you think, does it
take to forget almost all that the boys and girls learned at school?
'The garden,' says one who knows, 'which by daily culture has been
brought into such an admirable and promising condition, is given over
to utter neglect; the money, the time, the labour, bestowed upon it
are lost.' In the first two years after leaving school it is said that
they have forgotten everything. There is, however, it is objected, the
use and exercise of the intellectual faculty. Can that, once taught,
ever be forgotten? By way of reply, consider this case. The other day
twenty young mechanics were persuaded to join a South Kensington
class. Of the whole twenty one only struggled through the course and
passed his examination; the rest dropped off, one after the other, in
sheer despair, because they had lost not only the little knowledge
they had once acquired, but even the methods of application and study
which they had formerly been able to exercise. There are exceptions,
of course; it is computed, in fact, that there are 4 per cent. of
Board School boys and girls who carry on their studies in the evening
schools, but this proportion is said to be decreasing. After thirteen,
no school, no books, no reading or writing, nothing to keep up the old
knowledge, no kind of conversation that stimulates; no examples of
perseverance; in a great many cases no church, chapel, or
Sunday-school; the street for playground, exercise, observation, and
talk; what kind of young men and maidens are we to expect that these
boys and girls will become? If this were the exact, plain, and naked
truth we were in a parlous state indeed. Fortunately, however, there
arc in every parish mitigations, introduced principally by those who
come from the city of Samaria, or it would be bad indeed for the next
generation. There are a few girls' clubs; the church, the chapel, and
the Sunday-school get hold of many children; visiting and kindly
ladies look after others. There are working boys' institutes here and
there, but these things taken together are almost powerless with the
great mass which remains unaffected. The evil for the most part lies
hidden, yet one sometimes lights upon a case which shows that the
results of our own neglect of the children may be such as cannot be
placed on paper for general reading. For instance, on last August Bank
Holiday I was on Hampstead Heath. The East Heath was crowded with a
noisy, turbulent, good-tempered mob, enjoying,