This old gentleman came from London in 1637, and had been teaching school ever since; so that there were now aged men, grandfathers like myself, to whom Master Cheever had taught their alphabet.
What boy would dare to play; or whisper, or even glance aside from his book; while Master Cheever is on the lookout behind his spectacles?
Amid just such a murmur has Master Cheever spent above sixty years; and long habit has made it as pleasant to him as the hum of a beehive when the insects are busy in the sunshine.
Old Master Cheever had lived so long, and seen so many generations of school-boys grow up to be men, that now he can almost prophesy what sort of a man each boy will be.
Wherefore, teach them their multiplication-table, good Master Cheever, and whip them well when they deserve it; for much of the country's welfare depends on these boys.
Ah, Master Cheever has taken down that terrible birch rod
But forth he goes; and there stands our old chair, vacant and solitary, till good Master Cheever resumes his seat in it to-morrow morning.
As it was now later than little Alice's usual bedtime, Grandfather broke off his narrative, promising to talk more about Master Cheever and his scholars some other evening.
makes Neddy's homeward journey, with its periodic breaks, a metaphor for blackouts, rendered gracefully at first, like slow-motion swimming, and ending in a close-up of unforgiving reality.