cise to-day?"

You explain to him why he is wrong, and he goes back to his seat
grumbling. He sees he is wrong; but he is not cured. He hopes to be
more lucky next time.

When you meet his mother, she asks you what you think of the boy.

"A very nice boy indeed," you say; "only I sometimes wish he had more
confidence in me; he is rather fond of arguing."

"Oh!" she exclaims, "I know that. Charley will never accept a statement
before he has discussed it and thoroughly investigated it."

* * * * *

As a set-off for Charley, there is the boy who has a blind confidence
in you. All you say is gospel to him, and if you were to tell him that
the French word _voisin_ is pronounced _kramshaka_, he would
unhesitatingly say _kramshaka_.

Nothing astonishes him; he has taken for his motto the _Nil admirari_
of Horace. He would see three circumflex accents on the top of a vowel
without lifting his eyebrows. He is none of the inquiring and
investigating sort.

* * * * *

Another specimen of the Charley type is the one who has been coached
for the public school in a Preparatory School for the Sons of
Gentlemen, kept by ladies.

This boy has always been well treated. He is fat, rubicund, and unruly.
His linen is irreproachable. The ladies told him he was good-looking,
and his hair, which he parts into two _ailes de pigeon_, is the subject
of his incessant care.

He does not become "a man" until his comrades have bullied him into a
good game of Rugby football.

* * * * *

On the last bench, right in the corner, you can see young Bully. He
does not seek after light, he is not an ambitious boy, and the less
notice you take of him the better he is pleased. His father says he is
a backward boy. Bully is older and taller than the rest of the class.
For form's sake you are obliged to request him to bring his work, but
you have long ago given up all hope of ever teaching him any thing. He
is quiet and unpretending in class, and too sleepy to be up to
mischief. He trusts that if he does not disturb your peace you will not
disturb his. When a little boy gives you a good answer, it arouses his
scorn, and he not uncommonly throws at him a little smile of
congratulation. If you were not a good disciplinarian, he would go and
give him a pat on the back, but this he dares not do.

When you bid him stand up and a