ccasions we were more than successful.

One time, when we had been acquiring some new lines of thought from
some trashy boys' books of the period, we became fired with the desire
to enjoy the ruling passion of the professional burglar. Though never
kept short of anything, we decided that one night we would raid the
large school storeroom while the matron slept. As always, the planning
was entrusted to my brother. It was, of course, a perfectly easy
affair, but we played the whole game "according to Cavendish." We let
ourselves out of the window at midnight, glued brown paper to the
window panes, cut out the putty, forced the catch, and stole sugar,
currants, biscuits, and I am ashamed to say port wine--which we mulled
in a tin can over the renovated fire in the matron's own sanctum. In
the morning the remainder was turned over to fishermen friends who
were passing along shore on their way to catch the early tide.

I had no share in two other of my brother's famous escapades, though
at the time it was a source of keen regret, for we were sent to
different public schools, as being, I suppose, incompatible. But we
heard with pride how he had extracted phosphorus from the chemical
laboratory and while drawing luminous ghosts on the wall for the
benefit of the timorous, had set fire to the large dormitory and the
boys' underclothing neatly laid out on the beds, besides burning
himself badly. Later he pleaded guilty to beeswaxing the seat of the
boys in front of him in chapel, much to the detriment of their
trousers and the destruction of the dignity of Sunday worship.

During the time that my parents were away we never found a moment in
which to be lonely, but on one occasion it occurred to us that the
company of some friends would add to our enjoyment. Why we waited till
my father and mother departed I do not know, but I recall that
immediately they had gone we spent a much-valued sixpence in
telegraphing to a cousin in London to come down to us for the
holidays. Our message read: "Dear Sid. Come down and stay the
holidays. Father has gone to Aix." We were somewhat chagrined to
receive the following day an answer, also by wire: "Not gone yet.
Father." It appeared that my father and mother had stayed the night in
London in the very house to which we had wired, and Sid. having to ask
his father's permission in order to get his railway fare, our uncle
had shown the invitation to my father. It was characteristic of my
parent