sncnv and ice — or rather the slush they make — still lini;ers on, and renders any kind of summer sport impossible. For nearly a month this unsatis- factory state of affairs continues, and then, at length, the wet dries up, the frost comes out of the ground, the chill leaves the air, and marbles, rounders, base- ball, and, later on, cricket make glad the hearts and tire the legs of the eager boys. This spring was made memorable for Bert by an occurrence that left its mark upon him, lest, perhaps, he might be in danger of forgetting it. In front of the large building, in one room of which Mr. Garri- son's school was held, there was a large open square, known as the Parade. It was a bare, stony place kept in order by nobody, and a great resort for the roughs of the city, who could there do pretty much what they pleased without fear of interruption from the police. On the upper side of this square, and over toward the opposite end from Mr. Garrison's, was another school, called the National, and having- a y/w 1 1 OHO It ruble Scar. I 29 lart^c number of scholars, of a somewhat commoner chiss tlian those whicli attended Mr. Garrison's. It need hardly be said that the relations between the two schools were, to use a diplomat" ; phrase, "chronically strained." They were always at logger- heads. A Garrison boy could hardly encounter a National boy without c^ivinc; (jr c^etting a cuff, a matter determined by his size, and riots, on a more or less extensive scale, were continually taking place when groups of boys representing the two schools would hai)pen to meet. Bert was neither quarrelsome nor pugnacious by nature. He disliked very much being on bad terms with any one, and could not understand why he should regard another boy as his natural enemy simply because he happened to go to a different school. More than once he had quite an argument with Frank Bowser about it. Frank was always full of fight. He hated every National boy as vigorously as though each one had individually done him some cruel injury. As sum as a collision took place, and Frank was present, he was in the thick of it at once, dealing blows right and left with all his might. In obedience to the dictation of his own nature, strengthened by his father's advice, Bert kept out of these squabbles so far as he possibly could, and as a natural consequence fell under suspicion of being a coward. Even Frank began to wonder if he were not afraid, and if it were not this which kept him 1 K\^ /u'/'/ /Joy(fs Hoyhood. hack from atiivc i)arlicM"i)alii)ii in Ihc rows, lie said sonuiliiiii; about it to Hcrl one ila)', and it hurt IhmI vcr\' nui'h. " 1 'ni not afraid, Short)' ; you know well cnouirh i 111 not," said he, intlii;nantly. " lUit I 'in not i^oini; to lli;ht with fellows who never diil me an\' hann. It 's wroni;", that's what it is, antl I \\\ not ,i;oin^ to do it. 1 don't care what )-ou say." " lUit )'ou oui;ht to chip in soinetinies, Hert, or the l)o\s will think that \'ou 're a coward, " urijed h'rank. ** I can't help it if they i\o^ Short)-," was IkMt's unshaken rcpl)-. " I don't feel like it myself, and, w hat 's more, father doesn't want me to." The very next day there was a row of unusual dimensions, brouL;ht about by one of the Garrison bo)'s at the noon recess havini; started a flight with one of the National boys, which almost in a twink- IIiil;' of an eye involved all the boys beloni;ini;" ti) both schools then in the Parade. It was a lively scene, that would have i;iaddcned the heart of an Irishman homesick for the excitement of 13onn)brook l^'air. There were at least one hundred boys cnirapctl, 'i-.''t-.' the sides beini;- pretty evenh- matched, and the battle ^i^round was the centre of the Tarade. To drive the other school in ii;nominious nii;ht from this spot was the object of each boyish rcs^iment, and locked in hostile embrace, like the })la)'crs in a football match when a " maul " has been formed, they swayed to and fro, now one side "fainimi, now the other, while shouts to An Iloiiotirahlc Star. • ;. i *){' " do in, N.itioiials ! " " (iivc it to tlu-in, (janisoiis ! " iniii^lin^^ with exclamations of ani;L'r or pain, lillcd llu' air. HlmI was not [)rcs(Mit wIumi the strii.i;;^flc h('}.;an. in fact, it was well under wa\' hefoi-e he knew anvthini' about it, as lu; had lingered in the schooliooin to ask Mr. (ianison some ([uestion after the other hoys had run out. ( )n ;4nin<^ out u^x)!! the Parade, he was at Hrst startled by the uproar, and then fdled with an intense desire to be in the midst of the battle. Hut, remein- berini^ his father's injunctions, he paused for a moment irresolute. Then he noticed that the National boys were i^ainini; the advanta;^re, and the Garrison boys retreatiiiL,^ before them. Tiie next instant he caUL;ht siL;ht of I'^rank Jiowser, who had, of course, been in the forefront of the fii^dit, left unsu[)p()rted by his comrades, and surrounded by a circle of threatening opponents. JJert hesitated no lonj^er. With a shout of " Come on, boys ! " he spraii!^- down the stei)s, rushed across the intervening; space, and fluni; himself into the i^roup around h'rank with such force that two of the Nationals were hurled to the i^round, and P'rank set at liberty. Inspirited by 15ert's <;allant onset, the Garrisons returned to the chari^c, the Nationals <;ave way before them, and ]5crt was just about to raise the shout of victory when a big hulk of a boy who had been hovcrini^^ on the outskirts of the Nationals, too cowardly to come to any closer quarters, picked up a stone and threw it '32 Jkr( /Joy if s Jyoyhood. with wicked force strai^Hit at Hcrt's face. His aim was only too ,i;ood. With a sharp thud, the stone struck liert on his left teniple, just behind the eye, and the poor l)o\' fell to the <^round insensible. Instantly the struL,^i,de and confusion ceased, but not before T'rank, in a passion of fury, had dealt l^ert's cowardly assailant a blow that sent him rccl- ini; to the ^rountl, and had then sprun<; to his friend's side. " Get a doctor, some fellow," he shouted, holdinj^ up the ])ale, calm face, down which the blood was tricklini^ from an ugly wound. " Let 'scarry him into the school ! " A dozen eager volunteers came forward. Carefully and tenderly Bert was lifted up, and carried into the schoolroom, which, fortunately, Mr. Garrison had not yet left. IMaced upon one of the benches, with Frank's coat for a pillow, his head was bathed with cold water, and presently he revived, much to the relief and delight of the anxious boys standing round. A few minutes later the doctor arrived. With (juick, cleft fingers he stanched the wound, covered it with plaster, enveloped it with bandages, and then gave directions that l^ert should be sent home in a cab without delay. "Why, Bert darling, what does this mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Lloyd, as she opened the door for him. " Ask Frank, mother ; my head 's aching too bad An I lonounxhlc Scar. 1 1 '^ to tell you," rci)liccl Hcrt, putting; U[) his liaiul with a gesture of pain. And so, while ]^crt lay on tlic sofa, with his mother close l)esi(le him, and Mary pre- paring^' liiin a refreshin^^ drink, l''raid< told the stoi - in his own, roui^h, straightforward fashion, makiiij^^ it all so clear, with the help of a word now and then from Hcrt, that when he cndetl, Mrs, Lloyd, bendincj (H'er her son, kissed him tenderly on the forehead, sa>'in^^ : " You know, liert, how I dislike fiL,dUinL(, i)ut I cannot find it in my heart to blame you tliis time. You acted like a hero." In this opinion Mr. Lloyd, when he came home, fully concurred. He had not a word of blame for Bert, but made the boy's heart glad by tellinjj^ him to always stand by his friends when they were in trouble, and then he would never be without friends who would .stand by him. Bert's wound took .some time to heal, and when it did heal, a scar remained that kept its place for man)' years after. But he did not suffer for nought. The incident was productive of good in two directions. It established Bert's character for courage beyond all cavil, and it put an end to the unseemly rows between the schools. The two masters held a consultation, as a result of which they announced to their schools that any boys found taking part in such disturbances in future would be first publicly whipped, and then expelled ; and this threat put an effectual stop to the practice. ^34 Bei't Lloyd^s Boyhood, The days arid weeks slipped by, and the summer vacatioii, so eagerly looked forward to by all school- boys, arrived. P'J'one were more delighted at its arrival than Bert and Frank. Their friendship nad grown steadily stronger from the day of their first acquaintance. They had few disagreements. Frank, although the older and larger of the two, let Bert take the lead in almost all cases, for Bert had the more active mind, and his plans were generally the better. Happily for the serenity of their r-^lations, l^ert, \v^hile he was fond enough of being the leader, never undertook to " boss " his companions. If they did not readily fall into line v/ith h^'m, why he simply fell into line with them, and that was an end of it. His idea of fun did not consist in being an autocrat, and ordering others about. He very much preferred that all should work together for whatever common purpose happened to be in their minds at the time ; and thus it was, that of the boys who played together in the old fort, and waded in the shallow water that rippled along the sand beach at its foot, no one was more popular than Bert Lloyd. They had fine fun during this summer vacation. Neither Frank nor Bert went out of the city, and they played together every day, generally in the fort ; but sometimes Bert would go with Frank to the Horti- cultural Gardens, where a number of swings made a great attraction for the young folk, or down to the point where they would ramble through the woods, An Hojiourable Scar 135 imagining themselves brave hunters in search of bears, and carrying bows and arrows to help out the illusion. The greatest enjoyment of all, however, was to go out upcn the water. Of course, they were not allowed to do this by themselves. They were too young for that yet, but very often Mr. Lloyd would leave his office early in the afternoon in order to take them out in the pretty skiff he kept at the fort, or the whole family would spend the long summer evenings together on the water. Bert was at his happiest then. Under his father's directions he was vigorously learning to row, and it was very stimulating to have his mother and sister as spectators. They took such a lively interest in his progress, that he did not mind if they did laugh heartily, but of course not unkindly, when sometimes in his eagerness to take an extra big stroke he would " catch a crab," and roll over on his back in the bot- tom of the boat, with his feet stuck up like two signals of distress. Bert accomplished this a good many times, but it did not discourage nim. He was up and at it again immediately. " Don't look at your oar. boys ! Don't look at your oar ! Keep your faces toward the stern," Mr. Lloyd would call out as Bert and Frank tugged away manfully, and they, who had been watching their oars 10 make sure that they went into the water just ri^^ht, would answer " Ay, ay, sir ! " 136 Bert Lloyd's BoyJiood. in true sailor fashion ; and then for the next few moments they wouid keep their eyes fixed straic^ht astern, only to brini^ them back ai^ain soon to those drii)i)inj^ biac'es that had such a saucy wa}- of jjettinc^ crooked unless they were well watched. A more delightful place than Halifax harbour of a fine summer evening could hardly be desired. The wind, which had been busy making " white caps " all the afternoon, went to rest at sundown. The ruffled waters sank into a glassy calm, the broad harbour becoming one vast mirror in which the rich hues of the sunset, the long dark lines of the wharves, and the tall masts of the ships sleeping at their moorings were reflected with many a quaint curve and curious involution. Boats of every kind, the broad -bottomed dory, the sharp-bowed flat, the trim keel-boat, the long low whaler, with their jolly companies, dotted the placid surface, while here and there a noisy steam launch saucily puffed its way along, the incessant throb of its engine giving warning of its approach. Far up the harbour at their moorings off the dock- yard, the huge men-of-war formed centres around which the boats gathered in numerous squads, for every evening the band would play on board these floating castles, and the music never seemed more sweet than when it floated out over the still waters. Sometimes, too, after the band had ceased, the sailors would gather on the forecastle and sing their songs, as only sailors can sing, winning round after round An Honourable Scar. T 1 »» of applause from their appreciative audience in the Ijoats. All of this was very delii^^htful to Bert. So, too, was the paddliiiL,^ about on the beach that frini^ed the bottom of the fort's i^rassy slope, and the makini; of miniature forts out of the warm, dry sand, only to have them dissolve again before the advancing tide. Just as delightful, too, was the clambering over the boulders that marked the ruins of an old pier, searching for periwinkles, star-fish, and limpets, with never-ceasing wonder at the tenacity with which they held on to the rocks. Playing thus in the sunshine almost from dawn to dark, Bert grew visibly bigger and browner and sturdier, as the days slipped swiftly by. w was ( "I back to be matti Mr. ( "1 only I do part < are a Doy "^ quite schoc ing 1 hold anytl" CHAPTER XV. A CHANCE OF SCHOOLS. WITH the coming of September the holidays ended, and the question of schools once more was earnestly discussed in the Lloyd household. *' I have quite made up my mind not to send Bert back to Mr. Garrison," said Mr. Lloyd. " He seems to be learning little or nothing there. The fact of the matter is, what he does learn, he learns at home, and Mr. Garrison simply hears him recite his lessons." " That 's very true," assented Mrs. Lloyd. " I am only too glad to help Bert all I can in his studies, but I do not see the propriety of our having the greater part of the work of teaching him ourselves when we are at the same time paying some one else to do it. Do you, Mary ? " she added, turning to her daughter. " No, mother," replied Mary. " I suppose it is not quite fair. Yet I would feel sorry if Bert went to a school where everything was done for him, and noth- ing left for us to do. I like to help him. He gets hold of an idea so quickly ; it is a pleasure to explain anything to him." 139 140 Bert Lloyd's BoyJiood. "It seems to mc that a school where there is a i,^ood (leal of healthful rivalry among the boys would be the best place for 15ert. He is very ambitious, and eac^er to be at the top, and in a school of that kind his cnert^ies would be constantly stimulated," said Mr. Lloyd. " What do you think, Kate ? " addressinc^ his wife. " I think that would be very good, indeed," answered Mrs. Lloyd. " But do you know of any such school ? " " I have been hearing good accounts of Dr. Johnston's school, and he certainly seems to have a great deal of system in his methods, so that I am inclined to give him a trial." " Oh, Dr. Johnston's is a splendid school," spoke up Mary, with enthusiasm. " Both of Edie Strong's brothers go there, and I have often heard themA tell about it. But isn't Bert too young for it yet ? He 's only nine, you know, and they are mostly big boys who go to Dr. Johnston's." " Not a bit ! " said Mr. Lloyd, emphatically. " Not a bit ! True, Bert is only nine, but he looks more like twelve, and thinks and acts like it, too. It will be all the better for him to be with boys a little older than himself. He will find it hard to hold his own among them, and that will serve to strengthen and develop him." " Poor little chap ! " said Mrs. Lloyd, tenderly. " I expect he will have a pretty hard time of it at A Change of Schools. 141 first. I wish Frank were goinc; with him, for he thinks all the world of Bert, and is so inuch older and bigger that he could be a sort of protector for him." " I 'm glad you mentioned Frank, Kate," exclaimed Mr. Lloyd. "You've given me an idea. If I decide to send Bert to Dr. Johnston's, I will make a point of seeing Mr. l^owser, to ask him if he will not c(jn- sent to send Frank, too. I hardly expect he will make any objection, as it is not likely there will be any difference in the expense." " Oh, I do hope Frank will go, too," cried Mary, clapping her hands. "If he does, I shall feel ever so much easier about Bert. Frank is so fond of him that he won't let him be abused, if he can help it." "Very well, then," said Mr. Idoyd, bringing the conversation to a close. " I will make some further inquiries about Dr. Johnston's, and if the results arc satisfactory^ I will see Mr. Bowser, and do what I can to persuacie him to let Frank accompany IkMt." A few days after, Mr. Lloyd called IkM't to him, while they were all sitting in the parlour, just after dinner. " Come here, Bert," said he. " I want tc have a talk with you about going to school. You know I don't intend you to go back to Mr. Garrison's. Now, where would you like to go yourself?" "Oh, 1 don't know, father," replied Bert. "I don't want to go to the Acadian or National school an)'- way." 142 Hcri Lloyd's J)oy/.>jod. "You need not feel troubled on that score. So far as I can learn, they arc no better than the one jou have been tj^oinj;^ to. Hut what do you think of Dr. Johnston's school ? How would you like to become a pupil there ? ' " Oh, father," exclaimed Bert, lookinj^ up, with a face expressive of bctli surprise and concern, " I 'm not big enough for that scliool. They 're all big boys that go there." " But ycu 're a big boy, — for your age, at all events, — Bert," returned Mr. Lloyd, with a reassuring smile, " and you '11 ..oon grow to be as big as any of them." "But, father," objected Bert, "they're awfully rough there, 52 Be7't Lloyd's Hoy hood. The boys' hearts were throbbing violently as Mr. Lloyd rang the bell. The door was opened readily by a boy, who was glad of the excuse to leave his seat, and he entered the schoolroom, followed by his charcres. The room was long, narrow, and low- ceilinged, and was divided into two unequal portions by a great chimney, on either side of which a passage had been left. At the farther end, occupying the central space between two windows, was the doctor's desk, or throne it might more properly be called ; for never did autocrat wield more unquestioned authority over his subjects than did Dr. Johnston over the hundred and odd scholars who composed his school. In front of him, running down the centre of the room, and on either hand, following the walls, were long lines of desks, at which sat boys of all sorts, and of all ages, from ten to eighteen. As Mr. Lloyd entered, those nearest the door looked up, and seeing the new- comers, proceeded to stare at them with a frank curi- osity that made ]3ert feel as though he would like to hide in one of his father's coat-tail pockets. They turned away pretty quickly, however, when Dr. Johnston, leaving his desk, came down to meet Mr. Lloyd, and as he passed between the lines, every head was bent as busily over the book or slate before it, as though its attention had nevei been distracted. Considering that Dr. Johnston was really a small, slight man, it was surprising what an idea of stately dignity his appearance conveyed. He could hardly The First Days at Dr. Johnstois, i DO have impressed liert with a deeper feeling of respect from the outset, if he had been seven feet high, in- stead of only a little more than five. He was a clergyman of the Episcopal Church, and wore at all times a long black gown, reaching nearly to his ankles, which set off to the best advantage the spare, straight figure, and strong dark face. The habitual expression of that face when in repose was of thoughtful severity, and yet if one did but scan it closely enough, the stern mouth was seen to have a downward turn at its corners that hinted at a vein of humour lying hid somewhere. The hint was well- sustained, for underneath all his sternness and sever- ity the doctor concealed a playful humour, that at times came to the surface, and gratefully relieved his ordinary grimness. As he walked down from his desk to meet Mr. Lloyd, he looked very pleasant indeed ; and Bert felt his nervousness a little calmed as, holding out his thin, white and yet muscular hand, Dr. Johnston said, cordially : " Good-morning, Mr. Lloyd. I presume these are the two boys you spoke to me about." "They arc, ]3r. Johnston," Mr. Lloyd replied. " I brought them in good time so that they might learn as much as ])ossible about the ways of the school the first day." " You did well, Mr. Lloyd. It is important to have a good beginning in everything that is worth doing," 154 Bc7't Lloyd's Boyhood. said the doctor ; then, turning to Bert, he slipped his hand under his chin, and Hfting his head so that he might look him full in the face, added, with a smile, " I need hardly ask which of these boys is yours, for this one betrays his paternity in every feature." " You have hit the mark, doctor," said Mr. Lloyd, smiling in his turn. " This is my son Cuthbert, at your service, and this is Frank Bowser, his insepar- able companion." " Quite a case of Damon and Pythias, eh ? " said the doctor, whose devotion to the classics was such that his one great regret was that he had not lived in the time of Horace. "Yes, something of the kind," rejoined Mr. Lloyd ; " and I would be very glad if you could manage to let them sit together so long as they behave them- selves." " We '11 see, we '11 see," was the doctor's non-com- mittal response. " Very well, then, doctor," said Mr. Lloyd, turning to leave. " I '11 hand them over to you nov/. I am sure you will make the best of them, and that I am leaving them in very good hands. Good-bye, boys." And then, bending down, he whispered in Bert's ear, " Remember — quit you like men — be strong," and then left them. As Mr. Lloyd disappeared through the door, the air of geniality the doctor had been wearing during the brief interview vanished from his countenance, The First Days at Dr. Johnstoiis. 155 and it relapsed into its wonted look of resigned severity. " Lloyd and Bowser, come with me to my desk," said he, turnin^^ his back upon them, and walking down the room. The boys followed very meekly, and on arriving at the desk the doctor entered their names in a huge book that lay oj^en before him, using an old-fashioned quill pen that scratched so harshly as to send a shudder through ]3ert, who was very sensitive to ^uch things. " We will now see about seats for you both," con- tinued the doctor. Then, raising his voice, he called out, " Mr. Snelling, will you please come here," and from the far end of the room a respectful voice responded " Yes, sir." Looking in the direction whence the voice came, Jiert saw an odd-looking man approaching, who, of course, was Mr. Snelling. He was of medium height, but quite as slight as the doctor himself. Many years at the schoolmaster's desk had given a stoop to his shoulders and a pallor to his face, that were in marked contrast to his chief's erect figure and swarthy coun- tenance, l^ut if his face was pale, his hair made a brave attempt to atone for this lack of colour, for it was the richest, most uncompromising red ; and as though he delighted in its warm tints, Mr. Snelling allowed it to grow in uncropped abundance, and his favourite gesture was to thrust his fingers through its tanirled mass. Beneath a white and narrow forehead 156 Bert LloycTs Boyhood. were two small sharp eyes, that peered out keenly through a pair of gold-bowed spectacles, and were ever on the watch to detect the slightest misbehaviour among the urchins gathered around him. Bert's first impross'on of Mr. Snelling was not- a favourable u i.;, i 1 .s he stoot! by and heard Dr. Johnstm .ly ; ' Mr. Snelling, here arc two more pupils. This is J^loyvi and this is l^owser. They will go into your room for the present. Will you please see that desks are assigned them? " — he thought to himself that in spite of the doctor's grim appear- ance he would rather stay in his room than be handed over to Mr. Snelling. However, he was not to be consulted in the matter, so he followed in the wake of Mr. Snelling, who, by the way, it should be explained, was the assistant master, having special charge of all the younger scholars, and the drilling of them in the English branches of learning. The classics and mathematics the doctor reserved for himself, and a better teacher of the former particularly there was not in all Halifax. Mr. Snelling's portion of the room differed from the doctor's only in that it was not so well lighted and the seats were not quite so comfortable. The school being pretty full at the time, the securing of seats for the two new-comers required some rearrang- ing, in the course of which changes had to be made that evidently did not by any means meet with the approbation of those who were immediately con- TLc First Days, at Dr. JoJinstons. 15; cnrncd • aiid Bert's spirits, a' ready at a low ebb, were FT^t much elevated by sundry scowlini,^ looks directec^ ;it him, and b\' v)ne red-faced, irritable-looki n; chap seizing tlv (y[)porium'ty when Mr. Snellin'^fs back was tuiued to shake his fist at Bert and P^aiik, and mutter loudly enough for them to hear : " I '11 punch the heads of you both at recess, sec if I don't." At length, with some little diffic .11 Mr. Snelling got matters arranged, and the tw be were placed in the farthest corner of the roc ;i a id, to their pro- found delight, side by side. Their accommodations were the reverse of luxurious. v wooden bench, destitute of back, and shiny from the friction of dear knows how many restless sitters ; a sloping desk, cut and carved by careless knives, and having underneath an open shelf upon which the books, slate, cap, and lunch might be put — that was the sum total. Yet, after all, what more do schoolboys really need, or can be safely intrusted with ? Feeling very strange and nervous, Ikrt and Frank took their seats, and slipping their caps under the desk — they were both wearing that serviceable form of headgear known as the Glengarry — they did their best to seem composed, and to take in their surround- ings. The gaunt, unlovely room was soon inspected, and from it they turned their attention to its occupants. Mr. Snelling has already been described. To the left of his desk, and extending row upon row, one behind 158 Ihrt Lloyd's BoyJiood. the other, were desks filled with boys of different a^cs and sizes. In front of him was an open space, in which the classes stood when rccitinii lessons to him, and across this space was another line of desks placed close to the wall, which were assi^nied to the oldest boys in the room. Not a familiar or friendly face could the new- comers find, but instead, they saw many that seemed to take pleasure in makinq^ them feel, if possible, still more ill at ease, by fixinc^ upon them a cold, indiffer- ent stare, or even an ugly grimace. The only ray of light was that which came from the sweet countenance of a blue-eyed, fair-haired boy, who, catching Bert's eye, nodded pleasantly at him, as though to say, '* I 'm glad you 've come ; make yourself at home." And Bert resolved that he would make his acquaintance at the very first opportunity. Having nothing to do but watch the other boys as they studied and recited, the morning dragged along very slowly for Bert and Frank, and they were im- mensely relieved when the noon recess was announced, and the whole school poured tumultuously out into either the yard or the street, according to their prefer- ence. The majority of the boys went into the street, and the two friends followed them, feeling not a little anxious as to what sort of treatment they might expect at the hands of their new companions. As it proved, however, they had nothing to fear, for it was an unwritten law of the Johnston school, that new The First Pays at Dr. Johnston s, i 59 boys should be left \w peace for the first clay ; and accordin^^ly rVank and Hert were permitted to stand ■^nbout and watch the others enjoyini^ themselves with- out interruption. No one asked them to join in the frames, alth()UL;h, no doubt, had they tlone so of their own accord, no one would have objected. After they had been there a few minutes, Hert heard a soft voice behind him saying : "It's horrid to be a nc-^ boy, isn't it? When I was a new boy I felt so frightened. Do you feel frightened?" And turning round he saw beside liim the blue-eyed, fair-haired boy whose pleasant face had attracted his attention in the school. " I don't think I feel just frightened," he answered, with a smile. " l^ut I can't say I feel very much at home yet." " Oh, my ! But it will be very much worse to- morrow," said the new acquaintance. " And why will it be worse ? " inquired Bert, eagerly. " Because they '11 hoist you," said the other, with a nervous glance around, as though he feared being overheard. " Does it hurt dreadfully to be hoisted ? " asked Bert, while Frank drew near, awaiting the reply with intense interest. " Oh, yes ; it does hurt dreadfully ! But " — with a more cheerful air — " you get over it after a little while, you know." i6o /)V;V IJoyifs Hoy hood. "Well, then, I fjucss I can stand it. If you yi^(A over it all riL^ht, so c m I," spoke up l^crt, manfully ; then, turnini^r to P'rank, " And )(-ii can, too, can't \-ou. Shorty?" I^'rank shook his head ilouhtfiill)'. " 1 ca)i all ri^ht cnoUL;h, but I don't know that I ivill. I Vc a mind to L,M*vc them a fi^ht f(jr ir, anyhow." " Not a bit of use," said the bluc-cycd boy, whose name, by the way, as he presently told the others, was iM-nest Linton. "Not a bit of use. They'll only beat you the harder if you fi^^dit.'' "We'll sec," said Frank, with a determined air. " We '11 see when the time comes." l^ert and Frank found Ernest a very bright and useful friend, and they had so many questions to ask him that they were very sorry when the ringing of a bell summoned them back to their seats, where they were kept until three o'clock in the afternoon, when school was over for the day. At home that evening Bert recounted his experiences to three very attentive listeners, and his face grew very grave when he came to tell what Ernest had said about the "hoisting." Having never witnessed a performance of this peculiar rite by which for many years it had been the custom of the school to initiate new members, ]^ert had no very clear ideas about it, and, of course, thought it all the more dreadful on that account. But his father cheered him a great deal by the view he took of it. The First fhivs a/ Hr. lolnistons, i6f "Sec, now, Hcrt," said he. "It's just this way. Mvcry boy in Dr. Johnston's school has been hoisted, and none of them, I suppose, arc any the worse for it. Neither will you be. Take my advice and tloti't resist. Let the boys have it all their own way, and they il like you all the better, and let you off all the easier." •' Very well, father, I '11 do just as you say," responded Bert. '* And when I come home to-morrow afternoon I '11 tell you all about it." And feclinc^ in much better spirits than he had been in all day, ik^rt went off to bed, and to sleep, as only a tired school- boy in sturdy health can sleep. CHAPTER XVII. M THE HOISTING. RS. LLOYD gave Bert a more than usually affectionate kiss as he started off" for school next morning, and his father called after him : " Remember, Bert, quit you like a man." Yet who could blame the little fellow if his heart throbbed with unwonted vigour all that morning, and that he watched the clock's hands anxiously as ihey crept slowly, but steadily, round the dial, yellow with age and service. Frank had adopted an unconcerned, if not defiant air, which told plainly enough that he had no idea of submitting quietly to the inevitable ordeal. He was a born fighter. Strength, endurance, courage were expressed in every line of his body. Indeed, as was seen in the matter of the rows between the Garrison and the National boys, he thought a good lively tussle to be fihc fun, and never missed a chance of having one. The two boys were carefully examined by both Dr. Johnston and Mr. Snelling as to the extent of their 163 164 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. learning in the course of the morning, and assigned to classes accordingly. They were given the same work- English grammar and history, arithmetic, geography, Latin grammar, &c., and a list given them of the books they would need to procure. They were glad to find themselves in the same classes with Ernest Linton, who had been only half-a-year at the school before them, for he seemed such a kind, willing, obliging little chap that they both became fond of him at once. When recess came he slipped up to Bert and whispered in his ear : " Stay in school, and then they can't get at you. Mr. Snelling always stays, and they daren't come in for you." "Not a bit of it," said Bert, emphatically. "The sooner it 's over the better. Come along, Shorty." And they marched bravely out, with Ernest following closely behind. As they stepped into the street, they found fift)' or more of the boys gathered about the door, evidently awaiting them. Instantly the cry was raised, " The new boys — hoist them ! hoist them ! " And half-a- dozen hands were laid upon Bert, who led the van, while others seized Erank to prevent his running away. Bert made no resistance. Neither did Frank, when he saw that his time had not yet come, as they were going to hoist ]^ert first. Clinching his fists, and hunching his shoulders in readiness for a ' The Hoistm(r. ■65 strugijlc, he stood in silence watchinL;- l^cit's fate. What that would be was not lon As the days went by, Bert rapidly mastered the ways of the school, and made many friends among his schoolmates. He found the lessons a c^ood deal harder than they had been at Mr. Garrison's. And not only so, but the method of hearing them was so thorough that it was next to impossible for a boy who had come ill-prepared to escape detection. Dr. John- ston aid not simply hear the lesson ; he examined his scholars upon it, and nothing short of full acquaint- ance with it would content him. He had an original system of keeping the school record, which puzzled Bert very much, and took him a good while to under- stand. On the doctor's desk lay a large book, something like a business ledger. One page was devoted to each day. At the left side of the page was the column containing the boys' names, arranged in order of seniority, the boy who had been longest in the school being at the head, and the last new boy at the foot. The Hoistino, 171 Each boy had a Unc to himself, riinninj^^ out to the end of the pac^e, and these parallel lines were crossed by vertical ones, ruled from the top to the bottom of the pai^c, and having- at the toj) the names of ;dl the different classes ; so that the paL;e when ready for its entries rcsembL-d very much a checker ho.ird, only that the squares were ver)- small, and exceedinj^ly numerous. Just how these squares, thus stand ins^ opposite each name, should be fdled, depended upon the behaviour of the owner of that name, and his knowledge of his lessons. If l^crt, for instance, recited his grammar lesson without a slip, the letter B — standing for bene, well — was put in the grammar column. If he made one mistake, the entry was V \\, vix bene — scarcely well ; if two mistakes, Med, inediocriter — middling ; and if three, M, inaie — badly, equivalent to not knowing it at all. The same system prevailed for all the lessons, and in a modified form for the behaviour or deport- ment also. As regards behaviour, the arrangement was one bad mark for each offence, the first constitut- ing a V B, the second a Med, the third an M, and the fourth a P, the qiost ominous letter of all, standing, as it did, for pessime — as bad as possible — and one might also say for punishment also ; as whoever got a r thereby earned a whipping with that long strap, concerning which I^ert had heard such alarming stories. It will be seen that, by following out the line upon I 72 Hcrt fJoyd's boyhood. hich cacli boy' lamc stood, his complete record as ;i scholar could be seen, and upon this record tlu- doctor based the award of prizes at the close of the term. For he was a firm believer in the benefits of j)rize-givin^, and every half-)'car, on the day before the holidays, a bookcase full of {\\\(i books, each duly inscribed, was distributed amon^ those who had come out at the head in the different classes, or distint^uished themselves by constant c^ood behaviour. Once that Bert full}' understood the purpose of this daily record, and the principle upon which the prize- criviuLT was based, he determined to be amon"" the prize winners at the end of the term. His ambition was fired by what the older boys told him of the beautiful books awarded, and the honour it was to get one of them. He knew that he could not please his father or mother better than by being on the prize list, and so he applied himself to his lessons with a vigour and fidelity that soon brought him to the notice of the observant doctor. " I am glad to see you taking so much interest in your work," said he one morning, pausing, in his round of inspection, to lay his hand kindly upon l^ert's shoulder as the latter bent over his slate, work- ing out a problem in proportion. " A good begirming is a very important thing." Bert blushed to the roots of his hair at this unex- pected and, indeed, unusual compliment from the r/ic Iloisiinn. 173 grim master, who, before the boy could tVaine any reply, passed out of hcarinij. "We'll do our best, won't we, Short)-?" said Hert, turnini^ to his friend beside him. " I suppose so," answered Frank, in rather a doubt- ful tone. " But your best will be a good deal better than mine. The lessons are just awful hard ; it's no U.SC talking." "They are hard, Short)-, and no mistake. lUit you '11 get used to them all right," rejoined Ikn't, cheerfully. " I guess I '11 get used to being kept in and getting whipped, first," grumbled Frank. "Not a bit of it," Jku't insisted. "You just stick at them and you'll come out all right." The fact of the matter was, that poor Frank did find the lessons a little more than he could manage, and there were a good many more " V IVs " and " Med's " opposite his name than " ]Vs." He was a restless sort of a chap, moreover, and noisy in his movements, thus often causin^^ Mr. Snclling to look at him, and call out sharply : "Bowser, what are you doing there?" And I^'rank would instantly reply, in a tone of indignant inno- cence : " Nothing, sir." Whereupon Mr. Snelling would turn to Dr. John- ston, with the request : " Will you please put a mark to Ikwser for doing IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^ A^^ 1.0 I.I 111.25 IA^|28 |2.5 ■^ 1^ 12.2 1.4 2.0 1.6 <^ n. ^ "^ ■> V '/ /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 'V- r'our second, Graham ; I '11 look after Hert myself." The words were hardly uttered when the bell run<^, and the boys had all to hurry to their places in the schoolroom. That morninc^ was one of the most miserable poor Hert had ever spent. lie was a prey to the most diverse feelings, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he could brin^r his mind to bear sufficiently upon his lessons to keep his place in the classes. In the first place, he really dreaded the fii^ht with Rod Graham. Graham was older, taller, and much more experienced in such affairs, and l^ert could see no reason why he should hope for a victory over him. It was all well enough for dear old Frank to say from time to time, as he noticed Bert's depression : " Keep up your spirit, Bert ; you '11 thrash him sure. And if you don't, I will, as sure as I 'm alive." But that did not make the matter any clearer, for Bert would rather not get a thrashing at Rod's hands, even though Rod should get one at Frank's hands shortly after. 190 lUrt Lloyd's Boyhood. Then, af^ain, he did not feel at all certain that his father and mother would approve of his having a fii;ht with one of his sclioolmatcs. They disliked anythin^^ of the kind, he knew well enoiii^h, and perhaps they would not be willin^^ to make an exception in this case. lie wished very much he could ask their permission, but that, of course, was out of the ques- tion. The mere mention of such a thini^ would assuredly raise a howl of derision from the other boys, and even Teter Johnston would no doubt ask con- temptuously if " he was going to back out of it in that way." No, no ; he must take the chances of his parents' approval, and likewise — and here came in the third difficulty — of Dr. Johnston's also, for he could not help wondering what the doctor would think when he heard of it, is he was certain to do. Thus perplexed and bewildered, the morning dragged slowly along for l^ert, who would one moment be wishing that recess time could be post- poned indefinitely, and the next, impatient for its arrival. At length twelve o'clock struck, and the boys, who were by this time all fully aware of what was in the wind, crowded out into the yard and quickly formed a ring in the comer farthest away from the school- room. Into this ring presently stepped Rod Graham, looking very jaunty and defiant, supported by Harry Raw^don, the fly catcher, the one friend he had in the Victory and Defeat. 191 school. A moment later came Hert Llo)'(l, pale but determined, with Teter and r^ank on either side of him, r^rank wearinjjj an expression that said as plain!)' as possible : "Whip my friend Hert, if you dare." It is neither necessary nor expedient to <^^o into the details of the fight, which did not last very loni^. Acting on Tetcr's sage advice, l^ert made no attempt to defend himself, but rushing into close quarters at once, sent in swinging blows with right and left hands alternate!)', striking Rod upon the face and chest, while the latter's blows fell principall)' upon his forehead ; until finally, in the fourth round, Gra- ham, whose face had suffered severely, gave u[) tlie contest, and covering his head, with his hands, ran away from ]^ert, who was too tired to pursue him. Great was the cheering at this conclusive result ; and Bert, panting, perspiring, and exhausted, found himself the centre of a noisy throng of his school- mates, who wrung his hand, clapped him upon the back, called him all sorts of names that were com- plimentary, and, in fact, gave him a regular ovation. After he had gone to the tap and bathed his hot face, l^ert was very much pleased to find that the brunt of the battle had fallen upon his forehead, and that, consequently, he would hardly be marked at all. To be sure, when he tried to put his cap on, he discovered that it would be necessary to wear it very much on J92 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. the back of his head, but he felt like doing that, any- way, so it didn't matter. lie would have liked to shake hands with Rod, and make it all up, but Rod was not to be found. After fleeing from his opponent, he had snatched up his coat, and, deserted even by Rawdon,'who was disgusted at his running away, he had gone out into the street, and did not appear again for the rest of the day. His victory worked a great change in Bert's feelings. He was no longer troubled about what his parents would think of the fight. He felt sure they would applaud him, now that he had come out of it with banners flying, so to speak. And he was not far from right, either. Mrs. Lloyd, it is true, was a good deal shocked at first, and Mr. Lloyd questioned him very closely ; but when they heard the whole story, much of which, indeed, was already familiar to them, they both acrreed that under the circumstances Bert could not have acted otherwise, without placing himself in a false position. " At the same time, Bert, dear," said his father, laying his hand upon his shoulder, " as it is your first, so I hope it will be your last fight. You have estab- lished your reputation for courage now. You can sustain it in other ways than by your fists." Dr. Johnston's method of showing that he was fully cognisant of the event was highly characteristic. 1 he next morning when Bert, with swollen forehead, and Rod, with blackened eyes, came before him in Victory and Defeat. 193 the same class, he said, with one of his sardonic smiles : "Ah, Graham, I see Lloyd has been writing his autograph on you. Well, let that be an end of it. Shake hands with one another." Bert immediately put out his hand and grasped Rod's, which was but half extended. " Very good," said the doctor. " We will now pro- ceed with the lesson." One of the most interested and excited spectators of the fight had been Dick Wilding, a boy who will require a few words of description. He was the son of one of the merchant princes of the city, and was accustomed to everything that the highest social station and abundant wealth could procure. He was a handsome young fellow, and although thoroughly spoiled and selfish, was not without his good points, a lavish generosity being the most noteworthy. This, of course, supplemented by his reckless daring as regards all schoolboy feats, and natural aptitude for schoolboy sports, made him very popular at the school, and he had a large following. Previous to Bert's decisive victory over Rod Graham, he had not shown any particular interest in him, beyond committing himself to the opinion that he was a " regular brick" on the occasion of the hoisting, and again, when Bert bore his whipping so manfully. But since the fight, he had exhibited a strong desire to have Bert join the circle of his companions, and N '94 Bci't Lloyd's Jyoyhood. to this end cultivated his society in a very marked way. Now, this same Dick Wilding had been in Mrs. Lloyd's mind when she had hesitated about J^ert's going to Dr. Johnston's. She knew well what his bringing up had been, and had heard several stories about him, which made her dread his being a com- j^anion for I^ert. She had accordingly spoken to l^ert about Dick, and while taking care not to be too pointed, had made it clear that she did not Wcint them to be intimate. This was when J-Jert first went to the school, and as there had seemed no prospect of anything more than a mere acquaintance springing u^) between the two boys, nothing had been said on the subject for some time, so that it was not fresh in his mind when Dick, somewhat to his surprise, showed such a desire for his society. Dick's latest enterprise was the organisation of a cricket club, into which he was putting a great deal of energy. As the bats and balls and other necessary articles were to be paid for out of his own pocket, he found no difficulty in getting recruits, and the list of members was fast filling up. l^ert had heard a good deal about this club, and would have liked very much to belong to it, but as nobody belonged except those who had been invited by Dick, his prospects did not seem very bright. Great then was his delight when one day at recess, Dick came up to him and said in his most winning way : Viclo)')' and Defeat. 195 )f a leal |ary he of )Od ich lose Inot hen in " Say, l^ert, don't \'ou want to join my cricket club ? 1 'd like to have you in." J^ert did not take loni^ to answer. "And I 'd like to join ever so much," he replied, in i^reat glee. " i\ll rii^ht, then ; coi iider yourself a member, and come round to the field behind our house this after- noon. We practise there every day." l^ert was fairly dancing with joy. Yet he did not forget his friend Frank. If Frank were not a member of the club, too, half the pleasure of it would be gone. So before Dick went off, he ventured to say : " Frank Bowser would like to belong, too, I know. Won't you ask him ? " "Certainly. No objection at all," replied Dick, in an off-hand way. " Bring him along with you this afternoon." With beaming face, J^ert rushed over to where Frank was busy playing marbles, and drawing him aside, shouted rather than whispered in his car : " I 've got something splendid to tell you. Dick Wilding has asked us both to join his cricket club, and we're to go to his field this very afternoon." "You don't say so!" exclaimed Frank, his face now beaming as brightly as Bert's. " Isn't that just splendid! 1 wanted to belong to that club ever si; much, but was afraid Dick wouldn't ask me." They had a capital game of cricket that afternoon in the Wilding field, which made a very good ground 196 Bert Lloyd's Jhyhood. indeed, and not only that afternoon, but for many afternoons as spring; passed into summer and the days grew longer and warmer. Bert told them at home about the club, but somehow omitted to mention the prominent part Dick Wilding played in it. In fact, he never mentioned his name at all, nor that it was his father's field in which the club met. This was the first step in a path of wrong, the taking of which was soon to lead to serious consequences. His reason for suppressing Dick Wilding's name was plain enough. He knew that in all probability it would put an end to his connection with the club. Now this club had every attraction for a boy like l^ert that such an organisation could possibly possess. It was select and exclusive, for none could belong except those who were invited by Dick. The field was a lovely place to play in, and they had it all to themselves. The balls and bats and stumps were first-class, a fine set of cricket gear having been one of Dick's Christmas presents ; and, finally, Dick was always bringing out to the players iced lemonade, or ginger beer, or spruce beer, or something of the kind, which was wonderfully welcome to them when hot and tired and thirsty. With such strong arguments as these, Bert did not find it difficult to quiet his conscience when it troubled him, as it did now and then, and he continued to be a great deal in Dick Wilding's society until something happened which caused him to bitterly regret that he Victory and Defeat. 197 had not heeded the inward monitor, and kept away from the associations his wise mother wished him to avoid. Mrs. Lloyd had good reason for drc.idinL; Dick- Wilding's companionship for her boy, as Dick could hardly fail to do l^ert harm, while the chances of Bert doing him any good were very small, since he was quite a year older and well set in his own ways. Dick's parents were thorough people of the world. Th.eii religion consisted in occup}'ing a velvet-cush- ioned pew in a fashionable church on Sunday morn- ing, and doing as they pleased the rest of the day. They made no attempt to teach their son anything more than good manners, taking it quite for granted that the other virtues would spring up of themselves. Dick was not much to be blamed, therefore, if he had rather hazy views about right and wrong. lie had not really an evil nature, but he had a very easy conscience, and the motto by which he shaped his conduct might well have been : " Get your own way. Get it honestly, if you can. l^ut — get it." Now, this cricket club had taken a great hold upon his fancy, and his whole heart was wrapped up in it. He was captain, of course, and all the other boys obeyed him implicitly. Their docility ministered to his pride, and he showed his appreciation b}' fairly showering his bounty upon them. There positively seemed no end to his pocket money. All sorts of expenses were indulged in. A fine tent was set up loS lu'l i //.'»•«/' N /^r\^ii\^,i. I«M lid Im>\ t(< put till ii l\.il . ,nitl iK.il. in ,niil '.jl \uhlt \ v\hri\ i\iiinil r\ ri \ mH* nit m >n .ind !< ,i\ • .1 iIm mi I'ottli . \A III'. 1 rh« .hiiii; lM\rta|M'. iitiil iiu'h tli.iii «Mh r the I lul>, iiV'Ir.id «»( pl.ix \\\\\, ;it I |t Mil in 1 1 , :«| I »n !/■; iiu U It i«Mi. t>' an It «' > 1 1 .nn '..iIim >n, ;nitl li.ii I n n'<;nl;n \y\\A \'\ \\ «• « ir;nn. W hm mmiic indi.t in I 1 )Mn|t.iniMn w.MiM < \|M. .. hi'. M'.lnni^Inncnt .il lli< l(nj;lli m| l^u Iv's )>inM\ \\\\- \,\\\\\ wcnltl .111 .wri. I .nrU"v;l\- : " r\'nt\ «'l lnn*l'v l.illui.nhl iinMlit 1 . .nnl niit Ir .\11 !M\t nit~ nuMirv IIuh'"; Inl - nii>ii- wlnir lln'; « .mir tuMU. iin;;lin;; ,\ hatullnl el '.ilvti ,\ > lir 'i|»nKc So, ni«U«»l. tluMr w ,r> . l>ul \\m\ il .ni\ Imimiic.'. In \\v m M.r-t» 1 1 >u Iv'. ]>o« k(-l ' I hi', tlv^hi^htlnl '.t.iti' p| .ill.ni . wrni nn 1«m ■..•im \\k\^1v';. no onr (MIion in;; il inoic than IWi t. .iiul then i.\nu' .» iv^\rl.itu>n that hiolv*' np«>n thr hi«\'. \\\kv .1 thimvliM t lap out ol a « U\n -.Ivv . Onr v'vonin:'. Mi WiUhnr t anu^ »>\»m lo mm- 1\Ii 1 lo\ vl, lov^Kinr \ri\ !Ma\r aiul tiouhU^l. I h('\- had a ioni; lallx tv\«;o(hoi m Mi. I IoniTs sttidw and whiMi luMxrr.t .\\\.u Mil Kn d looK(\l a'^ pjaxo and tiouhlcd .ts his \ i^;loi \\\c\ '>ho\\ini; Mi. \\ iKliiij; nut, lie ^.'aliOvi his wilo intv> tht^ lihiaiA. and voninuuhralcd tn \\c\ what ho had just hoaid. and it must have' hvvw sOMOwliil r.cws. toi Mis. l.loxds tavc how unnnstak- ah'.c si^c^iS ot tears, when picsnitlx' sho went out Inr In^jt. w ]\^ was h.ard at work upon his lessons in tiie d in in c-ioor.i. / h hn )' illhi hi It III \'l't \ .11 hi. I • /rli I). Ml A' .1 Ml h.i.l \ lun 1>1('J . lu- ll ti» tiik- l lor the III' ui'iimnl I'imI miI'M'I lie \><''»iif litiii, r.cil •' Wnr yiii ali.iifl vvf w.iild ri^f I' t you liclonj; I" III'' (lull if v/f lirirw tli;it \ >\( \. VVildirij; wa.s il'i < .ijtl.iin -^ " asl.f?d Mr. Lloyd. r.cil iii.idc no ifply, hilt Ill's lirad dif/Oj*r:d \(,;v upon liis liica.t, .111(1 hi', hands playinj^ nervously with tfif; l)nlt(»ns o| his co.it told tin: vvhoN .toiy inorr j:>!ainly than words could have flonr-. Mr. I-loyd ,i;dir:d (U'(;|)ly and looked at his wife as fhoii^di to say : " riicrc! 's no doubt about it ; our \)(>y ha , [>ef:n dc- ccivinij us," while' Mrs. Lloyd's eyes r^nee rnr^re filled with tears, whitii she turned away to hide. 200 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. After a pause, during which l^ert seemed to hear the beating of his own heart as distinctly as the tick- ing of the big clock upon the mantel, Mr. Lloyd said, in tones that showed deep feeling : " We would have been sorry enough to find out that our boy had been deceiving us, but what shall we say at finding out that he has been a sharer in pleasures purchased with stolen money ? " Bert looked up in surprise. Stolen money ! What could his father mean? Mr. Lloyd understood the movement, and anticipated the unasked ques- tion. " Yes, Bert ; stolen money. The beer, the candy, and the ice cream, which Dick Wilding lavished upon }'ou so freely, were paid for with money stolen from his mother's money drawer. He found a key which fitted the lock, and has taken out, no one knows just how much money ; and you have been sharing in what that stolen money pur- chased." Bert was fairly stunned. Dick Wilding a thief! And he a sharer in the proceeds of his guilt ! He felt as though he must run and hide himself That Dick should do wrong was not entirely a surprise to him, but that his sin in being a companion of Dick's on the sly should be found out in this way, this it was which cut him to the heart. Without a word of ex- cuse to offer, he sat there, self-condemned and speech- less. The silence of the room was appalling. He Vicfoiy and Defeat, 201 ' could not bear it any longer. Springing from his chair, he rushed across the room, threw himself on his knees before his mother, and putting his head in her lap, burst into a paroxysm of tears, sobbing as though his heart would break. " Poor Bert, poor Bert ! " murmured his mother, tenderly, passing her hand softly over the curly head in her lap. Mr. Lloyd was deeply moved, and put his hand up to his eyes to conceal the tears fast welling from them. For some minutes the quiet of the room was broken only by l^ert's sobs, and the steady ticking of the clock upon the mantelpiece. Mr. Lloyd was the first to speak. "You had better get up and go to your room, Bert. We both know how sorry you are, and we forgive you for having so disobeyed us. But we are not the only ones of whom you must ask forgiveness. Go to your knees, Bert, and ask God to forgive you." Bert rose slowly to his feet, and, not venturing to look either his father or mother in the face, was going out of the door, when his father called him back. "Just one word more, l^ert. It is not long since you won a brave fight, and now you have been sadly defeated by a far worse enemy than Rod Graham. You can, in your own strength, overcome human foes, but only by Divine strength can you overcome the tempter that has led you astray this time. Pray for 202 Bert Lloyd's BoyJiood. this .strcnL;tli, l^cit, for it is the kind the Hiblc means wlien it says, ' Quit }'ou Hke men, be stioiii;.' " And with a k)ok of deep affection, Mr. Lloyd let Hert ijo from him. ncans d let CIIAPTI'R XX. A NARROW KSCAI'i:. CO keenly did IkM-t feel his discr.-ace, that it uas ^ some tune before he rc-ained his uontcd spirits • and his continued dei)ression -ave his mother no little' coneern, so that she took every way of showin'^ to hnn that her confidence in him was unimpaired.'^md that she asked no further proof of his i)enitence than he had already given. But Jiert's sensitive nature had received a shock from which it did not readily- recover. From his earliest days he had been pecii- liarly free from the desire to take what did not belong to him; and as he grew older, this had developed into a positive aversion to anything that savoured of stealing in the slightest degree. He never could see any fun in ''hooking" another boy's lunch, as sc many others did, and nothing could induce him to join in one of the numerous expedi- tions organised to raid sundry unguarded orchards in the outskirts of the city. Mis firmness upon this point led to a curious scene one afternoon. School was just out, and a group of the boys, among whom were Jiert, and, 203 20.\ Inrt /./ovifs HoyJiooii. cif riuusc, I'Viink Howscm". w.is (liscussiiii; what the)- shoiilil i](> with ihiMUscMvi's, when Ned Ivoss pro- positi ih.il thi'\' shouKl out to thi' 1 lostcMiiian onh.ntl, aiul sih' if thc'\- coiiKl not m^t sonu" apples. A thoiiis i>r apprin.il rami' iVom all but HcMt, who iiniiu\liatcl\' tutncd .iwa\- ami iiiailc as though he wouKl -;i^ honir. "ilallv>: IUmI." nii-il Ncil Koss. " aivn'l )'ou coiniiiL; ? " " No." replioil Uort. vcmv iliH-iilcill}-. " I 'in not." " Wh\- not '^ " inquiivil \c\l. " What 's the matter?" "Those are not our aj^ples, Neil, ami we've L;ot no ri>;ht to loueh "em." answiMVil lUMt. " In^sh anil nonsense!" exelaimeil Neil. " All the ho\-s take them, anil nobotl}' ever hinders them. Come aloni;.'' " No." saiil Uett. " 1 ean't." " I'an't ? \\'h\- ean't you?" persisted Ned, wlio was rapidly losing his temjuM'. luMt hesitated a moment, and. the eolour mounted hi|;h in his eheeks. Then he spoke out his reason bra\ely : " because I 'm a Christian, Ned ; and it would not be rii^ht tor me to <\c> il." "A Christian?" sneered Ned. 'A'ou 'd be nearer the truth it'wni Sviid a eoward." The words had hardly left his lips before h^'ank l^owser was standing;' before him, shaking in his face a fist that was not to be rei^ardcd HL;"htl}'. / A^, an'07^> liscapL 205 Say that aj.;aiii," criiM' iMank, wrathfiill}- am! not Liid tluMi at his fist. I '11 knock you down ! " Ned looked at i'Vank's face, and men ai There; was no nn'stakini; the purpose! of cither, and as P'rank was fully his match, if not more, he thoULjht it prudent to say nothim; more than : " i'ah ! Come on, fellows. We can \jvX aloni: without him." 'I'he ^M'oup moved off; hut I'ert wiis not the onl)' one who stayed behind. h'lank sla)C(l too ; and so did I^rnest Linton. And these thice sought their amusement in another direction. That .scene very vividly impressed ]^)ert, and over and over aj^iain he thoui^dit to himself: "What will the boys who heard me refuse to go to the orchard, because I am a Christian, think of me when they hear that I have been hel[)inL; to spend stolen money ? " This was the thought that troubled him most, but it was not the only one. I le felt that he could not be at ease with his belcjved Sunday-school teacher again, until he liad made a full confession t(^ him. lUit, oh ! this did seem so hard to do ! Several Sundays passed without his being able to make v\\> his mind to do it. At length he determined to put it off no longer, and one Sunday afternoon, lingering behind after the school had been dismissed, he poured the whole story into Mr. Silver's sympathetic ear. Mr. Silver was evidently moved to the heart, as Bert, without sparing himself, told of his disobedience, i 2 oh AVr/ /Joy(fs /un'/ioOiL his concralnirtit, aiul tlio ci>nsc(iucnccs tliat followed ; .iiul lu^ hail mail)' a wisi' aiul tciulcr word foi* the ho}-, whose cotifuliMice in him made him |)roud. h'rom that da\- a pi'cuHar rondncss cxistctl between the two, atul Mr. Silver was insjiired to inereased fidelitx' and el tort in his work beeause o{ the knowledsje that one at liMst o\' his boys hooked npon him with siudi affee- \'\on and eontulence. C^^nee that summer hatl fairly einnc to stay, the whar\-es o'i the eit\' became full o{ fascinatiiMi for the boN's, and every afternoon they trooped thither to lish fi->r perch and tc^mmx* cods ; to board the vessels Ixini;- in their berths, and out-do one another in feats of riL;L;inL; climbing; ; to play i;i(^riiHis i^ames of"hitlc- atul-seek," and " I sp)'," in the i^reat cavcrniuis ware- houses, antl when tired to gather around some idle sailor, and liavc him stir their imai^ination with mar- \ellous stories o( the sea, Vov none had tlvo wharves more attraction than for Wcxx. and b^ank, and although Mrs. Llovd would not allow the former to <;o down Water Street, where he would be far from home, she did not object to his spending" an afternoon now and then on a wharf not t'ar from their own house. So thither the two friends repaired at every opportunitx', and fine fun thc\' had, droppiuL^' their well-baited hooks into the clear green water, to catch cai^er perch, or watching the hard- workimj sailors drair^inij- hui^^e casks of molasses out of dark and grimy holds, and rolling them up the A Narnno list ape 207 die lar- hc "lis not ds ad, en ■d- nit he wharf to be stored \n the vast cool \varehf)uscs, or runniiiL; risks of beinij pickled themselves, as the\' followed the fish-curers in their work of preparinLj the salt herrin<;- or mackerel for their journe)' to the iiot West Indies. There never was any lack of employ- ment, for eyes, or hands, or feet, t)n that hns)' wharf, and the boys felt very proud when they were permitted to join the workers sometimes and do their little best, which was all the more enjoyable because they could stop whenever they liked, and hadn't to work all day as the others did. Nor were these the only attractions. The principal business done at tliis wharf was with the West Indies, and no vessel thou' tNpr V^\nlr in Kripin;' with ihr ;»|»pt ;\i .iin r m( Ihi \t>'«Ml w ,»•; tl\r ,«p|>r,\i .\nt r »«! llic t h w I l\t \ win nr.u 1\ .\11 1 ,v<« .n .. ,)ntl w il h 1 ht n t ,\\\ n\ Msin ;. ll.i ;|i ini; r\ r ■;. \r\ l>l,\i K h,ni, iiiitl i'^AA littjM d r;n'^ smnnl t«^li< \»M\ Will ihc (Ir .1 I ipl i«>n ol ihr pii ,Hi ;, w l\i «■;(• .l)«\hli\\l (UmJ^. ,)■; ;m .\pl\)( ,ill\ (lr.tiil>t.l in .in)ili\ lv\Ov'.. \\As\ >;n«n (hr l>o\ ; in.»n\ ,i Jr!n itMr; ihnll <»l l^M\.^i riu' ir .» n\l>l.\n» r (,nr<»(l ll\(Mn (<» lo.>K npMH th»' l«M«\;;n»M -. with >.>>n»>- hlllr Ir.n ,\\ In.l. ImiI llicii » unv^-it\ ■m>vmi i>\(M« .\\\\r ;\\\ i « >n'i ,< wlnlr. lhr\ h.r.hliilU .•\vAr|Mr»l tlu' nu\l,^t>v^n rNlrndiil ihrin l<\ ,\ sw.nllu s.uKm. \\]\«^.»- wiMvl'. \\(Mi^ in\nil('lli5;iI>U\ \n\\ w hn.i' uiv\nini;; w .\'. iinnn'.t.»kaMr. v'^n l>o,\i»l \\\r S. )■/!'.) ,)/,;;;.; ItM tl\.\t w.i' tlir \ ^^'-'-v^i"' n,u)u^ tlu'N l»>\nul nni» 1\ to inlrtr.l lhrin..n\tl \hc >«.\\Um^ (ivwtvvl tluM\i \ri\ knulK. ni .pilcol thrii |MHtu.\l .^>|>v\\\.\nvv\ Wh.il Jrli!;htr«l tl\rn» inosj wms .\ iUvM)kv^\ th.U lv^K>n;>\l (o {he rook, Ih^ w.js onr ol lliv^ V ;i(v^>'t, V Iv^xvMv^^t litlU^ nr.UiUv^'^ that t^\ri p.no(Iir«l h un\,\v lli'^iownoi h.ul t.uij^hl liini a rood i,;.»n\- tiiv^ks. anvi lu^ h.ul taiudit hinisoll t^\rn niou^ ; and » 'V I < I » , iV. I\>\ s ic\[ that Ml all thrir hxc^^ thi^\ U,u\ v.c\c\ soon so ontot laininL; a \^c{. llo oon)pKloI\- thorn. AwA tho\- would ha\c^ immmi .dl tl\i'V V ,■> I U 1 \ .1 i V V 1 •oossosso Vi iV > niakt^ Www thoii vwn n. Hul iho oimk had r.v> io.oa ol" iMitini; w ith him. oxtMi had il boon in thoif \\n\ or to lni\- hira ; so tho\- li.ul lo ovMitont thcnisclvos w It .»^ V i i I « liow n tv-* soo liini as oiton as thov couKk / \ ,f/ I (»,, ' / w if/'r. .'( '; thr • lUil tlu Ml WHS nr nl Mlir«l .■,an\- .nitl h.ul tlu'V ^ \\,u\ llu-ir u'lvcs Id. ( H < "III ;r. |)|( \- |. .Ill tic it ;» li' •( .liMMtrs ;il»'iilt liiin, iMij ''I i'iiii;r llir .( Ii< •- J m 1 1 ' ^; wcff •;< I \v\\(\ wifli llii: III. II \f II' III III'. Ill, r\-. ,iii'l flif'V (|.t< Li i| il'.WM I'. Ill' ',,i>//'i \lin/i III ;ii' li 1 1' iiii I cr ;, ,11)1 1 ;m ( ijh II, I 1 1, 1 1 ;il 1,1.1 I In .,ii|( .1 ; < w.( I 11 ( 1 1 » .( 1 1 if in \ iiii >|i I ij ;i In II illn i\' ; iiivM' liii;; I li' d' » 1 ' v'l \' -ilf 'i . Ill ti III. ,1 III I |t,i\nii; n| ii ' Ml I' III ; Ik .111,1;;' t» » 1 Im < I' vi tir;-; m| ,1 nil .|||,( \ , w;|'; III' iM ( It If ; ; n| ,1 liHI .,il|f '' A' ' ' i| f I iii"l\, l»\ \\',i\' '.I ,1 i;'iill' liiiil, (lif i'i|i'' 1,1'l'lf I. I»\' liii li ( ,r;\ ,i( 1 I";'; \\ ,\ ; li,if| |f. llif v( ;;( I, was rciii'fVf fl. w I ,1 Mll<;|r I' ilif |.||l III ll . |»l ,|f f ll Im|i|k IK'I lli,il III' III .1 ,illf'i II' If III ;iflf I flii; |i,ifl Itc'ii (|iiiii\ llic fiftW'l '»( vi'.il'.is \v,i ; l,ii'.;'i III, III ('\( I . ,iiif (\i mIn' iiii,i!;iiir(|, vci y niiji ll 'll .'/ll .I'fl. A I 'I I»'' ifiijdit l)(' iMKi'l (-n'tiii;h I'll a '.ailfn, l>iit llif I)'.)' ; vry iniif li |)i( tci i('(l ,1 l.i'I'Ici. aii'I tli'y I'll f ll .|)'. .f'l t'. (f'.fiif tlic a( liiMi fit llic ';,iilf»r ; in tliir. ' iittiiif; '.(( fli' it (rifans ol a'.(('!il. I lie laf I that it vv,r; liiidi fi'lf at flif finif, and till' I, ill '.idc ; nl llic '.lii|» I'.wfrrfl ahovr flif -vvliatf, ( '»Ms| it iltcd a iiltt \v\ '/t icvaiiM- in f lir h^ )' . rriifj' 'I'Ik \- held AW iin|iif aiipl II iiif liiniat inn nifftin:; fnttli- w illi. rait, alllif >ii;.di tlicy ucir iiDaiiiinnii , in f faiflfinn- iii;.; the (oiidiM t nl the I'a cifuicrs, wlin fvidcnt !y dif 1 not know all)' hcUci, they were still \\<> iif arcr the nionkt)-. "Why not try tn shin iii^ tlu! rnpe ;•' " askcfl IVank W owser. alter a w hil( D 2 lO Ihi't Lloyd's HoyJiooii. "All rii;ht, if you'll ^[;ivc us a lead," replied one of the others. "Very well — here i^oes!" returned iMank. And without more ado he grasped the rope, phuited his feet firmly ai^aiiist the vessel's side, and bec^au to ascend. It was evidently not the easiest thin^ in the world to do, but liis pluck, determination, and muscle conquered ; and presently, somewhat out of breath, he sat upon the bulwark, and, waving" his cap to the boys behnv, ,'ourself. crs if it ick as a a good uld go; , faith, I liKKT KKSCirKI). — /'<7._v 214. A Narroio Escape. 215 Bert was very mucli in earnest wlien he assured l>Mn he would not, and still more in earnest when he tned to express his gratitude, lint Connors would none of it. "Not at all, not at all, my boy," said he, with a laugh. A fine young ehap like you is well worth savng any day, and it's not in John Connors to stand by and see you drown, even if tl>ose black- faced furriners don't know any better." CHAPTER XXI. LEARNING TO SWIM. BERT'S appearance, when he made his way home with dripping clothes, and face still pale from what he had undergone, created no small consterna- tion. His sister was particularly alarmed, and it took some time to convince her that, once having got out of the grasp of the greedy water, he was really in no more danger. Had she been permitted to have her own way, she would have bundled him off to bed forthwith, and filled up any little corners inside of him that the sea water had left unoccupied, with warm raspberry vinegar. But Bert would none of it, and Mrs. Lloyd, although a good deal startled at first, soon recovered her self-possession sufficiently to agree with him, when he insisted that all he wanted was some dry clothes and a rest. The dry clothes were quickly furnished, and having put them on, he returned to the sitting-room to tell them all about his rescue, Frank being at hand to fill in any details that he missed in the recital. The tears stocd in his mother's eves, as he related eyes. 217 2l8 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. he had felt and thought during those eventful moments when his hfe hung in the balance ; tears of distress, of sympathy, of joy, and finally of grati- tude, as in glowing words he described how noble John Connors had dived away down into the dark green depths to rescue him just in the nick of time. '* Oh, Bert, darling," she exclaimed, when he had finished, folding him to her breast, " how good God was to send dear, brave Connors to your help ! We cannot praise Him enough, and, dearest, don't you think He must intend you to be something good and great for Him, when He thus spared your life ? And that dear man Connors ! — I feel as though I could kiss the hands that drew you from the water. Your father must go to-night, and tell him how grateful we are ; and he must do more than that — he must reward him well for running such a risk to save our boy." When Mr. Lloyd came home and learned what had happened, he made no pretence of concealing his emotion. The very thought of losing in that dreadful way the boy who was the joy and pride of his life filled him with horror, and no words could express his fervent gratitude to Connors, and to God, for sending so courageous a rescuer. So ^ )on as dinner was over he set off in search of him, taking Bert with him. Connors's home was easily found, and Connors himself sat smoking his A •cntful ; tears grati- noble o the 2 nick le had d God ! We I't you Dd and And could Your rateful must ve our what :ealing that pride I words [nnors, iscuer. irch of was ig his Learning to Swim. 219 evening pipe upon the door-step, as unconcernedly as though he had done nothing out of the way that afternoon. The object of Mr. Lloyd's visit was soon made known, but he found more difficulty than he expected in giving such expression as he desired to the grati- tude he felt. Connors was quite willing to be thanked, and accepted Mr. Lloyd's fervent words with a respectful acquiescence that well became him, but when Mr. Lloyd broached the subject of a more tangible reward, Connors quite as respectfully, but very firmly, refused. " I want no reward for saving your boy, sir. It 's proud I am of pulling so fine a boy as that out of the water. I did no more than you 'd do for my boy, sir, if he were in the same scrape," said he, in reply to Mr. Lloyd's delicately worded offer. " That may be, Connors. I 'm sure I would do as you say, but all the same I would feel much more comfortable if you would accept this purse as some expression of my gratitude," urged Mr. Lloyd. "And, thanking you kindly, sir, I 'd feel much more comfortable if I didn't take it," returned Connors, in a tone there was no mistaking. So Mr. Lloyd, resolving in his mind that he would find out some other way of rewarding the worthy fellow, said no more then, and shortly after took his leave. As Bert and his father walked home together they were still talking about the event of the afternoon. 220 Bert Llovifs Boyhood. loy oy " If you had been drowned, Hcrt, it would to some extent have been my fault," said Mr. Lloyd ; " for I should not have so loni^ nci^lected teaching; }'()U to swim. A boy of your ap^e oui;ht to be well able to take care of himself in the water, and I should have seen that you were. lie -ever, now that this escape of yours has waked me up, I will attend to the matter at once. So we will bcL^in to-morrow mornini:^, J^ert, and have a swimming lesson every day before breakfast." " Oh, father ; I 'm so i^lad," exclaimed Bert, skip- ping about joyfully. " I want to know how to swim ever so much, and I '11 soon learn if you'll teach me." " All ''ight, my boy. You sec to w'aking me in good time, and I '11 see that you learn to swim," replied Mr. Lloyd, clapping Bert affectionately on the back. The next morning at six o'clock Bert was rapping loudK' on his father's door, and calling upon him to get up, and a quarter of an hour later the pair with towels on their arms were off in the direction of a secluded, deserted wharf that would just suit their purpose. On arriving at this place, Mr. Lloyd showed Bert how he proposed to teach him to swim, and it cer- tainly was about as excellent a way as could well have been devised. He had brought with him two things besides the towels : a piece of rope about the thickness of a clothes line, and ten yards or more in L canimo to S («. nni. 2 2 I :forc skip- pping im to with of a their Ikrt ■: ccr- well two It the re in leiiij^th, aiul a strong h'nen band, two yards in Icni^tli. The h'nen band he put round Hert's slioulders in such a way tliat there was no possibiHt)' of its shppin;^, or interferinL,^ with the action of his arms ; and tliep *he r()i)e was so fastened to the band that when Hert was in tile water liis father, standin<^ on tlie wharf above liini, could hold him in just the right position for swimmiuLT. The preparations having been completed, Hert was bidden descend the steps and plunge into the water. I Ic started off bravely enough, but when he reached the bottom step he hesitated. The water was at least ten feet in depth beneath him, and he had never been " over his head," as they say, before, except when he came so near being drowned. Naturally, therefore, he shrank from committing himself to the deep in this fashion. "Well, l^crt, what's the matter? Are you afraid the water is too cold ? " asked his father, as he noticed his hesitation. '* No, father ; not exactly," answered Bert, feeling half ashamed of himself. " You 're afraid it 's too deep, then ? " suggested Mr. Lloyd. And l^crt looked up with a smile that showed he had hit the mark. " Never mind, my boy," said Mr. Lloyd, cheeringl\-. "You're all right. I won't let go of you. Jump in like a man." Bert hunof back a moment ; then, shuttinc^' his 222 Jkri Lloyd's Boyhood, mouth tf<;htly and closin<^ his eyes, he sprang boldly into the cool, green water. He went under a little at first, but a slight tug on the rope brought him quickly to the top, and recovering his breath and his self-pos- session at the same time, he struck out with his arms and kicked with his legs, according to the best of his ability. His motions were sadly unskilful, as may be easily imagined, and although they used up his strength pretty rapidly, they would not have kept his head above water for a minute ; but a gentle pressure on the rope in Mr. Lloyd's hand made that all right, and, feeling quite at his ease, Bert struggled away until he was tired out, and then his father, who had all the time been cheering and directing him, drew him back to the steps, and the lesson was over. "You did very well, Bert; very well, indeed," said he, in tones of warm approval, as Bert proceeded to rub off the salt water and get into his clothes again. " I don't think it will take a great many lessons to make a swimmer of you." And Mr. Lloyd's confidence was well founded ; for so earnestly did Bert give himself to the business of learning to swim that by the end of a fortnight he could go ten yards out and back without any help from the rope at all. Another fortnight and the rope was no longer needed. Mr. Lloyd now w^ent into the water wnth Bert, and swimming out to the middle of the dock, would have the boy come to him, and after Lcar)inif(r to Sivim, 225 in this instance, bcin^ out to the head of tlic wharf, and back — I'lank left all the other contestants behind, and came in an easy winner. liert was exceedin[;ly pleased. lie had not won any prizes himself, except an unimportant little second one ; but T'rank's success more than consoled him, and he bore him off home with him in hij^h i^dee, that the family mi<^ht share in the joy of the occasion. Nearly two years now had passed since the two friends first made one another's acquaintance, and the course of events had fully confirmed the expectation of l^ert's parents, that he would be far more likely to influence Frank for good than Frank would be to influence him for evil. There had been unmistakable improvement in Frank, both in manners and morals. Constant association with a playmate brought up under home influences so different from his own ; the wise and kindly words that Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd lost no opportunity of speaking to him ; the refinement and brightness of their home ; the atmosphere of sunny religion that pervaded it ; and all these supplemented by an ever-interesting presentation of common-sense Christianity at the hands of Mr. Silver every Sunday afternoon, had worked deep into Frank's strong, steadfast nature, and without being distinctly conscious of it himself, he was growing refined, pure, and religious in thought and desire, like those with whom it was the 226 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood, joy of his life to associate. The current of his being had been turned Godvvard, and in him, though he knew it not, Bert had won the first star for his crown. ; being jgh he for his CHAPTER XXII. now HOISTING WAS ABOLISHED. THE month of September was close at hand, and l^ert would soon begin his second year with Dr. Johnston. Mr. Lloyd, though well content with the progress his son had been making in his studies, thought it would be a wise thing to hold out some extra inducement that might incite him to still greater diligence, and so one evening, while the family were sitting together, he broached the subject : " Dr. Johnston gives a lot of prizes at the end of the term, doesn't he, Bert ? " " Yes, father, a good many ; always books, you know," answered Bert. "Why didn't you get a prize of some kind last term?" asked Mr. Lloyd with a smile. "Oh, I don't know, father. Didn't try hard enough, I suppose," replied Bert, smiling in his turn. " Well, do you intend to try this term, Bert ? " '* Indeed I do ; and Frank 's going to try, too. My best chance is in the arithmetic, so I 'm going to try for that ; and he's going i.. for grammar." 227 228 BeiH Lloyd's Boyhood, *' Very well, then, Bert, do your best ; and if you win a prize I will give you what you have wanted so long — a pony." The exprebsion of Bert's countenance at this quite unexpected announcement was a study. His eyes and mouth, the former with surprise, the latter with a smile, opened to their fullest extent, and for a moment he stood motionless. Then, springing across the floor, he leaped into his father's lap, put both arms around his neck, and burying his happy face in the brown whiskers, ejaculated, fervently : " You dear, dear father, you dear, dear father, how I do love you ! " Mr. Lloyd returned the affectionate hug with interest, and then, holding Bert out on his knee, said, in a playful tone : " Aren't you in too much of a hurry about thanking me, Bert? You haven't won your pony yet, you know." " That 's all right, father," returned Bert. " I mean to win it, and what 's more, I 'm going to." It need hardly be said that the first item of news Bert had for his friend Frank next morning was his father's offer. " Won't it be splendid to have a pony of my very own ! " he exclaimed, his eyes dancing with delight at the prospect. " Perhaps your father will give you a pony, too, if you win a prize ; hey, Frank ? " Frank shook his head dubiously : How Hoistiiig was Abolished. 229 if you ted so s quite is eyes with a loment le floor, around brown er, how p; with je, said, tanking |et, you I mean )f news I was his ly very [light at you a " Not much chance of that, Bert. That *s not his way of doing things." " Oh, well, never mind. You can ride turn about with me on mine, and we'll have just splendid fun." As the boys were talking together, little Ernest Linton approached, looking as if he had something on his mind. Getting close to Bert, he touched him gently on the arm to attract his attention, and, turn- ing a very earnest, appealing face to his, said : " Bert, I want to ask a favour." "Hallo, Ernie, what's up?" asked Bert, in his kindest tones. Ernest then proceeded to tell him that his younger brother, Paul, was to come to the school in a few days, and that he was a very timid, delicate little chap that would be sure to be half frightened out of his life if they hoisted him ; and what Ernest wanted was that Bert and Frank should sec if they could not, in some way or other, save Paul from being hoisted. The two boys were filled with the idea at once. It was good enough fun to hoist sturdy fellows like themselves, who were none the worse for it ; but if Paul were the sort of chap his brother said he was, it would be a real shame to give him such a scare, and they would do their best to prevent its being done. Accordingly, they promised Ernest they would protect his brother if they could, and Ernest felt very much relieved at their promise. 2 30 Ihrt Lloyd's J)oy/iood. lUit how were they ^oini^ to cany it out? No exceptions had been made as to the hoistini; since they had come to Dr. Jolniston's, but all new boys were hoisted with perfect impartiality. They would be powerless b\' themselves, that was certain. Their only plan was to persuade a lot o'i the bo}'s to join them, and they did not feel entirely sure about bein<; able to do this. However, the first thini;" to be done was to ask Tcter Johnston. If they could enlist his sympathies, their task would be a i;ood deal easier. Accordin<;ly, at recess, they made directly for Tetcr, and laid the whole matter before him. Like them- selves, he took hold of it at once. It was just the sort of thini;!^ that would appeal to his bii;, warm, manly heart, and without hesitation he promised the boys he would give them all the help in liis power. The next step was to secure recruits for their part\*. In this Tetcr helped them [greatly, and Frank was very active too, because bii;" Rod Graham, whom he disliked none the less, though Bert had thrashed him so soundly, always headed the hoisting party, and Frank looked forward with keen delight to balking this tormenting bully by means of the anti-hoisting party they were now organising. Of course, the movement could not be kept a secret. It soon leaked out, and then Rod Graham and Dick Wilding — who, by the way, since the stolen money episode, had been as cool in his relations with Bert as he had previously been cordial, evidently resenting I I 010 I lot si I lie "^^'cis Abolished. 2X1 No since boys voukl Their ) join bcin^:; done St his easier. Teter, them- st the warm, cd the ver. party, k was oni he id him y, and )alkino- oistini^ secret. 1 Dick money Bert as Iscnting \er\' much Bert's withdrawal from his companion- ship — tliese two, with their associates, be<^ran to organise in their turn, so that it was not long before the school was divided into two parties, both of which were looking forward eagerly to the event which should decide which would have their own wa)-. On the Monday following the oi)ening of the school Ernest Linton brought his brother with him, a slight, pale, delicate little fellow, not more than eight years old, who clung close to his brother's side, and looked about with a frightened air that was sufficient in itself to arouse one's sympathies. Bert and Frank had known him before, but Teter had never seen hiin, and his kind heart prompted him to go u[) and slap the little fellow kindly on the back, saying : " So you 're Linton's brother Paul, eh ? Cheer up, little chap ; we'll see they're not too hard upon you." Paul's pale face brightened, and looking up with a grateful glance, he said, softly : " Thank you, sir." Teter laughed at being " sirred," and went off, feel- ing quite pleased with himself According to the custom of the school, Paul would be hoisted at the mid-day recess of the following day, and the boys looked forward eagerly to the struggle for which they had been preparing. During the morning their thoughts clearly were not upon the les- sons, and so many mistakes were made that the .shrewd doctor suspected there must be something '.>- /)'<";/ I./ovifs /)oy/ioo(/. l)ro\vini'„ but prc'fcMrril to Irt it rrvcal itself latluM- tli.in t»> ititctlcMi' h)' ]Mvinaturc' (pirstitMis. lie was a pro- f'oinul stiul(MU «>r human natur(\ and cspcciall)' of hoy natuiv. \\c knew Ins l)o\-s as Ihornui'hK' as an h'astcMii shc'phonl v\v\ \<\\v\\ his sheep, 'llu^)' were hke o\^v\\ l)ooks before him, and in this perhaps more than in an\thin<> else la\- the secret of his rare success as .1 tcMcluM-. W hcMi tlu' {M|.;erl\- c^xj^ected recess came, all the bows, with thc^ (Exception t>i" a small iMdup, poured out tumultuinisl\- into tlu' street, and ranged themselves in two bands in close proxinut)' to the door. The L;roup th.it riMuained consisted iif the two Lintons, l^ert. l^'rank. and TetiM', the latter three constitutini; a sort (^t" bod\ -L;u.ird f'oi- poor timorous little Paul, who shrank in terror iVc^n the onleal, the nature o^ win'cli in truth he ilid utH fuUv understand. Ilavini'- con- suites! together tor a minute or two, the bod^'-quard then moved out llnoui;h the door, takini; care to keep Taui in the middle. As the\' emerLred into the street. a kind o( hum tit suppressed excitement rose Irom the crowd awaititiL; them, followed immciliatel)- by cries o{ " Hoist him! hoist him!"' uttered first bv Graham and W'ildiui;, and tjuickl)- taken up by their sup- porters. Pale with frii;ht, Paul cowered close to Teter, while Bert and h^ank stood in front o{ him, and their sup- porters quickly encircled them. Then came the struggle. Graham and Wilding and their party bore I loi^j I loishnr i^uu . \ ho/ i shed. 23 I pro- )!" hoy as ;\ti • wctc ; more lUHTSS ^ boys, \\ out 1 selves The inloiis, itini; (I il, who wliicli Li" eon- ■L;uard i^ keep street, >m the y eries raliani X sup- ', while ir sup- iie the }' bore down njion Paul's defenders, and sought to break their way Ihioti^di them to reach their intended victim. Of course, no blows wer'> slruek. The boys all knew better than to do that ; but pushin^^, Iiaulint;, arestlinj.j, very nnieh after the fashion of footl)all players in a maul, the one [)arty strov(> to seize I'aul, who indeed offered no !nor(> resistance than an ordinary football, and the other to prevent his ])ein<; carried off. I'V)r some nn'nutcs the issue was uncertain, althouj.d) the hoistin}.r party considerably outmnnbered tin- anti- hoisting^ j)arty. More than once did (iraiiam and VVildinL; force their way into the ccMitre of I'anl's defenders, and almost have him in their in.tsj), only to be thrust away aijain by tlu* faithful trio that stood about him like the three (jf whom Macaulay's rin[^n"n5.j ballad tells : " Mow well Iloraliiis kept the htidj^'C, In tlic l)rav(t days of old." ShoutinL(, strui;L;lin<;, svvayini^^ to and fro, the contest went on, much to the amusement of a crowd >f sj)cc- tators, amoni; which the tall, blue-coated for.n of a policeman loomed up prominently, althoui^h he deit;ned not to interfere. At lenj^^th the weij^dit c^f superior numbers bei^an to tell, and despit(; all their efforts the anti-hoistiuL; party were borne slowly but surely toward the fence, upon which some of the boys had already taken their positions, ready to have l\aul handed up to them. The case was look in t,^ desperate, and Tctcr, heated and wearied with ]n"s exertions, had 4 /»'(•;/ I./oVifs /ioy/iooi/. ]Usl s.ml. ill his drc^pc st tones, t() \W\\ and l''i;nil>;. "Come, Ih>)s, all t»>i;elIuM, try it (Muc innic,' when sihlilrnly a sil(MU(> lell iipon the noisy inol), and their amis, a inon\(Mil before locked in tcMise stni};^;lin!;. lell linipK to their sides; tor there, st.nuhiu;; hetwcen Iheni and the lenee, his \kVC\\, dark laee liidited with a Pinions sniile, aiul holdiiu; his hand ;d)ove his h(\id I)\- \\.\y ot a shisdd trom tju^ hot snn. stood I )r. Johnston ! A i;en\iine !.;i;os* at niidniidil eonld hardly have startKHl tlu^ ho\s \\\o\\ Absorhinl in their strii_L;L;le, ■ \\cy had not seen the doetor until the\- were fairly \\\^o\\ hnn. h\n- aiiL;ht they kne,v \\c h;;d Ixhmi aspee- lator ot the proeeedini;s trom the outsci. W hat would he think vM them ? Rod ( iraham and 1 )iek W'ildini;. slavev to A .i;uilt\- eonscicnee, slunk into the rear ol" their party, while lUnt, and l''r.ink, .md Tcler, L;lad otth.e uncxpeeted rciiel, wijieil theirhrows and arranged tluMr liisordcred elothin;;, as llu\\- awaited the iloetor's utterance. It soon eame. " I desire aw explanation ot" this unseend\- disturl)- ancc. The sehoi^l will tolUnv me immedi.Jel\- l.ito the schoolroom."" sai<.l lu\ somewhat sternl\' ; and turnini; upon his iieel we.U back to i-,is desk, the boys tollowini; at a respectful distance. When ail had been seated, and tlie roctm was quiet. Dr. Johnston asked : "Will the leaders in the proceedings (outside come to m>- desk ? " There was a moment's pause, and then Teter rose ■'^ ^: \. 1 lluMI 11!;. ivW with ;i i(M(l l)y inston ' y \\ii\c c fairly a s\)Vi t would I'iKlini;. rear nl lad ratii^eHl (utor's isturb- ; aiul hoys u s c juict, c come Ler rose /A^•^' Ifoislino was /lliolishrd. 235 Irctiii his scat, \\r\\ itniMf' on tl.r same side, vvcrc! yon not ? " " Ves, sir," r(^j)lie(l Tetei. "Well, who were the leaders of the other side-' I wish to know." "(iraham and VVildini^', sir," answered 'Jeter. "(iraham and Wilding;, eome forward," called thf doctor, sternly ; and the two hoys, l(»okinj.^ very con- scious and shamefaced, rehi( tantly left their .^eats and took tluMr places before the throne. " Now. then, I wish to he informed of the whr)lc matter," said tfie doctor, liert looked at Teter, and Teter U)oked at I'erl. " Vou tell him,' he whisj^ert d ; "you knmv most about it." Thereupon, with the utmost frankness, liert {)ro- cceded tcj tell his story, bc^innin^^ at his first talk with lOrnest Linton. The doctor listened intently, his inscrutable face revcalin<4 nothinj^ a.s to how the stcjry impressed him. Wlien \\q.x\. had finished, he turned to Graham and VVildinf.;, and asked them : "Is Lloyd's .statement correct? or have you any- thin l; to add ?" 2^6 Inrt IJoYifs Boyhood. Tlun- \\\\\\\\ tlu'ir licails, and were silent. The ilf a rich ust high ack, and Id wish, lis neck yes that e almost sound- iper, and to make been re- quite as )us stage nd great :us ; and lever got saw-dust icks, and provided L reward, ley were v'mg been the yard, ible, Bert lad wings " Thr pony was n beauty, just lii<;li cnou_<;li for JJcrt lo sec conifd'talily (iver his back." — /'(-v 256. « « « t « Vf;*: A Chapter on Pomes. 257 like the fabled Pegasus, and might fly away if not carefully watched. The days that followed were days of unalloyed happiness to Bert. He, of course, had to learn to ride " Brownie," as the pony was christened by Mary, to whom was referred the question of a name. But it was an easy matter learning to ride so gentle and graceful a creature. First at a walk, then at a trot, then at a canter, and finally at full gallop, Bert ere long made the circu;'^ of the neighbouring squares ; and as he became more thoroughly at home he extended his rides to the Point, where there were long stretches of tree-shaded road that seemed just intended for being ridden over. The best of it was that, as Bert prophesied, the wish being in his case father to the thought, Mr. Bowser did follow Mr. Lloyd's example. " I reckon I can stand a pony for my boy about as well as Lawyer Lloyd can for his," said he to himself, pressing his hand upon a fat wallet in his pocket, after Frank had been earnestly petitioning him, without eliciting any favourable response. " There 's no point in Frank's going on foot while Bert's on horseback. I must see about it/' He gave poor disappointed Frank, however, no hint of what he had in mind ; and then one day he made him fairly wild with delight, by sending home a pretty bay pony with a star in his forehead, which, although he was not quite as handsome or accom- R 258 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. pUshcd as " l^rownie," was an excellent little animal, nevertheless. Oh, what proud, happy boys the two friends were, the first day they rode out together ! It was a lovely afternoon, not too warm to make it hard upon the ponies, and they rode right round the Point, and aIon<:j the road skirtincT the arm of the sea, cfoincf much farther than Bert had ever been before ; now pattering along the smooth dry road at a rattling pace, and now jogging on quietly with the reins hanging loosely on the ponies' necks. If Bert's pony knew the more tricks, Frank's showed the greater speed, so they both had something to be especially proud of, and were content accordingly. Brownie's performances were very amusing indeed, and after he and his young master had become thor- oughly acquainted, he would go through them when- ever called upon to do so. Often when the Lloyds had guests, they would entertain them by having Bert put Brownie through his programme. Then the cute little fellow would be at liis best, for he evidently enjo>cd an appreciative audience quite as much as they did his feats. He would begin by making a very- respectful bow to the spectators, lifting his pretty head as high as he could, and bringing it down until his nose touched his breast. He would then, as com- manded, " say his prayers," which he did by kneeling with his forefeet, and dropping his head upon his knees ; " knock at the door," which meant going up to the nearest door, and knocking at it with his hoof A Chapta' on Ponies. ^59 animal, the two ler! It ; it hard ic Point, a, going re ; now- rattling he reins [f Bert's wed the ng to be ingly. g indeed, me thor- |m when- |e Lloyds ing Bert the cute ;vidently much as lo- a verv letty head until his as com- kneeling [upon his ]ing up to his hoof until some one opened it ; " walk like a gentleman " — that is, rear up on his hind legs, and walk up and down the yard ; " go to sleep," by lying down and shut- ting his big brown eyes tight ; shake hands by grace- fully extending his right hoof; allow a cap to be placed on his head, and then sidle up and down the yard in the most roguish way ; and other little tricks no less amusing, which never failed to elicit rounds of applause from the delighted sj^ectators. There were many ways in \vhich Brownie endeared himself to every member of the Lloyd family. If Mrs. Lloyd or Mary happened to come into the yard wh i. as often happened, he was roaming about loose, he would go up to them and rub his nose gently against their shoulder, tims saying as plainly as could be, " Haven't you got a crust for me?" and the moment Mr. Lloyd showed himself. Brownie's nose would be snuffing at his coat pockets for the bit of apple or lump of sugar that rarely failed to be there. As for his bearing toward Bert, it showed such affection, obedience, and intelligence, that it is not to be won- dered at, if the boy sometimes asked himself if the " Houyhnhnms " of Gulliver's Travels had not their counterpart in nature, after all. Great, then, was the concern and sorrow when, after he had been just a year with them, Bnnvnie fell sick, and the veterinary surgeon said that he must be sent away to the country to see if that would make him well again. Bert sobbed bitterly when the little 26o Bert Lloyd's Ih^yliood. invalid was led away. He would have dearly loved to accompany Brownie, but that could not be managed, so there was nothing for it but to wait patiently at home for the news from the sick pony. Unhappily, the reports were not cheering. Each time they were less hopeful, and at last one dull rainy day that Bert .as long in forgetting, the farmer came himself to say that despite his utmost care dear little Brownie had died, and was now buried beneath a willow tree in a corner of the pasture. Poor ]5crt ! This was the first great grief of his life. Had Brownie been a human companion, he could hardly have felt his loss more keenly or sorrowed more sin- cerely. The little, empty stall, the brass-mounted bridle, and steel-stirruped saddle hanging up beside it, brought out his tears afresh every time he looked upon them. Frank lid his best to console him by offering him the use of his pony whenever he liked ; but, ah ! though *' Charlie " was a nice enough pony, he could not fill the blank made by Brownie's loss. In the meantime Mr. Lloyd had been making dili- gent inquiry about a successor to Brownie, and had come to the conclusion to await the annual shipment from Sable Island, and see if a suitable pony could not be picked out from the number. The announce- ment of this did much to arouse Bert from his low spirits, and as Mr. Lloyd told him about those Sable Island ponies he grew more and more interested. They certainly have a curious history. To begin A CJiaptcr 0)1 Ponies. 261 y loved lanagcd, cntly at Each nil rainy icr came ear little ncath a or Bert! i. Mad d hardly nore sin- mounted p beside e looked him by he liked ; gh pony, s loss, kmg dili- and had shipment )ny could nnounce- his low 3se Sable nterested. To begin 1 with, nobody knows just how they got on that strange, wild, desolate, sand bank that rises from the ocean about a hundred miles to the east of Nova Scotia. Had they the power of speech, and were they asked to give an account of themselves, they would proba- bly reply with Topsy that " they didn't know — they 'spects they grow'd." There they are, however, to the number of several hundred, and there they have been ever since anybody knew anything about Sable Island. And such a place for ponies to be ! It is nothing but a bank of sand, not twenty-five miles long, by about one and a-half wide, covered here and there with patches of dense coarse grass, wild pea vine, and cran- berry swamps. There are no trees, no brooks, no daisied meadows, and through all seasons of the year the ponies are out exposed to the weather, whether it be the furious snow storms of winter, the burn- ing heat of summer, or the mad gales of the autumn. Once a year the Government officials who live upon the island, having charge of the lighthouses and relief stations, for it is a terrible place for wrecks, have what the Western ranchmen would call a " round-up " of the ponies. They arc all driven into a big " corral " at one end of the island, and the best of the younger ones carefully culled out, the rest being set free again. Those selected are then at the first opportunity put on board a ship and carried off to Halifax, where rough, shaggy, ungroomed, and 262 Ihrt Lloyd's Ihy/iood. untamed, they arc sold at auction to tlic highest bidders. It was one of these ponies that Mr. Lloyd proposed to purchase for JkMt. The latter was an expert rider now, and could be intrusted with a much more spirited animal than dear, little J^rcjwnie. The arrival of the annual shipment was accordingly looked forward to by both l^ert and his father with a good deal of interest, l^ert wondering if on the whole shipload there would be anything to compare with lirownie, and Mr. Lloyd hoping that he would be able to obtain a pony big enough to carry him if he felt in the humour for a ride on a bright summer morning. liii^hcst )roposctl crt rider h more c arrival forward deal of shipload 1 brownie, o obtain t in the 'ig- CHAPTER XXV. Ar.OUT TWO KINDS OF I'OXIKS. IN due time the Sable Island ponies arrived, and were announced to be sold by auction, at the Government Wharf. Taking liert with him, Mr. Lloyd went down in time to have a good look at the shipment before the sale commenced, so that he might have his mind made up before beginning to bid. The)- certainly were a queer lot of little creatures. Not a curry-comb had touched their hides since they were born, nor had the shears ever been near their manes or tails. Their coats were long, thick, and filled with dirt ; their manes and tails of prodigious length, and matted together in inextricable knots. They were of all colours, and within certain limits of all sizes. Brown, bay, black, piebald, grey, and sorrel. There was no lack of variet}' ; and Mr. Lloyd and Bert wandered up and down the long line as they stood tethered to the wall, scrutinising them closely, and sorely puzzled as to which to decide upon. It was, of course, quite impossible to tell anything as to disposition, for all the ponies seemed equally 26- ,."^.. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^/ ^ m .*>*', V ^ 8> ^ .** V^>%' 1.0 I.I 1.25 UiKa |2.S 1.8 1.4 6' 1.6 _^ V] <^ /i ^ em >/ ? y /A Photographic Sdences Corporation w •^ \ :\ ^^ \ 5V 6^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 fc 1^ '^ ... 6^ 264 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood, wild and terrified at their novel situation ; but, after going over them carefully, Mr. Lloyd decided upon a very promising-looking black pony that stood near the middle of the row. He was of a good size, seemed to be in better condition than many of those around him, had a well-shaped head, and altogether presented about as attractive an appearance as any in the lot. There were numerous bidders at the auction, and Bert grew deeply interested in the selling, as pony after pony was put up, and after a more or less spirited contest, according to his looks, was knocked down to the person that bid the highest for him. By the time the pony his father had selected was reached, he was fairly trembling with excitement. He was full of apprehension lest somebody else should take him away from them, and when the bidding began, he watched every movement and word of the auctioneer with breathless anxiety, raising quite a laugh at one time, by answering his oft-repeated question "Will anybody give me five? I have thirty — will anybody give me five ? " with an eager " I will ! " that was easily heard by everybody in the crowd. It was an immense relief to him, when, at length, after what seemed to him most unnecessary persistence in trying to get more, the auctioneer called out " Going, going, going, at thirty-five dollars. Will you give me any more? Going at thirty-five — going, going, gone; and sold to Mr. Lloyd." About hvo Kinds of Ponies, 265 at, after upon a 3d near Dd size, Df those together s any in ion, and as pony ) spirited down to the time 1, he was 3 full of ake him )egan, he actioneer jh at one )n "Will anybody :hat was t was an ter what in trying |g, going, me any or s:one ; Thirty-five dollars does not seem very much to give for a pony ; but considering that this pony had every- thing to learn, and nobody to guarantee his good behaviour, it was a fair enough price for him. The getting him home proved to be quite a serious under- taking. The strange sights and sounds of the city streets did not merely frighten him — they positively crazed him for the time ; and it took two strong men, one on either side of his head, to guide him in safety to the stable. Once securely fastened in the stall, he quieted down in time, but not one bite of food would he touch that day, nor the next, although Bert tried to tempt him with everything of which Brownie had been fond. This troubled Bert very much. He began to fear his new pony would starve to death. But his father reassured him. " Don't be alarmed, my boy. The pony will find his appetite all right so soon as he gets used to his new quarters," said Mr. Lloyd. And sure enough on the third morning, Bert, to his great relief, found the oat box licked clean, and the pony looking round wistfully for something more to eat. After that, the difficulty lay rather in satisfying than in tempting his appetite. He proved an insa- tiable eater. But then nobody thought of stinting him, especially as his bones were none too well covered. It was with great difficulty that he could be per- suaded to allow himself to be groomed. He would 266 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. start at the touch of the curry-comb, as though it gave him an electric shock, and Michael, who com- bined in himself the offices of groom and gardener, declared that " of all the pesky, fidgety critters that ever stood on four legs, he never did see the like of this 'ere Sable Islander." Michael's opinion was not improved when he came to break the little Sable Islander in, for he led him such a dance day after day that his stout heart was well-nigh broken before the pony's will showed any signs of being broken. How- ever, patience and kindness, combined with firmness, eventually won the day ; and Michael, with consider- able pride announced that " Sable," as it had been decided to call him, was ready for use. Mr. Lloyd thought it best to ride Sable for a week or two before Bert should mount him, and to this arrangement Bert was nothing loath, for the pony's actions while in process of being broken in had rather subdued his eagerness to trust himself upon him. As it chanced, Mr. Lloyd came very near paying a severe penalty for his thoughtfulness. He had been out sev- eral mornings on Sable, and had got along very well. One morning while he was in the act of mounting, the gate suddenly slammed behind him with a loud bang. The pony at once started off at full gallop. Mr. Lloyd succeeded in throwing himself into the saddle, but could not get his feet into the stirrups, and when the frightened creature upon which he had so insecure a hold swerved sharply round at the end of the street, About two Kinds of Ponies. 267 he was hurled from his seat like a stone from a catapult, and fell headlong, striking his right temple upon the hard ground. A few minutes later Mrs. Lloyd was startled by a hasty rap at the door, and on opening it beheld her husband supported between two men, his face ghastly pale, and stained with blood from a wound on his forehead. She was a brave woman, and although her heart almost stood still with agonised apprehension, she did not lose control of herself for an instant. Directing Mr. Lloyd to be carried into the parlour and laid gently upon the sofa, Mrs. Lloyd bathed his head and face while Mary chafed his hands ; and presently, to their unspeakable joy, he recovered consciousness. Fortunately, his injuries proved to be comparatively slight. Beyond a cut on his forehead, a bad headache, and a general shaking up, he had suffered no material injury, and he would not listen to Mrs. Lloyd's find- ing any fault with Sable for the accident. " Tut ! tut ! Kate," said he ; " the pony was not to blame at all. Any horse might have been frightened by a gate banging to at his heels. The fault was mine in not seeing that the gate was shut before I mounted. No ; no, you must not blame poor, little Sable." Curiously enough, Bert had a somewhat similar experience shortly after he began to ride Sable. At a little distance from the house was a hill up which the street led, and then down the other side out into '6S /v^y / /\'\;i / ' * / r\\ X .intri ili>\\n \\\r nlliti ';ii|i' I )nc .\<'ti \ no.>\\. \\\'A ,\^ he nM« hill iht- 'Miinmil, :i lilllr •-tnM 1>(^\ , pioh,\1>1\ 1>\ \\,\\ mI t \ pn'!!in|i (III* in\ \ hr trit («M ll\. who I «> \ll(l ;llVtMi| |i» lidr. (Ill t'W :i ^l.MU- .\t ^.\Mr, w In. h 'Mniilv Inni ;» itincinii l»ln\\ nn P^MW \\ .\'- o(l I .lIviUj" the ImI ill l\i : tnlli, :ilit| ;tr,uoht*"nin'^ In^ lir.i.l owl. \\ «• w i-nl il lull ipm ) .1. 'W n \\w Iwll. UrU l\.>l.lin>^ «^n loi .Ic.n lilr willi liis IumiI in ]\!^ \n.M\t1\. ,in.l In-^ l),H Jn>n» lii^ lh\\(l 1 U ^>M\U^ W ,U «M .Ml\(M \h hr 1 inn^;( 11 iirvi'i K nrvv r\.utl\ h.n\,hr r,»M h.^lli hi'; I«t1 out nl I lir s| ii i up;. ,^nxi \( w ^'^ w rU <»>! hnn hr «h.l, I.m jiiM ;i{ thr hnllmn »^t \\w lull, whrn h. \\ .l"; T' >ni>: hKr .1 jM«'\ l»<»iiii(l. S )^ \\ ,\Mv^ >>topp«\l ■'h«Mt, U>\\«Mr«l hi'^ h(\iJ. Ihmi; up his \^1>-, .U"!\l. WUlVMlt {]w >>]i;;htrsl piotrst Ol (h'1;|\-, \\i'\\ cvA (\\ nhi twMn \\\c ^,\»K1K\ .nul lan»U^l in iht^ iniddlr th, i\i-^ t\ iwul ni .\ ^itliu;; postnio with his I« '!"; 4\v;v]\v\'. vMit ^vM^^\o hiiu I'ho s.uh \ pony p.insc*! Uist ion^; onvMu;h tv> nu\kv ik >n IV' that his I ivUi was «lis ^^sv\i v>t box vMui a vlvMiht, anvl {\\c\\ ^allo[>ril awa\- ■,^".Vtivnl;\ in hu:h cl^'^'. 1' \\ as nv>l lunt in tho Uwsl. \\c \mu\ \\c\c\ sat '\\n «.;\n'iO so \nio\pv\10vil\- botoi\\l>\il the thiik thist *il-.o vvMvi iii.uio an oxvoHrnt cushion, aiul he' was vV Ov^n his Ux^t. and in tull vmv alter the run. iwaN- Th anks to ronllcraan vmi hv>isohack wlu> had wit i/u^ttf /, (^» f\ till L ol I oiitr';. I'i'i ir ilr'^t 'Hi j»i»n\ up (If y h\v I. M lilll.- . llntMV :» I l»li »\\ nn ml tl«»\\ n -^ hr;n I in \v\ Km \v r stinnp;. w Imllnn* «r\ hnnuti, nj; \tp In- ho iniJtll'' \ his lr>;s l\- p.'UlSlHl r was «hs- H^l awiW. ncvn sat thick ihist ul ho was nniaway > had wit (W"!'!(m| \\m' wh'tN' '!f cfH', iiM'l v'lif irnffc 'li;if''ly in ' liisf* nf .'i;»ltl»\ ih'- l;(M»t \v;i'i ".'imii i »•> ;i | »f in ' 'I, ;tfi'l \*i'f^, h;i\iii|' IhdlihMl hi') h I'im) mi m' » J, ;iri') I»mi Ic 'I 'iffi'- of Ihc ihi'.l (( hl< .III I, It ,\\<. he ini'.t Unm hi'! » lnin«":, »< km »ii(ij» /| tu , tni ' fii' /'»i "|('»'(|, Mini »M(|f liiiii (m» (Im- r' - I '-( \\\i ■,\\\i\\\i ,1 lu Afl'i lli't';!- hv'i ''.Mm»"vvli;tl iin|ii'iifii inj^ (i'rf'»rfri am '•'?, '.altl'' mcIIIciI tlnwii inl'i \n-\y [ liifi' lli;i( If '/;i •. iri I'.' rf •; |MiM'!("!')i(tii dill iMil a(';iiii di';[n ;i' ' liiiri 'If l»/ riinriin;^ a\va\' Ml )ii|( liidi' iiiiy »»ii'' n\\ \\'\\ \,.\i\- \]r ti' /' r liri ailli> llir jtrl ||i;i| I'l'i^viii' li;i'l Ic'ii, (»iif \i'- 7/as, ll|i)iii llir wli'ijr, a iii'iM' II;' (ill ;ifii(f',il, ;'» tliit I'.^rt « ailir !•» I'"''l llilll'.'ll W II ' 'i|f([(r M 'wil' 'I f'»r III; l'/.;s. Alutiil litis liiii'- r.'il nia'l' til' a' 'jiiaifit;in'' ' 'if a |Miny n( a v'ly dilf'i»iil s'al ll'»'//, \\i'\'ii\^ if r,,rri' (m havr llii'; iiaiii'- d'lO'; n'd ';' 'in fo !»'■ \y( ty ' I' /ir, for whal iialiiial « 'iIiih' fi'iii ' an h' ' ;t,il*li;lird \>' \ //ffj> a dimiinilivr laa-.'-, aii'l a 'li-,' if 'lit;il»l' rn'tfi'/d of rodnf iii{; I ho dilli' iillios nf a lo/-.'»n in [,;itin or f nf 'i: ' It vvniild appoai \n !»'> a \/'iy iinjimt -.liir upon a v^ r/ vvfulhy liltlo animal, to say tli'' h a-;t. Holt's first lthor aid than tl^: yjnifiUtfir ancl loxioon ho could, in tho rourso of an hour or so, i trouhlo. 'lUnrc w;i^ soincthinj.j in tho involved oh, cure style of this old 270 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. historian that puzzled him greatly, and he was con- stantly being humiliated by finding that when, after much labour, he had succeeded in making some sort of sense out of a sentence, Dr. Johnston would pro- nounce his translation altogether wrong, and proceed to read it in quite another way. As it happened, just when Bert was in the middle of those difficulties, Mr. Lloyd was called away from home on important business which entailed an absence for many weeks, and consequently Bert was deprived of his assistance, which was always so willingly given. He had been struggling with Sallust for some time, and was making but very unsatisfactory headway, when o day, chancing to express to Regie Selwyn liis envy of the seeming ease with which the latter got along. Regie looked at him with a knowing smile, and asked : " Don't you know how I get my translation so pat ? " " No," replied Bert ; " tell me, won't you ? " " Why, I use a pony, of course," responded Regie. " A pony ! " exclaimed Bert, in a tone of surprise. " What do you mean ? " " Oh, come now," said Regie, with an incredulous smile. " Do you mean to say that you don't know what a pony is ? " " I do, really," returned Bert. '* Please tell me, like a good fellow." " Come along home with me after school, and I '11 show you," said Regie. About izuo Kinds of Ponies. 271 as con- in, after i sort of lid pro- procccd middle ay from absence Icprived y ijiven. Tie time, eadway, Selwyn \c latter Knowmg o pat ?" Regie, surprise. redulous 't know tell me, and I'll "All right," assented Bert ; "I will." Accordingly, that afternoon when school had been dismissed, Bert accompanied Regie home, and there the latter took him to his room, and produced a book which contained the whole of Sallust turned into clear, simple English. "There," said he, placing the volume in Bert's hands ; " that 's what I mean by a pony." Bert opened the book, glanced at a page or two, took in the character of its contents, and then, with a feeling as though he had touched a serpent, laid it down again, saying : " But do you think it 's right to use this book in getting up your Sallust, Regie?" Regie laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Where's the harm, my boy. If you can't trans- late old Sallust by yourself, you can't, that 's all, and you 've got to wait for Dr. Johnston to do it for you. Now, mightn't you just as well get it out of this book at once, and save all the trouble," he argued, glibly. This was very fallacious reasoning, but somehow or other it impressed Bert as having a good deal of force in it. The simple truth was that he was willing to be convinced. But he did not feel quite satisfied yet. " Then, of course, you never look at it until you have done your best to get the lesson out without it ? " he asked. " That depends. Sometimes I do, and sometimes 272 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. I don't," answered Regie, in a tone that implied very plainly that the latter "sometimes" occurred much more frequently than the former. Bert took up the book again and fingered it thought- fully. "Could I get one if I wanted to?" he asked, pres- ently. " Why, of course," answered Regie. " There arc many more at Gossip's where I got this, I guess." Bert said no more ; and the two boys soon began talking about something else. For some days thereafter Bert was in a very per- plexed state of mind. It seemed as though "the stars in their courses " were fighting not against, but in favour of his getting a "pony" for himself. His father's absence was indefinitely prolonged, the Sallust grew more and more difficult, and demanded so much time, that Bert's chance of winning one of the prizes for general proficiency was seriously jeopardised. Instead of dismissing the subject from his mind altogether, he fell to reasoning about it, and then his danger really began, for the more he reasoned, the weaker his defences grew. There seemed so much to be said in favour of the pony ; and, after all, if he did not resort to it until he had done his best to work out the translation unaided, what would be the harm ? Clearly Bert was in a perilous position. Right and wrong were strongly contending for the victory, and much would depend upon the issue of the conflict. led very d much thought- ed, pres- hcre arc less. )n began very per- agh "the ainst, but ielf. His le Sallust so much ;he prizes ised. his mind then his |oned, the much to if he did work out arm? ight and tory, and inflict. CHAPTER XXVI. VICTORY WON FROM DKFKAT. BERT had reached an age and stage of develop- ment when the raising of a decided issue between right and wrong was a matter of vital con- sequence. Although he had little more than rounded out a dozen years of life, his natural bent of mind and the influences surrounding him had been such as to make him seem at least two years older when com- pared with his contemporaries. He thought much, and, considering his age, deeply. His parents had always admitted him into full fellowship with them- selves, and he had thus acquired their way of thinking upon many subjects. Then his religious training had been more than ordinarily thorough. The influences and inspiration of a Christian home had been supple- mented and strengthened by the teaching at Sunday school of one who possessed a rare gift in the manage- ment of boys. Mr. Silver not only understood his boys : he was in hearty and complete sympathy with them ; and the truth came from him with peculiar force, as he met them Sunday after Sunday. 273 s 274 /)Vr/ /JcYifs />oy/ioo(/. Bert lluMcforc would appr.n- to h.ixc cvcMj'thin^ in his favour when set upon h)- the tcinptiT, and it nn"L;ht sccni stran,L;t' that in this case he should dall)- so lon^ with the danger. lUit tlie fact is there were unusual elements in this temptation, such as have been already set fortli, and Herts course of action from the time wIumi he first saw the translation of Sallust in l\.et;ic Selw^n's nH)m, until when at lenL;th after days of indecision, of haltini; between two o[)ini()ns, of now listcnini; to, and attain spurnini; the su^l^cs- tions of the tempter, he had a copy of the same book hidden awa}- in his own room, was but another illus- tration of the familiar experience, that he who stoi)s to argue with the tempter, lias as good as lost his case. He tried hard to persuade himself that it was all right, and that it would be all right, but nevertheless it was with none too easy a conscience that he slipped into Gossip's one afternoon, and timidly inquired for the Sallust translation. The clerk did not understand at first, and when he asked Bert to repeat his question a cold shiver went down the boy's back, for he felt sure the man must have divined his purpose in pro- curing the book. But, of course, it was only an unnecessary alarm, and soon with the volume under his arm, and breathing much more freely, he was hastening homeward. At first he kept very faithfully to the programme he had laid down of not resorting to the " pony " until he had done his best without it. Then little by Vic/ory Won from He feat. 275 ylhiiv^ in •r, and il )iiUl dally .here \vcri> I as have clion from of Sallust iv^th after ) opinions, he su'^i^cs- samc book other illus- ho stops to t his case. t it was all icvcrtheless he slipped nquircd for understand is question for he felt ose in pro- as only an ume under ly, he was programme :he "pony" en little by little he fell into the way of ri:ferrin^ to it whenever iu* was at a loss re^^•lr(iin^ a word, until at last \\v. came to depend upon it alto;^M;ther, and the fluent translations that won Dr. Johnston's approbation day after day were really nothin^i better than stolen matter. Yet all this time he was far from having; peace of mind. That troublesome conscience of his acted as though it would never become reconciled to this method of studying the classics. On the contrary, it seemed to grow increasingly sensitive upon the point, h'inally the matter was brought to a head in a very unsuspected manner. No mention has been made in these pages of one who occupied a very large place in Bert's affection and adiniration — namely, the Rev. Dr. Chrystal, the pastor of Calvary Church. Dr. Chrystal was a man of middle age and medium height, with a countenance so winning and manners so attractive, that Mr. Lloyd was wont to call him St. John, the beloved disciple, because his name was John, and everybody who knew him loved him. It was not merely by the elders of his congregation, who could fully appreciate the breadth and soundness of his scholarship, the richness of his rhetoric, and the warmth of his eloquence, but by the younger members also, who loved his sunny smile, and hearty laugh, that Dr. Chrystal was little short of worshipped. Bert had been his warm admirer ever since the time 276 Bei't Lloyd's Boyhood. when on his pastoral visits he would take the little fellow up on his knee, and draw him out about his own amusements and ambitions, giving such interested attention to his childish prattle that Bert could not fail to feel he had in him a real friend. As he grew older, his liking for the minister deepened. He never had that foolish fear of " the cloth " which is so apt to be found in boys of his age. Dr. Chrystal was a frequent visitor at Bert's home. Mr. Lloyd was one of the main supporters of his church, and the two men had much to consult about. Besides that, the preacher loved to discuss the subjects of the day with the keen-witted, far-seeing lawyer, who helped him to many a telling point for the sermon in preparation. This, of course, was quite beyond Bert, but what he could and did fully appreciate was the skill and strength with which Dr. Chrystal, having laid aside his clerical coat, would handle a pair of sculls when he went out boating with them, in the fine summer evenings. " I tell you what it is, Frank," said he, enthusiastic- ally to his friend one day. " There 's nothing soft about our minister. He can pull just as well as an}- man in the harbour. That's the sort of minister I like. Don't you?" One Sunday evening, after Bert had been using his "pony" some little time — for although his father had returned, he had come so to depend upon it, that he continued to resort to it in secret — Dr. Chrystal V^ictory Won from Defeat. 277 preached a sermon of more than usual power from the text, *' Provide things honest in the sight of all men." It was a frank, faithful address, in which he sought to speak the truth in tenderness, and yet with direct application to his hearers. If any among them were disbelievers in the doctrine that honesty is the best policy, and acted accordingly, they could hardly hope to dodge the arrows of argument and appeal shot forth from the pulpit that evening. Bert was one of the first to be transfixed. When the text was announced he wriggled a bit, as though it pricked him somewhere ; but when, further on, Dr. Chrystal spoke in plain terms of the dishonesty of false pretences, of claiming to be what you really are not, of seeking credit for what is not actually your own work, Bert's head sank lower and lower, his cheeks burned with shame, and, feeling that the speaker must in some mysterious way have divined his guilty secret, and be preaching directly at him, he sank back in his seat, and wished with wild long- ing that he could run away from those flashing eyes that seemed to be looking right through him, and from the sound of that clear, strong voice, whose every tone went straight to his heart. But, of course, there was no escape, and he had to listen to the sermon to the end, although, had it been possible, he would gladly have thrust his fingers in his ears that he might hear no more. He felt immensely relieved when the service was over, ond he could go 278 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. out into the cool, dark evening air. He was very silent as he walked home with his parents, and so soon as prayers were over went off to his room, saying that he was tired. For the next few clays there was not i more miser- able boy in Halifax than Cuthbert Lloyd. He was a prey to contending feelings that gave him not one moment's peace. His better nature said, " ]?e manly, and confess." The tempter whispered, " Be wise, and keep it to yourself." As for the cause of all this trouble, it lay untouched in the bottom drawer of his bureau. He could not bear to look at it, and he worked out his Sallust as best he could, causing Dr. Johnston much surprise by the unexpected mistakes he made in translating. He became so quiet and sober that his mother grew quite concerned, and asked him more than once if he felt ill, to which, with a pretence of a laugh, he replied : " Not a bit of it. I 'm all right." But he wasn't all right, by any means, as his father's keen eyes soon discovered. Mr. Lloyd, like his wife, thought at first that Bert's queer ways must be due to ill health ; but after watching him awhile he came to the conclusion that the boy's trouble was mental, rather than physical, and he determined to take the first opportunity of probing the matter. The oppor- tunity soon came. Mrs. Lloyd and Mary were out for the evening, leaving Bert and his father at home. Bert was studying his lesson^ at the table, while his Victory IVon from Defeat. 279 father sat in the arm-chair near by, reading the paper. Every now and then, as he bent over his books, Bert gave a deep sigh that seemed to well up from the very bottom of his heart. Mr. Lloyd noted this, and presently, laying his paper down, said, pleas- antly : " Bert, dear, put your lessons aside for a few min- utes, and come over here. I want to have a talk with you." Bert started and flushed slightly, but obeyed at once, drawing his chair close up beside his father's. Laying his hand upon l^ert's knee, and looking him full in the face, Mr. Lloyd asked : " Now, Bert, tell me what 's the matter with you ? There's something on your mind, I know; and it has not been your way to keep any secrets from me. Won't you tell me v/hat is troubling you ? " Bert fidgeted in his chair, the flush deepened in his face, his eyes dropped before his father's searching gaze, and his hands worked nervously. At last, with an apparent effort, he replied, in a low lone : ** There 's nothing the matter with me, father." Mr. Lloyd sighed, and looked troubled. " Yes, there is, Bert. You know there is. Now, don't conceal it from me, but speak right out. Remember your motto, Bert : * Quit you like men.' " The working of Bert's countenance showed clearly the struggle that was going on within, and there was silence for a moment, while Mr. Lloyd awaited his 2 So /)'(•;'/ Lloyd's Hoy hood. answer. pra\in_i; carnrsth- the wliilc that his \)^^^• inii^ht ho holpcnl to ilo th(^ rii^hl. ThcMi. sndtKnly. HiMt sprang up, dailcil lowanl the door, and heedini; uo{ his fatlicr's sininiscd exclamation of - " Heil. Hert, aren't you i;(^ini; to answer me?" ran up the stairs to his own room. ;\n instaiit more and he returneil. heariui; a vohnnc whieli he placed in Mr. Lloyd's hands; and then, throwini; himself on the sofa, he burietl his head in the cushions, and hurst into a passion of tears. IV-'wildered by this unexpected action, ]\lr. Lloyd's fust impulse was t(^ take his boy in his arms and tr\- to soothe him. Then he bcthoui^lit himself of the book Ixini; in his lap, and turned to it for an explana- X\o\\ o\ the mystery. It was ;m iimocent-enouL;h lookinsj \olume. antl seemed at fust i^huicc to make matters no clearer, but as he held it in iiis hands there came b.ick to him the recollection of his own schc^olbin- da\s. and like a Hash the thini;' was plain to him. Wcvi had been using a " pon\-," and in stnne wa\- had come to realise the extent o{ his wroni;- doini^. With feelinL^s divided between sorrow that his bov should fall a victim to this tcmptaticMi, and i;ladness that he should have the courage to confess it, Mr. Llo\d went over to the i ofa, lifted l^crt up gcntlx'. and placed him on the chair beside him. " Come, now, l^crt, dear," said he, in his tendercst tones, "don't be afraid, but just tell mc all about it." / 'ictory Won from Defeat. 281 In a voice much broken l)y sobs, licit then told the whole story, be^innin^^ with the* first conversation with Ke}.;ie Selwyn, and leaving out nothin^j. His father listened intently, and it was clear the recital moved him deeply. When it ended, he silently lifted up his heart in praise to (iod that his darling boy had been delivered from so ^Mcat a darif^nr, and he determined that Dr. Chrj'slal should not fail to hear how effective his faithful preachinj^j had been. •* I need not tell you, Hert, how sad this makes my heart, but I will not add my reproaches to the remorse you already feel," said he, gravely. '* You have done very, very wron^', dear, and it is now your duty to make that wronj^ ri^dit a^ain, so far as is in }()ur power. What do you think yourself yc)U ou^ht to do ? " " I must ask Cjod to forgive me, father," answered Jiert, almost in a whisj)cr. " Hut is that all ? Is there no one else of whom you should ask forgiveness ? " " Yes, of you." "I have forgiven you already, Ik'rt, for I know that you arc sincerely s jrry. lUit I think there is some one else still. Ought you not to ask Dr. Johnston's forgiveness ? " " Why, father," cxxlaimed liert, looking up with an expression of surprise, " Dr. Johnston docs not know anything about it." " Ah, yes, l^ert, true enough ; but remember that 282 lUrt L/oyd's Ihyhood. ever since you 'vc been using the translation you 've been getting credit from him for work you had not really done. Was that providing things honest in the sight of all men, do you think ? " l^ert flushed and looked down again. lie was silent for a little while, and then said : *' lUit, father, I could never tell Dr. Johnston. lie is so stern and severe." " Do you think God will ever fully forgive you while you are concealing from Dr. Johnston what you ought in common honesty to tell him ? " This question evidently staggered him, and Mr. Lloyd, seeing what a struggle was going on within him, put his hand upon his shoulder, and said, with tender emphasis : ** Remember, Bert : * Quit you like men, be strong.' " For a moment longer Bert seemed irresolute. Then suddenly his countenance brightened, his features settled into an expression of firm determination, and rising to his feet, with hands clenched and eyes flashing, he stood before his father, and almost shouted : " Yes, father, I will ; I '11 tell him. I don't care what he does to me." "God bless you, my brave boy!" exclaimed Mr. Lloyd, as, almost over-mastered by his emotions, he threw his arms around his neck, and hugged him to his heart, the big tears pouring down his happy face. Just at that moment the door opened, and Mrs. Lloyd and Mary entered. Great was their surprise Viclory Won from Dcfcai. 28 at the scene they witnessed. But they soon under- stood it all, and when the whole story was known to them they were no less thankful than Mr. Llcjyd that Bert had come off conqueror in this sharp stru^<,de with the enemy of souls. It was a hard task that lay before Ikrt, and he would have been something more than mortal if his resolution did not falter as he thou^^ht about it. 15ut he strengthened himself by repeating the words " Quit you like men, be strong," laying much emphasis on the latter clause. His father thought it best for him to go very early the next morning, taking the book with him, and to seek an interview with Dr. Johnston before he went into the school. Accordingly, in the morning, with throbbing heart and feverish pulse, Bert knocked at the doctor's private entrance. On asking for the master he was at once shown into the study, where the dread doctor was glancing over the morning paper before he took up the work of the day. " Well, Lloyd, what brings you here so early ? " he asked, in some surprise. With much difficulty, and in broken sentences, Bert explained the object of his visit, the doctor listening with an impassive countenance that gave no hint of how the story affected him. When he had ended. Dr. Johnston remained silent a moment as if lost in reflection, then placing his hand upon the boy's shoulder, and looking at him with an expression of 284 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. deep tenderness such as Bert had never seen in his countenance before, he said, in tones whose kindness there could be no mistaking : " You have done well, Lloyd, to tell me this. I honour you for your confession, and I feel confident that never so long as you are a pupil in this school will you fall into like wrong-doing. You may tell your father what I have said. Good-morning." And he turned away, perhaps to hide something that made his eyes moist. Feeling much as Christian must have felt when the burden broke from his back and rolled into the sepulchre gaping to receive it, Bert went to his seat in the schoolroom. The ordeal was over, and his penance complete. His frank penitence was destined to exert a far wider influence than he ever imagined, and that immediately. The volume he placed in Dr. John- ston's hands set the master thinking. " If," he reasoned, " Bert Lloyd, one of the best boys in my school, has fallen into this wTong-doing, it must be more common than I supposed. Perhaps were I to tell the school what Lloyd has just told me, it might do good. The experiment is worth trying, at all events." Acting upon this thought, Dr. Johnston, shortly after the school had settled down for the day's work, rapped upon his desk as a signal that he had some- thing to say to the scholars, and then, when the attention of all had been secured, he proceeded to Victory IVon from Defeat. 28:; tell, in clear, concise lanf^uage, the incident of the morning. Many eyes were turned upon l^crt while the doctor was speaking, but he kept his fixed closely upon his desk, for he knew that his cheeks were burning, and he wondered what the other boys were thinking of him. In concludin*^^ Dr. Johnston made the following appeal, which was indeed his chief purpose in mentioning the matter at all : " Now, scholars," said he, in tones of mingled kind- liness and firmness, " I feel very sure that Lloyd is not the only boy in this school who has been using a translation to assist him in his classical work, and my object in telling you what he told mc is that it may perhaps inspire those who have been doing as he did to confess it in the manly, honest way that he has done, and for which we must all honour him. Boys, I appeal to your honour," he continued, raising his voice until it rang through the room, startling his hearers by its unaccustomed volume. " Who among you, like Bert Lloyd, will confess that you have been using a translation ? " There was a thrilling silence, during which one might almost have heard the boys' hearts beat as the doctor paused, and with his piercing eyes glanced up and down the long rows of awe-stricken boys. For a moment no one moved. Then there was a stir, a shuffling of feet, and Regie Sclvvyn, with checks aflame, rose slowly in his seat, and said in a low but distinct voice : 2S6 not Llowis noyliooii. " I hav(\ sir." A L;UMin of j(n' nasluul in the doctc^r's dark c}'c.s as lie looked tt)\vard the si)eakcr, but he said nothing. Then another and another rose and inaile a hke con- fession, mitil siMue six in all had thus aekno\vledi;ed their fault. There was no niistakini; the pleasure that shone in the niast(M''s face at this answer to his apju\il. When it became clear that, however many more miL;ht be no less i^uilty, no more were i^oinj; to confess it, he spoke ai^ain : " While it grieves me to know that the use of translations has been so extensive, I am also i^lad to find that so many of my boys possess the true spirit of manliness. I ask them to promise me that they will never look at those books again, and if there be others in the school who might have admitted the same impropriety, but have not, I appeal to you to show by \our contempt o{ such helps your determi- nation that nothing but what is honest, fair, and manlv shall characterise he actions of the scholars of this school." And with this the doctor resumed his scat. CIIAITICR XXVII. AI50UT LITKRATURK AND LAW. FIVIC years had passed since ('uthbcrt Lloyd's name was first inscribed in the bi^ re^Mstcr on Dr. Johnston's desk, and he had been surely, steadily risint; to the proud position of bein^ tlie first boy in the school, the " dux^^ as the doctor with his love for the classics preferred to call it. And yet there were some branches of study that he still seemed unable to ^et a f^ood hold upon, or make satisfactory progress with. One of these was al^^^ebra. l"or some reason or other, the hidden principles of this puzzling science eluded his grasp, as though a and X had been eels of phenomenal activity. He tried again and again to pierce the obscurity that enshrouded them, but at best with imperfect success ; and it was a striking fact that he should, term after term, carry off the arithmetic prize by splendid scores, and yet be ingloriously beaten at algebra. Another subject that became a great bugbear to him was what was known as composition. On 287 288 Bert f Joy lis Boyhood. Fridays the senior boys were required to brin^ an orii^inal comi)osition, covering; at least two pa^cs of letter paper, upon any subject they saw fit. This requirement made that day " black Friday " for Bert and many others besides. The writing of a letter or composition is probably the hardest task that can be set before a schoolboy. It was safe to say that in many cases a whipping would be gratefully preferred. ]kit for the disgrace of the thing, l^ert would certainly rather at any time have taken a mild whipping than sit down and write an essay. At the first, taking pity upon his evident helpless- ness, Mr. Lloyd gave him a good deal of assistance, or allowed Mary — the ever-willing and ever-helpful Mary — to do so. But after a while he thought J^ert should run alone, and prohibited further aid. Thus thrown upon his own resources, the poor fellow struggled hard, to very little purpose. Even when his father gave him a lift to the extent of suggesting a good theme, he found it almost impossible to write anything about it. One Friday he went without having prepared a composition. He hoped that Dr. Johnston would just keep him in after school for a while, or give him an " imposition " of fifty lines of Virgil to copy as a penalty, and that that would be an end of the matter. But, as it turned out, the doctor thought otherwise. When Bert presented no composition he inquired if he had any excuse, meaning a note from his father About Lit crat lire mui La7^\ 289 asking that he be excused this time. IkM't answered that he had not. "Then," said Dr. Johnston, sternly, "you must remain in after school until your composition is written." Hert was a good deal troubled by this unexpected penalty, but there was of course no appeal from the master's decision. The school hours passed, three o'clock came, ami all the scholars save those who were kept in for various shortcomings went joyfully off to their play, leaving the big, bare, dreary room to the doctor and his prisoners. Then one by one, as they met the conditions of their sentence, or made up their deficiencies in work, they slipped quietly away, and ere the old yellow-faced clock solemnly struck the hour of four, Bert was alone with the grim and silent master. He had not been idle during that hour. He had made more than one attempt to prepare some sort of a composition, but both ideas and words utterly failed him. He could not even think of a subject, much less cover two pages of letter paper with comments upon it. By four o'clock despair had settled down upon him, and he sat at his desk doing nothing, and waiting he hardly knew for what. Another hour passed, and still Bert had made no start, and still the doctor sat at his desk absorbed in his book and apparently quite oblivious of the boy before him. Six o'clock drew near, and with it the T 2(•/'/ L/(tyli was (lone. The five nn'nntes liavin{.j elaj)se(l, llie dfx.tor einerj.je(l from the }.d(>om and ( ame np to see what jjroj^jress had heen made. lie lof)ke(l over I'ert's shoulder at the crooked linc's that stra?M/led over half the paf^e, l>ul he conld not have read more than the title, when the shadows of the >;reat emj)ty room were- startled by a peal of lau'diter that went eehoiti'' throu'di the dark- nijss, anc 1 el; iponi'j PI the h >oy {.M'acious ly ui )on In.' back the master said V That will do, Lloyd. The title is (jiiite sufficient. w ; " for he had a keen sense of hinnour ou may j.^o no and a thorou[di relish of a jok(;, and the subject selected by I'ert was peculiarly appropriate, beinj.^ " Necessity is the Mother of Invention." Mr. Lloyd was so deli^lited with I'ert's in^^emiity that thenceforth he ^;ave him very effective assistance in the preparatif>n of his weekly essays, and they were no longer th(.' bujjbear that they had been. It was not lon<{ after this that I'ert harl an experience with the law nc)t less memorable. \\\ an adjoinin^j street, there lived a faim'Iy by the name of I)c)dson, that pr)ssessed a very lar^^'c, oifi, and (TOSS Newfoundland dor^^ which had, l)y its fre(|uent exhibitions of ill-temper, bectjme (juite a nuisance to the nei^dilxjurlujod. They had often been sp(;ken to about their do^^'s readiness to snap at people, but had refused to chain him up, or send him away, because 292 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. they had a lively aversion to small boys, and old Lion was certainly successful in causing them to give the Dodson premises a wide berth. One afternoon Bert and Frank were going along the street playing catch with a ball the former had just purchased, when, as they passed the Dodson house, a wild throw from Frank sent the ball out of l^crt's reach, and it rolled under the gate of the yard. Not thinking of the irascible Lion in his haste to recover the ball, Bert opened the gate, and the moment he did so, with a fierce growl the huge dog sprang at him and fastened his teeth in his left cheek. Bert shrieked with fright and pain, and in an instant Frank was beside him, and had his strong hands tight round Lion's throat. Immediately the old dog let Bert go, and slunk off to his kennel, while Frank, seizing his handkerchief, pressed it to the ugly wound in Bert's cheek. Great though the pain was, Bert quickly regained his self-possession, and hasten- ing home had his wounds covered with plaster. For- tunately, they were not in any wise serious. The}' bled a good deal, and they promised to spoil his beauty for a time at least, but, as there was no reason to suppose that the dog was mad, that was the worst of them. Mr. Lloyd was very much incensed when he saw Bert's injuries, and heard from him and Frank the particulars of the affair. He determined to make one more appeal to the Dodsons to put the dog away, and d old Lion len he saw Frank the o make one g away, and * \ '■^"■" it- \i\ 11 ■ ') 4 "With a fierce growl the huge dog sprang at him, and fastened his teeth in his left cheek."— /'if rr^ 292. About LUcratnrc and Lmv. 293 if that were unsuccessful, to call upon the authorities to compel them to do so. Another person who was not less exercised about it was Michael, the man of all work. He was very fond and proud of the youn^ master, as he called Bert, and that a dog should dare to put his teeth into him filled him with rii^hteous wrath. I'^urthermore, like many of his class, he firmly believed in the superstition that unless the doi.; was killed at once, Bert would certainly go mad. Mr. Lloyd laughed at him good-humouredly when he earnestly advocated the summary execution of Lion, and refused to have anything to do with it. But the faithful affectionate fellow was not to be diverted from his purpose, and accordingly the next night after the attack, he stealthily approached the Dodson yard from the rear, got close to old Lion's kennel, and then threw down before his very nose a juicy bit of beefsteak, in which a strong dose of poison had been cunningly concealed. The unsuspecting dog took the tempting bait, and the next morning lay stiff and stark in death, before his kennel door. When the Dodsons found their favourite dead, they were highly enraged ; and taking it for granted that either Mr. Lloyd or some one in his interest or his employ was guilty of Lion's untimely demise, Mr. Dodson, without waiting to institute inquiries, rushed off to the City Police Court, and lodged a complaint against the one who he conceived was the guilty party. 204 JUrt /Joyifs Hoy hood. Mr. l-lo)(l \v;is not a little siirpiiscil wlicn, later in thiMiuMninj^. a blue-coated aiul silver-biitloneil police- man j)reseiit(Ml liiinself at his ofllce, ami, in the most respeclful manner possible, served upon him a sum- mons to ap[)ear before the mai;istrate to answer to .1 complaint made In' one Thomas Dodson, who alleged that he " had with malice prepense and afore- thoui;ht killed or caused to be killed a certain Ncw- ronndl.uul k\o'^, the same beini; the property of the said Thomas Dodson, and thercb)- caused damai;e to the C(Mnplainant, to the amount of one hundred dollars." So soon as I\lr. Llovd read the summons, which was the fust intimation he had had of Lion's takini;" <<'^'({. he at once suspected who was the real criminal. Hut (^f course he saiil nothini^ to the policeman bcN'ond assuring;" him that he wcniUl duly appear to answer to the summons. That cvcniiiL; he sent for Michael, and without any words of explanation placed the summons in his hand. The countenance of the honest fellow as he slowly read it through and took in its import was an amus- ing study. l^cwildcrmcnt, surprise, indignation, and alarm were in turn exprcsscci in his frank face, and when he had finished he stood before Mr. Lloyd speechless, but looking as though he wanted to say : " What will you be after doing to mc now, that I 'vc got you into such a scrape ? " Assuming a scriousnc^:S he did not really feci, Mr. Lloyd looked hard at Michael, as he asked : ^'Iboiit LiU'ialuic and Laiv. 295 " Do }<)ii know anything; ahoiil tin's?" Michael rcddcMicd, and dropped his ('yes to the {ground, hut answered, unhesitatin^dy : " I do, sir. Il was nieself that p^avc the old hriite the dose of medicine that fixed him." "lint, Michael," said Mr. Lloyd, with difficulty restrainin}^ a smile, "it was not ri^dit of you to take the law into your own hands in that way. You knew well enou^di that I could not ap[)rove of it." "I ditl, indeed, sir," answered Michac-l, " hut," lift- ing up his head as his warm Irish heart stirred within him, " I couldn't sleep at nij^ht for thinkin^^ of what mij^lit happen to the youn*.,^ master if the do<; weren't killed ; and, so unbeknownst to anybody, I just slipped over the fence, and dropped him a bit of steak that I knew he would take to kindly. I 'm very sorry, sir, if I 've i^ot you into any trouble, but sure can't you just tell them that it was Michael that did the mischief, and then they won't bother you at all." "No, no, Michael. I'm not going to do that. You meant for the best what you did, and you did it for the sake of my boy, so I will assume the respon- sibility ; but I hope it will be a lesson to you not to take the law into your own hands again. You see it is apt to have awkward consequences." "That's true, sir," assented Michael, looking much relieved at this conclusion. " I '11 promise to be care- ful next time, but — " pausing a moment as he turned 296 Be7^t Lloyd's Boyhood. to leave the room — " it *s glad I am that that cross old brute can't have another chance at Master Bert, all the same." And having uttered this note of triumph, he made a low bow and disappeared. Mr. Lloyd had a good laugh after the door closed upon him. " He 's a faithful creature," he said, kindly ; " but I 'm afraid his fidelity is going to cost me something this time. However, I won't make him unhappy by letting him know that." The trial was fixed for the following Friday, and that day Bert was excused from school in order to be present as a witness. His scars were healing rapidly, but still presented an ugly enough appearance to make it clear that worthy Michael's indignation was not without cause. Now, this was the first time that Bert had ever been inside a court-room ; and, although his father was a lawyer, the fact that he made a rule never to carry his business home with him had caused Bert to grow up in entire ignorance of the real nature of court proceedings. The only trials that had ever interested him being those in which the life or liberty of the person most deeply concerned was at stake, he had naturally formed the idea that all trials were of this nature, and consequently regarded with very lively sympathy the defendants of a couple of cases that had the precedence of " Dodson v. Lloyd." Feeling quite sure that the unhappy individuals Iboiil Literature and Laiv. '■97 who were called upon to defend themselves were in a very evil plight, he was surprised and shocked at the callous levity of the lawyers, and even of the magis- trate, a small-sized man, to whom a full grey beard, a pair of gold-bowed sj ectacles, and a deep voice imparted an air of dignity he would not otherwise have possessed. That they should crack jokes with each other over such serious matters was something he could not understand, as with eyes and ears that missed nothing he observed all that went on around him. At length, after an hour or more of waiting, the case of " Dodson v. Lloyd " was called, and Bert, now to his deep concern, beheld his father in the same position as had been the persons whom he was just pitying ; for the magistrate, looking, as Bert thought, very stern, called upon him to answer to the complaint of Thomas Dodson, who alleged, &c., &c., &c. Mr. Lloyd pleaded his own cause, and it was not a very heavy undertaking, for the simple reason that he made no defence beyond stating that the dog had been poisoned by his servant without his knowledge or approval, and asking that Bert's injuries might be taken into account in mitigation of damages. The magistrate accordingly asked Bert to go into the witness-box, and the clerk administered the oath, Bert kissing the greasy, old Bible that had in its time been touched by many a perjured lip, with an 298 Jhrt Lloyd's Jhyhood. unsophisticated fervour that brought out a smile upon the countenances of the spectators. He was then asked to give his version of the affair. Naturally enough, he hesitated a little at first, but encouraged by his father's smiles, he soon got over his nervousness, and told a very plain, straightfor- ward story. Mr. Dodson's lawyer, a short, thick man with a nose like a paroquet's, bushy, black whiskers, and a very obtrusive pair of spectacles, then pro- ceeded, in a rough, hard voice, to try his best to draw Bert into admitting that he had been accustomed to tease the dog, and to throw stones at him. But although he asked a number of questions beginning with a " Now, sir, did you not ? " or, " Now, sir, can you deny that ? " &c., uttered in very awe-inspiring tones, he did not succeed in shaking Bert's testimony in the slightest degree, or in entrapping him into any disadvantageous admission. At first Bert was somewhat disconcerted by the blustering, brow-beating manner of the lawyer, but after a few questions his spirits rose ^o the occasion, and he answered the questions in a prompt, frank, fearless fashion, that more than once evoked a round of applause from the lookers-on. He had nothing but the truth to tell and his cross-examiner ere long came to the conclusion that it was futile endeavouring to get him to tell anything else ; and so, with rather bad grace, he gave it up, and said he might go. Before leaving the witness-box Bert removed the About Literature ami Law. 299 bandages from his check, and exhibited the marks of the dog's teeth to the magistrate, the sight of which, together with the boy's testimony, made such an impression upon him that he gave as his decision that he would dismiss the case if Mr. Lloyd would pay the costs, which the latter very reeidily agreed to do ; and so the matter ended — not quite to the satis- faction of Mr. Dodson, but upon the whole in pretty close accordance with the strict principles of right and justice. Michael was very greatly relieved when he heard the result, for he had been worrying a good deal over what he feared Mr. Lloyd might suffer in consequence of his excess of zeal. "So they got nothing for their old dog. after all," he exclaimed, in high glee. ** Well, they got as much as he was worth at all events, and " — sinking his voice to a whisper — " between you and me, Master Ikrt, if another dog iver puts his teeth into you, I '11 be after givin' him the same medicine, so sure as my name 's Michael Flynn." CHAPTER XXVI 1 1. WELL DONE, IJOVS ! THERE comes a time in the life of nearly every boy who attends Sunday school when, no matter how faithful to it he may have been, he finds gradually stealing in upon him the feeling that he is growing too old for it, and he becomes restive .under its re- straints. He sees other boys of the same age going off for a pleasant walk, or otherwise spending the afternoon as they please, and he envies them their freedom. He thinks himself already sufficiently familiar with Bible truth for all practical purposes, and the lessons lose their interest for him. He has perhaps no ambition for becoming a teacher, nor even of being promoted to a chair in the Bible class. How best to meet the case of thfs boy, and save him to the Sunday school is one of the most difficult questions that present themselves to those engaged in that work. You must not scold him or you will infallibly drive him away at once and for ever. Neither is it wise to seek to bring into play influences that will compel him to attend nolens volens^ for that will 301 302 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. but deepen his dislike, and make him long the more eagerly for the time when he will be his own master in the matter. There seem to be but two possible solutions of the problem. You must either appeal to the boy's natural sense of independence, and desire for import- ance by making some special provision for him that will mark a distinction between him and the younger folk, or you must, by going far deeper, reach the spiritual side of his nature, and through it secure his fidelity to the school. To Bert this temptation had not presented itself He no more thought of tiring of the Sunday school than he did of his own home. He had attended regularly ever since his sister Marj'- would take him with her, and put him in the infant class, and it might be said to have become second nature with him. With Frank, however, it was different. He had never gone to Sunday school until Bert invited him, and although for some years he was very fond of it, that fondness in time had fallen into an indifference, and of late he had a decided disinclination to go at all. This wa. not due so much to any resistance to the claims of religion itself, but rather to a foolish idea that he was now too old and too big for Sunday school. Bert took his friend's change of feeling very much to heart, and he pleaded with him so earnestly, that Well Done, Boys 303 for some time Frank continued in his place just to please him. But this of course could not last, and he was in danger of drifting away altogether, when an event occurred which turned the current of his life and set it flowing once more in the right direction, this time with a volume it had never known before. It was a pleasant custom at Calvary Church to give the Sunday school a picnic every summer, and these p*:nics were most enjoyable affairs. A better place than Halifax Harbour for the holding of a picnic could hardly be conceived. You go, of course, by steamer, and then have the choice of some half-dozen different routes, each having its own attractions. You might go right up to the head of the big basin that stretched away eight miles or more beyond the north end of the city, and there land, amid the meadows that are bordered by the unbroken forest, or you might stop half-way, and invade the old estate that had once been proud to claim a prince as its possessor. Steering in the opposite direction, you might go around the Point, and piercing the recesses of the ever-beautiful arm of the sea, find a perfect picnic ground at its farthest bend ; or, crossing the harbour, there were lovely spots to be £:ecured on the big, tree- clad island that well-nigh filled the harbour mouth. This year it had been decided to hold the picnic at the head of the arm. The time was August, just when the cool sea-breeze and the balmy breath of the 304 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. pines arc most grateful to the dwellers in cities. To the number of four hundred or more, a happy crowd of Sunday-school scholars and teachers, and their friends gathered upon the broad deck of the clumsy old Mic-maCy an excursion steamer that had done duty on this line for a generation, at least. Each class had its own banner, as a sort of rallying point, and these, with the pretty dresses and bright ribbons of the girls, imparted plenty of colour to the scene, while the boys gave life to it by being incessantly on the move, and never in one spot for more than one minute at a time. ]5ert and Frank were in the rr.idst of the merry crowd, and in the highest spirits. They were neither of them by any means indifferent to the fascination of feminine beauty and grace, and it was easy to secure the most delightful companionship on board the boat, which they did not fail to do. Then they had the games and sports to look forward to, after the picnic ground should be reached; and altogether their cup of happiness seemed well-nigh brimming over. They little dreamed how ere the day closed they would both be brought face to face with the deadliest peril of their lives. Joyous with music and laughter, the big boat pushed her way onward over the white-capped waves, past the fort and the gas works, and the long stretch of the Point road ; and then giving the point itself a wide berth — for the shallows extend far out — ll'cl/ Done, Boys 305 around it, and \\\} the wiiidiiv^ arm, with its line of stately homes on one side, and scattered clusters of white-washed cotta^^es on the other, until almost at its very end, the landing-place was reached, and the gay passenj^ers f^ladly deserted the steamer to seek the cool shelter of the woods. There was a wonderful amount of happiness crowded into that day. All who wanted to be i«.T.eful found plenty of scope for their talents in the transporting; of the provisions, the arranging; of the tables, the hanging of the swings, and the other work that had to be done, while those who preferred play to work, could go boating, or swimming, or play ball, and so forth. The two friends went in for both work and play. They gave very efficient help to the ladies in prepar- ing for the dinner, but they did not miss a grand swim in the cool, clear water of a sequestered cove, nor an exciting game of baseball in the open field. After dinner came the sports, consisting of compe- titions in running, jumping, and ball throwing, for which prizes in the shape of knives, balls, and bats were offered. Bert and Frank took part in several of them with satisfactory results, Frank winning a fine knife in the long distance race, and Bert a good ball for the best throw, so that there was nothing to mar their pleasure in this regard. )^y sunset all were making for the boat again, and in the soft summer gloaming the old Mic-Mac U 3o6 Jkri J.loyifs Hoy hood. sU'.'iincHl steadily down the arm on Ikm- homeward trip. Many of the children were weary now, and inclined to be cross and sleepy. Others were still fnll of life and s[)irits, and could not he restrained from chasin,i; one another up and down the deck and amon^ the benches. Hut their merriment was ere Ioml; suddenl}- ended by an event which came near casting a dark cloud over th<* whole day, that had hitherto been no less bright with happinc^ss than with sunshine. Ik'rt and h'rank had joined a c^roup of charmiiip j^irls gathered at the stern of the steamer, and while pleasantly employed in makini; themselves agreeable were more than once disturbed by the noisy younj.^- sters, who would persist in i)layin<; "chase." " Some of you will be falling; ovcrl)()ard if you don't take care," saitl Ik-rt, warnint;ly, to them. "Why don't you keep in the middle of the steamer?" There was ^ootl ijround for liert's warning;, as, across the stern of the old steamer, which had been a ferry boat in her early days, there was only a broad wooden bar placed so high that a child might almost walk under it without stooping. But the careless children continued tlieir t)l.'iy as the JMic-]\[ac ploughed her way back to the city. Presently a troop of them came racing down to the stern in cliasc of a golden-haired sprite, that laugh- ingly ran before them. She was closely pursue d by a boy about her own age, and in her eagerness to //V// Pone, Boys! Z^l homeward now, atid wcMC still restrained tlie (leck iiiient was hich came 1 day, tliat ^)iness tlian r cliarniinj4 •, and wliile s aLjrecal)le i)isy younij- yoii don't Ti. " Why r?" irninLj, y \vm\ brli;htened with laui;hter and son^^, to be so sileni now, and for h\^ Dr. Rrown, whose visits previousl}- had been mainl}- of a social nature, to be eallini; ever)- day, with a serious countenance that betokenetl his concern. Never were mother anrl sister mc^re devoted and untirini:^ than Bert's. Their lovin^i; care anticipated his simplest wants ; and but for the dreadful feelini; in his chest, and the fever that gave him ti.o relief, the novelty of beini^ thus assiduously tended was so threat, that he would hardly have minded beini; their patient for a little while, at least. It was an unspeakable comfort to them all that his reason cc^ntinued perfectly clear, no matter how hij^h the fever raged ; and not only his reason, but his faith was clear also. lie did not despair of his recovery, yet he shrank not from looking the darker alternative fairly in the face, and preparing to meet it. Mis father's strong, serene faith was a wonderful help to him. In the quiet evening, as the dusk drew on, Mr. Lloyd would sit beside him, and, taking his hot hand in his, talk with him tenderly, repeating Scripture passages of hope and comfort, or verses from the sacred songs they both loved. One afternoon, Frank was alone with him, Mrs. Lloyd and Mary having gone off to take much needed r/ic Willcy of the Shadow. 3^9 rest, and ]?crt for the first time spoke to his friend of the possibility c;f his never {.;ettin[.; well a^^ain. " I aiTi very ill, h'rank, dear," said he, reaching over to lay his burin'nj^ hand ui)oii h'rank's knee, as the latter sat elosc beside his bed. " I may never be any better." "Oh, yes, you will!" returned I'>ank, cheerfully. "You'll come round all ri^dit." " I hope so, 1^'rank, but sometiincs as I lie here in the middle of the night, it seems as though it would soon be all over with me." *' Never fear, Hert, you '11 live to be an old man yet, see if you don't." Bert was silent for a while as if thinking just how he would say something that was on his mind. Then turning to h'rank, and, looking earnestly into his face, lie asked : ** Frank, do you love Jesus ? " Frank started at the question, the blood mounted to his forehead, and his head dropped. He seemed reluctant to reply, and it was some time before he answered, almost in a whisper : •' I 'm afraid I don't, Bert." A look of sorrow came over Bert's countenance, but was quickly dissipated by one of hope, and despite the pain the utterance of every word gave him he took Frank's hand between both of his, and pressing it affectionately, said : " Dear, dear Frank, you will love Him, won't you?" 320 Bert Lloyd's IhyJiood. Frank's sturdy frame trembled with the emotion he strove hard to suppress ; his h'ps quivered so that he could not have spoken if he would, and at length, unable to control himself any longer, he fell on his knees at the bedside, and burying his face in his hands burst into tears. The ineffable glory of the sun setting into the golden haze of the west filled the room, and enfolded the figures of the two boys, the one kneeling at the bedside, and the other with eyes lifted heavenward, and lips moving in earnest prayer, touching softly the brown curls half buried in the bed beside him. For some minutes there was a solemn silence. Then Bert spoke : '* Frank, Frank," he called, gently. Frank lifted his tear-stained face. "Won't you begin to love Him now?" Bert asked. "If God should take me away, I could not be happy unless I felt sure that you would meet me above. We 've been such friends, Frank, and you 've been so good to me always." Frank's tears flowed afresh. It was not the first time that the question of surrender to Christ had presented itself to him. He had debated it with himself over and over again, and always with the same result, concluding to remain undecided a little longer. But now the time for indecision seemed altogether passed. The Christ Himself seemed pres- ent in that room awaiting an answer to the question Frank, Frank,' he called gently. Frank lifted his tear-stained face." — /'rt'.v 320. The Valley of the Sliadoiv, 321 he had inspired Bert to put. Never in all his life before had the issue between God and himself appeared so inevitable. He had evaded it more than once, but a decision could no longer be delayed. No sooner did he see this clearly than the powers of the strong, deep nature asserted itself. Brushing aside his tears, and looking right into Bert's expectant eyes, he seized both his hands, and, with a counten- ance almost glorified by the expression of lofty pur- pose the rays of the setting sun revealed upon it, said, in clear, firm tones : "Yes, Bert, I will love Jesus, and I will begin right away." " Oh, Frank, I 'm so happy ! " murmured Bert, as he fell back on his pillow, for the stress of emotion had told hard upon him in his weak state, and he felt exhausted. He lay there quietly with his eyes closed for a while, and then sank into a gentle slumber, and before he awoke again Mrs. Lloyd had come into the room so that their conversation could not be resumed before Frank went away. The next day Bert was decidedly worse. The suffering in his chest increased until he could hardly speak. With great difficulty he could get out a word at a time, and that was all. The fever showed no signs of abating, and he tossed upon his bed hour after hour, while with ice and fan and cooling applica- tions Mrs. Lloyd and Mary strove hard to give him ease. 322 Ihit Lloyd's Boyhood. Dr. l^rowii made no attempt to conceal his anxiety. " The crisis is near at hand," he said. " There is nothing more tnat I can do for him. He has reached a point where )'our prayers can do more for him than ;"ny poor medicines." Although her heart was torn \vith anguish unspeak- able, Mrs. Lloyd's fortitude never for a moment faltered. So serene was her bearing in the sick chamber that Mary, from whom the gravity of her brother's case had been so far as possible concealed, had yet no thought but that he would infallibly \/in his way back to health. As \v: grew weaker and his sufferings more intense, Bert eviuently telt easiest when all three of his own household were with him at once, and when Frank was there also, his satisfaction seemed complete. He spoke but little, and then only a word or two at a time. Dr. Chrystal came to see him frequently, and was always greeted with a glad smile of welcome Taking the Bible, he would, in his ricJi mellow voice, read some comforting passage, and then pray \vith deep trustful earnestness, inspiring and strengthening the anxious watchers, and leaving behind him an atmosphere of peace. On Friday night the crisis came. After tossing and tumbling about feverishly all day, as the evening shadows fell, Bert sank into a deep stupor, and Dr. Brown, with a lump in his throat that almost choked The Valley of tJic SJiadow. 'S -^ ^ :cal his There is ? reached him than unspeak- moment the sick ty of her :oncealed, lUibly \/in Ire intense, his own len Frank ete. He two at a cntly, and welcome low voice, Dray 'with ngthening j him an er tossinij le evening r, and Dr. st choked his utterance, said plainly that unless he rallied before morninf^ there would be no further hope. In an agony of prayer Mrs. Lloytl knelt by her darling's bedside, while in an adjoining room Mr. Lloyd, and Mary, and Dr. Chrystal, and Frank sat together, praying and waiting, and striving to comfort one another. The long hours of agonising uncertainty dragged slowly b}'. I^^very few minutes some one would steal on tiptoe to the sick chamber, and on their return inct fond faces full of eager questioning awaiting them, only to answer with a sad shake of the head that meant no ray of hope yet. At length the dawn began to flush the cast, and with crimson radiance light up the great unmeasured dome, putting out the stars that had shone as watch fires throughout the night. Mrs. Lloyd had risen from her knees, and was sitting close beside the bed, watching every breath that Bert drc..' ; for who could say which one would be the last? The daylight stole swiftly into the room, making the night-light no longer necessary, and she moved softly to put it out. As she returned to her post, and stood for a moment gazing with an unutterable tenderness at the beloved face lying .so still upon the pillow, a thrill of joy shot through her, for a change seemed to have taken place ; the flushed features had assumed a more natural hue, and the breath came more easily. Scarcely daring to hope, she stood as if entranced. Presently a tremor ran through Bert's frame, he stirred uneas'ly, sighed 324 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. heavily, and then, as naturally as a babe awaking, opened wide his big, brown eyes. Seeing his mother just before him, he gave a glad smile, lifted up his hands as though to embrace her, and said, without any apparent difficulty : " You dear, darling moti "ir." Completely overcome with joy, Mrs. Lloyd threw herself down beside her boy and kissed him passion- ately, exclaiming : " Thank God ! Thank God ! He 's saved ; " and then, springing up, hastened out to tell the others the good news. Dr. Brown, who had been resting in the study, was instantly summoned, and the moment he saw Bert his face became radiant. Turning to Mrs. Lloyd, he shook her hciwd warmly, saying : "The worst is over. He'll come round all right now, and you may thank your prayers, madam, and not my medicines." Great was the rejoicing in the Lloyd household. No words would express their gladness ; and when school-time came Frank, utterly unable to contain himself, rushed off to Dr. Johnston's, and astonished the assembled pupils by shouting at the top of his voice : "Hurrah, boys! Bert's not going to die. He'll soon be well again." CHAPTER XXX. HOME MISSIONARY WORK. i all right BERT'S recovery was as rapid as his illness had been sudden and severe. A fortnight after that memorable morning, when with the dawn came deliverance, he was as vigorous and lively as ever. He found the days of his convalescence not at all unpleasant. When the pain h-.d passed, the long hours of suffering seemed like a dreadful dream, and the present, with its sweet relief and increasing strength, a blissful awaking. At his home all was joy and brightness : there were silence and anxiety no longer. Mrs. Lloyd and Mary went singing from room to room, Mr. Lloyd came back from his office whistling merrily, and sure to be ready with something to make Bert laugh. Frank ran in and out, the very type of joyous boyhood, and each day brought its stream of callers, with warm congratulations upon Bert's happy restoration to health. It would be a queer boy that would not enjoy this, seeing that it all centred upon him, and Bert fully appreciated the important position he held for the 325 326 Ihrt Lloyd's Boyhood. time bciii^. Then what could be more deli<;htful than the sense of returning strength, of enhu-gin^i( activity? — to find one's-self with a clearer head, a shari)er appetite, and a more vigorous frame, as o!ie glorious summer day succeeded another ; while the birds sang blithely in the apple tree, and the blue waters of the ever-beautiful harbour rippled gentl)* before the morning zephyrs, or were stirred into white caps by the afternoon breeze ? Bert's illness left no trace behind so far as his physical natu/e was concerned, and yet he was not altogether the same bo}' as before it laid him low. Deep solemn thoughts had been his as he lay upon his bed, not knowing whether he should ever rise from it again. His life had been in many respects a more than ordinarily blameless one, and yet when he had little else to do save look back upon it, an almost overwhelming sense of his worthlessness came upon him, and he was filled with wonder that God could love him at all. But that He did love him, and for His Son's sake had accepted him, he never for a moment doubted. Now that he was restored to health and strength, he did not seek to forget those feelings, nor would he allow his convictions of great obligations Godward to lead him nowhere. He resolved to do some definite work for his Divine Master, and to seize the first opportunity that presented itself. His friendship with Frank passed into a deeper, Home Missionary U'or/c. 27 stron^^cr phase than ever before. It mij^lu witli much truth liavc been said of them as it was of two friends of old, that the soul of Jiert was knit with the soul of Frank, and that Jiert loved him as his own soul. They had so much in common now, and they found it so delightful to strengthen one ancjther's hands in the Lord by talking together of His goodness. There was one matter that troubled Frank deeply, and that formed the subject of many a long and earnest conversation. His father was a man about whose lack of religion there could be no doubt. lie was a big, bluff, and rather coarse-grained man, not over-scrupulous in business, but upon the whole as honest and trustworthy as the bulk of humanity. By dint of sheer hard work and shrewdness he had risen to a position of wealth and importance, and, as self- made men are apt to do, laid much more stress upon what he owed to himself than upon what he owed to his Creator. In his own rough way, that is to say in somewhat the same fashion as we may suppose a lion loves his whelp, he loved the only child the wife long since dead had left him. He was determined that he should lack nothing that was worth having, and in nothing did Mr. Bowser show his shrewdness more clearly than in fully appreciating the advantage it was to Frank to be the chosen friend and constant com- panion of Lawyer Lloyd's son. He had manifested his satisfaction at the intimacy by having Frank make Bert handsome presents at Christmas time, and in jn-nam- ■■>^^.-,-.. -.^ 328 Jyei't Lloyd's Boyhood. other ways. In all this, however, his only thought had been for Frank. He made no attempt to culti- vate intimate relations with the Lloyds on his own account. He thought them both too refined, and too religious for him, and accordingly declined so far as he civilly could, Mr. Lloyd's overtures toward a better acquaintance. Such a man was Frank's father ; and now that the boy's heart was full of joy and light, because the peace that passeth understanding was his, he longed that his father should share the same happy experi- ence. " If father were only a Christian, like your father, Bert, I would be the happiest boy in all the world," said he, one day. " Oh, Bert, what can I do to make him interested in religion ? " " Why don't you ask Dr. Chrystal to go and talk with him ? " inquired Bert. " It wouldn't be a bit of use. He won't go to church to hear Dr. Chrystal, nor any other minister, and he wouldn't listen to them if they came to see him. He says he has no faith in parsons, any- way." " Well, do you think he would listen to father ? " suggested Bert. Frank's face lighted up. He had been thinking of this himself " Perhaps he would, Bert," he said, eagerly. " I know he thinks a great deal of your father. I 've heard Home Missionary M^ork. 329 him say that he practised better than many of the parsons preached." Bert flushed with pleasure at this frank compliment to his father. " Then suppose we ask him to speak to your father about religion," he said. " Oh, yes ; let us," assented Frank. Accordingly, that evening the two boys brought the matter before Mr. Lloyd, who listened to them very attentively. Then he asked a question or two. "Are you quite sure, Frank, that I am the very best person to speak to your father on this important subject ? " " Yes, Mr. Lloyd ; I 'm quite sure you are." " Well, do you know, Frank, I don't agree with you. I think I know of somebody that can do it much better than I can," said Mr. Lloyd, with a mean- ing smile. Frank's face fell. He had set his heart upon having Mr. Lloyd do it, and could not believe that anybody else would do as well After a little pause, he asked : " Who is this somebody else, Mr. Lloyd ? " " He 's not very far away from us now, Frank," answered Mr. Lloyd, still with that curious smile. " You don't mean Bert, do you ? " cried Frank, looking a little bewildered. " No ; I don't mean Bert," responded Mr. Lloyd. "Then ." He stopped short, a deep blush spread over his features ; he caught his breath, and 330 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. then, as if hoping that the answer would be in the negative, exclaimed : " Do you mean me ? " " Yes, I do mean just you ; and nobody else, Frank." Frank threw himself back in his chair with a despairing gesture, saying: "Oh, I could never do it, Mr. Lloyd. I know I never could." Mr. Lloyd looked at him with tender sympathy, and laying his hand upon his knee, said, gently : ** Do you remember the motto, Frank : ' Quit you like men, be strong ' ? " Frank heaved a heavy sigh. " But how can I go about it, Mr. Lloyd ? " he asked. Mr. Lloyd thought a moment. " I have an idea, Frank," he said, presently. " Sup- pose you were to start family prayer in the mornings. I believe it would be the means of doing your father good." At first Frank could not be persuaded that such a thing was possible as his presuming to conduct family prayer in his father's presence, but they talked long and earnestly about it, and finally he went away promising to think it over very seriously. As he turned the matter over in his mind, however, little by little his courage strengthened until at length he felt himself equal to the undertaking. It was a Sunday morning that he chose upon which to make the venture. So soon as breakfast was finished, and Home Missionary Work. 331 his father had moved away from the table, wishing to himself that there was a paper published on Sun- days as well as upon other days, for he had time to read it comfortably, Frank took up his Bible, and said, very hesitatingly : " Father, do you mind if we have family prayers ? " '*Eh! What's that? What do you mean?" asked Mr. Bowser, looking up as if he could hardly believe his ears. "Why, father," answered Frank, timidly, "you know they have prayers at Mr. Lloyd's every morn- ing, and I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind our having them, too." Mr. Bowser scanned his son's face with a hard searching gaze, but Frank looked back at him with so much love and respect in his clear, brown eyes, that all suspicion was banished from his mind, and his heart melted not a little. "Who's going to have the prayers? You don't expect me to, do you ? " he asked, gruffly. " Well, father, if you don't care to, I '11 try, if you 've no objection," replied Frank, modestly. Mr. Bowser was silent for a moment. He had noted a change in Frank of late, and had been im- pressed by the increased interest he took in church and Sunday school as proven by the regularity and punctuality of his going off to the services. Had Frank become a Christian like Mr. Lloyd ? He would not be sorry if he had, although it was rather a 332 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. pity that he had not waited until he had had his fling first, sowed a icw wild oats, seen something of the world, and then settled down. Here was a good chance to find out. So with some relaxing of his grufifness, Mr. Bowser said : " All right, my boy. I 've no objections so long as you 're not too long-winded. Go ahead." Thus encouraged, Frank, with beating heart and trembling lips, proceeded to read one of the Psalms ; and then, kneeling down, offered up a simple, fervent, faith-filled prayer. Mr. Bowser did not kneel. He sat sturdily upright in his chair, looking straight before him. But he could not prevent strange emotions awaking within him as he heard his boy, whom he was still inclined to look upon as hardly more than a child, though he was now sixteen years of age, address himself in reverent, earnest tones to the Great Being that he had so utterly neglected himself. When Frank had finished, his father rose and left the room vathout saying a word. That evening Frank took tea with Bert, and they went to church together. Shortly after the service began Bert hap- pened to glance about the church, and his eye fell upon somebody that caused him to give a little start of surprise, and then nudge Frank violently. On Frank's turning round to see what Bert meant, he too started, and an expression of joy that was beautiful to witness came over his countenance, for there, in a Home Missio7iary Work. '^ -* >> pew not far behind him, and evidently trying hard to look entirely at his ease, sat Mr. Bowser, this being his first appearance in church for many long years. Dr. Chrystal preached one of his very best sermons that night, and all the time he was speaking Frank was praying that his earnest words might go straight home to his father's heart. That was the beginning of the good work. Thenceforwai I every Sunday evening found Mr. Bowser an attentive listener ; and Frank, continuing the morning prayers faithfully, was surprised and delighted when one day his father brought home the finest family Bible he could find in the city, and handing it to him, said, in his kindest manner : " Here, my boy, if we 're going to have family prayers, we may just as well do it in proper style." Frank joyfully reported all this to the Lloyds, who rejoiced with him over the prospect there was of his prayers for his father being fully answered ere long, and Mr. Lloyd was therefore not at all surprised when one evening Mr. Bowser called, and in an agitated, confused way begged the favour of an interview with him in the privacy of his study. It was as Mr. Lloyd anticipated. Frank's simple, but sincere efforts at home missionary work had been crowned with success. His father's hard, worldly nature had been stirred to its depths. A longing the world could not appease had been awakened within him, and he had come to Mr. Lloyd as one in whom 334 Bert Lloyd's JhyJiood. he placed implicit confidence, that he might i^uidc him toward the light. The conversation, which Mr. l^owser found wonderfully helpful to him in his bewildered, anxious state of mind, was followed by many others, and the result was made evident when, ere that year closed, Mr. l^owser publicly united himself with the Church ; and there were few who were familiar with the circumstances that could restrain a tear of sympathetic joy when Dr. Chrystal made the event the occasion for a beautiful and inspiring sermon upon the place of the young in the vineyard of the Lord. I CHAPTER XXXI. NOT DEAD, liUT TRANSLATED. MR. BOWSER was not a man to do anythin^^ by halves. When he was worldly, he was worldly out and out, and now that he had broken with the world and entered into the service of God, he took up the business of religion with a thoroughness and ardour that was entirely characteristic. He found him.self wofully ignorant of the simplest Scripture truths. Until his conversion, he had not opened his Bible since he left his mother's care. He, therefore, determined to become a scholar. So one Saturday he asked Frank : " Frank, what is it you do at Sunday school ? " *' Well, father, we sing, and pray, and study the Bible, that 's about all," answered Frank, wondering to himself what his father had in mind. " Do any grown-up people go there, Frank ? " inquired Mr. Bowser, innocently. Frank smiled, partly at his father's lack of know- ledge, and partly because he thought he caught a glimpse of his purpose. 335 33^ Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. " Why, of course, father," he exclaimed, " lots of them. Mr. Lloyd goes there, and Mr. Silver, and ten or twelve other gentlemen." " Does Mr. Lloyd go to Sunday school ? " asked Mr. Bowser, eagerly " ^^ hy what doe? he do theio?" " He teaches, fathex. lie. iii*s charge of the men's Bible class." " So Mr. Lloyd has a Bible class there," mused Mr. Bowser aloud ; then, turning again to Frank, '* Do you think, Frank, he would mind if I joined it." Frank could not help smiling at the idea of Mr. Lloyd being otherwise than glad at having a new member in his class. " Indeed, he won't. On the c ntrary, he '11 be mighty glad, I 'm sure," he answered, warmly. " Very well, then, Frank, I '11 go with you to Sunday school to-morrow, i don't know anything about the Bible, and I think there 's no better place for me to learn," said Mr. Bowser, as he went off, leaving Frank so happy at the prospect of having his father ^o to school with him that he could hardly contain himself Very deep was Mr. Lloyd's pleasure when on Sunday afternoon burly Mr. Bowser walked into his class room and took his seat in the most remote corner. He went up to him at once, and gave him a cordial greeting. " I 've come as a learner, Mr. Lloyd," said Mr, Not Dead, but Translated, 00/ B s^ser. " 1 know little or nothin<^ about the l^ible, and I want you to teach mc." 'I aiii sure I shall bo Hiost happy to ch> anythinj^ that lies in 'riy power, Mr. Bowser," responded Mr. Lloyd, heartily, "and there are others in the class that you will find will help you also." And so Mr. Bowser, putting aside all foolish notions about pride or self-importance, became one of t \e most faithful and attentive attendants of the .1.= ^le class. Rain or shine, the whole year round, hi: .rP •• was rarely vacant, until Mr. Lloyd came to look upon '".im as his model member, and to feel somewh;», ) jst, if for any reason he was compelled to be absent. But Mr. Lloyd was not his only guide and instructor. Dr. Chrystal had attracted him from the very first. The sermon he preached on that eventful Sunday evening, when, yielding to an impulse which seemed to him little better than curiosity, he had attended church for the first time in so many years, had been followed by others, each one of which met some need or answered some question springing up in Mr. Bowser's heart, and his admiration and affection for the eloquent preacher had increased with a steady growth. In truth, Dr. Chrystal was a man of no common mould. He united in himself characteristics that might seem to have belonged to widely different natures. He was deeply spiritual, yet intensely alive to the spirit of the times. He was as thoroughly Y 38 Bc7't Lloyd's Boyhood. conversant with modern thought as he was with the history of God's ancient people. Although a pro- found student, he was anything but a Dr. Dry-as- Dust. On the contrary, the very children heard him gladly because he never forgot them in his sermons. There was always something for them as well as for the older folks. Indeed, perhaps one of the best proofs of his singular fitness for his work was the way the young people loved him. Boys like Bert and Frank, for instance, probably the hardest class in the congregation for the minister to secure to himself, while they never for a moment felt tempted to take any liberties with him, yet, on the other hand, never felt ill at ease in his presence, nor sought to avoid him. He made them feel at home with him, and the consequence was that the proportion of boys belonging to his church exceeded that of any other church in the city. Dr. Chrystal had of late been causing his friends no small concern by showing signs of failing health. His heart began to give him trouble. So much so, indeed, that now and then he would be obliged to pause in the midst of his sermon, and rest a little before resuming. His physician told him he had been working too hard, and that what he needed was to take things more easily, or, better still, to lay aside his work for a season, and recuperate by a good long vacation. At first he would not listen to any such proposi- Not Dead, but Translated. 339 tion. There seemed so much to be done all around him that would be undoubtedly left undone unless he did it himself, that he felt as if he could not desert his post. But it soon became clear to him that the warnings he had received must be heeded, and ere long he was able to make up his mind to follow the physician's advice, and indulge himself with an ocean voyage, and prolonged acation in Europe. As the time for his temporary separation from his congregation drew near there was a marked increase of fervour and loving earnestness on the part of Dr. Chrystal toward his people. It was as though he thought he might perhaps never return to them, and it therefore behoved him not only to preach with special unction, but to lose no opportunity of saying to each one with whom he came in contact something that might remain with them as a fruitful recollection in the event of its proving to be his last word to them. Meeting Bert upon the street one day, he linked his arm with his, and entered at once into a conversation regarding the boy's spiritual interests. Bert felt per- fectly at home with his pastor, and did not hesitate to speak with him in the same spirit of frank unreserve that he would with his father. " I have been thinking much about you, Bert," said Dr. Chrystal, in tones of warm affection, " and saying to myself that if, in the providence of God, I should never come back to my work, I would like to leave 340 Jh'rt IJoxifs Hoxliood. soincthiiiL; with )'ou tliat would linger in yowx inciuory after I am l^omc." "Hut \i)U 're comini^ hack aj^aiii all ri!j[ht, Dr. C'hr)'stal," said Hcrt, looking; up with much concern in his countenance, for he had never thoui^ht of its heini; otherwise. " I am sure I hope and [)ra\' so with .all my lieart replied Dr. Chrystal, ferventlx'. " lUit there are many things to he considered, and (jod alone knows how it will be with me a few months hence. I am altogether »» ^> in I lis liands." "Well, (lod knows riiijht well that we couldn't have a better minister than \n)U, sir, and so there 's no fear but He'll send you back to us all rii;^ht," returned Bert, his eai^er loyalty to his pastor quite carrying; him away. Dr. Chrystal smiled s)'mpathetically at the bo}''s enthusiasm. "There are just as ijood fish in the sea as have ever )-et been caught, Bert," he answered. " I thoroughly appreciate \'our kind, and I know but compnmcnt, but it was not to talk about myself that I joined you, but about yourself. I have been thinking that it is full time you took up some definite work for your Heavenly Master. Don't you think so, too ? " " Yes, I do, sir ; and so docs Frank, and we 're both quite willing to make a beginning, but we don't just know^ what to go at." A'o/ Dead, but TidHslalcd, 341 ir tncinoi)' s have ever " I li.ivc hceii ihiiikiiiij al)()iit that, too, lU-rt, and I liavc an idea I want to th'sciiss with )'oii. Voii know tlie streets tliat he between the north and south por- tions of our eity, and how densely they are packed with people, very few of whom make any pretensions to reli^n'on at all. Now, would it not be possible for you and h'raid>: to do a little cit)- missionary work in those streets. 'I'hc field is white unto the harvest, but the labourers are so few that it is sad to see how little is beinc,^ done. What do you think about it?" JkTt did not answer at once. He knew well the locality Dr. Chrystal had in mind, and the class of people tiiat inhabited it. I'or square after square, tenement houses, tall, grimy, and repulsive, alternated with groggeries, flaunting, flashy, and reeking with iniquit}'. The residents were of the lowest and poorest order. Filth, vice, and poverty, held high carnival the whole year round. In the day time crowds of tattered roughs played rudely with one another in the streets, and after dark, drunken soldiers, sailors, and wha? ' men, made night hideous with their degraded revelry or frenzied fighting. And yet these people had souls to save, and even though they might seem sunken in sin beyond all hope of recovery, they had children that might be trained to better ways and a brighter future. It was these children that Dr. Chrystal had in mind when he spoke to Bert. A union mission school had lately ,'/■■. 342 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. been established in the very heart of this unattractive district, and it was sorely in need of workers. Both Bert and Frank were quite competent to undertake work of this kind, did they but give their minds to it, and Dr. Chrystal was anxious to have their interest in it thoroughly aroused before he went away. After a few moments' silence, during which his brain had been very busy with conflicting thoughts, Bert looked up into his pastor's face, and said, in a doubtful way : " Don't you think, sir, that is rather hard 'work to put us at at first ? " Dr. Chrystal gave him a tender smile. ** It is hard work, I know, Bert," said he. " I would not for a moment try to argue that it is anything else, but I am none the less desirous of seeing you engaged in it. You and Frank would make splendid recruiting sergeants for the little mission school, and you could be very helpful in keeping order, or even in teaching at the morning session. By doing this you would not interfere with either your church-going or your own Sunday school in the afternoon. I wish you would talk the matter over with Frank, and, of course, con- sult your parents about it." Bert readily promised that he would do this, for although he, as was natural enough, shrank from undertaking what could not be otherwise than trying and difficult work, yet he felt that if his father fully Not Dead, but Translated. 4'> jnattractiv'c irs. iiipctent to ; give their us to have Dre he went which his g thoughts, i said, in a rd 'work to It is hard I not for a e, but I am :aged in it. recruiting you could in teaching 1 would not your own you would ourse, con- do this, for rank from than trying "ather fully approved of it, and Frank took it up heartily, he would be able at least to give it a trial. Dr. Chrystal was evidently well pleased with the result of the con- versation, and in parting with Bert took his hand in his, and pressing it warmly, said : " God's best blessings be upon you, Bert. You arc fitted to do good work for Him. May you ever be a workman that needcth not to be ashamed." Little did Bert ima ""^ ^ d^ /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 &> I" 354 Bert Lloyd's Boyhood. then at the motionless heap upon the floor at his feet. Advancing a step or two, Mr. McMastcr looked into Brannigan's fiery face, and asked, sternly, as he pointed to the insensible woman lying between them: " Is that your work ? " The giant quailed before the fearless, condemning glance of the man who seemed like a pigmy beside him. His head fell upon his breast, and without attempting a reply, he slunk over to the other end of the room, flung himself into a chair, and buried his face in his hands. " Come, Bert, let us lift her up on the bed," said Mr. McMaster, and between them Mrs. Brannigan was lifted gently, and placed upon the miserable bed. " Now, Katie, get us some cold water, quick," said he, turning to the little girl, who watched him with wondering eyes. As if glad to get out of the room, she sped away, and presently returned with a tin of water, with which Mr. McMaster tenderly bathed Mrs. Brannigan's forehead, and soon the poor sufferer recovered consciousness. Mr. McMaster and Bert then went away, the former promising to look in again after school was over, and see if further help might be required. When Bert told of the morning's experience at home, his mother became very much agitated, and seemed strongly inclined to oppose his continuing the work. Jkit Mr. Lloyd was not of the same opinion A Boy no Lojiocr. o:)D mc opinion at all. He thought it a very admirable haining for Bert, and l^ert himself had no disposition to i;ive it up. Accordingly, he went on as though nothing had happened, meeting with many discouragements, and few real successes, yet sustained by a steady impulse to willing service, strengthened by a real interest in the work itself. The days of l^ert's boyhood were rapidly passing by. The time was approaching for him to enter college, and once enrolled as an undergraduate he could of course be counted a boy no longer. Not indeed that he was growing old in the sense of becom- ing too prim or particular to indulge in boyish sports and pranks. There was nothing premature in his development. He was in advance of many boys of his age, it is true, but that was only because he strove to be. He was not content unless he stood among the lead- ers, whether in study or sport. He looked forward to college with ardent expectation. Ever since the days of Mr. Garrison's school he had been accus- tomed to see the students in their Oxford caps and flowing black gowns going to and from the university which had its home in a handsome freestone buildinij that stood right in the heart of the city, and he had felt impatient for the time to come when he might adopt the same odd and striking costume. During the past year his studies had been directed with special reference to the matriculation examina- 35' Bert Lloyd's BoyJiood. tion. As regards the classics, he could not have had a better teacher than Dr. Johnston, and his progress in knowledge of them had been sure and steady. In mathematics, however, he was hardly up to the mark, partly because they were not taught with the same enthusiasm at Dr. Johnston's, and partly because he did not take to them very kindly himself. Mr. Lloyd accordingly thought it wise to engage a tutor who would give him daily lessons during the midsummer holidays. Bert, as was quite natural, did not altogether relish the idea of mingling work with play in this fashion in the glorious summer weather when the days seemed all too short for the enjoyment that was to be had ; but when Frank, who was of course to go to college also, entered heartily into the plan, and Mr. Scott, the tutor, proved to be a very able and interesting instructor, full of enthusiasm about the university, in which he was one of the most brilliant students, Bert's indifference soon disappeared, and the three lads — for Mr. Scott was still in his teens — had a fine time together that summer, studying hard for two hours each morning, and spending the rest of the day in boating, or cricket, or some other pleasant fashion. As the heat of summer yielded to the cool breezes of autumn, and the time for the opening of the college drew near, Bert grew very excited. There were two scholarships offered at each matriculation examination, one open to those coming from the city, the other to A Boy no Longer. 357 those from the coiinti'}'. lie had fixed his ambition upon the city scholarship, and determined to do his best to win it. He had caught some of his tutor's enthusiasm, and fully appreciated the importance of a brilliant bef;"inning. Accordini^ly, he gave dili- gent heed to the good advice Mr. Scott delighted to give him, as well as to the studies he set for him, and looked forward hopefully to the approaching examination. Toward the end of October the examination took place. It was the boys' first experience of a written examination, and it is little wonder if they felt nervous about it. With Mr. Scott as guide they made their way to the university building, where he led them along the echoing stone corridors to a door inscribed, "Library;" and then, wishing them the best of fortune, bade them enter and try their fate. They found them- selves in a large bright room whose floor was covered with desks, and the walls lined with bookcases, and having at one end a baize-covered table, around which sat several spectacled gentlemen attired in long black gowns, and chatting busily with one another. They took no notice of the two boys, who sat down at the nearest desk, and awaited developments. They were the first candidates in the room, but others presently came in until more than a score had crathered. All evidently felt more or less nervous, although some tried very hard to appear unconcerned. They 58 Bert Lloyd's 13 oy hood. t'li varied in age from Bert, who was undoubtedly the youngest, to a long-bearded, sober-visaged Scotch- man, who might almost have been his father; their appearance was as different as their ages, some being spruce, well-dressed city lads, and others the most rustic-looking of youths, clad in rough homespun. They each sat down in the first seat they could find, and then stared about them as if they would like very much to know what was going to happen next. They had not long to wait in uncertainty. A short, stout, pleasant-faced professor disengaged himself from the group at the table, and stepping up to the platform, said, in a smooth voice, with a strong Scotch accent : " If you are ready to begin, gentlemen, will you please arrange yourselves so as to occupy only ev -ry alternate desk." There was a little noise and bustle as this order was being carried out, and then they settled down again, with a vacant desk between each pair as a pre- caution against whispered assistance. The next proceeding was to distribute paper to the candidates, they being expected to supply their own pens and ink. And then came what all were awaiting with beating pulse — viz., the examination paper. Each one as he received his paper ran his eye eagerly down the list of questions, his countenance growing bright or gloomy according as, to this hasty survey, the questions seemed easy or difficult. A Boy no Lonotr. 59 ubtcdly the ;ed Scotch- ithcr ; their some being •s the most homespun. T could find, would like ppen next, y. A short, red himself g up to the h a strong ;n, will you only ev -ry 3 this order 2ttled down air as a pre- The next candidates, n pens and waiting with ipcr. Each agerly down wing bright survey, the Bert scanned his list rapidly, gave a great sigh of relief, and then turned to Frank with a meaning smile, which said more plainly than words : *' I 'm all right." Frank smiled back, in token that he was all right, too, and then the two boys bent to their work. They did not get along very fast at the start. It was their first written examination, and this, added to their natural nervousness, kept both their ideas and their ink from flowing freely. But after a few min- utes they forgot themselves in their eagerness to commit to paper the answers to the questions before them, and for an hour or more they scribbled away until the first paper, which was upon the classics, had nothing unanswered left upon it Bert finished first, and the professor, noticing him unemployed, brought him another paper, this time the mathem.atical one. As he expected, he did not do quite as well with it. But he felt sure of being right in his answers to six out of the ten questions, and very hopeful about two others, so that altogether he was well satisfied. The third and last paper was upon the English branches — history, grammar, geography, and so forth, and he polished this off with little difficulty, making a clean sweep of the dozen questions. All this took until after one o'clock, and when he laid down his pen with his task finished, he felt pretty tired, and anxious to get out and stretch himself. Frank, how- l6o Jhrt Lloyd's Jhyhood. ever, was not quite tlirouf^li, so lie waited for him, and tlien the friends luuried off to compare notes, and estimate their chances. The results would not be declared for two days at least, and Bert found it very hard to keep his impa- tience in check. He could think of nothing; else than those examinations. Ilavin^^ answered so many questions, he felt not the slic^htest uneasiness as to passini^ ; but the scholar hip — ah ! that was the point. Mr. Scott had made it very clear what an important position a scholarship winner held in his class. It gave him the lead at once, and was in every way an honour to be highly coveted. Well, the longest days have their ending, and the two days of excited uncertainty dragged themselves past, and on Friday morning with a heart beating like a trip hammer, Bert hastened to the university. The results would be posted up on a huge blackboard that hung in the central corridor, and on entering he found an eager crowd thronging about this board, through which he had some difficulty in making his way. But by dint of pushing and elbowing, he soon got near enough to make out what was written on the long sheets of paper that occupied the centre of the board, and then — how shall be described the bound of wild delight his heart gave, when he read : " The City ScJiolarsJiip — CUTIIBERT Lloyd." Then underneath the word ''Passed,^ in large letters, the name "Cuthbert Lloyd," and a few names A J)oy no Lo/ij^er. 3^1 ;ccl for liim, c notes, and two days at p his impa- ncj else than 1 so many sin ess as to as the point. 1 important s class. It t^eiy way an ng, and the themselves Deating like rsity. The vboard that ng he found ird, through