brasure of my window. The recess, with its seat, shall be my study
cell; here I can feast my eyes by turns on the big lime tree and the
animals of my alphabet. And this was what I did.

And now, my precious picture, it is our turn, yours and mine. You began
with the sacred beast, the ass, whose name, with a big initial, taught
me the letter A. The boeuf, the ox, stood for B; the canard, the duck,
told me about C; the dindon, the turkey, gave me the letter D. And so
on with the rest. A few compartments, it is true, were lacking in
clearness. I had no friendly feeling for the hippopotamus, the kamichi,
or horned screamer, and the zebu, who aimed at making me say H, K and
Z. Those outlandish beasts, which failed to give the abstract letter the
support of a recognized reality, caused me to hesitate for a time over
their recalcitrant consonants. No matter: father came to my aid in
difficult cases; and I made such rapid progress that, in a few days,
I was able to turn in good earnest the pages of my little pigeon book,
hitherto so undecipherable. I was initiated; I knew how to spell. My
parents marveled. I can explain this unexpected progress today. Those
speaking pictures, which brought me amongst my friends the beasts, were
in harmony with my instincts. If the animal has not fulfilled all that
it promised in so far as I am concerned, I have at least to thank it for
teaching me to read. I should have succeeded by other means, I do not
doubt, but not so quickly nor so pleasantly. Animals forever!

Luck favored me a second time. As a reward for my prowess, I was
given La Fontaine's Fables, in a popular, cheap edition, crammed with
pictures, small, I admit, and very inaccurate, but still delightful.
Here were the crow, the fox, the wolf, the magpie, the frog, the rabbit,
the ass, the dog, the cat: all persons of my acquaintance. The glorious
book was immensely to my taste, with its skimpy illustrations on which
the animal walked and talked. As to understanding what it said, that
was another story! Never mind, my lad! Put together syllables that say
nothing to you as yet; they will speak to you later and La Fontaine will
always remain your friend.

I come to the time when I was ten years old and at Rodez College. My
functions as a serving boy in the chapel entitled me to free instruction
as a day boarder. There were four of us in white surplices and red
skull-caps and cassocks. I was the youngest of the party and did little
mo