Mr Tipper. — I should like to know if the schoolhouse fellows are making any efforts to discover the culprit by whose assistance they won the race. (Tremendous Parrett’s cheers.)

Mr Fairbairn. — I can’t say we are. (Derisive cheers of “Of course not!” from Parrett’s.) The hon. gentlemen opposite seem to know so much about it, that I think they had better find the culprit themselves. (“Hear, hear,” from the schoolhouse.)

The proceedings at this stage became rather noisy, every one being anxious to express his opinion on the question. It was not till after the President had threatened to “adjourn the House” that silence was at length restored.

Bloomfield took the sensible course, also, of announcing that, as quite enough questions had been asked about the race, he should not allow any more on that subject.

Whereupon Mr Tucker, the Welcher, rose and put a question on another matter. He wanted to know the reason why Mr Riddell had become a Welcher; whether it was true that he had been turned out of the schoolhouse for being incompetent; and whether he had been kicked out of the captaincy as well.

Mr Crossfield said he had been requested to reply. And first he must congratulate the hon. member on having succeeded in asking a question which any one could understand. (Laughter.)

In reply, he understood Mr Riddell had been sent to Welch’s in order to study the virtues of a fellow called Tucker, who was—

Mr Tucker, rising: Mr Chairman, I didn’t put my question in order to be insulted by Crossfield or any one. (Laughter.)

Mr Crossfield. — I apologise to the hon. gentleman. I will not insult him by supposing he has any virtues. I should say Mr Riddell has gone to take a few lessons in the art of keeping a house in order, which no one can so well teach him as Mr Tucker. (Loud laughter.) In reply to the gentleman’s second question—

Mr Tucker. — I don’t want any more. (Laughter.)

Mr Crossfield. — In reply to the gentleman’s second question, I am sorry to inform him that his impressions are about as correct and intelligent as they usually are. (Renewed cheers and laughter, in the midst of which Tucker subsided in a state of mind hardly amiable.)

As soon as silence was restored, Mr Porter wished to ask the captain of the eleven whether the team to play against Rockshire was yet settled.

Mr Bloomfield. — Not quite. Nine names are fixed — Game, Tipper, Ashley, Wibberly, and myself from Parrett’s house, and Fairbairn, Porter, Coates, and Crossfield from the schoolhouse. (Cheers and counter-cheers, and loud cries of “What about the Welchers?”) What about the Welchers? That’s what everybody wants to know! (Loud cheers.)

Hereupon Mr Cusack rose in his place and asked if the House was aware that the Welchers’ cricket club was started again; that he was the secretary; and old Mr Pil the treasurer, and Mr Riddell the president, that the subscription was two shillings and sixpence in advance, and that— But here the enthusiastic secretary’s announcement was drowned in the general laughter of the assembly, led by the Parrett’s juniors, who roared as if they’d never heard such a joke in their lives. “Won’t be a joke when we smash you in one innings,” shouted Cusack, standing on his seat to give emphasis to the challenge. “Ho, ho! when’s that to be?”

“When you like,” cried the Welchers. “Do you funk it?”

“Unless those juniors there hold their row,” interposed Bloomfield, “I shall have them turned out of the meeting.” Whereat the little breeze calmed down.

The President then called upon Mr Ashley to move the resolution standing in his name, which he did in a rather feeble speech.

“I really don’t think it necessary to say much to prove that the school is degenerate. Look at the clubs! They aren’t nearly as good as they were in old Wyndham’s time. Parrett’s clubs, thanks to Mr Bloomfield, keep up; but where are the others? Then the rows. (Hear, hear.) I’m sure there have been more rows in the school this term than all the rest of the year put together. The juniors seem to do what they like,”—(“Hear, hear,” from Telson, Parson, and Co.)—“and no one seems to know who has a right to keep any one else in order. Now, why is all this? (Loud cheers from Bosher.) You know as well as I do. The captain of the school always used to be a fellow the boys could look up to. Old Wyndham and the captain before him were something like fellows. (Loud Parrett’s cheers.) They weren’t afraid to look any one in the face — (cheers) — and they didn’t, when they got tired of one house — (cheers) — ask the doctor to move them to another. (Terrific applause from the Parrett’s and Welchers.) Why, if this boat-race affair had happened in old Wyndham’s time, do you suppose he wouldn’t have made it right, and found out the fellow, even if it was his own brother? (Loud cheers, amidst which young Wyndham blushed a great deal at this unexpected piece of notoriety.) I’m not going to say any more.” (“Hear, hear,” from Fairbairn.)

Mr Porter rose to open the debate on the other side. He wasn’t going to give in that Willoughby was going down. It was unpatriotic. (Cheers.) He meant to say if the school did go down it was the fellows’ own fault, and not all to be blamed on one boy. Mr Riddell would probably answer for himself — (laughter) — but he (Mr Porter) was pretty sure the school would not degenerate under him. The fellows seemed to think the only thing in the world was brute strength. He had no objection to brute strength — (cheers and laughter) — in fact he fancied he had a little of his own — (“Hear, hear,” from Telson whose ears Porter had boxed only that morning) — but Willoughby wanted something better than that; and he meant to say there were plenty of fellows in the school who didn’t make much noise, but who did as much to keep up the school as all the rowdies put together. And when things have quieted down, as he hoped they would, these fellows would get more thanks than they did now. (Cheers from a few, who apparently considered this last allusion referred specially to them.)

Porter was not a good speaker, and the little he did say was a good deal bungled. Still there was a manly ring about his speech which pleased the better disposed section of his audience, some of whom did not even belong to the same house.

Silk followed. The Welcher monitor was clever to a certain degree, and although he never chose to devote his cleverness to good purposes, he usually managed to get himself listened to when he chose to take the trouble. And at present, his peculiar position as the deposed head of Welch’s gave a certain interest to what he had to say. Bitter enough it was.

“What chance is there of the school not going down, I should like to know,” said he, “when cant is the order of the day? (Hear, hear.) Of course the school is going down. What interests can any one have in his house when some one comes and begins by setting the juniors against the seniors and then turning up the whites of his eyes and saying, ‘What a shocking state of disorder the house is in?’ Why, before ‘the little stranger’—(loud laughter) — came to Welch’s, the seniors and juniors never fell out,” (“Hear, hear,” from several quarters), “but now there’s a regular mutiny. And what’s bad for one house is bad for the school. I don’t care who’s head of Welch’s. He’s welcome to the honour if he likes, but let him act above-board, that’s what I say, and not snivel and look pious while all the time he’s doing a dirty trick.” (Cheers from Tucker and one or two more, which, however, instantly died out when Crossfield rose.)

Crossfield was the plague of the senior Welchers’ lives!

“I was much affected by the beautiful speech of the gentleman who has just sat down,” he began. “It is always so sweet to hear conscious innocence asserting itself. After the gentleman’s noble efforts for the good of his house (laughter) — and the splendid example he has set of rectitude — (laughter) — and high moral principle — (laughter) — it is truly touching to find him put on one side for an interloper who is villainous enough to tell the juniors they need not walk in his saintly footsteps! (Laughter.) But that is not what I wanted to say, and as the gentleman appears to be overcome by his emotions — (Silk was at that moment angrily leaving the room) — I don’t think we need trouble any more about him. (Cheers and laughter.) All I wished to say was this: I always understood from the gentlemen of Parrett’s that Mr Bloomfield was captain of Willoughby,” (Loud cries of “So he is!”), “and that nobody cared a straw for Mr Riddell.” (“No more they do!”). “Then, I don’t think Mr Ashley is very complimentary to Mr Bloomfield when he says the fault of all the mischief is that the captain is not an all-round man. For all that he’s quite correct. Mr Bloomfield is a well-meaning man, no doubt, but he certainly is not an all-round man.” (Uproar.)