Vanity fair (1900) (14577956118)

Identifier: vanityfair01thac (find matches)
Title: Vanity fair
Year: 1900 (1900s)
Authors: Thackeray, William Makepeace, 1811-1863 Fiske, Minnie Maddern, Mrs., 1865- (from old catalog)
Subjects: Waterloo, Battle of, Waterloo, Belgium, 1815 British Female friendship Social classes Married women
Publisher: New York and Boston, H. M. Caldwell company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress



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ed-strings.They upset buckets and benches, so that he might break hisshins over them, which he never failed to do. They sent himparcels, which, when opened, were found to contain the pater-nal soap and candles. There was no little fellow but had hisjeer and joke at Dobbin ; and he bore everything quite pa-tiently, and was entirely dumb and miserable. Cuff, on the contrary, was the great chief and dandy ofthe Swishtail Seminary. He smuggled wine in. He foughtthe town-boys. Ponies used to come for him to ride homeon Saturdays. He had his top-boots in his room, in whichhe used to hunt in the holidays. He had a gold repeater, andtook snuff like the doctor. He had been to the opera, andknew the merits of the principal actors, preferring Mr. Keanto Mr. Kemble. He could knock you off forty Latin versesin an hour. He could make French poetry. What else didnthe know, or couldnt he do ? They said even the doctorhimself was afraid of him. Cuff, the unquestioned king of the school, ruled over his
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DOBBIN- OF OURS. 43 ■subjects , and bullied them, with splendid superiority. Thisone blacked his shoes, that toasted his bread ; others wouldfag out, and give him balls at cricket during whole summerafternoons. Figs was the fellow whom he despised most,and with whom, though always abusing him and sneeringat him, he scarcely ever condescended to hold personal com-munication. One day in private, the two young gentlemen had had adifference. Figs, alone in the school-room, was blunderingover a home letter, when Cuff, entering, bade him go uponsome message, of which tarts were probably the subject. I cant, says Dobbin ; I want to finish my letter. You cant? says Mr. Cuff, laying hold of that docu-ment (in which many words were scratched out, many weremisspelled, on which had been spent I dont know how muchthought and labor and tears ; for the poor fellow was writingto his mother, who was fond of him, although she was agrocers wife, and lived in a back parlor in Thames Street). You cant?