and good-will towards their masters. In short, physically, intellectually, and morally, unhappy boys were, for the periods of their respective consignments, submitted to a most deteriorating process by a master who professed, and who, silly man! thought he practised, the art of "forming the minds of his pupils with the strictest attention to their health and morals."

But what was the result? The result I will set forth faithfully from my memory; for this is no fiction. Like other writers of facts, I select for brevity and for interest; but the general impression I shall convey I am sure will be consistent with truth.

With him whom I now call John Morton I have often conversed on his boyish days. He was too clever and too good to be spoiled, yet I can plainly see he is not what he might have been. For except the habits of self-denial and discipline, which even persecution will create, I may truly say his master did nearly as much to thwart as to foster his talents. What he says is, "All I know I taught myself. Of Latin I know little or nothing, for though my last tutor made me feel my progress, and therefore some interest and satisfaction, still he came too late to overcome my rooted aversion to every thing in classical form. When felons love their gaolers, or slaves their task-masters, then may I think without aversion of Mr. Morgan Jones. Oh! what days of horrid ennui, of heart-sickening

disgust at lessons, and half pity, half hatred, of those who tried to force me to them, have I felt, and that too on fine mornings in summer, when every poor chirping linnet seemed to have a far better lot than I. If by any strange metempsychosis I could have migrated into one of the very vilest things that breathed the vital air, and fed on any other garbage than Latin grammar, it would have been long ere I should have repented of having 'shuffled off this mortal coil.' Now take my advice; abhor the fiendish fashion of tormenting unhappy boys until you concentrate all their moral infirmities in lying tongues and mischievous fingers' ends; just try them with a word or two of feeling and of friendly caution; say, 'Now, boys, we'll wipe off old scores, and start with fresh characters;' and so treat them like human creatures, and that will save a world of trouble to boys and master too. By the way," he continued, "only think of the cruel length of time we were made to be in school. Why, I am sure, I used to do more before breakfast on those days on which we were allowed to earn a half holiday, by working double tides, than I generally did in nine hours." The practice to which he alluded was this:

Mr. Jones had once some visitors to entertain for a few days, and therefore proposed to his boys, that as soon as they could say their lessons they might go to play without any regard to hours. The

spur thus given was extraordinary: the lessons were soon increased in length, but still the hope of reward quickened labour, and the work was done cheerfully and well. Mr. Jones found his work unusually easy too he had none to punish, none to restrain by knit brows and angry looks, none to fret his nerves or try his patience; and amidst the unusual flow of buoyant spirits, sparkling eyes, respectful and obliging tones of all the eager fry, standing anxious for their turn to be heard, his heart felt a pleasure unknown before. So, when his visitors were gone, he proposed to continue the me very sensible system; and, to have all quite fair, he once more increased the length of lessons. Still the greater part of his pupils were happy and merry in the play-ground at least three quarters of an hour before the stated limit of every school time. All this progressed with infinite satisfaction to all parties, till one day the woeful countenance of Mrs. Jones augured all was not right. "Well, my dear," she said, "you could not leave well alone; so here's a pretty business, there can be no lessons on the piano for our Matilda." " Why so?" "Because the two Griffins have sent notice to leave at Christmas, and I suppose this is not the last we shall hear of it." Poor Mr. Jones found that the friends and supporters of a rival academy had been wary enough to put forth that "at their school the students were kept closely to their studies, and were not to be seen playing every hour of the

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day." And since old Mrs. Griffin grudged every farthing which she paid for her two grandsons, who were two sad ne'er-do-wells," and since she paid their schooling more for the name of the thing, because other people did so, and "she could not refuse a decent education to her own flesh and blood, like certain persons of her acquaintance," she first made up her mind to stop that very unprofitable investment, and then talked all scruples away, by recommending the rest of the parish to do the

same.

"Most vexatious," said Mr. Jones; "people are such fools.""I found out the way to make those two boys learn by rewarding them with more play, when they never would learn before, and this is what we get by it." "All I know is," said his wife, 66 we cannot afford to pay a music-master any the more for that. Besides, it stands by reason, that when the Daltons' school-time is nine hours, people will not pay us the same terms for about seven. I always knew it would not do."

Accordingly Mr. Jones, with heavy heart, had to forget his losses as he could, and persecute himself and pupils with the same merciless and irksome system as before. But what was the effect of this kind of education on the other pupils? This I will relate of such as I knew as boys, and have since known as young men.

T. E. was a very clever boy, with great fondness for figures and mathematics, and of very un

usual ability in every way. There was an usher of some talent, who understood his character, and caused him to advance with rapid strides, and display much industry and emulation. But, like other ushers of talent, he was fit for better things, and obtained an appointment in the Admiralty. The boy from that time remained easily at the head of a class of slow boys, and did nothing but confirm habits of inactivity for five years. I know him now; he exactly exemplifies expers consili vis, "power without direction." His mind is like a blade loose at the hilt, sharp it may be, but to little purpose.

E. S. was a parlour boarder, and was entitled to extra instruction, but was very idle and weak; still quite such a youth as a master of uncompromising industry and commanding mind might have qualified for a sphere of utility. He ran through large sums at College, could not pass his first examination, and lately, in a state of comparative poverty, applied for a menial and laborious occupation in an office. Even for this, however, his education did not qualify him.

N. S. is now an officer in the army, of much intelligence and information. He remarked to me a few months since, "The old system must be bad. My brother officers seem to have been at no better schools than Mr. Jones's. I am sure I always was willing to learn if properly taught; but I was teased and worried with improper subjects. Really my education did not commence till I had left school."