dignified and impressive manners, and who always said "we," instead of "you," when talking to the boys, found occasion to reprove him.
"We do not look very clean," he said with much severity. "We have not washed our hands this morning. Have we?"
"I don't know about yours," was the impudent boy's answer; "but I've washed mine."
"Ah!" said the master, "we are very impudent to-day. We will have to write a hundred lines before the next 'bill.'"
When "bill" time came, the master sent for the boy. "Have we written our lines?" he asked.
"I've written my fifty," the boy answered very promptly, handing in his paper; "but I don't know whether you've done your half!"
The Plural of Égal.
Gustav Masson, the late genial French Master of Harrow School, once told me that he asked one of his class one day the following question:
"What is the plural of égal?"
The boy addressed looked mischievously at his tutor—whose good nature every Harrow boy could depend on—and with eyes sparkling with merriment, said:
"Two gals." [20]
A Searching Question.
The two celebrated divines and scholars, Drs South and Sherlock, were once disputing on some religious subject, when the latter accused his opponent of using his wit in the controversy. "Well," said South, "suppose it had pleased God to give you wit, what would you have done?" [11]
Gallant Wit.
"Mr Smith" said a beautiful young lady walking in the garden, "I fear I shall never bring this pea to perfection."—"Then permit me," said Sydney Smith, taking her by the hand, "to lead perfection to the pea." [3]
The Mud-fish.
By an indignant Tory Footman.
"The Mud-fish at the Crystal Palace escaped from his tank, and could not be found. The other day he was discovered in the
