It is a teacher's business to observe that his scholars are clean as well as clever, and the Rev. David Macrae, in his entertaining little book of _Quaint Sayings of Children_, tells how a teacher, after glancing round the class one day, said to a boy, "I'll let you off if you can find a hand in all the school as dirty as that one," indicating the boy's own grimy exposed paw. The youth promptly brought forth and showed his other fist, which was certainly dirtier still, and the master, in view of his pledge, had no resource but to let the offender go for that time any way. An old story, which has had a lively currency, tells of how a boy when he returned from school was always asked where he stood in his class, and whose invariable answer was, "I'm second dux." For the regular holding of this excellent position he received many fine things in the shape of sweets and biscuits, and pennies, etc., until at length it occurred to one of the family to ask him how many were in his class. It was then the gilt fell off the ginger-bread. "Oh," said he, "there's just me and anither lassie." Dean Ramsay tells of a very practical answer given by a little girl who had been asked the meaning of "darkness," as it occurred in Scripture reading--"Just steek your een." In the same place, he says, on the question, "What is the pestilence that walketh in darkness?" being put to a class, a little boy answered, after consideration, "Oh, it's just _bugs_." Our friend, Dr. John Ker, has often told of an occasion when he was examining a class in mathematics, and put the question to a boy--"If a salmon weighed 16 lbs., and was to be sold at 2d. per lb., what would it be worth?"--and how the lad, who was the son of a fishmonger, hastily replied--"It wadna be worth a curse!" Salmon at that price, I should say, would nowhere in these days be esteemed above suspicion anyway. And boys _will_ be frank even although their replies at times appear more smart than respectful. Once a Cockney manufacturer was taking part in a school examination and asked a boy pompously--"W'at's the capital of 'Olland?" "H," was the unconsciously smart reply given. And that recalls a good dialect story, under the early Board system, which tells how an English clergyman and a Lowland Scotsman entered one of the best schools in Aberdeen. The master received them kindly, and enquired-- "Would you prefer that I should spier (question) the boys, or that you should spier them?" The English clergyman desired the master to proceed. He did so with great success, and the boys answered satisfactorily numerous interrogatories as to the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt. The clergyman then said he would be glad to "spier the boys," and at once began-- "How did Pharaoh die?" There was a dead silence. In his dilemma the Lowland gentleman interposed. "I think, sir, the boys are not accustomed to your English accent; let me try what I can make of them." And he inquired in broad Scotch--