Let us, people who are so uncommonly¹ clever and learned, have a great tenderness and pity for the poor folks who are not endowed with the prodigious² talents which we have. I have always had a regard for dunces;—those of my own school-days were amongst the pleasantest of the fellows, and have turned out by no means the dullest in life; whereas many a youth who could turn off Latin hexameters by the yard, and construe³ Greek quite glibly⁴, is no better than a feeble prig now, with not a pennyworth more brains than were in his head before his beard grew.
 
Those poor dunces! Talk of being the last man, ah! what a pang⁵ it must be to be the last boy—huge, misshapen, fourteen years of age,—and "taken up" by a chap who is but six years old, and can't speak quite plain yet!
 
Master Hulker is in that condition at Birch's. He is the most honest, kind, active, plucky⁶, generous creature. He can do many things better than most boys. He can go up a tree, jump, play at cricket, dive and swim perfectly—he can eat twice as much as almost any lady (as Miss Birch well knows), he has a pretty talent at carving⁷ figures with his hack-knife, he makes and paints little coaches, he can take a watch to pieces and put it together again. He can do everything but learn his lesson; and there he sticks at the bottom of the school, hopeless. As the little boys are drafted in from Miss Raby's class, (it is true she is one of the best instructresses in the world,) they enter and hop⁸ over poor Hulker. He would be handed over to the governess only he is too big. Sometimes I used to think, that this desperate stupidity was a stratagem⁹ of the poor rascal¹⁰'s; and that he shammed¹¹ dulness so that he might be degraded into Miss Raby's class: if she would teach me, I know, before George, I would put on a pinafore and a little jacket—but no, it is a natural incapacity for the Latin Grammar.
 
If you could see his grammar, it is a perfect curiosity of dog's ears. The leaves and cover are all curled and ragged¹². Many of the pages are worn away, with the rubbing of his elbows as he sits poring over the hopeless volume, with the blows of his fists as he thumps¹³ it madly, or with the poor fellow's tears. You see him wiping them away with the back of his hand, as he tries and tries, and can't do it.
 
When I think of that Latin Grammar, and that infernal As in Præsenti, and of other things which I was made to learn in my youth: upon my conscience I am surprised that we ever survived it. When one thinks of the boys who have been caned¹⁴ because they could not master that intolerable jargon¹⁵! Good Lord, what a pitiful chorus these poor little creatures send up! Be gentle with them, ye schoolmasters, and only whop those who won't learn.
 
The Doctor has operated upon Hulker (between ourselves), but the boy was so little affected¹⁶ you would have thought he had taken chloroform. Birch is weary of whipping now, and leaves the boy to go his own gait. Prince, when he hears the lesson, and who cannot help making fun of a fool, adopts the sarcastic¹⁷ manner with Master Hulker, and says, "Mr. Hulker, may I take the liberty to inquire if your brilliant intellect has enabled you to perceive the difference between those words which grammarians have defined as substantive¹⁸ and adjective nouns?—if not, perhaps Mr. Ferdinand Timmins will instruct you." And Timmins hops¹⁹ over Hulker's head.
 
I wish Prince would leave off girding at the poor lad. He's an only son, and his mother is a widow woman, who loves him with all her might. There is a famous sneer²⁰ about the suckling of fools and the chronicling of small beer; but remember it was a rascal who uttered it.