white as ivory, and his mild blue eye was the ne plus ultra of
beneficence. He was the beau-ideal of a preceptor, and it was
impossible to see him and hear his mild pleasing voice, without
wishing that all your sons were under his protection. He was a ripe
scholar, and a good one, and at the time we speak of, had the care of
upwards of one hundred boys. He was celebrated for turning them out
well, and many of his pupils were rising fast in the senate, as well
as distinguishing themselves in the higher Professions.

Dr Middleton, who was on intimate terms with Bonnycastle, rose as he
entered the room, and they shook hands. Middleton then turned to
where Jack sat, and pointing to him, said, "Look there."

Bonnycastle smiled. "I cannot say that I have had worse, but I have
almost as bad. I will apply the Promethean torch, and soon vivify that
rude mass. Come, sit down, Middleton."

"But," said the Doctor, as he resumed his chair, "tell me,
Bonnycastle, how you will possibly manage to lick such a cub into
shape, when you do not resort to flogging?"

"I have no opinion of flogging, and therefore I do not resort to it.
The fact is, I was at Harrow myself, and was rather a pickle. I was
called up as often as most boys in the school, and I perfectly
recollect, that eventually I cared nothing for a flogging. I had
become case-hardened. It is the least effective part that you can
touch a boy upon. It leaves nothing behind to refresh their memories."

"I should have thought otherwise."