green baize cloth, on which mystery, hope, joy,
terror, and agitation were, so to speak,
encamped. For here were the prizes laid out: a
gorgeous and dazzling show, and in the centre,
the cynosure of our College Museum, a
gorgeous inlaid casket, said to have been the
private property of Queen Maria Christina, and
out of whose countless little drawers and
pigeon-holes fluttered innumerable deep blue
ribbons, at the end whereof were the large
silver medals, struggled for during many
weary months; but whose destiny was not yet
known. The rest of the table was gaudy with
crimson and gold volumes, quarto, octavo,
duodecimo—a mass of richness; besides these
glories there were odd volumes of the classics, in
quaker-like dress, whose appearance was not
so comfortable.

Most delightful of school-days! I think of
myself sitting in the sunlight, in a half dream,
enraptured with the excitement of that morning.
We were all more or less magnificent in
our new clothes (one of the most fascinating
moments had been the operation of being
measured, and of selecting from the tailors' patterns,
in which we were allowed uncontrolled latitude),
and most of us—that is, of us the big boys—with
glistening new hats, in which we took a just
pride, and which we would have worn in the
House, if we could. Some of our costumes
were fanciful, owing to the absence of
supervision. I recollect a companion who had to
"spout" the Death of Coccles, in a pea-green
shooting-coat with bronze buttons, on which
were sportsmen loading guns in alto-relievo.
He had also a Scotch plaid waistcoat, of the
red and white pattern, and pale slate-coloured
trousers. Yet this bold and striking
costume excited the deepest admiration among
us, and the sporting buttons were later
surrounded with eager admirers. Some of us
wore dress-coats and white waistcoats, as if we
were going to enter upon life as waiters; and
there were one or two who were not going home,
who wore the established uniform of the place
—the blue tails and gilt buttons—and whose
adversity—this matter of dress seemed the
hardest portion of it—was commiserated in a
manly and feeling silence.

I have a bundle of old programmes of these
happy festivals before me now. There was a
grandeur and solemnity in the announcements
that seemed to me the height of majesty. As
soon as the illustrious company had entered
in procession, and taken their seats, our
orchestra began, with, say, the overture to
Zampa, led in right concert style by our
conductor. Then one of the young gentlemen
advanced into the middle and delivered "a
prologue," which was applauded, as everything was.
Then came Horace, brought by a victim to an
amiable and courteous gentleman stranger, who
was as nervous as his examinee, who shrank from
raising his voice, and who said, "Would you
be kind enough to turn to the first ode?" which
the other did with surprising alacrity. But
things did not always go so smoothly. For
sometimes the youth fell into the hands of a
quick and truthful professor from some other
college, who tackled the victim at the known
pitfalls and ditches.

After this, would come a solemn dirge in the
Latin tongue. The Destruction of Jerusalem
would be applauded as vehemently as if it were
thoroughly understood. Then came a Greek
author and more construing, and then the band
again. Then came more examining, and finally
the Ode, which was the wind up. When that
was done, our indefatigable music struck into
the Valse d'Amitié, and then came a sudden
quiet and devouring restlessness. For now the
prize list was to be read out. What a flutter!
And as each name was given out, and the
happy youth came down from the amphitheatre
to have the deep blue ribbon put about his neck,
what rounds of terrific applause burst forth!
The delight of those moments cannot be
described; the triumph and sweet satisfaction
of being invested with those decorations I
have never experienced since. The rest of the
day was a restless dream. When the guests,
who were feasted on exquisite viands in the
banqueting-hall, came out, we were formed by
our drilled sergeant (in full uniform) into battalions,
and went through our manœuvres with
the precision of the real thing. Then we
walked about with our new hats on, as though
we, too, were gentlemen just visiting the place.

VI. CHRISTMAS-DAY AT SAXONHURST.

At Saxonhurst it was wisely ordained that
no one should go home at Christmas. No
distinction was made for peer or peasant. Our
community being made up of all nationalities—of
Brazilian even, to say nothing of Frenchmen,
invariably known as "Frog" this and "Froggy"
that—it was felt that the scattering and bringing
together of such cosmopolitan elements would
consume the whole year.

But which of us would have gone home?
Which of us would have given up the galaxy
of joys which our Chiefs had artfully accumulated
for that special season, in compensation,
as it were? The revelry that went on
was truly Old English; above all, it was then
that the THEATRE ROYAL, SAXONHURST, threw
open its doors, and gave a short season of eight
or ten nights.

Our stage was a wonderful structure, a
miracle of strength and ingenuity, put together
with bolts and screws. It had cost some
hundreds of pounds, had trap-doors, flies overhead,
and every modern appliance in abundance,
and the boast of the carpenters who
annually fitted it together was, that they had
not to drive a single nail in it. "Behind the
scenes" was a great jungle of huge posts and
joists; it seemed to us a grand work. Indeed,
its arrangements were very perfect, having a
large set of rollers to which any amount of
scenes could be attached, with ropes and levers
for winding up. The front was handsome—a
cheerful crimson ground, on which were
heathen temples, and tragic and comic muses in