In the early mornings I read my Bible with assiduity, but only the Old Testament never the New. It was the age of faith; I believed every word to be the word of God, of that mighty God of whom our school-mistress was always speaking. I had always believed also that Robinson Crusoe was an equally veracious history; and when the nurses and servants told me ghost stories and fairy tales, I accepted all they said with an unfaltering credulity. There were certain cabins in our neighbours said to be haunted one in particular covered with ivy which I never passed without a shiver of fear and curiosity. I did not tell my elders, I was too wise: instinctively I knew that they would have robbed me of my ghostly thrills. Now-a-days people are brought up in a world of reason and science: is it any wonder that intricate and delicate and difficult verse should give way to the poetry of rhetoric and a moral uplift? People used to amuse themselves by bracing or relaxing their souls in the vast and shadowy world of solitary fantasy: now we do better--at any rate it is easier--we set about reforming our neighbours. When I first arrived at that English School I was greatly surprised by English mispronunciation. Emma, the Christian name of our headmistress was invariably called 'Emmer,' just as to this day in London clergymen of all denominations pronounce the name of our late Gracious Majesty as 'Victorier,' whereas every Irishman knows that her name is 'Victoria.' Among the trio of ladies governing the school Emma was the ruling spirit, but she had a sister Betsy who if she could do nothing else could apply the cane with sharpness and decision. One day the only other Irish boy in the school and myself climbed for a few feet on one of the trees. There was a sharp tap at the schoolroom window: it was Betsy. She told us to stand in the dining-room until the boys came in for tea. We stood there and waited and would have been dull but for my friend. He produced out of the recesses of his pocket a piece of wax kept for the purpose and diligently applied it to the palm of his hand, & I followed his example. Afterwards we rubbed our hands as hard as we could along the iron top of the fire-screen. Thus we prepared for what was coming. When the boys entered for tea, Betsy came with them and sat down at the head of the table, we standing in the centre of the room. After a moment or two she arose and I still hear her voice as she said, 'Tandy, (Tandy was my friend's name) fetch me the cane.' Tandy had been longer in the school than I and knew all about that cane and found it easily. We received three strokes on each of our hands; it was very painful and I was very much astonished, and when I went home for the holidays I was glad to find that the blood blisters were still there, and I very eagerly showed them to my father who to my surprise only laughed, being neither sympathetic nor impressed. Years afterwards when I saw the