Drummond employed likewise at the table. The result of the conversation between Sarah and me, was the intimacy of children; that of Mr. and Mrs. Drummond, that the sooner I was disposed of, the more it would be for my own advantage. Having some interest with the governors of a charity school near Brentford, Mr. Drummond lost no time in procuring me admission; and before I had quite spoiled my new clothes, having worn them nearly three weeks, I was suited afresh in a formal attire-a long coat of pepper and salt, yellow leather breeches tied at the knees, a worsted cap with a tuft on the top of it, stockings and shoes to match, and a large pewter plate upon my breast marked with No. 63, which, as I was the last entered boy, indicated the sum total of the school. It was with regret that I left the abode of the Drummonds, who did not think it advisable to wait for the completion of the barge, much to the annoyance of Miss Sarah and myself. I was conducted to the school by Mr. Drummond, and before we arrived met them all out walking. I was put in the ranks, received a little good advice from my worthy patron, who then walked away one way, while we walked another, looking like a regiment of yellow-thighed fieldfares straightened into human perpendiculars. Behold, then, the last scion of the Faithfuls, peppered, salted, and plated, that all the world might know that he was a charity-boy, and that there was charity in this world. But if heroes, kings, great and grave men, must yield to destiny, lighter-boys cannot be expected to escape; and I was doomed to receive an education, board, lodging, raiment, &c. free, gratis, and for nothing.

Every society has its chief; and I was about to observe that every circle has its centre, which, certainly, would have been true enough, but the comparison is of no use, to me, as our circle had two centres, or, to follow up the first idea, had two chiefs-the chief schoolmaster, and the chief domestic-the chief masculine, and the chief feminine-the chief with the

ferula, and the chief with the brimstone and treaclethe master and the matron, each of whom had their appendages-the one in the usher, the other in the assistant housemaid. But of this quartette, the master was not only the most important, but the most worthy of description; and, as he will often appear in the pages of my narrative long after my education was complete, I shall be very particular in my description of Domine Dobiensis, as he delighted to be called, or dreary Dobbs, as his dutiful scholars delighted to call him. As, in our school, it was necessary that we should be instructed in reading, writing, and ciphering, the governors had selected the Domine as the most fitting person that had offered for the employment, because he had, in the first place, written a work that no body could understand upon the Greek particles; secondly, he had proved himself a great mathematician, having, it was said, squared the circle by algebraical false quantities, but would never show the operation for fear of losing the honour by treachery. He had also discovered as many errors in the demonstrations of Euclid, as ever did Joey Hume in army and navy estimates, and with as much benefit to the country at large. He was a man who breathed, certainly, in the present age, but the half of his life was spent in antiquity, or algebra. Once carried away by a problem, or a Greek reminiscence, he passed away, as it were, from his present existence, and every thing was unheeded. His body remained, and breathed on his desk, but his soul was absent. This peculiarity was well-known to the boys, who used to say, "Domine is in his dreams, and talks in his sleep."

Domine Dobiensis left reading and writing to the usher, contrary to the regulations of the school, putting the boys, if possible, into mathematics, Latin and Greek. The usher was not over competent to teach the two first; the boys not over willing to learn the latter. The master was too clever, the usher too ignorant; hence, the scholars profited little. The

Domine was grave and irascible, but he possessed a fund of drollery and the kindest heart. His features could not laugh, but his trachea did. The chuckle rose no higher than the rings of the windpipe, and then it was vigorously thrust back again by the impulse of gravity into the region of his heart, and gladdened it with hidden mirth in its dark centre. The Domine loved a pun, whether it was let off in English, Greek, or Latin. The two last were made by no body but himself, and not being understood, were, of course, relished by himself alone. But his love of a pun was a serious attachment: he loved it with a solemn affection—with him it was no laughing

matter.

In person, Domine Dobiensis was above six feet, all bone and sinews. His face was long, and his features large; but his predominant feature was his nose, which, large as were the others, bore them down into insignificance. It was a prodigy-a ridicule; but he consoled himself—Ovid was called Naso. It was not an aquiline nose, nor was it an aquiline nose reversed. It was not a nose snubbed at the extremity, gross, heavy, or carbuncled, or fluting. In all its magnitude of proportions, it was an intellectual nose. It was thin, horny, transparent, and sonorous. Its snuffle was consequential, and its sneeze oracular. The very sight of it was impressive; its sound, when blown in school-hours, was ominous. But the scholars loved the nose for the warning which it gave: like the rattle of the dreaded snake, which announces its presence, so did the nose indicate to the scholars that they were to be on their guard. The Domine would attend to this world and its duties for an hour or two, and then forget his scholars and his schoolroom, while he took a journey into the world of Greek or algebra. Then when he marked x, y, and z, in his calculations, the boys knew that he was safe, and their studies were neglected.

Reader, did you ever witness the magic effects of a drum in a small village, when the recruiting party,

with many-coloured ribands, rouse it up with the spirit-stirring tattoo? Matrons leave their domestic cares and run to the cottage door; peeping over their shoulders, the maidens admire and fear. The shuffling clowns raise up their heads gradually, until they stand erect and proud; the slouch in the back is taken out, their heavy walk is changed to a firm, 'yet elastic tread; every muscle appears more braced, every nerve by degrees newly strung; the blood circulates rapidly; pulses quicken, hearts throb, eyes brighten; and, as the martial sound pervades their rustic frames, the Cimons of the plough are converted, as if by magic, into incipient heroes for the field;-and all this is produced by beating the skin of the most gentle, most harmless animal of creation.

Not having at hand the simile synthetical, we have resorted to the antithetical. The blowing of the Domine's nose produced the very contrary effect. It was a signal that he had returned from his intellectual journey, and was once more in his school-room— that the master had finished with his x, y, z, and it was time for the scholars to mind their p's and q's. At this note of warning, like the minute roll among the troops, every one fell into his place; half-munched apples were thrust into the first pocket, pop-guns disappeared, battles were left to be decided elsewhere -books were opened, and eyes directed to them— forms that were fidgetting and twisting in all directions, now took one regimental inclined position over the desks-silence was restored, order resumed her reign, and Mr. Knapps, the usher, who always availed himself of these interregnums, as well as the scholars, by deserting to the matron's room, warned by the well-known sound, hastened to his desk of toil;such were the astonishing effects of a blow from Domine Dobiensis' sonorous and peace-restoring nose,

CHAPTER III.

"JACOB FAITHFUL, draw near," were the first words which struck upon my tympanum the next morning, when I had taken my seat at the farther end of the school-room. I rose and threaded my way through two lines of boys, who put out their legs to trip me up, in my passage through their ranks, and surmounting all difficulties, found myself within three feet of the master's high desk, or pulpit, from which he looked down upon me like the Olympian Jupiter upon mortals, in ancient time.

"Jacob Faithful, canst thou read?"

"No, I can't," replied I; "I wish I could." "A well-disposed answer, Jacob; thy wishes shall be gratified. Knowest thou thine alphabet?” "I don't know what that is."

Then thou knowest it not. Mr. Knapps shall, forthwith, instruct thee. Thou shalt, forthwith, go to Mr. Knapps, who inculcateth the rudiments. Levius Puer, lighter-boy, thou hast a crafty look." And then I heard a noise in his thorax that resembled the "cluck, cluck," when my poor mother poured her gin out of the great stone bottle.

"My little naviculator," continued he, "thou art a weed washed on shore, one of Father Thames' cast

up wrecks. Fluviorum rex Eridanus.' (Cluck, cluck.) To thy studies; be thyself-that is, be Faithful. Mr. Knapps, let the Cadmean art proceed forthwith." So saying, Domine Dobiensis thrust his large hand into his right coat pocket, in which he