in the river, or was
swallowed by a snake, or went into the stomach of old Saber-Tooth, the
tiger, is beyond my knowledge.

For know that I remember only the things I saw myself, with my own eyes,
in those prehistoric days. If my mother knew my father's end, she never
told me. For that matter I doubt if she had a vocabulary adequate to
convey such information. Perhaps, all told, the Folk in that day had a
vocabulary of thirty or forty sounds.

I call them SOUNDS, rather than WORDS, because sounds they were
primarily. They had no fixed values, to be altered by adjectives and
adverbs. These latter were tools of speech not yet invented. Instead
of qualifying nouns or verbs by the use of adjectives and adverbs, we
qualified sounds by intonation, by changes in quantity and pitch,
by retarding and by accelerating. The length of time employed in the
utterance of a particular sound shaded its meaning.

We had no conjugation. One judged the tense by the context. We talked
only concrete things because we thought only concrete things. Also, we
depended largely on pantomime. The simplest abstraction was practically
beyond our thinking; and when one did happen to think one, he was hard
put to communicate it to his fellows. There were no sounds for it. He
was pressing beyond the limits of his vocabulary. If he invented sounds
for it, his fellows did not understand the sounds. Then it was that he
fell back on pantomime, illustrating the thought wherever possible and
at the same time repeating the new sound over and over again.

Thus language grew. By the few sounds we possessed we were enabled to
think a short distance beyond those sounds; then came the need for new
sounds wherewith to express the new thought. Sometimes, however, we
thought too long a distance in advance of our sounds, managed to achieve
abstractions (dim ones I grant), which we failed utterly to make known
to other folk. After all, language did not grow fast in that day.

Oh, believe me, we were amazingly simple. But we did know a lot that is
not known to-day. We could twitch our ears, prick them up and flatten
them down at will. And we could scratch between our shoulders with ease.
We could throw stones with our feet. I have done it many a time. And for
that matter, I could keep my knees straight, bend forward from the hips,
and touch, not the tips of my fingers, but the points of my elbows,
to the ground. And as for bird-nesting--well, I only wish the
twentiet