eys,' a mischievous but cheerful device,
in which we took great pleasure.

This is the manner of a 'winkey,' which I here set down, lest child
of mine, or grandchild, dare to make one on my premises; if he does,
I shall know the mark at once, and score it well upon him. The scholar
obtains, by prayer or price, a handful of saltpetre, and then with the
knife wherewith he should rather be trying to mend his pens, what does
he do but scoop a hole where the desk is some three inches thick. This
hole should be left with the middle exalted, and the circumfere dug more
deeply. Then let him fill it with saltpetre, all save a little space in
the midst, where the boss of the wood is. Upon that boss (and it will be
the better if a splinter of timber rise upward) he sticks the end of his
candle of tallow, or 'rat's tail,' as we called it, kindled and burning
smoothly. Anon, as he reads by that light his lesson, lifting his eyes
now and then it may be, the fire of candle lays hold of the petre with
a spluttering noise and a leaping. Then should the pupil seize his pen,
and, regardless of the nib, stir bravely, and he will see a glow as of
burning mountains, and a rich smoke, and sparks going merrily; nor will
it cease, if he stir wisely, and there be a good store of petre, until
the wood is devoured through, like the sinking of a well-shaft. Now well
may it go with the head of a boy intent upon his primer, who betides to
sit thereunder! But, above all things, have good care to exercise this
art before the master strides up to his desk, in the early gray of the
morning.

Other customs, no less worthy, abide in the school of Blundell, such as
the singeing of nightcaps; but though they have a pleasant savour, and
refreshing to think of, I may not stop to note them, unless it be that
goodly one at the incoming of a flood. The school-house stands beside a
stream, not very large, called Lowman, which flows into the broad river
of Exe, about a mile below. This Lowman stream, although it be not fond
of brawl and violence (in the manner of our Lynn), yet is wont to flood
into a mighty head of waters when the storms of rain provoke it; and
most of all when its little co-mate, called the Taunton Brook--where
I have plucked the very best cresses that ever man put salt on--comes
foaming down like a great roan horse, and rears at the leap of the
hedgerows. Then are the gray stone walls of Blundell on every side
encompassed, the vale is spread ov