The Little Savage. Фредерик Марриет
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and told me what they were, and how worn.
"Why don't you wear some of them?" inquired I.
"If you will give me leave, I will," replied he. "Let me have a duck frock and a pair of trousers."
I handed the articles to him, and then went back for the rest which I had left on the rocks.
When I returned, with my arms full, I found that he had put them on, and his other clothes were beside him. "I feel more like a Christian now," said he.
"A Christian," said I, "what is that?"
"I will tell you by-and-bye. It is what I have not been for a long, long while," replied he. "Now, what have you brought this time?"
"Here," said I, "what is this?"
"This is a roll of duck, to make into frocks and trousers," replied he. "That is bees'-wax." He then explained to me all the tools, sailing-needles, fish-hooks, and fishing-lines, some sheets of writing-paper, and two pens, I had brought up with me. "All these are very valuable," said he, after a pause, "and would have added much to our comfort, if I had not been blind."
"There are more things yet," said I; "I will go and fetch them."
This time I replaced the remaining articles, and brought up the chest. It was a heavy load to carry up the rocks, and I was out of breath when I arrived and set it down on the cabin-floor.
"Now, I have the whole of them," said I. "Now, what is this?"
"That is a spy-glass—but, alas! I am blind—but I will show you how to use it, at all events."
"Here are two books," said I.
"Give them to me," said he, "and let me feel them. This one is a Bible, I am quite sure by its shape, and the other is, I think, a Prayer-book."
"What is a Bible, and what is a Prayer-book?" replied I.
"The Bible is the Word of God, and the Prayer-book teaches us how to pray to him."
"But who is God? I have often heard you say, 'O God!' and 'God damn'—but who is he?"
"I will tell you to-night before we go to sleep," replied Jackson, gravely.
"Very well, I shall remind you. I have found a little box inside the chest, and it is full of all manner of little things—strings and sinews."
"Let me feel them?"
I put a bundle into his hand.
"These are needles and thread for making and mending clothes—they will be useful bye-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 farther 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 VII
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."
"Yes—fetch it here. Now," said he, when I put it into his hand, "tell me; is there a straight line down the middle of the page of the book, so that the words and letters are on both sides of it?"
"Yes, there is," replied I; "in every page, as you call it, there is a black line down the middle, and words and letters (I suppose they are) on both sides."
"And among the letters, there are some larger than others, especially at the side nearest to the margin."
"I don't know what margin is."
"I mean here," replied he, pointing to the margin of the page.
"Yes, there are."
"Well then, I will open the book as near as I can guess at the Morning service, and you tell me if you can find any part of the writing which appears to begin with a large round letter, like—what shall I say?—the bottom of a pannikin."
"There is one on this leaf, quite round."
"Very well—now get me a small piece of stick, and make a point to it."
I did so, and Jackson swept away a small place on the floor of the cabin.
"Now," said he, "there are many other prayers which begin with a round O, as the letter is called; so I must first ascertain if this one is the one I require. If it is, I know it by heart, and by that shall be able to teach you all the letters of the alphabet."
"What's an alphabet?"
"The alphabet is the number of letters invented to enable us to read and write. There are twenty-six of them. Now look, Frank; is the next letter to O the shape of this?" and he drew with the pointed stick the letter U on the ground.
"Yes, it is," replied I.
"And the next is like this," continued he, drawing the letter R, after he had smoothed the ground and effaced the U.
"Yes," replied I.
"Well then, to make sure, I had better go on. OUR is one word, and then there is a little space between; and next you come to an F."
"Yes," replied I, looking at what he had drawn and comparing it with the letter in the book.
"Then I believe that we are all right, but to make sure, we will go on for a little longer."
Jackson then completed the word "Father," and "which art," that followed it, and then he was satisfied.
"Now," said he, "out of that prayer I can teach you all the letters, and if you pay attention, you will learn to read."
The whole morning was passed in my telling him the different letters, and I very soon knew them all. During the day, the Lord's Prayer was gone through, and as I learnt the words as well as the letters, I could repeat it before night; I read it over to him twenty or thirty times, spelling every word, letter by letter, until I was perfect. This was my first lesson.
"Why is it called the Lord's Prayer?" said I.
"Because, when our Lord Jesus Christ was asked by His followers in what way they ought to address God, He gave them this prayer to repeat, as being the most proper that they could use."
"But who was Jesus Christ?"
"He was the Son of God, as I told you yesterday, and at the same time equal with God."
"How could he be equal with God, if, as you said yesterday, God sent him down to be killed?"
"It was with his own consent that he suffered death; but all this is a mystery which you cannot understand at present."
"What's a mystery?"
"That which you cannot understand."
"Do you understand it yourself?"
"No, I do not; I only know that such is the fact, but it is above not only mine, but all men's comprehension. But I tell you honestly that, on these points, I am but a bad teacher; I have paid little attention to them during my life, and as far as religion is concerned, I can only give you the outlines, for I know no more."
"But I thought you said, that people were to be punished or rewarded when they died, according as they had lived a