SOON after I was seven years old, I went to what was then,
and is still, one of the most favoured of preparatory schools
- Temple Grove - at East Sheen, then kept by Dr. Pinkney. I
was taken thither from Holkham by a great friend of my
father's, General Sir Ronald Ferguson, whose statue now
adorns one of the niches in the facade of Wellington College.
The school contained about 120 boys; but I cannot name any
one of the lot who afterwards achieved distinction. There
were three Macaulays there, nephews of the historian - Aulay,
Kenneth, and Hector. But I have lost sight of all.

Temple Grove was a typical private school of that period.
The type is familiar to everyone in its photograph as
Dotheboys Hall. The progress of the last century in many
directions is great indeed; but in few is it greater than in
the comfort and the cleanliness of our modern schools. The
luxury enjoyed by the present boy is a constant source of
astonishment to us grandfathers. We were half starved, we
were exceedingly dirty, we were systematically bullied, and
we were flogged and caned as though the master's pleasure was
in inverse ratio to ours. The inscription on the threshold
should have been 'Cave canem.'

We began our day as at Dotheboys Hall with two large
spoonfuls of sulphur and treacle. After an hour's lessons we
breakfasted on one bowl of milk - 'Skyblue' we called it -
and one hunch of buttered bread, unbuttered at discretion.
Our dinner began with pudding - generally rice - to save the
butcher's bill. Then mutton - which was quite capable of
taking care of itself. Our only other meal was a basin of