he was the merriest and most miserable of all the boys. He was always being caned — I think he was caned every day that half-year, except one holiday Monday when he was only ruler’d on both hands — and was always going to write to his uncle about it, and never did.

After laying his head on the desk for a little while, he would cheer up, somehow, begin to laugh again, and draw skeletons all over his slate, before his eyes were dry. I used at first to wonder what comfort Traddles found in drawing skeletons; and for some time looked upon him as a sort of hermit, who reminded himself by those symbols of mortality that caning couldn’t last for ever. But I believe he only did it because they were easy, and didn’t want any features.

He was very honourable,