f not, they are frauds from the foundation. The
instruction in No. 13 was so lax and radically bad that the whole
governing body and the principal ought to have been sent to the
penitentiary on the charge of false pretense for drawing their salaries
and giving nothing in return. And yet I remember when examination day
came, instead of the committee investigating the progress of the pupils,
it usually turned into a mere hallelujah chorus upon our "grand public
school system."

Here is a remarkable fact: I seldom missed a promotion and passed from
grade to grade until within two years I found myself in Junior "A," the
next to the highest class in the school, just as ignorant as my
classmates, and that is saying much.

It was all very pitiful. My blood boils even now when I think of the
traitors chosen and paid to see me fully equipped and armed to begin the
battle of life who left me with phantom weapons which would shiver into
fragments at the first shock of conflict.

I left Junior A of old No. 13, with its algebra, logic, philosophy
(heaven save the word!) and advanced grammar, unable to write a
grammatical sentence. I had been taught spelling out of an expositor--a
sort of pocket dictionary containing about fifteen hundred words. Most
of these, with their definitions, parrotlike, I had learned to spell,
but never once in all my school experience had I been taught the
derivation of a single word. Indeed, I took it for granted that in the
good old days Adam had invented the words much as he named the animals,
and, of course, supposed that he spoke good English. The knowledge of
history I gained at No. 13 was strictly limited and exceedingly
primitive. I knew the Jews in the old days were a bad lot. That Brutus
had slain Caesar. That the Mayflower had landed our fathers on Plymouth
Rock. That wicked George III. was a tyrant, and that the boys in Boston
had thrown a tea-kettle at his head. I knew all about our George and the
cherry tree, and there my historical knowledge ended.

So here I was launched out in the world a model scholar! Stamped as
proficient in grammar, history, logic, philosophy and arithmetic, but
yet in useful knowledge a barbarian, unable to spell or even write a
grammatical letter and unversed in the ways of the world--a world, too,
where I would be cast entirely upon my own resources.

My home life was happy. My father had lost his grip on the world, but
his faith in the Unseen remained. My mothe