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Algebraic Number Theory and Fermat s Last Theorem
4th Ed 4th Edition Stewart Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Stewart, Ian, Tall, David
ISBN(s): 9781498738392, 1498738397
Edition: 4
File Details: PDF, 2.43 MB
Year: 2015
Language: english
Mathematics
FOURTH
EDITION
x + xy + y= =zz
n n n
New to the Fourth Edition FOURTH EDITION
• Provides up-to-date information on unique prime factorization for
real quadratic number fields, especially Harper’s proof that Z(√14) is
Euclidean
• Presents an important new result: Mihăilescu’s proof of the Catalan
conjecture of 1844
• Revises and expands one chapter into two, covering classical ideas
about modular functions and highlighting the new ideas of Frey, Wiles,
n n n
x +y =z
and others that led to the long-sought proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem
n n n
• Improves and updates the index, figures, bibliography, further reading
list, and historical remarks
Written by preeminent mathematicians Ian Stewart and David Tall, this text
continues to teach readers how to extend properties of natural numbers to
x +y =z
more general number structures, including algebraic number fields and their
rings of algebraic integers. It also explains how basic notions from the theory
of algebraic numbers can be used to solve problems in number theory. Stewart • Tall n n n
K26583 Ian Stewart • David Tall
w w w. c rc p r e s s . c o m
Ian Stewart
University of Warwick
United Kingdom
David Tall
University of Warwick
United Kingdom
CRC Press
Taylor & Francis Group
6000 Broken Sound Parkway NW, Suite 300
Boca Raton, FL 33487-2742
This book contains information obtained from authentic and highly regarded sources. Reasonable efforts
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Contents
I Algebraic Methods 9
1 Algebraic Background 11
1.1 Rings and Fields . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
1.2 Factorization of Polynomials . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
1.3 Field Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
1.4 Symmetric Polynomials . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
1.5 Modules . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
1.6 Free Abelian Groups . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
1.7 Exercises . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
2 Algebraic Numbers 37
2.1 Algebraic Numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
2.2 Conjugates and Discriminants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
2.3 Algebraic Integers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
2.4 Integral Bases . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
2.5 Norms and Traces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
2.6 Rings of Integers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
2.7 Exercises . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
vi Contents
5 Ideals 103
5.1 Historical Background . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104
5.2 Prime Factorization of Ideals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
5.3 The Norm of an Ideal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116
5.4 Non-Unique Factorization in Cyclotomic Fields . . . . . . . 124
5.5 Exercises . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
Contents vii
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
viii Contents
IV Appendices 277
A Quadratic Residues 279
A.1 Quadratic Equations in Zm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280
A.2 The Units of Zm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282
A.3 Quadratic Residues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287
A.4 Exercises . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296
Bibliography 309
Index 317
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
The title of this book indicates a dual purpose. Our first aim is to introduce
fundamental ideas of algebraic numbers. The second is to tell one of the
most intriguing stories in the history of mathematics—the quest for a proof
of Fermat’s Last Theorem. We use this celebrated theorem to motivate
a general study of the theory of algebraic numbers, from a reasonably
concrete point of view. The range of topics that we cover is selected to allow
students to make early progress in understanding the necessary concepts.
‘Algebraic Number Theory’ can be read in two distinct ways. One is
the theory of numbers viewed algebraically, the other is the study of al-
gebraic numbers. Both apply here. We illustrate how basic notions from
the theory of algebraic numbers may be used to solve problems in number
theory. However, our main focus is to extend properties of the natural
numbers to more general number structures: algebraic number fields, and
their rings of algebraic integers. These structures have most of the stan-
dard properties that we associate with ordinary whole numbers, but some
subtle properties concerning primes and factorization sometimes fail to
generalize.
A Diophantine equation (named after Diophantus of Alexandria, who—
it is thought—lived around 250 and whose book Arithmetica systematized
such concepts) is a polynomial equation, or a system of polynomial equa-
tions, that is to be solved in integers or rational numbers. The central
problem of this book concerns solutions of a very special Diophantine
equation:
xn + y n = z n
where the exponent n is a positive integer. For n = 2 there are many integer
solutions—in fact, infinitely many—which neatly relate to the theorem of
ix
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
x Preface
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
Preface xi
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
xii Preface
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
Preface xiii
In the 1980s a proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem had not been found.
In fact, graffiti on the wall of the Warwick Mathematics Institute declared
‘I have a proof that Fermat’s Last Theorem is equivalent to The Four
Colour Theorem, but this wall is too small for me to write it.’ Since that
time, both Fermat’s Last Theorem and the Four Colour Theorem have
fallen, after centuries of effort by the mathematical community. The final
conquest of Fermat’s Last Theorem required a new version that would
give a reasonable idea of the story behind the complete saga. This new
version, brought out with a new publisher, is the result of further work
to bring the book up to date for the 21st century. It involved substantial
rewriting of much of the material, and two new chapters on elliptic curves
and elliptic functions. These topics, not touched upon in previous editions,
were required to complete the final solution of the most elusive conundrum
in pure mathematics of the last three hundred years.
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
This page intentionally left blank
✐ ✐
xv
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
This page intentionally left blank
✐ ✐
Index of Notation
xvii
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
λ 1−ζ
z̄ Complex conjugate of z
Bk kth Bernouilli number
l Map Lst → Rs+t
U Group of units of O
φ(x) Euler function
RP2 Real projective plane
P The plane {(x, y, z) : z = 1}
Q The plane {(x, y, z) : z = 0}
CP2 Complex projective plane
∼ Equivalence relation for homogeneous coordinates
g2 , g3 Coefficients in Weierstrass normal form of a cubic
O Specific rational point on an elliptic curve
G Set of rational points on an elliptic curve
P ∗Q Geometric construction on elliptic curve
P +Q Group operation on elliptic curve
F (k, v) Elliptic integral of the first kind
sn u Elliptic function
cn u Elliptic function
dn u Elliptic function
ω1 , ω2 Periods of an elliptic function
Lω1 ,ω2 Lattice generated by ω1 , ω2
℘ Weierstrass ℘-function
P ⊕Q Renaming of P + Q for clarity
C ∪ {∞} Riemann sphere
SL2 (Z) Special linear group
PSL2 (Z) Projective special linear group
H Upper half-plane in C
D Modular domain
X0 (N ) Modular curve of level N
F Frey elliptic curve
P (N ) Power function of N
P (A, B, C) Power of (A, B, C)
✐ ✐
✐ ✐
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sensitive region where you had nipped the real marauder, tearing
from him the clue which will sooner or later bring him to justice.”
The Poet took from his pocket a ragged square of blue-striped dark
cloth and submitted it for Clarence’s inspection. The colt laid back
his ears and nipped at it. The Poet cast a glance of solemn triumph
around the table.
“Friends and partners,” he said, “do we need any further evidence
that it was indeed Clarence who was a witness of the crime, and
performed this service for Napoleon and for justice?”
The point was overwhelmingly conceded.
“Doggone my skin!” whispered Gabriel to Amanda, “th’ colt
remembers that rag by th’ smell!”
The Poet put the damning evidence back in his pocket. Suddenly
Amanda nudged Gabriel.
“Of all things, Gabe, here comes Si Blodgett with a basket on his
arm!”
An undersized, sanctimonious person, with a smooth upper lip and a
tuft on his chin, carrying a covered basket, was approaching from the
driveway. He seemed pained at the evidences of festivities
progressing. When he had approached within a few yards of the
banquet-table he put down the basket carefully and said:
“Brother Gabriel, Sister Amanda, what is the meaning of this
unseemly scene of levity?”
The Poet looked interested.
“If, as your manner indicates,” he said suavely, “you don’t approve of
this little celebration, I recommend that you address your remarks to
headquarters. I speak for the host,—Napoleon, here at the head of
the table,—who is giving a birthday party to our friend and comrade,
Clarence.”
He waved his hand at the colt, and paused expectantly. The visitor
rolled up his eyes and raised his hands.
“Vanity, vanity, all is vanity!”
“Oh, your name must be Blodgett,” said the Poet. “I’ve often heard
you mentioned. Won’t you join us?”
“I would join you in prayer,” groaned Si Blodgett. “Would that I
might snatch you from the seat of the scornful.”
Gabriel chuckled. The Poet turned to the guest of honor, and
continued:—
“In conclusion, Clarence, and fellow members of Bos, Equus and Co.,
I wish to say for those of us to whom nature has given but two legs
instead of four, but has made partial compensation by bestowing
upon us the power of speech, that we are proud to claim you as
friends, as partners, as equals—”
“Stop!” groaned Si Blodgett, with hand upraised. “Remember Moses
and the golden calf!”
“Look here, Si,” said Gabriel, “don’t you slander our bull-calf. He
ain’t gold. He’ll be doggone good beef some day.”
“Oh, ye unregenerate!” almost screamed Si Blodgett. “Soon ye will be
bowing down to wood and stone!”
“Galatea,” said the Poet, “what’s the next course?”
“Carrots, George.”
While Si Blodgett continued to groan unavailingly, the carrots were
served. The Poet resumed his instrument, and never before was that
classic, “Hiawatha,” adapted for banjo and guitar, so inspiringly
rendered. It was repeated until Galatea produced the dessert of loaf
sugar, and Si Blodgett showed signs of frothing at the mouth over the
ungodliness of the scene. As Galatea tripped around the table,
dropping lumps of sugar into grateful mouths, Si Blodgett came
forward, stretching his arms across the table to Gabriel. He had
failed to notice that the colt was keeping one eye on him, with the
accompanying ear laid back.
“Oh, brother, brother,” he said, “beware—”
Whatever the warning was to be, it was cut short by a grunt caused
by the colt thrusting his hind quarters brusquely into Si Blodgett’s
stomach.
“Darn th’ critter!” exclaimed the exhorter, with an astonishing
change of voice and sentiment. And he slapped Clarence smartly on
the flank.
“Lookout, Si!” shouted Gabriel. “Th’ colt don’t like ye.”
Si Blodgett dodged barely in time to escape Clarence’s heels. The
other guests were becoming restless. The Poet and the Artist joined
Galatea beside Napoleon’s chair. The exhorter went and picked up
his basket, and, approaching Gabriel, said:—
“It is our duty to be good to those who despitefully use us. Brother
Gabriel, hearin’ you’ve been disapp’inted in your hatchin’ of Golden
Guinea eggs, and havin’ a couple o’ pair of the chicks to sell, I came
over to offer you the first chance. They’re scarce, you know. I’ll take
four dollars a pair.”
For the space of at least a minute there was amazed and breathless
silence. Even the Poet found himself speechless. Amanda stared at Si
Blodgett, and then at Gabriel, whose eyes were fixed on the basket
while he opened and closed his mouth dumbly. At length speech
burst from him.
“Si Blodgett, where’d ye git the eggs to hatch out them Golden
Guinea chicks o’ yourn?”
“The Lord cares for them that serve Him,” said the prudent exhorter.
“I got them eggs where you got yourn, an’ what’s more, I only paid
twenty cents apiece for ’em.”
“You was there, Si Blodgett, biddin’ agin’ me,” said Gabriel, doubling
up his huge fists, “an’ you heard th’ guarantee that there wa’n’t no
more Golden Guinea eggs for sale in th’ hull county.”
“That was true, Brother Gabriel; but, ye see, I’d already bought mine
three days before, an’ they wa’n’t for sale, neither.”
Gabriel gurgled and managed to swallow part of his wrath.
“Give us a look at them chicks,” he said.
Si Blodgett knelt down on the grass and picked at the knot of the
string that held the cloth over his basket.
“George!” exclaimed Galatea in a startled whisper, “look! That man’s
trousers are of dark cloth with a blue stripe!”
“Yes, but wait a bit. Look at Napoleon and the colt.”
The terrier had jumped down from his chair and was growling, with
bristling crest. Clarence, with ears laid back, had turned about and
was shaking his head at the man on his knees, whose back was
toward him.
The knot was refractory. Si Blodgett’s coat-tails fell apart, revealing a
key-chain, one end of which disappeared in his hip pocket.
“Attention, Reginald!” and the Poet struck his ball with just the
requisite force to send it through the two arches.
Unfortunately, at that instant Reginald sat down, and the ball,
striking his fat stomach, bounced hopelessly out of position. Galatea
dropped on the grass and shrieked.
“I’ll give you the game,” said the Poet. “It’s an antiquated pastime,
anyhow.”
“Sour grapes,” laughed Galatea.
“Not at all. I’ve thought of an improvement, that’s all,” said the Poet.
“Stay where you are, Reginald. William, come here.”
The goat put his nose in the Poet’s hand and followed him to the
other end of the field, where he suffered himself to be stationed
between the two arches opposite the pig. Over the two arches on one
side the Poet stationed Cleopatra and Clarence, and opposite them
Mrs. Cowslip and Gustavius. The bull-calf wrinkled his yellow nose
and looked mutinous, while his comrades seemed much gratified.
Then the Poet went calmly around the field and pulled up all the
arches, except the centre one, and said:—
“There, all we lack is a camel or an elephant for the centre—but
nothing is perfect in this world, at the start.”
“George,” said Galatea, wiping her eyes, “for out-and-out idiocy you
certainly take the prize.”
“Not at all. That’s what’s said at first about every great discoverer.
There hasn’t been a single improvement in this game in seven
hundred years. Now for the first time in history you’re going to see
croquet played with living arches—Ouch!”
Clarence had made a sudden playful leap from his position and
nipped the Poet’s lean thigh. He was led back and admonished so
severely that he meekly refrained from making any further
demonstrations.
With perfect gravity the Poet led Galatea and the Artist in a game of
croquet calculated to make history. If Mrs. Cowslip had not kicked
the Poet’s ball clear off the field when it bounced smartly against her
tenderest pastern, and if Gustavius had not destroyed the Artist’s
nerve by bellowing hoarsely in his ear at a critical moment, it would
have been a bewildering success.
“Anyway,” said the Poet, when Galatea had won through rank
favoritism on the part of Reginald, who refrained from sitting down
in her critical moment, “anyway, we’ve given one more
demonstration that all are born free and equal in the firm of Bos,
Equus and Co., even when it comes to croquet.”
“One thing I don’t understand,” said the Artist, who, being in love,
was quite hopelessly serious, “and that is how you manage these
animals turned out loose this way, when they become unruly, as all
animals are apt to at times.”
“The learned Professor of whom we rented this place, and who
attended to their early education, didn’t neglect that point,”
answered the Poet, with a solemn glance at Galatea which brought
before her mind’s eye a vision of their first exciting experience with
William and Gustavius. “In times of mutiny one magic word uttered
by the Professor brought them to their senses completely humbled.”
“Indeed!” said the Artist. “This is most interesting. I’ve heard of such
methods being used by animal trainers. What is that word, George?”
“Its efficacy, Arthur, consists in the rarity of its use. It is pronounced
only as a last resort, as familiarity would breed contempt for it. The
word, Arthur, is”—and he whispered in the Artist’s ear
—“Abracadabra.”
And Galatea related the circumstances of their single observation of
its potency,—as recorded in the early part of this veracious chronicle,
—with special stress on the advantages offered by a low-limbed
cherry tree in case of pursuit by an enraged bull-calf.
“What you have told me is really wonderful,” said the Artist. “Never
again will I doubt that domestic animals are possessed of reasoning
powers, as well as capacity for affection.”
“Here comes Gabriel,” said Galatea. “He looks alarmed. I wonder
what has happened?”
Gabriel caught his breath and said, addressing the Poet:—
“Si Blodgett fell off a haystack an’ thinks he’s goin’ to die. He wants
to confess about them eggs.”
“Oh, the poor man!” said Galatea.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been mistaken for a clergyman—that is,
at first sight,” said the Poet. “Is he really badly hurt, Gabriel?”
“They ain’t no bones broke, but Si’s groanin’ somethin’ terrible an’
says it’s his insides.”
“But he can’t want me,” said the Poet. “Why, I put together the links
of circumstantial evidence that proved he stole the eggs.”
“That’s jest it. Si says you’re th’ Lord’s instrument sent to awaken his
sleepin’ conscience—darn him!—an’ he’s afraid of hell-fire if you
don’t come an’ hear his confession.”
“Poor man!” said Galatea, with tears in her eyes. “Come, George, I’ll
go with you. It’s only a step. Arthur, you wait here; we’ll soon be
back.”
Conducted by Gabriel, they disappeared down the road, and the
Artist was alone with his fate. He had no premonition of disaster. He
lay on the grass with his eyes closed, wrapped in the joys and
miseries of being in love.
The living croquet-arches, with one impulse, got their heads together
and considered the situation.
“I, for one, shall go and take a look around the kitchen,” said
Clarence.
“It’s the roof of the house for me,” said William; “I haven’t had a
good view of the surrounding country since strawberry-time.”
“What about that chap on the grass?” asked Gustavius. “What will he
be doing?”
“That reminds me,” said Reginald; “now’s your chance, Gustavius.
You’ve been longing to catch him alone.”
The bull-calf shook his horns sulkily. “I kind of hate to do it. He
seems to be a friend of the red-headed girl.”
“Besides, my son,” observed Mrs. Cowslip, “none of our race ever
attacks a sleeping person.”
“Leave that to me,” said Reginald; “it’s time an example should be
made of these outsiders.”
Clarence agreed with him. They began circling around the prostrate
enemy, gradually drawing nearer, nipping at his legs or arms and
darting away, until at length Clarence’s teeth brought their victim to
his feet with a yell of mingled surprise and pain. But the Artist was
not of a vengeful disposition.
“Ha! ha!” he laughed, “you’re spoiling for a frolic, I see!”
He ran toward the colt and then turned, as though inviting pursuit.
The invitation was accepted with a unanimity that thoroughly
alarmed the Artist. Even Mrs. Cowslip and Cleopatra were making
hostile demonstrations, while William was backing away with a
significance that caused the Artist to seize a croquet mallet as he
dodged about the field. This was enough for the bull-calf, who began
bellowing and pawing the earth, while his eyes turned red.
“Good fellows! good boys!” said the Artist, holding out his hand.
But they gathered about him closer yet, with snorts, bellows, and
grunts which convinced the Artist it was time to exert authority. So
he shouted in a stern voice:—
“Away! To the barn, all of you!”
For answer the indignant pig ran between his legs, all but upsetting
him, and the others crowded in closer yet. Thoroughly frightened,
the Artist decided that extreme measures were justifiable. Recalling
the magic word whispered in his ear by the Poet, he raised his hand
and thundered:—
“ABRACADABRA!”
The effect was instantaneous, but disconcerting. After one instant of
general stupefaction, Clarence stood on his hind-legs with his
forefeet beating the air, and addressed his companions in a shrill
whinny, which they readily understood to mean:—
“What! Shall a miserable interloper presume so far!”
“Let me at him!” roared the bull-calf, with horns low and tail high.
The Artist turned and fled, with Gustavius bellowing at his heels,
urged on by his comrades following close behind. Straight for the
house sped the fugitive. The low-limbed cherry tree was nearer, and,
luckily, he remembered it in time. Having sufficient presence of
mind at the last moment to fling his forty-dollar Panama hat into
Gustavius’s face, he swung himself into the tree, and was safe.
Gustavius kept one eye on him while practicing on the hat, which
was presently only an expensive memory.
Clarence, finding the kitchen door open, walked in. By way of a rain-
water barrel, the woodshed, and the water-tank, William mounted to
the peak of the house roof and proceeded to enjoy the prospect.
Reginald made himself comfortable in a veranda rocker. Mrs.
Cowslip found the soft earth of the tulip-bed conducive to
somnolence and cud-chewing, while Cleopatra grazed near by on
some late pansies. Such was the scene that presented itself to Galatea
when she returned alone, having found Si Blodgett more scared than
hurt.
“Why, Arthur!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing up there?”
“Call off your bull-calf, and I’ll come down and tell you.” The Artist
was annoyed.
“Gustavius? Why, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Wouldn’t he? Just look at my forty-dollar Panama!”
“Oh, Arthur, surely there must be some mistake—some
misunderstanding.”
“It’s past the misunderstanding stage when I’m treed like this.”
“You must have said something that offended Gustavius. He’s
terribly sensitive, poor fellow!”
“Said something! I treated them like friends and fellow citizens till
they all set upon me at once; then, seeing it was a conspiracy, I said
‘Abracadabra,’ of course.”
“Oh, Arthur! You forgot that you had no right—that you were not a
member of our family—yet.”
“They seemed to remember it all right—especially the bull-calf. I
nearly burst a blood-vessel getting up here.”
“It is really most unfortunate, Arthur.” She looked about her, at the
late pansies, at the tulip-bed, and at the house roof, and said
reproachfully: “William! Mrs. Cowslip! Cleopatra!”
The goat came meekly down from the roof. The cow and the mare
walked slowly off toward the barn, much mortified.
“You don’t seem to mind Gustavius—and me,” complained the Artist.
Galatea sat on the grass and took off her hat.
“You may come down presently, Arthur. I have long wanted to say
certain things to you, but you are so impulsive in your—in various
ways, that it seemed necessary for me to wait for some such
opportunity as this, when you are—otherwise occupied. Arthur, you
have pressed me to name a day for a certain ceremony—”
She was interrupted by a bellow from Gustavius, consequent upon a
sudden movement of the Artist, who immediately concluded not to
forsake his perch.
“Must you interrupt me, Arthur?”
“I didn’t; it was the bull-calf; I don’t bellow.”
“Well, Arthur, I would oblige you and set a date for our wedding if I
were quite sure that we understand each other.”
“Galatea, there’s nothing to understand except that I love you to the
extinction of every other thought or feeling, and always shall.” He
paused to regain his balance, for the tree was a small one, and
swayed under the stress of his emotion.
“Then, dear, if I set an early date, will you promise faithfully to love
me in all my moods, no matter what I say or do, and never be angry,
or dispute with me about anything?”
“Bless you, my darling! I swear it!”
“Have you no misgivings, Arthur?”
“None, none! Not one!”
“Not even when you remember that my hair is red?”
“I adore red hair!”
“But not on other girls, Arthur?”
“No; only on you, darling.”
“Thank you, Arthur, dear. If the second Wednesday in October, five
weeks hence, will suit you, then you may come down and kiss me.”
“Galatea!”
Gustavius pawed the earth, and he hesitated.
“Can a bull-calf stand between you and me, Arthur?”
“Never!” He leaped far out from the tree and took her in his arms.
Gustavius gave them one glance and walked away in disgust. Being
only a bull-calf, he did not realize that he had accomplished in a
single afternoon something which had baffled the little rosy god
himself for more than a year.
The sound of voices in the road brought the lovers back to earth.
“It’s all over,” said the Poet, catching sight of them. “Si Blodgett has
confessed everything, and his insides don’t hurt him any more.”
Gabriel had intercepted the rural delivery; he gave Galatea a letter
bearing a foreign postmark. She tore open the envelope, read two
pages, and exclaimed:—
“O George, it’s from the Professor! Just listen to this:—
“‘Finding the cause of the higher education of domestic animals
much farther advanced in Germany than in America, I have decided
to locate permanently in Berlin, where some promising pupils have
been placed in my charge, including a young ram with a wonderful
talent for algebra. I am therefore offering for sale the place which you
leased from me, at the very reasonable price of seven thousand five
hundred to you, knowing that my former pupils will thus continue in
good hands.’”
“Too bad,” sighed the Poet; “I’ve often wished I’d been born a
plumber.”
“Galatea,” said the Artist, “would you really like to have this place for
your own?”
“Oh, Arthur, it makes me weep to think of leaving Gustavius, and
Clarence, and Reginald—”
“And Cleopatra, and Mrs. Cowslip, and William, and Napoleon,”
added the Poet.
“You shall not leave them,” said the Artist, beaming upon them both.
“Give me the Professor’s address, Galatea, and you shall have a deed
of the place on the second Wednesday in October.”
“Eh, what’s that—the second Wednesday in October?” said the Poet.
“Why, on that happy date,” said the Artist, as Galatea flung her arms
about his neck, “Bos, Equus and Co. are to take in a new partner.”
The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS
U. S. A.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
1. Silently corrected typographical errors.
2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard
spellings as printed.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GAMBOLLING WITH
GALATEA: A BUCOLIC ROMANCE ***
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