As Nick had a large head, he wore of necessity a large cap, with a long
frontispiece and with a button on the top. His coat was what is called a
"roundabout," scarcely reaching to his waist, but it abounded with
pockets, as did the vest which it partly inclosed. His trousers were
coarse, thick, and comfortable, and his large boots were never touched
by blacking, Nick's father having no belief in such nonsense, but
sticking to tallow all the time.

Nick carried a spelling book and slate under his arm, and, as he started
off, any one looking at him would have been struck by his bright eyes,
ruddy cheeks, and generally clean appearance. As he was so very good
natured, he was certain to become quite an acquisition to the school.

There are no more cruel, or perhaps thoughtless people in the world than
a number of school-boys, under certain conditions. The peculiar dress
and the broken language of little Nick excited laughter at once, and
this soon turned into ridicule.

Nick was beset continually at recess and at noon by the boys, who
immediately christened him "Dutchy." He laughed and did not seem to mind
it, for his philosophy was that no words applied to him could injure
him, and so long as the boys kept their hands off he did not care.

Among the pupils was Herbert Watrous, a spruce young gentleman from the
city, who dressed better than the others, and who threw out hints about
the sparring lessons he had taken at home, and his wish that he might
soon have a chance to show his playmates how easily he could vanquish an
opponent, much larger than himself, by reason of his "science."