Another contemporary of Mr. Labouchere's at Eton, the late Frederick Morton Eden, related a story about him at a dinner given to him some years ago, as the senior "Old Etonian," in the School Hall of the College. Whilst the old chapel was being restored, a temporary chapel of wood and iron was run up. The corrugated iron roof made the heat intolerable during the summer months, so Labouchere hit upon a plan to put a stop to the nuisance of "chapel in the shanty." One boy was to pretend to faint and four others were to carry him out. A fifth was to follow bearing the hats of the performers. The plan worked admirably. The service was brought to a temporary stop and the boys, as soon as they were outside, scampered merrily off and procured some agreeable refreshment. The repetition of this comedy, of course, aroused the suspicion of the masters, but nevertheless, like many of Labouchere's intrigues in later life, it produced eventually the desired effect. There was no more chapel during the hot weather until the restoration of the old chapel was complete. A reminiscence of his Eton days that Mr. Labouchere was fond of relating has already found its way into print, but will bear repetition, as all may not have read it. One day, his store of pocket-money being at high-water mark, he conceived the notion of doing the man about town for an hour or two; so, having dressed himself with scrupulous care, he sallied forth, and, entering the best hotel in the place, engaged a private room, and in a lordly manner ordered a bowl of punch. The waiter stared but brought the liquor, and went away. The boy, having tasted it, found it horrible. He promptly poured it into the lower compartment {20} of an antique oak sideboard. He waited a little to see whether it would run out on to the carpet. Luckily the drawer was watertight, and Labouchere rang the bell again and proudly ordered from the amazed waiter a second bowl of punch. He poured this also into the oak sideboard, and in a few minutes rang for the bill, tipped the waiter majestically, and swaggered out of the hotel, quite satisfied that he had won the admiration and respect of the whole staff. After the Christmas half of 1847, Labouchere left Eton. He was then in his seventeenth year, and, before going to the university, it was thought advisable to place him for a year or two with a private tutor.