MARLBOROUGH COLLEGE. 43 



be indeed worth living. The hours since I came to school had 

 seemed so long, and there had been so many landmarks to count 

 them b}^ that I had begun almost to think there was no such place 

 as home ; it must be a mere phantom of my brain. But I should 

 actually see it again to-morrow ! 



At that time, my school, college, and Indian career appeared like 

 futurity in front. But in after years, when they had all passed, like 

 a dream, behind, I drove down to Marlborough along the road 

 which my father and his embryo school-boys had taken in August, 

 1843, and I paid a visit to the attic. 



The thoughts which crowded on m}' memory might have affected 

 me perhaps, like those described b}- the poet, when he stood on the 

 moon-lit bridge, had not the humorous figure of my old friend 

 Chang risen up before me, singing his sarcastic couplet — 



" Good-bye College, good-bye Schools. 

 Good-bye all ye Marlborough fools." 



