the train stopped at the foot of the Hill, and, as I was fighting
my way through the welter of boys and luggage on the platform,
I caught sight of a smiling face and a waved hand at the window
of the carriage which I had just quitted.

The beginning of a new school-quarter, the crowd of fresh faces,
the greetings of old friends, and a remove into a much more difficult
Form, rather distracted my mind from the incidents of my journey,
to which it was recalled by the receipt of a note from Mr. Aulif,
saying that he would be at Harrow by 2.30 on Saturday afternoon,
the 21st of September. I met him at the station, and found him
even pleasanter than I expected. He extolled Public Schools to
the skies, and was sure that our English virtues were in great
part due to them. Of Harrow he spoke with peculiar admiration as
the School of Sheridan, of Peel, of Palmerston. What was our course
of study? What our system of discipline? What were our amusements?
The last question I was able to answer by showing him both the
end of cricket and the beginning of football, for both were being
played; and, as we mounted the Hill towards the School and the
Spire, he asked me if we had any other amusements. Fives or racquets
he did not seem to count. Did we run races? Had we any gymnastics?
(In those days we had not.) Did we practise rifle-shooting? Every
boy ought to learn to use a rifle. The Volunteer movement was a
national glory. Had we any part in it?

The last question touched me on the point of honour. In those days
Harrow was the best School in England for rifle-shooting. In the
Public Schools contest at Wimbledon we carried off the Ashburton
Challenge Shield five times in succession, and in 1865 and 1866
we added to it Lord Spencer's Cup for the best marksman in the