It's an uncommon puzzlin' thing." Mr.Riley's gravity gave way, and he shook a little under the application of his pinch of snuff before he said,-- "But your lad's not stupid, is he?
I saw him, when I was here last, busy making fishing-tackle; he seemed quite up to it." "Well, he isn't not to say stupid,--he's got a notion o' things out o' door, an' a sort o' common sense, as he'd lay hold o' things by the right handle.

But he's slow with his tongue, you see, and he reads but poorly, and can't abide the books, and spells all wrong, they tell me, an' as shy as can be wi' strangers, an' you never hear him say 'cute things like the little wench.

Now, what I want is to send him to a school where they'll make him a bit nimble with his tongue and his pen, and make a smart chap of him.

I want my son to be even wi' these fellows as have got the start o' me with having better schooling.

Not but what, if the world had been left as God made it, I could ha' seen my way, and held my own wi' the best of 'em; but things have got so twisted round and wrapped up i' unreasonable words, as aren't a bit like 'em, as I'm clean at fault, often an' often.