retty sight
to observe mothers and sisters as they wandered with delighted interest
through the scenes so proudly pointed out to them by their young escort.
Some of them were strolling over the cricket-field, or through the
pleasant path down to the bathing-place. Many lingered in the beautiful
chapel, on whose painted windows the sunlight streamed, making them
flame like jewellery, and flinging their fair shadows of blue, and
scarlet, and crimson, on the delicate carving of the pillars on either
side. But, on the whole, the boys were most proud of showing their
friends the old school-room, on whose rude panels many a name may be
deciphered, carved there by the boyish hand of poets, orators, and
statesmen, who in the zenith of their fame still looked back with fond
remembrance on the home of their earlier days, and some of whom were
then testifying by their presence the undying interest which they took
in their old school.

The pleasant morning wore away, and the time for the Speeches drew on.
The room was thronged with a distinguished company, and presented a
brilliant and animated appearance. In the centre was a table loaded
with prize-books, and all round it sat the secular and episcopal
dignitaries for whom seats had been reserved, while the chair was
occupied by a young Prince of the royal house. On the other side was a
slightly elevated platform, on which were seated the monitors who were
to take part in the day's proceedings, and behind it, under the gallery
set apart for old Hartonians, crowded a number of gentlemen and boys who
could find no room elsewhere.

"Now, papa," said a young lady sitting opposite the monitors, "I've been
asking Walter here which is the cleverest of those boys."

"Ahem! _young men_ you mean," interrupted her elder sister.

"No, no," said Walter positively, "call them boys; to call them young
men is all bosh; we shall have `young gentlemen' next, which is awful
twaddle."

"Well, which of those boys on the platform is the cleverest--the
greatest swell _he_ calls it? Now you profess to be a physiognomist,
papa, so just see if you can guess."

"I'm to look out for some future Byron or Peel among them; eh, Walter?"

"Yes."

The old gentleman put on his spectacles, and deliberately looked round
the row of monitors, who were awaiting the Headmaster's signal to begin
the speeches.

"Well, haven't you done yet, papa? What an age you are. Walter says
you ought to tell at a glan