A REAL DOTHEBOYS HALL.

SOME few years ago, a well-known resident of Kirkby Stephen happened to pay a call on a friend who was at that moment suffering from the periodic fever which attacks us all—that of burning old letters. The holocaust had been almost completed when the visitor arrived, and out of the boxful of correspondence which had lain for many years in a disused cottage near Kirkby Stephen there remained but a score of letters yet to burn. These, too, were being consigned to the flames, when the visitor happened to notice to whom they were addressed, and immediately interceded for them, with the result that they were given to her. Now, the addressee of most of the letters was Mr. Aislabie: a man who is now almost forgotten in Kirkby Stephen, but who, in his day, must have been of considerable importance, for he was one of that body of men so much derided a hundred years ago with what reason we shall see presently-the Yorkshire schoolmasters.

Everyone who has read Nicholas Nickleby' knows something of the Yorkshire schools which flourished at the beginning of the nineteenth century. 'Dotheboys Hall, at the delightful village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire'; Mr. Squeers, the brutal, hypocritical, and ignorant schoolmaster; Mrs. Squeers, with her diabolical delight in suffering, and her brimstone spoon; and Smike, the terrible product of the whole system-are assured of an everlasting memory; for the publication of their story swept practically all such schools off the face of England. If the reader would like to confirm this statement, let him compare the advertising columns of The Times before and after 1838-the year Nicholas Nickleby' was published.

Dickens, in his original preface to Nicholas Nickleby,' says that Mr. Squeers was a representative of a class and not of an individual; but it is abundantly clear that many of the incidents of the story are taken from the actual facts concerning William Shaw's school at Bowes. This man was mulcted in £300 damages in each of two actions brought against him, together, by parents of boys who lost their sight through gross neglect. The action was tried in 1823, and the facts there set forth (The Times, October 31 and November 1) are quite as terrible as any in Dickens's story: yet it was not until the latter was published that the school was closed. It

is a curious commentary on the driving force of fact as compared with fiction.

Mr. Aislabie's school was of an earlier period than that of which Dickens wrote; for he began business about 1806 as a partner with his brother-in-law, Richard Robinson, at Church Brough, Westmorland. his previous occupation having been that of a traveller for a Chesterfield cotton firm. After taking up the scholastic profession, he managed to combine very happily his two interests; for he made regular journeys over the north of England, selling cloth and canvassing for pupils. To assist him in the latter, an advertisement somewhat similar to the following was usually inserted in the local paper of each town he visited:

'BOARD AND EDUCATION.

'Mr. Robinson, Master of the Grammar School, Bowes, North 'Riding of Yorkshire,

Being permitted by the Trustees of the same, to take a limited number of Boarders, avails himself of this opportunity of submitting his terms to the Public, . . . Board, Washing and Mending, (including the repairs of Shoes) young Gentlemen under 13 years of age, £16 per annum; those above 13 and under 18 years of age, £18 per annum.

No additional charge will be made for any part of their Education in the Latin, Greek and French Language, English grammatically, History, Geography, and the use of the Globes, Writing, Arithmetic, Merchants Accompts, Mensuration, Gauging, Geometry, Trigonometry, Surveying, Navigation, Algebra, etc.

'The plan of Education, commercial and literary, is adapted to the respective destinations and capacities of the Pupils, and the utmost attention is paid to their morals, health and personal comfort. When requested by Parents or Friends, they will have the opportunity of attending the gospel, at a Chapel of the Protestant Dissenters.

'They eat at the same table with Mr. R. and partake of the same victuals, and as to quantity are under no restraint. No more than two sleep in a bed, and there are only two beds in a room.

.. A week at Midsummer and a week at Christmas, are the only recesses and even then two hours each day are appropriated to study. It is only by particular request they visit home long vacations can only be advantageous to the Master, to the Pupil they answer no better purpose than to rob him, at a period when his time is most valuable, of three months out of twelve ;-to relax,

unhinge, and erase from his mind so many of his attainments as will cost him an application of nearly other three months to reinstate.

Thus it is evident that Mr. R.'s plan is productive of a great saving of the Pupil's time and the Parent's property; . . . To those who may consider the liberality of my terms as forming a barrier to my doing justice, I will briefly answer, that whilst my situation enables me to provide the best of provisions at 40 per cent. below what is usual in more southern counties, I am still more than an equal gainer, with those masters whose terms are much higher. ...' On the whole, it is a very creditable prospectus. The fees are reasonable, the course of study comprehensive extending even to Navigation-and the defence of 'no vacations' (the watchword of the true Yorkshire schoolmaster) extremely novel. His explana

tion of how he managed to give such good educational value is somewhat confusing, and, perhaps, intentionally so. It will be noted that not more than two boys slept in a bed. Mr. Robinson must have been regarded by his competitors as a bit of a health crank; for at Mr. Shaw's school four or five in a bed was not exceptional.

In 1807 Mr. Aislabie became sole partner in the school, and, removing to Kirkby Stephen, conducted it in a disused cotton-mill there. The woodcut at the top of his still extant prospectus shows Eden Hall-as he called it as a long, dismal, three-storied building set against a background of black, thunderous cloud. In the foreground, two of Mr. Aislabie's young gentlemen are flying a kite; two others, who wear broad-brimmed hats and appear to be about fifty years old each, are trundling hoops; whilst several others are preserving the balance of the picture by filling up vacant spaces.

But the outstanding feature of Mr. Aislabie's school is that it is probably the only one of which there is any full description by an old pupil—and it is rather surprising that, considering the thousands of boys these Yorkshire schools turned out, this should be so— and that is contained in the Life of Sir Joshua Walmsley,' published some years ago.

It was to Eden Hall that Joshua Walmsley went in the year 1807, at the age of thirteen; taking with him, no doubt, the Bible, Church Prayer-book, two pounds of soap, four night-caps, and four pocket-handkerchiefs (Mr. Squeers, twelve miles away, required of his boys only two of each), for which, amongst other things, Mr. Aislabie stipulated in his prospectus.

Before giving Sir Joshua's description, it is perhaps as well to

understand the temper of the man. He never complained of his treatment there, either as pupil or usher; for, hard as his life was, he was, nevertheless,, picking up some education. He put up with it as long as he could; then left and came to Liverpool as an usher. Here he worked for some years, and finally decided to give up teaching. Upon informing his employer of his intention, he was immediately offered a share in the school, worth £400; but he declined absolutely, and went into a corn office as a clerk, at a salary of just one-tenth of that amount, and married on it.

At the conclusion of his apprenticeship there he was again offered a partnership; but he refused this too, and struck out for himself. He was an old boy, of whom Mr. Aislabie might well have been proud.

Here is the daily routine at Eden Hall :

'Breakfast at Eden Hall consisted of a slice of black rye bread, a large proportion of bran entering into the composition. As a rule it was sour. In addition, a large boiler was placed on the table half filled with water, and into this two gallons of milk had been poured, and some handfuls of oatmeal added. Its contents were shared by the 130 hungry lads. Sometimes oatmeal porridge replaced the contents of the boiler, and a teaspoonful of treacle was allowed as a great treat. Three times a week we had a limited amount of meat for dinner; on other days, potatoes, black bread, and cheese. This cheese had grown so hard with age we nicknamed it "wheelbarrow trundles"; the third meal consisted of another slice of bread and of the “trundle " cheese. For a certain number of hours daily we were turned into agricultural labourers, working on a large farm belonging to our master. We were a healthy set, our constitutions hardened by out-door life and labour. Some boys complained, some ran away, but none were ill, and only one death occurred during the six years I stayed there.'

It is interesting to note how closely the diet at Eden Hall approximated to that at Dotheboys. There, breakfast consisted of a minute wedge of brown bread, and a brown composition which looked like diluted pincushions without the covers, and was called porridge. To treacle the 'great treat' of Eden Hall-Mrs. Squeers added, with her own hands, the highly prized brimstone, and saw that each pupil had more than he wanted. Dinner was stirabout, potatoes, and hard salt-beef; and for supper there was bread and cheese.

Really, I think Mr. Squeers was exaggerating when he said in his prospectus of Dotheboys Hall, Diet unparalleled.' Mr.

Aislabie's menu was quite as liberal, and his boilerful of milk and water was without its counterpart at Dotheboys. But it is plain that Mr. Squeers was quite alive to the value of this as an article of food; for it will be remembered that at breakfast at the Saracen's Head, he ordered twopennyworth of milk in a large jug, which he filled up with lukewarm water, for the five little boys he was taking home with him.

To return, however, to Eden Hall. Once we have passed the questions of diet and agricultural training, the divergence between Mr. Aislabie's and Mr. Squeers's schemes of education becomes apparent. Sir Joshua Walmsley tells us of an attack on the orchard of a neighbouring farmer, who caught some of the boys up his trees and, unable to get them down, agreed to say nothing about the matter if they would promise not to raid him again. They did so; but the following morning he reported the matter to the school and pointed out the culprits-who were punished. That night the best tree in his orchard was cut down by the boys, and the masters winked at the matter. No one could imagine Mr. Squeers's young gentlemen doing that or Mr. Squeers winking at it. One of his references in London described him as pious.

Besides this, there were town and school wrestling matches; for it must be remembered that Eden Hall was in Westmorland. When a boy had proved his prowess in school, he went into the town and, ringing the market-bell, awaited a rival champion. The contest was for the better of three falls, and was conducted in a perfectly friendly manner-the beaten lad going back to town or school to practise again.

The above incidents seem to prove that one Yorkshire school, at any rate, was not such a terribly bad sort of place, and I doubt if many boys of the present generation would not feel a little envious of one experience of young Walmsley.

Eden Hall was but a short distance from the moors which stretch wild and desolate towards Bowes, and Mr. Aislabie shot over them. (Here for one moment we come into touch again with Mr. Squeers. Dotheboys, we know, was close to Greta Bridge, which is but a short distance from Bowes, and it will be remembered that his academic dress was an old fustian shooting-jacket. Perhaps he, too, shot over these moors, and the two schoolmasters may have met.) On one occasion Mr. Aislabie took young Walmsley, now a junior usher, with him to carry the spare gun, and, sport being poor, he sent him to flush grouse. The boy set off, taking the gun