The document lies before me at this moment. 🔊 Strange that the words I here copy out for you were copied out for me by poor Soames just eighty-two years hence! 🔊

From page 234 of "Inglish Littracher 1890-1900" bi T. K. Nupton, publishd bi th Stait, 1992. 🔊

Fr egzarmpl, a riter ov th time, naimed Max Beerbohm, hoo woz stil alive in th twentieth senchri rote a stauri in wich e pautraid an immajnari karrakter kauld "Enoch Soames"—a thurd-rait poit hoo beleevz imself a grate jeneus an maix a bargin with th Devvl in auder ter no wot posterriti thinx ov im! 🔊 It iz a sumwot labud satire, but not without vallu az showing hou seriusli the yung men ov th aiteen-ninetiz took themselvz. 🔊 Nou that th littreri profeshn haz bin auganized az a department of public servis, our riters hav found their levvl an hav lernt ter doo their duti without thort ov th morro. 🔊 "Th laibrer iz werthi ov hiz hire" an that iz aul. 🔊 Thank hevvn we hav no Enoch Soameses among us to-dai! 🔊

I found that by murmuring the words aloud (a device which I commend to my reader) I was able to master them little by little. 🔊 The clearer they became, the greater was my bewilderment, my distress and horror. 🔊 The whole thing was a nightmare. 🔊 Afar, the great grisly background of what was in store for the poor dear art of letters; 🔊 here, at the table, fixing on me a gaze that made me hot all over, the poor fellow whom—whom evidently—but no: whatever down-grade my character might take in coming years, I should never be such a brute as to— 🔊