lborough'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.

My own experiences as a pedagogue are limited. During the War, I was
asked to give some lessons in elementary history and rudimentary French
to convalescent soldiers in a big hospital. No one ever had a more
cheery and good-tempered lot of pupils than I had in my blue-clad,
red-tied disciples. For remembering the order of the Kings of England,
we used Mr. Chittenden's jingle, beginning:

"Billy, Billy, Harry, Ste,
Harry, Dick, Jack, Harry Three."

By repeating it all together, over and over again, the very jangle of
it made it stick in my pupils' memory. Dates proved a great difficulty,
yet a few dates, such as that of the Norman Conquest and of the Battle
of Waterloo, were essential. "Clarke, can you remember the date of the
Norman Conquest?" "Very sorry, sir; clean gone out of my 'ead." "Now,
Daniels, how about the date of Waterloo?" "You've got me this time,
sir." Then I had an inspiration. Feigning to take up a
telephone-receiver, and to speak down it, I begged for "Willconk, One,
O, double-six, please." Twenty blithesome wounded Tommies at once went
through an elaborate pantomime of unhooking receivers, and asked
anxiously for "Willconk--One, O, double-six, miss, please. No, miss, I
didn't say, 'City, six, eight, five, four'; I said 'Willconk, One, O,
double-six.' Thank you, miss; now I can let mother know I'm coming to
tea." This, accompanied by much playful badinage with the imaginary
operator, proved immensely popular, but "Willconk, One, O, double-six"
stuck in the brains of my blue-clothed flock. In the same way the
Battle of Waterloo became "Batterloo--One, eight, one, five, please,
miss," so both those dates remained in their heads.

We experienced some little trouble in mastering the French numerals,
until I tried a new scheme, and called out, "From the right, number, in
French!" Then my merry convalescents began shouting gleefully, "Oon,"
"Doo," "Troy," "Catta," "Sink," etc.; but the French numerals stuck in
their heads. Never did any one, I imagine, have such a set of jolly,
cheery boys in blue as pupils, and the strong remnant of the