“‘Well,’ says I (for I was quite bewildered), ‘I’ll tell you what, old fellow—as far as I’m consarned, you have my forgiveness, and now I must wish you good bye—and I pray to God that we may never meet again.’
“‘Stop a little,’ said he; ‘don’t leave me this way. Ah! I see how it is—you think I’m a murderer.’
“‘No I don’t,’ replied I; ‘not exactly—still, there’ll be no harm in your reading your Bible.’
“And so I got up, and walked out of the room—for you see, Jack, although he mayn’t have been so much to blame, still I didn’t like to be in company with a man who had eaten up my own mother!”
Here Ben paused, and sighed deeply. I was so much shocked with the narrative that I could not say a word. At last Ben continued:— “I couldn’t stay in the room—I couldn’t stay in the workhouse. I couldn’t even stay in the town. Before the day closed I was out of it, and I have never been there since. Now, Jack, I must go in—remember what I have said to you, and larn to read your Bible.”
I promised that I would, and that very evening I had my first lesson from Peter Anderson, and I continued to receive them until I could read well. He then taught me to write and cipher; but before I could do the latter, many events occurred, which must be made known to the reader.