, I found him bathed in perspiration, writing away for dear
life. He motioned me to remain silent, and went on writing. Presently
he jumped up, and exclaimed triumphantly, "I have got it! I have got it
at last!" He then showed me the words he was setting to music. They
began:

"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, an