href="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@3481@[email protected]#footnote9c" class="citation pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">[9c]  On Sundays, from the black leather-covered seat in the church-pew, he would contemplate with large-eyed wonder the rector and James Philo his clerk, “as they read their respective portions of the venerable liturgy,” sometimes being lulled to sleep by the monotonous drone of their voices.

On fine Sundays there was the evening walk “with my mother and brother—a quiet, sober walk, during which I would not break into a 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 myself cantering before a steady breeze over an ocean of enchantment, so well pleased with my voyage that I cared not how long it might be ere it reached its termination.  And it was in this manner that I first took to the paths of knowledge.” [11a]

In the spring of 1810 the regiment was ordered to Norman Cross, in Huntingdonshire, situated at the junction of the Peterborough and Great North Roads.  At this spot the Government had caused to be erected in 1796 an extensive prison, covering forty acres of ground, in which to confine some of the prisoners made during the Napoleonic wars.  There were sixteen large buildings roofed with red tiles.  Each group of four was surrounded by a palisade, whilst another palisade “lofty and of prodigious strength” surrounded the whole.  At the time when the West Norfolk Militia arrived there were some six thousand prisoners, who, with their guards, constituted a considerable-sized township.  From time to time fresh batches of captives arrived amid a storm of cheers and cries of “Vive L’Empereur!”  These were the only incidents in the day’s monotony, save when some prisoner strove to evade the hospitality of King George, and was shot for his ingratitude.

Captain Borrow rejoined his regiment at Norman Cross, leaving his family to follow a few days later.  At the time the country round Peterborough was under water owing to the recent heavy rains, and at one portion of the journey the whole party had to embark in a species of punt, which was towed by horses “up to the knees in water, and, on coming to blind pools and ‘greedy depths,’ were not unfrequently swimming.” [11b]  But they were all old campaigners and accepted such adventures as incidents of a soldier’s life.

At Norman Cross George made the acquaintance of an old snake-catcher and herbalist, a circumstance which, insignificant in itself, was to exercise a considerable influence over his whole life.  Frequently this curious pair were to be seen tramping the countryside together; a tall, quaint figure with fur cap and gaiters carrying a leathern bag of wriggling venom, and an eager child with eyes that now burned with interest and intelligence—and the talk of the two was the lore of the viper.  When the snake-catcher passed out of the life of his young disciple, he left behind him as a present a tame and fangless viper, which George often carried with him on his walks.  It was this well-meaning and inoffensive viper that turned aside the wrath of Gypsy Smith, [12a] and awakened in his heart a superstitious awe and veneration for the child, the Sap-engro, who might be a goblin, but who certainly would make a most admirable “clergyman and God Almighty,” who read from a book that contained the kind of prayers particularly to his taste—perhaps the greatest encomium ever bestowed upon the immortal Robinson Crusoe.  Thus it came about that George Borrow was proclaimed brother to the gypsy’s son Ambrose, [12b] who as Jasper Petulengro figures so largely in Lavengro and The Romany Rye, and is credited with that exquisitely phrased pagan glorification of mere existence:

“Life is sweet, brother . . . There’s night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon and stars, brother, all sweet things; there’s likewise the wind on the heath.  Life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?” [13a]

The Borrows were nomads, permitted by God and the king to tarry not over long in any one place.  In the following July (1811) the West Norfolks proceeded to Colchester via Norfolk, after fifteen months of prison duty and straw-plait destroying. [13b]  Captain Borrow betook himself to East Dereham again to seek for likely recruits.  In the meantime George made his first acquaintance with that universal specific for success in life, for correctness of conduct, for soundness of principles—Lilly’s Latin Grammar, which to learn by heart was to acquire a virtue that defied evil.  The good old pedagogue who advocated Lilly’s Latin Grammar as a remedy for all