FLOREAT ETONA. BY AN OLD ETONIAN. FRAGMENT II. (Continued from page 125.) "Well, King," said Farren, "our plot succeeded, and Tutor never twigged good again! though I must say the pomatum on your hair, and your breath smelling so strong of oryce-root, did rather a tale unfold.' "Yes, yes; it was capital. If you had seen his white, pasty face, covered with weeds, emerging out of that stream, you would have laughed right merrily; and his large round eyes staring at you, as Gulliver did at the Brobdignags-ah! ah! ah!-though, as I laid in bed last night, a better joke came into my mind." "What is it?" 66 Simply this: why, we will make an April fool of him, though it be November.' "How?" 'Why, we will send this note," said King, producing one from his pockets, and reading: "Captain Jones presents his compliments to the Honourable Mr. Soofoolysh, and requests the honour of his company at mess to-morrow, (7 P.M.)” "Cavalry Barracks, Windsor, Nov. 7th, 18-.” This I will persuade that Scotchman, Sawney Quail, to leave at my tutor's door to-morrow night at eight." "But how is Sawney to get out after eight? No, King; the idea is good, but the danger too great. "Too great! Nothing is too great for me. What can be easier? To-morrow night we go to Sthe master: after having there unburthened our minds of their mathematical lore, we will repair to the tap-room of The Christopher; here I have a suit of livery, borrowed from the property-man of Windsor theatre; in this we will dress our worthy "thane of Ross," and send him to my tutor's door, whilst we discuss a pint of half-and-half." "But the ticket. No, King, no; it must not be: we shall all be swished. "The ticket in primis, I will easily forge a fresh one." "Forgery-that's bad. No, King, no. But I say yes, yes. You need not come I can do without you. Perhaps you would like to go and tell all to that milksop, Soofoolysh? You a brave fellow!" "Come, King, come," answered the other; "I don't deserve this at your hands; but, if you don't take care, I'll deserve something, in a literal sense, from your hands. No quarrelling, however; we're all friends here." Well, well; I may have been harsh," answered King : "so here is your health in a cup of tea, and would it were something stronger." On the following night the affair went off admirably. Quail acted a tiger to perfection, while King forged worthy of a "Botanist." Soofoolysh wondered who Captain Jones could be, but satisfied his mind that it must be one of his father's acquaintances; and, with some demur on the part of Dr. Swishtail in giving him leave to dine with the ci-devant Captain Jones, he trudged up, on the following night, to the Cavalry Barracks, a mile or so from Windsor. On his arrival he inquired for Captain Jones. "This way, this way, said the mess-waiter, not clearly understanding Soofoolysh's shy pronunciation of Captain -o-o-onds. Cornet Wiskerless, the last importation from home, entered into conversation with Then came the old surgeon, who had served through the Penina gentleman-like, grey-headed old man, who, seeing a young lad at a strange mess, immediately began talking to him. Soofoolysh set him down as his friend Captain Jones, and after he had discussed the wind and the weather, our hero was not a little astonished at his not explaining his reasons for asking him to dinner. Another officer, then another, then the orderly officer, then the stout major came dropping in. No explanation given, our hero began to be astonished, but not a whit less than the officers themselves, who began to whisper and wonder whose friend he might be, and the major was about to ask him,* when the doors were thrown open, and dinner announced, and all made a quick movement to the board. The soup and fish had just been taken away, when in walked a tall, good-looking officer, whose large whiskers and moustaches were curled, to use a vulgar phrase," within an inch of his life." him. sula "The late Captain Jacobs," said the major, haw-hawing well at his own pun. "You may well say that, major," answered the officer; "but I will be your vice. By the bye, I have had such an odd letter, written in good round text-hand, from a Mr. Soofoolysh; it is directed--'Captain Jones, First Life Guards;' and my servant gave it to me; and I, without looking at it, broke the seal, and found it was an acceptation to mess to-night; just read it over, major; and see if you can make head or tail out of it." The old major read it over. "Can't, by Jove! Jacobs." *A curious anecdote is told of the mess at Woolwich. From the two corps of artillery, with the engineers, being quartered there, it causes a large party of officers to sit down every night at mess, and more especially should many of them have friends to dine with them. One night a very gentleman-like person, with a fund of anecdote and wit, sat down between two officers, each arguing that he was his neighbour's friend. At last, a surmise having gone abroad that nobody knew the gentleman, the president, with many apologies, requested to know who he was, when he stood up, and said" I am, the noted swindler, and can assure you I have had as pleasant a dinner as any one could wish for. I shall now, however, wish you a good evening." And with that he walked out of the room. "YOURS!" roared the party at once, all eyes being turned on our hero. Soofoolysh began to wish he could perform a pantomimical antic, and vanish through the floor, or achieve an aeronautic voyage into the souptureen, and the cover being carefully placed on the said tureen, be carried forth by the servants. "I got this," stammered our hero, producing King's note. "A hoax, as I am alive! a hoax!" exclaimed Captain Jacobs; "but come, my lad, let those laugh who win, and you shall in reality be my friend; so a glass of champagne." Some idea of our hero's feelings may be gathered from the following letter, addressed to his mother a month or so before the end of the half: "Eton College, 27th Nov., 18-. "MY DEAR MAMMA: In a month are the holidays: how delighted I am! I do hate Eton so, and wish very much to be back once more at dear Oaksted. The naughty, vulgar boys are so rude; they made me rather tipsy one day, for which I was well whipped, and it hurt so much, so very much; then they put horrid brown medicine into my tea, and tickling things into my bed, and have spoiled all my beautiful prints I bought and paid so much for at Ackermann's. My carpet is spilt all over with ink; and caricatures of you and papa and grandpapa, all weighing sugar, deface the walls of my room. Oh, the vulgar wretches! And the nice sofa you gave me, Knatchbull, a fifth-form boy, has borrowed-that is, makes me lend it to him-and directs me to give you his compliments, and say it is very useful and comfortable. Sometimes they give me a ride on the Acorns filly,' which is a long pole, about three inches in diameter; this they make me cross, and carry me along the passages; and it is very painful. Again, the coarse fellows box and play single-stick, and even fight without anything on their hands, in a corner of the playing fields called Bloody Corner.' But I am sure I have told you enough to disgust you with Eton College; so, with love to papa and Colonel Canteen, I shall subscribe myself "Your affectionate son, "ALGERNON SOOFOOLYSH. "P.S.-I hope the young chickens are well, and my pony and Tom Groom's crib. "P.P.S.-One of the boys promised to teach me botany, but he won't now. however, hope Walker looks after my garden. * "A. S." I, A year has elapsed. Poor Soofoolysh is still at Eton. His father would not listen to his complaints, and told him he must expect to buffeted in this world; and Colonel Canteen, who seemed to be a sort of arbiter elegantiarum at Oaksted, only laughed, and told him he would buy him Egan's "Boxiana," and a pair of boxing-gloves, and concluded by saying that, when he was at Sandhurst, bullying was carried to a far greater extent. The gay triennial pageantry of an Eton Montem fast approached, and the Honourable Algernon Soofoolysh promised his services as a page to a sixth-form boy. The exact origin of this procession to the Mount* (ad Montem, hence the name) has never been satisfactorily proved. Some say it was a religious observance, from the fact that, some years ago, a species of liturgical worship was enacted; but, of course, this portion * A hillock in a field adjoining the gardens of the Windmill, Salthill. has been long done away with; but the design is plain, namely, to afford a competence to the head boy, so as to enable him to enjoy the blessings of the university equally with his more wealthy compeers. This intention, to a great degree, however, has been frustrated; and, although large collections-or, as they are termed by Etonians, salt-are levied from the spectators, but little ultimately reaches the captain's pockets, the chief part being swallowed up by the sumptuous repasts given by him both in the college and at Salt Hill,* together with other heavy expenses entailed on this pageantry. The sixth form have each four pages in fancy costumes; the fifth form, whose dress consists of a red coat, cocked hat, and sword, have each a pole-bearer, who is accoutred in a blue jacket and white trousers. The boys, after the flag has been waved in the college quadrangle before the royalty assembled (her gracious Majesty and consort† always honouring the College with their presence on this day), then form into procession, and march up to Salt Hill, where, on the top of the mount, the flag is once more waved among reiterated hurrahs. The whole school then partake of a dinner at the Windmill, and, after walking about the grounds and gardens (which are sometimes very much damaged by the youthful and inebriated ardour of the gallant swordsmen), they return to Windsor-terrace, where the cavalry and infantry bands enliven the scene with their music. A month or so after the Montem-or, to be concise as to dates, time, &c., the last Monday in July-a placard, framed and glazed, might have been seen adorning the chimney-piece of the little ante-room in old Ingleton's shop. Among a host of names, one shone forth, namely, Soofoolysh, Hon. A. ;" though we must add, as true and faithful chroniclers, that he had not a profuse collection of leaving books.§ 66 Seated at a round table, on the decline of a lovely July day, at the Ship Inn, Dover, were two gentlemen : "If, by your art, my dearest father, you have The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, With those I saw suffer! A brave vessel, Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in her, *The captain gives a splendid breakfast, in the College Hall, to the sixth form and their pages, and the first hundred boys of the fifth form, as well as all the collegers; and at Salt Hill he gives a dinner to the sixth and fifth forms. At the last Montem, in 1844, we believe her Majesty gave £100, Prince Albert £50, and the Prince of Wales £50, as "salt." The lower boys at their tutor's or dame's expense. § It is customary for every fifth-form boy (or lower boy, if he choose) to "take leave"-that is, to give a douceur of twenty guineas to the head master, and fifteen to his tutor, besides smaller ones to the college attendants and servants. He also receives presents of valuable and standard works from the head master, his tutor, and all his friends: these sometimes amount to a large collection; nay, we have known a popular sixth-form boy receive two hundred and fifty volumes, forming, no doubt, the corner-stones of his future library, and affording, in after-years, joyful reminiscences of by-gone days. Hem! hem! the pair. "Yo-0-0 could." Dashed all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er It should the good ship so have swallowed, and The freighting souls within her.' The Tempest' to wit!" spouted forth the elder of -oh!" yawned the youth; "I wish the devil you "What?" asked the other. 66 Why, have sunk the sea within the earth; because (yawn) I am in a plaguy fright about to-morrow. I asked one of those barbarous sailors what sort of a passage he thought we should have to-morrow, and he gabbered something about wind sheering round, and nor'-easters (yawn, yawn); but the end of it was, that we are likely to have a roughish voyage to-morrow. By the bye, did you say Tempest, of the Grange, wrote those lines?-he is always scribbling some nonsense.' 66 Tempest, of the Grange? Oh, Soofoolysh; never, I am afraid, shall I metempsychose a soul for poetry into your dull clay! No; learn, most noble companion, that those were the productions of the bard of Avon-Will Shakspeare." "Heigho! Yo-o-oh! I am plaguy sleepy. who keeps the coffee-house?" 66 Oh, oh, Soofoolysh! Alas, alas! I pity you. Any relation to him I can say no more. In that short sentence the bitter venom of satire lies concealed "Well, I wish you would no-o-t (yawn) bore me with that sort (yawn) of bliss; so I shall take my candle and go to roost. Good night." "What! and no longer view this beautiful scene? Will you not see the mighty Phoebus water his steeds in yon hesperian degrees? Will you no longer scan the tempest-troubled ocean, as it contends with the nubiferous sky? Ah, ah! tempora mutantur, my late highly-respected and titled companion, Lord Ernest Macdoodle, used to gaze on the sea, the sea, the open sea' 6 "Eh? Who ever heard of a shut sea?" inquired the other. "Yes," continued the tutor, not heeding him, "and only considered himself truly happy when he rode over her billowy breast.' But you may be of the Horatian school, and exclaim |