Oh, the French dictionary, that treacherous friend of boys!
The lazy ones take the first word of the list, sometimes the figurative pronunciation given in the English-French part.
Result: "I have a key"—"J'ai un ki."
The shrewd ones take the last word, to make believe they went through the whole list.
[ Result: ] "A chest of drawers"—"Une poitrine de caleçons."
The careless ones do not take the right part of speech they want.
[ Result: ] "He felt"—"Il feutra"; "He left"—"Il gaucha."
With my experience of certain French dictionaries published in England, I do not wonder that English boys often trust in Providence for the choice of words, although I cannot help thinking that as a rule they are most unlucky.
Very few boys have good dictionaries at hand. I know that Smith and Hamilton's dictionary (in two volumes) costs twenty shillings. But what is twenty shillings to be helped all through one's coaching? About the price of a good lawn-tennis racket.
I have seen boys show me, with a radiant air, a French dictionary they had bought for six-pence.