They spent their days hunting some animals and running and hiding from others. They caught animals by trapping them in a pit covered over with bushes, or they killed them with a club or a rock if they had a chance, or with stone-headed arrows or hatchets. They even drew pictures of these animals on the walls of their caves, scratching the picture with a pointed stone, and some of these pictures we can still see to-day. They lived on berries and nuts and grass-seeds. They robbed the nests of birds for the eggs, which they ate raw, for they had no fire to cook with. They were blood-thirsty; they liked to drink the warm blood of animals they killed, as you would a glass of milk. They talked to each other by some sort of grunts-- “Umfa, umfa, glug, glug.” They made clothes of skins of animals they killed, for there was no such thing as cloth. And yet, although they were real men, they lived so much like wild animals that we call such people _savages_. Primitive Men were not pleasant people. They were fearful and cruel creatures, who beat and killed and robbed whenever they had a chance. A cave man got his wife by stealing a girl away from her own cave home, knocking her senseless, and dragging her off by her hair, if necessary. The men were fighters but not brave. They would kill other animals and other men if the others were weaker or if they could sneak upon them and catch them off their guard, but if others were stronger they would run and hide. Their only rule of life was hurt and kill what you can, and run from what you can’t. This is what we call the first law of nature--every man for himself. They knew if they didn’t kill they would be killed, for there were no laws nor police to protect them. These primitive cave people are our ancestors, and we get from them many of their wild ways. In spite of our religion and manners and education, there are many men still living who act in the same way when they get a chance. Jails are made for such men. Suppose you had been a boy or a girl in the Stone Age, with a name like Itchy-Scratchy. I wonder how you would have liked the life. When you woke up in the morning, you would not have bathed or even washed your hands and face or brushed your teeth or combed your hair. You ate with your fingers, for there were no knives or forks or spoons or cups or saucers, only one bowl--which your mother had made out of mud and dried in the sun to hold water to drink--no dishes to wash and put away, no chairs, no tables, no table manners. There were no books, no paper, no pencils. There was no Saturday or Sunday, January or July. Except that one day was warm and sunny or another cold and rainy, they were all alike. There was no school to go to. Every day was a holiday. There was nothing to do all day long but make mud pies or pick berries or play tag with your brothers and sisters. I wonder how you would like that kind of life! “Fine!” do you think?--“a great life--just like camping out?”