Ζωή being the nickname of one of the senior Præfects, Rich in all those physical and moral qualities that endear an athletic youth to his younger school-fellows. I might give some examples of Peals, which the reader might find more amusing than the subjects found them complimentary, but for obvious reasons I abstain.
In Commoners also there was an entirely different description of “Pealing,” which will be described in the chapter on Standing up and Election Week.
CHAPTER IX.
THE JUNIOR ON A LOCKBACK HOLIDAY.
Fagging Choristers—Crutch—Currell—Concerts—Fighting—How to Catch the Measles—“Books Chambers.”
When the weather was too bad on a Holiday or “Remedy” to go on to Hills, we used to pass the day principally in school; the gate of Seventh Chamber passage being locked, and communication with Chamber Court being cut off, it was called a “Lockback.”
On leaving morning chapel on such a day we adjourned at once to school, when the Fags would by no means have an idle time of it. The instant they arrived “Junior! Junior! Junior!” would resound on every side, and in every conceivable tone of gentle entreaty, slight impatience, and vehement indignation, according to the temper of the caller, or duration of the call. Then the valets had to arrange their master’s washing things on Commoners’ table, for few of the Præfects condescended to wash before chapel. Others were sent, with all kinds of commissions, to “Blue gate,” (a door in the west wall of School court, which opened into a side passage running along the outside of the kitchen buildings, to outer gate,) which was pierced with a hole about a foot square, through which the Choristers were called and received their orders, and through which they handed any articles they might have been sent for; the scene here was similar to that at Whitesman’s hatch at breakfast time, (v. s.) crowds of Fags jostling round the hole and clinging to the bars screaming “Chorister! Chorister!” at the top of their voices, in frantic eagerness to catch the eye of the first Chorister, the clatter of whose hobnailed boots would be heard coming up the flint pavement a long time before the wearer could be seen. When he did appear the cry was, “Fagging for me;” or, more generally, instead of “me,” the name of the Præfect for whom the message was to be sent was used, as more likely to carry weight with the Chorister.
The little Choristers had hard work of it; they were soon scattered all over the town,—to La Croix’s for a pint of coffee and twopenn’orth of biscuits, or a “Tizzy tart;” to Nevy’s (this gentleman supplied edibles at Commoners’ field; I suppose he once had an uncle or an aunt, and so got his nickname; if he ever had any other name nobody knew it, and I doubt if he did himself) for strawberries and cream, or Burney’s biscuits; to Flight’s for sallyluns; to Forder’s for buns; to Stone’s, to Drew’s, to Raymond’s for anything you like, besides innumerable errands to the boot-maker, tailor, circulating library, &c., &c.