"Hold!" said the Parson: "a private school has its drawbacks. You
can seldom produce large fishes in small ponds. In private schools
the competition is narrowed, the energies stinted. The schoolmaster's
wife interferes, and generally coddles the boys. There is not
manliness enough in those academies; no fagging, and very little
fighting. A clever boy turns out a prig; a boy of feebler intellect
turns out a well-behaved young lady in trousers. Nothing muscular in
the system. Decidedly the namesake and descendant of Kenelm Digby
should not go to a private seminary."

"So far as I gather from your reasoning," said Sir Peter, with
characteristic placidity, "Kenelm Chillingly is not to go to school at
all."

"It does look like it," said the Parson, candidly; "but, on
consideration, there is a medium. There are schools which unite the
best qualities of public and private schools, large enough to
stimulate and develop energies mental and physical, yet not so framed
as to melt all character in one crucible. For instance, there is a
school which has at this moment one of the first scholars in Europe
for head-master,--a school which has turned out some of the most
remarkable men of the rising generation. The master sees at a glance
if a boy be clever, and takes pains with him accordingly. He is not a
mere teacher of hexameters and sapphics. His learning embraces all
literature, ancient and modern. He is a good writer and a fine
critic; admires Wordsworth. He winks at fighting: his boys know how
to use their fists; and they are not in the habit of signing
post-obits before they are fifteen. Merton School is the place for
Kenelm."