though aware of the acrostics, had accepted the poems, was deprived of his editorship and of his position as head of the school. The informer, who happened to be next in school order, succeeded him in both capacities; he had not expected this development and it made him most unpopular. His consolation was a real one, that he had done it all for love, to avenge the public insult done to the boy. And he was a decent fellow, really. The Poetry Society was dissolved in disgrace by the headmaster’s orders. Guy Kendall was one of the few masters who insisted on treating the boys better than they deserved, so I was sorry for him when this happened; it was an ‘I told you so’ for the other masters, who did not believe either in poetry or in school uplift societies. I owe a great debt of gratitude to Kendall; the meetings of the Poetry Society were all that I had to look forward to when things were at their worst for me. My last year at Charterhouse I devoted myself to doing everything I could to show how little respect I had for the school tradition. In the winter of 1913 I won a classical exhibition at St. John’s College, Oxford, so that I could go slow on school work. Nevill Barbour and I were editing the _Carthusian_, and a good deal of my time went in that. Nevill, who as a scholar had met the same sort of difficulties as myself, also had a dislike of most Charterhouse traditions. We decided that the most objectionable tradition of all was compulsory games. Of these cricket was the most objectionable, because it wasted most time in the best part of the year. We began a campaign in favour of tennis. We were not seriously devoted to tennis, but it was the best weapon we had against cricket—the game, we wrote, in which the selfishness of the few was supposed to excuse the boredom of the many. Tennis was quick and busy. We asked Old Carthusian tennis internationalists to contribute letters proposing tennis as the manlier and more vigorous game. We even got the famous Anthony Wilding to write. The games-masters were scandalized at this assault on cricket; to them tennis was ‘pat ball,’ a game for girls. But the result of our campaign was surprising. Not only did we double our sales, but a fund was started for providing the school with a number of tennis-courts and making Charterhouse the cradle of public-school tennis. Though delayed by the war, these courts actually appeared. I noticed them recently as I went past the school in a car; there seemed to be plenty of them. I wonder, are there tennis-bloods at Charterhouse now?