Punch, Or the London Charivari Volume. 107, December 8th, 1894 _edited by Sir Francis Burnand_ A TRIUMPH OF THE SCHOOL BOARD. The collector of statistics was fairly posed by the attitude assumed by his visitor. The elderly lad (or, rather, very young man) had claimed admittance on the score that he was an "old boy" of the School Board. He wished to give his evidence anent the fate of the State-educated juvenile population. "And you say you are not one of the 547 clerks?" queried the collector. "No Sir, I am not. I would rather beg my bread from door to door than occupy a lofty stool from dawn to sundown." "And you are not one of the 413 milkboys?" "Again, no. It has been a tradition in our family for centuries to avoid water, so how could I dabble in the milk trade?" "And you are neither an actor, a jockey, nor a hairdresser?" "I am not," was again the reply, couched in a tone of hauteur. "And you are not a soldier--one of the ten that left the School Board for the more or less tented field?" "I am not--nor a sailor." Then the collector of statistics paused for a moment, and spoke with a measure of hesitation. "You have not gone to the bad?" "Like my 333 schoolfellows?" "Yes." Then the red blood of the visitor mounted to the roots of his hair and suffused his cheeks with crimson. He indignantly denied the imputation. He might be poor, but at any rate he was honest. "No, he had never been in prison." "Then what are you?" asked the collector, in a tone not entirely free from traces of annoyance. "Surely you must be something!" "I am more than something!" returned the visitor, proudly. "I am _unique_--I am a curiosity." "What may you be?" "I am a boy, educated by the School Board, who is satisfied to follow in the footsteps of his father. My father was a bricklayer, and I am satisfied to lay bricks myself." "My dear Sir," said the collector, grasping him cordially by the hand, "I congratulate you. This is the first time I have met a boy who has been satisfied to adopt the trade followed by his parent. And now you can do me a small favour." And then the collector engaged his guest to renovate the walls of his house, which (on account of the scarcity of trained labour) had for many years been sadly out of repair. * * * * * [Illustration: GOING TO EXTREMES. _He of the Ruffled Temper._ "AS SURE'S MA NAME'S TAMMAS PATERSON, I'LL HAE THE LAW O' YE, THOUGH IT SHOULD COST ME HAUF-A-CROON!"] * * * * * MORE MEMORIES BY DEAN HOLE.--We are gradually getting at the Hole Truth. Not a deep Hole, but a good all-round Hole, and, as a whole, eminently readable when you have a half Holeyday to spare. * * * * * SUGGESTION.--The Egyptian Hall is advertised as "The Home of Mystery." Mightn't the Lyceum be entitled, for advertisement purposes, as "The Home of Miss TERRY?" * * * * * THE CHRONICLES OF A RURAL PARISH.