Few things gave him more pleasure than taking up again the thread of intimate relations with his old school, which he did when his eldest nephew entered there. He accompanied him, to give him confidence and a good start, and characteristically recounts that “we had a famous football match, and I got my legs kicked to my heart’s content, thereby vividly recalling old times.” He remarks also, at the same time, “Rugby is charming; only there is rather too much what I call ‘drill,’ in the play as in the work—not spontaneous enough.” Not long after, in 1866, his own eldest boy followed. He thus details that event to his mother:—
“Offley, September 27, 1866.
“We went to Rugby last Thursday, and the new-comers were examined on Friday and Saturday. As we rather feared, Herby failed to get into the Middle School. We were rather disappointed, and he, poor boy, was in despair, as he was afraid Arnold would not take him, and that he would have to go to Mr. Furness; however, Arnold offered to make an exception in his case, and as we joyfully accepted it, Master Herby was duly installed in his uncle’s study, and we left him on Monday morning very happy, and delighted with his new dignity of a public school boy. Our visit to Rugby was very pleasant, and not a little exciting. The school is much altered since my time—the boys are much more accurately dressed, less rollicking, and more decorous. The exceeding quiet of the town and playground struck me particularly. I should like to have seen a little more running about, and to have heard a little more shouting; in fact a jolly curly-haired youngster with whom I made a casual acquaintance, said to me, ‘I am sure, sir, you must have had much more fun in your time than we have.’ It is perhaps just as well that they should have become quieter. The recognized name for the anxious parents who bring their boys up for examination is the ‘Early Fathers,’ because, I suppose, they take care to be at the schoolroom-door with their Hopefuls a quarter of an hour before the examination begins. Jenny Lind’s boy has just gone to the School-house; he is, as boys say, awfully ’cute, and came out nearly head of the examination. Jenny Lind was at chapel herself on Sunday; her husband has done much for the music of the school; the singing in chapel is exceedingly good, and the whole service very impressive. The last time I was in chapel there was in poor Arnold’s time. The master of Herby’s form, Mr. Buckoll, was my old master when I was in the shell thirty years ago! Also Mrs. Jacomb, of the principal tuck shop, used to spoil our stomachs in my time. I felt myself rather boyish again, without the boisterous spirits and good stomach of boyhood.”
From this time he constantly visited the school, and kept his mother and sister informed of the progress of the boys. I add a few extracts from his letters:—
“November, 1866.—I was at Rugby last Saturday, and stayed over Sunday. Walter breakfasted with me on Sunday morning, and very jolly he was. He and Herby won’t see much of one another until they get higher in the school. Junior boys never enter each other’s boarding-houses. This is very absurd, but no power on earth can alter boys’ fashions.”
“Eaton Socon, November 26th, 1867.
“Boys’ letters get so full of school slang that it is hard to understand them. Herbert says in his last that he got 100 lines from Chumley for tweaking. This was Hebrew to us, as ‘tweaking’ was not a Rugby word in my time. On referring the matter to Ned, he immediately informed us that ‘tweaking’ in boys’ language was, shooting shot out of a catapult, or other warlike engine.”
“Offley, 1868.
“We have excellent accounts from Rugby. Herbert is at the head of his form, and evidently finds his work easier, and is in a high state of encouragement. One of his schoolfellows has just shot himself in the leg with a ‘saloon,’ meaning a saloon pistol. Hang all pistols, but boys will have them.”
“Offley, October 7th, 1868.