subjects he thought worthy of attention carefully culled and packed in
his brain-pan, and neatly labelled, so that he might without fluster
pounce upon any of them at a moment's warning. He was gentlemanly and
respectable, and discharged his duties punctiliously in a manner
reflecting credit on himself and his position, but, comparing the mind of
a philanthropist to the Murrumbidgee in breadth, his, in comparison,
might be likened to the flow of a bucket of water in a dray-rut.

On the day in question--a precious hot one it was--he had finished
examining us in most subjects, and was looking at our copy-books. He
looked up from them, ahemed! and fastidiously straightened his waistcoat.

"Mr Harris!

"Yes, sir."

"Comparisons are odious, but, unfortunately, I am forced to draw one
now."

"Yes, sir."

"This writing is much inferior to that of town scholars. It is very shaky
and irregular. Also, I notice that the children seem stupid and dull. I
don't like putting it so plainly, but, in fact, ah, they seem to be
possessed with the proverbial stupidity of country people. How do you
account for this?"

Poor old Harris! In spite of his drunken habits and inability to properly
discharge his duties, he had a warm heart and much fellowshiply humanity
in him. He understood and loved his pupils, and would not have aspersions