‘You have given me,’ he said, when Hyacinth had finished, ‘the Authorized Version word for word. Can you do no better than that?’
‘I can do it differently,’ said Hyacinth, ‘not better.’
‘Do you know any Greek outside of the New Testament?’
Hyacinth repeated a few lines from Homer.
‘That book of the “Odyssey” is not in the college course,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘How did you come to read it?’
Hyacinth had no explanation to give. He had read the book, it seemed, without being forced, and without hope of getting a prize. He recited it as if he liked it. The remainder of the examination disclosed the fact that he was lamentably deficient in the rudiments of Greek grammar, and had the very vaguest ideas of the history of the Church.
Afterwards Professor Henry discussed the new class with his assistants as they crossed the square together.
‘The usual lot,’ said Dr. Spenser—‘half a dozen scholars, perhaps one man among them with real brains. The rest are either idlers or, what is worse, duffers.’
‘I hit on one man with brains,’ said Dr. Henry.
‘Oh! Thompson, I suppose. I saw that you took him. He did well in his degree exam.’