eyes followed theirs unthinkingly in the same direction, when it
occurred to him, as nothing unusual was visible, that it was All
Fools' Day. He was very playful and indulgent; he kept a "squash"
racquet ball on his desk, and could throw it with accurate aim if he
noticed a boy dreaming or inattentive. He would never when scoring the
marks enter a 0, even after an abject failure, always saying, "Give
him a charity 1!"

Boys are quick judges of sermons: if interested, they listen without
an effort; if not interested, they _cannot_ listen. Whenever Mr.
Farrar's turn came as preacher in the School Chapel there was a subtle
stir and whisper of appreciation, "It's Farrar to-day." He was a
natural orator. I can still hear his magnificent voice swelling in
tones of passionate denunciation decreasing to gentle appeal, and
dying away in tender pathos. This was education in the true sense of
the word, and though I have wandered a long way from my immediate
subject, I feel that the digression is not irrelevant in contrast with
the mechanical instruction that goes by the name of education in the
Board Schools. I cannot help recalling too that in the ancient IVth
Form Room at Harrow, the roughest of old benches were, and I believe
still are, considered good enough for future bishops, judges, and
statesmen; while in the Board Schools expensive polished desks and
seats have to be provided at the cost of the ratepayers to be shortly
kicked to pieces by hobnailed shoes.

I was present at some amusing incidents in examinations at our village
school. A small boy was commanded by an inspector to read aloud, and
began in the usual child's high-keyed, expressionless, and
unpunctuated monotone:
"I-have-six-little-pigs-two-of-them-are-white-two-of-them-are-black-an