Will I take the second class? Certainly. I am offered the camel. The camelus scholasticus is as well known to me as my dog. I know his whole history, his habitat, his food-and-water arrangements, his disposition. He differs considerably from the Camelus Kiplingicus, or Melancholy ’Oont: “The ’orse ’e knows above a bit, the bullock’s but a fool, The elephant’s a gentleman, the battery-mule’s a mule; But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said and done, ’E’s a devil an’ a ostrich an’ a orphan child in one.” But our camel is gentle, meek, anxious to oblige. The lesson is going on, while I make these valuable reflections, and the beast’s picture hangs on the easel: if he is at all like his picture, _mallem errare cum Platone_, I side with Mr. Kipling. The camel has been called the ship of the desert. He is very useful; he lives in very hot countries, where it is very hot. Tommy Jones, don’t fidget; listen to teacher. And he lives in the desert, where there is nothing but sand all round. Mary Smith, if you don’t give over talking, teacher will be very cross with you: yes, my word, &c., &c. When the stream of drivel has run dry, I ask: “Where does the camel live?” “In very ’ot coontries.” “Yes: but whereabouts?” “In the desert.” “And what does he live on there?” “Sahnd.” “Sand? Yes; but I mean, what does he get to eat?” “Sahnd.” “And what does he get to drink in the desert?” “Water.” “And where does he get _that_ from?” “Out of the taps.” I had not thought of that. There comes up a recollection of a Norfolk country school, where, after hearing all the uses and the virtues of the camel, I asked whether there were any of these precious beasts in Norfolk? None. And if the camel was so useful, why not? The answer came from the gamekeeper’s son: “’Cos that ’ud tread on th’ young pheasants.” I looked at its sprawling feet as shown in the picture, and understood their unfitness for a game-preserving county. We must move on again. The third class is hearing about the mole, and I pause for a minute on the way: The mole is useful because it eats the worms, which would eat the potatoes and get into our food. Is it ever idle? No, it is always working; digging fresh passages. Good old mole! “Well said, old mole! can’st work i’ the ground so fast?” Let us try the next class. It is engaged on the lion, and an elderly dame has got to thirdly and lastly. Etiquette requires that the lesson should conclude with some remarks on the use of the lion. “What is the use of the lion? The use of the lion is to ’unt. What is the use of the lion, children?” Chorus: “To ’UNT, teacher.”