wrote verse, which was handed about the village as something wonderful.
As Riprapton doubted, or rather denied my rhyming prowess, at length I
was determined to try it upon himself, and he shortly gave me an
excellent opportunity for so doing. Writers who pride themselves on
going deeply into the mysteries of causes and effects will tell you
that, in cold weather, people are apt to congregate about the fire. Our
usher, and a circle of admiring pupils, were one day establishing the
truth of this profound theory. The timbered man was standing in the
apex of the semicircle, his back to the fireplace, and his coat-tails
tucked up under his arms. He was enjoying himself, and we were enjoying
him. He was the hero of the tale he was telling us--indeed, he never
had any other hero than himself--and this tale was wonderful. In the
energy of delivery, now the leg of wood would start up with an
egotistical flourish, and describe, with the leg of flesh, a
right-angled triangle, and then down would go the peg, and up the leg,
with the toe well pointed, whilst he greeted the buckle on his foot with
an admiring glance.

Whilst this was proceeding in the school-room, in the back-kitchen, or
rather breakfast-parlour, immediately below, in a very brown study,
there sate a very fair lady, pondering deeply over the virtues of
brimstone and treacle, and the most efficacious antidote to chilblains.
She was the second in command over the domestic economy of the school.
Unmarried, of course. And ever and anon, as she plied the industrious
needle over the heel of the too fragmental stocking, the low melody
would burst unconsciously forth of, "Is there nobody coming to marry me?
Nobody coming to woo-oo-oo?" Lady, not in vain was the burden of that
votive song. There _was_ somebody coming.

Let us walk upstairs--Mr Rip is in the midst of his narrative--speaking
thus:--"And, young gentlemen, as I hate presumption, and can never
tolerate a coxcomb, perceiving that his lordship was going to be
insolent, up went thus my foot to chastise him, and down--" A crash! a
cry of alarm, and behold the chastiser of insolence, or at least, that
part of him that was built of wood, through the floor!

Monsieur Cherfeuil opening the door at this moment, and hearing a great
noise, and not perceiving him who ought to have repressed it, for the
boys standing round _what remained of him_ with us, it was concealed
from the worthy pedagogue, who exclaimed,