I find she means “to be hunted”: and, when the children are gone out to play, I put it to her whether she really thinks that beneficent Providence has created the lion on purpose that man should hunt him. She is a little staggered by this presentment of her own doctrine, but pleads that it is so stated in her book, and produces it. There it is in black and white! I have little doubt that a similar belief is held by fox-hunters and other sportsmen. “Crewel,” said an old keeper, when reproached for badger-baiting, “why, whativer do yo think as badgers was made for?” In ten minutes the children return from the playground, and I am implored not to forget the babies: they are going to have an object-lesson, and the pupil-teacher is waiting for me. It is Mary Williams, whose pretty face and pretty ways make her the idol of the babies, and even draw a smile from my grimmest Sub. I yield to pressure. The babies are hot and dusty, and riotous, and have to be relieved with a song, just to blow off steam. What is next on the agenda paper? The cow? Let us have the cow. The whole class sees the picture of the cow brought down from the wall, but nevertheless we must approach the subject as tradition dictates: P.T.: As I was coming to school this morning along High Street I heard a great noise, and there was a man in a blue frock, driving a great big animal down the road. What do you think it was, babies? Chorus: A kyow, teacher. (_H.M.I. to head mistress, sotto voce_: “If ye had not plowed with my heifer, ye had not found out my riddle.” _Head-mistress, uncertainly_: “Ye-es.”) P.T.: Yes, a cow, and here’s a picture of a cow. (_The class regard it with blank indifference born of familiarity._) Now the cow is a very useful animal:---- Billy Jones (_Amicus curiæ_): I seen a kyow this mornin’ as I was comin’, _an’ it was a bull_: and it run at a mon an’ ’orned ’im nearly, only ’ee got away--”(_pauses for want of breath_). P.T. (_coldly_): That will do, Billy, you mustn’t talk now till teacher has done. And it gives us milk. What little boy or girl had milk for their breakfast this morning, I wonder? (_Alarums and excursions, many competing claims to have had two moogs full._) Yes, and that came from the cow. What has it got on its head? Horns, yes. And what can it do with its horns, Jenny? Jenny: Hike yer. (_i. e. toss you._) P.T. (_much shocked_): Oh, Jenny! I told you never to say “hike.” The cow would give you a great knock. And how many legs has it got? My attention wanders, as if I were sitting under a dull preacher, and in the absence of mural tablets I study the pictures and general exhibits. With joy I hail a reading sheet for infants: Bill is not well. He is ill at the mill. Bid Ann fill a can of jam, and get us a bit of ham, and we will go with them to him. Did Bill sip the jam? Oh yes, he sat up in his bed, and did sip jam till his lips were red. He did not have a bit of ham. We sat with Bill till six, and then we set off.