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I have been asked to give some impressions of what I may be allowed to call the real old Monoux Grammar School-the Mother School in the Churchyard. As it is many years since I laid aside my schoolbooks, perhaps I may be pardoned for the sketchiness of these notes.

A recent Old Boys' Social Evening at the new building in Chingford Road brought past and present vividly before my mind. As I sat in the airy modern building, proudly contemplating my connection with the name of Monoux, my thoughts, in search of contrast, no doubt, turned to the quaint old building facing St. Mary's Church. This mental comparison was amazing, and possibly amusing. In a topsy-turvy way the lion in power and majesty was being watched side by side with the cat; and in contests such as these Leo is generally supposed to merit the palm. But, on this occasion, Grimalkin appeared to be not entirely without honour. The real, unpretentious Old School, even as I sat in the midst of the amenities of the new building, appealed potently for my suffrage.

I attended the School during the years 1878 and 1879, and was present at the funeral of Mr. Griggs, the beloved old Master, whose sterling qualities are not yet forgotten. The majority, I fear, of the sixteen or twenty boys comprising the School were neither serious nor studious; but, to those who were willing and anxious to work, Mr. Griggs gave the utmost care, and endeavoured to impart to them, in a characteristically pleasant manner, some of the knowledge that he himself possessed.

A few of my contemporaries, whose names I can call to mind, were Youngman, Kempster, Clery, Veale (a Dutch lad), Glencross, Proctor, Roberts, Randall, J. Higgins, and Goldthwait. Diligent or not, we all, health permitting, trooped to lessons on Saturday mornings; but, to compensate for this inconvenience, we were granted a holiday every Wednesday afternoon. This scheme of things might not appeal to the Monoux boy of to-day, but it suited us very well. You must understand that we lived in an age of innocence.

The curriculum was, I suspect, not so all embracing as that of the present day; and there were no terminal reports to flatter or to anger our austere parents. At the end of each quarter, however, we carried home, proudly or in trepidation as the case might be, an elaborate exercise book, which revealed the fruits of our diligent toil; but I am convinced that in many cases the Master himself, perhaps out pity for our puerile indolence or reprehensible lack of interest, was not merely a ghostly collaborator.

These were halcyon and almost rural days for Walthamstow; and we were-the present generation must not imitate our example-boisterous fellows, bluff and hearty. The inhabitants of the Almshouses below were never sorry at our departure, for, I fear, youth and age were often at variance. Nevertheless, I was indeed sorry to leave the ancient building, where are enshrined some of my most cherished memories. I see still in my mind's eye Mr. Griggs wielding his official ferule, and endeavouring to instil knowledge, wisdom, and manliness into the heads of myself and my contemporaries.

A.A. PEACOCK.
1927