Several Boys.—And me, too! And me, too And me too!
A Boy.—There, John Head! It’s too bad to make fun of your prize.
Head.—I beg your pardon, I’m not making fun of it. But I wish folks wouldn’t interrupt me. You put me out so, that I don’t know as I can get through with my speech. As I was saying, although I took the prize myself, I go in for doing justice to all, and am happy to comply with the request, to present this testimonial of respect and affection to our esteemed friend who heads the other end of the class, as an Irishman might say. Brother Joseph Foot, will you please to rise? [Foot rises, with a broad grin on his face.]
A Boy.—Brother Foot is on his feet.
Head.—My dear sir, you have been selected as the honorable recipient of a testimonial from your classmates, out of respect to the position you occupy, as the lowest round of our literary ladder. Your quick native intelligence probably will not demand that I should attempt to prove that there must be one round in the ladder lower than all the others; and I suppose it is equally evident to your enlightened mind, that if you constitute this round, yourself, the rest of us can be spared for other and higher posts of duty. We should, therefore, and I trust do, feel truly grateful to you for settling down so permanently and contentedly into this important and truly fundamental office, thus relieving us from all anxiety in regard to it. Your position may seem an humble one, but I may say for myself, that I have considerable respect for it. I like to see a person decidedly one thing or another. Let those eat luke-warm porridge who love it—I prefer mine either hot or cold. Moreover, the brighter scholars of the class are indebted to you not a little for their brilliancy, like the stars at night, which owe much of their beauty to the dark background. But the chief comfort and satisfaction of your life must be the thought that many of the greatest men the world has produced have been very dull and stupid boys. It is said that the bright boys of the school and the college are seldom heard from, when they become men. According to this rule, we may confidently hope to hear a tremendous report from yourself, one of these days.
Accept, then, classmate, this slight token of good-will and esteem, from your friends. It is a heart tribute, whose expressiveness and significance will doubtless be appreciated by you. Accept it—and while you indulge the fond consciousness that you have attained to this distinction without resorting to selfish and unworthy means, you may also comfort yourself with the grateful assurance that you have escaped the sting of envy—that inevitable bane of the prize scholar.
[He uncovers the testimonial, which proves to be a cabbage, and stepping up to Foot, who stands grinning, proffers it to him.]
Boy.—Why don’t you take it, Jo?—it’s a big rose.
Another Boy.—Yes, Jo, take it—he wont charge you anything for it.
Foot [taking the cabbage.] Wall, I guess it’s good to b’ile, any heow.