312 THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFER1ES. 



him. There he had to sit, the door locked, 

 under terror of stick, and study the page. 

 What was the use of compelling him to do 

 that? He could not read. 'No,' said the 

 old woman, 4 he won't read, but I makes him 

 look at his book.' 



" The thwacking went on for some time, 

 when one day the boy was sent on an errand 

 two or three miles, and for a wonder started 

 willingly enough. At night he did not return, 

 nor the next day, nor the next, and it was as 

 clear as possible that he had run away. No 

 one thought of tracking his footsteps, or fol- 

 lowing up the path he had to take, which 

 passed a railway, brooks, and a canal. He 

 had run away, and he might stop away: it 

 was beautiful summer weather, and it would 

 do him no harm to stop out for a week. A 

 dealer who had business in a field by the canal 

 thought indeed that he saw something in the 

 water, but he did not want any trouble, nor 

 indeed did he know that someone was missing. 

 Most likely a dead dog ; so he turned his back 

 and went to look again at the cow he thought 

 of buying. A barge came by, and the steers- 



