Peter the Whaler | Page 5

her slumbers on a rug at the door of the room occupied by my sisters. I
was, I may say, constitutionally brave, almost to fool-hardiness, and yet
on this occasion I felt the veriest coward in existence. Again I went
on--the door of the dressing-room was ajar--I was afraid to push it lest
it should creak on its hinges--I slowly moved it a little, and crept in.
The moonlight was streaming through an opening in the upper part of
the shutter on the coveted weapon. I grasped it eagerly, and slinging the
shot-belt and powder-horn, which was by it, over my shoulder, I
silently beat my retreat.
Now that I had won my prize, I felt much bolder, and without accident
I reached my room. Sleep I could not; so, carefully closing the door, I
spent the remainder of the night in cleaning my gun and getting ready

for my excursion. I got out of the house without being perceived, and,
closing the door behind me, even before the time agreed on I reached
the spot where I was to meet Doolan. A hoar frost lay on the grass, the
air was pure and bracing, my gun was in my hand, and plenty of
powder and shot in my belt; and this, with the exercise and excitement,
enabled me to cast away all regrets for my conduct, and all fear for the
result.
I anxiously watched for my companion as I walked up and down the
road to keep myself warm, till at last I began to fancy that some
accident must have happened to prevent his coming. It never occurred
to me that he could play me false. I had not learned to be suspicious of
any one. At last I saw him trudging across a field towards me, and
whistling as he came.
I could not have whistled if I had tried; but then, bad as he was, he was
not, like me, disobeying a kind parent. When I remember the sort of
person Doolan was (for his appearance was coarse and vulgar in the
extreme), I wonder he could have gained such an influence over me. I
believe that it was the boastful way in which he talked made me fancy
him so important. I was very innocent and confiding, in spite of the bad
company into which I had fallen; and I used to believe all the accounts
he gave me of his own adventures, and those of his own particular
friends. I have, fortunately, seldom met a man who could tell a
falsehood with such a bold, unblushing front. I had a great horror of a
falsehood, notwithstanding my numerous faults; I despised it as a mean,
cowardly way of getting out of a difficulty, or of gaining some
supposed advantage. I did not believe that a person older than myself
could possibly be guilty of telling one. I fancied that only very little
miserable children, or mean contemptible people, told stories; and I
therefore could not fancy that such a person as Doolan would even
condescend to say what was not true. I honestly say that I always
adhered to the truth myself; and to this circumstance I ascribe my not
having irretrievably sunk into the grade of society to which my too
frequent companions belonged. I have mentioned Doolan, whose faults
I would rather have forgotten; but I naturally wish to excuse myself as
much as I can, and to account for the influence he had gained over me--

an influence he never would have obtained had I known him to be what
I now know he was.
It would indeed be happy for the young if they always could learn the
true characters of their companions; and it is in this point that the
advice of their older friends is so valuable. They, by their experience of
others, are generally able to judge pretty correctly of persons, and often
discern very dangerous qualities which young people cannot perceive.
Therefore I say to my young friends, Avoid the acquaintance of those
against whom your relations, or those who take an interest in your
welfare, warn you, although you may think them, in your blindness,
very fine fellows, or even perfect heroes. I wish that I, Peter--your
friend, if you will so let me call myself--had thus followed the
oft-repeated warnings of my kind father, and kept clear of Pat Doolan.
Doolan's loud cheer, as we met, raised my spirits still more, and away
we trudged gaily enough towards the scene of our intended sport. He
laughed and talked incessantly without giving me a moment for thought,
so that when we reached the ground I was ready for anything. A hare
crossed my path. It belonged, I knew, to Lord Fetherston. I fired,
knocked it over,