Apologia: I am doubtful whether this record of human error should be published here. Out of every possible hundred readers must be deducted (1) teachers and examiners who are satiated with errata and have ceased to be amused; (2) those who, like the benevolent critic of the “Rejected Addresses,” think some of the answers very good, and do not see why they should be rejected; (3) those who require a surgical operation before they can be made to see any humour in error. Yet there is a remnant, and for the remnant’s sake let the chapter stand. The rest may skip. “You must get very amusing answers from the children in school, do you not?” This was a favourite opening at lunch or dinner, when my neighbour had found out my profession. I have usually replied that if I asked a silly question, I was likely to get a silly answer: if I asked a sensible question, and put it in plain English, understanded of the people, the chances of amusement were few. By long experience one gets to know the way in which children reason, and any neglect of caution might lead to dreadful results. For instance, there was my old friend, the Rev. Mr. Playne. He was inspecting a school that I knew well, and was led by some word in the reading lesson to enquire about professions. “What am I?” he asked. “A mon.” “Yes, a _man_; but the Vicar is a man, and the Master is a man: what sort of man am I?” “A very hugly one,” was the answer, and the line of examination was changed. One should not lay oneself open to crushing rejoinders. I too have been crushed, and I rashly told the piteous tale to a lady at dinner, thinking to meet with sympathy. She contributed as much of the story as she could remember to a newspaper; whence it was pirated by a compiler of “Railway Jests,” and the mutilated fragment was shown to me by a teacher after some years. I also was hearing a class read, and we came to the word “Pilgrim.” What, I asked, was a pilgrim? A. “A man that goos about from place to place.” Q. “But I go about from place to place: am I a pilgrim?” A. “No: ’ee’s a _good_ mon.” And the Vicar remarked _sotto voce_, “That’s one for you.” Also one is very likely to get strange answers if the question soars above the children’s comprehension. In another school the children were reading from their own school-books a great speech by John Bright, in which occurred the mystic words, “Urim and Thummim.” I asked the meaning, and the Rector, an eminent scholar and divine, whispered that _he_ didn’t know: to which I replied with the same secrecy, that I didn’t know, but that as the words came in the school-book, the children were bound to have a theory. They supplied two: (1) “When a man hev a lot of property left un:” (2) “When the postman come to the door.” The interpretation would have baffled Daniel, but the Rector suggested that “thumping” was the clue: thumping legacy, thumping at the door.