of this statement we entertain no doubt whatever. It should be noticed that the Rector of Callington, with all this high training for labourers' children, differs toto cœlo from Mr Arnold and other theoretical educationists as to the age at which we must expect the boys, at least of this class, to leave school. Like most practical men who know the needs of a labourer's family, he "has always believed it best for boys to go to work as soon as their work was required, and has never tried to keep them a day."

But we have been led away by the attraction of this very interesting school from the more special education of our middle classes. If the endowed schools, in their present state, fail to supply our educational wants, and more especially those of the lower-middle class, they are at all events better than the private schools which are attempting the same thing. Into their merits or demerits it is not our purpose here to enter. But few of our readers will be surprised to learn that, in the opinion of the Commissioners, "the failure of the private schools, if not so blamable, is perhaps still more conspicuous."

One point there is, of the highest practical importance, which the evidence taken by the Royal Commissioners brings out very forcibly, and upon which they dwell repeatedly in their Report with considerable emphasis, yet certainly not. more than it deserves. It is this, that as education is undeniably a parents' question, so it is also a question the practical working out of which rests far more in their own hands than they are willing to allow. Those who have had anything to do with the education of the poor know how constantly the zealous work of teachers and superintendents is hindered and counteracted by the ignorance, the prejudice, the selfishness, the mistaken indulgence, or the apathy of the parents. Complaints and re

monstrances on this head, loud enough and by no means without foundation, may be heard in every town and village from those who devote their time and energies to the instruction of the children of the working classes,-from the schoolmaster, from the parson, from the squire's wife and daughters in the country parish, from the earnest young tradesman who is the voluntary teacher in the town Sundayschool. They could do very well with the children, they say, if they were but backed in the most moderate degree by the home influence of the parents. They probably think-and if they have no children of their own, such illusion is excusable-that in their own station of life the state of things is very different indeed. Let them hear the deliberately recorded opinions of a Commission whose business it has been to inquire into the "chief hindrances to education," not amongst those whom we call the poor, but those higher classes whose children fill our endowed grammar - schools, proprietary colleges, and private boarding-schools throughout England-saving only the nine great schools under the former Commission-and we make bold to say that the very same strictures would apply, in far too many cases, to these also:

"Much evidence has been laid before us tending to show that indifference and ignorance on the part of the parents are among the chief hindrances to education at present. Too often the parents seem hardly to care for education at all. Too often they think no education worth having that cannot be speedily turned into money."

These words, it is true, are meant to apply chiefly to parents in the less highly educated and refined ranks of society-to men engaged in commercial or strictly professional pursuits. But it is impossible not to confess with sorrow, that indifference on the part of the parents lies at the root of all the

deficiencies now so loudly complained of in the results of our higher education. They send their sons to a school of good repute, without grudging the cost, and they even perhaps take some pains in the selection. They ascertain so far as they can that the tone of the school is "gentlemanlike," that the master has a good reputation for scholarship and discipline, that the feeding is liberal, and the work not too hard. And having done this, in nine cases out of ten they shift the entire responsibility from their own shoulders altogether. They have paid for a good article, and they expect to get it. While the boy is away at school little interest is shown, or inquiry made, as to his school-work; it is rather tabooed in the home correspond ence, as a disagreeable subject, of which he will be sure to hear quite enough from his masters. When he comes home for the holidays, it would be manifestly unfair-a trespass altogether upon old prescriptive rights to make that a time for inquisitorial researches into the literary doings or misdoings of the past half-year.

"Sing Old Rose, and burn libellos," has been always a popular line in 'Dulce Domum;' and though' Old Rose' is unhappily forgotten, unless the memory of some ancient Wykehamist still preserves it, and has given way to nigger melodies and other less classical ditties, the spirit of the rest of the line is still jealously preserved both by boys and parents. The books are not bodily burnt, but a funeral-pile is made in imagination of all such school reminiscences by the whole home circle. This sounds all very genial, and what our schoolboys call "jolly;" only when Nemesis comes at last in the shape of some unrelenting college or civil-service examiner, and the sudden discovery is made, that five years of Eton or Harrow have turned out the hope of the family a very gentlemanlike

fellow, an excellent cricketer, a promising oar for the University boat, a fair judge of horse-flesh, but with a very confused notion of cases and concords, an original style of spelling, and a distinct impression that Madagascar is a town on the coast of the Mediterranean,—it is hardly fair for Paterfamilias to turn round and begin to complain of the shameful inefficiency of public - school training. That discovery might have been easily made, and with greater practical advantage, some years ago; and it may be safely predicted that, if the shortcoming had been in the quality of the mutton, or the accommodations of the boarding-house, it would have been made. Take the common case of the "town-boy," who lives in his own family, and attends a public school as a day-scholar, a class which at some schools is sufficiently numerous, though a notion is prevalent-and it is to be feared not entirely without foundation-that they are regarded with little favour by head - masters. The Commissioners are no doubt quite right in their opinion that such boys lose many of the distinctive advantages of public-school life.

"To a boarding scholar the school is the world, and the work of the school is the work of the world. The lessons, the promotions, the distinctions, the failures, occupy a larger place in his imagination, and consequently make a deeper impression on his mind, than if he were living at home, and were perpetually reminded that his world was but a part of the large world to which his father and his mother belonged. Moreover, boys learn much from each other. The boarder finds in the perpetual presence of his schoolfellows a perfather's conversation is partly on subjects petual stimulus to his intellect: his that he does not yet understand, partly is removed from him by the undefined difference caused by difference of age; but the conversation of a boy, even if far cleverer than himself, is still within generally prepare their lessons together, his comprehension. Boarders, again, and, in so doing, not only help each other, but to a great degree stimu late and cultivate each other's under

standing. Again, a good boarding school has more power in the formation of character than can be exerted by the joint action of the home and the day-school. A boarder is compelled to rely much more on himself. He cannot lean always on his parents. He is compelled to choose between right and wrong without the aid of an elder judgment. He is exposed to some temptations from which the day-scholar is shielded; but in a really good boardingschool he is exposed to them in the most wholesome way, with a strong public opinion among his fellows to keep him generally right, and with the certainty that anything mean or underhand will be detected and despised. . . . And to this must be added the games in the play-ground, which play a very important part in disciplining the character of English boys. There, as much as any where, boys learn fairness, control of temper, obedience to authorities of their own choice, co-operation for a common end; valuable qualities in after life, even when first learnt in play."-Rep.

p. 44, 45.

This is true, and well put, though it applies only, as the Report goes on to remark, to good boarding-schools, especially to "old schools, where men of high character have taught," and in which "there is accumulated an inheritance of right feeling.' But that in the actual school-work the home-boarders, even when they are drawn from the same social rank, should as a rule fall behind the rest as the evidence goes to show that they do-is a fact most unhappily corroborative of that effect of home influence which we have been noticing. The Commissioners remark upon it, though they touch the question somewhat too briefly and delicately. "The parents might perhaps, if they chose, turn the scale the other way." Undoubtedly they might. And a little farther on this very Report shows us how, at a somewhat humbler level than that of our great English schools, "the keen and intelligent interest which the parents take in their children's education is the force which gives life to the school-work." In most of the municipal towns throughout Scotland there is what is called a

"burgh school," - sometimes remodelled under the modern name of "academy"-maintained and controlled by the municipal authorities, who appoint the masters, regulate the fees, and in some measure the course of education. An Assistant-Commissioner (Mr Fearon) was sent to report on this system, and the following is the lively picture which he gives of a good burgh school in actual work. He found, he says

"The class-room crowded with sixty or one hundred boys and girls, all nearly of an age, seated in rows at desks or benches, but all placed in the order of merit, with their keen thoughtful faces turned towards the master, watching his every look and every gesture, in the hopes of winning a place in the class, and having good news to bring home seated at the head of the class, wearing to their parents at tea-time. The dux perhaps a medal; the object of envy and yet of pride to all his fellows; fully security of his position; and taught, by conscious both of the glory and the inthe experience of many falls, the danger of relaxing his efforts for one moment. In front of this eager animated throng stands the master, gaunt, muscular, and time-worn, poorly clad and plain in manner and speech, but with the dignity of a ruler in his gestures, and the fire of an enthusiast in his eye; never sitting down, but standing always in some commanding position before the class; full of movement, vigour, and energy; so thoroughly versed in his author or his subject that he seldom requires to look at the text-book, which is open in the chalk or the pointer, ever ready to his left hand, while in his right he holds illustrate from map or black-board, or perhaps flourishes the ancient 'taws' with which in former days he used to reduce disorderly new-comers to discip

line and order. The whole scene is one of vigorous action and masterly force."

The Commissioners are struck, as all readers must be, with this lively picture, and they go on to show, from other passages in the same Report, that although much of this activity may be due to the natural energy and aptitude of the Scotch teacher (usually a graduate of one of the national universities, of whose training in this respect

they speak highly), yet there is another and a most important agent besides.

"Outside the schools there is a force at work which really supplies them with all their life and vigour, and this is the extraordinary interest which the parents take in the progress of their boys. All the energy and all the interest of the Scotch teacher would perhaps not produce more result than that which Eng. lish country grammar-schools afford, were they not seconded by the anxious and intelligent watchfulness of parents and patrons, and by the consequent eagerness and diligence of children. What place in the class to-day?' Mr Fearon found to be the first question asked when a boy went home; and then would follow questions as to what he had read-whether such a neighbour's son was above or below him, and, if above him, why so-how he had gained, and why he had lost, a place-and did he think he had a chance of ever being dux, and so on,-every word showing the importance which the whole family attach to his success. In short, the schools are practically in the hands of the parents; they use the masters to educate their sons, but they themselves direct the education. The responsibility, the expense, the guidance are all their own; and the result is that they give their hearts to a task which in many respects none others can do so well."

In the educational question, as in others, whenever the subject is taken up in earnest by the parties most immediately concerned, we shall have reforms which Royal Commissions may recommend in vain, and which legislation is powerless to enforce. "What we pray to ourselves for," says the American essayist, "is always granted." And though the writer be a free-thinker, the words are less irreverent than they sound. The British public grumbled long and deeply against the exactions of tradesmen, but it was not until it took to calculate profit and loss for itself, and set up co-operative societies, that prices came down by the run. Hitherto the British parent, paying a liberal sum annually for his boys' educathat he should be well fed, and tion, has been content to demand sleep in a well-ventilated bedroom. Whenever he takes it into his head to demand as distinctly of the masters that his boy shall be taught, and of the boy himself that he shall apply himself to learn, we shall see

what educational reform means in earnest.

WHEN an officer in India finds his life thrown in some outlying district away from society, its influences and its restraints, amongst the other indulgences he permits himself is that of forming what in Indian slang is called a Bobbery Pack, which means a pack of hounds of every imaginable race, kind, and country, from the bluff mastiff to the Blenheim-from the shaggy wolf-dog to the sleek retrieverwho, probably from the instincts of a necessity, forget their several peculiarities of race and breed, and agree to hunt together after a fashion, to witness which might seriously try the patience of a master of hounds at home.

Imagine a field of bull-terriers, spaniels, wire-haired greyhounds, collies, carriage-dogs, and Pomeranian Spitzes, all yelling and barking after their several dispositions, and all quarrelling, while three or four swarthy coolies lay about them with strong whips, and the halfdistracted master tries to convey some intimation of what direction he intends to go in, and what cover he desires to draw, the din and uproar reducing him at last to pantomime to convey his designs. It is not to be supposed that any man ever bethought him of collecting such a mob, as a matter of choice. Indeed, no one with a strong feeling for the enjoyment of hunting could condescend to go out with such companions. Bobberies are the resource of men remote from public criticism, and, what is not less to be remembered, of small fortune. The Bobbery Pack is therefore the accumulated contribution of friends and acquaintances, who, with a kindness that is not quite unselfish, get rid of their worthless dogs by presenting them to the master of a "Bobbery." We all

know that when a man sets out to be a collector, whether it be of coins or curiosities, beetles, butterflies, or bobberies, every one thinks it the most natural thing in life to add to his store by a contribution. Independently of the pleasure of doing a civil thing, there is the satisfaction of thinking that your brass sesterce, or your brown beetle, or your bobbery dog, will be housed and cared for in disciplined fashion, and cut a respectable figure among its own fellows.

Bobberies, it is said, are not easy to hunt, nor at all times safe to hunt with. They have not that common sentiment-the glorious camaraderie, that gives the tone and colour to the pack of fox-hounds. Indeed, nothing but the instinct of pursuit imparts to them anything like agreement. Till they are "away," it is all row, fighting, and disorder. Bull has Skye by the ear, and Mastiff is mauling a Maltese terrier cruelly; the uproar, too, is quite deafening. The collie will not be outbarked by the bloodhound; and the short querulous yelp of the rat-terrier is a challenge to the deep-voiced bay of the wolf-dog.

Amongst their peculiarities, two are especially to be noticed: the first is, they will only hunt when they are hungry; the second, they invariably turn upon the huntsman when there is no game; and the day of "no find" is to him one of imminent danger.