we may name was John
Burton, born of humble parents in Peterborough. He was appointed about
1848, and served Dr. Smith faithfully about three years. He was not,
however, a strong man, either physically or mentally. His weakness of
character was shewn in an incident which might have had a tragic
termination. Having formed an attachment for a young lady, living near
the schoolhouse, and being rejected, he declared that he would commit
suicide; and he fired off a pistol under her window at night, taking
care, however, not to wound himself. On leaving the school he entered at
Jesus College, Cambridge, and graduated in 1853, dying soon afterwards.

On the appointment of the Rev. Samuel Lodge, to the Head Mastership in
1854, Thomas White, a graduate of St. John's College, Cambridge, became
Under Master. He had taken classical honours, and was an efficient
teacher, and rather strict disciplinarian. He was the first Under Master
allowed to take private pupils as boarders. He continued at his post six
years, taking Holy Orders, and in 1860 was presented by the Bishop of
Lincoln to the Vicarage of Scamblesby, which he held until his death in
1891.

It may be of interest if we here give some of the customs of the school
at this period, as samples of a state of things which is now past and
gone. The morality of some of them might be questioned in these days of
advanced ideas on civilization, but, under the guidance of a man of Dr.
Smith's mental calibre, their effect was the rearing of a generation of
manly youths, capable of much intellectual, as well as physical, activity
and endurance.

The Head Master was himself a remarkable instance of this. Punctually at
7.30, without fail, he was every morning in his desk at the school, to
open proceedings with prayer, it being frequently a race between himself
and his boarder pupils, as to who should arrive first, his residence
being some quarter mile from the school. When he closed the school, with
"abire licet," {99b} in the afternoon, he as regularly went for his
"constitutional" walk. Furious indeed must be the weather if Dr. Smith
was not to be seen on Langton Hill, summer and winter, rain or fair; if
the former he would brave the elements, wrapt in a large blue cloth
cloak, waterproof as his leather gaiters. If the latter, he would often
saunter slowly, rapt in meditation, or composing verses, an occupation of
which he was very fond, leaving behind him at his death sev