draws near that he is to leave school-life for a season, how old Father
Time seems to lag on his journey, as if he had grown tired, or lame, or
had met with an accident and was delayed on the way, so slowly does the
wished-for day come. And when at length the happy morn arrives, who so
joyous as the school-boy as he jumps out of bed and wakes his next
bedfellow by throwing his pillow at him, or by the summary process of
stripping the clothes from the sleeping form? Too happy and excited to
eat his last breakfast in the old dining-hall, what tricks he plays with
his schoolmates, who are equally excited as himself! Now he boasts what
he will do during the holidays, where he will go, whom he shall see, and
what things he will eat. And with what a shout he waves a farewell, as
the carriage, or the coach, or the dog-cart rolls out of the
school-grounds, and conveys him away out of sight of the old school-house
and its master, sounding as he goes, it may be, a tin horn or a brass
bugle he had bought for the occasion.

"Imagination follows the boy to his happy home, where his father
welcomes him with a hearty shake of the hand, his mother with a fond
clinging embrace, and his sisters with smiles and kisses; while his
younger brothers, who have been on the watch for hours, greet him with
shouts of delight, and hurry him away to see their favourite rabbits,
and pet guinea-pigs, and mice. Who so happy as a school-boy home for
the holidays!

"But amid all the excitement, and hurry, and joy, and noise, and
confusion, how unutterably miserable is that boy who has no home to go
to, and is to remain at school during the holidays; his face is like a
cloud amid the sunshine, a frown amid smiles; he views the
preparations of each departing boy with envy, and, try all he can, he
cannot assume a _nonchalant_ or I-don't-care kind of air, nor prevent
a lump rising in his throat, and an occasional dimness gathering over
his eyes. May be he hides himself away that he may not see the general
departure of all his school-fellows, and as their joyous shouts reach
him in his hiding-place, he puts his fingers in his ears to shut out
the noise which means such loneliness for himself.

"It so chanced that one Michaelmas I was the one unfortunate boy who
was left 'sole monarch of all I surveyed.' My parents were away on the
Continent, and, unable to reach home in time, had requested the
master, as a favour, to allow me to remain at Ascot House durin