One day Mr. Laurence found me on the beach, busy in this way; and when he learnt what I was after he did seem pleased. "That's the way to get on," he said, "to study Nature for yourself, my boy." Then he pointed out to me the lines of old old sea-beaches, high up on the front of the cliff; where, as the land slowly rose, one part after another had been level with the sea. And he showed me how the cliffs were actually built up of tiny sand grains, once dropped upon the ocean's floor, and gradually pressed into hard rock, ready to be heaved up into the big cliffs I could now see.
You may fancy how wonderful all this was to a boy who really loved to be taught, but who had never been in the way of any such learning before.
I used to go home, and tell it all to my mother, whenever she had time to attend to me; and of course she told Mrs. Kingscote what a lot I thought of all Mr. Laurence said, though I didn't know it at the time; and Mrs. Kingscote told Mr. Laurence. So he knew his words were not quite thrown away.
The next thing he did was to lend me little books on such subjects, which I could read to myself, and I got so full of them, that it was hard never to neglect my work. Old Nichols had a sharp eye on me, however, and my mother kept me up to the mark; so I wasn't allowed to fall into careless habits.
One other day, I can remember, about the same time, something had brought to my mind what Mr. Bertram had said about the tides, the very afternoon of the cliff-accident. I hadn't thought of it again since, and Mr. Bertram was gone back to school, so I could not speak to him; but next time Mr. Laurence offered to lend me a book, I scraped up courage to ask if it might be "something about the tides."
"What do you know about the tides?" he asked; and I told him what Mr. Bertram had said.
"If it isn't giving you trouble, sir," I said.
"No; no trouble," said he; "only it's a difficult subject for anyone to understand, without knowing a few other matters first. But I'll try to find something readable for you." Then he asked: "What is it keeps the ocean in its bed? Why doesn't the sea pour all over the land?"
I had never thought of putting that question before; and I had to think. "Doesn't water always run downhill, sir?" said I; "and isn't it downhill into the ocean?"
"Good!" said he; "I like to see that you can think. And what makes water run downhill?"