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Memoirs of Henry Hunt, Esq. — Volume 1 by Henry Hunt
page 44 of 355 (12%)
with the prospect before me, although I thought I saw something that I did
not much like in the countenance of Mr. Griffith, who was a muscular,
swarthy, dark-looking person, with rather a forbidding air. My father,
having given me his blessing, took his leave, and consigned me to my new
master, who led me into the school; and, as it was then past eleven
o'clock, he gave me an Enfield's Speaker, and desired me to look it over,
as he should not place me in any class until Monday. The school hours were
up at twelve o'clock, Saturday afternoon being always a holiday, and
consequently I did not consider that I had any task to learn on that day.
I was therefore more employed in thinking of my mother at home, and in
looking round the school, surveying my new companions, than I was with the
volume. At length I caught my master's eye, and as he seemed to be
smiling, as I thought at me, I returned it, as an earnest of my sense of
his kindness. But alas! as it will appear, I mistook my man. He beckoned
to me, and called me up to his desk, at the other end of the school. I
obeyed; "Pray, Sir," said he, "what were you laughing at?" I found I was
deceived, and I stood silent, unable to answer the interrogatory; upon
which he gave me a severe box under the ear, which made me reel again, and
nearly knocked me down. He then sternly said, "Go, Sir, to your seat, and
mind your business, and in future take care how you let me catch you
laughing again." This at once impressed upon my mind the ferocity and
cowardice of his nature; for I had not been in the school at the time more
than ten minutes. It was such an act of injustice, cruelty, and tyranny,
and so very different from any thing that I had ever before experienced,
that I was almost stupified with indignation; but, recovering myself a
little, I was upon the point of rushing out of the school, and flying to
my father, who must have been yet at the inn in the town. I looked towards
the door; it stood enticingly open, and if my pride had not come to my
assistance, I should most assuredly have indulged the first impulse of my
resentment. From that moment to this, however, I have never thought of the
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