XII
A SPEECH-DAY
In the course of the summer it was my lot to attend the Speech-Day
festivities of a certain school--indeed, I attended at more than
one such gathering, vocatus atque non vocatus, as Horace says. They
are not the sort of entertainments I should choose for pleasure;
one feels too much like a sheep, driven from pen to pen, kindly and
courteously driven, but still driven. One is fed rather than eats.
One meets a number of charming and interesting people, and one has
no time to talk to them. But I am always glad to have gone, and one
carries away pleasant memories of kindness and courtesy, of youth
and hope.
This particular occasion was so very typical that I am going to try
and gather up my impressions and ideas. It was an old school and a
famous school, though not one of the most famous. The buildings
large and effective, full of modern and up-to-date improvements,
with a mellow core of antiquity, in the shape of a venerable little
courtyard in the centre. There were green lawns and pleasant
gardens and umbrageous trees; and it was a beautiful day, too,
sunny and fresh, so that one was neither baked nor boiled.
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