the character and reputation of the School that "The Cheltonian" should be rendered a permanent institution, and not be allowed to fall to the ground after a brief existence, as was the case with former publications. If twelve hundred subscribers could be obtained, which surely is not an unreasonable number to expect from amongst the past and present members of our institution, numbering as it does nearly seven hundred at the present moment, a strong guarantee would be obtained for its continuation. The Editors have every confidence that their appeal will be favourably responded to by nearly all, and they also trust that old Collegians or any others who may wish to subscribe, will at once forward their names without waiting for any special solicitation.

The substance of the Magazine will continue to be of the same nature as before. At one time it was proposed to make it consist of purely College news, but after some deliberation this idea was abandoned, at any rate for the present.

Anything of a personal nature or likely to create ill feeling, has carefully been avoided, and the Editors gladly take this opportunity of apologizing to the past generation for any annoyance which may have been caused by some recent letters, which they trust will now be buried in oblivion and never be again alluded to.

Those who were present at the recent gathering of "Old Cheltonians" must have felt the kindly feelings with which they were actuated towards the present generation, and the only cause for any apprehension on this point is lest they should consider us but unworthy successors to the celebrities of old. At any rate all concurred in saying that "The Cheltonian," if properly conducted and supported, would form a most important link between the Present, and the Past, and above all tend to keep up that Esprit de Corps, which ought to exist between the members of every Public School.

And now, in conclusion, the Editors express their deep obligation to all who have in any way helped them by contributions or otherwise during the past year, and hope that the same kind support will be accorded them during the one which has just commenced. If this be done, and their efforts continue to be regarded in the same favourable light as before, they have every confidence that when 1867 has run its course they will be able, in all sincerity, to say that "The Cheltonian" has fully answered the purposes for which it was originally intended, and its success far exceeded the most sanguine expectations of its conductors.-Floruit, Floret, Floreat, Cheltonia.

T

3

Life at a Public School.

CHAPTER II.

HE next week was gloriously fine, and passed away with that startling rapidity with which holidays always do; however long they may seem at the beginning, yet they are gone before we have fully realised the fact that they have come, and those school duties and irksome restraints from which the ardent spirits of youth fancied they had been freed for an indefinite period, have again to be submitted to. Somehow, half the number of school-boys appear to imagine that holidays are of boundless length, and that school the next half-year will be postponed ad infinitum. There is a kind of vague way in which they speak of it, and all the inconvenience or hard work it is expected to bring, as if they secretly thought it would never really come at all. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof, is the motto of school-boys, at any rate with regard to the holidays, and perhaps they are right.

Once more, then, Frank Hastings found himself on the eve of going back to St. Aubrey's. The picnic had been an immense success, the croquêt party was thoroughly enjoyed by everybody, Frank distinguished himself greatly in the cricket match; in fact all the round of engagements which a short time before seemed interminable, came to an end, and now the stern reality forced itself upon him that to-morrow he had to go back.

School is the happiest time of our life, and the happiest time of school is the holidays. At no other period do we enjoy ourselves so thoroughly. In after life, when in the possession of wealth and affluence, and able to gratify every wish, we lack that freedom from care and that delightful feeling of being cared for rather than caring for which youth alone can give, and have in most cases become satiated with the pleasures of this world.

It is not at all to be wondered at that boarders look down upon day boys. The latter are, indeed, rather to be pitied. They are only half school-boys, and lose all close association with each other, and that necessity for self-reliance, and learning to fight their own battles which a boarding house alone can give, and which for actual life is equally, if not more valuable than any mere knowledge. "Holidays," too, have not the real genuine ring for them. They bring up no image of those nearest and dearest, and rendered still more so by a temporary separation. We never fully appreciate the value of anything till we have lost it, and home is rendered doubly dear by our

being deprived of its comforts for a time. The difference between the two boys is generally tolerably plain. The boarder goes through an ordeal more or less severe, when small, and gradually increases in power and authority. Everyone finds his own level, and knows exactly what his capabilities are as compared with others, and no false pretensions to influence can hold good for a moment. From being ruled he gradually rises to rule, and has as it were already passed through a miniature life before entering into the great outward world.

The day boy, on the other hand, experiences little of this. All parents naturally think that their own children surpass others, and not unfrequently lead them to form the same ideas about themselves. This is soon effaced from the mind of the boarder, or at any rate does not manifest itself openly, but with day boys this is not always the case, and if they do not appear in the play-ground, or join in the various games of the half-year, they get but few of the advantages which real school-life imparts. Now Frank Hastings was a thorough boarder in every respect. He went to St. Aubrey's: when quite young, and had gone through the usual course of fagging, &c., customary at that place, and endured a tolerable amount of hard knocks without being much the worse for them. Entering eagerly into the various games, he had become tolerably proficient at all, and now stood pretty high in the school, being in that position which perhaps is the most enjoyable of any, viz., looked up to by the younger boys and on good terms with the masters, without having yet reached such a high place as to be invested with any authority, or to feel that there was much responsibility attached to him beyond his own immediate conduct. To be a Præpostor sounds very well, but it puts an end to all those little breaches of discipline and order, and what is termed fun, for ever, and "I should not have expected this of you Smith," &c., sounds far more terrible than the imposition or caning, when Smith was a troublesome young rascal who had a marvellous knack of getting into scrapes and out again, and looked on such things as a matter of course. We do not at all mean to say that Frank was always getting into scrapes, or anything of the kind. He declared his time for that was already past, and began to think seriously of how he ought to behave when in the sixth, which exalted dignity he hoped shortly to attain to.

This he was telling his father on the last night, and confidently assured him that "he was going to work tremendously hard."— (We are always going to work, but the "going" in many cases is something like the Greek Kalends, and the time never actually arrives.

We must pass over the last days which, as Frank declared, "passed away so quickly that he didn't know how he had spent them, and for his part he believed they had dropped out altogether." The farewell visits were paid to the stables and kennels, the dumb favourites taken leave of by their young master, and now the carriage stood at the door to take him to the station, which was seven or eight miles distant.

The boxes had all been packed and corded by the worthy housekeeper, the miscellaneous collection of cricket and racquet bats, fishing rods, walking sticks, &c., stowed away, and Frank was saying "good bye."

"Good bye Clara; I hope you will be happy when you haven't me to bother you. I shall call on you when you come home, that is to say if you don't object. Good bye Evelyn. Good bye Lotty; mind and write and tell me all the news. Good bye papa; you shall see how I'll get on." And Frank was gone.

A fervent "God bless you," from Mr. Hastings, and the carriage moved off amid a general waving of pocket handkerchiefs and the good byes of the whole household, from the grey headed old butler to the stable boy who had only just come.

It was a pleasant drive to the B- Station, which was reached in time, and then a last "good bye" having been said to the old coachman and "Tell them we got here all right." Frank, left by himself, felt that the holidays were over and the half-year at hand.

In a few minutes the train came up, and after seeing his luggage put in he was duly esconced by the assiduous station master, who knew him pretty well, in a first-class carriage, and rapidly whirled away to St. Aubrey's.

The first thing he naturally did on getting himself comfortably seated, was to survey the previous occupants of the carriage, which were three in number, a grey-headed and somewhat severe looking old gentleman reading the Times newspaper, an elderly lady who was unmistakeably his wife, and another whom Frank at once decided to be his daughter. Having nothing better to do, he began to make mental reflections on their characters, something as follows:-"Old gentleman, hem, model of dignity and correctness, and looks as if he had lost his liver; wonder if he has. Not the temper of an angel, I'll declare, nor good digestion either. Daresay he can get in a rage; have half a mind to see if he can. There, that's enough of him, let's look at the others." The subject of these flattering remarks was meanwhile poring over a leading article in the Times, which no doubt he gave quite as much attention to as he would have done had he known Frank's conclusions

respecting him. The latter, meanwhile, was scrutinising the old lady, whose character was soon summed up as not being particularly cross-looking, considering her age-we are afraid our young friend was rather disrespectful in his ideas about old ladies. Last, but not least, he proceeded to survey the young lady, and of course our readers are extremely anxious to hear his opinion concerning her. Unfortunately, however, he never would declare what it was, and so we are unable to enlighten them on this point, at any rate, he seemed to be some time before he could make up his mind in a satisfactory manner.

Suddenly, however, the old gentleman put down the paper with an exclamation of evident dissatisfaction, shewing that the writer of the Article had not been so fortunate as to win his approbation. "Hum," he said, "a pretty fuss they are making about education and all that sort of thing, and now they want to interfere with public schools do they; they did well enough when I was a boy, and I don't see why they shouldn't now; all a pack of rubbish."

Frank felt bound to say something, and suggested in the most humble tone of voice, "I beg your pardon sir, but don't you think public schools have greatly improved since your time?"

"Improved indeed, precious little improvement can I see, except that they have nearly done away with all the good old customs, such as fagging, &c.; why I never saw such a set of conceited coxcombs in my life as you young fellows are getting; nothing is good enough for you; and it makes my old blood boil to see boys of fifteen aping all the manners of men; it was different in my time, I can tell you."

Frank, seeing the old gentleman, had a pretty strong feeling on this point, wisely forebore from pressing the argument farther, and adroitly turned the subject by enquiring what school he had been at?

"I," replied he, "I was at St. Aubrey's about thirty years ago; ah, that was something like a school then, I wonder what it is now? gone to the dogs I suppose. The fact is, he continued, I have been away from England for many years, and am going down to have a look at the old place. I live not very far from it." "By jove," that's funny, "cried Frank." "cried Frank." "Why, I am at St. Aubrey's now, and just going back after the holidays. Well, I hope you won't think we are so bad after all."

The old gentleman was now considerably mollified; and softening down, entered into eager conversation about the eleven, the river, football, &c., giving wonderful accounts of his own exploits, which Frank emphatically declared he had never known equalled,