All my work was done in my own room; with Mr. Jelf I had but one hour a day, but then it was such an hour! Sixty minutes not one of which was without its value. During the months that I spent with him, from the end of January to October, I read through the whole of Herodotus, the Iliad and the Odyssey, the Agamemnon of Æschylus, and, above all, as an exercise, the Medea of Euripides, looking out every reference in my master’s great grammar. In Latin I read Pliny’s delightful letters, was supposed to be sufficiently well up in Horace and Virgil, and was spared the arch-bore Cicero, in regard to whom I by no means shared the enthusiasm of Mrs. Blimber; as a matter of archæology I might sympathize with her as to the Tusculan villa, but its owner and his self-glorification I should have avoided. The curriculum was chosen as the best preparation for trying to gain the Slade Exhibition at Christ Church. When I had been a few days with Jelf and he had taken my measure, he made up his mind that he would make me carry that off, and of course no one knew better than he did what would be the most profitable training. I should like, if it be not deemed an impertinence, to say one word here upon the much-vexed question of a classical education, and of Greek in particular. It is very easy, very cheap, to say that Greek and Latin are of no use in learning modern languages. I have had some experience in the study of both, and I am distinctly of opinion that nothing has helped me so much in the acquisition of even the most out-of-the-way modern languages as the work which I did under Jelf, dissecting every sentence and every particle in the Medea with the help of his Greek grammar.