Influenced by the impression I had received of his gentleness， I was a good deal surprised when， on arriving the next day at my new employer’s house， and being admitted to a first view of what was to be the sphere of my future labours， namely the large， lofty， and well lighted schoolrooms， I beheld a numerous assemblage of pupils， boys of course， whose collective appearance showed all the signs of a full， flourishing， and well-disciplined seminary.As I traversed the classes in company with M.Pelet， a profound silence reigned on all sides， and if by chance a murmur or a whisper arose， one glance from the pensive eye of this most gentle pedagogue stilled it instantly.It was astonishing， I thought， how so mild a check could prove so effectual.When I had perambulated the length and breadth of the classes， M.Pelet turned and said to me—“Would you object to taking the boys as they are， and testing their proficiency in English？”
The proposal was unexpected.I had thought I should have beenallowed at least a day to prepare； but it is a bad omen to commence any career by hesitation， so I just stepped to the professor’s desk near which we stood， and faced the circle of my pupils.I took a moment to collect my thoughts， and likewise to frame in French the sentence by which I proposed to open business.I made it as short as possible：—“Messieurs， prenez vos livres de lecture.”
“Anglais ou Francais， monsieur？” demanded a thickset， moon- faced young Flamand in a blouse.The answer was fortunately easy：—“Anglais.”
I determined to give myself as little trouble as possible in this lesson； it would not do yet to trust my unpractised tongue with the delivery of explanations； my accent and idiom would be too open to the criticisms of the young gentlemen before me， relative to whom I felt already it would be necessary at once to take up an advantageous position， and I proceeded to employ means accordingly.
“Commencez！” cried I， when they had all produced their books.The moon-faced youth (by name Jules Vanderkelkov， as I afterwards learnt) took the first sentence.The “livre de lecture” was the “Vicar of Wakefield，” much used in foreign schools because it is supposed to contain prime samples of conversational English； it might， however， have been a Runic scroll for any resemblance the words， as enunciated by Jules， bore to the language in ordinary use amongst the natives of Great Britain.My God！ how he did snuffle， snort， and wheeze！ All he said was said in his throat and nose， for it is thus the Flamands speak， but I heard him to the end of his paragraph without proffering a word of correction， whereat he looked vastly self-complacent， convinced， no doubt， that he had acquitted himself like a real born and bred “Anglais.” In the same unmoved silence I listened to a dozen in rotation， and when the twelfth had concluded with splutter， hiss， and mumble， I solemnly laid down the book.
“Arrêtez！” said I.There was a pause， during which I regardedthem all with a steady and somewhat stern gaze； a dog， if stared at hard enough and long enough， will show symptoms of embarrassment， and so at length did my bench of Belgians.Perceiving that some of the faces before me were beginning tolook sullen， and others ashamed， I slowly joined my hands， and ejaculated in a deep “voix de poitrine”—“Comme c’est affreux！”
They looked at each other， pouted， coloured， swung their heels； they were not pleased， I saw， but they were impressed， and in the way I wished them to be.Having thus taken them down a peg in their self-conceit， the next step was to raise myself in their estimation； not a very easy thing， considering that I hardly dared to speak for fear of betraying my own deficiencies.
“Ecoutez， messieurs！” said I， and I endeavoured to throw intomy accents the compassionate tone of a superior being， who， touched by the extremity of the helplessness， which at first only excited his scorn， deigns at length to bestow aid.I then began at the very beginning of the “Vicar of Wakefield，” and read， in a slow， distinct voice， some twenty pages， they all the while sitting mute and listening with fixed attention； by the time I had done nearly an hour had elapsed.I then rose and said：—“C’estassezpouraujourd’hui，messieurs；demainnous recommencerons， et j’espere que tout ira bien.”
With this oracular sentence I bowed， and in company with M.Pelet quitted the school-room.
“C’est bien！ c’est très bien！” said my principal as we entered hisparlour.“Je vois que monsieur a de l’adresse； cela， me pla？t， car， dans l’instruction， l’adresse fait tout autant que le savoir.”
From the parlour M.Pelet conducted me to my apartment， my“chambre，” as Monsieur said with a certain air of complacency.It was a very small room， with an excessively small bed， but M.Pelet gave me to understand that I was to occupy it quite alone， which was of course a great comfort.Yet， though so limited indimensions， it had two windows.Light not being taxed in Belgium， the people never grudge its admission into their houses； just here， however， this observation is not very à propos， for one of these windows was boarded up； the open windows looked into the boys’ playground.I glanced at the other， as wondering what aspect it would present if disencumbered of the boards.M.Pelet read， I suppose， the expression of my eye； he explained：—“La fenêtre fermée donne sur un jardin appartenant à un pensionnat de demoiselles，” said he， “et les convenances exigent—enfin， vous comprenez—n’est-ce pas， monsieur？”
