All through the week the Fags revelled in cricket on their own account, and strawberries and cream and ices were supplied in a continual stream by the Oxford men and old Wykehamists, who resorted to Meads in considerable numbers. One can get too much of a good thing; for on one of these days I came up melting with heat from Meads, and going into chambers washed my hands and face, and consumed a quantity of ice. The next morning when I awoke I found my pillow saturated with blood, which had flowed from my nose during my sleep,—this was the only time in my life that I have ever had a spontaneous effusion from that organ. The morning following, when I awoke, I felt a strange irritation over my face and hands, with some symptoms of eruption. I sent for a doctor, who informed me I had the smallpox. I denied the soft impeachment, as I felt perfectly well. I was sent home, and my face and hands soon became one mass of pimples, and, after about a fortnight, all the skin peeled off, and I recovered with the loss of my complexion, which exchanged its former peculiar delicate hue for that of boiled veal, which it has ever since retained.
When a boy was going to leave the School for good, he had to send in his resignation to the Warden, written on a slip of paper. It ran as follows:—
“Ego Robertus Jones omne jus quod habeo aut unquam habui in hoc Collegio Beatæ Mariæ Winton prope Winton, ætate cogente (or parentibus volentibus) libenter resigno.”
The last Friday evening of the half year there was a grand celebration of “Domum” in school, which was adorned with branches and banners. A military band was engaged, and “Domum” was sung by all the company till they were hoarse. It was an exceedingly gay and animated affair. Numbers of ladies graced the school with their presence, and crowds of old Wykehamists, fancying themselves boys once more, wandered about among the old familiar scenes. From school the company adjourned to Meads, and then to the Chamber quadrangle, at each place singing “Domum” louder than before, till at last the power failed, and the ladies, visitors, and Superannuates went to recruit their energies for a brief period before going to the “Domum ball” at St John’s rooms, of which the Superannuates were stewards, and which was generally kept up with tremendous energy far into the small hours. The boys’ last breakfast at the George or White Hart formed an appropriate supper for the most enthusiastic dancers.
After chapel on the last morning all the boys, with the second master at their head, marched round the quadrangle, singing the beautiful Latin hymn commencing with Jam lucis orto sidere; they then adjourned to Sixth, where the journey money was distributed, and then went off rejoicing to the “Last breakfast.”
There was generally an exciting contest between the adherents of the George and White Hart hotels, as to which should provide this entertainment. The former generally had the call; but one year, when some of us had made a particularly good feed at the latter establishment, we got up a little private canvass before the usual time, and to the great disgust of the Præfects, who were all Georgists, we carried the day triumphantly. The expense was defrayed by the boys subscribing the last three “Batlings,” (i.e., the weekly shilling allowed each boy.) This was rather an illusory coin, for we seldom actually fingered it, as some one of the College servants generally had a kind of prescriptive right to a benefit; and whenever Saturday arrived, Præfect of Hall’s valet was sure to come round to ask the boys if they would give their batlings to Rat Williams, or Dungy, or Purver, or Long John, or some other equally deserving individual. The last breakfast was a decidedly jolly and a very good repast,—in fact, it was a regular dinner, with tea and coffee instead of wine. Then the inn-yard was full of postchaises and four-wheelers, with a four-horse coach or two drawn up outside; and the exulting Junior slipping a shilling into the expectant hand of the obsequious “Yessah,” stepped proudly into his vehicle, and soon forgot all the troubles of his first half in delightful anticipation of coming festivities.
