The bonfire
Date: 2025-04-29T00:00:00+00:00

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Title: The bonfire

Author: Francis E. Paget

Release date: April 30, 2025 [eBook #75991]

Language: English

Original publication: Rugeley: John Thomas Walters, 1844

Credits: David E. Brown and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by the Toronto Public Library)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BONFIRE ***

THE BONFIRE.

Page 18.

Tales of the Village Children.

THE BONFIRE.

BY
FRANCIS E. PAGET, M.A.,
RECTOR OF ELFORD.

RUGELEY:
JOHN THOMAS WALTERS.

LONDON:
JAMES BURNS, PORTMAN STREET.
MDCCCXLIV.

The Bonfire.

A sour, cross, old man was Jasper Crabbe, living all by himself, and seeing little of his neighbours, and not at all liking their children,—so, at least, our Yateshull boys said,—and his coat was of such an old-fashioned cut, and his waistcoat and breecees were so patched and darned, and all his clothes hung so loose about his thin, withered limbs, that he looked more like a scarecrow than a man. He came to Yateshull from a distance, and everybody wondered why he took that little farm on the edge of the Common, for it was quite a ruinous tumble-down place: though, to be sure, when the neighbours saw him, they said that he and his farm were well suited to each other.

By and by, when they found that he said very little about himself and lived in such a lonely way, they set their wits to work, to discover who, or what he was, and when they could find out nothing, some of our silly gossips began to say what they thought he must be, and then, in a short time, all these guesses were talked of, and believed as though they were true.

Some said he was an old miser; others said he was a convict returned from Botany Bay; and all agreed that he must have been very wicked, and have a very bad conscience, to shun his neighbours in the way he did.

Now this was very wrong, and very uncharitable on the part of these gossiping busy-bodies. What business had they to think the worst of, and spread false reports about a harmless old man, of whose real circumstances and history they knew nothing? It was a cruel act; and no wonder that Jasper Crabbe avoided such neighbours as much as he could. He had much better reasons for being silent about his affairs, than they had for inquiring into them.

He was neither rich, nor a miser; but he was very poor, and almost heart-broken, for his only son had joined himself to bad company, and not only plundered his father of nearly all he had in the world, but had committed a crime which forced him to fly the country. And so Jasper Crabbe left his native place, and came to hide his shame and sorrow at Yateshull, where, as I have said, he was quite unknown.

When the children in the village heard their parents laugh at the old man’s manner of dress, they began to think that it became them to do so too; and so they would grin and jeer when they met him, or perhaps make faces, or shout after him, and when they saw that such conduct vexed him, and made him cross, they did it ten times more. I think it was silly of Jasper to let such a trifle vex him, and I am sure it was very wrong of the children to behave in such a way to him: they should have had respect to his grey hairs, and they should have remembered that awful story in Scripture, how Bears out of the wood came and devoured the rude, bad youths that mocked Elisha.

But I am sorry to say that there are rude bad children at Yateshull, as well as of old at Bethel, and so they made it their delight to plague Jasper Crabbe. Had he complained to Mr. Warlingham or the schoolmaster, this sad, disgraceful conduct would have been put a stop to at once, but he did not do this and was only very cross, and drove the boys off his premises, whenever he found them there. But he was one against many, and so when his back was turned, and he was in one place, two or three would be doing some petty mischief or another. I will do them the justice to say that I do not think the boys had any wish to injure him; only as he was cross to them,—they tried to vex him.

It was a custom in Yateshull, as I believe it is in most country-places, that the school-children should have a half-holyday on the Fifth of November, and be allowed to make a Bonfire as soon as it was dusk.—The half-holyday was given in order to allow the children time to pick sticks in our Squire’s park, or to beg a few faggots of the farmers; but I am sorry to say, that instead of giving themselves the trouble to do this, the boys sometimes broke the hedges. This made the farmers very angry, and they would give no more faggots, and so the boys were puzzled where to find wood for burning: indeed one year they could get nothing but a parcel of wet straw from an old thatch, which only made a thick choking smoke, and would not burn up at all.

The next year, Peter Perks, who was always a leader in all kinds of mischief, took it into his head to go and take sticks out of Jasper Crabbe’s hedges, and so accompanied by three or four other lads, he contrived,—without doing any great injury to the hedges, it is true,—but still very wrongly,—to collect a large bundle of sticks. But just as he and his companions were going away, old Jasper suddenly pounced upon them, and charged them with stealing, and said he should take them all before Justice Burns, and have them sent to prison.

The boys were in a great fright, for some who or other they had persuaded themselves that it could not be called stealing, to carry off a few old dead sticks. I wish they would have considered that stealing is taking what belongs to another person, without that person’s leave: and therefore it is just as much a theft, whether the thing stolen be valuable or useless.

Fortunately for them, just as Jasper Crabbe had seized two of them by the collar, and two others were running away, Mr. Warlingham appeared in sight, and to him the old man dragged the trembling culprits, while the sound of Mr. Warlingham’s voice brought back the two others. Jasper was at first in a great passion, but as Mr. Warlingham listened patiently, and the boys did not attempt to run away, he became cool by degrees, and instead of desiring to take them before the Justice, (which, however, he had a full right to do) he said that as they were only little boys, he should beg the Vicar to take their punishment into his own hands: “he did not want to be cruel to them,” he said, “though he had been shamefully used by the boys since he had been at Yateshull.”

Mr. Warlingham looked very grave when he heard this, and when, upon making further inquiries, he learned the true state of the case, he was most deeply grieved at the misbehaviour of these young members of his flock. What was done, however, could not be undone; so he promised Jasper Crabbe that from henceforth he should have no further cause of complaint.

“I know, Sir,” answered the old man, “that boys will be boys.”

“Yes,” replied the Vicar; “and I love to see them happy and enjoying themselves, but there is no reason why they should be thoughtless and mischievous, and this they shall not be if I can prevent it. And now,” he continued, “as for you boys who have behaved so ill, and thought so little of your duty to your neighbour, you must be made to feel that such conduct is not to be passed over, and though by Mr. Crabbe’s kindness you escape prison, you will not escape punishment, and that punishment will include others also, who in other ways have behaved as ill as you. In the first place, then, you must go and put all those sticks in the places from whence you took them. In the next, you will go and tell the other boys that in consequence of your fault, and of what I have now learned of their conduct to Mr. Crabbe, there will be no half-holyday allowed this evening, nor any bonfire after it, and, also, that the whole school will be kept at their lessons an hour longer every day for a fortnight. And I further desire that the whole school will go in a body to Mr. Crabbe to-morrow morning, and beg his pardon.”

So there was an end of the old man’s troubles from the Yateshull boys: and when he found that they were really sorry and ashamed of themselves, he went and begged Mr. Warlingham to excuse them the remainder of their punishment. But this the Vicar would not do. “I never punish, if I can help it,” said he, “but when I do, I take care that the punishment shall be both felt and remembered.”

“Well then, Sir,” said the old man, “if I live till next year, and they are good boys, and spare the hedges, I will give them some sticks to make a famous bonfire with.”

And so he did; but meanwhile the Vicar had been turning in his mind how he could secure the boys their pleasure, and at the same time keep them out of their temptation to do mischief. Accordingly, a day or two before the next Fifth of November he went down to the school, and told the boys that it was his intention to give them half-a-crown yearly on that day to buy faggots with, so that they might make their bonfire with what was honestly their own: but he told them at the same time, that if, after this, he heard any more complaints of hedges being broken, he should not only not give any more half-crowns, but put a stop to the bonfire altogether.

You may guess how pleased the boys were when they heard Mr. Warlingham’s kind intentions, and they all promised that they would not draw a stick from the hedges, and I am glad to say they kept their promise.

Well, on the Fifth of November, they got up almost before it was light, and as they went along the village in their way to the place where the bonfire was usually made, you might have heard some forty or fifty voices shouting with all their might the old song,

“Remember, remember,
The Fifth of November,
Gunpowder Treason, and Plot.
I don’t see the reason
Why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.”

I dare say there were not half-a-dozen in the whole number who thought, or perhaps knew anything about the Gunpowder Plot; that dreadful crime which was so nearly being accomplished about 240 years ago, when some most wicked men plotted together to blow up and kill the King and all the Parliament. The boys had always been in the habit of throwing an old scarecrow into the bonfire, and of calling it their “Guy,” but there were not many, I believe, who could tell anything about Guy Fawkes.

If any of my readers are in the same state of ignorance, I advise them to get some friend to tell them all about this conspiracy. They will find it a most interesting story; one that shews the wonderful working of God’s Providence, and the wickedness at which men may arrive, when they forget their duty to their neighbour, and permit themselves to do evil, in order that what they call good may come of it.

But to go back to the boys. Mr. Warlingham did not forget them; and by noon that day they had their half-crown all safe and sound; so as soon as they had had their dinners, they hastened to the place they had cleared in the morning, which was an open space at the top of a round hillock at the edge of the common: a famous place too it was for a bonfire, for this spot being the highest ground about, and quite free from trees, the fire, when lighted, could be seen to a great distance.

“Oh! what a famous blaze we shall have to-night!” said Dick Middleton rubbing his hands, and skipping about with great glee.

“What a way off they will see our fire! I dare say they will see it at Derby and Lichfield, and wonder what it is!” said Charley Salt.

“Ah, but then they will be so busy with their own that they won’t think of our’s,” said Billy Blake.

“I don’t know that,” replied Charley, “their’s will be quite a poor concern to our’s I’m sure. I dare say nobody will give them half-a-crown to buy faggots with.”

“I hope it won’t rain,” said Johnny Drew, “but that’s a heavy cloud coming up: ‘Rain, rain go away, and come again another day.’”

“Rain? no, man, it won’t rain to-day,” said Tom Dunn. “My father’s rheumatics are as good as a weather glass, and he says he knows by his legs it won’t rain to-day. I asked him afore I came out. But, I say, Kennedy, I wonder who’ll sell us any faggots?”

“I should like to see the man who’ll refuse us, now we’ve got money to pay for them. Why look there! there’s old Crabbe with ever so many faggots in his donkey cart: let’s ask him: he isn’t so surly now as he used to be. Come, do you try, Harry Martin; you never get into trouble with him.”

Harry Martin had no objection; so as soon as they got along side of the old man, the boys all gathered round him; and then Harry asked if “he was willing to sell them those sticks?”

“Sell them!” cried the old man quite sharply, “no, I’ll see you all hanged first.”

“Well, I hope there’s no offence,” said Harry, colouring at such an unexpected rebuff.

“Yes, there’s very great offence. Didn’t I tell you all that if you were good lads, I’d give you some faggots. And after that, how dare you ask me to sell you some?” And the old man shook his fist at the boys, while a smile came over his grim weather-beaten face. “Come,” he continued, “I was just going to leave them for you at Dinah Marjoram’s gate. You can carry them up the hill yourselves.”

I need not say how pleased the boys were, or how much they thanked the old man for keeping his promise, which, to say truth, they had quite forgotten. Two or three did not speak, but they felt the more; they felt ashamed of themselves, and grieved over their bad conduct, and misbehaviour. How sad it is that people will not save themselves these bitter after-regrets, by reflecting on the consequences of misbehaviour before they misbehave!

“And now,” said Kennedy, when the last faggot had been carried to the top of Beacon-knowe, as the mound on the Common was called, “what shall we do with our half-crown? I’m sure we needn’t buy any more faggots: there’s sticks enough here for two bonfires. What do you vote for Dunn?”

“Oh, I vote that we spend it!”

“Spend it?” exclaimed the other, laughing, “yes, I should think so indeed! But how shall we spend it?”

“Oh, I vote for getting puffs at Peggy Brandrick’s,” cried Billy Blake.

“No, that will never do,” replied several at once. “Peggy’s puffs are a penny each, and there’s but thirty pence in half-a-crown, while there’s fifty boys in the school. Whatever we have should go all round.”

“Yes, that is but fair, certainly,” said Kennedy. “Well, Billy, you must think of something else.”

“Lollypops for me,” answered Billy sturdily.

“I’m tired of lollypops,”—“I vote against lollypops,” cried half-a-dozen voices.

“Well, I wish somebody would think of something. What do you say, Harry Martin?”

“Oh, if you ask me, I should say we ought to take the money back to Mr. Warlingham. If it is not spent in the manner in which he intended it should be spent, I think he ought to settle for us.”

“But suppose when he gets the half-crown back, he pockets it,” said Dick Middleton, who was quite taken aback at what Martin had suggested.

“Dick, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for saying such a thing. You know quite well that Mr. Warlingham would not use us so. I dare say he would tell us to get a new foot-ball, or something of that kind. We are in great want of a new foot-ball.”

Some of the boys agreed with this, but the greater part of them were not very well pleased. They thought the money was their own, and that they might do what they liked with it. They had none of Harry Martin’s scruples, and thought it very hard that he should have put them into their heads.

“Come,” said Dunn, all of a sudden, “I’ve thought of a scheme that will please everybody, and will be a spending of the money in the kind of way the Vicar meant. Let’s go over to Weston and buy some squibs and crackers!”

A shout of applause was the answer that Dunn received. The boys were quite delighted; nobody listened to Martin and his scruples, and when he endeavoured to put in a word, half-a-dozen lads began to push him about, jumping and capering all round him, and whenever he began to speak, his words were drowned in the shout,

“Remember, remember,

The Fifth of November!”

It was all done good-humouredly: but Harry saw there was no chance of being listened to, so he said no more, and gave it up as a bad job, though it was not without sorrow that he saw Dunn and Middleton set off for Weston.

Johnny Drew’s fears about the weather were not realized. The heavy cloud rolled away; there was no rain; and what was no less lucky there was no fog. A fog would have spoilt half the sport. What would have been the good of lighting a noble bonfire if nobody could see it? However there was no fog, but a clear dark night; the moon had not risen, and though the stars twinkled brightly there was no danger of their light out-shining that of the bonfire.

Johnny Drew, and Willy Stubbs, and some of the younger boys could not help thinking that it was a very long time,—much longer than usual—till the sun set behind the Fisherton woods, and Ned Jubber said that for his part he did not see why a bonfire was not just as good by day as by night; but Ned only got laughed at for his impatience, and all the rest were content to wait till six o’clock. What a comfort it was to hear the church clock strike five! and then, as each successive quarter struck, how glad were the Yateshull boys!

“Come, Kennedy, get your lantern ready!” cried many voices at the last quarter; and, lantern in hand, Kennedy was on the road, the moment the hour struck.

“Where’s Dunn?” was the eager inquiry when it was found that he was not yet in the merry company.

“Oh! he’ll meet us at Beacon-knowe,” answered Kennedy; and to the Knowe they all hastened, shouting as they went their accustomed song, and carrying on a pole an old sack stuffed with straw, surmounted with a crownless hat, and with a bunch of matches stuffed in the rope which was tied round it by way of hat band.—This was meant to represent Guy Fawkes. Certainly it was not very like a human being: but it would burn well, and that was the chief thing to be thought about.

“Are you all ready?” cried Kennedy, as soon as he had lighted his lantern, at old Dinah Marjoram’s.

“Aye, aye,” was the reply: the door of the lantern was opened, the stout brown paper kindled, and applied to the straw at the bottom of the pile. There was a brisk wind, and the sticks and straw were quite dry, so that in a minute’s time the faggots were all alight, and blazing higher and higher every moment. Oh! it was a glorious bonfire! and I wish you had been there to see it! How the kindling sticks crackled and sparkled, and how, as more fuel was heaped on, the flames leaped up, till they were—oh! I can’t tell how many feet above the boys’ heads.

“I hope all the people at Lichfield and Derby are on the look out,” cried Charley Salt.

“I hope Jasper Crabbe sees it,” said Harry Martin, “for we owe it all to him, and he ought to have the benefit of it.”

“Oh yes,” cried Kennedy, “get out of the way of the smoke, and you’ll see him fast enough; and there’s Dinah Marjoram, and Molly Salt, and old Granny Grendon, and ... and all the parish,—or, at any rate a good part of it, turned out to see us.”

“Nay, I don’t see above a dozen of the neighbours,” replied Harry.

“There’ll be more by and by, I’ll warrant, as soon as we begin the fire-works. Now then, Tom Dunn; bring out the crackers.”

And then the crackers were brought out and fired off. How they made the boys start as they banged, and bounced, and flew in all directions!—“Now then for the squibs!” continued Kennedy,—“Come, Charley Salt, let’s see you fire off a squib.”

“I don’t know how,” replied Charley, drawing back, “I’d rather see you do it first.”

“Nonsense, Charley! Why you’re not a coward, are you? See here; take it in your hand, and now put a lighted stick to the blue paper at the end. There, that’ll do, it’s alight; hold it fast!”

Phiz ... phiz ... phiz—went the blue touch-paper, till it got to the powder, and whiff! what a shower of sparks!

Charley threw down the squib and run away.

“Ah you silly fellow, why didn’t you mind what I said to you?” cried Kennedy catching up the squib from the ground, and whirling it round and round about his head, now in this direction, and now in that, till the air seemed filled with sparks, and the boys ran away from him as if pursued by a fiery serpent; and then in his mischief he flung it among them, and just above their heads it exploded.

How the boys scampered away; you would have laughed to have seen them; and they laughed too—all but Johnny Drew and Martin Salt; Charley’s little brother, Johnny Drew, began to cry, for he said he was sure it would bring the stars down; and as for Martin Salt, he thought that his brother could not have touched such a thing without being badly hurt, and so he cried too, till he saw Charley as merry as all the rest.

As soon as the boys saw how to manage the squibs they ceased to be afraid of them, and then their fun was to chase each other round and round the top of Beacon-knowe, whizzing the squibs about like so many mad creatures. And then one of them, (I never knew which) either through accident or love of mischief, threw one down the hill among the spectators.

“Come, come,” cried Jasper Crabbe, “I’m not going to be squibbed, you young monkeys—don’t throw them down here, or you’ll set Goody Grendon’s bonnet on fire, mayhap!”

I don’t know whether the boys heard him, for what with their own shouting, and the roaring of the bonfire, and the hissing and exploding of the squibs, there was noise enough to drown even Jasper Crabbe’s voice. But whether they heard him or no, they did not heed him, and the consequence was, that among the lighted squibs which were thrown from the top of the mount, was one which fell at the foot of Dinah Marjoram’s hay-rick, but most unfortunately not in front of it, where those below could have seen it, and prevented it from doing any mischief, but behind, where it was quite out of sight, and where it set fire to the hay without any one knowing or suspecting it.

I have said that a smart wind was blowing; and this, was, of course, so much the worse for Dinah’s rick, which taking fire at the bottom, burnt upwards, the wind spreading the flame with the greatest rapidity.

But how shall I describe the alarm, and the sorrow of the boys, when Harry Martin suddenly exclaimed that the rick was on fire, and looking down, they saw the flames running along the edge of the thatch, and rising higher and higher.

And more than all, how shall I tell of the dismay of the poor old woman, when she knew the misfortune which had befallen her. She was a widow, advanced in years, with bad health, and had no children to support her in her age and infirmity, and to help her, (as all good children do help their parents) out of their own wages, and earnings, and to pay back so far as they could, the care and cost which had been spent on them in their infancy, and childhood.—But Dinah Marjoram had no such aid to look to: she was quite a lone woman, poor thing! and had nothing to trust to but what she could earn herself. Her cottage, indeed, and her garden, were her own: there was no rent to be paid for them, or, I really do not know what would have become of her. And she had two cows, which were pastured on the common, and a small field, which she made into hay, for their use in winter. And, so by selling her butter and her cheese, and may be, a few eggs, or chickens, or ducks, she managed to get on very tolerably.

But what was to become of her now, when the hay-rick was in flames, and all the winter fodder for her cows was being destroyed?

At first, she was so frightened and surprized, that she could do nothing, and when she came to herself she could only weep and wring her hands. The boys were very sorry for the accident, but sorrow will not put out fire.

I need not say that they all ran down the hill, and left their bonfire and squibs, to help to put out the blazing rick, but the flames were too strong for them, and they did not know what to do. Luckily, Jasper Crabbe was there, and he bade one stout lad run down to the Squire’s for the fire-engine, alarming the neighbours as he went: and then he got all Dinah’s milk-pails, and everything that could hold water, and placed the boys in a double line between the rick and a pond which was near at hand, so that while one set of boys passed up the buckets that were full, the others passed from hand to hand those which were empty, for the purpose of having them filled again. Meanwhile, some men got on the top of the rick, on the side which was not yet kindled, and poured water as fast as they could upon the flames.

It was a grand sight, for the fire was reflected in the clouds above, which were made all red with the glare, but it was also a most sad sight, for it seemed to threaten Dinah with ruin. However, the neighbours, who now began to arrive, were all very kind to her, and they carried water, and worked with such hearty good-will, that they were already getting the fire under, when the engine arrived, and then it was put out,—but not before half the rick at least, had been destroyed or injured.

As soon as all danger was over, people began to make inquiries how the fire had been occasioned, and then you may be sure the boys came in for their full share of blame: everybody seemed to be open-mouthed, as the saying is, against them.

“Ah! this comes of stealing sticks, and breaking hedges!” cried one.

“I hope they’ll have some good tough sticks broken over their backs,” exclaimed another.

“Aye, and they will too, if old Dilwyn does his duty by them, when they go to school to-morrow!” observed a third.

“What business had they with fire-works? It’s a wonder and a mercy they were not blown up, and burnt to death.”—Thus said others. Poor old Dinah made what excuses she could for them, for she had a kind heart, and knew that what had happened was quite an accident, but her neighbours were quite angry with her for doing so: and when the boys heard how much they were blamed, they slunk away home one by one, glad that the night was so dark, and each hoping by some excuse or other, to get himself out of trouble the next day.—I am glad to say, however, that Kennedy, and Dunn, and Harry Martin, and Charley Salt, went to Dinah, and told her that they would gladly do all in their power to make up her loss.

Dinah thanked them, but shook her head. “Such children as you can do nothing!” she added, and then began to cry again.

Harry Martin thought that they might do something; but he scarce knew what; and so, like the rest, he went home to bed with a heavy heart.

So ended this famous bonfire, which had been so much thought of, and to which our boys had looked forward with such delight. All was now shame, and sorrow, and fear. But there would have been no cause for either fear, sorrow, or shame, if they would have only done what was right at first, and asked the Vicar how his money was to be spent, instead of spending it at all risks in the manner most pleasing to themselves. We never can be safe, we are almost always doing wrong, when we are trying to please ourselves.

Nobody was at school before the proper hour next morning. Everybody seemed to wish to be last, every boy looked down-cast, and afraid of speaking to his neighbour, and even though Mr. Dilwyn took no notice, nay, said not a single word as to what had taken place, that was no relief to the boys’ minds. They felt that something was hanging over them; their consciences were ill at ease, and before mid-day was past all of them felt that they would rather have almost any punishment inflicted on them, than be thus kept in suspense and doubt.

However, it was not till afternoon school that Mr. Warlingham appeared among them. Very grave he looked, and many a heart beat thick and fast when he began to address them.

He told them that he was, of course, aware of all that had taken place the night before, and how very sure he was that they were all deeply grieved and sorry for the accident. “But,” he continued, “that accident would never have taken place but for the fire-works, and those fire-works ought never to have been bought without my permission. It was an act of dishonesty on your part, to spend the money I gave you, in any other way than that which I directed. I am willing to believe that you acted thoughtlessly, and without any wish or intention of being dishonest, but dishonest you have been, and that is a great reproach and shame to you. And now with respect to this poor woman, whom you have so greatly injured, how do you think of making up her loss to her?”

Nobody answered: the boys knew not what to say.

“Have you any notion what is the value of the property which you have destroyed?”

“No, Sir,” replied two or three of the elder boys, with down-cast looks.

“Well then, I will tell you. Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Warren, the Squire’s bailiff, have been down to the rick this morning, and they assure me that Ten Pounds will hardly cover Dinah Marjoram’s loss: but that ten pounds, with two which the Squire has sent her, will make up for the damage. You must now find ten pounds. Can you do this?”

There was another long silence.

“You give me no answer,” said Mr. Warlingham, “but I can read your thoughts in your faces. Instead of ten pounds, perhaps there are not ten pence in the school at this moment. Let me see how much money can be raised.—Harry Martin six-pence, Kennedy eight-pence, Dunn a penny, Nokes, three-half-pence, Blake two-pence:—in all, eighteen-pence half-penny.—But what are eighteen-pence, when Ten Pounds are required? and besides, why should one boy contribute six-pence, and ten or twenty nothing? Put up your money into your pockets, and let us consider how such a sum is to be raised fairly.”

“I fear, Sir,” said Mr. Dilwyn, the schoolmaster, “that such a sum never can be raised.”

“I am certain it can,” replied the Vicar, “and if it can, it must.”

“I’m sure I should not mind working out of school hours, Sir,” said Kennedy.

“Nor I,” “nor I,” replied many more, “if it would do any good.”

“You forget,” observed Mr. Warlingham, “that your time, out of school hours, belongs to your parents: they have the first claim upon you, and many of them need all the assistance which you can give them. If, however, your parents can spare you, I think you may do a great deal towards raising the sum required: but even then, the money can only be raised slowly; and what is poor Dinah to do for hay for her cows, all through the winter?”

For the third time there was a dead silence.

“Well, Boys, I hope you really feel how great a difficulty this is, in which you have placed yourselves. I can only help you to a certain degree, and even if I could help you out of it altogether, I would not; because I am anxious to make this a lesson which may last you your lives.—Now listen to me. It is, as you know, my custom to give you a Christmas dinner in this school, at some period during that time of rejoicing. The cost of that dinner to me is about five pounds. Instead, therefore, of giving you your usual Christmas feast, I shall, (if, as I am sure you wish it,) advance the sum of Five Pounds to Dinah Marjoram at once. This will reduce your debt to one-half, and at the same time you will feel by the loss of something to yourselves, that you have made a sacrifice of your inclination to your duty. But now the question arises how are we to raise the other five pounds?”

Bob Kennedy looked round at the other boys, and then said, “I am sure we should all be glad to work for it, when our parents could spare us,—if any one would employ us.”

“Some of you are too young to be of any use,” replied the Vicar.

“We older boys must work the harder, Sir,” answered Dunn.

“And certainly the most of the labour ought to be thrown upon us, Sir,” added Kennedy, “because we were the leaders: if we had not thought of the fire-works, the little ones would never have wished for them: indeed they wanted sweets from Peggy Brandrick.”

“Now that you speak in this way,” said Mr. Warlingham, “I see you are in earnest, and really desire to make up for your past fault, so far as it is in your power: and, therefore, I will gladly do what I can to assist you.”

The boys thanked him. “Do you think Sir,” they asked, “that the farmers would employ us?”

“Perhaps they would employ a few,” replied the Vicar, “but we could hardly expect them to employ all, and I want to make each one of you bear his share in the business.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir,” said Harry Martin, “but I think I know what we might do. There are just fifty of us, in the school. Now, if each of us brought a penny every Monday morning, that would be four shillings and two-pence a week; and if we went on bringing in our pennies weekly, that would raise the sum required in about six months.”

“Well Harry: your notion is not a bad one, but how are you to raise,—each of you,—a penny a week?”

A great many boys said that they were sure that their fathers or mothers would pay a penny a week for them.

“Yes,” replied the Vicar, “I dare say they would, but then the punishment would fall upon your parents instead of on yourselves. Can you think of nothing else?”

“Please Sir, could we not grow some potatoes somewhere, and then sell them?” said Charley Salt timidly.

“Come Charley,” replied Mr. Warlingham, “your’s is the best hit that has been made.” Charley blushed with pleasure.

“But where are you to grow your potatoes?”

“Could we grow them on the Common, Sir?”

“Why, even if you could, there would be such a deal of trenching, and fencing, that half your profits would be swallowed up. Suppose now, that I were to ask the Clerk to let you one of his gardens, (you know the Clerk’s land is divided into small gardens) would you do your best to bring it into good cultivation?”

The boys assured the Vicar they would gladly do so.

“Well,” said the Vicar, “I think that old William Hopkins who died last week, had one of these gardens, so that perhaps his may be still on hire, indeed, I feel sure that it is. Mr. Dilwyn, be good enough to engage it for the use of the school. I will make myself answerable for the rent. You see, Boys, that I am ready to give you every encouragement to do right. And now,” he continued, “I advise you to get somebody to direct and advise you how the ground may be turned to the best account. Who is the best gardener in Yateshull?”

There could be no doubt about that. Every boy was ready to admit that nobody’s garden looked so well at all seasons as Jasper Crabbe’s: however old and ruinous his house might be, his garden was quite a pattern.

“Then if I were you,” observed Mr. Warlingham, “I would go and ask Jasper Crabbe to help you. He knows what your misfortune has been, and I am sure he will be glad to see you trying to make up poor Dinah’s loss. He is rather rough in his manner, but I know him to be very kind-hearted, and I am sure he will be pleased to see you put confidence in him, and that you wish to make a friend of him, in spite of your former bad behaviour to him.”

In the course of the day it was all arranged. The Clerk had let ten roods of garden ground to the school, Jasper Crabbe had undertaken to direct the boys as to its cultivation, and Dinah Marjoram had received five pounds from the Vicar: it would have been a great help if she could have raised the remaining five pounds at once, she said, but she must do the best she could.

When the Vicar heard this, he went and consulted the Churchwardens, and then it was agreed to advance Dinah Marjoram five pounds out of the Alms collected in Church at the Offertory, with the understanding that the sum should be paid back out of the profits of the school garden.

And now the boys began to feel as eager and happy in their garden, as they did in their cricket and foot-ball. To be sure winter was coming on, and therefore, at first, there was little or nothing to be done: but as soon as the weather became more open, and spring approached, and the days began to lengthen, then you might see the boys after evening school or on their Saturday half-holyday,—as busy as bees, and Jasper Crabbe directing them. The bigger lads were digging, others were wheeling barrows with manure,—(they had collected a good deal of manure on the turnpike road, in the course of the winter,) and the little boys were weeding, or picking up stones. All were busy, and all were happy, which nobody can be who is idle and unemployed.

And now came the question, what kind of a crop was to be grown in the garden? Johnny Drew was all for gooseberries, and even some who were older than Johnny, were disappointed when they were told that only one kind of vegetable was to be grown. However, when they had settled in their own minds that potatoes were the best crop, they began to grow eager for Jasper’s advice as to the most desirable kind.

Some were for “Irish lumpers,” as they are called, because they were so big; but Jasper said and very truly, that a worse kind could not be grown, as although large in size, they are very watery, and apt to be hollow: so it was decided against the Lumpers, and then the question arose whether the crop was to consist of “kidneys,” or “blue-eyes,” or “pink eyes,” or some other favourite kind.—But Jasper had another scheme. He said that too many crops of potatoes had been grown on that ground already, and that they would make more profit by sowing onions.

Some people thought this bad advice because onion seed was so dear,—eight-pence an ounce, I believe,—but old Crabbe knew that a fair outlay at first usually ensures the largest return: and so the garden was sown with onions. And the crop came up so well, and grew so well, that when the onions came to be sold at the end of the season, they brought no less than six pounds, ten shillings, in the market.

Of this sum, one pound was paid to the Clerk, for rent, and ten shillings just covered the cost of seed, and other little matters; but the clear gain was Five Pounds, the very sum which the boys needed.

You may guess how happy and satisfied they were when Jasper Crabbe went with them to the Vicarage, and handed over the five, bright, golden sovereigns to Mr. Warlingham: but if they were happy and satisfied, not less so was the Vicar.

“My good boys,” said he, “I rejoice with you, and am greatly pleased with you. You have done, indeed, no more than it was your duty as Christians to do, but you have done it in so good a spirit, that you both deserve and have my approbation.

“Your success is chiefly owing to our kind friend Mr. Crabbe, and I am sure you will feel as grateful to him as I do.

“And now that you have learned that it is in your power,—young as you are—to raise so large a sum among you in the course of the year, I hope I shall no longer see the school-children the only part of my congregation who do not offer their alms in the Church. Every Sunday, in that part of the Communion Service which is called the Offertory, the churchwardens collect the offerings of the congregation. Hitherto you have been passed by: but I hope the time is now come when you will do what you can to increase the sum which is offered upon God’s altar. The sum so collected is given first, to our own sick and needy, and then what remains is spent in building churches and schools in our own or in heathen countries. I need not tell you that money so spent is well spent, and must have God’s blessing upon it. And I trust I need not remind you that it is a great honour and privilege to be allowed to spend in God’s service at all.

“I hope you will keep on your garden, and that, out of the profits, you will set aside some portion yearly, so that every Sunday, or at least occasionally, Mr. Dilwyn may make some offering,—a six-pence or a shilling, as you are able, in the name of you all, and for the pious purposes of which I have spoken.

“You cannot offer much, but we know that the widow’s mite was more valued by God, than all the costly offerings of the rich man. Do you follow her example!”

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

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- THE BONFIRE.

- The Bonfire.

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