shook his crutch at me, and
cried, "Aha! another of 'em! Another morsel for Gnawbit. More meat for
his market. Is he plump? is he tender? Will he bear it? Will he dance?
Oho! King Solomon for ever." And then he burst into such a fit of
wheezing laughter that Mrs. Gnawbit had to come and pat him on the back
and bring him cordials; and my Master, looking very discomposed, sternly
bade me betake myself to the schoolroom.

After that, the Old Gentleman never saw me without shaking his crutch
and asking me if I liked it, if I could bear it, and if Gnawbit made my
flesh quiver. Of a truth he did.

Why should I record the sickening experience of six months' daily
suffering. That I was beaten every day was to be expected in an Age when
blows and stripes were the only means thought of for instilling
knowledge into the minds of youth. But I was alone, I was friendless, I
was poor. My master received, I have reason to believe, but a slender
Stipend with me, and he balanced accounts by using me with greater
barbarity than he employed towards his better paying scholars. I had no
Surname, I was only "Boy Jack;" and my schoolfellows put me down, I
fancy, as some base-born child, and accordingly despised me. I had no
pocket-money. I was not allowed to share in the school-games. I was
bidden to stand aside when a cake was to be cut up. God help me! I was
the most forlorn of little children. Mrs. Gnawbit was as kind to me as
she dared be, but she never showed me the slightest favour without its
bringing me (if her husband came to hear of it) an additionally cruel
Punishment.

There was a Pond behind the orchard called Tibb's hole, because, as our
schoolboy legend ran, a boy called Tibb had once cast himself thereinto,
and was drowned, through dread of being tortured by this Monster. I grew
to be very fond of standing alone by the bank of this Pond, and of
looking at my pale face in its cool blue-black depth. It seemed to me
that the Pond was my friend, and that within its bosom I should find
rest.

I was musing in this manner by the bank one day when I felt myself
touched on the shoulder. It was the crutch of the Old Gentleman, who
had been wheeled hither, as was his custom, by one of the boys.

"You go into the orchard and steal a juicy pear," said the Old Gentleman
to his attendant. "Gnawbit's out, and I won't tell him. Leave me with
Boy Jack for five minutes, and then come back.--Boy Jack," he continued,
when we were alone, "ho