As we were marching back to our cells I heard a sigh.

Turning round, I saw my harvest-moon-faced friend in an ecstacy.

It was Sunday morning, and near dinner time.

Raising his hands, while his goggle eyes gleamed like wet pebbles, the fellow ejaculated--"Pudden next." I have already referred to the chapel music, in which the schoolmaster played such a distinguished part.

A few more notes on this subject may not be out of place.