cleverest monitor for a lower boy I ever knew. With that humour which characterizes all nicknames he had been christened "Coarser,"

though he was the most refined and delicate schoolfellow I ever knew. His room was perfectly well organized: I was flogged twice a week regularly, because it was Tuesday and Friday, and pulled out of bed or smothered in the clothes on other nights, because it was Monday or Thursday; and grand tossings in a blanket took place on Saturday: this was extremely uncomfortable at any time, but was fiercely resented by the supper, if I had chanced to partake of one. It is true, he never allowed any one else to superintend the tortures, and was very jealous of his authority: one would often laugh, in the middle of one's agony, at his wit, or be consoled by the happiness of his remarks.

I have, I regret to say, never met him since then; but I have heard that the brilliancy of his talents and his natural flow of wit and humour have increased, that the weaker points of his character have disappeared, and that the promise of the boy has been more than fulfilled in the

I

man.

Nevertheless, being in his room did not make the hours to the holidays shorter, or make me count the minutes less.

My friends-for I had already many-used to talk a good deal at this time about the coming "hall singing," which they hung in terrorem over my head; the performance being always opened by a song from each new boy, failing which I would rather not mention the penalty, if truth did not compel me-a glass of salt-andwater stirred with a tallow candle was the dose prescribed. I could hardly believe in such an atrocity, which recalled Elm-house to my mind. But I set to upon a song, and learned the “ Song of the Shirt" off by heart, ready for the fatal day. It came, as all fatal days do, soon and unexpectedly. The glasses of salt water were prepared, with the "spoon" to stir them with; I followed many others who had partaken of the nectar, and mounting on a table, with a candle in each hand, commenced my solo in a most melancholy strain. I have seen the difficulty with which a singer struggles on amid cold applause, and how a false note follows a violent hiss; but I had to contend

with innumerable balls, and countless crusts of bread, flung with consummate skill, so as to knock the candles out of my hand and to cover me with bruises and tallow. I was told to come down, and pledge the house of which I now became a member; I did so, and ceased to be a new boy, then went upstairs and was terribly sick.

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Next night I joined the singers: for after the new boys' night," we had chorus-singing every other evening; and we trolled forth every well known song, and many peculiar to the place too, in every variety of key and in every degree of discord. The elder boys sang solos and quartets in German and French, and one very little boy used almost to melt us all into tears with "Kathleen Mavourneen"; by way of finale all the house stood up to sing "God save the Queen.” This brought all the students away from their essays, and Mr. Oswell out of his study to read prayers; when we separated for the night with three cheers for home, followed by three more for Harby.

At last the breaking-up day came. I can't enlarge upon that day: who cannot imagine all

we said and all we felt?-how we promised to write to friends, and forgot their addresses a minute afterwards-how we tore up books and destroyed many things that we missed next halfyear-how we nearly omitted to say good-by to Mrs. Oswell when she handed us the money which was to take us home how the old housekeeper was never thanked for her trouble, and was nearly driven mad by the simultaneous inquiries of fifty boys as to the bags which were yet unpacked, or the portmanteaus which were yet uncorded-how the trains went too slow; for even the electric telegraph would hardly have been a conveyance swift enough for our impatience and how the words of the hall song

66 Home, sweet home, dear words of pleasure,"

seemed to float around us, sung by angel-voices.

What I miss most now, and what I

envy schoolboys most, is the "Breaking-up Day," with all its feelings of excitement, and its happy close at home.

CHAPTER IX.

WHAT WE LEARNED AT HARBY.

"And pray, Mr. Sampson, are these three hours entirely spent in construing and translating ?"

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Doubtless, no-we have also colloquial intercourse to sweeten study-neque semper arcum tendit Apollo."

GUY MANNERING.

I AM rather alarmed at the heavy title placed at the head of this chapter; but, after all, as we did go to school to learn, however indifferently we may have succeeded, and as boys still continue to go to school for that purpose, some slight notice of Harby lessons may not be considered out of place.

I do not intend, however, to place upon record all the works which I studied at Harby, or to relate how many hundreds of Latin and Greek verses I wrote there-much less what they were