Very few boys have good dictionaries at hand. I know that Smith and Hamilton's dictionary (in two volumes) costs twenty shillings. But what is twenty shillings to be helped all through one's coaching? About the price of a good lawn-tennis racket. I have seen boys show me, with a radiant air, a French dictionary they had bought for six-pence. They thought they had made a bargain. Oh, free trade! Oh, the cheapest market! Sixpence for that dictionary! That was not very expensive, I own--but it was terribly dear. * * * * * When an English boy is about to write out his French exercise, he invariably begins by heading the copy "FRENCH," written with his best hand, on the first line. This is to avoid any misunderstanding about the language he is going to use. I have often felt grateful for that title. * * * * * Children are very great at titles and inscriptions. Give them a little penny pocket-book, and their keen sense of ownership will make them go straightway and write their name and address on the first page. When this is done, they will entitle the book, and write on the top of each page: "Memorandum Book." When I was at school, we French boys used to draw, on the back of the cover of our books, a merry-Andrew and a gibbet, with the inscription: "Aspice Pierrot pendu, Quod librum n'a pas rendu. Si librum redidisset, Pierrot pendu non fuisset." I came across the following lines on some English boys' books: "Don't steal this book for fear of shame, For here you see the owner's name; Or, when you die, the Lord will say: 'Where is that book you stole away?'" * * * * * Boys' minds are like a certain place not mentioned in geographies: they are paved with good intentions. Before they begin their work, they choose their best nib (which always takes some time). This done, they carefully write their name and the title of the exercise. FRENCH looks magnificent. They evidently mean to do well. The first sentence is generally right and well written. In the second you perceive signs of flagging; it then gets worse and worse till the end, which is not legible. Judge for yourself, here is a specimen. It collapses with a blot half licked off. Master H. W. S.'s flourish after his signature is not, as you see, a masterpiece of calligraphy; but it is not intended to be so. It is simply an overflow of relief and happiness at the thought that his exercise is finished. Translate the flourish by-- "Done!!!" * * * * * H. W. S. is not particularly lucky with his genders. Fortunately for him, the French language possesses no neuter nouns, so that sometimes he hits on the right gender. For this he asks no praise. Providence alone is to be thanked for it.