But I effect nothing; nothing is attempted, nothing done.  I do my best—­fortunately our system admits of that—­to teach my private pupils a little history, and I make them write essays.  The results are decidedly encouraging; but meanwhile my colleagues go on in the old ways, quite contented, pathetically conscientious, laboriously slaving away, and apparently not disquieted by results.

I am very near the end of my tether—­one cannot go on for ever administering a system in which one has lost all faith.  If there were signs of improvement I should be content.  If our headmaster would even insist upon the young men whom he appoints obtaining a competent knowledge of French and German before they come here it would be something, because then, when the change is made, there would be less friction.  But even a new headmaster with liberal ideas would now be hopelessly hampered by the fact that he would have a staff who could not teach modern subjects at all, who knew nothing but classics, and classics only for teaching purposes.

It does me good to pour out my woes to you; I feel my position most acutely at this time of year, when the serious business of the place is cricket.  In cricket the boys are desperately and profoundly interested, not so much in the game, as in the social rewards of playing it well.  And my worthy colleagues give themselves to athletics with an earnestness which depresses me into real dejection.  One meets a few of these beloved men at dinner; a few half-hearted remarks are made about politics and books; a good deal of vigorous gossip is talked; but if a question as to the best time for net-practice, or the erection of a board for the purpose of teaching slip-catches is mentioned, a profound seriousness falls on the group.  A man sits up in his chair and speaks with real conviction and heat, with grave gestures.  “The afternoon,” he says, “is not a good time for nets; the boys are not at their best, and the pros. are less vigorous after their dinner.  Whatever arrangements are made as to the times for school, the evening must be given up to nets.”

The result is a pedantry, a priggishness, a solemnity about games which is simply deplorable.  The whole thing seems to me to be distorted and out of proportion.  I am one of those feeble people to whom exercise is only a pleasure and a recreation.  If I don’t like a game I don’t play it.  I do not see why I should be bored by my recreations.  An immense number of boys are bored by their games, but they dare not say so because public opinion is so strong.  As the summer goes on they avail themselves of every excuse to give up the regular games; and almost the only boys who persevere are boys who are within reach of some coveted “colour,” which gives them social importance.  What I desire is that boys should be serious about their work in a practical, business-like way, and amused by their games.  As a matter of fact they are serious about games and