Such a result was to me very satisfactory, and was far beyond what I dreamed of even in my most sanguine moments during my trials at Mr Hostler’s. If any prophetic genius had hinted to the young gentlemen at Mr Hostler’s that Bob Shepard, who was leaving because he was so stupid that he could not be taught mathematics, would beat all the boys in the school, and would succeed in being second in mathematics at the Academy, this prophet would have found few who put faith in him, for it would have been considered impossible except by magic. A certain kind of magic was, however, practised, and this was by means of the system which Mr Rouse adopted, viz, of calmly reasoning out problems and deliberating on them, and taking a wide and general view of a subject instead of trying to follow blindly rules and systems, uninfluenced by reason or common sense.
There was one small piece of “swagger,” as it might be fairly termed, which I could not resist, and this was to pay a visit to Mr Hostler’s now I had passed all my examinations successfully, and hear what he had to say for himself. I would not call on Hostler himself, but called to see a boy whose brother had been a cadet, and who had asked me to have a look at the youngster at Hostler’s.
I was shown into the small drawing-room that I remembered so well. There was the same table-cover, the same things on the mantelpiece, the same books, the same pictures as when I went into that room to meet Hostler, and to be told I must give up all chance of Woolwich, as I had no head for mathematics or Euclid. It flashed across me that probably scores of other boys had had their prospects rained in consequence of being put under the change of selfish and bigoted men, who had only one system of teaching, and whose method was unsuited to the mind of the boy on whom they acted. In that room a straw would have turned the scale, and I might have left that place with a stamp of stupidity on me which I should never have had the chance of removing all my life, unless, as really happened, I had gone to Mr Rouse’s, and had passed my examinations well.
As I was thus meditating, the door opened and Mr Hostler came in.
“Ah, Shepard!” he exclaimed, “I am very glad to see you. How are you?”
“Quite well, Mr Hostler. I’ve called to see young Barnes. Is he in?”
“Oh yes, he’s in. I hope you’ll come into the schoolroom and see him; it does the boys good to see a cadet there who has been prepared for the Academy by me, and who has distinguished himself as you have done. I feel very proud of it I can tell you!”
“You forget, Mr Hostler; you didn’t prepare me for the Academy, but gave me up as too stupid to learn mathematics.”
“Oh, nothing of the kind, Shepard, you’re quite mistaken. I gave you all the groundwork, and you only wanted just a little polishing up, which could be better done by a private tutor like Rouse than in a large school like mine, where we work in classes. No, don’t think I’m going to be robbed of the merit of preparing you; besides, you were not three months with Rouse, and here you were over a year. Facts speak for themselves. Depend on it, you passed and got on so well just because you were well grounded here, and saw my system of preparing, which is good.”
I was not then old enough to answer these misrepresentations of Hostler’s, but I knew how false they were, and yet how firmly they would convince the majority of outsiders that to Hostler was due the merit of having trained me for Woolwich. I found afterwards that he had told his boys that I was his special pupil, and that he had also claimed me, in his sort of advertisement list, as one who had been trained by him. Such men succeed in the world as a rule, for the general public judge from superficial evidence, and rarely have the time, if they had the inclination, to look closely into matters that do not specially affect their interests.