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Abbott, Edwin Abbott, 1838-1926

"Flatland: a romance of many dimensions"

"
"Go to bed," said I, a little ruffled by this interruption:
"if you would talk less nonsense, you would remember more sense."
So my Grandson had disappeared in disgrace; and there I sat by my
Wife's side, endeavouring to form a retrospect of the year 1999 and of
the possibilities of the year 2000; but not quite able to shake of the
thoughts suggested by the prattle of my bright little Hexagon. Only a
few sands now remained in the half-hour glass. Rousing myself from my
reverie I turned the glass Northward for the last time in the old
Millennium; and in the act, I exclaimed aloud, "The boy is a fool."
Straightway I became conscious of a Presence in the room, and a
chilling breath thrilled through my very being. "He is no such thing,"
cried my Wife, "and you are breaking the Commandments in thus
dishonouring your own Grandson." But I took no notice of her.
Looking around in every direction I could see nothing; yet still
I FELT a Presence, and shivered as the cold whisper came again.
I started up. "What is the matter?" said my Wife, "there is no draught;
what are you looking for? There is nothing.


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