MOON TO FALL TO THE EARTH?--HOW MANY YARDS OF CLOTH IT
TAKES TO COVER AN ASS.--I EXAMINE IN GERMAN.

French boys, and only of late, are made to go through a course of
French philology during their last two years at school; but English
school-boys, who are seldom taught to speak French, and who would find
it just as difficult to make themselves understood in Paris as they
would in Pekin, are made to study the "rudiments" of French philology,
that is to say, the origin of words they are unable to put together so
as to make French sentences of them.

I might take this opportunity for discussing whether English
school-boys should not leave alone all this nonsense, and devote the
little spare time they have to learning how to put French words
together with a decent pronunciation; but I have promised myself to
discuss nothing in this little volume of personal recollections, and I
will keep my word.

After all, what Englishmen want to be able to do is to write a letter
in French, and to ask for a steak or a mutton-chop in a French
restaurant, without having to low or bleat to make the waiter
understand that it is beef or mutton they want.

I did not go to England to make reforms; I accept things as I see them,
and I generally wait to give my advice until I am asked for it.

So French philology is taught. A hundred exercises, which I have under
my eyes, show me the results of the philological teaching of French in
England.

* * * * *

For once--now for once only, let me make a boast.

Small as I am, I have rendered a valuable service to the land of my
adoption. Yes, a service to England, nothing short of that.

For over fifteen years, the French examiners in the University of
London invariably every year asked the candidates for Matriculation the
following question--I had almost said riddle:

"Which is the only French substantive ending in _ence_ that is of
the masculine gender, and why?"

You may picture to yourself the unhappy candidates, scratching their
heads, and going, in their minds, through the forty and some thousand
words which make up the French vocabulary.

Those only who were "in the know" could answer that the famous word was
_silence_, as it came from the Latin neuter noun _silentium_, the other
French nouns ending in _ence_ (from Latin feminine nouns in _entia_)
being feminine.

"Well," I said one day to the examiner, an eminent _confrere_ and
friend, "