remember with half their brain is usually incorrect.  It seems to me that this sort of mental limitation is far more marked in the young generation, probably because foolish parents seem to think it rather an amusing trait in their offspring.  Now, the boy at Chittenden’s who allowed his mind to wander, and did not concentrate, promptly made the acquaintance of the “spatter,” a broad leathern strap; and the spatter hurt exceedingly, as I can testify from many personal experiences of it.  On the whole, then, even the most careless boy found it to his advantage to concentrate.  This clever teacher knew how quickly young brains tire, so he never devoted more than a quarter of an hour to each subject, but during that quarter of an hour he demanded, and got, the full attention of his pupils.  The result was that everything absorbed remained permanently.  If I enlarge at some length on Mr. Chittenden’s methods, it is because the subject of education is of such vital importance, and the mere fact that the much-advertised system to which I have alluded has attained such success, would seem to indicate that many people are aware that they share that curious disability in the intellectual equipment of the average Englishman to which I have referred; for unless they had habitually only half-listened, half-read, half-understood, there could be no need for their undergoing a course of instruction late in life.  Surely it is more sensible to check this peculiarly English tendency to mental laziness quite early in life, as Mr. Chittenden did with his boys.  To my mind another striking characteristic of the average English man and woman is their want of observation.  They don’t notice:  it is far too much trouble; besides, they are probably thinking of something else.  All Chittenden’s boys were taught to observe; otherwise they got into trouble.  He insisted, too, on his pupils expressing themselves in correct English, with the result that Chittenden’s boys were more intellectually advanced at twelve than the average Public School boy is at sixteen or seventeen.  It is unusual to place such books as Paley’s Christian Evidences, or Archbishop Whately’s Historic Doubts as to Napoleon Bonaparte, in the hands of little boys of twelve, with any expectation of a satisfactory result; yet we read them on Sundays, understood the point of them, and could explain the why and wherefore of them.  Chittenden’s one fault was his tendency to “force” a receptive boy, and to develop his intellect too quickly.  As in the Pelm—­(I had very nearly written it) system, he made great use of memoria technica, and always taught us to link one idea with another.  At the age of ten I got puzzled over Marlborough’s campaigns. “‘Brom,’ my boy, remember ‘Brom,’” said Mr. Chittenden.  “That will give you Marlborough’s victories in their proper sequence—­Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet, ‘Brom’”; and “Brom” I have remembered from that day to this.

Though it is now many years since Mr. Chittenden passed away, I must pay this belated tribute to the memory of a very skilful teacher, and an exceedingly kind friend, to whom I owe an immense debt of gratitude.