A diverting little boy in the class-room is the one who always thinks "he has got it." It matters little to him what the question is, he has not heard the end of it when he lifts his hand to let you know he is ready. "What is the future of _savoir_?" "Please, sir, I know: _je savoirai_." "Sit down, you ignoramus." And he resumes his seat to sulk until you give him another chance. He wonders how it is you don't like his answers. His manner is generally affable; you see at once in him a mother's pet who is much admired at home, and thinks he is not properly appreciated at school. Mother's pets are to be recognized at a glance. They are always clean and tidy in face and person. Unfortunately they often part their hair in the middle. * * * * * Such is not the testimonial that can be given to young H. He spends an hour and a pint of ink over every exercise. He writes very badly. To obtain a firm hold of his pen, he grasps the nib with the ends of his five fingers. I sometimes think he must use his two hands at once. He plunges the whole into the inkstand every second or two, and withdraws it dripping. He is smeared with ink all over; he rubs his hands in it, he licks it, he loves it, he sniffs it, he revels in it. He wishes he could drink it, and the ink-stands were wide enough for him to get his fist right into it. This boy is a most clever little fellow. When you can see his eyes, they are sparkling with mischief and intelligence. A beautiful, dirty face; a lovely boy, though an "unwashed." * * * * * A somewhat objectionable boy, although he is not responsible for his shortcomings, is the one who has been educated at home up to twelve or fourteen years of age. Before you can garnish his brain, you have to sweep it. You have to replace the French of his nursery governess--who has acquired it on the _Continong_--by a serious knowledge of _avoir_ and _être_. He comes to school with a testimonial from his mother, who is a good French scholar, to the effect that he speaks French fluently. You ask him for the French of "_It is twelve o'clock_," and he answers with assurance: "_C'est douze heures_." You ask him next for the French of "_How do you do?_" and he tells you: "_Comment ça va-t-il?_" You call upon him to spell it, and he has no hesitation about it: "_Comment savaty_?" You then test his knowledge of grammar by asking him the future of _vouloir_, and you immediately obtain: "_Je voulerai_." You tell him that his French is very shaky, and you decide on putting him with the beginners. The following day you find a letter awaiting you at school. It is from his indignant mother. She informs you that she fears her little boy will not learn much in the class you have put him in. He ought to be in one of the advanced classes. He has read Voltaire[4] and can speak French. [4] Poor little chap!