"Look ye, Helldorf," said young Schwarz, smiling, as he laid his hand on the shoulder of the hopeful young citizen of the world, who, with his knees somewhat turned inwards, and his hands in his pockets, stood in by no means a picturesque attitude before them, and exhibited his projecting profile staring from beneath a matted head of hair. "Here I have a prize specimen of my scholars--a juvenile Benjamin Franklin, only undeveloped; a diamond, only rather rough! He is one of those rare individuals for whose genius this low sphere is too narrow, and who may be found by dozens, armed with spoons and bits of stick, at the sugar and syrup casks on the Levee! Come, Benjamin, now mind what you're about!"--turning towards the youth, who was about twelve years of age--"don't disgrace me, but show what you have learnt. Do you know any of the letters that are written on here--eh?"
Benjamin distorted his mouth into a broad grin, till it reached from ear to ear, balanced himself from the left foot to the right, began to poke, not his hands alone, but his arms also, into his pockets, and nodded his head in token of intelligence.
"So, you know some of them! But, come, take your hands out of your pockets--that is not becoming!"
Benjamin obeyed the command, as far as the right side was concerned, and produced five fingers which certainly appeared to confirm the master's former speech, and not only bore antediluvian traces of syrup, but also of Levee dust.
"The other, too, Benjamin," said Mr. Schwarz.
The left followed--rather slowly, it is true--but still it followed. However, it seemed to feel an irresistible disposition to occupy itself with something, and meanwhile, laid hold of the left foot, which was raised towards it.
Helldorf smiled, and the foot fell back into its old position.
"Now, tell me which of these letters you know?" asked Mr. Schwarz.
Benjamin, thus driven to extremity, first drew his right sleeve carefully across under his nose, and made divers efforts, which severally miscarried, by reason of the grave look of the master, to slip the left hand into his pocket again. At last, he made a step forward, rubbed the palms of his hands once or twice violently together, not so much to their damage as of the dried syrup, grinned yet broader than before, advanced a second step, and pointed, half abashed, to the capital "H."