“If you really can teach me,” cried the
learned man, forgetting all self-reproach for his
betrayal of Waife to Mrs. Crane in the absorbing interest
of the hope that sprang up within him, “if you
can teach me; if I can but con-con-con—conq—”
“Slowly, slowly, breath and time; take a whiff
from my pipe; that’s right. Yes, you can
conquer the impediment.”
“Then I will be the best friend to you that
man ever had. There’s my hand on it.”
“I take it, but I ask leave to change the parties
in the contract. I don’t want a friend:
I don’t deserve one. You’ll be a
friend to my little girl instead; and if ever I ask
you to help me in aught for her welfare and happiness—”
“I will help, heart and soul! slight indeed
any service to her or to you compared with such service
to me. Free this wretched tongue from its stammer,
and thought and zeal will not stammer whenever you
say, ’Keep your promise.’ I am so
glad your little girl is still with you.”
Waife looked surprised, “Is still with me!—why
not?” The scholar bit his tongue. That
was not the moment to confess; it might destroy all
Waife’s confidence in. him. He would do
so later. “When shall I begin my lesson?”
“Now, if you like. But have you a book
in your pocket?”
“I always have.”
“Not Greek, I hope, sir?”
“No, a volume of Barrow’s Sermons.
Lord Chatham recommended those sermons to his great
son as a study for eloquence.”
“Good! Will you lend me the volume, sir?
and now for it. Listen to me; one sentence
at a time; draw your breath when I do.”
The three magpies pricked up their ears again, and,
as they listened, marvelled much.
Could we know by what strange circumstances
a man’s genius became prepared for practical
success, we should discover that the most serviceable
items in his education were never entered in the bills
which his father paid for it.
At the end of the very first lesson George Morley
saw that all the elocution masters to whose skill
he had been consigned were blunderers in comparison
with the basketmaker.
Waife did not puzzle him with scientific theories.
All that the great comedian required of him was to
observe and to imitate. Observation, imitation,
lo! the groundwork of all art! the primal elements
of all genius! Not there, indeed to halt, but
there ever to commence. What remains to carry
on the intellect to mastery? Two steps,—to
reflect, to reproduce. Observation, imitation,
reflection, reproduction. In these stands a
mind complete and consummate, fit to cope with all
labour, achieve all success.
