er spirit or talent, they lift themselves above their situation; but
when they cannot do this, they are, in my estimation, the most abject of
all classes--gipsies and beggars not excepted. Mr Cherfeuil was, in
himself, a mine of learning; but he delivered it out from the dark
cavities of his mind, encumbered with so much ore, and in such misshaped
masses, that it required another person to arrange for use what he was
so lavish in producing. A good usher or assistant was therefore
necessary; but I do not recollect more than one, out of the thirty or
forty that came and went during the three years I was at the school.

This class of people are, alas! fatally susceptible of the tender
impulses. They always find the rosy cheeks of the housemaid or the _en
bon point_ of the cook irresistible. And they have themselves such
delicate soft hands, so white and so ashy. On Sundays, too, their linen
is generally clean! so, altogether, the maid-servants find them killing.

Mr Saltseller, who found everything droll, and who used to paint his
cheeks, lost his situation just at the precise moment that the housemaid
lost her character. Two losses together were not of very great moment;
then we had another, and another, and another; and more characters were
lost--till at last there did come a man:--

"Take him for all in all,
I ne'er shall look upon his like again."

He was very tall, stout, of a pompous carriage, _un homme magnifique_.
He wore a green coat, false hair, a black patch over his left eye, and
was fifty, or rather, fifty-five. His face was large, round, and the
least in the world bloated. This Adonis of matured ushers, after
school-hours, would hang a guitar from his broad neck, by means of a
pale pink riband, and walk up and down on the green before the house,
thrum, thrum, thrumming, the admiration of all the little boys, and the
coveted of all the old tabbies in the village. Oh, he was the
_beau-ideal_ of a _vieux garcon_. We recommend all school-assistants to
learn the guitar and grow fat--if they can; and then, perhaps, they may
prosper, like Mr Sigismund Pontifex. He contrived to elope with a
maiden lady, of good property, just ten years older than himself: the
sweet, innocent, indiscreet ones went off by stealth one morning before
daylight, in a chaise-and-four, and returned a week after, Mr and Mrs
Pontifex.

The gentleman hung up his guitar, and for ever; and every fine day he
was found, pipe in