'On the second day the Eton fellows always make an immense row. So
at the signal, when a thing was acting, the boys rushed in and pulled
down the curtain, and commenced the row. I am happy to say I was not
there. There were a great many soldiers there, and they all took our
part. The alarm was given, and the police came. Then there was such
a rush at the police. Some of them tumbled over, and the rest were
half-knocked down. At last they took in custody three of our boys,
upon which every boy that was there (amounting to about 450) was
summoned. They burst open the door, knocked down the police, and
rescued our boys. Meantime the boys kept on shying rotten eggs and
crackers, and there was nothing but righting and rushing.'

A startling description! But this was nothing to the wild pranks
that lived in the traditions of the elder generation; and in a few
years more the boys were debarred from the mischievous licence of the
fair.

Coley had now been nearly a year at Eton, and had proceeded through
the lower and middle removes of the fourth form, when, on November
23, he achieved the success of which he thus writes:--

'Rejoice! I was sent up for good yesterday at eleven o'clock school.
I do not know what copy of verses for yet, but directly I do, I will
send you a copy.... Goodford, when I took my ticket to be signed (for
I was obliged to get Goodford, Abraham, and my tutor to sign it),
said, "I will sign it most willingly," and then kept on stroking my
hand, and said, "I congratulate you most heartily, and am very glad
of it." I am the only one who is sent up; which is a good thing for
me, as it will give me forty or fifty good marks in trials. I am so