purposes, by holding them
betwixt our forefinger and thumb with the sharp end upwards, and as
little exposed as possible. An antagonist then approached, and with the
sharp end of his own egg struck this egg. If he succeeded in cracking
it, the vanquished egg was his; and he either sold it for a halfpenny in
the market, or reserved it for his own eating. When all the sharp ends
had been crushed, then the blunt ends entered into battle. Thus nearly
every Pasche egg in the school had its career of combat. The possessor
of a strong egg with a thick shell would sometimes vanquish a dozen of
his opponents, all of which the conqueror ultimately transferred into his
own stomach, when no more eggs with unbroken ends remained to carry on
the war of Easter Week.

"The little black and white bitch once began to snarl, and then to bark
at me, when I was on a roving expedition in quest of hens' nests. I took
up half a brick and knocked it head over heels. Mr. Storey was watching
at the time from one of the upper windows; but I had not seen him, until
I heard the sound of his magisterial voice. He beckoned me to his room
there and then, and whipped me soundly for my pains.

"Four of us scholars stayed at Tudhoe during the summer vacation, when
all the rest had gone home. Two of these had dispositions as malicious
as those of two old apes. One fine summer's morning they decoyed me into
a field (I was just then from my mother's nursery) where there was a
flock of geese. They assured me that the geese had no right to be there;
and that it was necessary we should kill them, as they were trespassing
on our master's grass. The scamps then furnished me with a hedge-stake.
On approaching the flock, behold the gander came out to meet me; and
whilst he was hissing defiance at us, I struck him on the neck, and
killed him outright. My comrades immediately took to flight, and on
reaching the house informed our master of what I had done. But when he
heard my unvarnished account of the gander's death, he did not say one
single unkind word to me, but scolded most severely the two boys who had
led me into the scrape. The geese belonged to a farmer named John Hey,
whose son Ralph used to provide me with birds' eggs. Ever after when I
passed by his house, some of the children would point to me and say, 'Yaw
killed aur guise.'

"At Bishop-Auckland there lived a man by the name of Charles the Painter.
He played extremely well on the Nor