the genus Girl, also, but of that we are not certain; for, not to dwell upon the fact that we have never been a girl, and are, therefore, unable to enter into the feelings of girlhood, we hold that girls are better than boys, as women are better than men, and that, consequently, they take more kindly to school life.  What boys are we know, unless the breed has changed very much since we were young, which is now upwards of—­but our age does not concern the reader.  We did not take kindly to school, although we were sadly in need of what we could only obtain in school, viz., learning.  We went to school with reluctance, and remained with discomfort; for we were not as robust as the children of our neighbors.  We hated school.  We did not dare to play truant, however, like other boys whom we knew (we were not courageous enough for that); so we kept on going, fretting, and pining, and—­learning.

Oh the long days (the hot days of summer, and the cold days of winter), when we had to sit for hours on hard wooden benches, before uncomfortable desks, bending over grimy slates and ink-besprinkled “copy books,” and poring over studies in which we took no interest—­geography, which we learned by rote; arithmetic, which always evaded us, and grammar, which we never could master.  We could repeat the “rules,” but we could not “parse;” we could cipher, but our sums would not “prove;” we could rattle off the productions of Italy—­“corn, wine, silk and oil”—­but we could not “bound” the State in which we lived.  We were conscious of these defects, and deplored them.  Our teachers were also conscious of them, and flogged us!  We had a morbid dread of corporeal punishment, and strove to the uttermost to avoid it; but it made no difference, it came all the same—­came as surely and swiftly to us as to the bad boys who played “hookey,” the worse boys who fought, and the worst boy who once stoned his master in the street.  With such a school record as this, is it to be wondered at that we rejoiced when school was out?  And rejoiced still more when we were out of school?

The feeling which we had then appears to be shared by the children in our illustration.  Not for the same reasons, however; for we question whether the most ignorant of their number does not know more of grammar than we do to-day, and is not better acquainted with the boundaries of Germany than we could ever force ourselves to be.  We like these little fellows for what they are, and what they will probably be.  And we like their master, a grave, simple-hearted man, whose proper place would appear to be the parish-pulpit.  What his scholars learn will be worth knowing, if it be not very profound.  They will learn probity and goodness, and it will not be ferruled into them either.  Clearly, they do not fear the master, or they would not be so unconstrained in his presence.  They would not make snow balls, as one has done, and another is doing.  Soon they will begin to pelt each other, and the passers by will not mind the snow balls, if they will only remember how they themselves felt, and behaved, after coming out of school.