A Great Man

He's c

of an empty chair at the breakfast-table. Mr. Knight placed a silver watch and also, separately, a silver chain by the s

ing that the lustrous trifles hidden beneath the basin were meant to signalize: namely, the passage of years and the approach of age. Mr. Knight's hair was grey; Mrs. Knight, once a slim bride of twenty-seven, was now a stout matron of thirty-nine, with a tendency to pant after the most modest feats of stair-climbing; and Aunt Annie, only the other day a pretty girl with a head full of what is wrongly cal

enry burst i

'See how he takes notice! the mother had cried in ecstatic wonderment. And from that moment she, and the other two, had never ceased to marvel, and to fear. It seemed impossible that this extraordinary fragment of humanity, which at first could not be safely ignored for a single instant night or day, should survive the multitudinous perils that surrounded it. But it did survive, and it became an intelligence. At eighteen months the intelligence could walk, sit up, and say 'Mum.' These performances were astounding. And the fact that fifty thousand other babies of eighteen months in London were similarly walking, sitting up, and saying 'Mum,' did not render these performances any

d said he had enjoyed it! Certainly, other boys went to school. Yes, but there was something special, something indefinable, something incredible, about Henry's going to school that separated his case from all the other cases, and made it precious in its wonder. And he began to study arithmetic, geometry, geography, history, chemistry, drawing, Latin, French, mensuration, composition, physics, Scripture, and fencing. His singular brain could grapple simultaneously with these multifarious subjects. And all th

mystified, as he sat down to

his father gruffly.

ry had lifte

as your birthday?' Mrs.

ad in truth forgotten t

ess, haven't you?' said Aunt Annie, as if wishful t

de no reference to his approaching anniversary, they had guessed that he had overlooked it in the exciting preparations for Speech Day, and t

chain, mother, and the knife is from Aunt Annie. Is there a thing in it

ined his mother, when he had thanked them politely, and assumed the watch and

,' he answer

strangest thing of all in Henry's case was that, despite their united and unceasing efforts, his three relatives had quite failed to spoil him. He was too self-po

had never reached the top of a form; he had never received a prize; he had never earned pedagogic praise more generous than 'Conduct fair-progress fair.' But now, out of the whole school, he had won the prize for Good Conduct. And, as if this was not sufficiently dazzling, he had also taken to himself, for an essay on 'Streets,' the prize for English Composition. And, thirdly, he had been chosen to recite a Shaksperean piece at t

reparations for his big day, and looked at the time, and cut a piece of skin from th

a detestable little prig. He

of Venice in what manner Desdemona had fallen in love with him and he with Desdemona; how he told Desdemona that even from his boyish days he had experienced

h-a-gi,' sai

cult word, I'm sur

t on to the distressful strokes his youth ha

int I spoke-

or the dangers

er that she d

the witchcraf

e lady; let h

ast, my pet,' Mrs

ened at the

ow do go light on the buttered toas

He was always very