el society, for an under-master's desk in that old school.
I promise you the fare at the usher's table, the getting up at five
o'clock in the morning, the walking out with little boys in the fields,
(who used to play me tricks, and never could be got to respect my awful
and responsible character as teacher in the school,) Miss Birch's vulgar
insolence, Jack Birch's glum condescension, and the poor old Doctor's
patronage, were not matters in themselves pleasurable: and that that
patronage and those dinners were sometimes cruel hard to swallow. Never
mind--my connection with the place is over now, and I hope they have got
a more efficient under-master.

Jack Birch (Rev. J. Birch, of St. Neot's Hall, Oxford,) is partner with
his father the Doctor, and takes some of the classes. About his Greek
I can't say much; but I will construe him in Latin any day. A more
supercilious little prig, (giving himself airs, too, about his cousin,
Miss Raby, who lives with the Doctor,) a more empty, pompous little
coxcomb I never saw. His white neck-cloth looked as if it choked him. He
used to try and look over that starch upon me and Prince the assistant,
as if he were a couple of footmen. He didn't do much business in the
school; but occupied his time in writing sanctified letters to the boys'
parents, and in composing dreary sermons to preach to them.

The real master of the school is Prince; an Oxford man too: shy,
haughty, and learned; crammed with Greek and a quantity of useless
learning; uncommonly kind to the small boys; pitiless with the fools
and the braggarts; respected of all for his honesty, his learning, his
bravery, (for he hit out once in a boat-row in a way which astonished
the boys and the bargemen,) and for a latent power about him, which all
saw and confessed somehow. Jack Birch could never look him in the face.
Old Miss Z. dared not put off any of HER airs upon him. Miss Rosa made
him the lowest of curtsies. Miss Raby said she was afraid of him.
Good old Prince! we have sat many a night smoking in the Doctor's
harness-room, whither we retired when our boys were gone to bed, and our
cares and canes put by.

After Jack Birch had taken his degree at Oxford--a process which he
effected with great difficulty--this place, which used to be called
"Birch's," "Dr. Birch's Academy," and what not, became suddenly
"Archbishop Wigsby's College of Rodwell Regis." They took down the old
blue board with the gold letters, which has bee