hat independence of judgment which distinguishes
his Latin Prose from, let us say, the prose of Cicero, preferred to read
'A Forsaken Garden' by one Swinburne."

The Upper Fifth giggled dutifully.

"Perhaps Fane will recite to us his discovery," said Mr. Cray,
scratching his scurfy head with the gnawed end of a penholder.

Michael blushed resentfully, and walked back to his desk.

"No?" said Mr. Cray with an affectation of great surprise.

Then he and the Upper Fifth, contented with their superiority, began to
chew and rend some tough Greek particles which ultimately became
digestible enough to be assimilated by the Upper Fifth; while Mr. Cray
himself purred over his cubs, looking not very unlike a mangy old
lioness.

"Eight more terms," groaned Michael to himself.

Mr. Cray was not so blind to his pupils' need for mild intellectual
excitement, however much he might scorn the easy emotions of Swinburne.
He really grew lyrical over Homeric difficulties, and even spoke
enthusiastically of Mr. Mackail's translation of the Georgics; but
always he managed to conceal the nobility of his theme beneath a mass of
what he called 'minor points.' He would create his own rubbish heap and
invite the Upper Fifth to scratch in it for pearls. One day a question
arose as to the exact meaning of [Greek: oulochutai] in Homer.
Michael would have been perfectly content to believe that it meant
'whole barleycorns,' until Mr. Cray suggested that it might be
equivalent to the Latin 'mola,' meaning 'grain coarsely ground.' An
exhausting discussion followed, illustrated by examples from every sort
of writer, all of which had to be taken down in notes in anticipation of
a still more exhausting essay on the subject.

"The meal may be trite," said Mr. Cray, "but not the subject," he added,
chuckling. "However, I have only touched the fringe of it: you will find
the arguments fully set forth in Buttmann's Lexilogus. Who possesses
that invaluable work?"

Nobody in the Upper Fifth possessed it, but all anxiously made a note of
it, in order to acquire it over the counter of the Book Room
downstairs.

"No use," said Mr. Cray. "Buttmann's Lexilogus is now out of print."

Michael pricked up at this. The phrase leant a curious flavour of
Romance to the dull book.

"No doubt, however, you will be able to obtain it second-hand," added
Mr. Cray.

The notion of tracking down Buttmann's Lexilogus possessed the Upper
Fifth. Eagerly after school t