same accentuation as others, and he had the impetuous French disposition
of which the boys had heard. If a boy made a mess of his pronunciation,
he would bawl, from the depths of his full brown beard, which he was
fond of stroking: "You speak French _comme un paysan d'Amac_." When
he swore, he swore like a true Frenchman: _"Sacrebleu-Mops-Carot-ten-
Rapee!"_ [Footnote: Needless to say, this is impossible French,
composed chiefly of distorted Danish words. (Trans.)] If he got angry,
and he very often did, he would unhesitatingly pick up the full glass of
water that always stood in front of him on the desk, and in Gallic
exasperation fling it on the floor, when the glass would be smashed to
atoms and the water run about, whereupon he would quietly, with his
_Grand seigneur_ air, take his purse out of his pocket and lay the
money for the glass on the desk.

For a time I based my ideas of the French mind and manner upon this
master, although my uncle Jacob, who had lived almost all his life in
Paris, was a very different sort of Frenchman. It was only later that I
became acquainted with a word and an idea which it was well I did not
know, as far as the master's capacity for making an impression was
concerned--the word _affected_.

At last, one fine day, a little event occurred which was not without its
effect on the master's prestige, and yet aroused my compassion almost as
much as my surprise. The parents of one of my best friends were
expecting a French business friend for the evening. As they knew
themselves to be very weak in the language, they gave their son a polite
note to the French master, asking him to do them the honour of spending
the next evening at their house, on the occasion of this visit, which
rendered conversational support desirable. The master took the note,
which we two boys had handed to him, grew--superior though he usually