run, even to chase a butterfly, or yet more a honey-bee, being fully
convinced of the dread importance of the day which God had hallowed.
And how glad I was when I had got over the Sabbath day without having
done anything to profane it. And how soundly I slept on the Sabbath
night after the toil of being very good throughout the day." {10a}

During these early years there was being photographed upon the brain
of George Borrow a series of impressions which, to the end of his
life, remained as vivid as at the moment they were absorbed. What
appeared to those around him as dull-witted stupidity was, in
reality, mental surfeit. His mind was occupied with other things
than books, things that it eagerly took cognisance of, strove to
understand and was never to forget. {10b} Hitherto he had taken "no
pleasure in books . . . and bade fair to be as arrant a dunce as ever
brought the blush of shame into the cheeks of anxious and
affectionate parents." {10c} His mind was not ready for them. When
the time came there was no question of dullness: he proved an eager
and earnest student.

One day an intimate friend of Mrs Borrow's, who was also godmother to
John, brought with her a present of a book for each of the two boys,
a history of England for the elder and for the younger Robinson
Crusoe. Instantly George became absorbed.

"The true chord had now been touched . . . Weeks succeeded weeks,
months followed months, and the wondrous volume was my only study and
principal source of amusement. For hours together I would sit poring
over a page till I had become acquainted with the import of every
line. My progress, slow enough at first, became by degrees more
rapid, till at last, under a 'shoulder of mutton sail,' I found