Far From the Madding Crowd

Away from the dusty tracks of the villages in the plains, and away from the stink of city garbage, stands a school, in the heart of the hills, fanned by a cool, sweet-scented breeze. aving survived a hundred years, it still goes strong, far from the din and bustle of the city, away from the scorching sun. The memory of the verdant scenery, in the midst of which it stands, haunt Victorians long after the last bonfire of his schooldays has become dim in his mind, as haunting in fact, as Wordswofth's dancing Daffodil of Grasmere.

Despite its echoing emptiness and loneliness, it is nevertheless as enchanting a place as you will ever find. And when the campus ring with the joys and sorrows of schoolboy days, it seems to be as happy as a proud mother.

When the boys leave for their vacations, however short they be, the campus is desolate, the glory of its beauty unadmired, unprotected. No boys roam about the flats, and the corridors are empty. No chattering can be heard.

The sadness is keener during the three long winter months. Memories of boys in overcoats, capped, gloved and mufflered, books in hand, or sitting around a paper fire, studying, or talking about holiday plans ; memories that mingle with a silent breeze that stirs a few leave, the haunting house of a pack of jackals in the distance. The loving old school must mourn this long loneliness, till it is time once more to awaken to the joy of a new life, when old faces return to fill its seclusion, and new ones to wonder at its beauty, unspoilt by the din and bustle of the city and town.