  Yes, that would
be a wise course--he would practise on this boy, and see what sort of
success he might achieve.  So he stroked his brow perplexedly a moment
or two, and presently said--

“Now I seem to remember thee somewhat--but my wit is clogged and dim
with suffering--”

“Alack, my poor master!” ejaculated the whipping-boy, with feeling;
adding, to himself, “In truth ’tis as they said--his mind is gone--alas,
poor soul!  But misfortune catch me, how am I forgetting!  They said one
must not seem to observe that aught is wrong with him.