I admit that the French teacher of a public school ought to be a good philologist to make his lessons attractive to the students of the upper forms, and insure their success under examination; I admit that he should know English thoroughly, to be able to explain to them the delicacies of the French language, and maintain good discipline in his classes; I admit that he should be able to teach grammar, philology, history, literature; but I maintain that he ought never to lose sight of the most important object of the study of a living language,--the putting of it into practice; he should, above all things, and by all means, aim at making his pupils speak French. It is not enough that he should speak to them in French, even in the upper forms, where he would be perfectly understood: understanding a language and speaking it are two very different things. Neither will he attain his end by means of dull manuals of imaginary conversations with the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick-maker; these will, at most, be useful in helping a foreigner to ask for what he wants at a _table d'hôte_. You will not get grown-up, intelligent, and well-educated boys to come out of their shells, unless you make it worth their while. Now, Englishmen, like Americans, love argument, very often for argument's sake, and every school-boy, in England as in America, is a member of some society or committee, and at its meetings tries his wings, discusses, harangues, and prepares himself for that great parliamentary life, which is the strength of the nation. Then, I ask, why not turn this love of discussion to account? Start a French debating society in every school, and you will teach your generation to speak French. Such a proposition may sound bold, but it has been tried in several public schools, and has proved a complete success. What cannot a teacher do that has succeeded in winning the esteem and affection of his pupils? First, make them respect you, then gain their hearts, and you will lead the young by a thread.