I have read attentively a little _mémoire_ of the Stanislas College, relating all that is to be told about its routine and order. A sadder pamphlet in connection with boyhood could not be found anywhere. Not a moment’s liberty, not an hour of honest gaiety; under the eye of the overseer from their up-rising to their down-lying. It is bad enough to think of girls so trained in convents; but as the world expects less initiative, less independence, from women, it matters less for them, though it matters much more than parents believe. But who can expect such an unhealthy system as that of Stanislas to turn out straightforward, manly youths? I will translate some of the laws of the institution, and the reader may judge for himself. If it makes him wish to have been brought up at Stanislas, under the care of the good Marists (priests devoted to the service of Mary), I can only say that I do not envy his taste. To begin with, the system of emulation I regard as disastrous; it invariably opens the door to cheating and lying, to jealousy and ill-will. Pride, sense of duty, affection for their masters, are much higher incentives to study than marks, which imply too much espionage on the part of the masters. Stanislas teaches by the desire of reward and the fear of punishment. Even in the case of very young children I hold that this system is deplorable; in that of youths, who are fencing, riding, studying philosophy and the higher mathematics, I can only qualify it as idiotic. Why should a boy receive a prize for behaving himself decently? The moment you put a premium on good conduct you invite the hypocritical to perfect themselves in the art of duplicity in order to compete for it. What master can honestly pronounce on a boy’s character, and swear that the good boy is quite as good as he looks? The moment you tell him that to appear good is to merit a prize, his goodness ceases to be disinterested, and, therefore, virtuous; and in order not to lose his own prize, won by the assiduous suppression of impulse, of temperamental revelation, of all natural instinct, is he not apt to fall into the approved vice of assisting in the discovery of the faults of his rivals? The only prizes we can accept without moral danger are those awarded for actual work done. These have their pitfalls for character too, but there is not nearly such peril of demoralisation. The conduct and work of pupils are appreciated every week by the number of marks, and rewards and punishments are allotted accordingly. A hundred marks buys an outing. Is not this atrocious? That bad conduct should keep a boy indoors when he might be out with his parents is a recognised form of punishment for ill-behaviour; but that he should have to purchase by marks the right to go out seems to me altogether wrong. Even a boy should have his rights, his heritage of free birth; and to be forced to pay for these upon the judgment of others is an iniquity. Forty-one long pages are