I put the matter before the Vicar, asking him if he thought his novelties were worth while in the face of the opposition of the village and the loss of his religious influence with the children. He would not go back from what, he said, he regarded as a matter of principle, and could not see that he was throwing away a unique opportunity, but he agreed to withdraw the unwelcome Server. In spite of the fact that every detail of the new school building had been submitted to, and approved by, the Education Department, trouble began with an officious inspector, who on his first visit complained of the ventilation. An elementary school is never exactly a bed of roses, but we had a lofty building and classrooms, with plenty of windows, which could be adjusted to admit as much or as little fresh air as was requisite. We protested without result, and we had eventually to pull the new walls about and spend £20 on what we considered an uncalled-for alteration. Our inspectors of schools varied greatly: some were quiet with the children and considerate with the teachers; others vindicated their authority by unnecessary fault-finding, upsetting the teachers and alarming the children. In the days of our voluntary school I have seen a room full of children in a state of nervous tension, and the mistress and pupil-teachers in tears, as the result of inconsiderate reprimands and irritable speech. My sympathies have been strongly aroused on such occasions with a child's terror of being made an exhibition before the others. As a boy at Harrow, in the form of the Rev. F.W. Farrar, afterwards Dean of Canterbury, I had an unpleasant experience, though it was no fault of his and quite unintentional. The Russian Government had sent a deputation of two learned professors to England, to inquire into the educational system of the Public Schools, with the view of sending a member of the Royal family for education in this country. Among other schools, they visited Harrow, and Mr. Farrar's form was one of those selected for inspection. It was the evening of a winter's day, when, at the four o'clock school, we found two very formidable-looking old gentlemen in spectacles and many furs seated near the master's desk. Great was the consternation, but Mr. Farrar was careful not to call upon any boy who would be likely to exhibit himself as a failure. I was seated near Mr. Farrar, at one end of a bench. He had a habit, when wanting to change his position, of moving quite unconsciously across the intervening space between his desk and this bench, and placing one foot on the bench close to the nearest boy, he would, with one hand, play with the boy's hair, while he held his book in the other. With horror, I found him approaching, and shortly his hand was on my head, rubbing my hair round and round, and ruffling it in a fashion very trying to any boy who was neat and careful of his personal appearance. I could see the Russians staring