Our prep. school days are certainly the worst days of our lives. We may or may not be misled by the statement, rammed down the throats of long-suffering schoolboys, that our "school days are the happiest days in our lives." Hesitatingly we believe this statement, while we are still at school, though in our innermost hearts we doubt its truth, We believe it for the same reason that we belie everything else that we are told at our prep. schools—because we have no choice but to believe it. We believe all the "facts" set down in our history books, cunningly twisted around to make the other country appear in the wrong every time—why? Because we have no other school books wherein we may learn history from more angles than one. So most of us amble through our prep. school days deceiving ourselves into believing that they are the "best days of our lives" The best days of our lives—cooped up in an area the size of a school building and its playing fields, kept under regimented discipline, our eating strictly regulated, enforced exercise ever under the sway of 'a dictatorial head. master, which means living ever under the threat of having to bend over ignominiously, and receive six of the best with the amiable
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.