Explore "False Evidence" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A very demon of unrest laid hold of me that night. I ought to have been sleepy, for we had had a long fatiguing day in the open air, but, as a matter of fact, I was nothing of the sort. I have always been a rigid materialist, but never since that night have I been without some faint belief in that branch of superstition known as presentiments.
I had led a strange life for a boy of my age. I had never been to school, and I had no companions of my own station save my father. As regards my education, that had been entrusted to Mr. Cox, our nearest clergyman. He did his best with me, poor man; but he must have found it terrible work, for I was anything but brilliant. There was another part of my education, the part undertaken by my father, in which I was not so backward, and, with all due respect to the classics, I found it of infinitely more use to me in my after life. I could ride, fish, shoot, fence, box, or row as well as most men, and, though I was slight, I was tall and strong, as who would not have been leading the healthy life which we did?