GUY HEAVYSTONE;
OR,
"ENTIRE."
A MUSCULAR NOVEL.
BY THE AUTHOR or "SWORD AND GUN."
CHAPTER I.
"Nerei repandirostrum incurvicervicum pecus."
A dingy, swashy, splashy afternoon in October; a school-yard filled
with a mob of riotous boys. A lot of us standing outside.
Suddenly came a dull, crashing sound from the school-room. At the
ominous interruption I shuddered involuntarily, and called to
Smithsye:--
"What's up, Smithums?"
"Guy's cleaning out the fourth form," he replied.
At the same moment George de Coverly passed me, holding his nose,
from whence the bright Norman blood streamed redly. To him the
plebeian Smithsye laughingly:--
"Cully! how's his nibs?"
I pushed the door of the school-room open. There are some
spectacles which a man never forgets. The burning of Troy probably
seemed a large-sized conflagration to the pious Aeneas, and made an
impression on him which he carried away with the feeble Anchises.
In the centre of the room, lightly brandishing the piston-rod of a
steam-engine, stood Guy Heavystone alone. I say alone, for the
pile of small boys on the floor in the corner could hardly be
called company.
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