It is very curious to note how children are attracted by Mr. Chamberlain. He and King Edward are the two public men whose names appear most often in their "Pieces of Composition." Such men as the Prime Minister, the Duke of Devonshire, and even Lord Rosebery—always popular figures with adults—have no attractions for the youngsters. Indeed, Mr. Chamberlain provokes one of the funniest things in the whole of the anecdotes which I have ventured to relate. "He is a man," writes a young hopeful, "who broke out among other people!" Isn't that just delicious? I am half inclined to think that the distinguished Parliamentarian who just now leads the House of Commons would utter a fervent "Hear! hear!" were that simple and yet striking answer rehearsed to him.
What quiet humour, too, there is in that rare definition of "Etc.": "It is a sign used to make believe you know more than you do!" Take, again, the reason given for David's preference. Why would he rather be a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord? "Because he could walk about outside while the sermon was being preached!" Could anything be more convincing? Or take, again, that rare new axiom that outeuchres Euclid: "When you are in the middle you are half over!" Did ever the self-evident truth stand more completely foursquare and without need of proof?
Still again, take the reason given for putting a hyphen between bird and cage: "For the bird to perch on!" Not less conclusive is the little one's reply in the lesson on "The elephant and his trunk." "Now my dear," says the amiable and hopeful infants' mistress, "you shall tell me what your nose is for." "Us haves it to wipe, miss!" Which recalls the rough, commonsense reproof which a Roman Catholic priest once gave a distinguished inspector who was examining a class of ragged little Standard II. gamins in a poor town school in the western country: "What, boys," he asked, "is the function of a verb?" Blank silence reigned until the priest stepped up to the inspector and said sotto voce: "You are an old ass——! It's as much as we can do here to get these youngsters to stand upright and keep their noses clean!"
But let me without further running—and more or less impertinent—comment try to classify my budget of anecdotes and let them speak for themselves. I will only add to this critical comment the fact that the stories which follow have been collected assiduously and stored up jealously during the thirty years I have been connected with schoolmastering either as Board School teacher, a London School Board member, or as editor of the organ of the National Union of Teachers, The Schoolmaster, in the columns of which journal most of them have from time to time appeared.
CHAPTER III.
A BUDGET OF QUAINT DEFINITIONS.
TEACHER: "Name the head of the English Church."
ALFRED THE SMALL: "The Archipelago of Canterbury!"