But just because they had not got this--the most destructive kind of all epidemics--down on their list of infectious disorders, they chose to disregard it utterly, and leave us all to sink or swim, without even calling in the doctor to see us or giving our people at home the option of withdrawing us from our infected surroundings.
I love the old place too well to dwell further on this gross case of neglect.

The present authorities no doubt would not repeat the error of their predecessors.

Should they be tempted to do so, I trust the present harrowing revelation may be in time to avert the repetition of the calamity of which I was not only a witness but a victim.
The fact is, in the term to which I allude, we fellows in the upper Fifth and lower Sixth took to _writing poetry_! I don't know how the distemper broke out, or who brought it to G--.

Certain it is we all took it, some worse than others; and had not the Christmas holidays happily intervened to scatter us and so reduce the perils of the contagion, the results might have been worse even than they were.
Now, one poet in a school is bad enough; and two usually make a place very uncomfortable for any ordinarily constituted person.

But at G-- it was not a case of one poet or even two.