My Boyhood and Touth 



flag. But before I was sent to school my grand- 

 father, as I was told, had taught me my letters 

 from shop signs across the street. I can remem- 

 ber distinctly how proud I was when I had 

 spelled my way through the little first book 

 into the second, which seemed large and 

 important, and so on to the third. Going from 

 one book to another formed a grand triumphal 

 advancement, the memories of which still 

 stand out in clear relief. 



The third book contained interesting stories 

 as well as plain reading- and spelling-lessons. 

 To me the best story of all was "Llewellyn's 

 Dog," the first animal that comes to mind 

 after the needle-voiced field mouse. It so 

 deeply interested and touched me and some of 

 my classmates that we read it over and over 

 with aching hearts, both in and out of school 

 and shed bitter tears over the brave faithful 

 dog, Gelert, slain by his own master, who im- 

 agined that he had devoured his son because 

 he came to him all bloody when the boy was 

 lost, though he had saved the child's life by 

 [4] 



