Once, after the winter holidays, when he and his brother William
had set off on horseback to return to school, they came back, because
there had been a fall of snow; and William, who did not much like the
journey, said it was too deep for them to venture on. "If that be the
case," said the father, "you certainly shall not go; but make another
attempt, and I will leave it to your honour. If the road is dangerous
you may return: but remember, boys, I leave it to your honour!" The snow
was deep enough to have afforded them a reasonable excuse; but Horatio
was not to be prevailed upon to turn back. "We must go on," said he:
"remember, brother, it was left to our honour!"--There were some fine
pears growing in the schoolmaster's garden, which the boys regarded as
lawful booty, and in the highest degree tempting; but the boldest among
them were afraid to venture for the prize. Horatio volunteered upon this
service: he was lowered down at night from the bedroom window by some
sheets, plundered the tree, was drawn up with the pears, and then
distributed them among his school-fellows without reserving any for
himself. "He only took them," he said, "because every other boy was
afraid."
Early on a cold and dark spring morning Mr. Nelson's servant arrived at
this school, at North Walsham, with the expected summons for Horatio to
join his ship. The parting from his brother William, who had been for
so many years his playmate and bed-fellow, was a painful effort, and
was the beginning of those privations which are the sailor's lot through
life. He accompanied his father to London. The RAISONNABLE was lying in
the Medway. He was put into the Chatham stage, and on its arrival was
set down with the rest of the passengers, and left to find his way on
board as he could. After wandering about in the cold, without being able
to reach the ship, an officer observed the forlorn appearance of the
boy, questioned him; and happening to be acquainted with his uncle, took
him home and gave him some refreshments. When he got on board, Captain
Suckling was not in the ship, nor had any person been apprised of the
boy's coming. He paced the deck the whole remainder of the day without
being noticed by any one; and it was not till the second day that
somebody, as he expressed it, "took compassion on him." The pain which
is felt when we are first transplanted from our native soil--when the
living branch is cut from the parent tree is one of the most poig
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