The Iron Horse by R. M. Ballantyne (best novel books to read txt) 📕

Mrs Tipps, and found her engaged in earnest conversation with Netta. The captain, who was always in a boiling-over condition, and never felt quite happy except when in the act of planning or carrying out some scheme for the increase of general happiness, soon discovered that Netta was discussing the details of a little treat which she meant to give to the boys and girls of a Sunday-school which she and her mother superintended. With all his penetration he did not, however, find out that the matter which called most for consideration was the financial part of the scheme—in other words, how to accomplish the end desired with extremely limited means. He solved the question for them, however, by asserting that he intended to give all the scholars of all the Sunday-schools in the neighbourhood a treat, and of course meant to include Netta’s school among the rest—unless, of course, she possessed so much exclusive pride as to refuse to join him.

There was no resisting Captain Lee. As well might a red-skin attempt to stop Niagara. When once he had made up his mind to “go in” for something, no mortal power could stop him. He might indeed be turned. Another object of interest, worthy of pursuit and judiciously put before him, might perhaps induce him to abandon a previous scheme; but once his steam was up, as John Marrot used to say, you could not get him to blow it off into the air. He was unlike the iron horse in that respect, although somewhat like him in the rigour of his action. Accordingly the thing was fixed. Invitations were sent out to all the schools and to all who took an interest in them, and the place fixed on was a field at the back of Mrs Tipps’s villa.

The day came, and with it the children in their best array. The weather was all that could be wished—a bright sun and a clear sky,—so that the huge tent provided in case of rain, was found to be only required to shade the provisions from the sun. Besides the children there were the teachers—many of them little more than children as to years, but with a happy earnestness of countenance and manner which told of another element in their breasts that evidently deepened and intensified their joy. There were several visitors and friends of Captain Lee and Mrs Tipps. Emma was there, of course, the busiest of the busy in making arrangements for the feast which consisted chiefly of fruit, buns, and milk. Netta and she managed that department together. Of course little Gertie was there and her sister Loo, from which we may conclude that Will Garvie was there in spirit, not only because that would have been natural, but because he had expressly told Loo the day before that he meant to be present in that attenuated condition. Bodily, poor fellow, he was on the foot-plate of the Lightning, which is as much as to say that he was everywhere by turns, and nowhere long. Mrs Marrot was there too, and baby, with Nanny Stocks as his guardian. Miss Stocks’s chief employment during the evening appeared to be to forget herself in the excess of her delight, and run baby’s head against all sorts of things and persons. Perhaps it was as well she did so, because it tended to repress his energy. She acted the part of regulator and safety-valve to that small human engine, by controlling his actions and permitting him good-naturedly to let off much of his superfluous steam on herself. Indeed she was a species of strong buffer in this respect, receiving and neutralising many a severe blow from his irrepressible feet and fists. Bob Marrot was also there with his bosom friend Tomtit Dorkin, whose sole occupation in life up to that time had been to put screws on nuts; this must have been “nuts” to him, as the Yankees have it, because, being a diligent little fellow, he managed to screw himself through life at the Clatterby Works to the tune of twelve shillings a week. Joseph Tipps, having got leave of absence for an evening, was also there,—modest amiable, active and self-abnegating. So was Mrs Natly, who, in consideration of her delicate health, was taken great care of, and very much made of, by Mrs Tipps and her family—conspicuously by Mrs Durby, who had become very fond of her since the night she nursed her. Indeed there is little doubt that Mrs Durby and the bottle of wine were the turning-point of Mrs Natly’s illness, and that but for them, poor Sam would have been a widower by that time. Mr Able, the director, was also there, bland and beaming, with a brother director who was anything but bland or beaming, being possessed of a grave, massive, strongly marked and stern countenance; but nevertheless, owning a similar spirit and a heart which beat high with philanthropic desires and designs—though few who came in contact with him, except his intimate friends, would believe it. There were also present an elderly clergyman and a young curate—both good, earnest men, but each very different in many respects from the other. The elder clergyman had a genial, hearty countenance and manner, and he dressed very much like other gentlemen. The young curate might have breakfasted on his poker, to judge from the stiffness of his back, and appeared to be afraid of suffering from cold in the knees and chest, to judge from the length of his surtout and the height of his plain buttonless vest.

When all were assembled on the green and the viands spread, the elder clergyman gave out a hymn; and the curate, who had a capital voice, led off, but he was speedily drowned by the gush of song that rose from the children’s lips. It was a lively hymn, and they evidently rejoiced to sing it. Then the elder clergyman made the children a short speech. It was amazingly brief, insomuch that it quite took the little ones by surprise—so short was it, indeed and so much to the point, that we will venture to set it down here.

“Dear children,” he said, in a loud voice that silenced every chattering tongue, “we have met here to enjoy ourselves. There is but one of your Sunday lessons which I will remind you of to-day. It is this,—‘Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.’ Before beginning, then, let us ask God’s blessing.”

Thereupon he asked a blessing, which was also so brief, that, but for the all-prevailing name of Jesus, with which he closed it, some of those who heard him would scarce have deemed it a prayer at all. Yet this elderly clergyman was not always brief.

He was not brief, for instance, in his private prayers for himself, his friends, and his flock. Brevity did not mark his proceedings when engaged in preparing for the Sabbath services. He was not brief when, in his study, he pleaded with some awakened but unbelieving soul to cast itself unreservedly on the finished work of our Saviour. He was a man who carried his tact and common-sense into his religious duties; who hated formalism, regarding it as one of the great stumbling-blocks in the progress of Christianity, and who endeavoured at all times to suit his words and actions to the circumstances of the occasion.

The children regarded him with a degree of affection that was all but irrepressible, and which induced them, at his earnest request, to sit still for a considerable time while his young brother gave them “a short address.” He was almost emphatic on the word short, but the young curate did not appear to take the hint, or to understand the meaning of that word either in regard to discourses or surtouts. He asserted himself in his surtouts and vests, without of course having a shadow of reason for so doing, save that some other young curates asserted themselves in the same way; and he asserted himself then and there in a tone of voice called “sermonising,” to which foolish young men are sometimes addicted, and which, by the way, being a false, and therefore irreligious tone, is another great stumbling-block in the way of Christianity. And, curiously enough, this young curate was really an earnest, though mistaken and intensely bigoted young man. We call him bigoted, not because he held his own opinions, but because he held by his little formalities with as much apparent fervour as he held by the grand doctrines of his religion, although for the latter he had the authority of the Word, while for the former he had merely the authority of man. His discourse was a good one, and if delivered in a natural voice and at a suitable time, might have made a good impression. As it was, it produced pity and regret in his elder brother, exasperation in Captain Lee, profound melancholy in Joseph Tipps, great admiration in Miss Stocks and the baby, and unutterable ennui in the children. Fortunately for the success of the day, in the middle of it, he took occasion to make some reference, with allegorical intentions, to the lower animals, and pointed to a pig which lay basking in the sunshine at no great distance, an unconcerned spectator of the scene. A rather obtuse, fat-faced boy, was suddenly smitten with the belief that this was intended as a joke, and dutifully clapped his hands. The effect was electrical—an irresistible cheer and clapping of hands ensued. It was of no use to attempt to check it. The more this was tried the more did the children seem to think they were invited to a continuance of their ovation to the young curate, who finally retired amid the hearty though unexpressed congratulations of the company.

By good fortune, the arrival of several more friends diverted attention from this incident; and, immediately after, Captain Lee set the children to engage in various games, among which the favourite was blindman’s-buff.

One of the new arrivals was Edwin Gurwood, who had come, he said, to introduce a gentleman—Dr Noble—to Mrs Tipps.

“Oh, the hypocrite!” thought Mrs Tipps; “he has come to see Emma Lee, and he knows it.”

Of course he knew it, and he knew that Mrs Tipps knew it, and he knew that Mrs Tipps knew that he knew it, yet neither he nor Mrs Tipps showed the slightest symptom of all that knowledge. The latter bowed to Dr Noble, and was expressing her happiness in making his acquaintance, when a rush of laughing children almost overturned her, and hurled Dr Noble aside. They were immediately separated in the crowd, and, strange to say, Edwin at once found himself standing beside Emma Lee, who, by some curious coincidence, had just parted from Netta, so that they found themselves comparatively alone. What they said to each other in these circumstances it does not become us to divulge.

While all parties were enjoying themselves to the full, including the young curate, whose discomfiture was softened by the kind attentions of Mrs Tipps and her daughter, an incident occurred which filled them with surprise and consternation. Dr Noble was standing at the time near the large tent looking at the games, and Nanny Stocks was not far from him choking the baby with alternate sweetmeats and kisses, to the horror of Joseph Tipps, who fully expected to witness a case of croup or some such infantine disease in a few minutes, when suddenly a tall man with torn clothes, dishevelled hair and bloodshot eyes, sprang forward and confronted Dr Noble.

“Ha!” he exclaimed with a wild laugh, “have I found you at last, mine enemy?”

Dr Noble looked at him with much surprise, but did not reply. He appeared to be paralysed.

“I have sought you,” continued the man, trembling with ill-suppressed passion, “over land and sea, and now I’ve found you. You’ve got the casket—you know you have; you took