STMAS ON THE LEADS.

Waikato Times, Volume X, Issue 723, 3 February 1877, Page 2 (Supplement)

STMAS ON THE LEADS.

BY J. BBUNTON, STEPHENS,

ate Christmas dinner was over. I ,t ashamed to confess, whatever the s may feel about it, that we were all nia boaconstricted state. Christmas, ifi i it, would not be realized as Christ-. at all, if one did not conclude it with tain tightness about the diphragam. t reckless rebellion against the* cononal restraint' of buttons. Pipes, 'escirig drinks, and squatters' de»,'on the verandah, were the order c hour. ' Conversation had given to. digestive, or indegestive, contem)n. . Bullocks had, colloquially, caved We' had exhausted horses. Foot-rot died out. j We were each and all of us gin the past ; each and all communwithihe gtibsfs of bygone Christmases eh seemed to grow and quiver phanaallys m the , clouds that we ourselves eTaising* ?'■■' TI '■'"-'■ • ince' in what 'follows, four of us were c more than merely audience, it may a superfluous to say who, and of what ,we were. But as the general reader s but little pleasure m nameless ractions, I may go- so far as to state we were Maitland, the philosophical ; tly, the> incoherent; Lambton, the ld-be-facetious •■- Hay, the taciturn ; myself— well, let me remain an ■action. ♦ s the evening wore on, Hays m his 'easing gloom had influenced all of us l a se,nse of wierd oppressiveness, >h, along with the other oppressiveness c hinted at, had contributed not a > to the general mood of silence into h we had fallen. dge then of our startled amazement i the ; universal stillness was broken i remark from Hay. And such a tk! ' And such a sepulchural 'hirty years ago,' he said — 'just Vyears ago to-day, I committed 1 a -'crime.' itaneously four men took their ronT their mouths, uncoiled their ,t bolt upright, and gazed upon the come — look here — you don't, i know — I say !' It was Hartly, of \ard,' whispered the abstraction. his eye. This is his hour. nariner have his will,' and, by , 11.-have a christmass story to *th.' And we had it. / years ago,' resumed Hay obly, and apparently addressing , ' I committed a fearful crime. bow that you would have called •'. or even a crime at all ; Community of boys, to which x iged it was looked upon as the graceful thing a boy could do, .a. punished by those set m authorty over us with the utmost rigor of the <,w. In short, I sent a letter to a rl,' ' Most tragical !' exclaimed Lambton srisively. ' I must go back/ continued the narrator sing his eye on Hartley, as having at ,st found 'the man; 7 — 'l must go back id tell you how I was situated. You innot otherwise understand the full leasure of my guilt. ' I was m one of those child-prisons so nmerous m the neighborhood • of Idinburgh, called hospitals ; not one of lose beneficent institutions which are so lessed a refuge to the indigent sick, but, ne of those perversions of charity herein children are deprived of childood, and reduced to the state of mere isciplined numerals; one of those rchitectural display on which thousands ,pon thousands are spent m order torender pectacular and monumental a charity bat, rightly directed, might have created iany homes, instead of being sunk m a ialatial ostentation, t> at only made the iheerlesa life of the uterior harder by iontrast. • I was an only child. I had been ienderly and delicately nurtured. I lost joth father and mother when I was nine rears of age. Their raeahs died with them. With mistaken kindness certain iriends obtained for me a presentation to jh.e -Hospital. You can m some small measure guess what it must have been for a boy who had been the one idol of a household to find himself suddenly merged m this cruel aggregate of homelessness; to find himself suddenly one of fifty dressed alike, cropped alike, with the name of the hospital en their buttons, and themselves individually specified by number.' And what,' was the result of this system of child-imprison-ment? Simply what might be anticipated. I never saw children hate as these did. i I never saw hatred so sy stematised. It was a religion to hate the masters. It was * religion to hate' and persecute newjomers. It was a religion to hate all who, like myself, showed indications of 1 superior upbringing m manner or accent. But the most relentless and inexorable 'religion of all was— l am coming to it now —to hate the girls. • The first question that was asked of every bewildered new-comer when cast adrift on the raging torrent of derision that awaited him m the play-ground, was, *Do you like the lassies ?' If, m blind imperception of what was before him, and with the tender recollections of sisterly love fresh m his mind, he was weak enough to answer 'Yes,' his fate was sealed for months — sometimes even for years; or, at all events, till he himself became sufficiently hardened to figure as a leader m persecution. I had been one of the unfortunate ones who answered according to the dictates of the childish heart, and I skall never forget that shout of mocking iaughter as ' He says he likes the lassies !' passed from one to the other to the outermost circle of fiendish faces that surrounded me. 'I ought to have told you tnat there were girls as well as boys m this institution, but our respective compartments were rigorously sundered. Down the middle of the play-ground, which was at the back of the huge building, ran what was called the Laundry Green, bounded on each side by an impassable fence, which was further fortified by a thick privet hedge. Only by their voices did we recognise that there were girls playing within twenty yards of us. We met, certainly, m : chapel and m school. But ir the former, even to be caught looking steadily at the girls' side of the room was a punishable offence ; while m the latter, though we sat or stood (apart, of course) m the same classes, the system ef espoinage kept up by the boys themselves, unknown to the masters, was such that the slightest token of friendly recognition passing between boy and girl was common conversational property as soon as school was over, and the social .impalement of the male party to the offence is: something awful to remember even now. Overt acts at all bordering on the amorous were extremely ; rare, were" reported immediately, and were punished., with a severity that sometimes eyen^ yet, m unguarded

; moments, make me shudder at; the, sight of a leather girth. . • „.-■•- ;-\'teh'.- ,' : ;. . • I came at last to Relieve .that'' any such communication, or even any feelings tending m that direction, were of- the nature of mortal sin. . How : cotild V it 'be otherwise? The tradition^ of the institution, as well as surrounding sentiment, had stamped this natural feeling as unpardonable iniquity. • One day, when 1 had been m the hospital about three years, and was consequently between twelve and thirteen years old, a new face appeared among the girls m school. A delicious thrill from my old home-past shot through me as I caught, the first glimpse of it. Once, more my father and mother were bending over me, making suggestive comments on on a toy house I was building, m which this same little girl and I were to marry and settle and live happy all bur days. 1 forgot the fiends around me, forgot that 1 was m school. I rushed up to her, caught her by the hand, and cried out, ' Elspeth, Elspeth ! Don't you know me ?' • I was flogged m school, and tortured m the playground. I was hunted from corner to corner with the cry of * Elspeth ! Elspeth !' I took refuge m the common playroom, only to be hunted out of it with the same unceasing cry. I think I never saw such universal devilment. And yet, religion was the grand and vaunted distinguishing feature of the education m this institution. The head master was a Calvinist of the darkest type* Sound doctrine and stem repression— the beating m of Scriptural knowledge, and the beating' out of the devil with leather, leather, leather, made up his system of training. And the result was hatred, malice, and destruction of the natural child-instincts. Another result was, that from being a Christian, boy, I, became a worshipper of Moloch.' Hunted from place to place, lat last bethought me of a refuge which (as I then believed) was seldom or never visited by any of the boys; There was a remote corner of the play-ground thickly overgrown with shrubs, frOra which rose a lofty beech-tree. A tragical memory of a former generation— a generation with us was five years, the usual period of a boy's stay m the places — had rendered this spot accursed m our. young eyes., In years gone by, one who must have been a gaint m wickedness, had smuggled, m some tobacco, and had perched himself high up m this tree to blow a furtive cloud. Whether or not the new. pleasure had overcome him he did not live to tell. He was found, a few hours after, at , the foot of the tree, with his neck broken. An evil reputation stuck to the place. Few ventured within twenty yards of it. Stories of strange sights &nd sounds clustered round it. It was even, said that puffs of smoke had been seen rising over the bushes, and by many of us the boy was believed to visit the' spot occasionally for the purpose of smoking brimstone. ' In my furious craving for escape from persecution, even, the supernatural lost its terrors for me. ,By skilfully dodging my pursuers, on the, for bidden side of the kitchen garden hedge, I ai j last emerged on a by-path which: broughfcrme unseen to what was fitly known as f Stoddart's End.' ■•■■•■ ••■■■■.. ■' • ' Breaking through the bushes I. came suddenly upon four 'of the biggest and worst boys of the school. They were on their knees on thenarrow space between; the great beech-tree and the outer wall, and were so busily engaged m vblowing a small fire of sticks that they did not hear my approach. Presently when the fire began to burn to their satisfaction, one of them produced a small box from under a shrub, and took from thence a mouse. This' being placed on the ground, they then, by dint of delicate manoeuvring with toes and pointed sticks, ' compelled the poor animal to run through the flame. The whole thing flashed on me at, once. Low muttered rumors of Moloch- worship had for some time been filtering through our community. These great spirits had been theologised to the point of revenge, and were playing at a counter-religion. ' I was busy revolving the matter when I found myself suddenly scruffed, and heard the savage scruffer hoarsely whispering m my ear, ' Will ye tell?. say, will ye tell ?' ' Even then, though I was being shaken almost out of conciousness, the face of Elspeth Fairley seemed to rise before me, and the thought of her suggested how 1 might turn the unlucky rencontre to advantage. The individual whose fingers were en my neck was a privileged person. On account of his size and strength he had been promoted to feed the matron's pigs, and m order to reach their residence he had permission to shorten his route by walking through the girls' playground. ' Let me alone,' I jerked out, as my shaken head bobbed backwards and forwards, ' and I'll make a bargain with you. 1 He ceased accordingly, and I took him aside and whispered. In aminute a bargain was made. I was not to tell ; and he, m return, was to seek out an opportunity of meeting Elspeth m the playground, and deliver to her a letter from me. We swore mutual secrecy, and I was led back to the other three idolators, who were duly informed that I was ' all right,' 1 was then made to put my hand under the thigh of each — these sinners were choke-full of scriptural ways — and swear no end of oaths. Thereupon another mouse was produced, and I regret to state I was compelled to assist at the subsequent ceremonies. Let me add, however, that 1 never again went back to 'atoddart'sEnd.' ' Such were the restraints of the place, and so rigorous the mutual espionage, that it was a month before I got the letter written. Just as I was despairing of ever getting it done unseen, I was promoted to the highest class m the school. JNow it was one of the privileges or duties of the highest class to take notes of the Sunday sermon m church. I took advantage of the first occasion of doing so to pencil a few lines to Elspeth. Yes, gentlemen, I wrote my first — and last — love-letter on a scrap of ruled paper between the leaves of my Bible. I told her (what was quite true) that $ loved her much more than ever, and that as soon as I left that hateful place, I would work and get money, and come back and take her away to live with me m a much larger house than even the hospital, and with a much larger clock' over the front portico. I was careful also to mention that we should settle down to our married life m some place where there were no boys. 'During all that month I Was exempt from persecution, the idolatrous pig-feeder and his co-pagans having given the other boys to understand that whoever, tormented Hay had better look out. • And during all that month I had pined after Elspeth with a craving for companionship with her which I am sure grown-up love cannot surpass m point of intensity. I could see from the way she looked at me at school and m chapel that she

recognised me; and there wasaffanflw.ering faihness m her eyes ■ that, was to me unmistakable. People may laugh as ; they Will 'about boy-lore. ,' I" only know I that I would cheerfully; hare jgiven my life i for that slight, fair child. "SSthaf symptom is there m a grown man's love that was not m niihe— only that mine was purer and better ? Enough ; enough ; it is thirty years ago. ' What added to my pain was that I could see she' she was drooping.' 'She looked whiter and, thinner every time I saw her ; and once or twice when she turned her large eyes ; on me as she passed by me m the chapel, on the way to her seat, holding her Bible to her breast with her thin -little hands, the thought that she might be out of the hospital before me turned me cold from head to foot. And at such times — though there would appear to/be no logical connection between the two things— l would begin to think that 1 really must tell on the Mqlochites. ' But 1 didn't. And on Christmas Day, thirty years ago, 1 committed my letter into hands of the heathen. 1 had kept it for two or three days waiting till 1 could get an envelope. 1 didn't dare to ask for one for fear of exciting attention. At last 1 chanced upon one, old and blotted, which the warder had thrown out of his window, and m this 1 placed my fervent effusion. -, ' We had a holiday on that day, which, by the way, was an innovation. The headmaster repudiated Christmas as savoring of Romanism, but some distinguished visitor who had looked m the day before, had asked and obtained the day for us. It was carefully explained t© us, however, afcer the distinguished visitor's departure, that the concession had nothing whatever to do with Christmas or masses of any kind. 'We had but few treats at that school, and so a little one went a long way. It was considered a delicious break m the uniformity of our daily life to be taken up for a few minutes to the top of the two lofty tovera which the hospital boasted. These were jmrely ornamental erections ; architecturally, I belie ye, a great blemish ;but to us objects of distant wonder and awe. Many an hour I had spent lying on my back m the playground, gazing at and admiring them, and fancying 1 might see the whole world from the top. What was more, 1 had been told by one of the patriarchs of the establishment— a boy about fifteen— that one could distinctly see from thence the village of Carseton, the place where my happy early childhood had been spent, and 1 used to think that if I could only see it m the distance 1 could live and die happy. 'It was therefore with the feeling nearest to joy possible m that place that 1 heard the head master announce on Christmas morning that after dinner the boys of the highest class were to be taken to the top of one of the towers — the ' Boys' Tower,' as it was called. ' Between consciousness of the guilt 1 had incurred, suspense as to my emissary's success, and' the prospect of a .view of my old home, 1 spent a most exciting forenoon. Shortly before the dinner hour my messenger reappeared, carrying at once sorrow and consternation m the news that Elspeth had been sent to the sickroom the evening before, and that he had entrusted the letter to one of the nurses, who had promised 'not to tell.' 'After dinner, as we still stood awaiting the signal to march, the head master entered the dining-room^ 1 noticed he held a letter is his hand. The room and all mit seemed to swim round as 1 recognised the familiar blot on the envelope. ' The boys of the highest class will come with me,' said the master. • No, not you, Hay,' he added, as 1 faced round with the rest. ' You will go to the schoolroom, and remain there till I come.' 'It was all up, 1 thought ; but hardly had 1 taken my seat alone m the schoolroom than the swimming sensation passed away, and 1 felt myself at once resolute and reckless. What mattered it what 1 did now ? All the future was a darkness of stripes, and shame, and derision. 1 had committed the unpardonable sin, and been found out. 1 felt sure 1 would die of it, between pain and disgrace. But 1 ■would have one little gratification before all was over. 1 would go to top of that tower, and look on the place where 1 had been so happy. It seemed to my boyish mind that if 1 could only get up there, 1 urould be nearer heaven, and would call on father and mother to help me m my sore trouble , ' I stole out from the school. I could hear the receding of the others as they mounted tip the great staircase toward the roof of the building. I followed quietly, now shivering with cold and fear. When I reached the top of the stair, the skylight through which they had emerged was still open. I put my head out cautiously, and could see that every back was towards me as, headed by the master, the boys toiled up the long interior ladder that led to the summit of the tower. In a moment I was on the leads, and, crouching down on hands and knees, crawled along till I obtained refuge under a huge cistern, which had originally been placed there m view of possible conflagratioa. 'It was bitter cold. I almost repented of my foolhardiness as I lay squeezed m there, with hardly even room to shiver m. I thought those boys would neveb come down, I could just hear the drone, drone of the master's voice ; and 3 knew as well as if 1 had been one of his audience that hs was expatiating on the panorama beneath, and gloatingly informing them that all they now looked upon would one day be burnt up, and that then the warth of God would be revealed against all boys who, &c, &c, At length, after what seemed hours of rigidity m the heart of an iceberg, 1 heard them descend. 1 waited till the last sound of their footsteps had died away, and then crawled from my hiding-place. 1 chafed my rigid limbs, ran to the ladder, and mounted m an ecstasy of joyous freedom. 1 was soon on the irongrating that served as platform at the top of the tower, and then, crouching for fear of being seen from below, 1 cautiously raised my head over the stone breastwork. 'It was glorious. My eyes ranged delightedly from the Pentlands to Arthur's Seat, from Arthur's Seat to the Castle Hill and the Calton, from the wonderful city to the glittering Frith, and beyond it to the Ochils bosomed m the clear cold sky. But on none of these did my view linger. Suddenly 1 caught sight of what 1 was m search of. There — it seemed almost within stone-throw — was the wellknown belfry; and there, my native village. I even fancied 1 could distinguish my own once happy home. 1 gazed on it till tears blinded my eyes, and when 1 could see it no longer, 1 threw myself on the iron grating, sobbing and calling upon those who were not. ' But gradually as the renewing numbness crept over my limbs, the sense of the past grew colder too, and I began to think what to do next, I had done and seen what I wished. 1 had called, and no help

! had ppme to me. Heaven geemed as far off ias ever; andin a dull dim way I recognised ■that there was nothing further to. do but to return" and faqe the consequences of my aggravated guilt, '* 1 descended to the skylight, intending to retrace, my steps to the place of punish* i ment,,. and there await the worst. ;The skylight was closed, and it was the only | one 1 could see. 1 tried to force it open but it was fastened securely from below, lwas staggered; for although there s^ill remained the resorce of making myself heard by shouting to the boy's m the playground, 1 felt a repugnance to the indignity of being brought down* instead :of dignifiedly awaiting my punishment m the usual whipping-place, • I sat down on the leads to think, but the cold was so severe that 1 was obliged ,to keep m motion. 1 crawled to the rampart that overlooked the playground, and :paeredover. 1 saw that the warder had ': assembled the boys m line. Presently ', the head master appeared, and selecting three of the biggest boys, sent them off indifferent directions- 1 knew what it meant. 1 was missed, and these were the ; bloodhounds of the law unloosed to scent me out. And then, as 1- saw the machinery of pursuit actually set m motion, there came over me a strange hardness of . heart, and 1 resolved to remain where 1 was. Certainly the frost was becoming more intense than ever ; but would it not be a grand thing' to get my death of cold up there, ane let them find me de d 9 | 1 cannot now recall the method of ray child-logic, but it seemed to me then that this would be turning the tables on them with a vengeance. •" .They would all — masters, boys, and treacherous nurses — feel themselves my murderers, and be punished with never-ending remorse. And that there might be no mistake as to the cause m which my life had been sacrificed, I took from my pocket a scrap of my sermon paper , which I had stealthily retained, with a view to future correspondence, and a stump of pencil which I had secreted for the same purpose ; and wrote, as distinctly as my shivering fingers would permit, 'I die for Elspeth Fairley,' •Kemember, gentlemen, I was only a child. 'I took one more look overthe breastwork. The boys were still m line, and the master was haranguing them— about me, no doubt, and the awful consequences of giving way to the inclinations of the. natural man. As I looked, the treacherous sicknurse : ran across , the grounds towards him, calling out -something that I could not hear ; at which he stopped his harangue, and hurried back to the house at a pace I had never seen him indulge m before.- I wonder no# I did not connect this circumstance with Elspeth. As it was, I thought it might be some new communication about myself, and- it only strengthened my resolve of martyrdom. And thereupon, folding my dying declara-tion-on my breast, Hay down on the leads and— fell asleep, 'The great clock over the portico was booming seven when I awoke. I was frozen to numbness. I dare say I was pretty near martyrdom after all. But the martyr spirit was gone, The darkness, and the loneliness, midway, as it seemed to me, between earth and heaven, were unendurable. A great terror, canie over me— the nameless terror that only children know, With much difficulty I raised myself to a sitting posture. My first spontaneous impulse on seeing the clouds and the dim stars above me, and feeling against my cold hand the hardly colder lead, was to cry out. But no sound came from my lips. The cold had seized me^in earnest, and my voice was gone. I struggled to my knees, and chafed my hands and limbs, all the while trying to realise where I was, and what I had done. * Presently (I heard the grating of carriage wheels on the gravel m front of the hospital. 1 crawled as best 1 could to the other side of the roof, and, looking over, saw by the light of the carriage lamp 3 the well-known face of the visiting-surgeon. •The forenoon was his usual visiting time. What could he want at this hour ? 1 began to tremble with a new form of dread. Was there anyone but Elspeth sick? There might be? but 1 knew of none. 1 took some comfort from the shortness of his visit. He could hardly have been five minutes m the hospital, when he reappeared and drove off. Surely whoever it was could not be so very ill, when ther.e w»s so little for the doctor to do. ' 1 had not much time to lay this flattering unction to my soul. Scarcely had the echo of the wheels died m the distance when there sounded up, through the chapel windows far below, a hundred voices blended m a strain solemn as a dirge— as a dirge indeed it was. 1 knew it well, and knew, too, what it meant. It had been the custom m the hospital from time immemorial, when a death took place within its walls, to assemble the children m the chapel to hear the sad announcement ; which was invariably followed by the singing of a certain psalm, and always to the one dismal air. 1 had myself assisted with my voice on three such occasions, and now the awful significance of the sound, quivering through the darkness up to my dreary isolation, burst upon me with appalling certitude. ' My nameless terror had now a name ; and the name was Death. In my paroxysm of fear 1 could see him embodied m the clouds, brooding with outstretched arms over the whole awful sky. 1 had no desire to meet him now. He was too real and too near. My own dumbness added to my terror. It would have been a comfort to cry out, but there was no sound m all the world save the wailing dirge below. 1 stamped upon the leaden roof, though 1 knew that none would hear. 1 was wrought to a pitch of madness that 1 verily believe would nave led me at last to throw myself from the housetop, when 1 was seized with an idea, the very boldness of which made me stand still and lean gaspingly against the basement of the tower. ' It may not seem so very bold to you ; but had you been years m the place, and trained to regard the separation between the two departments of the establishment as the most sacred of all barriers, you would understand the reckless daring involved to the enterprise of invading the girls' aide of the building. This was what 1 resolved to do. 1 thought it possible 1 might either find the skylight under the girls' tower open, or some other means of penetrating to the rooms below. 1 cared not what happened if 1 could only get away from the awful darkness, and the shadow of death. ' My heart beat so violently as 1 crept towards the forbidden ground that 1 had again and again to pause, and press my numbed arms upon my chest. As 1 passed behind the great clock, the sharp stroke of the quarter smote on me like a solemn warning, but 1 battled down my fears and pressed onward. Once beyond the clock, 1 had done the deed, and might as well go through with it. '1 found the skylight fastened down, but by dint of groping from side to side, 1 came upon another, which 1 raised with ease. 1 pushed myself through, and for

r a moment bunK with my hands graspuig the outer ledge, when it occurred "•'to- me 1 ; with a fresh shock of terror that possibly my ' idgs- were ; at : that moment dangling m the immense onastn between the windings of the great staircase, reaching fro m;rcof, to basement. ■; 1 tried to get back,, but. could not. My arms were now powerless with cold. 1 knew that all sensation would soon die out of my hands, and that m a short time 1 must drop, and perhaps be dashed to pieces on the stone flags four stories below. In those few moments 1 went through all the bitterness of death. 1 Suddenly— Oh God, 1. was' slipping slipping ! An instant, and ] was m emr>ty space *An instant more, and.l had fallen upon something at once soft and rigid and cold. 1 sprang from a bed to my feet grasping m my hand a cloth on which my fingers had . involuntarily closed. 1 fell down m a heap m what 1 felt to be a corner of a room, and m my agony tried to make the intense darkness intenser still by pressing the cloth against my eyes. • When at length 1 removed the cloth, the room was full of light. 1 turned my head. The moon had: risen, and was shining m on the white dead face of Elspeth Fairley. , •When 1 next became conscious (for 1 had fainted at the sight) 1 was lying m a bed m one of the sick wards. Nothing was ever said to me On 1 x the tubject of Elspeth; nothing ddne tp m© m the way of punishment ; bat, gentleman, frouVuhat day to this — ' . .' .: ,;' . . ! It was, dark whe.n..hp- finished, and .we ! did not .see, him. s'te&t , 4,w,ist ; but after a few moments the 'clatter ..of his horse's hoofs toljl us he was gone.— ['The Queenslander.' . i