I was for a short time at school in Exeter, and then at a rather rough establishment at Woolwich, where my father wished me to have the tuition in mathematics which could be obtained from the masters in the Academy at irregular times.  By all accounts the fagging and bullying in that establishment were appalling.  The headmaster of the school I was at was an able fellow, and many of the cadets used to come to have a grind with him.  Some of their tales were ‘hair-erectors,’ as the Americans say.

One new boy had the misfortune to sprain his ankle, and to incur the fury of the head of dormitory on the same evening.  The latter tied his game ankle up to his thigh, and fastening him by the wrist to the bottom of the bed, made him stand the better part of the night on his bad ankle.

This reminds me of the story of a certain royal prince going to an educational establishment and being asked who his parents were.  On his reply, the senior—­or ’John’—­gave him a terrific cuff on the side of the head saying:—­

‘That’s for your father, the prince.’

And before the half-stunned boy recovered, he received a stinging blow on the other ear with:—­

‘That’s for your mother, the princess, and now black my boots.’

His Highness could say nothing, but in time he grew to be the biggest and the worst bully.

Then the younger brother of his former tormentor came, and the prince sent for him, and telling him what his brother had done some years before, made him bend down and flogged him so unmercifully that he had to go into hospital.

Years after, when in an important position, he met his former victim, now a general, and congratulating him on his career said:—­

‘Perhaps I made your success by giving you that tanning at Sandhurst.’

I wonder whether there was murder in the heart of the grim old warrior at the recollection.  Of course that would not be strange, for many a time officers have been actually shot in action by their own men.

Here is a perfectly true story, only neither the men nor the officer need be specified.

A colonel who had grossly mismanaged the regiment knew his fate was sealed.

So when the men paraded for the engagement, he said:—­

’I know you mean to shoot me to-day, but for God’s sake don’t do so until we have won the battle.’

This was greeted with a cheer, and he came back safe to be decorated and to play whist at his club as badly as any member in it.

I am not sure that cards ought not to be considered part of every lad’s training.  If a man goes through life without touching a card, he probably loses a good deal of innocent amusement, and debars himself from much pleasant society.  If he learns to play when grown up, he may find it a costly and unsatisfactory branch of education.  But if he is taught to play reasonably well as a boy, and is shown that excellent games can be had without gambling—­I do not consider an infinitesimal stake, in proportion to his means, gambling—­he will have an extra amusement made for him and a relaxation after his day’s work.