She knows he can, she heard him at Boulogne, and he got on very well. The natives there had no secrets for him; he could understand all they said. You feel it to be your duty not to comply with the lady's wishes, and you have made a bitter enemy to yourself and the school. This boy never takes for granted the truth of the statements you make in the class-room. What you say may be all right; but when he gets home he will ask his mamma if it is all true. He is fond of arguing, and has no sympathy with his teacher. He tries to find him at fault. A favorite remark of his is this: "Please, sir, you said the other day that so-and-so was right. Why do you mark a mistake in my exercise to-day?" You explain to him why he is wrong, and he goes back to his seat grumbling. He sees he is wrong; but he is not cured. He hopes to be more lucky next time. When you meet his mother, she asks you what you think of the boy. "A very nice boy indeed," you say; "only I sometimes wish he had more confidence in me; he is rather fond of arguing." "Oh!" she exclaims, "I know that. Charley will never accept a statement before he has discussed it and thoroughly investigated it." * * * * * As a set-off for Charley, there is the boy who has a blind confidence in you. All you say is gospel to him, and if you were to tell him that the French word _voisin_ is pronounced _kramshaka_, he would unhesitatingly say _kramshaka_. Nothing astonishes him; he has taken for his motto the _Nil admirari_ of Horace. He would see three circumflex accents on the top of a vowel without lifting his eyebrows. He is none of the inquiring and investigating sort. * * * * * Another specimen of the Charley type is the one who has been coached for the public school in a Preparatory School for the Sons of Gentlemen, kept by ladies. This boy has always been well treated. He is fat, rubicund, and unruly. His linen is irreproachable. The ladies told him he was good-looking, and his hair, which he parts into two _ailes de pigeon_, is the subject of his incessant care. He does not become "a man" until his comrades have bullied him into a good game of Rugby football. * * * * *