rn," and be fain to put palm to forehead in dazed
amazement. A pupil learning the rudiments under such a teacher, was
dazzled rather than instructed by the ruthless surgery of words that
constantly went on. No word was too small for Porteous to operate upon:
he settled _hoti's_ business, and could so inflate Greek vocables by
supplying digammas and dropped consonants, that Plato would have
disowned them. Give him chalk, a blackboard, and a class of six, and he
would in ten minutes fill the board with hieroglyphics, curves,
arrow-headed diagonals, etc., all meant to illustrate the relationships,
divergencies, and contrarieties of the Aryan roots. His life was spent
in the company of these radicals, and he could call them forth out of
their trickiest hiding-places. In the midst of his chalky toil, he would
turn round with radiant glee as if to say, "This is a merry and exciting
trade: it is my fun and is as good as poaching or golf." But woe betide
the youth who showed levity. Soon would there be weeping and wailing and
tingling of palms. His reputation for strap-wielding made roots
respected.

Another teacher of the school of Porteous was Thomas Taylor, whose death
I saw announced a few weeks ago. Where has all _his_ Greek lore gone to,
so assiduously cultivated, so continuously added to? If Taylor's soul is
ever re-incarnated in a mortal body, it is absurd to suppose that he
must begin to learn the Greek alphabet just like a novice. His clay is
indeed mixed with the clay of common men, but I love to think of him
dwelling on the other side of the River in the meads of asphodel,
discussing with kindred shades, the topics he delighted to handle when
he was here. With tearful eye I pen these doleful decasyllabics to his
memory:--

What chums Tom Taylor and Charles Lamb had been
O'er bottled porter and the _Fairy Queen_!
In youth, one day, seeking forbidden fruit
Tom tumbled from the branches with his loot,
And broken bones compelled the lad to go
On straddling crutches, warily and slow,
Counting the pebbles on his path below.
The noisy pleasures of the open air,
The football kicked exuberant here and there.
Cricket, beloved of sinewy juvenals,
And golf with all its hazards, clubs and balls,
Were not in Taylor's province: so he turned
To calmer pastimes where the ingle burned,
And when the whole world turned to _goals_ and _tees_
He took to _Iliads_ and to _Od