with pocket-money, provided with all
necessaries, instructed in all languages living and dead, mathematics,
orthography geometry, astronomy, trigonometry, the use of the globes,
algebra, single stick (if required), writing, arithmetic, fortification,
and every other branch of classical literature. Terms, twenty guineas per
annum. No extras, no vacations, and diet unparalleled. Mr. Squeers is in
town, and attends daily from one till four, at the Saracen's Head, Snow
Hill. N.B. An able assistant wanted. Annual salary L5. A Master of Arts
would be preferred."

When this advertisement in the "London Herald" came to the notice of Mr.
Nicholas Nickleby, then in search of a position as teacher, it seemed to
be the opening for which he was looking, and the next day he hastened to
the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill, to have an interview with Mr. Wackford
Squeers.

Mr. Squeers's appearance was not prepossessing. He had but one eye, and
the popular prejudice runs in favour of two. The blank side of his face
was much wrinkled and puckered up, which gave him a very sinister
appearance, especially when he smiled. His hair was very flat and shiny,
save at the ends, where it was brushed stiffly up from a low protruding
forehead, which assorted well with his harsh voice and coarse manner. He
was about two or three and fifty, and a trifle below the middle size; he
wore a white neckerchief and a suit of scholastic black; but his coat
sleeves being a great deal too long, and his trousers a great deal too
short, he appeared ill at ease in his clothes.

In the corner of the room with Mr. Squeers was a very small deal trunk,
tied round with a scanty piece of cord, and on the trunk was perched--his
lace-up half-boots and corduroy trousers dangling in the air--a diminutive
boy, with his shoulders drawn up to his ears, and his hands planted on his
knees, who glanced timidly at the schoolmaster from time to time, with
evident dread and apprehension, and at last gave a violent sneeze.

"Halloa, sir!" growled the schoolmaster, turning round. "What's that,
sir?"

"Nothing, please sir," said the little boy.

"Nothing, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Squeers.

"Please, sir, I sneezed," rejoined the boy, trembling till the little
trunk shook under him.

"Oh! sneezed, did you?" retorted Mr. Squeers. "Then what did you say
'nothing' for, sir?"

In default of a better answer to this question, the little boy screwed a
couple of knuckles into each of his eyes an