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Updated: May 21, 2025
She sat at her desk and opened her child's school-book. With mock severity she said, "Bob, c-a-t. What does it spell?" For half an hour Bob sat and played scholar and teacher by turns with all the patience of a fond father. With difficulty I kept back the tears the sad sight brought to my eyes. For the first year of Bob's marriage we saw but little of him at the office. The Exchange saw less.
The class was rapidly promoted to c-a-t, cat; but these dizzy intellectual heights left them cold and dull. Ben began to clean his revolver, and on being asked why he did not pay attention to his lessons, answered, briefly: "It’s all d——d foolishness." Cacta and Clem were pulling each other’s hair. Mary affected not to see this sisterly exchange of torture.
We have solid words that you can spell: articles built up with the bricks of sound-stuff we call letters: c-a-t cat, d-o-g dog, and so on; but their words, no; nothing so tangible: all depends on little silences, small hiatuses in the vocalizition, and above all, musical tones. Now then, which is the more primitive? Which is nearer the material or intellectual, and which, the spiritual, pole?
"Dear, can't you love me, whatever I say?" she asked. "Yes," said Dollie, "because you're so handsome." "Oh, you are truly an artful baby," the young teacher said, with a laugh. "But WILL you?" urged Dollie, "I do know SOMETHING. I can spell 'c-a-t, cat, and I know that isn't kitten, and I can spell 'b-e, be, and that isn't the bumble kind, so can I come to school?"
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