Although Yardley Hall is less than forty years old, it has its customs and precedents. And one of them is that on the evening preceding the Broadwood game the combined musical clubs of Cambridge and Oxford shall give a concert in the Yard. At half-past seven the performers gathered in front of Dudley and the audience distributed itself on the grass or sat at the open windows facing the Yard. It was still light up here on the hill, although below the shadows were darkening over river and marsh and meadow. Gerald and Harry, the latter up and about in a borrowed dressing-gown, sat by the open window which looked directly across at Dudley. The mandolins, banjos, and guitars set the fellows humming and whistling with “The Merry Widow Waltzes” and one or two older favorites, and then the glee clubs hummed the accompaniment and Wheelock, substitute fielder on the Nine, sang “Mighty Lak’ a Rose,” his sweet tenor voice filling the silent Yard with its mellow tones. Such[286] an outburst of hand-clapping and applauding voices rewarded this that he was forced to sing the song over again and follow it with “A Health to King Charles.” Then the musicians started in on “Old Yardley,” and in a moment every fellow was singing lustily, in tune or out, according to his ability. Up from the grass and down from the crowded windows were hurled the defiant strains;
“Old Yardley can’t be beat, my boy, She’s bound to win the game! So give a cheer for Yardley and Hats off to Yardley’s fame!”

That started the cheering. They cheered for Captain Millener, for Colton, for Loring and so on down to Payson and Andy Ryan and “the subs,” the fellows gradually gathering above the leader who had mounted the steps of Dudley. Then they cheered for “Yardley! Yardley! Yardley!” over and over. Afterwards Millener made a short speech, and was followed by Payson. There were more cheers and finally the glee clubs started “The Years Roll On.” Off came hats and in the soft, summer twilight the slow, sweet, and solemn melody rose to the darkening sky.
“The years roll on. Too soon we find Our boyhood days are o’er. The scenes we’ve known, the friends we’ve loved, Are gone to come no more.[287] But in the shrine of Memory We’ll hold and cherish still The recollection fond of those Dear days on Yardley Hill.
“The years roll on. To man’s estate From youthful mould we pass, And Life’s stern duties bind us round, And doubts and cares harass. But God will guard through storms and give The strength to do His will And treasure e’er the lessons learned Of old on Yardley Hill.”

It is hard to hear that song unmoved if you are a Yardley man, and the group in front of Dudley dissolved silently, by ones and twos and by little groups, the fellows seeking their rooms or their friends’ rooms to sit at the open windows and talk of graduation, or the morrow’s contest, or the long summer vacation which was almost upon them.

Dan and Tom and Alf had listened to the concert from the window of Number 7, and after the last strain of the final song had died away they sat there in silence and watched the crowd break up and the fellows radiate across the Yard in the dusk. Finally Alf gave an impatient shake of his shoulders.

“Hang that song, anyhow,” he said, half laughing, half in earnest. “It always makes me feel[288] so kind of teary and noble. If I was a millionaire I’d go out and give away my money. Let’s sing ‘Harrigan’ or something lively.”

“I don’t think it’s going to hurt you, Alf, to feel noble for once,&rdqu............