But The Bradder shook his head.

"You say Mr. Edwardes saw you at Reading, and that you are gated, and were not in college until ten o'clock. I wish you would not do such stupid things," he said quite seriously.

"It was the reaction," I replied.

"From what?"

"Browning," I said, and The Bradder did not look altogether pleased.

"I am sorry you can't appreciate Browning."

"I can't appreciate very many things at once. Besides, Jack and I felt very dull."

"Mr. Edwardes saw you, I suppose?" he asked Jack.

"I should think so, but I don't think he knows me by sight."

"Oh yes, he does," The Bradder said. "Both of you are bound to hear more about this."

"It's very unfortunate," Jack remarked; "you see there was a fog, and all sorts of unexpected things happened. It has been a real bad day," he added, as we left the room.

On the following morning directly after breakfast Jack and I went round to see Bunny, and we found him talking to a man who looked like a groom from his head to his heels. I groaned.

"Sit down, Sam," Bunny said. "That's Mr. Marten, the owner of the horse you are talking about."

"Well, all I can say is what the Guv'nor told me to say. I was to say this 'oss must leave our place this morning or there'll be trouble."

"There seems to have been trouble already," Bunny replied.

"'E's done enough damage for twenty 'osses. Kick, you should see 'im; 'e's kicked a loose box silly. Our Guv'nor's fairly got 'is rag out."

"He must wait until I've finished breakfast. You'd better have a cigarette, Sam."

"No, thank you," Sam answered, and looked at a cigar-box.

"Help yourself," Bunny said.

Sam helped himself and remarked that he had been up since five o'clock with that blessed 'oss, and that it was thirsty work. So he helped himself again. After that he did not seem to mind so much what the Guv'nor said, and told Bunny that he had never met a nobleman who didn't know how to treat people properly.

We talked to Sam for some time, and just as Bunny was finishing breakfast another man came into the room.

"I had forgotten all about you," Bunny said. "I'm afraid this place is rather full of smoke," and he introduced his cousin, Mr. Eric Bruce.

"I can't congratulate you on your memory," Bruce replied; "you forgot I was going to stay with you last night, and you forget I want any breakfast. Funny chap, Augustus, isn't he?" he said to me.

"Your wire never came until I had gone yesterday, so I couldn't forget you were coming," Bunny said, and rang the bell.

"I'll tell the Guv'nor you'll be round in 'alf a jiffy," Sam said, and went out of the room jerkily, as if he had got a stiff leg.

"What curious friends you have, Augustus, and what is ''alf a jiffy'?" Bruce asked.

"Don't be a fool," Bunny answered, "and don't call me Augustus."

"It's better than Gussy," Bruce declared, and though I should have been glad to contradict him, for I disliked him at sight, there is no doubt that he was right.

"Is the man, who has gone, an elderly undergraduate or only a don?" Bruce went on.

"He's from some stables round the corner. Any one with two eyes could see that."

"Rude as usual; my cousin's the oddest man," Bruce said to Jack.

"Like to buy a horse?" Bunny asked him.

"I'm ready to buy anything if I can sell it at a profit," he answered.

"Well, swallow your breakfast and come and have a look. You'll get your profit all right. I've never known you when you didn't."

In a few minutes we all went to the stables, and Bunny began haggling operations. Bruce bid a "fiver" for Thunderer, and was told he would fetch that for cats' meat, and then the game went on. In the end Bruce said he would give fifteen guineas, and take him to London that day. I nearly seized him by the hand, and told him he was a rare good sort, which I was quite convinced he was not. The livery-stable man did not seem to care what happened as long as Thunderer went away, and I must say that he made the least of his eccentricities.

"That's a bit of luck," Bunny said to me when the bargain was settled, "I get rid of my cousin and a horse on the same day, both real bad lots. He's our family pestilence," and he nodded at Bruce's back.

For Jack's benefit I added up the result of my investment, and came to the conclusion that I was about eighteen-pence to the bad when I had paid for the damage Thunderer had done, and all the little incidental expenses connected with him. You can't own a race-horse for nothing, and I think that I—or rather Bunny—did well. I was told afterwards that Bruce raffled my horse and sold fifty tickets for a sovereign each, but I am not inclined to believe that story, and at any rate I should not have known where to find fifty fools. I certainly could not have discovered them in Oxford, where some people, who have never been there, make the mistake of thinking they are to be found in crowds.

I believe the dons held a meeting about Jack and me, for The Bradder told us there was a great difference of opinion about the sort of men we were. I tried to get more out of him, but failed. However, we got off lightly, for Jack was only gated for a week, while I was given a lecture by the Subby, and had a week added to my term of imprisonment.

The Bradder also advised me to give up going to race-meetings.



CHAPTER XXII

A TUTORSHIP

I was beginning to forget that I had ever been the owner of a race-horse when I got a furious letter from my father. The Warden had told my uncle, and my uncle lost his head and wrote to my people instead of to me. A tale of this kind always flies round at a tremendous pace, and it was difficult to make every one believe that I had never meant to buy the horse, and that as soon as I had bought him my one desire was to get rid of him. I found out afterwards that the Warden only told my uncle because he thought the tale would amuse him, but apparently he expressed himself in such very curious language that he gave the impression of being annoyed. After I had soothed my people the Bishop wrote to me that the turf had been the ruin of many young men, but when I thought of the part I had played upon it I came to the conclusion that I was not likely to be added to the number. My uncle referred to racing as "a fascinating and very expensive pleasure," and I assured him that I had not found it fascinating, and that my experience had cost me eighteen-pence, the cheapness of which he had to admit. I am glad that I added up my expenses, for that eighteen-pence was very useful, it was such a delightfully ridiculous sum to brandish at any one who thought that I was trotting down the road to perdition.

During the rest of the term we were very quiet in St. Cuthbert's. I was able to play rugger for the college in nearly every match, for my days in the 'Varsity fifteen had ended. Hogan was better than ever, while I had fallen away to the kind of man who Blackheath ask to play for them when half their team are crocked and the other half have influenza. I did not mind, however, for our college fifteen was only beaten by Trinity and Keble, and our soccer team, chiefly owing to three or four freshers, was also much better than it had been for years.

Things were improving all round, and Jack's energy was almost exhausting to those who watched it. He seemed to me to be hunting for societies to join, and he went round sampling them and finding out that they did not suit him. Bunny Langham succeeded in getting himself elected Secretary of the Union, and he told me that he was going to have several cabinet ministers down to speak in the following term, and should give them a jolly good dinner. He asked Jack and me to meet them, but only one of them came, and he did not dine with Bunny. His father, who was in the Government and held the record for the number of speeches he had made in the House of Lords, came down once and wanted to come again, but he spoke for such a tremendously long time that Bunny declared that he should give up all hopes of being elected President if he ever came again.

In the Lent term Jack rowed six in our Torpid, and also told me that he thought he should try and get his blue for throwing the hammer. He had never thrown the hammer in his life, but he said that he knew what it was like and any one could throw it. I suppose that was true, but Jack, when he tried, found that there were other men who could throw it a greater distance than he could, which did not trouble him in the least. He remarked that the hammer was a silly thing after all, and that he should think of something else.

But the Torpid occupied so much of his time and attention that he gave up seeking for a curious way in which to get his blue, and settled down to train in a most determined manner. The sight of me eating muffins for tea seemed to be almost an insult to him, I really believe that he would have liked me to train with him, though I had nothing whatever to train for. He did persuade me once to run round the Parks before breakfast, but I didn't repeat the experiment, for I felt quite fit without being restless in the early morning. Of course I had the Torpid to breakfast, and their confidence in themselves was as great as their appetites. You can't, I think, give breakfast to a Torpid and like them at the same time, and I have never acted as host to a Torpid or an Eight without being struck by the fact that of all men in the world I was the most supremely unimportant. Occasionally Jack and another man remembered that I was not very interested in the amount of work the Corpus stroke did with his legs, and made as great an effort to drag me into the conversation as I made to keep in it. But the effort was very apparent on both sides, and I gave up when I heard that seven in the Merton boat used his oar like a pump-handle, and that there was not a single man in the Pembroke crew who pulled his own weight. This last statement compelled me to ask if Pembroke hoisted a sail on their boat and waited for a favourable wind, but my question was treated with scorn, and I came to the usual conclusion that the best place to see a Torpid collectively is in a boat.

The confidence of our men depressed me, for I had most conscientiously played the part of host to previous Torpids and Eights, who had been equally confident until the racing began. After that they had either complained of their luck or their cox, and I asked Jack when I got him by himself if he really thought our boat was going up.

"I don't know," he replied, "we plug hard, and thinking you are bound to bump everybody is part of the game. It's no use starting to race with your tail down."

The papers considered that we were bound to rise, but for two years they had been saying that and all we had done was to lose more places. I wished that I could meet some one who was not sure about the success of our boat, and at last I discovered him in Lambert, who said our crew looked like a picnic party, which had gone too far out to sea, and had to plug for all they were worth to get back before night. Then I defended them and felt more happy. The fact was the Torpids were a sort of test case; if we went up I felt we should have fairly turned the corner, but if we went down I was afraid our fit of enthusiasm would cool rapidly. No one who was rowing in them could have been more excited than I was. The Bradder noticed it and complained, but for the moment I was incapable of caring much about things which had happened, and after all there is something to be said for anybody who is really keen on one thing, if he does not make himself a very terrific bore.

On the first night of the races we got a dreadfully bad start, and for two or three minutes we were in danger of being bumped. Then we settled down and began to draw close to Corpus, but our cox was too eager and made unsuccessful shots at them. After the second shot I could not run another yard, so perhaps a little training might have done me good, but we did catch Corpus at the "Cher," and that began a triumphant week. We made seven bumps, and though a lot of men said our crew showed more brute force than science, it must have been nonsense, because we went up from fourteenth to seventh, and when a boat gets fairly high in the First Division there is sure to be some one in it who can row properly. The stroke of the 'Varsity eight told me that the best man in our Torpid was Jack and I believed him very easily.

"He could be made useful in the middle of a boat with a bit of coaching," he said to me.

"You'll be up next year, so look out for him," I answered, and I told him that I thought Jack was a splendid oar, which was no use because he only laughed.

I had become so accustomed to a dismal return to college from both the Eights and Torpids that the change was quite delightful, and on the last day of the races we had a huge "bump" supper in hall. From that supper some of our dons stood aloof and were even said to disapprove of it, but the Warden was present for the greater part of it, and the Bursar and The Bradder entered into the spirit of the thing with a zest which was splendid. There were also two or three more dons, who had been undergrads of St. Cuthbert's, but who now belonged to other colleges, and they seemed to know that there are times when it is well to forget that you are a don. We entertained two members of each of the crews which we had bumped, and I cannot say that any of them seemed to be dispirited by their bad fortune. Indeed, as the evening went on they became exceedingly lively, and some of them were inclined to swear everlasting friendship with any one who liked demonstrations.

After supper we had a lot of speeches, but it was impossible to hear many of them, for everybody wanted to speak and no one to listen. I did hear the opening sentence of one speech, "Gentlemen, I used to be able to row once," but I heard no more, for the next words were drowned in loud cries of "Shame" and "No, no," and the don who wished to tell us his personal reminiscences just stood and smiled at us. He had been in the St. Cuthbert's boat when it had been head of the river and did not mind anything. Before we left the hall there were two men speaking at once at our table, it was a great chance to practise oratory. I have never been at a more convivial supper, and since we had not been given an opportunity of celebrating anything for ages it is no wonder that we made a tremendous noise. Some people may wag their heads at bump suppers and call them silly, or whatever they please, but they have forgotten the joy of living, and find their chief delight in criticizing the pleasures of those who are younger and happier than themselves. I suppose they are useful in their way, but thank goodness their way is not mine. You can't expect an undergraduate to celebrate seven bumps by standing on the top of a mountain and watching a sunrise, or by some equally peaceful enjoyment. He wants noise, and he generally manages to get it. I know that I was very pleased with that evening and felt as if it had been well-spent, but when I tried to describe it to Mrs. Faulkner, she shrugged her shoulders and said that it was most childish, for she couldn't understand that it was very nice to let yourself go a little when there was a good reason for doing it. I believe she was one of those people who are ashamed of ever having been children, and if she lived to be a hundred years old and kept all her faculties she would never understand what a peculiar mixture makes up life at Oxford. I did not tell her about the bonfire which we had in the back quad after supper, because I am sure she would have thought that either I was lying or that most of the men in St. Cuthbert's were a set of lunatics.

Two or three dons, who could appreciate festivities, danced round the bonfire quite happily, and evidently enjoyed themselves. They were very popular; too much so possibly for their own comfort, for one of them who was, except on especial occasions, a most prim and proper person, was seized by a man, who looked upon him as his very dearest friend, and carried round the bonfire at galloping pace. After that the dons disappeared and we had a dance in the hall. I should think the band must have been as keen on exercise as we were, for the music got faster and faster as the evening went on, and it was impossible to keep time, but that did not matter. In our battels at the end of the week we were all charged half-a-crown for refreshing the band, so that they could not have gone away hungry—or thirsty.

An outburst of this kind is something more than a custom honoured by time, for it clears the air and you can settle down afterwards quite easily. I had smuggled myself into the festivities which other colleges had given, but I had never enjoyed myself half as much as I did at our own. We had done something at last which was worth a bonfire, and a bonfire with no one to dance round it has never yet been lighted in an Oxford quad.

The Bradder thought that our supper had gone off very well, although he had seen one of his fellow-dons treated too affectionately, and had rescued him. But he knew such things did not really mean anything, for you can't expect men who have just come out of strict training to behave quite like ordinary mortals.

I wanted to fish during the Easter vac, but my vacs were beginning to get out of hand, for make what plans I would—and I made very pleasant ones—somebody was always at work to upset them. I meant to take Fred home with me and play cricket in a net if the weather was warm, and fish a little stream near us, but the Bishop had found something else for me to do, and my schemes came to nothing. At the end of the term I only went home for two days, and then had to start off on a tutorship. It is no use pretending that I went without vigorous protests. I said that I had never tutored anybody in my life, and was met by the answer that everything had to have a beginning, which is such an appalling truism that it ought never to be uttered. I then stated that I was sorry for the boy who had me as a tutor, though I meant, of course, that I was sorry for myself, and my mother replied that she should miss me very much, but that she had talked the whole thing over with my father, and they both thought the experience would be good for me. What could I say to that? Besides, it was too late to back out. The people, I was told, were charming, and I was to take charge of a boy aged twelve, who was home from school because he had been having measles. The boy was also charming, everybody and everything seemed to be exactly right; but I thought I saw the Bishop peeping through all these descriptions, and charming is a word which has no great attractions for me, it is so comprehensive and can mean such a multitude of things.

But as I had to go I went cheerfully, and I should not think that any one ever started on a tutorship knowing less than I did about the people to whom I was going. My whole stock of knowledge consisted of their name, which was Leigh-Tompkinson, of the place where they lived, and of the fact that the boy had been ill. I had, however, no doubt that I should be able to get on with them if they could only put up with me; they were, I was assured, friends of the Bishop, and I did not think that he would urge me to go to any people whom I should not like.

When I arrived at the house I was shown into a drawing-room in which there were at least eight ladies and not a single man. My reception was almost effusive. Mrs. Leigh-Tompkinson insisted that I was cold, tired, and dying of hunger, but I had only travelled forty miles, and the day was warm. I wanted nothing except a sight of Mr. Leigh-Tompkinson, and I had an awful feeling that there was not such a man. It struck me suddenly that no one had ever spoken of him to me, and my courage decreased.

"You would like to see Dick," one lady said to me, and everybody asked where he was, and nobody knew or seemed to care very much. The desire for him passed off as quickly as it had come, and in half-an-hour I was playing a four-handed game at billiards with Mrs. Leigh-Tompkinson as a partner, and two ladies as our opponents. My partner played better than I did, and we won; we then played two other ladies, and in the middle of the second game Dick came into the room. One glance at him told me that he was all right, and I should have been very glad to go away with him. He remarked to me at once that I was "at it" already, which told me a good deal. No one took any notice of him except to tell him not to fidget, and as he was not fidgeting I thought he was very amiable to receive such unnecessary orders in silence. Before dinner I was able to have a few minutes alone with him, and my fears about Mr. Leigh-Tompkinson were realized—he was dead. We also made some plans for the next day, which were never carried out. In fact, try as I would for many days, and I adopted many artifices, I could hardly ever spend more than an odd half-hour with him, there was always something which his mother thought much more important for me to do. The house was full of people, most of whom were ladies, though none of them were what I called young; but there were two men there all the time, who were the mildest beings I have ever met. I don't think either of them liked me, and I am sure I did not like them; their wildest amusement was a little, a very little golf, and their chief employment was to make themselves generally useful. Everybody, with the exception of Dick and me, seemed to be trying to be young again, it was a most melancholy spectacle. For some time I could not understand how Mrs. Leigh-Tompkinson could be a friend of my uncle's, but at last a Miss Bentham, who was always ready to talk, told me that the house-party were having their holidays before they went back to London for the season.

"In London my cousin has so much to do," she continued. "Of course the season is always fatiguing, but Mrs. Leigh-Tompkinson makes it more so by her devotion to good works."

I nearly laughed aloud, and thought of saying that if she would be a little more devoted to her son she would not be wasting her time, but I suppressed myself and asked to hear more about the good works.

"She gives so much away, but then she's so rich," Miss Bentham said. "She's devoted to your uncle, but then he's so handsome. Don't you think so?"

"He's fifty," I replied, without remembering to whom I was talking.

"A woman is as old as she looks and a man as he feels," she said, and looked at me.

I knew that I was expected to say that the Bishop must be about thirty, and that she could be scarcely twenty-five, but I really could not do it. The whole place made me feel absolutely unwell.

"My uncle works hard and often feels tired," I remarked after a moment.

"You mustn't think we always enjoy ourselves like this. Here we are quite children again, so very refreshing," but her interest in me had gone. I had been given my opportunity and had not taken it. I should have liked very much to see an interview between Mrs. Leigh-Tompkinson in her "good works" mood and my uncle; it would have been a delightful entertainment. But I am sure that he had never seen her when she was taking her holidays, or I should have been left to play cricket and fish with Fred.

In spite, however, of the facts that I was always trying to fulfil the duties which were supposed to account for my presence, and that I liked Dick far better than any one else in the house, I was for some time most popular with Mrs. Leigh-Tompkinson. I was new, I suppose, for what other reason there could have been for my popularity I cannot imagine; but at any rate the reason is not worth guessing, for in a brief ten minutes I managed to fall completely out of favour.

The way in which this happened was rather absurd, but it showed clearly enough what an odd kind of woman Dick had for a mother. As a rule I had to play billiards after dinner, but one evening there was somebody staying in the house who persuaded Mrs. Leigh-Tompkinson to play round games, and when I went into the drawing-room I discovered that preparations had been made for this form of dissipation. Dick had been allowed to come down to take part in them, and was walking round asking everybody to begin at once; but my experience of round games is that people are generally far more anxious to stop than to begin them. Each person wanted to play a different game, for by this means I fervently believe that they imagined they would get out of playing any at all. I sat down while I had the chance, feeling sure that in a few minutes I should be asked to go outside the door and stay there. I thought that I knew every game of the kind, and when Dick had at last got a few people to look like beginning, I was asked if I knew "it." I had no idea that "it" meant anything out of the ordinary, and I said unblushingly that I did, whereupon Mrs. Leigh-Tompkinson asked me to take the chair on her right hand. One of the mild men had already taken up his position on this seat, and to my sorrow he was told to move, though I had no idea that my position was in a peculiar way the place of honour. A lady, who proclaimed many times that she had never done such a thing in her life, stood in the middle of the circle and asked questions, and from the confusing answers she received I discovered promptly that I did not know what game we were playing. At last she came to me and said, "Is it beautiful?" so as we were only allowed to say "Yes" or "No," and the last answer had been "Yes," I said "No." I shall never forget the gasp which followed. Dick, I am ashamed to say, gave way to merriment, but the rest of the people looked at me as if I had committed a crime. It was not hard for me to guess that I ought to have said "Yes"; the agitation had even spread to Mrs. Leigh-Tompkinson. The second question asked me was, "Is it old?" and this time I said "Yes," with some fervour; but my answer again caused consternation. Some one indeed declared that it was too hot for games, and in a minute the circle was broken up. Then Dick told me that "it" was always the left-hand neighbour of the person who was asked the question, and I saw that my answers, if true, had also been unfortunate.

Mrs. Leigh-Tompkinson went into the billiard-room at once, and I am afraid that even an immediate explanation and apology would not have been considered compensation enough for making her ridiculous. During the next two days Dick and I were left very much to ourselves, and then I asked Miss Bentham, who was, I think, secretly pleased at my answers, to suggest that I should take him to the sea for the rest of his holidays. This request was made in the morning, and we started during the afternoon of the same day, for I had sinned past forgiveness. But unless I had played this game of "It" I should never have had time to make friends with Dick, and he wanted a friend rather badly. He was lonely among a crowd of people, all of whom were ready to give him anything he asked for, except companionship. I started by being sorry for him, and ended by liking him very much; he only wanted some one to take an interest in him, and that I was able to do quite easily. After my tutorship was over Mrs. Leigh-Tompkinson wrote to me and hoped that I should often be able to take him away with me, but she expressed no wish for me to stay with her again.

At the beginning of my third summer term I was able to pay Fred the money he had lent me. He protested, but I insisted, for he was Captain of the 'Varsity XI., and was also so popular that during the next few weeks he was bound to have plenty of opportunities for thinking of anything but economy. Besides, this money had been at times a load on my conscience. Economy, either practical or political, has never been a strong point of mine, but I often regretted that I had during my first two years bought a number of things which were more or less useless, because I was not compelled to pay for them at the moment. My difficulties were not overwhelming but they were a nuisance, until the Bishop, who knew both Oxford and me by heart, solved them by giving me a birthday present. Every one, however, has not got a convenient uncle, and without his present I should, owing to the recklessness of my first two years, have been compelled to leave Oxford with bills unpaid, and the prospect of a stormy interview with my father in front of me. I was so genuinely fond of Oxford, and there are so many pleasant things to do there, that I should have been very sorry to leave it with anything hanging over me.

Fast bowlers, both good and bad, were scarce during the whole time I was up, and I was not altogether surprised when Fred chose me to play in the Seniors' Match. In that game I succeeded in getting a few wickets, and soon afterwards I got my Harlequin cap, which pleased me hugely. I am sure that had I not been such an outrageously bad batsman, Fred would have liked to try me for the 'Varsity, but there happened to be another man who did not bowl any worse than I did and who batted much better. So I was left to bowl for the college, and I was not altogether sorry, for if Fred had yielded to his feelings and given me a trial a lot of men would have said it was a swindle. There are a number of people in Oxford who spend their time in looking out for swindles, and of all things in the world they seem to be the easiest to find. In Fred's case, however, I should have had a much better chance of playing if I had not been one of his greatest friends, for he was the very last man to turn his eleven into a sort of family party.

Our eight expected to make seven bumps, and succeeded in making five of them, with which Jack, who rowed six, pretended to be discontented. But we celebrated those five bumps all right, and altogether the college was a splendid place to live in. I stayed in bed much later than usual on the morning after our second celebration, and I suppose every one else was sleepy, for I could hear Clarkson calling his boy a lazy young vagabond, and that always happened when through other people's laziness the unfortunate boy could not get on with his work.

"Who is up?" Clarkson shouted.

"Nobody," the boy answered.

"Then fetch Mr. Thornton's breakfast," for Thornton had moved into rooms next to mine at the beginning of the term.

"Mr. Thornton's in bed."

Clarkson stamped heavily. "What the deuce does he mean by being in bed? Go and fetch his breakfast, and don't answer me when I give you orders."

The boy hurried down the stairs, and I thought Thornton had acted very unwisely in changing his rooms, for if Clarkson got hold of a man of whom he could take charge he was quite certain not to miss his chance. I knew one or two men who lived in greater fear of him than of any don, and I determined to advise Thornton not to be bullied. My efforts, however, were quite useless, for Thornton assured me that he liked our scout and got a great deal of amusement from him.

"Clarkson knows exactly what is best for himself and me, and he is always clean," he said.

"He treats his boy abominably," I replied.

"I wonder what you would be like if you were a scout," he said, and as he obviously thought that I should only be remarkable for my failings, I gave up trying to talk to him.

Thornton was a great puzzle to me, for his one desire was to be left to himself, and apart from speaking at debates and belonging to various literary societies he never seemed to me to do anything. Murray always lost his temper with me when I said that Thornton was extraordinarily odd, and declared that he was one of the cleverest men in the college and would probably be governing some colony when we had sunk out of sight.

In some moods Murray was not a cheerful companion, and I could not help telling him that to be bullied by your scout is not a good preparation for governing anything. And as a matter of fact Thornton became gradually so very eccentric, that even Murray had to admit that if he was a genius he was one who had lost his way.

After our eight had been successful Jack Ward was very anxious that they should go to Henley, but both the Bursar, who had done more to improve our rowing than anybody, and The Bradder wanted them to wait for another year.

"We shall have nearly the same eight next summer, and two or three good freshers are coming up," The Bradder argued.

"I shall be in the schools," Jack replied sadly, and though The Bradder turned away suddenly I saw him smiling, for Jack's essays were some of the most comical things ever written.

Anything which resembled style he said was unwholesome, and although Mr. Grace talked to him like a parent and The Bradder tried persuasion and abuse, he stuck to his solid way of giving information. But he confided in me that the reason was that he couldn't write a proper essay to save his life.

"All I want," he exclaimed, "is a degree, and that's what these men don't understand. Besides, I spell badly; it's a disease with me, and when you have got it, you may be able to think of a word, but you would be a precious fool to use it when another man has to read what you have written. So my vocabulary gets limited, and I'm going to stick to facts, and I shouldn't wonder if the examiners don't like them. They so seldom get them."

I don't think he understood what a very great deal some of the history men manage to know, but, at any rate, his way of tackling the examiners was novel, and considering the disease from which he was suffering, perhaps it was also the best he could choose. So he went on learning things by heart, and put up long lists of things on his looking-glass, or any place where he was likely to see them. I saw the extraordinary word "Brom" pinned on to a photograph of Collier, and found out that it stood for Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde and Malplaquet.

"I can't help thinking that Marlborough finished off with Blenheim, because it is the sort of battle any one who is not even reading history has heard of," he explained, "and I have to get that idea out of my head. You will find all sorts of funny words stuck about the place. I've got 'Kajakk' pinned on to a lobelia in my flower-box, because I am always leaving out Anne of Cleves; she never seemed to have a chance, and you must have the man's wives all right."

"Do you think they matter much?" I asked.

"Of course they do. They are guide-posts to the reign, but they would do much better if half of them were not Katharines."

I suggested that he should call one of them Kate and another Kathleen to avoid confusion, but he said that "Kajakk" would pull him through all right, and that if there was any question about Henry VIII. he did not mean to miss is. I am certain that had he been given an opportunity, the examiners would have had a correct list of these ladies, with a brief note attached to explain why there were so many of them.

Soon after the Eights were over, I heard that The Bradder had invited my people to come up at the end of the term, and as I had never stayed up for "Commem," I wrote back cheerfully, and said we would enjoy ourselves. This letter, however, was answered by my father at once, and my plans were again thrown into confusion. "I want you to leave for Germany when term is over. To get even a smattering of the language you must be there nearly three months, and, unless you go immediately, you will miss all the shooting. I want you to know three modern languages well enough to get into the Foreign Office without any difficulty." This was the beginning of the longest letter I had ever had from him, and in many ways the nicest, but I cannot say that I wanted to spend my summer with a German family, and after consulting Fred, I went to The Bradder to see if he would not help me to stay in England.

"I can't read history and learn German at the same time," I said to him, "and all my work will be wasted unless I do some this vac."

"Your father has evidently made up his mind," he said, but I think that he must have been sorry for me.

"You write and tell him that I shall forget all I have been doing. He will listen to you."

"German is very valuable to you."

"So is history. How can I be expected to work next year when I am packed off every summer to live with a lot of people who don't want me? I get no fun."

"You will like it when you get there, and for this summer you can manage to do enough history to keep up what you know. I will help you as much as I can."

"Why can't I be allowed for once to like a thing in the place where I want to like it?" I asked, and I nearly told him that environment was everything, but he did not like those profound statements any better than I did. I only saw The Bradder really nasty to one man, and he had been fool enough to say that the reason why he cut his lectures was because the whole atmosphere of Oxford was against work, which really was a sickening sort of excuse.

My attempts to get help from The Bradder failed, and as soon as I had worked myself up into a rage he began to laugh.

So after one night at home I started to Germany and my people went to Oxford for "Commem" on the same day, which was a most topsy-turvy state of things. Nina promised to write to me, but I did not expect anything from her except postcards. I was, however, mistaken, for she wrote me a kind of "Oxford day by day," which I, struggling with a strange language in a strange land, was very glad to have. I don't know whether The Bradder taught her to refer to the Vice-Chancellor as the "Vice-Chuggins," but in her description of the Encaenia that most important gentleman was certainly not mentioned with the respect which I consider that people, who don't belong to Oxford, ought to feel for him. In fact Nina succeeded in catching the Oxford language so badly that she told me that my father had been having "indijuggers," and I am sure that he would have had a worse attack if he had known what Nina called it. I am sorry to say that she treated the Encaenia in a very light and airy way, though some most mightily distinguished men were receiving honorary degrees at the function.

"I like the Sheldonian because it is so round," she wrote to me, "but I was not impressed by the Encaenia. The area of the theatre was reserved for the dons, who wore what I believe you call academic dress, but they did not look as if they had room enough to be comfortable. I sat in a gallery with a lot of people, and there was a man, who somebody told me was a Pro-proctor—at any rate he wore robes and looked, I thought, rather nice—to keep order. You do mix up things queerly at Oxford; some of the jokes which were made were really not very funny, and mother was afraid that some one might be offended. She was quite nervous. I liked the Public Orator, who seemed to me to be introducing the people who were to receive honorary degrees to the Vice-Chuggins, and I was sorry for the University prizemen, who wore evening dress and had to read out their prize poems and things. I couldn't hear a word the Public Orator said, but perhaps that was because I had a man near me who made jokes all the time and a bevy of relatives kept up a chorus of giggles. Mr. Bradfield had to go to luncheon afterwards at All Souls. I met Mr. Ward in the Turl yesterday; he was only up for two or three hours, and I thought he said he was going to coach. I am sure he said something about coaching, and as I remembered how fond he was of horses I thought he was going for a driving tour. But it turned out that he was going to read with somebody; very silly of me. Do you remember when he jumped into the 'Cher'? It seems ages ago. Mr. Bradfield punts splendidly, we all like him very much, and father has dined with the Warden, who had toothache and hardly spoke all the evening. Most unfortunate. We are going to the 'Varsity match, and Mr. Bradfield says that Fred is the best bat and captain you have had for ages. I believe mother nearly fainted with delight when she heard this. Mr. Bradfield dances as well as you do."

The next letter Nina wrote was full of The Bradder's perfections, but in the following one he was scarcely mentioned, and my mother, who had never seen Oxford in June, was so delighted with everything that she did not tell me much about anybody. Still I could not help wondering what had happened, for Nina was not usually reticent without a reason.



CHAPTER XXIII

OUR LAST YEAR

Fred did not have the satisfaction of seeing his eleven beat Cambridge, but there had not been such a close finish in a 'Varsity match for nearly twenty years, and Nina said the excitement was really painful. "I was quite glad when it was over," she wrote to me. "Mother never spoke for quite half-an-hour, and Mr. Bradfield nearly ruined his hat by constantly taking it off and putting it on again. I warned him that he was spoiling it, but he said that such a finish was worth a hat. And we lost in the end; a big Cambridge man hit a four and father said awful things at the top of his voice. Somehow or other that seemed to relieve everybody. There was only one other Cambridge man to come in, and if the big man had been bowled instead of hitting a four it would have been splendid. We waited for Fred afterwards and saw him for a minute. He said that the big man had been the best cricketer at Cambridge for four years, and now that he was going down Oxford ought really to win next year. Fred was very disappointed, but he told us that this man was a thoroughly good sort, which annoyed me because I felt as if he must be perfectly horrid."

If my people could be excited at a cricket match I knew that I had missed something worth seeing, but when I tried to talk about the 'Varsity match to the only member of my German family who spoke English, she thought I was explaining lawn tennis to her. I felt very sad indeed, and had to go for a long bicycle ride to shake off a vigorous attack of the blues.

I suppose those months in Germany must have been useful to me, yet in spite of a great amount of kindness I was very glad when they were over. I learned a great deal, I honestly believe, for I often went to a restaurant and talked politics with three professors, and that is no mean feat even if you do it in your own language. For some reason which I have never been able to understand, these men were very pleased with me; possibly they liked me because I never agreed with anything they said. I asked them to come and see us if they were ever in England, an invitation given out of joy in wishing them good-bye. The prospect of leaving the German language made me very liberal in the way of invitations to those who spoke it, and if all the people whom I asked had happened to come at the same time, they would have caused a considerable sensation in our small household. There were, however, dangers in plunging me into foreign families which my father did not discover; for I like everybody so much, when I am leaving them, that I feel certain that they are the nicest people in the world. I had not been at home for a day before I found out that something very like a mystery had attached itself to The Bradder, so I went to my mother and asked her what had happened.

"I meant to tell you," she answered. "My dear, he wants to marry Nina, we were quite astonished." I did not think Nina would have cared to hear that. "He was here for a fortnight, but we never suspected anything, Nina is so very young. It only happened a week ago."

"Are they engaged?"

"No, we thought it best that there should be no engagement for at least a year. I hope we decided right, for I must have time to think about Nina being the wife of a don. I think they are very much in love with one another."

"Nina is not so very young."

"Very young to be the wife of a don," my mother replied, and I believe that she thought such a lady, to be suitable, ought to have numbered at least forty years.

"The Bradder would have to go out of college if he married," I said; "we shan't get such another man in a hurry," but my mother did not think this as important as I did.

When I talked to Nina about this new state of things she was very disappointed to find that I was not surprised. She seemed to think that I was depriving her of something due to her, but her letters had made me think that something startling was going to happen, and I was prepared for almost anything.

"Our engagement is not to be announced for a year," Nina said.

"I thought there wasn't any engagement," I answered.

"There isn't, until it is announced, but we have quite made up our minds," and then she took my arm and I listened to a glorification of The Bradder. "He is very fond of you," it finished up, and that is all I can remember of it.

"I am glad of that, as he is my tutor and is going to be my brother-in-law," I said.

"You don't seem to see how happy I am," Nina answered. "I wanted to telegraph to you at once."

"I am most tremendously glad you are happy. The Bradder's a splendid man," I said, and added, "I should like to tell Fred directly he comes next week."

"Yes, tell him," she replied, "but he won't mind; perhaps I oughtn't to say that, but I know that you think he will. Fred's a dear, he's just like another brother."

"For pity's sake don't say that to him," I exclaimed.

"Of course I shan't say anything to him, but he will understand all right," and I gathered that if he could not understand it was my duty to make him, which, considering how peculiarly he had behaved to Jack, I did not expect to be an easy matter. But there was a difference between Fred and Nina, for he seemed to fall out of love as he grew older, while she fell in. I don't know enough about such things to say whether he was ever actually in the state called "in love," but I do know that he was inclined to regard Nina with a jealous eye, and that I suffered many unpleasant moments in consequence. So I drove down to the station to meet him and intended to break the news to him gently, but we had such a lot of other things to talk about that I had not mentioned Nina, except to say that she was well, when we met her in the drive. Fred got out of the dog-cart to speak to her, and I, having totally neglected my mission, was wise enough to disappear for an hour.

In that time he must have found out what had happened, for when we were left alone in the smoking-room after dinner and I was wondering whether I had better begin the gentle process, which I was sure I should muddle hopelessly, he said, "It will take me some time to get used to the idea of Nina marrying a don."

"I meant to tell you as we drove down, but I forgot clean all about it," I answered.

"Bradfield's a good sort, isn't he? It would be a most vile shame if he isn't."

"He's a splendid chap."

"I saw him with Nina at Lord's, and I got a kind of idea into my head then. He looks all right anyhow."

"He is all right."

Fred sat and smoked for ages without saying a word, which made me uneasy.

"Don't you feel horribly old?" he said to me at last. "This is a kind of end to all the good time we have had here. I mean that everything will be different; I can't imagine Nina being married."

"She won't be for ages, and when she is it will be just the same," I answered. "The Bradder's the best sort in the world, except you. Let's go to bed, we have to shoot to-morrow."

I stayed in Fred's room, however, for a long time, and I expect some of the things we said would have amused those who can jump without regret from one state of things to another. But all the same this talk did us good, for we finished off the subject of Nina's engagement at one sitting, and Fred pleased me by saying that he must have been a fool to hate Jack Ward so violently. That told me all I wanted to know, and though he was not in very good spirits for a day or two he soon recovered, and I believe that Nina and he enjoyed themselves more than they ever had since they began to wonder whether they were grown up or not.

Before going back to Oxford Fred and I went to stay with Mr. Sandyman, our old house-master at Cliborough. I had been to Cliborough several times since I left school, but my first visits made me feel almost sad. The glory of being a blue, and I could not help feeling it, was not enough compensation for the way in which I seemed to have entirely dropped out of things. I loved Cliborough, and when you are fond of places or people it is horrid to see that they can get on quite well without you. You may not be forgotten, but you must necessarily cease to count for much, and it was not until I went back after having left for three years that I was quite happy there. Our feelings—for Fred felt as I did—may have been wrong, but no one would have them who was not fond of their school and who did not in some way or other wish to be worthy of it. Sandy was as nice to us as possible, and it was quite funny to see what a hero Fred was thought to be by some of the fellows in our house. I think I was regarded as a hero more or less decayed, but Fred nearly reinstated me by saying that I was the fastest bowler he had ever played against, and by forgetting to add further details.

We went back to Oxford from Cliborough, and during my last year I saw more of Fred than ever, for in nearly every college men in their fourth year have to go into lodgings, and Jack and I took rooms in the same house in the High as Fred and Henderson. Fred was President of Vincent's, Henderson was to be captain of the 'Varsity XI., and Jack was immediately put into one of the trial Eights and finally, rowed six in the winning boat. The shadow of approaching examinations was over all of us except Henderson, who was not reading for Honours, and had nothing but two papers on political economy between him and a degree. But I should not think any four men ever got on together better than we did, and the mere sight of Jack was enough to make any one feel cheerful. He had fairly and squarely found himself at last, and whether he was sitting in front of piles of books or getting up and going to bed at strange times because he was in training, he was an endless delight to all of us. His methods of reading history made Fred laugh so much that I thought he might possibly abandon them, but nothing would persuade him that his road to a degree was not the safest he could take. On one subject Jack only opened his heart to me. He had set his mind on getting into the 'Varsity Eight, and his keenness was terrific. I assured him time after time that he must have a splendid chance of his blue, but I don't believe that the mere fact of getting his blue meant very much to him. He wanted to show his people and his college that he could really do something.

"If I could only get into the 'Varsity boat I should have done something," he said to me, "because I'm not a natural oar. I have to learn it all, and it's frightfully hard work remembering all you're told. Some of you men think a fellow who rows is just a machine, but it's not so easy to become a good machine."

To Fred and Henderson he hardly ever mentioned the river, but they knew how desperately keen he was, and when he was tried in the 'Varsity boat at four, during the beginning of the Lent Term, we all hoped most vigorously that he would keep his place. For nearly a fortnight the same crew rowed every day, but neither the President nor the Secretary had yet taken their places, and I was in a state of terror that Jack would have to go when they went into the boat. The Secretary, however, took his place and Jack remained where he was, and a few days afterwards the President went in at seven, seven went to three, and one unfortunate man disappeared. Then we openly rejoiced, and at the beginning of Lent Jack was told to go into training. We had a mild celebration on the evening of Shrove Tuesday, and Bunny Langham, who had been President of the Union and had developed a habit of making very long speeches, for which he apologized by saying that he believed in heredity, came round and helped to make a noise. Whenever he got the ghost of an opportunity he began to congratulate Jack, and he required a very great deal of suppressing.

For a whole week Jack rowed in the boat, and then he had a sudden attack of influenza. Somehow or other I had never thought it possible that he could be ill, and I have never seen any one hurry up so much to get well again. In ten days he was nearly all right, but when he was put back into the boat he said he felt miserably weak, and I think he went to work to prepare himself for a disappointment. At any rate when it came Jack took his luck like a hero, for hardly anything more crushing could have happened to him just then. I must say that the President was as kind about it as any man could be; he knew what it meant to Jack, and his sympathy was very real. But Jack himself surprised all of us, he seemed to throw the whole thing behind him, and I never heard him complain of anything except his wretched illness.

"I shall be fit next term," he said, "and if we get our boat near the head of the river again it won't be so bad after all."

My last year in rooms with Fred, Jack and Henderson was the best of four good years at Oxford. Everything, except Jack's luck, was so exactly right, and I was most delightfully happy. The college was doing as well as we could want, and most of the dons, led I am certain by The Bradder, behaved splendidly. The Freshers' Wine became an organized institution and ceased to be a sort of "hole and corner" entertainment, at which every one made a most horrible noise because they ought not to have made any at all. In my spare time, and I had not much, I caught myself regretting that I had ever been stupid enough to carry on long battles with Mr. Edwardes, it seemed to me that I might have been more peaceful, but the fact remains that he and I were not made for each other.

Until the time began to grow near for me to go down from Oxford I never felt as strong an affection for the 'Varsity as I had for Cliborough. I think the reason was that Oxford is such a huge place, that it took me some time to realize how splendid it is. I missed the feeling of unity which there was at Cliborough, and I supplied my loss by going furiously to work in trying to make the college less slack. Certainly St. Cuthbert's, owing more to Jack's efforts than mine, had changed very much, but in setting our minds absolutely on one thing for two years we had missed a lot, even if we had been successful in what we wanted to do. Our last year, however, made up for everything, and when we came back for the summer term examinations had lost their horrors, and the only thing I regretted was that in eight short weeks my time at Oxford would be over.

The Bradder, who watched over me like a prospective brother-in-law, encouraged me to think that I should not do very badly in the "schools," but I think he was rather agitated when Henderson chose me to play for the 'Varsity against the Gentlemen of England, and in a very bad light I got more wickets than I ever expected to get in a first-class match. That performance gave me a good start in the 'Varsity XI., and The Bradder was desperately afraid that I should stop reading altogether. But Fred and Jack were both hard at work, and except on one evening a week Henderson had to go into a separate room when he wanted to entertain his numerous friends. Jack rowed in our Eight, and they went up to fourth. They would have been second if they had been lucky, but as it was they intended to go to Henley.

I think that I was fortunate in having to struggle for my blue during my last term, for this gave me so much to think about that I escaped some of the feelings which Fred had about leaving Oxford. I felt that I was by no means ready to go, but I was also desperately eager to get into the XI., and that I knew would not be decided until the term was over. One leaves Oxford slowly, if I may express it so; you have to come back for a viva voce, and then for your degree; there is no abrupt break as there is at school, and the fact that I was playing for the 'Varsity after the term was over, helped me more than it did Fred, who had played in the XI. for three years. Nearly every Sunday afternoon during May and June, Fred and I quite solemnly went out for a walk together, and we nearly always found ourselves by the river. I believe this was because we were never tired of looking at Corpus and Merton from the Christchurch meadows. There is no view so keenly rooted in my memory as this, nor one which I am so glad to look upon again. I don't care in the least whether it is the most beautiful in Oxford or not, for it means something to me, and you can ask no more from a view than that. I can never look at it without remembering many things which were all of them very pleasant, and Oxford is the place to build up memories.

The term slipped by far too fast, and we found ourselves plunged into the schools. For once in my life I should have been glad not to see the sun, but the week during which we had to put on paper the results of over two years' work was most cruelly hot, and all of us were glad when it was over. It is no use guessing how you have done in honour schools, for those who think they have got a first are too often surprised when the lists come out, and unless you are going to guess something nice, it is much better to leave it alone altogether. With one consent Fred, Jack and I refused to talk about our chances, and set out to enjoy the few days which remained to us without being harrowed by doubts and fears. I did, however, have secret dips into a political economy book, for I thought if the examiners shared my opinion they would wonder how little of this subject I knew. I couldn't keep away from the wretched thing, try as I would, and was always reading "Adam Smith" and "Walker" at odd moments. I think my nerves must have been upset.

Directly after the schools were over, Jack and I had to go to a dinner which Murray got up. I was ready to go to anything, but I had no idea that this was a sort of entertainment organized in honour of us until I got to it. The Bradder took the chair, and I am sure that I tried to feel grateful to Murray, but if you don't care much about being set on a small pedestal it is very hard to pretend that you do. I did, however, enjoy that dinner because every one was so very cheerful, and I made a speech which lasted—counting the applause—nearly ten minutes. The Bradder spoke more about Jack than me, which was very thoughtful of him, and Jack told me afterwards that this evening almost made up for having missed his blue. The things which were said about him took him most completely by surprise, and the fact that he was really appreciated and that the college owed something to him, sent him off to Henley a happier man than he had ever been in his life.

My place in the eleven was in doubt until the last game before the 'Varsity match, and then I bowled one of the best batsmen in England—I must add off his pads—and got three men caught in the slips. Henderson gave me my blue in the pavilion at Lord's and simply banged me on the back as he did it, a very unorthodox and pleasant ending to what had been a great anxiety. Fred, too, was most uproariously delighted, and I should think that some of the people, who seem to think that the pavilion at Lord's is a kind of cathedral, must have decided that the Oxford XI. had suddenly gone mad. But I disentangled myself after a time from men who wanted to congratulate me, and started sending telegrams. I was guilty at that moment of trying to think of people to whom I could telegraph with decency, but I had wanted to play against Cambridge very much. We had been beaten in all the last three matches, and as Fred had never really played well at Lord's, I think some men were inclined to say that he was not anything like as good a cricketer as he was supposed to be. But in this match he settled that question once and for ever. We went in first and started terribly, Henderson was caught at the wicket, and another man was bowled before we had made a run. I could not have smiled at the best joke in the world. Then Fred and a left-hander got well set, and before we had finished our total was over 350. Fred never gave a chance until he had made well over a hundred, and though some men told me that he was out l.b.w. at least four times, there are always plenty of people who think that they know more than the umpires.

The Cambridge men failed in the first innings, and I only bowled six overs, which annoyed my mother and Nina, because they said that I was there to bowl. But after Cambridge went in again they played an uphill game most splendidly, and my people had plenty of opportunity to see me bowl. I got four men out, and Henderson was very pleased with me, but I was not a first-class bowler, though I tried hard to look like one. We had nearly two hundred runs to win, and I confess that I was afraid that I might have to go in when there were two or three runs still wanted. In the first innings my efforts as a batsman had been brief and glorious, I had received three balls, two of which I had hit to the boundary and the third I meant to go to the same place, only somebody caught it. I hoped sincerely that my part in the 'Varsity match was over, but whenever a wicket fell I had a very bad moment. I did not, however, have to make that long journey from the pavilion to the wickets again, for Henderson, who kept himself back in the second innings, played beautifully, and we won with some wickets in hand. I don't want to forget the wholesome thrill which I had when Henderson made the winning stroke, and I am quite certain that I never shall forget it.

My father and mother, too, were pleased, and I was very glad to see their delight, for I thought that I might have added more to their anxiety than to their pleasure during the last four years.

In July both Fred and Jack came to stay with me, because in a few weeks I had to start on one of my journeys in search of a language which I did not know. I wanted Jack to be with us when the History List came out, in case anything disastrous should happen. But Jack had filled himself so full of facts that when the telegram from the Clerk of the Schools came he was delighted to find that he had got a third, and he declared that I must be a genius to have got a second, but that was only his way of expressing his surprise. The Greats' List was a triumph for St. Cuthbert's, Murray and five other men getting firsts. Fred got a second, and considering that he had been playing footer and cricket for the 'Varsity so much, everybody thought that he had done most thoroughly well. Cliborough was so satisfied with him that he was offered a mastership at once, which was a stroke of luck both for Fred and the school.

Nothing remained for us to do except to take our degrees, and we arranged with Henderson that we should go back together once more and take them at the same time. I think that we clung to that expedition as our last remaining link with the 'Varsity. But there is a link, which those who learn to love Oxford, as Fred, Jack and I loved her, cannot break; it is the debt which we owe to her, for we shall never be able to repay it in full.



THE END



RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, BREAD STREET HILL, E.C., AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.



By the same author

GODFREY MARTEN: SCHOOLBOY

WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY GORDON BROWNE

In one vol., cloth, gilt edges, price 5s.

Some Press Opinions

The Spectator:—"The book is extremely good reading from end to end; it abounds in entertaining and exciting episodes, is wholly void of sentimentality, and enforces in the most unmistakable and wholesome way the duty of straight and manly conduct."

The Standard:—"Boys will be delighted with this faithful record of public school life. It shows up without the smallest priggishness, or the least hint of lecturing or sermonising, that side of the English public school of which we are so proud—the fine, broad standard of a gentleman that the well-bred boy sets up for himself."

The Daily Telegraph:—"Godfrey Marten, Schoolboy, may rank with the very small number of books which treat successfully of boy-life.... It is a bright, stirring story, and should find a hearty welcome."

Morning Post:—"Godfrey Marten will rejoice the heart of many a lad. Mr. Turley knows boys and writes lovingly of them. His story is vivacious, the heroes are real live ones, the style is racy and true to reality in its descriptions of masters, boys and sports, and even in its use of school slang, the book throughout is clean, wholesome and manly."

The Times:—"Returning to Mr. Turley's book after a year's interval we are more than ever taken by its quiet, unassuming merits and a certain insidious charm. Thinking over other school books we can recall nothing nearer to boy nature than this, nor any that has greater interest as a story."

The Guardian:—"The book is a wholesome one; the boys are gentlemen, the games are described with spirit, and some of the difficulties of public school life are treated in a healthy and helpful way. Moreover it is written for boys rather than about them, and the author succeeds in looking at things from a boy's point of view."



LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN, 21, Bedford Street, W.C.

THE END