The artless contrabandist, besides his own modest pack, had fourteen several hampers and boxes under his charge.  This was checked.  But who was the miscreant who systematically staved in and pounded into such odd shapes the little tin boxes in which our rose-fanciers had their choice blooms sent them by post?  Post Office authorities thought the damage was caused by “the pressure of the letters.”  We did not, and remonstrated, till the practice, whoever was the criminal, was stopped.  Besides these gracious souvenirs of home, there were from time to time business matters which we had to transact as parishioners and ratepayers.  One was sensible of an almost humorous contrast, when we discussed our interests in the Midlands in a room overlooking the coast and hills of Cardiganshire, where one turned from watching the waves breaking crisply on the beach, to study a map of some property in Rutland pastures.  It has been accounted a signal proof of Roman self-confidence, that bidders could be found for a piece of land on which Hannibal was encamped at the moment of sale.  The situations are not quite parallel.  But people who could seriously debate, as we did, on the purchase of a freehold at a time when not even their Rome was their own, clearly had not despaired of their country.

With the exception of the moving incidents to be immediately narrated, the tale of this term’s life differs little from that of the preceding.  The round of work and play was much the same; the harriers were out again, football went on as before, till superseded by the “athletics,” and a match was played on March 7th against Shrewsbury School on their ground, of which the result was a drawn battle.

Our difficulties this term were with the elements.  In novels of school life, where the scene is laid on the coast, the hero always imperils his bones in an escapade upon the cliffs.  The heroes of our romance knew what was expected of them.  Accordingly, two new boys of a week’s standing start one afternoon for a ramble on Borth Head and are missing at tea-time.  Search parties are organised at once (it was not the first occasion, for the writer remembers sharing in a wild-goose chase which lasted four hours of the night, along and under the same cliffs); while one skirted the marsh to Taliesin, another explored the coast.  The latter party at nine o’clock in the evening discovered the involuntary tenants perched upon a rock a little way up the cliff.  They had climbed to it to escape the tide which had cut them off, and here they sat, telling stones in turn, they said, to while away the time till the tide should retire.  Before the waters went, however, darkness came; and either from fear of breaking bones in the descent or suspicion of some fresh treachery in the mysterious sea, they clung to their perch, blessing the mildness of a January night without wind or frost, but blessing with still more fervency the lanterns of their rescuers.  They had passed five hours in this anxious situation.