How you begged some pence, and bought some oranges, and prayed to God that you might be honest in a trade however small. How you were taken by a policeman before a magistrate, who said that he must put you down. How you were sent to prison, and came out shaking your little fists against Society, who made you be the dirty thief you are.’ There! I can’t copy any more for rage. There’s a fellow, to address a woman of my years! But he’ll live to repent it, Sir, when I am dead and gone. My hand shakes so after copying this insolence, that I can’t hold my pen any more to-day; besides, it has got bad, and there is nobody now here to mend it. I should like my letter to be put first in your next number; let it have large print and a great many capitals. A SAMPLE OF THE OLD SCHOOL. BY AN OLD BOY. All the particulars of the ensuing narration are strictly matters of fact, except the proper names of places and persons, as we used to say at Rood Priory, better known, in its time, as Roberts’s, better still as Old Bob’s; the Establishment for Young Gentlemen—much as Old Bob would have been enraged to hear it called so—which I am about to describe. Rood Priory was so called from standing near the site of that monastery. Though really a private school, it was conducted after the manner of a public one. Situated in the same Cathedral Town with the College of St. Joseph, it maintained, indeed, a sort of rivalry with that foundation. I was sent to Rood Priory—or Old Bob’s—about twenty-four years ago. The school had then been kept by Old Bob for, I suppose, half a century, and had existed long before. Old Bob’s was one of those genuine specimens of the good old school, in which scarcely anything whatever was taught except the Latin and Greek languages; and they were inculcated principally by the rod. Its scholars, when first I became one of them, mustered nearly a hundred; their number had been greater still. The youngest of us were not more than five or six years old; some of the eldest were verging upon twenty, and might have shaved without affectation. We were divided into six classes, or as we called them, Parts: of which the sixth was the lowest. Our range of study extended from the rudiments of Latin, in the last Part, to Virgil, Horace, Homer’s Odyssey and Iliad, Terence, and Greek Tragedy, in the second and first. The first was also called the senior Part. It was allowed various peculiar privileges, and its members, the senior boys, were never flogged, except for high crimes and misdemeanors. They were a sort of monitors, and had to keep order in the school and dining-hall; duties which devolved on them by turns. In fact, Old Bob made them act as his police. The first four Parts did Latin verses, to the composition of which the greater portion of two days in each week was devoted. The general impression at Rood Priory was that Latin versification was the