“Forty years on, when afar and asunder,
    Parted are those who are singing to-day.”

“I wrote another tune to it first,” explained Farmer, “a bright tune, a regular bell-tinkle” (his invariable expression for a catchy tune), “but Bowen’s words are too fine for that.  They want something hymn-like, something grand, and now I’ve found it.  Listen!” and Farmer played me that majestic, stately melody which has since been heard in every country and in every corner of the globe, wherever two old Harrovians have come together.  Some people may recall how, during the Boer War, “Forty years on” was sung by two mortally wounded Harrovians on the top of Spion Kop just before they died.

To my great regret my voice had broken then, else it is quite possible that Farmer might have selected me to sing “Forty years on” for the very first time.  As it was, that honour fell to a boy named A.M.  Wilkinson, who had a remarkably sweet voice.

John Farmer’s eccentricities were, I think, all assumed.  He thought they helped him to manage the boys.  I sang in the chapel choir, and he circulated the quaintest little notes amongst us, telling us how he wished the Psalms sung.  “Psalm 136, quite gaily and cheerfully; Psalm 137, very slowly and sorrowfully; Psalm 138, real merry bell-tinkle, with plenty of organ.—­J.  F.”

Long after I had left, Farmer continued to pour out a ceaseless flow of school songs.  Of course they varied in merit, but in some, such as “Raleigh,” and “Five Hundred Faces,” he managed to touch some subtle chord of sympathy that makes them very dear to those who heard them in their youth.  After Farmer left Harrow for Oxford, his successor, Eaton Faning, worthily continued the traditions.  All Eaton Failing’s songs are melodious, but in two of them, “Here, sir!” and “Pray, charge your glasses, gentlemen,” he reaches far higher levels.

The late E.W.  Howson’s words to “Here, sir!” seem to strike exactly the right note for boys.  They are fine and virile, with underlying sentiment, yet free from the faintest suspicion of mawkish sentimentality.  Two of the verses are worth quoting: 

    “Is it nought—­our long procession,
    Father, brother, friend, and son,
    As we step in quick succession,
    Cap and pass and hurry on? 
    One and all,
    At the call,
    Cap and pass and hurry on? 
    Here, sir!  Here, sir!” etc.

    “So to-day—­and oh! if ever
    Duty’s voice is ringing clear,
    Bidding men to brave endeavour,
    Be our answer, ‘We are here!’
    Come what will,
    Good or ill,
    We will answer, ‘We are here!’
    Here, sir!  Here, sir!” etc.

The allusion is, of course, to “Bill,” the Harrow term for the roll-call.  These lines, for me, embody all that is best in the so-called “Public School spirit.”