“Proceed, then.”
Hector at once gave a clear and luminous rendering of the passage, and his version was not only correct, but was expressed in decent English. This is a point in which young classical scholars are apt to fail.
Mr. Crabb was not in the habit of hearing such good translations, and he was surprised and gratified.
“Very well! Very well, indeed, Roscoe,” he said, approvingly. “Mr. Smith, you may go on.”
“He’d better go ahead and finish it,” said Smith, sulkily. “He probably got it out of a pony.”
My young readers who are in college or classical schools, will understand that a “pony” is an English translation of a classical author.
“He is mistaken!” said Hector, quietly. “I have never seen a translation of Virgil.”
Mr. Smith shrugged his shoulders, and drew down the corners of his mouth, intending thereby to express his incredulity.
“I hope no boy will use a translation,” said the usher; “it will make his work easier for the time being, but in the end it will embarrass him. Roscoe, as you have commenced, you may continue. Translate the remainder of the passage.”
Hector did so, exhibiting equal readiness.