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A CHILD OF NATURE 
seemed to be taking a part rather 
than playing ; the shouts, the rush, 
the turmoil, the stir and tumult of 
recess and holidays never penetrated 
the quiet places where he lived. 
The text-books were faithfully stud- 
ied, but they left him cold ; their 
speech was not his, nor did the 
things they taught mean anything 
to him. It seemed to be the way 
of the world to know these things, 
and so he learned them ; but they 
neither liberated nor inspired him. 
Various masters, competent and in- 
competent, sat behind the little 
table with its row of dull books, 
but the real teacher never came 
that way, and the boy's spirit re- 
mained untouched. There were a 
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