THE FIRST LESSON.
Stephen.—What do you first wish to learn?
Pupil.—I desire first to review my figures.
S.—How far have you cyphered?
P.—I went through the book several times, when I was a boy.
S.—Whose Arithmetic did you study?
P.—Mr. Dollbay’s.
S.—Daboll’s, I suppose, you mean.
P.—Ah, yes, it was Daboll’s; and I remember him very well. He was a fine man, and understood figures very well.
S.—Then you went through his book several times?
P.—O yes, I can take my oath of that.
S.—How much is twice nothing?
P.—That is two, of course.
S.—How much is nothing times two?
P.—That is two.
S.—How much is one-half times one?
P.—One.
S.—How much is four and a-half times four and a-half?
P. (scratching his head)—That must be about thirteen.
S.—How much is three-quarters times five-eights?
P.—I never saw that in Daboll, and to be candid, Mr. Branch, I have long been accustomed to rush of blood to the head, and I had a slight rush just now, and I guess I won’t go any farther in figures to-day; but I would like to renew my Grammar studies.
S.—Very well: whose Grammar did you study in boyhood?
P.—Mr. Murphy’s.
S.—I presume you mean Lindley Murray’s?
P.—Ah, yes, it was Murray’s, and he once dined at my father’s.
S.—As it is absolutely essential to understand spelling, before Grammar, I will first examine you in a few words, before we embark in Grammar. Can you spell well, sir?
P.—Yes; and I hope you don’t mean to insult me with such a question.
S.—Certainly not. Spell Grammar?
P.—Gramer.
S.—No.
P.—Gramar.
S.—No.
P.—How do yau spell it, then?
S.—Grammar.
P.—That’s the way I spelt it.
S.—No, sir.
P.—If I didd’t, I intended to.
S.—That may be. Spell sloop?
P.—Slupe.
S.—No.
P.—That’s the way old Captain Tallman spelt it, when I was a boy.
S.—It is spelt sloop in these days.
P.—Ah, yes, that’s correct, I remember.
S.—Spell dough?
P.—Doe.
S.—No.
P.—My grandmother used to spell it so.
S.—It is spelt dough.
S.—Spell God?
P.—Gorde.
S.—No.
P. (is silent for some seconds, and grows pale, and sweats profusely)—Merciful Heaven! And do you say Gorde is incorrect?
S.—I do. It is spelt God.
P.—Ah, yes, I was mistaken. That’s the way I have always spelt it.
S.—Spell scholar?
P.—Skoller.
S.—No.
P.—Skollar.
S.—No.
P.—That’s the way I always spelt it, and I’ll bet a dollar that’s the way to spell it.
S.—That’s a bet.
P.—How shall we decide it?
S.—Have you got a dictionary?
P.—Yes. (Examines it.) Well, I declare, you have won the dollar. What a curious way to spell scholar, to put ch for k. Mr. Branch: who invented language?
S.—The Egyptians.
P.—What old fools they must have been?
S.—Those Egyptians who discovered the alphabet, were the wisest linguists of the human race. And those Arabians who discovered the digits, were the profoundest mathematicians. And, as you can neither spell nor cypher well, I advise you to defer your arithmetic and grammar lessons until you learn orthography.
P.—I don’t know what you mean by linguist, nor by digits. And what on earth do you mean by orthography?
S.—Orthography means spelling.
P.—Ah, yes, I thought that was it. Now, Mr. Branch, I am in public life, as you know, and I am very anxious to make a good speech and write a good letter; and, in order to do that, I must understand Grammar. And I think I can spell well enough to study Grammar, Mr. Branch. You have only examined me in a few words, and because I slightly broke down on them, you must not suppose that I can’t spell well enough to study Grammar. Just try me in a few more words.
S.—Spell alderman?
P.—Oldermon.
S.—No.
P.—Olldermone.
S.—No.
P.—How, then?
S.—Alderman.
P.—Ah, yes. That’s the way I was just agoing to spell it.
S.—Spell Common Council?
P.—Komon Kounsil.
S.—No, sir. It is spelt Common Council.
P.—Is it possible?
S.—Yes. And now spell municipal?
P.—Dam if I don’t give that up; for, although I have been a member of the municiple government, I nover could spell that awful word without looking at the dictionary two or three times; and it always took me a mighty long time to find municiple, even in the dictionary. Now, do try me on some easier word than that,—won’t you, Mr. Branch?
S.—Spell Mayor?
P.—Mare.
S.—No.
P.—How, then?
S.—Mayor.
P.—Ah, yes,—I forgot. That’s it exactly.
S.—Spell contracts?
P.—I can spell that fast enough. Kontrax.
S.—No.
P.—Kontracks.
S.—No. It is spelt contracts.
P.—I begin to think my memory is getting bad, for I once could spell all these words. And I have had so many contracts from the Corporation, and have written that word so often, that I am sure I used to spell it correctly. Now give me one more easy word, and if I break down, dam if I don’t surrender.
S.—Spell Cable?
P.—I have got a few shares in that precious stock, and I’ll bet $5 I can spell it correctly.
S.—Done.
P.—Kabell.
S.—No. It is spelt cable.
P.—There’s a V. And now, although I have spelt several words incorrectly, yet, as I am growing old, I desire to learn as fast as possible; and I want you to give me grammar lessons and teach me spelling at the same time. And if you will learn me very fast, I will let you have one share in the Atlantic Cable, for your instructions.
S.—I would rather have the cash, as I cannot believe that a cord about the circumference of my thumb can permanently connect the hemispheres.
P.—Very well, sir. I have perfect confidence in the Cable enterprise, and I don’t care about parting with my stock. So I will pay you in cash for your tuition. Now please give me a lesson in grammar.
S.—Well, I will strive to gratify you,—although I again assure you, that orthography is the basis of grammar, and we shall encounter ruinous obstacles in the construction of the grammatical pyramid, in the absence of orthography and orthœpy.
P.—For the land’s sake, what is the meaning of the last word?
S.—Orthœpy means pronunciation.
P.—How queer your jaw opens and closes, when you pronounce that strange word.
S.—I suppose so. I will now give you the first lesson in grammar.
P.—Let me first take a good stiff horn of brandy to brace my nerves. (Drinks.) Now, sir, I am ready for Grammar, which, I repeat, I studied when a boy; and I only desire to review what I know already.
S.—How many parts of speech are there?
P.—What do you mean by that?
S.—I mean, into how many parts of speech is language divided?
P.—Well, by golly, I don’t know exactly,—but, from the immense number of words in the Bible, and in all the books at the Harpers, and in the Historical Society, and in all the newspapers, I should think there must be, at the lowest calculation, about five hundred million parts of speech.
S.—There are only nine parts of speech.
P.—I begin to think you are crazy; for, do you think you can humbug me by saying that there are only nine different words, or parts of speech, in the English language? I shall consider it to be my duty to have you put in the Lunatic Asylum, if you talk in that way.
S.—I still assert that there are only nine parts of speech, which are: a noun, article, adjective, pronoun, verb, adverb, preposition, conjunction, and interjection.
P.—Ah, yes, I recollect.
S.—Well, what part of speech is iron?
P.—As near as I can recollect, iron is the seventh, and it may possibly be the ninth part of speech.
S.—No, sir,—it is one of the nine parts of speech I just mentioned.
P.—Ah, yes, excuse me,—I understand. Well, iron must be a conjunction, because it can be heated and spliced.
S.—Iron is a noun.
P.—Ah, yes, I recollect perfectly well that iron is a noun, and I am surprised that I did not remember it, as I have long dealt in fron, and know all about it.
S.—That will do for to-day, and I will resume your grammar lessons to-morrow. Good day, sir.
P.—Good day. I am much pleased wite my progress in grammar, and I will see you again to-morrow with much pleasure. Good day, sir.
[Exeunt,