The very next evening my uncle began to teach me. I had a vague notion
that this had something to do with my protection against the
machinations of the man Coningham, the idea of whom was inextricably
associated in my mind with that of the Prince of the Power of the Air,
darting from the midst of the churning trees, on a horse whose
streaming mane and flashing eyes indicated no true equine origin. I
gave myself with diligence to the work my uncle set me.




CHAPTER V.


I HAVE LESSONS.

It is a simple fact that up to this time I did not know my letters. It
was, I believe, part of my uncle's theory of education that as little
pain as possible should be associated with merely intellectual effort:
he would not allow me, therefore, to commence my studies until the task
of learning should be an easy one. Henceforth, every evening, after
tea, he took me to his own room, the walls of which were nearly covered
with books, and there taught me.

One peculiar instance of his mode I will give, and let it stand rather
as a pledge for the rest of his system than an index to it. It was only
the other day it came back to me. Like Jean Paul, he would utter the
name of God to a child only at grand moments; but there was a great
difference in the moments the two men would have chosen. Jean Paul