I was present at an examination of one of our Presburg seminaries in
September last. A number of girls and boys, from three to five years
of age, with a very few a little older, who had come in comparatively
late, were subjected to the usual questioning in the various branches
of their very elementary erudition. Some of the queries proved beyond
the powers of the generality of the children; but this led to no
expression of dejection or awkwardness. They evidently all endeavoured
to do their very best. It was interesting to observe, that so far from
pining to see a cleverer neighbour answer what they had failed in,
they seemed to feel a triumph when, after a general difficulty, it was
at length found that _some one_ could give the right answer--shewing
that they might have a feeling of emulation as to the honour of the
school, but none as between one pupil and another. On several
occasions, when some unusually intelligent little creature would come
from a back-form, and solve a question which had bewildered those in
front, there was a sensible expression of delight over the whole
school.

In a far-off corner sat a little boy, poorly dressed, and of pallid
countenance, but with a keen and intelligent eye, which had attracted
my notice from the beginning. The more difficult the questions grew,
his eye was fixed with the keener gaze on the face of the master.
Several times I observed a puzzled child cast backwards to him a look,
as expressing the assurance that _he_ was able to solve all
difficulties. At length, on a slight motion of the master's hand, the
little brown boy was seen to dart from his obscure recess, and pass
rapidly across the forms, while his companions eagerly made way for
him, clapping their hands as in anticipation of some brilliant
achievement. In an instant, the boy stood before the master, his dark