BULLYING

"Give to the morn of life its natural blessedness." Wordsworth.

Why is it that new boys are almost invariably ill-treated? I have often
fancied that there must be in boyhood a pseudo-instinctive cruelty, a
sort of "wild trick of the ancestral savage," which, no amount of
civilization can entirely repress. Certain it is, that to most boys the
first term is a trying ordeal. They are being tested and weighed. Their
place in the general estimation is not yet fixed, and the slightest
circumstances are seized upon to settle the category under which the boy
is to be classed. A few apparently trivial accidents of his first few
weeks at school often decide his position in the general regard for the
remainder of his boyhood. And yet these are _not_ accidents; they are
the slight indications which give an unerring proof of the general
tendencies of his character and training. Hence much of the apparent
cruelty with which new boys are treated is not exactly intentional. At
first, of course, as they can have no friends worth speaking of, there
are always plenty of coarse and brutal minds that take a pleasure in
their torment, particularly if they at once recognise any innate
superiority to themselves. Of this class was Barker. He hated Eric at
first sight, simply because his feeble mind could only realise one idea
about him, and that was the new boy's striking contrast with his own
imperfections. Hence he left no means untried to vent on Eric his low
and mean jealousy. He showed undisguised pleasure when he fell in form,
and signs of disgust when he rose; he fomented every little source of
disapproval or quarrelling which happened to arise against him; he never
looked at him without a frown or a sneer; he waited for him to kick and
annoy him as he came out of, or went into, the school-room. In fact, he
did his very best to make the boy's life miserable, and the occupation