hand-writing even of Dr. Scratch's prescriptions.

Sir Townley Sparks, Bart., wished for a
Progress schoolmaster (loud cheers), but
people wanted to know what a Progress
schoolmaster was.

Butts, the wealthy butcher, thought that a
schoolmaster was wanted who did not make
discipline a cover for ignorance. Doffing his
bright blue coat, and brushing up the light,
stubbly, half-grey hairs upon his broad, good-
natured forehead, he would run out and
canvass his best customers in favour of plain
John Smith, who came up with a high
recommendation from a Training School, with the
patrons of which Mr. Butts was well
acquainted.

Mr. Tittleton grew uncomfortable,
especially as the half-quarterly examination drew
near. He had got so used to the snug old
room papered with fuchsias and painted
birds, that any idea of leaving it was far
from agreeable. Moreover, the Commander
kept capital port, and had often given him a
"snack" on half-holidays, besides a ride in a
little tub of a chaise, in which he was wont to
assert his gentility, and collect his rents; for
he hated deputies. But the school was in a
very doubtful condition.

The generality of candidates were dull,
quiet individuals, recommended rather by
their unfitness for anything else, than by any
specific attainments. In fact, the committee
had always overlooked the fact, that the
salary was likely to attract few men of
positive ability, and that, except through
a regular Society, cut and dried for such
purposes, a parish schoolmaster's office was
by no means one of the easiest to fill
properly. As Mr. Butts observed, "they wanted
a man who was not too clever, but was clever
enough." And the axiom was true. Half or
a quarter part of the learning possessed by the
head-master of a grammar-school suffices for
any practical purposes to which he may have
to apply it; but did he not possess superior
and even unnecessary attainments, the humbler
part of his work would probably be inaccurate
and slovenly.

It is curious, with what facility and with
what consistent exaggeration even the lower
classes deal with the characters of those who
are not many shades removed from themselves
in position. Few of them ever said a word
against the vicar, who was absent for six
months out of the year at his canonry at
St. Bullswag; in fact, they rather liked him
for staying away, because his curate's sermons
were both short and intelligible. But the
master of the parish school was under the
active observation of a set of critics, who
dealt chiefly in general ideas of right and
wrong, and who were not at all disposed to
enter into the minute particulars of individual
cases. Moreover, the poor people had an
idea that the parish schoolmaster ought to
be a gentleman after a certain manner, and
poor Tittleton could not get over the yard-
measure story. Consequently, when the report
of his incompetency was proved to rest on
good foundation, his prospects were settled.
Even had the guardians of the school been
willing to elect him, the parents would have
kept their children from the school. Mr.
Tittleton looked at the snug room sorrowfully,
and took his departure from Broad-
Bumble, with the consolation of having found
at least one good friend in the Commander.

The day of election is over, and Mr. John
Smith is elected.

There sits the Commander, and his
recreant nephew; who, curious to say, wears a
white cravat, and near, very near him, is the
pretty adopted god-daughter; who, stranger
still, wears orange-blossoms in her bonnet.
It is wonderful how old people can forget their
prejudices in their kindness.

To work! A whistle is heard, and every
boy is in his place and at his post in a minute.
But without confusion.

Class after class come up; the multiplication-
table goes round the junior class. Pounce on
which boy you will; ask the most refined and
awkward combinations that anything times
anything can produce; and still it "comes
right." How distinctly are the "parts taken"
for that elaborate question about the merchant
who wants so many and three-quarters of
something or other, at so much and so many
fractions the item! What can philosophy
expect more accurate than the definition which
that small boy in the wide pinafore is giving
of latitude and longitude; or what can be a
better help than that great, big, black-lined,
brightly-coloured map, to which he points as
he explains the rules?

And with what clear, manly voices some of
those elder youths, and with what equally
clear, but less decided tones, those little lads,
are reading our English Testament? How
plain and straight-forward are the answers,
and how plain and sensible are the questions
that elicit them!

But, our gymnastics and our whistling have
not been cast out. No. In moderation they
have their use, and are a capital help to
regularity and economy of time. How, withal, do
the boys of Broad-Bumble get more half-
holidays, more games at cricket, and more
trips in tilted waggons, than were heard of
even in the memory of the oldest inhabitant,
and yet do more work than they ever did
before? Why, it seems that Mr. John Smith
knows play to be as much a boy's duty as
work, and teaches a boy how to play, how to
work, and how to enjoy both.

Another signal, and all are on their knees.
It is a beautiful sight, and simple words are
wafting upward with a beautiful sound.
Another signal; all are erect; a volume of
human voices breaks forth in simple unison
with "Glory to thee, my God, this night;"
and the school is dispersed.