fury of the head of dormitory on the same evening. The latter tied his
game ankle up to his thigh, and fastening him by the wrist to the bottom
of the bed, made him stand the better part of the night on his bad
ankle.

This reminds me of the story of a certain royal prince going to an
educational establishment and being asked who his parents were. On his
reply, the senior--or 'John'--gave him a terrific _cuff_ on the side of
the head saying:--

'That's for your father, the prince.'

And before the half-stunned boy recovered, he received a stinging blow
on the other ear with:--

'That's for your mother, the princess, and now black my boots.'

His Highness could say nothing, but in time he grew to be the biggest
and the worst bully.

Then the younger brother of his former tormentor came, and the prince
sent for him, and telling him what his brother had done some years
before, made him bend down and flogged him so unmercifully that he had
to go into hospital.

Years after, when in an important position, he met his former victim,
now a general, and congratulating him on his career said:--

'Perhaps I made your success by giving you that tanning at Sandhurst.'