omestic life, and
the meanings of most of the words that are addressed to him or employed
concerning him and the objects around him. In more advanced life this
desire grows by what it feeds on, and never ceases to be active. It
assumes, indeed, different directions, in part determining, and in part
determined by, condition, profession, or employment. Even in the most idle
and frivolous, it is strong, often intense, though its objects be
worthless. Such persons frequently are as sedulous in collecting the
paltry gossip of society as the naturalist in acquiring the knowledge of
new species of plants or insects, and as ingenious in their inferences
from what they see and hear as the philosopher in his inductions from the
facts of science.

Not only in infancy, but through life, knowledge is sought evidently for
its own sake, and not merely for its uses. But a very small part of what
one knows can be made of practical utility as to his own comfort or
emolument. Many, indeed, voluntarily sacrifice ease, gain, position, in
the pursuit of science or literature. Fame, if it accrues, is not
unwelcome; but by the higher order of minds fame is not pursued as an end,
and there are many departments of knowledge in which little or no
reputation is to be attained. Then, too, it is not the learner, but the
teacher, not the profound scholar, merely, but the able expositor,
speaker, or writer, who can expect a distinguished name; while there are
many who content themselves with acquiring knowledge, without attempting
publicity. Nor yet can benevolence account for the love of knowledge.
Many, indeed, make their attainments the property of others, and are
zealous in diffusing their own scientific views, or in dispensing
instruction in their own departments. But there are also many solitary,
recluse students; and it may be doubted whether, if a man who is earnestly
engaged in any intellectual pursuit were shut out entirely from human
society, and left alone with his books or with nature, his diligence would
be relaxed, or his ardor abated.

*2. The Desire of Society.* This, also, is manifested so early as to show
that it is an original, and not an acquired principle. Little children
dread solitude, crave the presence of familiar faces, and evince pleasure
in the company of children of their own age. A child, reared in
comparative seclusion and silence, however tenderly, suffers often in
health, always in mental vigor and elasticity; while