It has often occurred to me how very remarkably the relative positions of boys change in after-life; and if all those who were my school-fellows could be collected together how differently we should regard each other. Such a gathering would be of course impossible, even if death had not cut short the career of very many; scattered through every portion of the globe, working hard in their different professions, or vegetating in luxurious ease or careless indolence, how contrary to all our expectations has many a one turned out; some, neglected and despised while at school, have risen to eminence, while others, whose early youth seemed to give bright promise, have never raised their heads above the common throng. This change is even more remarkable in the physical appearance of individuals than in their moral character. I am myself, in some respect, an example of this. I left school when I was seventeen, if anything rather smaller than other boys of my age; some years after I was at a ball at Glasgow, when I saw a little officer whose face was perfectly familiar to me, and I perceived that mine was not strange to him, so we soon fraternized; I found that my friend was Long Eves, as we used to call him from his being so tall. I am no giant, and I now found that I had overtopped him by a head. At Oxford I found men who, when at Winchester with me, could have thrashed me with one hand, but who then, if engaged in such a contest, would I think have preferred the use of three. But I must not quit my subject altogether without noticing some of the more important changes that have taken place in the institutions of the College since the time when I was first admitted. I will mention them in the same order that I observed when treating of them as they were in my time.