It is a topic which could not be left outside a narrative which
seeks to "show how fields were won."
If our readers will follow the master of the week as he makes his round
of the tea-tables at a quarter to seven on a winter evening, he will
witness a cheerful scene not wanting in picturesqueness. The vista of
the corridor is filled with three very long and very narrow tables, and
the boys of as many houses seated at them. The subdued light, which
streams from numerous but feeble oil-lamps through the atmosphere of
fragrant vapour steamed up by the tea-urns, falls with Rembrandtesque
contrast of light and shadow on the long ranks of faces. There is that
hum of quiet animation which seems always to exhale along with the aroma
of the Chinese leaf. From the urn, where the house matron mounts guard
up to the Sixth Form end of the table, where the head of the house is
jotting down the list of absentees from the roll-call, the cloth is
thickly studded with the viands in tins and jars, rich and various in
colour, with which the schoolboy adds succulence to his meal.
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