Charles was only twenty miles from his father's house, and was always at home in the holidays: he had a great many things given to him on new year's day, and his papa brought him a little poney that he might ride about the park; and he always let poor Ben have a ride with him, for he loved him very much; and Ben, who was a grateful, kind-hearted boy, did not forget how many times Charles had saved him from his wicked brother, and would have done any thing in the world to give him pleasure.
THE TRUANT.
"What will become of us to-morrow?" exclaimed a boy at M—— school, to little George Clifton, as they were undressing to go to bed. "I am so frightened, that I shall not be able to close my eyes."
George, who was very sleepy, and had no inclination to be disturbed, scarcely attended to what he was saying; but, on being asked how he thought to get off, and how he should relish a good sound flogging, if he could not excuse himself, he thought it time to inquire into his meaning, and was informed that some of the boys had that evening been robbing the master's garden, that they had taken away all the fruit, both ripe and unripe, and had trodden down and destroyed every thing.
George said he was very sorry for it, but he had no fears on his own account, for he could prove that he had drank tea and spent the whole evening at his aunt's, and was but just returned before their hour of going to bed; but Robert assured him, that all he could say would avail him nothing, and that he was very certain he would not be believed; and moreover, that the master had declared, as he could not discover the offenders he would punish the whole school: "And for my part," said Robert, "I am determined not to stay here, to suffer for what I do not deserve. I can easily slip out of this window into the yard, and at the dawn of day I intend to set off; and shall be many miles from M——, when you are begging in vain for forgiveness of your hard-hearted master."
George, who, though a good boy in other respects, had a very great dislike to the trouble of learning any thing, and had been sent to school much against his inclination, thought this an excellent opportunity of leaving it, and had no doubt, but having such a melancholy story to recount of the injustice of his master, added to the many hardships he fancied he had already endured on different occasions, he should be able to prevail upon his papa to keep him at home; and imagined, that, when he grew up to be a man, he should, by some means or other, have as much learning and knowledge as other people, without plaguing himself with so many books and lessons. Robert had therefore very little difficulty in persuading him to accompany him, which he had no reason to wish for, but that he knew he had always a good deal of pocket-money, which he hoped to get possession of, and cared very little, if once he could carry that point, what became of poor George. He knew him to be quite innocent, and also that the master was well acquainted with the names of the boys who had done the mischief, and consequently had no thought of punishing the whole school; but he was a wicked boy, had been the chief promoter of the robbery, long tired of confinement, and determined to run away. At four o'clock in the morning they got out of the window into the yard, jumped over a low wall, and were soon several miles from the school.
Poor little George began, before it was long, to grow very tired; he was hungry also, and had nothing to eat. Robert asked him if he had any money, and said he would soon procure him something to eat, if he would give him the means of paying for it; but the moment he had got his little purse in his hand, he told him that he must now wish him a good morning; that he was not such a fool as to go home to get a horsewhipping for having run away from school, but should go immediately to Portsmouth, where he should find ships enough ready to sail for different parts of the world, and would go to sea, which was, he said, the pleasantest life in the world; and making him a very low bow, he set off immediately across the fields towards the high road, and was out of sight in an instant.
George began to cry bitterly; he now repented having listened to this wicked boy's advice, and would have returned to school if he could; but he did not know the way back again, and, if he had known it, would have been afraid to see his master. He wandered on the whole long day, without seeing any body who thought it worth their while to stop to listen to his tale; and at length, towards the close of evening, quite ill for want of eating, and so tired that he could no longer stand, he seated himself by the side of a brook, and leaning his head upon his hand, sobbed aloud.
An old peasant returning from his labour, and passing that way, stopped to look at him, and perceiving that he was in much distress, went up to the place where he was sitting, and inquired kindly what ailed him.