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In What Manner He Learned to Read and Write in the Wild Woods
Now when first I saw the hermit read the Bible, I could not conceive with whom he should speak so secretly and, as I thought, so earnestly; for well I saw the moving of his lips, yet no man that spake with him: and though I knew naught of reading or writing, nevertheless I marked by his eyes that he had to do with somewhat in the said book. So I marked where he kept it, and when he had laid it aside I crept thither and opened it, and at the first assay lit upon the first chapter of Job and the picture that stood at the head thereof, which was a fine woodcut and fairly painted: so I began to ask strange questions of the figures, and when they gave me no answer waxed impatient, and even as the hermit came up behind me, “Ye little clowns,” said I, “have ye no mouths any longer? Could ye not even now prate away long enough with my father (for so must I call my hermit)? I see well enough that ye are driving away the gaffer’s sheep and burning of his house: wait awhile and I will quench your fire for ye,” and with that rose up to fetch water, for there seemed to me present need of it. Then said the hermit, who I knew not was behind me: “Whither away, Simplicissimus?” “O father,” says I, “here be more soldiers that will drive off sheep: they do take them from that poor man with whom thou didst talk: and here is his house a-burning, and if I quench it not ’twill be consumed”: and with that I pointed with my finger to what I saw. “But stay,” quoth the hermit, “for these figures be not alive;” to which I, with rustic courtesy, answered him: “What, beest thou blind? Do thou keep watch lest that they drive the sheep away while I do seek for water.” “Nay,” quoth he again, “but they be not alive; they be made only to call up before our eyes things that happened long ago.” “How;” said I, “thou didst even now talk with them: how then can they be not alive?” At that the hermit must, against his will and contrary to his habit, laugh: and “Dear child,” says he, “these figures cannot talk: but what they do and what they are, that can I see from these black lines, and that do men call reading. And when I thus do read, thou conceivest that I speak with the figures: but ’tis not so.”
Yet I answered him: “If I be a man as thou art, so must I likewise be able to see in these black lines what thou canst see: how then may I understand thy words? Dear father, teach me in truth how to understand this matter.”
So said he: “ ’Tis well, my son, and I will teach thee so that thou mayest speak with these figures as well as I: only ’twill need time, in which I must have patience and thou industry.”
With that he wrote me down an alphabet on birch-bark, formed like print, and when I knew the letters, I learned to spell, and thereafter to read, and at last to write better than could the hermit himself; for I imitated print in everything.