nswer a question, he begins by leaning
on his desk. Then he gently lifts his hinder part, and by slow degrees
succeeds in getting up the whole mass. He hopes that by this time you
will have passed him and asked another boy to give you the answer. He
is not jealous, and will bear no ill-will to the boy who gives you a
satisfactory reply.

If you insist on his standing up and giving sign of life, he frowns,
loosens his collar, which seems to choke him, looks at the floor, then
at the ceiling, then at you. Being unable to utter a sound, he frowns
more, to make you believe that he is very dissatisfied with himself.

"I know the answer," he seems to say; "how funny, I can't recollect it
just now."

As you cannot waste any more time about him, you pass him; a ray of
satisfaction flashes over his face, and he resumes his corner hoping
for peace.

The little boys dare not laugh at him, for he is the terror of the
playground, where he takes his revenge of the class-room.

His favorite pastime in the playground is to teach little boys how to
play marbles. They bring the marbles, he brings his experience. When
the bell rings to call the boys to the class-rooms, he has got many
marbles, the boys a little experience.

* * * * *

One of my pet aversions is the young boy who arrays[5] himself in
stand-up collars and white merino cravats.

[5] Being a little bit of a philologist, I assume this verb comes
from the common (very common) noun, _'Arry_.

George Eliot, I believe, says somewhere that there never was brain
inside a red-haired head. I think she was mistaken. I have known very
clever boys with red hair.

But what I am positive about is that there is no brain on the top of
boys ornamented with stand-up collars.

Young Bully wears them. He comes to school with his stick, and whenever
you want a match to light the gas with he can always supply you, and
feels happy he is able for once to oblige you.

* * * * *

In some boys I have often deplored the presence of two ears. What you
impart through one immediately escapes through the other. Explain to
them a rule once a week, they will always enjoy hearing it again. It
will always be new to them. Their lives will ever be a series of
enchantments and surprises.

You must persevere, and repeat things to them a hundred times, if
ninety-nine will not do. Who knows there is not a J