There was very little intentional bullying at Westminster-i.e., bullying for bullying's sake-but I remember one thing of this nature. One was told to spread out the thumb and fingers of one's hand, laid palm down on a table; the bully then took a pen, or sometimes a penknife, and practised dabbing the point between each finger in succession. Some boys were very good at it, and would dab backwards and forwards several times, but it always ended with a dab into a finger.

CHAPTER XVII

SCRAPES AND ESCAPADES

Turle's chimney-Our 'club'-Want of gymnasium-The Judge's stables-The coal-cart-The ferret-A 'night out.'

AND now for a few scrapes and adventures, in most of which I took my part.

The old Dean, Buckland, had a son, the well-known naturalist. The son had a monkey. One day it was reported to have got loose, and to be on the rampage, on the roofs of the cloisters, the school, and the houses of the various Prebends and dignitaries of the Abbey.

E. L. Burton-commonly called Nosey, after his leading feature, and to distinguish him from Bob of that name-and I determined to try and catch the monkey. First we bought a coil of rope to tie him up when caught, forgetful of the old proverb about the chickens. We started one afternoon, climbing on the roof of the school offices, inside the school doors, on the right (now swept away), then over the school arch, over the double roof of Turle's drawing-room, and on to a lower roof over the cloisters arch.

Here we were stuck fast-brick walls all round which we could not climb. Luckily, we had our coil of rope. [ 202 ]

We dug a half-brick out of the wall, tied it to the end of our rope, and threw it round a tall chimney on Turle's roof. The brick rolled down the tile roof, making a bight round the chimney; we slacked off the other end till the brick came sliding down to us. Burton held one end; I took the other, and began walking up the wall, going hand over hand up the rope, and leaning well back. Suddenly all the upper part of the chimney collapsed: bricks, mortar, and I came rumbling down together, the shaft of the chimney mostly falling inside, into one of Turle's bedrooms. Luckily, neither of us was hurt; our rope still held round the stump of the chimney. We knew we should be spotted if we began climbing down, so 'forward' was the word. We climbed up the débris by means of our rope, hauled it up after us, and away we went-on to the gutter of the school roof, along nearly as far as the Abbey, round the top of the cloisters, etc.-but nothing could we see of the monkey.

We hung about on the roof till dark, and then slipped down (as we thought, unperceived) by the way that we had come. But next morning up school a monitor came across: Mr. Weare wishes to see Markham and Burton'; and over to him we had to go. Then came the usual 'Now, my dear boys,' etc., and the pencil work under the arm. We pleaded that the monkey was a public nuisance, that we had done our best for the good of that public, and that, as for the chimney, it was a standing disgrace for Turle to keep such a chimney, etc. As usual, dear old Weare admonished us and let us go, but in my bill for that

half appeared an item: Share of rebuilding Mr. Turle's chimney, £5.'

During my time some alterations were taking place in Great Dean's Yard, and some old dwelling-houses near the archway into the Sanctuary were in process of demolition. All their fittings were removed, and hoardings were put up round them, but there the houses remained.

Two or three of us made a burglarious entrance therein one dark evening, found a fire-grate in place, tore up bits of flooring, collected odd bits of coal from the cellar, lit a fire, collected odds and ends of old tables and chairs, and made ourselves as comfortable as we could.

Here we spent many pleasant winter afternoons— taking candles with us, and closing all shutters before we lighted candles or fire-cooking, playing whist, etc., always with a pleasant feeling that we were breaking the laws of the land and were liable to all manner of penalties.

Our only danger was the smoke from the chimney. We were never discovered. We called it our club.'

I think that the want of a gymnasium in those days was a great incentive to mischief.

There was no place for us to go to on wet days. Of course, one might take a Virgil or Homer (there was one boy, W. F. Spencer, 'up Grant's' with me, who, when he came to Westminster, read Homer for his amusement), and walk up and down in the cloisters, studying the text or declaiming the verses to the sparrows; or you might go down to the barges, take

possession of a bargee's cabin, and smoke there; or even put in a pleasant half-hour at Mother Shotton's, with a round of Stilton cheese and a plate of pickled onions between you and a friend, to be prodded for alternately; but all these amusements failed to please : what we wanted was exercise and a gymnasium.

I congratulate the present Westminsters on their new possession.

On wet days, in the afternoon, a certain party of us used to slip out by Great Dean's Yard arch, and go up to Judge Williams's stables, near his house in Queen Anne Street; there we had a little room, where we played our rubber of whist or other game comfortably. Lewis Williams was our host; Grosvenor, M. Farquhar, Gray, and, I think, poor Bankes, made up the party. This, I think, was before we discovered our clubhouse in the dilapidated building in Great Dean's Yard.

Another thing which occurred in Dean's Yard. There was a boy at Westminster named Hawes, a son of Sir Benjamin Hawes, who was, I believe, at that time Under-Secretary of State for War. The son boarded at home.

This boy did one of the cheekiest things that I remember. Coming out from Little Dean's Yard, he found a cart full of coals standing just outside the arch. The coal-heaver was away getting a drink. Hawes backed the cart through the arch to Liddell's little side-door, from which he came out to go up school; then he tilted the cart up, and upset the coals against the door, blocking it up. He then