PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 62.

February 3, 1872.

[pg 043]

PRIVATE SCHOOL CLASSICS.

(Letter from a Lady.)

Dear Mr. Punch,

Though you love to laugh, and we all love to laugh withyou, I know that you are kindness itself when an afflicted womanthrows herself upon your sympathy. This letter will not be quiteso short as I could wish; but, unless you have my whole story, youwill not understand my sorrow.

My boy, Johnny, is one of the dearest boys you can imagine. Isend you his photograph, though it does not half justice to thesweetness and intelligence of his features; besides, on the day it wastaken, he had a cold, and his hair had not been properly cut, andthe photographer was very impatient, and after eight or nine sittings,he insisted that I ought to be satisfied. I could tell you a hundredanecdotes of my boy's cleverness, but three or four, perhaps, will beenough.

[More than enough, dear Madam. We proceed to the paragraphthat follows them.]

His father, I regret to say, though a kind parent, does not see inJohnny the talent and genius which I am certain he possesses. Thechild, who is eleven years and eleven months old, goes (alas, I mustsay went) to a Private Academy of the most respectable description.Only twelve young gentlemen are taken, and the terms are about£100 a-year, and most things extra. The manners of the pupils arestrictly looked after; they have no coarse amusements; and, to seethem neatly dressed, going arm-in-arm, two and two, for a walk,was quite delightful. I shall never see them again without tears.

My husband was desirous that Johnny should have a sound classicaleducation, and we believed—I believe still—that this is given atthe Private School in question. One evening during the holidays, myhusband asked Johnny what Latin Book he was reading. The childreplied, without hesitation or thought—"Horace." "Very good,"said his father, taking down the odious book. "Let you and mehave a little go-in at Horace." I went to my desk, Mr. Punch, and,as I write very fast, I resolved to make notes of what occurred, for Ifelt that Johnny would cover himself with glory and honour. Thisis what occurred. Of course, I filled in the horrid Latin, afterwards,from the book, which I could gladly have burned.

Papa. Well, let us see, my boy, suppose we take Hymn numberxiv. You know all about that? Ad Rempublicam. What does thatmean?

Johnny. O, we never learn the titles.

Papa. Pity, because they help you to the meaning. But come,what's Rempublicam?

Johnny. I suppose it means a public thing. Rem's a thing, andpublicus is public. [Was not that clever in the dear fellow, puttingwords together like that, Mr. Punch? Will you believe it, his Papadid nothing but give him a grunt?]

Papa. Go on.

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