CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE SNEAK.
Sneak! It's an ugly name, but not ugly enough, believe me, for the animal it describes.
Like his namesake, the snake, he may be a showy enough looking fellow at first sight, he may have the knack of wriggling himself into your acquaintance, and his rattle may amuse you for a time, but wait till he turns and stings you! I am at a loss how to describe in a few words what I--and, I expect, most of us--mean when we talk of a sneak.

He is a mixture of so many detestable qualities.

There is a large amount of cowardice in his constitution, and a similar quantity of jealousy; and then there are certain proportions of falsehood, ingratitude, malice, and officiousness to complete his ugly anatomy, to say nothing of hypocrisy and self- conceit.

When all these amiable ingredients are compounded together, we have our model sneak.
How we detest the fellow! how our toes tingle when he comes our way! how readily we go a mile round to avoid him! how we hope we may never be like _him_! Let me tell you of one we had at our school.

Any one who did not know Jerry would have said to himself, "That's a pleasant enough sort of fellow." For so he seemed.