The jokes were frightful, and
merciless against him. "Hullo, Dobbin," one wag would say, "here's
good news in the paper. Sugars is ris', my boy." Another would set
a sum--"If a pound of mutton-candles cost sevenpence-halfpenny, how
much must Dobbin cost?" and a roar would follow from all the circle
of young knaves, usher and all, who rightly considered that the
selling of goods by retail is a shameful and infamous practice,
meriting the contempt and scorn of all real gentlemen.
"Your father's only a merchant, Osborne," Dobbin said in private to
the little boy who had brought down the storm upon him. At which
the latter replied haughtily, "My father's a gentleman, and keeps
his carriage"; and Mr. William Dobbin retreated to a remote outhouse
in the playground, where he passed a half-holiday in the bitterest
sadness and woe. Who amongst us is there that does not recollect
similar hours of bitter, bitter childish grief? Who feels injustice;
who shrinks before a slight; who has a sense of wrong so acute, and
so glowing a gratitude for kindness, as a generous boy? and how many
of those gentle souls do you degrade, estrange, torture, for the
sake of a little loose arithmetic, and miserable dog-latin?
Now, William Dobbin, from an incapacity to acquire the rudiments of
the above language, as they are propounded in that wonderful book
the Eton Latin Grammar, was compelled to remain among the very last
of Doctor Swishtail's scholars, and was "taken down" continually by
little fellows with pink faces and pinafores when he marched up with
the lower form, a giant amongst them, with his downcast, stupefied
look, his dog's-eared primer, and his tight corduroys.
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