How the First Letter Was Written

Once upon a most early time, my dear, there was a Neolithic man. He lived in a cave, wore very few clothes, could not read and could not write, and did not want to. His name was Tegumai. His wife was Teshumai. And his little girl-daughter was called Taffy — and she was her Daddy's Best Beloved.

As soon as Taffy could run about, she went everywhere with her Daddy. And sometimes they would not come home to the cave until they were hungry, and then Teshumai would say, 'Where in the world have you two been, to get so shockingly dirty? Really, my Tegumai, you're no better than my Taffy.'

Now attend and listen!

One day Tegumai went down to the river to spear carp for dinner, and Taffy went too. Tegumai's spear was made of wood with sharks' teeth at the end, and before he had caught a single fish, he broke it clean across by jabbing it too hard on the bottom of the river.

'Here's a pretty kettle of fish!' said Tegumai. 'It will take me half the day to mend this. And I forgot to bring my spare.'

'There's your big black-handled spear at home,' said Taffy. 'Let me run back and ask Mummy to send it.'

'It's too far for your little legs,' said Tegumai. 'And you might fall into the beaver-swamp. We must make the best of it.' He sat down and got out his little leather mending-bag, and started work on the spear. Taffy sat down too, and thought hard.

Just then, a Stranger came along the river. He belonged to a far tribe, and he did not understand one word of Tegumai's language. He had a friendly face and a big necklace of shells and shark's teeth. He stopped and smiled at Taffy, because he had a little daughter of his own at home.

'Look,' said Taffy, 'you go and get my Daddy's other spear! Your legs are longer than mine.'

The Stranger only said 'Um!' — being, as you know, a stranger.

'Silly!' said Taffy, and stamped her foot. 'You don't understand. Give me the shark's tooth off your necklace, and I'll DRAW you what I want.'

The Stranger, who could not understand her words at all, was very impressed with her stamping and her waving of arms. He clearly thought she was the daughter of a very important chief. He handed her his shark's tooth most politely.

Taffy lay down flat on her tummy, the way children do when they are going to draw, and she began to draw pictures on the birch-bark.

She drew her Daddy. She drew his broken spear (with the spear looking as though it was sticking into Daddy's back, but that was only because she couldn't draw very well and the piece of bark was too small). She drew the other spear, the black-handled one, hanging in their cave. She drew a picture of herself pointing at it. She drew the beaver-swamp between the river and the cave. She drew Mummy standing outside the cave, looking pleased.

'There!' she said. 'Take that to my Mummy, and she'll give you the spear. Do you understand?'

The Stranger looked at the picture. He was extremely impressed by what he thought he saw. He nodded eight times, and off he ran, faster than a hare.

Now, when Teshumai saw the picture, she read it in quite a different way.

She saw a picture of her husband. She saw a spear sticking into his back. She saw pictures of beavers — which she took to be crowds of enemy warriors surrounding him. She saw herself standing at the cave — which she took to be a distress call.

'ATTACK!' shouted Teshumai. 'My Tegumai has been ambushed by a whole savage tribe, and this stranger has come to gloat!'

The whole tribe came running. They grabbed spears. They grabbed sticks. They filled the Stranger's hair with mud. They tied his hands. And they marched down to the river in a huge, angry, well-armed crowd, dragging the poor bewildered Stranger with them.

They arrived at the river to find Tegumai sitting on the bank, cheerfully mending his spear, with Taffy plaiting a daisy-chain beside him.

There was a very long silence.

'Well,' said Tegumai, 'you have been quick! But why did you bring so many people?'

The Head Chief of the tribe stepped forward, took Tegumai by his top-knot feathers, and shook him rather firmly. 'EXPLAIN!'

'Goodness sakes,' said Tegumai, 'let go of my top-knot. Can't a man break his spear without the whole countryside descending on him?'

Then everyone turned and looked at Taffy.

'Well,' she said, going quite pink, 'I only wanted the other spear. I drawded a picture. It went wrong.'

There was another very long silence. Then the Head Chief laughed. Then the Stranger laughed (once they had explained). Then Tegumai laughed till he fell down flat on the bank. Then all the tribe laughed, more and worse and louder.

Only the ladies did not laugh. They were being very polite to their husbands, saying 'idiot!' every now and again.

At last the Head Chief wiped his eyes and said, 'Taffy dear, you have stumbled on a great invention. One day people will make marks on bark and stone that will speak across time and distance. Today, they are only pictures — and, as we have seen, pictures are not always understood. But one day, we shall make letters that always say exactly what we mean.'

Then they adopted the Stranger into the tribe (once they had washed the mud out of his hair), because he had been so patient.

And that is the story of how the very first letter in the world was written. But from that day to this — and it may be Taffy's fault — very few little girls have really liked writing. Most of them still prefer to draw pictures and play out with their Daddies. Just like Taffy.

(Freely retold for bedtime from Rudyard Kipling's Just So Stories, 1902.)