"How do you prepare oxygen?" he would ask. "By heating chlorate of potash, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"You place the chlorate of potash in a thin gla.s.s flask, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now a small quant.i.ty of manganese bi-oxide, mixed with the chlorate of potash, enables you to obtain the oxygen at a much lower temperature, does it not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good--now, another question."

And so forth.

On the other hand, there are examiners who make it a rule to bully the candidates, or, worse still, to snub them. They will ask preposterous questions with the mere object of disconcerting them.

"How long would it take the moon to fall to the earth?" I once heard an examiner ask a candidate to the _baccalaureat es-sciences_.

A facetious examiner once got his due from a young Parisian candidate.

After asking him a few "catches," and obtaining no answers he suddenly said to him:

"Do you know how much cloth would be required to cover an a.s.s?"

"I do not, sir," replied the lad, "but if you are anxious to know, I will ask your tailor."

The audience laughed heartily, and the examiner, seeing that this time the laughter was not on his side, congratulated the boy on his wit, and immediately asked him a few sensible questions, which were answered respectfully, and proved that the candidate had his subjects as ready as his wit.

I was once asked to examine the French and German cla.s.ses of an important English school.

I wrote to "my lords and gentlemen," saying that my knowledge of German was not such as to enable me to find fault with other people's.

The governors answered that it did not matter, and I was directed to proceed to the Examination.

I got over the difficulty by sharing the work and the fees with an able German, who prepared the questions and corrected the copies.

VIII.

ENGLISH BOYS ON FRENCH COMPOSITION.--"GO AHEAD" IS NOT IN FRENCH "ALLEZ UNE TETE."--HOW BOYS SET ABOUT FRENCH COMPOSITION.--A WRITTEN PROOF OF THEIR GUILT.--HOW LARGE ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nTS CAN HELP THEM.--A STUMBLING-BLOCK CLEARED AWAY.

You have achieved a great success when you have succeeded in getting into young boys' heads that French is not English replaced by equivalent words to be found in a dictionary.

This is the way boys generally set about writing a piece of English into French.

They take the first English word, open their dictionary, and put down the French word they have found for it (the wrong one, as a rule, if more than one is given). Then they take the second English word, to which they apply the same process, until they come to a stop, which they carefully reproduce in the French (many don't). This done, they take their blotting-paper, apply it on the copy, rub it hard for a minute or two, and knock off to enjoy a well-deserved rest.

The amount of blotting-paper used by boys is prodigious. A word is no sooner written down than it is fixed on the paper by a good hearty rubbing down. They are afraid it will evaporate if not properly secured on the paper at once.

Suppose your young pupils have to put into French "I give you."

They will first write _je_, then _donne_. After the English word "you,"

they are referred to a note. They look at this note (many don't), and see that they must put the p.r.o.noun _vous_ before the verb. They do so between the lines, and thus write down the proof of their iniquity:

_vous_ "_je_ ^ _donne_."

Although the boys use their eyes to look at things, there are few who use them to see.

Young S. was an exception.

Having to put into French, "No sovereign ever was more worthy," he brought me:

"_Jamais souverain ne fut plus digne._"

I congratulated him on his achievement, and as I was suspicious he had been helped at home I asked him how he came to write this. He then said to me that on his way home he had seen in the station a large advertis.e.m.e.nt of a tooth-paste maker. The advertis.e.m.e.nt consisted of a huge woman's head, showing two rows of beautiful teeth, with this inscription:

"_Avec de belles dents jamais femme ne fut laide._"

He had come to the conclusion that this French phrase could help him, and he took it down at the station.

This young Briton has a great future before him.

A boy having to translate "I have gone out," begins by writing "_j'ai_." That is understood. When afterwards he finds that the verb _sortir_ is conjugated with the auxiliary _etre_, he changes _j'ai_ into _je suis_. Nine times out of ten he trusts his memory, or rather he leaves it to chance, and he keeps _j'ai_.

French books are loaded with facts, but few with explanations.

All the French grammars I know publish the list of the neuter verbs that are conjugated with the auxiliary _etre_, but none give boys the reason _why_ these verbs are conjugated with _etre_ and not with _avoir_. Boys learn this list of verbs and forget it, and you know little of boys' nature if you imagine that they will consult their grammar at every turn. Some do, to be sure, but how many?

I do not know of one French grammar that tells students that neuter verbs, which express a state as well as an action, or rather that neuter verbs which express that a _state_ is enjoyed as soon as the _action_ is over, are conjugated with _etre_.

A boy will understand you, and remember what you say, if you tell him:

"As soon as you _have_ died, you _are_ dead. This is why the verb _mourir_, expressing the _state of being_ dead, as soon as the _action_ of dying is over, has to be conjugated with _etre_."

"As soon as you _have_ arrived, you _are_ arrived."