The Early Life of Mark Rutherford | Page 9

Such was the awful
consequence of creation by a No-God or nothing.
In 1841 or 1842--I forget exactly the date--I was sent to what is now
the Modern School. My father would not let me go to the Grammar
School, partly because he had such dreadful recollections of his
treatment there, and partly because in those days the universities were
closed to Dissenters. The Latin and Greek in the upper school were not
good for much, but Latin in the lower school--Greek was not
taught--consisted almost entirely in learning the Eton Latin grammar by
heart, and construing Cornelius Nepos. The boys in the lower school
were a very rough set. About a dozen were better than the others, and
kept themselves apart.
The recollections of school are not interesting to me in any way, but it
is altogether otherwise with playtime and holidays. School began at
seven in the morning during half the year, but later in winter. At
half-past eight or nine there was an interval of an hour for breakfast. It
was over when I got home, and I had mine in the kitchen. It was
dispatched in ten minutes, and my delight in cold weather then was to
lie in front of the fire and read Chambers' Journal. Blessings on the
brothers Chambers for that magazine and for the Miscellany, which
came later! Then there was Charles and Mary Lamb's Tales of Ulysses.
It was on a top shelf in the shop, and I studied it whilst perched on the
shop ladder. Another memorable volume was a huge atlas-folio, which
my sister and I called the Battle Book. It contained coloured prints,
with descriptions of famous battles of the British Army. We used to lug

it into the dining-room in the evening, and were never tired of looking
at it. A little later I managed to make an electrical machine out of a
wine bottle, and to produce sparks three-quarters of an inch long. I had
learned the words "positive" and "negative", and was satisfied with
them as an explanation, although I had not the least notion what they
meant, but I got together a few friends and gave them a demonstration
on electricity.
Never was there a town better suited to a boy than Bedford at that time
for out-of-door amusements. It was not too big--its population was
about 10,000--so that the fields were then close at hand. The
Ouse--immortal stream--runs through the middle of the High Street. To
the east towards fenland, the country is flat, and the river is broad, slow,
and deep. Towards the west it is quicker, involved, fold doubling
almost completely on fold, so that it takes sixty miles to accomplish
thirteen as the crow flies. Beginning at Kempston, and on towards
Clapham, Oakley, Milton, Harrold, it is bordered by the gentlest of hills
or rather undulations. At Bedford the navigation for barges stopped,
and there were very few pleasure boats, one of which was mine. The
water above the bridge was strictly preserved, and the fishing was good.
My father could generally get leave for me, and more delightful days
than those spent at Kempston Mill and Oakley Mill cannot be imagined.
The morning generally began, if I may be excused the bull, on the
evening before, when we walked about four miles to bait a celebrated
roach and bream hole. After I got home, and just as I was going to bed,
I tied a long string round one toe, and threw the other end of the string
out of window, so that it reached the ground, having bargained with a
boy to pull this end, not too violently, at daybreak, about three-quarters
of an hour before the time when the fish would begin to bite well. At
noon we slept for a couple of hours on the bank. In the evening we had
two hours more sport, and then marched back to town. Once, in order
to make a short cut, we determined to swim the river, which, at the
point where we were, was about sixty feet wide, deep, and what was of
more consequence, bordered with weeds. We stripped, tied our clothes
on the top of our heads and our boots to one end of our fishing lines,
carrying the other end with us. When we got across we pulled our boots
through mud and water after us. Alas! to our grief we found we could
not get them on, and we were obliged to walk without them. Swimming

we had been taught by an old sailor, who gave lessons to the school,
and at last I could pick up an egg from the bottom of the overfall, a
depth of about ten feet. I have also been upset from my boat, and had to
lie stark naked