He used to read one sent him by a sporting officer of his name, and talk enviously of public schools, printed whatever they did--a privilege and dignity of which, they had unrivalled enjoyment in the past, days, when wealth was more jealously exclusive; and he was always prompting for challenges and saving up to pay expenses; and the fellows were to laugh at kicks and learn the art of self-defence--train to rejoice in whipcord muscles.

The son of a tradesman, if a boy fell under the imputation, was worthy of honour with him, let the fellow but show grip and toughness.
He loathed a skulker, and his face was known for any boy who would own to fatigue or confess himself beaten.

"Go to bed," was one of his terrible stings.

Matey was good at lessons, too--liked them; liked Latin and Greek; would help a poor stumbler.
Where he did such good work was in sharpening the fellows to excel.
He kept them to the grindstone, so that they had no time for rusty brooding; and it was fit done by exhortations off a pedestal, like St.
Paul at the Athenians, it breathed out of him every day of the week.

He carried a light for followers.