Nor was my annoyance decreased by the further announcement that defaced my house-front upon the day following:—
MILLIONS OF SCHOOL CHILDREN
turn away weeping from
PEOPLE MANUŒVRE DIAPHRAGM
Much should be conceded to the man who is fighting for his Immortality, as was Masticator; but not too much. And displeasure, it may fairly be said, began to rise in me, when I found, next morning, a page of the primer introduced in the midst of my index:—
Of the bad English spelling you'll surely beware,
When you notice how stair, pear and heir rhyme with there;
The sad English spelling,
The mad English spelling,
Sing hi! for the mare and the mayor and the prayer.
Next consider, for instance, a word like enhearsed:
Now what business has it to be rhyming with first?
Sing hi! the old spelling,
The horrible spelling,
The spelling of nursed and of versed and of worst.
But our simplified speling can cure every il,
And permits nothing foolish like two l's in pil.
Sing hi! the new speling,
Our comforting speling,
Sing pil, bil, fil, wil, til, sil, quil, spil.
Yes, Masticator was going too far—and how had he managed to tamper with my index? I rang the bell, and questioned my man Edward sharply. He knew nothing of it, nor did the housemaid, whom I also questioned sharply. And I trusted I should be less harassed on the morrow.
Flung the cakes at my man Edward.
But on the morrow, at breakfast, lifting with my fork the top buckwheat cake in order to spread butter upon the second, I found a leaflet between the two cakes, inscribed:—