Ernest Bracebridge: School Days

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Tom, hearing him, scuttled away to the other side, where Buttar was endeavouring to effect a breach. Two boys made chase after him, but he got up to the wall before them, and throwing the flag into it, he sprang up on the backs of some of the besiegers, who did not find out in time that he did not belong to their party; and Lemon being on the watch for him, lent him a helping hand, and got him safe into the castle. Then he seized the flag he had brought so gallantly off, and went round the castle walls, waving it in the faces of the besiegers, and crowing as lustily as any young cock. Frank, when he discovered what had been done, felt like a general who has unwarily allowed his camp to be attacked; and now, seeing that the other two standards were unprotected, sent back a guard to each.

It may appear strange that Bouldon should have so easily got into the castle; but in his case he had a friend to help him, while in the case of the besiegers everybody was opposed to them. So strong was the castle, and so manfully was it defended, that it appeared as if it would effectually hold out to the end of the day.

Time after time Frank returned to the assault, and as often he and his troops were tumbled over into the ditch. This, also, was Ernest’s fate; indeed he at last gave up all hopes of taking the castle in the way proposed. Telling the rest of his followers to continue pelting away with all their might, he called Ellis to his councils. Ellis at once advised an attempt to undermine the walls. He had run his head into a soft place, and he thought he might get through. The idea was a bright one. Ernest immediately went round and got some men from Frank and Buttar, to assist by the warmth of their snowballing to cover their proceedings, and then he and Ellis set to work to bore their way through. The other two commanders were all the time to keep up a series of incessant assaults, which might fully occupy the attention of the enemy. No one within the walls suspected what was taking place. They went on firing away with their snowballs as furiously as ever. No one seemed wearied. There was something very inspiriting in the work. It was far pleasanter than real fighting, because all the combatants might hope to live to fight again, for whichever side fortune might declare itself.

Lemon seemed to think, at last, that things were growing rather tame, so he seized his horn and began “too-tooing” away with all his might. It was answered more loudly than before by the horns of the besiegers, followed by a hotter shower of snowballs than ever sent by them into the castle. While Lemon and his followers were busily engaged replying to it, they found their legs seized by Ernest and Ellis, and several other boys, while Frank, mounting on the backs of some of his troops, leaped over the parapet on the opposite side. Lemon was so astonished that he knew not what order to issue. Buttar—a messenger being sent to summon him—came round with some followers to the same side, and forced his way with them through the hole. An attempt was made to throw the daring besiegers over the walls; but they kicked and shoved against them so furiously that a large breach was effected, up which the rest of the assailants poured; while Ernest and Ellis, overcoming all opposition, forced their way up to the standard, and seizing the flag-staff, hauled it down at the moment that one side of the castle fell with a tremendous crash, leaving it utterly defenceless. Lemon’s horn sent forth a long wail of despair, while the other horns sounded notes of triumph, and the castle was declared to be truly and gloriously won.

“It is not your first military triumph, and I hope will not be your last,” said Ellis to Ernest, as they were marching homeward.

“Nor yours either, and I hope will not be your last. If I go into the army, my great delight will be to find that you are going also.”

When the boys reached the house, all the visitors from the neighbourhood found that they were expected to dine and spend the evening. The combatants did ample justice to the fare set before them, and it was announced that a conjuror would make his appearance in the evening, to astonish them with his wonderful performances. Ernest and Bouldon disappeared directly after dinner. Ernest said he had to go and make preparations for the conjuror, and Tom, putting his hand to his heart, said that he felt it his duty to go and help him. When the boys came up from dinner they found one end of the large drawing-room, in which there was a deep recess, fitted up as a theatre, and in the centre a table, at which sat a man with a huge pair of spectacles, a long white beard and moustache, a high conical cap, covered over with all sorts of strange hieroglyphics, and many other curious devices. Round his head was a turban. He wore a tight green waistcoat, a red silk flowing robe over it, while a handsome sash bound his waist, in which was stuck an ink-horn, a wand, a huge knife or dagger, a pistol, and several other articles. Altogether, he was a somewhat formidable-looking character. By his side appeared, when the curtain drew up, a curious-looking clown, with a huge face, with all sorts of twists and curls in it, great big ears, a cock-up nose, and a short stumpy beard. This extraordinary physiognomy was covered with a high cap, which had a tassel and bells. He wore also a party-coloured waistcoat, huge full breeches of all the colours of the rainbow, hose of yellow, and long shoes with rosettes of vast size. He stood forth a veritable clown or jester of bygone days.

The magician rose. He seemed to be a very tall man, and contrasted strongly with his attendant, who was one of the roundest, shortest, most punchy-looking little men ever seen. A symphony was played on a piano behind the curtains, during which the magician waved his wand, and then in a deep voice he explained that he was about to perform a series of wonderful and unaccountable tricks, which no one had ever equalled, or was ever likely to equal while the world lasted; on which the clown clapped his hands and nodded his head in approval, exclaiming, in the oddest squeaking voice imaginable, “Certainly, certainly; my master speaks the truth; who can doubt him? If anybody does doubt him, let him take care of me.”

The conjuror hemmed, and, waving his wand, took up a pile of halfpence. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, you see these halfpence, and you see this cap. The cap I will place on the table, and taking the halfpence in my left hand, as you see, I will pass them from under the table into the cap. Heigh, presto, fly!” Sure enough, he lifted up the cap, and there were the halfpence. “Now I will pass them back again into my hand—listen.” One after the other they were heard dropping into his hand, and when the cap was lifted they were gone. Then he put a die on the table, and covering it with his cap, sent the halfpence back to take its place. There they were. He covered them up; they had disappeared, and the die took their place.

He next produced a round tea-caddy. He asked a lady for a cambric handkerchief. Several were tendered. He took one, and put it into the caddy. Drawing out one end, while examining it by a candle to observe its texture, it caught fire. It had burnt a good deal before he could find the cover to put it out. No sooner had he done so than, pronouncing a few magic words, he opened the canister, and presented the handkerchief uninjured. Loud applause followed. “Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, holding up a large silk pocket-handkerchief, “examine this handkerchief. It has no double lining. It is a plain simple handkerchief. Watch me narrowly. I throw it over the table. I hold it up. See what comes forth.” A whole stream of filberts fell from the handkerchief. “Here, Placolett, take them to the company,” said the magician, and the round-faced dwarf, with many odd twists and bounds, handed them round. Again the magician spread the handkerchief, and this time produced a still larger quantity of sugar-plums, sufficient, it seemed, to fill a hat. They also were handed round. Once more the handkerchief was spread, and produced a number of bouquets of beautiful flowers, some real and some artificial. These in like manner were distributed among the young ladies present.