The HEADMASTER then rose and said: "Mr. Bell, Mr. Hawthorn, and friends in Uppingham,--Home is home, and you may be quite sure that we, at all events, who went through exile felt it indeed to be home when we came back again. (Applause.) It does not signify what the circumstances may be, but it is not possible to live long in a place and to have your home there without taking root in it, and having fibres sent deep which cannot be torn up without pain. (Applause.) We are very grateful, therefore, for the hearty, the enthusiastic welcome you gave us on our return. (Cheers.) Assuredly as our eyes looked on this pleasant hill and the familiar fields, we felt a deep thankfulness for the great peril passed, the page of life turned, and a year such as never can come again closed with success. (Applause.) And it is a pleasant spot to look on when you come down the dip of the valley before you near Uppingham, and look up and see the ancient homes crowning the brow of the hill--it is a fair sight to any eye, even to a stranger's eye, the pleasant homes of Uppingham, with the church and its spire in the midst, the spire of the school chapel beyond, each adding, methinks, to the beauty of the other, and both alike in their upward spring and their holy worship. It _is_ a pleasant spot to look on, and you made your old picturesque street very beautiful with your decorations and that bright outbreak of welcome which greeted us as we came in. (Cheers.) The school hardly knew what we meant--they did not know when we asked them to cheer at the top of the hill; but as the stream of life wound round and came in sight of that avenue of arches and flags, then they understood what was meant, and they were ready enough to second it. (Cheers.) We were very thankful, also, that you recognise in that address--that able address and pleasing to receive--how hard it was to go, how great a risk had to be faced to save the school; for that was what was at stake. I do not say that in years to come there should not again have been a school as great as this, or greater; but this I am sure of, that we were in the very last week of the life of this present school; that at the beginning of the week, when it was decided to go, there was news from different quarters that made it absolutely certain that another Monday would have seen no school here. For a school is not a mere machine which can be set going to order, and which anybody who happens at the time to have the mastery of can deal with like a machine. "I can call spirits from the vasty deep," says Shakespeare in one of his plays; and the rejoinder comes, "Why, so can I, or so can any man; but will they come when you do call for them?" (Laughter and cheers.) Now that is just what they won't do; and we simply had no choice; we lay absolutely helpless before the fact that ruin stared us in the face, and we could not stir hand or foot to stop it unless we had been able then to find a door of escape. This present