Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England Julian Home, by Dean Frederick Farrar. ________________________________________________________________________ In this book Farrar, who for the first part of his career was a British Public School master and headmaster, writes of the lives of a group of clever young men during their three years studies at Camford University, (transparently Cambridge). Some of them work hard and do well, gaining College scholarships and fellowships, while others do little work and become enmeshed in gambling, drinking, and other still worse vices. Some miserable tricks are played by the bad and idle men in attempts to bring down the good and hard working ones, most of which nearly end in disaster, but by various tricks of fortune a balance is in the end restored, and the book comes to a satisfactory conclusion. You will enjoy this book if you do not let yourself be put off by Farrar's habit of inserting Greek, Latin, French and German tags just to show how very sap he is. ________________________________________________________________________ JULIAN HOME, BY DEAN FREDERICK FARRAR. CHAPTER ONE. SPEECH-DAY AT HARTON. "A little bench of heedless bishops there, And here a chancellor in embryo." _Shenstone_. It was Speech-day at Harton. From an early hour handsome equipages had been dashing down the street, and depositing their occupants at the masters' houses. The perpetual rolling of wheels distracted the attention every moment, and curiosity was keenly on the alert to catch a glimpse of the various magnates whose arrival was expected. At the Queen's Head stood a large array of carriages, and the streets were thronged with gay groups of pedestrians, and full of bustle and liveliness. The visitors--chiefly parents and relatives of the Harton boys--occupied the morning in seeing the school and village, and it was a pretty sight to observe mothers and sisters as they wandered with delighted interest through the scenes so proudly pointed out to them by their young escort. Some of them were strolling over the cricket-field, or through the pleasant path down to the bathing-place. Many lingered in the beautiful chapel, on whose painted windows the sunlight streamed, making them flame like jewellery, and flinging their fair shadows of blue, and scarlet, and crimson, on the delicate carving of the pillars on either side. But, on the whole, the boys were most proud of showing their friends the old school-room, on whose rude panels many a name may be deciphered, carved there by the boyish hand of poets, orators, and statesmen, who in the zenith of their fame still looked back with fond remembrance on the home of their earlier days, and some of whom were then testifying by their presence the undying interest which they took in their old school.