Produced by MWS, Peter Vachuska, Chris Curnow, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
“A quiet sly humor, a faculty of investing every-day events with a dramatic interest, a photographic touch which places her characters before the reader, and a high moral tone are to be remarked in Miss Ray.”
HALF A DOZEN BOYS. 12mo. Illustrated $1.25
HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 12mo. Illustrated 1.25
IN BLUE CREEK CAÑON. 12mo. Illustrated 1.25
CADETS OF FLEMMING HALL. 12mo. Illustrated 1.25
For sale by all booksellers. Catalogues sent free upon application.
T. Y. CROWELL & CO., NEW YORK AND BOSTON.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: THEIR GUESTS PROCEEDED TO SEAT THEMSELVES AS THEIR TASTES SUGGESTED.—Page 15.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
AUTHOR OF “HALF A DOZEN BOYS,” “HALF A DOZEN GIRLS,” “IN BLUE CREEK CAÑON”
NEW YORK: 46 EAST 14TH STREET THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. BOSTON: 100 PURCHASE STREET
------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“You say you are a better soldier: Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well.” SHAKESPEARE.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
FROM the days of “Tom Brown at Rugby” to his more modern brothers, the American “New Senior at Andover,” and the French “Straight On,” stories of boy school life have gone on multiplying and still the tale is not all told. Every school has its slightly different atmosphere, and calls for its different historian. For that reason, I offer this picture of life at Flemming Hall.
Though Irving Wilde and the doctor may not be portraits, still the school life of each one of us has known one or more similar teachers, from whom we have gained the inspiration to do broader, truer work, inspiration which, although unconsciously received, perhaps unconsciously given, has yet left its stamp upon all our later work in life.
It is to the courtesy of one such teacher that I owe the Harrow song with which my story closes. So far as I know, it has never been in print, on this side of the Atlantic. My preface, too, would be incomplete without an expression of my indebtedness to the boy friend who criticised my athletics, and above all to the kindness of the artist, Mr. Clephane, whose thorough and practical knowledge of cadet life has been invaluable to me.