It was exactly twelve years since he had been born, a tiny, shapeless,
senseless, helpless, toothless, speechless, useless, feeble, deaf,
myopic creature; and now he was a school-boy, strong, healthy, big, and
clever, who could define a dodecahedron and rattle off the rivers of
Europe like a house on fire. The change amounted to a miracle, and it
was esteemed as such by those who had spent twelve years chiefly in
watching it. One evening, in the very earliest stages, while his mother
was nursing him, his father had come into the darkened chamber, and,
after bending over the infant, had struck a match to ignite a cigar; and
the eyes of the infant had blinked in the sudden light. '_See how he
takes notice!_ the mother had cried in ecstatic wonderment. And from
that moment she, and the other two, had never ceased to marvel, and to
fear. It seemed impossible that this extraordinary fragment of humanity,
which at first could not be safely ignored for a single instant night or
day, should survive the multitudinous perils that surrounded it. But it
did survive, and it became an intelligence. At eighteen months the
intelligence could walk, sit up, and say 'Mum.' These performances were
astounding. And the fact that fifty thousand other babies of eighteen
months in London were similarly walking, sitting up, and saying 'Mum,'
did not render these performances any the less astounding. And when,
half a year later, the child could point to a letter and identify it
plainly and unmistakably--'O'--the parents' cup was full. The mother
admitted frankly that she had not expected this final proof of
understanding. Aunt Annie and father pretended not to be surprised, but
it was a pretence merely. Why, it seemed scarcely a month since the
miraculous child had not even sense enough to take milk out of a spoon!
And here he was identifying 'O' every time he tried, with the absolute
assurance of a philologist! True, he had once or twice shrieked 'O'
while putting a finger on 'Q,' but that was the fault of the printers,
who had printed the tail too small.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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