<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
<blockquote><p>“And then the whining schoolboy, with his
satchel,<br/>
And shining morning face, creeping like snail<br/>
Unwillingly to school.”</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Shakspere</span>.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“I <span class="GutSmall">BELIEVE</span>,”
continued the old man, “that if a man were to live an
hundred years,—so long as to forget every thing else that
ever happened to him, he would never forget the first day of his
going to school! I am sure <i>I</i> never shall. I
recollect at this moment, as well or better than if it had taken
place yesterday, every thing that happened, every thing that I
did and saw, nay, every thing that I thought on that
all-important day. When I first woke in the morning, I
knew, before I opened my eyes, that something particular was
going to happen, though it was some time before I was
sufficiently wide awake to call to mind exactly what it
was. When it at last flashed across me that I was that day
going for the first time to school, I jumped into the middle of
the floor, and was dressed, (and in my best suit of fustians,) in
half my usual time. I shall never forget the care with
which my good mother packed up my little dinner in my bag,
putting my spelling-book carefully on the top of it, nor the
pleased look with which she put my new hat on my head, and bid me
to ‘be a good boy.’ I recollect I thought at
that time, as I started off—‘to be sure I shall; how
could any one doubt it!’ but I said nothing: I was in too
great haste to join my young companions, whom I heard hallooing
out for me from the top of the hill. What a glorious
morning it was! I told you that I did not care, then, much about the
scenes of nature; nor did I ever much think or talk about
them. It is not the custom in that country; for men are
there too familiar with them to make them the subject of their
daily conversation. But the impression which they made on
me shows that I felt them; for there was not a beam of sunshine
or a cloud that crossed my path on that morning, which I do not
recollect, at this moment, as distinctly as the everlasting hills
over which they passed—never to visit them
again!” A shade passed over the old man’s
countenance, and I fancied he was thinking, that he himself might
be compared to the cloud and the sunshine, never more to visit
his native hills. “The sun was rising right over the
top of Penigent, as I and my young companions reached the brow of
the hill from which the road descends down upon the quiet village
of Hawkshead. His rays just crossed the point on which we
stood, and stretched across, like so many golden rules or lines
of light, to the top of Coniston Old Man, and the side of
Bowfell, leaving Yewdale and Coniston Water Head lost in mist and
darkness. The birds were singing on the heights, the cattle
lowing to be milked in the valleys below, and the sheep bleating
on a thousand hills The whole air was filled, as far as the eye
could reach, with the glittering spider’s web, or gossamer,
of which nobody, I believe, could ever yet give a clear account;
and every bunch of heath and whin-bush was sparkling with drops
of dew so full and large, as to seem ready to fall like a shower
of rain upon the ground. There stood we, three raw lads of
the dale, setting out in the world for the first time, and
certainly looking out upon as bright a prospect before us, as
ever cheered the sight of any adventurous youths, going forth to
seek their fortunes in the world! Alas! the prospect has
often been sadly dimmed since then! On many a dark scene
have I looked, and many a melancholy pang has shot through my
heart since I gazed down, as I did then, in such bright hopes and
high spirits, from the top of that hill, upon the lowly roof of
Hawkshead School! But what of that? Sorrow would have
come, even if joy had not come before it! and the recollections
of my youth, instead of being a ground of repining at my
after-lot, have a thousand times been a subject of heartfelt
comfort; as I have ever felt that <span class="smcap">God</span>
did not intend me to be miserable; but that all my sorrow has
arisen, either from my own vices and follies, or from those of my
brother-men. I have often thought, sir, what a contrast
does my first school-day present with that of thousands of the
poor children in this wretched town of ours, who go for the first
time to their Infant or Sunday school, with no such brilliant sun
to light them on their way,—with no such mountain prospects
and bracing air to gladden their hearts, and breathe health into
their sickly frames,—with no such well-filled satchel
prepared by the hands of a watchful and pious mother; but through
dingy and soot-discoloured streets, without a single ray of the
sun, unless it be as yellow as a marigold, with but a crust of
dry bread for breakfast, which the mother puts into her
child’s hand that she may at once indulge herself in her
bed, and get rid of the care of her offspring for the remainder
of the day.—Oh, sir! too truly has it been said by the
poet,</p>
<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">“‘<span class="smcap">God</span> made the country, but Man made the
town.’”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“I fear, my good friend,” said I, “that your
recollections of early youth have prejudiced you against the
manifold benefits arising to society from the manufacturing
system.”</p>
<p>“By no means,” said he, “by no manner of
means; as you shall hear by and by. But here have I been
talking about myself in a most unreasonable way, and kept you
waiting all the while, at the door of Hawkshead school! Let
us walk in, if you please!”</p>
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