week was dry and genial; and it had no
pleasanter moments than those spent on the beach at sunset, whither the
school flocked down after tea for half an hour's leisure in the after-
glow. There is plenty of amusement for them on this broad reach of
sand and shingle. Some are groping for shells or for pebbles, which the
lapidary will transform for a trifle into dazzling jewels; others are
playing ducks and drakes on the waves, or entertaining themselves like
Prospero's elves,
That on the sands, with printless feet, Do chase the ebbing Neptune,
and do fly him When he comes back again.
More pensive spirits saunter up and down the grassy terrace which
overlooks the beach, and watch the shifting line of dark figures seen
against the white wall of the breaker, or note the fugitive tints on the
dimpling surface of the water, or the wet margin of the tide. A group of
villagers is clustered round the water-fountain a few yards away; the
children chatter about us as they fill their pitchers; and the old women,
creeping homewards, cast a glance under their bonnets at the boys, and
exchange muttered comments with their gossips. Soon the cliffs of the
southern headland grow duskier and more remote; the sea fades to a
cold uniform gray; the colours of the brown twilight marsh and the
violet hills are lost in one another; and so, with a refreshing breath of
idyllic peacefulness, the stirring week came to an end. "Its evening
closed on a quiet scene of school routine, as if doubt and risk, turmoil
and confusion and fear, weary head and weary hand, had not been
known in the place. The wrestling-match against time was over, and
happy dreams came down on Uppingham by the Sea."
CHAPTER V.
--THE NEW COUNTRY.
All places that the eye of Heaven visits, Are to a wise man ports and
happy havens.
RICHARD II.
The primitive man, after he has satisfied the claims of appetite, stitched
his skin-mantle, and thatched a hut, may begin to spare time for
reflection on the quality and flavour of the prey he has eaten, or the
picturesqueness of his cabin. Till then his estimate of things is
quantitative. He asks not of what sort his food is, but whether there is
enough of it, and regards less the cut of his coat than its thickness.
The analogy of our circumstances must be our excuse for postponing so
long a description of our new settlement, its physical surroundings, and
the complexion of our domestic and social life. Not in truth that we had
returned to barbarism: but who could dilate on the beauty of mountain
scenery, in sight of which he was perhaps to starve; who would criticise
the pattern of his dinner-service, or be fastidious in carpets and wall-
paper, before he could reckon upon dinner, or call shelter his own?
But a week is over, and we have all settled into our berths. The boys
have found that there will be dinner every day; the masters that no one
will have to pitch his tent on a sand-dune, or spread a straw litter in a
bathing-machine. The level of comfort was, of course, not uniform.
How should it be? Probably there is a choice of corners in a workhouse
or casual-ward. Some of our party tasted the painful pleasures of the
poor in the scant accommodation and naked simplicity of cottage
lodgings. It was long after our arrival that we discovered a valued
friend still sitting on the corner of his packing-case, and brewing his
coffee on a washhand-stand. The fire smoked all day; but this vice in
the apartment was neutralised by a broken window. Yet he should be
quite happy, he said, if he could get a glazier and a sweep (like smoke
and draught, one would not do without the other), a bolster, an
occasional clean towel, and a little warm water in the morning.
Those who had brought a family with them into camp were more
seriously troubled with the cares of providing quarters, and pondered
regretfully on the peace and roominess of home. Still as we are leaving
no one houseless or dinnerless, we may turn aside to describe at more
leisure the place we lived in and the manner of our life.
The stage on which our little history was enacted is a maritime plain of
irregular semicircular shape, with a sea-front of five miles, and a depth
inland of from two to three miles. This plain, a dead level stretch of
peat, of which part is coming under cultivation, while part is still marsh,
is surrounded by a ring of hills, which rise in successive well- defined
ranges of increasing height, till they culminate in the summits of Cader
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the
Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.