’I do not ask because I wish you to write and say I may go, but because I wish to learn whether my asking at all was wrong.  Even if you have no objection, I certainly shall not go, because for such a trifling thing to act in opposition to my tutor, even with your consent, would be very foolish.

’...Good-bye, my dearest Father.  God bless you, says your affectionate and dutiful Son,

‘J.  C. P.’

This year, 1844, the name of Patteson appeared among the ‘select.’  ‘I shall expect a jolly holiday for my reward,’ he merrily says, when announcing it to his sisters.  He had begun to join the Debating Society at Eton, and for a while was the president.  One of the other members says, ’His speeches were singularly free from the bombast and incongruous matter with which Eton orators from fifteen to eighteen are apt to interlard their declamations.  He spoke concisely, always to the point, and with great fluency and readiness.  A reputation for good sense and judgment made his authority of great weight in the school, and his independent spirit led him to choose, amongst his most intimate friends and associates, two collegers, who ultimately became Newcastle scholars and medallists.

’That the most popular oppidan of his day should have utterly ignored the supposed inferiority of the less wealthy section of the school, and looked on worth and high character as none the worse for being clothed in a coarse serge gown, is a fact seemingly trivial to ordinary readers, but very noticeable to Eton men.  As a rank and file collegian myself, and well remembering the Jew and Samaritan state that prevailed between oppidans and collegers, I remember with pride that Patteson did so much to level the distinctions that worked so mischievously to the school.  His cheerfulness and goodness were the surest guarantee for good order amongst his schoolfellows.  There was no Puritanism in him, he was up to any fun, sung his song at a cricket or foot-ball dinner as joyfully as the youngest of the party; but if mirth sank into coarseness and ribaldry, that instant Patteson’s conduct was fearless and uncompromising....’

Here follows an account of an incident which occurred at the dinner annually given by the eleven of cricket and the eight of the boats at the hotel at Slough.

A custom had arisen among some of the boys of singing offensive songs on these occasions, and Coley, who, as second of the eleven, stood in the position of one of the entertainers, gave notice beforehand that he was not going to tolerate anything of the sort.  One of the boys, however, began to sing something objectionable.  Coley called out, ‘If that does not stop, I shall leave the room;’ and as no notice was taken, he actually went away with a few other brave lads.  He afterwards found that, as he said, ’fellows who could not understand such feelings thought him affected;’ and he felt himself obliged to send word to the captain, that