1 6 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



account of the catastrophe which attended it. There was a large 

 horsepond, separated by a hedge from the field which was allotted to 

 the scholars for recreation-ground. An oblong tub, used for hold- 

 ing dough before it was baked, had just been placed by the side of the 

 pond. I thought that I should like to have an excursion on the deep; 

 so taking a couple of stakes out of the hedge, to serve as oars, I got 

 into the tub, and pushed off 



' Ripse ulterioris amore.' 



I had got above half way over, when, behold, the mascer, and the 

 late Sir John Lawson of Brough Hall, suddenly rounded a .corner 

 and hove in sight. Terrified at their appearance, I first lost a stake, 

 and then my balance : this caused the tub to roll like a man-of-war 

 in a calm. Down I went to the bottom, and rose again covered 

 with mud and dirt. * Terribili squalore Charon? My good old 

 master looked grave, and I read my destiny in his countenance : 

 but Sir John said that it was, a brave adventure, and he saved me 

 from being brought to a court-martial for disobedience of orders, 

 and for having lost my vessel.* But it is time to cease on school 

 affairs ; fully aware that too much pudding chokes a dog. Let us 

 visit the surrounding country. 



" Tudhoe has no river, a misfortune ' valde deflendus? In other 

 respects the vicinity was charming; and it afforded an ample supply 

 of woods and hedgerow trees to insure a sufficient stock of carrion 

 crows, jackdaws, jays, magpies, brown owls, kestrels, merlins, and 

 sparrow-hawks, for the benefit of natural history and my own in- 

 struction and amusement. 



" Betwixt Tudhoe School and Ferry Hill, there stood an oaken 

 post, very strong, and some nine feet high. This was its appearance 

 in my days, but formerly it must have been much higher. It was 

 known to all the country round by the name of Andrew Mills' stob. 

 We often went to see it, and one afternoon whilst we were looking at 

 it, an old woman came up, took her knife from her pocket, and then 



* Wordsworth's poem, " The Blind Highland Boy," was written on an adven- 

 turous lad who embarked on Loch Leven in a washing-tub. Wordsworth sub- 

 stituted a turtle-shell for the unpoetical tub, "in deference," he says, "to the 

 opinion of a friend." [ED.] 



