was that he ceased to send a greeting to the school on the 4th of June. He had done this without fail, and it was always couched in the Latin tongue. I am indebted to the courtesy of the editors of the Eton Chronicle for permission to reprint has last salaam, - Gratissimus Almae Matris filius magistro inform. alumnus omnibus avete hoc IVto Iunii die ex Moluccis Iacobus Hook. Floet/reat Etona.[1] Gradually it became known how he had been destroyed by his dreadful foe. This was the only person of whom Miss xxx could not speak with charity. At his name her fingers twitched and her teeth sharpened. She always maintained that on securing possession of the ship he dressed in her nephew's clothing (cut down to fit him by the disreputable of his wanderings), and with a hook in his hand and a double cigar-holder in his mouth, strutted the deck using disgraceful language, a painful picture of James's conqueror which I have an uncomfortable feeling may be true.
Despite a circumstantial story, which is at least illustrative of the grandeur of his mind, that he bathed in diamonds, Hook left less property than might have been expected; his precious stones, the accumulation of years of toil, having been lost in a wretched competition among the crew of his successor about who could throw farthest. There came, however, eventually from an honest dive in Manaos a miscellaneous collection of his personal belongings, wrapped up in a shirt, and including a bag of doubloons and figures of eight, some jewelry such as is worn by small children of fashion, one spoon with the arms of Balliol College, Oxford, on it, a flute (an instrument on which he is said to have been a fair performer), the round top of a silk
- ↑ The beloved son of Alma Mater informs the teacher. Greetings to all students this 4th day of June from the Moluccas, James Hook. Let Eton bloom (Wikisource contributor note).
