“Tut,” sais he, “don’t ask me; every fool knows what natur is.”
“Exactly,” sais I; “that’s the reason I came to you.”
He just up with a book, and came plaguy near lettin’ me have it right agin my head smash.
“Don’t do that,” sais I, “Daddy; I was only joking; but what is it?”
Well, he paused a moment and looked puzzled, as a fellow does who is looking for his spectacles, and can’t find them because he has shoved them up on his forehead.
“Why,” sais he, spreadin’ out his arm, “it’s all that you see, and the law that governs it.”
Well, it warn’t a bad shot that, for a first trial, that’s a fact. It hit the target, though it didn’t strike the ring.
“Oh,” said I, “then there is none of it at night, and things can’t be nateral in the dark.”
Well, he seed he had run off the track, so he braved it out. “I didn’t say it was necessary to see them all the time,” he said.
“Just so,” said I, “natur is what you see and what you don’t see; but then feelin’ ain’t nateral at all. It strikes me that if—”