"
"You must hear it, masther," said Phelim. "I'm comin' to larn to read
an' write."
"Bravo! By the bones of Prosodius, I expected a lie, but not such a
thumper as that. And you're comin' wid a black eye to prove it! A black
eye, Phelim, is the blackguard's coat of arms; and to do you justice,
you are seldom widout your crest."
For a few days Phelim attended the school, but learned not a letter. The
master usually sent him to be taught by the youngest lads, with a hope
of being able to excite a proper spirit of pride and emulation in a mind
that required some extraordinary impulse. One day he called him up to
ascertain what progress he had actually made; the unsuspecting teacher
sat at the time upon the wall which separated the barn-floor from the
kiln-pot, with his legs dangling at some distance from the ground. It
was summer, any rafters used in drying the grain had been removed. On
finding that Blessed Phelim, notwithstanding all the lessons he had
received, was still in a state of the purest ignorance, he lost his
temper, and brought him over between his knees, that he might give
him an occasional cuff for his idleness. The lesson went on, and the
master's thumps were thickening about Phelim's ears, much to the worthy
youth's displeasure.
"Phelim," said the master, "I'll invert you a scarecrow for dunces.
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