“These are needles and thread for making and mending clothes—they will be useful by-and-bye.”
At last the whole contents of the chest were overhauled and explained. I could not well comprehend the glass bottles, or how they were made, but I put them, with the pannikins, and everything else, very carefully into the chest again, and hauled the chest to the further end of the cabin, out of the way. Before we went to bed that night, Jackson had to explain to me who God was, but as it was only the commencement of several conversations on the subject, I shall not at present trouble the reader with what passed between us. Jackson appeared to be very melancholy after the conversation we had had on religious matters, and was frequently agitated and muttering to himself.
Chapter Seven.
I did not on the following day ask him to resume his narrative relative to my father and mother, as I perceived that he avoided it, and I already had so far changed, as to have consideration for his feelings. Another point had now taken possession of my mind, which was, whether it were possible to learn to read those books which I had found in the chest, and this was the first question that I put to Jackson when we arose on that morning.
“How is it possible?” replied he. “Am I not blind—how can I teach you?”
“Is there no way?” replied I, mournfully.
“Let me think.—Yes, perhaps there is a way—at all events we will try. You know which book I told you was the Prayer-book?”
“Oh yes! The small, thin one.”