way with a glowing desire to do likewise. The
incident really belongs to the domain of manners rather than to that of
morals.

The truth is really that boys at school have a code which resembles
that of the old chivalry. The hero may be sensual, unscrupulous, cruel,
selfish, indifferent to the welfare of others. But if he bears himself
gallantly, if he has a charm of look and manner, if he is a deft
performer in the prescribed athletics, he is the object of profound and
devoted admiration. It is really physical courage, skill, prowess,
personal attractiveness which is envied and praised. A dull, heavy,
painstaking, conscientious boy with a sturdy sense of duty may be
respected, but he is not followed; while the imaginative, sensitive,
nervous, highly-strung boy, who may have the finest qualities of all
within him, is apt to be the most despised. Such a boy is often no good
at games, because public performance disconcerts him; he cannot make a
ready answer, he has no aplomb, no cheek, no smartness; and he is
consequently thought very little of.

To what extent this sort of instinctive preference can be altered, I do
not know; it certainly cannot be altered by sermons, and still less by
edicts. Old Dr. Keate said, when he was addressing the school on the
subject of fighting, "I must say that I like to see a boy return a
blow!" It seems, if one considers it, to be a curious ideal to start
life with, considering how little opportunity civilisation now gives
for returning blows! Boys in fact are still educated under a system
which seems to anticipate a combative and disturbed sort of life to
follow, in which strength and agility, violence and physical activity,
will have a value. Yet, as a matter of fact, such things have very
little substantial value in an ordinary citizen's life at all, except
in so far as they play their part in the elaborate cult of athletic
exercises, with which we beguile the instinct which craves for manual
toil. All the races, and games, and athletics cultivated so assiduously
at school seem now to have very little aim in view. It is not important
for ordinary life to be able to run a hundred yards, or even three
miles, faster than another man; the judgment, the quickness of eye, the
strength and swiftness of muscle needed to make a man a good batsman
were all well enough in days when a man's life might afterwards depend
on his use of sword and battle-axe. But now it only enables him to play
games