He can read a little.

He used to take lessons from a white gardener in Virginia.

He would go between the hours of 9 P.M.and 4 A.M.He got a book of his own, tore it up, greased the pages, and hid them in his hat.
Then if his master had ever knocked his hat off he would have thought them greasy papers, and not that Tom was carrying his library on his head.

I had another friend who lived near us.

When he was nineteen years old he did not know how many letters there were in the ABC's.