The boys lost not a moment in sending down to Madras, to engage the
services of a native "moonshee" or teacher. They wrote to their friend
Johnson, asking him to arrange terms with the man who understood most
English, and to engage him to remain with them some time.
A few days later, Tim Kelly came in.
"Plase, yer honors, there's a little shrivelled atomy of a man
outside, as wants to spake wid ye. He looks for all the world like a
monkey, wrapped up in white clothes, but he spakes English after a
fashion, and has brought this letter for you. The cratur scarce looks
like a human being, and I misdoubt me whether you had better let him
in."
"Nonsense, Tim," Charlie said, opening the letter; "it's the moonshee
we are expecting, from Madras. He has come to teach us the native
language."
"Moonshine, is it! By jabers, and it's a mighty poor compliment to the
moon to call him so. And is it the language you're going to larn now?
Shure, Mr. Charles, I wouldn't demane myself by larning the lingo of
these black hathens. Isn't for them to larn the English, and mighty
pleased they ought to be, to get themselves to spake like Christians."
"But who's going to teach them, Tim?"
"Oh, they larn fast enough," said Tim.
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