when I was first sent there, counted less than 6000 inhabitants. Located
in the old town or village, at a distance of a mile or more from the sea,
the school occupied a building called "The Gables," and was an offshoot of
a former ancient school connected with the famous parish church. In my
time this "academy" was carried on as a private venture by a certain James
Anthony Bown, a portly old gentleman of considerable attainments.

I was unusually precocious in some respects, and though I frequently got
into scrapes by playing impish tricks--as, for instance, when I combined
with others to secure an obnoxious French master to his chair by means of
some cobbler's wax, thereby ruining a beautiful pair of peg-top trousers
which he had just purchased--I did not neglect my lessons, but secured a
number of "prizes" with considerable facility. When I was barely twelve
years old, not one of my schoolfellows--and some were sixteen and
seventeen years old--could compete with me in Latin, in which language
Bown ended by taking me separately. I also won three or four prizes for
"excelling" my successive classes in English grammar as prescribed by the
celebrated Lindley Murray.

In spite of my misdeeds (some of which, fortunately, were never brought
home to me), I became, I think, somewhat of a favourite with the worthy
James Anthony, for he lent me interesting books to read, occasionally had
me to supper in his own quarters, and was now and then good enough to
overlook the swollen state of my nose or the blackness of one of my eyes
when I had been having a bout with a schoolfellow or a young clodhopper of
the village. We usually fought with the village lads in Love Lane on
Sunday evenings, after getting over the playground wall. I received
firstly the nickname of Moses, through falling among some rushes whilst
fielding a ball at cricket; and secondly, that of Noses, because my nasal
organ, like that of Cyrano de Bergerac, suddenly grew to huge proportions,