Those who have the responsibility of the Stanislas pupil on his outing must observe the precautions exacted by the directors. On going out he receives an entrance ticket, which his parents or guardian must fill up with the details of his day, and this account is verified and stamped on his return to the college. The pupil who returns without an escort is punished for a month. Should he obtain leave on false pretences, he is expelled. He can advance by a day or prolong for a day his winter and Easter vacations, by payment of three thousand marks. His letters to his parents or guardian are not read, but they must bear the signature of these on the envelope to assure their privacy; all the rest of his correspondence is under strict control, and the introduction of a book, not a class one, a pamphlet, or a newspaper, constitutes an infraction of the rules so grave as to merit expulsion. This system of education begins at childhood, when he enters the eleventh class and graduates into the preparatory classes for the Naval School and St. Cyr, when his moustache is beginning to bud and he is still supposed to bestow his friendship on those who are worthy of it. Poor youth! He has learnt everything—from the Catechism to mathematics, from philosophy (of a kind) to fencing, riding, and gymnastics (also of a kind, and warranted never to last longer than half an hour, twice a week)—except simple manliness, independence, and the real philosophy, which will help to carry him decently through the surprises and snares of existence, and help him to meet unaided an emergency. Toss him roughly from his Stanislas bark upon the turbulent sea of experience, and what may you expect from this fatuous, trained young hypocrite? The wave rolls over him, carries him to the bottom, and he comes up all covered with mud. Of course he abuses freedom, a stimulant he has never known, and he speedily converts it into the intoxicant of licence. It will be seen that the training of boys, whether in French seminaries or in French _lycées_, is not the most perfect of its kind. There is the careful home-training, too, which is, of course, the best. But here also the shadow of the Church towers over childhood. The boy leaves his nurse’s hands to toddle into those of his ecclesiastical tutor, Monsieur l’Abbé. He attends _cours_ and studies at home, with the priest, and when he attends the classes of a _lycée_ he is duly escorted back and forth, with all imaginable precautions to prevent from getting in his mind what should not be there; and finally he is sent to St. Cyr or Saumur, with the usual results. Gyp has given us an amusing sketch of the innocent little lad of this period in _Le Petit Bob_, about as black a little rascal as ever breathed, and of the model Jesuit boy, “Monsieur Fred,” an accomplished rake, when he is not supposed to look above the rim of his prayer-book.