responsibility and authority, and will prove trustworthy if their masters
are willing to trust them. We do not forget that other factors entered
into the cause; one which cannot be ignored was the consciousness of the
boys that the school was on its trial, and that a public one. But people
cannot acquire self-control merely by the removal of restraints, or
behave well, for a long time together and in spite of tedium, simply
because they would like to do so. The truth is, that in a time which
might have been anarchical, we lived on the fruits of a long-established
order; and it is fair to add that at the end of thirteen months there
were no visible symptoms that discipline was wearing threadbare.

Shall we, for writing this, be taxed with the vain-glory for which public
schools are at times reproached? We must brave the charge, then; for the
facts seem to furnish evidence of a kind so rarely obtainable, that to
omit them from this chapter in school life would be hardly excusable. An
experiment so crucial as that to which we were submitted does not occur
once in fifty years.

But enough of serious matters. Let us go out and forget them in a run
with Sir Pryse's harriers, along the breezy gorse-covered downs of the
Gogerddan estate. We take the train which arrives just after we have
risen from dinner, and land at the upland village of Langfihangel. It is
a Saturday afternoon, the 21st of October, the day is clear and sunny,
and several ladies are of the party. A few hundred yards from the
station we met the hounds, and Sir Pryse's man who hunts them. The owner
is not with them, but (by his good leave) yonder tall, lithe fellow, the
best runner in the school, acts as Master of Hounds. He promises us good
sport, having heard from the huntsman of a hare which is "waiting for
us." As they prepare to cast off, the non-effectives separate from the
runners, and climb a round-topped hill which commands the country. The