"Every day during the following week Leroux expected to be summoned to the headmaster's study and taxed with trespassing with a rifle on Mr. Lowden Beigh's land. But at the end of this time, as nothing happened, he felt convinced that the keeper had never given up the little rifle to his master at all, but had kept it himself, in the hope of being able to dispose of it for more money than had been offered him for its return. At any rate Leroux determined to write to Mr. Lowden Beigh, tell him exactly what had happened, and ask him to let him have the rifle back again at the end of the term. This he did, and the following day received an answer requesting him to call at the Hall with the friend who was with him when the rifle was taken, on the following Sunday afternoon. The two boys complied with this request and they were very kindly entertained and treated to wine and cake by Mr. Lowden Beigh. He asked Leroux if it was he who had taken the herons' eggs at Tombe Abbey, and when he admitted that it was, said, 'Why, you're the biggest poacher in the school.' He then told the boys that the keeper had never said a word to him about the rifle, but that he had demanded it from him immediately on reading Leroux's letter, and then dismissed the man from his service. Finally, Mr. Lowden Beigh told Leroux that if he would again come to the Hall, the day before the big school broke up at the end of the term, he would return him his rifle, and this promise he faithfully kept. "It was whilst he was at home during the Christmas holidays immediately preceding the commencement of his second year at the great Midland school, that John Leroux, then just fifteen years of age, was an eye-witness of, and indeed, a participant in, the terrible disaster on the ice in Regent's Park, which took place on January 15th, 1867. "At that time he was living with his parents at no great distance from the scene of the accident, of which he wrote an account to a school friend whilst the events related were still fresh in his memory. "As a result of a long-continued frost, the ice on the ornamental water in the park had become excessively thick, and during the early part of January, 1867, thousands of people might have been seen skating there daily. At length, however, a thaw set in, and as the ice became gradually more rotten in appearance, the skaters rapidly decreased in numbers.