Acting under the theory of Figaro, "_Qu'il n'est pas nécessaire de tenir les choses pour en raisonner_," I have heard an Englishman, engaged in teaching French, maintain that it was not necessary to be able to speak the French language to teach it. On the other hand, I once heard an eminent Frenchman hold that the less English a French master knew the more fit he was to teach French. Both gentlemen begged their audience to understand that they made their statements on their own sole responsibility. * * * * * I never met a French master who had made his fortune, nor have you, I imagine. I once met in England a French master who had not written a French grammar. I was one day introduced to a Frenchman who keeps a successful school in the Midland counties. He makes it a rule to sternly refuse to let his boys go home in the neighboring town before one o'clock on Sundays. When parents ask him as a special favor to allow their sons to come to their house on Saturday night or early on Sunday morning, he answers: "I am sorry I cannot comply with your request. It has come to my knowledge that there are parents who do not insist on their children going to church, and I cannot allow any of my pupils to go home before they have attended divine service." John Bull made to go to church by a Frenchman! The idea was novel, and I thought extremely funny. * * * * * To teach "the art of speaking and writing the French language correctly" is a noble but thankless career in England. In France, the Government grants a pension to, and even confers the Legion of Honor upon, an English master[13] after he has taught his language in a _lycée_ for a certain number of years. [13] Among the nominations in the Legion of Honor, published on the 14th of July, 1884, I noticed the name of the English master (an Englishman) in the _lycée_ of Bordeaux. The Frenchman who has taught French in England all his lifetime is allowed, when he is done for, to apply at the French Benevolent Society for a free passage to France, where he may go and die quietly out of sight. * * * * * If you look at the advertisements published daily in the "educational" columns of the papers, you may see that compatriots of mine give private lessons in French at a shilling an hour, and teach the whole language in 24 or 26 lessons. Why not 25? I always thought there must be something cabalistic about the number 26. These gentlemen have to wear black coats and chimney-pots. How can they do it if their wives do not take in mangling? Mystery. * * * * * In a southern suburb of London, I remember seeing a little house covered, like a booth at a fair, with boards and announcements that spoke to the passer-by of all the wonders to be found within. On the front-door there was a plate with the inscription: