Squeers looked very profound, as if he had a perfect
apprehension of what was inside all the books, and could say every word
of their contents by heart if he only chose to take the trouble, that
gentleman called up the first class.

Obedient to this summons there ranged themselves in front of the
schoolmaster's desk, half-a-dozen scarecrows, out at knees and elbows,
one of whom placed a torn and filthy book beneath his learned eye.

'This is the first class in English spelling and philosophy, Nickleby,'
said Squeers, beckoning Nicholas to stand beside him. 'We'll get up a
Latin one, and hand that over to you. Now, then, where's the first boy?'

'Please, sir, he's cleaning the back-parlour window,' said the temporary
head of the philosophical class.

'So he is, to be sure,' rejoined Squeers. 'We go upon the practical mode
of teaching, Nickleby; the regular education system. C-l-e-a-n, clean,
verb active, to make bright, to scour. W-i-n, win, d-e-r, der, winder, a
casement. When the boy knows this out of book, he goes and does it. It's
just the same principle as the use of the globes. Where's the second
boy?'

'Please, sir, he's weeding the garden,' replied a small voice.

'To be sure,' said Squeers, by no means disconcerted. 'So he is. B-o-t,
bot, t-i-n, tin, bottin, n-e-y, ney, bottinney, noun substantive,
a knowledge of plants. When he has learned that bottinney means a
knowledge of plants, he goes and knows 'em. That's our system, Nickleby:
what do you think of it?'

'It's very useful one, at any rate,' answered Nicholas.

'I believe you,' rejoined Squeers, not remarking the emphasis of his
usher. 'Third boy, what's horse?'

'A beast, sir,' replied the boy.

'So it is,' said Squeers. 'Ain't it, Nickleby?'

'I believe there is no doubt of that, sir,' answered Nicholas.

'Of course there isn't,' said Squeers. 'A horse is a quadruped, and
quadruped's Latin for beast, as everybody that's gone through the
grammar knows, or else where's the use of having grammars at all?'

'Where, indeed!' said Nicholas abstractedly.

'As you're perfect in that,' resumed Squeers, turning to the boy, 'go
and look after MY horse, and rub him down well, or I'll rub you down.
The rest of the class go and draw water up, till somebody tells you
to leave off, for it's washing-day tomorrow, and they want the coppers
filled.'

So saying, he dismissed the first class to their experiments in
practical philosophy, and eyed Nicholas w