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[Illustration]


LESLIE ROSS:

OR,

Fond of a Lark.

  BY
  CHARLES BRUCE,
  AUTHOR OF "MY BEAUTIFUL HOME," ETC.


  EDINBURGH:
  WILLIAM P. NIMMO.

  1871.




CONTENTS.

                                                 PAGE

CHAPTER I.

  Why Leslie Ross was Sent to School,               5

CHAPTER II.

  Leslie's Introduction to Ascot House,            17

CHAPTER III.

  Pea-Shooting, and What Came of it,               29

CHAPTER IV.

  The Linchpin,                                    40

CHAPTER V.

  A Memorable Holiday,                             55

CHAPTER VI.

  One Ned,                                         72

CHAPTER VII.

  The Flood,                                       91





CHAPTER I.

WHY LESLIE ROSS WAS SENT TO SCHOOL.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No fear of that," said Leslie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And this is why Leslie Ross was sent to school.




CHAPTER II.

LESLIE'S INTRODUCTION TO ASCOT HOUSE.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And mine travelling home, papa."

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

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

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

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

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

"You will, of course, stop and dine with me, Ross, and be introduced
to my wife and child; your son also, will like to have one more meal