Pharos No. 4 Christmas 1909

No. 4. CHRISTMAS, 1909. VOL. I.




Notices The beautiful in everyday life
Editorial Verse
Gleams Petite Causerie Militaire
Cricket The Duke of York’s School
Football Out of doors in winter
Hockey A few recollections
Scouting notes An autobiography of a monkey
Old students A little “small beer”
Old students annual picknic Camp
The Prince of Wales visit The delights of student teachering
Canterbury Diocesan Exam in R.E. A visit to the post office savings bank
The prize giving A few facts about form IV
The needlework exhibition Break
The entertainment on Nov. 5th Frank Broad, apprentice
An adventure in India Bazeilles
Hiawatha The other side
A tour on Gibralta A holiday in Belgium
Our Christmas pudding Correspondence



The next number of The Pharos will appear immediately before the Easter Vacation.
All contributions intended for that number should reach the Editor before March 25th, 1910.
Out of Term The Pharos can be obtained from the Editor, County School, Dover; or of Grigg and Son, “St. George’s Press,” Worthington Street and High Street.
We wish to acknowledge very creditable contributions from Bertram Garland, G.M.D., C.B., G.E.T., E.M., J.G., D.H., R.V. We hope to print work of several of these contributors in our next issue.


THE Term is drawing to a close; it is a question of minutes to the holidays, and term examinations will soon be a vague memory. Brutus from the shades has seen himself patronised by a small British youth who is certain that Cassius was a much superior type and Cæsar has been put in his place as “really necessary to the play but not the chief character.” Euclid and a whole gallery of historical characters have suffered like patronage. Jones junior has looked at the list and after a passing reflection on the short sightedness of those in high places when confronted by real merit has turned his mind to Christmas prospects.
Progress is slow – enthusiasm kindles with no sudden blaze, but quand même we are progressing and certainly contributions are improving in quality. A great service has been rendered to the Magazine by Mildred Hogben and Bond by giving The Pharos the attractive original “notice holders” with which we hope our readers have by now made acquaintance. We thank them in the name of Pharosians.
In this number is printed a letter from E. H. Gann, and we here express our sincere appreciation of the help thus given. Gratitude has been called a keen consciousness of favour to come. The Magazine is very grateful to Mrs. Whitehouse and to Form V., for the help they are preparing.
Will contributors please remember that (a) contributions, other things being equal, will be inserted in order of arrival in our hands (b) that they should be short – rarely exceeding 500 words, seldom indeed going beyond 300.
To Head, Staff, Students old and present, The Pharos wishes a Happy Christmas and a very fortunate New Year.


Mr. Freiberger, who spent some time in this School during the summer term, touched at Dover on his way out to Togoland, where he has spent the greater part of the last 15 years in educational and mission work. The picture of small black British subjects celebrating Empire Day would appeal to most readers of this.

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Miss Uggla, whom some of the girls’ side will remember, has returned to Sweden.

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It is very probable that next term an attempt will be made to arrange side hockey games for those days when football matches have not been arranged with suitable teams.

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In future numbers a definite section will be reserved for notes and contributions interesting the junior portion of the School – boys and girls.

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The extracts from Broad’s letters in The Pharos will be read with interest. The latest news of him was from China.

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Dorothy Green was placed 36th on a list of upwards of 500 names of those who entered for the recent S.B.D. examination. She headed the list in History.

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You may help the Magazine very definitely by disposing of one copy beside your own. If half the School did this – well!

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Feelings of envy were the ones chiefly roused in those who saw the illustrations showing Wellington College, Hastings. They were forwarded by Miss A. V. Beeching of the staff of that school.

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We wish to contradict the rumour that a prize is to be given for an “Ode on the Ring and the Wire,” with alternative title “Why?”

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Students falling down the steps outside Form V. door are requested to do so as quietly as possible, and not to count any marks received in terminal total.

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We are requested by the organisers of the School Party to state that the Gramaphone and Spencer Piano have been supplied by Messrs. Murdoch, Murdoch & Co., 9, Cannon Street, Dover.

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Some of our older readers will be pleased to have news of R. H. Hogben. After leaving Culham he taught in the Bethnal Green District and managed to combine with this mission work. He has now been ordained and wrote from Colombo en route to the mission field of Western China. The good wishes and admiration of his old friends go out to him in that remote region.

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It is with great regret that Form V. announces the postponement of their Concert owing to the illness of one of the principal characters, and the unavoidable absence of another. It is hoped that the Concert will take place in the early part of next term.



This match, which, in spite of the defeat of the School by a very strong Old Boys’ team, proved to be the most interesting of an enjoyable season, was played at the Athletic Ground, on July 30th. The Old Boys batted first, and the School did well in getting them out for a total of 104 runs, although 60 of these were on the board with only two wickets down. A. Belchamber gave a splendid display, making the top score of his side. The success of the School, after a certain point, was mainly due to the excellent bowling of R. Reeder. Rain caused an adjournment towards the end of the Old Boys’ innings, and possibly its effect on the pitch may account for the poor reply the School made. Hall and Bond started for the School, and after playing steadily for some time Bond was run out owing to a misunderstanding between the batsmen. Jones, after scoring eight, was caught in attempting to drive, and then, in spite of Hall’s really excellent play, came a collapse. Gann was out from a fine catch by S. Belchamber, who, fielding at square leg, had been “placed” just on the right spot for A. Durban’s breaks from the Pavilion end. Hall was run out after making the useful contribution of 24, and the innings closed shortly after for a total of 49.
The umpires were Mr. Darby and Baldwin. Several of the girls assisted in handing round the tea in the Pavilion at the interval.
OLD BOYS. – Pritchard, b Reeder, 7; A. Belchamber, b Fishwick, 30; Buss, c Hall, b Fishwick, 4; Downs, c and b Fishwick, 16; A. Durban, b Reeder, 5; Bryson, b Reeder, 5; Newing, b Reeder, 7; T. Durban, c Took, b Hall, 10; Green, lbw, b Fishwick, 7; S Belchamber, c and b Fishwick, 2; Borrow, not out, 2; extras, 6; total, 104.
BOWLING. – Fishwick, 46 runs, 5 wickets; Bond, 15 runs, 0 wickets; Reeder, 28 runs, 4 wickets; Hall, 4 runs, 1 wicket.
COUNTY SCHOOL. – Hall, run out, 24; Bond, run out, 5; Jones, c Buss, b Belchamber, 9; Fishwick, b Bryson, 1; Gann, c S. Belchamber, b Durban, 1; Fisher, c Durban, b Bryson, 0; Belchamber, c Buss, b Bryson, 2; Kay, b Durban, 0; Reeder, not out, 1; Carey, b Bryson, 0; Took, c Belchamber, b Durban, 2; extras, 4; total, 49.
BOWLING. – A. Belchamber, 18 runs, 1 wicket; Bryson, 13 runs, 4 wickets; A. Durban, 10 runs, 3 wickets.


The Sports Club held their General Football Meeting on July 27th. The last minutes were read and approved, and the following officers were elected : – President, Mr. Whitehouse; Chairman, Mr. Standring; Captain, Gann; Sub-Captain, Hardy; Secretary, Fisher; Captain (2nd XI.), Morford; Sub-Captain, Broadbridge; Secretary, Igglesden.

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The Football season this year has been disappointing as our two years’ undefeated School record has been broken three times.

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Misfortune as well as disappointment has followed the team. Never through the whole season has a full team been placed in the field. Boys have been away from matches for various causes, but Reeder and Fisher have been a continual loss from almost the beginning of the season. Although the team is smaller this year, the boys try very hard and usually show a very plucky fight.
There is one more pleasing sight this season and that is that the rest of the School show the XI. a little more encouragement by turning up in larger numbers to witness the matches. Although the number is still very small we are pleased to see there is a slight increase.

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The season opened with a big defeat for the School, the opposing team being much smarter and slightly heavier. Result lost 7 – 1.
DOVER COUNTY SCHOOL. – Maynard (goal); Bond, Gann (backs); Belchamber, Hall, Dunn (half-backs); Reeder, Took, Hardy, Carey, Fisher (forwards).

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In this match the School showed better form, winning by 8 goals to nil.
DOVER COUNTY SCHOOL. – Brett (goal); Bond, Gann (backs); Belchamber, Hall, Maynard (half-backs); Hardy, Took, Worster, Carey, Fisher (forwards).

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Played at Canterbury. In this match the School suffered their greatest defeat for many seasons. Result lost 10 – 1.
DOVER COUNTY SCHOOL. – Brett (goal); Bond, Gann (backs); Belchamber, Hall, Maynard (half-backs); Worster, Took, Hardy, Carey, Fisher (forwards).

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Played at Ramsgate. The School were defeated by 3 goals to 2.
DOVER COUNTY SCHOOL. – Brett (goal); Bond, Gann (backs); Broadbridge, pri., Hall, Maynard (half-backs); Worster, Took, Igglesden, Carey, Coombs (forwards).

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The School lost by 7 – 1.
DOVER COUNTY SCHOOL. – Brett (goal); Gann, Bond (backs); Belchamber, Hall, Maynard (half-backs); Worster, Igglesden, Hardy, Carey, Coombs (for-wards).

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This match resulted in a draw 2 – 2.
DOVER COUNTY SCHOOL. – Brett (goal); Reeder, Gann (backs); Belchamber, Hall, Maynard (half-backs); Bond, Took, Hardy, Worster, Carey (forwards).

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The above team has had a very successful term’s football, having played five matches, four composed of Form IV. boys and one combined with Form V., winning each match by a substantial number of goals. The results are: –

Result For Against
Form IV. v St. Mary’s Won 3 0
IV. v Form III. Won 6 0
IV. and V. v St. Martin’s Won 14 2
IV. v St. Mary’s Won 6 2
IV. v St. Mary’s O.A. Won 6 0
Total 35 4



In spite of the few practices, the hockey has greatly improved this term. This improvement is due to Sergeant Flanagan, who coached us so well during the first part of the season, and to the combined efforts of the Mistresses and the girls. The whole of the term has been given up to practising in order to get an eleven together.
At the meeting held at the beginning of the season D. Monger was elected captain; as she had to leave the School in the middle of the term another meeting was held on November 17th, when a new captain was elected.

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The only match played up to the time of writing was against St. Patrick’s, at the Danes, on Wednesday, December 8th, when the School was defeated by 4 goals to 1. The team chosen was as follows: –
DOVER COUNTY SCHOOL. – N. Moody (goal); L. Clout, M. Hayes (backs); M. Akhurst, H. Ainslie, O. Marsh (half-backs); G. Ogg, D. Fell, H. Thompson, B.Philpott, H. Camburn (forwards).
The game was a hard struggle for both sides, and it is probable that the School might have won if the players had been quicker. The play of the left-wing and the centre-half was very creditable throughout the match. Owing to the unfortunate absence of the referee matters were decidedly complicated.

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We hope to arrange for a match against the Old Students before the end of the year.


Among the many congratulations the Troop has received on its recent success, the following affords special satisfaction and interest:

“8th November, 1909.

“18, Randolph Gardens,

“I want to send you one line just to say how pleased I am at the report which my Commissioner gives me of your troop of Boy-Scouts. I am delighted to hear of the good work which you have been doing with them, and I hope you will go on to continued success.

“With best wishes,
“Believe me, yours truly,

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In the Swimming Contest special commendation is due to Patrol-Leader Gram and Scout Morrison. The former swam four times, and the latter three times his previous record distance. It is pluck like this that wins.

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The Tug-of-War and Relay Race would have been more satisfactory had there been more competing junior teams. All credit to St. Paul’s for the struggle they gave us.

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The results of the First Aid and Knots Contests were very good, of the Signalling satisfactory, but Observation and Woodcraft left somewhat to be desired. Both are essential points in scouting.

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The highest total score in our Troop stands to the credit of Patrol-Leader Igglesden, who gained 546 points on 950.

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Several boys were fortunate to become guests at the Folkestone Camp. The Officer in Charge, Sergeant-Major Fairburn, reports that he wished he had had “more boys of the same sort.” Well done!

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In the hope of encouraging keenness and efficiency, the Scout-Master offers a copy of Westall’s “Nature Stalking for Boys” to the tenderfoot, under 15, on April 30th, 1910, who attains the highest proficiency by that date. This book, specially written for scouts, will give numerous suggestions helpful to those trying for their stalker’s badge.
Assistant-Scoutmaster Mills seconds this with an offer of the new edition of the “Handbook” to the “runner-up.”

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True efficiency can only be gained by practice. This is the special work of patrol meetings. May they be more frequent next term!

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How modest we are of each other’s doings. No special “good turns” have been reported this term. Who says that it isn’t on account of modesty?

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While these notes are being written, the Royal Salute is firing for the Queen’s birthday. This suggests the query, “How many will represent the D.C.S. at the King’s review?”

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Owing to re-arrangement of the membership of some of the patrols consequent upon an influx of recruits – we now number 29 – a fair assessment of points on attendance is impossible. The Patrol Championship is consequently based entirely upon the average score per competing scout made by the several patrols in the Mayor’s contest. The results are as follows: –

Possible 950.
Peewits 499 points
Curlews 484 points
Otters 362 points
Wolves 303 points

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A good turn every day and one extra on Christmas day. Below are given a list of exercises which may be worked by patrols and the points awarded will count towards next term’s Patrol Championship.
Conditions: –
At least two scouts must take part in working an exercise and must sign the report. Fifty points (of which five will be for neatness) will be given for each report. Five extra points will be given for each extra scout who take part and signs. (Up to a maximum of 75 points per report). This scouting is subject to an age deduction of one point for each whole year the signatories are over 12 years of age. All reports must be handed in the first day of term. No late reports will be received.
Exercises: –
1 – 3. Determine the height of the following: – (1), the Skeleton Lighthouse; (2), St. Radigund’s Abbey; (3), Hougham Church Spire.
4 – 6. Determine without consulting a map, the distance in a beeline of (4), St. Radigund’s Abbey to the Skeleton Lighthouse; (5), the Abbey to Hougham Church; (6), from Hougham Windmill to Abbott’s Cliff Coastguard Station. In working Exercises 4 – 6 see New Edition of Handbook pp. 68, 69 and 95 for methods, and when more method than one is possible use as many as you can. Give full details of all measurements and drawings.
7. Report on the various routes possible for a pedestrian from Hougham Church to Hougham Windmill.
8.Ditto, from Ewell Minnis to St. Radigund’s. (In 7 and 8, give particulars of cover, gradients, supplies of wood and water, and, if you can, a sketch-map.
9.Report on any actual stalking of wild life or tracking you have done.
10.Report on four “good turns” you have seen others do, plus one you have done yourself.
11. Make “lantern” out of large cigar box and two penny “bull’s eyes for Morse practice.
12.Make flags for same purpose.

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The greater part of this term has been occupied by the Mayor’s contest and the preparation for it.
The contest was divided into the following heads: – Swimming, tug-of-war and relay races, woodcraft, knots and signalling, ambulance work, and a final parade at which the Trophy was presented to the winning troop. The County School managed to win the Trophy, although the others were not far behind. This is the first trophy of any kind that the “County” have won. Some time after the contest we were visited by the Deputy Commissioner for Dover, who gave us a short address.
Will recruits, one or two tender feet, and shall we say even a scout, try and remember his words, “that he has always found (when on Active Service) that the one quality worth having was good comradeship.”

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On Wednesday, November 10th, a night contest was held against Charlton. The result was a victory for the County School.

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On Wednesday, November 17th, a dispatch run was held at Hougham. The Wolves attacked, and the remainder defended. The result was a victory for the remainder.

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Messrs. Knott and Plater of the St. John Ambulance Corps, have been kind enough to give us a course of Ambulance lessons, which will last until Easter. These will be of great value for 2nd Class, 1st Class, and proficiency badges.

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Last but not least we have the Trophy for a year, and we are going to make a hard fight to get it again.



The following Old Boys are engaged in teaching at the under-mentioned places

Bryson Paddock Wood, Brenchley
Ellender Sandwich
Steele Maidstone
Spinner Dover
Harris Near Sittingbourne
Grant Dover

The following Old Girls are at the undermentioned places

Edith Baker Teaching at Buckland Infants’ School
Ada Bonham At College, S. Katharine’s
Edith Carter Teaching at River School
Ellen Marsh Teaching at River School
Marion MacPherson Teaching atSt. Margaret’s-at-Cliffe
Lilian Smith Teaching at Eversley, Hampshire
Dorothy Monger In London doing secretarial work.



Since the commencement of the Association in January, 1909, good progress has been made; the membership is considerably over 80, and shows signs of increasing.
The Committee have been able during the past year to carry out most of the suggestions made by members and prospective members at the last General Meeting, although I regret to have to say that some who gave us most excellent advice and criticism, have not yet joined the Association.

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One of the principal social functions of the year was the picnic held at Saltwood and Hythe. A most enjoyable afternoon was spent inspecting the American Gardens and Saltwood Castle. Mr. Leney’s kindness in personally conducting the party through his beautiful grounds will always be remembered by those who were present.
The Tennis and Cricket matches have been held, and have formed a pleasant link with the old School.

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The Christmas Re-Union has been fixed for Monday, 27th December, 1909, and will be held in the Town Hall, Dover, at 7.30 p.m.
An excellent programme is being arranged by the Committee. Most of the evening will be given to dancing, although whist and other games are being arranged for the non-dancers.
The date of the Annual Meeting will be arranged on the night of the Re-Union.

Hon. Sec.


On Saturday, July 24th, the picnic of the Old Students’ Association took place. We met at the Town Station at about 2.30 p.m., and went by special train to Sandling Junction. Arrived there, we walked by a private path to Saltwood Gardens, open to us by the kind permission of Mr. Leney, who conducted us round the grounds, giving the names and habitat of the various exotics.
Some of us, leaving the keen botanists in the Gardens proceeded to the Castle, and visited the most interesting parts of the place.
After having thoroughly “done” the Castle we walked on to Hythe, where in accordance with the careful arrangements that had been made, we found tea nearly ready.
We were soon joined by the rest of the party, and after an enjoyable tea we went our several ways, and met again at the station in time for the train which left just before nine o’clock.
Great pleasure was given by the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Whitehouse, Miss Chapman, Miss Louden, and Mr. Thomas, and all those present wish to thank the Chairman for taking upon his shoulders the work of making all arrangements for such an enjoyable outing.



Not the least enjoyable part of the Old Students’ picnic held on July 24th, was the visit to the American Gardens at Saltwood. From the station we had a pleasant walk uphill through a narrow path with a wooded bank on one side, and on the other side a gentle slope, covered with low bushes, fine foxgloves and the remains of hundreds of bluebells. After a windy walk across a field or two, we arrived at the entrance to the Gardens. Mr. Leney, who had kindly given us permission to visit them, was waiting to show us their beauties.
The spot is so well sheltered that many hothouse plants are growing outdoors. Among the most interesting were several fine specimens of bamboo trees, rich magnolias with their dark glossy leaves and waxy white or reddish-purple flowers, a lily-of-the-valley tree and some luxuriant osmundas. The object which attracted most attention was a species of rhubarb – a large plant with strange green flowers arranged in a heavy spike, and rounded, fan-like leaves bearing strong prickles and supported by coarse stems.
The most admired bed was one of delicately tinted irises and feathery spiræas of many shades and forms. One striking creeper, which was covered with beautiful crimson bells and hung in festoons from branch to branch of the surrounding trees, attracted our attention. Mr. Leney told us it was a common cottage plant in Scotland.
When we had seen the eucalyptus trees and luxuriant maidenhair ferns, we followed our guide through his beautiful rose-garden, and then through shady walks to the garden’s exit, where we expected to meet some of our party. Finding that they had gone, we realized we had spent more than the allotted time in the gardens and consequently were obliged to be content with a hurried examination of the exterior of the Castle, in order that we might join our companions at Hythe in time for tea.



The Prince of Wales had a grand reception on the occasion of his visit to open the Naval Harbour at Dover.
The route was lined with troops, and gaily decorated. The Royal train was punctual, and on the arrival of the Prince the guns immediately boomed out a Royal Salute. The Prince appeared in an open carriage, bowing and smiling as he passed, and the people gave him a hearty good cheer. Unfortunately the weather was unfavourable, therefore the Prince was unable to board the yacht which was to take him across the Harbour. After the ceremony at the Eastern Arm, the Prince returned by the same route to the Royal train.



The Chair was taken at 3.30 p.m., by his Worship the Mayor of Dover. The Rural Dean (Rev. Canon Bartram, M.A.) opened the meeting by offering prayer.
An introductory speech was made by the Mayor on the state of Religious Instruction given to Pupil Teachers. He then called on the Rev. Chas. Clark (Deanery Secretary and Treasurer for the Canterbury Diocesan Board of Education) for the Report, which was very creditable to Dover, though, as the Rev. Clark pointed out, it was nothing to boast about. After the reading of the Report, the Rev, the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cambridge (Canon Mason, D.D.) was called upon to distribute the Prizes. He gave an interesting address, saying that it was very pleasing and encouraging to hear the good Report, and he offered his congratulations to the P.T.S. for their successes and the subscribers. We all desire efficiency in the Army, Navy, Houses of Parliament, etc., but more important still is efficiency in Education, the chief part of which must be Religious knowledge. Canon Mason gave an amusing incident which occurred to him. He remarked that Teachers must know and understand what they are teaching. He met some children coming from school and heard one of them say that he was going to fight for Wellington, but that he was not sure whether the enemy were under Nelson or Charles II. Religion should be placed first in Education. The reason for studying the Prayer Book and Catechism is that these are the essence of the Bible, and the Teachers should grasp what was behind the Bible words. He trusted that the Pupils would then respond to the Teachers and affect the public life in England.
The distribution of Prizes then took place.
Councillor Burkett proposed a vote of thanks to Canon Mason, which was seconded by Mr. Whitehouse. A vote of thanks was given to the Mayor and seconded by Mr. Howells.
The meeting closed by the Benediction.


This was held in the Town Hall, on Friday, the 5th November. The evening opened with an excellent Concert given by the girls and boys of the School. The chair being then formally taken by Councillor Burkett, Mr. Whitehouse read the School Report for the year 1908-09. This was followed by the distribution of the Prizes by the Mayor, T. W. L. Emden, Esq. The presentation of two marble clocks, one to each department of the School, on behalf of the Pupil Teachers, Bursars and Scholarship Holders, was the next ceremony. These were presented by E. H. Gann in a neat speech, in which he thanked the School for the help it had given to all of them, a debt, he said, that they could never repay, and wished it all success in the future. Mr. Thomas, the Scout-Master, then, formally entrusted to the School the Mayor’s Scouting Trophy, which the County Scouts had succeeded in winning for the year. Finally came the votes of thanks, speeches being made by the Mayor, the Headmaster, Mr. Burkett, and others. The chief topic in all the speeches was the New School, which we were told, we might expect in the near future.


This was held at the Girls’ School, on Wednesday, the 24th November. The needlework done by the girls during the past year was nicely arranged for exhibition; among the exhibits this year, were some dolls beautifully dressed by the younger girls. The Hall was well filled throughout the evening and an excellent programme of music had been arranged. This included songs by the Girls’ Choir, duets by N. Moody and G. Ogg, solos by D. Lucas, and pianoforte solos by M. Nowers. As a whole the Exhibition proved a decided success and the Girls’ Staff deserves our congratulations for the splendid way in which the arrangements for the evening were carried out.


The Entertainment given on the night of the Prize-Giving added another to the list of successes won in the different branches of School work. Owing to splendid training, all the items were meritorious, but some showed excellence far above the average. It must have been due to the youthful love of dressing up that the acting was rendered so realistic. Entering into the spirit of his part, each performer carried the audience with him in their Elizabethan apparel, the actors in “Twelfth Night” took us back to the days of “Merrie England,” full of mirth and revelry.
Lovers of Dickens must have been delighted to see “Mrs. Nickleby,” no longer the creation of an author’s fancy, but a real live woman, tearful and sentimental.
No one can reproach the boys for falling behind the girls in singing, when they have among them such talent as was shown by “Malvolio,” “Sir Andrew” and the “Old Gentleman” in his case it required a genius to play the fool. But it was the “Departure of Hiawatha” which went right home to the audience and left the pleasantest impression.
The pretty staging, with its blending of colour, was a picture of which one could not tire, while the clear voices of the children and their naturalness gave keen enjoyment, and many wished that “Hiawatha” had tarried a little longer before setting out on his journey.



When my mother and my father went to India I was not born. When they got there it was a very stormy night. In the summer it was so hot that we used to have to go to the hills. When you went up there you would go half way with horses, for it would be too steep for them to go all the way up. Then you would come to flat pieces of land on the mountain side. Now I will tell you one adventure that my mother had. She was in the train, and it was night, for they do not travel in the day out there for it is too hot. Suddenly she woke up and found the train had stopped, and saw hundreds of natives running about. My father put on his clothes to see what was the matter, when he got outside the carriage he saw another train laid across the line, and we were in a perilous position, for there was a precipice on one side and another one on the other side, but they could not get the train away, for it took six trains to drag it away.



We were greatly delighted when we were told that we were to learn the play of “Hiawatha,” to perform at the Prize Distribution. Our delight was even greater when it was thought that we might perform it in costume. After we had learnt it we commenced our first rehearsal, which, I am sorry to say, did not prove very successful. However, after a few more practices it became something like the play itself. Then the dresses were made and we had a dress-rehearsal, and one at the Town Hall afterwards. At last the night came and we commenced in high glee to dress ourselves, and not long afterwards we were walking on the platform and then the play was started. After being stared at by the people for about twenty minutes we left the platform amidst great applause.



When you get off the liner you go into a tug, which carries you to the wharf, where you walk off, and get into an open carriage, which will only hold four people and one sitting next the driver. He will drive you where you like for a shilling an hour, then you get off and go and see, the galleries and the guns. There are a few 9·2 guns which make as much noise as the hundred ton gun, which is painted to match the rock on which it is. The lighthouse at Europa point flashes twice and then stops a minute and then flashes again twice. Near the lighthouse there is a place for fishing, where you have to go down a rope ladder, sometimes it sways about and you nearly fall off. When you get to the bottom you find yourself on a very rugged rocky place; when you get near the water it does not look very deep, but sometimes is a fathom deep. You then climb up the rock which is a name given for Gibraltar, and go to the signal station; then there is the aerial line, which is a line which goes from the signal station to the bottom, on which go two big wheels with a sort of iron box underneath.



About a month before Christmas everything is up-side-down, even the cat looks worried. The maid is hurrying to get ready for the puddings. Of course, everyone has to stir them, even the cat has to flavour them by drinking the milk, so the maid gives the cat a good talking to for her good. Then the mixing begins, and indeed it was a mixture, what with milk that the cat has been paddling in, with, of course, clean paws, as cats generally have. The eating is fine, it is hard and dark and tastes horrible, but I suppose it is good for the teeth.



“All lovely things from south to north –
Each will its soul of joy send forth
To enter into me.” Somewhere down in the depths of our hearts it may be, we all have a love for the beautiful; some of us realize it in one way and some in another. But, unfortunately, we have a habit of thinking that the particular place we live in and the people we happen to know are very dull and uninteresting compared with most others. Is it really so? or are we like the lamb in the fable who thought the grass just out of his reach much sweeter than that on his own side of the fence?
Perhaps we go to school in the morning thinking of the delightful time someone we know is having in Switzerland, or of the beautiful music we could not go to hear the other night. While all the time we are not noticing the wintry sun striking his bright beams through the misty veil of morning, nor seeing the dead leaves fluttering at our feet turn to gold at his touch.
There is a little lad in a grubby pinafore at the corner of the street. “What a dirty little wretch” we say in disgust, but do not notice his big blue eyes or the tiny fair curls peeping from under the tattered cap.
Wordsworth, “England’s Nature Poet” as he has been called, saw the beauty that lies in the common everyday things of life and expressed that beauty and the joy it gave him in his poetry.
The tiny celandine, the clouds, and the “smoke rising from among the trees” all had their message for him. On one occasion he came to Dover and has written a poem on our “rolling hills.” Those hills still stand one behind the other stretching away into the blue distance. The soft light still creeps over them when the evening sun is nearing the west. On a sunny afternoon even those long straight rows of roofs which we know so well are turned to lines of silver, while the yellow smoke wraps the valley in a mantle of golden grey, and whatever time of the year it may be or in whatever place, some beauty may be found if we will but seek it.
Have we seen this beauty that all around us lies? or do we prefer to shut our eyes to these things and gaze only on the dull side of life. How much better it would be if we could get in the habit of looking for the best in everybody and everything now while we are at school. If we do so we shall find that life is far more interesting and enjoyable to us, and what is a far greater thing, we may make it better for others.
When we take our place among the world’s great army of workers we shall meet with many sad hearts who need to be “cheered up” by someone with a happy face and a kind voice. Why should not we all be members of this band of “cheerers” and join it at once?




“Consider the lilies, how they grow,
“They toil not, neither do they spin;”
They are as pure and spotless white
As angels, free from sin.

The king of wealth was not array’d
Like unto lilies pure;
Hiswealth and grandeur soon did fade –
Theirs, is for ever sure.

“LILY” (aged 11 years).

– : –


The lady stood at the station bar
(Three currants in a bun)
And oh she was proud as ladies are
(And the bun was baked a week ago).
The express came in at half-past two
(Three currants in a bun)
And there lighted a man in the navy-blue
(And the bun was baked a week ago).
A stout sea-captain he was I ween
(Three currants in a bun)
Much travel had made him very keen
(And the bun was baked a week ago).
A sober man and steady was he,
(Three currants in a bun)
He called not for brandy, but called for tea.
(And the bun was baked a week ago).
“Now something to eat for the train is late,”
(Three currants in a bun)
She brought him a bun on a greasy plate.
(And the bun was baked a week ago).
He left the bun and he left the tea,
(Three currants in a bun)
She charged him a shilling and let him be,
And the train went on at a quarter to three,
(And the bun is old and weary).



Comme chaque peuple a ses mœurs, ses coutumes, sa vie particulière, il en est de même de chaque armée où le soldat est instruit selon les mœurs du pays qu’il sert, et l’esprit de ceux qui le gouvernent.
Dans tous les pays à notre époqne le soldat n’est plus un eselave, un “abruti du métier” comme autrefois; au contraire on le considère comme un homme libre remplissant un devoir sacré.
La vie qu’on lui impose pendant son séjour an régiment est aujourd’hui plus agréable et rares sont les soldats qui regrettent à cette époque leur passage dans la vie militaire.
Beaucoup de progrès ont été réalisés depuis plusieurs années et beaucoup d’autres suivront encore.
Yoyez pour exemple le soldat français daus la vie intéieure de caserne, il est certainement un de ceux à qui l’on rend l’existence la plus agréable et la plus profitable sous tons rapports.
Le chef et le soldat en France sont deux amis; ils ont une mème confiance réciproque, autant le chef a de bienveillance pour son subordonné autant le soldat a de respect et de dévouement pour son supérieur.
La solidarihé qui les unit constitne un des grands facteurs qui font la victoire sur le champ de bataille. En France on cherche sans cesse à améliorer la vie du troupier, on lui donne une instruction militaire, forte, solide, saine, on le distrait par de bienfaisants réunions où sont faites de très intéressantes et instructives conférences sur les mœurs et l’histoire de son pays et surtout sur les grands horumes qui out illustré sa patrie. D’antres causeries le mettent en garde contre les fléaux de la société moderne tels que l’alcoolisme, la tuberculose, etc.
Enfin des cours gratuits de toute espèce sont à la dispositiorion des troupiers qui venlent compléter leur instruction.
D’autre part des représentations théatrales données au quartier, des jeux divers, des promenades militaires fréquentes viennent encore récréer le soldat. Dans sa compagnie, le soldat a sa salle de consommation et de réunion où il pent boire, manger, lire, écrire et se délasser une fois le service terminé. Logé dans de spacieux et hygiéniques locaux, nourri dans les meilleures conditions et assuré de la constante bienveillance de ses chefs qui veillent sans cesse à son bien-être, le soldat français est heureux et jonit d’une existence que les vieux soldats, ses ancêtres, n’ont pas connue.
Tout cela contribue surtout et pardessus tout à fortifier le moral du troupier. Le soldat français aime son régiment autant qu’il aime son pays et le jour où la Patrie l’appellera pour la défendre, il sera un modèle de vaillance et de courage sur le champ de bataille.



I have not lived long in Dover, but I think it is a very nice place, though it is very poor after London. I suppose that everyone knows that the Duke of York’s School has been moved from London to Dover. The boys like it better than London, because it is more healthy for them. There are about 500 boys. They have a very big school now, a large swimming bath, and a nice dining hall. The boys have a concert every month which they enjoy very much. The grounds cover about 140 acres, so there is plenty of room for games.
At present football is in full swing, and the students and boys have been very successful in winning matches. One great drawback is that the School is so dreadfully exposed to the wind and rain, owing to its height above sea level.
The walk up from town is also very trying for the same reason.



The winter is usually regarded rather as the time for indoor comforts than for country walks and outdoor observation in garden or field, but even now you may find plenty to interest you in the hedges, meadows and woods.
Just a few flowers are braving the cold winds and sharp frost. You will still find the white dead nettle in the hedges, the daisy and groundsel in the fields, and the yellow carline thistle upon the chalky highlands. But perhaps the hedges will afford more interest than the fields; for the low banks will be covered with beautiful foliage, which was hidden when the plants were in full bloom and the back ground of bushes with their lichen covered stems is sure to provide something attractive. Although most of the trees are leafless, they are not lacking in interest. The hawthorn is still red with fruit; the yellow seeds of the spindle tree are just escaping from their pink, four-cornered coats; the waxy white snow-berries show up strongly against the black fruit of the privet, on which a few dark green leaves still remain; while the rounded clusters of ivy flowers have given place to dull green knobs, which will become ripe when most of the other berries have disappeared. Just a few acorns remain on the oak; the small rich berries of the yew contrast beautifully with its dark foliage, and the holly is laden with glossy, scarlet berries.
You will find that even the trees which have no berries will repay careful observation. It is during the winter that you have an opportunity of seeing the tree itself – its shape, the colour of its bark, the arrangement of its branches and the network they form against the clear sky. Do not forget to look for the willow with its red boughs and light green buds, for the cones on pine and fir, for the young beeches, on which the dead leaves will remain till early spring, and for the delicate drooping branches on birch and larch. The very winter bareness of the trees enables you to see more clearly the signs of spring; for now the leaves are fallen, the resting buds are visible – formed just in the axil of the leaves, so that the latter could protect them, when they were very young; and already the hazel bushes are covered with short, hard catkins.
Driven from their summer haunts by the scarcity of food, the birds spend the winter nearer us. You will see many more thrushes, tomtits and chaffinches than in the summer, and if you will trouble to feed them you can study them much better. Put out water, crumbs, fat, bones and grain, and hang up a cocoanut for the tomtits and you will soon have a lovely company of feathered visitors, who will assemble before feeding time and lustily chirp for their breakfast. And if it should snow do not forget to examine their little foot-prints, which cover the ground near their feeding-place.
Lastly, remember that winter sunsets and sunrises are often glorious, and that the star constellations to be seen in the winter are perhaps the most beautiful of the year.



Just to the northward of the first landing-place of Columbus, on the edge of the tropics, lies Harbour Island. A little bit of raised coral you might call it with wind-blown sand-hills, covered with subtropical greenery – orange groves, mango trees, palms, and in places nothing but thick undergrowth. A length of six miles or so, with a breadth hardly anywhere exceeding half-a-mile, does not promise wildly exciting times for the land-lover, but if the breath of the sea tempts you, if the various moods of its many-coloured surface have charms for you, this is a corner of an enchanted region, the real never-never land of Peter Pan. No real pirates, Indian smugglers, buccaneers are there nowadays of course, but their spirits haunt the air. Who knows how much of their treasure is buried on the cays, or sunk amongst the land-locked harbours, and the intricate passages of the merciless reefs?
But in this twentieth century life is a tamer thing than in the hard-living, hard-fighting days when this was the “Spanish Main.” Now, if you get up early you may see the harbour dotted with a score or so of white sails. The men are going to their fields on the opposite shore of Eleuthera. Once the men of Harbour Island fitted out an expedition to rescue besieged Nassau from the Spaniards, and in gratitude for their services the Government granted them “common rights,” and each “commouer” can claim as much land as he is able to clear and keep under cultivation. Soon after mid-day some will be homeward-bound again with their small cargoes of fruit, cocoanuts, yams, cassava, and so on, and the stragglers will be coming in right up to sunset.
Meanwhile the Island goes about its business. Yonder comes Bill Davis in the Sea Gem. Black as ink is William, and ugly as an imp of darkness, but he can navigate Bridge Point with his eyes shut, and Bridge Point you must know faces as dangerous a bit of water as there is in the North Atlantic. Why, between the “Devil’s Backbone” and the shore there is scarcely room for a twenty-foot boat to tack, and the north-easter sends the waves tearing in high, sudden ridges through the channel. Anyway, Bill has come round from Spanish Wells, and may bring us later news than our three-weeks old English papers afford, and he is always welcome, though his first visit will be to the drug store, for the poor chap is a sad opium eater.
After two o’clock, very few people will be working. Even the school-children are dismissed for the day at two or half-past. So you may have a siesta if it is very hot, and you can avoid the nimble mosquitoes. Or you may prefer a sail or a long dip in the luke-warm harbour. If there has been a storm, you will certainly go to the North side of the Island, where three-mile long Atlantic rollers break on a beach of pure white sand. There undress and go out just beyond where the waves break. Dive under those hollow curly topped fellows, and wait for a good strong green billow. Then if you can take him at the right moment he will carry you fifty yards up the beach and leave you happily stranded, feeling that life is not in vain. But beware of the curly breaker with its insidious imitation of the stronger brother. The unlucky wight who is deceived will make about three rapid Catherine-wheel turns, head foremost, and if he can hold his breath long enough, will arrive at the surface giddy and breathless, with sea-weed in his hair, sand in his eyes, and caution in his mind.
So the day passes, and after the early tropical sunset will come the cooling breezes, and the brilliant moonlight thrice welcome after the heat and glare of the day.


I am a monkey. Soon after my birth I was introduced by my mother to the monkeys living next door. By-the-bye our house was a tree. A man one day was catching monkeys, when alas! he spied us. He ceased trying to catch the neighbouring monkeys, and attempted to catch me as I was young and pretty. I am sorry to say he succeeded.
Writing of my capture makes me think of the time, when, while I was being caught, my mother was jumping from one tree to another, and she fell into the stream which ran past our grove and was drowned. I thought my captor a very unfeeling man, especially when he put me into the hands of the keeper at the Zoo. In a few days a school party with their head mistress paid me a visit, as my arrival was noted in all the daily papers. One of the foolish girls after being warned to mind her hat came quite close to the cage in the monkey house in which I had been placed. I saw that my companions did not take the opportunity of snatching off her hat, so I did.
In my native home girls do not wear hats, because head-dresses are only worn by chiefs, all of whom are men, and girls are little slaves and do not wear anything.
The little girl was frightened, the mistress was cross, and the scholars tittered, you see they had their hats. I was persuaded to give back the hat and take some nuts in exchange. We were very friendly and happy in our cages, although we would have liked more freedom. Boys often came to tease us, and gave us biscuits in which tobacco was hidden. When we had been deceived a few times we became quite artful. Some people say “as artful as a cart-load of monkeys,” but then we were only a cage-full.
I have now been several years in my prison, and am fully grown. Children always select the monkey house when they are asked by their elders what part they would like to see first.
I know plenty of tricks which amuse children and make them laugh. My tail is not as long as this tale, but it is more useful.
I hope my friends will not forget that “Hiawatha” is their pet.

(Aged 9 years, 5 months.)


On coming back this term we heard that we were to move over to Pageant House. The room is much brighter, but there is one great draw-back; we have no desks, so we have to keep our books in a cupboard along the passage. Every morning and every afternoon the girls have a delightful skirmish in the cupboard, hunting for books, which will persist in getting on neighbours’ shelves or hiding themselves in dark corners. Conditions were slightly improved, however, by two girls taking their books and putting them in a tiny cupboard under the stairs. They have to crawl in on all fours, because the door is so low, and inside it is quite dark, so that every time they have to hunt out an end of candle and light it before they can commence the book chase. Over our mantelpiece we have a large picture of a dying camel, so miserable does he seem that we often wish we could hasten his demise. Once or twice, to hide him, we have brought some flowers and put them on the mantelpiece, but all in vain, the flowers die instead of the camel, and we forget to replace them. Under this long suffering animal stands our clock, which persists in striking the hours at the half-hours, till sometimes it takes us all our interval to reduce it to order again. Now we have moved our quarters we have more classical music, for instead of the hurdy-gurdy of Priory Hill, we have a military band. Directly it strikes up, as our Form-Mistress remarks, we suddenly want air, and have to raise all the windows. The cat which used to come to the old Sixth Form singing has only been to see us once, not because we do not sing as well as the old Sixth, for we surpass them, but evidently he has given up singing. He came to our botany class, and mewed so dolefully outside the window until he was taken in, but he was not allowed to stop, and so, deprived of his singing classes and excluded from botany, he descended to the conservatory, and by way of retaliation mowed down our box of wheat which we had taken such care of for the last two months.



The members of our Troop who had gained their second class badges, were invited by the Folkestone Scout Committee to spend a week in the permanent Camp which they had established. Of course the offer was accepted thankfully by the Scouts.
At the beginning of the summer holidays a party cycled over to the Camp to see it, and to be told what things it would be necessary to take there.
The Camp was situated in the corner of a large meadow opposite Cæsar’s Camp. It consisted of 12 army bell tents for the use of the Scouts, two for the Scout-Masters, and two for the members of the Folkestone Company of the Buffs, who were camping there, and an extra one for the storage of bicycles. There was also a marquee that was used as a canteen. The Concerts and Boxing Tournaments which took place from time to time were held in this tent.
There were about 80 Scouts in the Camp in the evenings and on Sundays, but on week-days the majority of the boys were at work or school in the town, so the Camp was left to the visitors and the boys who at that time were having their holidays.
The day to see the Camp at its best was on Sunday, for on that day there were most Scouts present. Reveille was sounded at 6.15. The Scouts then took their pails, soap and towels over to the water tap where they washed. When they had returned to Camp, fires were lighted, and breakfast cooked (each Scout cooking his own), the most popular dish being fried potatoes.
After breakfast was over, and the plates and dishes washed, each Scout set to to clear out the tents. The beds, which consisted of a waterproof sheet, a straw mattress, and two or three blankets were put out to air, and all the tents swept and tidied. The orderly patrol whose duty it was to clear the lines of paper, &c., then came round from tent to tent to collect the rubbish, which they afterwards burned.
After the Camp was cleared, the Scouts put on their full dress uniform, and paraded for an inspection, either by the Scout-Masters or some members of the Local Committee. After the inspection, the Scouts, headed by the bugle band, marched to Hawkinge Church, where they attended the service, or else a short service was held in the Camp. On the return from Church, dinners were cooked and eaten. Sunday dinners were more elaborate, for besides the usual fried potatoes, most of the boys had brought a chop or a piece of steak from home.
The afternoon was devoted either to a scouting game, or a signalling parade, whilst in the evening the Camp was open to visitors.



Any descriptive attempt to portray the delights of a Student-Teacher’s existence, must, of necessity, be hopelessly inadequate. Only those already safely launched on the sea of “training” can participate to any extent in a recital of its joys. Doubtless a “fellow-feeling.”
To find oneself suddenly in the midst of a sea of strange faces, is to say the least, slightly embarrassing. You eventually tire of addressing any and every individual by the non-committal title of “little girl,” (the male S.T.’s doubtlessly say “Here, young fellow”: more dignified you know), and determine to make a bold move and address someone by their right name. You fix on one whose name you think you know, give a preparatory “Hem,” and roll forth the selected cognomen in approved oratorical fashion. Of course, you have decided to command the selected individual to “sit down,” quite omitting to take into consideration such important details as the fact, for instance, that she may not be standing up. Such slight discrepancies are, however, completely lost sight of in the stress of succeeding events, for having uttered the last syllable, a hundred eyes are turned scornfully upon you, and fifty indignant voices inform you condescendingly, that “her name isn’t ‘X.W.’, it’s ‘Y.Z.'” You retire utterly squashed.
Then the marking process. You march round with an ink-pot full of the detestable red fluid, and wish you hadn’t one superfluous hand. Of course there is a step in the way. The result is foreseen. In a blind endeavour to avoid an ignominious tumble, you clutch despairingly at the nearest object, bestowing in the meantime, a rather painful smack on some unoffending innocent’s head, who gazes at you with an injured air, until you feel a veritable brute. The ink-pot proves to be under a desk, and Mrs. Perrybingle’s kettle couldn’t have caused half the trouble created by that spiteful object. Above all, the stores of information those children possess! After thinking deeply for some five minutes, one young hopeful will produce the astounding result that “an elef nut is an elefunt.” Such deep research is, to say the least, awe-inspiring. Of course the event to which you look forward with so much pleasure is the weekly “Criticism Lesson.” You really cannot control your deep desire to get it over. After stupendous labour (we are not all Landseers, even though we can paint “Mary and her little lamb”) you succeed in sketching an animal that you think looks rather like a monkey. Your ardour is somewhat damped however, by a “scholard” enquiring if it is a squirrel. This however is a detail. If you attempt to touch a black-board, the venomous reptile is immediately possessed of a thousand legs, and hops about in demonaical fashion, creating an exasperating skidding noise. What groans of anguish in secret.
As many will have observed, it is a trifle cold at this season, and the happy S.T. when toiling through frosty fields, can console her or himself, as the case may be, by mentally drawing a vivid picture of themselves found buried in the snow, with a “Notes of Lessons” book clasped convulsively in one hand. As before-mentioned, however, this is a totally inadequate description of the pleasant, easy, peaceful life of the lucky S.T. But human beings are funny creatures, and I quite believe that many will look back with regret to their days of training. The writer will, for one.

“A S.-T.”


It is a wet cheerless morning, and as we alight at Addison Road Station, it seems there could not be a more dismal place in the world than London. But we resolutely smother the feeling, being determined sightseers, and in a few moments have covered the short space between the station and the Savings Bank in Blythe Road. It is only a quarter to nine, so we take up our stand on the pavement behind Olympia, and await developments. There is not long to wait, for even now, approaching on either hand, are groups of girls, each armed with a handbag or purse, and a book, and holding aloft an umbrella which the wind is struggling to wrest from her grasp.
They come in no great numbers, as yet; but time passes quickly, and at five minutes before the hour, they march in force, two solid phalanxes, in ranks three and four deep, and the pavement is roofed from end to end with umbrellas. It is a strange sight, and we cross the street to see it to better advantage. Passing along the ranks of girls, we turn the corner of the street, only to see a similar procession of men armed, like the girls, with books or papers, but lacking the handbags, approaching the entrance on the other side of the Bank.
The weather is brightening now, and without discomfort, we can watch the double procession – the daily march of the Civil Service Army. All sorts and conditions there are, in both companies. Look at these men approaching. The foremost is the typical bank clerk, spruce, well-groomed, and just as correct and unpicturesque as it is the nature of his kind to be – the Civil Service is his calling and he pays it the respect which is its due. Close on his heels follows the student – a strange contrast. To him the Bank is a necessary evil, providing him with the means of pursuing his all-absorbing studies. He has a total – and very obvious – disregard for dress.
But another man approaches; he, too, is a clerk, but a single glance is sufficient to convince the most casual observer that he has missed his vocation. Long-haired, mournful-eyed, picturesque, his whole appearance proclaims him poet. Perhaps he is the author of that dainty little volume of verse which emanated so recently from the S.B.D. Perhaps his muse has never inspired him to any confessed attempt at poesy. However that may be, one feels instinctively that such a demeanour could never have been bestowed on any but a potential poet laureate. His path is crossed by a group of girls, and as they pass, a voice, cheerful in spite of the weather, is heard speaking in a rich brogue, which could only have originated in the south of Ireland. It is answered by a neat, attractive looking girl with the typical high cheek bones and rather high-pitched voice of the Scot. There is a third girl in the company, but her appearance being, to us at least in no way remarkable, we conclude that she is a compatriot of our own. Many such groups are seen, for in the smaller kingdoms, where there are naturally not so many openings at home, the English Civil Service has a very prominent place in the list of careers open to girls. The trio whose acquaintance we have made, and who part on reaching the Entrance Hall, could doubtless an interesting tale unfold of what goes on in those long corridors, and longer rooms; of strange conversations concerning “Redskins,” “Buffs,” the “M. and M.B.” (weird talk truly, to the uninitiated), and of more familiar things, such as little white forms which remind us of the sovereign which tided us over the last few days of the month, blue sheets, which we seem to remember having seen in the Post Office, when we made that deposit of £5, the cause of so much pride. Those piles of Deposit Books in all stages of decay, reposing in front of endless rows of business-like ledgers, hold no mystery for them, but they are on oath to preserve His Majesty’s secrets (think of that, critics of a maligned sex); so we let them go, and see as much as we can for ourselves.
It is some time before we become familiar with the geography of the structure. It is approaching mid-day, and we are still exploring, when we fall in with a group of girls, again carrying the purses with which the morning march has made us familiar. They are waiting for the lift, and joining them, we ascend two or three floors, and soon find ourselves in the dining room, the dimensions of which at once arouse our curiosity. Accosting a cheery waitress, we are not a little impressed by the information that about 1200 of the 3000 people employed by the Bank use this room. Many of the girls we notice, on leaving the dining room, ascend another short flight of stairs, and following them we came out upon the flat roof, and there, stretching away below us, is the great city. The air is clear now, and as we lean over the parapet, we see, quite plainly, towering amid the sea of buildings, the dome of St. Paul’s. Walking to the other side of the roof, we look away towards Shepherd’s Bush, and a sudden blaze of sunlight shows us the great dark arms of the Flip Flap slowly rising among the dazzling courts of the White City. There is a strange fascination in those arms, and forgetting all else around us, we gaze intently as they approach each other, when, just as they meet at the greatest height, a clanging bell from the Quadrangle below brings us with a start to ourselves. It is an ominous clang, and dimly apprehending some danger, we make for the stairs. Down flight after flight we go, more and more startled by the absolute absence of life in the corridors. At last we muster up courage to look in at one of the long rooms. The sight only increases our fear. The documents, so numerous before, are gone; nothing remains but the ledgers, and the clerks, drawn up along the centre of the room in perfect order, are already beginning to file to the doors. We turn once more, determined to be out of the building before that crowd can overtake us and delay our escape. In a moment more we are safely standing in Blythe Road, gazing anxiously up at the vast building before us. There is no smoke, no flame, nothing apparently is amiss, and we feel a little ashamed as we realize that nothing worse than a fire drill is on foot. Nevertheless, it is with a feeling of relief that we turn our backs on the Savings Bank, and make once more for Addison Road.



Although the Form IV. scholars are not in the habit of grumbling, they are forced to admit that their room is rather a dreary one.
Few things occur to upset the ordinary routine of school life, except an occasional “bust-up” in the lab. or other noises in the street below. There is nothing to see from the windows except sky and telegraph wires, and only loud noises reach our room. The best of these is the Town Band and another is a concertina, which sends forth its squeaky notes when we are studying French verbs. Dogs have given up fighting under our windows, and even the soldiers stop playing when they get near the School, although if they break this habit we all listen, especially if the master remarks that it is far more important than the school work.
The “first of December” will always be remembered as a red-letter and a “red-handed” day in the lives of six disobedient boys in our Form, and also as a free entertainment, at which no laughing was allowed, for the rest.
The Form-room is not very tastefully decorated, the only decorations being a few plaster casts on the walls, a copper pot full of water on the stove, a few empty jam jars on the window-sills, and occasionally some smart drawing on the board by an unknown artist. Every morning the stove always gives off enough smoke to make itself burn clear during the rest of the day, and consequently the room is not very pleasant when its occupants take their places.
In the lab. some boys exhibit their marvellous scientific talents by such acts as, to put it in the master’s words, “squinting down the mouth of a test-tube and seeing acid come up and hit them in the face, making them smart for some time.” This has only happened once, and, as far as the sufferer is concerned, will never repeat itself. There are rumours going about that a certain master declared that Form IV. would be the death of him, but although I have no special information on that point, I am quite sure that the master is quite well, and perhaps after the Christmas holidays we may all become better and turn over a new leaf in such lessons as science and arithmetic.



Towards the end of the lesson which precedes “break,” general excitement prevails, and as the longed-for time draws closer, desks are silently opened, skipping-ropes withdrawn, and the bell awaited breathlessly. Immediately the expected sound is heard, up fly the desk-lids, in go the books helter-skelter on top of one another, and a general rush is made towards the door, and amidst a general buzz of conversation, skipping-ropes are unrolled, two willing, or otherwise, “turners” procured, and for a quarter-of-an-hour, “double Dutch,” “pepper,” and “one and not miss,” are the order of the day. But alas, far too soon, the once longed-for bell is again heard. This time, no eager voices begin to chatter, but a somewhat unwilling silence prevails, as the girls move slowly back to their beloved(?) lessons.



April 24th, 1909.

After mentioning his meeting with Frank Young and describing his ship, Broad continues: “The Juteopolis is painted white, with a thin red band around the hull. Her tonnage is 2,653 tons. She is built of steel, masts and all, and is wire rigged.
“There are four other apprentices, all very nice fellows. We live by ourselves on the half-deck amidships. It is not exactly a deckhouse, but a raised deck level with the poop. It is a cosy little room with six bunks, which leaves one spare one. It is on the starboard side of the ship. We clean it out ourselves by turns, and the washing up is done the same way. We are called at 5.30 a.m. and given a cup of coffee. At six we commence, doing any work that may be required till eight, when we breakfast. At 8.45 we again go on deck and work till 12, when we have dinner. We start again at 1 p.m. and keep on till 5.30 p.m., when we have tea and knock off. The work consists of getting in stores, cleaning paintwork, hauling on ropes, sweeping, etc. The food is quite all right, and we are always ready for it too, I can tell you.
I am sure I shall like the life, although the work is hard. We apprentices had to do it all, for the crew only came aboard this afternoon.
“I have been up aloft and it makes you feel a bit nervous at first. The masts are about 130ft. high and it makes you a bit giddy at first to look down, but I shall get used to it in time.
We have been loading case oil, that is kerosene in tins, in boxes weighing 68lbs. each. We have about 120,000 boxes aboard. We finished loading to-day and hauled out into the river to anchor. We have been cleaning up in readiness for sailing, which we do tomorrow. We are going to Hong Kong, via the Cape of Good Hope, not Cape Horn. We stay at Hong Kong a good time and then we shall probably go to Java. The round voyage will occupy about 11 or 12 months, if all goes well. This is the last you will hear of me until we reach Hong Kong.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Brown, the senior apprentice, brought a huge box of tuck back with him, containing everything from champagne to cheese, pineapple, jam, honey, sardines, sweets, a large iced cake, pears, jellies, biscuits, pickles, bloater paste. We are going to have a ‘blow-out’ when we get out to sea.

“Lat. 2 South, Long. 29 W.

“We left New York at 8 a.m. on Monday, April 26th, and were towed down to Sandy Hook. When our tugs left us we set our full sails and away we went before a light breeze. The crew soon got over their drunkenness and are on the whole a fairly decent lot. Although it was only a bit choppy we four new apprentices were sick for two days, but soon got over it. I am in the port watch (first mate’s). In the night watches you may go below and sleep as long as you keep dressed and handy in case of need, except the wheelman, the lookout, and one of us to keep time. All the crew and everyone have to go aft at midday and drink a cup of lime-juice as a preventive against scurvy, but we look upon it as a good drink and often get round the steward (a Chinaman) for an extra cup. We used to think the food rotten at first, but are getting used to it now. We get a bucketful of water every day among the five of us. We have a small tank in our room in which we keep it and have never yet gone short of drinking water. For washing we rely mainly on the rain. So far we have managed to get a wash every day and enough to wash clothes every week.

“Off Cape of Good Hope.

“We are off Good Hope and it is a dead calm. There are many sea birds about, chiefly albatross, cape pigeons and “slinkers.” I forgot to tell you that when we were off the South American coast we caught two sharks and had fried shark for tea, which was not half bad. Last Thursday it began to blow hard and by Friday there was a fierce gale. It was the roughest I had yet experienced. It was exciting work helping to furl the sails, especially the upper top gallant sails, where you are perched 160ft. (sic) above the deck, out on the swaying yard-arm, pulling up a sail which is flapping awfully. All this, too, in the middle of a pitch dark rainy night. Also on Friday night, when we were hauling on the cross-jack brace, a big sea came aboard, knocking Allerton and me down and carrying us into the lee-scuppers from whence we were pulled out half-drowned and wet through, although we had oilskins on. It was very rotten from 1.30 to 4, standing about in the cold, and I was thankful when eight bells (4 a.m.) came and we went below to dry ourselves and turn in.
“On Sundays we have the day off, and in the evening Oscar Brown, the senior apprentice, reads through the Evening Prayer and the Lessons and we sing three hymns. I rather like these rough services, for they are the nearest approach to Church we can get out here.
“At present our work is not very interesting, consisting chiefly in chipping rust, scraping paint and overhauling bunt-lines up aloft, which is best of the lot. The heat of the tropics has made me very brown and the skin of my hands and feet is getting very hard.

“July 15th.

“We are now round the Cape of Good Hope and are ‘running our Easting down.’ When you run the Easting down, you go right down to about 450 south, where you catch westerly winds which take you clear of the coast of South Africa. It is winter down here and it is generally a very rough cold passage, but so far it has been calm and not very cold.

“July 29th.

On Monday (26th) we sighted land for the first time for 13 weeks. It was the island of St. Paul. It is little more than a rock and is uninhabited. We have now finished running our Easting down. We have had on the whole a fine passage, especially as it is winter. We have now got a spanking fair wind and hope to be soon at Java. Besides being bound for Hong Kong we are also going to a place called Whampoa, on the river Si-Kiang, and about 15 miles from the largest city in China, Canton.

“September 16th.

“At last we have arrived at our journey’s end, after a voyage of 139 days, during which we travelled over 18,000 miles.
“On Sunday four of us went ashore in a Chinese sampan, the first time that I had been on land for nearly five months. We had a good time and a good feed, you bet. Well, at the end of my first voyage, I can say I like the life and would not change it for most things.”



I went out from the inn at Sedan into strong sunshine and took the road leading to Bazeilles, a road followed by an electric tram line, down which came from time to time, grinding and hissing, a car. Half-way to Bazeilles lies Balan, and up there to the left Napoleon sought death in vain. Between here and Bazeilles there are but the rails new, all else has changed little since September, 1870. It is beyond the power of the imagination to know how sounded the name Bazeilles a day before the great battle; how shall the syllables of Waterloo, Sedan and Gravelotte sound again to mortal ears as in their days of quiet? Now indeed are they names to conjure with, and what grim train of ghosts is conjured by the name Bazeilles. The last reveille here would bring a strange company to renew perhaps, a forty year old strife. Through a little cemetery I came to the door on the ground level, which leads to the crypt of Bazeilles. Here has been gathered the wrack of the battlefield, the poor refuse which the great storm left in its track. In this little space are the bones of some few thousands of those who saw the sun rise about five o’clock on the morning of September 1st, 1870.
The place seems incredibly small to contain so vast a horde. Going down a few steps I saw that a lugubrious light came through yellow stained glass and lit vaguely the little cells into which the crypt is arranged, each cell divided like some ghastly child’s garden by a narrow path, and this path edged by the grimmest of borders, one of human skulls. Behind the border is a confused heap of human debris massed as if the sorter had lost patience and had resigned to eternity and a more cunning hand the task. Here and there traces of human shapes and shreds of clothing and metal fastenings; that has kept the appearance of a cavalier these forty years. On the other side of the passage are the German bones – strangely like French ones in this light – and now and again grave-boards gathered from the battle field. “Here rest with God three Bavarians and two Frenchmen.” What a magnificent assumption! Man goes out to slay and be slain and the survivor knows that they rest with God. And that gives the root impression one carries from the crypt – that they died not ill and that this heap of bones is of sights not the most terrible. Crop-headed French soldiers look on at those other ones on whom the lot fell and are undismayed. The humble see these things more clearly than the over refined philosopher and do not quail at the thought that these thousands went out alive on a morning forty years ago.
In the village of Bazeilles the houses have in most cases been rebuilt, and the Church completely so. The people stand at their doors or come in from their work as in another French village. The post card views for sale in the village shops happen to be of monuments and blasted trees, but human life has resumed its round, though in these streets the wounded French and Bavarians were burned to death. This is the unanswerable philosophy of fact; where was a shambles children are now playing.
At the end of the village towards Sedan the wall of a small house bears the inscription that it has been restored after damage from a Bavarian shell. This is the house of the Last Cartridge, one of the famous buildings of the world. The workman who dug for its foundation knew not that his work would outlive that of more famous architects, and that he was one of those who build pyramids and strong places and whose works do not follow them. The upper room, where the few defended themselves, contains the scenery before which the famous by-play took place. The clock stopped by a bullet, the grooved window post and the pierced cabinet remain, but the actors who made famous the scenery, who, indeed, made it scenery, are vanished.
Walking back to Sedan in the gloom I saw, far to the north-east, the plateau of Illy, where Prosper charged on Zephyr, and far in front, beyond Sedan, looked to where the jaws of the steel pincers met and enclosed an army of France.


British and American tourists are most carefully catered for “on the other side.”
The general politeness is most gratifying. For instance, just as your train is about to start you ask an official to find you a place; he bows, and with a sweep of his arm, “Voilà le train!” he goes off airily. The difficulty is that it is a regular climb up to a carriage window to see if there is room. You cool down when you do get a place, and pay imaginary compliments to British officials.
When you reach your destination and happen to know to what hotel you are going, and how much the “Pension” is, you rejoice on being told you are going to have “ze very bestest room” – only it is a franc dearer.
Again, you go expecting to live on frogs, snails and other little delicacies, only to find that on account of the repute of our great Empire that everything is à l’anglaise. You might as well be at home.
It is strange how you suffer from thirst; no wonder men, women, and children sit at cafés all day quaffing bock, pilsen, etc. At Ostend you are told the water is undrinkable, and milk is always boiled before use, so you become a victim to drink. There is one delicious concoction that keeps up your spirits, a mixture of red syrup and soda-lemonade, tasting like pear-drops.
If you want to find any fellow-countrymen, go to Waterloo – the Englishman’s Mecca. You are swindled out of a franc when riding to the Lion Mound, but that is a trifle compared with other losses. A museum might be stocked with relics of the battle. The most touching monument is the one erected by the French in honour of the ” Grande Armée”; it is an eagle, mortally wounded, but still defiant, leaning on a torn standard. In the farmhouse where Wellington and Blücher formed La Belle Alliance, and which Napoleon visited, you drink glasses of beautiful creamy milk, and wonder if these events really took place. The countryside is as beautiful as on the day before the battle. Everywhere is peace, broken only by the shrill voices of the guides. Then you go back to Brussels and civilization.
The “Marché aux Fleurs” recalls “Vanity Fair”; the very streets and buildings seem familiar. Namur is beautiful, especially when you have climbed to the top of the Citadelle and viewed the surrounding country, with the Meuse and the Sambre winding through it. There is one defect; you are told in the guide that near the station is a pavilion where you can get advice in about five languages. You approach the interpreter ; he understands “yes” and ” no.” So, as there is no other hope, you try French and begin to realise how little you know; but to see his face brighten with comprehension is worth the agony. Eventually you get quite friendly.
The one comfort in walking along endless boulevards and esplanades is that there is always a cinematograph near, where you can rest. You see “Cinéma” flaring in every street.
When you spend a Sunday in a place like Binges or Ghent, you are glad you live in England, and soon hurry home.



On the first day of the summer holidays we met at Dover, and having provided ourselves with tickets by which we could go anywhere and everywhere on the Belgian State Railways for fifteen days, we crossed to Ostend and spent the first night at Brussels. The next morning we started into the unknown and our adventures began. Our destination for that day was Huy, a picturesque country town, which we expected to reach before mid-day. But we did not reach it quite so soon, for at Namur we decided to get out of the train and spend an hour or two in the town, going on to Huy by a later train. Leaving hand luggage at the station in Belgium only costs a halfpenny, so we often left ours when we went for walking expeditions, or got off to look at places en route. The first thing to be done when we arrived at Huy was to decide where to stop for the night. According to the guide-book there was an inn called “Le Mouton Blen,” to which title we were much attracted. We had never stayed at a “Blue Sheep” before, and we might never have the chance again, so we set out to find it. But no “Mouton Blen” could we find, and we had to be content with a hostelry having a much more ordinary title. It proved to be most comfortable, though decidedly unpretentious, and they proudly told us that once far back in their history an Englishman had stayed there! We were the only guests, and the one waiter spent most of his time playing billiards by himself. He snatched brief moments from the game to come to the dining room and wait on us at meals. But the food was very good indeed, and very well cooked, which I fear would not have been the case in England at a similar place. On that first afternoon, we went out to explore Huy. It is a small town, but very prettily situated on both banks of the Meuse, and a walk along the banks of the river was delightful. We discovered a quaint old Church, where we spent quite a long time, and climbed up a very steep hill, from which we ought to have had a fine view if it had not started to rain at this time. When we got back into the town again I wanted to find the tomb of “Peter the Hermit,” who is buried at Huy. The others know my weakness for tombs of great people and that I always insisted on going to look if I am anywhere in the neighbourhood of one. As they do not share this taste, they generally leave me to look and contemplate alone, and go and do something else meanwhile.
However, on this occasion they consented to come with me. But the unfortunate part of it was that the guide books gave no clear indications of its whereabouts, and we had to ask to be directed. By this time it was raining heavily, and there were few people about; but we asked those we met one by one, and they had never heard of Peter the Hermit’s tomb. They showed us the “Place Pierre l’Ermite,” and seemed to think that ought to be quite enough to satisfy us. I expect they regarded us as harmless lunatics, for it did look rather mad to be wandering about in pouring rain looking for a tomb that nobody had ever heard of.
As it would soon be dark, we had reluctantly to give up the search, and we went back to the hotel and consoled ourselves with tea which we made in our room, and drank as hot as possible to prevent our taking cold.
Our destination next day was Verviers, but we did not expect to get there until evening, for we were going by steamer on the Meuse to Liège, and were going to see one or two places en route besides. We started from Huy in good time in the morning, and intended to go by train to Seraing, from which place we were to take the steamer to Liège. However we never got to Seraing, for the guard on the train positively refused to let us go there, we have not yet discovered why.
We had not long left Huy when he put his head in at the carriage window and asked where we were going. We said of course, to Seraing, to meet the steamer for Liège. Then he said gently, but firmly, “Oh no, you are not to go to Seraing, you are to change at the next station and go to Jemeppes.” Then his head disappeared, and we had a heated discussion as to whether we should do as he had suggested, or keep to our original plan. But we need not have troubled ourselves, for at the next station he once more appeared, took possession of our luggage, and taking us by the hand so to speak, led us to a train that was waiting, and before we were finished laughing at the whole episode, we were well on our way to Jemeppes.
At Jemeppes we had a mile-and-a-half to walk to the boat, so we persuaded the one porter to take our luggage for us, and with him in front wheeling a barrow, we made a little procession through the village, objects of great interest to the villagers.

(To be continued). (continue)


To the Editor of ” The Pharos.”

DEAR SIR, – The Committee formed to make the arrangements for the Presentation which took place last Friday, desire me to ask you to accept the enclosed sum – the surplus of the money subscribed – towards reducing the debt of the School Magazine.
Trusting that The Pharos may continue to serve its purpose of linking ” old” and “present.”

I am, yours truly,
Hon. See. and Treas.
November 8th, 1909.

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Old Pharosians

Old Pharosians