When a school has to offer, say, six scholarships to the public, and there are a hundred candidates applying for them, you may easily imagine that it is difficult to persuade the parents of the ninety-four boys who fail that the scholarships are given according to merit. In distributing six scholarships among a hundred candidates you make six ungrateful fathers and ninety-four discontented ones. * * * * * Whilst our school was being rebuilt in another part of the metropolis, a loving mother called on the head-master in the City to intimate her intention of placing her little boy in the school as soon as the new building would be finished, and also to ask if she would be allowed to see the room in which her dear child would be taught. It was a great pity the building was not advanced enough at the time to permit of her securing a corner for "her darling pet." * * * * * The mother to be most dreaded is the one whose husband has left her for India, or some other warm climate. She is restless, inquisitive, and never satisfied. Each remark you make to her son brings her on the school premises for inquiries. She writes letter upon letter, pays visit upon visit. Once a week her son brings you a little note in the following style: "Mrs. X. presents her compliments to Mr. So-and-so, and begs that her son may be excused for not having prepared his lesson, as he had a bad headache last night." A husband may be a nuisance in a house, but when I was a school-master I always thought he was a great improvement to it. * * * * * (_In the Examination Room._) Sometimes parents send up their sons for scholarship examinations with very little luggage. I remember a dear little boy, between ten and eleven, who was a candidate for one of our vacant scholarships. On reaching the seat that was assigned to him, he was provided with the Latin paper by the school secretary, and presented with half a ream of beautiful writing paper for his answers. We thought he did not appear very busy, and presently, as I came up to him, I spoke a few kind words and gave him a little pat on the back. "Well, how are you getting on?" I said. "Please, sir, I can't do this paper. I don't know what it is about," he said, looking at me as if for help. "Don't you know any Latin?" I inquired. "Yes, sir; I know my first two declensions." "Is that all the Latin you know?" "Yes, sir." "I suppose you won't take up Greek, will you?" "I expect I had better not, sir, as I have never learned any," he replied, with his eyes half out of their sockets. "Is it difficult, sir?" he suggested, thinking I was not looking satisfied with his answer. "Not very," I replied; "but if I were you I would not have my first try at it to-day." "Thank you, sir," said my little friend. "Do you know any French?" I then asked. "Please, sir, mamma taught me a few sentences."