proof against seventy men who can
render a reason.

To rumours which accused "Crayshaw's" of undue severity, of discomfort,
of bad teaching and worse manners, my father opposed arguments which he
allowed were "old-fashioned" and which were far-fetched from the days of
our great-grandfather.

A strict school-master was a good school-master, and if more parents
were as wise as Solomon on the subject of the rod, Old England would not
be discredited by such a namby-pamby race as young men of the present
day seemed by all accounts to be. It was high time the boys did rough it
a bit; would my mother have them always tied to her apron-strings? Great
Britain would soon be Little Britain if boys were to be brought up like
young ladies. As to teaching, it was the fashion to make a fuss about
it, and a pretty pass learning brought some folks to, to judge by the
papers and all one heard. His own grandfather lived to ninety-seven, and
died sitting in his chair, in a bottle-green coat and buff breeches. He
wore a pig-tail to the day of his death, and never would be contradicted
by anybody. He had often told my father that at the school _he_ went to,
the master signed the receipts for his money with a cross, but the usher
was a bit of a scholar, and the boys had cream to their porridge on
Sundays. And the old gentleman managed his own affairs to ninety-seven,
and threw the doctor's medicine-bottles out of the window then. He died
without a doubt on his mind or a debt on his books, and my father
(taking a pinch out of Great-Grandfather's snuff-box) hoped Jem and I
might do as well.

In short, we were sent to "Crayshaw's."

It was not a happy period of my life. It was not a good or wholesome
period; and I am not fond of recalling it. The time came when I shrank
from telling Charlie everything, almost as if he had been a girl. His
life was lived in such a different atmosphere, under such different
conditions. I could not trouble him, and I did not believe he could make
allowances for me. But on our first arrival I wrote him a long letter
(Jem never wrote letters), and the other day he showed it to me. It was
a first impression, but a sufficiently vivid and truthful one, so I give
it here.

"CRAYSHAW'S (for that's what they call it here, and a beastly hole it is).
"_Monday_.

"MY DEAR OLD CHARLIE,--We came earlier than was settled, for Father got
impatient and there was