we became
hardened to blows and to shame.

Thus, by the covetousness of this woman, who was the grey mare, and
the folly of the master, who, in anything but Greek and Latin, was an
ass, my good principles were nearly eradicated from my bosom, and in
their place were sown seeds which very shortly produced an abundant
harvest.

There was a boy at our school lately imported from the East Indies.
We nick-named him Johnny Pagoda. He was remarkable for nothing but
ignorance, impudence, great personal strength, and, as we thought,
determined resolution. He was about nineteen years of age. One day he
incurred the displeasure of the master, who, enraged at his want of
comprehension and attention, struck him over the head with a knotted
cane. This appeal, although made to the least sensitive part of his
frame, roused the indolent Asiatic from his usual torpid state. The
weapon, in the twinkling of an eye, was snatched out of the hand, and
suspended over the head of the astonished pedagogue, who, seeing the
tables so suddenly turned against him, made the signal for assistance.
I clapped my hands, shouted "Bravo! lay on, Johnny--go it--you have
done it now--you may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb;" but
the ushers began to muster round, the boy hung aloof, and Pagoda,
uncertain which side the neutrals would take, laid down his arms, and
surrendered at discretion.

Had the East-Indian followed up his act by the application of a little
discipline at the fountain-head, it is more than probable that a
popular commotion, not unlike that of Mas' Aniello would have ensued;
but the time was not come: the Indian showed a white feather, was
laughed at, flogged, and sent home to his friends, who had intended
him for the bar; but foreseeing that he might, in the course of
events, chance to cut a figure on the wrong side of it, sent him to
sea, where his valour, if he had any, would find more profitable
employment.

This unsuccessful attempt of the young Oriental, was the primary cause
of all my fame and celebrity in after-life. I had always hated
school; and this, of all others, seemed to me the most hateful. The
emancipation of Johnny Pagoda convinced me that my deliverance might
be effected in a similar manner. The train was laid, and a spark set
it on fire. This spark was supplied by the folly and vanity of a fat
French dancing-master. These Frenchmen are ever at the bottom of
mischief. Mrs Higginbottom, the master's wife, had