to our larning. Look here, my boy," he added, as Abel reseated
himself on the grain-sack which did duty as chair of instruction,
and drawing, as he spoke, a letter forth to the light; "come to the
candle, Abel, and see if so be thee can read this, but don't tell
any one I showed it thee, Abel."

"Not me, Gearge," said Abel, warmly; and he added,--"Be it from thy
young 'ooman, Gearge?"

No rustic swain ever simpered more consciously or looked more
foolish than George under this accusation, as he said, "Be quiet,
Abel, do 'ee."

"She be a good scholar, too!" said Abel, looking admiringly at the
closely written sheet.

George could hardly disguise the sudden look of fury in his face,
but he hastily covered up the letter with his hands in such a manner
as only to leave the first word on the page visible. There was a
deeply cunning reason for this clever manoeuvre. George held
himself to be pretty "cute," and he reckoned that, by only showing
one word at a time, he could effectually prevent any attempt on
Abel's part to read the letter himself without giving its contents
to George. Like many other cunning people, George overreached
himself. The first word was beyond Abel's powers, though he might
possibly have satisfied George's curiosity on one essential point,
by deciphering a name or two farther on. But the clever George
concluded that he had boasted beyond his ability, so he put the
letter away. Abel tried hard at the one word which George
exhibited, and gazed silently at it for some time with a puzzled