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Scene 122
The Funeral of Aristotle

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  Yesterday was the day of the funeral of Aristotle . He died of eating too many mosquitoes. Now I have not three pet bats. I only have two pet bats -- Plato and Pliny . And they are like mice with angel wings. I have likes to watch Pliny scratch his head with his hind-foot, and he does use a part of his wonderful stretchy wing for a wash-cloth. I have lonesome feels about Aristotle being gone. I go now goes to the garden to get turnips for supper.
  I did. And I give to them washes in the brook. When I did take them in to put them on the cook-table, the mamma and the grandma was talking about the garden. The mamma did wonder where that third cabbage-head was gone. I didn't. I know. It is up the brook a ways dabbling its toes in the water. I dug it up this morning and put it there. Tonight I shall plant it again in the garden. It will have had a glad day dabbling its toes in the brook. That does give one such a nice feel.
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