It is related that the last time Mr. Gladstone went to Nice to recuperate, a friend found him in the garden one day writing page after page of what seemed to be an important public dispatch. He apologized for the interruption. "Not at all," said the prime minister; "I am only writing in reply to an Eton boy who wrote to me on a point in Homer." He confessed that he did not know his questioner; but it was a pleasure for an old Etonian to spend his holiday in satisfying the desire for knowledge of one who was at the old school."-[Ex.
We fear that some of the wisdom of the "sarpint" lay behind this Eton boy's request. Are there no trots at Eton for a man to consult when he is "stuck" in Greek? We should like to see that guileless youth's collection of autographs before we believe his little tale.