all see the importance of it, and mathematical studies are nowas popular as any other. The Reverend Stephen Hawtrey is the principal.Donkeys may sneer and bray at him, which donkeys always find it veryeasy to do; but a more philanthropical, kind-hearted, sensible, andreligious man is not to be found. I remember when the mathematicalschools were first opened, the fellows tried to cough down the masterswhen they began to lecture. They got also cat-calls, penny-trumpets,and all sorts of things to make a noise, and then had strings made fastto them, which they carried up their sleeves. Scarcely had the mastersbegun to speak than they commenced their row. Now one of the masterswas an old naval officer who had been to Cambridge, and not at all asort of person to play tricks with. They tried it on once or twice withhim, and he seemed not to take much notice of their proceedings. Hiseye, however, was marking those who were making most noise, and in themidst of the greatest row down he pounced upon them, and, feeling forthe strings inside their waistcoats, made a grand seizure ofpenny-trumpets, whistles, cat-calls, and similar musical instruments.He told them quietly that he did not wish to have any of them flogged,but that if it occurred again he should desire the praepositor to putthem `in the bill.' This is, as you will find, for a fellow to have hisname written on a slip of paper, and sent up to the Head Master. Thefellow whose name is in the bill is told `to wait,' which means that heis to go to the Head Master's room after school to be flogged. It is anunpleasant operation, and a fellow looks thoroughly foolish when hecomes down after it, and his friends kindly ask him how he likes it--what he thinks of it--how he feels? On the occasion I am speaking of,the fellows did try it on again the very next day of attendance, andhalf a dozen of them got a good flogging for their pains. After thatthey behaved with much more quietness."
While they were talking, Anson came in.
"There is one more point I have to tell you about," said he, "and veryimportant too: it is as to the rules of `shirking.' You must know thateverywhere except just in college,--that is, about the school, and inthe playing-fields, or on the way to your dame's or tutor's,--is `out ofbounds.' Therefore, if you meet a master, you have to get out of hisway into some hiding-place. In the country you get under a hedge orbehind a wall. In the town you run into a shop, and if you do this atonce, so as to show respect to the master, very few will say anything toyou, though they see you as clearly as possible, and know perfectly wellwho you are. The Sixth Form need not shirk, as they may go anywhere.Of course, there are certain places if a fellow is seen in, a masterwill follow him, otherwise he never attempts to do so.
"There is a small house just outside the bounds, where the people arelicensed to sell beer. It is called the Tap. It is used almostexclusively by us. If a fellow is caught going in or out, he is prettyseverely punished, and yet no master ever thinks of coming in to lookfor us. Not long, ago a number of our fellows were in the passage, whenwho should walk in but one of the masters to order some beer forhimself. He couldn't with a very good conscience punish us, so he tooknot the slightest notice of us, though we made sure he would. To ourgreat satisfaction, away he walked again as if we had not been there.They keep there a long glass, which is brought out and emptied onimportant occasions by certain fellows, such as the winners of thepulling or sculling races--the eleven who have gained a well-contestedmatch. It is a long tube with a bulb at the bottom, and holds about apint and a half. Its contents must be drunk off without stopping totake breath, and the difficulty is when one gets down to the bulb toprevent it all rushing out at once, and running over one: a fellowstands by and marks the time one takes to drink the contents. I musttake you there some day. There are several places of the sort up theriver, where we are pretty well known. I must introduce you also to ourfavourite liquor, and I think that you will agree with me that it isfirst-rate. We call it `Shandy Gaff.' It's a mixture of beer andginger-beer in equal portions, and on a hot day I know nothing morerefreshing."
"I feel as if I knew all about Eton already," said Reginald; "you havetold me so much."
His friends laughed. "There are a good many more things which you willhave to learn not yet dreamed of in your philosophy," answered Power."I haven't told you anything yet about our games--football, cricket,running, jumping, steeple-chasing. They are very different from thoseat most private schools. It will take you the best part of a year tolearn all the rules of football alone. It will take you nearly as longbefore you know all the regulations about boating. However, now, whenEton is in its glory, is the time of the year to pick up all that sortof information. We think more of play than lessons, and even themasters never expect to get more than the regular schoolwork out of theboys. You'll probably stay on till you have worked your way up to SixthForm, which just now perhaps looks at a very unapproachable distance. Iforgot to tell you that the Sixth Form have the power of setting`poenas;' Collegers sometimes do it, and are thought great `brutes' forso doing. Oppidans rarely ever use their power. It assists themsomewhat in keeping the Lower boys in order. You'll observe, too, howparticular we are about our costume. Those who wear jackets always keepto black ties, and those who have taken to tail-coats invariably appearin white ties. These sorts of customs may appear trifles, but they allcontribute to keep up discipline and order in the school. I, at first,thought them very nonsensical; I now see their use."
Reginald, when he went to his snug little room that night, thought thathe knew a great deal more about Eton than he did in the morning; andthough he was glad to be there, he felt altogether thankful that he hadnot come at an earlier age.
STORY THREE, CHAPTER THREE.
The important day arrived when Reginald was to be examined by his tutor,that it might be ascertained where he was to be placed in the school.He got up before the bell rang, soused his head thoroughly in coldwater, and, having sponged himself all over, dressed briskly, and satdown to look over some of the books he knew. He was pretty well up inGreek as well as in Latin, though he had not gone very deep into theintricacies of either language. Mr Nugent, his tutor, had grounded himwell also in mathematics, so that he was in no particular fright as tothe result of his examination. He wanted, however, to be as well placedas possible, if the truth might be known, to get out of fagging as soonas he could.
After prayers, Mr Lindsay told him to come to his room with his books.He went there with a good heart also. His Latin construing and parsingseemed to satisfy his tutor, and then he read some Greek. Mr Lindsaylooked pleased. This encouraged him. He went over book after book withperfect ease. The chances are, that he knew less than many a boy whohad passed a much worse examination; but he had the advantage ofpossessing well-strung nerves, and of not feeling that he was doinganything dreadful or out of the way. Whatever he did know he recalledat once to his memory. He had also no wish to pretend to know more thanhe did. All was perfectly natural with him. His head and his voicewere clear, and so on he went without the slightest hesitation. Had hebeen suddenly asked to sing a song which he knew, he could have done sowith ease.
"You have got through very well," said Mr Lindsay; "I am happy to saythat I shall be able to get you very satisfactorily placed."
Reginald was not a little pleased. He would have liked to ask "Where?"but he thought that might not be etiquette; so he restrained hiscuriosity, and ran off with a light stop to deposit his books in hisroom, and afterwards to join Power at breakfast, with a remarkably goodappetite.
"Where do you think I shall be, though?" he asked more than once. Powerguessed, but did not like to run the risk of disappointing him, sowisely would not give an opinion. At last, a short time before eleveno'clock, he set off with Mr Lindsay to make his _debut_ in school. Hewas left by himself in the school-yard while Mr Lindsay, as did most ofthe masters, went into "Chambers," to have a talk with the Doctor. Hefelt for a moment a little forlorn, standing in that wide place with somany boys around him, and yet not one he could call a friend or even anacquaintance; for neither Power nor Anson had yet come.
The boys now bega
n to pour into the school-yard. Many came up to himand began the old standard questions.
"What's your name?" asked one; "any relation of Warrender at Rowley's?"
"No," answered Reginald. "I have had no relation here since my fatherwas at Eton, that I know of."
"Oh, yes--but surely you're a cousin of Tom Jones?" observed one who waslooked upon as a great wag.
"I am not aware that I have that honour," answered Reginald.
Several similar questions he had to answer, which he did in perfect goodhumour. At last a big, hulking fellow, who looked as if he had got faton sucking-things, rolled up to him. There was something in the boy'sair which reminded him wonderfully of a bully at his former school.
"How are