Troublesome Tom Page

Whose house is that which stands upon that gentle sloping bank on the edge of the brook, just where the water runs under the little wooden bridge, and where many trees form a pleasant shade? That is farmer Page's house, and that person walking before the house, leading a little girl by the hand, is Mrs. Page and her daughter Mary.

Mr. Page and his wife had three children besides Mary. Their eldest child was Thomas, then came Mary, Sarah was the next in age, and Jane was the youngest, and quite a baby, when Thomas was ten years old. Mr. and Mrs. Page were humble honest people, and tried to do their best for their children; but perhaps they thought too much of Tom, because he was the only son; and if they did not, there was one who did, or who pretended she did--this person was Barbara James; she had been Tom's nurse, and whenever anything went cross with the boy at home, he used to make off to Barbara's to tell his troubles, and he was sure to be soothed and flattered by her.

Mrs. Page did not know how Barbara flattered Tom. She thought that she was a harmless, hard-working person, because whenever she went to her cottage she found her spinning. Tom was sent to the free school in the church-yard to learn to read and write, but his father required him when he was at home between school hours to help in any work which might be useful. Mr. Page bad a fine team of oxen. They had been put to feed in a meadow. The creatures were quiet, and when left alone they would hurt no one, but Tom being sent one evening with the cow-herd to drive them home, he goaded one of them behind with a pointed stick till the beast got furious, and he had to run from it to save his life.

When Tom Page got home, he made a false story of the affair to his mother, and she prevented his being sent again for the beasts. When the naughty boy had run away from the oxen, the herdsman had some trouble to get them in order again, but after a while they knew his voice and went quietly to their stalls. Tom might have learned a good lesson from the example of these oxen, for they knew and heeded the voice of their keeper; but he paid no regard whatever to the words of his parents, and from day to day became more and more wilful; his name too was getting up in the parish, and the villagers began to call him Troublesome Tom.

Soon after the business of the oxen, his father said to him one summer's evening, "my boy, you shall take the white sow and her pigs out upon the green, to get a little run and change of food, but mind, don't over-drive the young ones."

"Very well, father," replied Tom, for he did not dare to show himself as he was to his father.

"Well!" said Tom, when he got out clear upon the green with the sow and her young ones, "well! so I am raised to the honour of being a pig-driver!"

Then he began to hiss and to hoot, which set the sow to trot and the little ones to run, curling their tails and shaking their ears.

Tom ran also and hissed louder; and thus they went on till they had quite crossed the green, and come near to a fine neat quick-set hedge, which enclosed a pretty flower-garden. The ladies who owned this garden had great delight in it, and though it was not large, it was very beautiful, being filled with fruit trees and rare flowers. Troublesome Tom had often seen this garden from the green before, but he had never been in it, for though he had tried the gate once or twice, he had always found it fastened.

I will try again, however, thought he--and so ceasing from his shouts and hisses he placed his hands on the top rail and shook it well.

So he shook and shook, with his hands first, and then with his back, till at last the hinges, being a little rusty, gave way, the gate flew open, and down he fell all his length on the gravel; and it was well for him that his nose was uppermost. He was soon up again, for he wanted to find out if there was any fruit he might lay his hands on.

He had just spied a cherry-tree near to a small green house, when he was startled by a grunt close behind him, and on turning round he saw the old sow and all her farrow in the very midst of a fine flower-bed, with their noses among the roots. Some of the fairest flowers were under their feet, and two or three flower-pots lay smashed already, whilst others were in the greatest danger. Tom was as angry with the pigs as if he had not himself led the way, which made him drive at the sow and the little pigs with his stick so violently that they all set to run, and all in different ways. Tom, however, cunningly kept to the heels of the old lady, trusting that if he could get her out of the garden, the little ones would come at her call, that is if he could succeed in keeping her from running in again. So Tom got clear of the garden with his pigs, and thought himself very lucky, for he did not believe that any one had seen him.

It was soon after the affair of the pigs that Mrs. Powel, a friend of Mrs. Page, came from the nearest town to drink tea at the farm--and brought with her a little girl, her only daughter. Little Miss, thought Tom, looks uncommonly fine with her curled hair, and her hat all on one side, and her blown out sleeves, and her small basket in her hand. But if I don't put her out of conceit with her pretty self before she goes, why my name is not Tom.

So when his mother and her visitor were busy talking, and Mary and Sarah gone out to pick some currants, he went up to the little girl and invited her to walk with him into the garden.

"Be sure to take care of her, Tom," said his mother; "little Miss Bessy is not used to our rough country ways."

"Oh! yes, mother," replied Tom, "I will take care of her."

And where did this rude boy take her but to the bee-hive. He led her up quite close to it, and then contriving to disturb the bees, he ran away himself, whilst two of them settled upon the poor child and stung her, one on the neck, and the other on the brow. So sorry did he pretend to be at this accident that he escaped all punishment again for that time, although this offence being wilful and intended, was very far from a light one. Tom made so many excuses for having taken the little Miss near the hive, that Mrs. Powel fancied that his heart was broken about it, and good-natured Bessy set herself to comfort him.

"It was not your fault, master Tom," she said, "you did not mean to take me into danger, did you?"

"No, indeed, Miss," replied Tom boldly.

Twenty times at least, whilst they were at table drinking their tea, Tom inquired of Bessy how she felt herself. "I hope those stings don't smart, Miss," he said at one time; and at another it was, "you are not in pain, Miss, I hope;" and so on it went till Mrs. Powel was quite taken with his kindness, and invited his father to bring him the next fair-day to play with Bessy, and eat some dinner.

"I am expecting to be at the fair," replied Mr. Page, "for I have a capital young cart-horse to sell, and I shall have great pleasure in bringing my son."

Tom was very well pleased with this invitation, though that very week before the fair day arrived, he made his father so angry by throwing a stone at their dog Ranger, that he had nearly lost the pleasure.

"Son Tom," said Farmer Page, "I am told that you go by the name of Troublesome Tom in the village, more's the shame! and I have been told of some of the pranks by which you have deserved the name. Now, may be you have not yet begun to suffer for your ill-behaviour: but as sure as I stand here, you will one day or another reap the fruits of what you have sown, and a bitter harvest, I tell you, it will be, There is an old good saying, Duty is Safety: let a child act dutifully, that is, in obedience to the will of his parents and masters, and he is in the way of safety--let him go against their will, and he makes to himself as many foes as he has acquaintances."

Tom looked sulky, but he mumbled out some words of promise that he would try to do better, and thus it happened that Mr. Page took Tom with him to the fair.

Little John Powel, Bessy's brother, had a fine rocking-horse, it was too small for Tom, his legs touched the ground when he was upon it, but it was what he called fun to put the little boy in the saddle, and to rock it furiously whilst he cried, "whoop! whoop! gallop! gallop! ge! ho!" The little boy in vain cried, "Oh stop! Oh stop! pray stop!"--but Troublesome Tom did not choose to hear him, and the wooden horse was at length thrown forward with such violence that little John fell over its head, and Bessy who was the first to run in, shrieked till her mamma came to pick him up.

When the little one was taken up, Tom was not to be found--the troublesome boy had run off and did not come in till dinner was ready, and then he stood out that he had left the hall just before John had fallen, and the child could not prove that it was not true, because he had his back to where Tom was standing. On their way home Mr. Page said to his son, "It seems very odd to me, Tom, that so many mishaps fall out wherever you go; see to it, boy; I promise you that you are well watched, and the very first time that you are caught at any mischief, I will make you feel in such a way as you never felt before."

"Barbara," said Tom, as he stopped at her door in his way from school the next half holiday, "father has been scolding me, and threatening me with a flogging, and all because he says I am troublesome."

"And aint all boys troublesome?" said the nurse. "What is it you have done?"

Before Tom could answer, there came a woman along the lane with a boy; they were driving a young ass, and they stopped before the cottage door.

"Mistress," said the woman to Barbara, "tell us the way to the sign post at the cross roads--be we to turn to the right or the left at the end of this lane?"

"To the left," cried Tom, from behind Barbara.

"Eh! master Page," said the nurse.

"Silence!" whispered Tom, then adding aloud, "To the left, you must turn to the left, and then you must turn again to the right, and then over the green, and you will not find it more than four short miles."

"Four miles!" cried the woman, "I did not count it so far, by the half--four miles more and me so footsore."

"Is not that fun?" said Tom, when the people were gone on. "If I have sent them one mile, I have sent them three round about."

And so saying, unrebuked by Barbara, he left her cottage. As he was climbing up a bank through a narrow way shaded by bushes, he saw a boy going up the path before him with a bat for playing cricket in his hand. He called aloud to him, "Eh Rogers, is that you? what are you doing here?"

"Oh! it's you, Tom Page," answered the boy--"be quiet, can't you, there's farmer Tomkins, and four of our school chaps just above--and they have seen a rabbit run into the bushes; when the farmer has his gun ready, they will shout and drive him out."

"How came you all here?" asked Tom.

"We have been playing at cricket," replied Roger.

"And did not let me know," returned Tom; "but I will be even with you." And he began to shout as loud as he could, "a rabbit! a rabbit! let's kill a rabbit!"

At the noise made by Tom, the farmer turned round, and the rabbit took the occasion to make its escape. When the boys found their sport spoiled, they turned at once upon Tom; but he had made off again, and had got within his father's fold-yard before any of them could catch him.

When Tom got home he found that two of the neighbouring farmers had dropped in; and Mr. Page had asked them to stay and partake of what was in the house. As the day was very hot, Mrs. Page had set the table in the garden before the porch, and whilst the two farmers were taking a little cider and some bread and cheese before dinner, the daughter of one of them and the wife of the other dropped in. These also had been invited to dine on such as Mrs. Page had, for they all were old and intimate friends. Mrs. Page went away with her visitors as soon as the cloth was removed, and the ale-jug and long glasses were set on the board. But Tom sat still at the table. It would have been better for him if he had left when his mother did.

She was no sooner gone than the younger of the two visitors began to jest and banter Tom on the name which he had earned in the village.

Tom got very angry, and said he did not know why he was to have a bad name more than another.

"Why, you don't deny," said the young man, "that you have worked as hard to get the name you have as any boy ever did to get a better."

"You know nothing about me," answered Tom sulkily.

"Don't I?" said the other laughing, "don't I? Who sent the trampers this morning three miles round to look for the cross tree not half a mile off? who goaded the beasts with a sharp stick?" he added, lowering his voice to a whisper, "and who drove the pigs into the old ladies' garden?"

"What's that? what's that?" asked Mr. Page, who had heard more than the young man meant he should hear. "Tom! Tom!" he added, looking very hard at his son. "What! more of your pranks? It's no laughing matter, neighbour, and shall be none," he said, striking his hand on the table till every glass jingled. "I have promised, and I will keep my promise, that I will make every bone in your skin to ache, son Tom, for the first piece of wilful mischief that comes fairly before me."

"I won't look to the past,--so mind you to take care of the future, and then all will be square between us. Now walk off, and as you hope for safety, be dutiful to your mother and me, and all we put in authority over you."

"But, father," said Tom, in a whining voice, "you must not believe"--

"Say no more," cried Mr. Page, interrupting him--"go and play with your sisters, they are the best company you can have. I only wish you were half as good as Mary."

Tom walked away, muttering as he went, "Half as good as Mary! so I am not half as good as Mary; and father thinks I will stay at home and play with Mary--very likely, but what shall I do this evening? I don't know what to do--let me consider, father won't get rid of his company before late. He is fast enough for one while. Well, then I suppose I go a fishing down the brook, along towards the pools; under the old big bridge--father won't know, he seldom comes that way."

Mr. Page had told his son never to go fishing on that side, because the pool into which the stream flowed in its way towards the sea was deep and dangerous, and beyond the pool the stream was fearfully rapid. There were a few huts among the sands, on the borders of the sea, and the people who lived there were known to be smugglers. Smugglers are persons who deal in articles brought over the sea, for which what is called duties ought to be paid to Government.

The first thing Tom went about after leaving the company, was to go after his fishing tackle, and next to call Ranger, who walked with him down to the brook and along its bank, until they came to the old bridge. There Tom found a very little boy, called Short Sam, who was angling with a hazel stick instead of a proper rod, a piece of fine twine, and a crooked pin, which he had plastered with a bit of dough.

"What are you doing there, Sam?" said Tom.

"I am going to get some fish for granny's supper," answered the little boy.

"But," said Tom, "you will never catch any fish where you now stand; the fish can see you just there, and they will not come near.

Short Sam had taken the very place which Tom had fancied for himself, and he was to get it from the little one.

"Where should I be to fish?" asked Sam.

"Come with me, answered Tom, come upon the bridge, and I will set you on the wall, and then you will have the chance of seeing where the fish are, and no chance of their seeing you."

So Tom went with him upon the bridge, and helped to set him on the low wall which guarded the road with his short legs dangling over the water.

"There you are," said Tom, "mind you don't tip forwards; but if you do, I will pick you up." So saying he left the child, and went himself where he had first found him.

Tom had hardly thrown out his line, and Short Sam was just preparing to do the same, when who should come that way across the bridge, but Sam's father himself. The father's first business was, to draw Sam back from his perch, and to set him on his short legs in a safe place, after which he gave him a hearty blow, bidding him to go home to his granny, saying, "Will you do that again? will you?"

"It was Master Page," sobbed the child, "Master Page put me there."

"Was it?" cried the father, as he came forwards again towards the wall of the bridge, and told Tom that he might have caused the death of the poor helpless child by his tricks, and he promised him, Mr. Page should know the mischief he had been at before any of them were an hour older.

Tom waited not to hear any more, for the man had turned from the parapet, and the boy feared that he was coming down to beat him. Tom was a great coward as most mischievous persons are; so he snatched up his fishing-basket and away he ran under the bridge, and down the side of the brook, his rod in his hand, with his line flying loose from the end of it, and Ranger ran with him. As soon as Tom was out of sight of the angry father, he thought he would seat himself down, and again throw his line into the water, but the boy was not to fish in peace that day, for fresh trouble came on him. Suddenly turning a corner, he perceived before him eight or nine of his school-fellows amusing themselves by different boyish sports, and at one glance Tom saw that the same five boys were amongst them who had been seeking the rabbit in the morning, and who had been annoyed in their diversion by his shouts. Two of them were practising leaping, the one with a pole, the other by a standing jump. And Tom hoped they would be so much engaged in their play that they would not see him; but he hoped in vain, for Ranger just choosing the moment for a bark or cough, the boys looked up and knew him and his dog.

"There is Tom Page," cried one, "let us catch him, and give him a good thrashing for spoiling our sport; come boys, after him." Tom waited to hear no more, but sprung forwards running, he knew not where. Seeing that he feared their approach, the boys threw down their leaping-poles and prepared to pursue him.

"Fair and softly," cried one of the bigger boys, "nine to one is no joke. Tom has not ill-used us all, we should not all race after him."

So here are five of the boys racing after Tom, but the lad has got the start of them so far, that he and Ranger are not to be seen. Four of the boys are watching to see the race, that it is all fair as they call it; but they were soon unable to judge, as their companions ran after Tom down towards the bank of the pool, or trout-stream, which fell into the sea some miles distant. Fortunately for Tom, these five boys hindered each other, for none liked to be last, and if they were by chance left so, and there must of necessity be one the hindmost--that one clung to the coat or collar of him before, and prevented him running with ease.

On, on, ran Tom, with Ranger at his heels, till he was quite out of breath, whilst the shouts and threats of his pursuers were borne on the wings of the wind so quickly to his ears, that more than once he fancied he could feel the hand of one or another upon his dress. This only urged him on, and finding his breath failing him, he looked around him eagerly for some hiding place. But nothing could he see, but the short grassy bank which bordered the side of the pool; for though the reeds and sedges grew high, the spots where they grew in plenty, were so marshy, that Tom could not hope to hide himself amongst them. Close to the bank, however, and fastened to a post by a rope, was a small boat, which belonged to a fisherman of the neighbourhood; and as Tom's legs ached from running, and the boys' threats still rang in his ears, he jumped into the boat, and without waiting to think, he unwound the rope which fastened it to the post.

Ranger would have got into the boat after him, but Tom remembered at that moment, that it was Ranger's bark which had roused the boys, and becoming very angry, he gave the faithful creature more bad names than I choose to write down in this book. Poor patient Ranger, how quietly he stands now; and yet you would hardly fancy that, a moment or two ago, he had to run away from Tom as fast as he could, for the naughty boy threw a large wooden peg, which he had found in the bottom of the boat, against the gentle animal, As the dog went off Tom became aware that the boat was in motion, and he was very glad to find it was moving away, for his school-fellows were just coming in sight, and he much feared being caught by them.

They came down to the water's edge, and Roger mockingly wished him a pleasant journey; adding, "if the stream were to swallow you up, cockle-shell and all, master Tom, the world would be much the better for getting rid of so troublesome a fellow as you are."

Tom knew they could not come near him to touch him, so he began to abuse them, calling them cowards. "For it is only cowards like you," he said, "who would fight five to one."

"Who is so great a coward as yourself, Tom Page?" cried Roger, shouting as loud as he could; for the boat was carrying Tom away from them. "Who is so great a coward as you, Tom Page, who are afraid of speaking out your bad and insolent language, till you know you are far enough to escape a thrashing? but mind, lad, you shall have it when next I catch you! for this is not the first of twenty times that you have deserved it."

"Ay," cried another boy, as the lads walked up the bank; "I should say that whenever you meet Tom Page, Roger, you should give him a cuffing, for he either has deserved it, or will deserve it in five minutes afterwards for his troublesome ways."

But to return to Tom, whose mocking laugh and insulting words were no longer heard by his school-fellows. The boat moved along so gently down the stream that the foolish boy, seeing there were two oars in it, fancied that he could, whenever he wished it, turn it about and go wherever he chose. He had a great habit of talking to himself when he had no other person to whom he could speak; and, as he had much to say to himself in his strange, new condition, he went muttering on all the way.

"Well," he said, "this is fine; I have distanced the lads nicely, but I should not relish going very far neither. The boat don't move much I think, but those rushes on the bank there look as if they were swimming along at a fine rate--it is the water that makes them look so. Eh! but it is not--surely--no, it can't be the boat. Well to be sure, and it is the boat; I think I must be looking out for some nice place to land in, for it won't do to go on at this rate much longer. But what must I do?" he next thought, "I shan't like to go home till bed-time, for if Sam's father has gone up with his silly story to our house, why then I shall get a thrashing; so I must wait till it is time to sneak off to bed. Father goes to market to-morrow, and if he has not something to think of besides me and short Sam the day after that, why then we must have it out between us, I suppose. But I am not the idiot to go home now and find father piping hot about the matter."

Poor Tom Page, what a sad state he was in, though he was then as indifferent to the danger that threatened his body, as he was to that which threatened his soul. Tom's bad actions were now endangering his life, though, as I said before, he did not know the risk he ran; and so he went gently gliding down in his boat, for the current was not strong, and for a time all was pleasant. But the boy knew he was doing wrong, and his mind was not at ease; though, for the present, not quite satisfied with his own way of going on, yet he was very far from wishing to do right; and now, his conscience not letting him rest, he began to find excuses for his conduct.

"What a little fool that short Sam is," he said aloud, "why could he not take care of himself? Or why could he not have got off the parapet when he heard his father coming? Then, too, why did he say I put him there? But I promise him be shall suffer for telling of me; the very next time I catch him I will give him a thrashing. If it had not been for him I should not have been seen by Roger and the lads, and then I should not have got into this boat--for, to own the truth, I do not think I know how to get it to land. Well, I shall presently meet with some fishermen, and I am sure they cannot be so ill-natured as not to help me." So, for a while longer, Tom and his boat went on unchecked; but soon the boy perceived the night was approaching, which made him seriously anxious to land, and for this purpose he stooped to take up the oars from the bottom of the boat; but oh! how alarmed he was, and what a fearful shriek he uttered when he found the boat swayed from side to side in a most alarming manner at the least motion.

"Oh, I wish I was back again," he cried, "that I was at home with mother and Mary. Oh, father, help! help! Oh, father, father. Oh! oh!" he cried again on venturing to look behind him, and seeing how far he was from where he left the shore. "Oh! oh! the banks are going from me--I shall be drowned, I shall be drowned--Oh what shall I do?" In his alarm he dropped his rod, which he had held till that time in his hand, into the water, but he was too much occupied by his dangerous situation even to think of it, much less to regret its loss. As the stream approached nearer the sea, it increased in width, and the low banks all round seemed very far away. The sun was getting low, and was looking fiery, and it shed a red glow upon the sea.

"Oh! oh!" cried Tom again, on first perceiving the sea; "Oh! oh! if this vile boat should go on and on till it brings me into the sea, then indeed--indeed I shall be drowned, and I shall never see father and mother and Mary again. Oh! I wish I had minded father better; and I wish, too, that I had heeded mother all those times when she talked to me and Mary about God; and told us that God loves us. I wish I had, Oh! I wish I had." Tom thought that his voyage had lasted a long, long time, much longer than it really had; but now he began to think that he flew over the waters, though the current was not really strong near the sea. The poor boy hid his face in his hands, he believed he must be drowned, and he did not dare look up, but he was roused by hearing a shout, as if close to his ear.

"Keep away--keep away, can't you? Do you want to be drowned, and to drown me too?"

Tom looked up, and he found that his boat had been drawn by the current more towards the bank on the right side, and within a short distance of him was a small boat, called a coracle, in which a man was seated engaged in fishing. As Tom first looked, he saw the fisherman so intent on what he was doing that, having called to Tom to mind his boat, he had almost forgotten that any person was near him.

"Oh! pray help me," cried poor Tom, as his boat was still borne on, though very slowly; "pray help me, I shall be drowned. Oh I what shall I do?"

"What business have you in a boat at all," said the fisherman angrily, "if you do not know how to manage it?"

"Oh! have pity upon me, Sir," replied the frightened boy, or I shall--indeed I shall be drowned."

Tom afterwards used to say to Mary, that he did not know how the next few minutes passed, he only remembered that the fisherman laid his rod and line in his boat, and kept on one side of him, and telling him what he was to do, in such a clear manner, that it was impossible to misunderstand him.

"And, Mary," used Tom to add, "I did exactly as he directed, and, in a few minutes more, I found myself on the bank.

The frightened boy fell upon his knees, and would have thanked the fisherman for his life, but the man bade him lose no time, but hurry home, as his parents might be alarmed at his absence. "And mind, lad," he added, "before you lay your head on your bed this night, thank your God for sparing your life, for assuredly you would have been drowned if He had not mercifully provided a friend for you in time of danger."

At first Tom was so happy to find himself on land again, that he did not think of the long way he had to go before he could reach his home. The fisherman had returned to his boat, and the boy was left to himself to commence his walk.

"Where am I?" he thought, as he looked around him. "Ah! yonder is the wood, on the other side of which is father's farm, but how very far away it seems; I did not think I could have come so far in that abominable boat. Well, I shall believe father next time, when he says, 'Duty is Safety.' But I wish I had Ranger with me--it was a pity I sent him home-good Ranger, I wish I had him here now."

The lower rays of the sun were dipping into the waves, and Tom, alarmed lest the night should come in quickly, set himself to walk towards the wood. It was not a pleasant thought for this naughty boy to remember that he had left home without permission, and had gone in a direction unknown to his friends, so that even if they wished to send and seek him, how were they likely to guess the right road in which they could find him? Tom walked rapidly on for some time, but, though he did so, the wood appeared as far off as ever. And again he thought of Ranger, for he felt that if he had the faithful dog with him he should be safe enough.

Ranger would no doubt have been a great comfort to Tom in walking through the wood, but Ranger could not have eased his mind, for the boy was beginning, for the first time, to regret his bad actions, for now he really was made to feel the evil bad conduct brings upon those who pursue it. It was not of himself that such thoughts could arise; but they were put into his mind by God, who now in mercy was chastising this boy, as a father chastises his child, to bring him to acknowledge that the ways of righteousness are the ways of peace. Tom would have now willingly consented, even to get a thrashing from his father, if he could ensure by that his speedy return home, but could this his wish have been granted to him, it is probable he would have been as naughty as ever the next day, and as justly as before have deserved his name of Troublesome Tom. But God was dealing kindly by this boy, and, by his present troubles and fears, bringing to his mind a full conviction of his past stubbornness and sinful doings.

The first good feeling that evinced itself in him, was an acknowledgment of his cruelty to Ranger. "I have sent the dog from me by my unkindness," he said; "I wish that I had made a friend of Ranger--I will never fling anything at poor Ranger again--oh that I had him with me now. But what must I do? The house of Short Sam's granny is the nearest that I know, if I could only get there--but no, that will not do--I can't go there--they won't take me in there, they will be afraid of my troublesome ways. I wish I had not played that trick on the boy--what could I do it for?"

Tom went on very well whilst the light continued, but the sun had hardly gone quite down before many storm clouds began to gather from the sea. These dark clouds, as they came rolling on, soon shut out the light, but Tom still for a little while could see the wood before him, and the white waters of the pool.

The boy did not love darkness, indeed it is not pleasant to any one who is not safe in bed, and ready for a good sleep. "I don't like this darkness," he said aloud, "if I loved God I might not mind it as I do now. Mary says she is not afraid in the dark, for God can see 'her then as well as when the bright sun shines. I wonder if I was to obey father and mother as Mary does, whether I should learn, like her, not to mind night; for even at home, when I am in bed, I do not like to lie awake when nobody is stirring.

Mary says, when she is frightened she repeats some little verse she has learned at school, and then she asks God to take care of her, and she is frightened no more. Oh! how I wish I knew a verse to say like Mary, but then I never learn mine at school, or if I do learn it, I only just get it up to say to the master, and I am sure I could not say it again five minutes afterwards; but then I might ask God to take care of me, for I may use my own words for that--but no, I can't do that either, for God is angry with me, and I deserve his anger. Oh how very wicked I have always been, and now perhaps I am going to die in this wood, and then what will become of me?--surely--surely I shall not go to heaven."

The poor boy now began to weep most piteously; but he still continued his way, though his foot often stumbled against loose stones, which his tears prevented him from seeing. All at once he started and stood still, for at that moment a rustling, roaring noise came to his ears. Tom turned to where the noise came from, but the sky was so black with clouds he could not see what it was. The boy was too frightened to discover that it was in reality only the wind which came suddenly over the sea, raising the waves and dashing them on the shore.

"Oh, it is a bear," he cried, "and I shall be killed," and he set himself to run, he knew not whither, as fast as his feet would carry him.

Whilst Tom is running, I will explain to you why he expected to meet a bear in England, where no bears are to be found. The young farmer who had dined at his father's house that day had read them a true story of a bear having escaped from a wild beast show and entered into a blacksmith's forge, where for some time it remained quite quiet. When night set in it became more bold, and made such a noise in the forge that it roused the blacksmith and his wife, who came out with pokers and sticks to see what was the matter. Oh, how alarmed they were when they saw the things all tossed about the forge, all the horse-shoes lying scattered on the ground, whilst in one corner they saw the fierce eyes of the dreadful animal, and its horrible paws, one gripe from which might be death. How they got rid of it Tom never heard, but he had seen such a sight in a picture, and can you wonder that, with the bad conscience he had, when he heard the roaring of the wind, and could see nothing from the darkness, that he should fancy it was the dreadful bear?

On, on he ran, he knew not where, but this I can say, it was quite in a different direction from his home, and he might even have run into the pool, had there not been One who guided him, though he knew it not, and that was his God--that good God who made him, and whose holy book and service he had hated even to hear about. After a while, as he did not hear the sound again, he ceased running, for he was very tired, and looking round him he perceived a light in the distance as if coming from a house. He once more hastened on his way, but this time it was towards the light, and soon he came to a large cottage, or small house, from the windows and door of which the fire-light shone brightly. The night was warm, not a breath was stirring, those who were wise in such matters expected a storm in a very short time; it was so close that it was no wonder that both the windows and door of the cottage were wide open. Just as Tom reached the cottage, some of the dark clouds for a few minutes let in the light of the moon, so that there was light both within and without the cottage.

Peeping cautiously in at the door, Tom saw within a good-sized apartment, with much useful, and some pieces of even handsome furniture scattered about. There were two cupboards, and a gridiron, and three pounds of candles, several tubs and barrels, and a hamper, as if the people dealt in liquor. Everything was out of its place, and scattered over the floor of the kitchen, and there was an unpleasant smell of gunpowder, which did not alarm Tom a little, for he could not imagine for what it had been used at such a time of night.

Suddenly there was a report as of a very small cannon, and then he heard the voice of a child crying, "Mother--mother, come down here--mother, come; those boys are shooting at my doll."

Taking courage at hearing it was but a doll, Tom stepped forwards, and again looked in, but he was forced to draw back immediately, for he discovered a new cause of alarm. The voice of the girl had brought down her mother, and Tom saw, but I do not think you can guess the reason for his fear. There were three rude boys and their sister, whose doll they had been shooting with that toy cannon. How frightened the children seem of their mother, and look, in her anger, she has seized the lighted stick with which they had let off the cannon, and see, that boy has overturned the beer jug, and you may be sure he will catch it severely as soon as his mother finds it out.

But what was it that alarmed Tom so much? you ask; why he knew the woman again, though she had changed her dress, for the very same person whom he had directed to go a wrong road that morning. "Yes," he said to himself in a low voice, "yes, it is the very woman I sent three miles round this morning, and if she should see me--if she should know me again, she might perhaps beat me to death. I must not stay here, I had better die on the waste. How could I have been so foolish I--here is another of my pranks, and what have they brought on me?--nothing but trouble." Hearing the boys making towards the door of the house to avoid their angry mother, who had just discovered the overturned pitcher of beer, Tom once more hastened on his way, though he was now so tired and hot, that he could scarcely draw one leg after another. He had lost his road on his alarm at what he thought was the angry growl of a bear; and mistaking the dark clouds for the wood, he kept blundering on along the waste, sometimes stumbling over sand heaps, sometimes slipping into holes, and sometimes falling his whole length along the ground, and still he was no nearer his home.

It was about two hours before midnight when the wind suddenly lulled, and thunder, loud thunder, roared in the heavens, whilst the sky ever and anon blazed with the forked lightning. Tom was naturally afraid of lightning, it is no wonder therefore that now, alone and unbefriended, he should be driven half wild with fear, on finding himself exposed to a violent storm.

"Oh, I shall be killed, I shall be killed," he cried. "God is very angry with me, and I deserve to die--Oh! what will become of me? what shall I do? Oh! if that dreadful lightning strikes me--Oh! I deserve it all--what a wicked, wicked lad I have been."

The wearied and frightened boy could no longer support himself against his numerous troubles, and falling upon the ground, he hid his face with his hands, whilst his terror was such that for some time he could not even think. When roused to recollection he became aware that the storm was passing away, but the heavy rain, with which it had been accompanied, had wet him to the skin, and even now it had not entirely ceased. Poor Tom was cold, wet, and hungry--all around him was full of terrors, but it was right and it was very good for him that he had been made for so many hours to think of what he had brought upon himself by his ill behaviour.

The words of his father, "Duty is Safety," rang in his ears through all those fearful hours; he thought that he heard them in the beating of the waves, and in the roaring of the thunder.

Nothing had brought the folly of his teasing, troublesome ways so much to his mind as the last thing which happened to him; "for who could have thought," he said, "when I played that fool's trick to that woman this morning, that I should, before midnight, want a bit of bread and a night's lodging from her hands?" Then came the wish that he was a better boy, that God would give him a new heart, and make him his own child; and the poor boy wept and sobbed bitterly, for he was now fully conscious of what a bad boy he had been. It was then put into his mind, that if there was no human creature to help him, yet he had a Father and Saviour in heaven, and he knelt down and prayed.

Can this be the same troublesome boy who was the dread of all his neighbours but a little while ago, who kneels there confessing all his evil ways, and praying his God to make him his own dear child? Yes, it is, and it is God who has blessed all his troubles to him, for God can give a new nature to the worst child at any time in which it pleases him so to do. Whilst Tom was still on his knees, a verse his mother had taught him came to his mind and brought him comfort; it was this--"I will arise and go to my father, and I will say, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and I am not worthy to be called thy son." That is what the prodigal son says, thought he, and he was forgiven, then I may hope that both my earthly and my heavenly father will forgive me.

As Tom rose from his knees, the lightning flashed once more in the heavens, and he saw before him a small farm house, or cottage, within a hundred yards of where he stood. He hastened to it, but found it was untenanted, for though he knocked and knocked again, he heard no one stirring within. He turned away with tears in his eyes, not knowing what to do next, when he saw near the house, by the now friendly lightning, a garden or tool-house, the door of which was half open. Tom immediately went towards it, and pushing open the door he entered, and seeing some straw in a corner, he threw himself on it, and in a few minutes the poor weary child was fast asleep.

Tom's troubles and frights had been very great, but what were they to what all at home had suffered. Short Sam's granny was the first who brought any news of the boy, for it was not an hour after he had left the stone bridge before she came up to the farm to tell how he had served her grandson. Mr. Page was much vexed, but he said he would pay Tom well when he could catch him. Ranger came back whilst the old woman was at the farm, but just then no one took much notice of the matter, for Mr. Page was very angry with his son, but he was obliged to go out on business, and he went out thinking that Tom would be sure to be at home when he came back. But hour passed after hour and no Tom came, so that Mrs. Page and Mary became from minute to minute more and more frightened, as they foresaw the storm.

"He must be with his father, ma'am," said the maid, "master has found him on the way and has taken him with him."

This idea comforted Mrs. Page and her daughter for a while, and Mary was sent to bed. But oh! how alarmed was the mother when her husband returned about an hour before midnight without his son. The storm was now raging in its fury, but none at the farm thought of it excepting on account of Tom, and notwithstanding the heavy rain, the maid was sent to Barbara's to enquire if the boy was there. Perhaps you will think the lightning would serve for a lantern, but the maid has to pass by a brook, and the heavy rains cause it to swell and overflow its banks, and then when the lightning is not playing, the night is so dark that it would be most probable Betty would make a false step. But Tom was not to be found at Barbara's. And when Betty returned with this sad news, what a bustle was there in the farm, so that even the children were roused from their sleep by the unusual commotion at such an hour. That was a miserable night at the farm; Mr. Page and his men were out in all the rain; Mrs. Page and her children did nothing but cry, and Barbara too came, and she was as much troubled as any, for she really loved Tom.

Mary had fallen into a very heavy sleep when she first lay down, for she had cried till her head ached severely, but she was awakened before midnight by the noise of the storm crashing fearfully over her head. Every minute almost there was a flash of lightning, followed by a clap of the loudest thunder. Mary started up in bed, she thought of her poor brother, and longed to know if he was come home; she thought she heard voices below, and she got up and dressed herself, dark as it was between the flashes; she then crept to the stair which went down into the kitchen, and sat herself on one of the steps; there she heard the maid talking to her mother, and trying to comfort her. "Mistress," said the maid, "you may be quite sure that they be got into some house together, and be quite safe."

"I wish I could think as you do," answered Mrs. Page, "but the fault is all mine, I have spoiled that boy, and now he will bring destruction on himself and his father too."

"It has not been so much you, mistress, as Barbara," answered the maid, "it is but nature as makes parents spoil their children, but it is all along of serving her own ends, as makes that Barbara sugar master Tom over as she does."

"And is not that nature, too, Jane?" asked Mrs. Page, "self lies at the bottom of all we do, when God is out of our thoughts, and this is what I now feel, and what fills me with terror for my husband and my son."

"Well to be sure, mistress!" replied Jane, "but may be God will spare you from your fears,--God is good."

"Aye, Jane! God is good;" said Mrs. Page, "but sometimes in His very goodness He corrects us; His goodness is not blind and weak, like mine has been towards my son; though I see now, that selfish fondness, which I once thought had so much love in it, was nothing but cruelty to the child." Here the poor woman began to cry again, and to sob bitterly.

Poor Mary, all this while, sat on the stairs listening, at one minute to the thunder, and the next to her mother's sobs, whilst many thoughts passed through her mind; such thoughts as she never had before. I know that we are all sinners, was one of her thoughts, but then our Lord died to save sinners, and He has promised to hear us when we pray; I can do nothing for father and brother to-night but pray--I will pray--Oh! my God put a right prayer in my mouth; and she got up and turned round and knelt upon the step above her, and she prayed, that if God thought right he would save her father and brother from the lightning, and that he would give her brother a new heart, and a right spirit, and make him a holy, happy child. She prayed till her young mind became confused and would not go along with her words, and then she sat down again, and then more comfortable thoughts were put into her heart. The lightning, she thought, seemed to come by chance, and to strike down anywhere as it happens; but that is not true, God brings it out of the clouds, and it can go nowhere without God's leave. It cannot strike father or Tom, if God says it shall not; and if he says it shall, no house can save them. Father and Tom are safe then in God's care, as safe as I am here. I wish, I wish I could trust God.

God himself had put this last pious wish into the child's heart, and he soon also granted her desire; for though the storm went on raging, and she still heard her mother's sobs, she became much more easy; and as she did not think it right to go down into the kitchen, she crept up to her bed, and laid herself down in her clothes, and soon fell asleep. Mary slept till it was light, the storm was past, and the morning calm; she could not rest however another minute, she sprang up and put her disordered dress to rights, she took her bonnet in her hand and crept down stairs. She found Jane in the kitchen, and asked if there was any news yet of poor Tom?

"None," replied Jane, "we have heard nothing of him nor master. I got mistress to lie down with the baby about an hour since; poor soul, she was ready to drop. I hope she has fallen asleep."

"Tell her then, Jane, when she wakes," said Mary, "that I am going down to the village, and may perhaps see somebody who can tell me something about my poor brother. I hope I shall come back with good news."

"Well, don't you be getting into danger too, and bringing more trouble," answered Jane.

As Mary went out at the door she tied on her bonnet, and took the shortest way to the village. The sun had not risen long, and had not yet dried the rain, which had fallen a short time before, from the ground, or even from the trees and herbs. Mary hoped that she should meet many people going to their work whom she might ask about Tom; but she saw no one till she came up with a man who was very old and very deaf.

When she asked him if he had heard anything of her brother, he answered as if she had inquired of him what he had thought of the storm.

"Aye, to be sure," he said, "it was enough to frighten a body out of his seven senses. We shall hear afore long of many as have been killed, I has no doubt, I never saw the lightning strike down more direct in all my time. I said to my old woman, says "But my brother Tom," said Mary, "have you heard anything about him?"

"No, to be sure; he ain't struck, is he? But that, to be sure, is what the man at the door of the barn I come by was talking of. They said that somebody or something had been struck in the night, and lay all along in the morning as black as my hat."

"Where? What men?" asked Mary.

"Them in the barn just beyond," said the old man, and away flew Mary towards the barn, but the doors were shut, and not a creature there. On ran the poor child, and the next person she met was Short Sam. She stopped him, and asked if he had heard of anybody being killed with lightning the last night.

"Aye, to be sure," said Sam, "Father was the first that found him; he was all as black as my shoe; and burnt up, father said, like a cinder; and there he lay under the tree, but the tree worn't touched, so father took him up and carried him down home to the master's, and there he is lying in the fold."

Mary almost screamed, "Who? What? My poor brother?"

"Your brother," said Short Sam, "how comes he to be your brother, Miss? I is talking of a sheep."

"A sheep!" repeated Mary, "but you have frightened me terribly, Sam. Do tell me, what do you know about my brother?"

"I knows no more of him," answered Sam, "but that he perched me a top of the bridge yesternight, for which father threatened to hide him, and then he went off along the brook side."

Mary stayed no longer to talk to Short Sam, but off she flew again towards the church and school-house. She thought she might hear something of her brother from the master or the boys. She crossed the churchyard in haste; there was not a person moving about it, but the daws were making a noise in the old tower. She went round the church, and there she heard the voices of the boys at play. They were to go into school at seven o'clock, and to have an hour's work before breakfast; but it was not yet seven, and there was a party of them under a fine old oak tree playing at marbles, whilst the kind schoolmaster looked on and encouraged them. How surprised were they all at seeing Mary. She ran up to the master, and whilst she told her story, she shed many tears. The master and all the boys looked at her with concern; and such of the boys as were farthest off, and did not hear what she said, were told in whispers by the others, that Troublesome Tom, as everybody called him, had been lost all night. On hearing this, Roger, who had just come into the playground, came forward and said, that he had seen Tom Page the evening before, sailing down the river by himself in an open boat.

"Why did you not tell me what you had seen?" asked the master.

"I did not see you afterwards, Sir," answered Roger.

"And he would have enough to do," uttered another boy, "to tell all Tom's pranks."

"Go back, Mary," said the master, "and tell at home what Roger says, though may be you had better not speak of it to your mother."

"You boys may play on till breakfast time, whilst I go and send people to where Tom was last seen. Do you, Roger, come with me."

Poor Mary then ran home, being now more afraid of the mischief having come by water than by lightning; for she feared never again to see her brother alive.

When Mary got home, she found her father just returned, but without Tom. The poor man dearly loved his son, and he was very sorry that he had driven the boy angrily from him the day before, instead of keeping him with him, and reproving him steadily. When he heard what Mary said, he wrung his hands and cried, "My son is drowned! My son! My soul" Then suddenly recollecting himself, he kissed Mary and bade her go to her mother, adding "I am going to seek your poor brother; I shall not return till I find him alive or dead, as God pleases; I have done very wrong, Mary, and I am severely punished for it, for when Tom was a child, I indulged him in everything, and I should have been more gentle to him yesterday; it is in a great degree my own fault for his being a naughty boy." But the story of the travels of Tom's father would be as long as Tom's own story if it were to be told, so I shall only say, that after wandering over the downs for more than two hours, he at length reached the cottage, in the tool-house of which Tom slept.

The Farmer's loud calls upon his boy woke him from his long and refreshing sleep, and without waiting to think what he should say, Tom ran to his father and fell down on his knees, praying him to forgive him, and saying he knew himself to be a very bad boy.

His father raised him in his arms, and told him that all he required of him was, that henceforth he would be led by those whom God had set over him, never doubting that all his heavenly Father ordered for him was for his good. "But now, my boy," he said, "let us hasten to your mother and sister, who are in sore distress on your account."

Oh how they did hurry to return to the farm, but they saw no one till they came to the very door of the kitchen, where they met the maid and Barbara, whom they stopped from crying out at the sight of Tom, by putting their fingers on their lips. Mr. Page gave his hat and stick to Betty, and telling Tom to keep behind him, he went quietly into the kitchen. Mrs Page was sitting by the fire. She had been up all night, and from the early morning she had been running from one place to another seeking her boy. She had only sat down a few minutes before, and was crying bitterly.

Mr. Page kept Tom behind him, and thought that he would open the good news by little and little to his wife; so he pretended to be wholly occupied in taking off his greatcoat, which Tom helped to do, keeping behind as he did so. But though Mr. Page had not spoken one word, this very action told his wife all was right, and looking up she saw joy in her husband's face. "My boy is found," she cried, and the next minute she had her son in her arms, weeping as much for joy as a little time before she had done for sorrow.

At the sound of her voice, crying, "My boy! My boy!" Mary and Sarah came running in, and the baby, who was asleep in a cradle in the next room, awoke, and set up her voice.

That was a joyful moment; and what a bustle there was to get poor Tom a good breakfast, and to wash him and provide clean clothes for him.

It is pleasant to be able to add, that he received all these kindnesses very humbly, saying that he did not deserve them, but rather the rod, for he had been made to know that he was a very bad boy. Tom told all the things which had happened to him the night before, and said, "Father, I now believe what you told me that Duty is Safety, and that when I gave up my heart to be undutiful, I was always in some dreadful danger."