eight o'clock
This he imparted to me in confidence at the time , and I remember how it increased my oppressive awe of Mr. Pickering , who had appeared to me in glimpses as a sort of high priest of the proprieties . Mr. Pickering was a widower -- a fact which seemed to produce in him a sort of preternatural concentration of parental dignity . He was a majestic man , with a hooked nose , a keen dark eye , very large whiskers , and notions of his own as to how a boy -- or his boy , at any rate -- should be brought up . First and foremost , he was to be a `` gentleman '' ; which seemed to mean , chiefly , that he was always to wear a muffler and gloves , and be sent to bed , after a supper of bread and milk , at eight o'clock . School-life , on experiment , seemed hostile to these observances , and Eugene was taken home again , to be moulded into urbanity beneath the parental eye . A tutor was provided for him , and a single select companion was prescribed . The choice , mysteriously , fell on me , born as I was under quite another star ; my parents were appealed to , and I was allowed for a few months to have my lessons with Eugene .