MEMORIES OF MISCHIEF. 37 



Culture of his garden. As we passed his garden-wall every day to and 

 from school, we were always attracted by a large pear-tree "which 

 loomed above the wall, and which in autumn, was always loaded with 

 large baking-pears. On the occasion of our expedition we had formed 

 a conspiracy to attack this pear-tree ; and although the pears were 

 yet far from ripe, and hence as hard as bullets, the enterprise was 

 considered one of the finest we had ever engaged in ; for, to tell the 

 truth, our pride had been wounded by the boastings of a country lad 

 who came into our class, and whose whole conversation consisted of 

 recitals of former orchard robbings. We planned to play at " Nickey 

 Night strike a light" in the adjoining field at dusk ; and while one 

 party kept up the noise of the game to lull suspicion, a small detach- 

 ment was to scale the wall and secure the booty. The evening came, 

 and at last the hour. Ourself and a dark determined boy were 

 chosen to scale the wall — three others, who had promised to aid us, 

 having lost their courage and bolted. Choosing a spot where the 

 bricks were loose, we at last gained the top of the wall, and looked 

 down in the moonlight on the old gentleman's garden. We paused a 

 moment, and then down we both dropped. We stole along the garden, 

 treading on strawberry-beds and breaking the flower-laden branches 

 of the rose-bushes. There were grapes in one place, nectarines in 

 another ; the walls all round were hung with unripe fruit, and pre- 

 sented stronger temptations than the chosen pear-tree. We were 

 treading in the thick of a strawberry-bed, in order to get at some green 

 peaches, when there was a noise at the garden door, and we saw the 

 servant busy scouring a tub. By this time several of our playmates had 

 mountedthe wall, and were occupying themselves in bawling out direc- 

 tions and exhortations to us, thereby increasing our danger of detection. 

 The noise of our companions attracted her attention, and she under- 

 stood in a moment the meaning of their exhortations. She ran to- 

 wards us : we dropt our fruit and ran also, but knew not whither. The 

 dark boy made for a buttress of the wall and began to ascend; we 

 shot straight across a bed of celery, tripped over a frame, and fell 

 sprawling, and the next moment the broom was belabouring our 

 shoulders. Our companion escaped and regained his fellows, but we 

 were dragged like poachers to the county justice — into the presence 

 of the grey-headed captain, who sat, in his velvet cap- and slippers, 

 smoking in the parlour. The old man looked at us through his 

 spectacles, read us a lecture on the wickedness of theft, and then 



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