Christmas stories, English; Holidays -- Fiction; Short stories
“Gentlemen,” said the Reverend, presenting him, “our so long respected
friend and fellow-pilgrim in the pleasant plains of knowledge, is
desirous to offer a word or two. Attention, gentlemen, one and all!”
Every fellow stole his hand into his desk and looked at the President.
The President was all ready, and taking aim at old Cheeseman with his
eyes.
What did Old Cheeseman then, but walk up to his old desk, look round him
with a queer smile as if there was a tear in his eye, and begin in a
quavering, mild voice, “My dear companions and old friends!”
Every fellow’s hand came out of his desk, and the President suddenly
began to cry.
“My dear companions and old friends,” said Old Cheeseman, “you have heard
of my good fortune. I have passed so many years under this roof—my
entire life so far, I may say—that I hope you have been glad to hear of
it for my sake. I could never enjoy it without exchanging
congratulations with you. If we have ever misunderstood one another at
all, pray, my dear boys, let us forgive and forget. I have a great
tenderness for you, and I am sure you return it. I want in the fulness
of a grateful heart to shake hands with you every one. I have come back
to do it, if you please, my dear boys.”
Since the President had begun to cry, several other fellows had broken
out here and there: but now, when Old Cheeseman began with him as first
boy, laid his left hand affectionately on his shoulder and gave him his
right; and when the President said “Indeed, I don’t deserve it, sir; upon
my honour I don’t;” there was sobbing and crying all over the school.
Every other fellow said he didn’t deserve it, much in the same way; but
Old Cheeseman, not minding that a bit, went cheerfully round to every
boy, and wound up with every master—finishing off the Reverend last.
Then a snivelling little chap in a corner, who was always under some
punishment or other, set up a shrill cry of “Success to Old Cheeseman!
Hooray!” The Reverend glared upon him, and said, “_Mr._ Cheeseman, sir.”
But, Old Cheeseman protesting that he liked his old name a great deal
better than his new one, all our fellows took up the cry; and, for I
don’t know how many minutes, there was such a thundering of feet and
hands, and such a roaring of Old Cheeseman, as never was heard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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