The truth is that I am incapable of teaching neatness. My desk is a jumble; my sitting-room is generally littered with books and papers. Some men are born tidy: some have tidiness thrust upon them. I am of the latter crowd. Between the school charwoman and my landlady I live strenuously. I object to my report. I hate to be the victim of a man I can't reply to, even when he says nice things. But the main objection I have to the report is this: the School Board gets not a single word of criticism. If I were not almost proud of my lack of neatness, I might argue that no man could be neat in an ugly school. It is always filthy because the ashed playground is undrained. Broken windows stand for months; the plaster of the ceiling came down months ago, and the lathes are still showing. The School Board does not worry; its avowed object is to keep down the rates at any price in meanness (some members are big ratepayers). The sanitary arrangements are a disgrace to a long-suffering nation. Nothing is done. * * * It would be a good plan to make teachers forward reports of inspectors' visits to the Scotch Education Department. I should love to write one. "Mr. Silas K. Beans, H.M.I.S., paid a visit to this school to-day, and he made quite a passable appearance before the pupils. "It was perhaps unfortunate that Mr. Beans laboured under the delusion that Mrs. Hemans wrote _Come into the Garden, Maud_, but on the whole the subject was adequately treated. "The geography lesson showed Mr. Beans at his best, but it might be advisable for him to consider whether the precise whereabouts of Seville possesses the importance in the scheme of things that he attributes to it. And it might be suggested that children of twelve find some difficulty in spelling Prsym--Prysem--Pryems----anyway, the name of the town that has kept the alleged comic weeklies alive during a trying period. "The school staff would have liked Mr. Beans to have stayed long enough to discover that a few of the scholars possessed imagination, and it hoped that he will be able to make his visit longer than four hours next time. "Mr. Beans's knowledge of dates is wonderful, and his parsing has all the glory of Early Victorian furniture." XIII. To-night MacMurray invited me down to meet his former head, Simpson, a big man in the Educational Institute, and a likely President next year. Mac introduced me as "a chap with theories on education; doesn't care a rap for inspectors and abominates discipline." Simpson looked me over; then he grunted. "You'll grow out of that, young man," he said sagely. I laughed. "That's what I'm afraid of," I said, "I fear that the continual holding of my nose to the grindstone will destroy my perspective." "You'll find that experience doesn't destroy perspective."