The success of the _Beagler Boy_ in this adventure was not for a moment in doubt. The Etonians were enthusiastic over it. The _Sportsman_ found it “a publication after our own heart,” and “far more interesting and invigorating than anything we are capable of”; and the hoax was welcomed in like manner by _Sporting Life_, _Horse and Hound_, and the _Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News_, a periodical described (by itself) as “bright, entertaining, and original.” One of the most solemnly comic notices was that in _Countryside_, Mr. E. Kay Robinson’s paper, which found the _Beagler Boy_ “clever and strenuous, but of course _ex parte_”; but the gem of the collection was a long and serious dissertation on “Boys and Beagles” in the _British Medical Journal_, which thought that its readers would be glad to have their attention directed to the new sporting organ. There was a _sauve qui peut_ among these worthy people when, from the general laughter in the press, they learnt that they had been imposed upon; but the shock was borne most good-humouredly. “Even the beagler boys,” as was remarked by the _Evening Standard_, “those of them, at least, who know how rare and precious an instrument satire is, may forgive, after they have read: perhaps some will even be converted.” Their disillusionment must certainly have been rather keenly felt at the time; like that of the lion who, as related in _The Man-Eaters of Tsavo_, had carried off what he thought was a coolie from the tent, only to find, when he had gone some distance, that it was a sack of sawdust. The _Beagler Boy_ was added, by request, to Lord Harcourt’s collection of books, pamphlets, and other matter relating to Eton, which at a later date he presented to the School. It must, I feel sure, be gratifying to Sir George Greenwood, and to the other Old Etonian who collaborated with him in the editorship, to know that the fruits of their toil are thus enshrined in the archives of Eton College. Some twelve months after the meteoric career of the _Beagler Boy_ it happened that there was a good deal of talk about an Eton Mission to China, which was to give the Chinese “an opportunity of the best education and of learning Christianity.” Then a very curious thing happened. A Chinese gentleman, Mr. Ching Ping, who was in England at the time, wrote to Dr. Lyttelton, the headmaster, and offered to conduct a Chinese Mission to Eton, in order to bring “a message of humanity and civilization to your young barbarians of the West.” The proposal was not accepted, and it was even hinted in the press that Mr. Ching Ping came from this side of Suez; but however that may have been, his letter to Dr. Lyttelton had a wide circulation, both in England and in the Far East.