“Thank you, Master John.” Thomas found that he was not likely to gain any assistance from his young master, and therefore he asked him no more questions.
A few days after, as he was walking on the pier, Thomas perceived that two of the French fishing boats had put into the harbour, and were undergoing some repair. While he was waiting, therefore, he loitered about where these boats were lying, that he might listen to the conversation of the men: once or twice he spoke to them, to find out if any of them understood English; but they only shook their heads, or did not pay any attention to him.
“Now,” said Thomas to himself, “suppose that one of these men would be willing to teach me the French names of things:—let me consider how we should manage:—Why, I would point to something, and then he should tell me the name of it in French; and I would write it down just as he spoke it:—that would be easy enough: for instance, then, I would point to a ship, or to my hat, or to a tree; and so on. But suppose I wanted to know the French word for wood; then I must point to a post, or a tree, or a piece of timber: but then, most likely, he would tell me the French word that means a post, or a tree, or timber, and not the word that means wood. Or if I wanted to know the name for iron, in French; I must point to an anchor, or a nail, or a saw: but how would that make him understand that I wanted to know the French for iron?” Thomas was greatly perplexed by these difficulties. He found out what he had never before attended to, that most things are called by several different names; and that very different things are called by the same name:—thus, for instance, a wedge is called—a wedge, and it is called a tool, and it is called iron: and so a dog is called Cæsar, or a dog, or an animal, or a brute; and so a mouse, and a cow, and a lion, are all called animals, though they are so very different from each other.
“I wonder whether there is any such thing as a book that has rows of words like the spelling-book, with the proper French word put against every English word;—this would make it very easy.” It seemed to him probable that there might be some such book, and he determined the next day to make inquiry on the subject at the old book-stall, where he had bought the few tattered volumes which formed his library. He had made acquaintance with the man who kept the stall. “Pray, Mr. Moth,” said Thomas, “have you any French books here?”
“French books, Thomas; let me see,” said Mr. Moth, as he took a parcel of torn and dusty books from a box under his stall. “I can’t say that I have a French book of any sort, just now; but here is a Latin book, if that will do as well; and a very famous book it is too, writ by Cicero,—as great a man as lives—so they tell me, that are scholars.”
Thomas had no particular reason for wishing to learn French rather than Latin, and therefore he desired to look at the book. Mr. Moth had put on his spectacles, and seemed to be studying the title page. “It is called,” said he, “M. Tullii Ciceronis de Officiis libri tres;—that is to say, Tully’s Offices, in three books—and so forth;—and to make it easy, you see, here is the English on one page and the Latin on the other.”
After a little further conversation with Mr. Moth, Thomas comprehended the nature and use of a translation, and it seemed to him that he had nothing to do but to compare the opposite pages, word by word, in order to find out the meaning of each.
As the volume had a leaf torn out, Mr. Moth asked no more than eighteen pence for it, and knowing Thomas Trewellan’s good character, he consented to let him take it away and pay for it a few pence at a time, as he should be able to spare the money. He put the book into his frock pocket and rode home more happy than if he had found a bag of guineas.
Thomas had no opportunity even to look at the book he had bought, till the evening of the following day. That he might be quite undisturbed, he took his book, with paper, pens, and ink, to the top of the hill, about a mile from his father’s house: there was here, what is called a cromlech, that is, three huge stones standing upright, near each other: a flat stone, which was once placed on the top of the upright stones, had fallen from its place, and now laid on one side, and made a sort of table. Thomas often came to this place in the long summer evenings. The sides of the hill, all round, were scattered over with large rough rocks; between which grew fine soft grass, interspersed with many delicate flowers. On all the hills in the distance were seen the engine houses, and round hillocks of earth thrown up from the mines. In the furthest distance, both to the north and to the south, might be seen a blue line of sea,—the English Channel on one side, and the Bristol Channel on the other.
But now, Thomas Trewellan has set himself down to make his first attempt at learning Latin: for want, however, of some one to give him needful directions, he seemed only likely to lose all his labour. He did not know that, in Latin, the words do not follow each other in the same order that they do in English: and, therefore, he supposed he could not fall into mistakes if he compared the Latin and the English together, word by word, in order to learn the meaning of each Latin word. That he might be the more sure, he determined to write the words alternately, thus,—“Quanquam, Although; te, after; Marce, twelve; fili, months; annum, spent; jam, in; audientem, the; Cratippum, School:”—and so on. Before he had written out many lines in this manner, he observed that the word te, occurred again: and he immediately looked back to see if the same English word answered to it in both places. But how great was his perplexity when he found that in the one place it seemed to mean after; and in the other place in: and as he went on he found that none of the same words in English, answered to the same words in Latin.