Ernest Bracebridge: School Days

by William Henry Giles Kingston

All present fully concurred in this opinion, the food they were discussing being a strong argument in its favour; but at last the strawberry messes came to an end, and they continued their walk into Eton. Although the town itself did not exactly excite their admiration, they expressed their pleasure when they saw the college buildings, and the meadows, and the rapidly-flowing clear river, and the view of Windsor Castle, rising proudly above all, a residence worthy of England’s sovereigns.

“Now,” said Jack Bouldon, “come along to my tutor’s. You’ll want some rest before the fun of the day begins.”

His tutor’s house was a very comfortable, large one, not far from the college gates. Jack ushered them into his room. He was not a little proud of it. It was all his own, his castle and sanctum. It was not very richly furnished, but it looked thoroughly comfortable. There was a turn-up bedstead, and washhand-stand, which also shut up, and prevented it having too much the appearance of a bedroom. A good-looking, venerable oak bureau served to hold most of the occupant’s clothes, below which, in the upper part, were his cups and saucers; and in the centre his writing materials. In one corner was a chest, containing a quantity of miscellaneous articles too numerous to name; and in another was a cricket-bat and fishing-rod, while the walls were adorned with some prints of sporting scenes, one or two heroes of the stage, and another of the Duke of Wellington; a table, an arm-chair, and three common chairs completing the furniture of the apartment.

“You are cozy here, Jack,” said his brother, throwing himself into a seat, and pulling Ernest into the arm-chair. “There’s nothing like independence!”

“As to that, we have enough of it, provided we stick to rules,” answered the Etonian. “However, I don’t find much difficulty in the matter. I like my tutor, and he is very considerate, so I get on very well.”

“But, I say, Jack, what do you do? How do you amuse yourselves all the year round,” asked Tom Bouldon. “You Eton fellows seemed to me, as far as I could make out, to do nothing else but play cricket and boat. All other games you vote as low, don’t you?”

“Not at all,” answered Jack. “Let me see. At the beginning of the year, between Christmas and Easter, we have fives. You know how to play it. We have very good fives-courts. We play fifteen up. Then we have hockey; that’s a capital game. You play it at your school, don’t you? But, after all, there is nothing like making up a party to go jumping across country. It is rare fun, scrambling through hedges, tearing across ploughed fields, leaping wide ditches and brooks, and seeing fellows tumbling in head over heels. Then we have running races in the play-fields, of about a hundred yards, which is enough considering the pace at which fellows go. Better fun still are our hurdle races; and a fellow must leap well to run in them. But the greatest fun of all are our steeple-chases, of about two and a-half miles, over a stiffish country, let me tell you. There are no end of ditches, streams, and brooks with muddy banks, into which half the fellows who run manage to tumble, and to come out very like drowned chimney-sweepers. Those are all good amusements for cold weather. From Easter to the end of July is our great time for games. Of course, cricket and boating are the chief. You understand that our playing-fields are divided between different clubs. Every fellow subscribes to one or the other of our clubs. The lowest is called the Sixpenny; that belongs to the lower boys; they are, you will understand, all those in the upper school below the fifth form. Then there is the Lower Club, to which those in the fifth form belong who are not considered to play well enough in the upper club. Only, of course, first-rate players can belong to that. It is the Grand Club to which the eleven belong, and those who play equally well, and will some day become one of them. There is another club called the Aquatics, which belongs exclusively to the members of the boats. Cricketing is fine work; but, for my part, I like boating even better. Here, before a fellow is allowed to go on the river, he is obliged to learn to swim. It is a very necessary rule, for formerly many fellows lost their lives in consequence of being unable to swim. There are numerous bathing places on our river devoted to our especial use, and at each of them is stationed, with his punt, a paid waterman belonging to the college, whose sole duty it is to teach the boys to swim. Twice every week during the summer one of the masters in turns examines into the swimming qualifications of the boys, and he gives a certificate of proficiency to those whom he considers can swim well enough to preserve their lives if capsized in a boat. After a boy is qualified he is allowed to boat on the river. The masters generally make him swim thirty-five yards up and down the stream, and then about ten across it, round a punt, and back again to the point from which he started. Some fellows very quickly do this, if they are strong and not afraid; in fact, if they feel that they can do it. Others never gain any confidence, and if they were capsized could do very little to help themselves. In most cases, the first thing a fellow does when he wants to begin to boat is to agree with some chum to take a boat between them. This costs them five pounds for the summer-half. It is called a lock-up, because when it is not being used it is supposed to be carefully locked up in the boat-house. Sometimes fellows who do not care so much about boating, and don’t want to give five pounds, pay a smaller sum, and take any chance boat which may be disengaged. The boats we generally use are called tubs, tunnies, and outriggers. Besides these there are ‘The Boats’ especially so called. There are seven of them, all eight-oared. Anybody can join these who is in the fifth form. There are three upper and four lower boats; that is, three belong to the upper and four to the lower fifth form. Each has her captain, who fills up his crew from the candidates who present themselves. The higher boats have, of course, the first choice, according to their rank. Each crew wears a different coloured shirt from the others, and have different coloured ribbons on their straw hats. On grand occasions, as to-day, we all appear in full dress, and a very natty one I think you will agree that it is.”

Ernest and Ellis listened attentively to the description, and could not for the moment help wishing that they also were Eton boys. Luncheon was soon over, for the ices and strawberry messes had somewhat damped their appetites. Then they went out into the playing-fields, where a cricket-match was going forward. Jack Bouldon pointed out some of their crack players with no little pride.

“There’s Jeffcott; he’s at my tutor’s,” he observed. “The tall fellow with the light hair; he’s just going in. Did you see how beautifully Strangeways was caught out? See! Jeffcott is certain of making a good hit. I knew it! He’ll get two runs at least. There’s Osbaldiston, the fellow who is in with him. It’s worth watching him. He’s even a better player than Jeffcott, though he is still so young. There! I knew it! What a grand hit! Run! run! three times, you’ll do it! Capital! He’s at my tutor’s. A first-rate fellow, and expects to be one of the eleven next half.”

So Jack Bouldon ran on, his companions heartily joining in his enthusiasm. Then they went back to his tutor’s, as dinner was to be early, to be over in time for the boating in the evening. They there found Mr Bouldon, who expressed himself much pleased at meeting Ernest and Ellis, as friends of his son’s. Dinner they thought the slowest part of the day’s amusements, and were very glad when the time came for them to repair to the Brocas. That is the name given to the field by the river whence the boats start.