uay
and stare at the shipping, or go down to the pebble-ridge at Northam,
and there sit, devouring, with hungry eyes, the great expanse of ocean,
which seemed to woo him outward into boundless space, he used to console
himself, in school-hours, by drawing ships and imaginary charts upon his
slate, instead of minding his "humanities."

Now it befell, upon an afternoon, that he was very busy at a map, or
bird's-eye view of an island, whereon was a great castle, and at the
gate thereof a dragon, terrible to see; while in the foreground came
that which was meant for a gallant ship, with a great flag aloft, but
which, by reason of the forest of lances with which it was crowded,
looked much more like a porcupine carrying a sign-post; and, at the
roots of those lances, many little round o's, whereby was signified
the heads of Amyas and his schoolfellows, who were about to slay that
dragon, and rescue the beautiful princess who dwelt in that enchanted
tower. To behold which marvel of art, all the other boys at the same
desk must needs club their heads together, and with the more security,
because Sir Vindex, as was his custom after dinner, was lying back in
his chair, and slept the sleep of the just.

But when Amyas, by special instigation of the evil spirit who haunts
successful artists, proceeded further to introduce, heedless of
perspective, a rock, on which stood the lively portraiture of Sir
Vindex--nose, spectacles, gown, and all; and in his hand a brandished
rod, while out of his mouth a label shrieked after the runaways,
"You come back!" while a similar label replied from the gallant bark,
"Good-bye, master!" the shoving and tittering rose to such a pitch that
Cerberus awoke, and demanded sternly what the noise was about. To which,
of course, there was no answer.

"You, of course, Leigh! Come up, sir, and show me your exercitation."

Now of Amyas's exercitation not a word was written; and, moreover,
he was in the very article of putting the last touches to Mr.
Brimblecombe's portrait. Whereon, to the astonishment of all hearers, he
made answer--

"All in good time, sir!" and went on drawing.

"In good time, sir! Insolent, veni et vapula!"

But Amyas went on drawing.

"Come hither, sirrah, or I'll flay you alive!"

"Wait a bit!" answered Amyas.

The old gentleman jumped up, ferula in hand, and darted across the
school, and saw himself upon the fatal slate.

"Proh flagitium! what have we here, villain?" and