And it is splendid fun. Let us make no mistake about that. It is splendid fun. For the ordinary boy, for all those, that is to say, who have not been designed by nature for the contemptuous entertainment of their companions, nothing is much better than the second and third years. It is a light-hearted, swash-buckling period. The anxieties of the fag have been forgotten, the responsibilities of the Sixth Former are still remote. The second yearer can rag, and his ragging is not taken seriously. At the end of the term house-masters do not address him solemnly and appeal to his better nature. They beat him, and that makes it a square fight. He knows where he is. He has to remain on the right side of the law. If he passes the limit, he knows what to expect. Later on the issue will be complicated by his position: for a while he can afford to be an irresponsible free-lance. It is a happy time of eager unreflecting action. There is a good deal of noisiness and 'showing off.' But it is harmless. A boy has just begun to find himself. He is free at last. At his Preparatory School he was always under the eye of authority. His freedom was enmeshed by a network of regulations. His first year at his Public School his freedom was fettered by nervousness and prejudice. That is over now. I sometimes think that we love Charlie Chaplin so dearly because he does all the things we have not the courage to do ourselves. When a waiter hurries past us with a pile of plates, how delightful it would be, we think, to drive our feet between his legs; who would not love to hurl a brick at a retreating foe; who is not tempted to crook his walking-stick round the ankles of the pompous. We never do these things; not as we should like to do them. But we come as near as we ever shall come to the attainment of this desire during our second year at school. On a small scale it is permitted us to destroy furniture. We can pull chairs from beneath an unsuspecting foe. The strings of a hammock have been cut to the discomfiture of the occupant. The terminal bill for breakages is often considerable, but no one is ever really hurt.