cover of the bridge, and I'll tell you a tale,
my friend, which will astonish you:

"Where I was born I cannot accurately
state, but it must have been some nineteen
years ago, or by'r Lady, inclining to a score.
My parents — Heaven forgive me for so
speaking of the authors of my being — interested
themselves about me to the extent
of ringing the gate-bell of a certain workhouse
in Hampshire, and leaving me outside
with an insufficient provision of flannel.
In that stately and well-swept mansion I
spent my earliest years: my dress was of a
similar colour to this present Trinity gown,
but of a coarser material."

"What happened to you at the
workhouse?"

"My skin was kept very clean and my
hair cut remarkably close, but otherwise I
had little to complain of. There is no
bullying to speak of among your workhouse
brats — nothing like your public school
despotisms, for instance — but there is also
no play. For my part, I liked the schoolhours
as well as any of my time there, except
perhaps when I was in the old men's ward.
When I could get in there upon the sly, and
listen to their stories of the great world
without, I suppose I was as happy as I then
could be. I had to skim across a little paved
court like a swallow, in order to escape the
eyes of the master and his wife, who seemed
to be always watching out of the four windows
of their sitting-room at once. If caught,
I was shut up and kept on bread and water;
if otherwise, I was well repaid for all risks.
Imagine a little unfurnished dusky bed-room,
smelling of old men and bad tobacco, being a
sort of Paradise to me! Each upon the edge
of his truckle-bed, sat smoking, blear-eyed,
misshapen, toothless. The oldest man's constant
topic of conversation was the American
war; he was a church-and-king man of very
obstinate character, and defended the most
despotic and illegal acts. He had been a
soldier, and had received a terrible wound
(on Bunker's Hill, I think). He was intensely
proud of the scar which he constantly displayed
to the minister, or whomsoever else
might visit him. I don't remember his name,
and indeed I doubt whether he remembered
it at that time himself; but we called him
Crutchy, because he walked with a couple
of sticks. Biller, who was the next oldest
man, was leader of the opposition, and a
red-hot radical. He had been imprisoned, when
already in years, for his republican principles
at the Peterbro' period; and the way
in which he disposed of the king and the
lords and the bishops beat Tinkler at the
Cambridge Union. He would look round
furtively; make sure there was no spy in the
camp; hobble to the door to see the master
was not outside even; and then, in reply to
some aggravating statement of Crutchy's,
would assert in a loud whisper that those
three dignified classes were 'a pack of rogues
as ever was.' These contests were immensely
interesting to me: and I confess I sided with
the fiery Biller. Crutchy sat alone, with a
certain dignity, like one of the early gods,
lamenting the new order of things upon the
earth. If anybody woke him up on a sudden
to ask him any question, no matter what, he
would reply without hesitation, 'They should
send out a fleet, sir;' which, as was generally
understood, was a plan of his for the recovery
of the American colonies.

"Next to this parliament, as I said, I liked
my school-times. At eight years old I was a
great scholar, and the pedagogue's favourite.
He mentioned me to the parson, and his
reverence was as pleased with me as he; the
parson's wife, too, Mrs. Parmer, fell in love
with my eyes, and my hair that would have
curled if the relentless shears of workhouse
destiny had permitted it; and after some
consultation with the squire, Sir William
Persey, I was removed to a higher sphere,
the village-school. My workhouse name
was Edward Brooke; but here I got all sorts
of nick-names expressive of my pauperism.
I was the social footstool upon which
they mounted with a complacent satisfaction,
surprised to find themselves so
high: poor simple rogues, if they had only
known what was likely to befall me, they
would have treated me well enough, as my
master did. I was going to say that he perceived
I was a protege, and played his cards
accordingly; but you will think that I am too
bitter upon all these good folks. Well then,
he was a benevolent person erring on the
side of kindness, if at all, and he gave my
patron such astonishing accounts of my progress.
He even taught me privately, and made
believe I had learnt all in school-hours.
Young ladies who came to teach us on Sundays,
were enraptured with the way in which
I disposed of the kings of Judah; the rector
dared not ask me a question in arithmetic
for his own credit; and, crowning success!
Sir William himself came down to
the school in the twelfth year of my age,
and presented me with a Euclid and a pat
on the head. How my master worked
me at that distressing volume! I wished
myself a hundred times back at the workhouse
with Crutchy and Biller; for, although
I was a sharp boy, I was not a miracle, and
stuck at the asses' bridge as long as any
Etonian. Nevertheless, when the great man
next visited us, I bore his kindly but searching
examination in the earlier books, with great
steadiness and success.

Then it was that I became pedagogue.
I was made monitor over the other boys, and
assured that my advancement would not cease
there if I continued as I began. I had now
plenty of spare time, and read hard at all
sorts of subjects. The master could assist
me with Latin; but Greek I had to get up by
myself in a mournful manner; nor did I
learn for a length of time even, how to pronounce