You call this education, do you not? Why, ’tis the forced march of a herd of bullocks Before a shouting drover. The glad van Move on at ease, and pause a while to snatch A passing morsel from the dewy greensward; While all the blows, the oaths, the indignation, Fall on the troupe of the ill-fated laggard That cripples in the rear. OLD PLAY. “WELL, sir,” said the old man, smiling, as we met at the appointed spot about one o’clock, “now for Hawkshead school! I hope you have brought all your stock of patience with you, and no appetite for any thing beyond my little adventures on my first appearance under the frown of a schoolmaster.” “Speaking of appetites,” said I, interrupting him, “and seeing what I now see before me, reminds me of a good joke against myself, which took place when I first knew Manchester. I was standing upon this bridge, (or rather its predecessor the old bridge, for the Victoria was not then built,) at this hour of the day, when suddenly I saw a rush of men, women, and children upon it, from the Manchester side, which astonished me not a little. I should think there could not be fewer than three or four hundred of them: all posting along at a great pace, with a good deal of anxiety and determination written on their countenances; and, though they said not a word to each other, with evidently one common object in view. They were rather shabbily dressed, and clearly belonged to one class of society. The imagination immediately conjured up various startling reasons for this unexpected concourse, such as a fire, a fight, or a radical meeting. Seeing one solitary individual who was standing still, like myself, to let the crowd pass by, and whose countenance seemed to express that he was quite aware of the cause of this irruption into Salford, I could not resist the temptation of speaking to him, and said—‘My good friend, where are all these people going to!’ ‘_To their dinners_,’ said he, quietly and with a grin on his face, that made me ashamed of my ignorance, and which raises a smile on my cheek every time I see the same sight, which any man may do who stands here at one o’clock in the day, and sees the workmen of Manchester hasten home to their dinners in Salford.” “Many a marvellous story,” said the old man, “has arisen out of a much less plausible foundation.