Paul paused; and Alfred said, ‘“Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” Sir; he told us the story of that.’
‘Yes,’ said Paul; ‘but that wasn’t all: there was a book about Paris, and all the people in the back lanes there; and a German prince who came, and was kind.’
‘You must not tell them stories out of that book, Paul,’ said Mr. Cope quickly, for he knew it was a very bad one.
‘No, Sir,’ said Paul; ‘but most times it was books he called philosophy, that I couldn’t make anything of—no story, and all dull; but he was very savage if I got to sleep over them, till I hated the sight of them.’
‘I’m glad you did, my poor boy,’ said Mr. Cope. ‘But one thing more. Tell me how, with such a man as this, you could have learnt about the Bible and Catechism, as you have done.’
‘Oh,’ said Paul, ‘we had only the Bible and Testament to read in the school, because they were the cheapest; and the chaplain asked us about the Catechism every Sunday.’
‘What was the chaplain’s name?’
Paul was able, with some recollection, to answer; but he knew little about the clergyman, who was much overworked, and seldom able to give any time to the paupers.
Three days after, Mr. Cope again came into the post-office.
‘Well, Mrs. King, I suppose you don’t need to be told that our friend Paul has spoken nothing but truth. The chaplain sends me his baptismal registry, for which I asked. Just seventeen he must be—a foundling, picked up at about three weeks old, January 25th, 1836. They fancy he was left by some tramping musicians, but never were able to trace them—at least, so the chaplain hears from some of the people who remember it. Being so stunted, and looking younger than he is, no farmer would take him from the House, and the school-master made him useful, so he was kept on till the grand exposure that he told us of.’