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"There was one boy, and," he added slowly, "one peculiar incident. It occurred in my last year at Portora. The boy was a couple of years younger than I we were great friends; we used to take long walks together and I talked to him interminably. I told him what I should have done had I been Alexander, or how I'd have played king in Athens, had I been Alcibiades.
Both boys had the benefit of the best schooling of the time. They were sent as boarders to the Portora School at Enniskillen, one of the four Royal schools of Ireland. Oscar went to Portora in 1864 at the age of nine, a couple of years after his brother. He remained at the school for seven years and left it on winning an Exhibition for Trinity College, Dublin, when he was just seventeen.
Of course I was sensual and curious, as boys are, and had the usual boy imaginings; but I did not indulge in them excessively. "At Portora nine out of ten boys only thought of football or cricket or rowing. Nearly every one went in for athletics running and jumping and so forth; no one appeared to care for sex. We were healthy young barbarians and that was all." "Did you go in for games?" I asked.
He would invariably refer to it, telling one in his humorously unconvincing way that 'he had just put in the butterfly. Those of us who had seen his work in the drawing class presided over by 'Bully' Wakeman at Portora were not likely to be deceived in the matter....
O'Beirne, master of the! distinguished school of Portora at Enniskillen; the other from Sir William Betham, one of the soundest and most learned of our Irish Antiquaries. Both gentlemen differ in their opinion respecting the antiquity of the Donagh; and, as the author is incompetent to decide between them, he gives their respective letters to the public. ""Portora, August 15, 1832.
If it had not been for two or three people, I should have been worse off at Trinity than at Portora; but Oxford Oxford was paradise to me. My very soul seemed to expand within me to peace and joy. Oxford the enchanted valley, holding in its flowerlet cup all the idealism of the middle ages.
If it had not been for two or three people, I should have been worse off at Trinity than at Portora; but Oxford Oxford was paradise to me. My very soul seemed to expand within me to peace and joy. Oxford the enchanted valley, holding in its flowerlet cup all the idealism of the middle ages. He said them exquisitely and sometimes his own embroidery was as good as the original.
"The head master was always holding my brother Willie up to me as an example; but even he admitted that in my last year at Portora I had made astounding progress. I laid the foundation there of whatever classical scholarship I possess."
His care in dressing too, and his delight in stately editions; his love of literature "with a special leaning to poetry" were all qualities which distinguished him to the end. "Until the last year of my school life at Portora," he said to me once, "I had nothing like the reputation of my brother Willie.
He would invariably refer to it, telling one in his humorously unconvincing way that 'he had just put in the butterfly. Those of us who had seen his work in the drawing class presided over by 'Bully' Wakeman at Portora were not likely to be deceived in the matter. . . . .
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