rather the condensation of this chapter, it was for all
the world like assisting in person at that sacred and refreshing rite!

"Is every boy here?"

Yes, every boy was there, and so was every observant listener, in eager
and--knowing what was coming--in delighted expectation. As Squeers was
represented as "glaring along the lines," to assure himself that every
boy really _was_ there, what time "every eye drooped and every head
cowered down," the Reader, instead of uttering one word of what the
ruffianly schoolmaster ought then to have added: "Each boy keep to
his place. Nickleby! you go to your desk, sir!"--instead of saying one
syllable of this, contented himself with obeying his own manuscript
marginal direction, in one word--Pointing! The effect of this simple
gesture was startling--particularly when, after the momentary hush with
which it was always accompanied, he observed quietly,--"There was a
curious expression in the usher's face, but he took his seat without
opening his lips in reply." Then, when the schoolmaster had dragged in
the wretched Smike by the collar, "or rather by that fragment of his
jacket which was nearest the place where his collar ought to have been,"
there was a horrible relish in his saying, over his shoulder for a
moment, "Stand a little out of the way, Mrs. Squeers, my dear; _I've
hardly got room enough!_" The instant one cruel blow had fallen--"Stop!"
was cried in a voice that made the rafters ring--even the lofty rafters
of St. James's Hall.

Squeers, with the glare and snarl of a wild beast.--"Who cried stop?"

Nicholas.--"I did! This must not go on!"

Squeers, again, with a frightful look.--"Must not go on?"

Nicholas.--"Must not! Shall not! I will prevent it!"

Then came Nicholas Nickleby's manly denunciation of the scoundrel,
interrupted one while for an instant by Squeers screaming out, "Sit
down, you--beggar!" and followed at its close by the last and crowning
outrage, consequent on a violent outbreak of wrath on the part of
Squeers, who spat at him and struck him a blow across the face with his
instrument of torture: when Nicholas, springing upon him, wrested the
weapon from his hand, and pinning him by the throat--don't we all exult
in the remembrance of it?--"beat the ruffian till he roared for mercy."

After that climax has been attained, two other particulars are alone
worthy of being recalled to recollection in regard to this Reading.
First, the indescribable heartine