One would have thought that all would have been harmony in the new house; but such was not the case. For some time, indeed, nobody could discover a grievance; but having looked everywhere to find one, and all in vain, recourse was had to religion, and of course a few were created _instanter_. Good, the master, continued to pray as heretofore in Latin. The boys roared out for plain English precations. The City took various sides of the question,—for, against, and a little of both languages. The Latinists at last prevailed, and the orthodox declared that the heel of the Apocalyptic Beast was on the brow of the scholars, and that the sun of England had set for ever. It is a sun however that hitherto has exhibited a great alacrity in rising again. Of course the zealous party ousted Good in time. The members of it held that daily prayers and much devotion after a ceremonious manner savoured of Popery, and poor Good was turned out as a Papist; the boys marvellously improved, and became very remarkable for their habits of “profane swearing and debauchery, and misdemeanours.” St. Lawrence Pountney was imitating Whitehall. A good deal of irregularity prevailed throughout the periods of James II. and William and Mary. One instance may be cited, namely, that of treating the boys who missed their election to St. John’s College with canary and cake. It was like teaching them that drink was a solace for disappointment. To be sure they had a sermon first from the chaplain; but chaplains in those days were particularly addicted to punch. See the consequence! The school-kitchen was enlarged; the boys were divided into the “table” and the “bench;” and, as an illustration of these jolly juvenile “tailors,” it may be stated that Sam Phillips, a “tailor” of the “table,” seduced little Will Nash, a “tailor” of the “bench,” and took him to taverns, and playhouses, and gaming-houses, and was tried for the same before the school authorities, who found him guilty indeed, but construed mild of human frailty, and condoned him on promise of his mending his naughty ways,—which he, like a gallant “tailor,” scorned to do, and turned out a reprobate accordingly. Not that the pupils were generally reprobate, but the masters unwise, and regardless of their own regulations. Thus, when young Buckingham, who was a very worthy juvenile “Merchant Tailor,” wrote the play of Scipio Africanus, and had it represented, the masters, who denounced stage representations, suspended the duties of the school, and sent all the boys into the pit to clap the piece. It was like the British Senate solemnly adjourning, as both Houses once did, in order to see Master Betty play Hamlet. But let me do all justice to the masters. If they turned their Christian pupils into the pit of a very licentious theatre (Lincoln’s Inn Fields), they exhibited their anxiety for pure morality by again turning all the Jewish pupils out of the school. Israel was their scapegoat.