possessed no attraction for him, although he knew his alphabet and
could even read imperfectly. The acquirement of book-learning he
found a dull and dolorous business, to which he was driven only by
the threats or entreaties of his parents, who showed some concern
lest he should become an "arrant dunce."

The intelligence that the old Jew pedlar had discovered still lay
dormant, as if unwilling to manifest itself. The boy loved best "to
look upon the heavens, and to bask in the rays of the sun, or to sit
beneath hedgerows and listen to the chirping of the birds, indulging
the while in musing and meditation." {9a} Meanwhile John was earning
golden opinions for the astonishing progress he continued to make at
school, unconsciously throwing into bolder relief the apparent
dullness of his younger brother. George, however, was as active
mentally as the elder. The one was studying men, the other books.
George was absorbing impressions of the things around him: of the
quaint old Norfolk town, its "clean but narrow streets branching out
from thy modest market-place, with thine old-fashioned houses, with
here and there a roof of venerable thatch"; of that exquisite old
gentlewoman Lady Fenn, {9b} as she passed to and from her mansion
upon some errand of bounty or of mercy, "leaning on her gold-headed
cane, whilst the sleek old footman walked at a respectful distance
behind." {9c) On Sundays, from the black leather-covered seat in the
church-pew, he would contemplate with large-eyed wonder the rector
and James Philo his clerk, "as they read their respective portions of
the venerable liturgy," sometimes being lulled to sleep by the
monotonous drone of their voices.

On fine Sundays there was the evening walk "with my mother and
brother--a quiet, sober walk, during which I would not break into a