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  5 connexions, of course: my father was not a man to underrate the bearing
of Latin satirists or Greek dramatists on the attainment of an
aristocratic position. But, intrinsically, he had slight esteem for
"those dead but sceptred spirits"; having qualified himself for forming
an independent opinion by reading Potter's AEschylus, and dipping into
Francis's Horace. To this negative view he added a positive one,
derived from a recent connexion with mining speculations; namely, that a
scientific education was the really useful training for a younger son.
Moreover, it was clear that a shy, sensitive boy like me was not fit to
encounter the rough experience of a public school. Mr. Letherall had
said so very decidedly. Mr. Letherall was a large man in spectacles, who
one day took my small head between his large hands, and pressed it here
and there in an exploratory, auspicious manner--then placed each of his
great thumbs on my temples, and pushed me a little way from him, and
stared at me with glittering spectacles. The contemplation appeared to
displease him, for he frowned sternly, and said to my father, drawing his
thumbs across my eyebrows--
"The deficiency is there, sir--there; and here," he added, touching the
upper sides of my head, "here is the excess. That must be brought out,
sir, and this must be laid to sleep."
I was in a state of tremor, partly at the vague idea that I was the
object of reprobation, partly in the agitation of my first hatred--hatred
of this big, spectacled man, who pulled my head about as if he wanted to
buy and cheapen it.
I am not aware how much Mr. Letherall had to do with the system
afterwards adopted towards me, but it was presently clear that private
tutors, natural history, science, and the modern languages, were the
appliances by which the defects of my organization were to be remedied. I
was very stupid about machines, so I was to be greatly occupied with
them; I had no memory for classification, so it was particularly
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