Chapter Four.
As soon as I was clear of the door, I looked up into Ben’s face and said, “Father, where are we going?”
“Well,” replied he, “I am going to take you to school.”
“School! What am I going to school for?” replied I.
“For biting your grandmother, I expect, in the first place, and to get a little learning, and a good deal of flogging, if what they say is true! I never was at school myself.”
“What do you learn, and why are you flogged?”
“You learn to read, and to write, and to count; I can’t do either—more’s the pity; and you are flogged, because without flogging, little boys can’t learn anything.”
This was not a very satisfactory explanation. I made no further inquiries, and we continued our way in silence until we arrived at the school door; there was a terrible buzz inside. Ben tapped, the door opened, and a volume of hot air burst forth, all the fresh air having been consumed in repeating the fresh lessons for the day. Ben walked up between the forms, and introduced me to the schoolmaster, whose name was Mr Thadeus O’Gallagher, a poor scholar from Ireland, who had set up an establishment at half-a-guinea a quarter for day scholars; he was reckoned a very severe master, and the children were kept in better order in his school than in any other establishment of the kind in the town; and I presume that my granny had made inquiries to that effect, as there were one or two schools of the same kind much nearer to my mother’s house. Ben, who probably had a great respect for learning, in consequence of his having none himself, gave a military salute to Mr O’Gallagher, saying, with his hand still to his hat, “A new boy, sir, come to school.”