ed this morning an invitation to be present at a meeting of the
Teachers' Association.

Came with a friend to the Society of Arts, where the meeting is held in
a beautiful hall, and presided over by Canon Barry.

What a graceful and witty speaker!

He addresses to private school-masters a few words on their duty.

"Yours," he says, "is not only a profession, it is a vocation, I had
almost said a ministry" (hear, hear), "and the last object of yours
should be to make money."

This last sentence is received with rapturous applause. The chairman
has evidently expressed the feeling of the audience.

The Canon seems to enjoy himself immensely.

Beautiful sentiments! I say to myself. Who will henceforth dare say
before me, in France, that England is not a disinterested nation? Yes,
I will be a school-master; it is a noble profession.

A discussion takes place on the merits of private schools. A good deal
of abuse is indulged in at the expense of the public schools.

I inquire of my friend the reason why.

My friend is a sceptic. He says that the public schools are overflowing
with boys, and that if they did not exist, many of these private
school-masters would make their fortune.

I bid him hold his wicked tongue. He ought to be ashamed of himself.

The meeting is over. The orators, with their speeches in their hands,
besiege the press reporters' table. I again apply to my friend for the
explanation of this.

He tells me that these gentlemen are trying to persuade the reporters
to insert their speeches in their notes, in the hope that they will be
reproduced in to-morrow's papers, and thus advertise their names and
schools.

My friend is incorrigible. I will ask him no more questions.

* * * * *

_4th October, 1872._

There will be some people disappointed this morning, if I am to believe
what my friend said yesterday. I have just read the papers. Under the
heading "Meeting of the Teachers' Association," I see a long report of
yesterday's proceedings at the Society of Arts. Canon Barry's speech
alone is reproduced.

* * * * *

_24th May, 1873._

For many months past, M. Thiers has carried the Government with his
resignation already signed in his frockcoat pocket.

"Gentlemen," he has been wont to say in the Houses of Parliament, "such
is my policy. If you do not approve it, you know that I do not cling to
power; my res