last Sunday's linen. He is stout, but every
limb betrays his laxity of fibre; his coat is
fluffy; his hands are unclean, lie evidently
lives in an unwholesome atmosphere. "Dr.
Blose?" we say. He mutters a few syllables,
bowing assent. We stand now in the middle
of the school. "A gentleman in London,
who has seen one of your prospectuses,
desired me to run down and ask you a few
questions."

Dr. Blose illuminates the whole of his face
in honour of my arrival. "Most happy to
see you; will you walk into the drawing-room?"

Come with me, invisible companion, as I
follow Dr. Blose! We leave the school-room
by a private door conducting into the house.
We cross odd little dark passages, then climb
a steep, worm-eaten old stair; cross a room
into another room, and sit down opposite the
doctor.

It is a wonderfully low-pitched room, of
which the ceiling seems to weigh heavily
upon our spirits; the queer little windows,
out of which we peep abroad through the
old ivy, let little life in from the sombre
day outside.

Abruptly I resume the conversation—
"Chiefly it was desired that I should ask
you questions about the number of your
pupils, and how you manage with the free
scholars?"

"O, they have been rather a difficulty; but
I have made arrangements—which, indeed, I
shall carry out next week—to turn my parlour
into a school-room; and then I shall keep my
own boys perfectly separate from the free
school and the day-scholars."

"You would teach your private pupils
separately— have, in fact, two distinct schools?"

"Yes."

"But how would you attend to them?
Would there not be some difficulty?"

"Why, I might possibly need another assistant;
my wife, too, might teach the youngest
children. I might attend to the foundation
boys when the French master was in the
parlour."

"I understand. How many private boarders
have you?"

"Sixteen. My number is five-and-twenty,
if I can make it up."

"And day-scholars you have?"

"Yes, I take day-scholars; but there are
only six or seven. I might have more if I
would; but when they are too rough, I refuse
to take them. The foundation boys, of course,
are a rough lot, and I must take whoever is
put into a vacancy. But I pick my day-
scholars."

My friendly shade, you sit by, looking rather
grim. As for the shade of Queen Elizabeth,
I hope she does not hear that the rough—even
with money in their hands—are warned off
from the Free School door, lest private pupils
be offended by them. Grim as you look, I do
somewhat relent, now that we have gone so
far, and do compassionate poor Dr. Blose, who
sits here uttering the secrets of his prison-
house. Yet do we intrude upon no private
confidence. Free endowed Grammar-Schools
are public property. I ask no question of
Dr. Blose, his answer to which the public
has not a commanding right to hear. If
I said how large an ear was open for his
information, he would never give it me. I
tell him, therefore, nothing of my motives;
not a word more than the absolute and very
simple fact, that a gentleman who had seen
his prospectus wished me to ask him
questions. On that hint he speaks; and I,
remembering my delicate position, ask for no
information that does not immediately
concern the position of foundation boys in a Free
Grammar-School.

"Your own pupils, then, will not be taught
with the foundation boys? And the prizes?
How do you arrange about the prizes?"

"The trustees examine the whole school
once a year, and prizes are then given to the
boys whom I point out. The other half-year
I give prizes myself, and on each occasion I
generally manage that one prize should go to
the best boy on the foundation form."

"You are superintended, I suppose, by the
trustees?"

"Yes; generally the clergy of the parish.
May I ask for whom you are inquiring?"

"No. You may, perhaps, hear more upon,
the subject. I must be gone now, for I have
exhausted all my stock of questions."

"Will you come up and see the
bedrooms?"

"No, thank you—no; it is not my purpose
to look into domestic arrangements."

But I am urged to ascend, and am not sorry
to wander through the worm-eaten old school-
house. Dr. Laon Blose points out a little
garden at the back. "I mean," he says, " to
make a play-ground there, for my own boys,
where they may be when the free scholars are
in front. It is necessary to watch against
intimacy between them; for though it doesn't
matter in the case of pupils who come from a
distance, it is very awkward in the case of
boys whose parents live in the vicinity."
I look a little puzzled. "Because," said the
Doctor, " after they leave school, the rough
acquaintance is apt to be continued."

So the silver forks are parted from the
wooden spoons. Declining hospitable offers,
we turn to depart. As we wind down the
old staircase, the doctor asks us from behind,
"Don't you think, now, that it is a good plan
to part the two schools?" We murmur, "Yes,"
for, certainly, we think at present the poor
children are overcrowded. But as a return
catechism appears likely to commence, I
tumble down a step or two, and turn the
doctor's breath into a current of apology for
his extremely awkward stairs.

So, being let out at the private door, I
stand again witli my old friend the
greyhound, and look back at the ivy-covered