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THE FRIENDS;

OR,

THE TRIUMPH OF INNOCENCE

OVER

A Tale, FOUNDED ON FACTS.

"TIME AT LAST SETS ALL THINGS EVEN."

LONDON: PRINTED FOR HARVEY AND DARTON, GRACECHURCH-STREET.

THE FRIENDS, &c.

In one of the pleasant villages in the beautiful county of Kent, was situated a boarding-school of considerable celebrity. It had, for many years, been distinguished for possessing an excellent master, in the person of the Rev. Dr. Harris, who, by his amiable manners and sound knowledge, had obtained the friendship of the surrounding gentry; while his fatherly interest in behalf of the affairs of the poor, caused him to be universally beloved. He was curate of the parish, as well as school-master; and his parishioners and scholars were alike the objects of his tender regard and anxious solicitude.

His family consisted of a wife and two daughters, who were equally respected by all who had the pleasure of their acquaintance. Mrs. Harris was, indeed, every way worthy of her amiable partner; and her greatest pleasure consisted in doing good. Although frequently herself in a very weak state of health; yet, neither the inclemency of the weather, nor the distance, deterred her from going, in person, to visit, to comfort, and to assist those of her fellow-creatures who were in distress. It was quite enough for her to know that any of her poorer neighbours were in want, to command her immediate aid; and, by thus setting them a good Christian example, she was better enabled to assist her amiable husband in enforcing the mild and wholesome doctrines of religion.

Her lovely daughters, too, Juliana and Eliza, were of sufficient ages to be her companions in these charitable visits; and their hearts panted for the power to do good, and longed to receive and to deserve such blessings as were bestowed, with grateful lips, upon their beloved mother, whenever she passed the cottages of the poor. They pitied their wants and sufferings, and participated and rejoiced in their happiness; and frequently expressed a desire for riches, to enable them to relieve their misfortunes. Upon such occasions, Mrs. Harris never failed to impress upon their young minds this valuable truth: that wealth does not always afford the best means of doing good. She used to say, that those children who sincerely wish to do an act of charity, seldom want the means of doing something to relieve the necessities and soothe the afflictions of those who are pining in wretchedness; for even a kind consoling word, with a very little personal attention, was often esteemed more valuable, and even proved to be more useful, than money, to those whose spirits as well as bodies were pressed down by distress. Added to this advice, this excellent lady seldom let an opportunity pass of enforcing the most strict and pious attention to their religious duties. Her motto was:

"Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see: That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me."

The school was at the extremity of the village, and attached to the parsonage-house. The situation was retired and beautiful. At a little distance stood the village church, in all its ancient simplicity, except that it had, for some years, been nearly covered with ivy; the most pleasing decoration that it is possible for Nature to bestow upon a country place of worship. Its green and glossy leaf, whether viewed by the soft glow of moon-light, or by the broad glare of sun-shine, is always an object of admiration.

The number of scholars was about forty; and in this, as in other schools, boys of various dispositions were to be found. Some possessed all the good temper and vivacity that could be wished; and their faults were seldom of so serious a nature as to demand more than a slight reproof: while others were morose, passionate, envious, and disobliging; imposing upon their younger school-fellows at every opportunity, and perplexing those of their own age by frequent interruptions in their sports and lessons.

Amongst the number of those who were generally beloved by their school-fellows, were Henry Wardour and George Harrington, the sons of two respectable tradesmen, who were partners in a very lucrative business in London. George had been so unfortunate as to lose his mamma when he was scarcely five years of age; and as he was the only child, Mrs. Wardour, who had always entertained great esteem for his parents, requested of his papa to allow her the pleasure of instructing him with her son Henry. To an offer so kind and advantageous, Mr. Harrington could have no objection; but fearing that the task would become irksome, and be too great an exertion for his friend, he endeavoured to persuade her from her purpose; when she replied: "The trouble, Sir, I beg you will not think about: it will be nothing. While teaching my own son, I shall feel a pleasure in imparting the same instruction to yours. Besides, I promised my dear friend Mrs. H. when on her death-bed, that I would be a parent to her son; therefore, Sir, I beg you will grant my request." Mr. Harrington consented, and deferred his plan of sending George to a preparatory school; and he was admitted at once into the house of Mrs. Wardour.

Henry, who was about eight months older than his friend, looked upon this arrangement with unusual joy. As he had no brother, George had hitherto been his frequent play-fellow; and the knowledge that he was now about to live in the same house, to eat, drink, sleep, and play with him, gave him a pleasure which he had never before felt.

Thus, from so early an association, their friendship became deeply rooted; and as Mrs. Wardour was a lady well qualified for the task she had imposed upon herself, the lads made considerable progress in their education, and continued to do so until they were eleven or twelve years of age, when their kind preceptress was attacked with a severe sickness. In this state she had continued upwards of a month, when her husband, seeing no immediate prospect of her recovery, and fearing the lads might lose all the learning they had received while under her care, prevailed upon her to let them be sent to school. To this she at length consented; and the school of Dr. Harris having been strongly recommended, they were put under the superintendence of that gentleman.

Before leaving home, however, their parents gave them their parting blessing; and Mr. Wardour, pressing them affectionately by the hand, told them they were now about to begin a little world for themselves: "therefore," said he, in an earnest and impressive manner, "may Heaven bless and direct all your actions, so that you may grow up to be honest, brave, and good men. And remember well what I now say: if ever I hear that you are quarrelsome, you will displease me much; but if I find that you are unjust in your dealings towards your school-fellows, I shall punish you severely. Above all, be friends to one another." With this advice, and a determination to attend to it, our little friends bid their parents farewell.

The dispositions of Henry and George were somewhat different, and yet they continued to be sincere friends. Henry was mild, good-natured, and patient. George was good-natured, but hasty and passionate; and though Mrs. Wardour took great pains to impress upon his youthful mind the danger he was continually in, from not being able to control his temper, she never succeeded in teaching him that mildness so much admired in her own son. But in every other respect he was truly amiable; and if, in his passion, he was ever led into any serious error, he never failed to beg pardon of those whom he had offended, and always made every amends in his power.

In personal appearance there was little similarity. Henry was weak, pale, and delicate: George, strong, fresh-coloured, and vigorous. Many a time had Mrs. Wardour watched over her weakly but truly beautiful boy, with an anxious eye, fearing that she should never be able to rear him to manhood. But since he had been with Dr. Harris, his health had much improved. His face, which had before been pale, was now tanned with the heat of the sun; and the fresh country air had given an additional brightness to his fine dark eyes: while the healthy round face, and plump appearance of George, seemed to improve in a like degree.

In short, these boys, by their politeness and good-nature, rather than by their appearance, were beloved by all their school-fellows, except a few of the malicious, envious dispositions, who only disliked them because they sometimes resisted their impositions, and detected their falsehoods.

With their master's family they were also more intimate; and though Dr. Harris never made any distinction, or showed any partiality to one boy more than to another, yet it was not so with his two daughters, Juliana and Eliza. They had their favourites; and though Henry and George were nearly the last comers, and had not been more than three months in the school, they had so won upon the young ladies, by their cheerfulness, and polite attention in gathering pretty flowers, cleaning their bird-cages, &c. as to be their decided favourites.

Mrs. Harris had also entertained a regard for Henry, from the moment she first saw him, as he strongly resembled a late son of hers, who was unfortunately drowned when about his age.

It had been a custom in Dr. Harris's school to admit an aged woman, once a week, to call with cakes, lozenges, and other sweetmeats; and as she was very poor, each lad was allowed, and indeed expected, to lay out a penny with her. This they did very willingly, not merely because she generally had a good assortment of those things which little boys are fond of, but because she was cheerful, civil, and obliging; and frequently took in good part, the tricks they so often played upon her. She used also to bring her grand-daughter Emma with her, for the purpose of taking the money, and carrying her basket, which was a pleasing duty to this little girl, for she dearly loved her grandmother.

This well-intended plan of compelling the boys to spend their money in the school-room, though of benefit to Dame Higgins, at length caused a violent irruption, by giving the elder boys an opportunity of imposing upon the younger ones; when, if they had been allowed to have spent their half-pence in the village, they might have evaded the impost which was laid upon them. The old woman used to arrive regularly every Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, which were half-holidays; and Dr. Harris, fearing that if all were admitted at one time, she might be confused, had ordered that they should proceed by rotation, but only six at a time; consequently, the biggest boys always entered first, and then waited at the other door till the rest came out with their cakes, fruit, or sweetmeats. Now, so much power had the elder boys, over the rest, that they regularly exacted from them either a plum, a cake, a pear, or something of what they had purchased.

Soon after Henry and George had arrived at the school, and they were passing through the door which led into the play-ground, with their cakes, they were stopped, amongst the rest, and asked by Walker for a bit of something; and as they saw most of the boys gave one thing or other, and being themselves good-natured, they readily bestowed their portion; and this was repeated for three or four weeks.

About this time little Ned Hooper, a lad much liked by most of the boys for his mirth and good humour, came up to George, with a tear in his eye, and said, "Look here! see what these fellows have left me, out of what I bought: they have taken above half," added he, showing a few lozenges, "and all because I said they ought to be ashamed of themselves for so doing."

"Ashamed, indeed!" cried George, with indignation; "and are those all they have left you?"

"Yes; and they had as many from me last week, but I did not say any thing about it," said Ned.

"Why did you give them any this week, if they had so many from you the week before?" asked Henry.

"Because I am not strong enough to prevent them, or they should not have one from me. But it is so with all us little boys. They take some of our gingerbread or fruit from us every week." And he then walked away crying.

They then joined the rest at play, having resolved to make them acquainted with their determination before the next arrival of Dame Higgins.

"What is it?" "How shall we do it?" was asked by many an anxious and eager boy, who had long wished to have some one whom they might look up to as their leader.

"Why, we were thinking," said George, "that it is a shameful thing for so many of us to submit to be robbed by so small a number of boys, merely because they are a little bigger than ourselves; and therefore Henry and I have determined to refuse giving another cake or sweetmeat, provided you will support us."

"We will, we will," they cried. "And they shall soon find out they are not to rob us when they please," cried little Ned. "But how do you intend to do it," he asked, laying hold of George's hand.

"Why to-morrow," said he, "Dame Higgins will be here again; and I have no doubt but that the same demand will be made of us as heretofore; but Henry and myself, with some others, will immediately follow them, and when they make their request, we will refuse to comply, and hold them at bay till the rest arrive, when we will boldly resist, and force our way into the play-ground."

At length the important day arrived, which, as usual, brought Dame Higgins to the school. The morning had passed in rather a confused manner; and a constant buzzing and whispering was heard throughout the little assembly. "I don't mind a thrashing," said little Ned, in a whisper to George, "if I can preserve my cakes, and disappoint those greedy fellows." He had no sooner uttered the words, than the well-known voice of Dame Higgins was heard, and his determination was put to the test; for the elder boys hastened, as usual, to her basket, purchased what they wanted, and took their stations at the next door. Henry, George, and Ned, accompanied by three of the most resolute boys, immediately followed, and, as was agreed upon, refused to give a single sweetmeat; they were therefore stopped in their passage through the room, when they were happily joined by their comrades. They now determined to force their way through, and had just made a grand rush, when, to their surprise and mortification, Dr. Harris appeared before them. They shrunk back with amazement: Greene and his companions through shame, and Henry and his friends from fear.

The Doctor seeing their confusion, called upon Greene, who was the eldest boy, to explain the cause of it; but Greene was silent. "What is the reason of this disturbance?" he again asked. "I insist upon knowing. Some one tell me immediately."

Henry, who was not at all desirous of informing Dr. Harris of the affair, would now willingly have made his retreat, had not little Ned, with some others, stepped forward at the time, which reminded him it was their cause, and not his own, that he was to plead. The master now mentioned his name, and demanded of him the cause of the riot. He therefore plainly stated the case, and told every thing connected with it; and when he had finished, many a little boy took courage to tell his piteous tale, of what he had lost by the tyranny of the elder scholars, and begged their master would prevent it in future.

"As to the cakes," said little Ned, "as to the cakes, I'll be bound to say, there are as many in their boxes as would fill a cake-shop."

The boxes were immediately searched, and although not quite so many were found as little Ned supposed, yet there were sufficient to convince their master of the truth of the statement he had just heard. He therefore gave them a severe punishment, in the presence of the little boys whom they had been so long in the habit of ill-treating; and distributed all the apples, sweetmeats, and other things which he found, including about seven hundred marbles, to the joyous crowd, who were congratulating each other upon their victory.

Henry and George now stood very high in the estimation of the great majority of their school-fellows. They were caressed, honoured, and looked upon as their first boys; while Greene and his friends were treated with contempt and derision. They had no longer the power to command and overawe the rest, with a blow or a black look. Their power had ceased; but, unfortunately, the chastisement they had received, instead of convincing them of their error, had only roused their evil dispositions; and they now anxiously looked for an opportunity to avenge the punishment they had received, through the interference of Henry Wardour, against whom, in particular, they had an inveterate spite. Nor did they long wish in vain; for, in a very short time, another occurrence took place, of a far more serious nature, and which had nearly thrown Henry into a severe illness. It was nothing less than a suspicion of theft. His bed-fellow, whose name was Scott, when he arose one morning, discovered that his box had been broken open, and his purse, which had contained a new sovereign and two or three shillings, had been emptied of its contents, and then replaced under his Sunday clothes. Scott missed the money while looking for some trifling article in his box; and having mentioned the thing, the boys collected round him to hear his account of the matter. There were also some boys who came out of another room up stairs, and among them Greene and Walker, who, having heard what Scott had to say, at once declared, that it was impossible for any one but the boy who slept in the same room, to have stolen the money.

George, who heard this direct charge against his friend Henry, instantly fired up, and, in his passion, flew upon Greene, who had made the charge, and struck him; when a scuffle ensued, the noise of which brought out Dr. Harris, who, upon hearing an account of the loss from Scott, told him that he was very likely to have mislaid the money somewhere; and that he had no doubt but that, if he made search for it, he would soon find it. George, with whom he was extremely angry for his rashness in striking Greene, was immediately ordered into the school-room, and punished by having a long lesson given him to learn. Before he went, he turned round to Dr. Harris, and said that he was sorry for having struck Greene; but he should have been ashamed of himself, if he had stood quietly by, and heard his friend accused in his absence, of so shameful a crime. "I am sure," he added, with his usual vehemence, his face reddening, and his hand closely clenched, "that Henry is not guilty; and Greene ought to be ashamed of himself, for making such a charge against him."

Greene, who stood behind the other boys wiping his face, which was a little bruised by the blow he had received, then said, "that he should not be surprised if Master George himself had had something to do in it; for he seemed very much offended by what he had said."

"Silence! silence, boys!" cried Dr. Harris. "How dare you make such accusations against each other! The money may have been mislaid, and will, no doubt, be found. I desire that a strict search may be made: until that is done, let me not hear another word about it. I never had a thief in my school; and if I ever find a boy out in such practices, he shall meet with the severest punishment I can inflict."

Every eye was now anxiously looking out for Henry Wardour, who had obtained leave of Mrs. Harris, to accompany her daughters, to gather some flowers at the gardeners, and to go on another little errand or two. For so much was Henry beloved by this good lady, that she had made him her little messenger; and whenever she wanted to send any thing into the town, he was sure to be the lad chosen so carry it. Dr. Harris was made acquainted with his absence this morning, but wished for his return, that he might question him as to this unpleasant affair.

The business, however, which Henry had been sent upon, detained him until after school had commenced; and, having hastened with his breakfast, and brushed his clothes, he immediately entered the school, when all eyes were directed towards him. Henry being a very bashful lad, could not bear this unusual stare; and fearing, at the same time, that Dr. Harris had been saying something about his long absence, he blushed deeply, as he hung his hat upon the peg and took his seat.

Walker, who sat at the further end of the same desk, seeing Henry somewhat confused, cried out, loud enough for some of the boys to hear him, "Look at him!" When George, who sat near, turned round, and said, "Well, what do you see?" "Why, guilt in his face," added Greene.

This conversation would probably have continued, had not Dr. Harris, who had hitherto been engaged at his desk, suddenly arose from his seat, and walked down the school; when, observing Henry in his place, he, with a smile on his countenance, beckoned him to follow to his desk, which Henry immediately obeyed, though with a trembling step.

During this long interview with Dr. Harris, Henry was alternately depressed and surprised. At one moment a tear would be seen to start in his eye, and at another he seemed about to appeal to his school-fellows, when he was soothed by the kindness of his master, who told him to calm his fears, and return to his seat for the morning, assuring him of his assistance to clear up the matter.

As Henry walked down the school, with a dejected countenance, his eye instinctively turned toward his friend George, who had been anxiously observing him during the whole time his master had been conversing with him. It seemed to George to say, "I am charged with a serious fault, and I shall stand in need of all the help you can afford me;" and a careless observer might, in a moment, have seen, by the friendly and benignant smile upon George's face, that he would surely have it.

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