Resolved—“That, while in the opinion of the Trustees there is nothing in the present condition of the town of Uppingham which calls upon them to rescind their resolution of the 17th ult, yet, having regard to a memorial addressed to them by the whole body of the assistant-masters, they are willing, in compliance with the same, that the school shall remain at Borth during the autumn term.”
Arrangements were at once begun for returning to camp after the holidays. The responsibility for this step, which was thus devolved upon the masters, though it was accepted without hesitation, was felt to be no light one. Our engagement with the lessee of the hotel had provided for a renewal of the contract at will; but there remained the owners of some thirty houses, large and small, with whom we should have to reckon. They would have us in their hands, and might, if so minded, “turn our necessity to glorious gain.” Then, too, many of the lodging-houses, excellent as airy summer pavilions, did not promise much comfort in winter time, to those who remembered how in the spring weeks the curtains and everything movable within doors
Fluttered in the besieging wind’s uproar,
And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.
Moreover, natives who knew, threatened us with rain all day and every day, from the beginning
of September till the end of October, after which it would be dry. Others, who also knew, promised us fine weather till the latter date, and then wet till Christmas. Putting the two assurances together, one inferred that weather at Borth would be like weather in general. However, in prospect of winds and wet, the open porch of the hotel was walled up with planks so as to put another door between the sou’-wester and the diners in the corridor. Also a long lean-to shed, like a cloister without windows, was run along two sides of the bowling-green wall. The outlay on the latter yielded no adequate return. It afforded some shelter for chapel roll-call, and for the few minutes’ lounge before evening prayers, except when it rained hard enough, and then the water poured through the contractor’s felt roof. It was too narrow to be used, as was hoped, for games; unless, indeed, we had turned it into a skittle-alley. But then skittles is a game of low connections. Finally, well-wishers were solemn in their warnings that the drainage of the spot was defective (which, indeed, was no otherwise than true, till we brought about a reform), and that our settlement by the sea was nothing if it was not healthy.
The outlook then was not unclouded. But one
bright day we had before we said good-bye to the past, and fronted the future cares. Sir Pryse had invited the school to spend a day with him at Gogerddan, Thursday, July 20th, the last day of term. Room was found for all his guests to dine together in a large barn near the house, where, from the high and narrow windows, the light fell in picturesque mellowness on the close-packed ranks. A match was played in the grounds between the school and an Aberystwith eleven; the rest whiled away the afternoon right pleasantly among the flowers and grass-slopes. At a pause in the game there was a gathering on the lawn to watch the execution of a little surprise which the cricketers had prepared for our host. From a box which had been perilously smuggled in, was produced a memorial gift (it consisted of a study-clock and inkstand), which “the cricketers of Uppingham begged Sir Pryse to accept, as a slight acknowledgment of his special liberality to themselves;” for so it was set forth in an address which the captain of the eleven proceeded to read to him. Our host, as much startled as if the present and the address had been shot at him out of a cannon, answered in a brief but not the less effective speech. Then, as if to relieve the warmth
of feeling generated between us, a piano was run into the bow of an open window, and the choir outside delivered themselves of some hearty music. Soon the evening train was carrying us home for the reading of the class-list and the prize-giving. In the customary address, the Headmaster could congratulate the school on having borne themselves well during the great time in the school’s history which this day brought to a close: he called on them to “come back with the soldier spirit” to face whatever remained.
There was dark work going on in the street that night. When dawn broke, it disclosed an array of flags, streamers, and devices, along the approach to the station, where “the special” was waiting. Prominent among the devices was the motto, Au revoir. For the feeling it spoke, all were grateful; but not all rejoiced in the occasion of it. The train moved out of the station with the school, to a boy, on board of it, to the sound of a farewell cheer, and so the curtain fell on the first act of the play.