hat is to say, at the door
between the apertures of the fingers, and, as a rule, they hit the
fingers and not the door. These diversions I know to be correctly
reported, but the following pretty story is, perhaps, a myth. At one of
the most famous public schools, a praepostor, or monitor, or sixth-form
boy having authority, heard a pistol-shot in the room above his own. He
went up and found a big boy and a little boy. They denied having any
pistol. The monitor returned to his studies, again was sure he heard a
shot, went up, and found the little boy dead. The big boy had been
playing the William Tell trick with him, and had hit his head instead of
the apple. That is the legend. Whether it be true or false, all boys
will agree that the little victim could not have escaped by complaining
to the monitor. No. Death before dishonour. But the side not so seamy
of this picture of school life is the extraordinary power of honour among
boys. Of course the laws of the secret society might well terrify a
puerile informer. But the sentiment of honour is even more strong than
fear, and will probably outlast the very disagreeable circumstances in
which it was developed.

People say bullying is not what it used to be. The much abused
monitorial system has this in it of good, that it enables a clever and
kindly boy who is high up in the school to stop the cruelties (if he
hears of them) of a much bigger boy who is low in the school. But he
seldom hears of them. Habitual bullies are very cunning, and I am
acquainted with instances in which they carry their victims off to lonely
torture cells (so to speak) and deserted places fit for the sport. Some
years ago a small boy, after a long course of rope's-ending in out-of-the-
way dens, revealed the abominations of some naval cadets. There was not
much sympathy with him in the public mind, and perhaps his case was not
well managed. But it was made clear that whereas among men an unpopular
person is only spoken evil of behind his back, an unpopular small boy
among boys is made to suffer in a more direct and very unpleasant way.

Most of us leave school with the impression that there was a good deal of
bullying when we were little, but that the institution has died out. The
truth is that we have grown too big to be bullied, and too good-natured
to bully ourselves. When I left school, I thought bullying was an
extinct art, like encaustic painting (before it was rediscovered