Eric, or, Little by Little | Page 4

the mastership of the little country
grammar-school; and here the perpetual annoyance caused to his
refined mind by the coarseness of clumsy or spiteful boys, had
gradually unhinged his intellect. Often did he tell the boys "that it was
an easier life by far to break stones by the roadside than to teach them;"
and at last his eccentricities became too obvious to be any longer
overlooked.
The dénouement of his history was a tragic one, and had come a few
days before the time when, our narrative opens. It was a common
practice among the Latin school boys, as I suppose among all boys, to
amuse themselves by putting a heavy book on the top of a door left
partially ajar, and to cry out "Crown him" as the first luckless youngster
who happened to come in received the book thundering on his head.
One day, just as the trap had been adroitly laid, Mr. Lawley walked in

unexpectedly. The moment he entered the school-room, down came an
Ainsworth's Dictionary on the top of his hat, and the boy, concealed
behind the door, unconscious of who the victim was, enunciated with
mock gravity, "Crown him! three cheers."
It took Mr. Lawley a second to raise from his eyebrows the battered hat,
and recover from his confusion; the next instant he was springing after
the boy who had caused the mishap, and who, knowing the effects of
the master's fury, fled with precipitation. In one minute the offender
was caught, and Mr. Lawley's heavy hand fell recklessly on his ears
and back, until he screamed with terror. At last by a tremendous writhe,
wrenching himself free, he darted towards the door, and Mr. Lawley,
too exhausted to pursue, snatched his large gold watch out of his fob,
and hurled it at the boy's retreating figure. The watch flew through the
air;--crash! it had missed its aim, and, striking the wall above the lintel,
fell smashed into a thousand shivers.
The sound, the violence of the action, the sight of the broken watch,
which was the gift of a cherished friend, instantly woke the master to
his senses. The whole school had seen it; they sate there pale and
breathless with excitement and awe. The poor man could bear it no
longer. He flung himself into his chair, hid his face with his hands, and
burst into hysterical tears. It was the outbreak of feelings long pent up.
In that instant all his life passed before him--its hopes, its failures, its
miseries, its madness. "Yes!" he thought, "I am mad."
Raising his head, he cried wildly, "Boys, go, I am mad!" and sank again
into his former position, rocking himself to and fro. One by one the
boys stole out, and he was left alone. The end is soon told. Forced to
leave Ayrton, he had no means of earning his daily bread; and the
weight of this new anxiety hastening the crisis, the handsome proud
scholar became an inmate of the Brerely Lunatic Asylum. A few years
afterwards, Eric heard that he was dead. Poor broken human heart! may
he rest in peace.
Such was Eric's first school and schoolmaster. But although he learnt
little there, and gained no experience of the character of others or of his
own, yet there was one point about Ayrton Latin School, which he

never regretted. It was the mixture there of all classes. On those
benches gentlemen's sons sat side by side with plebeians, and no harm,
but only good, seemed to come from the intercourse. The neighboring
gentry, most of whom had begun their education there, were drawn into
closer and kindlier union with their neighbors and dependents, from the
fact of having been their associates in the days of their boyhood. Many
a time afterwards, when Eric, as he passed down the streets,
interchanged friendly greetings with some young glazier or tradesman
whom he remembered at school, he felt glad that thus early he had
learnt practically to despise the accidental and nominal differences
which separate man from man.
CHAPTER II
A NEW HOME
"Life hath its May, and all is joyous then; The woods are vocal and the
flowers breathe odour, The very breeze hath, mirth in't."--OLD PLAY.
At last the longed-for yet dreaded day approached, and a letter
informed the Trevors that Mr. and Mrs. Williams would arrive at
Southampton on July 5th, and would probably reach Ayrton the
evening after. They particularly requested that no one should come to
meet them on their landing. "We shall reach Southampton," wrote Mrs.
Trevor, "tired, pale, and travel-stained, and had much rather see you
first at dear Fairholm, where we shall be spared the painful constraint
of a meeting in public. So please expect our arrival at about seven in
the evening."
Poor