Percy was sent to Harrow at the age of twelve. To him, school was a word totally devoid of meaning, but the idea of living in community with two hundred or so other boys of various ages did convey a sense of excitement and of thrill to his young mind; even though he felt somewhat dismayed at the thought of regular and systematized lessons. The few stories of brutal discipline which had reached his ears at different times left him cold and unmoved since the fear of birch and cane was nil, and he felt that his powerful physique, aided by his skill in boxing, would relieve him of the unwanted attentions of any bully who might attempt to bait him. But the preliminaries of departure were highly exciting and entirely to his taste. There was the visit to Lord Fulford who had signed his nomination papers: there was the pleasure of buying new clothes, there was the joy of seeing London for the first time.

Any nervousness which he may have felt towards the approaching reality of school was rapidly dissipated by the delight of being treated as a grown-up man by his elders. The stories of past Harrovians and their exploits, as recounted by Lord Fulford, thrilled Percy. In spite of his foreign and haphazard upbringing, the associations which Harrow had with the great names of English history and the traditions of the old school, not only enthralled his romantic heart, but fired him with enthusiasm for his future life there and created in him a pride that he should have the honour of adding his name to its list.

Young Percy would have been saved many weeks of toil and bodily exertion if Sir Algernon, who was not a public school boy, had not said aloud in the school ante-room:

"Well, Percy, this is Harrow: hope you'll like it. I shall stay here for a few days to see how you settle down and to hear what the Headmaster decides about you."

Probably fifty or more of the two hundred Harrovians must have overheard this piece of fatherly solicitude: and for these lads there was plenty of humour in the fact that a boy of twelve should be accompanied to school. But still more comic was it that the father should put up at Harrow for the night in order to watch over the entry of his young hopeful. Sir Algernon, by offending against this unwritten law which forbids parents to accompany sons on the opening day of term, had placed Percy at an unfair disadvantage since Harrow was an arena where you must be a hero and stand upon your own two feet, if you were not to escape ridicule.

The next day he was examined in the library by his three masters, and gave a very doubtful account of his learning. The two M.A.'s, after testing his classical knowledge, expressed their views in unreticent language. Doctor Robert Sumner, the Head, however, mindful of Lord Fulford's personal influence with the board of Governors' soon discovered Percy's miraculous fluency in two foreign languages, his practical notions of geography and his absorbed interest in history which put him on a better footing with the other masters. So Percy was admitted to the school, though in a class below that of boys of his age. Luckily, Sir Algernon was resigned to this verdict, he had not expected any other, and was indeed highly grateful that the lad had passed the simple tests at all.

Father and son thereupon parted and Percy returned to his house, where he was shown into a dormitory wherein were several beds and, not knowing what to do, he lay down on one and fell fast asleep. He was quickly awakened by a douche of cold water which some one was gently squeezing out of a sponge down his neck. By the time he had returned to full wakefulness, his aggressor had fled and only the sound of running footsteps dying away down the corridor and the echo of mirthful and mischievous laughter revealed to Percy that he had not been dreaming, but had, indeed, been the victim of a mild rag.

Seething with rage at the thought that his tormentor had escaped his just wrath, he did not intend to sit quietly under the insult. He resented most of all that he had been taken unawares and had been found guilty of sleeping when he felt that he should have been awake; he was angry that he had placed himself in such a ridiculous position at the very outset of his school career. He ran hurriedly down the stairs to seek out the offender, but was met in the ante-room by a monitor who led him into the hall and introduced him to the other boys.

As the quizzing stare of a hundred pairs of eyes was riveted upon him, Percy nearly lost his self-composure, but, pinning his faith in brawn, he drew himself up to his full height, conscious of his perfectly fitting clothes; he achieved an elegant bow and sat down in the place allotted to him. During the meal, twinges of uneasiness coursed down his spine and he was haunted with the suspicion that all the boys knew of his discomfiture; he felt that he was surrounded by grinning faces which seemed to be enjoying the joke perpetrated at his expense. He observed, however, that though most of the glances levelled in his direction were humorous, there certainly was no malice apparent in them.

He found that he was to share a room with three boys -- young Lord Bathurst, Andrew Ffoulkes and William Pitt.

That evening, he should have undergone the inevitable and usually extremely unpleasant initiation at the hands of his elders, but, deeming that a policy of aggression was to be preferred to one of passivity, he came to the conclusion that it would be better to pick a quarrel than to have one forced upon him. He therefore strode up to Bathurst, the biggest and most powerful in the room, and scrutinised the latter's clothes in obvious and undisguised scorn.

"What a disgusting fit!" he said coolly. "Really, Bathurst, you must permit me to introduce you to my tailor. Just look at that demmed seam."

And he ripped up the other boy's beautiful velvet coat from tail to collar. The other two stood aghast and gaped at the impudence, but its show put a temporary stop to the processes of initiation and the night passed off fairly comfortably for the new boy. In the morning, however, the rule was that every boy should walk naked over the stone floor to the bathroom; in winter this was an extremely uncomfortable proceeding, but to a new boy it was a very trying ordeal. Ffoulkes grinning at Percy declared loudly that "Blakeney's flesh was too demmed white to be tolerated."

Whereupon Percy had two fights on his hands within twenty-four hours of his arrival.

In the first hours of school, Percy's colossal ignorance on almost every subject struck not only the masters, but the other boys themselves. Ordinarily, ignorance in a new boy elicited a good deal of sympathy, but rumour of the insult to a head boy had gone the round of the school; it was felt that expressions of sympathy might not be welcome and Percy was left severely alone. But this state of isolation did not last long. That very afternoon he was able to show his superiority in the fisticuffs as well as his ability to impose his will on others. Accompanied by the usual ceremonies, he fought both boys in the milling ground beneath the old school yard, and, after the double fight, walked off the field not only twice a victor, but already the acknowledged leader of the junior aristocratic set.

Thereafter life went on comfortably enough for Percy. He made friends with the three inmates of his dormitory and the quartette presented a united  face to the rest of the school.

Though Harrow was a small republic, yet there were two distinct parties among the boys -- those who were peers or heirs to peerages and those who were not. Even amongst the former class, there was a line of demarcation which, though never openly referred to, was none the less clear. This consisted of the "ancients," as they were called -- men who could boast of an ancestor who had come over with the Conqueror or fought in the Crusades -- and those who had only recently been ennobled.

Within these subdivisions there was complete public solidarity: the boys voted, played games, and acted generally in unison, even though in private bitter feuds would often be waged. The "ancients" in their pride of birth drew a distinct social line between themselves and the newly ennobled, whose swagger and assumption of aristocratic ancestry they both mocked and despised. Nevertheless, they were ready to admit into their innermost circle any boy who happened to be very rich or a fine athlete, even though his grandfather had been born in the gutter.

Popularity was not easily won at Harrow in those days, even if a boy became a "blood" or a scholar. Respect, admiration, and a circle of friends could only be won after several years, when, either through good luck or charming personality, a boy arrived at the monitor stage. But strangely enough Blakeney was an exception to this rule.

None of the boys quite realized how it was that he had become such a popular figure in the school in so short a time, in spite of the great drawbacks of being only a new boy and a fag. His dandified dress, his indolent and indifferent ways, his witty and often acid sallies, his inane and infectious laughter on all and every occasion, would in the ordinary course of events, have been branded as nothing short of impertinence and would have brought down on his head the collective wrath of Harrovians. But somehow he escaped the usual punishment meted out to eccentricities. He naturally ran the gauntlet of the innumerable raggings to which a new boy was invariably subjected.

At first, he was singled out for especial treatment in this respect and received rather more than his full share of horseplay at the hands of the few who resented his polished and somewhat foreign manners. The Lower School ragged him just to see what he would do, and to provoke him to further exploits. His fists were kept busy at first, but soon many ceased their unwelcome attentions because they found their baiting too painful to themselves. Brute force is always admired by the very young and Percy's physique earned him the respect of his fellows and thus he gradually acquired that ascendancy over them which had in the beginning puzzled the majority.

Somehow, at school singing, when it was his turn to stand upon the hall table and to sing a song to the accompaniment of jeers and raucous shouts, no one interrupted him though his voice certainly did not strike the choir-master as deserving of a place in the chapel choir. This and other incidents of a more or less trivial nature showed the extraordinary hold which Percy had over his schoolmates.

On the other hand, he cheerfully accomplished the menial duties assigned to him as a fag, never grumbling whatever the task. The captain of sports found in him a ready and powerful ally. The school clubs soon felt the weight of his presence. The rages of a more serious nature were developed more accurately and expeditiously under his suggestions. Above all, he never bragged of his exploits nor did he adopt a pose of a swagger. On the contrary, towards the boys he adopted an attitude of jolly companionship without the slightest hint of superiority.

The winter term proved to be a happy one for Blakeney in spite of its inauspicious beginning. The only favouritism he never won was that of his tutors. They tried to cram him with knowledge, without, however, the slightest success. In point of fact, he was straightaway put under special supervision and extra studies in order to catch up arrears of work. And, strange to say, Percy managed to accomplish the effort demanded of him for, after a short month, he was put back in his own class and allowed to resume normal studies.

From the first, Percy took a great liking to the headmaster, a sort of sympathy having sprung up between them. The boy saw in the strict disciplinarian a human being who, beneath the outward guise of authority, knew every boy's failings and weaknesses. Face to face with any of them, the cold dictatorial exterior would drop and the mask of sternness replaced by one of infinite understanding. Percy, throughout his Harrow career, never came to grips or at cross purposes with the Doctor, nor did the latter ever have cause to repent his seeming laxness as far as Percy was concerned.

With regard to the under-masters, all the boys treated them with that tolerant contempt which characterizes the English public schoolboy. Percy saw no reason to diverge from this attitude and ragged, skimped impositions and was inattentive with the rest, there being little or no contact with the masters outside the class-rooms. Percy disliked the maths "beak" and aped his drawly and pompous voice to the vast amusement of the boys; he tolerated the Latin master because he was sorry for the obviously earnest and seriously minded man; he openly laughed at the French master for his utter ignorance of that language. Only towards his erstwhile tutor, Horace Webley, who had now obtained a post as assistant theological master, did Percy show open hostility, never having forgotten their previous relationship.

Otherwise his life was no different nor yet more exciting than that of any other Harrovian in the year of grace 1772. Percy at this time had no feeling for tradition and was indifferent to the past, since his father had not been in the school before him, and he cared little for the future in his relation to Harrow as he was too young to visualize the inner significance of the great school or its influence upon the minds of its scholars.

As soon as the holidays came round, Percy went to stay with the Dewhursts since Sir Algernon was still in Berlin in order to be near the grave of his wife, and he did not wish to have the schoolboy mooning around him.

It was indeed fortunate for Percy to have such an amiable and gallant protector during those vital years of adolescence, Lord Fulford giving him as much care as he did to his own children. For the first time in his life, Percy, admitted as he was to an intimate family circle, tasted the simple joys of a true domestic and happy life.

In the home of the Marquis of Fulford he saw and felt all those touches and links which he had missed through no fault of his own. From these charming people he learnt the real hard battle of life and the principles which ought to go to the making of a perfect English gentleman. The rather wild barbarian became transformed; he fell under the charm of Lady Fulford whose influence on him was immense. She softened his rather ebullient and rough ways: she taught him the necessity of self-control, for the government of his equals and the proper and just dealings towards his inferiors, the art of give and take, the sense of loyalty and patriotism, and above all, self-esteem and the pride of bearing.

During the first holidays in London he met those members of his own set who, later on, would be his companions. He also spent a week-end with the Earl of Chatham and was introduced to young Sheridan. So that one wonders whether Harrow or Lord Fulford had the privilege of shaping this raw material into what he became -- the most gallant gentleman of England.

The few weeks flew along on swift wings all too quickly and the coach took Percy and Anthony Dewhurst, well provided with tips and hampers, back to Harrow. As the horses galloped down the Harrow Road, Percy was more silent and grave than he was wont. He was now beginning to understand the position which wealth and a future title meant.

The following term a school rebellion broke out which nearly turned into a miniature revolution. The origin of the trouble was a flogging. The chief personalities were Percy and Webley.

That term Percy found himself in the form over which his one-time tutor presided and all Percy's hate surged to the surface again, and, unmindful of possible consequences, he immediately started on a campaign to render the master's life intolerable. In this pursuit he was ably seconded by the rest of the class. Within a week, while the headmaster was temporarily absent, Webley, having heard of some particularly audacious prank in the school, suspected Percy of being its originator and instigator and demanded an explanation.

Percy, who in this instance happened to be entirely innocent, refused, true to school traditions, to divulge the perpetrator's name. Webley, already driven to exasperation by Percy's torments, not only cross-examined him with extreme severity, but also, having ordered him to his room, administered a sound thrashing which was doubtless from Webley's point of view richly deserved, but at that juncture was distinctly injudicious. The boys, in revolt at such autocratic and unwarranted treatment, were up in arms; the flag was hauled down and the water turned off; the immemorial Harrovian custom of showing extreme discontent. This was tantamount to a declaration of war.

On his return, Doctor Sumner faced a grim set of boys. He straightaway set up an investigation which lasted throughout the night. The boys sat up, discussing the situation, while boy after boy answered the summons from the hall. And as each hour passed the tension grew intense, the Head and the boys realizing that a decisive battle was being waged. A boy could be forced to sneak on a school-fellow at the insistance of any of the masters, and, should he refuse, the punishment would be a thrashing. Such was the issue in Harrow's eyes.

From a theoretical point of view such a procedure was allowed by the rules, but it had never received legal sanction by the School and was determined that their rights should be preserved at whatever cost, the majority of the boys declaring their readiness to undergo any punishment even to expulsion so that the immemorial tradition of "no-sneaking" might be kept inviolate. Only a few -- mostly scholars and plebeians -- formed a minority: and these were tactfully warned of the risks they would run should they deem fit to persist in this hostile opinion.

By the middle of the night, the original cause for the dispute having been lost sight of, a search was made of the actual organizer of the revolt and for the boy who had hauled down the flag and taken the key out of the water cistern.

Since no way out of the impasse could be found there was only one honourable solution and this, after many hours of deliberation, Percy carried out. Order would be restored straightaway in the school and the offender would own up to the Head in person on the condition that his confession be treated in the spirit in which it was made and no further punishment inflicted on any one, and on condition also that the boys' rights in the matter of "no-sneaking" be in the future respected.

That same afternoon the flag flew and the water flowed. Thereafter peace reigned in Harrow School once more; excitement gradually subsided and the rebellion died a natural death.

Percy's reputation was greatly enhanced by his tactful handling of the revolt. His prestige was high both in the eyes of the masters who had for the most part been all along on the side of the boys, and in those of the Harrovians themselves who considered that they were fortunate to have had the affair so quietly and deftly settled without painful reprisals.

Percy Blakeney was thereafter the leader of the aristocratic set and received not only their congratulations, but also their gratitude in the form of special privileges. Thus, although still a member of the Lower School, he was let off fagging in the future, allowed a comfortable chair of his own and permitted to take his baths in private.

For the next two years he indulged in his favourite recreation, sport in all its forms, boxing taking first place. He was able to knock out the instructor who had been a noted prize-fighter in his time. Another diversion which earned him great credit was running, cross-country steeplechases or hares and hounds being his special fancy since his endurance could outlast all pursuers, his long, lanky legs enabled him to out-distance rivals within a few yards of the start.

For this prowess in sport, he was, in his second year, elected to the Philathletic Club and obtained the captaincy of boxing, fencing, running and also the mastership of the hunt. Later, he was to graduate into the coveted ranks of the "Bloods"; his election took place the following summer at the annual general meeting amidst universal applause. To his extreme satisfaction, his friends Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and Lord Bathurst were elected at the same time, the dormitory thus housing three out of the seven members of the famous and exclusive "Blood Club."

After three years at Harrow, Percy, to his vast surprise and amusement, found himself a monitor.

In the interval the ups and downs of school life had passed quickly and uneventfully. Though by nature an idler, Percy was by no means lacking in intelligence. He possessed a quick and receptive mind, an amazing memory for facts and figures and an able brain. His teachers were often infuriated by his slovenly work and apparent stupidity, and they had just cause for complaint since he never seemed to show a desire to exert himself at lessons. It was a standing grievance with the classical master that he refused to work for the scholastic honours which his ability undoubtably deserved.

Instead, Percy had perfected a system whereby he contrived to do the minimum amount of work required to avoid impositions and beatings. The system at Harrow in those days whereby a boy obtained promotion (remove as it was called) at least once a year, unless he was totally unfit for it, enabled him to climb very slowly, but surely, from the Lower to the Upper School, ultimately attaining, somewhat precariously, the dignity of a sixth-form boy without having worked very hard for the honour.

But even if these years had failed to make a scholar out of him, they were the means of forging those great friendships which were destined to last a lifetime, friendships built on varying foundations.

The original sharers of the dormitory, Andrew Ffoulkes, Edward Bathurst, and William Pitt, linked themselves together in enduring bonds tacitly acknowledging the leadership of Percy Blakeney. Though they were just schoolboys, they had already discerned in the companion those magnificent qualities of courage as well as of cunning, of magnetic personality and the power to command, of irresistible gaiety and charm whatever the predicament, which later on in life called forth their unqualified obedience. At Harrow these three being inseparable earned the nickname of the "Three Devils," since no escapade or freak prank was ever carried out successfully save at their instigation.

They once held up the London to Hertford mail coach in approved highwayman fashion, and, having revealed to their victims their identities and intentions, they sent the proceeds of their robbery to a well-deserving charity. They ruled the juniors with an iron hand, put a stop to all bullying and to all unwarranted outbursts of childish rebellion. They even, by means of the subtle art of "sidetracking," reduced a too presumptuous master to subjection and by physical force deposed a too bumptious monitor. The headmaster was quite willing to admit that the influence of the "Three Devils" was all for the good of the school, and that whenever they brought a request to him he was always ready to give it his earnest consideration and to grant it when possible or reasonable. Hence, their unexpected promotion to monitor rank.

Strangest of all was the close friendship between Blakeney and William Pitt. It was a friendship which brought Percy much of the help and consideration in high places of which he subsequently stood in need in his work of mercy.

It was a case of extreme opposites meeting; Pitt admired Percy's wonderful physique and fearlessness, whilst Blakeney paid tribute to the other's capacity for hard work and moral courage. At first, Percy only showed toward his friend that tolerant contempt which the athlete has for the bookworm. Later it dawned upon him that Pitt was more than a plodder, was, in fact, a genius, and contempt was thereupon turned into genuine and generous admiration. He accepted quite humbly the rebukes and railings which Pitt levelled at his idleness; and so great was Pitt's influence over him that presently the masters noticed an unaccountable improvement in Percy's schoolwork. Soon it became known that Pitt was under Blakeney's especial care and that any one who wished to tease or bully the studious boy had first to reckon with Blakeney's fists.

Pitt was Ffoulkes' fag. When Percy was released from performing menial duties after the brilliant part he had played in the school rebellion, he set himself the task of helping to perform his, so as to enable his friend to study without interruption; and when he in his turn became a fag master he made his own young slave carry out duties for Pitt, until such a time as the latter could command a fag for himself.

The Earl of Chatham, at his son's request, sent a holiday invitation to Percy and, after he had listened gravely to his young visiter's exploits as recounted to him by William, he remarked:

"Damn it, if I only had you in my ministry I would defy Bedford and . . . hm . . . even the King."

Which remark Pitt was soon after to remember in a manner and at a time that caused his friend Blakeney much consternation.

It was soon after his elevation to monitorial rank and in the beginning of summer term 1775, that Percy received a summons from the headmaster. This was to apprise him of the sudden death of his father in Berlin from heart failure. The boy was granted long leave from school. The Marquis of Fulford, who was one of the trustees under Sir Algernon's will and appointed Percy's guardian until the latter's majority, acted once again in that spirit of kindliness which he had always shown to the Blakeneys: he took the carrying out of all the legal formalities on his shoulders, as well as the doleful task of bringing the body across from Germany to its last resting place in England.

Percy Blakeney, at fifteen years of age, found himself a full-fledged baronet and the possessor of a vast fortune. His feelings in the matter of losing his father so unexpectedly must have been very mixed. He had never understood and never loved his father. The first sense of bereavement, such as it was, was soon submerged in that of childish pride in his own wealth, and of enjoyment in having the freedom to spend.

Lord Fulford's guardianship was of the kindest and most easy-going where pocket-money and expenditure were concerned. He was one of those men who believed in allowing growing boys as much freedom of action as their character permitted.

For Percy the mere fact of losing his father could not have perturbed him: love as between father and son had been entirely absent in their relationship towards one another and their intercourse remained devoid of all sympathy and understanding. The boy had no real cause for weeping: no apparent cause for sorrow. No thread in his life had been snapped: no loving memory broken. On the contrary, he was now given new hopes for the future and he seems at this stage to have let life roll on as before, just as if nothing of any great significance had happened or any radical change in his life had occurred. This attitude he summed up in a letter to his guardian in answer to questions relating to his new estate.

"I cannot," he wrote on his return to Harrow, "go about with a long face. I hope you, sir, who so well understand my family, will perceive that I am not unfeeling or lacking in gentlemanly instincts. The reverse of the case is the truth. I glory in the fact that I am entitled to be called 'Mister' Blakeney by my masters instead of my surname tout court. As to my future, I am very undecided. I hope that you will permit me to remain here for another two years at least. Frankly, the University does not attract me, but I may enter politics with my good friend Pitt. Or else I shall roam about the world a bit. I suppose the truth is that I do not know what I want."

The school round and the onerous monitor's duties soon drew him back into Harrow life again, and his bereavement was forgotten in the everyday excitement of writing lists, preparing lessons and supervising meals. His drawl of a voice convulsed the school when first he read the lessons in chapel: his attempt to sing in the choir gave the music master a stomach-ache. On the other hand, he kept the junior school well in order, and never had there been such quiet during preparation as when Blakeney was in command.

The illicit joys of breaking bounds and drinking at taverns were quickly suppressed amongst the Lower School, though many an afternoon saw Sir Percy and his three friends in the bar parlour playing cards. Likewise he seems to have kept a stable and to have gone hunting regularly once a week, though how he managed to do this is difficult to conjecture, for this form of sport was strictly forbidden by the law of the school since London was only a few hours' ride away. But authority, in those days rather partisan, winked at Percy's misdemeanors, so long as his iron discipline over the Lower School remained unchallenged and unimpaired.

And he took those prerogatives for granted as if they were his due. He never stopped to consider the ethics of his conduct and whether he was setting a bad example to others: the boys, on the other hand, allowed Blakeney's defiance of the laws to go unchallenged, because they realised that he was a good sportsman, always willing to turn a laugh against himself and that he never lost control of his temper even under the most severe provocation.

Since Percy seemed to have no inclination for any special branch of learning, the problem of his future exercised his tutors far more than it worried their pupil. They mapped out several careers for him, pointing out with infinite pains the advantages to be gained from the Law, the Army, or whatever happened to be the proposal of the moment. But all they encountered was a rebuff accompanied by an inane and merry laugh and the invariable remark:

"Lud, sir, I'm too demmed lazy. What you propose requires brain not brawn."

Lord Fulford, at whose home Sir Percy now stayed on all occasions, when told of these well-meaning meddlers, threw up his hands in horror, exclaiming:

"For God's sake, Percy, behave decently like a gentleman. There is no earthly necessity for you to work."

With which statement Sir Percy heartily concurred. However, now and again, books were read and annotated, a few notes were written in the margin: an occasional brilliant essay was painfully born, for at eighteen, Percy was fired with the zeal of saving England from the hands of traitors -- those foul men being Rockingham, Fox and others. His admiration for Pitt spurred him on to the nearest approach to hard work ever yet done by him, and, before leaving Harrow for good, he had pledged himself to stand by his friend as soon as the latter should be Prime Minister.

The masters, perceiving the futility of ever persuading the youth to undertake a serious career, soon dropped the subject, for which Sir Percy was eternally grateful.

And thus his last term came all too soon. By that time, with universal consent and general acclamations, the school had elected Blakeney head of the Philatheletic Club; the masters, for reasons best known to themselves, had promoted him to the dignity of "School Monitor," one of the select "twelve," and for the short period of thirteen weeks, Sir Percy Blakeney, Bart., could boast that he was, in truth, the head boy of Harrow, both in work and in play.

As the day of ultimate parting drew close he experienced the strange, yet fruitful emotion of regret. He looked back and saw, in a new perspective, these years of boyhood; the lost opportunities, the waste of time, the compelling atmosphere of tradition. The years had sped by on golden wings and there seemed to be nothing to catch, nothing to stop and gaze at with awe or with pride. The larks were now reduced to absurd futilities: the revolts diminished to inconsequent follies.

In a moment the proportions appeared reversed, in inverse ratio to their former significance, as if the events were fleeing before the onrush of infinity, whilst dwindling down to zero. Boyhood was gone: he was now a man and must emerge into a man's world -- a world in which there was no room for petty grievances or harsh authorities. And others would step into the shoes so lately shed: new monitors would take his place, new boys would sit in the empty form: new "Bloods" would replace the old and everything would continue on the Hill as if he had never existed.

The old Hall reverberated for the last time to Sir Percy's laughs, to his quips and jests, which echoed through the sacred Yard. On his left and right sat the quartette. They pledged each other in sound, full-bodied port, drunk from tankards.

"We meet in London, my hearties," roared Sir Percy Blakeney, "this day week, and, by God, we'll paint the old town red!"

Forty years on, when afar and asunder
Parted are those who are singing today,
When you look back, and forgetfully wonder
What you were like in your work and your play,
Then it may be, there will often come o'er you
Glimpses of notes like the catch of a song --
Visions of boyhood shall float then before you,
Echoes of dreamland shall bear them along, 
Follow up!