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…　but　he　lived　upon　it　all　the　time　he　was　at　Our　School。



The　principal　currency　of　Our　School　was　slate　pencil。　　It　had　some

inexplicable　value；　that　was　never　ascertained；　never　reduced　to　a

standard。　　To　have　a　great　hoard　of　it　was　somehow　to　be　rich。　　We

used　to　bestow　it　in　charity；　and　confer　it　as　a　precious　boon　upon

our　chosen　friends。　　When　the　holidays　were　coming；　contributions

were　solicited　for　certain　boys　whose　relatives　were　in　India；　and

who　were　appealed　for　under　the　generic　name　of　'Holiday…stoppers；'

…　appropriate　marks　of　remembrance　that　should　enliven　and　cheer

them　in　their　homeless　state。　　Personally；　we　always　contributed

these　tokens　of　sympathy　in　the　form　of　slate　pencil；　and　always

felt　that　it　would　be　a　comfort　and　a　treasure　to　them。



Our　School　was　remarkable　for　white　mice。　　Red…polls；　linnets；　and

even　canaries；　were　kept　in　desks；　drawers；　hat…boxes；　and　other

strange　refuges　for　birds；　but　white　mice　were　the　favourite　stock。

The　boys　trained　the　mice；　much　better　than　the　masters　trained　the

boys。　　We　recall　one　white　mouse；　who　lived　in　the　cover　of　a　Latin

dictionary；　who　ran　up　ladders；　drew　Roman　chariots；　shouldered

muskets；　turned　wheels；　and　even　made　a　very　creditable　appearance

on　the　stage　as　the　Dog　of　Montargis。　　He　might　have　achieved

greater　things；　but　for　having　the　misfortune　to　mistake　his　way　in

a　triumphal　procession　to　the　Capitol；　when　he　fell　into　a　deep

inkstand；　and　was　dyed　black　and　drowned。　　The　mice　were　the

occasion　of　some　most　ingenious　engineering；　in　the　construction　of

their　houses　and　instruments　of　performance。　　The　famous　one

belonged　to　a　company　of　proprietors；　some　of　whom　have　since　made

Railroads；　Engines；　and　Telegraphs；　the　chairman　has　erected　mills

and　bridges　in　New　Zealand。



The　usher　at　Our　School；　who　was　considered　to　know　everything　as

opposed　to　the　Chief；　who　was　considered　to　know　nothing；　was　a

bony；　gentle…faced；　clerical…looking　young　man　in　rusty　black。　　It

was　whispered　that　he　was　sweet　upon　one　of　Maxby's　sisters　（Maxby

lived　close　by；　and　was　a　day　pupil）；　and　further　that　he　'favoured

Maxby。'　　As　we　remember；　he　taught　Italian　to　Maxby's　sisters　on

half…holidays。　　He　once　went　to　the　play　with　them；　and　wore　a

white　waistcoat　and　a　rose：　which　was　considered　among　us

equivalent　to　a　declaration。　　We　were　of　opinion　on　that　occasion；

that　to　the　last　moment　he　expected　Maxby's　father　to　ask　him　to

dinner　at　five　o'clock；　and　therefore　neglected　his　own　dinner　at

half…past　one；　and　finally　got　none。　　We　exaggerated　in　our

imaginations　the　extent　to　which　he　punished　Maxby's　father's　cold

meat　at　supper；　and　we　agreed　to　believe　that　he　was　elevated　with

wine　and　water　when　he　came　home。　　But；　we　all　liked　him；　for　he

had　a　good　knowledge　of　boys；　and　would　have　made　it　a　much　better

school　if　he　had　had　more　power。　　He　was　writing　master；

mathematical　master；　English　master；　made　out　the　bills；　mended　the

pens；　and　did　all　sorts　of　things。　　He　divided　the　little　boys　with

the　Latin　master　（they　were　smuggled　through　their　rudimentary

books；　at　odd　times　when　there　was　nothing　else　to　do）；　and　he

always　called　at　parents'　houses　to　inquire　after　sick　boys；

because　he　had　gentlemanly　manners。　　He　was　rather　musical；　and　on

some　remote　quarter…day　had　bought　an　old　trombone；　but　a　bit　of　it

was　lost；　and　it　made　the　most　extraordinary　sounds　when　he

sometimes　tried　to　play　it　of　an　evening。　　His　holidays　never　began

（on　account　of　the　bills）　until　long　after　ours；　but；　in　the　summer

vacations　he　used　to　take　pedestrian　excursions　with　a　knapsack；

and　at　Christmas　time；　he　went　to　see　his　father　at　Chipping

Norton；　who　we　all　said　（on　no　authority）　was　a　dairy…fed　pork…

butcher。　　Poor　fellow！　　He　was　very　low　all　day　on　Maxby's　sister's

wedding…day；　and　afterwards　was　thought　to　favour　Maxby　more　than

ever；　though　he　had　been　expected　to　spite　him。　　He　has　been　dead

these　twenty　years。　　Poor　fellow！



Our　remembrance　of　Our　School；　presents　the　Latin　master　as　a

colourless　doubled…up　near…sighted　man　with　a　crutch；　who　was

always　cold；　and　always　putting　onions　into　his　ears　for　deafness；

and　always　disclosing　ends　of　flannel　under　all　his　garments；　and

almost　always　applying　a　ball　of　pocket…handkerchief　to　some　part

of　his　face　with　a　screwing　action　round　and　round。　　He　was　a　very

good　scholar；　and　took　great　pains　where　he　saw　intelligence　and　a

desire　to　learn：　otherwise；　perhaps　not。　　Our　memory　presents　him

（unless　teased　into　a　passion）　with　as　little　energy　as　colour　…　as

having　been　worried　and　tormented　into　monotonous　feebleness　…　as

having　had　the　best　part　of　his　life　ground　out　of　him　in　a　Mill　of

boys。　　We　remember　with　terror　how　he　fell　asleep　one　sultry

afternoon　with　the　little　smuggled　class　before　him；　and　awoke　not

when　the　footstep　of　the　Chief　fell　heavy　on　the　floor；　how　the

Chief　aroused　him；　in　the　midst　of　a　dread　silence；　and　said；　'Mr。

Blinkins；　are　you　ill；　sir？'　how　he　blushingly　replied；　'Sir；

rather　so；'　how　the　Chief　retorted　with　severity；　'Mr。　Blinkins；

this　is　no　place　to　be　ill　in'　（which　was　very；　very　true）；　and

walked　back　solemn　as　the　ghost　in　Hamlet；　until；　catching　a

wandering　eye；　he　called　that　boy　for　inattention；　and　happily

expressed　his　feelings　towards　the　Latin　master　through　the　medium

of　a　substitute。



There　was　a　fat　little　dancing…master　who　used　to　come　in　a　gig；

and　taught　the　more　advanced　among　us　hornpipes　（as　an

accomplishment　in　great　social　demand　in　after　life）；　and　there　was

a　brisk　little　French　master　who　used　to　come　in　the　sunniest

weather；　with　a　handleless　umbrella；　and　to　whom　the　Chief　was

always　polite；　because　（as　we　believed）；　if　the　Chief　offended　him；

he　would　instantly　address　the　Chief　in　French；　and　for　ever

confound　him　before　the　boys　with　his　inability　to　understand　or

reply。



There　was　besides；　a　serving　man；　whose　name　was　Phil。　　Our

retrospective　glance　presents　Phil　as　a　shipwrecked　carpenter；　cast

away　upon　the　desert　island　of　a　school；　and　carrying　into　practice

an　ingenious　inkling　of　many　trades。　　He　mended　whatever　was

broken；　and　made　whatever　was　wanted。　　He　was　general　glazier；

among　other　things；　and　mended　all　the　broken　windows　…　at　the

prime　cost　（as　was　darkly　rumoured　among　us）　of　ninepence；　for

every　square　charged　three…and…six　to　parents。　　We　had　a　high

opinion　of　his　mechanical　genius；　and　generally　held　that　the　Chief

'knew　something　bad　of　him；'　and　on　pain　of　divulgence　enforced

Phil　to　be　his　bondsman。　　We　particularly　remember　that　Phil　had　a

sovereign　contempt　for　learning：　which　engenders　in　us　a　respect

for　his　sagacity；　as　it　implies　his　accurate　observation　of　the

relative　positions　of　the　Chief　and　the　ushers。　　He　was　an

impenetrable　man；　who　waited　at　table　between　whiles；　and

throughout　'the　half'　kept　the　boxes　in　severe　custody。　　He　was

morose；　even　to　the　Chief；　and　never　smiled；　except　at　breaking…up；

when；　in　acknowledgment　of　the　toast；　'Success　to　Phil！　　Hooray！'

he　would　slowly　carve　a　grin　out　of　his　wooden　face；　where　it　would

remain　until　we　were　all　gone。　　Nevertheless；　one　time　when　we　had

the　scarlet　fever　in　the　school；　Phil　nursed　all　the　sick　boys　of

his　own　accord；　and　was　like　a　mother　to　them。



There　was　another　school　not　far　off；　and　of　course　Our　School

could　have　nothing　to　say　to　that　school。　　It　is　mostly　the　way

with　schools；　whether　of　boys　or　men。　　Well！　the　railway　has

swallowed　up　ours；　and　the　locomotives　now　run　smoothly　over　its

ashes。





So　fades　and　languishes；　grows　dim　and　dies；

All　that　this　world　is　proud　of；





…　and　is　not　proud　of；　too。　　It　had　little　reason　to　be　proud　of

Our　School；　and　has　done　much　better　since　in　that　way；　and　will　do

far　better　yet。







OUR　VESTRY







WE　have　the　glorious　privilege　of　being　always　in　hot　water　if　we

like。　　We　are　a　shareholder　in　a　Great　Parochial　British　Joint

Stock　Bank　of　Balderdash。　　We　have　a　Vestry　in　our　borough；　and　can

vote　for　a　vestryman　…　might　even　BE　a　vestryman；　mayhap；　if　we

were　inspired　by　a　lofty　and　noble　ambition。　　Which　we　are　not。



Our　Vestry　is　a　deliberative　assembly　of　the　utmost　dignity　and

importance。　　Like　the　Senate　of　ancient　Rome；　its　awful　gravity

overpowers　（or　ought　to　overpower）　barbarian　visitors。　　It　sits　in

the　Capitol　（we　mean　in　the　capital　building　erected　for　it）；

chiefly　on　Saturdays；　and　shakes　the　earth　to　its　centre　with　the

echoes　of　its　thundering　eloquence；　in　a　Sunday　paper。



To　get　into　this　Vestry　in　the　eminent　capacity　of　Vestryman；

gigantic　efforts　are　made；　and　Herculean　exertions　used。　　It　is

made　manifest　to　the　dullest　capacity　at　every　election；　that　if　we

reject　Snozzle　we　are　done　for；　and　that　if　we　fail　to　bring　in

Blunderbooze　at　the　top　of　the　poll；　we　are　unworthy　of　the　dearest

rights　of　Britons。　　Flaming　placards　are　rife　on　all　the　dead　walls

in　the　borough；　public…houses　hang　out　banners；　hackney…cabs　burst

into　full…grown　flowers　of　type；　and　everybody　is；　or　should　be；　in

a　paroxysm　of　anxiety。



At　these　momentous　crises　of　the　national　fate；　we　are　much

assisted　in　our　deliberations　by　two　eminent　volunteers；　one　of

whom　subscribes　himself　A　Fellow　Parishioner；　the　other；　A　Rate…

Payer。　　Who　they　are；　or　what　they　are；　or　where　they　are；　nobody

knows；　but；　whatever　one　asserts；　the　other　contradicts。　　They　are

both　voluminous　writers；　indicting　more　epistles　than　Lord

Chesterfield　in　a　single　week；　and　the　greater　part　of　their

feelings　are　too　big　for　utterance　in　anything　less　than　capital

letters。　　They　require　the　additional　aid　of　whole　rows　of　notes　of

admiration；　like　balloons；　to　point　their　generous　indignation；　and

they　sometimes　communicate　a　crushing　severity　to　stars。　　As　thus：





MEN　OF　MOONEYMOUNT。





Is　it；　or　is　it　not