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October 29,  1853. CROSSBONES’ FATHER. 351

CROSSBONES’ FATHER.

Whenever a new  fellow  came  to  MacLaren’s, he was  sure  to  be  pumped  pretty  dry  without  loss of time,  m regarded  his  name,  his  father’s  occu- pation, and the  number  and  appearance  of  his sisters. Other points  were  discussed  more  at leisure.

MacLaren’s, you  must  know,  was  situated  in  a village  a few  miles  out  of  Liverpool; there  were nearly sixty  fellows  there,  so  you  may  be  sure several of  them  had  made  up  their  minds  to  go  to sea  as  soon  as  ever  they  left  school: and  as  two  or three  of  these  slept  in  my  bedroom — the  * 4 juniors’ ” room — that will  account  for  what  took  place  there after old  Wiggy  took  away  the  candle  every  night. Old Wiggy  was  the  French  master,  and  if  you could have  seen  his  head — well,  never  mind.

Among the  other  impositions  on  parents  which were set  forth  in  MacLaren’s  prospectus,  none  of which  were  ever  kept  to,  except  perhaps  the “experienced dentist,”  who  used  to  come  every half, and  take  out  all  the  best  double  teeth  in  the fellows’ heads; amongst  these,  I say,  it  was  stated that “a library  of  well  selected  books  is  provided for the  use  of  the  young  gentlemen.”  Now  I appeal  to  any  one  who  went  there,  if  there  ever was a greater  crammer  than  this. What does well selected  mean,  I should  like  to  know? Are “Principles of  Geology,”  or  “Life  of  Rev.  Ben- jamin Bubb,” or  “General  Gazetteer,”  or  “Trea- tise on Conic  Sections,”  well  selected? I suppose

next they’ll  call  the  Latin  Grammar  and  Arith- metic a well-selected library  of  books. To be sure,  there  were  two  or  three  odd  volumes  of  the “Waverley Novels,”  but  as  they  were  all  the middles of  the  tales,  of  course  that  took  a good deal from  the  interest  of  reading  them. The only two really  good  books  in  the  lot  were  “Curiosities of Nature  and  Art,”  and  “Lives  of  Buccaneers  and Pirates.” These  two  were  always  in  the  hands  of some  of  the  “juniors,”  and  were  read  out  in  the bedroom so  often,  that  at  last  we  could  have  done almost as  well  without  the  books  as  with  them. (Whoever read  them  had  to  sit  on  the  floor  in  one comer  with  the  candle  partly  under  a bed  for  fear of  surprises.)  The  “Pirates”  was,  of  course,  the greater favourite  of  the  two,  and  Calomel  I do really  think  knew  it  all  off  &om  one  end  to  the other; and was  always  persuading  fellows  to  walk the plank  by  means  of  a bolster  off  the  beds  on  to the  floor; and  building  caves  with  the  bedclothes. He got  tired  of  that  after  he  was  pulled  out  of his  cave  one  night  by  MacLaren,  and  walked  into with a slipper. The fellows  were  sorry  for  old Calomel, of  course,  but  it  was  great  fun  for  them, and they  couldn’t  help  larking  him  a good  deal about the  idea  of  a pirate  being  had  out  of  his cave and  slippered. Well, this  brings  me  to  what I was going  to  say. One night,  in  the  middle  of a half,  after  we  had  gone  to  bed,  MacLaren  came into our  room  with  a candle  and  a new  fellow. He told  us  the  new  fellow’s  name  was  Hartley; waited till  he  undressed,  watched  him  into  bed with little  Binns,  next  bed  to  Calomel,  wished us good-night,  told  us  to  go  to  sleep,  and  left  us. Go to  sleep,  0 yes,  I dare  say! The minute  the sitting-room door  was  heard  to  slam  upon  Mac- Laren, you may  fancy,  if  you  can,  the  volley  of questions  directed  at  Binns ’s  bed.

The new  chap  was  very  talkative: said  he  had been living  with  his  aunt  in  Yorkshire  for  years, but that  she  having  suddenly  got  married,  he  had been sent  home  to  Liverpool,  and  thence  to  Mac’s. Had both  brothers  and  sisters,  but  having  been  so little  at  home  didn’t  know  much  about  them. He asked if  Mac  was  very  strict; and  when  we  said “we believed  him; wasn’t  he,  just? ” he said  he was  afraid  it  wouldn’t  suit  him,  for  that  he  had been used  to  his  own  fling  in  Yorkshire: and  then went on  to  that  extent  about  guns,  horses,  and dogs, that  Calomel  at  last  asked  him,  rather  drily, if he  had  nothing  left  to  show  for  all  this? He replied that  he  had  a watch  which  his  aunt  had given him.

“Oh,” says  Calomel,  “a watch  is  nothing: my father  has  two,  a chronometer  and  a repeater.”

“And mine,”  retorted  the  new  chap,  “has three.”

In short,  it  became  a regular  bragging  match between the  two; and  if  the  new  fellow  told  as many  lies  as  to  our  certain  knowledge  Calomel did, why  he  was  a pretty  good  hand  at  it,  that’s alL In  spite  of  all  Dobbs  could  say  though,  the new chap  always  trumped  his  best  cards: when Dobbs mentioned  a pony  at  home  (which  we  knew he  hadn’t  got),  Hartley  was  down  on  him  with

No. 18.

VOL. I.