many and emphatic testimonies on their part to the cordial relations between them and “the children.”  This endearing term was exchanged for another by one good old lady, who appealed to him against the “very wicked boys,” whom she charged with having “foolished” her.  The complication traced to ignorance of one another’s speech (the boys spoke no Welsh, and she would have done more wisely to speak no English), and a modus vivendi was easily restored.  Poor soul! she took a pathetic farewell of them when their sojourn ended:  “They must forgive her for having a quick temper; she had had much trouble; her husband and four sons had gone down at sea.”

On Friday came a piece of cheering news.  Some sympathisers were intending to appeal to parents of boys in the school for subscriptions to a fund, which should help to defray the expense incurred by the masters in moving and resettling the school.  The appeal met with a liberal response in many quarters; a large sum was raised, though from a number of subscribers smaller than the promoters of the fund expected.  Men, who were feeling the double pressure at once of keen and novel cares, and of an outlay already large, which no one could see to the end of, will not forget that well-timed succour.  Not least will it be remembered as a “material guarantee” that the subscribers believed the cause they aided to be worth a costly effort to save.

The week closed with an old scene on a new stage—­a football match on Sir Pryse’s field at Bow Street.  It was the last of the house-matches, which had been interrupted at Uppingham to be played out here.  The sight of the school swarming into the railway carriages, which carried us to the four-mile-distant ground, and then the mimic war of the red and white jerseys contrasting the gray Gogerddan woodlands which overhang the meadow, and the shouts of the English boys blending with the excited but unintelligible cries of the Welsh rustic children, who were rapt spectators of the game, brought home to us the piquant contrast between our unchanged school habits and the novelty of their framework.

The weather of this first week was dry and genial; and it had no pleasanter moments than those spent on the beach at sunset, whither the school flocked down after tea for half an hour’s leisure in the after-glow.  There is plenty of amusement for them on this broad reach of sand and shingle.  Some are groping for shells or for pebbles, which the lapidary will transform for a trifle into dazzling jewels; others are playing ducks and drakes on the waves, or entertaining themselves like Prospero’s elves,

   That on the sands, with printless feet,
   Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
   When he comes back again.