0*d THE LIFE OF PETER BUFF. 



me, I was sent off alone, to the school of a gentleman who was fami- 

 liarly known as " Old Scruff." On aiTiving at his door, I knocked 

 timidly several times; but no one coming, I began to be of 

 opinion that it must be a holiday. Just as I had made up my mind 

 to this comfortable conclusion (for I did not much like going to 

 school for the first time alone), I was accosted by a butcher's boy 

 with ** Now, youngster ! do you want to be in at old Scruff's ?" 

 " Yes, sir," said I. " Stand clear, then," says the butcher, " and 

 here goes," giving two or three tremendous kicks at the door, almost 

 enough to knock in the panels, after which he speedily vanished. 

 Scarcely had the butcher disappeared, before out rushed old Scruff, 

 who, collaring me, marched me in a sort of triumphal manner into 

 the school-room, to the great delight of the boys then and there 

 assembled. On getting me in. Scruff, acting up to the apothecary's 

 direction, " when taken to be well shaken," shook me violently, 

 though a remarkably good tempered man. " So, sir," said he, " I 

 have caught you at last, eh ? you are often at this game." I was so 

 horribly frightened, I could only groan. " Well, sir, we will see 

 what the constable can make of you, eh ?" " Please, sir," said I, 

 mustering a little courage, " I'm the new boy." " New boy!" cried 

 old Scruff, looking quite amazed ; " well, if you do this when you 

 are a new boy, pray, sir, what will you do when you are an old one ? 

 perhaps try your hand at housebreaking, eh ? What's your name ?" 

 " Peter Buff, sir," said I, crying; "and I'm sure I didn't kick at 

 the door, sir ;" and amidst the laughter of the boys, I related the 

 assistance volunteered by the butcher's boy. On the old gentleman 

 hearing my statement, he patted me on the head, told me always to 

 speak truth, and, leading me to my seat amongst the other boys, he 

 set me to work. Work ! I sometimes think now of that which at 

 school we used to call work — a little summing, a great deal of laugh- 

 ing and talking, and no flogging. During my stay at old Scruff's, I 

 got into a little scrape, the penalty of which I fortunately managed 

 to escape. An urchin had thrown a snow-ball at me ; I of course 

 returned the compliment ; but luckless Peter ! I missed the boy, 

 and sent the snow-ball through a tradesman's window, who soon had 

 me in safe custody, and asked my name. " John Brown," said I. 



