Then he asked the candidates, the great majority of whom were girls, about dogs, their appearance, and their special uses. One girl said that “the fox terrier runs sideways,” but she did not explain. Another described the “St. Bernard dog renowned for saving snow-hidden wanderers in the Torrid regions.” A third chose “the scavanger dog, a very ungamely dog. It belogs to the Eastern countries all refuse is put out at night and clears it away before morning.” Lastly, as far as we are concerned, he asked the meaning of the following expressions: “The Green-Eyed Monster,” “the sere and yellow leaf,” “the Thin Red Line,” &c., &c. The Green Eyed Monster was defined as “indigestion”: according to another it “refers to a whale”: according to a skittish one, “sometimes the headmaster or headmistress of a school appears to be a green-eyed monster in the eyes of her pupils and also teachers sometimes.” The sere and yellow leaf was “a certain kind of tobacco.” The thin red line was “The charge at Baraklava headed by Sir Colin Campbell during the Indian Mutiny.” It was, I think, in another paper, that these quaint views appeared: Q. What do you understand by a quorum, a minute book, &c.? A. A quorum is a question asked at a meeting which the chairman is unable to answer. A minute book is a book kept, with the exact number of minutes allotted to the speakers at a meeting. Q. What are the duties of the chairman? A. The chairman performs the doxology. Q. What remedy would you suggest for burns? A. Stripes of hot vinegar are very affecting. At the end of many days’ revision of such-like skimble-skamble stuff an inspector wrote: “Complaint is sometimes made that the training colleges do not provide sufficient accommodation for all the applicants, but the plain inference from the perusal of these papers, having due regard to the spelling, the grammar, and the acquaintance with the subject shown by the candidates, is that a kindergarten class in an idiot asylum would be a more fitting place of learning.” It will have been seen that our Errata are secular. We did not examine in divinity. But twice a year, at one time, I used to meet Diocesan inspectors, who kept large volumes of the most hideous blunders in their own subject. One of these I remember for its exceeding ingenuity. The question was, “What do you mean by ‘a graven image’?” And the answer was “An idle maid with hands.” Now it is clear to my mind that this is not to be regarded as bad spelling; but that the definition had been given orally, and that the impression produced on the child’s mind was that of a naughty girl “as didn’t do no work though she had hands to do it with.” And I think she had heard her father accuse her mother of “doin’ nothink but set theer like a bloomin’ image.” Then she combined the ideas. To this I would add a delightful blend from a pupil teacher examination: