I was sent to school as soon as I was nine, to Mr. Chittenden's,
at Hoddesdon, in Hertfordshire. This remarkable man had a very
rare gift: he was a born teacher, or, perhaps, more accurately, a
born mind-trainer. Of the very small stock of knowledge which I
have been able to accumulate during my life, I certainly owe at
least one-half to Mr. Chittenden. There is a certain profusely
advertised system for acquiring concentration, and for cultivating
an artificial memory, the name of which will be familiar to every
one. Instead of the title it actually bears, that system should be
known as "Chittendism," for it is precisely the method adopted by
him with his pupils fifty-four years ago. Mr. Chittenden, probably
recognising that peculiar quality of mental laziness which is such
a marked characteristic of the average English man or woman, set
himself to combat and conquer it the moment he got a pupil into
his hands. Think of the extraordinary number of persons you know
who never do more than half-listen, half-understand, half-attend,
and who only read with their eyes, not with their brains.
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