once there was a man who had written some new rhymes for the a-b-c book - two lines for each letter, just as in the old a-b-c book. he believed the old rhymes were too antiquated, that something new was needed, and he thought well indeed of his own rhymes.
his new a-b-c book was still only in handwriting, and already it had been placed beside the old printed one in the great bookcase where there stood many books, both of knowledge and for amusement. but the old a-b-c book didn't want to be a neighbor to the new one, and therefore had sprung down from the shelf and at the same time had given the new one a push, so that it, as well as the old one, now lay on the floor, with all its loose leaves scattered about.
the old a-b-c book lay open at the first page - and that is the most important page, for there all the letters, large and small, are displayed. that one page contains on it the essence of all the books that ever were written; it contains the alphabet, that wonderful army of signs which rules the world; truly a marvelous power they have! everything depends on the order in which they are commanded to stand; they have the power to give life or to kill, to gladden and to sadden. separately they mean nothing, but marshaled and ranked in word formations, what can they not accomplish! yes, when god put them into man's thoughts, human strength became inferior to that which lay in the alphabet, and we yielded with a deep bow.
there, then, they lay now, facing upward, and the cock which was pictured at the big a of the alphabet gleamed with feathers of red, blue, and green. proudly he puffed himself up and ruffled his plumage, for he knew how important the letters were and that he was the only living thing among them.
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