Reginald, with Power and Anson, as soon as they had seen the Squire off,
hurried back to the Brocas--some fields on the banks of the river. The
rapidly-flowing stream passes by them, and on its smooth but somewhat
sedgy current all sorts of boating were taking place, and Reginald was
quickly initiated into a knowledge of the variety of craft used by the
boys. As he was very well up to boating, he found no difficulty in the
matter.
"Here, you see," said Power, "we have one ten-oared and six eight-oared
boats. Any boy in the Fifth form may join them. There is another upper
and four lower Fifth-Form boats. We speak of the three upper and four
lower boats. There is a captain for each of them, and he selects his
crew from among the fellows who wish to join. You observe that the crew
of each boat has a different uniform, and on grand occasions, when all
appear in full dress, we flatter ourselves that we appear to great
advantage. Besides these, there are what we call outriggers, and
tunnies, and tubs; and, of course, you will at once have one of them."
"Which do you intend to be, Warrender, a `dry bob,' or a `wet bob'?"
said Anson, coming up to them. "I hope the latter."
Reginald did not exactly know what this meant; but as Anson had given
him a hint, he answered, "Oh, of course a wet bob."
"Oh, ah, that's the swell thing. I am glad of it. I thought you were
the sort of fellow for wet-bobbing."
Reginald found that wet-bobbing consisted in paddling about in a boat of
one's own, even though it might be only a "tub," or dinghy.
"But, I say, can you swim?" asked Anson; "because you know that you will
not be able to boat till you have `passed.'"
"What's passing?" asked Reginald.
"Oh, I'll tell you," said Anson. "A good number of fellows from time to
time got drowned from boats being capsized, and at last a law was passed
that no fellow should be allowed to boat till he had passed a swimming
examination before certain of the masters. We have an old waterman,
Harry Cannon, who teaches the lower boys to swim at Cuckoo Weir. As
soon as he thinks a fellow can swim well enough he advises him to have a
try the next passing day. It's great fun to see the weather-beaten old
fellow Harry in his Eton blue coat and Eton arms worked in silver on his
sleeve, as he sits in his punt from one end to the other of a summer's
day, dangling lower boys at the end of a short blue pole. Often
fellows, if they have any pluck, can swim in two or three weeks. They
make nothing of bathing three times a day in summer when they are
learning to swim. Just go any warm summer day to Cuckoo Weir, after
twelve, or after four, or after six, and you'll find it crowded with
fellows bathing, and many of them waiting till Harry can give them a
turn in his belt. On a passing day two or three of the masters come
down and take their stand just above `Middle Steps.' A punt then
carries out a number of shivering and rather funking fellows into the
middle of the stream, and as the master gives the word, one after
another jumps overboard, and according to his pluck takes a `rat's
header' or `forter.' Then away they swim to the lower steps, and if
they get there in safety and in pretty good style, they have to swim out
again from where the master is standing, turn, and come back when he
calls. If they sing out like Caesar, `Help me, Cassius, or I sink,'
they are handed over again to Harry Cannon for further instruction; but
if the master says `You'll do,' then the chances are that some of the
friends of the fellow who has passed have come up in a boat, and they
say that they will take him down to the Brocas if he will steer them.
The probabilities are, that he knows nothing about steering, and as
little about the sides of the river he ought to keep; so, of course, he
will run them into the bank once or twice, if not oftener, before they
get into the real river at `Bargeman's Bridge,' and he is certain to get
in the way of an eight just below Brocas Clump, from not crossing over
soon enough. But you'll know all about this before long, so I needn't
have told you, except that it is useful to know what you have to go
through. I forgot to tell you that the bathing-place to which the fifth
form go is called Athens, and of course it is a good deal better than
Cuckoo Weir."
Reginald thanked Anson very much for his graphic account of their
bathing and boating, and he said that he should, thanks to Toby Tubb's
instruction, get passed on the first passing day, that he might at once
begin boating.
This resolution was very much applauded, for both Power and Anson were
warm advocates of boating. It was now nearly lock-up time, so they had
to go back to their tutors. On their way Reginald was accosted by a
number of boys, who, in pretty sharp tones, inquired his name.
"Are you at a dame's house?"
"No; I am in Mr Lindsay's house," he answered.
"I say, are you come to school here? What's your name, then?" asked
another. "What house are you in?"
Reginald told him. So on it went till nearly a hundred boys had made
the same inquiries, and received the same answer. Reginald was not
sorry to get back to Mr Lindsay's, for he was really beginning to get
tired, and be a little hungry, too, in spite of his dinner at the
Christopher. Power and Anson came to his room to help him put it in
order; but he had a considerable number of other visitors, mostly
Fourth-Form boys, who came in to ask him his name, and to make him tell
all about himself.
"I knew a Warrender," said one. "Are you his cousin? He was a fellow
with a hooked nose and hawk's eyes."
"Warrender you mean," put in another; "Warrender who was here was a very
good-looking fellow, only he squinted with one eye, and never could
parse a line of Horace correctly."
Reginald said that he had no cousin that he knew of, though he might
possibly be related to the talented individual spoken of. The answers
he made to the very miscellaneous and unexpected questions put to him
satisfied them that the new boy was no "muff." The lower boys
especially felt a great respect for him, because he acted in so very
different a way from what they had done, and took all things so
completely us matters of course. He went into Power's room to take tea,
where Anson and two or three other fellows of Power's standing joined
them. He was in the lower Fifth Form. Shortly before bed-time they
went down to the hall to supper. Here he, of course, had again to reply
to the various questions put to him by boys he had not before met. Then
Mr Lindsay invited him to come and have some conversation, and seemed
tolerably satisfied by the answers he made to all the questions put to
him. A bell then rang, and the names of all the boys belonging to the
house being called over by one of the praepositors, to ascertain that
none were missing, prayers were read by Mr Lindsay, after which all the
boys retired to their rooms to go to bed. Reginald, as may be supposed,
very quickly tumbled into his, and went to sleep. Thus ended the first
day at Eton.
At his age we are apt to count time by days, and to note especially the
events of each day. As we grow older, we reckon oftener by weeks--
advancing, we think it enough to note what has happened during each
month, till at last the years themselves slip by with almost the
rapidity, we fancy, of our earlier days. Two important things with
reference to this remark should be remembered when we are young. One
is, that we must prepare for the future, or the future which we have
fancied so far off will come suddenly and find us unprepared; another
is, that we should learn to wait patiently for events till they occur,
being assured that they will occur, and that we should, in the meantime,
endeavour to employ ourselves to the best possible advantage. Many a
young man fancies that it is not worth while preparing for what cannot
happen for so long a time; or again, that the time has already passed
for doing a thing, and that it is useless to attempt it. This is
especially the case with regard to commencing some useful employment, or
preparing for a profession. It is never too late to be employed
usefully. Many a man has risen high in a profession into which he has
not entered till late in life.
Sunday is truly a day of rest at Eton. Reginald found that he was not
expected to get up till nearly nine o'clock. As he was always an early
riser, he was dressed before eight, and set to work systematically to
unpack his clothes and to put them away. Then he sat down to read, and
the book he read every boy will do well to read, not only on Sundays,
but on other days in the week. After he had read a couple of chapters,
he found that he had still some time to spare, so he arranged the books
he had brought on some book-shelves hanging against the wall, and then
Power came in and told him that he must come and breakfast with him.
Prayer bell next rang, and all the boys in the house assembled in the
hall, when, as usual, Mr Lindsay read prayers.
Reginald was much surprised to find so many big fellows either in the
sixth form, or in the upper Middle-Fifth--from fifteen years old up to
nineteen and even twenty--in every respect full-grown men. As he looked
at them he thought to himself, "I suppose that I shall have to be fag to
some of those big fellows--clean their boots, and brush their clothes.
Well, patience; many a better fellow than I am has done the same thing,
and not been the worse for it. Whoever fags me shall not have to
complain that I am in a sulky pet--that I'm determined." Prayers over,
they all hurried to breakfast.
Reginald accompanied Power to his room, where three or four other
fellows were assembled. He was scarcely prepared for the capital repast
he found spread. There were a couple of cold chickens and a tongue,
some potted meat or other, and his well-known acquaintance, a pot of
orange marmalade, one of strawberry jam, and some honey. There were
both tea and coffee, a good allowance of butter (there is a regular
quantity served out), and a large pile of hot rolls,--three, he found,
being served every day to each boy.
Breakfast occupied nearly an hour, and very pleasant Reginald found it.
He then had to get ready for morning chapel at eleven.
"I am glad to see that you have brought a couple of good hats," observed
Power. "I was afraid that you might have thought that you could go
about Osberton fashion in a cap or tarpaulin. We here, you see, never
wear anything but black hats, except with cricketing and boating
dresses. Remind me to have a look at your other things to see that they
are all right. It's as well to be particular. If you are, you'll take
a good standing at once in the school among the fellows: better by half
be a dandy than a sloven or a muff."
On their way to chapel Reginald was accosted continually as on the day
before by fellows asking his name and all sorts of questions, but he had
a ready and a good-natured answer for all.
He did not think that there was much devotion at chapel, especially as a
great number of the boys came provided with a store of sacking things,
with which they were continually filling their mouths, such as
lollipops, sugar-candy, barley-sugar, and other sweet compositions.
It is extraordinary what an amount of these inside-deranging mixtures,
supplied by the renowned Spankie and other men at the Wall, lower boys
at Eton will consume. The Wall, _par excellence_, Reginald soon found
out is a low wall in front of the upper school, outside the school-yard.
"The men at the Wall" are sellers of "sock;" that is, eatables--sweet
mixtures generally. They are so called from usually taking their stand
there. Old Spankie has been described as a soft-tongued fat old man,
who professed to know about everything and about everybody. He carries
a tin, and deals mostly in buns and jam. Another man wheels in a
hand-cart after every school-time, from which he produces ices,
strawberry messes, and sucking-things of all sorts.
"You remember the Squire's advice," observed Power; "I adhere to his
principles, but all the fellows don't. It is extraordinary how they
will run into debt with those men, and more than anticipate their next
half-year's pocket-money--little geese that they are. It enrages me to
see some of them sucking and eating away all the day long, as if that
was their chief object in life. I call them sucking babies, but it
would be difficult to break them of the practice. I have known fellows
at the beginning of the half obliged to dodge those cake-men as if they
were bum-bailiffs and they gentlemen in difficulties, either going into
the school-yard by the lower school passage, or else sneaking in close
behind a master, knowing that they would not attempt to attack them in
his presence. It is extraordinary what some of them will eat. I was
once fagged by two Fifth-Form boys who were `staying out,' that is,
supposed to be too unwell to go into school, and what do you think it
was for? You would scarcely believe me when I tell you that these sick
fellows, and I suppose that there was something the matter with them,
had laid a wager one against the other, that they would eat six dozen
oranges a-piece. The one who could not manage it was, of course, to be
the loser. The two dozen I got them was, I know, the fifth instalment.
One ate rather more than six dozen, the other was very sick when he had
finished the fifth; but you may depend on it, both of them had to `stay
out' for two or three days after it, and to take no end of medicine."
"I should think so, nasty pigs!" exclaimed Reginald, who, although he
could make very good play with his knife and fork at dinner or
breakfast, had a great contempt for sweatmeat and sugar-plum eaters.
"You are right," said Power. "Those sort of fellows are mere gratifiers
of a low animal propensity, like the unlicked cubs of a bear, who will
steal sugar wherever they can find it. I never put much confidence in
such fellows, and I wish Etonians could be cured of the habit."
Reginald was very anxious to have an insight into the plan of the school
arrangements, and Power undertook to enlighten him.
"In the first place," he observed, "you must understand that there is
the Lower School, and whatever the boys belonging to it may think of
themselves, it is but a very insignificant appendage to the
establishment of Eton. It is generally composed of small boys, who have
been to no other school. It is, indeed, more of a private school with
none of the advantages of one, and all the disadvantages of a public
school. So I will say no more about it, and you, at all events, will
not belong to it. The Upper School, which is really Eton, is divided,
in the first place, into Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Forms. The Fourth
Form is again separated into two parts--the lowest retains its name, and
the other is called the Remove. The Fourth Form is subdivided into
Lower, Middle, and Upper, and the Remove into Lower and Upper. The
Fifth Form is also divided into Lower, Middle, and Upper, and these
divisions are again subdivided according to convenience, usually into
three divisions each. The Sixth Form consists of twenty fellows,
namely, ten Oppidans and ten Collegers. The boys on the foundation are
called Collegers: the management of the College and the Collegers is a
very complicated matter. They are the fellows you see going about in
heavy black cloth gowns. They go by the name of `Tugs,' which is short
for tug muttons, because they used, it is said, to be fed on tough
mutton. The lower boys treat Tugs with great contempt, because they
look down upon them as belonging to an inferior class. This they should
not do, and it is arrant folly into the bargain; for many a Tug has
risen to be a Lord Chancellor, or to fill one of the highest offices of
the State, while the self-satisfied Oppidan, who has snubbed him as a
boy, has ended his days as a sub in a marching regiment, having run
through all his property before he was of age. High up in the school
there is a good deal of party-feeling indulged in by fellows who ought
to know better. It comes out when `Collegers and Oppidans' are being
played, either at football or cricket."
"I do not think that I shall ever be able to remember all about the
Fourth and Fifth Forms and Removes," said Reginald.
"Here you have it in black and white, then," said Power. They were
sitting in his room after chapel, enjoying that _otium cum dignitate_
which an Etonian learns so well to value.
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