Cyril Connolly (1903-1974), "England Not My England," The Condemned Playground. Essays: 1927-1944
(London: Routledge, 1945), pp. 196-210 (at 209-210):
I leant against a long wall underneath a window, when suddenly
a voice began to thunder from inside. "Very important. Causal
conjunctions. We went very deeply into this last week. Read
it out." "Causal conjunctions," quavered a choir of young
voices. "Quippe, qui, and quoniam take the indicative."
"Quippe, qui, and quoniam," bellowed the usher, interrupting
them, "take the indicative." The rasping voice sounded like
the cry of a wild animal, as if one had passed on the top of a
bus by the Zoo, but the uncouth language blended perfectly
with the summer scene outside. "Take this down—take it
down, will you," the roar continued. "Conjectus est in
carcerem—he was thrown into prison—quod patrem occidisset—on the grounds that he had killed his father—qui eo tempore—who at that time was flying into Italy—in Italiam refugiebat.
RE-FU-GI-EBAT," he thundered, and the pedagogic rhythms
floated out into the sun and along the dusty hedgerows. "Conjectus est in carcerem," mumbled the scribbling pupils;
"quippe, qui, and quoniam," they chanted; "causal conjunctions," till the words were lost above the Isle of Purbeck,
a drone above the drone of bees.