Six years have now glided away, and my station as an Etonian has experienced a still greater revolution. In place of being a fag, I was now the puissant "captain of my dames," and had six lower boys of my own; but my greatest privilege consisted in being the possessor of rather more than three thousand "old copies."
These are the original copies of verses on various subjects which have borne the correction of their authors' tutors, and which have been reserved and put by, after a fair copy of them has been shown up in school.
The collection now in my possession had been, for years, entailed by its founder upon the captain of my dames, whoever he might be, for the time being. These, then, I enjoyed for four years, and a subject could not well be given us, but I possessed it already composed on. True, I was once at a loss, when we had to produce verses on the death of George III.; but several copies, simply on death, with a dash here and there of my own put in to suit the present occasion, sufficiently answered the purpose, at the cost of but very little literary labour. One boy, I remember, actually had two old copies on the death of George II., of such respectable antiquity was his collection of MSS.
In addition to this inestimable treasure, I had become, by this time, flogged into the school routine of business, and could now, with ease, perform the requisite and daily tasks, no longer laying in any claim to the designation of a shuffler, at least to the eyes of the vulgar. My four remaining years then, at Eton, formed, indeed, a dream of happiness.
When not otherwise particularly engaged, it was my delight, on the instant of coming out of school, or church, to fix my eyes on some distant object, and to start off for it, merely, I suppose, because it was out of bounds. Being constantly in the habit of this, I became acquainted with the localities of the neighbourhood, perhaps more accurately than any other boy at Eton. The two most distant points I ever reached, were Staines and the race-course at Ascot Heath. These excursions I ever undertook in solitude.
It was singular, that one of the most prominent features in the surrounding country should have been nearly the last I attained. This was the spot which must have attracted, one time or another, the attention of every boy: it is that beautiful hill of St. Leonards.