provided he would tell me where he lived.

"But don't you bargain for a reward?" asked one of his companions.

"That depends upon how far off the gentleman lives," I replied. "If
near at hand this errand may be only worth a sixpence; but if far off,
perhaps he won't think a shilling too much to give me."

"I'll tell you what, my man; I'll gladly give you ten shillings if you
find it; but I fear there is little chance of your so doing," replied
the gentleman, smiling.

"There's nothing like trying, sir," I replied; "and if you'll tell me
your name and where you live, if I pick it up you shall have it again."

"Well, then, you must inquire for Mr Wells, -- Street, -- Square,
London," said the gentleman.

"If you write it down I shall have less chance of forgetting it," I
replied.

"That would be little use to you, my man," he observed; "you cannot
read, I should suppose."

"But I can, though," I replied. "Give me your card, and you will see I
speak the truth."

On this one of the gentlemen drew out a card from his pocket, and wrote
some words on it with a pencil, while I washed my hands and dried them
in my shirt-sleeves. He then handed me the card. I looked at it and
saw that it was in a language I could not understand.

"Those are Latin words, and I did not say I could read any language," I
observed, handing him back his card.

"You are right, my boy," said the gentleman who had lost his ring; "but
here are some lines in English: let us hear if you can read them."

I looked at the lines attentively: they were at the commencement of a
poem my mother had taught me; so I not only read them off fluently, but,
to the great surprise of all present, went on repeating the succeeding
ones.

"Bravo! bravo!" exclaimed the gentlemen, highly delighted. "You're a
genius, my lad--a perfect marvel. A mudlark spout poetry! Truly the
schoolmaster is abroad."

"Who taught you your learning, my boy?" asked another.

"My mother, sir," I replied, calmly, and rather surprised at their
expressions, for I saw nothing wonderful in my performance.

"I should like to see this mother of yours; she must be out of the
common way too," observed the same person.

"Mother is dead, sir," I answered, crying; for the very mention of her
name wrung my young heart with grief.

"There is something more here than meets the eye," said Mr Wells. "My
poor boy, don't cry. Come to-morrow to my house, whether you find my
ring or not.