looked up to by his scholars as a prodigy such as seldom appeared. It was well known throughout the school that there was not a word in "Cæsar," or the "Delectus," or the "Analecta Græca Minora,” that he did not know the meaning of, and probably not a question of any sort about anything that he could not dispose of "standing on one foot," if it were submitted to him. Society was much to blame for floundering perpetually about amongst unsolved problems, when there was such an authority to be consulted. He had enjoyed the inestimable blessing of three years and a half's residence at Cambridge at some far remote period, shortly after the Deluge, I think, when the subsidence of the waters once more uncovered the lofty summits of the Gogmagog Hills, and presently permitted men to go up again to the University. What degree he took was a much-vexed question, wrapt in the mist of ages. It was a favourite subject of discussion with. the local antiquaries. I hope nobody thinks we boys cared a fig about the matter. We could have understood his conferring a degree on Cambridge or Oxford; but as to his receiving one from either of those institutions, we never dreamt, in our least reverent and worshipping moments, of any such excess of condescension. It was enough that he had once honoured Cambridge for a while by residing there. The presence was not unkindly, I remember, the morning it was my fortune to be introduced to him. He gave me some easy verses to read from one of the Gospels, was good enough to be satisfied with my reading of them, and then set me a lesson in the Latin Grammarthe old Eton Latin Grammar. After this manner began my life at

the old school.

What a strange world to find oneself in! The boys varied in age from seven or eight up to an amount of years sufficient to make a freshman. The staple of the studies was Latin and Greek; or, rather, these languages were the only studies that could be said to be pursued. To be sure, other subjects were recognised. Once a week a collect was learnt by heart, or one of the pieces from "Enfield's Speaker." About as often a Frenchman appeared on the premises, and some few boys sat at his feet (very metaphorically). Then the writing-master had his hour. Ah! what a masterly penman was he! Another of his functions was, as I have since surmised, how not to teach us spelling. This duty he discharged with eminent success by the dexterous employment of a work called a Spellingbook. Lastly, this accomplished person was the representative of mathematical science in our school. The term mathematics, being interpreted, meant arithmetic in all its artful and inscrutable branches, as Tare and Tret, Position, Double Position, and, furthermore, the most primary rudiments of Algebra, should there arise any bov

extraordinary genius. Except the time occupied by these studiesis there not an opening for a sum in Tare and Tret here?-all our school-hours were given up to Latin and Greek; and the schoolhours averaged some five hours a day. This devotion to these languages was crowned with such complete success that the cleverest boys, by the time they were of age to proceed to the university, had not unfrequently read part of a play of the tragic poet Euripides! They could construe anything in the "Delectus"—that is, of course, anything that did not absolutely transcend a mortal's abilities. One or two fellows, I know, had gone right through the "Exempla Moralia!" One had read a bit of one of the speeches of the Attic orator, Demosthenes, before he left; but he died soon after. There are limits to a fellow's powers. The three years I spent at the school were passed in the perusal of that charming --but perhaps too exciting-work, the Latin " Accidence," of the Latin "Delectus," of Cæsar's "Commentaries" on his Gallic War, of "Eclogues" from Ovid, of a Greek grammar written in Latin, of the Greek "Delectus," and the "Analecta Græca Minora." I trust that when I was removed in my twelfth year to another school, I wore my weight of learning like a flower. I do not remember being conscious that it felt heavy.

The dismissal customs of our school were curious. The headmaster could let us go at any moment he pleased by uttering the talismanic words Abire licet. This right he exercised with great discretion, always to our huge delight, especially if there were bears (inside Wombwell's vans), or anything of that sort in the town. The afternoon school could only be dismissed in the above way. The morning schools, supposing the dictator did not use his prerogative, were dismissed by a youth rushing into the middle of the schoolroom and shouting Sonuit nona and Sonuit prima, as the case might be. What uproar followed either cry! What an o'ervaulting of desks! What glad clamours! To perform that office of proclaiming the hour was everybody's ambition. As the moment drew near, you would humbly approach the writing-master, and petition to be allowed to go and "listen." Should the honour be vouchsafed, you bounded down the old steps and assumed a sort of hour-stalking attitude. The instant you saw the minute-hand of the church clock complete its twelve-spaced circuit, and heard the clapper begin to announce the glorious fact, then on the wind's wings you flew back and gave the signal of deliverance. One might live long without doing welcomer service for one's fellow-creatures than were these old heraldings.

Of course the saints were respected at our old school. Well known

to us were they then-at least their days. But in respect of them too the head-master was supreme. He could dis-niche, so to speak, whom he pleased. On each vigil, just before prayers were read-we prayed duly morning and evening-a respectful, a reverential deputation went up to him to remind him—as if he wanted reminding of anything!-of the imminent feast, and pray that we might keep holiday. What agonies of suspense have been endured on such occasions! The entire school would sit with its eyes fastened on the interview, pale and trembling! Sometimes it would see its deputies driven with ignominy from the imperial seat; at other times, and these the more frequent, it would become sensible that the presence was smiling, and all was well; and would, it may be feared, employ itself during the ensuing rites in devising the most splendid programmes for the spending of the morrow. Ah, delightful morrows ! What games, what wanderings on the hills, what bathings in clear brooks, what noises of battling with "louts"-the local Philistines-did ye bring us!

But I must not attempt to describe all the vision that I see when I look back at those old days. There were other masters besides the head-master, who, in my eyes at least, belonged to a higher race than the human; there were boys, men of but nascent faculties, who were destined to win fame on the Cam or the Isis, in the senatehouse or in the schools, if on no broader fields; there were adventures and accidents of a thrilling character. Is it possible to think of one's earliest affaire du cœur without emotion? Can one ever forget the fervent hope, the profound despair, of the love that made us twice a boy, the tender interchanges of vows and oranges, the sweetness and the light and the gloom of one's primal passion? It is long, O my friends, since Plancus-longer since his predecessorwas consul; but in our bosom live their ancient fires. Still, I will not let my pen revert to all these things. I push them from me. Quit me now, I pray you, O face of my primeval fiancée !-schoolfellows in whose brave company I weathered the storms of that age, ye whom I fought and loved,-even thou, O Jones, choice friend of my early bosom, sæpe mecum tempus in ultimum deducte,—let your memories, howsoever dear, pass from me for the present. I would offer no offence to you, either to those that are now shades, and whose palpable hands I shall never clasp again; or to you whom I may yet again meet and embrace. But of another sort must my thoughts now be. I would fain recall our in-school life, and try to describe the kind of learning we received from the hands (literally, I think) of our instructors, and the manner in which it was administered to us.

And yet I tremble when I think of that in-school life. Joyful

were the hours that interrupted it; sweet were the names of the saints; blessed were the advents of Christmas and midsummer; but the inschool life cannot be recollected even now without spasms of terror.

The firm conviction of the masters of the old Grammar School was, that nothing could possibly be taught that was not emphasised with the cane. This was their one sovereign theory, and, ay me! their practice. Teaching and flogging were convertible terms. Such was the tradition of the place. The genius loci brandished a birch, I believe, in those days. I do not suppose that throughout the three centuries our school had been founded, any lad had passed through it without serving, in his day and generation, for-what slaves are called in the Latin comedies-a whipping-post. The very air seemed resonant with the shrieks of all the generations since our founder Edward's time. Of course, everybody knows this was the great idea of the elder teachers. I might quote the "Paston Letters,” and Ascham, Fuller, and many another authority, to show how intimate the relation between the rod and instruction was generally supposed to be, and how little chances any protester against this alliance, as Ascham himself, had of securing a hearing. But I will abstain from airing what information I may have on the condition of our forefathers in this respect. I will only state what the condition of our old school was when we frequented it. I never remember seeing one of the guides and instructors of our youth without an implement of chastisement, or what might serve as one, in his hand. And when I remember the amazing adroitness with which each one of them could use his hands on occasion, for the same mind-developing purpose, I can only pronounce that implement highly superfluous. They were not cruel-hearted men; to make ears tingle, bones ache, life generally a burden and a misery, was no extreme pleasure to them. Small specimens of humanity leaping and dancing, and wringing their hands, and shrieking as if engaged in the worship of some Baal who perchance slept and must needs be awakened, could scarcely have been agreeable objects of contemplation; but they knew not of any other method in which instruction might possibly be imparted. They sincerely believed that if the rod were spared, the child was spoiled. Certainly, they did not spare the rod. Two masters used, besides their hands, which they applied so deftly, and their walkingsticks, which were employed on an emergency-and emergencies were frequent-the ordinary cane; and, I think, must have made the fortunes of several vendors of that fatal article. Is there any purist in morals so superfine as to condemn us for destroying any cane that fell in our way? Well, let him condemn us. I dare say many of us would have had more abundant locks on our heads at

this present moment if we had not sacrificed so many hairs to a belief that the insertion of one in a cane judiciously nicked at the end, ensured that cane's splitting throughout its length when next it dealt any victim a violent blow. Other canes we hacked in "pieces sma';" others we burned with fire; but

Non hydra secto corpore firmior

Vinci dolentem crevit in Herculem

than that cane-crop in our faces or on our backs. Still the falling blows resounded: still the victim's squeals re-echoed.

The great master of the art of flogging, as of all other arts, was the Archididascalus himself. It is impossible to convey to one who has not suffered from it any adequate notion of his proficiency in this didactic faculty. Ordinarily, or in the earlier passages of a lesson, he would content himself with boxing our ears, either with the hand or with a book, or would find his walking-stick, freely applied to any legs or arms that presented themselves, sufficient for his needs. Little attentions of this sort meant little with him. They were merely gentle hints that he was amongst us. A box on the ears was but synonymous with a pleasant pat on the shoulder from a teacher of a different kidney. Rapping on the knuckles with the ferrule of his stick was, in fact, his way of shaking hands. Besides, he wanted exercise-could we grudge it him? Perhaps we did so, but I mean, ought we to have done so? The school-room was his gymnasium. A little boy was a kind of dumb-bell for him; a big one was as good as a pair of clubs. And then, as I hinted before, all these painful actions seemed to him to give the proper emphasis to what he had to say. Many great teachers raise their hands in teaching to excite attention, to add force, to relieve their feelings; our old master did so too, but he took good care that the raised hand should fall on somebody. In this way, whatever advantage there may be in raising your hand is considerably enlarged. But I have spoken so far only of what may be called his caresses. To be sure, the small signs of kindly recognition that have been mentioned were at times overpowering; they reduced the recipient, albeit no tenderling, to much distress, and demanded all his powers of Spartan endurance. But these, I say, were but his gambols, his merry toyings, his playfulnesses. There were times when our ignorance, or stupidity, or some other deformity, excited him into a far different mood. Ah! those were terrible times. He would then unlock his desk, and produce from it his own peculiar cane-a knotted thing, reported to be loaded with lead at the end. There is a passage in the "Iliad" called by the scholiasts "the handing down of the sceptre " -a sort of pedigree of a sceptre that there is occasion to mention