WHEN I do get a holiday, which is not very often, I like to make a whole holiday of it. I do not like your half-holidays-work in the morning and play in the afternoon. I cannot find time, or inclination either, to do one half that I wish to do on these said half-holidays. They seem like days cut in two, and both halves spoilt. I cannot work in the morning for thinking of how much play I can concentrate into the evening, nor play in the evening for regretting how very little I accomplished in the morning. Diem perdidi, I am apt to exclaim in the words of a much wiser man than myself. If I am to have a lark, I like to go the whole bird. Half a lark is but a poor meal, and only fit for one of two apprentices, who are to be "treated as one of the family."

I recollect when I was at school, in the suburbs of the great metropolis, confined within high and with-broken-glass-defended walls, we were promised a half-holiday if one of our old fellows, as we used to call those who had left school, should gain an exhibition, for which he was trying, either at Oxford or Cambridge, I forget which. The news came that he had been successful, and we claimed the fulfilment of the promise. Our claim was allowed, and a day fixed for the fruition of our demi-vacance.

We of the fifth and sixth forms were allowed to go out of bounds on such occasions, provided we were in gates before nine o'clock at night. The penalty for transgressing this proviso was a long imposition-task some would call it—but we thought the former word more correct, and are in the habit of using it still.

Now the subject of our debates, for two or three days previous to the half-holiday, was by what means and in what manner we should make the most of the short time that would elapse between twelve and nine o'clock.

These debates interfered sadly with construes, exercises, and repetitions; and although very strong arguments were used by the most eloquent of our speakers, the debate had not terminated when the day arrived; so we came to a division, literally, at once. We doffed the hated livery of the school, and put on our home clothes. We reached the gates in a body, and there the division took place. Like a correct logical medium, we were distributed.

The fishermen went off for the Seven Ponds at Hampstead, or Hornsey Sluice-house. The fencers sought Angelo's rooms in hopes of seeing the life-guardsman play. Some who delighted in encouraging “ that truly British sport," boxing, proceeded to take lessons of Mr. Jackson. Others, wishing to become crack-shots, went to the Red

House at Battersea, to profit by the skill there exhibited at the pigeon trap. Not a few made up a boat's crew, and rowed up to Richmond. The spooneys and those who were minus the sine quâ non, money, went to call on their friends and relations, in hopes of a tip and an invite to dinner.

On one point we were unanimous-not to return to school without having had what was significantly but vulgarly named a good tuckout-that is as much as we could eat and drink, and a little more.

When our companions had left us, my friend Wilkins and I looked at each other as much as to say, "Well, what shall we do?" Neither of us could answer the question-we were both undecided, and five minutes of our valuable time was already gone-wasted-thrown away.

"Fugit irrevocabilis hora," said Wilkins, “what shall we do?”

Now we were both of us as fond of fencing, fishing, boxing, shooting, and rowing, as any of those who had started to indulge in those sports; but we were equally fond of all of them, and could not se lect one to be indulged in on this occasion, to the neglect of the

rest.

"I præ, sequar," said I, "lead the way-I will follow. Fortuna favet fortibus-something will turn up."

"Forty-boys," growled Wilkins, "she may, but not two who have not courage enough to lay out a half-holiday."

"Cease your punning," said I," and come along. Let us go to Lord's Cricket Ground and see a match."

"Capital," said Wilkins. "Come along. I wonder Jack Tufthunter did not think of that, for he is always talking about Lords."

It so happened that St. John's Wood was at the other extremity of London, and we neither of us had the least notion of its whereabouts, or of the miles to be passed over before we reached it. We inquired our way, and walked leisurely along, fancying half an hour would bring us to the spot. When we got to the Holborn end of Oxford-street, we renewed our inquiries as to the road, and were told that "if we went about a mile straight on, and then turned up Portland-place into the New-road, and went along that about a mile and a half towards Paddington, and asked the people there, that they would direct us the other two miles."

We stood aghast. Wilkins looked at his watch. One hour and a half of our half-holiday were gone. It was foolish to turn back now we were half-way, so we set out at a sort of half-trot. Neither of us suggested a jarvey-and omnibuses were then unknown-for we meant to save all our money for the tuck.

Just as Paddington church clock struck three, we arrived at the entrance of the ground.

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Now," said Wilkins, "now to see what cricket really is."

"No play to-day, gentlemen; rolling the ground for the great match to-morrow," said the gatekeeper.

"Bowled out," said I.

"Regularly stumped," shouted Wilkins; "but let us take to our stumps again, or we shall waste the half-holiday.'

"But where shall we go? What shall we do?" I inquired.

Wilkins shook his head negatively, but just as his shake was over, the loud tones of St. Paul's great bell came booming over London.

"I say, did you ever go to the top of St. Paul's or the Monument?" asked my friend.

"Never," said I.

"Let us go now then-we shall be able to boast of being a cut above the other fellows."

We galloped back into the New-road, and raced a Paddington stage to the top of Goswell-street, and in a state of perspiration and fatigue arrived at the northern gate of the cathedral just as its bell tolled four o'clock. Service had commenced, and the church could not be shown.

"Never mind," said Wilkins, "let us go up the Monument-it's a half-holiday-so we will only go half as high as we intended."

A few minutes sharp walking brought us to the Monument. The keeper, who was feeding a smoke-dried canary at the entrance, in reply to our request to be " shown up," said, between his chirpings to the bird,

""Taint in no ways allowable to permit no more suicides here-if you're tired of life, try Lunnun Bridge. We're shut up."

He deigned to inform us, after sundry winks and grimaces, that a person had, a few days before, destroyed himself by springing over the rails, and that the city authorities had ordered the Monument to be closed to prevent a repetition of the horrid deed.

What was to be done?-we did not know. Wilkins had just informed me that it was half-past four by his watch, as a cad cried out, "Woolwich! Greenwich! Going down?"

“Did you ever see Woolwich Arsenal or Greenwich Hospital ?"

46 Never," said I. "Let us set off at once, here is a Woolwich coach-we will see the Arsenal first, and take the Hospital in our way back."

"But the tuck, you know-how much?" said Wilkins.

On being told it was only one shilling each, we did not hesitate, but mounted the roof, and as the coaches ran opposition even in those distant days, we galloped down in about an hour and a half. In fact, it was exactly six o'clock when we reached the gates of the Arsenal, for we saw the workmen come out, and the place closed for the night? "Boat, your honours!-skulls or oars?"

"Oars," said I. "In with you, Wilkins-strip, and we will pull."

"But the tuck," began Wilkins, who was a great feeder. "How much to Greenwich ?"

"Sixpence each," said the waterman.

We embarked-to use a grand phrase for getting into a wherry-and pulled away most manfully. We did not make so much way as I expected we should, seeing we were really good pullers, and just as we heard a clock somewhere on shore strike seven, I told the waterman as much. My surprise was over when I found that we had been pulling against the tide and a strong head-wind. In half an hour more we landed at the Hospital stairs, and were told that we could not see the interior at that late hour, but might spend half an hour in the park

before the gates closed. This we did, and enjoyed it very much, until the Observatory clock struck eight, and warned us that we had no time to lose.

As we ran towards the gate, through which we escaped just in time, we agreed to go back by the stage, have our tuck in London, and get into school in good time. Our plans, however, were defeated. The last coach had just started. We set out at the top of our speed to overtake it, and probably might have done so had not Wilkins, in turning a corner, upset a potboy who was carrying out the supperbeer to the streets in the neighbourhood. Wilkins, the potboy, and at least ten pewter-pots and their contents were rolling in the gutter together.

Of course a crowd collected round us, and more of course they all took the potboy's part against the two young gentlemen. The landlord ended the harangue that we were making to the crowd by dragging us both by our coat-collars into his bar, and demanding payment for ten quarts of porter, and something for the boy's bruises.

We offered to give our addresses and to pay another day--but it was of no use. We must pay at once, or be shut up all night. The latter was an alternative to which we could not submit. We mustered all our money, which was sixpence short of the demand, for we had but five shillings each when we started. The landlord, however, took five shillings for the porter, and gave the boy the remaining two shillings -at least he put it into the till and told him he would keep it for him. The crowd laughed, but whether at us or the potboy I could

not make out.

Half-past eight, and we were seven miles from home, without a penny in our pockets; we were very hungry too, for we had eaten nothing since twelve o'clock, and very tired, for we had walked and rowed a great many miles. We were sure to be too late, and get an imposition, as I told poor Wilkins, who was wet and cold from his roll in the gutter. To my surprise he burst out into a loud laugh, and said,

"Capital excuse-I've hit it. I'll get you off. When old Quizby asks us why we stopped out after gates, we will tell him we could not help it, as we were called to the bar."

I confess I was in a rage at so bad a pun, and at such a moment. I kicked him very hard, and started off towards London. He followed, and we got on very well until we made a wrong turning somewhere or other, and got completely lost in such a locality as I had no idea existed so near London-it was more like the dirtiest parts of Bristol. After wandering about for some time, a man agreed to show us the way to London Bridge. We thought him a good natured fellow, and thanked him when we got to the end of Tooley-street.

"Thank ye! indeed-is that all you mean to pay me with for coming so far?"

We confessed our poverty with many regrets, and turned to leave him, saying, good-night.

"Good-night," said he, as he snatched our nice, new beaver-hats off our heads, and vanished.

It was of no use to follow or cry stop thief, so we tied our handkerchiefs over our heads, and ran on until we were fairly exhausted. As

we leant against a shop-window, a clock struck eleven. A watchman came up, and after trying to see our features by the aid of an oil-lamp and the candle of his horn-lantern, took us up for being without hats, and carried us before the night-constable.

We told our story-or rather I did, for poor Wilkins was fairly beaten by circumstances over which he had no control." I was so much amused when all our misfortunes came before my mind's eye, that I believe I threw a great deal of fun into my narrative, which pleased my hearers so much, that they offered me a draught out of the measure which stood on the table. I was dying with thirst, but before I put the pewter to my lips, I reminded the constable that I had no

money.

"Young gentleman," said he, “I am sure you're a gentleman— drink."

I did I finished the porter to Wilkins's great disgust, who grumbled out his last bad pun for the night,

"You are better off than I am-for though you have got no tin, you've had the pewter."

"Young gentlemen," said the constable, "you are too late to get into school to-night. I believe your story to be true. You shall have a supper, and sleep here before the fire till the morning. To-morrow I will go with you to your master, and explain the reason of your being out all night. You can then repay me what I spend for you-if you are able to do so—if not, it don't much matter."

We accepted the kind offer, and made a most excellent meal on boiled beef and porter. We slept soundly on a bench, and early in the morning reached school. The master believed our tale-rewarded the constable handsomely for his kindness, and forgave us because we had lost our half-holiday.

I need hardly say, that we were laughed at by our companions; but that we did not mind. We had seen a great deal more than they had, and gained, as we thought, some valuable knowledge of the world.

Now although this happened many years since, and the adage goes that "experience makes even fools wise," I cannot say that I have benefited by the lesson which my adventures on that half-holiday ought to have taught me. If I have a leisure day I have so many ways in which I wish to employ it, that I vacillate between this way and that way until the day is too far spent to adopt either.

If I am in London for a week I make up my mind to see every body and every thing worth seeing, and to lay in a stock of all sorts of necessaries and luxuries difficult to be procured in the country. What is the result? I call on a friend on Monday morning, and allow him to chalk out the week for me, to the neglect of other friends. I find myself eating whitebait with him at Lovegrove's, or staring on the sea at Broadstairs, when I ought to be dining off a quiet chop with some old lady at the westend. On Saturday, as I get into the train, I find I have seen nothing that I meant to see, and bought nothing that I ought to have boughtexcept a basket of fish for my worthy and excellent squire-but then I dine with him, and am nearly related to the Otter family, if I may judge by my fondness for fish.

The same vacillation occurs if I have a week to spare for a country