"Intend to do, is it? I am tould nothing less nor going into Trinity
College in Dublin and expects to bate them all there, out and out:
he's first to make something they call a seizure; (* Sizar) and, afther
making that good he's to be a counsellor. So, sir, you see what it is to
resave good schoolin', and to have the larnin'; but, indeed, it's Brady
that's the great head-piece entirely."

Unquestionably, many who received instruction in this manner have
distinguished themselves in the Dublin University; and I have no
hesitation in saying, that young men educated in Irish hedge schools, as
they were called, have proved themselves to be better classical scholars
and mathematicians, generally speaking, than any proportionate number
of those educated in our first-rate academies. The Munstor masters have
long been, and still are, particularly celebrated for making excellent
classical and mathematical scholars.

That a great deal of ludicrous pedantry generally accompanied this
knowledge is not at all surprising, when we consider the rank these
worthy teachers held in life, and the stretch of inflation at which
their pride was kept by the profound reverence excited by their learning
among the people. It is equally true, that each of them had a stock
of _crambos_ ready for accidental encounter, which would have puzzled
Euclid or Sir Isaac Newton himself; but even these trained their minds
to habits of acuteness and investigation. When a schoolmaster of this
class had established himself as a good mathematician, the predominant
enjoyment of his heart and life was to write the epithet Philomath after
his name; and this, whatever document he subscribed, was never omitted.
If he witnessed a will, it was Timothy Fagan, Philomath; if he put his
name to a promissory note, it was Tim. Pagan, Philomath; if he addressed