The personal rows, too, that I got into with Dr Hellyer were innumerable; and I really think he wore out three flat rulers while I was a member of the school, in inflicting his dearly-loved “pandies” on my suffering palms.
The most important of these, what I may term “private differences,” between my worthy preceptor and myself, after my first experience of his “way” of making the boys obey him, without flogging them, arose from the same cause—Master Slodgers, my enemy from the date of my entrance within the select academy, although, if you recollect, he did not “get the best of me” even then!
Some six months after that memorable occasion, having developed much bone and sinew in the meantime, besides cultivating the noble art of self-defence under the tuition of my chum Tom, I challenged the lanky cur on the self-same ground where he had first assailed me; when I gave him such a beating that he could not leave his bed in the dormitory for nearly a week afterwards. For this—what I considered—just retaliation, I received the encomiums of the majority of the fellows, who detested Slodgers for his sneaking as well as bullying ways with the youngsters; but Dr Hellyer, with whom he still continued a favourite, took my triumph in such ill part, that he treated me to no less than six dozen “pandies,” incarcerating me besides in an empty coal cellar, on a diet of bread and water, in solitary confinement below for the same length of time that Slodgers was laid up ill in bed above stairs.
However, after that day I had it all my own way with the boys, for I was strongly-built and thick-set for my age, looking two years older than I really was. I could fight and lick all the rest of the fellows at the time, not excepting even Tom my instructor, although he and I were much too good friends to try conclusions on the point, and I was the acknowledged leader of the school. Athletics, indeed, were my strong point, for I may say, almost without egotism, that I had so cultivated my muscles to the sad neglect of my proper studies, that I could swim like a fish, dive like an Indian pearl hunter, run swifter than anybody else, and play cricket and football with the best; but, as far as my real school duties were concerned, I’m afraid I was a sad dunce, as I was always at the bottom of my class.
I am now approaching the period to which these reminiscences of my school-days have all along tended, albeit I have been a long time in reaching it.
You may remember my calling your attention to the fact of the Doctor always marching us to church on Sundays, and heading the procession, wearing a most peculiar-looking hat the while?
Well, “thereby hangs a tale,” as a wise jester says in one of Shakespeare’s plays.
I had just completed my two years’ residence under the academical roof; the summer vacation had come and gone; the boys were all back again at school, and settled down for the winter term; the month of October had flown by with unlagging footsteps; and November had come in, gloomy and dismal, with white fogs and sea mists—such as haunt some parts of the southern coasts in the autumn.
The “Fifth” was a great anniversary at the establishment.
If Guy Fawkes’ Day were uncared for elsewhere, we at all events held the memory of the defunct conspirator in high reverence; and invariably did it such honour by the explosion of gunpowder, in the shape of squibs and crackers as our means afforded.