Ravenshoe. By Henry Kingsley.

24 RAVENSHOE.
clear water rushing and seething among the rocks, lying dark
under the oak-roots, and flashing merrily over the weir, just
above the bridge; till, "flick!" a silver bar would shoot quivering into the air, and a salmon would light on the top of the fall,
just where the water broke, and would struggle on into the still
pool above, or be beaten back by the force, to resume his attempt
when he had gained breath. The trout, too, under the bridge,
bless the rogues, they knew it was Sunday well enough, -how
they would lie up there in the swiftest places, where glancing
liquid glorified the poor pebbles below into living amber, and
would hardly trouble themselves to snap at the great fat, silly
stoneflies that came floating down. 0, it was a terrible place
for dawdling was that stone bridge, on a summer Sabbath morn.
But now would the country folks come trooping in from far
and near, for Ravenshoe was the only church for miles, and however many of them there were, every one had a good hearty Westcountry greeting for him. And, as the crowd increased near
the church-door, there was so much to say and hear, that I am
afraid the prayers suffered a little sometimes.
The villagers were pleased enough to see the lad in the old
carved horsebox (not to be irreverent) of a pew, beneath the
screen in the chancel, with the light from the old rose window
shining on his curly brown hair. The older ones would think
of the haughty beautiful lady who sat there so few years ago,
and oftentimes one of the more sagacious would shake his head
and mutter to himself, " Ah! if he were heir."
Any boy who reads this story, and I hope many will read it,
is hereby advertised that it is exceedingly wrong to be inattentive in church in sermon time. It is very naughty to look up
through the windows at the white clouds flying across the blue
sky, and think how merrily the shadows are sweeping over the
upland lawn, where the pewits' nests are, and the blackcock is
crowing on the gray stones among the heather. No boy has any
right to notice another boy's absence, and spend sermon-time in
wondering whether he is catching crabs among the green and
crimson sea-weed on the rocks, or bathing in the still pool under
the cliff. A boy had better not go to church at all, if he spends
his time in thinking about the big trout that lies up in one of
the pools in the woodland stream, and whether he will be able
to catch a sight of him again by creeping gently through the
hazel and king fern. Bird's-nests, too, even though it be the
ringousel's, who is to lay her last egg this blessed day, and is
maiked for spoliation to-morrow, should be banished from a boy's
mind entirely during church time. Now, I am sorry to say that
Charles was very much given to wander in church, and, when
asked about the sermon by the vicar next day, would look rather