"Ye statesmen all, of high or humble station, Collective conscience of the British nation, Whether the frothing vat has made your name Or tropes in carpet-bags begot your fame, Behold the _product_ of the education Wherewith is dosed the rising generation. And see the modern devotee of cram At midnight hour hard-grinding for the exam., A moistened towel garlanding his brow, And coffee simmering on the hob below. High on a three-legged stool uncushioned, he Sits glowering through his goggles painfully, Nagging his brain with all a grinder's might Till _one_ sounds on the drowsy ear of night. Like Sibyl's leaves the papers strew his floor Wrought-out examples, 'wrinkles' by the score, Conundrums algebraic, 'tips' on Conics And thorny 'props' remembered by mnemonics. Betweenwhiles as the slow time lagging goes, He takes the spectacles from off his nose, Removes the damper from his aching head, Pours out the coffee, cuts a slice of bread, Sips wistfully the liquid from his cup: The zeal to pass the exam. has eaten _him_ up. Thrice happy ye! born 'neath the ancient reign When _Tityre tu_ alone possessed the brain (Ere Tyndall's tubes made sweating students numb) And the whole aim of life was _di, do, dum_." COMPETING SUBJECTS. So numerous indeed are the subjects of the school curriculum in our day that howlers and confusion are bound to result. Formerly there was but one scheme (containing classics, mathematics, and a little English), and everybody took it. Now there is a kind of competition among the departments of a school as to which is the most culturing. When a fond mother asks the opinion of the masters as to what course of study her boy (whom she is entitled to think a genius of the first order) ought to pursue, she is often puzzled by the variety of answers. Mr. Test-tube, the Science Master, invariably prescribes an extensive course of chemistry. If a boy is to be a lawyer, he ought to know the principles of atomic combination and the doctrine of gases; if he thinks of the ministry, why then, having a thorough acquaintance with science, he will be competent to close the mouths of heretics, infidels, and such vermin. Dr. Aorist, on the other hand, believes that a sound knowledge of "_qui_ with the subjunctive" is a splendid sheet-anchor for every squall in life's rude sea. "I wish my boy to be a civil engineer; what advice would you give me as to his studies?" "I have no hesitation in affirming," the Doctor replies, "that the boy will build bridges all the better if he has his mind expanded and (so to speak) broadened by the study of subjects outside his special trade, such, _e.g._, as the interesting fact that in ancient times 'All Gaul was divided into three parts.'"