Journeys Through Bookland Volume V Part 40

He finished amid a perfect shriek of laughter. We said it was the funniest thing we had ever heard in all our lives. We said how strange it was that, in the face of things like these, there should be a popular notion that the Germans hadn't any sense of humor. And we asked the Professor why he didn't translate the song into English, so that the common people could understand it, and hear what a real comic song was like.

Then Herr Slossenn Boschen got up, and went on awful. He swore at us in German (which I should judge to be a singularly effective language for that purpose), and he danced, and shook his fists, and called us all the English he knew. He said he had never been so insulted in all his life.

It appeared that the song was not a comic song at all. It was about a young girl who lived in the Harz Mountains, and who had given up her life to save her lover's soul; and he died, and met her spirit in the air; and then, in the last verse, he jilted her spirit, and went on with another spirit--I'm not quite sure of the details, but it was something very sad, I know. Herr Boschen said he had sung it once before the German Emperor, and he (the German Emperor) had sobbed like a little child. He (Herr Boschen) said it was generally acknowledged to be one of the most tragic and pathetic songs in the German language.

It was a trying situation for us--very trying. There seemed to be no answer. We looked around for the two young men who had done this thing, but they had left the house in an unostentatious manner immediately after the end of the song.

That was the end of that party. I never saw a party break up so quietly, and with so little fuss. We never said good-night even to one another.

We came downstairs one at a time, walking softly, and keeping the shady side. We asked the servant for our hats and coats in whispers, and opened the door, and slipped out, and got round the corner quickly, avoiding each other as much as possible.

I have never taken much interest in German songs since then.

THE INCHCAPE ROCK

_By_ ROBERT SOUTHEY

NOTE.--The Inchcape Rock, or Bell Rock, is a dangerous reef in the North Sea, east of the Firth of Tay, in Scotland, and twelve miles from all land. The story of the forethought of the abbot of Aberbrothok in placing the bell on the buoy as a warning to sailors is an ancient one, and one old writer thus gives the tradition made use of by Southey in this poem:

"In old times upon the said rocke there was a bell fixed upon a timber, which rang continually, being moved by the sea, giving notice to saylers of the danger. The bell was put there and maintained by the abbot of Aberbrothok, but being taken down by a sea-pirate, a yeare thereafter he perished upon the same rocke, with s.h.i.+p and goodes, in the righteous judgment of G.o.d."

A lighthouse, built with the greatest difficulty, has stood on the rock since 1810.

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,-- The s.h.i.+p was still as she might be; Her sails from heaven received no motion; Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock, The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock; So little they rose, so little they fell, They did not move the Inchcape bell.

The holy abbot of Aberbrothok Had floated that bell on the Inchcape Rock; On the waves of the storm it floated and swung, And louder and louder its warning rung.

When the rock was hid by the tempest's swell, The mariners heard the warning bell; And then they knew the perilous rock, And blessed the priest of Aberbrothok.

The sun in heaven shone so gay,-- All things were joyful on that day; The sea-birds screamed as they sported round, And there was pleasure in their sound.

The float of the Inchcape bell was seen, A darker speck on the ocean green; Sir Ralph, the rover, walked his deck, And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.

He felt the cheering power of spring,-- It made him whistle, it made him sing; His heart was mirthful to excess; But the rover's mirth was wickedness.

His eye was on the bell and float: Quoth he, "My men, pull out the boat; And row me to the Inchcape Rock, And I'll plague the priest of Aberbrothok."

The boat is lowered, the boatmen row, And to the Inchcape Rock they go; Sir Ralph bent over from the boat, And cut the warning bell from the float.

Down sank the bell with a gurgling sound; The bubbles rose, and burst around.

Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the rock Will not bless the priest of Aberbrothok."

Sir Ralph, the rover, sailed away,-- He scoured the seas for many a day; And now, grown rich with plundered store, He steers his course to Scotland's sh.o.r.e.

So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky They could not see the sun on high; The wind hath blown a gale all day; At evening it hath died away.

On the deck the rover takes his stand; So dark it is they see no land.

Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon, For there is the dawn of the rising moon."

"Canst hear," said one, "the breakers roar?

For yonder, methinks, should be the sh.o.r.e.

Now where we are I cannot tell, But I wish we could hear the Inchcape bell."

They hear no sound; the swell is strong, Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along; Till the vessel strikes with a s.h.i.+vering shock,-- O Christ! it is the Inchcape Rock!

Sir Ralph, the rover, tore his hair; He beat himself in wild despair.

The waves rush in on every side; The s.h.i.+p is sinking beneath the tide.

But ever in his dying fear One dreadful sound he seemed to hear,-- A sound as if with the Inchcape bell The evil spirit was ringing his knell.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ONE DREADFUL SOUND HE SEEMED TO HEAR]

TOM BROWN AT RUGBY[1]

[Footnote 1: _Tom Brown's School Days_, a description of life at the great English public school of Rugby, is one of the best known and best-liked books ever written for boys. The author, Thomas Hughes, was himself a Rugby boy, and many of the incidents of the story are drawn from his own experience. One of the most interesting things about the book is the picture it gives of Thomas Arnold, head-master of Rugby from 1828 to 1842. The influence for good of this famous scholar and educator, called affectionately "the doctor," can scarcely be overestimated.

He held that fully as much attention should be paid to the development of manly character in the boys as to mental training, and that the prime object of a school was not to turn out scholars, but to turn out men.

This Doctor Arnold was the father of Matthew Arnold, the poet.]

_By_ THOMAS HUGHES

TOM AND ARTHUR

It was a huge, high, airy room, with two large windows looking on to the school close.[2] There were twelve beds in the room, the one in the furthest corner by the fireplace occupied by the sixth-form[3] boy who was responsible for the discipline of the room, and the rest by boys in the lower-fifth and other junior forms, all f.a.gs[1] (for the fifth-form boys, as has been said, slept in rooms by themselves). Being f.a.gs, the eldest of them was not more than about sixteen years old, and all were bound to be up and in bed by ten; the sixth-form boys came to bed from ten to a quarter-past (at which time the old verger came round to put the candles out), except when they sat up to read.

[Footnote: 2: Tom Brown, an old Rugby boy, has come back after his vacation, full of plans for the good times which he expects to have with his chum East and other cronies. He is, however, called into the housekeeper's room and introduced to a shy, frail boy, whom he is asked to receive as his roommate and to look out for in the early days of his life at Rugby. Although greatly disappointed, Tom sees no way to refuse the request, and at the beginning of the selection here given we find him with young Arthur in the boys' dormitory.]

[Footnote 3: The word _form_ is used in English schools instead of _cla.s.s_.]

[Footnote 1: In English schools the name _f.a.g_ is applied to a boy who does, under compulsion, menial work for a boy of a higher form. The f.a.gging system used to be greatly abused, the boys of the higher cla.s.ses treating their f.a.gs with the greatest cruelty; but the bad points of the custom have been largely done away with.]

Within a few minutes, therefore, of their entry, all the other boys who slept in Number 4, had come up. The little fellows went quietly to their own beds, and began undressing and talking to each other in whispers; while the elder, among whom was Tom, sat chatting about on one another's beds. Poor little Arthur was overwhelmed with the novelty of his position. The idea of sleeping in the room with strange boys had clearly never crossed his mind before, and was as painful as it was strange to him. He could hardly bear to take his jacket off; however, presently, with an effort, off it came, and then he paused and looked at Tom, who was sitting at the bottom of his bed talking and laughing.

"Please, Brown," he whispered, "may I wash my face and hands?"

"Of course, if you like," said Tom, staring; "that's your washhand-stand, under the window, second from your bed. You'll have to go down for more water in the morning if you use it all." And on he went with his talk, while Arthur stole timidly from between the beds out to his washhand-stand, and began his ablutions, thereby drawing for a moment on himself the attention of the room.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BULLY CAUGHT IT ON HIS ELBOW]