ghost, silent, looking at no one, bent only on keeping my freedom, my right to go against the stream, my right to see the pretty sight of the long boats and their curtseying flags come out of locks in the light that suits my eyes; all the vulgarity of their singing did not kill the beauty of their movements. The band-a vile band-played the old 4th June tune which Scott Holland used to like. There was a half-moon on the right, queening it in spite of rowdies; and I saw a dear form in a light-blue coat standing up to take the Henley crew through the crowd of inferior boats. I stood alone, watching, listening, rehearsing the part of a discharged usher. They got clear of each other, and with my glasses I followed their curves of movement far down the dear river. I thought of young men quartered in Indian hill-forts, droning in twos or singly through a steaming night, miserably remembering their last row at Eton, pining and craving for lost youthfulness. I, all the while, know that I am as youthful in feeling and in enjoying as the noisy lads in these boats. Presently I was in absolute solitude, sitting on a well-known stile, watching the rockets cross the breadth of South

Meadow and Brocas. Now and then a fixed firework blazed up so as to show what I knew to be a mass of people looking on from the bank, and their cheers were transfigured into pure joy at that distance. Clewer Tower in the background; behind a spiritual after-glow; on my right lady-moon; wind up stream, letting the little meteors fall slowly, well above the crowd.'

Election Saturday was undoubtedly a time of reconciliation for thoughtful boys, who, if a cloud had supervened on their original amity,' recognized the fact that now or never would that cloud be dispersed. It would soon be too late-Smith must go to India, Brown to China, Jones to Woolwich, Cooper to an attorney's office. Assuming two of them to have been Collegers, and the other two Oppidans, and that they had mercilessly hacked and shinned one another at football, or cherished apparently incurable antipathies-still the last hours of their last half not seldom culminated in a day of atonement. It was 'a gracious and a hallowed time,' belying a famous pentameter by my friend Canon Kynaston :

'Non est multus amor perditus inter eos.'

But the leave-taking of the members of the same pupil-room, in the presence of their tutor, has been sketched by a masterly hand :

'A. and others stayed a good time, talking in the ordinary way--no confessional-and one by one they shook hands; first, N. L., veiling his grief at leaving school in his quaint, hard, stoic manner, shaking hands with X.; they used to hate each other, but have been great friends this summer. Then R. H. spent some time with me, copying out two of his honoured exercises into my book whilst I did business. M. L. came, and his shyness did not prevent my saying what I wished to say to him. But to H. I could say nothing: now that I am writing about it, I cannot bear to think that he is lost.'

CHAPTER VI.

MY TUTOR'S DOGS-JACK SPARROW, THE WATERMAN— THE DUKE OF BEAUFORT'S DOGS-CHARLEY WISE -SPANKIE.

My recollections of the boat-races at Eton would be incomplete without a few words anent Bear, my tutor's famous dog, who, from the time that he could run, never missed a boatrace during his long and well-remembered career. My tutor brought him as a puppy from the monastery of the Great St. Bernard; he was buried under the sycamore-tree on the lawn of the old house (now Ainger's) in Keate's Lane. Why, with such a majestic animal before us, the prejudices of some few should have been in favour of small dogs, I cannot say, but I remember that at my dame's, and at Cambridge afterwards, we grew rapturous over two little mongrels called Crab and Tigser, palliating the

absurdity by crediting these two curs with a purely fictitious pedigree. Crab and Tigser were declared to be 'well-bred' dogs, which of course they were not, whereas Bear was a real St. Bernard without a blot on his scutcheon, and such a public character that Landseer came all the way from London to Eton on purpose to paint him. I should like to have witnessed his introduction to my tutor, who was hand and glove with his neighbours, the painters Evans and Nesfield, and greatly affected the society of all artists. George Richmond was a constant visitor at his house. My tutor's drawing-room was resplendent with Turner, Stanfield, and Mulready. He certainly did not welcome Landseer after the fashion of the King of Portugal, who began conversation thus: Delighted to make acquaintance with you, Mr. Landseer, for I am very fond of all kinds of beasts.' My brother remembers seeing the painter at Eton dip his fingers in an ink-bottle, and without a pen, much less a paint-brush, leave on a sheet of paper a finer representation of a dog than any photographer could aspire to make. In the picture which Landseer and his brother were commissioned to paint for my tutor were three of