A. L. I am very unhappy.
Mr. C. That’s no new disorder, as I know of.
A. L. No; but I think the reason I am unhappy is a strange one; at least, I never read of but one person else in the same way. I want to educate myself and I can’t.
Mr. C. You must have read precious little, then, if you think yourself in a strange way. Bless the boy’s heart! And what the dickens do you want to be educating yourself for? If you had one-tenth the trouble taken with you that is taken with every pig-headed son of an aristocrat—
A. L. Am I clever?
Mr. C. Clever? What, haven’t you found that out yet? Don’t try to put that on me!
A. L. Really, I never thought of it.
Mr. C. More simpleton you! I heard said the other day that you were a thorough young genius.
A. L. It sounds very grand, and I should certainly like to have a good education. But I can’t see whose injustice keeps me out of one if I can’t afford to pay for it.
Mr. C. Whose? Why, the parsons’, to be sure. They’ve got the monopoly of education in England, and get their bread by it. Of course, it’s their interest to keep up the price of their commodity, and let no man have a taste of it who can’t pay down handsomely.