The Hill | Page 8

spire at first, and then, bit by bit,
overshadowing the whole.

[1] Byron, writing to John Murray, May 26, 1822, and giving directions
for the burial of poor little Allegra's body, says--
"I wish it to be buried in Harrow Church. There is a spot in the
churchyard, near the footpath, on the brow of the hill looking towards
Windsor, and a tomb under a large tree (bearing the name of Peachie,
or Peachey), where I used to sit for hours and hours as a boy: this was
my favourite spot; but, as I wish to erect a tablet to her memory, the
body had better be deposited in the church."
See also "Lines written beneath an elm in the churchyard of Harrow,"
in "Hours of Idleness."
[2] "Speecher"--i.e. Speech-Day. At Harrow "er" is a favourite
termination of many substantives. "Harder," for hardball racquets,
"Footer," "Ducker," etc.
[3] The Duke of Dorset was Byron's fag. Cf.-- "Though the harsh
custom of our youthful band Bade thee obey, and gave me to
command." Hours of Idleness
CHAPTER II
CAESAR
"You come here where your brothers came, To the old school years ago,
A young new face, and a Harrow name, 'Mid a crowd of strangers? No!
You may not fancy yourself alone, You who are memory's heir, When
even the names in the graven stone Will greet you with 'Who goes
there-- You?-- Pass, Friend--All's well.'"
John never forgot that memorable morning when he learned for the first
time what place he had taken in the school. He sat with the other
new-comers, staring, open-eyed, at nearly six hundred boys, big and
small, assembled together in the Speech-room. So engrossed was he
that he scarcely heard the Head Master's opening prayers. John was
obsessed, inebriated, with the number of Harrovians, each of whom had
once felt strange and shy like himself. From his place close to the great

organ, he could look up and up, seeing row after row of faces, knowing
that amongst them sat his future friends and foes.
Suddenly, a neighbour nudged him. The Head Master was reading from
a list in his hand the school-removes, and the names and places taken
by new boys. He began at the lowest form with the name of a small
urchin sitting near John. The urchin blinked and blushed as he realized
that he was "lag of the school." John knew that he had answered fairly
well the questions set by the examiners; he had no fear of finding
himself pilloried in the Third Fourth; still, as form after form did not
include his name, he grew restless and excited. Had he taken a higher
place than the Middle Shell? Yes; no Verney in the Middle Shell. The
Head Master began the removes of the top Shell. Now, now it must be
coming. No; the clear penetrating tones slowly articulated name after
name, but not his.
"Verney."
At last. Many eyes were staring at him, some enviously, a few
superciliously. John had taken the Lower Remove, the highest form but
one open to new boys. He was sipping the wine called Success.
Moreover, Desmond of the frank, laughing face and sparkling blue eyes,
and Scaife and Egerton were also in the Lower Remove.
After this, John sat in a blissful dream, hardly conscious of his
surroundings, seeing his mother's face, hearing her sigh of pleasure
when she learned that already her son was halfway up the school.
You may be sure those first forty-eight hours were brim-full of
excitements. First, John bought his books, stout leather-tipped,
leather-backed volumes, on which his name will be duly stamped on
fly-leaf and across the edges of the pages. And he bought also, from
"Judy" Stephens,[1] a "squash" racquet, "squash" balls, and a yard ball.
From the school Custos--"Titchy"--a noble supply of stationery was
procured. Moreover, young Kinloch announced that his mother had
given him three pounds to spend upon the decoration of No. 15, so
Scaife declared his intention of spending a similar sum, and in

consequence No. 15 became a gorgeous apartment, the cynosure of
every eye that passed. The characters of the three boys were revealed
plainly enough by their simple furnishings. Scaife bought sporting
prints, a couple of Detaille's lithographs, and an easy-chair, known to
dwellers upon the Hill as a "frowst;" Kinloch hung upon his side of the
wall four pretty reproductions of French engravings, and with the help
of three yards of velveteen and some cheap lace he made a very
passable imitation of the mantel-cover in his mother's London boudoir;
John scorned velveteen, lace, "frowsts," and French engravings. He put
his money into a pair of red curtains, and one excellent photogravure of
Landseer's "Children of the Mist." Having a few shillings to spare, he
bought half a dozen ferns, which