October 14, 2025 • 16 mins
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
A school story by M R. James. Two men in
a smoking room were talking of their private school days.
At our school, said A, we had a ghost footprint
on the staircase. What was it like? All very unconvincing,
just the shape of a shoe with a square toe.
If I remember right, the staircase was a stone one.
(00:23):
I never heard any story about the thing. It seems
odd when you come to think of it. Why didn't
somebody invent one? I wonder you never can tell. With
little boys, they have a mythology of their own. There's
a subject for you, by the way, the folklore of
private schools. Yes, the crop is rather scanty, though. I
(00:44):
imagine if you were to investigate the cycle of ghost stories,
for instance, which the boys at private schools tell each other,
they would all turn out to be highly compressed versions
of stories out of books. Nowaday the Strand and Pierson's
and so on would be extensively drawn upon. No doubt
they weren't born or thought of in my time. Let's see,
(01:08):
I wonder if I can remember the staple ones that
I was told. First, there was the house with the
room in which a series of people insisted on passing
a night and each of them in the morning was
found kneeling in a corner and had just time to say,
I've seen it and died. Wasn't that the house in
Berkeley Square? I dare say it was. Then there was
(01:33):
the man who heard a noise in the passage at night,
opened his door and saw someone crawling towards him on
all fours, with his eye hanging out on his cheek.
There was, besides, let me think, yes, the room where
a man was found dead in bed with a horseshoe
mark on his forehead, and the floor under the bed
was covered with marks of horseshoes. Also, I don't know why.
(01:56):
Also there was the lady who, on locking her bedroom
door in a stringse heard a thin voice among the
bread curtains say, now we're shut in for the night.
None of those had any explanation or a sequel. I
wonder if they go on still those stories, Oh likely enough,
with additions from the magazines. As I said, you never heard,
(02:19):
did you of a real ghost at a private school?
I thought, not, nobody has that I ever came across.
From the way in which you say that, I gather
that you have. I really don't know, But this is
what was in my mind. It happened at my private
school thirty odd years ago, and I haven't any explanation
(02:42):
of it. The school, I mean was near London. It
was established in a large and fairly old house, a
great white building with very fine grounds about it. There
were large cedars in the garden, as there are in
so many of the older gardens in the Thames Valley,
and ain't in elms. In the three or four fields
which we used for our games. I think probably it
(03:05):
was quite an attractive place, but boys seldom allow that
their schools possessed any tolerable features. I came to the
school in a September, soon after the year eighteen seventy,
and among the boys who arrived on the same day
was one whom I took to a Highland boy whom
I will call mac cleod. I needn't spend time in
(03:27):
describing him. The main thing is that I got to
know him very well. He was not an exceptional boy
in any way, not particularly good at books or games,
but he suited me. The school was a large one.
There must have been from one hundred and twenty to
one hundred and thirty boys there. As a rule and
so a considerable staff of masters was required, and there
(03:49):
were rather frequent changes among them. One term, perhaps it
was my third or fourth, a new master made his appearance.
His name was Samson. He was a tallish, stoutish, pale,
black bearded man. I think we liked him. He had
traveled a good deal and had stories which amused us
on our school walks, so that there was some competition
(04:11):
among us to get within earshot of him. I remember, too,
dear me, I have hardly thought of it since then,
that he had a charm on his watch chain that
attracted my attention one day, and he let me examine it.
It was, I now suppose, a gold Byzantine coin. There
was an effigy of some absurd emperor on one side.
(04:32):
The other side had been worn practically smooth, and he
had had cut on it rather barbarously, his own initials
G W S and a date twenty four July eighteen
sixty five. Yes, I can see it now, he told
me he picked it up in Constantinople. It was about
(04:54):
the size of a florin, perhaps rather smaller. Well. The
first odd thing that happened was this Samson was doing
Latin grammar with us. One of his favorite methods, perhaps
it is rather a good one, was to make us
construct sentences out of our own heads to illustrate the
rules he was trying to make us learn. Of course,
that is a thing which gives a silky boy a
(05:15):
chance of being impertinent. There are lots of school stories
in which that happens, or any how there might be.
But Samson was too good a disciplinarian for us to
think of trying that on with him. Now. On this occasion,
he was telling us how to express remembering in Latin,
and he ordered us each to make a sentence, bringing
in the verb memini I remember. Well. Most of us
(05:40):
made up ordinary sentences such as I remember my father,
or he remembers his book, or something equally uninteresting, and
I dare say a good many put down memino, librum, meum,
and so forth. But the boy I mentioned mac Cleod
was evidently thinking of something more elaborate than that. The
rest of us wanted to have our sentences passed and
(06:01):
get on to something else, So some kicked him under
the desk, and I, who was next to him, poked
him and whispered to him to look sharp. But he
didn't seem to attend. I looked at his paper and
saw he had put down nothing at all. So I
jogged him again, harder than before, and upbraided him sharply
for keeping us all waiting. That did have some effect.
(06:23):
He started and seemed to wake up, and then very
quickly he scribbled about a couple of lines on his
paper and showed it up with the rest. As it
was the last or nearly the last, to come in,
and as Samson had a good deal to say to
the boys who had written Mimini's schemis patri Meo and
the rest of it. It turned out that the clock
(06:45):
struck twelve before he had got to mc clod, and
McCleod had to wait afterwards to have his sentence corrected.
There was nothing much going on outside when I got out,
so I waited for him to come. He came very
slowly when he did arrive, and I guessed there had
been some sort of trouble. Well, I said, what did
you get? Oh, I don't know, said mc cloud, Nothing much,
(07:08):
But I think Samson's rather sick with me. Why did
you show him up? Some rot? No fear? He said.
It was all right as far as I could see,
it was like this memento that's right enough for remember
and it takes a genitive memento. Putei inter quatro taxos?
What silly rot? I said, What made you shove that down?
(07:31):
What does it mean? That's the funny part, said mc clod.
I'm not quite sure what it does mean. All I
know is it just came into my head and I
corked it down. I know what I think it means,
because just before I wrote it down, I had a
sort of picture of it in my head. I believe
it means, remember the well among the four what are
(07:54):
those dark sort of trees that have red berries on them?
Mountain ashes? I suppose you mean I never heard of them,
said mc cloud. No, I'll tell you yous well. And what
did Samson say? Why? He was jolly odd about it
when he read it. He got up and went to
the mantel piece and stopped quite a long time without
(08:15):
saying anything, with his back to me, And then he said,
without turning around, and rather quiet, what do you suppose
that means? I told him what I thought, only I
couldn't remember the name of the silly tree. And then
he wanted to know why I put it down, and
I had to say something or other, And after that
(08:36):
he left off talking about it and asked me how
long I'd been here, and where my people lived, and
things like that. Then I came away, but he wasn't
looking a bit well. I don't remember any more that
was said by either of us about this. Next day,
mc cloud took to his bed with a chill or
something of the kind, and it was a week or
(08:58):
more before he was in school again. Inasmuch as a
month went by without anything happening that was noticeable. Whether
or not mister Samson was really startled as mac Cloud
had thought, he didn't show it. I'm pretty sure, of
course now, that there was something very curious in his
past history, but I'm not going to pretend that we
(09:19):
boys were sharp enough to guess any such thing. There
was one other incident of the same kind as the last,
which I told you several times since that day. We
had to make up examples in school to illustrate different rules,
but there had never been any row except when we
did them wrong. At last, there came a day when
(09:39):
we were going through those dismal things which people call
conditional sentences, and we were told to make a conditional
sentence expressing a future consequence. We did it right or wrong,
and showed up our bits of paper, and Samson began
looking through them all at once. He got up, made
some sort of noise in his throat, and rushed out
(10:02):
by a door that was just by his desk. We
sat there for a minute or two, and then I
suppose it was incorrect, but we went up I and
one or two others to look at the papers on
his desk. Of course, I thought someone must have put
down some nonsense or other, and Samson had gone off
to report him. All the time, I noticed that he
(10:23):
hadn't taken any of the papers with him when he
ran out. Well, the top paper on the desk was
written in red ink, which no one used, and it
wasn't in any one's hand who was in the class.
They all looked at it mc cloud and all and
took their dying oaths that it wasn't theirs. Then I
thought of counting the bits of paper, and of this
(10:45):
I made quite certain that there were seventeen bits of
paper on the desk and sixteen boys in the form. Well,
I bagged the extra paper and kept it and I
believe I have it now, and now you will want
to know what was written on it. It was simple
enough and harmless enough. I should have said, see two
(11:06):
none venerous admi ego viniar ad tae, which means, I
suppose if you don't come to me, I'll come to you.
Could you show me the paper, interrupted the listener. Yes
I could, but there's another odd thing about it. That
same afternoon I took it out of my locker. I
(11:26):
know for certain it was the same bit, for I
made a finger mark on it, and no single trace
of writing of any kind was there on it. I
kept it, as I said, and since that time I
have tried various experiments to see whether sympathetic ink had
been used, but absolutely without result. So much for that.
(11:49):
After about half an hour, Samson looked in again, said
he had felt very unwell and told us we might go.
He came rather gingerly to his desk and gave just
one look at the uppermost. I suppose he thought he
must have been dreaming. Anyhow, he asked no questions. That
day was a half holiday, and next day Samson was
(12:10):
in school again much as usual. That night, the third
and last incident of my story happened. We McLeod and
I slept in a dormitory at right angles to the
main building. Samson slept in the main building on the
first floor. There was a very bright full moon at
an hour which I can't tell exactly, But some time
(12:33):
between one and two I was woken up by somebody
shaking me. It was mc cloud, in a nice state
of mind. He seemed to be in come. He said, come,
there's a burglar getting in through Samson's window. As soon
as I could speak, I said, well, why not call
out and wake everybody up? No, no, he said, I'm
not sure who it is. Don't make a row, Come
(12:54):
and look naturally. I came and looked the naturally there
was no one there. I was cross enough and should
have called mc cleod plenty of names, only I couldn't
tell why. It seemed to me that there was something wrong,
something that made me very glad I wasn't alone to
face it. We were still at the window looking out,
(13:17):
and as soon as I could, I asked him what
he had heard or seen. I didn't hear anything at all,
he said, But about five minutes before I woke you,
I found myself looking out of this window here, and
there was a man sitting or kneeling on Samson's window
seal and looking in, and I thought he was beckoning.
What sort of man? Mc cloud wriggled. I don't know,
(13:41):
he said, but I can't tell you one thing. He
was beastly thin, and he looked as if he was
wet all over, and he said, looking round and whispering
as if he hardly liked to hear himself. I'm not
at all sure that he was alive. We went on
talking and whisper for some time longer, and eventually crept
(14:02):
back to bed. No one else in the room woke
or stirred the whole time. I believe we did sleep
a bit afterwards, but we were very cheap next day,
And next day mister Sampson was gone, not to be found,
and I believe no trace of him has ever come
to light since. In thinking it over, one of the
oddest things about it all has seemed to me to
(14:24):
be the fact that neither mac cleod nor I ever
mentioned what we had seen to any third person whatever.
Of course, no questions were asked on the subject, and
if they had been, I am inclined to believe that.
We could not have made any answer. We seemed unable
to speak about it. That is my story, said the narrator.
(14:45):
The only approach of a ghost story connected with the
school that I know. But still I think an approach
to such a thing. The sequel to this may perhaps
be reckoned highly conventional, but a sequel there is, and
so it must be produced. There had been more than
one listener to the story, and in the latter part
(15:06):
of that same year or of the next, one such
listener was staying at a country house in Ireland. One evening,
his host was turning over a drawer full of odds
and ends in the smoking room. Suddenly he put his
hand upon a little box. Now, he said, you know
about old things, Tell me what that is. My friend
(15:29):
opened the little box and found it in a thin
gold chain with an object attached to it. He glanced
at the object and then took off his spectacles to
examine it more narrowly. What's the history of this, he asked?
Odd enough was the answer. You know the youth thicket
and the shrubbery well. A year or two back we
(15:49):
were cleaning out the old well that used to be
in the clearing here. And what do you suppose we found?
Is it possible that you've found a body? Said the visitor,
with an odd feeling of nerve busness. We did that.
But what's more, in every sense of the word, we
found two good heavens two. Was there anything to show
how they got there? Was this found with them? It
(16:11):
was amongst the rags of the clothes that were on
one of the bodies. A bad business, whatever the story
of it may have been. One body had the arms
tight round the other. They must have been there thirty
years or more long enough before we came to this place.
You may judge we filled the well up fast enough.
Do you make anything of what's cut on that gold
(16:32):
coin you have there? I think I can, said my friend,
holding it to the light, But he read it without
much difficulty. It seems to be g. W. S. Twenty
four July eighteen sixty five, and of a school story.
A school story by M R. James. Two men in
a smoking room were talking of their private school days.
At our school, said A, we had a ghost footprint
on the staircase. What was it like? All very unconvincing,
just the shape of a shoe with a square toe.
If I remember right, the staircase was a stone one.
(00:23):
I never heard any story about the thing. It seems
odd when you come to think of it. Why didn't
somebody invent one? I wonder you never can tell. With
little boys, they have a mythology of their own. There's
a subject for you, by the way, the folklore of
private schools. Yes, the crop is rather scanty, though. I
(00:44):
imagine if you were to investigate the cycle of ghost stories,
for instance, which the boys at private schools tell each other,
they would all turn out to be highly compressed versions
of stories out of books. Nowaday the Strand and Pierson's
and so on would be extensively drawn upon. No doubt
they weren't born or thought of in my time. Let's see,
(01:08):
I wonder if I can remember the staple ones that
I was told. First, there was the house with the
room in which a series of people insisted on passing
a night and each of them in the morning was
found kneeling in a corner and had just time to say,
I've seen it and died. Wasn't that the house in
Berkeley Square? I dare say it was. Then there was
(01:33):
the man who heard a noise in the passage at night,
opened his door and saw someone crawling towards him on
all fours, with his eye hanging out on his cheek.
There was, besides, let me think, yes, the room where
a man was found dead in bed with a horseshoe
mark on his forehead, and the floor under the bed
was covered with marks of horseshoes. Also, I don't know why.
(01:56):
Also there was the lady who, on locking her bedroom
door in a stringse heard a thin voice among the
bread curtains say, now we're shut in for the night.
None of those had any explanation or a sequel. I
wonder if they go on still those stories, Oh likely enough,
with additions from the magazines. As I said, you never heard,
(02:19):
did you of a real ghost at a private school?
I thought, not, nobody has that I ever came across.
From the way in which you say that, I gather
that you have. I really don't know, But this is
what was in my mind. It happened at my private
school thirty odd years ago, and I haven't any explanation
(02:42):
of it. The school, I mean was near London. It
was established in a large and fairly old house, a
great white building with very fine grounds about it. There
were large cedars in the garden, as there are in
so many of the older gardens in the Thames Valley,
and ain't in elms. In the three or four fields
which we used for our games. I think probably it
(03:05):
was quite an attractive place, but boys seldom allow that
their schools possessed any tolerable features. I came to the
school in a September, soon after the year eighteen seventy,
and among the boys who arrived on the same day
was one whom I took to a Highland boy whom
I will call mac cleod. I needn't spend time in
(03:27):
describing him. The main thing is that I got to
know him very well. He was not an exceptional boy
in any way, not particularly good at books or games,
but he suited me. The school was a large one.
There must have been from one hundred and twenty to
one hundred and thirty boys there. As a rule and
so a considerable staff of masters was required, and there
(03:49):
were rather frequent changes among them. One term, perhaps it
was my third or fourth, a new master made his appearance.
His name was Samson. He was a tallish, stoutish, pale,
black bearded man. I think we liked him. He had
traveled a good deal and had stories which amused us
on our school walks, so that there was some competition
(04:11):
among us to get within earshot of him. I remember, too,
dear me, I have hardly thought of it since then,
that he had a charm on his watch chain that
attracted my attention one day, and he let me examine it.
It was, I now suppose, a gold Byzantine coin. There
was an effigy of some absurd emperor on one side.
(04:32):
The other side had been worn practically smooth, and he
had had cut on it rather barbarously, his own initials
G W S and a date twenty four July eighteen
sixty five. Yes, I can see it now, he told
me he picked it up in Constantinople. It was about
(04:54):
the size of a florin, perhaps rather smaller. Well. The
first odd thing that happened was this Samson was doing
Latin grammar with us. One of his favorite methods, perhaps
it is rather a good one, was to make us
construct sentences out of our own heads to illustrate the
rules he was trying to make us learn. Of course,
that is a thing which gives a silky boy a
(05:15):
chance of being impertinent. There are lots of school stories
in which that happens, or any how there might be.
But Samson was too good a disciplinarian for us to
think of trying that on with him. Now. On this occasion,
he was telling us how to express remembering in Latin,
and he ordered us each to make a sentence, bringing
in the verb memini I remember. Well. Most of us
(05:40):
made up ordinary sentences such as I remember my father,
or he remembers his book, or something equally uninteresting, and
I dare say a good many put down memino, librum, meum,
and so forth. But the boy I mentioned mac Cleod
was evidently thinking of something more elaborate than that. The
rest of us wanted to have our sentences passed and
(06:01):
get on to something else, So some kicked him under
the desk, and I, who was next to him, poked
him and whispered to him to look sharp. But he
didn't seem to attend. I looked at his paper and
saw he had put down nothing at all. So I
jogged him again, harder than before, and upbraided him sharply
for keeping us all waiting. That did have some effect.
(06:23):
He started and seemed to wake up, and then very
quickly he scribbled about a couple of lines on his
paper and showed it up with the rest. As it
was the last or nearly the last, to come in,
and as Samson had a good deal to say to
the boys who had written Mimini's schemis patri Meo and
the rest of it. It turned out that the clock
(06:45):
struck twelve before he had got to mc clod, and
McCleod had to wait afterwards to have his sentence corrected.
There was nothing much going on outside when I got out,
so I waited for him to come. He came very
slowly when he did arrive, and I guessed there had
been some sort of trouble. Well, I said, what did
you get? Oh, I don't know, said mc cloud, Nothing much,
(07:08):
But I think Samson's rather sick with me. Why did
you show him up? Some rot? No fear? He said.
It was all right as far as I could see,
it was like this memento that's right enough for remember
and it takes a genitive memento. Putei inter quatro taxos?
What silly rot? I said, What made you shove that down?
(07:31):
What does it mean? That's the funny part, said mc clod.
I'm not quite sure what it does mean. All I
know is it just came into my head and I
corked it down. I know what I think it means,
because just before I wrote it down, I had a
sort of picture of it in my head. I believe
it means, remember the well among the four what are
(07:54):
those dark sort of trees that have red berries on them?
Mountain ashes? I suppose you mean I never heard of them,
said mc cloud. No, I'll tell you yous well. And what
did Samson say? Why? He was jolly odd about it
when he read it. He got up and went to
the mantel piece and stopped quite a long time without
(08:15):
saying anything, with his back to me, And then he said,
without turning around, and rather quiet, what do you suppose
that means? I told him what I thought, only I
couldn't remember the name of the silly tree. And then
he wanted to know why I put it down, and
I had to say something or other, And after that
(08:36):
he left off talking about it and asked me how
long I'd been here, and where my people lived, and
things like that. Then I came away, but he wasn't
looking a bit well. I don't remember any more that
was said by either of us about this. Next day,
mc cloud took to his bed with a chill or
something of the kind, and it was a week or
(08:58):
more before he was in school again. Inasmuch as a
month went by without anything happening that was noticeable. Whether
or not mister Samson was really startled as mac Cloud
had thought, he didn't show it. I'm pretty sure, of
course now, that there was something very curious in his
past history, but I'm not going to pretend that we
(09:19):
boys were sharp enough to guess any such thing. There
was one other incident of the same kind as the last,
which I told you several times since that day. We
had to make up examples in school to illustrate different rules,
but there had never been any row except when we
did them wrong. At last, there came a day when
(09:39):
we were going through those dismal things which people call
conditional sentences, and we were told to make a conditional
sentence expressing a future consequence. We did it right or wrong,
and showed up our bits of paper, and Samson began
looking through them all at once. He got up, made
some sort of noise in his throat, and rushed out
(10:02):
by a door that was just by his desk. We
sat there for a minute or two, and then I
suppose it was incorrect, but we went up I and
one or two others to look at the papers on
his desk. Of course, I thought someone must have put
down some nonsense or other, and Samson had gone off
to report him. All the time, I noticed that he
(10:23):
hadn't taken any of the papers with him when he
ran out. Well, the top paper on the desk was
written in red ink, which no one used, and it
wasn't in any one's hand who was in the class.
They all looked at it mc cloud and all and
took their dying oaths that it wasn't theirs. Then I
thought of counting the bits of paper, and of this
(10:45):
I made quite certain that there were seventeen bits of
paper on the desk and sixteen boys in the form. Well,
I bagged the extra paper and kept it and I
believe I have it now, and now you will want
to know what was written on it. It was simple
enough and harmless enough. I should have said, see two
(11:06):
none venerous admi ego viniar ad tae, which means, I
suppose if you don't come to me, I'll come to you.
Could you show me the paper, interrupted the listener. Yes
I could, but there's another odd thing about it. That
same afternoon I took it out of my locker. I
(11:26):
know for certain it was the same bit, for I
made a finger mark on it, and no single trace
of writing of any kind was there on it. I
kept it, as I said, and since that time I
have tried various experiments to see whether sympathetic ink had
been used, but absolutely without result. So much for that.
(11:49):
After about half an hour, Samson looked in again, said
he had felt very unwell and told us we might go.
He came rather gingerly to his desk and gave just
one look at the uppermost. I suppose he thought he
must have been dreaming. Anyhow, he asked no questions. That
day was a half holiday, and next day Samson was
(12:10):
in school again much as usual. That night, the third
and last incident of my story happened. We McLeod and
I slept in a dormitory at right angles to the
main building. Samson slept in the main building on the
first floor. There was a very bright full moon at
an hour which I can't tell exactly, But some time
(12:33):
between one and two I was woken up by somebody
shaking me. It was mc cloud, in a nice state
of mind. He seemed to be in come. He said, come,
there's a burglar getting in through Samson's window. As soon
as I could speak, I said, well, why not call
out and wake everybody up? No, no, he said, I'm
not sure who it is. Don't make a row, Come
(12:54):
and look naturally. I came and looked the naturally there
was no one there. I was cross enough and should
have called mc cleod plenty of names, only I couldn't
tell why. It seemed to me that there was something wrong,
something that made me very glad I wasn't alone to
face it. We were still at the window looking out,
(13:17):
and as soon as I could, I asked him what
he had heard or seen. I didn't hear anything at all,
he said, But about five minutes before I woke you,
I found myself looking out of this window here, and
there was a man sitting or kneeling on Samson's window
seal and looking in, and I thought he was beckoning.
What sort of man? Mc cloud wriggled. I don't know,
(13:41):
he said, but I can't tell you one thing. He
was beastly thin, and he looked as if he was
wet all over, and he said, looking round and whispering
as if he hardly liked to hear himself. I'm not
at all sure that he was alive. We went on
talking and whisper for some time longer, and eventually crept
(14:02):
back to bed. No one else in the room woke
or stirred the whole time. I believe we did sleep
a bit afterwards, but we were very cheap next day,
And next day mister Sampson was gone, not to be found,
and I believe no trace of him has ever come
to light since. In thinking it over, one of the
oddest things about it all has seemed to me to
(14:24):
be the fact that neither mac cleod nor I ever
mentioned what we had seen to any third person whatever.
Of course, no questions were asked on the subject, and
if they had been, I am inclined to believe that.
We could not have made any answer. We seemed unable
to speak about it. That is my story, said the narrator.
(14:45):
The only approach of a ghost story connected with the
school that I know. But still I think an approach
to such a thing. The sequel to this may perhaps
be reckoned highly conventional, but a sequel there is, and
so it must be produced. There had been more than
one listener to the story, and in the latter part
(15:06):
of that same year or of the next, one such
listener was staying at a country house in Ireland. One evening,
his host was turning over a drawer full of odds
and ends in the smoking room. Suddenly he put his
hand upon a little box. Now, he said, you know
about old things, Tell me what that is. My friend
(15:29):
opened the little box and found it in a thin
gold chain with an object attached to it. He glanced
at the object and then took off his spectacles to
examine it more narrowly. What's the history of this, he asked?
Odd enough was the answer. You know the youth thicket
and the shrubbery well. A year or two back we
(15:49):
were cleaning out the old well that used to be
in the clearing here. And what do you suppose we found?
Is it possible that you've found a body? Said the visitor,
with an odd feeling of nerve busness. We did that.
But what's more, in every sense of the word, we
found two good heavens two. Was there anything to show
how they got there? Was this found with them? It
(16:11):
was amongst the rags of the clothes that were on
one of the bodies. A bad business, whatever the story
of it may have been. One body had the arms
tight round the other. They must have been there thirty
years or more long enough before we came to this place.
You may judge we filled the well up fast enough.
Do you make anything of what's cut on that gold
(16:32):
coin you have there? I think I can, said my friend,
holding it to the light, But he read it without
much difficulty. It seems to be g. W. S. Twenty
four July eighteen sixty five, and of a school story.
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