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Book, page 151 / 182 Cope, with his merry eyes upon the boy, and his mouth looking grave; 'only I'm afraid you might puzzle me.' 'I can't do as I used, Sir,' said Paul, rather nervously; 'I've forgotten ever so much; and my head swims.' The slate was lying near; Mr. Cope pushed it towards him, and said, 'Well, will you mind letting me see how you can write from dictation?' And taking up one of the papers, he read slowly several sentences from a description of a great fire, with some tolerably long-winded newspaper words in them. When he paused, and asked for the slate, there it all stood, perfectly spelt, well written, and with all the stops and capitals in the right places. 'Famously done, Paul! Well, and do you know where this place was?' naming the town. Paul turned his eyes about for a moment, and then gave the name of a county. 'That'll do, Paul. Which part of England?' 'Midland.' And so on, Mr. Cope got him out of his depth by asking about the rivers, and made him frown and look teased by a question about a battle fought in that county. If he had ever known, he had forgotten, and he was weak and easily confused; but Mr. Cope saw that he had read some history and learnt some geography, and was not like some of the village boys, who used to think Harold had been called after Herod--a nice namesake, truly! 'Who taught you all this, Paul?' he said. 'You must have had a cleverer master than is common in Unions. Who was he?' 'He was a Mr. Alcock, Sir. He was a clever man. They said in the House that he had been a bit of a gentleman, a lawyer, or a clerk, or something, but that he could never keep from the bottle.'
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