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 little door is opened near the ancient desk where the Head Master once sat, and six birches rest against the wall in an impressive row. Passing upstairs—the doors and walls are covered with names—we reach the Head Master's class-room. It contains a number of tablets on which are printed in gold the names of Harrow prize-winners. It is a close, uncomfortable room, but tradition is strong at Harrow, and the boys would not leave it for the most perfectly ventilated and sumptuously furnished apartment in the land.

There is just time to look in at the speech-room, with its fine oak roof and numberless chairs ranged tier upon tier, before we hurry away down the Hill—the Hill upon which Lord Shaftesbury conceived his idea of philanthropy when seeing a funeral passing by. We are on our way to the cricket ground. What a sight it is! Seated on the grass and