"Where's my book, Ma? Get my book quick. I will say my lesson," and he jumped about the room, boisterously, boy-like.
"Be quiet, Tad. Here is your book, and we will now begin the first lesson," said his mother, as she seated herself in an easy-chair.
Tad had always been much humored by his parents, especially by his father. He suffered from a slight impediment in his speech, and had never been made to go to school; consequently his book knowledge was very limited. I knew that his education had been neglected, but had no idea he was so deficient as the first lesson at Hyde Park proved him to be.
Drawing a low chair to his mother's side, he opened his book, and began to slowly spell the first word, "A-P-E."
"Well, what does A-p-e spell?"
"Monkey," was the instant rejoinder. The word was illustrated by a small wood-cut of an ape, which looked to Tad's eyes very much like a monkey; and his pronunciation was guided by the picture, and not by the sounds of the different letters.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed his mother. "A-p-e does not spell monkey."
"Does spell monkey! Isn't that a monkey?" and Tad pointed triumphantly to the picture.
"No, it is not a monkey."