iver had been read out.

Then came "Notes from Coventry, continued," which were very brief.
"Since our last, the population of Coventry has undergone a change. The
former inhabitant has walked out with flying colours, and the place is
empty. Who wants to go?"

Then came one or two odd paragraphs; one of them was:--

"By the way, the _Dominican_ wants to know why Loman is no longer a
monitor? Do his engagements with friends in Maltby prevent his giving
the necessary time to this duty? or are the Sixth beginning to see that
if they want order in the school they must have fellows who have at
least a little influence to do it? They have done well in appointing
Wraysford. But why is Loman resigned? Who can tell? It's a riddle. A
prize for the best answer in our next."

The finishing stroke, however, was Pembury's "Notes and Queries from
Down Below," supposed to be of special interest to the Fourth Junior.
The first was as follows:--

"Lessons.--Padger the Tadpole writes to ask, `How do you do lessons?'
The answer is a simple one, Padger. If you are a member of the Fourth
Junior, as we have a vague idea you are, the way of `doing' lessons
there is as follows: Sit at a desk full of old cherry-stones,
orange-peel, and dusty sherbet, and put your elbows on it. Then with
your pen scatter as much ink as you conveniently can over your own
collar and face, and everybody else, without unduly exerting yourself.
After that kick your right and left neighbours; then carefully rub your
hands in the dust and pass them several times over your countenance, all
the while making the most hideous and abominable howls and shrieks you
can invent. And then your lessons are `done.'"

This paragraph so grievously incensed the honourable community at which
it was directed, that for the first time for some months Guinea-pigs and
Tadpoles made common cause to protest against the base insinuations it
contained.

The "meeting" in the Fourth Junior that afternoon lasted, on and off,
from half-past four to half-past eight. Among the speakers were
Bramble, Paul, and Stephen; while Padger, Walker, and Rook did very good
execution with their fists. About half-past seven the dust was so dense
that it was impossible to see across the room; but those who knew
reported that there was another row on about Greenfield senior, and that
Paul and Padger were having their twenty-seventh round! Anyhow, the
Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles missed the rest of