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miscalling those in authority over us. He was a good master, inasmuch as he kept order in the school, and carried on the work of teaching about eighty boys by four masters, all in one room, with great regularity and with no marked inconvenience. Whatever might be the noise and games going on when he was absent, the moment his step was heard in the porch silence and order at once reigned.

Flogging with a cane was not uncommon for more serious offences, while for slighter ones he would box the ears pretty severely. If a boy did not obey his orders instantly, or repeated his offence soon afterwards, however trifling it might be, such as speaking to another boy or pinching him surreptitiously, he often, without another word, came down from his desk and gave the offender a resounding box on the ear. On one occasion I well remember his coming down to a rather small boy, giving him a slap on one side of his head which knocked him down flat on the seat, and when he slowly rose up, giving him another, which knocked him down on the other side. Caning was performed in the usual old-fashioned way by laying the boy across the desk, his hands being held on one side and his feet on the other, while the master, pulling the boy's trousers tight with one hand, laid on the cane with great vigour with the other. Mr. Crutwell always caned the boys himself, but the other masters administered minor punishments, such as slight ear-boxes, slapping the palm with a flat ruler, or rapping the knuckles with a round one. These punishments were usually deserved, though not always. A stupid boy, or one who had a bad verbal memory, was often punished for what was called invincible idleness when it was really congenital incapacity to learn what he took no interest in, or what often had no meaning for him. When the usual extra tasks or impositions failed with such a boy he was flogged, but I cannot remember whether in such cases his conduct was improved or whether he was given up as “a thoroughly lazy, bad boy, who was a disgrace to the school," and thereafter left to go his own way. Such boys were often very good playfellows, and the magisterial denunciations had little effect upon us.

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s. U, ru as he o j I suppose, a fairly good classical scholar, school too youn igher classes in Latin and Greek. I 1eft two I was in . to begin Greek, but the last year or “AEneid” with o which was going through Virgil's jo. eight or and they all sat to ad an hour to prepare the translation, close to Mr. d. in a group opposite each other and were always two o s desk, but under pretence of work there and gossip and sch r . of the boys who were full of talk amused till o stories, which kept us all employed and being called up o out a quarter of an hour of the time sor do our tamatio o some one would remark, “I say, let's cleverest boy, or o I don't know a word of it.” Then the ... dictionaries read slate, two or three others would have their word, and so . he did not know the meaning of a When we were call o: d through our forty or fifty lines. we got through . up, it was all a matter of chance whether good humour o* or otherwise. If the master was in a interesting, he w i. part we had to translate was specially blundered and o help us on wherever we hesitated or make a so rema * we had got through the lesson, he would you the whole i r o On the subject, and say, “Now I will read lation of the “ A. He would then take out a transuncle, I think— o in verse by a relative of his own—an read 'us Seve fnd, beginning perhaps a page or two book, what we o pages, so that we could better appreciate enjoyed the een trying to translate. I, for one, always dious, and se readings, as the verse was clear and meloLatin a gave an excellent idea of the poetry of the found Writer. Sometimes our laziness and ignorance Woo Over o: and We either had to stay in an hour and go stupid i. or copy it out a dozen times, or some other position. But as this only occurred now and then, of course it did not in the least affect our general mode of procedure when supposed to be learning our lesson. " Crutwell read well, with a good emphasis and intonation, and I obtained a better idea of wo" virgil really was from

his readings than from the fragmentary translations we
scrambled through.
The three assistant masters, then called ushers, were very
distinct characters. The English and writing master, who
also taught French, was a handsome, fair young man named
Fitzjohn. He was something of a dandy, wearing white duck
trousers in the summer, and always having a bright-coloured
stiff stock, which was the fashionable necktie of the day.
Those being ante-steel-pen days he had to make and mend
our quill pens, and always had a sharp penknife. He was
consequently the authority among the boys on the different
knife-makers and the best kind of hones for keeping them
sharp; and when he declared, as I once heard him, that some
knives required oil and others water on the stone to bring
them to a proper edge, we marvelled at his knowledge. What
raised him still higher in our estimation was that he was a
fairly good cricketer, and, even more exciting, he was one of
the County Yeomanry, and upon the days appointed for drill
or inspection, when from his bedroom over the schoolroom he
came down in his uniform with sword and spurs, and marched
across the room, our admiration reached its height. Though
rather contemptuous to the younger boys, he was, I think, a
pretty fair teacher. I learnt French from him for about two
or three years, and though he taught us nothing colloquially,
and could not, I think, speak the language himself, yet I
learnt enough to read any easy French book, whereas my six
years' grinding at Latin only resulted in a scanty knowledge
of the vocabulary and grammar, leaving me quite unable to
construe a page from a Latin author with any approach to
accuracy. Of course this was partly due to the fact that one
language is much more difficult than the other, but more to
the method of instruction. Had half the time been devoted
to teaching us simple colloquial Latin thoroughly, I feel sure
it would have been far more useful to those who left school
early, and who had no special talent for languages. The
only use Latin has been to me has been the enabling me to
understand the specific descriptions of birds and insects in
that tongue, and also to appreciate the derivation from Latin

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of many of our common English words. If the remaining time had been spent in learning German, the result would have been far more useful, but I do not think this language was taught in the school. The second master, or head usher, was named Hill. He had the end desk opposite to Mr. Crutwell's, and was a rather hard man, who knocked the boys'knuckles with his ruler very severely. On one occasion I remember seeing a boy whose hand was not only black and swollen from blows, but had the skin cut, and was covered with blood. In this case I think a complaint was made by the boy's parents, and Mr. H. was informed privately that he must be more moderate in the future. I do not think I ever had any lessons with this master. The youngest of the ushers was named Godwin, and was a nephew of Mr. Crutwell. He was rather a large-limbed, dark young man of eighteen or twenty. He was very good natured, and was much liked by the boys, in whose games he often took part. He was, I believe, studying the higher classics with his uncle with the idea of going to the University, but I never heard what became of him afterwards. He taught generally in the school, but the only recollection I have of him as a teacher was in one special case. Shortly before I left the school, I and a few others were put to translate one of the works of Cicero, and we were to be heard the lesson by Godwin. We had none of us any experience of this author before, having translated only Ovid and Virgil. We sat down and worked away with our dictionaries till we knew the meanings, or some of the meanings, of most of the words, but, somehow, could not fit them together to make sense. However, at last we thought we had got something of the meaning. We were called up, and the boy at the head of the class began his translation. When he got stuck Godwin asked the others if they could help him, and when we could not, he would tell us the meaning of some difficult word, and then tell the translator to go on. He went on bit by bit till we got to the end of a long sentence. Then Godwin asked us if we thought we had got it right. We said we didn't know. Then he said, “Let's see; I will read it just as you have translated it.” This he did, and then we could see that we had not made the least approach to anything that was intelligible. So we had to confess that we could only make nonsense of it. Then he began, and translated the whole passage correctly for us, using very nearly the same words as we had used, but arranging them in a very different order, and showing us that the very ideas involved and the whole construction of the sentence was totally different from anything we had imagined. He did all this in a good-humoured way, as if pitying our being put upon a task so much beyond us, and, so far as I now recollect, that was our last as well as our first attempt at translating Cicero. I felt, however, that if we had had Godwin for our Latin teacher from the beginning we should have had a much better chance of really learning the language, and, perhaps, getting to understand Cicero, and appreciate the beauty and force of his style. Next to Latin grammar the most painful subject I learnt was geography, which ought to have been the most interesting. It consisted almost entirely in learning by heart the names of the chief towns, rivers, and mountains of the various countries from, I think, Pinnock's “School Geography,” which gave the minimum of useful or interesting information. It was something like learning the multiplication table both in the painfulness of the process and the permanence of the results. The incessant grinding in both, week after week and year after year, resulted in my knowing both the product of any two numbers up to twelve, and the chief towns of any English county so thoroughly, that the result was automatic, and the name of Staffordshire brought into my memory Stafford, Litchfield, Leek, as surely and rapidly as eight times seven brought fifty-six. The labour and mental effort to one who like myself had little verbal memory was very painful, and though the result has been a somewhat useful acquisition during life, I cannot but think that the same amount of mental exertion wisely directed might have produced far greater and more generally useful results. When I had to learn the chief towns of the provinces of Poland, Russia,

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