young gentlemen. I liked the girls—from nine
years old to fourteen they were—by ever so
much the best; the boys, who were younger,
were continually putting their tongues
out and shying things at me. Having then
this substratum of interest in the subject, it
is not to be wondered at that cousin Sophy
has, to use her own expression, "piled it
up" very considerably—she means by that,
increased my sympathy with school-girls—by
certain details which I intend to confide to
the reader.

Cousin Sophy is, I should perhaps remark,
about seventeen, but looks nearly two years
older. If I say in this publication and for the
private information of the reader, that she is
crumby for that age, I do not wish it to go
further. She will receive, in three years and
four months exactly (I took the trouble of
calculating it once for fun), the sum of twelve
thousand pounds,—and I wish, dear girl,
from my heart that it was twice as much.
We read portions of Tennyson together
(the Miller's Daughter); play at back-gammon
with one dice-box, whose fellow I have
purposely mislaid that we may have little
contentions for possession after every throw;
and generally chaff one another in a
pleasant way. She will not play at chess
with me, because she is, she says, so stupid,
and dislikes people to make bad moves on
purpose to let her win. It was between and
among these varied occupations that I became
possessed of her little school troubles, and of
the causes of them. She has even entrusted
me (in the strictest confidence) with a copy
of the regulations of the seminary, Acacia
Lodge, in which her education is still being
imparted; and I have extracted a few of
them for the purpose of publication. Sophy,
who is charmingly natural, and indeed forcible,
in her language, says her schoolmistress, Miss
Maigre, is a "disgusting creature," and "a
nasty thing." Upon the whole, that lady
appears to be a screw. Witness the
following extracts from the Code Maigre:—

"Rule 73. To eat two pieces of bread-and-
butter at tea, and two at breakfast."

These pieces, I am given to understand,
are "as thick as that" (Sophy separates her
hands, which I am playfully holding in my
own, about six inches), and destroy all
subsequent appetite for dinner. The butter is
infinitesimally thin (pantomimic explanatory
action by rapidly bringing her palms
together, and mine).

"Rule 63. Not to be allowed two cups of
tea"

What a halfpenny worth of sack to this
intolerable amount of bread! Supposing, as
Sophy tells me, that these cups are perfect
thimbles, I think this regulation cruel. Can
that Miss Maigre has made this edict in
remembrance of the orgies of the Rev. Stiggins
and his shepherdesses? With all respect
to the conductor of this journal, I think it
probable that Miss Maigre would cut her
hands off, mittens and all, rather than confess
to have read Pickwick. She is "so very, so
very genteel." Consider, for instance,

"Rule 61. Not to speak more than is
absolutely necessary to a servant."

How right it is that young ladies who are
able to pay two hundred pounds a-year for
their education should be taught to know
their exalted position, and the gulf that lies
between them and those whom the Rev.
Milkan Walters calls " our humbler sisters."
To the same effect, and with a yet higher
teaching, runs this

"Rule 14. Not to kiss the governesses."

Not to bestow their well-born or richly-
endowed affection upon poor people! The
"know thyself" of the old philosopher is in
the Code Maigre thus translated: "Remember,
young lady, that you are the salt of the
earth; keep separate from the common clay;
never lose sight of the fact, that your first cousin
is a baronet and your mother a Bodgers;
or that your uncle (who was in trade, and is
personally to be forgotten) has left you ten
thousand pounds with interest to accumulate;
always stand on tiptoe in relation to your
inferiors, and bestow on them the fewest
possible words, and no thought whatever;
beware especially of sympathy; no beauty
of nature, and no richness of intellect, can
make up, remember, for the want of money,
or the absence of the Bodgers blood."
The first rule in reference to the masters, is
this:—

"Rule 1. Wear always gloves or mits in
the presence of a master."

This, I think, must be a winter regulation.
Rule twenty-two is more explicit:

"Rule 22. Not to go on your knees when, a
master is present."

Why not? This surely must be a law
for the masters and not for the misses!
Cousin Sophy, for instance, never dreams of
going on her knees in my presence. Quite
the reverse. Can it be that Miss Maigre's
young ladies habitually throw themselves
into that attitude; or, is the rule only actually
enforced during leap year?

Rule twenty rather puzzles me:

"Rule 20. Not to have any matches."

"What kind of matches—those that are said
to be made in heaven, or lucifer matches?
Certainly not the former, when rule forty is
read in connection with it:—

"Rule 40. Never to wear white gloves."

With regard to the edicts which are to
follow, I have no solution to offer, that wears
the shadow of probability. Let us head them
"To the Ingenious;" and, as the manner of
some is, offer five thousand copies of our
journal to the elucidator.

"Rule 62. Not to burn paper scraps."

Now, my dear Sophy, let us sit upon the
ground,—no, that is forbidden in edict nine
("never to sit upon the ground"). Let us
talk this over then, quietly together. Why
not burn paper scraps? Do you save them