The master, who feared, that this open contempt of his authority, running up, as it did, into a very unpleasant species of retaliation, was something like a signal for him to leave the parish, felt rather more of the penitent the next morning than did any of his pupils.  He was by no means displeased, therefore, to see them drop in about the usual hour.  They came, however, not one by one, but in compact groups, each officered by two or three of the larger boys; for they feared that, had they entered singly, he might have punished them singly, until his vengeance should be satisfied.  It was by bitter and obstinate struggles that they succeeded in repressing their mirth, when he; appeared at his desk with one of his eyes literally closed, and his nose considerably improved in size and richness of color.  When they were all assembled, he hemmed several times, and, in a woo-begone tone of voice, split—­by a feeble attempt at maintaining authority and suppressing his terrors—­into two parts, that jarred most ludicrously, he briefly addressed them as follows:—­

“Gintlemen classics, I have been now twenty-six years engaged in the propagation of Latin and Greek litherature, in conjunction wid mathematics, but never, until yesterday, has my influence been spurned; never, until yesterday, have sacrilegious hands been laid upon my person; never, until yesterday, have I been kicked—­insidiously, ungallantly, and treacherously kicked—­by my own subjects.  No, gintlemen,—­and, whether I ought to bestow that respectable epithet upon you after yesterday’s proceedings is a matter which admits of dispute,—­never before has the lid of my eye been laid drooping, and that in such a manner that I’ must be blind to the conduct of half of my pupils, whether I will or not.  You have complained, it appears, of my want of impartiality; but, God knows, you have compelled me to be partial for a week to come.  Neither blame me if I may appear to look upon you with scorn for the next fortnight; for I am compelled to turn up my nose at you much against my own inclination.  You need never want an illustration of the naso adunco of Horace again; I’m a living example of it.  That, and the doctrine of projectile forces, have been exemplified in a manner that will prevent me from ever relishing these subjects in future.  No king can consider himself properly such until after he has received the oil of consecration; but you, it appears, think differently.  You have unkinged me first, and anointed me afterwards; but, I say, no potentate would relish such unction.  It smells confoundedly of republicanism.  Maybe this is what you understand by the Republic of Letters; but, if it be, I would advise you to change your principles.  You treated my ribs as if they were the ribs of a common man; my shins you took liberties with even to excoriation; my head you made a target of, for your hardest turf; and my nose you dishonored to my fage.  Was this ginerous? was it discreet?