The Parent's Assistant; Or, Stories for Children

A thought, a provident thought, now struck Fisher; for even he had some foresight where his favourite passion was concerned. 'Pray, in our Barring Out shall we be starved?' 'No,' said the gipsy, 'not if you trust to me for food, and if you give me money enough. Silver won't do for so many; gold is what must cross my hand.' 'I have no gold,' said Fisher, 'and I don't know what you mean by "so many." I'm only talking of number one, you know. I must take care of that first.'

So, as Fisher thought it was possible that Archer, clever as he was, might be disappointed in his supplies, he determined to take secret measures for himself. His Aunt Barbara's interdiction had shut him out of the confectioner's shop; but he flattered himself that he could outwit his aunt; he therefore begged the gipsy to procure him twelve buns by Thursday morning, and bring them secretly to one of the windows of the schoolroom.

As Fisher did not produce any money when he made this proposal, it was at first absolutely rejected; but a bribe at length conquered his difficulties: and the bribe which Fisher found himself obliged to give – for he had no pocket money left of his own, he being as much restricted in that article as Archer was indulged– the bribe that he found himself obliged to give to quiet the gipsy was half-a-crown, which Archer had entrusted to him to buy candles for the theatre. 'Oh,' thought he to himself, 'Archer's so careless about money, he will never think of asking me for the half-crown again; and now he'll want no candles for the theatre; or, at any rate, it will be some time first; and maybe Aunt Barbara may be got to give me that much at Christmas; then, if the worst comes to the worst, one can pay Archer. My mouth waters for the buns, and have 'em I must now.'

So, for the hope of twelve buns, he sacrificed the money which had been entrusted to him. Thus the meanest motives, in mean minds, often prompt to the commission of those great faults to which one should think nothing but some violent passion could have tempted.

The ambassador having thus, in his opinion, concluded his own and the public business, returned well satisfied with the result, after receiving the gipsy's reiterated promise to tap three times at the window on Thursday morning.

The day appointed for the Barring Out at length arrived; and Archer, assembling the confederates, informed them that all was prepared for carrying their design into execution; that he now depended for success upon their punctuality and courage. He had, within the last two hours, got all their bars ready to fasten the doors and window shutters of the schoolroom; he had, with the assistance of two of the day scholars who were of the party, sent into the town for provisions, at his own expense, which would make a handsome supper for that night; he had also negotiated with some cousins of his, who lived in the town, for a constant supply in future. 'Bless me,' exclaimed Archer, suddenly stopping in this narration of his services, 'there's one thing, after all, I've forgot, we shall be undone without it. Fisher, pray did you ever buy the candles for the playhouse?' 'No, to be sure,' replied Fisher, extremely frightened; 'you know you don't want candles for the playhouse now.' 'Not for the playhouse, but for the Barring Out. We shall be in the dark, man. You must run this minute, run.' 'For candles?' said Fisher, confused; 'how many? – what sort?' 'Stupidity!' exclaimed Archer, 'you are a pretty fellow at a dead lift! Lend me a pencil and a bit of paper, do; I'll write down what I want myself! Well, what are you fumbling for?' 'For money!' said Fisher, colouring. 'Money, man! Didn't I give you half-a-crown the other day?' 'Yes,' replied Fisher, stammering; 'but I wasn't sure that that might be enough.' 'Enough! yes, to be sure it will. I don't know what you are at.' 'Nothing, nothing,' said Fisher; 'here, write upon this, then,' said Fisher, putting a piece of paper into Archer's hand, upon which Archer wrote his orders. 'Away, away!' cried he.

Away went Fisher. He returned; but not until a considerable time afterwards. They were at supper when he returned. 'Fisher always comes in at supper-time,' observed one of the Greybeards, carelessly. 'Well, and would you have him come in after supper-time?' said Townsend, who always supplied his party with ready wit. 'I've got the candles,' whispered Fisher as he passed by Archer to his place. 'And the tinder-box?' said Archer. 'Yes; I got back from my Aunt Barbara under pretence that I must study for repetition day an hour later to-night. So I got leave. Was not that clever?'

A dunce always thinks it clever to cheat even by sober lies. How Mr. Fisher procured the candles and the tinder-box without money and without credit we shall discover further on.

Archer and his associates had agreed to stay the last in the schoolroom; and as soon as the Greybeards were gone out to bed, he, as the signal, was to shut and lock one door, Townsend the other. A third conspirator was to strike a light, in case they should not be able to secure a candle. A fourth was to take charge of the candle as soon as lighted; and all the rest were to run to their bars, which were secreted in a room; then to fix them to the common fastening bars of the window, in the manner in which they had been previously instructed by the manager. Thus each had his part assigned, and each was warned that the success of the whole depended upon their order and punctuality.

Order and punctuality, it appears, are necessary even in a Barring Out; and even rebellion must have its laws.

The long-expected moment at length arrived. De Grey and his friends, unconscious of what was going forward, walked out of the schoolroom as usual at bedtime. The clock began to strike nine. There was one Greybeard left in the room, who was packing up some of his books, which had been left about by accident. It is impossible to describe the impatience with which he was watched, especially by Fisher and the nine who depended upon the gipsy oracle.

When he had got all his books together under his arm, he let one of them fall; and whilst he stooped to pick it up, Archer gave the signal. The doors were shut, locked, and double-locked in an instant. A light was struck and each ran to his post. The bars were all in the same moment put up to the windows, and Archer, when he had tried them all, and seen that they were secure, gave a loud 'Huzza!' – in which he was joined by all the party most manfully – by all but the poor Greybeard, who, the picture of astonishment, stood stock still in the midst of them with his books under his arm; at which spectacle Townsend, who enjoyed the frolic of the fray more than anything else, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. 'So, my little Greybeard,' said he, holding a candle full in his eyes, 'what think you of all this? – How came you amongst the wicked ones?' 'I don't know, indeed,' said the little boy, very gravely; 'you shut me up amongst you. Won't you let me out?' 'Let you out! No, no, my little Greybeard,' said Archer, catching hold of him and dragging him to the window bars. 'Look ye here – touch these – put your hand to them – pull, push, kick – put a little spirit into it, man – kick like an Archer, if you can; away with ye. It's a pity that the king of the Greybeards is not here to admire me. I should like to show him our fortifications. But come, my merry men all, now to the feast. Out with the table into the middle of the room. Good cheer, my jolly Archers! I'm your manager!'

Townsend, delighted with the bustle, rubbed his hands and capered about the room, whilst the preparations for the feast were hurried forward. 'Four candles! – Four candles on the table. Let's have things in style when we are about it, Mr. Manager,' cried Townsend. 'Places! – Places! There's nothing like a fair scramble, my boys. Let every one take care of himself. Hallo, Greybeard! I've knocked Greybeard down here in the scuffle. Get up again, my lad, and see a little life.'

'No, no,' cried Fisher, 'he shan't sup with us.' 'No, no,' cried the manager, 'he shan't live with us; a Greybeard is not fit company for Archers.' 'No, no,' cried Townsend, 'evil communication corrupts good manners.'

So with one unanimous hiss they hunted the poor little gentle boy into a corner; and having pent him up with benches, Fisher opened his books for him, which he thought the greatest mortification, and set up a candle beside him. 'There, now he looks like a Greybeard as he is!' cried they. 'Tell me what's the Latin for cold roast beef?' said Fisher, exultingly, and they returned to their feast.

Long and loud they revelled. They had a few bottles of cider. 'Give me the corkscrew, the cider shan't be kept till it's sour,' cried Townsend, in answer to the manager, who, when he beheld the provisions vanishing with surprising rapidity, began to fear for the morrow. 'Hang to-morrow!' cried Townsend, 'let Greybeards think of to-morrow; Mr. Manager, here's your good health.'

The Archers all stood up as their cups were filled, to drink the health of their chief with a universal cheer. But at the moment that the cups were at their lips, and as Archer bowed to thank the company, a sudden shower from above astonished the whole assembly. They looked up, and beheld the rose of a watering-engine, whose long neck appeared through a trap-door in the ceiling. 'Your good health, Mr. Manager!' said a voice, which was known to be the gardener's; and in the midst of their surprise and dismay the candles were suddenly extinguished; the trap-door shut down; and they were left in utter darkness.

'The Devil!' said Archer. 'Don't swear, Mr. Manager,' said the same voice from the ceiling, 'I hear every word you say.' 'Mercy upon us!' exclaimed Fisher. 'The clock,' added he, whispering, 'must have been wrong, for it had not done striking when we began. Only, you remember, Archer, it had just done before you had done locking your door.' 'Hold your tongue, blockhead!' said Archer. 'Well, boys! were ye never in the dark before? You are not afraid of a shower of rain, I hope. Is anybody drowned?' 'No,' said they, with a faint laugh, 'but what shall we do here in the dark all night long, and all day to-morrow? We can't unbar the shutters.' 'It's a wonder nobody ever thought of the trap-door!' said Townsend.

The trap-door had indeed escaped the manager's observation. As the house was new to him, and the ceiling being newly whitewashed, the opening was scarcely perceptible. Vexed to be out-generalled, and still more vexed to have it remarked, Archer poured forth a volley of incoherent exclamations and reproaches against those who were thus so soon discouraged by a trifle; and groping for the tinder-box, he asked if anything could be easier than to strike a light again.[17 - Lucifer matches were then unknown. – Ed.] The light appeared. But at the moment that it made the tinder-box visible, another shower from above, aimed, and aimed exactly, at the tinder-box, drenched it with water, and rendered it totally unfit for further service. Archer in a fury dashed it to the ground. And now for the first time he felt what it was to be the unsuccessful head of a party. He heard in his turn the murmurs of a discontented, changeable populace; and recollecting all his bars and bolts, and ingenious contrivances, he was more provoked at their blaming him for this one only oversight than he was grieved at the disaster itself.

'Oh, my hair is all wet!' cried one, dolefully. 'Wring it then,' said Archer. 'My hand's cut with your broken glass,' cried another. 'Glass!' cried a third; 'mercy! is there broken glass? and it's all about, I suppose, amongst the supper; and I had but one bit of bread all the time.' 'Bread!' cried Archer; 'eat if you want it. Here's a piece here, and no glass near it.' 'It's all wet, and I don't like dry bread by itself; that's no feast.'

'Heigh-day! What, nothing but moaning and grumbling! If these are the joys of a Barring Out,' cried Townsend, 'I'd rather be snug in my bed. I expected that we should have sat up till twelve o'clock, talking, and laughing, and singing.' 'So you may still; what hinders you?' said Archer. 'Sing, and we'll join you, and I should be glad those fellows overhead heard us singing. Begin, Townsend —

Come, now, all ye social Powers,
Spread your influence o'er us —

Or else —

Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves!
Britons never will be slaves.'

Nothing can be more melancholy than forced merriment. In vain they roared in chorus. In vain they tried to appear gay. It would not do. The voices died away, and dropped off one by one. They had each provided himself with a greatcoat to sleep upon; but now, in the dark, there was a peevish scrambling contest for the coats, and half the company, in very bad humour, stretched themselves upon the benches for the night.

There is great pleasure in bearing anything that has the appearance of hardship, as long as there is any glory to be acquired by it; but when people feel themselves foiled, there is no further pleasure in endurance; and if, in their misfortune, there is any mixture of the ridiculous, the motives for heroism are immediately destroyed. Dr. Middleton had probably considered this in the choice he made of his first attack.

Archer, who had spent the night as a man who had the cares of government upon his shoulders, rose early in the morning, whilst everybody else was fast asleep. In the night he had resolved the affair of the trap-door, and a new danger had alarmed him. It was possible that the enemy might descend upon them through the trap-door. The room had been built high to admit a free circulation of air. It was twenty feet, so that it was in vain to think of reaching to the trap-door.

As soon as the daylight appeared, Archer rose softly, that he might reconnoitre, and devise some method of guarding against this new danger. Luckily there were round holes in the top of the window-shutters, which admitted sufficient light for him to work by. The remains of the soaked feast, wet candles, and broken glass spread over the table in the middle of the room, looked rather dismal this morning.

'A pretty set of fellows I have to manage!' said Archer, contemplating the group of sleepers before him. 'It is well they have somebody to think for them. Now if I wanted – which, thank goodness, I don't – but if I did want to call a cabinet council to my assistance, whom could I pitch upon? – not this stupid snorer, who is dreaming of gipsies, if he is dreaming of anything,' continued Archer, as he looked into Fisher's open mouth. 'This next chap is quick enough; but, then, he is so fond of having everything his own way. And this curl-pated monkey, who is grinning in his sleep, is all tongue and no brains. Here are brains, though nobody would think it, in this lump,' said he, looking at a fat, rolled up, heavy-breathing sleeper; 'but what signify brains to such a lazy dog? I might kick him for my football this half-hour before I should get him awake. This lank-jawed harlequin beside him is a handy fellow, to be sure; but then, if he has hands, he has no head – and he'd be afraid of his own shadow too, by this light, he is such a coward! And Townsend, why he has puns in plenty; but, when there's any work to be done, he's the worst fellow to be near one in the world – he can do nothing but laugh at his own puns. This poor little fellow that we hunted into the corner has more sense than all of them put together; but then he is a Greybeard.'

Thus speculated the chief of a party upon his sleeping friends. And how did it happen that he should be so ambitious to please and govern this set, when for each individual of which it was composed he felt such supreme contempt? He had formed them into a party, had given them a name, and he was at their head. If these be not good reasons, none better can be assigned for Archer's conduct.

'I wish ye could all sleep on,' said he; 'but I must waken ye, though you will be only in my way. The sound of my hammering must waken them; so I may as well do the thing handsomely, and flatter some of them by pretending to ask their advice.'

Accordingly, he pulled two or three to waken them. 'Come, Townsend, waken, my boy! Here's some diversion for you – up! up!'

'Diversion!' cried Townsend; 'I'm your man! I'm up —up to anything.'

So, under the name of diversion, Archer set Townsend to work at four o'clock in the morning. They had nails, a few tools, and several spars, still left from the wreck of the playhouse. These, by Archer's directions, they sharpened at one end, and nailed them to the ends of several forms.

All hands were now called to clear away the supper things, and to erect these forms perpendicularly under the trap-door; and with the assistance of a few braces, a chevaux-de-frise was formed, upon which nobody could venture to descend. At the farthest end of the room they likewise formed a penthouse of the tables, under which they proposed to breakfast, secure from the pelting storm, if it should again assail them through the trap-door. They crowded under the penthouse as soon as it was ready, and their admiration of its ingenuity paid the workmen for the job.

'Lord! I shall like to see the gardener's phiz through the trap-door, when he beholds the spikes under him!' cried Townsend. 'Now for breakfast!' 'Ay, now for breakfast,' said Archer, looking at his watch; 'past eight o'clock, and my town boys not come! I don't understand this!'

Archer had expected a constant supply of provisions from two boys who lived in the town, who were cousins of his, and who had promised to come every day, and put food in at a certain hole in the wall, in which a ventilator usually turned. This ventilator Archer had taken down, and had contrived it so that it could be easily removed and replaced at pleasure; but, upon examination, it was now perceived that the hole had been newly stopped up by an iron back, which it was impossible to penetrate or remove.

'It never came into my head that anybody would ever have thought of the ventilator but myself!' exclaimed Archer, in great perplexity. He listened and waited for his cousins; but no cousins came, and at a late hour the company were obliged to breakfast upon the scattered fragments of the last night's feast. That feast had been spread with such imprudent profusion, that little now remained to satisfy the hungry guests.

Archer, who well knew the effect which the apprehension of a scarcity would have upon his associates, did everything that could be done by a bold countenance and reiterated assertions to persuade them that his cousins would certainly come at last, and that the supplies were only delayed. The delay, however, was alarming.

Fisher alone heard the manager's calculations and saw the public fears unmoved. Secretly rejoicing in his own wisdom, he walked from window to window, slily listening for the gipsy's signal. 'There it is!' cried he, with more joy sparkling in his eyes than had ever enlightened them before. 'Come this way, Archer; but don't tell anybody. Hark! do ye hear those three taps at the window? This is the old woman with twelve buns for me. I'll give you one whole one for yourself, if you will unbar the window for me.'

'Unbar the window!' interrupted Archer; 'no, that I won't, for you or the gipsy either; but I have heard enough to get your buns without that. But stay; there is something of more consequence than your twelve buns. I must think for ye all, I see, regularly.'

So he summoned a council, and proposed that every one should subscribe, and trust the subscription to the gipsy, to purchase a fresh supply of provisions. Archer laid down a guinea of his own money for his subscription; at which sight all the company clapped their hands, and his popularity rose to a high pitch with their renewed hopes of plenty. Now, having made a list of their wants, they folded the money in the paper, put it into a bag, which Archer tied to a long string, and, having broken the pane of glass behind the round hole in the window-shutter, he let down the bag to the gipsy. She promised to be punctual, and having filled the bag with Fishers twelve buns, they were drawn up in triumph, and everybody anticipated the pleasure with which they should see the same bag drawn up at dinner-time. The buns were a little squeezed in being drawn through the hole in the window-shutter, but Archer immediately sawed out a piece of the shutter, and broke the corresponding panes in each of the other windows, to prevent suspicion, and to make it appear that they had all been broken to admit air.

What a pity that so much ingenuity should have been employed to no purpose!

It may have surprised the intelligent reader that the gipsy was so punctual to her promise to Fisher, but we must recollect that her apparent integrity was only cunning; she was punctual that she might be employed again, that she might be entrusted with the contribution which, she foresaw, must be raised amongst the famishing garrison. No sooner had she received the money than her end was gained.

Dinner-time came; it struck three, four, five, six. They listened with hungry ears, but no signal was heard. The morning had been very long, and Archer had in vain tried to dissuade them from devouring the remainder of the provisions before they were sure of a fresh supply. And now those who had been the most confident were the most impatient of their disappointment.

Archer, in the division of the food, had attempted, by the most scrupulous exactness, to content the public, and he was both astonished and provoked to perceive that his impartiality was impeached. So differently do people judge in different situations! He was the first person to accuse his master of injustice, and the least capable of bearing such an imputation upon himself from others. He now experienced some of the joys of power, and the delight of managing unreasonable numbers.

'Have not I done everything I could to please you? Have not I spent my money to buy you food? Have not I divided the last morsel with you? I have not tasted one mouthful to-day! Did not I set to work for you at sunrise? Did not I lie awake all night for you? Have not I had all the labour and all the anxiety? Look round and see my contrivances, my work, my generosity! And, after all, you think me a tyrant, because I want you to have common sense. Is not this bun which I hold in my hand my own? Did not I earn it by my own ingenuity from that selfish dunce (pointing to Fisher), who could never have gotten one of his twelve buns, if I had not shown him how? Eleven of them he has eaten since morning for his own share, without offering any one a morsel; but I scorn to eat even what is justly my own, when I see so many hungry creatures longing for it. I was not going to touch this last morsel myself. I only begged you to keep it till supper-time, when perhaps you'll want it more, and Townsend, who can't bear the slightest thing that crosses his own whims, and who thinks there's nothing in this world to be minded but his own diversion, calls me a tyrant. You all of you promised to obey me. The first thing I ask you to do for your own good, and when, if you had common sense, you must know I can want nothing but your good, you rebel against me. Traitors! fools! ungrateful fools!'

Archer walked up and down, unable to command his emotion, whilst, for the moment, the discontented multitude was silenced.

'Here,' said he, striking his hand upon the little boy's shoulder, 'here's the only one amongst you who has not uttered one word of reproach or complaint, and he has had but one bit of bread – a bit that I gave him myself this day. Here!' said he, snatching the bun, which nobody had dared to touch, 'take it – it's mine – I give it to you, though you are a Greybeard; you deserve it. Eat it, and be an Archer. You shall be my captain; will you?' said he, lifting him up in his arm above the rest.